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diff --git a/old/65619-0.txt b/old/65619-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f98db7f..0000000 --- a/old/65619-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,19402 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Cerise, by G. J. (George John) -Whyte-Melville, Illustrated by G. P. Jacomb-Hood - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Cerise - A Tale of the Last Century - - -Author: G. J. (George John) Whyte-Melville - - - -Release Date: June 15, 2021 [eBook #65619] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CERISE*** - - -E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 65619-h.htm or 65619-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/65619/65619-h/65619-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/65619/65619-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/cu31924013570126 - - - - - -CERISE - - -[Illustration: “CARESSING HER HORSE WITH ONE HAND.” - -(_Page 35._)] - - -CERISE - -A Tale of the Last Century - -by - -G. J. WHYTE-MELVILLE - -Author of “Market Harborough,” “Katerfelto,” -“Satanella,” etc., etc. - -Illustrated by G. P. Jacomb-Hood - - - - - - -London -Ward, Lock & Co., Limited -New York and Melbourne. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - - I. The Daisy-Chain 9 - - II. The Montmirails 17 - - III. Monsieur l’Abbé 25 - - IV. Tantara! 34 - - V. The Usher of the Black Rod 44 - - VI. A Jesuit’s Task 51 - - VII. St. Mark’s Balsam 59 - - VIII. The Grey Musketeers 68 - - IX. Eugène Beaudésir 76 - - X. The Boudoir of Madame 86 - - XI. What the Serpent Said 94 - - XII. Out-manœuvred 105 - - XIII. The Mother of Satan 113 - - XIV. The Débonnaire 122 - - XV. The Masked Ball 132 - - XVI. Raising the Devil 144 - - XVII. A Quiet Supper 151 - - XVIII. Baiting the Trap 160 - - XIX. Mater Pulchrâ, Filia Pulchrior 167 - - XX. A General Rendezvous 177 - - XXI. The Fox and Fiddle 185 - - XXII. Three Strands of a Yarn 193 - - XXIII. The Parlour-Lodger 202 - - XXIV. A Volunteer 210 - - XXV. Three Pressed Men 218 - - XXVI. “Yo-heave-yo!” 227 - - XXVII. ‘The Bashful Maid’ 235 - - XXVIII. Dirty Weather 244 - - XXIX. Port Welcome 250 - - XXX. Montmirail West 259 - - XXXI. Black, but Comely 272 - - XXXII. A Wise Child 277 - - XXXIII. Jack Aground 286 - - XXXIV. Jack Afloat 294 - - XXXV. Besieged 301 - - XXXVI. At Bay 309 - - XXXVII. Just in Time 317 - - XXXVIII. Mère avant tout 326 - - XXXIX. All Adrift 335 - - XL. Homeward Bound 341 - - XLI. Lady Hamilton 351 - - XLII. The Desire of the Moth 360 - - XLIII. For the Star 370 - - XLIV. “Box it About” 379 - - XLV. The Little Rift 389 - - XLVI. The Music Mute 399 - - XLVII. The “Hamilton Arms” 408 - - XLVIII. Pressure 419 - - XLIX. Poor Emerald 429 - - L. Captain Bold 441 - - LI. Sir Marmaduke 448 - - LII. The Bowl on the Bias 458 - - LIII. Fair Fighting 466 - - LIV. Friends in Need 475 - - LV. Forewarned 486 - - LVI. Forearmed 494 - - LVII. An Addled Egg 503 - - LVIII. Horns and Hoofs 511 - - LIX. A Substitute 518 - - LX. Solace 529 - - - - -CERISE - -_A TALE OF THE LAST CENTURY_ - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE DAISY-CHAIN - - -In the gardens of Versailles, as everywhere else within the freezing -influence of the _Grand Monarque_, nature herself seemed to accept the -situation, and succumbed inevitably under the chain of order and courtly -etiquette. The grass grew, indeed, and the Great Waters played, but -the former was rigorously limited to certain mathematical patches, and -permitted only to obtain an established length, while the latter threw -their diamond showers against the sky with the regular and oppressive -monotony of clockwork. The avenues stretched away straight and stiff like -rows of lately-built houses; the shrubs stood hard and defiant as the -white statues with which they alternated, and the very sunshine off the -blinding gravel glared and scorched as if its duty were but to mark a -march of dazzling hours on square stone dials for the kings of France. - -Down in Touraine the woods were sleeping, hushed, and peaceful in the -glowing summer’s day, sighing, as it were, and stirring in their repose, -while the breeze crept through their shadows, and quivered in their -outskirts, ere it passed on to cool the peasant’s brow, toiling contented -in his clearing, with blue home-spun garb, white teeth, and honest -sunburnt face. - -Far off in Normandy, sleek of skin and rich of colour, cows were -ruminating knee-deep in pasturage; hedges were loaded with wild flowers, -thickets dark with rank luxuriance of growth, while fresh streams, over -which the blue kingfisher flitted like a dragon-fly, rippled merrily down -towards the sea. Through teeming orchards, between waving cornfields, -past convent-walls grown over with woodbine and lilac and laburnum, under -stately churches, rearing Gothic spires, delicate as needlework, to -heaven, and bringing with them a cool current of air, a sense of freedom -and refreshment as they hurried past. Nay, even where the ripening sun -beat fiercely on the vineyards, terraced tier upon tier, to concentrate -his rays—where Macon and Côte-d’Or were already tinged with the first -faint blush of their coming vintage, even amidst the grape-rows so -orderly planted and so carefully trained, buxom peasant-girls could -gather posies of wild flowers for their raven hair, to make their black -eyes sparkle with merrier glances, and their dusky cheeks mantle in rich -carnation, type of southern blood dancing through their veins. - -But Versailles was not France, and at Versailles nothing seemed free but -the birds and the children. - -One of the alleys, commanded from the king’s private apartments, was -thickly crowded with loungers. Courtiers in silk stockings, laced coats, -and embroidered waistcoats reaching to their thighs, wearing diamond -hilts on their rapiers, and diamond buckles in their shoes, could not -move a step without apology for catching in the spreading skirts of -magnificent ladies—magnificent, be it understood, in gorgeousness of -apparel rather than in beauty of face or symmetry of figure. The former, -indeed, whatever might be its natural advantages, was usually coated with -paint and spotted with patches, while the latter was so disguised by -voluminous robes, looped-up skirts, falling laces, and such outworks and -appendages, not to mention a superstructure of hair, ribbon, and other -materials, towering so high above the head as to place a short woman’s -face somewhere about the middle of her whole altitude, that it must have -been difficult even for the maid who dressed her to identify, in one of -these imposing triumphs of art, the slender and insignificant little -framework upon which the whole fabric had been raised. Devotion in woman -is never more sublime than when sustaining the torture of dress. - -It was all artificial together. Not a word was spoken but might have -been overheard with entire satisfaction by the unseen sovereign who -set the whole pageant in motion. Not a gesture but was restrained by -the consciousness of supervision. Not a sentiment broached but had for -its object the greater glorification of a little old man, feeble and -worn-out, eating iced fruit and sweetmeats in a closet opening from a -formal, heavily-furnished, over-gilded saloon, that commanded the broad -gravel-walk on which the courtiers passed to and fro in a shifting, -sparkling throng. If a compliment was paid by grinning gallant to -simpering dame, it was offered and accepted with a sidelong glance from -each towards the palace windows. If a countess whispered scandal to a -duchess behind her fan, the grateful dish was sauced and flavoured for -the master’s palate, to whom it would be offered by the listener on the -first opportunity. Marshals of a hundred fights tapped their jewelled -snuff-boxes to inhale a pinch of the King’s Mixture. Blooming beauties, -whose every breath was fragrance, steeped their gossamer handkerchiefs in -no other perfume than an extract from orange-flowers, called _Bouquet du -Roi_. - -For Louis the Fourteenth, if he might believe his household, Time was to -stand still, and the Seasons brought no change. “I am the same age as -everybody else,” said a courtier of seventy to his Majesty at sixty-five. -“The rain of Marly does not wet one,” urged another, as an excuse for not -covering his head in a shower while walking with the king. By such gross -flattery was that sovereign to be duped, who believed himself a match for -the whole of Europe in perceptive wisdom and diplomatic _finesse_. - -But though powdered heads were bowing, and laced hats waving, and -brocades ruffling in the great walk, swallows skimmed and darted through -the shades of a green alley behind the nearest fountain, and a little -girl was sitting on the grass, making daisy-chains as busily as if there -were no other interest, no other occupation at Court or in the world. - -Her flapping hat was thrown aside, and her head bent studiously over her -work, so that the brown curls, silken and rich and thick, as a girl’s -curls should be, hid all of her face but a little soft white brow. -Her dimpled arms and hands moved nimbly about her task, and a pair of -sturdy, well-turned legs were stuck out straight before her, as if -she had established herself in her present position with a resolution -not to stir till she had completed the long snowy chain that festooned -already for several yards across the turf. She had just glanced in -extreme content at its progress without raising her head, when a spaniel -scoured by, followed at speed by a young gentleman in a page’s dress, -who, skimming the level with his toe, in all the impetuous haste of -boyhood, caught the great work round his ankles, and tore it into a dozen -fragments as he passed. - -The little girl looked up in consternation, having duly arranged her face -for a howl; but she controlled her feelings, partly in surprise, partly -in bashfulness, partly perhaps in gratification at the very obvious -approval with which the aggressor regarded that face, while, stopping -short, he begged “Mademoiselle’s pardon” with all the grand manner of the -Court grafted on the natural politeness of France. - -It was indeed a very pretty, and, more, a very lovable little face, -with its large innocent blue eyes, its delicate peach-like cheeks, and -a pair of curling ruddy lips, that, combined with her own infantine -pronunciation of her baptismal name Thérèse, had already obtained for the -child the familiar appellation of “Cerise.” - -“Pardon, mademoiselle!” repeated the page, colouring boy-like to his -temples—“Pardon! I was running so fast; I was in such a hurry—I am so -awkward. I will pick you a hatful more daisies—and—and I can get you a -large slice of cake this evening when the king goes out of the little -supper-room to the music-hall.” - -“Mademoiselle” thus adjured, rose to her full stature of some forty -inches, and spreading her short stiff skirt around her with great care, -replied by a stately reverence that would have done credit to an empress. -Notwithstanding her dignity, however, she cast a wistful look at the -broken daisy-chain, while her little red lips quivered as if a burst of -tears was not far off. - -The boy was down on his knees in an instant, gathering handfuls of -the simple flowers, and flinging them impetuously into his hat. It -was obvious that this young gentleman possessed already considerable -energy of character, and judging from the flash of his bold dark eyes, -a determined will of his own. His figure, though as yet unformed, was -lithe, erect, and active, while his noble bearing denoted self-reliance -beyond his years, and a reckless, confident disposition, such as a true -pedagogue would have longed and failed to check with the high hand of -coercion. In a few minutes he had collected daisies enough to fill his -laced hat to the rims, and flinging himself on the turf, began stringing -them together with his strong, well-shaped, sunburnt fingers. The little -girl, much consoled, had reseated herself as before. It was delightful to -see the chain thus lengthening by fathoms at a time, and this new friend -seemed to enter heart and soul into the important work. Active sympathy -soon finds its way to a child’s heart; she nestled up to his side, and -shaking her curls back, looked confidingly in his face. - -“I like you,” said the little woman, honestly, and without reserve. “You -are good—you are polite—you make daisy-chains as well as mamma. My name’s -Cerise. What’s _your_ name?” - -The page smiled, and with the smile his whole countenance grew handsome. -In repose, his face was simply that of a well-looking youth enough, -with a bold, saucy expression and hardy sunburned features; but when he -smiled, a physiognomist watching the change would have pronounced, “That -boy _must_ be like his mother, and his mother _must_ have been beautiful!” - -“Cerise,” repeated the lad. “What a pretty name! Mine is not a pretty -name. Boys don’t have pretty names. My name’s George—George Hamilton. -You mustn’t call me Hamilton. I am never called anything but George at -Court. I’m not big enough to be a soldier yet, but I am page to _Louis le -Grand_!” - -The child opened her eyes very wide, and stared over her new friend’s -head at a gentleman who was listening attentively to their conversation, -with his hat in his hand, and an expression of considerable amusement -pervading his old, worn, melancholy face. - -This gentleman had stolen round the corner of the alley, treading softly -on the turf, and might have been watching the children for some minutes -unperceived. He was a small, shrunken, but well-made person, with a -symmetrical leg and foot, the arched instep of the latter increased -by the high heels of his diamond-buckled shoes. His dress in those -days of splendour was plain almost to affectation; it consisted of a -full-skirted, light-brown coat, ornamented only with a few gold buttons; -breeches of the same colour, and a red satin waistcoat embroidered -at the edges, the whole suit relieved by the _cordon bleu_ which was -worn outside. The hat he dangled in his pale, thin, unringed hand was -trimmed with Spanish point, and had a plume of white feathers. His face -was long, and bore a solemn, saddened expression, the more remarkable -for the rapidity with which, as at present, it succeeded a transient -gleam of mirth. Notwithstanding all its advantages of dress and manner, -notwithstanding jewelled buckles, and point lace, and full flowing -periwig, the figure now standing over the two children, in sad contrast -to their rich flow of youth and health, was that of a worn-out, decrepid -old man, fast approaching, though not yet actually touching, the brink of -his grave. - -The smile, however, came over his wrinkled face once more as the child -looked shyly up, gathering her daisy-chain distrustfully into her lap. -Then he stooped to stroke her brown curls with his white wasted hand. - -“Your name is Thérèse,” said he gravely. “Mamma calls you Cerise, because -you are such a round, ruddy little thing. Mamma is waiting in the -painted saloon for the king’s dinner. You may look at him eating it, if -your _bonne_ takes you home past the square table in the middle window -opposite the Great Fountain. She is to come for you in a quarter of an -hour. You see I know all about it, little one.” - -Cerise stared in utter consternation, but at the first sound of that -voice the boy had started to his feet, blushing furiously, and catching -up his hat, to upset an avalanche of daisies in the action, stood -swinging it in his hand, bolt upright like a soldier who springs to -“attention” under the eye of his officer. The old gentleman’s face -had resumed its sad expression, but he drew up his feeble figure with -dignity, and motioned the lad, who already nearly equalled him in height, -a little further back. George obeyed instinctively, and Cerise, still -sitting on the grass, with the daisy-chain in her lap, looked from one to -the other in a state of utter bewilderment. - -“Don’t be frightened, little one,” continued the old gentleman, -caressingly. “Come and play in these gardens whenever you like. Tell Le -Notre to give you prettier flowers than these to make chains of, and when -you get older, try to leave off turning the heads of my pages with your -brown curls and cherry lips. As for you, sir,” he added, facing round -upon George, “I have seldom seen any of you so innocently employed. Take -care of this pretty little girl till her _bonne_ comes to fetch her, and -show them both the place from whence they can see the king at dinner. How -does the king dine to-day, sir? and when?” he concluded, in a sharper and -sterner tone. George was equal to the occasion. - -“There is no council to-day, sire,” he answered, without hesitation. “His -Majesty has ordered ‘The Little Service’[1] this morning, and will dine -in seventeen minutes exactly, for I hear the Grey Musketeers already -relieving guard in the Front Court.” - -“Go, sir,” exclaimed the old gentleman, in great good-humour. “You have -learnt your duty better than I expected. I think I may trust you with the -care of this pretty child. Few pages know anything of etiquette or the -necessary routine of a Court. I am satisfied with you. Do you understand?” - -The boy’s cheeks flushed once more, as he bowed low and stood silent, -whilst the old gentleman passed on. The latter, however, had not gone -half-a-dozen paces ere he turned back, and again addressed the younger of -the children. - -“Do not forget, little one, to ask Le Notre for any flowers you want, -and—and—if you think of it, tell mamma you met the honest _bourgeois_ -who owns these gardens, and that he knew you, and knew your name, and -knew how old you were, and, I dare say, little one, you are surprised the -_bourgeois_ should know so much!” - -That Cerise was surprised admitted of small doubt. She had scarcely found -her voice ere the old gentleman turned out of the alley and disappeared. -Then she looked at her companion, whose cheeks were still glowing with -excitement, and presently burst into a peal of childish laughter. - -“What a funny old man!” cried Cerise, clapping her hands; “and I am to -have as many flowers as I like—what a funny old man!” - -“Hush, mademoiselle,” answered the boy, gravely, as though his own -dignity had received a hurt, “you must not speak like that. It is very -rude. It is very wrong. If a man were to say such things it should cost -him his life.” - -Cerise opened her blue eyes wider than ever. - -“Wrong!” she repeated, “rude! what have I done? who is it, then?” - -“It is the King!” answered the boy, proudly. “It is _Louis le Grand_!” - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE MONTMIRAILS - - -Ladies first. Let us identify the pretty little girl in the gardens of -Versailles, who answered to the name of Cerise, before we account for the -presence of George Hamilton the page. - -It is a thing well understood—it is an arrangement universally conceded -in France—that marriages should be contracted on principles of practical -utility, rather than on the vague assumption of a romantic and unsuitable -preference. It was therefore with tranquil acquiescence, and feelings -perfectly under control, that Thérèse de la Fierté, daughter of a line of -dukes, found herself taken out of a convent and wedded to a chivalrous -veteran, who could scarcely stand long enough at the altar, upon his -well-shaped but infirm old legs, to make the necessary responses for -the conversion of the beautiful _brunette_ over against him into Madame -la Marquise de Montmirail. The bridegroom was indeed infinitely more -agitated than the bride. He had conducted several campaigns; he was a -Marshal of France; he had even been married before, to a remarkably -plain person, who adored him; he had undergone the necessary course of -gallantry inflicted on men of his station at the Court and in the society -to which he belonged; nevertheless, as he said to himself, he felt like -a recruit in his first “affair” when he encountered the plunging fire of -those black eyes, raking him front, and flanks, and centre, from under -the bridal wreath and its drooping white lace veil. - -Thérèse had indeed, in right of her mother, large black eyes as well as -large West Indian possessions; and her light-haired rivals were good -enough to attribute the rich radiance of her beauty to a stain of negro -blood somewhere far back in that mother’s race. - -Nevertheless, the old Marquis de Montmirail was really over head and ears -in love with his brilliant bride. That he should have indulged her in -every whim and every folly was but reasonably to be expected, but that -_she_ should always have shown for _him_ the warm affection of a wife, -tempered by the deference and respect of a daughter, is only another -instance, added to the long score on record of woman’s sympathy and right -feeling when treated with gentleness and consideration. - -Not even at Court did Madame de Montmirail give a single opportunity -to the thousand tongues of scandal during her husband’s lifetime; she -was indeed notorious for sustaining the elaborate homage and tedious -admiration of majesty itself, without betraying, by the flutter of -an eyelash, that ambition was roused or vanity gratified during the -ordeal. It seemed that she cared but for three people in the world. The -chivalrous old wreck who had married her, and who was soon compelled to -move about in a wheeled chair; the lovely little daughter born of their -union, who inherited much of her mother’s effective beauty with the -traditional grace and delicate complexion of the handsome Montmirails, a -combination that had helped to distinguish her by the appropriate name -of Cerise, and the young Abbé Malletort, a distant cousin of her own, -as remarkable for shrewd intellect and utter want of sentiment as for -symmetry of figure and signal ugliness of face. The _Grand Monarque_ -was not famous for consideration towards the nobles of his household. -Long after the Marquis de Montmirail had commenced taking exercise on -his own account in a chair, the king commanded his attendance at a -shooting-party, kept him standing for three-quarters of an hour on damp -grass, under heavy rain, and dismissed him with a pompous compliment, and -an attack of gout driven upwards into the region of the stomach. The old -courtier knew he had got his death-blow. The old soldier faced it like an -officer of France. He sent for Madame la Marquise, and complimented her -on her _coiffure_ before proceeding to business. He apologised for the -pains that took off his attention at intervals, and bowed her out of the -room, more than once, when the paroxysms became unbearable. The Marquise -never went further than the door, where she fell on her knees in the -passage and wept. He explained clearly enough how he had bequeathed to -her all that was left of his dilapidated estates. Then he sent his duty -to the king, observing that “He had served his Majesty under fire often, -but never under water till now. He feared it was the last occasion of -presenting his homage to his sovereign.” And so, asking for Cerise, who -was brought in by her weeping mother, died brave and tranquil, with his -arm round his child and a gold snuff-box in his hand. - -Ladies cannot be expected to sorrow as inconsolably for a mate of seventy -as for one of seven-and-twenty, but the Marquise de Montmirail grieved -very honestly, nevertheless, and mourned during the prescribed period, -with perhaps even more circumspection than had she lost a lover as well -as, or instead of, a husband. Wagers were laid at Court that she would -marry again within a year; yet the year passed by and Madame had not -so much as seen anybody but her child and its _bonne_. Even Malletort -was excluded from her society, and that versatile ecclesiastic, though -pluming himself on his knowledge of human nature, including its most -inexplicable half, was obliged to confess he was at a loss! - -“_Peste!_” he would observe, taking a pinch of snuff, and flicking the -particles delicately off his ruffles, “was not the sphinx a woman? At -least down to the waist. So, I perceive, is the Marquise. What would you -have? There is a clue to every labyrinth, but it is not always worth -while to puzzle it out!” - -After a time, when the established period for seclusion had expired, the -widow, more beautiful than ever, made her appearance once more at Court. -That she loved admiration there could not now be the slightest doubt, and -the self-denial became at length apparent with which she had declined -it during her husband’s lifetime, that she might not wring his kind old -heart. So, in all societies—at balls, at promenades, at concerts—at -solemn attendances on the king, at tedious receptions of princes -and princesses, dukes and duchesses, sons and daughters of majesty, -legitimate or otherwise—she accepted homage with avidity, and returned -compliment for compliment, and gallantry for gallantry, with a coquetry -perfectly irresistible. But this was all: the first step was fatal taken -by an admirer across that scarce perceptible boundary which divides the -gold and silver grounds, the gaudy flower-beds of flattery from the -sweet wild violet banks of love. The first tremble of interest in his -voice, the first quiver of diffidence in his glance, was the signal for -dismissal. - -Madame de Montmirail knew neither pity nor remorse. She had the softest -eyes, the smoothest skin, the sweetest voice in the bounds of France, but -her heart was declared by all to be harder than the very diamonds that -became her so well. Nor, though she seldom missed a chance of securing -smiles and compliments, did she seem inclined to afford opportunity -for advances of a more positive kind. Cerise was usually in her arms, -or on her lap; and suitors of every time must have been constrained to -admit that there is no _duenna_ like a daughter. Besides, the child’s -beauty was of a nature so different from her mother’s, that the most -accomplished coxcomb found it difficult to word his admiration of -mademoiselle so as to infer a yet stronger approval of madame herself. -The slightest blunder, too, was as surely made public as it was quickly -detected. The Marquise never denied herself or her friends an opportunity -for a laugh, and her sarcasm was appropriate as pitiless; so to become -a declared admirer of Madame de Montmirail required a good deal of that -courage which is best conveyed by the word _sang-froid_. - -And even for those reckless spirits, who neither feared the mother’s wit -nor respected the daughter’s presence, there was yet another difficulty -to encounter in the person of the child’s _bonne_, a middle-aged -quadroon to whom Cerise was ardently attached, and who never left her -mistress’s side when not employed in dressing or undressing her charge. -This faithful retainer, originally a slave on the La-Fierté estates, -had passed—with lands, goods, and chattels—into the possession of the -Marquise after the death of her mother, the duchess, who was said to -have a black drop of blood in her veins, and immediately transferred her -fidelity and affections to her present owner. She was a large, strong -woman, with the remains of great beauty. Her age might be anything under -fifty; and she was known at Court as “The Mother of Satan,” a title she -accepted with considerable gratification, and much preferred to the -sweeter-sounding name of Célandine, by which she was called on the West -Indian estate and in the family of her proprietors. - -Notwithstanding her good looks, there was something about Célandine that -made her an object of dread to her fellow-servants, whether slaves or -free. The woman’s manner was scowling and suspicious, she suffered from -long fits of despondency; she muttered and gesticulated to herself; she -walked about during the night, when the rest of the household were in -bed. Altogether she gave occasion, by her behaviour, to those detractors -who affirmed that, whether his _mother_ or not, there was no doubt she -was a faithful worshipper of Satan. - -In the island whence she came, and among the kindred people who had -brought with them from Africa their native barbarism and superstitions, -the dark rites of Obi were still sedulously cultivated, as the magic -power of its votaries was implicitly believed. The three-fourths of white -blood in the veins of Célandine had not prevented her, so they said, -from becoming a priestess of that foul order; and the price paid for her -impious exaltation was differently estimated, according to the colour of -those who discussed the revolting and mysterious question, even amongst -the French domestics of Madame de Montmirail, and in so practical an age -as the beginning of the eighteenth century. The quadroon, finding herself -shunned by her equals, was drawn all the closer to her mistress and her -little charge. - -Such was the woman who pushed her way undaunted through the crowd of -courtiers now thronging the Grand Alley at Versailles, eliciting no -small share of attention by the gorgeousness of her costume; the scarlet -shawl she had bound like a turban round her head, the profusion of gold -ornaments that serpentined about her neck and arms, together with the -glaring pattern of white and orange conspicuous on her dress, till she -reached the secluded corner where Cerise was sitting with her broken -daisy-chain and her attendant page, as she had been left by the king. - -The quadroon’s whole countenance brightened into beauty when she -approached her darling, and the child bounding up to meet her, ran into -her arms with a cry of delight that showed their attachment was mutual. -George, extremely proud of his commission, volunteered to guide them to -the spot whence, as directed, they could witness the progress of the -king’s dinner, and the strangely-matched trio proceeded through the now -decreasing crowd, to all appearance perfectly satisfied with each other. - -They had already taken up their position opposite the window which his -Majesty had indicated, and were in full enjoyment of the thrilling -spectacle he had promised them, namely, a little old man in a wig, served -by half-a-dozen servants at once, and eating to repletion, when Cerise, -who clung to Célandine’s hand, hid her face in the _bonne’s_ gown, to -avoid the gaze of two gentlemen who were staring at her with every mark -of approval. “What is it, my cherished one?” said the quadroon, in tender -accents. “Who dares frighten my darling?” But the fierce voice changed -into coaxing tones when the _bonne_ recognised a familiar face in one of -her charge’s unwelcome admirers. - -“Why, it’s _Monsieur l’Abbé_! Surely you know _Monsieur l’Abbé_! Come, -be a good child, then; make _Monsieur l’Abbé_ a reverence, and wish him -good-day!” - -But Cerise persistently declined any friendly overtures whatever to -_Monsieur l’Abbé_; hanging her head and turning her toes in most -restively; so the three passed on to witness the process of eating as -performed by _Louis le Grand_; and _Monsieur l’Abbé_, crumpling his -extremely plain features into a sneer, observed his companion, “It is -droll enough, Florian, children never take to me, though I make my way as -well as another with grown-up people. They seem to mistrust me from the -first. Can it be because I am so very ugly?” - -The other smiled deprecatingly. “Good looks,” said he, “have nothing to -do with it. Children are like their elders—they hate intellect because -they fear it. Oh, Malletort! had I the beauty of Absalom, I would give -it all willingly to possess your opportunities and your powers of using -them!” - -“Thank you,” replied Malletort, looking gratified in spite of himself -at the compliment, but perhaps envying in his secret heart the outward -advantages which his friend seemed so little to appreciate. - -Florian de St. Croix, just on the verge of manhood, was as handsome -a youth as might be met with amongst the thousand candidates for the -priesthood, of whom he was one of the most sanguine and enthusiastic. -Not even the extreme plainness of his dress, appropriate to the sacred -calling he was about to enter—not even his close-cut hair and pallid hue, -result of deep thought and severe application—could diminish the beauty -of his flashing eyes, his clear-cut features, and high, intellectual -forehead, that denoted ideality and self-sacrifice as surely as the sweet -womanly mouth betrayed infirmity of purpose and fatal subservience to the -affections. His frame, though slender, was extremely wiry and muscular; -cast, too, in the mould of an Apollo. No wonder there was a shadow of -something like jealousy on his companion’s shrewd, ugly face, while he -regarded one so superior in external advantages to himself. - -The Abbé Malletort was singular in this respect. He possessed the rare -faculty of appreciating events and individuals at their real value. He -boasted that he had no prejudices, and especially prided himself on the -accuracy with which he predicted the actions of his fellow-creatures by -the judgment he had formed of their characters. He made no allowance for -failure, as he gave no credit to success. Men, with him, were capable -or useless only as they conquered or yielded in the great struggle of -life. Systems proved good or bad simply according to their results. The -Abbé professed to have no partialities, no feelings, no veneration, and -no affections. He had entered the Church as a mere matter of calculation -and convenience. Its prizes, like those of the army, were open to -intellect and courage. If the priest’s outward conduct demanded more of -moderation and self-restraint, on the other hand the fasts and vigils of -Rome were less easily enforced than the half-rations of a march or the -night-watches of an outpost. - -Moreover, the tonsure in those days might be clipped (not close enough -to draw attention) from a skull that roofed the teeming brain of a -politician; and, indeed, the Church of Rome not only permitted but -encouraged the assumption of secular power by her votaries, so that -the most important and lucrative posts of the empire were as open -to Abbé and Cardinal as to a Colonel of the Body-guard or a Marshal -of France; while the soldier’s training fitted him far less than the -priest’s to countermine the subtleties of diplomacy or unravel the -intricacies of finance. There remained, then, but the vow of celibacy to -swallow, and, in truth, the vow of celibacy suited Malletort admirably -well. Notwithstanding his ugly face, he was an especial favourite with -women, on whom his ready wit, his polished manners, and, above all, -his imperturbable coolness, made a pleasing impression. They liked him -none the less that his reputed hardness of heart and injustice towards -themselves were proverbial. While, as for his plain features, why, to -quote the words of Ninon de l’Enclos, who ought to have been a good judge -in such matters, “A man’s want of beauty is of small account if he be not -deficient in other amiable qualities, for there is no conquest without -the affections, and what mole can be so blind as a woman in love?” - - - - -CHAPTER III - -MONSIEUR L’ABBÉ - - -The crowd had passed on to witness the king’s dinner, now in full -progress, and the two soberly-clad friends found themselves the only -occupants of the gardens. Side by side they took their seats on a bench -under a row of lime-trees, and continued the conversation which had -originated in little Cerise and her childish beauty. - -“It is a face as God made it,” said Florian, his boyish features lighting -up with enthusiasm. “Children are surely nearer Heaven than ourselves. -What a pity to think that they should grow into the painted, patched, -powdered hypocrites, of whom so many have passed by us even now.” - -“Beautifully dressed, however,” answered his worldly senior, placidly -indifferent, as usual, to all that did not concern his own immediate -comfort. “If there were no women, Florian, there would be no children, -I conclude. Both seem necessary evils. You, I observe, prefer the -lesser. As for being near Heaven, that, I imagine, is a mere question -of altitude. The musketeer over there is at least a couple of inches -nearer it than either of us. What matter? It will make little difference -eventually to any one of the three.” - -Florian looked as if he did not understand. Indeed, the Abbé’s manner -preserved a puzzling uncertainty between jest and earnest. He took a -pinch of snuff, too, with the air of a man who had thoroughly exhausted -the question. But his companion, still harping on the beauty of the -child, continued their conversation. - -“Is she not a cousin of yours, this little angel? I know you are akin to -that beautiful Marquise, her mother. Oh, Malletort, what advantages you -possess, and how unconscious you seem of them!” - -“Advantages!” repeated the Abbé, musing. “Well, perhaps you are right. -Handsome women are the court-cards of the game, if a man knows how -to play them. It is a grand game, too, and the stakes are well worth -winning. Yet I sometimes think if I had foreseen in time how entirely you -must devote body and soul to play it, I might never have sat down at all. -I could almost envy a boy, like that merry page who passed us with my -baby-cousin—a boy, whose only thought or care is to spend the time gaily -now, and wear a sword as soon as his beard is grown hereafter.” - -“The boy will carry a sword fairly enough,” answered Florian; “for he -looks like a little adventurer already. Who is he? I have remarked him -amongst the others for a certain bold bearing, that experience and sorrow -alone will, I fear, be able to tame.” - -“It will take a good deal of both to tame any of that family,” answered -Malletort; “and this young game-chick will no doubt prove himself of -the same feather as the rest of the brood when his spurs are grown. -He’s a Hamilton, Florian; a Hamilton from the other side of the water, -with a cross of the wildest blood in France or Europe in his veins. You -believe the old monkish chronicles—I don’t. They will tell you that boy’s -direct ancestor went up the breach at Acre in front of Cœur de Lion—an -Englishman of the true pig-headed type, who had sense enough, however, to -hate his vassal ever after for being a bigger fool than himself. On the -mother’s side he comes of a race that can boast all its sons brave, and -its daughters—well, its daughters—very much the same as other people’s -daughters. The result of so much fighting and gasconading being, simply, -that the elder branch of the family is sadly impoverished, while the -younger is irretrievably ruined.” - -“And this lad?” asked Florian, interested in the boy, perhaps because the -page’s character was in some respects so completely the reverse of his -own. - -“Is of the younger branch,” continued Malletort, “and given over body -and soul to the cause of this miserable family, whose head died, not -half-a-dozen years ago, under the shadow of our grand and gracious -monarch, a victim to prejudice and indigestion. Well, these younger -Hamiltons have always made it their boast that they grudged neither blood -nor treasure for the Stuarts; and the Stuarts, I need hardly tell you, -Florian, for you read your breviary, requited them as men must expect to -be requited who put their trust in princes—particularly of that dynasty. -The elder branch wisely took the oaths of allegiance, for the ingratitude -of a reigning house is less hopeless than that of a dethroned family. I -believe any one of them would be glad to accept office under the gracious -and extremely ungraceful lady who fills the British throne, established, -as I understand she is, on so broad a basis, there is but little room -for a consort. They are scarce likely to obtain their wish. The younger -branch would scout the idea, enveloped, one and all, in an atmosphere of -prejudice truly insular, which ignorant people call loyalty. This boy’s -great-grandfather died in a battle fought by Charles I., at a place with -an unpronounceable name, in the province of ‘Yorkshires.’ His grandfather -was shot by a platoon of musketeers in his own courtyard, under an order -signed by the judicious Cromwell; and his father was drowned here, in the -channel, carrying despatches for his king, as he persisted in calling -him, under the respectable disguise of a smuggler. I believe this boy -was with him at the time. I know when first he came to Court, people -pretended that although so young he was an accomplished sailor; and I -remember his hands were hard and dirty, and he always seemed to smell of -tar. I will own that now, _for_ a page, he is clean, polished, and well -dressed.” - -Florian’s dark eyes kindled. - -“You interest me,” said he; “I love to hear of loyalty. It is the -reflection of religion upon earth.” - -“Precisely,” replied the other. “A shadow of the unsubstantial. Well, -all his line are loyal enough, and I doubt not the boy has been brought -up to believe that in the world there are men, women, and Stuarts. The -fact of his being page here, I confess, puzzles me. Lord Stair protested -against it, I know, but the king would not listen, and used his own wise -discretion, consenting, however, that the lad should drop his family name -and be called simply—George. So George fulfils the destiny of a page, -whatever that may be—as gaudy, as troublesome, and to all appearance as -useless an item in creation as the dragon-fly.” - -“And has the child no relations?” asked Florian; “no friends, nobody to -whom he belongs? What a position; what a fate; what a cruel isolation!” - -“He is indeed in that enviable situation which I cannot agree with you in -thinking merits one grain of pity. You and I, Florian, with our education -and in our career, should, of all people, best appreciate the advantages -of perfect freedom from those trammels which old women of both sexes call -the domestic affections.” - -“So young, so hopeful, so spirited,” continued Florian, speaking rather -to himself than his informant, “and to have no mother!” - -“But he _had_ a mother, I tell you,” replied Malletort, “only she died of -a broken heart, as women always do when a little energy is required to -repair their broken fortunes. _Our_ mother, my son,” he proceeded, still -in the same half-mocking, half-impressive tone, “_our_ mother is the -Church. She provides for us carefully during life, and when we die in her -embrace, at least affords us decent burial and prayers for our welfare -hereafter. I tell you, Florian, she is the most thoughtful as she is the -most indulgent of mothers. She offers us opportunity for distinction, or -allows us shelter and repose according as our ambition soars to heaven, -or limits itself, as I confess mine does, to the affairs of earth. Who -shall be found exalted above their kind in the next world? (I speak as -I am taught)—Priests. Who fill the high places in this? (I speak as I -learn)—Priests. The king’s wisest councillors, his ablest financiers, -are men of the sober garment and the shaven crown; nay, judging from the -simplicity of his habits, and the austerity of his demeanour, I cannot -but think that the bravest marshal in our armies is only a priest in -disguise.” - -“There are but two careers worthy of a life-sacrifice,” observed Florian, -his countenance glowing with enthusiasm, “and glory is the aim of each. -But who would compare the soldier of France with the soldier of Rome?—the -banner of the Bourbon with the cross of Calvary? How much less noble is -it to serve earth than heaven?” - -Malletort looked in his young friend’s face as if he thought such -exalted sentiments could not possibly be real, and shrewdly suspected -him of covert sarcasm or jest; but Florian’s open brow admitted of no -misconstruction, and the elder man’s features gradually relaxed into the -quiet expression of amusement, not devoid of pity, with which a professor -in the swimmer’s art, for instance, watches the floundering struggles of -a neophyte. - -“You are right,” said he, calmly and after a pause; “ours is incomparably -the better profession of the two, and the safer. We risk less, no doubt, -and gain more. Persecution, in civilised countries at least, is happily -all the other way. It is extremely profitable to be saints, and there -is no call for us to become martyrs. I think, Florian, we have every -reason to be satisfied with our bargain. Why, the very ties we sever, the -earthly affections we resign, are, to my mind, but so many more enforced -advantages, for which we cannot be too thankful.” - -“There would be no merit were there no effort,” answered the other. “No -self-denial were there nothing to give up; but with us it is different. I -am proud to think we _do_ resign, and cheerfully, all that gives warmth -and colouring to the hard outlines of an earthly life. Is it nothing -to forego the triumphs of the camp, the bright pageantry, the graceful -luxuries of the Court? Is it nothing to place yourself at once above and -outside the pale of those sympathies which form the very existence of -your fellow-men? More than all, is it nothing, Malletort,”—the young man -hesitated, blushed, and cast his eyes down—“is it nothing to trample out -of your heart, passions, affections—call them what you will—that seem the -very mainspring of your being? Is it nothing to deny yourself at once and -for ever the solace of woman’s companionship and the rapture of woman’s -love?” - -“You declaim well,” replied Malletort, not affecting to conceal that he -was amused, “and your arguments would have even more weight were it not -that you are so palpably in earnest. This of itself infers error. You -will observe, my dear Florian, as a general rule, that the reasoner’s -convictions are strong in direct proportion to the weakness of his -arguments. But let us go a little deeper into this question of celibacy. -Let us strip it of its conventional treatment, its supposed injustice, -its apparent romance. To what does it amount? That a priest must not -marry—good. I repeat, so much the better for the priest. What is marriage -in the abstract?—The union of persons for the continuation of the species -in separate and distinct races. What is it in the ideal?—The union of -souls by an unphilosophical and impossible fusion of identity, which -happily the personality of every human being forbids to exist. What is -it in reality?—A fetter of oppressive weight and inconvenient fabric, -only rendered supportable from the deadening influence of habit, combined -with its general adoption by mankind. Look around you into families and -observe for yourself how it works. The woman has discovered all her -husband’s evil qualities, of which she does not fail to remind him; and -were she a reflective being, which admits of argument, would wonder -hourly how she could ever have endured such a mass of imperfections. -The man bows his head and shrugs his shoulders in callous indifference, -scorning to analyse the disagreeable question, but clear only of one -thing—that if he were free, no consideration would induce him to place -his neck again beneath the same yoke. Another—perhaps! The same—never! -Both have discovered a dissimilarity in tastes, habits, and opinions, so -remarkable that it seems scarcely possible that it should be fortuitous. -To neither does it occur that each was once the very reflection of the -other, in thought, word, and deed; and that a blessing pronounced by a -priest—a few years, nay a few months, of unrestricted companionship—have -wrought the miraculous change. Sometimes there are quarrels, scenes, -tears, reproaches, recriminations. More often, coldness, self-restraint, -inward scorn, and the forbearance of a repressed disgust. Then is the -separation most complete of all. Their bodies preserve to each other the -outward forms of an armed and enforced neutrality, but their souls are so -far asunder that perhaps, of all in the universe, this pair alone could, -under no circumstances, come together again.” - -“Sacrilege!” broke in Florian, indignantly. “What you say is sacrilege -against our very nature! You speak of marriage as if it _must_ be the -grave of Love. But at least Love has lived. At least the angel has -descended and been seen of men, even though he touched the mountain only -to spring upward on his flight again towards the skies. He who has really -loved, happily or unhappily, married or alone, is for that love ever -after a wiser, a nobler, and a better man.” - -“Not if he should happen to love a Frenchwoman,” observed the other, -taking a pinch of snuff. “Thus much I will not scruple to say for my -countrywomen: their coquetries are enough to drive an honest man mad. -With regard to less civilised nations (mind, I speak not from personal -experience so much as observation of my kind), I admit that for a time, -at least, the delusion may possess a charm, though the loss must in all -cases far exceed the gain. Set your affections on a German, for instance, -and observe carefully, for the experiment is curious, if a dinner with -the idol does not so disgust you that not a remnant of worship is left -to be swept away by supper-time. A Pole is simply a beautiful barbarian, -with more clothing but less manner than an Indian squaw. An Italian -deafens you with her shrill voice, pokes your eye out with her fingers, -and betrays your inmost secrets to her director, if indeed she does not -prefer him to you in every respect. An Englishwoman, handsome, blonde, -silent, and retiring, keeps you months in uncertainty while you woo, and -when won, believes she has a right to possess you body and soul, and -becomes, from a sheer sentiment of appropriation, the most exacting of -wives and the most disobliging of mistresses. To make love to a Spaniard -is a delicate phrase for paying court to a tigress. Beautiful, fierce, -impulsive—with one leap she is in your arms—and then for a word, a -look, she will stab you, herself, a rival, perhaps all three, without -hesitation or remorse. Caramba! she considers it a compliment no doubt! -Yet I tell you, Florian, were I willing to submit to such weaknesses, I -had rather love any one of these, or all of them at once for that matter, -than attach myself to a Frenchwoman.” - -Florian opened his dark eyes wide. This was new ground to the young -student. These were questions more interesting than the principles of -Aristotle or the experiences of the Saints. He was penetrated, too, with -that strange admiration which the young entertain for familiarity with -evil in their elders. The other scanned him with half-pitying interest; -broke a branch from the fragrant lime-tree under which they sat, and -proceeded to elucidate his theory. - -“With all other women,” said Malletort, “you have indeed a thousand -rivals to out-do; still you know their numbers and can calculate their -resources; but with the Frenchwoman, in addition to these, you have -yet another, who changes and multiplies himself day by day—who assumes -a thousand Protean forms, and against whom you cannot employ the most -efficient weapons—such as vanity, gaiety, and love of dissipation, by -which the others are to be subdued. This enemy is dress—King Chiffon is -the absolute monarch of these realms. Your mistress is gay when you are -sad, sarcastic when you are plaintive, reserved when you are adventurous. -All this is a matter of course; but as Monsieur Vauban told the king the -other day in these gardens, ‘no fortress is stronger than its weakest -place,’ and every citadel may be carried by a _coup de main_, or reduced -by the slower process of blockade. But here you have a stronghold within -a stronghold; a reserve that can neither be tampered with in secret nor -attacked openly; in brief a rival who owns this incalculable advantage, -that in all situations and under all circumstances he occupies the first -place in your mistress’s thoughts. Bah!” concluded the Abbé, throwing -from him the branch which he had stripped of leaves and blossoms, with -a gesture that seemed thus to dismiss the subject once for all; “put a -Frenchwoman into what position you will, her sympathies indeed may be -with her lover, but her first consideration is for her dress!” - -As the Abbé spoke he observed a group of four persons passing the -front of the palace, under the windows of the king’s dining-saloon. It -consisted of little Cerise, her mother, Célandine, and the page. They -were laughing and chatting gaily, George apparently taking his leave of -the other three. Florian observed a shadow cross the Abbé’s face, that -disappeared, however, from those obedient features quickly as it came; -and at the same moment the Marquise passed her hand caressingly over the -boy’s dark curls, while he bent low before her, and seemed to do homage -to her beauty in the act of bidding her a courteous farewell. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -TANTARA! - - -Year by year a certain stag had been growing fatter and fatter in the -deep glades and quiet woodlands that surrounded Fontainebleau. He was but -a pricket when Cerise made her daisy-chain in the gardens of Versailles, -but each succeeding summer he had rubbed the velvet off another point -on his antlers, and in all the king’s chase was no finer head than he -carried the day he was to die. Brow, bay, and tray, twelve in all, with -three in a cup at the summits, had been the result of some half-score -years passed in the security and shelter of a royal forest; nor was -the lapse of time which had thus brought head and haunch to perfection -without its effect upon those for whose pastime the noble beast must fall. - -Imagine, then, a glowing afternoon, the second week in August. Not a -cloud in the sky, a sun almost tropical in its power, but a pure clear -air that fanned the brow wherever the forest opened into glades, and -filled the broad nostrils of a dozen large, deep-chested, rich-coloured -stag-hounds, snuffing and questing busily down a track of arid grass that -seemed to have checked their steady, well-considered unrelenting chase, -and brought their wondrous instinct to a fault. One rider alone watched -their efforts with a preoccupied air, yet with the ready glance of an -old sportsman. He had apparently reached his point of observation before -the hounds themselves, and far in advance of the rest of the chase. His -close-fitting blue riding-coat, trimmed with gold-lace and turned back -with scarlet facings, called a “_just au corps_,” denoted that he was -a courtier; but the keen eye, the erect figure, the stateliness, even -stiffness of his bearing, smacked of the old soldier, more, the old -soldier of France, perhaps the most professional veteran in the world. - -He was not so engrossed with his own thoughts, however, but that his eye -gleamed with pleasure when a tan-coloured sage, intent on business, threw -a square sagacious head into the air, proclaiming in full deep notes -his discovery of the line, and solemn conviction that he was right. The -horseman swore a good round garrison oath, and cheered the hound lustily. -A cry of tuneful tongues pealed out to swell the harmony. A burst of -music from a distant glade announced that the stag had passed yet farther -on. A couple of royal foresters, in blue and red, arrived on foot, -breathless, with fresh hounds struggling in the leash; and a lady on a -Spanish barb, attended by a plainly-dressed ecclesiastic, came cantering -down the glade to rein up at the veteran’s side, with a smile of greeting -on her face. - -“Well met, _Monsieur le Prince_, once more,” said she, flashing a look -from her dark eyes, under which, old as he was, he lowered his own. -“Always the same—always successful. In the Court—in the camp—in the -ball-room—in the field—if you seek the Prince-Marshal, look in the most -forward post, and you will find him.” - -She owed him some reparation for having driven him from her side in a fit -of ill-humour half an hour before, and this was her way of making amends. - -“I have won posts in my time, madame,” said the old soldier, an -expression of displeasure settling once more on his high worn features, -“and held them, too, without dishonour. It is perhaps no disgrace to be -worsted by a woman, but it is humiliating and unpleasant all the same.” - -“Dishonour and disgrace are words that can never be coupled with the name -of Chateau-Guerrand,” returned the lady, smiling sweetly in his face, a -process that appeared to mollify him considerably. Then she completed his -subjection by caressing her horse with one hand, while she reined him in -so sharply with the other, that he rose on his hind-legs as if to rear -straight on end. - -“You are a hard mistress, madame,” said the gentleman, looking at the -beautiful barb chafing and curveting to its bit. - -“It is only to show I _am_ mistress,” she answered in a low voice, that -seemed to finish the business, for turning to her attendant cavalier, -who had remained discreetly in the background, she signed to him that he -might come up and break the _tête-à-tête_, while she added gaily— - -“I am as fond of hunting as you are, prince. Hark! The stag is still -forward. Our poor horses are dying with impatience. Let us gallop on -together.” - -The Marquise de Montmirail had considerably altered in character since -she tended the infirmities of her poor old husband, or sat in widow’s -garments with her pretty child on her knee. A few years at the Court of -France had brought to the surface all the evil of her character, and -seemed to have stifled in her everything that was good. She had lost -the advantage of her daughter’s companionship, for Cerise (and in this -perhaps the Marquise was right) had been removed to a distance from the -Court and capital, to bloom into womanhood in the healthier atmosphere of -a provincial convent. She missed her darling sadly, no doubt, and for the -first year or two contented herself with the gaieties and distractions -common to her companions. She encouraged no lover, properly so called, -and had seldom fewer than three admirers at a time. Nor had the king of -late taken special notice of her; so she was only hated by the other -Court ladies with the due hatred to which she was entitled from her -wealth, beauty, and attractions. - -After a while, however, she put in for universal dominion, and then of -course the outcry raised against her was loud and long sustained. She -heeded it little; nay, she seemed to like it, and bandied sarcasms with -her own sex as joyously, to all appearance, as she exchanged compliments -with the other. - -She never faltered. She never committed herself. She stood on the brink, -and never turned giddy nor lost her presence of mind. What she required, -it seemed, what she could not live without, was influence, more or less, -but the stronger the better, over every male creature that crossed her -path. When this was gained, she had done with them unless they were -celebrities, or sufficiently frivolous to be as variable as herself. In -either of such cases she took considerable pains to secure the empire she -had won. What she liked best was to elicit an offer of marriage. She was -supposed to have refused more men, and of more different ranks, than any -woman in France. For bachelor or widower who came within the sphere of -her influence there was no escape. Sooner or later he must blunder into -the net, and the longer he fought the more complete and humiliating was -his eventual defeat. “Nothing,” said the Abbé Malletort, “nothing but the -certainty of the king’s unacknowledged marriage to Madame de Maintenon -prevented his cousin from obtaining and refusing an offer of the crown of -France.” - -She was beautiful, too, no doubt, which made it so much worse—beautiful -both with the beauty of the intellect and the senses. Not strictly by -any rules of art, but from grace of outline, richness of colouring, and -glowing radiance of health. She had all the ways, too, of acknowledged -beauty; and even people who did not care for her were obliged to admit -she possessed that strange, indefinite, inexplicable charm which every -man finds in the woman he loves. - -The poor Prince-Marshal, Hector de Chateau-Guerrand, had undergone the -baptism of fire at sixteen, had fought his duels, drank his Burgundy, -and lost an estate at lansquenet in a night before he was twenty. Since -then he had commanded the Musketeers of the Guard—divisions of the great -king’s troops—more than once a French army in the field. It was hard to -be a woman’s puppet at sixty—with wrinkles and rheumatism, and failing -health, with every pleasure palling, and every pain enhanced. Well, as he -said himself, “_le cœur ne vieillit jamais_!” There is no fool like an -old one. The Prince-Marshal, for that was the title by which he was best -known, had never been ardently attached to anybody but himself till now. -We need not envy him his condition. - -“Let us gallop on together,” said the Marquise; but ere they could -put their horses in motion a yeoman-pricker, armed to the teeth, rode -rapidly by, and they waited until his Majesty should have passed. Their -patience was not tried for long. While a fresh burst of horns announced -another view of the quarry further on, the king’s little calèche turned -the corner of the alley at speed, and was pulled up with considerable -dexterity, that its occupant might listen for a moment to determine on -his future course. Louis sat by himself in a light, narrow carriage, -constructed to hold but one person. He was drawn by four cream-coloured -horses, small, well-bred, and active. A child of some ten years of age -acted postilion to the leaders, but the king’s own hand drove the pair -at wheel, and guided them with all the skill and address of his early -manhood. - -Nevertheless, he looked very old and feeble when he returned the -obeisance of the Prince-Marshal and his fair companion. Always -punctiliously polite, Louis lifted his hat to salute the Marquise, but -his chin soon sank back on his chest, and the momentary gleam died out in -his dull and weary eyes. - -It was obvious his health was failing day by day; he was now nearly -seventy-seven years of age, and the end could not be far off. As he -passed on, an armed escort followed at a few paces distance. It was -headed by a young officer of the Grey Musketeers, who saluted the -Prince-Marshal with considerable deference, and catching the eye of the -Marquise, half halted his horse; and then, as if thinking better of it, -urged him on again, the colour rising visibly in his brown handsome face. - -The phenomenon of a musketeer blushing was not likely to be lost on so -keen an observer as Madame de Montmirail, particularly when the musketeer -was young, handsome, and an excellent horseman. - -“Who is that on guard?” said she, carelessly of course, because she -really wanted to know. “A captain of the Grey Musketeers evidently. And -yet I do not remember to have seen his face at Court before.” - -Now it was not to be expected that a Marshal of France should show -interest, at a moment’s notice, in so inferior an official as a mere -captain of musketeers, more particularly when riding with a “ladye-love” -nearly thirty years younger than himself, and of an age far more -suitable to the good-looking gentleman about whom she made inquiries. -Nevertheless, the Prince had no objection to enter on any subject -redounding to his own glorification, particularly in war, and it so -happened that the officer in question had served as his aide-de-camp in -an affair that won him a Marshal’s baton; so he reduced his horse’s pace -forthwith, and plunged into the tempting subject. - -“A fine young man, madame,” said the Prince-Marshal, like a generous old -soldier as he was, “and a promising officer as ever I had the training -of. He was with me while a mere cadet in that business when I effected my -junction with Vendôme at Villa-Viciosa, and I sent him with despatches -from Brighuega right through Staremberg’s uhlans, who ought to have cut -him into mince-meat. Even Vendôme thanked him in person, and told me -himself I must apply for the brave child’s promotion.” - -Like other ladies, the Marquise suffered her attention to wander -considerably from these campaigning reminiscences. She roused herself, -however, enough to answer, not very pertinently— - -“What an odious man the Duke is, and how hideous. Generally drunk, -besides, and always disagreeable!” - -The Prince-Marshal looked a little put out, but he did not for this allow -himself to be diverted from his subject. - -“A very _fortunate_ soldier, madame,” he replied, pompously; “perhaps -more fortunate than really deserving. Nevertheless, in war as in love, -merit is of less importance than success. His Majesty thought well to -place the Duke over the head of officers whose experience was greater, -and their services more distinguished. It is not for me to offer an -opinion. I serve France, madame, and _you_,” he added, with a smile, not -too unguarded, because some of his teeth were gone, “I am proud to offer -my homage to both.” - -The Marquise moved her horse impatiently. The subject did not seem to -amuse her, but the Prince-Marshal had got on a favourite theme, and was -not going to abandon it without a struggle. - -“I do not think, madame,” he proceeded, laying his hand confidentially -on the barb’s crest—“I do not think I have ever explained to you in -detail the strategical reasons of my forced march on Villa-Viciosa in -order to co-operate with Vendôme. I have been blamed in military circles -for evacuating Brighuega after taking it, and abandoning the position -I held at the bridge the day before the action, which I had caused to -be strengthened during the night. Now there is much to be urged on both -sides regarding this movement, and I will endeavour to make clear to you -the arguments for and against the tactics I thought it my duty to adopt. -In the first place, you must bear in mind that the enemy’s change of -front on the previous morning, which was unexpected by us, and for which -Staremberg had six cogent reasons, being as follows―” - -The Marquise looked round to her other cavalier in despair; but no -assistance was to be expected from the cynical Abbé—for it was Malletort -in attendance, as usual, on his cousin. - -The Prince-Marshal was, doubtless, about to recount the dispositions and -manœuvres of three armies seriatim, with his own advice and opinions -thereon, when relief came to his listener from a quarter in which she -least expected it. - -She was preparing herself to endure for the hundredth time the oft-told -tale, when her horse started, snorted, trembled violently, and attempted -to wheel round. In another instant an animal half as big as itself leaped -leisurely into the glade, and went lurching down the dry sunny vista as -if in utter disregard and contempt of its pursuers. - -The stag had been turned back at several points by the horns of the -foresters, who thus melodiously greeted every appearance of their quarry. -He was beginning to think some distant refuge would be safer and more -agreeable; also his instinct told him that the scent would improve while -he grew warmer, and that his noisy pursuers would track him more and more -unerringly as the sun went down. - -Already he felt the inconvenience of those fat haunches and that -broad russet back he carried so magnificently; already he heard the -deep-mouthed chorus chiming nearer and nearer, full, musical, and -measured, like a death-bell. - -“_En avant!_” exclaimed Madame de Montmirail, as the stag, swerving -from a stray hound, stretched into an honest, undisguised gallop down -the glade, followed by the straggler at its utmost speed, labouring, -over-paced, distressed, but rolling on, mute, resolute, and faithful to -the line. The love of rapid motion, inseparable from health, energy, and -high spirits, was strong in the Marquise. Her barb, in virtue of his -blood, possessed pace and endurance; his mistress called on him to prove -both, while she sped along on the line of chase, accompanied by several -of the hounds, as they straggled up in twos and threes, and followed by -most of the equestrians. - -Thus they reached the verge of the forest, and here stood the king’s -calèche drawn up, his Majesty signing to them feebly yet earnestly that -the stag was away over the plain. - -Great was now the confusion at so exciting and so unexpected an event. -The foresters, with but little breath to spare, managed to raise a final -flourish on their horns. The yeoman-prickers spurred their horses with -a vigour more energetic than judicious; the hounds, collecting as it -seemed from every quarter of the forest, were already stringing, one -after another, over the dusty plain. The king, too feeble to continue -the chase, yet anxious to know its result, whispered a few words to his -officer of the guard, and the Musketeer, starting like an arrow from -a bow, sped away after the hounds with some half-dozen of the keenest -equestrians, amongst whom were the Marquise and the Prince-Marshal. -Many of the courtiers, including the Abbé, seemed to think it disloyal -thus to turn their backs on his Majesty, and gathered into a cluster -to watch with interjections of interest and delight the pageant of -the fast-receding chase. The far horizon was bounded by another range -of woods, and that shelter the stag seemed resolved to reach. The -intervening ground was a vast undulating plain, crossed apparently by -no obstacles to hounds or horsemen, and varied only by a few lines of -poplars and a _paved_ high-road to the nearest market-town. - -The stag then made direct for this road, but long ere he could reach -it, the chase had become so severe that many of the hounds dropped -off one by one; and of the horses, only those ridden by the Marquise, -the Prince-Marshal, and the Grey Musketeer, were able to keep up the -appearance of a gallop. - -Presently these successful riders drew near enough to distinguish clearly -the object of their pursuit. The Musketeer was in advance of the others, -who galloped on abreast, every nerve at its highest strain, and too -preoccupied to speak a syllable. - -Suddenly a dip in the ground hid the stag from sight; then he appeared -again on the opposite rise, looking darker, larger, and fresher than -before. - -The Musketeer turned round and pointed towards the hollow in front. In a -few more strides his followers perceived a fringe of alders serpentining -between the two declivities. Madame de Montmirail’s dark eyes flashed, -and she urged her barb to yet greater exertions. - -The Musketeer sat back in his saddle, and seemed to collect his horse’s -energies for an effort. There was an increase of speed, a spring, a -stagger, and he was over the rivulet that stole deep and cool and shining -between the alders. - -The Marquise followed his horse’s footmarks to an inch, and though the -barb threw his head up wildly, and galloped furiously at it, he too -cleared the chasm and reached the other side in safety. - -The Prince-Marshal’s old blood was warmed up now, and he flew along, -feeling as he used in the days of the duels, and the Burgundy, and the -lansquenet. He shouted and spurred his steed, urging it with hand and -voice and leg, but the highly-broken and well-trained animal felt its -powers failing, and persistently declined to attempt the feat it had seen -the others accomplish; so the Prince-Marshal was forced to discontinue -the chase and remain on the safe side of the rubicon, whence he turned -his horse unwillingly homewards, heated, angry, and swearing many strange -oaths in different languages. - -Meanwhile the other two galloped on, the Marquise, though she spared no -effort, finding herself unable to overtake the captain of Grey Musketeers. - -All at once he stopped short at a clump of willows, through which the -chase had disappeared, and jumping off his horse, left the panting beast -to its own devices. When she reached the trees, and looked down into the -hollow below, she perceived the stag up to its chest in a bright, shallow -pool, at bay, and surrounded by the eager though exhausted hounds. - -The Musketeer had drawn his _couteau de chasse_, and was already -knee-deep in the water, but hearing her approach, turned back, and, -taking his hat off, with a low obeisance, offered her the handle of his -weapon. - -It was the customary form when a lady happened to be present on such an -occasion, though, as now, the compliment was almost always declined. - -He had scarcely gone in and given the _coup de grace_, which he did -like an accomplished sportsman, before some of the yeomen-prickers and -other attendants came up, so that the disembowelling and other obsequies -were performed with proper ceremony. Long, however, ere these had been -concluded the Marquise was riding her tired horse slowly homeward through -the still, sweet autumn evening, not the least disturbed that she had -lost the Abbé and the rest of her escort, but ruminating, pleasantly and -languidly, as her blood cooled down, on the excitement of the chase and -the events of the day. - -She watched the sunset reddening and fading on the distant woods; the -haze of twilight gradually softening, and blurring and veiling the -surrounding landscape; the curved edge of the young moon peering over -the trees, and the evening-star hanging, like a golden lamp, against the -purple curtain of the sky. - -With head bent down, loose reins, and tired hands resting on her lap, -Madame de Montmirail pondered on many matters as the night began to fall. - -She wondered at the Abbé’s want of enterprise, at the Prince-Marshal’s -activity—if the first could have yet reached home, and whether the -second, with his rheumatism, was not likely to spend a night in the woods. - -She wondered at the provoking cynicism of the one and the extraordinary -depressive powers possessed by the other; more than all, how she could -for so long have supported the attentions of both. - -She wondered what would have happened if the barb had fallen short at his -leap; whether the Musketeer would have stopped in his headlong course -to pity and tend her, and rest her head upon his knee, inclining to the -belief that he would have been very glad to have the opportunity. - -Then she wondered what it was about this man’s face that haunted her -memory, and where she could have seen those bold keen eyes before. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE USHER OF THE BLACK ROD - - -For the courtiers of _Louis le Grand_ there was no such thing as hunger -or thirst, want of appetite, heat, cold, lassitude, depression, or -fatigue. If he chose they should accompany him on long journeys, in -crowded carriages, over bad roads, they were expected, nevertheless, to -appear fresh, well-dressed, exuberant in spirits, inclined to eat or -content to starve, unconscious of sun and wind; above all, ready to agree -with his Majesty upon every subject at a moment’s notice. Ladies enjoyed -in this respect no advantage over gentlemen. Though a fair amazon had -been hunting the stag all day, she would be required to appear just the -same in grand Court toilet at night; to take her place at lansquenet; to -be present at the royal concerts, twenty fiddles playing a heavy opera -of Cavalli right through; or, perhaps, only to assist in lining the -great gallery, which the king traversed on his way to supper. Everything -must yield to the lightest whim of royalty, and no more characteristic -reply was ever made to the arbitrary descendant of St. Louis than that -of the eccentric Cardinal Bonzi, to whom the king complained one day at -dinner that he had no teeth. “Teeth, sire!” replied the astute churchman, -showing, while he spoke, a strong, even well-polished row of his own. -“Why, who _has_ any teeth?” - -His Majesty, however, like mortals of inferior rank, did not touch on the -accomplishment of his seventy-seventh year without sustaining many of the -complaints and inconveniences of old age. For some time past not only -had his teeth failed, but his digestion, despite of the regimen of iced -fruits and sweetmeats, on which he was put by his physician Fagon, became -unequal to its task. Everybody but himself and his doctor perceived the -rapidity with which a change was approaching. In vain they swaddled him -up in feather-pillows at night, to draw the gout from him through the -pores of his skin; in vain they administered sage, veronica, cassia, -and Jesuit-bark between meals, while they limited his potations to a -little weak Burgundy and water, thereby affording some amusement to those -present from the wry faces made by foreign lords and grandees who were -curious to taste the king’s beverage. In vain they made him begin dinner -with mulberries, and melons, and rotten figs, and strong soups, and -salads. There is but one remedy for old age, and it is only to be found -in the pharmacopœia, at the last chapter of the book. To that remedy the -king was fast approaching—and yet hunting, fiddling, dining, promenades, -concerts, and the whole round of empty Court gaiety went on all the same. - -The Marquise de Montmirail returned to her apartments at the palace with -but little time to spare. It wanted but one hour from the king’s supper, -and she must attend with the other ladies of the Court, punctual as -clockwork, directly the folding-doors opened into the gallery, and his -Majesty, in an enormous wig, should totter in at one end to totter out -again at the other. Nevertheless, a good deal of decoration can be done -in sixty minutes, when a lady, young and beautiful, is assisted by an -attendant whose taste becomes chastened and her activity quickened by -the superintendence of four distinct toilets every day. So the Marquise -and Célandine between them had put the finishing touches to their great -work within the appointed time. The former was going through a gratifying -revision of the whole at her looking-glass, and the latter was applying -to her mistress’s handkerchief that perfume of orange-flowers which alone -his Majesty could endure, when a loud knocking at the outer door of the -apartment suspended the operations of each, bringing an additional colour -to the Marquise’s cheek, and a cloud of displeasure on the quadroon’s -brow. - -“See what it is Célandine,” said the former, calmly, wondering in her -heart, though it seemed absurd, whether this disturbance could relate in -any manner to the previous events of the day. - -“It is the Abbé, I’ll be bound,” muttered Célandine, proceeding to do as -she was bid; adding, sulkily, though below her breath, “He might knock -there till his knuckles were sore if I was mistress instead of maid!” - -It was the Abbé, sure enough, in plain attire, as became his profession; -but with an expression of hope and elation on his brow which even his -perfect self-command seemed unable to conceal. - -“Pardon, madame!” said he, standing, hat in hand, on the threshold; -“I was in attendance to conduct you to the gallery, as usual, when -the intelligence that reached me, and, indeed, the confusion I myself -witnessed, induced me to take the liberty of waiting on you at once.” - -“No great liberty,” answered the Marquise, smiling, “seeing that I -must have encountered you, at any rate, within three paces of my door. -But what is this alarming news, my cousin, that agitates even your -imperturbable front? Nothing wrong with the barb, I hope!” - -“Not so bad as that, madame,” replied the Abbé, who was rapidly -recovering his calmness. “It is only a matter affecting his Majesty. I -have just learned the king is taken seriously ill. Fagon crossed the -courtyard five minutes ago. Worse than that, Père Tellier has been sent -for.” - -“Père Tellier!” repeated the Marquise. “The king’s confessor! Then the -attack is dangerous?” - -“There is no doubt that his Majesty’s state is precarious in the -extreme,” answered the Abbé, seriously. “It is a severe and exhausting -malady from which he suffers, and at his time of life we may anticipate -the gravest results. Madame, I must be in Paris by break of day -to-morrow, to wait on the Duke of Orleans.” - -She looked at him with a half-contemptuous indulgence, and laughed. - -“So soon?” said she. “Nay, then, I am satisfied you think the worst. -My cousin, you are wise in your generation, no doubt; and it would -be a sudden blow, indeed, that should fall and find you unprepared. -Nevertheless, is not this haste indecent? Worse; is it not ill-judged? -The king has a wonderful constitution; Fagon is a cautious physician. -His Majesty may recover in spite of the doctor.” - -“And sin again in spite of his confessor,” added the Abbé. “Nevertheless, -I think both have foreseen a crisis for some time past. Fagon has called -in Marechal to help him; and Père Tellier has been asking for every -vacant benefice during the last three weeks.” - -“It was very polite of you, my cousin,” observed the Marquise, after a -pause, “to come and tell me at once; though the only immediate result of -all this confusion to _me_ is, that I suppose I may undress and go to -bed. I have had a fatiguing day.” - -“Pardon again,” answered the Abbé. “I fear you must attend as usual in -the gallery; and, indeed, it would be a thousand pities that such a -toilette should be wasted, for you look beautiful, and are charmingly -dressed. You know, besides, that only the king’s own order can rescind -the daily regulations for the Court.” - -“We had better proceed, then,” said Madame de Montmirail. “Célandine has -revised me thoroughly, and the sooner I go the sooner I shall get it -over. Believe me, it would require some excitement stronger than common -to keep me awake to-night.” - -“One instant, madame,” replied the Abbé. “I will not detain you longer; -but at a crisis like the present what I have to say merits your most -earnest attention. In the first place, will you permit Célandine to -examine if the outer door be shut?” - -The scowl on the quadroon’s brow grew deeper, while, in obedience to a -sign from her mistress, she retired into the outer chamber. The Marquise -seated herself on a couch near the toilet-table, spreading her skirts out -carefully, lest their freshness might sustain damage in that position, -and prepared to receive her cousin’s confidences, as he stood near, cool, -polished, smiling, but obviously repressing, with an effort, the strong -agitation under which he laboured. - -While she sat in that graceful attitude, her head turned up towards his -face, one beautifully moulded arm and hand resting in her lap, the other -yet ungloved holding a closed fan against her lips, it may have occurred -to the Abbé that so many charms of person and manner might be applied -to a worthier purpose than the furtherance of Court intrigues or the -advancement of any one man’s ambition. It may even have occurred to him, -though doubtless if it did so the thought had to be stifled as it rose, -that it would be no unpleasant task, however difficult, to woo and win -and wear such beauty for himself and his own happiness; and that to be -his cousin’s favoured lover was a more enviable position than could -be afforded by comptroller’s wand, or cardinal’s cap, or minister’s -portfolio. For a moment his rugged features softened like a clearing -landscape under a gleam of sun, while he looked on her and basked, as it -were, in the radiance of her beauty, ere he turned back to the chill, -shadowy labyrinth of deceit in which he spent his life. - -Madame de Montmirail’s exterior was of that sparkling kind which, like -the diamond, is enhanced by the richness of its setting. In full Court -toilette as he saw her now, few women would have cared to enter the lists -as her rivals. The dress she wore was of pale yellow satin, displaying, -indeed, with considerable liberality, her graceful neck and shoulders, -glowing in the warm tints of a brunette. It fitted close to her -well-turned bust, spreading into an enormous volume of skirts below the -waist, overlaid by a delicate fabric of black lace, and looped up here -and there in strings of pearls. Her waving hair, black and glossy, was -turned back from a low, broad forehead, and gathered behind her ears into -a shining mass, from which a ringlet or two escaped, smooth and elastic, -to coil, snake-like, on her bosom. One row of large pearls encircled her -neck, and one bracelet of diamonds and emeralds clung to her ungloved -arm. Other ornaments she had none, though an open dressing-case on the -toilet-table flashed and glittered like a jeweller’s shop. - -And now I have only made an inventory of her dress after all. How can I -hope to convey an idea of her face? How is it possible to describe that -which constitutes a woman’s loveliness? that subtle influence which, -though it generally accompanies harmony of colouring and symmetry of -feature, is by no means the result of these advantages; nay, often -exists without them, and seems in all cases independent of their aid. I -will only say of her charms, that Madame de Montmirail was already past -thirty, and nine men out of every ten in the circle of her acquaintance -were more or less in love with her. - -She had a beautiful foot, besides. It was peeping out now from beneath -her dress. The Abbé’s eyes unconsciously fixed themselves on the small -white satin shoe, as he proceeded with his confidences. - -“It is good to be prepared, my cousin,” said he, in a low, hurried voice, -very different from his usual easy, careless tone. “Everything will now -be changed, if, as I expect, the indisposition of to-night is but the -beginning of the end. You know my situation; you know my hopes; you know -the difficulties I have had to contend with. The king’s suspicions, the -courtiers’ jealousy, the imprudence of my patron himself; and you know, -too, that through good and evil I have always stood firm by the Duke of -Orleans. It is evident that in a few days he will be the most powerful -man in France.” - -“Afterwards?” asked the Marquise, apparently unmoved by the contingency. - -“Afterwards!” repeated Malletort, almost with indignation. “Do you not -see the career that opens itself before us all? Who is best acquainted -with the Duke’s early history?—Abbé Malletort. Who is the Duke bound to -serve before the whole world? Not from gratitude—bah! that is a thing of -course—but from motives of the clearest self-interest?—Abbé Malletort. In -brief, in whom does he confide?—In Abbé Malletort. And to whom does the -Abbé lay bare his hopes, his aspirations, his ambition?—To whom but to -his sweet cousin, Madame de Montmirail?” - -“And what would you have me do?” asked the Marquise, yawning, while she -carelessly fastened the bracelet on her arm. - -“I would have you guard your lips with a clasp of iron,” answered the -Abbé. “I would have you keep watch to-night and to-morrow, and every -day till the end comes—on your words, your looks, your gestures—the -very trimmings and colour of the dresses you wear. Be polite to all; -but familiar, cordial, even communicative with none. In brief, have no -friends, no enemies, no dislikes, no predilections, till the old state of -affairs is ended and the new begun.” - -“I think you can trust me,” answered the Marquise. “My feelings are -little likely to betray me into indiscretion; and though I have plenty of -lovers at Court, I do not imagine I have many friends.” - -She spoke wearily, and finished with something like a sigh. - -The Abbé’s eyes sparkled. “I _know_ I can!” said he. “My cousin has none -of the weaknesses of her sex, and all its beauty for her own share.” Then -he opened the door and spoke loud enough for Célandine to hear. “We must -have mademoiselle back from her pension. She is old enough now to take -her place as an ornament to society and the Court.” - -Malletort understood true economy, and he knew that this bribe, while it -cost him nothing, would purchase favour with the quadroon, whose dislike -he had observed and resolved to efface. - -Madame de Montmirail bowed and took his arm. It was now high time they -were both in attendance on his Majesty, should the concert fixed for that -night be permitted to take place. - -As they walked through the corridor, however, a great confusion was heard -in the gallery they were about to enter. There was a scuffling of feet, -a murmur of agitated voices suppressed to whispers, and the smothered -sobs of women, denoting some sad catastrophe. When the door opened, the -musicians crowded hurriedly out, carrying with them their instruments, -and tumultuously impeding the progress of a spare grave man in a priest’s -dress, who pushed his way through, with every appearance of anxiety and -dismay. - -It was Père Tellier, the king’s confessor, summoned in mortal haste to -the bedside of his dying master. - -The Marquise and the Abbé had that day looked their last upon the face of -_Louis le Grand_. Already, through pale attendants and anxious courtiers, -through valets and chamberlains and musketeers of the guard, might be -seen approaching the real Usher of the Black Rod. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -A JESUIT’S TASK - - -Of all armies on earth, there is none with a discipline so perfect as -exists in the ranks of the Jesuits. No similar brotherhood embraces -so extensive a scheme; no society spreads its ramifications so wide -and deep. The soldier who enlists under that black banner abandons -at once and for ever his own affections, his own opinions, his own -responsibilities; nay, his very identity becomes fused in the general -organisation of his order. Florian de St. Croix, with his warm, -impulsive disposition, his tendency to self-sacrifice, and his romantic -temperament, had better have hanged round his neck any other millstone -than this. - -As he walked rapidly down a long perspective of paved road, between -two lofty rows of poplars, his head bent low, his hands clenched, his -lips muttering, and his swift unequal strides denoting both impetuosity -and agitation, he seemed strangely and sadly altered from the bright -enthusiastic youth who sat with Abbé Malletort under the limes at -Versailles. - -His very name had been put off, with every other association that could -connect the past life of the layman with the future labours of the -priest. He was known as Brother Ambrose now in the muster-rolls of the -order; though, out of it, he was still addressed as Florian by his former -friends. It was supposed, perhaps, in the wisdom of his superiors, that -the devoted knight could fight best under a plain shield on which no -achievements might ever be emblazoned, but which, in theory at least, was -to be preserved pure and stainless, until he was carried home on it from -his last field. - -For Florian, indeed, the battle had already commenced. He was fighting -it now, fiercely, under that smiling summer sky, between those fragrant -meadows, fringed with flowering hedges, amongst the clustering orchards -and smiling farms, the green nooks, the gleaming waters, and the free, -fresh range of wooded hill and dale in pleasant Normandy. Little thought -the buxom peasant-woman, with her clean white cap, long earrings, and -handsome weather-beaten face, as she crossed herself in passing, and -humbly received the muttered benediction—how much of war was in his -breast who proffered peace to her and hers; or the prosperous farmer -riding by on his stamping grey stallion, with tail tied up, broad, -well-fed back, huge brass-bound saddle, and red-fronted bridle—how -enviable was his own contented ignorance compared with the learning -and imagination and aspirations running riot in the brain of that wan -hurrying priest. The fat curé, thinking of his dinner, his duties, and -the stone-fruit ripening on his wall, greeted him with professional -friendliness, tempered by profound respect; for in his person he beheld -the principle of self-devotion which constitutes the advance, the -vanguard, the very forlorn hope of an army in which he felt himself a -mere suttler or camp-follower at the best; but his sleep that afternoon -over a bottle of light wine in his leafy arbour would have been none the -sounder could he have known the horror of doubt and darkness that weighed -like lead on his brother’s spirit—the fears, the self-reproaches, the -anxieties that tore at his brother’s heart. - -Yet the same sun was shining on them all; the same glorious landscape -of wood and water, waving corn and laughing upland—gold, and silver, -and blue, and green, and purple—spread out for their enjoyment; the -same wild-flowers blooming, the same wild-birds carolling, to delight -their senses; the same heaven looking down in tender pity on the wilful -blindness and reckless self-torture of mankind. - -Florian had entered the order, believing that in so doing he adopted -the noblest career of chivalry below, to end in the proudest triumph of -victory above. Like the crusaders of the Middle Ages, he turned to his -profession, and beheld in it a means of ambition, excitement, influence -over his fellow-men, purchased—not at the sacrifice—but in the salvation -of his soul. Like them, he was to have the best of it both for earth -and heaven; like them, he was to submit to labour, privation, all the -harassing exigencies of warfare; but, like them, he was upheld by the -consciousness of power which springs from discipline and cohesion, by -an unselfish sentiment of professional pride, not more peculiar to the -soldier than the priest. - -He took the vows of obedience—the blind, unreasoning, unhesitating -obedience exacted by the order—with a thrill of exultation. As a Jesuit, -he must henceforth know neither friendship nor affection; neither -sentiment, passion, nor self-regard. His brain must be always clear, his -eye keen, his hand ready; but brain must think, eye see, and hand strike -only in conformity with the will of a superior. He was to preserve every -faculty of nature except volition. He was to become a galvanised corpse -rather than a living man. - -And now these hideous vows, this impossible obedience, must be put to the -test. Like the demoniacs of old, he writhed in torture as he walked. It -seemed that the evil spirit rent and tore the man because it could not -come out of him. - -He was hurrying on foot to the convent of our Lady of Succour. He knew -every stone in that paved road as he knew the fingers on his own hand. -His superior had lately installed him confessor to the establishment; -_him_, young, handsome, impressionable, with his dark eyes and his loving -smile. There was another confessor, too, a stout old man, with a rosy -face and a kind heart, altogether, as it would seem, a far more judicious -appointment; but Florian’s duties brought him little in contact with the -nuns and lay amongst the young ladies, several of whom were daughters of -noble families, receiving their education in a pension attached to the -convent. - -Of these, Brother Ambrose had been specially enjoined to turn his -attention to Mademoiselle de Montmirail; to obtain all the influence in -his power over the frank, innocent mind of that engaging girl; to win her -affections as much as possible from earthly vanities, to which, as she -was on the verge of womanhood, it is probable she was not disinclined; -and to lead her gradually into a train of thought that might at last -bring her home to the bosom of the Church as a nun. That Church would -at the same time protect her from temptation, by relieving her of the -earthly dross with which she would be encumbered, and which would pass -into its holy keeping the day the heiress should assume the black veil. - -Besides the reversion of her mother’s wealth, she would inherit -considerable property of her own when she came of age. Had it been -otherwise, it is possible the same interest might not have been shown -for the insurance of her salvation, and Brother Ambrose might have been -making fires of camel’s dung in Tartary, or bearing witness by martyrdom -in Morocco, instead of hurrying through the shade of those quivering -poplars in homely, happy Normandy. - -But as he approached the convent of our Lady of Succour, Brother -Ambrose—or Florian, as we shall call him for the present—reduced his walk -to a much slower step, and became conscious of a hot feeling about his -eyes, a cold moisture in the palms of his hands, that had no connection -with theology, polemics, or the usual duties of a priest. There are -proverbs used in the world, such as “Tit-for-tat;” “The biter bit;” “Go -for wool, and come back shorn,” which are applicable to ecclesiastics as -to laymen. It is no safer to play with edged tools in a convent than in -a ball-room, and it is a matter of the merest hazard who shall get the -best of an encounter in which the talents and education of a clever but -susceptible man are pitted against the bright looks and fresh roses of -girlhood at eighteen. - -Florian had been enjoined to use every effort for the subjugation of -Mademoiselle de Montmirail. He was to be restricted by no considerations -such as hamper the proceedings of ordinary minds, for was not this one -of the fundamental principles of his order—“It is lawful to do evil -that good may come”? He had not, indeed, swallowed this maxim without -considerable repulsion, so utterly at variance, as it seemed, not only -with reason, but with that instinctive sentiment of right which is often -a surer guide than even reason itself; but he had been convinced against -his will by those under whose feet he had chosen to place his neck, and -had at last brought his opinions, if not his feelings, to the necessary -state of control. A few interviews with Mademoiselle de Montmirail in the -cool dark convent parlour—a few calm, still evenings in the quiet convent -garden, under the shade of the trellised beeches, amidst the fragrance -of the flower-beds and the heavy perfume of the syringa, waiting for the -rustle of that white dress along the gravel-walk—a few questions and -misgivings from the penitent—a few phrases of advice or encouragement -from the priest—and Florian found himself wildly, hopelessly, wickedly -in love with the girl whom it was his duty, his sacred duty on which -his soul’s salvation depended, to persuade, or lure, or force into a -cloister. These things come by degrees. No man can complain that timely -warning is not given him; yet the steps are so gradual, so easy, so -imperceptible, by which he descends into the pleasant flood, that it is -only when his footing is lost he becomes really aware of danger, or knows -he is sentenced, and must swim about in it till he drowns. - -Florian’s task was to obtain influence over the girl. Thus he salved -his conscience till it was too late, and thus excused himself for the -eagerness with which he caught every glance of her eye and drank in -every tone of her voice. It was only when his own looks fell before -hers, when he trembled and turned pale at the sound of her step—when her -image—serene, and fair, and gracious—rose between him and the Cross at -which he knelt, that he knew his peril, his weakness and his sin. - -But it was too late then; though he wrestled with the phantom, it -overcame him time by time. Prostrate, bleeding, vanquished, he would -confess with something of the bitterness of spirit and plaintive proud -self-sacrifice of a lost angel, that he had given his soul to Cerise and -did not grudge her the gift. - -Not even though she refused to love him in return. Perhaps, after all, -this was the poisoned edge of the weapon—the bitter drop in the cup; and -yet had it been otherwise, it may be the young Jesuit could have found -strength to conquer his infatuation, self-sacrifice, to give up freely -that which was freely his own. - -It was not so, however. The very innocence that guarded the girl, while -it lured him irresistibly to destruction, was the most insurmountable -barrier in his path; and so he hovered on, hoping that which he dared -not realise—wishing for all he felt he would yet be unwilling to accept; -striving for a prize unspeakably precious, though, perhaps I should say, -_because_ impossible of attainment, and which, even if he could win it, -he might not wear it so much as an hour. No wonder his heart beat and his -breath came quick, while he passed with stealthy gait into the convent -garden, a pitfall for the feet that walked in innocence—a black sheep in -a stainless flock—a leper where all the rest were clean. - -But Cerise, radiant in her white dress, crossed the sunny lawn and came -down the accustomed path with more than their usual light shining in her -blue eyes, with a fresher colour than common on her soft young cheeks. -To him she had never looked so beautiful, so womanly, so attractive. The -struggle had been very fierce during his solitary walk; the defeat was -flagrant in proportion. He ought to have known a bitter disappointment -must be in store to balance the moment of rapture in which he became -conscious of her approach. Some emanation seemed to glorify the air all -around her, and to warn him of her presence long before she came. To the -lady-superior of the convent, to her elders and instructors, Mademoiselle -de Montmirail was nothing more than a well-grown damsel, with good eyes -and hair, neither more nor less frivolous and troublesome than her -fellows, with much room for improvement in the matters of education, -music, manners, and deportment; but to the young Jesuit she was simply—an -angel. - -Cerise held both hands out to her director, with a greeting so frank -and cordial that it should have undeceived him on the spot. The -lady-superior, from her shaded windows, might or might not be a witness -to their interview, and there is no retreat perhaps of so much seclusion, -yet so little privacy, as a convent garden; but Cerise did not care -though nuns and lay-sisters and all overlooked her every gesture and -overheard every word she spoke. - -“I am so pleased!” she burst out, clapping her hands, as soon as he -released them. “Wish me joy, good father! I have such happy news! My dear -kind mamma! And she writes to me herself! I knew the silk that fastened -it even before I saw her hand on the cover. Such good news! Oh, I am so -pleased! so pleased!” - -She would have danced for pure joy had she not remembered she was nearly -eighteen. Also perhaps—for a girl’s heart is very pitiful—she may have -had some faint shadowy conception that the news so delightful to herself -would be less welcome to her companion. - -He was looking at her with the admiration in his heart shining out of his -deep dark eyes. - -“You have not told me what your good news is, my daughter,” he observed, -in a tone that made her glance into and away from his face, but that -sobered the effervescence of her gaiety like a charm. - -“It is a long letter from mamma!” she said, “and a whole month before I -expected one. Judge if that is not charming. But, better still, I am to -go back to her very soon. I am to live with her at the Hôtel Montmirail. -She is fitting up my apartment already. I am to quit the convent when my -quarter is out!” - -He knew it was coming. There is always consciousness of a blow for a -moment before it falls. - -“Then you have but a few more days to remain in Normandy,” replied the -young priest; and again the change in his voice arrested her attention. -“My daughter, will you not regret the happy hours you have spent here, -the quiet, the repose of the convent, and—and—the loving friends you -leave behind?” - -He glanced round while he spoke, and thought how different the white -walls, the drooping branches, the lawn, the flower-beds, and the walk -beneath the beeches would look when she was gone. - -“Of course I shall never cease to love all those I have known here,” she -answered; and her eye met his own fearlessly, while there was no tinge -of sorrow such as he would have liked to detect in her voice. “But I am -going home, do you see! home to my dear mamma; and I shall be in Paris, -and assist at operas, and balls, and fêtes. My father! I fear, I shall -like it—oh! so much!” - -There remained little time for further explanations. The refectory -bell was ringing, and Cerise must hurry in and present herself for her -ration of fruit and chocolate; to which refreshment, indeed, she seemed -more than usually inclined. Neither her surprise nor her feelings had -taken away her appetite, and she received her director’s benediction -with a humility respectful, edifying, and filial, as if he had been her -grandfather. - -“I shall perhaps not visit you at the convent again, my daughter,” he -had said, revolving in his own mind a thousand schemes, a thousand -impossibilities, tinged alike with fierce, bitter disappointment; and to -this she had made answer meekly— - -“But you will think of me very often, my father; and, oh, remember me, I -entreat of you, in your prayers!” - -Then Florian knew that the edifice he had taken such pains to rear was -crumbling away before his eyes, because, in his anxiety to build it for -his own habitation, he had laid its foundations in the sand. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -ST. MARK’S BALSAM - - -The death of the great king, and the first transactions of the Regency, -left little leisure to Abbé Malletort for the thousand occupations of -his every-day life. With the busy churchman, to stagnate was a cessation -of existence. As some men study bodily health and vigour, carefully -attending to the development of their frames by constant and unremitting -exercise, so did the Abbé preserve his intellect in the highest possible -training by its varied use, and seemed to grudge the loss of every -hour in which he either omitted to learn something new or lay a fresh -stepping-stone for the employment of knowledge previously acquired. Like -Juvenal’s Greek, he studied all the sciences in turn, but his labour was -never without an object, nor had he the slightest scruples in applying -its results to his own advantage. Malletort was qualified to deal -with the most consummate knave, but he might have been unconsciously -out-manœuvred by a really honest man, simply from his own habitual -disregard of the maxim, as true in ethics as in mathematics, which -teaches that the shortest way from any one given point to another is a -straight line. - -The Abbé had therefore many irons in his fire, careful, however, so to -hold them that he should preserve his own fingers from being burnt; -and amongst others, he often applied his spare hours to the study of -chemistry. - -Now in the time of which I am speaking the tree of knowledge had not been -entirely denuded of its parasite credulity. Science and superstition -were not yet finally divorced, and the philosopher’s stone was still -eagerly sought by many an enthusiast who liked to regenerate the world -in a process of which the making a colossal fortune for himself should -be the first step. Not that the Abbé quite believed in the possibility -of creating gold, but that, true to his character, he was prepared to be -satisfied with any glittering substitute which the world could be induced -to accept in its stead. So he too had his little laboratory, his little -forge, his little crucibles, and vials, and acids, and essences, all -the rudiments of science, and some faint foreshadowings of her noblest -discoveries. - -If a man goes into his garden, and seeks eagerly on hands and knees, -we will suppose, for a four-leaved shamrock, I am not prepared to say -that he will succeed in finding that rare and abnormal plant; but in -his search after it, and the close attention thereby entailed, he will -doubtless observe many beauties of vegetation, many curious arrangements -of nature that have hitherto escaped his notice; and though he fails to -discover the four-leaved shamrock, he makes acquaintance with a hundred -no less interesting specimens, and returns home a wiser naturalist than -he went out. So was it with the adepts, as they called themselves, who -sought diligently after the philosopher’s stone. They read, they thought, -they fused, they dissolved, they mingled; they analysed fluids, they -separated gases; they ascertained the combinations of which one substance -was formed, and the ingredients into which another could be resolved. -They missed the object of their search, no doubt, but they lost neither -for themselves nor their successors all the result of their labours; -for while the precious elixir itself escaped them, they captured almost -everything else that was worth learning for the application of chemistry -to the humbler purposes of every-day life. Unfortunately, too, in -tampering with so many volatile essences, they became familiar with the -subtler kinds of poison. A skilful adept of that school knew how to rid a -patron of his enemies in twenty-four hours without fail, and to use the -while no more overt weapon than the grasp of a gloved hand, a pinch of -scented snuff, or the poisoned fragrance of a posy of flowers. - -Such men drove a thriving trade in Paris during the Regency, and our -Abbé, himself no mean proficient in the craft, was in the habit of -spending many an hour in the laboratory of one who could boast he was a -match for the most skilful of the brotherhood. - -It was for this purpose that Malletort crossed the Seine, and penetrated -into one of the loftiest, gloomiest, and narrowest streets of Old -Paris—how different from Imperial Paris of to-day!—to thread its -windings, with his accustomed placid face and jaunty step, ere he stopped -at the door of the tallest, most dilapidated, and dirtiest building in -the row. - -The Abbé’s face was, if possible, more self-satisfied, his step even -lighter than usual. He was in high favour with the Regent, and the -Regent, at least among the lower classes, was still the most popular man -in France. They were aware of his vices, indeed, but passed them over -in a spirit of liberality, bordering on want of principle, with which -the French, in this respect so unlike ourselves, permit their leading -men a latitude of private conduct proportioned to their public utility. -Had the Abbé doubted his patron’s popularity, he need only have listened -to an impudent little urchin, who ran almost between his legs, shouting -at the top of his voice a favourite street song of the day called “The -Débonnaire.” - - “’Tis a very fine place to be monarch of France, - Most Christian king, and St. Louis’s son, - When he takes up his fiddle the others must dance, - And they durstn’t sit down till the music’s done. - But I’d rather be Regent—eh! wouldn’t you, Pierre? - Such a Regent as ours, so débonnaire. - Tra-la-la—tra-la-la—such a mien, such an air! - Oh, yes! our Regent is débonnaire. - - “A monarch of France, when they bring him to dine, - They must hand him a cloth, and a golden bowl; - But the Regent can call for a flagon of wine, - And need never sit down till he’s emptied the whole. - He wouldn’t give much for your dry-lipped fare, - This Regent of ours, so débonnaire. - Tra-la-la—tra-la-la—how he’ll stagger and swear, - Oh, yes! our Regent is débonnaire. - - “A monarch of France has a mate on the throne, - And his likings and loves must be under the rose; - But the Regent takes all the sweet flowers for his own, - And he pulls them by handfuls wherever he goes. - Of the bright and the fair, the rich and the rare, - Our Regent, you see, is so débonnaire. - Tra-la-la—tra-la-la—he puts in for his share, - Oh, yes! our Regent is débonnaire. - - “A monarch of France has his peers in a row, - And they bring him his boots with the morning light; - But our Regent is never caught bare-footed so, - For his roués and he, they sit booted all night! - And they drink and they swear, and they blink and they stare— - And never a monarch of France can compare, - Neither Louis the Fat, nor yet Philip the Fair, - With this Regent of ours, so débonnaire. - Tra-la-la—tra-la-la—let us drink to him, Pierre! - Oh, yes! our Regent is débonnaire.” - -“Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, he is débonnaire!” hummed the Abbé, as he mounted -the wooden staircase, and stopped at the first door on the landing. -“Monsieur le Duc is welcome to make all the music for our puppet dance so -long as he leaves it to Monsieur l’Abbé to pull the strings.” - -Two gaudily dressed footmen answered Malletort’s summons and admitted -him obsequiously, as being a well-known friend of their master’s, -before he had time to ask if Signor Bartoletti was within. The Abbé had -visited here too often to be surprised at the luxuries of the apartment -into which he was ushered, so little in character with the dirt and -dilapidation that prevailed outside; but Signor Bartoletti, alleging -in excuse the requirements of his southern blood, indulged in every -extravagance to which his means would stretch, was consequently always -in difficulties, and therefore ready to assist in any scheme, however -nefarious, provided he was well paid. - -The Signor’s tastes were obviously florid. Witness the theatrical -appearance of his lackeys, the bright colour of his furniture, the gaudy -ornaments on his chimneypiece, the glaring pictures on his walls; nay, -the very style and chasing of a massive flagon of red wine standing on -the table by a filagree basket of fruit for his refection. - -The man himself, too, was palpably over-dressed, wearing a sword here -in the retirement of his chamber, yet wearing it as one whose hand -was little familiar with its guard. Every resource of lace, velvet, -satin, and embroidery had been employed in vain to give him an outward -semblance of distinction, but there was an expression of intellect and -energy in his dark beetle-browed face, with its restless black eyes, -that, in spite of low stature and ungainly make, redeemed him from the -imputation of utter vulgarity. - -His hands, too (and there is a good deal of character in the hand), were -strong, nervous, and exceedingly well-shaped, though sadly stained and -scorched by the acids he made use of in the prosecution of his art. - -A less keen observer than the Abbé might not have remarked beneath the -signor’s cordial greeting symptoms of anxiety, and even apprehension, -blended with something of the passive defiance which seems to say, “I am -in a corner. I have no escape. I don’t like it; but I must make the best -of it.” - -A less keen observer, too, might not have detected a ring of bravado -in the tone with which he accosted his visitor as a disciple and -fellow-labourer in the cause of science. - -“Welcome, monsieur,” said he—“welcome to the teacher who needs the -assistance of his pupil every step he travels on the radiant path. Have -you made discoveries, Monsieur l’Abbé? Fill your glass, and impart them. -Have you encountered difficulties?—Fill your glass, and conquer them. -Have you seen the true light glimmering far, far off across the black -waters?—Fill your glass, I say, and let us drink success to our voyage -ere we embark once more in search of the Great Secret.” - -“Faith, I believe we’re nearer it than you think for, Bartoletti,” -answered Malletort, smiling coldly; “though I doubt if you could look -to the right point of the compass for it with all your geography. What -do you think of the Scotchman’s banking scheme, my gold-seeking friend? -Is not Monsieur Las[2] a better alchemist than either of us? Has he not -discovered the Great Arcanum? And without fire or bellows, crucible, -alembic, or retort? Why, the best of us have used up every metal that the -earth produces without arriving—though I grant you we have come very near -it—yet without arriving at perfection; and here’s an Englishman only asks -for a ton or so of paper, a Government stamp, and—presto!—with a stroke -of the pen he turns it all to gold.” - -“Have you, too, bought Mississippi Stock?” asked the Signor, eagerly. -“Then the scheme is prospering; the shares will rise once more. It is -good to hold on!” - -“Not quite such a fool!” answered the Abbé; and Bartoletti’s swarthy face -fell several inches, for he had a high opinion of his visitor’s financial -perceptions. - -“And yet the Rue Quincampoix was so thronged yesterday, I was compelled -to leave my coach, and bid my lackeys force a passage for me through the -crowd,” urged the Signor. “Madame was there, and the Duc du Maine, and -more peers of France than you would see at the council. There _must_ be -life in it! All the world cannot be dupes. And yet the shares have fallen -even since this morning.” - -“All the world are not likely to be on the winning side,” replied the -Abbé, quietly, “or who would be left to pay the stakes? From whom do -you suppose Monsieur Las makes his profits? You know he has bought the -Hôtel Mazarin. You know he has bought Count de Tessé’s house, furniture, -pictures, plate, and all, even to the English carriage-horses that his -coachman does not know how to drive. Where do you suppose the money comes -from? When a society of people are engaged in eating one another, it -seems to me that the emptiest stomach has the best chance.” - -His listener looked thoughtfully on his scorched, scarred fingers. It -might be that he reflected in how many ways he had burnt them. - -“What do you advise me to do?” he asked, after a pause, during which he -had filled and emptied a goblet of the red wine that stood at his elbow. - -“Realise,” was the answer. “Realise, and without delay. The game is like -tennis, and must be played with the same precision. If your ball be not -taken at the first rebound, its force is so deadened that your utmost -skill falls short of cutting it over the net.” - -The Abbé’s metaphor, drawn from that fashionable pastime which had been -a favourite amusement of the late king, was not without its effect on -his listener. Like a skilful practitioner, he suffered his advice to -sink into the adept’s mind before he took advantage of its effects. In -other sciences besides chemistry and cookery, it is well to let your -ingredients simmer undisturbed in the crucible till they are thoroughly -fused and amalgamated. - -He wanted the Signor malleable, and nothing, he knew by experience, -rendered Bartoletti so obliging as a conviction that he lacked means to -provide for his self-indulgence. Like the general public, he had been -tempted by the great Mississippi scheme, and had invested in its shares -the small amount of ready money at his command. It was gradually dawning -on him that his speculations would entail considerable loss—that loss -he felt, and showed he felt, must be made good. This was the Abbé’s -opportunity. He could offer his own price now for the co-operation of his -friend. - -“We are wasting time sadly,” said the visitor, after a pause. “Let us go -to our studies at once,” and he led the way to an inner apartment, as -though he had been host and teacher rather than visitor and disciple. - -The Signor followed, obedient though unwilling, like a well-trained dog -bid to heel by its master. - -Malletort turned his cuffs back, seized a small pair of bellows, and -blew a heap of powdered coal, mingled with other substances, into a deep -violet glow. - -“By the by,” he asked as if suddenly recollecting something of no -importance, “have you ever had any dealings with negroes? Do you know -anything of the superstitions of Obi?” - -“I know something of every superstition in the world,” answered the -other, “Christian as well as pagan, or how could I afford to drink such -wine as you tasted in the next room?” - -He laughed while he spoke, heartily enough, and so did Malletort, only -the mirth of the latter was assumed. He believed in very little, this -Abbé, very little indeed, either for good or evil; but he would have -liked, if he could, to believe in the philosopher’s stone. - -“I have made acquaintance with an Obi-woman lately,” pursued he; “she may -be useful to us both. I will bring her to see you in a day or two, if you -will refresh your mind in the meantime with what you can remember of -their mysteries, so as to meet her on equal terms.” - -Bartoletti looked much relieved, and indeed gratified, when informed -that this Obi-woman, instead of being a hideous old negress, was a -fine-looking quadroon. - -“Is that all you wanted?” said he, quite briskly; but his countenance -fell once more on perceiving that the Abbé made no preparations for -departure. - -“Not quite,” replied the latter. “I am hardly perfect yet in the nature -of those essences we studied at my last lesson. Let us go over their -powers and properties again.” - -The Signor turned a shade paler, but taking down some phials, and two or -three papers of powders from a shelf, he did as he was bid, and proceeded -systematically enough to explain their contents, gaining confidence, and -even growing enthusiastic in his subject as he went on. - -At the third packet the Abbé stopped him. - -“It is harmless, you say, as a perfume when sprinkled in the form of a -powder?” - -The Signor nodded. - -“But a deadly poison, mixed with three drops of St. Mark’s balsam?” - -“Right!” assented the Italian. - -“And combined with any vegetable substance, its very odour would be -dangerous and even fatal to animal life?” - -“You are an apt pupil,” said the other, not without approval, though he -turned paler still. “It took me seven weeks’ close study, and a hundred -experiments, to find that out.” - -“You worked with the glass mask on, of course,” continued the Abbé; “what -would have been the effect had you inhaled the odour?” - -“I should have come out in red spots at the first inspiration, turned -black at the second, and at the third Monsieur l’Abbé should have been -lost to the world, to science, and to you,” was the conclusive reply. - -“I am not quite satisfied yet,” said Malletort. “I will take a packet -home with me for further examination, if you please, and ten drops of St. -Mark’s balsam as well.” - -“It is worth a thousand francs a drop,” observed the adept, producing at -the same time a tiny sealed phial from a drawer under his hand. - -“Of course you name your own price,” replied Malletort, snatching up his -purchase with impatience, and leaving in its place a purse through which -the gold shone temptingly, and which clanked down on the table as if the -weight of its lining was satisfactory enough. - -The two men seemed to understand each other, for almost before the -Signor’s grasp was on the purse his visitor had left the house; but -Bartoletti, locking up the drawer, returned to his gaudy sitting-room, -with a twitching lip and a cold sweat bursting from his brow. - -Till the adept had summoned his theatrical footman, and ordered another -flagon of the red wine, he gasped and panted like a man awaking from -a nightmare; nor did he recover his equanimity till the flagon was -three-parts emptied. - -By that time, however, he was scarce in a condition to pursue his -researches after the philosopher’s stone. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE GREY MUSKETEERS - - -A bugler, thirteen years of age, and about three feet high, a veritable -“Child of the Regiment,” was blowing “The Assembly” for the Grey -Musketeers with a vigour that made itself heard through the adjoining -Faubourg. - -The miniature soldier, who had already smelt powder, strutted and swelled -like a bantam-cock. His plumage, too, was nearly as gorgeous, and he -seemed more than satisfied with himself and his advantages. In no other -country, perhaps, could a combination so ridiculous, yet so admirable, -have been found as in this union of innocence and precocity; this -simplicity of the child, underlying the bearing of a giant, the courage -of a hero, and the coquetry of a girl. - -Ten minutes precisely were allowed by the regulations of the late king -between the mustering call and the “fall-in,” or final summons for the -men to take their places in the ranks. - -The Musketeers lounged and straggled over their parade-ground, -laughing, chatting, bantering each other; fastening here a buckle, -there a shoulder-strap; humming snatches of bivouac songs, fixing -flints, adjusting belts, and pulling their long moustaches, as they -conversed, disrespectfully enough it must be admitted, in hoarse, short -murmurs of Vendôme, Villeroy, Staremberg, Prince Eugène, Malbrook, the -great military authorities of the day, and how old Turenne would have -_arranged_ them one and all. - -The Grey Musketeers were so called from their uniform, which, except for -its sober hue, shone as splendid as was compatible with the possibility -of manœuvring. The men were all veterans; that is to say, had fought -through one or more campaigns, so that many a young, delicate face in -the ranks was seamed and scarred by the shot and shell of the enemy. The -majority, however, were grim, and grey, and bronzed; men who could eat -ammunition-bread and suttlers’ beef without fear of colic; who could -sleep round a bivouac fire, and rise refreshed and ready to be killed; -who had looked death in the face and laughed at him in a score of fields. - -A large proportion were of noble birth, and all were at home in the -drawing-room, the refinements and delicate airs of which it was their -affectation to carry with them under fire. They could be rough and -outspoken enough, jesting with each other over the wine-cup, or arguing -as now while waiting for parade; but put them before an enemy, the nearer -the better, and they became lambs—ladies—perfect dancing-masters in the -postures and graces they assumed. If the baggage was not too far in the -rear, they dressed and scented themselves for a battle as for a ball. -They flourished lace handkerchiefs, wore white gloves, and took snuff -from gold boxes in the act of advancing to charge a column or to storm a -battery. Marlborough’s grenadiers had many a tussle with them, and loved -them dearly. “Close in, Jack,” these honest fellows would say to each -other, when they saw the laced hats, with their jaunty grey cockades, -advancing through the smoke. “There’ll be wigs on the green now—here’s -_the Dandies_ a-coming!” - -And in good truth, ere _the Dandies_ and they parted, many a comely head -was down to rise no more. - -There were several companies of these picked troops, distinguished by -the different colours of their uniforms. It was their pride to vie with -each other in daring, as in extravagance and dissipation. If a post were -unusually formidable, a battery in a peculiarly strong position, one or -other of these companies, black, red, or grey, would entreat permission -to storm it. The Grey Musketeers had of late esteemed themselves very -fortunate in opportunities for leaving half their number dead on the -field. - -They were commanded by the young officer whose acquaintance Madame de -Montmirail made during the stag-hunt at Fontainebleau. Captain George, -as he was called, had obtained this enviable post, no less by skill and -conspicuous bravery, than by great good luck, and perhaps, though last -not least, by an affection of coolness and danger, so exaggerated as to -be sublime while it was ridiculous. - -The little bugler was waiting for him now. When the ten minutes should -have elapsed, and the silver lace on the Captain’s uniform come gleaming -round the corner, he was prepared to blow his heroic soul into the -mouthpiece of his instrument. - -Meanwhile he stood aloof from his comrades. He looked so much taller thus -than when oppressed by comparison with those full-grown warriors. - -The men were grouped about in knots, talking idly enough on indifferent -subjects. Presently the majority gathered round a fresh arrival—a tall, -forbidding-looking soldier, with iron-grey moustaches that nearly reached -his elbows—who seemed to have some important news to communicate. As the -circle of his listeners increased, there was obviously a growing interest -and excitement in his intelligence. - -“Who is it?” panted one, hurrying up. - -“Killed?” asked another, tightening his sword-belt and twisting his -moustaches fiercely to his eyes. - -“It’s a credit to the bourgeois!” “It’s a disgrace to the corps!” -exclaimed a couple in a breath; while, “Tell us all about it, -Bras-de-Fer!” from half-a-dozen eager voices at once, served to hush the -noisy assemblage into comparative silence. - -Bras-de-Fer was nothing loth. A pompous old soldier, more of a martinet -and less of a dandy perhaps than most of his audience, he loved, above -all things, to hear himself speak. He was a notorious duellist, moreover, -and a formidable swordsman, whence the nickname by which he was known -among his comrades. He entered on his recital with all the zest of a -professor. - -“I was sitting,” said he, with an air of grave superiority, “immediately -in front of the coffee-house, Louis-Quatorze, a little after -watch-setting. I was improving my knowledge of my profession by studying -the combinations in a game of dominoes. By myself, Adolphe? Yes—right -hand against left. Yet not altogether by myself, for I had a bottle of -great Bordeaux wine—there is nothing to laugh at, gentlemen—on the table -in my front. Flanconnade had just entered, and called for a measure -of lemonade, when a street-boy began singing a foolish song about the -Regent, with a jingle of ‘Tra-la-la,’ ‘Débonnaire,’ and some rubbish -of that kind. Now this poor Flanconnade, you remember, comrades, never -was a great admirer of the Regent. He used to say we Musketeers of the -Guard owed allegiance, first to the young king, then to the Duc du Maine, -lastly to the Marshal de Villeroy, and that we should take our orders -only from those three. - -“So we do! So we should!” interrupted a dozen voices. But Bras-de-Fer, -raising a brown, sinewy hand, imposed silence by the gesture, and -continued. - -“Flanconnade, therefore, was displeased at the air of gasconnade with -which the urchin sang his song. ‘What! thou, too, art a little breechless -roué of the Regent!’ said he, turning round from his drink, and applying -a kick that sent the boy howling across the street. There was an outcry -directly amongst the cuckold citizens in the coffee-house; half of them, -I have no doubt, were grocers and haberdashers in the Regent’s employ. -‘Shame! shame!’ they exclaimed. ‘Down with the bully!’ ‘Long live the -Grey Musketeers!’ I was up, and had put on my hat, you may well believe, -gentlemen, at the first alarm; but with their expression of good-will -to the corps, I sat down again and uncovered. It was simply a personal -matter for Flanconnade, and I knew no man better able to extricate -himself from such an affair. So, leaving the dominoes, I filled my glass -and waited for the result. Our friend looked about him from one to the -other, like a man who seeks an antagonist, but the bourgeoisie avoided -his glances, all but one young man, wrapped in a cloak, who had seemed at -first to take little part in the disturbance. Flanconnade, seeing this, -stared him full in the face, and observed, ‘Monsieur made a remark? Did I -understand clearly what it was?’ - -“‘I said _shame_!’ replied the other, boldly. ‘And I repeat, monsieur is -in the wrong.’ - -“By this time the bystanders had gathered round, and I heard whispers -of—‘Mind what you do; it’s a Grey Musketeer; fighting is his trade;’ -and such friendly warnings; while old Bouchon rushed in with his face -as white as his apron, and taking the youth by the arm, exclaimed in -trembling accents, ‘Do you know what you’re about, in Heaven’s name? It’s -Flanconnade, I tell you. It’s the fencing-master to the company!’ - -“Our poor friend appeared so pleased with this homage that I almost -thought he would be pacified; but you remember his maxim—‘Put yourself -in the right first, and then keep your arm bent and your point low.’ He -acted on it now. - -“‘Monsieur is prepared for results?’ he asked, quietly; and raising the -tumbler in his hand, dashed its contents into his antagonist’s face.” - -There was a murmur of applause amongst the Musketeers, for whom such -an argument combined all the elements of reasoning, and Bras-de-Fer -proceeded. - -“I rose now, for I saw the affair would march rapidly. ‘It is good -lemonade,’ said the young man, licking his lips, while he wiped the -liquor from his face. ‘Monsieur has given me a lesson in politeness. He -will permit me in return to demand five minutes’ attention while I teach -him to dance.’ - -“The youth’s coolness, I could not but admit, was that of a well-bred -man, and surprised me the more because, when he opened his cloak to get -at his handkerchief, I perceived he wore no weapon, and was dressed in -plain dark garments like a scholar or a priest. - -“Flanconnade winked at me. There was plenty of moonlight in the garden -behind the coffee-house, but there were two difficulties—the youth had no -second and no sword. - -“By great good fortune, at this moment in stepped young Chateau-Guerrand -of the Duc du Maine’s dragoons, with his arm still in a sling, from the -wound he received at Brighuega, when serving on his uncle’s staff. He had -been supping with the Prince-Marshal, and of course was in full-dress, -with a rapier at his belt. He accepted the duty willingly, and lent our -youth the weapon he could not use. We measured their swords. They were -right to a hair’s-breadth, but that the guard of Chateau-Guerrand’s hilt -was open; and as he and I could not possibly exchange a pass or two for -love, we set ourselves to watch the affair with interest, fearing only -that Flanconnade’s skill would finish it almost ere it had well commenced. - -“The moon was high, and there was a beautiful fighting-light in the -garden. At twenty paces I could see the faces of the guests and servants -quite distinctly, as they crowded the back door and windows of the house. - -“We placed the adversaries at open distance on the level. They saluted -and put themselves on guard. - -“The moment I saw the young man’s hand up, I knew there would be a fight -for it. I observed that his slight frame was exceedingly muscular, and -though he looked very pale, almost white in the moonlight, his eyes -glittered and his face lost all its gravity when the blades touched. I -was sure the rogue loved the steel-clink in his heart. - -“Moreover, he must have been _there_ before. He neglected no precaution. -He seemed to know the whole game. He bound his handkerchief round his -fingers, to make up for Chateau-Guerrand’s open sword-hilt, and feeling -some inequality of ground beneath his feet, he drew his adversary inch by -inch, till he got him exactly level with his point. - -“Flanconnade’s face showed me that he was aware of his antagonist’s -force. After two passes, he tried his own peculiar plunging thrust in -tierce (I never was quick enough for it myself, and always broke ground -when I saw it coming), but this youth parried it in carte. In carte! by -heavens! and Flanconnade was too good a fencer to dare try it again.” - -“In carte!” repeated the listeners, with varied accents of interest and -admiration. “It’s incredible!” “It’s beautiful!” “That is _real_ fencing, -and no sabre-play!” “Go on! Flanconnade had met with his match!” - -“More than his match,” resumed Bras-de-Fer. “In a dozen passes he was -out of breath, and this youth had never moved a foot after his first -traverse. I tell you his defence was beautiful; so close you could hardly -see his wrist move, and he never straightened his arm but twice. The -first time Flanconnade leaped out of distance, for it was impossible -to parry the thrust; although, as far as I could see, he made a simple -disengagement and came in outside. But the next time he drew our comrade -six inches nearer, and I knew by his face he was as certain as I was -that he had got him at last. - -“Bah! One—Two! That single disengagement—a lunge home; and I saw six -inches of Chateau-Guerrand’s sword through our poor comrade’s back ere -he went down. The youth wiped it carefully before he returned it, with -a profusion of thanks, and found time, while Bouchon and his people -gathered round the fallen man, to express his regrets with a perfect -politeness to myself. - -“‘Monsieur,’ said he, ‘I am distressed to think your friend will not -profit by the lesson he has had the kindness to accept. I am much afraid -he will never dance again.’” - -“And where was the thrust?” asked Adolphe, a promising young fencer, who -had been listening to the recital of the duel, open-mouthed. - -“Through the upper lung,” answered Bras-de-Fer. - -“In five minutes Flanconnade was as dead as Louis Quatorze! Here comes -the Captain, gentlemen. It is time to fall in.” - -While he finished speaking, the little bugler blew an astonishing volume -of sound through his instrument. The Musketeers fell into their places. -The line was dressed with military accuracy. The standard of France was -displayed; the ranks were opened, and Captain George walked through them, -scanning each individual of that formidable band with a keen, rapid -glance that would have detected a speck on steel, a button awry, a weapon -improperly handled, as surely as such breach of discipline could have -been summarily visited with a sharp and galling reprimand. Nevertheless, -these men were his own associates and equals; many of them his chosen -friends. Hardly one but had interchanged with him acts of courtesy and -kindness at the bivouac or on the march. Some had risked life for him; -others he had rescued from death in the field. In half an hour all would -be on a footing of perfect equality once more, but now Captain George was -here to command and the rest to obey. - -Such was the discipline of the Grey Musketeers—a discipline they were -never tired of extolling, and believed to be unequalled in the whole of -the armies of Europe. - -There was little room for fault-finding in the order or accoutrements -of such troops, and in a short space of time—easily calculated by -the bystanders outside, from the arrival of sundry riding-horses and -carriages of these gentlemen privates to throng the street—their -inspection was over—their ranks were closed. The duties for the day, -comprising an especial guard for the young king’s person were told -off—Bras-de-Fer reported the death of the fencing-master—the commandant -observed they must appoint another immediately—the parade was dismissed, -and Captain George was at liberty to return to his quarters. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -EUGÈNE BEAUDÉSIR - - -It was no wonder the Marquise de Montmirail, amid the hurry and -excitement of a stag-hunt, failed to recognise the merry page who used to -play with her child in that stalwart musketeer whom she pressed her eager -barb so hard to overtake. The George Hamilton of royal ante-chambers and -palace stairs, with eyes full of mirth and pockets full of bon-bons, -laughing, skipping, agile, and mischievous as a monkey, had grown into a -strong, fine-looking man, a distinguished soldier, well known in the army -and at Court as Captain George of the Grey Musketeers. He had dropped -the surname of Hamilton altogether now, and nothing remained to him of -his nationality and family characteristics but a certain depth of chest -and squareness of shoulder, accompanied by the bold keen glance that had -shone even in the boy’s eyes, and was not quenched in the man’s, denoting -a defiant and reckless disposition which, for a woman like the Marquise, -possessed some indescribable charm. - -As he flung his sword on a couch, and sat down to breakfast in his -luxurious quarters—booted, belted, and with his hat on—the man seemed -thoroughly in character with the accessories by which he was surrounded. -He was the soldier all over—but the soldier adventurer—the soldier of -fortune, rather than the soldier of _routine_. The room in which he sat -was luxurious indeed and highly ornamented, but the luxuries were those -of the senses rather than the intellect; the ornaments consisted chiefly -of arms and such implements of warfare. Blades of the finest temper, -pistols of exquisite workmanship, saddles with velvet housings, and -bridle-bits embossed with gold—decked the wall which in more peaceful -apartments would have been adorned by pictures, vases, or other works -of art. One or two military maps, and a model of some fortified place -in Flanders, denoted a tendency to the theoretical as well as practical -branches of his profession; and a second regimental suit of grey velvet, -almost covered with silver lace, hanging on a chair, showed that its -gaudier exigences, so important in the Musketeers, were not forgotten. -There were also two or three somewhat incongruous articles littered about -amongst the paraphernalia of the soldier—such as a chart of the Caribbean -Sea, another of the Channel, with its various soundings pricked off in -red ink, a long nautical telescope, and a model of a brigantine more than -half rigged. Captain George was possessed of certain seafaring tastes -and habits picked up in early life, and to which he still clung with as -much of sentiment as was compatible with his character. He was not an -impressionable person, this musketeer; but if a foreign shoot could once -be grafted on his affections, it took root and became gradually a part -of the actual tree itself: then it could neither be torn out nor pruned -away. Youthful associations, with such a disposition, attained a power -hardly credible to those who only knew the external strength and hardness -of the man. - -Captain George’s predilections, however, seemed to be at present -completely engrossed by his breakfast. Venison steaks and a liberal -flagon of Medoc stood before him; he applied himself to each with a -vigorous industry that denoted good teeth, good will, and good digestion. -He was so intent on business that a knock at his door was twice repeated -ere he answered it, and then the “Come in!” sounded hardly intelligible, -hampered as were the syllables by the process of mastication. - -At the summons, however, Bras-de-Fer entered, and stood opposite his -captain. The latter nodded, pointed to a seat, pushed a plate and -wine-cup across the table, and continued his repast. - -Bras-de-Fer had already breakfasted once; nevertheless he sat down and -made almost as good play as his entertainer for about ten minutes, when -they stopped simultaneously. Then Captain George threw himself back -in his chair, loosened his belt, undid the two lower buttons of his -heavily-laced grey _just au corps_, and passing the Medoc, now at low -ebb, to his comrade, asked abruptly— - -“Have you found him?” - -“And brought him with me, my captain,” answered Bras-de-Fer. “He is at -this moment waiting outside. ’Tis a queer lad, certainly. He was reading -a Latin book when I came upon him. He would have no breakfast, nor even -taste a pot of wine with me as we walked along. Bah! The young ones are -not what they used to be in my time.” - -“I shouldn’t mind a few recruits of your sort still,” answered his -captain, good-humouredly. “That thick head of yours is pretty strong, -both inside and out; nevertheless, we must take them as we find them, -and I should not like to miss a blade that could out-manœuvre poor -Flanconnade. If he joins, I would give him the appointment. What think -you, Bras-de-Fer? Would he like to be one of us? What did he say?” - -“Say!” repeated the veteran, “I couldn’t understand half he said—I can’t -make him out, my captain. I tell you that I, Bras-de-Fer of the Grey -Musketeers, am unable to fathom this smooth-faced stripling. Eyes like -a girl’s, yet quick and true as a hawk’s; white, delicate hands, but a -wrist of steel, that seems to move by machinery. Such science, too! and -such style! Who taught him? Then he rambles so in his talk, and wept when -I told him our fencing-master never spoke after that disengagement. Only -a simple disengagement, my captain; he makes no secret of it. I asked -him myself. And he wouldn’t taste wine—not a mouthful—not a drop—though -I offered to treat him!” And Bras-de-Fer shook his head solemnly, with -something of a monkey’s expression who has got a nut too hard to crack. - -Captain George cut short his friend’s reflections by calling for a -servant. - -“There is a gentleman outside,” said he, when the lackey appeared. “Ask -his pardon for keeping him waiting, and beg him to step in.” - -The well-drilled lackey, all politeness, threw the door open for the -visitor, who entered with a diffident bow and a timid, hesitating step. -Bras-de-Fer could not help remarking how much less assured was his manner -now than when he crossed swords last night with the best fencer in the -company. - -The Musketeers both rose at his entrance, and all three continued -standing during the interview. - -Captain George scanned the new-comer from head to foot, and from foot to -head, as a sergeant inspects a recruit. Its subject blushed painfully -during the examination. Then the officer inquired, abruptly— - -“You wish to join the Musketeers? As a cadet, of course?” - -Something stern in the tone recalled the youth’s firmness, and he -answered, boldly enough— - -“Under certain circumstances—yes.” - -“Your name?” - -“Eugène Beaudésir.” - -“Your age?” - -“More than twenty-five.” - -The Musketeers exchanged looks. He did not appear nearly so much. Captain -George continued— - -“Your certificates of baptism and gentle birth?” - -Again the young man changed colour. He hesitated—he looked down—he seemed -ill at ease. - -“You need not produce these if other particulars are satisfactory,” -observed the Captain, with a certain rough sympathy which won him a -gratitude he little suspected; far more, indeed, than it deserved. - -“Reach me that muster-roll, Bras-de-Fer,” continued the officer. “We can -put his name down, at least for the present, as a cadet. The rest will -come in time. But look you, young sir,” he added, turning sharply round -on the recruit, “before going through any more formalities, I have still -a few questions to ask. Answer them frankly, or decline to answer at all.” - -The visitor bowed and stole another look in his questioner’s face. Frank, -romantic, impressionable, he had become strangely prepossessed with this -manly, soldier-like captain of musketeers—younger in years than himself, -yet so many more steps up the social ladder, he thought, than he could -now ever hope to reach. - -“I will answer,” he said, with a hesitation and simplicity almost boyish, -yet engaging in its helplessness—“if you will promise not to use my -answers to my injury, and to take me all the same.” - -Captain George smiled good-humouredly. - -“Once on the roll of the King’s Musketeers,” he replied, “you are -amenable to none but his Majesty and your own officers. As we say -ourselves, you need fear neither duke nor devil.” - -The other looked somewhat relieved, and glancing at Bras-de-Fer, observed -timidly— - -“I had a misfortune last night. It was a broil I could not avoid without -great dishonour. I killed my adversary, I fear—and—and—he belongs to your -company.” - -“So it is reported to me,” answered the Captain, coolly; “and if you are -capable, it may perhaps be your good fortune to find yourself promoted at -last into his place.” - -Beaudésir looked as if he scarcely understood, and Bras-de-Fer gladly -seized the opportunity to explain. - -“You do not know us yet, young man. In a short time you will be better -acquainted with the constitution and discipline of the Grey Musketeers. -It is our study, you will find, to become the best fencers in the French -army. To this end we appoint our fencing-master by competition, and he is -always liable to be superseded in favour of a successful adversary. It -cost Flanconnade twenty-three duels to obtain his grade, and in his last -affair—(pardon—I should say his _last but one_) he killed his man. You, -monsieur, have disposed of Flanconnade scientifically, I must admit, and -our captain here is likely enough to promote you to the vacant post.” - -“Horror!” exclaimed Beaudésir, shuddering. “Like the priests of Aricia!” - -It was now Bras-de-Fer’s turn to be puzzled, but he rose to the occasion. -Quaffing the remains of the Medoc, he nodded approvingly, and repeated— - -“Like the priests of Aricia. The same system precisely as established by -His Holiness the Pope. It works remarkably well in the Grey Musketeers.” - -Beaudésir looked at the Captain, and said in a low, agitated voice— - -“I am most anxious to serve under you. I can be faithful, attentive—above -all, obedient. I have no friends, no resources, nothing to care for. I -only wish for an honest livelihood and an honourable death.” - -“We can find you both, I doubt not,” answered George, carelessly opening -once more the muster-roll of the company. “I have your name down and your -age; no further particulars. Where were you educated?” - -“In a school of silence, vigilance, self-restraint, and implicit -obedience,” answered the recruit. - -“Good,” observed his captain; “but we must put down a name.” - -“At Avranches, in Normandy,” said the other, after a moment’s hesitation. - -George closed the roll. “Enough for the present,” said he; “and now tell -me, monsieur, as between friends, where did you learn to fence with so -much address?” - -“Wherever I could find a foil with a button on,” was the reply. “I never -had a naked sword in my hand till last night.” - -Something in the ready simplicity of such an answer pleased the captain -of musketeers, while it interested him still more in his recruit. - -“You must be careful of your parries amongst your new comrades,” said he; -“at least till you have measured the force of each. I warn you fairly, -one-half the company will want to try your mettle, and the other half to -learn your secret, even at the cost of an awkward thrust or two. In the -meantime, let us see what you can do. There are a brace of foils in the -cupboard there. Bras-de-Fer, will you give him a benefit?” - -But Bras-de-Fer shook his head. What he had seen the night before had -inspired him with an extraordinary respect for the youth’s prowess, -and being justly vain of his own skill, he was averse to expose his -inferiority in the science of defence before his captain. He excused -himself, therefore, on the ground of rheumatism which had settled in an -old wound. - -Captain George did not press the veteran, but opening the cupboard, -pulled out the foils, presented one to his visitor, and put himself in -position with the other. - -Beaudésir performed an elaborate salute with such grace and precision as -showed him a perfect master of his weapon. He then threw his foil in the -air, caught it by the blade, and returned it courteously to the captain. - -But George was not yet satisfied. “One assault at least,” said he, -stamping his right foot. “I want to see if I cannot find a parry for this -famous thrust of yours.” - -The other smiled quietly and took his ground. Though within a few inches -of the chamber-door, he seemed to require no more room for his close and -quiet evolutions. - -Ere they had exchanged two passes, the captain came over his adversary’s -point with a rapid flanking movement, like the stroke of a riding-whip, -and lending all the strength of his iron wrist to the jerk, broke the -opposing foil short off within six inches of the guard. It was the only -resource by which he could escape a palpable hit. - -“Enough!” he exclaimed, laughing. “There are no more foils in the -cupboard, and I honestly confess I should not wish to renew the contest -with the real bloodsuckers. You may be perfectly tranquil as regards your -comrades, my friend. I do not know a musketeer in the whole guard that -would care to take a lesson from you with the buttons off. What say you, -Bras-de-Fer? Come, gentlemen, there is no time to be lost. The Marshal -de Villeroy will not yet have left his quarters. Do you, old comrade, -take him the fresh appointment for his signature. He never requires to -see our recruits till they can wait on him in uniform; and you, young -man, come with me to the _Rue des Quatres Fripons_, where I will myself -order your accoutrements, and see you measured for a _just au corps_. -Recollect, sir, next to their discipline on parade, I am most particular -about the clothes of those I have the honour to command. Slovenliness in -a musketeer is a contradiction as impossible as poltroonery; and it is -a tradition in our corps that we never insulted Malbrook’s grenadiers -by appearing before them in anything but full-dress; or by opening -fire until we were close enough for them to mark the embroidery on our -waistcoats. I congratulate you, my young friend: you are now a soldier in -the pick of that army which is itself the pick of all the armies in the -world!” - -With such encouraging conversation Captain George led his lately-enlisted -recruit through a variety of winding streets, thronged at that busy hour -with streams of passengers. These, however, for the most part, made way, -with many marks of respect, for the officer of Musketeers; the women -especially, looking back with unfeigned admiration and interest at the -pair, according as they inclined to the stately symmetry of the one or -the graceful and almost feminine beauty of the other. Perhaps, could they -have known that the pale, dark-eyed youth following timidly half a pace -behind his leader had only last night killed the deadliest fencer in -Paris, they would have wasted no glances even on such a fair specimen of -manhood as Captain George, but devoured his comrade with their bold black -eyes, in a thrill of mingled horror, interest, and admiration, peculiar -to their sex. - -To reach the _Rue des Quatres Fripons_, it was necessary to pass a -barrier, lately placed by Marshal de Villeroy’s directions, to check -the tide of traffic on occasion of the young King’s transit through his -future capital. This barrier was guarded by a post of Grey Musketeers, -and at the moment Captain George approached it, one of his handsomest -young officers was performing a series of bows by the door of a -ponderous, heavily-gilt family coach, and explaining with considerable -volubility his own desolation at the orders which compelled him to -forbid the advance of this unwieldy vehicle. Six heavy coach-horses, two -postilions, a coachman, four footmen, and two outriders, armed to the -teeth—all jammed together in a narrow street, with a crowd of bystanders -increasing every minute, served to create a sufficient complication, -and a very pretty young lady inside, accompanied by one attendant, was -already in tears. The attendant, a dark woman with a scarlet turban, -scolded and cursed in excellent French, whilst one of the leaders took -immediate advantage of the halt to rear on end and seize his comrade by -the crest with a savage and discordant scream. - -In such a turmoil it took George a few moments to recognise Madame de -Montmirail’s liveries, which he knew perfectly well. To his companion, -of course, fresh from Avranches, in Normandy, all liveries in Paris must -have been equally strange. Nevertheless he followed close behind his -leader, who pushed authoritatively through the crowd, and demanded what -was the matter. The officer of Musketeers, seeing his own captain, fell -back from the carriage-door, and Cerise, with her eyes full of tears, -found a face she had never forgotten staring in at the window scarcely -six inches from her own. - -They recognised each other in an instant. For the first sentence it -was even “George!” and “Cerise!” Though, of course, it cooled down to -“Monsieur” and “Mademoiselle” as they talked on. She was very little -altered, he thought, only taller and much more beautiful; while for her, -it was the same brave brown face and kind eyes that she had known by -heart since she was a child, only braver, browner, kinder, nobler, just -as she had expected. It was wonderful she could see it so distinctly, -with her looks cast down on the pretty gloved hands in her lap. - -The affair did not take long. “You can pass them by my orders, Adolphe,” -said his captain; and ere the savage stallion had time for a second -attack, the huge vehicle rolled through and lumbered on, leaving handsome -Adolphe ejaculating protestations and excuses, believing implicitly that -he had won the beautiful mademoiselle’s affections at first sight during -the process. - -Except by this voluble young gentleman, very little had been said. People -_do_ say very little when they mean a great deal. It seemed to George, -mademoiselle had offered no more pertinent remark than that “She had made -a long journey, and was going to the Hôtel Montmirail _to stop_.” Whilst -Cerise—well, I have no doubt Cerise could have repeated every word of -their conversation, yet she did nothing of the kind neither to Célandine -then, nor to mamma afterwards; though by the time she reached home her -eyes were quite dry, and no wonder, considering the fire in her cheeks. - -Altogether, the interview was certainly provocative of silence. Neither -Captain George nor Beaudésir uttered a syllable during the remainder of -their walk. Only on the threshold of the tailor’s shop in the _Rue des -Quatres Fripons_ the latter awoke from a deep fit of musing, and asked, -very respectfully— - -“My captain, do you think I should have got the best of it this morning -if we had taken the buttons off the foils?” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE BOUDOIR OF MADAME - - -There was plenty of room in the Hôtel Montmirail when it was opened -at night for Madame’s distinguished receptions. Its screen of lights -in front, its long rows of windows, shedding lustrous radiance on -the ground and second floors, caused it to resemble, from outside, -the enchanted palace of the White Cat, in that well-known fairy tale -which has delighted childhood for so many generations. Within, room -after room stretched away in long perspective, one after another, more -polished, more decorated, more shining, each than its predecessor. The -waiting-room, the gallery, the reception-room, the dining-hall, the -two withdrawing-rooms, all with floors inlaid by the most elaborate -and slippery of wood-work, all heavy with crimson velvet and massive -gilding in the worst possible taste, all adorned by mythological -pictures, bright of colour, cold of tone, and scant of drapery, led the -oppressed and dazzled visitor to Madame’s bed-chamber, thrown open like -every other apartment on the floor for _his_ or _her_ admiration. Here -the eye reposed at last, on flowers, satin, ivory, mirrors, crystal, -china—everything most suggestive of the presence of beauty, its influence -and the atmosphere that seems to surround it in its home. The bed, -indeed, with lofty canopy, surmounted by ciphers and coronets, was almost -solemn in its magnificence; but the bath of Madame, her wardrobe, above -all, her toilet-table, modified with their graceful, glittering elegance -the oppressive grandeur of this important article in a sleeping-apartment. - -At each of the four corners strips of looking-glass reached from ceiling -to floor, while opposite the bed the first object on which Madame’s -eyes rested in waking was a picture that conveyed much delicate and -appropriate flattery to herself. - -It represented the Judgment of Paris. That dangerous shepherd of Mount -Ida was depicted in appropriate costume of brown skin, laughing eyes, a -crook, and a pair of sandals, with a golden apple in his hand. Juno stood -on one side—Minerva on the other. The ox-eyed goddess, with her rich -colouring and radiant form, affording a glowing type of those attractions -which are dependent on the senses alone; while Minerva’s deep grey eyes, -serene, majestic air, and noble, thoughtful brow, seemed to promise -a triumph, glorious in proportion to the wisdom and intellect to be -overcome. - -Paris stood between them, somewhat in front of the immortal rivals, -his right arm skilfully foreshortened, and offering the apple—to whom? -To neither of these, but to the Marquise, as she got out of bed every -morning; thereby inferring that _she_ was the Olympian Venus, the Queen -of Love and Beauty both for gods and men! - -Malletort, in his many visits to the Hôtel Montmirail, never passed this -picture without a characteristic grin of intense amusement and delight. - -Traversing the bed-chamber, one arrived at last in a small apartment -which concluded the series, and from which there appeared no further -egress, though, in truth, a door, concealed in the panelling, opened on -a narrow staircase which descended to the garden. This room was more -plainly furnished than the others, but an air of comfort pervaded it that -denoted the owner’s favourite retreat. Its tables were littered, its -furniture was worn. The pens and portfolio were disordered; a woman’s -glove lay near the inkstand; some half-finished embroidery occupied the -sofa; and a sheet of blotted music had fallen on the floor. There was no -kind of mirror in any part of the apartment. It was an affectation of -the Marquise, pardonable enough in a handsome woman, to protest that she -hated the reflection of her own features; and this little chamber was her -favourite retreat—her inner citadel, her sanctuary of seclusion—or, as -the servants called it, the Boudoir of Madame. - -It was undoubtedly the quietest room in the house, the farthest removed -from the noise of the courtyard, the domestics, even their guests. -Profound silence would have reigned in it now, but for the ring of a -hooked hard beak drawn sharply at intervals across a row of gilt wires, -and a ghastly muttering, like that of a demoniac, between whisper and -croak, for the encouragement of somebody or something named “Pierrot.” - -It was Madame’s West Indian parrot, beguiling his solitude by the -conscientious study of his part. Presently the bird gave a long shrill -whistle, for he heard a well-known step on the garden stair, and his -mistress’s voice singing— - - “Non, je te dis - Ma sœur, c’est lui, - C’est mon Henri, - A l’habit gris - Des Mousquetaires, des Mousquetaires, - Des Mousquetaires - Du roi Louis. - - “Amant gentil - Qui chante, qui rit, - Joli, poli, - Fidèle? Mais, Oui - Comme Mousquetaire, comme Mousquetaire, - Comme Mousquetaire, - Du roi Louis.” - -At which conclusive point in its argument Pierrot interrupted the ballad -with a deafening shriek, and Madame, sliding the panel back, passed into -the apartment. - -She was dressed in a simple morning toilet of white, with scarlet -breast-knots, and a ribbon of the same colour gathering the shining -masses of her black hair. It suited her well. Even Pierrot, gazing at her -with head on one side, and upturned eye, seemed to be of this opinion, -though bigger and better talkers by rote had probably long ago informed -her of the fact. She had a large _bouquet_ of flowers, fresh gathered, -in her hand, and she gave the bird a caressing word or two as she moved -through her boudoir, disposing of them here and there to the best -advantage; then she selected a few of the rarest, and put them carefully -in water, telling the parrot “these are for Cerise, Pierrot,” and -endeavouring to make it repeat her daughter’s name. Of course, without -success; though on other occasions this refractory pupil would shriek -these well-known syllables, time after time, till the very cook, far off -in the basement, was goaded to swear hideously, wishing in good Gascon he -had the accursed fowl picked and trussed and garnished with olives in the -stew-pan. - -Cerise had been brought back from her pension in Normandy, as we have -seen, partly by Malletort’s advice, partly because her mother longed -to have the girl by her side once more. They had been inseparable -formerly, and it is possible she was conscious, without confessing it, -that her whole character deteriorated during her daughter’s absence. -So the heavy family coach, postilions, outriders, footmen, and all, -rolled into the courtyard of the Hôtel Montmirail, after a slight delay, -as we have seen, at one of the barriers, and deposited its freight to -the great jubilation of the whole household. These were never tired of -praising mademoiselle’s beauty, mademoiselle’s grace—her refinement, -her manners, her acquirements, her goodness of heart, were on every -lip. But though she said less about it than the domestics, nobody in -her establishment was so alive to the merits of Cerise as her mother. -In good truth, the Marquise loved her daughter very dearly. She never -thought she could love anything half so much, except—except perhaps, the -germ of a new idea that had lately been forming itself in her heart, -and of which the vague shadowy uncertainty, the shame, the excuses, -the unwillingness with which she acknowledged it, constituted no small -portion of the charm. Is it possible that Love is painted blind because, -if people could see before them, they would never be induced to move -a step along the pleasant path?—the pleasant path that leads through -cool shades and clustering roses, down the steep bank where the nettles -grow, through briar and bramble, to end at last in a treacherous morass, -whence extrication is generally difficult, sometimes impossible, and -always unpleasant. Nevertheless, to get Cerise back from her pension, -to find that she had grown into a woman, yet without losing the child’s -blue eyes, fond and frank and innocent as ever—to watch her matured -intellect, to feel that the plaything was a companion now, though playful -and light-hearted still—lastly, to discover that she was a beauty, but -a beauty who could never become a rival, because in quite a different -style from her mother—all this was very delightful, and the Marquise, -seldom low-spirited at any time, had become perfectly sparkling since her -daughter came home. - -So she carolled about the boudoir like a girl, coaxing Pierrot, arranging -the flowers, and warning Célandine, between the notes of her foolish -love-song, not to let mademoiselle’s chocolate get cold. Mademoiselle, -you see, was tired and not yet down; indeed, to tell the truth, not yet -up, but pressing a soft flushed cheek against her laced pillow, having -just awoke from a dream, in which she was back at the convent in Normandy -once more, sauntering down the beech-walk with her director, who somehow, -instead of a priest’s habit, wore the uniform of the Grey Musketeers, -an irregularity that roused the wrath of the Lady Superior and made her -speak out freely; whereat the Musketeer took his pupil’s part, looking -down on her with a brave brown face and kind eyes, while he clasped her -hand in fond assurance of his aid. Waking thus, she tried hard to get -back to sleep, in hopes of dreaming it all over again. - -The mother, meanwhile, having disposed her chamber to her liking, sank -into the recesses of a deep arm-chair, and began to speculate on her -daughter’s future. It is not to be supposed that such an important -consideration as the child’s marriage now occupied her attention for -the first time. Indeed her habits, her education, the opinions of that -society in which she lived, even her own past, with its vicissitudes and -experiences, seemed to urge on her the necessity of taking some step -towards an early settlement in life for her attractive girl. Cerise was -beautiful, no doubt, thought the Marquise; not indeed in her mother’s -wicked, provoking style, of which that mother well knew the power, but -with the innocent beauty of an angel. At such a Court, it was good she -should be provided as soon as possible with a legitimate protector. Of -suitors there would be no lack, for two strains of the best blood in -France united in the person of this fair damsel, whose wealth, besides, -would make her a desirable acquisition to the noblest gentleman in the -realm. Then she reviewed in turn all the eligible matches she could think -of in the large circle of her acquaintance; scanning them mentally, one -after another, with the proverbial fastidiousness that, looking for a -perfectly straight stick, traverses the wood from end to end in vain. -The first man was too young, the second too old, a third too clever, a -fourth too stupid. Count Point d’Appui had been hawked at by all the -beauties in Paris, and owned half Picardy; but she was afraid of him. -No, she could not trust him with her Cerise. He was worn out, debauched, -one of the roués, and worse than the Regent! Then there was the Marquis -de la Force Manquée, he would have been the very thing, but he had -sustained a paralytic stroke. Ah! she knew it. The family might hush it -up, talk of a fall in hunting, a shock to the system, a cold bath after -exercise, but Fagon had told her what it was. The late king’s physician -should understand such matters, and she was not to be deceived! To be -sure, there was still the Duc de Beaublafard left—noble rank, tolerable -possessions, easy temper, and a taste for the fine arts. She wavered a -long time, but decided against him at last. “It is a pity!” said the -Marquise, in a half-whisper, shaking her head, and gazing thoughtfully -at Pierrot; “a thousand pities! but I dare not risk it. He is too -good-looking—even for a lover—decidedly for a husband!” - -It was strange that, with her knowledge of human nature, her experience, -by observation at least, of human passions, she should so little have -considered that person’s inclinations who ought to have been first -consulted in such a matter. She never seemed to contemplate for an -instant that Cerise herself might shrink from the character of the Count, -appeal against becoming sick-nurse to the Marquis, or incline to the -excessive and objectionable beauty of the Duke. It seemed natural the -girl should accept her mother’s choice just as that mother had herself -accepted, without even seeing, the chivalrous old Montmirail whom she had -so cherished and respected, whose snuff-box stood there under glass on -her writing-table, and for whom, though he had been dead more years than -she liked to count, she sometimes felt as if she could weep even now. - -Such a train of reflection gradually brought the Marquise to her own -position in life, and a calculation of the advantages and disadvantages -attendant on marriage as regarded herself. She could not but know she -was in the full meridian of her beauty. Her summer, so to speak, was -still in its July; the fruit bright, glowing, and mature; not a leaf yet -changed in colour with forewarning of decay. She might take her choice -of a dozen noble names whenever she would, and she felt her heart beat -while she wondered why this consideration should of late have been so -often present to her mind. It could only arise from an anxiety to settle -Cerise, she argued with herself; there _could_ be no other reason. -Impossible! absurd! No—no—a thousand times—No! - -She went carefully back over her past life, analysing, with no foolish, -romantic, tendencies, but in a keen, impartial spirit, the whole history -of her feelings. She acknowledged, with a certain hard triumph, that in -her young days she had never loved. Likings, flirtations, passing fancies -she had indulged in by hundreds, a dozen at a time, but to true feminine -affection her nearest approach had been that sentiment of regard which -she entertained for her husband. She did not stop to ask herself if this -was love, as women understand the word. - -And was she to be always invulnerable? Was she indeed incapable of that -abstraction, that self-devotion which made the happiness and the misery -of nearly all her sex? She _did_ ask herself this question, but she did -_not_ answer it; though Pierrot, still watching her out of one eye, must -have seen her blush. - -Certainly, none of her declared suitors had hitherto inspired it. Least -of all, he to whom the world had lately given her as his affianced wife. -Brave he was, no doubt, chivalrous in thought and action; stupid enough -besides; yes, quite stupid enough for a husband! generous too, and -considerate—but oh! not like the kind, unselfish, indulgent old heart she -mourned for in widow’s weeds all those years ago. She could almost have -cried again now, and yet she laughed when she thought of the united ages -of her late husband and her present adorer. Was it her destiny, then, -thus ever to captivate the affections of old men? and were their wrongs -to be avenged at last by her own infatuation for a lover many years -younger than herself? Again the burning blushes rose to her brow, and -though Pierrot was the only witness present, she buried her face in her -hands. - -Lifting her eyes once more, they rested on a picture that held the place -of honour in her boudoir. It was a coloured drawing of considerable -spirit, and had been given her by no less a favourite than the -Prince-Marshal himself, for whose glorification it had been executed by a -rising artist. - -It represented a battle-field, of which the Prince de Chateau-Guerrand -constituted the principal object; and that officer was portrayed with -considerable fidelity, advancing to the succour of the Count de Guiches, -who at the head of the Guards was covering Villeroy’s retreat before -Marlborough at Ramillies. Two or three broad, honest faces of the -English grenadiers came well out from the smoke and confusion in the -background, ingeniously increased by a fall of rafters and conflagration -of an imaginary farm-house; but the Count de Guiches himself occupied no -prominent place in the composition, dancing about on a little grey horse -in one corner, as if studious not to interfere with the dominant figure, -who was, indeed, the artist’s patron, and who presided over the whole -in a full-bottomed wig, with a conceited smile on his face and a laced -hat in his hand. There lay, also, a dead Musketeer in the foreground, -admirably contrived to impart reality to the scene of conflict; and -it was on this figure that the eyes of the Marquise fixed themselves, -devouring it with a passionate gaze, in which admiration, longing, -self-scorn, and self-reproach, seemed all combined. - -For a full minute the wild, pitiful expression never left her face, and -during that minute she tore her handkerchief to the coronet near its hem. -Then she rose and paced the room for a couple of turns, restless as a -leopard; but ere she had made a third, footsteps were heard approaching -through the bed-chamber. The door opened, and one of her servants -announced “Monsieur l’Abbé Malletort!” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -WHAT THE SERPENT SAID - - -HE came in smiling, of course. When was the Abbé to be caught without -his self-possessed smile, his easy manner, and his carefully-arranged -dress? On the present occasion he carried with him some rare flowers as -well. The Marquise sprang at them almost before he had time to offer his -elaborate homage, while he bent over her extended hand. He snatched the -nosegay away, however, with great quickness, and held it behind his back. - -“Pardon, madame,” said he, “this is forbidden fruit. As such I bring it -into the garden of Paradise; where my cousin dwells there is Eden, and -the resemblance is the more striking that neither here are found mirrors -to offend me with the reflection of my own ugly face. Consequently, my -attention is concentrated on yourself. I look at you, Marquise, as Adam -looked at Eve. Bah! that father of horticulture was but a husband. I -should rather say, as the subtle creature who relieved their domestic -_tête-à-tête_ looked at the lady presiding over that charming scene. -I look at you, I say, with delight and admiration, for I find you -beautiful!” - -“And is it to tell me this important news that you are abroad so early?” -asked the Marquise, laughing gaily, while she pointed to the easy-chair -she had just left. “Sit down, Monsieur l’Abbé, and try to talk sense for -five minutes. You can be rational; none more so, when you choose. I want -your opinion—nay, I even think I want your advice. Mind, I don’t promise -to take it, that of course! Don’t look so interested. It’s not about -myself. It’s about Cerise.” - -“How can I look anything else?” asked the Abbé, whose face, to do -him justice, never betrayed his thoughts or feelings. “Madame, or -Mademoiselle, both are near and dear to me—too much so for my own repose.” - -He sighed, and laid his white hand on his breast. She was so accustomed -to his manner that she never troubled herself whether he was in jest -or earnest. Moreover, she was at present engrossed with her daughter’s -future, and proceeded thoughtfully. - -“Cerise is a woman now, my cousin. Her girlhood is past, and she has -arrived at an age when every woman should think of establishing herself -in life. Pardon! that bouquet is in your way; put it down yonder in the -window-sill.” - -The Abbé rose and placed the flowers in the open window, whence a light -air from without wafted their sweet and heavy perfume into the apartment. - -When he reseated himself the Marquise had relapsed into silence. She was -thinking deeply, with her eyes fixed on the dead musketeer in the picture. - -The Abbé spoke first. He began in a low tone of emotion, that, if -fictitious, was admirably assumed. - -“It is not for _me_, perhaps, madame, to give an opinion on such matters -as concern the affections. For _me_, the churchman, the celibate, the man -of the world, whose whole utility to those he loves depends on subjection -of his love at any cost—at any sacrifice; who must trample his feelings -under foot, lest they rise and vanquish him, putting him to torture, -punishment, and shame. My cousin, have not I seemed to you a man of -marble rather than a creature of flesh and blood?” - -The Marquise opened her black eyes wide. He had succeeded at least in -rousing her attention, and continued in the same low, hurried voice. - -“Can you not make allowance for a position so constrained and unnatural -as mine? Can you not comprehend a devotion that exists out of, and apart -from self? Is not the hideous Satyr peering from behind his tree at the -nymph whose beauty awes him from approach, an object more touching, more -to be respected than vain Narcissus languishing, after all, but for the -mere reflection of himself? Is not that a true and faithful worship which -seeks only the elevation of its idol, though its own crushed body may be -exacted to raise the pedestal, if but by half a foot? Do you believe—I -ask you, my cousin, in the utmost truth and sincerity—do you believe -there breathes a man on earth so completely consecrated to your interests -as myself?” - -“You have always been a kind counsellor—and—and—an affectionate -kinsman,” answered the Marquise, a little confused; adding, with an air -of frankness that became her well—“Come! Abbé, you are a good friend, -neither more nor less, staunch, honest, constant. You always have been, -you always will be. Is it not so?” - -His self-command was perfect. His face betrayed neither disappointment, -vexation, nor wounded pride. His voice retained just so much of tremor as -was compatible with the warm regard of friendship, yet not too little to -convey the deeper interest of love. He did not approach his cousin by an -inch. He sat back in the arm-chair, outwardly composed and tranquil, yet -he made it appear that he was pleading a subject of vital importance both -to her welfare and his own. - -“Pass over _me_, madame!” he exclaimed, throwing both his white hands -up with a conclusive gesture. “Walk over _my_ body without scruple if -it will keep you dry-shod. Why am I here; nay, why do I exist at all -but to serve you—and yours? Nevertheless it is not now a question of -the daughter’s destiny—that will arrive in course of time—it is of the -mother I would speak. For the mother I would plead, even against myself. -What temptation is there in the world like ambition? What has earth to -offer compared to its promises? The draught of love may be, nay, I feel -too keenly _must_ be, very sweet, but what bitter drops are mingled in -the cup! Surely I know it; but what matters its taste to me? the Abbé! -the priest! Marquise, you have a future before you the proudest woman in -Europe might envy. That fair hand might hold a sceptre, that sweet brow -be encircled by a crown. Bah! they are but baubles, of course,” continued -the Abbé, relapsing without a moment’s warning into his usual tone; “the -one would make your arm ache and the other your head; nevertheless, my -cousin, you could endure these inconveniences without complaint, perhaps -even with patience and resignation to your fate?” - -The Marquise, it must be confessed, was relieved at his change of tone. -Her feelings had been stimulated, her sympathies enlisted, and now her -curiosity was aroused. This last quality is seldom weak in her sex, and -the Abbé, though it is needless to inquire where or how he learned the -trade, was far too experienced a practitioner to neglect so powerful an -engine as that desire for knowledge which made shipwreck of Eve and is -the bane of all her daughters. Madame de Montmirail was proud—most women -are. She loved power—most women do. If a thought flashed through her mind -that the advancement of her own position might benefit those in whom she -felt interest, what was this but a noble instinct, unselfish as are all -the instincts of womanhood? - -“You speak in parables, my good Abbé,” said she, with a laugh that -betrayed some anxiety to know more. “You talk of crowns and sceptres as -familiarly as I do of fans and bracelets. You must expound to me what you -mean, for I am one of those who find out a riddle admirably when they -have been told the answer.” - -“I will instruct you, then,” was his reply, “in the form of a parable. -Listen and learn. A certain Sultan had a collection of jewels, and he -changed them from time to time—because he could not find a gem that -sparkled with equal brilliance by day and by night. So he consulted every -jeweller in his dominions, and squandered great sums of money, both in -barter and in a search for what he required. Nay, he would trample under -foot and defile the treasures he possessed, passionate, languishing, -wretched, for want of that he possessed not. So his affairs went to ruin, -and his whole country was in want and misery. - -“Now, a Dervish praying at sunset by a fountain, saw a beautiful bird fly -down to the water to drink. Between its eyes grew a jewel that flamed -and glittered like the noonday sun on the Sultan’s drawn scimitar. And -the Dervish bethought him, this jewel would be a rare addition to the -collection of his lord; so he rolled his prayer-carpet into a pillow, and -went to sleep by the side of the fountain, under a tree. - -“At midnight the Dervish woke up to pray, and on the branch above his -head he saw something flash and sparkle like the sun on the Sultan’s -scimitar at noonday. So he said, ‘This is the gem for which my lord -pineth. Lo! I will take the bird captive, and bring it with me to the -feet of my lord.’ - -“Then the Dervish took the bird craftily with his hand, and though the -fowl was beautiful, and the gem was precious, he kept neither of them for -himself, but brought them both for his lord, to be the delight of the -Sultan and the salvation of the land.” - -“And suppose the poor bird would rather have had her liberty,” replied -the Marquise. “It seems to me that in their dealings with men the birds -get the worst of it from first to last.” - -“This bird was wise in her generation, as the goose that saved Rome,” -answered the Abbé; “but the bird I have in my thoughts wants only -opportunity to soar her pitch, like the falcon, Queen of Earth and Air. -Seriously, madame—look at the condition of _our_ Sultan. I speak not of -the young king, a weak and rickety boy, with all respect be it said, ill -in bed at this very moment, perhaps never to leave his chamber alive. I -mean the Regent, my kind patron, your devoted admirer—the true ruler of -France. And look at the jewels in his casket. Do you think there is one -that he prizes at the value of a worn-out glove?” - -The subject possessed a certain degree of interest, trenching though it -was upon very delicate ground. - -“He has plenty to choose from, at any rate,” observed the Marquise; “and -I must say I cannot compliment him on the taste he has displayed in these -valuables,” she added, with a mischievous laugh. - -“He would throw them all willingly into the Seine to-morrow,” continued -Malletort, “might he but possess the gem he covets, and set it in the -Crown-royal of France. Yes, madame, the Crown-royal, I repeat it. Where -are the obstacles? Louis XV. may not, will not, nay, perhaps, _shall_ -not live to be a man. Madame d’Orleans inherits the feeble constitution, -without the beauty of her mother, Madame de Montespan. Fagon himself will -tell you her life is not worth nine months’ purchase, and since she has -quarrelled with her daughter she has less interest with the Regent than -one of the pages. Her party is no longer in power, the Comte de Toulouse -is in disgrace, the Duc du Maine is in disgrace. Illegitimacy is at a -discount, though, _parbleu_, it has no want of propagators in our day. To -speak frankly, my cousin, a clever woman who could influence the Regent -might sway the destinies of the whole nation in six weeks,—might be Queen -of France in six months from this time.” - -The Marquise listened, as Eve may have listened to the serpent when -he pressed her to taste the apple. For different palates, the fruit, -tempting, because forbidden, assumes different forms. Sometimes it -represents power, sometimes pique, sometimes lucre, and sometimes love. -According to their various natures, the tempted nibble at it with their -pretty teeth, suck it eagerly with clinging lips, or swallow it whole, -like a bolus, at a gulp. The Marquise was only nibbling, but her cheek -glowed, her eyes shone, and she whispered below her breath, “The Queen of -France;” as if there was music in the very syllables. - -The Abbé paused to let the charm work, ere he resumed, in his -half-jesting way— - -“The Queen, madame! Despite the injustice on our Salic law, you may say -_the King_! Such a woman, and I know well of whom I speak, would little -by little obtain all the real power of the crown. She might sway the -council—she might rule the parliament—she might control the finances. -In and out of the palace she would become the dispenser of rank, the -fountain of honour. Nay,” he added, with a laugh, “she might usurp the -last privileges of royalty, and command the very Musketeers of the Guard -themselves!” - -Did he know that he had touched a string to vibrate through his -listener’s whole being? She rose and walked to the window, where the -flowers were, while at the same moment he prepared to recall her -hastily. It was needless, for she started, turning very pale, and came -quietly back to her seat. The Abbé’s quick ear detected the tramp of -a boot crunching the gravel walk outside, but it was impossible to -gather from his countenance whether he suspected the passer-by to be -of more importance than one of the gardeners. The Marquise, however, -had caught a glimpse of a figure she was beginning to know by heart too -well. Captain George had of late, indeed ever since Cerise came home, -contracted a habit of traversing the gardens of the Hôtel Montmirail to -visit a post of his musketeers in the neighbourhood. These guards were -permitted to enter everywhere, and Madame de Montmirail was the last -person to interfere, in this instance, with their privileges. So little -annoyance, indeed, did she seem to experience from the intrusion, that -the windows of her boudoir were generally wide open at this hour of the -day. Though to visit this post might be a necessary military precaution, -it was obviously a duty requiring promptitude less than consideration. -Captain George usually walked slowly through the garden, and returned -in a very short time at the same deliberate pace. The Marquise knew -perfectly well that it took him exactly ten minutes by the clock in -her boudoir. When she sat down again, Malletort, without noticing her -movement or her confusion, proceeded in a sincere and affectionate tone— - -“I need not explain more clearly, madame; I need not urge my motives nor -dwell upon my own self-sacrifice. It is sufficient for the Abbé to see -his peerless cousin set out on her journey to fame, and to feel that he -has indicated the shortest path. There are obstacles, no doubt; but for -what purpose do obstacles exist save to be surmounted or swept away? Let -us take them as they come. I can count them all on the fingers of my -hand.” The Abbé began systematically at his thumb. “The young King and -Madame d’Orleans are already disposed of, or, at worst, soon will be, in -the common course of events. Remain—the _roués_—Madame de Sabran, and -Madame Parabére. Of these, I can manage the first without assistance. -I have influence with the whole gang. Some may be persuaded, others -intimidated, all can be bribed. I anticipate no opposition worth speaking -of from the male element, fond of pleasure, fond of wine, and embarrassed -as they are good for nothing. With the last two it is different. Madame -de Sabran is witty, handsome, and well-bred; but she spares no person, -however exalted, in her sarcasm, and the Regent fears her tongue while he -is oppressed with her society. One or two more of her cutting sayings, -and she will sever the cord, already frayed very thin, by which she -holds on to fortune. Then she becomes but yesterday’s _bouquet_, and -we need trouble ourselves no more with _her_! Exit Madame de Sabran. -Enter—whom shall we name, my beautiful cousin? Whoever it is will have -it in her power to become Queen of France. Now there is only Madame de -Parabére left; but alas! she is the most dangerous and the most powerful -of all. It is against _her_ that I must ask you, madame, to lend me your -assistance.” - -“Mine!” repeated the Marquise, half surprised and half unwilling, though -with no especial liking for the lady in question. “Mine! what can I do?” - -“Much,” replied Malletort, earnestly. “Indeed, everything! Yet, it is -very little I will ask you to undertake, though it must eventually lead -to the greatest results. Listen. The Regent, while he has confessed to -me over and over again that he grows weary of Madame de Parabére, is -yet fascinated by her beauty—the beauty, after all, of a baby-face with -a skin like cream. Such beauty as even the devil must have possessed -when he was young. She has neither wit, nor grace, nor intellect, nor -form, nor even features. But she has her _skin_, and that I must admit -is wonderfully clear and soft. This attraction possesses some incredible -fascination for the Duke. If she went out in the sun to-morrow and came -home tanned, _adieu_ to her power for ever! I cannot make her go out in -the sun, but I think if you will help me I can arrange that she shall -become tanned—aye, worse than tanned, speckled all over like a toad. -Do you remember once when they praised your beauty at the late King’s -dinner, she said, ‘Yes, you were very well for a mulatto?’” - -“I have not forgotten it!” replied the Marquise, and her flashing eye -showed that neither had she forgiven the offence. - -“That little compliment alone would make me her enemy,” continued the -Abbé, “if I allowed myself such luxuries as likes and dislikes; but she -is in our way, and that is a far better reason for putting her aside. -Now my beautiful cousin has admired those flowers in the window more -than once. She thinks they are an offering from her faithful kinsman. -It is not so. I have procured them with no small trouble for Madame de -Parabére!” - -“Then why bring them here?” asked the Marquise, with a spice of -pardonable pique in her tone. - -“Because, if I sent them to her with the compliments of Monsieur l’Abbé -Malletort, the Swiss would probably not take them in; because if I -offered them to her myself, I, the cynic, the unimpressionable, the man -of marble, who has eyes but for his kinswoman, she would suspect a trick, -or perhaps some covert insult or irony that would cause her to refuse the -gift point-blank. No, my plan is better laid. You go to the masked ball -at the opera to-night. She will be there on the Regent’s arm. Jealous, -suspicious, domineering, she will never leave him. There is not another -petal of stephanotis to be procured for love or money within thirty -leagues of Paris; I have assured myself of this. They are her favourite -flowers. You will appear at the ball with your _bouquet_; but for the -love of heaven, my cousin,” and the Abbé’s countenance was really in -earnest while he thus adjured her, “do not, even with a mask on, put it -within six inches of your face!” - -“It is poisoned!” exclaimed the Marquise, walking, nevertheless, to the -open window where the flowers stood. “Poisoned! I will have nothing to do -with it. If we were men, I would force her to cross swords with me on the -turf down there. But poison! No, my cousin. I tell you no. Never!” - -“Poison is entirely a relative term,” observed the Abbé, philosophically. -“All drugs in excess become poisons. These pretty flowers are not -poisoned so much as medicated. There is no danger to life in smelling -them—none. But their effect on the skin is curious, really interesting -from a scientific point of view. A few hours after inspiration, even -of one leaf, the complexion loses its freshness, fades, comes out in -spots—turns brown.” - -The Marquise listened attentively. - -“Brown! Deep brown! Browner than any mulatto!” - -The Marquise wavered. - -“It really would not be a bad joke, and I think she deserves it for what -she said of you.” - -The Marquise consented. - -“I will take them to the ball,” said she, “and if Madame de Parabére asks -for them, why, in common politeness, she must have them. But mask or no -mask, I will take care to let her know who I _am_!” - -“Better not,” said the more cautious Abbé, and would have explained why, -but the Marquise paid no attention to what he said. She seemed uneasy, -and moved behind the window-curtain with a nervous gesture and a rising -colour in her cheek. “Another complication,” muttered her companion, -catching once more the measured boot-tramp on the gravel-walk. “So be it! -The more cards dealt, the better chance for the player who can peep at -his adversary’s hand!” - -Looking into the garden, he perceived the Musketeer’s tall figure -moving leisurely along the walk. His pace became slower and slower, -and the Marquise, behind the curtain, blushed deeper and deeper as he -came directly below the window, peering up at the house with an air of -caution, not lost on Malletort’s observation. - -“I will force one of them to play a court card,” thought the Abbé, and -muttering something about “stifling heat,” pushed the window noisily, as -far open as it would go. - -The Musketeer looked quickly up, and at the same moment something white -and buoyant fluttered lightly to the ground at his very feet. - -The Marquise was trembling and blushing behind her window-curtain. - -The ruffles at Malletort’s wrist had brushed a cluster of blossoms from -the stephanotis, and it fell within six inches of Captain George’s boot. - -He picked it up with a murmur of delight. In another moment he would have -pressed it to his lips, but the Marquise could keep silence no longer. -Shrouding herself in the window-curtain, she exclaimed in a hoarse -whisper, “Hold! Monsieur, in Heaven’s name! It is poisoned!” - -He cast a rapid penetrating glance, up, down, all round. His monitress -was invisible, and the Abbé had shrunk back into the room. Then he -examined the blossoms minutely, though at arm’s-length, holding them -in his gloved hand, and so twirling them carelessly about, as if to -avoid observation, went on a few paces, ere he threw them on the walk -and crushed them to pieces beneath his heel. For two minutes Madame -Montmirail had been hot and cold by turns, giddy, choking—the Abbé, the -room, the gardens, swimming before her eyes—now she drew a long breath of -relief and turned to her cousin. - -“By my faith, Monsieur l’Abbé,” said she, “that soldier down there is a -true gentleman!” - -And Malletort took his leave, reflecting that in research after general -information, his last hour’s work had been by no means thrown away. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -OUT-MANŒUVRED - - -Captain George was not the only soldier of France whom a visit to the -Hôtel Montmirail affected that morning with the slighter and premonitory -symptoms of fever, such as dry mouth, irregular pulse, and a tendency to -flush without physical exertion. While the Musketeer was visiting his -outposts in anything but a warlike frame of mind, his former general -was working his temper up to a state of nervous irritation more trying -than usual to the valets and other domestics of his household. The -Prince-Marshal busied himself to-day with preparations for his grand -attack, and, contrary to the whole practice of his lifetime, in the event -of failure, had made no disposition for retreat. - -He felt, indeed, a good deal more agitated now than when he led a -forlorn-hope of Black Musketeers at twenty, an exploit from which he -came off with three flesh wounds and a broken collar-bone, owing to the -usual mistake of too short a scaling-ladder; but he consoled himself by -reflecting how this very agitation denoted that the fountain of youth was -not yet dried up in his heart. - -He rose early, though he could not decently present himself at the Hôtel -Montmirail for hours to come. He stormed and swore because his chocolate -was not ready, though he hardly tasted it when it was served, and indeed -broke his fast on yolk of egg and pounded sugar, mixed up with a small -glass of brandy. - -This stimulating refreshment enabled him to encounter the fatigue of -dressing, and very careful the veteran was to marshal his staunch old -forces in their most imposing array. - -The few teeth he could boast were polished up white and glistening. Their -ranks indeed had been sadly thinned, but, like the last survivors of a -beleaguered garrison, though shattered and disordered, they mustered -bravely to the front. His wrinkled cheeks and pointed chin were shaved -trim and smooth, while the moustaches on his upper lip, though nearly -white, were carefully clipped and arranged in the prevailing fashion. -More than once during the progress of the toilet, before a mirror -which, he cursed repeatedly for a dull and unbecoming glass, his heart -misgave him, and he treated his valets to a few camp compliments current -amongst the old _die-hards_ of Turenne; but when at last his cravat was -fastened—his frills adjusted, his _just au corps_ fitted on, his delicate -ruffles pulled over his wasted hands, with their swollen knuckles and -magnificent rings, his diamond-hilted rapier hung exactly at his hip, and -his laced hat, cocked jauntily _à la Mousquetaire_, he took one approving -survey in the mirror, unbecoming as it was, and marched forth confident -and resolved to conquer. - -His carriage was waiting for him at the porter’s lodge of his hotel. A -nobleman of those days seldom walked afoot in the streets, and it took -four horses at least, one coachman, one postilion, and two or three -footmen in laced coats, to convey a single biped the distance of a couple -of hundred metres. - -As the door of his heraldry-covered coach closed on him with a bang, -quoth Auguste, who had dressed him, to Etienne, who had handed the -clothes and shared impartially in his master’s maledictions— - -“Come, that’s not so bad, Etienne! Hein? What would you have at -sixty-three? And without _me_, Bones of St. Martin! what is he? A monkey, -a skeleton, a heap of rugs and refuse! Ah! What it is! the toilet!—when a -man is really master of his work.” - -The Prince-Marshal, you see, like other heroes, was none to his _valet -de chambre_; but Auguste, a true artist, having neglected none of the -_minutiæ_, on which success depended, looked to general results, and -exulted in the masterpiece that he felt was a creation of his own genius. - -Now it fell out that the Prince de Chateau-Guerrand, hereditary Grand -Chasseur to the King, Master of the Horse to the Dauphin, State Exon to -the sons and daughters of France, Marshal of its armies, and chevalier of -half-a-dozen orders in his own and other countries, with no decoration on -earth left to wish for but the Golden Fleece of Spain, which he coveted -greedily in consequence, and prized above them all, arrived at the Hôtel -Montmirail almost in the moment when Abbé Malletort quitted it at the -front entrance, and Captain George of the Grey Musketeers left it by the -garden door. - -Though the Prince’s chance of victory must have been doubtful at any -time, I do not think he could have chosen a more unfavourable moment to -deploy into line, as it were, and offer battle in the open field. His -fair enemy had already been skirmishing with one foe, and caught sight of -another, whom she would willingly have engaged. Her trumpets had sounded -the _Alerte_, her colours were displayed, her artillery was in advance, -guns unlimbered, matches lighted, front cleared, all her forces ready -and quivering for action—woe to the veteran when he should leave his -entrenchments, and sally forth to hazard all his past successes on the -rash issue of one stand-up fight! - -His instincts told him he was wrong, even while he followed the -obsequious lackey, in the Montmirail livery, through the glittering suite -of rooms that led him to his fate. Followed, with cold hands and shaking -knees, he who had led stormers and commanded armies! Even to himself -there was a something of ridicule in the position; and he smiled, as a -man smiles who is going to the dentist, while he whispered—“Courage, my -child! It is but a quarter of an hour, after all! and yet—I wish I had -put that other glass of brandy into my _Lait de Poule_!” - -The Marquise received him more graciously than usual, and this, too, had -he known it, was an omen of ill-success. But it is strange how little -experience teaches in the campaigns of Cupid, how completely his guerilla -style of warfare foils all regular strategy and established system of -tactics. I believe any school-girl in her teens to be a match for the -most insidious adversary of the opposite sex; and I think that the older -the male serpent, and the oftener he has cast his skin, the more easily -does his subtlety succumb to the voice of the innocent and unconscious -charmer. What chance then had an honest, conceited, thick-headed old -soldier, with nothing of the snake about him but his glistening outside, -and labouring under the further disadvantage of being furiously in -earnest, against such a proficient as the Marquise—a coquette of a dozen -years’ standing, rejoicing in battle, accustomed to triumph, witty, -scornful, pitiless, and to-day, for the first time, doubtful of her -prowess, and dissatisfied with herself? - -She had never looked better in her life; the flushed cheeks, the -brilliant eyes, the simple white dress, with its scarlet breast-knots, -these combined to constitute a very seductive whole, and one that, had -there been a mirror in which she could see it reflected, might have -gone far to strengthen the Abbé’s arguments, and to convince her that -his schemes, aspiring though they seemed, were founded on a knowledge -of human nature, experience, and common sense. Neither, I imagine, does -a woman ever believe in her heart that any destiny can be quite beyond -her reach. Though fortune may offer man something more than his share -of goods and tangible possessions on this material earth, nature has -conferred on woman the illimitable inheritance of the possible; and no -beggar maiden is so lowly but that she may dream of King Cophetua and his -crown-matrimonial laid at her shoeless feet. - -To see the chance, vague, yet by no means unreasonable, of becoming Queen -of France looming in the future—to entertain a preference, vague, yet by -no means doubtful, for a handsome captain of Grey Musketeers—and to be -made honourable love to at a little past thirty by a man and a marshal -a little past sixty—was not all this enough to impart a yet deeper -lustre to the glowing cheeks and the bright eyes, to bid the scarlet -breast-knots heave and quiver over that warm, wilful, and impassioned -heart? - -It was not a fair fight; far from it. It was Goliath against David, and -David, moreover, with neither stone nor sling, nor ruddy countenance, nor -the mettle of untried courage, nor youthful confidence in his cause. - -He came up boldly, however, when he confronted his enemy, and kissed her -hand with a ponderous compliment to her good looks, which she cut short -rudely enough. - -Then he took his hat from the floor, and began to smooth its lace -against his heavy coat-cuff. She knew it was coming, and though it made -her nervous, she rather liked it, notwithstanding. - -“Madame!” said the Prince-Marshal, and then he stopped, for his voice -sounded so strange he thought he had better begin again. - -“Madame, I have for a long period had the honour and advantage of your -friendship. Nay, I hope that I have, in all that time, done nothing to -forfeit your good opinion?” - -She laughed a little unmeaning laugh, and of course avoided a direct -answer to the question. - -“I always stand up for my friends,” said he, “and yourself, monsieur, -amongst the number. It is no light task, I can assure you!” - -The veteran had opened fire now, and gained confidence every moment. The -first step, the first plunge, the first sentence. It is all the same. -Fairly in deep water, a brave man finds his courage come back even faster -than it failed him. - -“Madame,” he resumed, laying his hat on the floor again, and sitting bolt -upright, while his voice, though hoarser than usual, grew very stern, -“madame, I am in earnest. Seriously in earnest at present. Listen. I have -something of importance to say to you!” - -In spite of herself she was a little cowed. “One moment, Prince!” she -exclaimed, rising to shut the door and window of her boudoir, as if -against listeners. It was a simple feminine manœuvre to gain time; but, -looking into the garden, she spied a remnant of the Stephanotis left -where George had trodden it, and when she sat down again she was as brave -as a lioness once more. Her change of position rather disordered her -suitor’s line of battle, and as she had skilfully increased the distance -between them, his tactics were still further impeded. In his love affairs -the Prince-Marshal’s system had always been to come as soon as possible -to close quarters; but it was so long since he had made a regular formal -proposal of marriage, that he could not for the life of him remember -the precise attitude in which he had advanced. Some vague recollection -he entertained, strengthened by what he had seen on the stage, of going -down on his knees, but the floor was very slippery, and he was not -quite confident about getting up again. It would be ridiculous, he felt, -to urge his suit on all-fours, and he knew the Marquise well enough, -besides, to be quite sure her paroxysms of laughter in such a difficulty -would render her incapable of returning an intelligible answer. -Altogether, he decided on sitting still, and though it was obviously a -disadvantage, doing his love-making at arm’s length. - -“Madame!” he repeated for the fourth time, “I am a soldier; I am a man of -few words; I am, I hope, a gentleman, but I am no longer young. I do not -dissemble this; I am even past my prime. Frankly, madame, I am getting an -old man.” - -It was incontestable. She smothered a smile as she mentally conceded the -position, but in reply she had nothing to say, and she said it. - -The Prince-Marshal, expecting the disclaimer that perhaps politeness -demanded, seemed here a little bothered. He had no doubt gone through -many rehearsals of the imaginary scene, and it confused him to lose his -anticipated cue. Seeking inspiration once more, then, from his hat, he -proceeded rather inconsequently. “Therefore it is that I feel emboldened -in the present instance to lay before you, madame, the thoughts, the -intentions, the wishes, in brief—the anticipations that I had formed of -my own future, and to ask your opinion, and, indeed, your advice, or -perhaps, I should say, your approval of my plans.” - -What a quick ear she had! Far off, upstairs, she heard the door of -her daughter’s bedroom shut, and she knew that Cerise, after stopping -at every flower-stand in the gallery, would as usual come straight to -her mamma’s boudoir. Such a diversion would be invaluable, as it must -for the present prevent any decided result from her interview with the -Prince-Marshal. She had resolved not to accept him for a husband, we -know, and sooner or later, she must come to a definite understanding with -her faithful old suitor; but she seemed in this instance strangely given -to procrastination, and inclined from time to time to put off the evil -day. - -Why she did not prefer to have done with it once for all, why she could -not wait calmly for his proposal and refuse him with a polite reverence, -as she had refused a score of others, it is not for me to explain. -Perhaps she would not willingly abdicate a sovereignty that became year -by year more precious and more precarious. Perhaps she loved a captive, -as a cat loves a mouse, allowing it so much liberty as shall keep it -just within reach of the cruel velvet paw. Perhaps she shrunk from any -decided step that would force her own heart to confess it was interested -elsewhere. A woman’s motives may be countless as the waves on the shore, -her intention fathomless as mid-ocean by the deep-sea lead. - -Hearing the march of her auxiliaries, she made light of an engagement at -closer quarters now. Looking affectionately in the Prince-Marshal’s face, -she drew her chair a little nearer, and observed in a low voice— - -“I am pretty sure to approve of any plan, my Prince, that conduces to -your comfort—to your welfare, nay”—for she heard the rustle of her -daughter’s dress, and the lock of the door move—“to your happiness!” - -The tone and accompanying glance were irresistible. Any male creature -must have fallen a victim on the spot. The Prince-Marshal, sitting -opposite the door, dropped his hat, sprang from his chair a yard at a -bound, made a pounce at the white hand of the Marquise, and before he -could grasp it, stopped midway as if turned to stone, his mouth open, -his frame rigid, his very moustaches stiffening, and his eyes staring -blankly at the figure of Cerise in the doorway, who, although a good deal -discomposed, for she thought to find mamma alone, rose, or rather _sank_, -to the occasion, and bestowed on him the lowest, the most voluminous, -and the longest reverence that was ever practised for months together -at their _pension_ by the best brought-up young ladies in France. The -Prince-Marshal was too good a soldier to neglect such an opportunity for -retreat, and retired in good order, flattering himself that though he had -suffered severely, it might still be considered a drawn battle with the -Marquise. - -When he had made his bow with a profusion of compliments to the fresh and -beautiful Mademoiselle, whom he wished at a worse place than back in her -convent, mother and daughter sat down to spend the morning together. - -Contrary to custom, the pair were silent and preoccupied; each, while -she tried to seem at ease, immersed in her own thoughts, and yet, though -engrossed with the same subject or meditation, it was strange that -neither of them mentioned it to the other. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE MOTHER OF SATAN - - -Malletort, leaving his cousin’s house by its principal egress, did -not enter his coach at once, but whispering certain directions to the -servants, proceeded leisurely down a narrow lane or alley, leading, after -a variety of windings, into one of the great thoroughfares of Paris. -The street was well adapted for such an interview, either of love or -business, as it was desirable to keep secret, consisting, on one side, -only of the backs of the houses, in which the windows were built up, and -on the other, of the high dead wall that bounded the extensive premises -of the Hôtel Montmirail. Casting a hasty glance before and behind, to -make sure he was not watched, the Abbé, when he reached the narrowest -part of the narrow passage—for it was hardly more—halted, smiled, and -observed to himself: “A man’s character must be either very spotless -or very good for nothing if he can thus afford to set the decencies of -life at defiance. A churchman with an assignation! and at noon in this -quarter of Paris! My friend, it is rather a strong measure, no doubt! And -suppose, nevertheless, she should fail to appear? It would be the worse -for her, that’s all! Ah! the sweet sultana! There she is!” - -While he spoke, a woman, wrapped in a large shawl, with another folded -round her head, came swiftly down the alley, and stopped within two -paces of him. It was the Quadroon, agitated, hurried, a good deal out of -breath, and, perhaps, also a little out of temper. - -“It’s no use, Monsieur l’Abbé!” were the first words she gasped. “I -cannot, and I dare not, and I _will_ not. Besides, I have no time, I -must be back directly. There’s Mademoiselle, most likely, wanting me this -minute. The idea of such a thing! It’s out of the question altogether!” - -Malletort laughed good-humouredly. He could afford to be good-humoured, -for the woman was in his power. - -“And the alternative?” said he. “Not that I want to _drive_ you, my Queen -of Sheba, but still, a bargain is a bargain. Do you think Mademoiselle -would engross your time much longer if the Marquise knew all I know, and, -indeed, all that it is my duty to tell her?” - -Célandine clasped her hands imploringly, and dropped at once into -complete submission. - -“I will go with you, Monsieur l’Abbé,” said she, humbly. “But you will -not forget your promise. If you were to betray me I should die.” - -“And I, too,” thought Malletort, who knew the nature with which he had to -deal, and treated it as a keeper treats the tigress in her cage. “It is -no question of betrayal,” he said, aloud. “Follow me. When we reach the -carriage, step in. My people know where to drive.” - -He walked on very fast, and she followed him; her black eyes glancing -fierce misgivings, like those of a wild animal that suspects a snare. - -Two or three more windings with which he seemed thoroughly familiar, a -glance around that showed not a passenger visible, nor indeed a living -soul, save a poor old rag-picker raking a heap of refuse with her hook, -and the Quadroon suddenly emerged in mid-stream, so to speak, surrounded -by the life and bustle of one of the main streets in Paris. At a few -paces distant stood a plain, well-appointed coach, and the Abbé, pointing -to its door, which a servant was holding open, Célandine found herself, -ere she could look round, rumbling, she knew not where, over the noisy -pavement, completely in that man’s power, for whom, perhaps, of all men -in the world, she entertained the strongest feelings of terror, stronger -even than her aversion. - -She did not take long, however, to recover herself. The strain of savage -blood to which she owed those fierce black eyes and jetty locks gave -her also, with considerable physical courage, the insensibility of rude -natures to what we may term _moral_ fear. She might shudder at a drawn -knife if she were herself unarmed, or cower before a whip if her hands -were tied and her back bared; but to future evil, to danger, neither -visible nor tangible, she was callous as a child. - -They had not travelled half a mile ere she showed her delight in every -feature of her expressive face at the rapid motion and the gay scenes -through which she was driven. In a few minutes she smiled pleasantly, and -asked their destination as gaily as if they had been going to a ball. - -Malletort thought it a good opportunity for a few impressive words. - -“Célandine,” said he, gravely, “every one of us has a treasure somewhere -hidden up in the heart. What is it that you love better than everything -else in the world?” - -The dark face, tanned by many a year of sun, yet comely still, saddened -and softened while he spoke, the black eyes grew deeper and deeper as -they seemed to look dreamily into the past. After a pause she drew a -sorrowful sigh, and answered, “Mademoiselle!” - -“Good,” replied the Abbé. “You are bound on an errand now for which -Mademoiselle will be grateful to you till her dying day.” - -She looked curiously in his face. “Cerise is dear to me as my own,” said -she. “How can I do more for her to-day than yesterday, and to-morrow, and -every day of my life?” - -He answered by another question. - -“Would you like to see your darling a Princess of France?” - -The Quadroon’s eyes glistened and filled with tears. - -“I would lay down my life for the child,” was all she said in reply. - -But he had got her malleable now, and he knew it. Those tear-drops showed -him she was at the exact temperature for fusion. A little less, she would -have remained too cold and hard. A little more, and over-excitement would -have produced irritation, anger, defiance: then the whole process must -have been begun again. It was a good time to secure her confederacy, and -let her see a vague shadowy outline of his plans. - -In a few short sentences, but glowing and eloquent, because of the -tropical nature to which they were addressed, Malletort sketched out -the noble destiny he had in view for her mistress, and the consequent -elevation of Cerise to the rank of royalty. He impressed on his listener -the necessity of implicit, unquestioning obedience to his commands. Above -all, of unbroken silence and unvaried caution till their point was gained. - -“As in your own beautiful island,” said the Abbé, soaring for the -occasion to the metaphorical; “if you would pass by night through its -luxuriant jungles, you must keep the star that guides you steadily -in view, nor lose sight of it for an instant; so in the path I shall -indicate, never forget, however distant and impracticable it may seem, -the object to which our efforts are directed. In either case, if your -attention wanders for a moment, in that moment your feet stray from the -path; you stumble amongst the tangled creepers—you pierce yourself with -the cruel cactus—you tread on some venomous reptile that turns and stings -you to the bone; nay, you may topple headlong down a precipice into the -deep, dark, silent waters of the lagoon. Once there, I tell you fairly, -you might wait for a long while before the Marquise, or Mademoiselle, or -myself would wet a finger to pull you out!” - -Thus urging on his listener the importance of her task, now in plain -direct terms, now in the figurative language of parables, their drive -seemed to have lasted but a few minutes, when it was brought to an abrupt -termination by the stoppage of the coach before Signor Bartoletti’s -residence. - -It appeared that the visitors were expected, for a couple of his -heavily-decorated footmen waited on the stairs, and Célandine, following -the Abbé with wondering eyes and faltering steps, found herself received -with as much pomp and ceremony as if she had been a Princess of the Blood. - -They were ushered into the room that communicated with his laboratory. -It was empty, but wine and fruit stood on the table. Malletort pressed -the Quadroon to taste the former in vain. Then he passed without ceremony -into the adjoining apartment, assuring her of his speedy return. - -Left to herself, Célandine drank greedily from the water-jug ere she -crossed the floor on tiptoe, stealthy as a wild cat, and pressing her -ear to the door, applied all her faculties intently to the one act of -listening. - -She heard the Abbé’s greeting distinctly enough, and the sentence -immediately following, spoken laughingly, as usual. - -“The parts are cast,” said he, “and the stage prepared. It remains but to -dress the principal actress and make her perfect in her cue.” - -“Have you brought her?” answered an eager voice, hurried, agitated, and -scarcely above a whisper. - -Indistinct as were the syllables, their effect on the Quadroon was like -magic. She started, she passed her hand wildly across her face; her -very lips turned white, and she trembled in every limb. Her attitude -was no longer the simple act of listening. In concentrated eagerness it -resembled the crouch of a leopard before its spring. - -The door opened, and she sprang in good earnest. As Bartoletti crossed -the threshold she flew at him, and with one pounce had him fast by the -throat. - -“Where is he?” she screamed, with foaming lips and flashing eyes. “Where -is he? What have you done with him? I will kill you if you do not tell -me. Man! Beast! Monster! Where have you hid my child?” - -It took all the Abbé’s strength, combined with the Italian’s own efforts, -to untwine those nervous fingers. At last he shook himself free, to -stand gasping, panting, wiping his face, exhausted, terror-stricken, and -unmanned. - -When her physical powers yielded, her nervous system gave way as well. -Sinking into a chair, she sobbed and wept hysterically, rocking herself -to and fro, murmuring— - -“My baby! My fair-faced baby! My own! My only child!” - -Bartoletti had by this time found his voice, though still husky and -unstrung. - -“Célandine!” he exclaimed, and the tone denoted fear, anxiety, surprise, -even disgust, yet a something of tenderness and interest ran through it -all. - -Malletort lifted his eyebrows, shrugged his shoulders, and had recourse -to his snuff-box. A few words had settled his business with the Adept, -and his fine perceptions told him that in a scene like the present, -however it originated, the interference of a third person would do more -harm than good. Had he permitted himself such weaknesses, he felt he -could have been astonished; but the Abbé had long established as an -axiom, that, “he might be disgusted, but could never be surprised.” He -had skill to distinguish, moreover, the nice point at which a delicate -piece of workmanship may be quite spoiled by one additional touch, and -knew the exact moment when it is advisable to leave both well and ill -alone; so he pocketed his snuff-box, and made a bow to the agitated pair. - -“An unexpected recognition,” said he, politely, “and agitating, I -perceive, to both. My introduction is then unnecessary. Pardon! You will -permit me to wish you good-day, and leave you to arrange matters between -yourselves!” - -Insensibly Bartoletti opened the door for his guest. Insensibly he -returned the parting salutation, and insensibly, like a sleep-walker, he -sat down opposite and gazed blankly in the Quadroon’s face. - -She at least was awake, and on the alert. The storm of her emotion had -subsided. She summoned all her energies for the object she had in view. - -“Stefano!” she said, in a kindly conciliating tone, “forgive my violence. -You and I have been friends for years. You know my quick temper of old. I -can trust you. You can never be indifferent to my welfare.” - -He was sufficiently reassured by this time to fill a large goblet of -wine, which he half emptied at a gulp. His cheek regained its swarthy -bloom, and his little black eye glistened fondly, while he answered— - -“Never indifferent, Célandine! Never false! Never changed in all these -years!” - -She was, as we know, one-fourth a negress, and past middle age—of an -exterior so wild and weird, that the courtiers called her, as we also -know, “The Mother of Satan.” He was turned fifty, self-indulgent, -dishonest, with oily skin and beady eyes; short, swarthy, thick-set, and -altogether not unlike a mole! Yet was there a spark of true love for his -visitor lurking somewhere not entirely smothered amongst all the mass of -impurities with which the man’s heart was filled. - -She was too much a woman to be quite unconscious of her power. She spoke -in soft and coaxing accents now, while she replied— - -“I know it, Stefano. I believe it. I have also a good memory, and am -not likely to forget. And, Stefano, you have a kind heart—you will not -keep me longer in suspense about the child. He is here? In this house? -In the next room? Oh! let me see him! Let me only see him, and I will do -anything you ask!” - -She had slid from her chair, and knelt before him, holding the Adept’s -scarred, burned fingers to her lips. - -His face betrayed the pain he suffered in inflicting pain on her. “What -can I tell you?” he answered. “It is cruel to deceive you. It is cruel to -speak the truth. I have never seen the boy since he left me. Do you think -I would have kept him from you? How can I find him? How can I bring him -back? You talk as if I was King of France!” - -A horrible fear came across her. She rose to her feet, and shook both -fists in his face. - -“Man!” she exclaimed, “do not tell me he is dead! You shall answer for -it, if heaven or hell have any power on earth!” - -There were tears in his little beady eyes, unaccustomed tears, that -vouched for his truth, even to _her_, while he replied— - -“You are unjust, Célandine; and you would see your injustice if you did -but think for a moment. What had I to gain by taking care of the boy? -What had I to gain by ridding myself of him? Had I been to blame, do you -suppose I should have sent you the earliest information of his flight? -Have I not felt your sorrows keenly as if they were my own? Do I not feel -for you now? Listen. I am the same Stefano Bartoletti who told you the -secret of his life, the desire of his heart, by the side of that sweet -serene lagoon, in the beautiful island which probably neither of us may -ever see again. I have learned many strange lessons—I have witnessed -many strange scenes since then. Many years have passed over my head, and -wisdom has not despised me as the least apt among her pupils. Statesmen, -nobles, princes themselves have been glad to visit me in person, and reap -the fruit of my studies and my experience. But I tell you, Célandine,” -and here the little man smote his breast, and for the moment looked every -inch a champion, “I am the same Stefano Bartoletti. I swear to you that -if you will but join me heart and hand in this, the last and greatest of -my schemes, I will never rest till I have found the boy, and brought him -back into his mother’s arms!” - -She gave a wild, fierce cry of joy, and was hugging the brown hand to her -bosom once more. - -“Money,” observed the Signor, walking thoughtfully up and down the room -as soon as she had sufficiently composed herself to listen, “money, you -perceive, is the one thing we require. Money alone can overcome this, -like all other difficulties on earth. Money in sufficient quantity would -make me independent, contented, perhaps happy.” Here he stole a tender -look in the Quadroon’s face. “Money would enable me to quit these cold, -dull regions; this constrained, confined, unnatural life. Money would -restore _me_ my liberty, and _you_ your child. Célandine, will you help -me to get it?” - -He had touched the right chord. There was eager hope and wild -unscrupulous energy in her face while she answered— - -“I will! I swear it! Heart and hand I go in with you for this object, and -neither fire nor water, nor steel nor poison shall turn me now. You know -me, Stefano. I will shrink from nothing. But it is—it is not a question -of blood?” - -“No, no!” he replied, laughing. “You, too, are unchanged, Célandine. -Always in extremes. Make yourself easy on that score. It is but a trick -of your former trade. None but yourself can do it half so well. I will -explain it all in five minutes when I have finished this cup of wine. -But, Célandine,” and here her old admirer drew closer and whispered in -her ear. - -“I cannot tell,” she laughed. “It is impossible to give an answer yet.” - -“And the price?” continued he, earnestly. “Surely it must have fallen -now, though the Marquise is hard to deal with on such matters.” - -The Quadroon shook her head archly, indeed, coquettishly for her years -and replied— - -“Certainly not less than a couple of thousand francs?” - -“But suppose she knew everything!” urged the lover. - -“Then I think she would be so angry, she would have me flogged and give -me away for nothing!” - -He shook his head, pondering deeply. The flogging was indeed a serious -consideration. But then, what a reduction it would make in the price! - -There was grave matter, he thought, for reflection in the whole business, -and his manner was more sedate than usual, while he instructed Célandine -in a certain part that the Abbé and he had agreed she should perform. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE DÉBONNAIRE - - -“It is good to be superior to mortal weakness,” said Malletort to himself -as he re-entered his coach and drove from Bartoletti’s door. “In the -human subject I cannot but observe how few emotions are conducive to -happiness. That which touches the heart seems always prejudicial to the -stomach. How ridiculous, how derogatory, and how uncomfortable to turn -red and pale, to burst into tears, to spring at people’s throats, nay, -even to feel the pulse beat, the head swim, the voice fail at a word, a -look, a presence! What, then, constitutes the true well-being of man, -the _summum bonum_, the vantage point, the grand _desideratum_ to which -all philosophy is directed? Self-command! But self-command leads to the -command of others—to success, to victory, to power! and power, with none -to share it, none to benefit by it, is it worth the labour of attainment? -Can it be that its eminence is but like the crest of a mountain, from -which the more extended the horizon the flatter and the more monotonous -appears the view. It may, but what matter? Let me only get to the summit, -and I can always come down again at my leisure. _Basta!_ here we are. Now -to gain a foothold on the slippery path that leads to the very top!” - -The Abbé’s carriage was brought to a halt while he spoke by a post of -Grey Musketeers stationed in front of the Palais-Royal. The churchman’s -plain and quiet equipage had no right of entrance, and he alighted to -pass through the narrow ingress left unguarded for foot-passengers. Hence -he crossed a paved court, turned short into a wing of the building with -which he seemed well acquainted, and stopped at the foot of a narrow -staircase, guarded by one solitary sentry of the corps. - -It was our acquaintance, Bras-de-Fer, beguiling the tedium of his watch -by a mental review of his own adventures in love and war. - -The Abbé knew everybody, and the grim Musketeer saluted his holy friend -cordially enough, excusing himself, while he balanced his heavy weapon -across his breast, that his orders forbade him to allow any one to pass. - -“Lay down your arms, my son,” said the churchman, good-humouredly. “How -your wrists must ache by supper-time! I have but three words to say to -your captain, and if you will bend your tall head lower by a few inches I -can give you the countersign.” - -With that he whispered it in his ear, and Bras-de-Fer, again excusing -himself, bade him pass on, regaining an attitude of extreme stiffness -and martial severity, as if to make amends for past civility somewhat at -variance with established discipline. - -A green-baize door at the head of the staircase swung open to the Abbé’s -push, admitting him to an ante-room, of which Captain George was the only -occupant. He, too, seemed weary of his watch, which was tedious from -its dull unvarying routine—void of excitement, yet entailing grave and -oppressive responsibilities. His greeting to Malletort, however, was more -cordial, so thought that keen observer, than is afforded by a man who -merely wearies of his own society; and the Abbé was right in his general -impression, only wrong in detail. - -Captain George was indeed favourably affected to everybody connected, -however distantly, with the house of Montmirail. So far the Abbé judged -correctly enough, but he missed the true cause by a hair’s-breadth, and -attributed to the magic of black eyes an effect exclusively owing to blue. - -There was little leisure, however, for exchange of compliments, and the -Musketeer’s solitude was to be relieved but for a few precious moments at -a time. - -“His Highness has already twice asked for you,” said he, in the tone of -an injured man. “You had better go in at once.” So Malletort, leaving -the ill-used warrior to his own companionship, passed on to an inner -apartment, taking with him a stool in his hand, as was the custom, in -case the interview should be protracted, and the Regent require him to -sit down. - -The room he entered was small, gloomy, panelled with a dark-coloured -wood, octagonal in shape, relieved by very little furniture, and having -another door, opposite that which admitted the visitor, concealed by -heavy velvet curtains. At the solitary table, and on the single chair the -apartment contained, a man was seated, writing busily, with his back to -the Abbé. A general air of litter pervaded the place, and although the -table was heaped with papers, several more were scattered in disorder -over the floor. - -The writer continued his occupation for several minutes, as if -unconscious of the Abbé’s presence. Suddenly he gave a sigh of relief, -pushed his chair back from the table, and looked up joyously, like a -schoolboy interrupted in his task. - -“You are welcome, monsieur, you are welcome,” said he, rising and -pacing to and fro with short, quick steps, while Malletort performed a -series of courtly and elaborate bows. “I am about wearied of figures, -and I have been saying to myself, with every passing step for the -last half-hour, ‘Ah! here comes my little Abbé, who confines himself -exclusively to facts—my material and deep-thinking churchman, the best -judge in Christendom of wine, pictures, carriages, cutlets, ankles, -eyelashes, probabilities, dress, devilry, and deeds of darkness. Here are -calculations of Las, to show us all how we need only be able to write our -names, and so acquire boundless wealth; but the miserable Scotchman knows -no more than the dead how to spend his millions. Would you believe it, my -dear fellow, Vaudeville dined with him last night, and they served olives -with the stewed ortolans? Olives, I tell you, with ortolans! The man must -be a hog!” And the Regent wrinkled up his forehead while he spoke in a -favourite grimace, that he flattered himself resembled the portraits of -Henri Quatre. - -He bore, indeed, a kind of spurious resemblance to that great king and -gallant soldier, but the resemblance of the brach to the deer-hound, the -palfrey to the war-horse, the hawk to the eagle. He made the most of it, -however, such as it was; brushed his dark hair into a cluster on the top -of his head, contracted the point of his nose, elongated his chin, and -elevated his eyebrows, till he almost fancied himself the first Bourbon -who sat on the throne of France. Nay, he even went so far as to wear his -stockings and the knees of his breeches extremely tight, while the latter -were gathered and puckered loosely about the waist, to approach as nearly -as possible the costume in which the hero was usually portrayed. - -In all the worst points of his paragon’s character he copied him to the -life, only exaggerating to habitual vice the love of pleasure that was -Henry’s principal weakness. As the Duke’s face was broad, high-coloured, -good-humoured, nay, notwithstanding the marks it bore of his excesses, -tolerably well-favoured, while his figure, though scarcely tall enough -for dignity, was robust and in fair proportion, the imitation seemed, -perhaps, not entirely unfaithful to its original. Both possessed in a -high degree the charm of an exquisite manner; but while the King of -Navarre combined with a monarch’s condescension the frank and simple -bearing of a soldier, the Duke of Orleans was especially distinguished -for the suavity and external ease that mark the address of an -accomplished gentleman. - -This prince possessed, no doubt, the germ of many good qualities, but -how could the most promising seed bear fruit when it was choked up and -overgrown by such rank weeds as gluttony, drunkenness, and sensuality? -vices which seem to sap the energy of the mind as surely, if not so -rapidly, as they destroy the vigour of the body. - -Yet the Regent was gifted with a certain persuasive eloquence, a -certain facility of speech and gesture, invaluable to those who have -the conduct of public affairs. He possessed a faithful memory, ready -wit, imperturbable good-humour, and quickness of perception in seizing -the salient points of a subject, which made him appear, at least, a -capable politician, if not a deep and far-seeing statesman. Neither was -he wanting in that firmness which was so much required by the state -of parties at the time when he assumed the Regency, and this was the -more remarkable, that his nervous system could not but have been much -deteriorated and deranged by the frequency and extravagance of his -debauches. Meantime, we have left the Abbé bowing and the Duke grimacing -at the bare idea of brown game and olives in the same stew-pan, a subject -that occupied his attention for several minutes. Rousing himself after -a while, he began, as usual, to detail the proceedings of the morning’s -council to Malletort, who had grown by degrees, from a mere comrade -of his pleasures, into the confidential and principal adviser of his -schemes. It promised to be a long report, and he motioned the Abbé, -who had fortunately prepared himself with a stool, to sit down. There -were many complaints to make—many knots to unfasten—many interests to -reconcile, but the Abbé listened patiently, and suggested remedies for -each in turn. - -The parliament had been refractory. Nothing could bring them to -subjection but a Bed of Justice, or full assemblage of peers and -representatives in presence of the young king. - -The Keeper of the Seals was unreasonable. He must be forced into -collision with the parliament, whom he had always held in antagonism, and -they might be left to punish each other. - -The Duc du Maine and Marshal de Villeroy, constant thorns in the Regent’s -side, had applied for more powers, more pomp, and, worse still, more -money, on the score of the young king. His Majesty must be set against -his governors, and it could best be done by making a festival for him -to which these would not trust his person, and from which an enforced -restriction would cause the royal pupil to feel himself shamefully -aggrieved. In short, conflicting interests were to be reconciled, if -their disunion seemed to threaten the Government; political parties to be -dissolved by a judicious apple of discord thrown in their midst at the -Abbé’s instigation; and a general balance of power to be established, in -which the Regent could always preponderate by lending his own weight to -the scale. Altogether a dozen difficulties of statecraft were disposed -of in as many minutes, and the Duke, rising from the table, pressed his -hand familiarly on the confidant’s shoulder, to keep him in his seat, and -exclaimed, gaily— - -“They may well call me the ‘Débonnaire,’ little Abbé. Hein! There have -been but two Bourbons yet who ever _understood_ France. One was a king, -and the other—well, the other is only a regent. No matter. Cric! Crac! -Two snaps of the fingers, and everything fits into its place like a game -at dominoes. But, little Abbé,” added the exulting politician, while -his brow clouded and he forgot to look like Henri Quatre, “to govern -the nation signifies but ruling _men_. Such matters arrange themselves. -The state machine can go without a push. But I have worse complications -than these. Counsel me, my dear Abbé. There is discord dire this morning -throughout the women. I tell you the whole heap are at daggers drawn with -one another, and my life is hardly safe amongst them all.” - -Malletort smiled and shook his head. The difficulty was natural enough, -but the remedy required consideration. So he opened his snuff-box. - -“There is a tribe of Arabs,” he replied, “Highness, far up in the desert, -of whom I have heard that their religion permits each man to marry two -wives, but with the stipulation, at first sight reasonable enough, that -he should live with them both in one tent. The practice of bigamy, I -understand, has in that tribe so fallen into disuse as to be completely -unknown.” - -The Regent laughed loudly. “I believe it,” said he, “I believe it -implicitly. Powers of strife! and parts of speech. A man should be blind -and deaf also to endure the Parabére and the Sabran in neighbouring -_faubourgs_, not to speak of the same tent! Ah! these Orientals -understand domestic government thoroughly. The harem is a place for -repose, and a noisy woman soon quits it, I believe, by the river-gate. We -too have the Seine, but alas! where is the sack? I tell you, Malletort, I -am tired of them both. I am tired of them all. Madame la Duchesse may be -cold, pompous, stiff, contradictory, and, oh! as wearisome as a funeral! -but at least she remains half the day in her own apartments, and can -command herself sufficiently to behave with decency when she leaves them.” - -“Madame la Duchesse,”replied the Abbé, bowing reverentially, “is an -exemplary and adorable princess. She has but one fault, perhaps I should -say less her fault than her misfortune—she is your Highness’s wife.” - -The Débonnaire laughed again, loud and long. “Well said, little Abbé!” -he exclaimed. “_My_ fault, _her_ misfortune. Nevertheless the crime is -unpardonable—so no more of _her_. How shall I reconcile Madame de Sabran -and Madame de Parabére? I tell you, they sup with us this very night. -You make one, Abbé, of course!” Malletort bowed lower than ever. “But -think of these two at enmity across my narrow table! Why the Centaurs -and Lapithæ would be a love-feast compared to it. Like my ancestor of -Navarre, Monsieur l’Abbé, I fear neither man nor devil, but there are -some women, I honestly confess, whose anger I dare not encounter, and -that is the truth!” - -“I know nothing of women and their ways,” answered Malletort, humbly. -“It is a science my profession and my inclinations forbid me alike -to understand, but I imagine that in gallantry as in chemistry, -counteracting influences are most effectual when of a cognate nature to -the evil. _Similia similibus curantur_; and your Highness can have no -difficulty, surely, in applying a thousand smiling soft-spoken antidotes -to two scowling women.” - -The Regent shook his head gravely. It was a subject of which he had -diligently studied both theory and practice, yet found he knew little -more about it than when he began. - -“They are all so different,” he complained, peevishly, “and yet all so -alike in their utter insensibility to reason, their perverted wilfulness -in looking on impossibilities as accomplished facts. There is Madame de -Sabran wants me to make her a duchess of France! ‘How can I make you -a duchess of France, madame?’ said I. ‘Would you have your “mastiff,” -as you call him, created a duke for _your_ services?’ ‘He would make -a better than so and so, and so and so,’ she answered, as coolly as -possible, naming half-a-dozen, who it must be confessed are not one bit -more respectable! That is another thing about the woman, she always -contrives to have a distorted shadow of reason, like a stick in the -water, on her side. It was only the other day I made him one of my -chamberlains, and now she declares he ought to be given a step of rank to -uphold the dignity of the office. How can you reason with such a woman as -that?” - -“Waste of time, Highness!” answered Malletort, composedly. “They are born -not to be instructed, but admired!” - -“I used to admire her more than I do now,” observed the Regent, -thoughtfully. “Still the woman is amusing and witty; there is no denying -it. Besides, she speaks her mind freely, and however violent the passions -she puts herself in, they are over in five minutes. But what am I to -do with the other? I give you the honour of a Bourbon, my friend, she -has not uttered a syllable beyond ‘Yes, monsieur,’ ‘No, monsieur,’ -since yesterday afternoon, when she dropped at once from the height of -good-humour into a fit of impenetrable sulks.” - -“Without the slightest cause, of course!” observed the Abbé. - -“Without the slightest cause,” repeated the Prince, “at least that I -could discover. There was indeed a slight difficulty about some flowers. -I had promised her a bouquet of stephanotis for the masked ball to-night. -It is rare—its smell is to me overpowering, but it is her favourite -perfume. Well, my people scoured the country for half-a-dozen leagues -round Paris, and none was to be procured. With you or me, Abbé, the -conclusion would seem natural enough, that if the stephanotis has not yet -bloomed, the stephanotis cannot yet be in flower. But to a woman—bah—such -an argument is no reason at all! It is quite possible she may even refuse -to accompany me to the ball to-night!” - -Malletort did not think so, and his hopes, just now so buoyant, lost -nothing by a suggestion which only betrayed his patron’s ignorance of the -female mind. - -“Ah, Highness,” he exclaimed, throwing a gleam of sympathy into his -eyes, which contrasted much with their usual expression, “how completely -is your condescension misjudged! how utterly your kind heart thrown -away! You say truly, women are so different. These think of their own -aggrandisement even while they bask in your affection. Others here -at Court would throw themselves body and soul at your feet were you -to-morrow changed into a simple page from Duke of Orleans and Master of -France!” - -“How?” exclaimed the Regent, unable to conceal that his vanity was -gratified. “Do you speak from your own knowledge? Are you laughing at me? -How can you possibly have found this out?” - -“It is indeed a matter quite beyond my province,” answered the Abbé; “but -circumstances have thrown me so frequently into the society of one of the -ladies in question, that I must indeed have been blind not to perceive -the truth. Excuse me, Highness, I had rather not pursue the subject any -farther.” - -But the Regent was not so to be put off. With all his shrewdness, he had -considerable personal vanity, and but for his debaucheries, might perhaps -have shown some sensibility of heart. In his mind he ran over the leading -beauties of the Court, and as he had been little scrupulous in paying -them attention, one and all, the riddle was perhaps the less difficult to -solve. His eye sparkled, and he clapped his hands like a schoolboy, while -he shouted out— - -“I have it! I have it! Little Abbé, you have let the cat out of the bag. -Now I know why the proudest names in France have been offered her in -vain. Now I understand her defiance, her coldness, her unapproachable -dignity. Do you know, my friend, what you tell me is a veritable romance, -and, in return, I assure you I have never been insensible to the charms -of Madame de Montmirail!” - -“You are speaking of my kinswoman, Monsieur le Duc,” replied the Abbé, -haughtily; “and a member of the proudest house in the kingdom. Your -Highness will be good enough to reflect that I mentioned no names, and -I have been too faithful a servant, I think, to deserve a gratuitous -insult.” - -“Pardon, my dear Abbé!” exclaimed the Regent, with an affectation of deep -concern, though accepting Malletort’s protest, no doubt, at its real -value. “None can respect the house of Montmirail more than I do. None -can value the friendship of Abbé Malletort so much; but these women and -their whims turn my poor head. What did you advise about the Parabére? I -forget.” - -“Dismiss her!” answered the churchman, shortly. “It will be one -embarrassment the less in your Highness’s career.” - -“But she is so beautiful,” whimpered the Regent. “There is not such -another complexion in France. If I were to leave her, do you not think -half my nobility would be mad to pay their court to her? She is so white, -you see—so exceedingly white and soft. Such a skin, my dear Abbé. Such a -skin!” - -“Skin her then!” replied Malletort, “and make a covering of her -integument for your arm-chair. It is the best advice I can offer your -Highness, and what I should do myself in your case.” - -Then they both laughed at the brutal jest. The one because he was in high -good-humour with the prospect of his hinted conquest; the other because -he had not forgotten the bouquet, of which a few inhalations could turn -the whole face black; and because, reflecting on the rapid progress of -his schemes, he thought it only fair that those should laugh who win. - -But in order thoroughly to act his part out, he returned to business -before he took his leave. “Those _Lettres de Cachet_!” he exclaimed, as -if he had just recollected them. “Did your Highness express your views on -the subject to your council?” - -“I did indeed,” answered the Regent, significantly; “and the good old -custom is revived by an edict. But though he who seeks finds, I think he -is more sure to find who _hides_, and I will take care no man in France -shall use them but myself.” - -Then Malletort bowed himself out, well satisfied, and found Captain -George in the ante-room, putting on his belts to receive the Black -Musketeers, whose band could be heard playing and their arms clashing as -they marched into the court to relieve guard. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE MASKED BALL - - -That night much noise and confusion reigned outside the Grand Opera -House. Torches flared, linkmen shouted, horses plunged, backed, and -clattered; oaths flew here and there, whips were plied, carriage-wheels -grated, coachmen swore, and, at short intervals, tall figures of the -Black Musketeers were called in to keep order, a duty they fulfilled in -a summary manner, with little forbearance to the public, dealing kicks, -cuffs, and such remonstrances freely around, and clearing a space, -wherever space was required, by dropping the butts of their heavy weapons -on the feet of the recoiling crowd. With such powerful assistance, coach -after coach deposited its load at the grand entrance, around which were -congregated valets and lackeys wearing the liveries of the noblest -families in France. - -Beautiful and gorgeous were the dresses thus emerging for an instant -under the red glare of torchlight, to disappear through the folding-doors -within. Shimmering the satin, and sparkling with jewels, the loveliest -women of the capital passed in review for three paces before the -populace, little loth, perhaps, to submit their toilets to the scientific -criticism of a Parisian crowd, a criticism that reached, however, no -higher than the chin, for every one of those fair French faces was hidden -in a black mask. Their gallants, on the contrary, came unprovided with -these defences, and the male bird, indeed, though without question the -uglier animal, was on the present occasion equal in brilliancy of plumage -to his mate. - -It is, however, with the interior that we have to do; behind the -folding-doors that swallowed up these radiant visions in succession so -greedily. That interior was flooded in a warm yellow light. A hundred -glittering lustres shone and twinkled at narrow intervals, to stud the -curves of white and gold and crimson that belted the ample circle of the -building, while high in the centre of its dome an enormous chandelier -flashed and gleamed and dazzled, like some gigantic diamond shivered -into a thousand prismatic fragments. From roof to flooring fresh bright -colours bloomed in the boxes, as bloom the posies on a flower-stall; -while pit, stage, and orchestra, boarded to a level, had become a -shifting sea of brilliant hues, whirling, coiling, undulating, ebbing, -flowing, surging into a foam of light and snowy plumes, bearing in turn -each colour of the rainbow to its surface—flashing and glistening through -all its waters with a blaze of gems and gold. - -Captain George was wading about in it, more preoccupied and less inclined -to take advantage of its gaieties than a musketeer usually found himself -in such a scene of revelry. His distinguished air and manly bearing drew -on him, indeed, gibes and taunts, half-raillery, half-compliment, from -many a rosy mouth smiling under its black mask; but to these he answered -not a word. - -He was unlike himself to-night—dull, abstracted, and out of spirits. Even -Bras-de-Fer, he felt, would have composed and propounded his heaviest -retorts in less time than it took his captain to understand any one of -the jests levelled at a taciturnity so out of place. He was in no mood -for banter, nor intrigue, nor amusement—not even for supper. He wanted to -see Cerise; he confessed it to himself without reserve, yet he neither -expected nor wished to find her in such a scene as this. - -An attachment between two young persons, if of a nature to arrive at -maturity, seems to gain growth and vigour in an inverse proportion to the -amount of care bestowed on its cultivation. The plant is by no means an -exotic, scarce even a garden-flower. Nay, I think a chance seedling of -this tribe comes to fuller perfection than either graft or cutting. It -is good for it also to be crushed, mangled, mown over, or trodden down. -Storms and snows and bitter frosts bring it rapidly into flower, and it -is astonishing, though a tropical blaze could not satisfy its wants, how -little sunshine is required to keep it alive. - -Captain George’s meetings with Cerise were indeed as numerous as five -or six in the week; but they took place at an interval of twenty feet, -and consisted of low bows and eager glances from a gentleman on a gravel -walk, returned by the formal reverence and deep blush of a young lady in -a window-seat. On the principle that half a loaf is better than no bread, -I presume crumbs are acceptable when crusts are not to be obtained. So -the Musketeer had felt ill at ease all day, and was now in the most -unsuitable frame of mind possible for a masquerade, because the girl -had been absent from her window when he passed, which was indeed his -own fault, since, in his impatience, he had crossed the gardens of the -Hôtel Montmirail a quarter of an hour before his usual time, and had thus -perhaps inflicted as much disappointment as he sustained. - -Now people in the irritable frame of mind caused by a little anxiety, -a little disappointment, and a good deal of uncertainty, seldom betake -themselves to solitude, which is indeed rather the resort of real -happiness or the refuge of utter despair. The simply discontented are -more prone to rush into a crowd, and Captain George had no idea of -abstaining from the Great Masked Ball at the Opera House, but rather made -his appearance somewhat earlier than his wont at this festivity, though -when there, he roamed about in a desultory and dissatisfied manner, first -dreading, then faintly hoping, and lastly ardently desiring to meet -Mademoiselle de Montmirail amongst that brilliant, shifting, bantering, -and mysterious throng. Disguised indeed! He would know her, he felt sure, -by her pretty feet alone, if she were masked down to her very ankles. - -He was not so well versed in feminine arts but that he had yet to learn -how a lady who really wished to remain unknown at these gatherings would -alter her voice, her gestures, her figure, her gait—nay, the very shape -of her hands and feet, to deceive those on whom she wished to practise. - -The majority, on the contrary, were most unwilling thus to sink their -identity, and only wore masks, I imagine, to hide the absence of blushes -at such direct compliments as were sure to be addressed to them, also as -an excuse for considerable freedom of speech in return. - -The orchestra was pealing out a magnificent “Minuet de la Cour,” and -that stately measure, performed by a few couples of the handsomest -gallants and ladies of the Court, was eliciting the applause of a large -and critical circle, amongst whom Captain George made one, when a voice -thrilled in his ear, the tone of which brought the blood to his cheek, -while a masked figure beside him passed her hand lightly through his -arm. A tremendous flourish of brass instruments rendered the moment -well-chosen for secret communication; but the mask had apparently nothing -more confidential to say than this— - -“_Qui cherche trouve!_ You seek something, fair Musketeer. If you are in -earnest, you shall find what you require!” - -The voice reminded him almost painfully of Cerise, yet was it deeper and -fuller than the girl’s in tone. He scanned the figure at his side with -a quick penetrating glance; but she was so shrouded in a black satin -cloak reaching to the flounces of her ball-dress, that he gathered but -little from her inspection. He noted, however, a leaf of the stephanotis, -peeping from under the folds that concealed her bouquet, and recollecting -the events of the morning, made a shrewd guess at his companion. - -Perhaps she would have thought him very stupid had it been otherwise. -All this elaborate artifice of disguise may have been for her own -deception, not his. She might talk to him more freely under protest, as -it were, that he had no right to know her; and she was, moreover, so well -enveloped and altered, that she could scarcely be identified by passing -acquaintances, or, indeed, by any one with whom she refused to converse. - -“I seek only amusement,” answered the Musketeer, with the natural -instinct of mankind to disavow sentiment. “I have not yet found much, I -confess, though Point d’Appui’s airs and graces in the dance there would -afford it to any one who had not seen them as often as I have.” - -She laughed scornfully, leaning on his arm. “And they call that thing -_a Man_!” said she, with an accent on the substantive extremely -uncomplimentary to Count Point d’Appui, who was indeed a handsome, -conceited, pleasant, young good-for-nothing enough; “and these are the -objects women break their hearts about—dress for them, dance for them, -die for them; nay, even come to masked balls, disfigured and disguised -for their unworthy sakes. What fools you must think us, Captain George; -and what fools we are!” - -“You know me, madame,” exclaimed the Musketeer, affecting surprise, -rather as entering into the spirit of the scene than with any deeper -motive. “You must know, then, that I am amongst the most devoted and -respectful admirers of your sex.” - -She laughed again the low soft laugh that was one of her greatest charms, -and lost, moreover, none of its attraction from her disguise. - -“Know you!” she repeated, still leaning on his arm perhaps a little -heavier than before. “What lady in Paris does not know you as the citadel -to resist all her efforts of attack?—as the Orson, the woman-hater, -the man of marble, who has no vanity, no feelings, no heart?—the only -creature left in this uninteresting town worth conquering? And all those -who have tried it, no small number, vow that victory is impossible.” - -“It shows how little they comprehend me,” he replied, in a tone of jest, -and still pretending not to recognise his companion, who held her head -down and took refuge studiously beneath her mask. “If you, madame, would -condescend to become better acquainted with me, you would soon learn the -falsehood of these ladies’ reports to my discredit!” - -“Discredit!” she echoed, and to his surprise, nay, to his dismay, a tear -fell on the gloved hand within his arm. What could he do but dry it with -a kiss? “Discredit!” she said again, in a tone of increasing emotion. -“How little you must understand us if you can make use of such a term! -Who would care to possess that which half the town has worn and thrown -away? What is the value of a heart that has been cut into little scraps -and shreds, and left in portions at different friends’ houses like gifts -on New-year’s-day? No, monsieur, if I must give all I am worth for a -diamond, let it be such a diamond as the Regent’s—large, clear, and -entire—not a collection of fragments only held together by their golden -setting, like a necklace of Madame de Sabran or Madame de Parabére.” - -Captain George did not quite follow out the metaphor, his attention being -at this moment somewhat distracted by a figure that reminded him of -Cerise, yet that he felt was as unlike Cerise as possible. The Musketeer -was also a very moderate proficient in the lighter accomplishments of -gallantry, being of a self-contained though energetic nature, that was -disposed to do its work thoroughly or not at all. He was one of those -men, of whom there are more in the world than ladies suppose, whose -respect for the sex restrains them from taking that initiative which -they forget the latter are especially privileged to decline. Unless, -therefore, a woman throws herself at their heads, they make no advances -at all, and then these wretches are just the sort of characters with -which such a course, repugnant to their instinctive sense of fitness, is -least likely to succeed, after all. They are consequently very difficult -birds to tame, and either escape altogether, or are lured into the cage, -accidentally as it were, by a pretty face, a shy manner, and some rare -combination of circumstances which nobody on earth could have foreseen. -When a lady has fairly started, however, and got warmed to her subject, I -imagine little is to be gained by interrupting her, and that no efforts -of eloquence find so much favour as the forbearance of a good listener. - -The Marquise thought she had turned her last phrase very prettily, -and applied the image of the necklace with considerable art, so she -continued, without waiting for an answer, “You do not know me, Captain -George, though I know _you_. Also, I mention no names, therefore I break -no confidences. Do you remember the day the late king was taken ill, and -brought home, never to recover?” - -His English blood stirred at the recollection of that gallant stag-hunt, -and his eye brightened. She observed it, and not sharing the insular -passion for an _innocent_ pursuit, drew her conclusions accordingly. - -“I have not forgotten it,” he replied, calmly, “nor the beautiful -Marquise and her barb!” - -She trembled with pleasure, but commanded her voice, and repeated -indifferently, “Ah! the beautiful Marquise! I fancy she nearly rode the -poor barb to death that day. What will a woman not do when her heart is -interested? Well, monsieur, have you ever spoken since to the beautiful -Marquise, as you call her, doubtless in ridicule?” - -He began to think he _had_ been somewhat remiss, and that to prosecute -his intimacy with the mother would have been the easiest way of obtaining -access to the daughter. He was not given to self-examination, and did not -perceive that his very love for Cerise had prevented him yet entering the -house. “Do you know the Marquise de Montmirail?” was all he could find at -the moment to say. - -“A little!” answered the mask, nodding her head. “But I have an intimate -friend who is very intimate with her indeed. You think women cannot be -friends, monsieur; you think they have no hearts; you little know the -lady of whom we speak. You see her as the world does, and you judge -her accordingly. How blind men are! If your eyes are not dazzled by -self-conceit, they are bandaged by an impenetrable and cold egotism. A -thing must touch your very noses, close like that,” and she thrust her -pretty hand up within an inch of his face, “or you will not believe in -its existence. Nevertheless, I could sometimes find it in my heart to -envy you your callousness, your stupidity, your indifference, and to wish -that I had been born a man.” - -I think at the moment he almost wished it too, for although the voice was -very fascinating, and the situation not without its charm, she encumbered -him sadly in his search for the young lady whom yet he did not the least -expect to find. - -The Marquise, however, was quite satisfied with her position, and -disposed to improve the occasion. - -“A woman can have no _friends_,” she proceeded, speaking in a low tone -that the music rendered inaudible to all but her companion. “How I wish -she could! I know the sort of one I should choose—brave, steadfast, -constant, self-controlled; a gallant soldier, a loyal gentleman; above -all, a man uninfluenced by every eye that flashes, every lip that smiles. -And yet—and yet,” she added, while her soft voice sank to a whisper as -the music rose and swelled, “such an one would soon cease to be a friend. -Because—because―” - -“Because why?” he asked, bending tenderly over her, for it was not in -man’s nature to remain uninfluenced by such words now spoken. - -The dark eyes flashed through their mask, and the hand that rested on his -arm clenched tight while she replied— - -“Because I should love him foolishly, madly, if he cared for me; and if -not—I should hate him so fiercely that―” - -“You come with me from here!” said a loud good-humoured voice at this -interesting juncture, while a man’s hand was laid familiarly on the -Musketeer’s shoulder. “In a quarter of an hour my coach will be waiting -at the stage entrance. Not one of my _roués_ dare face it! I want a -fellow like you, who fears neither man nor devil!” - -Captain George bowed low, with the mask, still leaning on his arm -curtsied to the ground. - -“Highness,” said he, “I shall have the honour! It is a mere duty to -serve under his orders but it becomes _a pleasure_ when Monsieur le Duc -commands in person.” - -“And to supper afterwards, of course,” added very graciously a lady who -was hanging on the Regent’s arm, and who carried her mask in her hand. -“Captain George is always welcome, as he knows, and we shall not be more -than a half-a-dozen at the outside.” - -Again the Musketeer bowed low, and the Marquise, scanning the last -speaker intently, could not but acknowledge that to-night Madame de -Parabére looked more than usually beautiful. The _brunette_, too, -probably overrated the charms of the _blonde_, the exceeding delicacy of -complexion, the softness of skin, and the innocent baby face which so -fascinated the Regent. Also she thought she detected on that baby face a -decided preference for the Musketeer, and Madame de Montmirail was not -a woman to entertain the strongest passions of her sex and leave out -jealousy. - -Had it not been for these suspicions, the bouquet of stephanotis might -have remained all night innocuous beneath her cloak, to be consumed in -the stove that warmed her chocolate when she got home. But the Marquise -allowed no one to cross her designs with impunity, and watching her new -enemy narrowly, began to handle her weapons and prepare for action. - -The Regent had been traversing the throng of revellers with Madame de -Parabére on his arm; the latter, proud of her disgrace, and exulting -in her infamous position as his acknowledged mistress, had bared her -face, in order to receive the full tribute of admiration which her -beauty really deserved. Now, while the Duke stood still for a moment, -and exchanged a few jesting compliments and well-bred sarcasms with -the passing maskers, an encounter in which he acquitted himself with -considerable tact and ingenuity, his companion, dearly loving mischief, -turned all her batteries on Captain George. - -The Marquise was, therefore, left planted as one too many; a situation to -which she, the spoiled child of society, was so unaccustomed, that she -could have cried with vexation, but for the revenge now literally within -her grasp. - -So she peered, and watched, and waited, like a Grey Musketeer skirmishing. - -Madame de Parabére, observing the Regent’s attention engaged elsewhere, -whispered something to George, looking insolently the while at his -companion, and laughed. - -Then the Marquise primed her weapon, as it were, and shook the powder -well up in the pan. A leaf of the rare bouquet peeped from under its -covering. - -Madame de Parabére, flirting and ogling outrageously, as was her -custom, whispered again in Captain George’s ear, with a little affected -laugh. It seemed to the eager watcher that her lips shaped the hated -syllables—“Mulatto.” - -It was time to take aim now, sure and deadly, preparatory to giving fire. -A cluster of stephanotis showed out like ivory against the smooth black -satin. - -Madame de Parabére clapped her hands, and exclaimed with a child’s glee, -“But madame, what a bouquet! Madame is indeed fortunate! Such flowers are -not to be procured within leagues of Paris. How exquisite! How ravishing! -Madame is so good. Madame will permit me to have one little breath of -their fragrance. Only one!” - -The Marquise hesitated. An instinct of womanly forbearance prompted mercy -even to another woman. Vindictive as she felt, and with her finger on the -trigger, she would yet spare her, she thought; but the insolent creature -should know her enemy, and should be taught that even the Regent’s -favourite could not command such bouquets as the acknowledged beauty of -the Court. - -“They were sent me as a gift, madame,” she observed, haughtily, and -withholding the flowers. “I value them because ours are not yet blown at -the Hôtel Montmirail.” - -“Pardon, madame!” retorted the other, unable, now that she knew her, to -forego this opening for a thrust. “Tropical, of course! From an admirer, -madame? or perhaps a kinsman? Very dark, no doubt, and with close curled -hair. I offer you my compliments from the bottom of my heart!” - -No quarter now. She had rushed upon her fate, and must be shot down -without the least compunction. “If madame will deign to accept my -bouquet,” said the Marquise, “she will do me the highest honour.” And she -displayed the whole of it, a wonder of nature, brought to perfection by -art. - -Madame de Parabére, giddy, thoughtless, fond of flowers, stretched her -hand out eagerly, and Captain George, whose attention the Regent’s -conversation had diverted from this passage of arms between the ladies, -turned round while she was in the act of putting them enthusiastically to -her face. - -He saw the situation at a glance, and his promptitude served him as usual. - -“I must be ready for your Highness!” he exclaimed hurriedly, addressing -the Regent, but with his eye fixed on the treacherous flowers. “Madame, -I have the honour of wishing you a good-night!” he added in the same -breath; while with an energetic flourish of his cocked hat he knocked -them clean out of the lady’s hands to a few paces’ distance on the floor, -letting the hat follow; and as he recovered the latter, crushing the -bouquet to pieces, as if inadvertently, beneath his foot. It was the -second time he had practised this manœuvre within twelve hours, and he -was perfect in his lesson. - -Rising with an affectation of great confusion, he made his excuses to -Madame de Parabére, contriving, amongst a torrent of phrases, to convey, -unobserved, the single word “Beware!” And she understood him, contenting -herself with a glance of intense gratitude, and an inward vow she would -never rest till she had found opportunity to repay both friend and foe. - -The Regent laughed heartily at the joke. “You must have supped already, -my friend,” said he, “and not spared the wineflask. So much the better; -you are all the fitter for your night’s work. Come! let us be moving. It -is time we were off!” - -Madame de Montmirail stood a while, stupefied, paralysed, as it were, -at the failure of an attack thus foiled by the last person in whom she -expected to find an opponent. The first instant she could have hated him -with all the fierceness of baffled rage. The next, she felt she had never -loved him half so well as now. He had thwarted her; he had tamed her; he -had saved her from crime, from ruin, from _herself_! All in one glance of -the keen eye, one turn of the ready hand. She acknowledged him for her -master, and to her such a sentiment was as fascinating as it was new. She -would have liked to burst out crying, and kneel at his feet, imploring to -be forgiven, had time and place permitted so romantic an exhibition. At -least, she could not let him go without another word, and Captain George, -following the Regent through the crowd towards the door, felt a hand laid -timidly on his arm, heard a broken voice whispering softly in his ear. - -She trembled all over. Her very lips shook while she murmured, “Forgive -me, monsieur! I must explain all. I _must_ see you again. Where do you go -to-night?” - -“To sup with his Highness,” answered the Musketeer, keeping the Duke’s -figure in sight as it threaded the jostling, shifting throng of noisy -revellers. - -“But that is not till midnight,” she urged. “He said something about -duty. You are brave! You are rash! For heaven’s sake, promise you will -not rush into needless danger!” - -He laughed good-humouredly, and reassured her at once. “Danger! madame! -Nothing of the kind. I can trust you not to gossip. It is a mere frolic. -We are going a league or two out of Paris, _to raise the devil_!” And -observing the Duke turning back for him, he escaped from her and was lost -in the crowd. - -She looked longingly after him, and sighed. “To raise the devil!” she -repeated, pressing both hands on her heart. “And not the only one -to-night. Alas! you have raised one here that none but yourself can lay!” - -Then the Marquise, still retaining her disguise, passed hastily through -the ball, till she reached the street, and gaining her carriage, was -driven straight home to the Hôtel Montmirail, weeping, softly and -patiently, behind her mask. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -RAISING THE DEVIL - - -The Black Musketeers on duty cleared a lane for the Regent at the door, -and the lower orders, with whom, despite his bad character, a certain -joviality of manner made him no small favourite, cheered vociferously as -he passed. “The Débonnaire goes home early,” said one. “He has a child in -the pot for supper,” shouted another. “I wish his Highness would ask me -to eat with him!” exclaimed a third. “Or drink with him!” added a fourth. -While a little hunchback, hideous and distorted, observed, in a dry, -shrill voice, that made itself heard above all the clamour, “His Highness -has a _rendezvous_, I tell you! Lads, where are your manners? Débonnaire! -send me the bones to pick when you’ve done with them!” - -A peal of laughter and a volley of cheers followed his state-coach -as it rolled off at a slow, lumbering trot, with which a man on foot -could easily keep up. Captain George had been directed to do so, and -accompanied it to the entrance of a gloomy narrow street, where the tall -cloaked figure of Bras-de-Fer was waiting, according to orders. Here -it stopped, the Regent alighted rapidly, and signing to his coachman -to drive on, dived into a gulf of darkness, closely attended by the -Musketeer and his comrade. - -A few paces brought them to an open _calèche_, drawn by a pair of English -horses, driven from the saddle, and containing one solitary occupant, -also enveloped in a cloak, who leaped out when he heard footsteps, and -uncovered while he assisted the Regent to his place. He then seated -himself opposite; Bras-de-Fer followed, his example; Captain George, -at a signal from the Duke, placed himself by his Highness; and in a few -minutes the whole party were across the Seine, beyond the barrier, which -had been thrown back, and clattering along a paved road at a gallop -through the open country. - -The moon came out as they cleared Paris, and each man looked in the -other’s face to read, according to their respective temperaments, signs -of amusement, self-confidence, anxiety, or alarm. The Duke, though -nervous, seemed strung to a certain pitch of resolution. Bras-de-Fer -swelled with pride at the royal confidence thus reposed in him; -and Captain George smiled quietly to mark the trepidation of their -fourth companion, none other than Signor Stefano Bartoletti—chemist, -philosopher, astrologer, professor of medicine, mathematics, and -magic—black or white as required. - -It is strange how the most effective impostors become so saturated, as -it were, with their profession, that they cannot resist the influence of -a vague enthusiasm which breeds artificial belief, fascinating, though -transparently absurd, in the tricks they themselves practise. Perhaps -there is something of the true artist in every man who succeeds, whatever -be the nature of his enterprise; and the true artist can never place -himself entirely apart from, or outside of, his art. Signor Bartoletti, -who had engaged to raise the enemy of mankind for the Regent’s -gratification, was unquestionably the most nervous of the whole party -lest they should be taken at their word. - -Captain George, to begin with, anticipated nothing but a trick, and took -the matter, therefore, as coolly as he did everything else unconnected -with Cerise de Montmirail. Bras-de-Fer, on the contrary, was persuaded he -should be called on to confront the arch-fiend in person; but believing -himself a good Catholic, while he knew he was an excellent swordsman, -his courage rose, and he smiled grimly in his moustache at the thought -of so distinguished an adversary. Even the devil, he argued, could not -be much worse than Marlborough’s Grenadiers, and he had faced them many -a time without getting the worst of the encounter. He even calculated -whether he might not bring into play, with considerable effect, the -thrust lately introduced into the corps by Beaudésir, but postponed -further consideration of the point till he should know what kind of -weapons were to be used in the field. The Regent, excited, credulous, -impressible, loving the marvellous, and inclined to believe anything that -was _not_ in the Bible, found his spirits rise with the anticipation of a -new distraction; and being in that exalted state which those experience -at rare intervals whose orgies are alternated with strong intellectual -labour, found himself actually dreading a disappointment in the vision he -anticipated. - -Bartoletti felt how uncomfortably it would turn out, if, after all the -pains of Malletort and himself to instruct the actress in her part, after -all their care in scenery, decorations, and rehearsal, the original -should take it into his head to assist at the performance in person! - -Ere they were a league out of Paris his teeth began to chatter, though -his breath smelt strong of the last suck of brandy that had comforted him -before they started. - -The English horses drew them swift as the wind. It seemed but a short -half-hour ere they stopped at a gate opening into a wood, shadowy, -dark, and dreadful, after the dusty road and level meadows glistening -silver-white in the moonlight. The two Musketeers, accustomed to look -about them, perceived at their feet a track of wheels, which had -obviously preceded their carriage. Bras-de-Fer felt a little disappointed. - -“_L’affaire commence!_” whispered the Regent, loosening his sword, as -he prepared to follow Bartoletti through the wood. “Keep close to me, -gentlemen, and look that we be not taken in rear!” - -The path was narrow, winding, and exceedingly dark; but after a furlong -or two the party emerged on an open space, and found their progress -stopped by a level wall of rock, hewn perfectly smooth, and several -yards in height. Bathed in a strong moonlight, every particle on its -gritty surface glistened like crystal, and its crest of stunted trees and -thick-growing shrubs cut clear and black against the cloudless sky. - -Here the adept halted and looked round. “Highness,” he whispered, “we -have reached our journey’s end; have you courage to enter the cave?” - -The Duke’s face was pale, but he glanced at his two Musketeers, and -answered, “After you, monsieur!” - -Then the four, in Indian file, turned through an opening, or rather a -mere hole in the rock, to follow a low, narrow passage, in which, ere -they had advanced three paces, the darkness became impenetrable. They -groped their way in silence, each listening to the hard breathing of his -predecessor. Bras-de-Fer, who was last, fervently hoping their ghostly -enemy might not attack them until, as he would have expressed it, they -could “deploy into line.” - -The corridor, however, as we may call it, grew wider and loftier at -every step. Presently they marched upright, and two abreast. There was -a constant drip from the damp stone that encircled them, and the hard -smooth surface on which they trod felt cool and refreshing to their feet. - -Bras-de-Fer could not restrain a sneeze. It resounded above their heads, -and died away farther and fainter in a hundred whispering echoes. - -Bartoletti started violently, and the Duke’s hand went to his sword. Then -the magician halted, pulled a vial from his breast, and dipping a match -in it, produced a strong rose-coloured flame, from which he lit the small -lamp that hung at his belt. - -Whilst the match flared and shone, they saw plainly for several yards -in every direction. They were in a low vaulted cavern, hewn, to all -appearance, by no mortal hands, out of the rock. They stood on a -slightly-elevated platform, and at their feet lay a glistening sheet of -black that could only be water. It was, however, a hasty examination, for -the match soon spent itself, and Bartoletti’s lamp gave but light enough, -as Bras-de-Fer observed, “to show how dark it was.” - -“Are we on the banks of the Seine or the Styx?” asked the Regent, -jestingly, yet with a slight tremor in his voice. - -“Man knoweth not whither this dark stream may lead,” replied Bartoletti, -solemnly, lighting at the same time a spare wick of his lamp, to embark -it on a morsel of wood which he pushed into the current. - -For several minutes, as it seemed to their watching eyes, the light -floated farther and farther, till swallowed up by degrees in the black -distance. - -All were now somewhat impressed with the gloom and mysterious silence of -the place. Bartoletti took courage, and informed the Regent he was about -to begin. - -“Not till you have drawn a pentacle!” objected the Duke, apprehensively. -“Such a precaution should on no account be neglected.” - -“It is unnecessary, Highness,” answered the other. “Against the -lesser fiends, indeed, it forms an impregnable defence; but he who is -approaching now, the very Prince of Darkness himself, cares no more for a -pentacle than you do!” - -The Regent would not be satisfied, however, till, under Malletort’s -superintendence, he had drawn with the point of his sword a circle and -triangle in magic union on the bare rock. Then he ensconced himself -carefully within his lines, and bade the magician “go on.” - -After a considerable display of mummery, and the repetition of many -sentences, which, as they were couched in Latin, Bartoletti felt would be -liable to little criticism from his listeners, he produced a small bundle -of shavings from under his cloak, and piling these on the water’s edge, -poured over the heap certain essences, ere he set the whole on fire. The -cavern now became filled with a thick cloud of smoke, fragrant in smell, -and though stupefying to the senses, not suffocating the lungs. Reflected -in the black water beneath, as the flames waved and leaped and flickered, -the unsteady light produced an effect of vast and shadowy distance on the -dim recesses of the cavern, and prepared the minds of the spectators for -some vague, uncertain, yet awful result. - -Plunging it once more into his bundle, Bartoletti spread his hand over -the embers. A blue lurid glare, that turned all their faces ashen white, -now replaced the shifting wavering light of the flames. - -“It is the death-fire!” whispered the Italian; and touching the Duke’s -shoulder, he pointed to the roof of the cavern. - -A gigantic arm and hand, with forefinger pointed downwards, were shadowed -distinctly on its ribbed and slimy surface. - -The Duke trembled, and sweat stood on his brow; Bartoletti, too, -shivered, though with less reason. Captain George nodded approvingly, and -Bras-de-Fer pulled the buckle of his sword-belt to the front. - -“You may ask three questions,” whispered the shaking Italian. “Not -another syllable, if you would leave the cave alive!” - -The Duke cleared his throat to speak, and his voice came dry and husky, -while he formed the words with effort, like a man using a foreign tongue. - -“I adjure you, tell me truly, who is my chief enemy?” - -Not one of them drew breath whilst they waited for the answer; and the -questioner himself looked down to see that his feet were scrupulously -within the pentacle. - -It came sad, solemn, and as if from a distance, chanted in a full, -mournful and melodious tone:— - - “The foes a prince behoves to dread, that turn and tear their lord, - Are those that haunt about his bed, and blush beside his board.” - -Then the Regent, gaining courage, asked in a firmer voice, “Who is my -best friend?” - -The reply was more distinct, and its clear emphasis seemed to vouch for -the speaker’s truth, Father of Lies though he might be called:— - - “One friend is thine, whose silent kiss clings subtle, sure, and fast; - When all shall fail, yet shall not this, the swiftest, though the last.” - -Thus encouraged, the royal questioner gathered heart with every fresh -answer, and it was in his customary unrestrained tone that he propounded -his last inquiry, “Shall I live to wear the crown of France?” - -This time, however, the phantom arm waved backwards and forwards, -clenching its gigantic hand, while the demon’s voice seemed again to rise -from distant and mysterious depths, as it replied:— - - “When woman’s love can trust thy vows, when woman’s guileless glance - Can thrill thy breast, bind on thy brows the diadem of France! - Enough! For more I dare not tell. Glad life, and lusty reign! - Predestined Prince, and fare thee well!—till we shall meet again!” - -In five minutes all were once more in the open air. The Regent, grave -and preoccupied, spoke not a word while they passed swiftly through the -wood to gain their carriage; but Bras-de-Fer whispered in his comrade’s -ear, “It seems the devil is like the rest, and had rather not come to -close quarters with the Grey Musketeers.” To which professional remark -Captain George replied, thoughtfully— - -“He is an adversary for whom I would choose a weapon that kept me as far -off him as possible!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -A QUIET SUPPER - - -In less than an hour, how changed the scene for two of the actors in that -mysterious drama—of which Bartoletti was chief manager and Malletort sat -in the prompter’s box! The Captain of Musketeers had been invited to sup -with the Regent, and found in his prince’s private apartments a little -party collected, whose mirth and high spirits were well calculated to -drive away any remains of superstitious gloom left by the incantations of -the cavern and their result. - -The select suppers of the Duke of Orleans were conducted with an absence -of ceremony or restraint that indeed degenerated on occasion into the -grossest license; but even under the Regency men did not necessarily -conclude every night in the week with an orgy, and the mirth of the -_roués_ themselves was not always degraded into drunkenness, nor their -wit pushed to profanity and shameless indecency of speech. - -Captain George found himself seated at a round table in an oval room, -of which the only other occupants, besides his royal host, were Madame -de Parabére, Madame de Sabran, Malletort, and Count Point d’Appui. The -latter, be it observed, excelled (for no one was admitted to these -reunions who had not some marked speciality) in the grace with which he -danced a minuet and the gravity with which he propounded the emptiest and -silliest remarks. Some of the courtiers affected to think this simplicity -only masked an intriguing disposition, and that Point d’Appui was, after -all “not quite such a fool as he looked.” A charitable suggestion, -endorsed by Madame de Sabran, with the observation, “The saints forbid he -should be!” - -Altogether it was generally admitted that the Count’s strong point must -be sought rather in his heels than his head. He sat directly opposite -the Musketeer, and next to Abbé Malletort, who was between him and -Madame de Sabran. The latter was thus placed opposite the Regent, at -whose right hand Madame de Parabére had taken up her usual post. Captain -George found himself accordingly with a lady on either side, and as he -was distinguished, manly, quiet in manner, and above all, supposed to be -impenetrable of heart, he became an object of interest to both. - -These hated each other, of course, but in a treacherous, well-bred -manner, and not so rancorously as to spoil their appreciation of an -excellent repast, served in pleasant company, under all the most -promising conditions for success. They were therefore, outwardly, -wondrous affectionate, and under protest as it were, with the buttons on -their foils, could be good companions enough. - -The Duke prided himself on his suppers. Working at state affairs during -the day, and with a digestion considerably impaired by habitual excess, -dinner was a mere matter of form, often restricted indeed to a morsel of -bread and a cup of chocolate, served in the cabinet where he wrote. But -when the hours of business were past, and his system, too much gorged -over-night, had recovered from the fumes of wine and the torpor of -repletion, it was his delight to rush once more into those excesses of -appetite which unfitted his mornings for exertion, which robbed him of -half his existence while he lived, and killed him in the prime of manhood -at last. - -But he understood well how the sacrifice should be offered. The -supper-room, we have said, was oval, panelled in a light cheerful wood, -highly-varnished, and decorated only by short pithy sentences, inlaid -in gaudy colours, of which the purport was to crop the flower while it -bloomed, to empty the cup while it sparkled, practically, to eat the -cutlet while it was hot, and consume as eagerly as possible the good -things provided for the senses. No pictures, no vases, no works of art -were suffered upon the walls to distract the attention of the guests from -their main object. The intellect, as seated at the farthest distance -from the stomach, might indeed be gently stimulated with wit, but the -imagination, the feelings, above all, the emotions that affect the -heart, were on no account to be disturbed during the ecstacies of the -palate or the pleasing languor and subsequent comfort of digestion. Not a -lackey nor servant of any kind entered the room. When one course had been -consumed, deliberately, methodically, and with much practical comment on -its merits, the table sank slowly through the floor, to be replaced by -another, bearing fresh dishes, fresh flowers, fresh napkins, everything -fresh prepared, to the very bills of fare, beautifully emblazoned, that -lay beside the cover of each guest. A strong light from above was shaded -to throw its rays directly on the board; but as plenty of this enlivener -is conducive to festivity, numerous lamps with bright reflectors flashed -at short distances from the walls. No pealing band deafened the ears -of the sitters, or drowned their conversation in its overpowering -strains; only ever and anon a faint long-drawn note, like the tone of a -far-distant organ, rose and fell and wavered, ere it died sweetly and -calmly away. - -On these occasions, Point d’Appui never failed to pause, even with a -tempting morsel on his fork, and intimate to his neighbours that “he was -passionately given to music, and it reminded him of heaven!” - -The Regent seemed much impressed with the visit he had made to the cavern -before supper, and it was not till he had emptied several goblets of -champagne that he regained his usual spirits. With the influence of wine, -however, his nerves recovered their tone, his eye brightened, his hand -steadied, and he joined in conversation as heretofore. - -By this time a favourite dish had made its appearance, which went by the -name of the _pâté d’Orleans_. It consisted of the wings of pheasants -and other white game, boned, stuffed, and so manipulated as to resemble -the limbs of children; a similarity that gave rise to the most hideous -rumours amongst the lower classes. Many a worthy gossip in Paris believed -firmly that two or three infants were consumed nightly at the Regent’s -table, and none seemed to relish the report more than himself. He ate -vigorously of the _pâté_, emptied another goblet, and began to talk. -Madame de Parabére watched him closely. Something was going on she had -not fathomed, but she resolved to be at the bottom of it. - -“Abbé!” shouted the Duke, “what are you about? Do you think I would -suffer little heathens on my table, that you baptize them with water? -They are the best of Christians, I tell you, my friend, and should be -well soused, like all good Christians, in wine.” Malletort, who had been -pouring stealthily out of a carafe at his elbow, accepted his host’s -challenge, and filled up from a flask. - -“To your health, Highness! and confusion to your enemies—White and Red,” -said he, pointing to two measures of those Burgundies that happened to -stand before the ladies. - -The Duke started. Malletort’s observation, simple as it seemed, brought -the diabolical prophecy to his mind, and again he sought courage from his -glass. - -“Do you mean that for _us_, monsieur?” asked Madame de Sabran; “since his -Highness loves the Burgundy too well to count it a foe, though it has put -him on his back, I doubt not, often enough. - -“Nay, madame,” answered the Abbé, bowing politely; “such as you can never -be foes, since you are born to be conquerors. If it did come to a fight, -I presume you would grant no quarter.” - -“None,” said she, laughing. “Church and laymen, we should put you all to -the sword.” - -“But the Church are non-combatants,” interposed Count Point d’Appui, with -perfect sincerity. “You would be excommunicated by our Father the Pope. -It is a different species, madame, altogether—a separate race.” - -“Not a bit of it!” answered the lady. “Men to the tips of their fingers, -every one of them! Are you not, Abbé? No! When all is said and done, -there are but two distinct creations, and I never can believe they have a -common origin. Men and women I put in the one, princes and lackeys in the -other. What say _you_, madame?” - -But Madame de Parabére said nothing. She sat in silence, pouting, because -it suited the shape of her mouth, and listening, for other reasons of her -own. - -The Regent, who had now drunk wine enough to be both easily offended and -appeased, felt that the shaft aimed at him was not entirely undeserved. -So he asked, in anger, “How mean you, madame? I see not the drift of your -jest. In what are princes and lackeys so alike, and so different from the -rest of mankind?” - -“Other bipeds” answered the lady, bitterly, “lie from habit, with -intention, or on occasion; but this variety never speaks the truth at -all, even by accident.” - -The Duke’s face turned purple. Captain George, hoping to divert an -explosion, and feeling that he had been invited rather as a compliment -than for the sake of his society, rose and took his leave, on the score -of military duty; receiving, as he went out, a glance from Madame de -Parabére’s beautiful eyes, that assured him of her gratitude, her -interest, and her good-will. - -His departure changed the subject of conversation. In two minutes the -Regent forgot he had been offended, and Madame de Sabran was busied in -the unworthy task of mystifying Count Point d’Appui, an employment which -her rival contemplated with a drowsy, languid air, as if she could hardly -keep herself awake. - -The Abbé had watched her for some time with increasing interest and -considerable misgivings; the poison, he thought, should long ere this -have taken effect, and he expected every moment to observe a disturbance -of the placid features, a discolouration of the beautiful skin. Before -supper was over, he concluded that, as far as the flowers were concerned, -his plot had failed; but Malletort did not now need to learn the archer’s -want of another arrow in the quiver, a spare string for the bow: it -behoved him only to make the more use of such implements as he had kept -in reserve. - -All his energy and all his cunning had been brought into play during the -night. Without his assistance, he felt sure the mummery of the cavern -must have failed, for he could trust neither the shaking nerves of the -Italian nor the superstitious self-deception of the quadroon. It was no -easy task to return to Paris so swiftly as to change his dress, show -himself at a reception in the Faubourg St. Germain, and thence proceed -leisurely to sup with the Regent. Well-bred horses, however, and a -well-broke valet, had accomplished this part of the undertaking, with a -few seconds to spare. It now remained to play the last and most difficult -strokes of the game. He felt equal to the occasion. - -Moving round the table with his glass, in unceremonious fashion, he -took advantage of George’s departure to place himself between Madame de -Parabére and her host, whispering in that lady’s ear, “I have a favour -to ask of the Regent, in which you, too, are interested!” She made room -for him carelessly, listlessly, and her face looked so innocent and -unsuspicious as to delude even his acuteness into the belief that the -few faculties she could command were engrossed by Point d’Appui and his -tormentor. - -These were in full swing at a game called, in England, Flirtation. It -is an elastic process, embracing an extensive area in the field of -gallantry, and so far resembling the tournaments of the Middle Ages, that -while its encounters are presumed to be waged with weapons of courtesy, -blunted for bloodless use, such fictitious conflicts very frequently -bring on the real combat _à l’outrance_ with sharp weapons, and then, as -in other death-struggles, _væ victis_! If girth breaks, or foot slips, -the fallen fighter must expect no mercy. - -Pitted against Point d’Appui, Madame de Sabran might be likened to an -accomplished swordsman practising cut and thrust on a wooden trunk. But -the block was good-natured and good-looking. When such is the case, I -have observed that a witty woman takes no small delight in the exercise -of her talent. There is a generosity about the sex not sufficiently -appreciated, and if a man will only keep quiet, silent, receptive, and -immoveable, it will pour its treasures at his feet in a stream of lavish -and inexhaustible profusion. - -Point d’Appui contented himself with looking very handsome and drinking -a great deal of Burgundy. His neighbour hacked and hewed him without -intermission, and Madame de Parabére’s attention seemed entirely -engrossed by the pair. - -Malletort, in possession of the Regent’s ear, proceeded diligently with -the edifice for which he had so artfully laid the foundations. - -“I must ask permission to take my leave early to-night, Highness,” -observed the churchman. “Like our friend the Musketeer, who has served -his purpose, by the way, as I learn, so may I be rubbed out of the -calculation; and I must drink no more of this excellent Burgundy, for I -have promised to present myself in a lady’s drawing-room, late as it is, -before I go to bed.” - -Though somewhat confused by wine, the Regent understood his confidant’s -meaning perfectly well, and his eye kindled as he gathered its purport. -“I will accompany you, little Abbé,” he whispered with a hiccough, and a -furtive glance at the ladies, lest they should overhear. - -“Too late, my Prince,” answered the other, “and useless besides, even for -you, since I have not yet obtained permission. Oh! trust me. The fortress -is well guarded, and has scarce ever been summoned; much less has it -offered a parley.” - -The Duke looked disappointed, but emptied another bumper. He was rapidly -arriving at the state Malletort desired, when a well-turned compliment -would have induced him to sign away the crown of France. - -“To-morrow then,” he grunted, with his hands on the Abbé’s shoulder. “The -great Henry used to say—what used he to say? Something about waiting; you -remember, Abbé. _Basta!_ Reach me the Burgundy.” - -“To-morrow, Highness,” answered Malletort, more and more respectfully, as -his patron became less able to enforce respect. “At the hour agreed on, I -will be at your orders with everything requisite. There is but one more -detail, and though indispensable, I fear to press it with your Highness -now, for it trenches on business, and your brain, like mine, must be -somewhat heated with the Burgundy.” - -Probably no other consideration on earth would have induced the Duke to -look at a paper after supper, but this remark about the Burgundy touched -him nearly. - -He took pride in his convivial powers, and remembering that Henri Quatre -was said to have drunk a glass of red wine before his infant lips had -tasted mother’s milk, always vowed that he inherited from that ancestor -a constitution with which the juice of the grape assimilated itself -harmlessly as food. - -“Burgundy, little Abbé!” he repeated, staring vacantly at Malletort, who -had produced a small packet and an ink-horn from his pockets. “Burgundy, -Beaune, brandy—these do but serve to _clear_ the brains of a Bourbon! -Give me the paper!” - -“It is only your signature, Highness,” said Malletort, sitting completely -round, so as to interpose his person between Madame de Parabére and the -sheet under his hand. “I can fill it up afterwards, to save you further -trouble.” - -But a drunkard’s cunning is the last faculty that forsakes him. Though -the paper danced and wavered beneath his gaze, he detected at once that -it was a _Lettre de cachet_, formidable, henceforth, from the edict -issued that day in Council. - -Without troubling himself to inquire how the document came into -Malletort’s possession, who had indeed free access to his _bureau_, he -wagged his head gravely, exclaiming, with the good-humoured persistency -of inebriety— - -“No! no! little Abbé. A thousand times no! I fill in the names myself. -Oh! I am Regent of France. I know what I am doing. Here, give me the pen.” - -He scrawled his signature on the page, and waited for Malletort to speak. - -The latter glanced furtively round—Madame de Sabran was laughing, the -Count listening, Madame de Parabére yawning. No one seemed to pay -attention. Nevertheless he was still cautious. Mentioning no names, -he looked expressively at the Musketeer’s vacant place, while he -whispered—“We have done with him. He has fulfilled his task. Let him be -well taken care of. He deserves it, and it is indispensable.” - -“What is indispensable, must be!” answered the Duke carelessly, and -filled in the name of the victim on the blank space left for it. - -Then he sprinkled some blue sand from the Abbé’s portable writing-case -over the characters; and because they did not dry fast enough, turned the -sheet face downwards on the white table-cloth, and passed his wrist once -or twice across the back. - -When he lifted it, the ink had marked the damask, which was of the finest -texture and rarest pattern in Europe. - -Malletort never neglected a precaution. Reaching his hand to a flask -of white Hermitage, and exclaiming, “We chemists are never without -resource,” he was about to pour from it on the table, when a soft voice -murmured languidly, “Give me a few drops, monsieur, I am thirsty,” and -Madame de Parabére, half turning round, held her glass out to be helped. - -He was forced to comply, but in another second had flooded the ink-marks -with Hermitage, and blurred the stains on the cloth into one faded -shapeless blot. - -Madame de Parabére’s face remained immoveable, and her fine eyes looked -sleepy as ever, yet in that second she had read a capital _G_, with a -small _r_, reversed, and had drawn her own conclusions. - -There is but one sentiment in a woman’s mind stronger than gratitude—its -name is Love. Nevertheless, her love for the Regent was not so -overpowering as to shake her determination that she would save the -Captain of Musketeers at any sacrifice. - -Meanwhile, the object of her solicitude returned to his quarters by way -of the Hôtel Montmirail, coasting the dead wall surrounding that mansion -very slowly, and absorbed in his own reflections. To reach it he diverged -considerably from his direct road, although the guard posted in its -vicinity consisted that night of Black Musketeers, who were not to be -relieved till the next afternoon by their comrades of the Grey Company. -To prove their vigilance seemed, however, the aim of Captain George’s -walk, for after a brief reconnoitre, he retired quietly to rest about the -time that his royal host, with the assistance of two valets, staggered -from banqueting-room to bed-chamber. - -And no wonder, for notwithstanding a liberal consumption of champagne, -the flasks of red and white Burgundy stood empty on the supper-table. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -BAITING THE TRAP - - -In transactions with womankind, the sharpest of men are apt to overlook -in their calculations the paramount influence of dress. - -Malletort had long ago expressed an opinion on the despotism of King -Chiffon, but he little expected to be thwarted by that monarch in -dealing with one of his most devoted subjects. When Captain George -knocked the poisoned bouquet out of Madame de Parabére’s hand, with -a happy awkwardness seldom displayed in ball-rooms, a cluster of its -blossoms caught in the flounces of her dress. Despite languor of manner -and immobility of feature, this lady possessed coolness, resolution, -and resource in emergency. She concealed the stray cluster in her -handkerchief, said nothing about it, took it home, put it under glass, -and then locked it carefully away in a cabinet. After she had heard mass -next morning, she walked quietly off to Bartoletti’s house, attended -by two armed domestics and accompanied by her maid, as if going to buy -cosmetics, and produced the blossoms for that unwilling chemist to -analyse. The Signor, to tell the truth, was always averse to tampering -with poisons, although in the way of business it was difficult to keep -clear of them. As, on the present occasion, he felt nothing was to be -gained by falsehood, as Madame de Parabére was a dangerous enemy to -provoke, and above all, as she paid him liberally, he produced his tests -without delay, and informed her she had narrowly escaped loss of beauty, -if not of life, by the inhalation of a subtle and effectual poison. - -The Signor argued in this way. He compromised nobody, neither was it any -business of his that certain ingredients, sold to a brother student in -separate quantities, had been scientifically mingled and sprinkled over -these treacherous exotics. With the sums he had lately received from -the Abbé on different accounts—with the liberal reward now brought him -by Madame de Parabére—with the proceeds from his shares in Mississippi -stock, of a feverish rise in which he had, by his friend’s advice, -taken immediate advantage—with the sale of his wine, pictures, plate, -and furniture—lastly, with the firm determination to abscond promptly, -leaving his debts unpaid, he should find himself master of so much wealth -as would enable him to purchase the freedom of Célandine (at a damaged -valuation), to marry her, and settle down somewhere, perhaps under the -glowing sky of the tropics, in luxury and scientific indolence for the -rest of his life. - -Sensualist and impostor though he was, the man had yet some glimmering of -a better and nobler existence than his necessities had hitherto permitted -him to lead. He saw himself basking in the sun, sleeping in the shade, -eating luxuriantly, drinking of the best, lying soft, yet devoting his -leisure to the interests of science, and, when it did not interfere with -his gratifications, giving those who needed help the benefit of his -medical experience and advice. There are few but can be pitiful while -they want occupation, and generous while it costs them nothing but a word. - -When Bartoletti attended his visitor to the door, he felt it would be -neither wise nor prudent to remain longer in Paris. - -Madame de Parabére did not act without reflection. She possessed in his -own handwriting, with his own signature attached, the chemist’s analysis -of the noxious essences that had been offered her in a nosegay; and -although Bartoletti extorted the price of a necklace for it, she felt the -document was cheap at the money. Instinct told her that in the Marquise -de Montmirail she had found a rival; but reason assured her also that -with such proofs as she now possessed she could ruin any rival in the -Regent’s good graces as soon as he had slept off the effects of last -night’s wine. Though his whole afternoon, as often happened, might be -engaged, she must meet her royal admirer that evening at the opera. He -should then be put in possession of the facts, and woe to the traitress -when he knew the truth! - -“We shall see, madame!” said the lady, between her small white teeth, -under the sweet, calm face, and crossing herself as she passed a crucifix -in the street. “We shall see! A _lettre de cachet_ is a very compromising -_billet-doux_, but it may be sent to a lady quite as appropriately as a -gentleman. That reminds me! Business first—pleasure afterwards; gratitude -to-day—vengeance to-night. I will preserve that brave Musketeer, if it -costs me my rank and my reputation. Oh! if men were all prompt, generous, -honourable, like him, how differently we poor women should behave; I -wonder if we should be much better or much worse?” - -The maid walking at her side thought she was repeating an “Ave,” and -appreciating the temptations of her mistress, greatly admired so edifying -a display of piety under difficulties. - -Madame de Parabére was perfectly right in believing she would have no -opportunity for conversation with the Regent till they met at the opera. -The whole of that prince’s morning was employed in struggling with the -drowsy fiend who on a sensualist’s couch represents sleep, and is such a -hideous mockery of its original. At these hours the tendency to apoplexy, -which the Duke strengthened and pampered by indulgence, displayed itself -in alarming colours, and none of his attendants could have been surprised -when, a few years later, the destroyer swooped down and carried off his -prey at a stroke. It took him many an hour of heavy, unhealthy, and -disturbed slumber to regain sufficient clearness of mind for the duties -of the day, but once in exercise, his intellect, which was doubtless -above mediocrity, soon reasserted itself, and the Prince, shaved, bathed, -dressed, and seated over a pile of papers in his cabinet, seemed quite -capable of grasping the political helm, and guiding with a steady hand -the destinies of France. But it was only by a strong mental effort he -thus overcame the effects of his pernicious habits; such an effort as, -when often repeated, saps the vital energies beyond the power of nature -to restore them, and the wasting effects of which are best conveyed by -the familiar expression—“burning the candle at both ends.” - -When business was concluded, and the Regent, leaving his cabinet, entered -the adjoining dressing-room to prepare for amusement, he was generally -much fatigued, but in excellent spirits. A thorough Bourbon, he could -work if it was necessary, but his native element was play. When he shut -up his portfolio the virtual King of France felt like a boy out of school. - -It was in such a mood the Abbé Malletort found him the afternoon -succeeding his necromantic visit to the cavern. The valets were -dismissed, the wardrobe stood open, various suits of clothes hung on -chairs or lay scattered about the floor, yet it seemed the visitor was -expected; for no sooner did he enter than the door was locked, and -his Highness, taking him by the shoulders, accosted him with a rough, -good-humoured welcome. - -“True to time,” said he, in a boisterous yet somewhat nervous tone. “True -and punctual as a tailor, a confessor, and a creditor should be!—since -for me, little Abbé, you combine these several characters in one! A -tailor, for you must dress me; a confessor, for you know most of my sins -already, and I have no desire to conceal from you the remainder; and a -creditor, because I owe you a heavy debt of gratitude which you need not -fear I shall forget to pay!” - -“Tailor and confessor as much as your Highness pleases,” answered the -Abbé, “but creditor, no! I had rather possess the free assurance of the -Regent’s good-will than his name to a blank assignment on the Bank of -France! It is my pride and my pleasure to be at your service, and only -when the Duke shall propose a scheme to his own manifest disadvantage -will the Abbé find courage to expostulate or refuse.” - -“I can trust you, I believe,” answered the Regent, “none the less, my -friend, that your interests and mine are identical. If d’Orleans were at -Dourlens, and Du Maine at the Tuileries, it is just possible Malletort -might find himself at Vincennes. What say you, my adventurous Abbé? Such -an _alerte_ would call every man to his post! No; where I gain an inch -I pull you up a metre; but in return, if I make a false step in the -_entresol_, you tumble down two pair of stairs and break your neck in -the street! Yes—I think I can trust you.” - -Malletort laughed pleasantly. “Your Highness’s ethics are like my own,” -said he. “There is no tie so close as self-interest, and it is certainly -none the looser when accompanied by inclination. I trust the events of -to-night will render it yet more binding on us both.” - -“Have you prepared everything?” asked the Regent, with anxiety. “The -slightest omission might be not only inconvenient, but dangerous.” - -“I have but a short note to write,” answered the Abbé, “and I can -accomplish that while your Highness finishes dressing. It must be sealed -with the arms of the royal Body-guard, and you may believe I have no such -uncanonical trinkets in my possession.” - -The Duke looked in a drawer and shook his head. Then he called a valet, -who appeared from the adjoining chamber. - -“Go to the officer of the guard,” said he, “and ask him for the -regimental seal. Say it is for _me_.” - -The man returned almost immediately, indeed before the Abbé had finished -a note on which he was engaged, writing it slowly and with great care. - -“Who is on guard?” he asked, carelessly, while the servant set the -massive seal on the table. - -“Monsieur George,” was the answer, “Captain of the Company of Grey -Musketeers.” - -The Abbé did not look up, but continued assiduously bent over his task, -smiling the while as at some remarkable and whimsical coincidence. - -When he had folded his letter carefully, and secured it with the military -seal, he begged his Highness, in a tone of great simplicity, to lend him -an orderly. - -“As many as you please,” answered the Regent; “but may I ask the nature -of a missive that requires so warlike a messenger?” - -“It is a challenge,” answered the Abbé, and they both laughed heartily; -nor was their mirth diminished when the required orderly, standing gaunt -and rigid in the doorway, turned out to be the oldest, the fiercest, and -the ugliest veteran in the whole Body-guard. - -The sun was now declining, and it would soon be dusk. Malletort urged on -the Regent to lose no time in preparing for his enterprise. - -“And the opera?” observed the latter, suddenly recollecting his -appointment with Madame de Parabére at that entertainment. - -“Must be given up for to-night,” answered Malletort. “There is no time -for your Highness to show yourself in public, and return here for a -change of dress. Moreover, your disguise cannot be properly accomplished -in a hurry, and to be late by five minutes would render all our plans -useless. You have promised to trust everything to me, and if your -Highness will be guided by my directions, I can insure you an undoubted -success. Give me your attention, I entreat, monsieur, whilst once more I -recapitulate my plan.” - -“You dismiss, now, on the instant, all your valets, except Robecque, on -whom we can depend. With his assistance and mine, you disguise yourself -as an officer of Musketeers—Grey, of course, since that company furnishes -the guard of to-night. Your Highness can thus pass through their posts, -without remark, on giving the countersign supplied this morning by -yourself. An escort will be provided from the barracks, at the last -moment, by Marshal de Villeroy’s orders, without consulting the officer -of the guard. This arrangement is indispensable in case of accidents. -Every contingency has been anticipated, yet swords might be drawn, and -though your Highness loves the clash of steel, the most valuable life in -France must not be risked even for such a prize. Ah! you may trust us men -of peace to take precautions; and, in _our_ profession, when we act with -the strong hand, we think we cannot make the hand _too_ strong. - -“Nevertheless, I anticipate no difficulties whatever. Your Highness, as -a gallant Musketeer, will enter the garden of the Hesperides without -opposition. There is no dragon that I know of, though people sometimes -pay your humble servant the compliment of believing him to hold that -post; and once within, it wants but a bold hand to pluck the fruit from -the bough. Win it then, my Prince, and wear it happily. Nay, forget -not hereafter, that many a man less favoured would have bartered life -willingly but to lie prostrate under the tree and look his last on the -tempting beauty of the golden apple he might never hope to reach.” - -There was something unusual in the Abbé’s tone, and the Duke, glancing in -his face, thought he had turned very pale; but in another moment he was -smiling pleasantly at his own awkwardness, while he assisted the Regent -into the uniform, and fitted on the accoutrements of a Musketeer. - -It took some little time, and cost many remonstrances from Robecque, -who was not gifted with a military eye, to complete the transformation. -Nevertheless, by dint of persuasion and perseverance, the moustaches were -at length blacked and twisted, the belts adjusted, the boots wrinkled, -and the hat cocked with that mixture of ease, fierceness, good-humour -and assumption, which was indispensable to a proper conception of the -character—a true rendering of the part. - -It was somewhat against the grain to resign for a while the attitudes and -gestures of Henri Quatre, but even such a sacrifice was little regretted -when the Duke scanned himself from top to toe in a long mirror, with a -smile of undisguised satisfaction at the result of his toilet. - -“’Tis the garrison type to the life!” said he, exultingly. “Guard-room, -parade, and bivouac combined. Abbé! Abbé! what a flower of Musketeers she -spoiled when blind Fortune made me Regent of France!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -MATRE PULCHRÂ, FILIA PULCHRIOR - - -Since Horace wrote that musical ode in which he expresses a poet’s -admiration pretty equally divided between mother and daughter, how many -similes have been exhausted, how many images distorted to convey the -touching and suggestive resemblance by which nature reproduces in the -bud a beauty that has bloomed to maturity in the flower! Amongst all the -peculiarities of race, family likeness is the commonest, the most prized, -and the least understood. Perhaps, because the individuality of women -is more easily affected by extraneous influences, it seems usually less -impressed upon the sons than the daughters of a House. Then a girl often -marries so young, that she has scarcely done with her girl’s graces, -certainly lost none of her woman’s charms, ere she finds a copy at her -side as tall as herself; a very counterpart in figure, voice, eyes, -hair, complexion; all the externals in which she takes most pride; whose -similarity and companionship are a source of continual happiness, alloyed -only by the dread of a contingency that shall make herself a grandmother! - -As they sat in the boudoir of the Hôtel Montmirail, enjoying the cool -evening breeze at an open window, the Marquise and her daughter might -have been likened to a goddess and a nymph, a rose and a rosebud—what -shall I say?—a cat and her kitten, or a cow and her calf! But although -in voice, manner, gestures, and general effect, this similarity was -so remarkable, a closer inspection might have found many points of -difference; and the girl seemed, indeed, an ideal sketch rather than -a finished portrait of the woman, bearing to her mother the vague, -spiritualised resemblance that memory bears to presence—your dreams to -your waking thoughts. - -Cerise was altogether fairer in complexion and fainter in colouring, -slenderer, and perhaps a little taller, with more of soul in her blue -eyes but less of intellect, and a pure, serene face that a poet would -have fallen down and worshipped, but from which a painter would have -turned to study the richer tones of the Marquise. - -Some women seem to me like statues, and some like pictures. The latter -fascinate you at once, compelling your admiration even on the first -glance, while you pass by the former with a mere cold and critical -approval. But every man who cares for art must have experienced how the -influence of the model or the marble grows on him day by day. How, time -after time, fresh beauties seem to spring beneath his gaze as if his very -worship called them into life, and how, when he has got the masterpiece -by heart, and sees every curve of the outline, every turn of the chisel -in his dreams, he no longer wonders that it was not a painter, but a -sculptor, who languished to death in hopeless adoration of his handiwork. -These statue-women move, in no majestic march, over the necks of captive -thousands to the strains of all kinds of music, but stand in their leafy, -shadowy nooks apart, teaching a man to love them by degrees, and he never -forgets the lesson, nor would he if he could. - -It is scarcely necessary to say that the Marquise loved her daughter -very dearly. For years, the child had occupied the first place in her -warm impassioned heart. To send Cerise away was the first lesson in -self-sacrifice the proud and prosperous lady had ever been forced to -learn, and many a tear it used to cost her, when her ball-dress had been -folded up and Célandine dismissed for the night. Nor, indeed, was the -Quadroon’s pillow quite dry when first she lost her nursling; and long -after Cerise slept calmly and peacefully between those quiet convent -walls, far off in Normandy, the two women would lie broad awake, calling -to remembrance the blue eyes and the brown curls and the pretty ways of -their darling, till their very hearts ached with longing to look on her -once more. Now, since mademoiselle had returned, the Marquise thought -she loved her better than ever, and perhaps all the feelings and impulses -of a heart not too well disciplined had of late been called into stronger -play. - -[Illustration: “I LIKE GOING OUT SO MUCH, MAMMA.” - -(_Page 169._)] - -Madame de Montmirail threw herself back in her chair with an exclamation -of pleasure, for the cool, soft breeze lifted the hair from her temples, -and stirred the delicate lace edging on her bosom. “It is delightful, my -child!” she said, “after the heat of to-day, which was suffocating. And -we have nothing for to-night, I thank the saints with my whole heart! -Absolutely nothing! Neither ball, nor concert, nor opera (for I could -not sit out another of Cavalli’s), nor even a horrid reception at the -Luxembourg. This is what I call veritable repose.” - -Like all people with a tinge of southern blood, the Marquise cried out at -the slightest increase of temperature. Like all fashionable ladies, she -professed to consider those gaieties without which she could not live, -duty, but martyrdom. - -Mademoiselle, however, loved a ball dearly, and was not ashamed to -say so. She entered such gatherings, indeed, with something of the -nervousness felt by a recruit in his first engagement. The prospect of -triumph was enhanced by the chance of danger; but the sense of personal -apprehension forcibly overcome, which is, perhaps, the true definition -of courage, added elasticity to her spirits, keenness to her intellect, -and even charms to her person. Beauty, moving gracefully amongst admiring -glances, under a warm light in a cloud of muslin, carries, perhaps, as -high a heart beneath her bodice as beats behind the steel cuirass of -Valour, riding his mailed war-horse in triumph through the shock of -opposing squadrons. - -“And I like going out so much, mamma,” said the girl, sitting on a -footstool by her chair, and leaning both elbows on her mother’s lap. -“With you I mean; that must, of course, be understood. Alone in a -ball-room without the petticoats of Madame la Marquise, behind which to -run when the wolf comes, I should be so frightened, I do believe I should -begin to cry! Seriously, mamma, I should not like it at all. Tell me, -dear mother, how did you manage at first, when you entered a society by -yourself?” - -“I was never afraid of the wolf,” answered the Marquise, laughing, “and -lucky for me I was not, since the late king could not endure shy people, -and if you showed the slightest symptoms of awkwardness or want of tact -you were simply not asked again. But you are joking, my darling; you -who need fear no criticism, with your youth, your freshness, the best -dressmaker in Paris, and all that brown hair which Célandine talks of -till the tears stand in her eyes.” - -“I hate my hair!” interrupted Cerise. “I think it’s hideous! I wish -it was black, like yours. A horrid man the other night at ‘Madame’s’ -took me for an Englishwoman! He did, mamma! A Prince somebody, all over -decorations. I could have run a pin into the wretch with pleasure. One of -the things I like going out for is to watch my beautiful mamma, and the -way to flatter me is to start back and hold up both hands, exclaiming, -‘Ah! mademoiselle, none but the blind could take you for anything but the -daughter of Madame la Marquise!’ The Prince-Marshal does it every time we -meet. Dear old man! that is why I am so fond of him.” - -The young lady illustrated this frank confession by an absurd little -pantomime that mimicked her veteran admirer to the life, causing her -mother to laugh heartily. - -“I did not know he was such a favourite,” said the Marquise. “You are in -luck, my daughter. I expect him to pay us a visit this very evening.” - -Cerise made a comical little face of disgust. - -“I shall go to bed before he catches me, then,” she answered; “not that -he is in the least out of favour; on the contrary, I love him dearly; but -when he has been here five minutes I yawn, in ten I shut my eyes, and -long before he gets to that bridge which Monsieur de Vendôme ought, or -ought not, to have blown up—there—it’s no use! The thing is stronger than -I am, and I go fast asleep.” - -“And so my little rake is disappointed,” said the elder lady, taking her -child’s pretty head caressingly between her hands. “She would like to -have a ball, or a reception, or something that would make an excuse for -a sumptuous toilet, and she finds it very wearisome to sit at home, even -for one night, and take care of her old mother!” - -“Very!” repeated the girl playfully, while her tone made so ungracious -an avowal equivalent to the fondest expression of attachment. “My -old mother is so cross and so tiresome and so very _very_ old. Now, -listen, mamma. Shall I have a dress exactly like yours for the ball -at the Tuileries? The young king is to dance. I know it, for my dear -Prince-Marshal told me so while I was still awake. I have never seen a -king, only a regent, and I _do_ think Monsieur d’Orleans so ugly. Don’t -tell him, mamma, but our writing-master at the convent was the image -of him, and had the same wrinkles in his forehead. He used to wipe our -pens in his wig, and we called him ‘Pouf-Pouf!’ I was the worst writer -amongst all the girls, and the best arithmetician. ‘Pouf-Pouf’ said -I had a geometrical head! Well, mamma, you must order me a dress the -exact pattern of yours; the same flounces, the same trimmings, the same -ribbons, and I will present myself before the Prince-Marshal the instant -he arrives in the ball-room, to receive his accustomed compliment. -Perhaps on that occasion he will take me for _you_! Would it not be -charming? My whole ambition just now is to be exactly like my mother in -every respect!” - -As she finished, her eyes insensibly wandered to the picture of the -Prince de Chateau-Guerrand, which adorned the boudoir, but falling short -of its principal figure, rested on the dead musketeer in the foreground. -The Marquise also happened to be looking at the same object, so that -neither observed how the other’s gaze was employed, nor guessed that -besides figure, manner, features, voice, and gestures, there was yet a -stronger point in which they bore too close and fatal a resemblance. -Deep in the heart of each lurked the cherished image of a certain Grey -Musketeer. The girl draping her idol, as it were, even to herself, -not daring so much as to lift a corner of its veil; yet rejoicing -unconsciously in its presence, and trusting with a vague but implicit -faith to its protection. The woman alternately prostrating herself at -its pedestal, and spurning it beneath her feet, striving, yielding, -hesitating, struggling, losing ground inch by inch, and forced against -her judgment, against her will, to love him with a fierce, eager, anxious -love, embittered by some of the keenest elements of hate. - -These two hearts were formed in the same mould, were of the same blood, -were knit together by the fondest and closest of ties, and one must -necessarily be torn and bruised and pierced by the happiness of the other. - -It was so far fortunate that neither of them knew the very precarious -position in which Captain George found himself placed. Under such a -ruler as the Débonnaire, it was no jesting matter for any man that -his name should be written in full on a _lettre de cachet_, formally -signed, sealed, and in possession of an ambitious intriguer, who, having -no feelings of personal enmity to the victim, would none the less use -his power without scruple or remorse. A woman was, of course, at the -bottom of the scrape in which Captain George found himself; but it was -also to a woman that he was indebted for timely warning of his danger. -Madame de Parabére had not only intimated to him that he must make his -escape without delay, but had even offered to sell her jewels that he -might be furnished with the means of flight. Such marks of gratitude -and generosity were none the less touching that the sacrifice proved -unnecessary. A Musketeer was seldom overburdened with ready money, but -our Captain of the Grey Company not only bore a Scottish surname, he had -also a cross of Scottish blood in his veins. The first helped him to -get money, the second enabled him to keep it. Monsieur Las, or Law, as -he should properly have been called, like his countrymen, “kept a warm -side,” as he expressed it, towards any one claiming a connection, however -remote, with his native land, and had given Captain George so many -useful hints regarding the purchase and sale of Mississippi stock, that -the latter, who was by no means deficient in acuteness, found himself -possessed of a good round sum, in lawful notes of the realm, at the -moment when such a store was absolutely necessary to his safety. - -He laid his plans accordingly with habitual promptitude and caution. He -knew enough of these matters to think it improbable he would be publicly -arrested while on guard, for in such cases profound secrecy was usually -observed, as increasing the suddenness and mystery of the blow. He had, -therefore, several hours to make his preparations, and the messenger whom -he at once despatched to prepare relays of horses for him the whole way -to the coast was several leagues on his road long before the sun went -down. A valise, well packed, containing a change of raiment, rested on -the loins of his best horse, ready saddled, with pistols in holsters -and bridle hanging on the stall-post, to be put on directly he was fed. -Soon after dark, this trusty animal was to be led to a particular spot, -not far from the Hôtel Montmirail, and there walked gently to and fro in -waiting for his master. By daybreak next morning, the Musketeer hoped to -be half-way across Picardy. - -Having made his dispositions for retreat like a true soldier, he divested -his mind of further anxiety as to his own personal safety, and turned all -his attention to a subject that was now seldom absent from his thoughts. -It weighed on his heart like lead, to reflect how soon he must be parted -from Cerise, how remote was the chance of their ever meeting again. In -his life of action and adventure he had indeed learned to believe that -for a brave man nothing was impossible, but he could not conceal from -himself that it might be years before he could return to France, and his -ignorance in what manner he could have offended the Regent only made his -course the more difficult, his future the more gloomy and uncertain. On -one matter he was decided. If it cost him liberty or life he would see -the girl he loved once more, assure her of his unalterable affection, and -so satisfy the great desire that had grown lately into a necessity of his -very being. - -So it fell out that he was thinking of Cerise, while Cerise, with her -eyes on the Musketeer in the picture, was thinking of him; the Marquise -believing the while that her child’s whole heart was fixed on her -ball-dress for the coming gaieties at the Tuileries. With the mother’s -thoughts we will not interfere, inasmuch as, whatever their nature, the -fixed expression of her countenance denoted that she was keeping them -down with a strong hand. - -The two had been silent longer than either of them would have allowed, -when Célandine entered with a note—observing, as she presented it to her -mistress, “Mademoiselle is pale; mademoiselle looks fatigued; madame -takes her too much into society for one so young; she had better go to -bed at once, a long sleep will bring back the colour to her cheeks.” - -The Marquise laughed at her old servant’s carefulness. “You would like to -put her to bed as you used when she was a baby. Who brought this?” she -added, with a start, as, turning the note in her hand, she observed the -royal arms of the Body-guard emblazoned on its seal; bending her head -over it the while to conceal the crimson that rose to her very temples. - -What a wild gush of happiness filled her heart while she read on—her -warm wilful heart, that sent tears of sheer pleasure to her eyes so that -she could scarcely decipher the words, and that beat so loud, she hardly -heard Célandine’s disapproving accents in reply. - -“The fiercest soldier, and the ugliest I have yet set eyes on. Nine feet -high at least, and the rudest manners I ever encountered, even in a -Musketeer!” - -Cerise was no longer to be pitied for want of colour, but Célandine, -though she observed the change, took no notice of it, only urging on her -young lady the propriety of going immediately to bed. - -Meanwhile, the Marquise read her note again. It was not (what letter ever -was?) so enchanting on the second perusal as the first. - -It ran thus:— - - “MADAME, - - “I am distressed beyond measure to trouble a lady with a - question of military discipline. I cannot sufficiently regret - that my duty compels me to post a sentry in the grounds of the - Hôtel Montmirail. In order that this inconvenient arrangement - may interfere as little as possible with the privacy of Madame, - I urgently request, as the greatest favour, that she will - indicate by her commands the exact spot on which she will - permit one of my Musketeers to be stationed, and I will be at - Madame’s orders at the usual time of going my rounds to-night. - I have the honour to remain, with assurances of the most - distinguished consideration, the humblest of Madame’s humble - servants. - - (Signed) “GEORGE, - “Captain, Grey Musketeers of the King.” - - -It was a polite document enough, and obviously the merest affair of -military arrangement, yet the Marquise, after a third perusal, kept it -crumpled up in her hand, and when she thought herself unobserved, hid it -away, probably for security, in the bosom of her dress. - -“There is no answer, Célandine,” said she, with well-acted calmness, -belied by the fixed crimson spot in each cheek. “My darling,” she added -caressingly, to her daughter, “your old _bonne_ is quite right. The -sooner you are in bed the better. Good-night, my child. I shall come and -see you as usual after you are asleep. Ah! Cerise, how I used to miss -that nightly visit when you were at the convent. You slept better without -it than your mother did, I am sure!” - -Then, after her daughter left the room, she moved the lamp far back into -a recess, and sat down at the open window, pressing both hands against -her bosom, as though to restrain the beating of her heart. - -How her mind projected itself into the future! What wild inconceivable, -impracticable projects she formed, destroyed, and reconstructed once -more! She overleaped probability, possibility, the usages of life, the -very lapse of time. At a bound she was walking with him through her woods -in Touraine, his own, his very own. They had given up Paris, the Court, -ambition, society, everything in the world for each other, and they were -so happy! so happy! Cerise, herself, and _him_. Ah! she felt now the -capabilities she had for goodness. She knew what she could be with a man -like that—a man whom she could respect as well as love. She almost felt -the pressure of his arm, while his kind, brave face looked down into her -own, under just such a moon as that rising even now through the trees -above the guard-house. Then she came back to her boudoir in the Hôtel -Montmirail, and the consciousness, the triumphant consciousness that, -come what might, she must at least see him and hear his voice within an -hour; but recalling the masked ball at the Opera House the night before, -she trembled and turned pale, thinking she would never dare to look him -in the face again. - -There was yet another subject of anxiety. The Prince-Marshal was to come, -as he often did of an evening, and pass half-an-hour over a cup of coffee -before he retired to rest. It made her angry to think of her old admirer, -as if she did indeed already belong to some one else. How long that some -one seemed in coming, and yet she had sat there, hot and cold by turns, -for but five minutes, unless her clock had stopped. - -Suddenly, with a great start, she sprang from her chair, and listened, -upright, with parted lips and hair put back. No! her ear was not -deceived! It had caught the clink of spurs, and a faint measured -footfall, outside in the distant street. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -A GENERAL RENDEZVOUS - - -Meanwhile Cerise, not the least sleepy, though sent prematurely to bed, -dismissed her attendant protesting vehemently, and sat herself down also -at an open window, to breathe the night air, look at the moon, and dream, -wide-awake, on such subjects as arise most readily in young ladies’ minds -when they find themselves alone with their own thoughts in the summer -evening. However exalted these may have been, they can scarcely have -soared to the actual romance of which she was an unconscious heroine, -or foreseen the drama of action and sentiment she was about to witness -in person. Little did she imagine, while she leaned a sweet face, pale -and serene in the moonlight, on an arm half hidden in the wealth of her -unbound hair, that two men were watching every movement who could have -kissed the very ground she trod on; for one of whom she was the type of -all that seemed best and loveliest in woman, teaching him to look from -earth to heaven; for the other, an angel of light, pure and holy in -herself, yet luring him irresistibly down the path to hell. - -The latter had been hidden since dusk, that he might but see her shadow -cross the windows of the gallery, one by one, when she sought her -chamber; the other was visiting his guard two hours earlier than usual, -with a silent caution that seemed mistrustful of their vigilance, in -order that he might offer her the heart of an honest man, ere he fled for -his life to take refuge in another land. - -Captain George, entering the garden through a private door, could see -plainly enough the figure of Mademoiselle de Montmirail brought into -relief by the lamp-light in her room. She must have heard his step in the -street, he thought, for she had risen and was looking earnestly out into -the darkness; but from some cause or another, at the instant the door in -the garden wall closed behind him, she shrank back and disappeared. - -His heart beat high. Could she have expected him? Could she know -intuitively why he was there to-night? Was it possible she would run -down and grant him a meeting in the garden? The thought was rapture! Yet -perhaps with all its intoxication, he scarcely loved her so dearly as -he had done a moment before, as he did a moment after, when he actually -distinguished a white dress flitting along the terrace at the farthest -corner of the building. - -Then indeed he forgot duty, danger, exile, uncertainty, the future, -the past, everything but the intense happiness of that moment. He was -conscious of the massive trees, the deep shadows, the black clusters of -shrubs, the dusky outlines of the huge indistinct building traversed -here and there by a broad shimmer of light, the stars above his head, -the crescent moon, the faint whisper of leaves, the drowsy perfume of -flowers, but only because of _her_ presence who turned the whole to a -glimpse of fairyland. He stole towards the terrace, treading softly, -keeping carefully in the shadow of the trees. So intent was he, and so -cautious, that he never observed Cerise return to her post of observation. - -She had resumed it, however, at the very moment when the Musketeer, -having advanced some ten paces with the crouching stealthy gait of a Red -Indian drawing on his game, stopped short—like the savage when he has -gone a step too far—rigid, motionless, scarcely breathing, every faculty -called up to _watch_. - -The attention of Mademoiselle de Montmirail was aroused at the same -moment by the same cause. - -It is scarcely necessary to observe that the Duke of Orleans, Regent of -France, was no less ambitious of distinction in the fields of love than -of war. That in the one, though falling far short of his heroic ancestor, -whom he so wished to resemble, his prowess was not below the average, -scandal itself must admit; but that, if experience ought to count for -anything, his encounters in the other should have made him the most -successful campaigner of his time, history cannot conscientiously deny. - -Like all such freebooters, however, he met with many a bitter reverse, -many a signal defeat never mentioned in despatches. His rebuffs, we -may be sure, were written on water, though his triumphs were carved in -stone; and it was for those on whom he could make least impression that -he cherished the greatest interest. The way to captivate the Regent -was not so much to _profess_, as to _entertain_ a thorough contempt -for his character, an utter disregard of his position. The noble mind, -the stout heart, the strong will, the sagacious, deep-thinking, yet -open disposition, true type of manhood, is to be won by love; but the -sensualist, the coward, the false, the wicked, and the weak, are all -best tamed by scorn. With a new face, the Regent was captivated, as a -matter of course, for an hour or two; seldom during a whole day; though -on occasion, if the face were very beautiful, and strictly guarded, he -besieged its owner for a week; but Madame de Montmirail was the only -long-established beauty of the Court who had seriously captivated his -fancy, and, indeed, what little was left of his miserable self-indulgent -heart. This triumph she owed to her perfect unconsciousness of it, and -complete disregard for her admirer, therefore it became more firmly -established day by day; and when Malletort, who thoroughly comprehended -the nature he wished to rule, hinted that his kinswoman was not -insensible to the Prince’s merits, he did but blow into flame a fire that -had been smouldering longer than even he was aware. - -Now the Abbé had sufficient confidence in her powers and her attractions -to be sure that if Madame de Montmirail once obtained an acknowledged and -ostensible influence over the Regent she would become the virtual ruler -of France; and the Abbé, in his own way, loved his cousin better than -anything but the excitement of ambition and the possession of political -power. He believed that her disgrace would be of infinite advantage to -herself as well as to him, and thought he could see her way clearly, with -his own assistance, to an eventual throne. He was a man without religion, -without principle, without honour, without even the common sympathies -of humanity. It is difficult in our days to conceive such a character, -though they were common enough in France during the last century; but -in his views for his cousin, evil as they were, he seemed at least -honest—more, self-sacrificing, since she was the only creature on earth -for whom he cared. - -With his knowledge of her disposition, he did not conceal from himself -that great difficulties attended his task. However lightly the cynical -Abbé might esteem a woman’s virtue, his experience taught him not to -underrate the obstinacy of a woman’s pride. That his cousin, in common -with her family, possessed an abundance of the latter quality, he was -well aware, and he played his game accordingly. It was his design to -compromise her by a _coup-de-main_, after he had sapped her defences -to the utmost by the arguments of ambition and self-interest. Like -all worldly men in their dealings with women, he undervalued both her -strength and her weakness—her aversion to the Regent, and her fancy for -the Musketeer; this even while he made use of the latter to overcome -the former sentiment. If she could be induced by any means, however -fraudulent, to grant the Prince an interview at night in her own gardens, -he argued, that first step would have been taken, which it is always so -difficult to retract; and to bring this about, he had forged Captain -George’s signature to the polite note which had proved so effectual in -luring the Marquise down the terrace steps, and across the velvet lawn, -under the irresistible temptation of a meeting by moonlight with the -man she loved. As a measure of mere politeness, connected with certain -military precautions, of course! - -But under such circumstances it would appear that _one_ Musketeer ought -to be company enough for _one_ lady at a time. Cerise, viewing the -performances from her window above, might have come to the conclusion, -had she not been too anxious, agitated, terrified, to retain full -possession of her faculties, that the arrival of a few more of these -guardsmen on such a scene, at such a crisis, was conducive rather to -tumult and bloodshed than appropriate conversation. - -Captain George, stopping short in his eager though stealthy advance -towards the white figure flitting noiselessly across the lawn, first -thought he was dreaming; next, that he beheld a spectral or illusive -image of himself, denoting near approach of death; lastly, that the -discipline of the corps had become relaxed to a degree which his military -indignation resolved should be severely visited within an hour, though he -abandoned his command the next. - -A Grey Musketeer, hatted, cloaked, booted precisely like himself, was -advancing from the direction of the guard-house towards the white figure, -that now stopped short as if expecting him. While yet a few feet apart, -both stood still, and Captain George, in dark shadow at ten paces’ -distance, not only recognised the Marquise by her voice, but saw her face -distinctly, as she turned it towards the moonlight, framed in its masses -of black hair. - -His heart beat calmly now, and he was the cool resolute man of action -once more. - -She was the first to speak, and though they trembled a little, very soft -and musical fell her tones on the listener’s ear. - -“I received monsieur’s note. It was most kind and considerate on his -part. I have been expecting him for this hour past.” - -The cloaked figure uncovered. George, watching Madame de Montmirail, -observed her start and raise her head defiantly. - -“Madame will forgive the intrusion then,” said her companion, “since -it is not unexpected. She will consider also the temptation, and the -discretion of her visitor.” - -There was no mistaking the tones of the Regent, good-humoured, easy, and, -though a little husky, pleasant as if mellowed by Bourdeaux. She drew -back hastily, but the speaker at the same time possessed himself of her -hand, almost by force, and, drawing her towards him, whispered in her ear. - -The Marquise broke from him furiously. Her eyes glittered like steel, and -she stamped upon the turf, while she exclaimed— - -“What have I ever done that your Highness should offer me this insult? -And here, in the midst of my own people! The Montmirails have been always -loyal,” she added, in a tone of bitter scorn, “and know how to spare a -Bourbon! Quit the garden instantly by that door, and your Highness shall -suffer no further humiliation for an act that is at once a folly and an -impertinence.” - -She extended her white hand with the gesture of one who orders a -disobedient hound to kennel, and Captain George, in his hiding-place, -felt the blood mounting to his brain. But the Regent was not so easily -discouraged. Clasping both her hands in his own, he knelt at her feet, -and while cloak and hat fell off, proceeded to pour out a stream -of professions, promises, and protestations, with a good-humoured -carelessness that was in itself an outrage. - -Nevertheless, though she struggled fiercely to get free, cool, -courageous, and self-possessed, she made no outcry; but in her efforts a -bracelet flew from her arm, and the skirt of her muslin dress was torn to -its hem. - -Captain George could stand it no longer. In two strides he was upon him, -hovering over the aggressor with his drawn sword. - -Then the Regent’s nerve failed. Shaken, excited, irritated, he suspected -a plot; he shrank from assassination; he imagined himself surrounded. - -“Help! help!” he shouted loudly, staggering to his feet, and looking -wildly about him. “To me! my Musketeers, to me! Down with them! fire on -them all! The traitors! the assassins!” - -Lights twinkled in the hotel, and servants came rushing out in great -alarm, but long ere they could reach the scene of action, half-a-dozen -Musketeers had arrived, with Bras-de-Fer at their head. - -“Why, ’tis the Captain!” exclaimed the latter, stopping short with his -point lowered, in sheer bewilderment—a lack of promptitude that probably -saved his officer’s life. - -“Arrest him, I tell you, idiots!” shrieked the Regent, with a horrible -oath, trembling and glaring about him for a fresh enemy. - -The Marquise had plenty of courage. Still she was but a woman, and not -actually hemmed in a corner; so, when the Musketeers ran in with levelled -weapons, she turned and fled; only as far as the terrace steps, however, -where she took up her post and watched the sequel with a wild fixed face, -white and stony as the balustrades themselves. - -The servants hovered round, chattering, flinching, and doing nothing. - -Half-a-dozen blades flashed in Captain George’s eyes; as many points -were levelled at his heart. His own men had been bid to take him, and -they must obey. He knew well they were some of the best swordsmen in the -French army; but his good horse should by this time be waiting in the -street beyond, and if he could fight his way to the garden-gate there was -yet a chance left. - -Even in this extremity he was conscious that the light still streamed -from Cerise’s window. Catching a couple of thrusts in his cloak, and -engaged with a third adversary, he was aware of Bras-de-Fer’s tall figure -advancing upon him. For an instant his heart sank, and he felt he was -over-matched. - -But an unexpected auxiliary, who seemed to have risen out of the very -ground, stood at his side. With a thrill of triumph he recognised -Beaudésir’s voice in his ear. - -“Courage, my captain!” said the professional coolly, as if giving a -lesson. “Carte and counter-carte—carte and counter-carte! Keep the wrist -going like a windmill, and we shall fight through them all.” - -He was yet speaking when Bras-de-Fer went down with an ugly thrust -through the lower ribs, exclaiming as he lost his footing— - -“_Peste!_ Had I known _you_ were in it, I’d have parried _your_ blade -with a pistol-shot!” - -A few flashing passes, a clink of rapiers, an oath or two, a shriek -from upstairs, shouts, groans, a scuffling of feet, and George was safe -through the garden-door and out in the street. He looked for Beaudésir: -the youth had disappeared. He looked for his horse; the good beast was -walking quietly off in the custody of two Musketeers. A patrole of the -same corps were entering the street from the other end. It seemed hard to -be taken here after all. - -But, once more to-night, Captain George found a friend where he least -expected one. A coach was drawn up within six paces. A lackey, with -a lighted torch in one hand, held the door open with the other. Old -Chateau-Guerrand caught him by the arm. - -“You are a brave lad,” said he, “and, Regent or _roué_, I am not going -to turn my back on my aide-de-camp! I watched you from the roof of my -coach over the wall. By the cross of St. Louis, I never saw so good a -fight, and I have had fifty years of it, my boy. Here! take my carriage. -They dare not stop _that_ at their barriers. Those English horses can go -like the wind: bid them carry you where you will.” - -George pressed his hand and whispered in his ear. - -“Relays!” exclaimed the Prince-Marshal. “Then you are safe. Shut him in! -And you, coachman, be off! Drive as if you had the devil or old Turenne -in your rear!” - -It was about this moment that Célandine, rushing into her young lady’s -room to comfort her, in the alarm, found Cerise extended, motionless and -unconscious, on the floor. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE FOX AND FIDDLE - - -Three dirty children with blue eyes, fair locks, and round, chubby -faces, deepened by a warm peach-like tint beneath the skin, such as are -to be seen in plenty along our southern seaboard, were busily engaged -building a grotto of shells opposite their home, at the exact spot where -its construction was most in the way of pedestrians passing through -the narrow ill-paved street. Their shrill cries and blooming looks -denoted the salubrious influence of sea air, while their nationality was -sufficiently attested by the vigour with which the eldest, a young lady -less than ten years of age, called out “Frenchie! Frenchie! Froggie! -Froggie!” after a foreign-looking man with a pale face and dark eyes, -who stepped over the low half-door that restrained her infant brothers -and sisters from rolling out into the gutter, as if he was habitually -a resident in the house. He appeared, indeed, a favourite with the -children, for while they recalled him to assist their labours, which he -did with a good-nature and address peculiarly winning to architects of -that age, they chanted in his praise, and obviously with the intention -of doing him high honour, a ditty of no particular tune, detailing the -matrimonial adventures of an amphibious animal, supposed in the last -century to bear close affinity to all Frenchmen, as related with a -remarkable chorus by one Anthony Rowley; and the obliging foreigner, -suspecting neither sarcasm nor insult, but only suffering torture from an -utter absence of tune, hummed lustily in accompaniment. - -Over the heads of these urchins hung their paternal sign-board, creaking -and swinging in the breeze now freshening with an incoming tide. Its -representation of a fox playing the fiddle was familiar to seafaring men -as indicating a favourite house of call for the consumption of beer, -tobacco, and that seductive compound known to several generations by the -popular name of punch. - -The cheerful fire, the red curtains, the sanded floor, the wooden chairs, -and liberal measures of their jovial haunt, had been present to the -mind’s eye of many an honest tar clinging wet and cold to a slippery -yard, reefing topsails in a nor’-wester, or eating maggoty biscuit and -sipping six-water grog, on half rations, homeward bound with a headwind, -but probably none of them had ever speculated on the origin of the sign -they knew so well and thought of so often. Why a fox and fiddle should -be found together in a seaport town, what a fox had to do with a fiddle, -or, however appropriate to their ideas of jollity the instrument might -appear, wherefore its player should be represented as the cunning animal -whom destiny had already condemned to be hunted by English country -gentlemen, was a speculation on which they had no wish to embark. Neither -have I. It is enough to know that the Fox and Fiddle sold loaded beer, -strong tobacco, and scalding punch, to an extent not even limited by the -consumer’s purse; for when Jack had spent all his _rhino_, the landlord’s -liberality enabled him to run up a score, hereafter to be liquidated from -the wages of a future voyage. The infatuated debtor, paying something -like two hundred _per cent._ on every mouthful for this accommodation, -by a farther arrangement, that he should engage with any skipper of -the landlord’s providing, literally sold himself, body and soul, for a -nipperkin of rum and half-a-pound of tobacco. - -Nevertheless, several score of the boldest hearts and readiest hands in -England were to be bought at this low price, and Butter-faced Bob, as -his rough-spoken customers called the owner of the Fox and Fiddle, would -furnish as many of them at a reasonable tariff, merchant and man-of-war’s -men, as the captain wanted or the owners could afford to buy. It was no -wonder his children had strong lungs, and round, well-fed cheeks. - -“That’s a good chap!” observed a deep hoarse voice, which made the -youngest grotto-builder start and shrink behind its sister, while a broad -elderly figure rolled and lurched after the obliging foreigner into the -house. It would have been as impossible to mistake the new-comer for -a landsman as Butter-faced Bob himself for anything but a publican. -His gait on the pavement was that of one who had so thoroughly got his -_sea-legs_ that he was, to the last degree, incommoded by the uneven -though stable surface of the shore; and while he trod the passage, as -being planked, with more confidence, he nevertheless ran his hand, like a -blind man, along tables and other articles of furniture while he passed -them, seeming, in every gesture, to be more ready with his arms than his -legs. - -Broad-faced, broad-shouldered, broad-handed, he looked a powerful, and at -the same time a strong-constitutioned man, but grizzled hair and shaggy -eyebrows denoted he was past his prime; while a reddened neck and tanned -face, with innumerable little wrinkles round the eyes, suggested constant -watchfulness and exposure in hard weather afloat, no less than swollen -features and marked lines told of deep drinking and riotous living ashore. - -The seamen of that period, though possessing an undoubted claim to -the title, were far more than to-day a class distinct and apart from -their fellow-countrymen. The standing army, an institution of which our -parliaments had for generations shown themselves so jealous, could boast, -indeed, a consolidation and discipline under Marlborough which made them, -as the Musketeers of the French king allowed, second to no troops in -Europe. But their triumphs, their organisation, even their existence, -was comparatively of recent date. The navy, on the other hand, had been -a recognised and constitutional force for more than a century, and had -enjoyed, from the dispersion of the Spanish Armada downwards, a series of -successes almost uninterrupted. It is true that the cannonade of a Dutch -fleet had been heard in the Thames, but few of the lowest seamen were so -ignorant as to attribute this national disgrace to want of courage in -their officers or incapacity in themselves. - -Their leaders, indeed, were usually more remarkable for valour than -discretion, nor was this surprising under the system by which captains -were appointed to their ships. - -A regiment and a three-decker were considered by the Government -equivalent and convertible commands. The cavalry officer of to-day might -find himself directing the manœuvres of a fleet to-morrow. The relics of -so untoward an arrangement may be detected in certain technical phrases -not yet out of use. The word “squadron” is even now applied alike to a -handful of horse and a powerful fleet, numbering perhaps a dozen sail of -the line. Raleigh, himself, began his fighting career as a soldier, and -Rupert finished his as a sailor. - -With such want of seamanship, therefore, amongst its commanders, our -navy must have possessed in its construction some great preponderating -influence to account for its efficiency. This compensating power was to -be found in its masters, its petty-officers, and its seamen. - -The last were thoroughly impregnated with the briny element on which they -passed their lives. They boasted themselves a race apart. “Land-lubber” -was for them a term conveying the utmost amount of derision and contempt. -To be an “old salt” was the ideal perfection at which alone it was worth -while for humanity to aim. The seaman, exulting in his profession, was -never more a seaman than when rolling about on shore, swearing strange -oaths, using nautical phrases, consuming vast quantities of beer and -tobacco, above all, flinging his money here and there with a profuse and -injudicious liberality especially distinctive of his kind. - -The popularity of such characters amongst the lower classes may be -readily imagined; for, with the uneducated and unreflecting, a reckless -bearing very generally passes for courage; a tendency to dissipation -for manliness; and a boastful expenditure for true generosity of heart. -Perhaps, to the erroneous impressions thus disseminated amongst the -young, should be attributed the inclination shown towards a service of -which the duties entailed continual danger, excessive hardship, and daily -privation. Certainly at a period when the worst provision was made, both -physical and moral, for the welfare of men before the mast, there never -seems to have been found a difficulty in keeping up the full complement -of the British navy. - -They were, indeed, a race apart, not only in their manners, their -habits, their quaint expressions, their simple modes of thought, but in -their superstitions and even their religious belief. They cultivated a -rough, honest kind of piety, well illustrated in later years by Dibdin, -himself a landsman, when he sang of - - “The sweet little cherub that sits up aloft - To take care of the life of poor Jack.” - -But it was overloaded and interspersed with a thousand strange fancies -not more incongruous than unreasonable and far-fetched. - -No power would induce them to clear out of port, or, indeed, commence -any important undertaking on a Friday. Mother Carey’s chickens were -implicitly believed to be messengers sent express from another world -to warn the mariner of impending storm, and bid him shorten sail ere -it began to blow. Carlmilhan, the famous pirate, who, rather than be -taken alive, had in default of gunpowder scuttled his own ship and gone -down with it, all standing, was still to be heard giving notice in deep -unearthly tones from under her very keel when the ship approached shoal -water, shifting sands, or treacherous coral reefs in the glittering seas -beneath the tropics. That phantom Dutchman, who had been provoked by -baffling winds about the Cape to speak “unadvisedly with his lips,” was -still to be seen in those tempestuous latitudes careering through the -storm-drift under a press of sail, when the best craft that swam hardly -dared show a stitch of canvas. The speaking-trumpet was still to be -heard from her deck, shouting her captain’s despairing request to take -his letters home, and the magic ship still disappeared at half-a-cable’s -length and melted into air, while the wind blew fiercer and the sea rose -higher, and sheets of rain came flashing down from the black squall -lowering overhead. - -Nor was it only in the wonders of this world that the tar professed his -unaccountable belief. His credulity ran riot in regions beyond the grave, -or, to use his own words, after he had “gone to Davy Jones.” A mystical -spot which he called Fiddler’s Green was for him both the Tartarus and -Elysium of the ancients—a land flowing, not indeed with milk and honey, -but with rum and limejuice; a land of perpetual music, mirth, dancing, -drinking, and tobacco; a land in which his weary soul was to find an -intervening spell of enjoyment and repose, ere she put out again for her -final voyage into eternity. - -In the meantime, the new arrival at the Fox and Fiddle, seating himself -at a small table in the public room, or tap as it would now be called, -ordered a quart of ale and half-a-pint of rum. These fluids he mingled -with great care, and sipped his beverage in a succession of liberal -mouthfuls, dwelling on each with an approving smack as a man drinks a -good bottle of claret. Butter-faced Bob, who waited on him, remarked that -he pulled out but one gold piece in payment, and knowing the ways of his -patrons, concluded it was his last, or he would have selected it from a -handful. The landlord remembered he had a customer in the parlour who -wanted just such articles as this burly broad-shouldered seaman, with -pockets at low water. - -The man did not, however, count his change when it was brought him, but -shovelled it into his seal-skin tobacco pouch, a coin or two short, -without looking at it. He then filled carefully, drank, and pondered with -an air of grave and imposing reflection. Long before his measure was -finished a second guest entered the tap-room, whose manners, gait, and -gestures were an exact counterpart of the first. He was taller, however, -and thinner, altogether less robust and prosperous-looking, showing a -sallow face and withered skin, that denoted he had spent much of his life -in hot climates. Though he looked younger than the other, his bearing was -more staid and solemn, nor did he at once vociferate for something to -drink. Beer seemed his weakness less than ’baccy, for he placed a small -copper coin on a box ingeniously constructed so that, opening only by -such means, it produced exactly the money’s worth of the fragrant weed, -and loading a pipe with a much-tattooed hand, proceeded to puff volumes -of smoke through the apartment. - -Butter-faced Bob, entering, cheerfully proffered all kinds of liquids as -a matter of course, but was received with surly negatives, and retired to -speculate on the extreme of wealth or poverty denoted by this abstinence. -A man, he thought, to be proof against such temptations must be either so -rich, and consequently so full of liquor that he was unable to drink any -more, or so poor that he couldn’t afford to be thirsty. - -So the last comer smoked in silence at a little table of his own, which -he had drawn into a corner, and his predecessor drank at _his_ table, -looking wiser and wiser, while each glanced furtively at the other -without opening his lips. Presently the eyes of the elder man twinkled: -he had got an idea—nay, he actually launched it. Filling his glass, and -politely handing it to the smoker, but reserving the jug to drink from -himself, he proposed the following comprehensive toast— - - “All ships at sea!” - -They both drank it gravely and without farther comment. It was a social -challenge, and felt to be such; the smoker pondered, put out the glass -he had drained to be refilled, and holding it on a level with his eyes, -enunciated solemnly— - - “All ships in port!” - -When equal justice had been done to this kindred sentiment, and the -navies of the world were thus exhausted, they came to a dead-lock and -relapsed into silence once more. - -This calm might have remained unbroken for a considerable time but for -the entrance of a third seaman, much younger than either of the former, -whose appearance in the passage had been received by a round of applause -from the children, a hearty greeting from the landlady—though that portly -woman, with her handsome face, would not have left her arm-chair to -welcome an admiral—and a “good-morrow,” louder, but not more sincere, -from Bob himself. It appeared that this guest was well known and also -trusted at the Fox and Fiddle, for, entering the public room with a -sea-bow and a scrape of his foot on its sanded floor, he called lustily -for a quart of strong ale and a pipe, while he produced an empty purse, -and shook it in the landlord’s face with a laugh of derision that would -have become the wealthiest nobleman in Great Britain. - -“Ay, lad,” said Bob, shaking his head, but setting before his customer -the beer and tobacco as desired. “’Tis well enough to begin a fresh score -when the old one’s wiped out; but I saw that purse, with my own eyes, -half full of broad pieces at the ebb. See now; you’ve gone and cleared it -out—not a blessed groat left—and it’s scarce high-water yet!” - -“What o’ that, old shiney?” laughed the other. “Isn’t there plenty more -to be yarned when them’s all gone? Slack water be hanged! I tell you I’ll -have a doubloon for every one of these here rain-drops afore a month’s -out. I know where they grows, old man; I know where they grows. My -sarvice to ye, mates! Here’s ‘Outward bound and an even keel!’” - -While he spoke he whirled the rain-drops off his shining hat upon the -floor, and nodding to the others, took a long pull at his ale, which -nearly emptied the jug; then he filled a pipe, winked at the retiring -landlord, and smoked in silence. The others scanned him attentively. He -was an active, well-built young fellow of two or three-and-twenty, with -foretopman written on every feature of his reckless, saucy, good-looking -face—in every gesture of his wiry, loose, athletic limbs. He was very -good-looking; his eyes sparkled with fun and his teeth were as white as a -lady’s; his hair too might have been the envy of many a woman, clustering -as it did in a profusion of curls over a pair of real gold earrings—a -fashion now beginning to find considerable favour amongst the rising -generation of seamen, though regarded with horror by their seniors as a -new and monstrous affectation, proving, if indeed proof were needed for -so self-evident a fact, that, as in all previous and subsequent ages, -“the service was going to the devil.” - -Even his joviality, however, seemed damped by the taciturnity of his -comrades. He too smoked in silence and gave himself up to meditation. The -rain pattered outside, and gusts of wind dashed it fitfully against the -window-pane. The tide moaned sullenly, and a house-dog, chained in the -back-yard, lifted up his voice to howl in unison. The three seamen smoked -and drank and brooded, each occasionally removing his pipe from his mouth -as if about to break the silence, on which the others looked in his face -expectant, and for a time this was the whole extent of the conversation. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THREE STRANDS OF A YARN - - -As in a council of war, the youngest spoke first. “Mates!” said he, -“here be three of us, all run for the same port, and never a one sported -bunting. I ain’t a chap, I ain’t, as must be brought to afore he’ll show -his number. When I drinks with a man I likes to fit his name on him -ship-shape, so here’s my sarvice to you messmates both! They calls me -Slap-Jack. That’s about what they calls _me_ both ashore and afloat.” - -It was absolutely necessary after such an exordium that more liquor -should be brought in, and a generous contention immediately arose between -the three occupants of the tap-room as to who should pay for it; at -once producing increased familiarity, besides a display of liberality -on the part of the eldest and first comer, who was indeed the only one -possessing ready money. Butter-faced Bob being summoned, the jugs were -replenished and Slap-Jack continued his remarks. - -“I’ve been cruising about ashore,” said he, between the whiffs of his -pipe, “and very bad weather I made on it standing out over them Downs, -as they calls ’em, in these here latitudes. Downs, says I, the Downs is -mostly smooth water and safe anchorage; but these here Ups and Downs -is a long leg and a short one, a head wind and an ebb tide all the -voyage through. I made my port, though, d’ye mind me, my sons, at last, -and—and—well, we’ve all had our sweethearts in our day, so we’ll drink -her health by your leave. Here’s to Alice, mates! and next round it shall -be _your_ call, and thank ye hearty.” - -So gallant a toast could not but be graciously accepted. The second -comer, however, shook his head while he did it justice, and drank, so -to speak, under protest, thereby in no measure abating the narrator’s -enthusiasm. - -“She’s a trim-built craft is my Alice,” continued the other reflectively. -“On a wind or off a wind, going large or close hauled, moored in dock or -standing out in blue water, there’s not many of ’em can show alongside -of she. And she’s weatherly besides, uncommon weatherly she is. When I -bids her good-bye at last, and gives her a bit of a squeeze, just for a -reminder like, she wipes her eyes, and she smiles up in my face, and, -‘God bless you, Jack!’ says she; ‘you won’t forget me,’ says she; ‘an’ -you’ll think of me sometimes, when it’s your watch on deck; and as for -me, Jack, I’ll think of you every hour of the day and night till you -comes back again; it won’t be so very long first.’ She’s heart of oak, -is that lass, mates, and I wouldn’t be here now but that I’m about high -and dry, and that made me feel a bit lubberly, d’ye see, till I got under -weigh for the homeward trip; an’ you’ll never guess what it was as raised -my spirits, beating to windward across them Downs, with a dry mouth and -my heart shrunk up to the size of a pea.” - -“A stiff glass of grog nor’-nor’-west?” suggested the oldest sailor, with -a grunt. “Another craft on the same lines, with new sails bent and a lick -of fresh paint on,” snarled the second, whose opinion of the fair sex, -derived chiefly from seaport towns, was none of the highest. - -“Neither one nor t’other,” replied Slap-Jack, triumphantly. “Scalding -punch wouldn’t have warmed my heart up just then, and I wasn’t a-goin’ -to clear out from Alice like that, and give chase to a fresh sail just -because she cut a feather across my fore-foot. It was neither more nor -less than a chap swinging in chains; a chap as had been swinging to -all appearance so long he must have got used to it, though I doubt he -was very wet up there in nothing but his bones. He might have been a -good-looking blade enough when he began, but I can’t say much for his -figure-head when I passed under it for luck. It wanted painting, mates, -let alone varnish, and he grinned awful in the teeth of the wind. So I -strikes my topmast as I forges ahead, and I makes him a low bow, and, -says I, ‘Thank ye kindly, mate,’ says I, ‘for putting it in my mind,’ -says I; ‘you’ve been “on the account,” in all likelihood, and that’s -where I’ll go myself next trip, see if I won’t;’ and I ask your pardon, -by sons, for you’re both older men than me by a good spell, if that isn’t -the trade for a lad as looks to a short voyage and good wages, every man -for himself, grab what you see, an’ keep all you can?” - -Thus appealed to, the elder seaman felt bound to give an opinion; so he -cleared his throat and asked huskily— - -“Have you _tried_ it, mate? You seems like a lad as has dipped both hands -in the tar-bucket, though you be but young and sarcy. Look ye, now, you -hoisted signals first, an’ I ain’t a-going to show a false ensign, I -ain’t. You may call me Bottle-Jack; you won’t be the first by a many, and -I ain’t ashamed o’ my name.” - -The next in seniority then removed the pipe from his lips, and smiting -the table with a heavy fist, observed, sententiously— - -“And me, Smoke-Jack, young man. It’s a rum name, ain’t it, for as smart a -foretopman as ever lay out upon a yard? but I’ve yarned it, that’s what I -sticks to. I’ve yarned it. Here’s your health, lad; I wish ye well.” - -The three having thus gone through all the forms necessary to induce a -long and staunch friendship amongst men of their class, Slap-Jack made a -clean breast of it, as if he had known his companions for years. - -“I _have_ tried it, mates,” said he; “and a queer game it is; but I -don’t care how soon I try it again. I suppose I must have been born a -landsman somehow, d’ye see? though I can’t make much of that when I -come to think it over. It don’t seem nat’ral like, but I suppose it was -so. Well, I remember as I runned away from a old bloke wot wanted to -make me a sawbones—a sawbones! and I took and shipped myself, like a -young bear, aboard of the ‘Sea Swallow,’ cabin-boy to Captain Delaval. -None o’ your merchantmen was the ‘Sea Swallow,’ nor yet a man-o’-war, -though she carried a royal ensign at the gaff, and six brass carronades -on the main-deck. She was a waspish craft as ever you’d wish to see, -an’ dipped her nose in it as though she loved the taste of blue water, -the jade!—wet, but weatherly, an’ such a picture as you never set eyes -on, close-hauled within five points of the wind. First they gammoned -me as she was a slaver, and then a sugar-merchant’s pleasure-boat, and -sometimes they said she was a privateer, with letters of marque from the -king; but I didn’t want to know much about that; King George or King -Louis, it made no odds, bless ye; I warn’t a goin’ to turn sawbones, an’ -Captain Delaval was _my_ master, that was enough for me! Such a master -he was, too! No seaman—not he. His hands were as white as a lady’s, -an’ I doubt if he knew truck from taffrail; but with old Blowhard, the -master, to sail her, and do what the skipper called swabbing and dirty -work, there wasn’t a king’s officer as ever I’ve heard of could touch -him. Such a man to fight his ship was Captain Delaval. I’ve seen him run -her in under a Spanish battery, with a table set on deck and a awning -spread, and him sitting with a glass of wine in his hand, and give his -orders as cool and comfortable as you and me is now. ‘Easy, Blowhard!’ -he’d sing out, when old ‘Blow’ was sweating, and cursing, and stamping -about to get the duty done. ‘Don’t ye speak so sharp to the men,’ says -he; ‘spoils their ear for music,’ says he. ‘We’ll be out o’ this again -afore the breeze falls, and we’ll turn the fiddles up and have a dance in -the cool of the evening.’ Then he’d smile at me, and say, ‘Slap-Jack, you -little blackguard, run below for another pineapple; not so rotten-ripe -as the last;’ and by the time I was on deck again, he’d be wiping his -sword carefully, and drawing on his gloves—that man couldn’t so much as -whistle a hornpipe without his gloves; and let who would be _second_ on -board the prize, be she bark, schooner, brig, galleon, or square-rigged -ship, Captain Delaval he would be _first_. Look ye here, mates: I made -two voyages with Captain Delaval, and when I stepped on the quay at -Bristol off the second—there! I was worth a hundred doubloons, all in -gold, besides as much silk as would have lined the foresail, and a -pair of diamond earrings that I lost the first night I slept ashore. I -thought, then, as perhaps I wasn’t to see my dandy skipper again, but I -was wrong. I’ve never been in London town but once, an’ I don’t care if I -never goes no more. First man I runs against in Thames Street is Captain -Delaval, ridin’ in a cart with his hands tied; and old Blowhard beside -him, smelling at a nosegay as big as the binnacle. I don’t think as old -‘Blow’ knowed me again, not in long togs; but the skipper he smiles, and -shows his beautiful white teeth as he was never tired of swabbing and -holystoning, and ‘There’s Slap-Jack!’ says he; ‘Good-bye, Slap-Jack; -I’ll be first man over the gunwale in this here scrimmage, too,’ says -he, ‘for they’ll hang me first, and then Blowhard, when he’s done with -his nosegay.’ I wish I could find such another skipper now; what say ye, -mates?” - -Smoke-Jack, who was sitting next him, did not immediately reply. He was -obviously of a logical and argumentative turn of mind, with a cavilling -disposition, somewhat inclined to speculative philosophy; such a -character, in short, as naval officers protest against under the title of -a lawyer. He turned the matter over deliberately ere he replied, with a -voluminous puff of smoke between each sentence— - -“Some likes a barky, and some wouldn’t touch a rope in any craft but a -schooner; and there’s others, again, swears a king’s cutter will show her -heels to the liveliest of ’em, with a stiffish breeze and a bobble of -sea on. I ain’t a-goin’ to dispute it. Square-rigged, or fore-and-aft, -if so be she’s well-found and answers her helm, I ain’t a-goin’ to say -but what she’ll make good weather of it the whole voyage through. Men -thinks different, young chap; that’s where it is. Now you asks me _my_ -opinion, and I’ll give it you, free. I’m a old man-of-war’s man, I am. -I’ve eat the king’s biscuit and drank the king’s allowance ever since I -were able to eat and drink at all. Now I’ll tell you, young man, a-cause -you’ve asked me, free. The king’s sarvice is a good sarvice; I ain’t -a-goin’ to say as it isn’t, but for two things: there’s too much of one, -and too little of the other. The fuss is the work, and the second is the -pay. If they’d halve the duty, and double the allowance, and send all -the officers before the mast, I ain’t goin’ to dispute but the king’s -sarvice would be more to my fancy than I’ve ever found it yet. You see -the difference atwixt one of our lads when he gits ashore and the Dutch! -I won’t say as the Dutchman is the better seaman, far from it; though -as long as he’s got a plank as’ll catch a nail, an’ a rag as’ll hold -a breeze, he’ll weather it _somehow_; nor I won’t say but what Mynheer -is as ugly a customer as a king’s ship can get alongside of, yard-arm -to yard-arm, and let the best man win! But you see him ashore! Spree, -young man? Why, a Dutchman _never_ has his spree out! You take and hail -a man before the mast, able seaman or what not, when he’s paid off -of a cruise—and mind ye, he doesn’t engage for a long spell, doesn’t -Mynheer—and he’ll tow you into dry dock, and set you down to your grub, -and blow you out with _schnaps_ as if he was a admiral. Such a berth as -he keeps ashore! Pots and pans as bright as the Eddystone; deck scoured -and holystoned, till you’d like to eat your rations off of it. Why, Black -Sam, him as was boatswain’s mate on board of the ‘Mary Rose,’ sitting -with me in the tap of the Golden Lion, at Amsterdam, he gets uneasy, -and he looks here and there an’ everywhere, first at the white floor, -then at the bright stove, turning his quid about and about, till at last -he ups and spits right in the landlord’s face. There _was_ a breeze -then! I’m not a-goin’ to deny it, but Sam he asks pardon quite gentle -and humble-like, ‘for what could I do?’ says he; ‘it was the only dirty -place I could find in the house,’ says he. Young chap, I’m not a-goin’ -to say as you should take and ship yourself on board a Dutchman; ’cause -why—maybe if he struck his colours and you was found atween decks, you’d -swing at the yard-arm, but if you be thinking of the king’s sarvice, and -you asks my advice, says I, think about it a little longer, says I. Young -chap, I gives you _my_ opinion, free. What say you, messmate? Bear a hand -and lower away, for I’ve been payin’ of it out till my mouth’s dry.” - -Bottle-Jack, who did not give his mouth a chance of becoming dry, took a -long pull at the beer before he answered; but as his style was somewhat -involved, and obscured besides by the free use of professional metaphors, -applied in a sense none but himself could thoroughly appreciate, I will -not venture to detail in his own words the copious and illustrative -exposition on which he embarked. - -It was obvious, however, that Bottle-Jack’s inclinations were adverse to -the regular service, and although he would have scouted such a notion, -and probably made himself extremely disagreeable to the man who broached -it, there was no question the old sailor had been a pirate, and deserved -hanging as richly as any ghastly skeleton now bleaching in its chains -and waving to the gusts of a sou’-wester on the exposed sky-line of -the Downs. By his own account he had sailed with the notorious Captain -Kidd, in the ‘Adventure’ galley, originally fitted out by merchants and -traders of London as a scourge for those sea-robbers who infested the -Indian Ocean, and whose enormities made honest men shudder at their bare -recital. The ‘Adventure,’ manned by some of the most audacious spirits -to be procured from the banks of the Thames and the Hudson, seemed, like -her stout commander, especially qualified for such a purpose. She carried -heavy guns, was well found in every respect, and possessed the reputation -of a fast sailer and capital sea boat. Kidd himself was an experienced -officer, and had served with distinction. He was intimately acquainted -with the eastern seas, and seemed in all respects adapted for an -expedition in which coolness, daring, and unswerving honesty of purpose -were indispensable qualifications. - -Accordingly, Captain Kidd sailed for the Indian coast, and Bottle-Jack, -by his own account, was boatswain’s mate on board the ‘Adventure.’ - -There is an old proverb, recommending the selection of a “thief to -catch a thief,” which in this instance received a new and singular -interpretation. Kidd was probably a thief, or at least a pirate, at -heart. No sooner had he reached his destination off the coast of Malabar, -than he threw off his sheep’s clothing, and appeared at once the -master-wolf in the predatory pack he was sent to destroy. Probably the -temptation proved too much for him. With his seamanship, his weight of -metal, and his crew, he could outsail, out-manœuvre, and outfight friends -and foes alike. It soon occurred to him that the former were easy and -lucrative prizes, the latter, bad to capture, and often not worth the -trouble when subdued. It was quicker work to gain possession at first -hand of silk and spices, cinnamon and sandal-wood, gold, silver, rum, -coffee, and tobacco, than to wait till the plunder had been actually -seized by another, and then, after fighting hard to retake it, obtain -but a jackal’s share from the Home Government. In a short space of -time there was but one pirate dreaded from the Cape of Good Hope to the -Straits of Malacca, and his name was Kidd. - -From Surat down to the mouth of the Tap-tee, Captain Kidd ruled like a -petty sovereign; Bottle-Jack, if he was to be believed, like a grand -vizier. Not only did they take tax and toll from every craft that swam, -but they robbed, murdered, and lorded it as unmercifully on dry land. -Native merchants, even men of rank and position, were put to torture, -for purposes of extortion, by day; peasants burned alive in their huts -to illuminate a seaman’s frolic by night. Her crew behaved like devils -broke loose ashore, and the ‘Adventure,’ notwithstanding a certain -discipline exacted by her commander, was, doubtless, a hell afloat. -Money, however, came in rapidly. Kidd, with all his crimes, possessed the -elements of success in method, organisation, and power of command. His -sailors forgot the horrors they had inflicted and their own degradation -when they counted the pile of doubloons that constituted their share of -plunder. Amongst the swarm of rovers who then swept the seas, Captain -Kidd was considered the most successful, and even in a certain sense, -notwithstanding his enormities, the most _respectable_ of all. - -Bottle-Jack did not appear to think the relation of his adventures in -any way derogatory to his own credit. He concluded with the following -peroration, establishing his position in the confident tone of a man who -is himself convinced of its justice:— - -“Wot I says, is this here. The sea was made for them as sails upon it, -and you ain’t a-goin’ to tell me as it can be portioned out into gardens -an’ orchards, and tobacco plantations, like the dirt we calls land. Werry -well, if the sea be free, them as sails upon it can make free with wot -it offers them. If in case now, as I’m look-out man, we’ll say, in the -maintop, and I makes a galleon of her, for instance, deep in the water -under easy sail, you’re not to tell me as because she shows Spanish -colours I’m not to take what I want out of her. Stow that, mates, for -it’s clean nonsense! The way old Kidd acted was this here—First, he -got her weather-gage; then he brought her to with a gun, civil and -reasonable; arter that, whether she showed fight, or whether she showed -friendly, he boarded her, and when he’d taken all he wanted, captain, -crew, and passengers just walked the plank, easy and quiet, and no words -about it.” - -“And the craft?” asked Slap-Jack, breathless with interest in the old -pirate’s reminiscences. - -“Scuttled her!” answered the other, conclusively. “Talking’s dry work. -Let’s have some more beer.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE PARLOUR-LODGER - - -There was a tolerably snug parlour under the roof of the Fox and Fiddle, -notwithstanding that its dimensions were small, its floor uneven, and its -ceiling so low that a solitary inmate could not but feel enlivened by -the company of the landlord’s family, who inhabited the rooms overhead. -This apartment, which was usually occupied by some skipper from beyond -seas, put forward certain claims to magnificence as well as comfort; -and although the vaguest attempts at cleanliness seemed to have been -suppressed, there was no little pretension apparent in the furniture, the -chimney ornaments, and the “History of the Prodigal Son” on the walls. -China shepherdesses stood on the mantelpiece, surmounted by the backbone -of a shark. Two gilt chairs, with frayed velvet cushions, supported an -unframed representation of a three-decker, with every available sail set, -and British colours flying at the main, stemming a grass-green sea, under -a sky of intense blue. A contracted square of real Turkey carpet covered -a few feet in the middle, and the rest of the floor, ornamented at -regular intervals by spittoons, stood inch-deep in dust. The hearth could -not have been swept for days, nor the smouldering fire raked out for -hours; but on a mahogany sideboard, that had obviously sustained at least -one sea-voyage, stood a dozen different drinking-measures, surrounding a -punch-bowl capacious enough to have baptized a full-grown pirate. - -The occupant of this chamber was sitting at the table engrossed by a task -that seemed to tax all his energies and employ his whole attention. He -was apparently no adept at accounts, and every time he added a column -afresh, and found its result differed from his previous calculation, he -swore a French oath in a whisper and began again. It was nearly dusk -before the landlord came in with the candles, when his guest looked up, -as if much relieved at a temporary interruption of work. - -Butter-faced Bob was a plausible fellow enough, well fitted for the -situation he filled, crimp, publican, free-trader, and, on occasion, -receiver of stolen goods. From the seaman in the tap, to the skipper in -the parlour, he prided himself on his facility in making conversation to -his customers, saying the right thing to each; or, as he expressed it, -“oiling the gear so as the crank should work easy.” - -Setting down the candles, therefore, he proceeded to lubrication without -delay. - -“Sorry shall we be to lose ye, Captain! and indeed it will drive me out -of the public line at last, to see the way as the best o’ friends must -part. My dame, she says to me, it was but this blessed day as I set down -to my nooning, says she, Bob, says she, whatever we shall do when the -Captain’s gone foreign, says she, I, for one, can’t tell no more than the -dead. You step round to the quay, says she, when you’ve a-taken a drink, -and see if ‘The Bashful Maid’ ha’n’t histed her blue-Peter at the fore, -and the Captain he’ll make a fair wind o’ this here sou’-wester, see if -he won’t, and maybe weigh at the ebb; an’ it’ll break my heart, let alone -the chil’en’s, to wish him a good voyage, it will. She’s about ready for -sea, Captain, _now_; I see them gettin’ the fresh water aboard myself.” - -The Captain, as his host called him, smiled good-humouredly. - -“Your dame will have many a better lodger than I have been, Bob,” said -he, fixing his bold eyes on the landlord, which the latter, who never -seemed comfortable under an honest man’s gaze, avoided by peering into -every corner of the room; “one that will stay longer with you, and -entertain more friends than I have done. What of that? The heaviest purse -makes the best lodger, and the highest score, the merriest landlord, at -every hostelry in Europe. Well, I shall be ready for sea now, when I’ve -got my complement; but I’m not going to cruise in the”—here the speaker -stopped short and corrected himself—“not going to cruise _anywhere_, -short-handed.” - -Bob’s eyes glistened, and he stole a look in the Captain’s face. - -“How many would you be wanting?” said he, cautiously, “and where would -they have to serve? First-class men is very bad to get hereaway, just -now.” - -“If I had a gunner, a boatswain’s-mate, and a good captain of the -foretop, I’d weigh next tide, and chance it,” replied the other, -cheerfully, but his chin fell while his eye rested on the pile of -accounts, and he wondered how he could ever comb them into shape for -inspection. - -Bob thought of the seamen still drinking in his tap-room, and the -obviously low state of their finances. It would work he decided, but it -must be done under three influences, viz., beer, secrecy, and caution. - -“Captain,” said he, shutting the door carefully, “I’d rather do you -a turn than any lodger I’ve had yet. If I can help you to a hand or -two, I’m the man as’ll do it. You’ll be willing to pay the expenses, I -suppose?” - -The Captain did not appear totally inexperienced in such matters, for, -on asking the amount and receiving for answer a sum that would have -purchased all the stock of liquors in the house over and over again, he -showed neither indignation nor surprise, but observed quietly— - -“Able seamen, of course?” - -“Of course!” repeated Bob. “Honour, you know, Captain, honour!” If he had -added “among thieves,” he would none the less clearly have expressed the -situation. Reflecting for a moment, he approached his guest and whispered -in his ear, “For the account?” - -“Ask me no questions,” answered the Captain, significantly. “You know as -well as I do that your price covers everything. Is it a bargain?” - -“That would make a difference, you see, Captain,” urged Bob, determined -to get all he could. “It’s not what it used to be, and the Government -is uncommon hard upon a look-out man now, if he makes a mistake in the -colours of a prize. In King James’s time, I’ve seen the gentlemen-rovers -drinking at this very table with the mayor and the magistrates, ay, and -sending up their compliments and what not, maybe, to the Lord-Lieutenant -himself. Why, that very mug as you see there was given me by poor -Captain Delaval; quite the gentleman he was! An’ he made no secret -where he took it from, nor how they cut the Portuguese chap’s throat -as was drinking from it in the after-cabin. And now, it’s as likely as -not the Whigs would hang a man in chains for such a thing. I tell you, -Captain, the hands don’t fancy it. They can’t cruise a mile along-shore -without running foul of a gibbet with a pi—I mean, with a skeleton on -it, rattling and grinning as if he was alive. It makes a difference, -Captain—it makes a difference!” - -“Take it or leave it,” replied the other, looking like a man who had made -his highest bid, which no consideration would induce him to increase by a -shilling. - -Bob evidently thought so. “A bargain be it,” said he, with a villainous -smile on his shining face, and muttering something about his wish to -oblige a customer and the high respect he entertained for his guest’s -character, in all its relations, public, private, and nautical, he -shambled out of the room, leaving the latter to tackle once more with his -accounts. - -A shade of melancholy crossed the Captain’s brow, deeper and darker than -was to be attributed to the unwelcome nature of his employment or the -sombre surroundings of his position. The light of two tallow-candles, -by which he worked was not indeed enlivening, bringing into indistinct -relief the unsightly furniture and the gloomy pictures on the walls. -The yard-dog, too, behind the house, had not entirely discontinued his -lamentations, and the dip and wash of a retiring tide upon the shingle -no farther off than the end of the street was like the voice from some -unearthly mourner in its solemn and continuous wail. It told of lonely -nights far out on the wild dark sea; of long shifting miles of surf -thundering in pitiless succession on the ocean shore; of mighty cliffs -and slabs of dripping rock, flinging back their defiance to the gale in -the spray of countless hungry, leaping waves, that toss and madden round -their prey ere she breaks up and goes to pieces in the storm. More than -all, it told of desolation, and doubt, and danger, and death, and the -uncertainty beyond. - -But to him, sitting there between the candles, his head bent over his -work, it seemed the voice of a counsellor and a friend. Each wave that, -fuller than ordinary, circled up with a fiercer lash, to ebb with a -louder, angrier, and more protracted hiss, seemed to brighten the man’s -face, and he listened like a prisoner who knows the step that leads him -out to life, and liberty, and love. At such times he would glance round -the room, congratulating himself that his charts, his instruments, his -telescope, were all safe on board, and perhaps, would rise, take a turn -or two, and open the window-shutter for a consoling look at a certain -bright speck in the surrounding darkness, which might be either in earth, -or sea, or air, and was indeed the anchor-light in the foretop of his -ship. Then he would return, refreshed and comforted, to his accounts. - -He was beginning to hope he had really got the better of these, and had -so far succeeded that two consecutive columns permitted themselves to be -added up with an appearance of probability, when an unusually long-drawn -howl from the house-dog, following the squeak of a fiddle, distracted him -from his occupation, and provoked him to swear once more in a foreign -tongue. - -It was difficult to make calculations, involving a thousand -probabilities, with that miserable dog howling at regular intervals. -It was impossible to speculate calmly on the value of his cargo, the -quantity of his powder, and the chances of peace and war. While he sat -there he knew well enough that his letters of marque would bear him out -in pouncing on any unfortunate merchantman he could come across under -Spanish colours, but there had been whispers of peace in London, and the -weekly news-letter (substitute for our daily paper), read aloud that -afternoon in the coffee-house round the corner, indorsed the probability -of these rumours. By the time he reached his cruising-ground, the treaty -might have been signed which would change a privateer into a pirate, and -the exploit that would earn a man his knighthood this week might swing -him at his own yard-arm the next. In those times, however, considerable -latitude, if not allowed, was at least claimed by these kindred -professions, and the calculator in the parlour of the Fox and Fiddle -seemed unlikely to be over-scrupulous in the means by which he hoped to -attain his end. - -He had resolved on earning, or winning, or taking, such a sum of money -as would render him independent of fortune for life. He had an object in -this which he deemed worthy of any sacrifice he could offer. Therefore he -had fitted out and freighted his brigantine partly at his own expense, -partly at that of certain confiding merchants in Leadenhall Street, so as -to combine the certain gains of a peaceful trader with the more hazardous -venture of a licensed sea-robber who takes by the strong hand. If the -license should expire before his rapacity was satisfied, he would affect -ignorance while he could, and when that was no longer practicable, throw -off all disguise and hoist the black flag openly at the main. - -To this end he had armed his brigantine with the heaviest guns she could -carry; had taken in store of provisions, water, spare tackle, gunpowder, -pistols, cutlasses, and musquetoons; had manned her with the best seamen -and wildest spirits he could lay hands on. These items had run up a -considerable bill. He was now preparing a detailed statement of the cost, -for the information of his friends in Leadenhall Street. - -And all this time, had he only known it, fortune was preparing for him, -without effort on his part, the independence he would risk life and -character to gain. That very sou’-wester wailing up the narrow street was -rattling the windows of a castle on a hill hundreds of miles away, and -disturbing the last moments of a dying man in his lordly bed-chamber; was -driving before it, over a bleak, barren moor, pelting storms of rain to -drench the cloaked and booted heir, riding post to reach that death-bed; -sowing in a weak constitution the seeds of an illness that would allow -him but a brief enjoyment of his inheritance; and the next in succession, -the far-off cousin, was making up his accounts in the humble parlour of a -seaport pot-house, because he was to sail for the Spanish main with the -next tide. - -“One, two, tree!”—thump—“one, two, tree!”—thump—“_Balancez! Chassez. Un, -deux, trois!_” Thump after thump, louder and heavier than before. The -rafters shook, the ceiling quivered. The Captain rose, irritated and -indignant, to call fiercely for the landlord. - -Butter-faced Bob, anticipating a storm, wisely turned a deaf ear, -ensconcing himself in the back kitchen, whence he refused to emerge. - -The Captain shouted again, and receiving no answer walked into the -passage. - -“Stow that noise!” he hallooed from the foot of the half-dozen wooden -steps that led to the upper floor. “Who is to get any business done with -a row like that going on aloft, as if the devil was dead and the ship -gone overboard?” The Captain’s voice was powerful and his language plain, -but the only reply he received was a squeak from the fiddle, a wail from -the dog, and a “One, two, tree”—thump—louder than ever. - -His patience began to fail. - -“Zounds! man,” he broke out; “will you leave off that cursed noise, or -must I come up and _make_ you?” - -Then the fiddle stopped, the dog was silent, and children’s voices were -heard laughing heartily. - -The last sound would have appeased the Captain had his wrath been ever so -high, but a strange, puzzled expression overspread his features while he -received the following answer in an accent that denoted the speaker was -no Englishman. - -“You are a rude, gross man. I sall continue my instructions to my -respectable young friends in the dance wizout your permission. -_Monsieur_, you are insolent. _Tiens!_” - -The last word carried with it such an amount of anger, defiance, and -contempt as can only be conveyed in that monosyllable by a Frenchman. The -Captain’s frown changed to a broad smile, but he affected wrath none the -less, while he exclaimed in a coarse, sailor-like voice— - -“Insolent! you dancing dog of a Mounseer! Insolent! I’ll teach _you_ -manners afore I’ve done with you. If you don’t drop it _now_, this -instant, I’ll come aloft in a pig’s whisper, and pull you down by the -ears!” - -“Ears! _Les oreilles!_” repeated the voice above stairs, in a tone -of repressed passion, that seemed to afford his antagonist intense -amusement. “_Soyez tranquil, mes enfants._ My children, do not derange -yourselves. Sir, you have insulted me; you have insulted my society. You -shall answer me. _Monsieur! vous allez me rendre raison!_” - -Thus speaking, the dancing-master, for such was the foreign gentleman -whose professional avocations the parlour-lodger had interrupted, made -his appearance at the head of the stairs, with a small fiddle under -his arm and a sheathed rapier in his hand; the passage below was quite -dark, but the light from an open door behind him brought his figure into -relief, whilst the skipper, on the contrary, remained unseen in the -gloom. Notwithstanding that the one was in a towering passion, the other -shook with suppressed laughter. - -“Come on,” he shouted roughly, though he could scarce command his voice, -adding in a more natural tone, and with a perfect French accent—“_On -prétend, dans les Mousquetaires du Roi, que Monsieur est de la première -force pour l’epée!_” - -The effect was instantaneous. With one spring the dancing-master was upon -him, kissing both his cheeks, hugging him in his arms, and repeating, -with eyes full of tears— - -“Captain George! Captain George! My comrade, my captain, my officer; and -I thought I was without a friend in this miserable country; without a -friend and without a _sou_! Now I have found the one, I don’t care about -the other. Oh, what happiness! What fortune! What luck!” - -The former Captain of Musketeers seemed equally pleased, if in a less -demonstrative manner, at this unexpected meeting, though he had been -better prepared for so strange a termination of their dispute by his -recognition of the other’s voice before he caught sight of his figure. -Now he pulled him into the parlour, sent for Butter-faced Bob to fill the -capacious punch-bowl, pressed him into a chair with both hands on his -shoulders, and looked gravely into his face, saying— - -“Eugène, I owe you my life, and I am a man who never left a debt unpaid.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -A VOLUNTEER - - -Beaudésir, by the wretched light of two tallow-candles, looked paler, -thinner, more dejected, than even that pale, thin, anxious recruit who -had joined the Grey Musketeers with so formidable a character as a -master of defence some months before. No wonder. He was an enthusiast at -heart, and an enthusiast can seldom withstand the pressure of continuous -adversity. A temporary gleam of sunshine, indeed, warms him up to the -highest pitch of energy, daring, and intellectual resource; nay, he will -battle nobly against the fiercest storm so long as the winds blow, the -thunder peals overhead, and less exalted spirits fly cowering to the -nearest shelter; but it is in a bitter, bleak, protracted frost that he -droops and fades away. Give him excitement, even the excitement of pain, -and he becomes a hero. Put him to mere drudgery, though it be the honest -drudgery of duty, and he almost ceases to be a man. - -There is, nevertheless, something essentially elastic in the French -character, which even in such a disposition as Beaudésir’s preserved -him from giving way to utter despair. Though he might well be excused -for repining, when thus compelled to gain his bread by teaching the -landlord’s children to dance at a low pot-house, yet this young man’s -natural temperament enabled him to take interest even in so unworthy an -occupation, and he was jealous enough of their progress to resent that -rude interruption he experienced from the parlour with a flash of the old -spirit cherished in the King’s Musketeers. - -Still he looked pale and wan, nor was it till George had forced on him a -beaker of steaming punch that his eye recovered its brightness and the -blood mantled once more in his clear sallow cheek. - -“And you escaped them?” said the Captain, reverting to the fatal night -of their affray in the Montmirail gardens. “Escaped them without a -scratch! Well, it was ten to one against you, and I cursed the Duke with -all my heart as I galloped on towards the coast when I thought of your -predicament. Guard-room, court-martial, confession, and a firing party -was the best I could wish you; for on the reverse of the card I pictured -a _lettre de cachet_, and imprisonment for life in Vincennes or the -Bastile! But how did you get away? and above all, how did you elude the -search afterwards?” - -Eugène wet his lips with the hot punch, which he seemed to relish less -than his more robust comrade, and looked distrustfully about him while he -replied— - -“I had little difficulty in extricating myself from the gardens, my -Captain, for when I had disposed of Bras-de-Fer, there was no _real_ -swordsman left. The Musketeers fight well, no doubt; but they are yet -far from true perfection in the art, and their practice is more like our -fishermen’s cudgel-play than scientific fencing. I wounded two of them -slightly, made a spring at the wall, and was in the street at the moment -you entered the Prince-Marshal’s carriage. My difficulty then was, where -to conceal myself. I do not know Paris thoroughly, to begin with, and I -confess I shuddered at the idea of skulking for weeks in some squalid -haunt of vice and misery. I think I had rather have been taken and shot -down at once.” - -“You would not have been safe even in dens like those,” interrupted -the other. “Our Débonnaire is not so refined in his orgies but that I -believe every garret in the Faubourgs is frequented by himself and his -_roués_. Bah! when we drew pay from Louis le Grand at least we served a -_gentleman_. The Jesuits would have been your best chance. Why did you -not take refuge with _them_?” - -Eugène shuddered, and the pale face turned paler still, but he did not -answer the question. - -“When we used to hunt the hare in Normandy,” he resumed, “I have -observed that, if hard pressed, she would return to her form, and often -thus made her escape, whereas the wolf and the stag, flying straight -away, were generally run down. Like the hare, then, I doubled back and -lay hid in the very house where I habitually lodged. It was the first -place they searched, but they never came near it again; and the second -day an old comrade found me out, took me to his own home, and furnished -me with a disguise.” - -“An old comrade!” repeated the Captain. “_Bravo!_ Ah! we had always -plenty of _esprit de corps_ in the Musketeers. It was Adolphe, I’ll wager -a crown, or the young Count de Guiches, or Bellegarde!” - -“None of these, my Captain,” explained Eugène. “It was no Musketeer; -Black, Red, or Grey. When I said comrade, I meant an old college friend. -It was an Abbé. I know not why I should keep it secret. Abbé Malletort.” - -The Captain pondered. “Abbé Malletort!” said he. “That is more than -strange. The Regent’s confidant; his chief adviser, men said; his -principal favourite! He must have had some reason—some deep-laid scheme -of double treachery. I know the man. A smooth-spoken churchman; a -pleasant fellow to drink with, and a good judge of drill. But if it was -his interest to betray the poor thing, I wouldn’t trust him with the life -of a dog!” - -“You little know him,” urged the other, eagerly. “Generous, kind, and -secret—had it not been for his advice and his exertions I should never -have got away alive. He kept me a fortnight in his apartment, till the -heat of the pursuit was over and Paris had ceased to talk of our affray, -which everybody believed an organised conspiracy of the Huguenots—of the -Jansenists—of the young King’s party—of the British Government. What -shall I say?—of the Great Mogul. I did not dare show myself, of course. -I could only hear the news from my friend, and I saw him but seldom. I -was forced to leave Paris at last without knowing how far the disturbance -affected the ladies in whose grounds it took place. I tried hard to find -out, but it was impossible.” - -The Captain glanced sharply in his face, and took a strong gulp at the -punch. Eugène continued:— - -“I got through the barrier with an Italian company of jugglers, disguised -as a Pantaleone. It was not too amusing to be obliged to perform antics -for the amusement of the Guard, fortunately they were of the Prince de -Condé’s regiment, which had just marched into Paris. But the mountebanks -were good people, kindly, and perfectly trustworthy. They were polite -enough to say that I might make an excellent livelihood if I would but -take in earnest to the business. I left them at Rouen, and from that -place reached the seaboard on foot. My object was to take refuge in -England. Here alone I felt I should be safe for a time, and when the -storm should blow over I hoped to return again. I little knew what a -climate it is! what a country! what people! They are somewhat better -when you are used to them, and I own I accustom myself more easily -than I could have believed to their beef, their beer, their barbarous -language, and their utter want of politeness. But they have been kind to -me, these rough islanders. It was an English fishing-boat that landed -me from Havre, and the fisherman made me stay a week in his house for -nothing because he discovered accidentally that I had exhausted my purse -to pay for my passage. Since then, my Captain, I have supported myself -by teaching these awkward English to dance. It is a noble exercise after -all, were they not so stiff, so ungraceful! And yet my pupils make -progress! These children above stairs have already begun the minuet. -Egotist that I am! Tell me, my Captain, how you too come to find yourself -in this miserable town, without gardens, without barriers, without -barracks, without _Hôtel de Ville_, without a church, even without an -opera!” - -The Captain smiled. “You have a good right to ask,” said he, “since, but -for you, I should not have been here at this moment. When I drew on the -Regent that night, as I would have drawn on the young King himself had -I seen him guilty of such an outrage, I was, as you know, surrounded -and attacked by an escort of my own men. I tell you, Beaudésir, I never -expected to leave the gardens alive, and I do not believe there is -another fencer in France who could have helped me out of so awkward a -scrape. I was sorry to see our old Bras-de-Fer go down, I admit; but -what would you have? When it’s give and take, thrust and parry, ten -against two, one cannot stand on these little delicacies of feeling. As I -vanished through the garden-gate I looked for you everywhere, but there -was no time to lose, and I thought we could escape more easily separate -than in company. I knew you were neither down nor taken, because there -was no shout of triumph from the men to announce the fact. The Prince du -Chateau-Guerrand, my old general, was standing at the door of his coach -when I gained the street. How he came there I am at a loss to guess, for -you may believe I asked no questions; but that you and he should have -dropped from the clouds at the Hôtel Montmirail, in the moment of my -need, is one of those happy strokes of accident by which battles are won, -and which we call fortune of war. I thought him a martinet when I was on -his staff, with his everlasting parades, and reports, and correspondence, -to say nothing of his interminable stories about Turenne, but I always -knew his heart was in the right place. ‘Jump in!’ said he, catching me by -the arm. ‘Drive those English horses to death, and take the coach where -you will!’ In five minutes we were out of Paris, and half a league off on -our way to the coast. - -“I hope the English horses may have survived the journey, but they -brought me to my first relay as fast as ever I went in the saddle, and I -knew that with half an hour’s start of everything I was safe. Who was to -question a Captain of King’s Musketeers riding post for England on the -Regent’s business? The relays were even so good that I had time to stop -and breakfast comfortably, at leisure, and to feed my horse, half-way -through the longest stage. - -“I had little delay when I reached the Channel. The wind was easterly, -and before my horse had done shaking himself on the quay, an honest -fellow had put his two sons, a spare oar, and a keg of brandy, on board a -shallop about as weatherly as an egg-shell, hoisted a sail the size of a -pocket-handkerchief, and stood out manfully with a following wind and an -ebb tide. I know the Channel well, and I was as sure as he must have been -that the wind would change when the tide turned, and we should be beating -about, perhaps in a stiffish breeze, all night. It was not for me to -baulk him, however, and I only stipulated for a loaf or two of bread and -a beaker of water in the bows. I tell you before they led my horse to the -stable, we were a cable’s length off shore. - -“A fair wind, Eugène, does not always make a short voyage. At sundown -it fell to a dead calm. The lads and the old man, and I, who speak to -you, took our turns, and pulled like galley-slaves at the oars. With the -moon-rise, a light breeze came up from the south-west, and it freshened -by degrees till at midnight it was blowing half a gale. The egg-shell -behaved nobly, and swam like a duck, but it took all the old man’s time -to steer her, and the sons said as many _Aves_ before dawn as would have -lasted a whole convent for a month. - -“At one time I feared we must put her head about, and run for it, on the -chance of making Ambleteuse, or even Calais, but the old fellow who owned -her had a conscience, and to give him his due he was a first-rate sailor. -The wind moderated at sunrise, drawing round by the south, and at noon we -had made Beachy Head, when it fell a dead calm, with a ground swell that -was no child’s play when we laid out on our oars. By dint of hard pulling -we ran her ashore on the English coast about sundown, and my friend put -off again with his two sons, none the worse for the voyage, and all the -better for some twenty gold pieces with which I paid my passage. He -deserved it, for he earned it fairly. She was but an egg-shell, as I said -before, but she swam like a duck; it’s only fair to allow that.” - -“And now, my Captain,” asked Beaudésir, looking round the -strangely-furnished apartment, “you are living here? you are settled? you -are a householder? Are you reconciled to spend your life in this dirty -little town, ill-paved, ill-lighted, smelling of salt water and tar, -where it always rains, and they bring you nothing to drink but black beer -and hot punch?” - -Captain George laughed heartily. “Not such a bad thing that hot punch,” -said he, “when you can get neither Chambertin, Burgundy, nor Bourdeaux. -But I understand you nevertheless, comrade. It is not likely that a man -who has served Louis le Grand in the Musketeers would be content to -vegetate here like a wisp of seaweed left at high-water mark. It was -lucky I met you to-night. In twenty-four hours, at most, I hope to be off -the Needles if the wind holds.” - -Beaudésir looked interrogatively at the pile of accounts on the table. - -“You have turned trader, my Captain?” said he. “You will make a fortune -in two voyages. At College they pretended I had some skill in reading -characters. You have luck written on your forehead. I wish I was going -with you, were it only as a clerk.” - -Captain George pondered for a while before he answered, nay, he filled -and emptied his glass, took two or three turns in the narrow apartment, -which admitted indeed but of what sailors called “a fisherman’s walk—two -steps and overboard,” and finally, pulling back the shutter, pointed to -the light in the foretop of his brigantine. - -“You won’t catch me afloat again,” said he, “in a craft like a -walnut-shell, with a scrap of paper for a sail. No, no. There she rides, -my lad, the lady that would take me round the world, and never wet a -stitch on my back from head to heel. Why, close-hauled, in a stiff -breeze, there’s not a King’s cutter in the Channel can hold her own with -her; and off a wind, she’d have the whole fleet hull-down in six hours, -making such good weather of it, too, all the while! I wish you could see -her by daylight, with her straight run, and her raking masts, and bran -new spars, and a fresh lick of paint I gave her in dock before we came -round. She looks as trim as a pincushion, and as saucy as a dancing-girl. -She carries a few popguns too, in case of accidents; and when she shows -her teeth, she means to bite, you may take your oath! I’ll tell you what, -Eugène, you must come on board to-morrow before I weigh. I should like to -show you over ‘The Bashful Maid’ myself, and I hope to get my anchor up -and shake out my foretopsail with the afternoon tide.” - -Landsman, Frenchman, though he was, Beaudésir’s eyes kindled, and he -caught his friend’s enthusiasm like wildfire. - -“I would give my right arm to be going with you,” said he. “Excitement, -adventure, storms, seamanship, and all the wonders of the tropics! -While for me, muddy beer, gloomy fogs, dirty streets, and clumsy English -children learning to dance! Well! every man to his trade. Here’s a good -voyage to you and my best wishes!” - -Again he wet his lips with the punch, now grown cold and sticky in his -glass. Captain George was so preoccupied, he forgot to acknowledge the -courtesy. - -“Can you keep accounts?” he asked abruptly, pointing to the papers on the -table. - -“Any schoolboy might keep such as these,” answered Eugène, running -his eye over one of the columns, and adding, as he examined it, -“Nevertheless, my Captain, here is an error that will falsify the whole -sum.” - -He pointed to a mistake in the numerals that had repeatedly escaped -the other’s observation, and from which much of his labour had arisen. -In a few minutes, he had gone through, and corrected as many pages of -calculation. The figures came right now, as if by magic. Captain George -had found what he wanted. - -“Where did you learn all this?” he inquired in astonishment. - -“At Avranches, in Normandy,” was the answer. - -“Where they taught you to fence?” - -“Precisely; and to shoot with musquetoon or pistol. I can pick the ace of -diamonds off a card at fifteen paces with either weapon.” - -He spoke modestly, as he always did of his proficiency in such feats of -skill. They came so easily to him. - -“Will you sail with me?” asked George frankly. “You can help me with my -papers, and earn your share of the plun―I should say of the profits. No, -my friend! you shall not leap blindfold. Listen. I have letters of marque -in my cabin, and I mean them to hold good whether peace be proclaimed or -not. It may be, we shall fight with a rope round our necks. The gains are -heavy, but the risk is great.” - -“I never count risk!” was the reply. - -“Then finish the punch!” said Captain George; and thus the bargain was -ratified, which added yet one more to the _rôle_ of characters Beaudésir -was destined to enact on the stage of life. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -THREE PRESSED MEN - - -While the occupants of the parlour were sipping punch those of -the tap-room had gone systematically through the different stages -of inebriety—the friendly, the argumentative, the captious, -the communicative, the sentimental, the quarrelsome, the -maudlin-affectionate, and the extremely drunk. By nightfall, neither -Smoke-Jack, Bottle-Jack, nor Slap-Jack could handle a clay-pipe without -breaking it, nor fix their eyes steadily on the candle for five -consecutive moments. Notwithstanding, however, the many conflicting -opinions that had been broached during their sitting, there were certain -points on which they agreed enthusiastically—that they were the three -finest fellows under the sun, that there was no calling like seamanship, -no element like salt water, and no craft in which any one of them had yet -sailed so lively in a sea-way as this, which seemed now to roll and pitch -and stagger beneath their besotted senses. With a confirmed impression, -varied only by each man’s own experience, that they were weathering a -gale under considerable difficulties, in a low latitude, and that it was -their watch on deck, though they kept it somewhat unaccountably below, -all three had gone through the abortive ceremony they called “pricking -for the softest plank,” had pulled their rough sea-coats over their -heads, and lain down on the floor among the spittoons, to sleep out the -dreamless sleep of intoxication. - -Long before midnight, Butter-faced Bob, looking in, well satisfied, -beheld his customers of the afternoon now transformed into actual goods -and chattels, bales of bone and sinew and courage, that he could -sell, literally by weight, at an enormous price, and for ready money. -While he turned the light of his candle from one sleeper to another, -he was running over a mental sum comprising all the elementary rules -of arithmetic. He added the several prices of the recumbent articles -in guineas. He subtracted the few shillings’-worth of liquor they -had consumed. He multiplied by five the hush-money he expected, over -and above, from the purchaser, and finally, he divided the total, in -anticipation, between himself, his wife, the tax-gatherer, and the most -pressing of his creditors. - -When he had finished these calculations, he returned to the parlour, -where Captain George sat brooding over the remains of his punch, the late -enlisted recruit having retired to pack up his fiddle and the very small -stock of clothes he possessed. - -Their bargain was soon concluded, although there was some little -difficulty about delivering the goods. Notwithstanding, perhaps in -consequence of, the many cases of oppression that had stained the last -half of the preceding century, a strong reaction had set in against -anything in the shape of “kidnapping”; and a press-gang, even for a -king’s ship, was not likely to meet with toleration in the streets of a -seaport town. Moreover, suspicions had already been aroused as to the -character of ‘The Bashful Maid.’ A stricter discipline seemed to be -observed on board that wicked-looking craft than was customary even in -the regular service, and this unusual rigour was accounted for by the -lawless conduct of her “liberty-men” when they _did_ come ashore. Nobody -knew better than her Captain that, under the present aspect of political -affairs in London, it would be wise to avoid notice by the authorities. -The only thing he dreaded on earth and sea was a vision, by which he was -haunted daily, till he could get all his stores shipped. It represented -a sloop-of-war detached from the neighbouring squadron in the Downs, -coming round the Point, dropping her anchor in the harbour, and sending a -lieutenant and boat’s crew on board to overhaul his papers, and, maybe, -summarily prevent his beautiful craft from standing out to sea. - -Neither was Butter-faced Bob rash or indiscreet where his own interests -were affected. Using a metaphor he had picked up from his customers, it -was his boast that he could “keep a bright look-out, and steer small” -with the best of them; and he now impressed on Captain George, with -great earnestness, the necessity of secrecy and caution in getting the -three fresh hands down to the quay and tumbling them up the side of the -brigantine. - -Had the Captain known their inclinations, he might have made his own -bargain, and saved three-fourths of the expense, but his landlord took -care that in such cases the principals should never come together, -telling the officers they could make what terms they chose when the men -found themselves fairly trapped and powerless in blue water, while he -kept the latter in a state of continuous inebriety so long as they dwelt -in his house, which rendered them utterly reckless of everything but -liquor and tobacco. - -His shining face wore the well-satisfied expression of a man who has -performed a good action, while he motioned with his thumb to the -adjoining tap-room. - -“I’ve a cart ready in the back yard,” said he, “and a few empty casks to -tumble in along with our chaps. It will only look like the fresh water -going aboard, so as you may weigh with the morning tide. Will they send a -boat off if you show a light?” - -Captain George nodded. The boatswain whom he had left in charge, and on -whom he could rely, had directions for a certain code of signals, amongst -which, the waving of a lantern thrice from the end of the quay was to be -answered by a boat ashore. - -“We’d best get them in at once, then,” said Bob, only anxious now to be -rid of his guests. “I’ll go and put the horse to, and perhaps you and me -and the French gentleman, as he seems a friend of yours, can manage it -between us.” - -Accordingly, Bob betook himself to the back yard and the stable, while -Beaudésir was summoned to assist the process of embarkation. In ten -minutes all was prepared, and it was only necessary to lift the three -drunken tars into the carriage provided for them. - -With the two elder and heavier men there was no difficulty. They grunted, -indeed, impatiently, though without opening their eyes, and seemed to -sleep as soundly, while being dragged along a dusty passage and hoisted -into a narrow cart amongst empty water-casks, as if they took their rest -habitually under such disadvantages; but Slap-Jack’s younger constitution -had not been so completely overcome, and it was necessary to soothe him -by a fiction which has possessed in all times an indescribable charm for -the seafaring imagination. - -Bob whispered impressively in his ear that he had been sent for, thus -in the dead of night, by the Admiral’s daughter, who had conceived for -him a fatal and consuming passion, having seen him in his “long togs” in -the street. Muttering inarticulately about “Alice,” Slap-Jack at once -abandoned himself to the illusion, and dropped off to sleep again, with -delightful anticipations of the romantic fate in store for him. - -As the wheels rumbled over the rough streets, through the rainy gusts -and the dark night, followed by Captain George and Beaudésir, the latter -could not but compare the vehicle to a dead-cart, carrying away its -burden through some city stricken with the plague. This pleasing fancy he -communicated to his comrade, who made the following inconsequent reply— - -“I only hope the harbour-watch may be as drunk as they are. It’s our best -chance to get them aboard without a row. There’s her light Eugène. If the -sky would lift a little, you might make out her spars, the beauty! but -I’m almost afraid now you’ll have to wait for dawn.” - -The harbour-watch was drunk, or at least fast asleep in the sentry-box on -wheels that afforded him shelter, and the sky did _not_ lift in the least -degree; so very soon after the waving of the lantern a boat from ‘The -Bashful Maid’ touched the stone steps of the quay, having been cunningly -impelled thither by a screw-driving process, worked with one oar at the -stern, and which made far less noise than the more powerful practice of -pulling her with even strokes. - -Two swarthy ill-looking fellows sat in the boat, and a scowl passed over -their features when they saw their Captain’s attitude of precaution, -with one hand on the pistol he wore at his belt. Perhaps they were -disappointed not to be able to elude his vigilance, and have one more -run on shore before they sailed. It was no use trying to “gammon the -skipper,” though. They had discovered that already, and they lent their -aid with a will, when they found it must be so, to place their future -comrades in the same predicament as themselves. - -The whole affair was managed so quietly that, even had the harbour-guard, -a brandy-faced veteran of sixty, remained wide-awake and perfectly sober, -he might have been excused for its escaping his vigilance. Bob himself, -standing with his empty cart on the quay, could hardly hear the dip of -the oars as his late guests were pulled cautiously away. He did not -indeed remain there very long to listen. He had done with them one and -all—for was not the score paid? and it behoved him to return home and -prepare for fresh arrivals. He turned, therefore, with a well-satisfied -glance towards the light in the foretop of the brigantine, and wished -‘The Bashful Maid’ a good voyage, while at the same moment Beaudésir -stumbled awkwardly up her side. To the latter this was, indeed, a new and -startling phase of life, but it was full of excitement, and consequently -very much to his taste. Captain George, taking him below, and pointing -out a couch in his cabin on which to pass the rest of the night, though -he had seen a good deal of worse material for a privateer’s-man, or -even a pirate, than this pale gentle young adventurer, late of the Grey -Musketeers. - -Covered by a boat-cloak, and accommodated with two or three cushions, -Eugène’s bed was quite as comfortable as that which he occupied at the -Fox and Fiddle. It was long past sunrise when he awoke, and realising -his position he ran on deck with a landsman’s usual conviction that -he was already miles out at sea. It was startling, and a little -disappointing, to observe the quay, the straggling buildings of the town, -the lighthouse, and other well-known objects within musket-shot, and to -find that the brigantine, in spite of her lively motions, still rode at -anchor, not half a cable’s length from a huge, smooth, red buoy, which -was dancing and dipping in the morning sun as if it were alive. There was -a fresh breeze off shore, and a curl on the green sparkling water that, -far away down Channel, beyond the point, swelled into a thousand varying -lines of white, while a schooner in the offing might be observed standing -out to sea with a double reef in her topsails. One of the crew, sluicing -the deck with a bucket of water, that eddied round Eugène’s feet, pointed -her out to his mate with an oath, and the mate, a tall strong negro, -grinning hideously, replied “Iss! very well!” - -‘The Bashful Maid’ herself, rising buoyantly to each succeeding wave, ere -with a dip and toss of her bows she sent the heavy spray-drops splashing -over her like a seabird, seemed chafing with eagerness to be off. There -was but little of the bustle and confusion on board usually produced by -clearing out of port. The deck, though wet and slippery, was as clean as -a dinner-plate, the yards were squared, the ropes coiled, new sails had -been bent, and the last cask of fresh water was swinging over the hold: -trim and taut, every spar and every sheet seemed to express “Outward -bound,” not to mention a blue-Peter flying at the fore. - -All this Eugène observing, began to suffer from an uncomfortable -sensation in the pit of his stomach, which parched his mouth, depressed -his spirits, and destroyed his appetite. He was not, however, so much -affected by it but that he could take note of his fellow-voyagers, an -occupation sufficiently interesting when he reflected on the probable -result of their preparations. In his experience of life he had never -yet seen such an assemblage. The crew had indeed been got together with -considerable care, but with utter disregard to nationality or uniformity -of any kind. The majority were Englishmen, but there were also Swedes, -Dutch, French, Portuguese, a negro, and even a Spaniard on board. The -brigantine was strongly manned for her size, and the hands, with scarcely -an exception, were stout daring fellows, capable of any exploit and a -good many enormities, but such as a bold commander, cool, judicious, and -determined, might bring into a very efficient state of discipline. Eugène -could not but remark, however, that on the face of each was expressed -impatience of delay, and an ardent desire to be in blue water. The -liberty to go on shore had been stopped, and indeed the pockets of these -gentlemen-adventurers, as the humblest of them called themselves, were -completely cleaned out. Obviously, therefore, it would be well to lose no -time in refilling them. - -Leaning over the side, lazily watching the lap and wash of the leaping -water, Eugène was rapidly losing himself in his own thoughts, when, -rousing up, he felt the Captain’s hand on his shoulder, and heard the -Captain’s voice whisper in his ear:— - -“Come below with me; I shall want your assistance by-and-by, and you have -had no breakfast yet.” - -His qualms took flight at the prospect of fresh excitement, though the -offer of breakfast was received with little enthusiasm, and he followed -the Captain into his comfortable and well-furnished cabin. Here he -learned that, while he was sleeping, George had hailed a fishing-boat -returning warily into harbour, and, under pretence of buying fresh fish, -boarded her with a bottle or two of spirits and a roll of tobacco. In ten -minutes he extracted all the fisherman had to tell, and discovered that a -large King’s ship was cruising in the offing, watching, as his informant -opined, the very port in which they lay. Under these circumstances, -Captain George considered it would be prudent to wait till midnight, when -they might run out of the harbour, with wind and tide in their favour, -and so showing the man-of-war a clean pair of heels, be hull-down and out -of sight before sunrise. - -“There’s nothing that swims can touch her in squally weather like this,” -continued the Captain, “if she can get an hour’s start; and I wouldn’t -mind running under his very boltsprit, in the dark, if this wind holds. -My chief difficulty is about the men. There will be black looks, and -something very like mutiny, if I keep them twelve more hours in sight of -the beer-shops without liberty for shore. Those drunken rascals too, that -we hove aboard last night, will have come to themselves by that time, -and we shall perhaps have some trouble in persuading them they are here -of their own free will. You must help me, Eugène, all day. Between us we -must watch the crew like a cat watches a mouse. Once we’re in blue water, -you’ll have nothing to do but sit in my cabin and amuse yourself.” - -The skipper understood the nature of those with whom he had to deal. -When the men saw no disposition to get the anchor up, when noon passed -and they went to dinner as usual with the brigantine’s head pointing -steadily to windward, when another tide ebbed and flowed, but failed to -waft them away from the temptations of port, they began to growl freely, -without however proceeding to any overt acts of insubordination, and -towards evening they became pacified with the anticipation of weighing -anchor before the following day. The hours passed wearily to all on -board, excepting perhaps the three Jacks, who, waking simultaneously at -sunrise, turned round, perfectly satisfied, to go to sleep again, and so -recovered complete possession of their faculties towards the dusk of the -evening. - -They had been stowed away on some spare bunting outside the door of the -Captain’s cabin. Their conversation, therefore, though carried on in a -low tone, was distinctly audible both to him and Beaudésir, as they sat -waiting for midnight and the turn of the tide. - -After a few expressions of astonishment, and vague inquiries how they -got there, each sailor seemed to realise his position pretty clearly -and without much dissatisfaction. Bottle-Jack shrewdly suspected he was -once more at the old trade. Smoke-Jack was comforted by the prospect -of refilling his empty pockets, and Slap-Jack, whilst vowing eternal -fidelity to Alice, seemed impressed with the flattering notion that -somehow his own attractions and the good taste of the Admiral’s daughter -were at the bottom of it all. - -The craft, they agreed, was a likely one, the fittings ship-shape -Bristol-fashion, the cruise promised to be prosperous; but such an -unheard-of solecism as to weigh without one more drinking bout in honour -of the expedition, was not to be thought of; therefore Bottle-Jack opined -it was indispensable they should immediately go ashore. - -The others agreed without scruple. One difficulty alone presented itself: -the quay stood a good quarter of a mile off, and even in harbour it was -rather a stormy night for a swim. As Slap-Jack observed, “it couldn’t be -done comfortable without a plank of some kind; but most like, if they -waited till dark, they might make free with the skipper’s dingy hanging -over the starn!” - -“’Tis but totting up another figure or two on the score with old -Shiney-face,” argued Smoke-Jack, who, considering his profession, -was of a frugal turn of mind, and who little knew how completely the -purchase-money of his own body and bones had wiped off the chalk behind -the door. “Such a voyage as we’re a-goin’ to make will square longer -accounts than ours, though I am uncommon dry, considerin’. Just one more -spree on the quiet, you know, my sons, and back to duty again as steady -as a sou’-wester. There’s no fear they’ll weigh without us, a-course?” - -“A-course not,” grunted old Bottle-Jack, who could scarce have been -half sober yet, to hazard such a suggestion. “The skipper is quite the -gentleman, no doubt, and most like when he misses us he’ll send the -ship’s pinnace ashore with his compliments.” - -“Pinnace be blowed!” retorted Slap-Jack; “anyway you may be sure he won’t -sail without the dingy;” and in this more reasonable conclusion the -others could not but acquiesce. - -With a smile on his face, the Captain listened to the further development -of their plan. One by one they would creep aft without their shoes, -unobserved by the anchor-watch, now sure to be on the forecastle (none -of the Jacks had a clear idea of the craft in which they were plotting); -if any one could put his hand on a bit of grease it would be useful to -make the tackle work noiselessly. When they reached the stern, Slap-Jack -should seat himself in the dingy, as being the lightest weight; the -others would lower away, and as soon as she touched water, shin down -after him, and shove off. There was no time to lose, best set about it at -once. - -Captain George whispered in his companion’s ear, “Take my hat and cloak, -and go forward to the hold with a lantern in your hand. Make plenty of -noise as you pass those lubbers, but do not let them see your face.” - -Eugène obeyed, and Captain George, blowing out the lights, set himself to -watch at the stern windows. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -“YO-HEAVE-YO!” - - -It was pitch dark in the cabin, but although under a cloudy sky there -was light enough to discern objects on deck or alongside. As Smoke-Jack -observed, stealing aft with bare feet, and in a louder whisper than was -prudent, “A good pair of eyes might see as far as a man could heave a -bull by the tail.” George had determined to give the crew a lesson, once -for all, in the matter of discipline, and felt well pleased to make -example of the new-comers, who must be supposed as yet ignorant of his -system. - -So he sat in the dark, pistol in hand, at the stern window, which was -open, and watched like the hunter for his prey. - -He heard the three Jacks creeping along the deck overhead, he heard low -whispers and a smothered laugh, followed by a few brief expostulations -as to priority of disembarkation, the language far less polite than the -intention; lastly, he heard the tackle by which his boat was made fast -running gently over its blocks. - -Then he cocked his pistol without noise, and laughed to himself. - -Gradually the cabin window was obscured. A dark object passed smoothly -down, and revealed in its progress a human figure indistinctly visible -above its black horizontal mass, which was indeed the slow-descending -boat, containing no less a personage than the adventurous Slap-Jack; also -two lines of tackle were dimly visible supporting that boat’s head. A -turn of the body, as he covered them steadily with his pistol, enabled -the Captain to bring these two lines into one. - -Hand and eye were equally true. He was sure of his mark before he pulled -the trigger. With a flash that lighted up the cabin, and an explosion -that filled it with smoke, the bullet cut clean through the “falls,” -or ropes, supporting the boat’s head, bringing her perpendicularly on -end, and shooting every article she contained—planks, bottom-boards, -stretchers, oars, boat-hook, an empty hen-coop, and the astonished -occupant—plump into seven fathom of water. - -Nor was the consternation created by this alarming capsize confined to -the unfortunate Slap-Jack. His comrades, lowering away industriously from -the taffrail, started back in the utmost bewilderment, the anchor-watch -rushed aft, persuaded a mutiny had broken out, and in grievous indecision -whether to take the skipper’s part or assist in cutting his throat. The -crew tumbled up the hatchway, and blundered about the deck, asking each -other absurd questions, and offering wild suggestions, if anything were -really amiss, as to breaking open the spirit-room. Nay, the harbour-guard -himself awoke from his nap, emerged from his sentry-box, took a turn on -the quay, hailing loudly, and receiving no answer, was satisfied he had -been dreaming, so swore and turned in again. - -Captain George reloaded his pistol, and sang out lustily, “Man overboard! -Show a light on the deck there, and heave a rope over the side. Bear a -hand to haul him in, the lubber! I don’t much think he’ll want to try -that game in a hurry again!” - -Meanwhile, hapless Slap-Jack was incapacitated for the present from that, -or indeed any other game involving physical effort. A plank, falling with -him out of the boat, had struck him on the head and stunned him; seventy -fathom of water would have floated him no better than seven, and with the -first plunge he went down like a stone. Captain George had intended to -give him a fright and a ducking; but now, while he stretched his body out -of the cabin window, peering over the gloomy water and listening eagerly -for the snort and gasp of a swimmer who never came up, he wished with all -his heart that his hand had been less steady on the pistol. - -Fortunately, however, Beaudésir, after he had fulfilled the Captain’s -orders by personating him at the hold, remained studiously on watch. It -was a peculiarity of this man that his faculties seemed always on the -stretch, as is often to be observed with those over whom some constant -dread impends, or who suffer from the tortures of remorse. At the moment -he heard the shot, he sprang to the side, threw off hat and cloak, as if -anticipating danger, and kept his eyes eagerly fixed on the water, ready, -if need be, for a pounce. The tide was still flowing, the brigantine’s -head lay to seaward, where all was dark, and fortunately the little light -on the ruffled surface was towards the shore. Slap-Jack’s inanimate form -was carried inwards by the flood, and crossed the moorings of that huge -red buoy which Eugène remembered gazing on listlessly in the morning. -Either the contact with its rope woke an instinctive consciousness in the -drowning man, or some swirl of the water below brought his body to the -surface, but for a few seconds Slap-Jack’s form became dimly visible, -heaving like a wisp of seaweed on a wave. In those few seconds Eugène -dashed overboard, cleaving the water to reach him with the long springing -strokes of a powerful swimmer. - -A drowning man is not to be saved but at the imminent risk of his life -who goes in for the rescue, and this gallant feat indeed can only be -accomplished by a thorough proficient in the art; so on the present -occasion it was well that Beaudésir felt as much at home in the water as -on dry land. - -How the crew cheered the Frenchman while he was hauled on board with his -dripping burden; how the two Jacks who had remained in the brigantine, -and were now thoroughly sobered, vowed eternal gratitude to the landsman -who had dived for their messmate; how the harbour-guard was once more -disturbed by the cheering, and cheered lustily in reply; how Captain -George clapped his comrade on the shoulder while he took him below to -change his wet garments, and vowed he was fit to be King of France, -adding, with a meaning smile, “If ever I go to school again, I’ll ask -them to give me a berth at Avranches in Normandy!”—all this it is -unnecessary to relate; but if the Captain gained the respect of the crew -by the promptitude with which he resented an attempt at insubordination, -the gallant self-devotion of his friend, clerk, supercargo, -cabin-passenger, or whatever he was, won their affection and good-will -for the rest of the voyage. - -This was especially apparent about sunrise, when Captain George beat to -quarters and paraded his whole crew on deck, preparatory to weighing -anchor and standing out down Channel with a fair wind and a following -tide. He calculated that the King’s ship, even if on watch, must be -still some distance from land, and he had such implicit confidence in -the sailing qualities of his brigantine that if he could only get a fair -start he feared a chase from no craft that swam. - -Owing to his early education and the experiences of his boyhood, -notwithstanding his late career in the service of King Louis, he was a -seaman at heart. In nothing more so than a tendency to idealise the craft -he commanded as if it were a living creature, endowed with feelings and -even reason. For him ‘The Bashful Maid,’ with her exquisite trim, her -raking masts, her graceful spars, her long fluttering pennon, and her -elaborately-carved figure-head, representing a brazen-faced beauty baring -her breast boastfully to the breeze, was less a triumph of design and -carpentering, of beams, and blocks, and yarn, and varnish, and tar, than -a metaphorical mistress, to be cajoled, commanded, humoured, trusted, -above all, admired. He spoke of her as possessing affections, caprices, -impulses, and self-will. When she answered her helm steadily, and made -good weather of it, in a stiff breeze and a heavy sea, she was “behaving -admirably”—“she liked the job”—“a man had only to trust her, and give her -a new coat of paint now and then, she’d never fail him—not she!” While, -on the other hand, she might dive and plunge, and dip her boltsprit in -the brine, shipping seas that swept her decks fore and aft, and she was -“only a trifle saucy, the beauty! Carried a weather-helm like the rest of -her sex, and must be humoured a bit, till she came round!” - -As was the skipper, so were the crew. All these different natures, men -of various nations, dispositions, and characters, were equally childlike -in their infatuation about ‘The Bashful Maid.’ The densest of them had -imagination enough to invest her with a thousand romantic qualities; even -the negro would have furiously resented a word in her disparagement—nay, -the three newly-shipped Jacks themselves, men of weighty authority -in such matters, caught the infection, and were ready to swear by the -brigantine, while it was yet so dark they could scarcely see whether she -was a three-masted merchantman or a King’s cutter. - -But when the breeze freshened towards sunrise, and the tide was once -more on the turn, the regard thus freely accorded to their ship was -largely shared by their new shipmate. Beaudésir, passing forward in the -grey light of morning, truth to tell moved only by the restlessness of -a man not yet accustomed to perpetual motion, accompanied by the odours -of bilge-water and tar, was greeted with admiring glances and kind -words from all alike. Dutchman, Swede, Spaniard, vied with each other -in expressions of good-will. Slap-Jack was still below, swaddled in -blankets, but his two comrades had tumbled up with the first streaks of -dawn, and were loud in their praises, Bottle-Jack vowing Captain Kidd -would have made him first-lieutenant on the spot for such a feat, and -Smoke-Jack, with more sincerity than politeness, declaring “he couldn’t -have believed it of a Frenchman!” Nay, the very negro, showing all his -teeth as if he longed to eat him, embarked on an elaborate oration in -his honour, couched partly in his native language as spoken on the -Gold Coast, partly in a dialect he believed to be English, obscured by -metaphor, though sublime doubtless in conception, and prematurely cut -short by the shrill whistle of the boatswain, warning all hands without -delay to their quarters. - -It was an enlivening sight, possessing considerable attractions for -such a temperament as Beaudésir’s. The clear gap of morning low down on -the horizon was widening and spreading every moment over the sky; the -breeze, cold and bracing, not yet tempered by the coming sun, freshened -sensibly off shore, driving out to sea a grand procession of dark rolling -clouds, moving steadily and continuously westward before the day. The -lighthouse off the harbour showed like a column of chalk against the dull -background of this embankment, vanishing so imperceptibly into light; -while to landward, far beyond the low level line of coast, a faint quiver -of purple already mingled with the dim grey outline of the smooth and -swelling downs. - -In harbour, human life had not yet woke up, but the white sea-birds -were soaring and dipping, and wheeling joyously on the wing. The breeze -whistled through the tackle, the waves leaped and lashed merrily against -her sides, and the crew of the brigantine took their places, clean, well -dressed, brown-faced, and bare-footed, on her deck. While the boatswain, -who from sheer habit cast an eye continually aloft, observed her truck -catch the first gleams of the morning sun, Captain George, carefully -attired, issued from his cabin with a telescope under his arm, and made -his first and last oration to the crew. - -“My lads!” said he, “I’ve beat to quarters, this fine morning, before -I get my anchor up, because I want to say a few words to you, and the -sooner we understand each other the better! You’ve heard I’m a soldier. -So I am! That’s right enough; but, mark, you! I dipped my hand in the -tar-bucket before I was old enough to carry a sword; so don’t you ever -think to come over me with skulking, for I’ve seen that game played out -before. Mind you, I don’t believe I’ve got a skulker on board; if I have, -let him step forward and show himself. Over the side he goes, and I sail -without him! Now, my lads, I know _my_ duty and I know _yours_. I’ll -take care both are done. I’ll have no grumbling and no quarrelling. If -any man has a complaint to make, let him come to me, and out with it. -A quarrelsome chap with his messmates is generally a shy cock when you -put him down to fight. I’ll have man-of-war’s discipline aboard. You all -know what that is, and those that don’t like it must lump it. Last night -there were three of you tried to take French leave and to steal my boat; -I stopped that game with a little friend I keep in my belt. Look ye, my -sons, next bout I’ll cover the _man_ instead of the tackle! I know who -they are, well enough, but I mean to forget as soon as ever the anchor’s -up. I’ll have a clean bill of health to take out into blue water. Now, -my lads, attend to me! We’ve a long cruise before us, but we’ve a craft -well-provisioned, well-found, and, I heartily believe, well-manned. -Whatever prizes we take, whatever profit we make on the cargo, from -skipper to ship’s boy, every one shall have his share according to the -articles hung up in my cabin. We _may_ have to fight, and we may _not_; -it’s the last job you’re likely to shirk; but mind this—_one_ skipper’s -enough for _one_ ship. I’ll have no _lawyer_ sail with _me_, and no -opinions ‘whether or no’ before the mast. If you think of disobeying -orders, just remember it’s a short walk from my berth to the powder-room, -and the clink of a flint will square all accounts between captain and -crew. If I’m not to be skipper, nobody else shall, and what I say I mean. -Lastly, no man is to get drunk except in port. And now, my lads, here’s a -fair wind, and a following tide! Before we get the fiddle up for a ‘Stamp -and go, cheerily ho!’ we’ll give three cheers for ‘The Bashful Maid,’ and -then shake out every rag of canvas and make a good run while the breeze -holds!” - -The men cheered with a will. The Captain’s notions of sea-oratory were -founded on a knowledge of his audience, and answered his purpose better -than the most finished style of rhetoric. As the shouting died out, a -strong voice was heard, demanding “one cheer more for the skipper.” It -was given enthusiastically—Slap-Jack, who had sneaked on deck with his -head bandaged, having taken this sailor-like method of showing he bore no -malice for a ducking, and was indeed only desirous that his late prank -should be overlooked. Nevertheless, in the hurry and confusion of getting -the anchor up, he contrived to place himself at Beaudésir’s side and to -grasp him cordially by the hand. - -“You _be_ a good chap,” said this honest seaman, with a touch of feeling -that he hid under an affectation of exceeding roughness; “as good a chap -as ever broke a biscuit! Look ye, mate; my name’s Slap-Jack; so long as I -can show my number, when anything’s up, you sings out ‘Slap-Jack!’ and if -I don’t answer ‘Slap-Jack _it is_!’ why―” - -The imprecation with which this peculiar acknowledgment concluded did -not render it one whit more intelligible to Beaudésir, who gathered -enough, however, from the speaker’s vehemence to feel that he had made at -least one stanch friend among the crew. By the time he had realised this -consoling fact, the brigantine’s head, released from the restraint of -her cable, swung round to leeward, her strong new sails filled steadily -with the breeze, and while the ripple gurgled louder and louder round -her bows, already tossing and plunging through the increasing swell, -the quay, the lighthouse, the long low spit of land, the town, the -downs themselves seemed to glide quietly away; and Beaudésir, despite -the beauty of the scene and the excitement of his position, became -uncomfortably conscious of a strange desire to retire into a corner, lay -himself down at full length, and die, if need be, unobserved. - -A waft of savoury odours from the cook’s galley, where the men’s -breakfasts were prepared, did nothing towards allaying this untimely -despondency, and after a short struggle he yielded, as people always do -yield in such cases, and staggering into the cabin, pillowed his head on -a couch, and gave himself over to despair. - -Ere he raised it again ‘The Bashful Maid,’ making an excellent run down -Channel in a south-westerly course, was already a dozen leagues out at -sea. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -‘THE BASHFUL MAID’ - - -If Captain George kept a log, as is probable, or Eugène Beaudésir -a diary, as is possible, I have no intention of copying it. In the -history of individuals, as of nations, the exception is Stir, the rule -Stagnation. There are long links in the Silver Cord, smooth, polished, -uniform, one exactly like the other, ere its sameness is varied by the -carving of a boss or the flash of a gem. It is only here and there that -life-like figures and spirit-stirring scenes start from the dead surface -of the Golden Bowl. Perhaps, when both are broken, neither brilliancy nor -workmanship, but sterling worth of metal, shall constitute the true value -of each. - -‘The Bashful Maid’ found her share of favouring winds and baffling -breezes; trim and weatherly, she made the best of them all. Her crew, -as they gained confidence in their skipper and became well acquainted -amongst themselves, worked her to perfection. In squally weather, she -had the great advantage of being over-manned, and could therefore carry -the broadest surface of canvas it was possible to show. After a few -stormy nights all shook into their places, and every man found himself -told off to the duty he was best able to perform. The late Captain of -Musketeers had the knack of selecting men, and of making them obey him. -His last-joined hands were perhaps the best of his whole ship’s company. -Bottle-Jack became boatswain’s mate, Smoke-Jack gunner, and Slap-jack -captain of the foretop. These three were still fast friends and sworn -adherents of Beaudésir. The latter, though he had no ostensible rank or -office, seemed, next to the skipper himself, the most influential and -the most useful person on board. He soon picked up enough knowledge of -navigation to bring his mathematical acquirements into play. He kept the -accounts of stores and cargo. He possessed a slight knowledge of medicine -and surgery. He played the violin with a taste and feeling that enchanted -the Spaniard, his only rival in this accomplishment, and caused many a -stout heart to thrill with unaccustomed thoughts of green nooks and leafy -copses, of laughing children and cottage-gardens, and summer evenings at -home; lastly, the three Jacks, his fast friends, found him an apt pupil -in lessons relating to sheets and tacks, blocks and braces, yards and -spars, in fine, all the practical mysteries of seamanship. - -During stirring times, such as the first half of the eighteenth century, -a brigantine like ‘The Bashful Maid,’ well-armed, well-manned, commanded -by a young adventurous captain having letters of marque in his cabin, -and no certain knowledge that peace had yet been proclaimed with Spain, -was not likely long to preserve her sails unbleached by use nor the -paint and varnish undimmed on her hull. Not many months elapsed ere she -was very different in appearance from the yacht-like craft that ran -past the Needles, carrying Eugène Beaudésir prone and helpless as a -log in her after-cabin. He could scarcely believe himself the same man -when, bronzed, robust, and vigorous, feeling every inch a sailor, he -paced her deck under the glowing stars and the mellow moonlight of the -tropics. Gales had been weathered since then, shots fired, prizes taken, -and that career of adventure embarked on which possesses so strange -a fascination for the majority of mankind, partly, I think, from its -permanent uncertainty, partly from its pandering to their self-esteem. A -few more swoops, another prize or two taken, pillaged, but suffered to -proceed if not worth towing into port, and the cruise would have been -so successful, that already the men were calculating their share of -profit and talking as if their eventual return to Britain was no longer -a wild impossibility. Everything, too, had as yet been done according to -fair usage of war. No piracy, no cruelty, nothing that could justify a -British three-decker in capturing the brigantine, to impress her crew -and hang her captain at his own yard-arm. Eugène’s counsels had so far -prevailed with George that he had resolved on confining himself to the -legitimate profits of a privateer, and not overstepping the narrow line -of demarcation that distinguished him from a pirate. - -While, however, some of her crew had been killed and some wounded, -‘The Bashful Maid’ herself had by no means emerged scatheless from her -encounters. Eugène was foolish enough to experience a thrill of pride -while he marked the grim holes, planked and caulked, in her sides; -the workmanlike splicing of such yards and spars as had not suffered -too severely for repair, and the carefully-mended foresail, now white -and weather-bleached, save where the breadths of darker, newer canvas -betrayed it had been riddled by round-shot. - -But soon his impressionable temperament, catching the influence of the -hour, threw off its warlike thoughts and abandoned itself to those -gentler associations that could hardly fail to be in the ascendant. - -The night was such as is only to be seen in the tropics. Above, like -golden lamps, the stars were flaming rather than twinkling in the sky; -while low down on the horizon a broad moon, rising from the sea, spread a -lustrous path along the gently-heaving waves to the very ship’s side; a -path on which myriads of glittering fairies seem to dance and revel, and -disappear in changing sparkles of light. - -Through all this blaze of beauty, the brigantine glided smoothly and -steadily on her course. For several days and nights not a sail had been -altered, not a rope shifted, before that soft and balmy breeze. The men -had nothing to do but tell each other interminable yarns and smoke. It -was the fair side of the medal, the bloom on the fruit, the smooth of the -profession, this enchanted voyage over an enchanted sea. - -Eugène revelled in its charm, but with his enjoyment was mingled that -quiet melancholy so intimately associated with all beauty in those -hearts (and how many of them are there!) which treasure up an impossible -longing, a dream that can never come to pass. It is a morbid sentiment, -no doubt, which can thus extract from the loveliest scenes of nature, -and even from the brightest triumphs of art, a strange wild ecstasy of -pain, possessing a fascination of its own; but it is a sentiment to which -the most generous and the most noble minds are peculiarly susceptible; a -sentiment that in itself denotes excessive capability, for the happiness -denied or withheld. Were it better for them to be of duller spirit and -coarser fibre, callous to the spur, unequal to the effort? Who knows? I -think Beaudésir would not willingly have parted with the sensibility from -which he experienced so much pain, from the memories on which, at moments -like these, under a moonlit sky, he brooded and dwelt so fondly, yet so -despondently, to have obtained in exchange the inexhaustible good-humour -of Slap-Jack or the imperturbable self-command of Captain George. - -Immersed in his own thoughts, he did not observe the latter leave his -cabin, walk from sheer habit to the binnacle in order to satisfy himself -the brigantine was lying her course, and glance over the side to measure -her speed through the water, and he started when the Captain placed his -hand familiarly on his shoulder, and jeered him good-humouredly for his -preoccupation. These men, whose acquaintance had commenced with important -benefits conferred and received on both sides, were now thrown together -by circumstances which brought out the finer qualities of both. They had -learned thoroughly to depend on each other, and had become fast friends. -Perhaps their strongest link was the dissimilarity of their characters. -To Beaudésir’s romantic and impressionable temperament there had been, -from the first, something very imposing in the vigorous and manly nature -of Captain George, and the influence of the latter became stronger day by -day, when he proved himself as calm, courageous, and capable on the deck -of a privateer as he had appeared in his quarters at Paris, commanding a -company of the Royal Guards. - -For George, again, with his frank, soldier-like manner and somewhat -abrupt address, which seemed impatient of anything like delicacy or -over-refinement, there was, nevertheless, an unspeakable charm in his -friend’s half-languid, half-fiery, and wholly romantic disposition, -redeemed by a courage no danger could shake, and an address with his -weapons few men could withstand. The Captain was not demonstrative, far -from it, and would have been ashamed to confess how much he valued the -society of that pale, studious, effeminate youth, in looks, in manner, -in simplicity of thought so much younger than his actual years; who was -so often lost in vague day-dreams, and loved to follow up such wild and -speculative trains of thought; but who could point the brigantine’s -bow-chasers more accurately than the gunner himself; who had learned how -to hand, reef, and steer before he had been six weeks on board. - -Their alliance was the natural consequence of companionship between two -natures of the same material, so to speak, but of different fabric. Their -respective intellects represented the masculine and feminine types. Each -supplying that which the other wanted, they amalgamated accordingly. -Beaudésir looked up to the Musketeer as his ideal of perfection in -manhood; Captain George loved Eugène as a brother, and trusted him -without reserve. - -It was pleasant after the turmoil and excitement of the last few weeks -to walk the deck in that balmy region under a serene and moonlit -sky, letting their thoughts wander freely to scenes so different -on far-distant shores, while they talked of France, and Paris, and -Versailles, and a thousand topics all connected with dry land. But -Eugène, though he listened with interest, and never seemed tired of -confidences relating to his companion’s own family and previous life, -frankly and freely imparted, refrained from such confessions in return, -and George was still as ignorant of his friend’s antecedents as on that -memorable day when the pale, dark youth accompanied Bras-de-Fer to their -Captain’s quarters, to be entered on the roll of the Grey Musketeers, -after running poor Flanconnade through the body. That they had once -belonged to this famous _corps d’élite_ neither of them seemed likely -to forget. Its merits and its services formed the one staple subject -of discourse when all else failed. As in his quarters at Paris he had -kept the model of a similar brigantine for his own private solace, so -now, in the cabin of ‘The Bashful Maid,’ the skipper treasured up with -the greatest care, in a stout sea-chest, a handsome full-dress uniform, -covered with velvet and embroidery, flaunting with grey ribbons, and -having a coating of thin paper over its silver lace. - -There was one topic of conversation, however, on which these young men -had never yet embarked, and this is the more surprising, considering -their age and the habits of those warriors amongst whom they were so -proud to have been numbered. This forbidden subject was the charm of the -other sex, and it was perhaps because each felt himself so constituted -as to be keenly alive to its power that neither ventured an allusion -to the great influence by which, during the first half of life, men’s -fortunes, characters, happiness, and eventual destiny, are more or less -affected. It required a fair breeze, a summer sea, and a moonlight -night in the tropics to elicit their opinions on such matters, and the -manly, rough-spoken skipper was the first to broach a theme that had -been already well-nigh exhausted by the watch on deck—gathered on the -forecastle in tranquil enjoyment of a cool, serene air and a welcome -interval of repose. - -Old Turenne’s system of tactics had been declared exploded; the Duke of -Marlborough’s character criticised; Cavalli’s last opera canvassed and -condemned. Captain George took two turns of the deck in silence, stopped -short at the taffrail, and looked thoughtfully over the stern— - -“What is to be the end of it?” he asked abruptly. “More fighting, of -course! More prizes, more doubloons, and then? After all, I believe there -are things to make a man’s life happier than even such a brigantine as -this.” - -“There is heaven on earth, and there is heaven above,” answered the -other, in his dreamy, half-earnest, half-speculative way; “and some men, -not always the hardest-hearted nor the most vicious, are to be shut out -of both. Calvin is a disheartening casuist, but I believe Calvin is -right!” - -“Steady there!” replied George. “Nothing shall make me believe but -that a brave man can sail what course he will, provided his charts are -trustworthy and he steers by them. Nothing is _impossible_, Eugène. If I -had thought that I should have lost heart long ago.” - -“And then?” asked Beaudésir, sadly. - -“And then,” repeated the Captain, with a shudder, “I might have become a -brute rather than a man. Do you remember the British schooner we retook -from those Portuguese rovers, and the _mustee_,[3] who commanded them? I -tell you I _hate_ to think it possible, and yet I believe a man utterly -without hope might come to be such a wretch as that!” - -“_You_ never would,” said Beaudésir, “and _I_ never should; I _know_ it. -Even hope may be dispensed with if memory remains. My pity is for those -who have neither.” - -“I could not live without hope,” resumed the Captain, cheerily. “I own I -do hope most sincerely, at some future time, for a calmer and happier lot -than this; a lot that would also make the happiness of another; and that -other so gentle, so trusting, and so true!” - -Eugène looked in his face surprised. Then he smiled brightly, and laid -his hand on his friend’s shoulder. - -“It will come!” he exclaimed; “never doubt it for a moment. It will come! -do you remember what I said to you of my skill in fortune-telling? I -repeat, success is written in your face. What you really wish and strive -to attain is as sure to arrive at last as a fair wind in the trades or a -flood-tide at full moon.” - -“I hope so,” returned the Captain; “I believe it. I suppose I am as bold -as my neighbours, and luckily it never comes across me when there’s -anything to do; but sometimes my heart fails when I think, if I _should_ -go down and lose my number, how she’ll sit and wonder, poor thing, why I -never come back!” - -“Courage, my Captain!” said Eugène, cheerily, affecting the tone and -manner of their old corps. “Courage. _En arant! à la Mousquetaire!_ You -will lose nothing, not even the cargo; we shall return with both pockets -full of money. You will buy a _château_. There will be a fête at your -wedding: I shall bring there my violin, and, believe me, I shall rejoice -in your happiness as if it were my own.” - -“She is so young, so beautiful, so gentle,” continued the Captain; “I -could not bear that her life should be darkened, whatever comes of me. -If, at last, the great happiness _does_ arrive, Eugène, I shall not -forget my friend. _Château_ or cottage, you will be welcome with your -violin. You would admire her as I do; we both think alike on so many -subjects. So young, so fresh, so beautiful! I wish you could see her. I -am not sure but that you _have_ seen her. Do you remember the day―?” - -What further confidences the skipper was about to impart were here cut -short by a round of applause from the forecastle, apparently arising -from some proposal much approved by the whole assemblage. The Captain, -with his friend, paused to listen. It was a request that Bottle-Jack -would sing, and seemed not unfavourably received by that veteran. After -many excuses, and much of a mock modesty to be observed under similar -conditions in the most refined societies, he took his quid from his -cheek, and cleared his voice with great pomp ere he embarked on a ditty -of which the subject conveyed a delicate compliment to the proclivities -of his friend Smoke-Jack, who had originated the call, and which he sang -in that flat, monotonous, and dispiriting key, only to be accomplished, -I firmly believe, by an able seaman in the daily exercise of his -profession. He designated it “The Real Trinidado,” and it ran as follows:— - - “Oh! when I was a lad, - Says my crusty old dad, - Says he,—‘Jack! you must stick to the spade, oh!” - But he grudged me my prog, - And he grudged me my grog, - And my pipe of the real Trinidado. - - “Says my Syousan to me,— - ‘Jack, if you goes to sea, - I’ll be left but a desolate maid, oh!’ - Then I answers her—‘Sue! - Can’t I come back to you - When I’m done with the old Trinidado?” - - “So to sea we clears out, - And the ship’s head, no doubt, - Sou’-west and by sou’ it was laid, oh! - For the isles of the sun, - Where there’s fiddlers and fun, - And no end of the real Trinidado. - - “Says our skipper, says he, - ‘Be she close-hauled or free, - She’d behave herself in a tornado!’ - So he handles the ship - With a canful of flip, - And a pipe of the real Trinidado. - - “She’s a weatherly craft, - Werry wet, fore-and-aft, - And she rolls like a liquorish jade, oh! - But she steers werry kind, - On a course to her mind, - When she’s bound for the isle Trinidado. - - “Soon a sail we espies, - Says the skipper—‘My eyes! - That’s the stuff for us lads of the trade, oh! - Bales of silk in his hold, - Casks of rum—maybe gold— - Not forgetting the real Trinidado!’ - - “Then it’s ‘Stand by! My sons! - Steady! Run out your guns— - We’ve the Don’s weather-gage. Who’s afraid, oh!’ - So we takes him aback, - He is ours in a crack, - And we scuttles him off Trinidado! - - “Now, here’s to the crew! - And the skipper! and Sue! - And here’s ‘Luck to the boys of the blade, oh! - May they ne’er want a glass, - A fair wind, a fair lass! - Nor a pipe of the real Trinidado!’” - -The applause elicited by this effort was loud and long. Ere it subsided, -George looked more than once anxiously to windward. Then he went to his -cabin and consulted the barometer, after which he reappeared on deck and -whispered in Eugène’s ear— - -“I am going to caulk it for an hour or two. Hold on, unless there’s any -change in the weather, and be sure you come below and rouse me out at -eight bells.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -DIRTY WEATHER - - -At eight bells the Captain came on deck again, glancing once more -somewhat anxiously astern. Not a cloud was to be seen in the moonlit sky, -and the breeze that had blown so steadily, though so softly, for weeks, -was sinking gradually, dying out, as it were, in a succession of gentle, -peaceful sighs. Eugène, with the weather-wisdom of a man who had been but -a few months at sea, rather inclined to think they might be becalmed. -The crew did not trouble themselves about the matter. Every rag the -brigantine could show was already set, and if a sail flapped idly against -the mast, it soon drew again as before, to propel them smoothly on their -course. - -Moreover, a topic had been lately broached on the forecastle, of -engrossing interest to every man before the mast. It affected no less -delicate a subject than the beauty of ‘The Bashful Maid’ herself, as -typified by her figure-head. This work of art had unfortunately suffered -a slight defacement in one of their late exploits, nearly the whole of -its nose having been carried away by an untoward musket-shot. Such a -loss had been replaced forthwith by the ship’s carpenter, who supplied -his idol with a far straighter, severer, and more classical feature -than was ever yet beheld on the human countenance. Its proportions were -proclaimed perfect by the whole crew; but though the artist’s execution -was universally approved, his florid style of colouring originated many -conflicting opinions and much loud discussion on the first principles of -imitative art. The carpenter was a man of decided ideas, and made large -use of a certain red paint nearly approaching vermilion in his flesh -tints. ‘The Bashful Maid’s’ nose, therefore, bloomed with a hue as rosy -as her cheeks, and these, until toned down by wind and weather, had been -an honest scarlet. None of the critics ventured to dispute the position -that the carpenter’s theory was sound. Slap-Jack, indeed, with a lively -recollection of her wan face when he took leave of his Alice, suggested -that for his part he liked them “a little less gaudy about the gills”; -but this heresy was ignominiously coughed down at once. It was merely a -question as to whether the paint was, or was not, laid on a trifle too -thick, and each man argued according to his own experience of the real -human subject. - -All the older hands (particularly Bottle-Jack, who protested vehemently -that the figure-head of ‘The Bashful Maid,’ so far from being a -representation of feminine beauty, was in fact an elevated ideal of that -seductive quality, a very model to be imitated, though hardly possible -to be approached) were in favour of red noses, as adding warmth and -expression to the female face. Their wives, their sweethearts, their -sisters, their mothers, their grandmothers, all had red noses, and were -careful to keep up the colouring by the use of comforting stimulants. - -“What,” said the principal speaker, “was the pints of a figur’-head, as -laid down in the song? and no man on this deck was a-goin’ to set up his -opinion again _that_, he should think! Wasn’t ’em this here?— - - ‘Eyes as black as sloes, - Cheeks like any rose.’ - -And if the song was played out further, which it might or it might _not_, -d’ye see, wouldn’t the poet have naturally added— - - ‘With a corresponding nose?’” - -It was a telling argument, and although two or three of the foretopmen, -smart young fellows, whose sweethearts had not yet taken to drinking, -seemed disinclined to side with Slap-Jack, it insured a triumphant -majority, which ought to have set the question at rest, even without the -conclusive opinion delivered by the negro. - -“Snowball,” said Bottle-Jack, “you’ve not told us _your_ taste. Now -you’re impartial, you are, a-cause you can’t belong to either side. What -say ye, man? Red or white? Sing out and hoist your ensign!” - -The black nodded, grinned, and voted— - -“Iss! berry well,” said he; “I like ’em white berry well; like ’em red -berry better!” - -At this interesting juncture the men were a good deal surprised by an -order from the Captain to “turn all hands up and shorten sail.” They -rose from the deck, wondering and grumbling. Two or three, who had been -sleeping below, came tumbling up with astonished faces and less willing -steps than usual. All seemed more or less discontented, and muttered to -each other that “the skipper must be mad to shorten sail at midnight with -a bright moon, and in a light breeze, falling every moment to a calm!” - -They went about the job somewhat unwillingly, and indeed were so much -less ready than usual as to draw a good deal of animadversion from the -deck. Something in this style— - -“Now, my lads, bear a hand, and look smart. Foretop there! What are you -about with that foretopsail? Lower away on your after-haulyards! Easy! -Hoist on those forehaulyards, ye lubbers! Away with it, men! Altogether, -and _with a will_! Why, you are going to sleep over it! I’d have done it -smarter with the crew of a collier!” - -To all such remonstrances, it is needless to say, the well-disciplined -Slap-Jack made no reply; only once, finding a moment to look to windward -from his elevated position as captain of the foretop, and observing a -white mist-like scud low down on the horizon, he whispered quietly to his -mate, then busied himself with a reef-knot— - -“Blowed if he bain’t right, arter all, Jem! We’ll be under courses afore -the sun’s up. If we don’t strike topmasts, they’ll be struck for us, I -shouldn’t wonder. I see _him_ once afore,” explained Slap-Jack, jerking -his head in the direction of the coming squall; “and he’s a snorter, -mate, that’s about wot _he_ is!” - -The Captain’s precautions were not taken too soon. The topsails were -hardly close reefed, all the canvas not absolutely required to steer -the brigantine had been hardly taken in, ere the sky was darkened as if -the moon had been suddenly snuffed out, and the squall was upon them. -‘The Bashful Maid’ lay over, gunwale under, driving fiercely through -the seething water, which had not yet risen to the heavy sea that was -too surely coming. She plunged, she dived, she strained, she quivered -like some living thing striving earnestly and patiently for its life. -The rain hissed down in sheets, the lightning lit up the slippery deck, -the dripping pale-faced men, the bending spars, the straining tackle, -and the few feet of canvas that must be carried at any price. In the -quick-succeeding flashes every man on board could see that the others -did their duty. From the Captain, holding on by one hand, composed and -cheerful, with his speaking-trumpet in the other, to the ship’s boy, -with his little bare feet and curling yellow hair, there was not a -skulker amongst them! They remembered it long afterwards with honest -pride, and ‘The Bashful Maid’ behaved beautifully! Yes, in defiance of -the tempestuous squall, blowing as it seemed from all points of the -compass at once; in defiance of crackling lightning, and thunder crashing -overhead ere it rolled away all round the horizon, reverberating over -the ocean for miles; in defiance of black darkness and lurid gleams, and -drenching rain, and the cruel raging sea rising every moment and running -like a mill-race, Captain and crew were alike confident they would -weather it. And they did. - -But it was a sadly worn, and strained, and shattered craft that lay upon -the fast subsiding water, some six hours after the squall, under the -glowing sun of a morning in the tropics; a sun that glinted on the sea -till its heaving surface looked all one sheet of burnished gold; a sun -that was truly comforting to the drenched and wearied crew, although -its glare exposed pitilessly the whole amount of damage the brigantine -had sustained. That poor ‘Bashful Maid’ was as different now from the -trim yacht-like craft that sailed past the Needles, gaudy with paint -and gleaming with varnish, as is the dead seabird, lying helpless and -draggled on the wave, from the same creature soaring white and beautiful, -in all its pride of power and plumage, against the summer sky. - -There was but one opinion, however, amongst the crew as to the merits of -the craft, and the way she had been handled. Not one of them, and it was -a great acknowledgment for sailors to make, who never think their present -berth the best—not one of them had ever before sailed in any description -of vessel which answered her helm so readily or could lay her head so -near the wind’s eye—not one of them had ever seen a furious tropical -squall weathered so scientifically and so successfully, nor could call to -mind a captain who seemed so completely master of his trade. The three -Jacks compared notes on the subject before turning in about sunrise, when -the worst was indeed over, but the situation, to a landsman at least, -would have yet appeared sufficiently precarious: The brigantine was still -driving before a heavy sea, showing just so much canvas as should save -her from being becalmed in its trough, overtaken and buried under the -pursuing enemy. The gale was still blowing with a fury that offered the -best chance of its force soon becoming exhausted, and two men were at the -helm under the immediate supervision of the skipper himself. - -Nevertheless, the three stout tars betook themselves to their berth -without the slightest anxiety, well aware that each would be sleeping -like a child almost before he could clamber into his hammock. - -But while he took off and wrung his dripping sea-coat, Bottle-Jack -observed sententiously to his mates— - -“Captain Kidd could fight a ship, my sons, and Captain Kidd could sail -a ship. Now if you asks my opinion, it’s this here—In such a squall as -we’ve a-weathered, or pretty nigh a-weathered, Captain Kidd, he’d a-run -afore it at once, an’ he’d a bin in it now. This here young skipper, he -laid to, so long as she _could_ lay to, an’ he never run till he couldn’t -fight no more. That’s why he’ll be out on it afore the middle watch. -Belay now, I’m a-goin’ to caulk it for a spell.” - -Neither Smoke-Jack nor Slap-Jack were in a humour for discussion, and -each cheerfully conceded the Captain’s judicious seamanship. The former -expressing his opinion that nothing in the King’s navy could touch -the brigantine, and the latter, recurring to his previous experience, -rejoicing that he no longer sailed under the gallant but unseamanlike -Captain Delaval. - -The honest fellows, thoroughly wearied, were soon in the land of -dreams. Haunted no more by visions of dancing spars, wet slippery ropes, -yards dripping in the waves, and flapping sails struggling wildly for -the freedom that must be their own destruction, and the whole ship’s -company’s doom. No, their thoughts were of warm sanded parlours, cheerful -coal-fires, endless pipes of tobacco, messmates singing, women dancing, -the unrestrained festivities and flowing ale-jugs of the Fox and Fiddle. -Perhaps, to the imagination of the youngest, a fair pale face, loving and -tearful, stood out from all these jovial surroundings, and Slap-Jack felt -a purer and a better man while, though but in imagination, he clasped his -true and tender Alice to his heart once more. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -PORT WELCOME - - -It was a refreshing sight to behold Slap-Jack, “rigged,” as he was -pleased to term it, “to the nines,” in the extreme of sea-dandyism, -enacting the favourite part of a “liberty-man” ashore. - -Nothing had been left undone for the brilliancy of his exterior that -could be achieved by scrubbing, white linen, and robust health. The smart -young captain of the foretop seemed to glow and sparkle in the vertical -sun, as he stood on the quay of Port Welcome, and cast a final glance of -professional approval on the yards he had lately squared to a nicety and -the trim of such gear and tackle aloft as seemed his own especial pride -and care. - -‘The Bashful Maid,’ after all the buffetings she had sustained, -particularly from the late squall, having made her port in one of the -smallest and most beautiful of the West India islands, now lay at anchor, -fair and motionless, like a living thing sleeping on the glistening sea. -It yet wanted some hours of noon, nevertheless the sun had attained a -power that seemed to bake the very stones on the quay, and warmed the -clear limpid water fathom deep. Even Slap-Jack protested against the -heat, as he lounged and rolled into the town, to find it swarming with -negroes of both sexes, sparingly clothed, but with such garments as they -did wear glowing in the gaudiest colours, and carrying on their hard, -woolly heads baskets containing eggs, kids, poultry, fruit, vegetables, -and every kind of market produce in the island. That island was indeed -one of those jewels of the Caribbean Sea to which no description can do -justice. - -For the men left on board ‘The Bashful Maid,’ now heaving drowsily -at her anchor, it realised, with its vivid and varied hues, its -fantastic outlines, its massive brakes, its feathery palms, its -luxuriant redundancy of vegetation, trailing and drooping to the -sparkling water’s-edge, a sailor’s idea of Paradise; while for the -three Jacks rolling into the little town of Port Welcome, with its -white houses, straggling streets, frequent drinking-shops, and swarming -population—black, white, and coloured, it represented the desirable haven -of Fiddler’s Green, where they felt, no doubt, they had arrived before -their time. Slap-Jack made a remark to that effect, which was cordially -endorsed by his comrades as they turned into the main thoroughfare of the -town, and agreed that, in order to enjoy their holiday to the utmost, it -was essential to commence with something to drink all round. - -Now, ‘The Bashful Maid’ having been already a few days in port, had in -that time disposed of a considerable portion of her cargo, and such an -event as the arrival of a saucy brigantine, combining the attractions of -a man-of-war with the advantages of a free-trader, not being an every-day -occurrence among the population of Port Welcome, much stir, excitement, -and increase of business was the result. The French storekeepers bid -eagerly for wares of European manufacture, the French planters sent their -slaves down in dozens to purchase luxuries only attainable from beyond -sea, while the negroes, grinning from ear to ear, jostled and scolded -each other in their desire to barter yams, plantains, fruit, poultry, and -even, on occasion, pieces of actual money, for scarfs, gloves, perfumes, -and ornaments—the tawdrier the better, which they thought might add to -the gloss of their black skins, and set off their quaint, honest, ugly, -black faces to advantage. - -Here and there, too, a Carib, one of the aboriginal lords of the island, -distinguished by his bronze colour, his grave demeanour—so unlike the -African, and his disfigured nose, artificially flattened from infancy, -would stalk solemnly away, rich in the possession of a few glass beads -or a bit of tinsel, for which he had bartered all his worldly wealth, -and which, like more civilised people, he valued, not at its intrinsic -worth, but at its cost price. The three Jacks observed the novelties -which surrounded them from different points of view according to -their different characters, yet with a cool imperturbable demeanour -essentially professional. To men of their calling, nothing ever appears -extraordinary. They see so many strange sights in different countries, -and have so little time to become acquainted with the wonders they -behold, that they soon acquire a profound and philosophical indifference -to everything beyond their ordinary range of experience, persuaded -that the astonishment of to-day is pretty sure to be exceeded by the -astonishment of to-morrow. Neither can they easily discover anything -perfectly and entirely new, having usually witnessed something of the -same kind before, or heard it circumstantially described at considerable -length by a messmate; so that a seaman is but little impressed with the -sight of a foreign town, of which, indeed, he acquires in an hour or two -a knowledge not much more superficial than he has of his native village. - -Bottle-Jack was in the habit of giving his opinion, as he expressed it, -“free.” That it was complimentary to Port Welcome, his comrades gathered -from the following sentiment:— - -“I’m a gettin’ strained and weatherworn,” observed the old seaman, -impressively, “and uncommon dry besides. Tell ye what it is, mates—one -more cruise, and blowed if I won’t just drop my anchor here, and ride out -the rest of my time all snug at my moorings.” - -Smoke-Jack turned his quid with an expression of intense disgust. - -“And get spliced to a nigger, old man!” said he, argumentatively. “Never -go for to say it! I’m not a-goin’ to dispute as this here’s a tidy bit of -a island enough, and safe anchorage. Likewise, as I’ve been told by them -as tried it, plenty to drink, and good. Nor I won’t say but what a craft -might put in here for a spell to refit, do a bit of caulking, and what -not. But for dry-dock, mate, never go for to say it. Why you couldn’t get -anything like a decent missis, man, hereaway; an’ think o’ the price o’ -beer!” - -“Regardin’ a missis,” returned the other, reflectively, “’tain’t the -craft wot crowds the most canvas as makes the best weather, mate, and at -my years a man looks less to raking masts an’ a gay figur’-head than to -good tonnage and wholesome breadth of beam. Now, look ye here, mates—wot -say ye to this here craft?—her with the red ensign at the main, as is -layin’ to, like, with her fore-sheet to windward and her helm one turn -down?” - -While he spoke, he pointed to our old acquaintance, Célandine, who was -cheapening fancy articles at a store that spread its goods out under an -awning far into the middle of the modest street. The Quadroon was, as -usual, gorgeously dressed, wearing the scarlet turban that covered her -still black hair majestically, as a queen carries her diadem. Like the -coloured race in general, she seemed to have renewed her youth under -a tropical sun, and at a short distance, particularly in the eyes of -Bottle-Jack, appeared a fine-looking woman, with pretensions to the -remains of beauty still. - -The three seamen, of course, ranged up alongside for careful criticism, -but Célandine’s attention was by no means to be distracted from the -delightful business of shopping she had on hand. Shawls, scarfs, fans, -gloves, tawdry jewels, and perfumery, lay heaped in dazzling profusion -on a shelf before her, and the African blood danced in her veins with -childish glee at the tempting sight. The storekeeper, a French Creole, -with sharp features, sallow complexion, and restless, down-looking black -eyes, taking advantage of her eagerness, asked three times its value -for every article he pointed out; but Célandine, though profuse, was -not inexperienced, and dearly loved, moreover, the feminine amusement -of driving a bargain. Much expostulation therefore, contradiction, -wrangling, and confusion of tongues was the result. - -The encounter seemed at the warmest, and the French Creole, -notwithstanding his villainous countenance and unscrupulous assertions, -was decidedly getting the worst of it, when Slap-Jack’s quick eye -detected amongst the wares exposed for sale certain silks and other -stuffs which had formed part of ‘The Bashful Maid’s’ cargo, and had, -indeed, been wrested by the strong hand from a Portuguese trader, after -a brisk chase and a running fight, which cost the brigantine a portion -of her boltsprit and two of her smartest hands. The chest containing -these articles had been started in unloading, so that its contents had -sustained much damage from sea-water. It was a breadth of stained satin -out of this very consignment that the Creole storekeeper now endeavoured -to persuade Célandine she would do well to purchase at an exorbitant -valuation. - -Slap-Jack, like many of his calling, had picked up a smattering of -negro-French, and could understand the subject of dispute sufficiently -to interfere, a course from which he was not to be dissuaded by his less -impressionable companions. - -“Let her be!” growled Smoke-Jack. “Wot call have _you_ now to come -athwart-hawse of that there jabbering mounseer, as a man might say, -dredging in his own fishing-ground? It’s no use hailing her, I tell ye, -mate, I knows the trim on ’em; maybe she’ll lay her foresail aback, and -stand off-and-on till sundown, then just when a man least expects it, -she’ll up stick, shake out every rag of canvas, and run for port. Bless -ye, young _and_ old, fair _and_ foul, black, white, _and_ coloured, -nigger, quadroon, _and_ mustee—I knows ’em all, and not one on ’em but -carries a weather-helm in a fresh breeze, and steers wild and wilful in a -sea-way.” - -But Slap-Jack was not to be diverted from his purpose. With considerable -impudence, and an impressive sea-bow, he walked up to Célandine under -the eyes of his admiring shipmates, and, mustering the best negro-French -at his command, warned her in somewhat incomprehensible jargon of the -imposition intended to be practised. Now it happened that Port Welcome, -and the island in which it was situated, had been occupied in its -varying fortunes by French, Spaniards, and English so equally, that -these languages, much corrupted by negro pronunciation, were spoken -indiscriminately, and often altogether. It was a great relief, therefore, -to Slap-Jack that Célandine thanked him politely for his interposition in -his native tongue, and when she looked into the young foretopman’s comely -brown face, she found herself so fascinated with something she detected -there as to continue the conversation in tolerably correct English, for -the purpose of improving their acquaintance. The seaman congratulated -himself on having made so happy a discovery, while his friends looked -on in mute admiration of the celerity with which he had completed his -conquest. - -“He’s a smart chap, mate,” enunciated Bottle-Jack, with a glance of -intense approval at the two figures receding up the sunny street, as -Célandine marched their companion off, avowedly for the purpose of -refreshing him with cooling drinks in return for his good-nature—“a smart -young chap, and can hold his own with the best of ’em as ever hoisted a -petticoat, silk or dowlas. See now, that’s the way to do it in these here -latitudes! First he hails ’em, speaking up like a man, then he ranges -alongside, and gets the grapplers out, and so tows his prize into port -in a pig’s whisper. He’s a smart young chap, I tell ye, and a match for -the sauciest craft as ever sailed under false colours, and hoisted a red -pennant at the main.” - -But Smoke-Jack shook his head, and led his shipmate, nothing loth, into -a tempting store-house, redolent with the fragrance of limes, tobacco, -decaying melons, and Jamaica rum. He said nothing, however, until he -had quenched his thirst; then after a vigorous pull at a tall beaker, -filled with a fragrant compound in which neither ice nor alcohol had been -forgotten, observed, as if the subject still occupied his thoughts— - -“I knows the trim on ’em, I tell ye; I knows the trim on ’em. As I says -to the young chap now, I never found one yet as would steer kind in a -sea-way.” - -Meanwhile, Célandine, moved by an impulse for which she could not -account, or perhaps dreading to analyse a sentiment that might after -all be founded on a fallacy, led the young seaman into a cool, quiet -room in a wooden house, on the shady side of the street, of which -the apparent mistress was a large bustling negress, with a numerous -family of jet-black children, swarming and crawling about the floor -like garden-snails after a shower. This proprietress seemed to hold -the Quadroon in considerable awe, and was delighted to bring the best -her house afforded for the entertainment of such visitors. Slap-jack, -accommodated with a deep measure of iced rum-and-water, lit his pipe, -played with the children, stared at his black hostess in unmitigated -astonishment, and prepared himself to answer the questions it was obvious -the Quadroon was burning to put. - -Célandine hovered restlessly about the room, fixing her bright black -eyes upon the seaman with an eager, inquiring glance, that she withdrew -hastily when she thought herself observed, and thereby driving into -a state of abject terror the large sable hostess, whose pity for the -victim, as she believed him, at last overcame her fear of the Quadroon, -and impelled her to whisper in Slap-Jack’s ear— - -“Obi-woman! _bruxa_,[4] buckra-massa, _bruxa_! -_Mefiez-vous!—Ojo-malo._[5] No drinkee for drunkee! Look out! _Gare!_” A -warning utterly incomprehensible to its object, who winked at her calmly -over his tumbler, while he drank with exceeding relish the friendly -mother’s health, and that of her thriving black progeny. - -There is nothing like a woman’s tact to wind the secrets out of a man’s -bosom, gradually, insensibly, and by much the same smooth, delicate -process as the spinning of flax off a distaff. With a few observations -rather than questions, a few allusions artfully put, Célandine drew from -Slap-Jack an account of his early years, and an explanation, offered with -a certain pride, of the manner in which he became a seaman. When he told -her how he had made his escape while a mere child from his protector, -whom he described as “the chap wot wanted to bind him ’prentice to a -sawbones,” he was startled to see the Quadroon’s shining black eyes full -of tears. He consoled her in his own rough, good-humoured way. - -“What odds did it make after all,” argued Slap-Jack, helping himself -liberally to the rum-and-water, “when I was out of my bed by sunrise and -down to the waterside to get aboard-ship in the British Channel, hours -afore he was up, and so Westward-ho! and away? Don’t ye take on about it. -A sailor I _would_ be, and a sailor I _am_. You ask the skipper if I’m -not. He knows my rating I should think, and whether I’m worth _my_ salt -or no. Don’t ye take on so, mother, I say!” - -But the Quadroon was weeping without concealment now. - -“Call me that again!” she exclaimed, sobbing convulsively. “Call me that -again! I have not been called mother for so long. Hush!” she added, -starting up, and laying her hand forcibly on his lips. “Not another -word. Fool! Idiot that I am! Not another word. She can hear us. She can -understand;” and Célandine darted a furious glance at the busy negress, -which caused that poor woman to shake like a jelly down to her misshapen -black heels. - -Slap-Jack felt considerably puzzled. His private opinion, as he -afterwards confided to his messmates, was, that the old lady not being -drunk, must be mad—a cheerful view, which was indeed confirmed by what -occurred immediately afterwards. - -In struggling to keep her hand upon his mouth, she had turned back the -deep, open collar of his blue shirt till his brawny neck was exposed -nearly to the shoulder. Espying on that neck a certain white mark, -contrasting with the ruddy weather-browned skin, she gave a half-stifled -shriek, like that with which a dumb animal expresses its rapture of -recognition; and taking the man’s head in her arms, pressed it to her -bosom, rocking herself to and fro, while she wept and murmured over him -with an inexplicable tenderness, by which he was at once astonished and -alarmed. - -For a few moments, and while the negress’s back was turned, she held him -tight, but released him when the other re-entered the room, exacting from -him a solemn promise that he would meet her again at an indicated place, -and adding that she would then confide to him matters in which, like -herself, he was deeply interested, but which must be kept religiously -secret so long as he remained in the island. - -Slap-jack, after he had finished his rum-and-water, rejoined his -comrades, a more thoughtful man than he had left them. To their jests and -inquiries he returned vague and inconclusive answers, causing Bottle-Jack -to stare at him in solemn wonder, and affording Smoke-Jack another -illustration of his theory as to the wilfulness of feminine steerage in a -sea-way. - -Célandine, on the contrary, walked through the town with the jaunty step -and bright vigilant eye of one who has discovered some treasure that -must be guarded with a care proportioned to its value. She bought no -more trinkets from the storekeepers now, she loitered no more to gossip -with sallow white, or shining negro, or dandy coloured man. At intervals -her brow indeed clouded over, and the scowl of which it was so capable -deepened ominously, while she clenched her hands and set her teeth; but -the frown soon cleared away, and she smiled bright and comely once more. - -She had found her boy at last. Her first-born, the image of her first -love. Her heart warmed to him from the very moment he came near her at -the store. She was sure of it long before she recognised the mark on his -neck—the same white mark she had kissed a thousand times, when he danced -and crowed on her knees. It was joy, it was triumph. But she must be very -silent, very cautious. If it was hard that a mother might not openly -claim her son, it would be harder still that such acknowledgment should -rivet on him the yoke of a slavery to which he was born by that mother, -herself a slave. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -MONTMIRAIL WEST - - -At a distance of less than a league from Port Welcome stood the large -and flourishing plantation of _Cash-a-crou_, known to the European -population, and, indeed, to many of the negroes, by the more civilised -appellation of Montmirail West. It was the richest and most important -establishment on the island, covering a large extent of cultivation, -reclaimed at no small cost of labour from the bush, and worked by a -numerous gang of slaves. Not a negro was purchased for these grounds till -he had undergone a close inspection by the shrewd and pitiless overseer, -who never missed a good investment, be it Coromantee, Guinea-man, or -Congo, and never bought a hand, of however plausible an appearance, in -whom his quick eye could detect a flaw; consequently, no such cheerful -faces, fresh lips, sound teeth, strong necks, open chests, sinewy arms, -dry, large hands, flat stomachs, powerful loins, round thighs, muscular -calves, lean ankles, high feet, and similar physical points of servile -symmetry, were to be found in any other gang as in that which worked the -wide clearings on the _Cash-a-crou_ estate, which, for convenience, we -will call by its more civilised name. It was said, however, that in the -purchase of female negroes this overseer was not so particular; that -a saucy eye, a nimble tongue, and such an amount of good looks as is -compatible with African colouring and features, found more favour in his -judgment than size, strength, substance, vigorous health, or the prolific -qualities so desirable in these investments. The overseer, indeed, was a -married man, living, it was thought, in wholesome dread of his Quadroon -wife, and so completely did he identify himself with the new character -he had assumed, that even Célandine could hardly believe her present -husband was the same Stefano Bartoletti who had wooed her unsuccessfully -in her girlhood, had met her again under such strange circumstances in -France, eventually to follow her fortunes, and those of her mistress, -the Marquise, and obtain from the latter the supervision of her negroes -on the estate she had inherited by her mother’s will, which she chose to -call Montmirail West. - -Bartoletti had intended to settle down for the rest of his life in a -state of dignified indolence with Célandine. He had even offered to -purchase the Quadroon’s freedom, which was generously given to her by -the Marquise with that view; but he had accustomed himself through the -whole of his early life to the engrossing occupation of money-making, -and like many others he found it impossible to leave off. He and his -wife now devoted themselves entirely to the acquisition of wealth; she -with the object of discovering her long-lost son, he, partly from inborn -covetousness, and yet more from force of habit. Quick, shrewd, and indeed -enterprising, where there was no personal risk, he had been but a short -time in the service of the Marquise ere he became an excellent overseer, -by no means neglecting her interests, while he was scrupulously attentive -to his own. The large dealings in human merchandise which now occupied -his attention afforded scope for his peculiar qualities, and Signor -Bartoletti found few competitors in the slave-market who, in caution, -cupidity, and knowledge of business, could pretend to be his equals. -Moreover, he dearly loved the constant speculation, amounting to actual -gambling, inseparable from such transactions, nor was he averse, besides, -to that pleasing sensation of superiority experienced by all but the -noblest natures from absolute authority, however unjustifiable, over -their fellow-creatures. - -The Signor was a great man in the plantation, a great man in Port -Welcome, a great man on the deck of a trader just arrived with her -swarthy cargo from the Bight of Benin or the Gold Coast; but his -proportions seemed to shrink and his step to falter when he crossed the -threshold of his own home. The older negroes, who knew he had married -an Obi-woman, and respected him for his daring, were persuaded that -he had been quelled and brought into subjection through some charm put -upon him by Célandine. To the same magical influence they attributed the -Quadroon’s favour with her mistress, and this superstitious dread had -indeed been of service to both; for a strong feeling of dissatisfaction -was gaining ground rapidly amongst the blacks, and then, as now, -notwithstanding all that has been said and written in their favour, they -were less easily ruled by love than fear. - -It is not that they are naturally savage, inhuman, brutal. Centuries of -Christianity and cultivation might probably have done for the black man -what they have done for the white; but those centuries have been denied -him; and if he is to be taken at once from a state of utter ignorance and -degradation to be placed on a footing of social equality with those who -have hitherto been his masters—a race that has passed gradually through -the successive stages he is expected to compass in one stride—surely it -must be necessary to restrain him from the excesses peculiar to the lusty -adolescence of nations, as of individuals, by some stronger repressive -influence than need be applied to the staid and sober demeanour of a -people arrived long ago at maturity, if not already past their prime. - -Signor Bartoletti did not trouble himself with such speculations. -Intimidation he found answered his purpose tolerably, corporal punishment -extremely well. - -Passing from the supervision of some five-score hoes, picking their -labour out with great deliberation amongst the clefts and ridges of a -half-cleared mountain, clothed to its summit in a tangle of luxuriant -beauty, he threaded a line of wattled mud cottages, cool with thick -heavy thatch, dazzling in whitewash, and interspersed with fragrant -almond-trees, breaking the scorching sunlight into a thousand shimmering -rays, as they rustled and quivered to the whisper of the land-breeze, not -yet exhausted by the heat. - -At the door of one of these huts he spied a comely negro girl, whose -duties should have kept her in the kitchen of the great house. He also -observed that she concealed something bulky under her snowy apron, and -looked stealthily about as if afraid of being seen. - -He had a step noiseless and sure as a cat; she never heard him coming, -but started with a loud scream when she felt his hand on her shoulder, -and incontinently began to cry. - -“What have you got there, Fleurette?” asked the overseer, sternly. “Bring -it out at once, and show it up!” - -“Nothing, Massa,” answered Fleurette, of course, though she was sobbing -all the time. “It only Aunt Rosalie’s piccaninny, I take him in please, -just now, to his mammy, out of the wind.” - -There was but such a light breath of air as kept the temperature below -actual suffocation. - -“Wind! nonsense!” exclaimed Bartoletti, perspiring and exasperated. “Aunt -Rosalie’s child was in the baby-yard half an hour ago; here, let me look -at him!” and the overseer snatched up Fleurette’s apron to discover a -pair of plump black hands, clasped over a well-fattened turkey, cleaned, -plucked, and ready for the pot. - -The girl laughed through her tears. “You funny man, Signor!” said she, -archly, yet with a gleam of alarm in her wild black eyes; “you no believe -only when you see. Piccaninny gone in wash-tub long since; Fleurette -talkee trash, trash; dis lilly turkey fed on plantation at Maria -Gralante; good father give um to Fleurette a-cause dis nigger say ‘Ave’ -right through, and spit so at Mumbo-Jumbo.” - -This story was less credible than the last, inasmuch as the adjoining -plantation of Maria Galante, cultivated by a few Jesuit priests, although -in a thriving condition, and capable of producing the finest poultry -reared, was more than an hour’s walk from where they stood, and it -was impossible that Fleurette could have been absent so long from her -duties at that period of the day. So Bartoletti, placing his hand in his -waistcoat, pulled out a certain roll, which the slaves called his “black -book,” and inserted Fleurette’s name therein for corporal punishment to -the amount of stripes awarded for the crime of theft. - -It was a common action enough; scarce a day passed, scarce even an -hour, without the production of this black book by the overseer, and a -torrent of entreaties, couched in the mingled jargon of French, Spanish, -and British, I have endeavoured to render through the conventional -negro-English, which, indeed, formed its basis, from the unfortunate -culprit whose name was thus inscribed; but on this occasion Fleurette -seemed to entertain a morbid terror of the ordeal quite out of proportion -to its frequency, and, indeed, its severity—for though sufficiently -brutal, the lash was not dangerous to life or limb. She screamed, she -wept, she prayed, she caught the overseer by his knees and clasped them -to her bosom, entreating him, with a frantic earnestness that became -almost sublime, to spare her this degradation! to forgive her only this -once! to bid her work night and day till crop-time, and then to send her -into the field-gang for the hardest labour they could devise—nay, to sell -her to the first trader that touched at Port Welcome, never to look on -her home at _Cash-a-crou_ again—anything, anything, rather than tie her -to a stake and flog her like a disobedient hound! - -But Bartoletti was far too practised an overseer to be in the slightest -degree moved by such entreaties. Replacing the black book in his -waistcoat, he walked coolly away, without deigning to look back at his -despairing suppliant, writhing under such a mixture of grief and shame -as soon maddened into rage. Perhaps, had he done so, he would have been -frightened into mercy, for a bolder man than the Italian might have been -cowed by the glare of that girl’s eyes, when she drew up her slender -figure, and clenching her hands till the nails pierced them, spat after -him with an intensity of hatred that wanted only opportunity to slake its -fierce desire in blood. - -The Signor, however, wiping his brow, unconscious, passed quietly on, to -report his morning’s work to the Marquise, and obtain her sanction for -Fleurette’s punishment, because the mistress never permitted any slave on -her estate to be chastised but by her own express command. - -Long years ago, when his heart was fresh and high, the Italian had spent -a few months in this very island, a period to which he still looked back -as to the one bright ray that gilded his dreary, wandering, selfish life. -It was here he met Célandine while both were young, and wooed her with -little encouragement indeed, for she confessed honestly enough that he -was too late, yet not entirely without hope. And now in gleams between -the cane-pieces he could catch a glimpse of that silver-spread lagoon -by which they had walked more than once in the glowing evenings, till -darkness, closing without warning like a curtain, found them together -still. - -He had conceived for himself then an ideal of Paradise, which had never -in after years faded completely away. To win the Quadroon for his own—to -make himself a peaceful home in easy circumstances, somewhere amidst -this tangled wilderness of beauty from which Port Welcome peeped out on -the Caribbean Sea—to sit in his own porch and watch the tropical sunset -dying off through its blended hues of gold, and crimson, and orange, into -the pale, serene depths of opal, lost ere he could look again, amongst -the gathering shades of night—such were his dreams, and at last he had -realised them to the letter; but he never watched the sunset now, nor -walked by the cool glistening lagoon with the woman whom in his own -selfish way he had loved for half a lifetime. She was his wife, you see, -and a very imperious wife she proved. When he had leisure to speculate -on such matters, which was seldom, he could not but allow that he was -disappointed; that the ideal was a fallacy, the romance a fiction, the -investment a failure; practically, the home was dull, the lagoon damp, -and the sunset moonshine! - -Therefore, as he walked on, though the material Paradise was there, as -it had always been, he never wasted a look or thought on its glowing -beauties, intent only on the dust that covered his shoes, the thirst -that fired his throat, and the perspiration that streamed from his brow. -Yet palm, cocoa, orange, and lime-tree were waving overhead; while the -wild vine, pink, purple, and delicate creamy-white, winding here about -his path, ran fifty feet aloft round some bare stem to which it clung in -a succession of convolvulus-like blossoms from the same plant he trod -beneath his very feet. Birds of gaudy feather—purple, green, and flaming -scarlet, flashed from tree to tree with harsh, discordant cries, and a -_Louis d’or_ flitted round him in its bright, golden plumage, looking, as -its name implies, like a guinea upon wings. - -The grass-grown road he followed was indeed an avenue to the great house, -and as he neared his destination he passed another glimpse of tropical -scenery without a glance. It was the same view that delighted the eyes of -the Marquise daily from her sitting-room, and that Cerise would look at -in quiet enjoyment for hours. - -A slope of vivid green, dotted with almond-trees, stretched away from -the long, low, white building to a broad, clear river, shining between -the plantains and bananas that clothed its banks; beyond these, cattle -pasture and cane-pieces shot upward in variegated stripes through the -tangled jungle of the steep ascent, while at short intervals hog-plum, or -other tall trees of the forest, reared their heads against the cloudless -sky, to break the dark thick mass that clothed the mountain to its very -summit—save where some open, natural savannah, with its crop of tall, -rank, feathering grass, relieved the eye from the vivid colouring and -gaudy exuberance of beauty in which nature dresses these West Indian -islands. - -Bartoletti knew well that he should find the Marquise in her -sitting-room, for the sun was still high and the heat intense; none -therefore but slaves, slave-drivers, or overseers would be abroad for -hours. The Signor had however been reduced to such proper subjection by -Célandine that he never ventured to approach the Marquise without making -a previous report to his wife, and as the Quadroon had not yet returned -from the visit to Port Welcome, in which she made acquaintance with -Slap-Jack, some considerable delay took place before the enormity of -Fleurette’s peculations could be communicated to her mistress. - -Mother and daughter were inseparable here, in the glowing tropical heat, -as under the cool breezes and smiling skies of their own beautiful -France, a land to which they constantly reverted with a longing that -seemed only to grow more and more intense as every hour of their -unwelcome banishment dragged by. - -They were sitting in a large low room, with the smallest possible amount -of furniture and the greatest attainable of air. To insure a thorough -draught, the apartment occupied the whole breadth of the house, and the -windows, scarcely closed from year’s-end to year’s-end, were placed -opposite each other, so that there was free ingress on all sides for -the breeze that, notwithstanding the burning heat of the climate, blows -pretty regularly in these islands from morning till night and from night -till morning. It wafted through the whole apartment the fragrance of a -large granadilla, cut in half for the purpose, that stood surrounded -by a few shaddocks, limes, and pomegranates, heaped together like a -_cornucopia_ on a small table in the corner; it fluttered the leaves of -a book that lay on Mademoiselle de Montmirail’s knee, who was pretending -to read, with her eyes resting wearily on a streak of blue sea, far off -between the mountains; and it lifted the dark hair from the temples of -the Marquise, fanning with grateful breath, yet scarce cooling, the rich -crimson of her cheek. - -The resemblance between these two grew closer day by day. While the -mother remained stationary at that point of womanly beauty to which the -daughter was approaching, figure and face, in each, became more and more -alike; and though the type of the elder was still the richer and more -glowing, of the younger, the more delicate and classical, Cerise seemed -unaccountably to have gained some of that spirit and vitality which the -Marquise seemed as unaccountably to have lost. - -Also on the countenance of each might be traced the same expression—the -longing, wistful look of those who live in some world of their own, out -of and far beyond the present, saddened in the woman’s face with memory -as it was brightened in the girl’s by hope. - -“It is suffocating!” exclaimed the former, rising restlessly from her -seat, and pushing the hair off her temples with a gesture of impatience. -“Cerise, my darling, are you made of stone that you do not cry out at -this insupportable heat? It irritates me to see you sit reading there -as calmly as if you could feel the wind blowing off the heights of -Montmartre in January. It seems as if the sun would never go down in this -oven that they call an island.” - -Cerise shut her book and collected her scattered ideas with an obvious -effort. “I read, mamma,” she answered smiling, “because it is less -fatiguing than to think, but I obtain as little result from the one -process as the other. Do you know, I begin to believe the stories we used -to hear in Paris about the West Indies, and I am persuaded that we shall -not only be shrivelled up to mummies in a few more weeks, but that our -tongues will be so dry and cracked as to be incapable of expressing our -thoughts, even if our poor addled brains could form them. Look at Pierrot -even, who is a native; he has not said a syllable since breakfast.” - -Pierrot, however, like the historical parrot of all ages, though silent -on the present occasion, doubtless _thought_ the more, for the attitude -in which he held his head on one side, peering at his young mistress with -shrewd unwinking eye, implied perceptions more than human, nay, even -diabolical in their malignant sagacity. - -“What can I do?” said the Marquise, vehemently, pacing the long room with -quick steps ill suited to the temperature and the occasion. “While the -Regent lives I can never return to Paris. For myself, I sometimes fancy I -could risk it; but when I think of you, Cerise—I dare not—I _dare_ not; -that’s the truth. An insult, an injury, he might forgive, or at least -forget; but a scene in which he enacted the part of the _Pantaleone_, -whom everybody kicks and cuffs; in which he was discovered as a coxcomb, -an intruder, and a _polisson_, and through the whole of which he is -conscious, moreover, that he was intensely ridiculous—I protest to you I -cannot conceive any outrage so horrible as to satisfy his revenge. No, my -child, for generations my family have served the Bourbons, and we should -know what they are: with all their good qualities there are certain -offences they can never forgive, and this Regent is the worst of the -line.” - -“Then, mamma,” observed Cerise cheerfully, though she smothered a sigh, -“we must have patience and live where we are. It might be worse,” she -added, pointing to the streak of deep-blue sea that belted the horizon. -“This is a wider view and a fairer than the dead wall of Vincennes or the -gratings of the Bastile, and some day, perhaps, some of our friends from -France may drop in quite unexpectedly to offer their homage to Madame la -Marquise. How the dear old Prince-Marshal would gasp in this climate, and -how dreadfully he would swear at the lizards, centipedes, galley-wasps, -red ants, and cockroaches! He who, brave as he is, never dared face -a spider or an earwig! Mamma, I think if I could see his face over a -borer-worm, I should have one more good laugh, even in such a heat as -this.” - -“You might laugh, my dear,” answered her mother, “but I think I should -be more inclined to cry—yes, to cry for sheer joy at seeing him again. I -grant you he was a little ridiculous; but what courage! what sincerity! -what a true gentleman! I hear that he too is out of favour at the Palais -Royal, and has returned to his estates at Chateau-Guerrand. His coach was -seen near the Hôtel Montmirail the night of Monsieur le Duc’s creditable -_escapade_, and that is crime enough, I conclude, to balance a dozen -battles and forty years of loyal service to the throne. No, Cerise, I -tell you while the monster lives we must remain exiled in this purgatory -of fire. But my friends keep me well informed of passing events. I -hear his health is failing. They tell me his face is purple now in the -mornings when he comes to Council, and he drinks harder than ever with -his _roués_ at night. Of course, my child, it would be wicked to wish for -the death of a fellow-creature, but while there is a Regent in France you -and I must be content with the lizards and the cockroaches for society, -and for amusement, the supervision of these miserable, brutalised negro -slaves.” - -“Poor things!” said the younger lady, tenderly. “I am sure they have -kind hearts under their black skins. I cannot but think that if they -were taught and encouraged, and treated less like beasts of burden, they -would show as much intelligence as our own peasants at La Fierté or the -_real_ Montmirail. Why, Fleurette brought me a bouquet of jessamines and -tuberoses yesterday, with a compliment to the paleness of my complexion -that could not have been outdone by Count Point-d’Appui himself. Oh! -mamma, I wish you would let me establish _my_ civil code for the -municipal government of the blacks.” - -“You had better let it alone, my child,” answered the Marquise, gravely. -“Wiser brains than yours have puzzled over the problem, and failed to -solve it. I have obtained all the information in my power from those -whose experience is reliable, and considered it for myself besides, -till my head ached. It seems to me that young colonists, and all who -know nothing about negroes, are for encouragement and indulgence; old -planters, and those who are well acquainted with their nature, for -severity and repression. I would not be cruel; far from it; but as -for treating them like white people, Cerise, in my opinion all such -liberality is sheer nonsense. Jaques and Pierre, at home, are ill-fed, -ill-clothed (I wish it were not so), up early, down late, and working -often without intermission from sunrise till sunset; nevertheless, Jaques -or Pierre will doff his red cap, tuck up his blouse, and run a league -bareheaded, after a hard day’s work, if you or I lift up a finger; and -why?—because we are La Fiertés or Montmirails. But Hippolyte or Achille, -fat, strong, lazy, well-fed, grumbles if he is bid to carry a message to -the boiling-house after his eight hours’ labour, and only obeys because -he knows that Bartoletti can order him a hundred lashes by my authority -at his discretion.” - -“I do not like the Italian, mamma! I am sure that man is not to be -trusted,” observed Cerise, inconsequently, being a young lady. “What -could make my dear old _bonne_ marry him, I have never been able to -discover. He is an alchemist, you know, and a conjuror, and worse. I -shudder to think of the stories they told about him at home, and I -believe he bewitched her!” - -Here Mademoiselle de Montmirail crossed herself devoutly, and her mother -laughed. - -“He is a very good overseer,” said she, “and as for his necromancy, even -if he learned it from the Prince of Darkness, which you seem to believe, -I fancy Célandine would prove a match for his master. Between them, the -Signor, as he calls himself, and his wife, manage my people wonderfully -well, and this is no easy matter at present, for I am sorry to say they -show a good deal of insubordination and ill-will. There is a spirit of -disaffection amongst them,” added the Marquise, setting her red lips -firmly together, “that must be kept down with the strong hand. I do not -mind your going about amongst the house negroes, Cerise, or noticing -the little children, though taking anything black on your lap is, in my -opinion, an injudicious piece of condescension; but I would not have you -be seen near the field-gang at present, men or women, and above all, -never trust them. Not one is to be depended on except Célandine, for I -believe they hate her as much as her husband, and fear her a great deal -more.” - -The Marquise had indeed cause for uneasiness as to the condition of -her plantation, although she had never before hinted so much to her -daughter, and indeed, like the generality of people who live on the -crust of a volcano, she forced herself to ignore the danger of which she -was yet uncomfortably conscious. For some time, perhaps ever since the -arrival of the Italian overseer, there had been symptoms of discontent -and disaffection among the slaves. The work indeed went on as usual, -for Bartoletti was unsparing of the lash, but scarce a week passed -without a runaway betaking himself to the bush, and vague threats, -forerunners of some serious outbreak, had been heard from the idlest and -most mutinous of the gang when under punishment. It would not have been -well in such difficulties to relax the bonds of discipline, yet it was -scarcely wise to draw them tighter than before. The Marquise, however, -came of a race that had never yet learned to yield, and to which, for -generations, the assertion of his rights by an inferior had seemed an -intolerable presumption that must be resisted to the death. As her -slaves, therefore, grew more defiant she became more severe, and of late -the slightest offences had been visited with the utmost rigour, and under -no circumstances passed over without punishment. It was an unfortunate -time therefore that poor Fleurette had chosen to be detected in the -abstraction of a turkey ready plucked for cooking, and she could not have -fallen into worse hands than those of the pitiless Italian overseer. - -The Marquise had scarce concluded her warning, ere Bartoletti entered the -sitting-room with his daily report. His manner was extremely obsequious -to Madame de Montmirail, and polite beyond expression to Mademoiselle. -The former scarcely noticed his demeanour at any time; the latter -observed him narrowly, with the air of a child who watches a toad or any -such object for which it feels an unaccountable dislike. - -Cerise usually left the room soon after the Signor entered it, but -something in her mother’s face on the present occasion, as she ran her -eye over the black book, induced her to remain. - -The Marquise read the punishment list twice; frowned, hesitated, and -looked discomposed. - -“It is her first offence?” said she, inquiringly. “And the girl is -generally active and well-behaved enough.” - -“Pardon, Madame la Marquise,” answered Bartoletti. “Madame forgave -her only last week when she lost half-a-dozen of Mademoiselle’s -handkerchiefs, that she had taken to wash; or _said_ she lost them,” he -added pointedly. - -“Oh, mamma!” interposed Cerise, but the Marquise checked her with a sign, -and Bartoletti proceeded. - -“One of her brothers is at the head of a gang of _Maroons_,[6] who infest -the very mountains above our cane-pieces, and another ran away to join -him last week. They say at the Plantation we _dare_ not punish any of the -family, and I am pledged to make an example of the first that comes into -my hands.” - -“Very well,” said the Marquise, decidedly, returning his black book to -her overseer, and observing to Cerise, who was by this time in tears, “A -case, my dear, that it would be most injudicious to pardon. After all, -the pain is not much, and the disgrace, you know, to these sort of people -is nothing!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -BLACK, BUT COMELY - - -Transplanted, like some delicate flower from her native soil, to this -glowing West Indian Island, Mademoiselle de Montmirail had lost but -little of the freshness that bloomed in the Norman convent, and had -gained a more decided colouring and a deeper expression, which added -the one womanly grace hitherto wanting in her beauty. Even the negroes, -chattering to one another as they hoed between the cane-rows, grinned -out their approval of her beauty, and Hippolyte, a gigantic and hideous -Coromantee, imported from Africa, had been good enough to express his -opinion that she only wanted a little more colour, as he called it, -meaning a shade of yellow in her skin, to be handsome enough for his -wife; whereat his audience shouted and showed their white teeth, wagging -their woolly heads applauding, while the savage shook his great black -shoulders, and looked as if he thought more unlikely events might come to -pass. - -Had it not been for these very slaves, who gave their opinions so freely -on her personal appearance, Cerise would have been tolerably happy. She -was, indeed, far from the scenes that were most endeared to her by memory -and association. She was very uncertain when or how she should return to -France, and until she returned, there was apparently no hope, however -remote, that she could realise a certain dream which now constituted -the charm of her whole life. Still the dream had been dreamed, vague, -romantic, wild, and visionary; yet the girl dwelt upon it day by day, -with a tenderness and a constancy the deeper and the more enduring that -they seemed so hopeless and so thrown away. - -I would not have it supposed, however, that Mademoiselle de Montmirail -was a foolish love-sick maiden, who allowed her fancies to become the -daily business of her life. On the contrary, she went through her duties -scrupulously, making for herself occupation where she did not find it, -helping her mother, working, reading, playing, improving her mind, and -doing all she could for the negroes on the estate, but tinging everything -unconsciously, whether of joy or sorrow, trouble or pleasure, with the -rosy light of a love she had conceived without reason, cherished without -reflection, and now brooded over without hope, in the depths of her own -heart. - -But although the welfare of the slaves afforded her continual occupation, -and probably prevented her becoming utterly wearied and overpowered by -the sameness of her daily life, their wilfulness, their obstinacy, their -petulant opposition to every experiment she was disposed to try for their -moral and physical benefit, occasioned her many an hour of vexation and -depression. Above all, the frequency of corporal punishment, a necessity -of which she was dimly conscious, but would by no means permit herself to -acknowledge, cut her to the heart. Silently and earnestly she would think -over the problem, to leave it unsolved at last, because she could not but -admit that the dictates of her feelings were opposed to the conclusions -of her reason. Then she would wish she had absolute power on the -plantation, would form vague schemes for the enlightenment of their own -people and the enfranchisement of every negro as he landed, till, having -once entered on the region of romance, she would pursue her journey to -its usual termination, and see herself making the happiness of every one -about her, none the less earnestly that the desire of her own heart was -granted, her schemes, her labours, all her thoughts and feelings shared -by the Grey Musketeer, whom yet it seemed so improbable she was ever to -see again. - -It wanted an hour of sunset. The evening breeze had set in with a -refreshing breath that fluttered the skirt of her white muslin dress and -the pink ribbons on her wide straw hat, as Mademoiselle de Montmirail -strolled towards the negro-houses, carrying a _tisane_ she had herself -prepared for Aunt Rosalie’s sick child. The slaves were already down -from the cane-pieces, laughing, jesting, singing, carrying their tools -over their shoulders and their baskets or calabashes on their heads. A -fat little negro of some eight years old, who reminded Cerise of certain -bronze casts that held wax-lights in the Hôtel Montmirail, and who was -indeed little less sparingly clad than those works of art, came running -by, his saucy features shining with a merry excitement, in such haste -that he could only pull himself up to make her a droll little reverence -when he was almost under her feet. She recognised him as an elder brother -of the very infant she was about to visit, and asked if baby was any -better, but the child seemed so intent on some proceeding of his own that -she could not extort an answer. - -“What is it, Hercule?” said she, laying her white hand on the little -knotted woolly head. “Where are you off to in such a hurry? Is it a dance -at the negro-houses, or a merry-making in the Square?” - -The Square was a clear space, outside the huts of the field negroes, -devoted to occasions of unusual display, and Hercule’s thoughts were as -obviously turned in that direction as his corpulent little person. - -“Better bobbery nor dance,” answered the imp, looking up earnestly in her -face. “M’amselle Fleurette tied safe to howling-tree! Massa Hippolyte, -him tall black nigger, floggee criss-cross. So! Make dis good little -nigger laugh, why for, I go see!” and away scampered Hercule as fast as -his short legs would carry him, followed by Cerise, who felt her cheek -paling and her blood tingling to her fingers’-ends. - -But Aunt Rosalie’s baby never got the _tisane_, for Mademoiselle de -Montmirail spilt it all as she hurried on. - -Coming beyond the rows of negro-houses, she found a large assemblage of -slaves, both men and women, ranged in a circle, many of the latter being -seated on the ground, with their children crawling about their feet, -while the fathers looked over the heads of their families, grinning in -curiosity and delight. - -[Illustration: “CERISE BURST THROUGH LIKE A FLASH.” - -(_Page 275._)] - -They were all eager to enjoy one of those spectacles to which the -Square, as they chose to call it, was especially devoted. - -In the centre of this open space, with the saffron light of a setting -sun full upon her closed eyes and contracted features, cowered poor -Fleurette, naked to the waist, secured hand and foot to a strong upright -post which prevented her from falling, with her wrists tied together and -drawn to a level somewhat higher than her head, so that she was unable -even to contract her shoulders for protection from the lash. Though her -shapely dark form and bosom were thus exposed, she seemed to feel less -shame than fear; but the reason was now obvious why she had shrunk with -such unusual terror from her odious and degrading punishment. - -Looking on with callous indifference, and holding his black book in his -hand, stood Bartoletti, austerely satisfied with this public recognition -of his authority, but little interested in the result, save as it -affected the length of time, more or less, during which the victim would -be incapacitated from service. - -Behind the girl, and careful to remain at such a distance as allowed room -for the sweep of his right arm, was stationed the most hideous figure in -the scene: a tall powerful Coromantee negro, African-born, with all his -savage propensities intensified by food, servitude, and the love of rum. -He brandished a long-lashed, knotted whip in his broad hand, and eyeing -the pliant shrinking figure before him, grinned like a demon in sheer -desire of blood. - -He was to take his cue from the overseer. At the moment Cerise rounded -the last of the negro-houses and came into full view of this revolting -spectacle, Bartoletti’s harsh Italian voice grated on the silence—“One!” - -Hippolyte, such was the Coromantee’s inappropriate name, drew himself -back, raised his brawny arm, and the lash fell with a dull jerk, deadened -by the flesh into which it cut. - -There was a faint moan, and the poor back quivered in helpless agony. - -Cerise, in her white dress, burst through the sable circle like a flash. - -“Two!” grated that harsh voice, and again the cruel lash came down, but -it was dripping now with blood, and a long wailing shriek arose that -would not be suppressed. - -“_Halte là!_” exclaimed Mademoiselle de Montmirail, standing in the -midst, pale, trembling, dilated, and with fire flashing from her blue -eyes. “Take that girl down! this instant! I command it! Let me see who -will dare to disobey!” - -Even Hippolyte shrunk back, like some grotesque fiend rebuked. Bartoletti -strove to expostulate, but somehow he was awed by the beauty of that holy -wrath, so young, so fair, so terrible, and he dared not lift his eyes to -meet those scorching looks. He cowered, he trembled, he signed to two -negro women to obey Mademoiselle, and then slunk doggedly away. - -Cerise passed her arm caressingly round Fleurette’s neck, she wiped the -poor torn shoulders with her own laced handkerchief, she rested the dark -woolly head on her bosom, and lifting the slave’s face to her own, kissed -her, once, twice, tenderly and pitifully on the lips. - -Then Fleurette’s tears gushed out: she sank to her young mistress’s -knees, she grovelled at her very feet, she kissed them, she hugged them, -she pressed them to her eyes and mouth; she vowed, she sobbed, she -protested, and, at least while her passion of gratitude and affection -lasted, she spoke no more than the truth when she declared that she asked -no better than to consecrate every drop of blood in her body, her life, -her heart, her soul, to the service of Mademoiselle de Montmirail. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -A WISE CHILD - - -‘The Bashful Maid’ was still lying peacefully at anchor in the harbour of -Port Welcome, yards squared, sails furled, decks polished to a dazzling -white, every article of gear and tackle denoting profound repose, even -the very pennon from her truck drooping motionless in the heat. Captain -George spent much of his time below, making up his accounts, with the -invaluable assistance of Beaudésir, who, having landed soon after their -arrival, remained an hour or two in the town, and returned to the -brigantine, expressing no desire for further communication with the shore. - -George himself postponed his visit to the island until he had completed -the task on which he was engaged. In the meantime he gave plenty of -liberty to the crew, an indulgence of which none availed themselves more -freely than Slap-Jack and his two friends. - -These last indeed seldom stirred beyond the town. Here they found all -they wanted in the shape of luxury or amusement: strong tobacco, new rum, -an occasional scrape of a fiddle with a thrumming accompaniment on the -banjo, nothing to do, plenty to drink, and a large room to smoke in. - -But the foretopman was not so easily satisfied. Much to the disgust of -his comrades, he seemed to weary of their society, to have lost his -relish for fiery drinks and sea stories; nay, to have acquired diverse -tastes and habits foreign to his nature and derogatory to his profession. - -“Gone cruisin’ thereaway,” observed Bottle-Jack, vaguely waving his pipe -in the direction of the mountains. “Never taken no soundings, nor kept -no dead reckoning, nor signalled for a pilot, but just up foresail, -drive-ahead, stem on, happy-go-lucky, an’ who cares!” While Smoke-Jack, -puffing out solemn clouds of fragrant Trinidado, enunciated sententiously -that he “Warn’t a-goin’ to dispute but what every craft should hoist -her own ensign, an’ lay her own course; but when he see a able seaman -clearing out from such a berth as this here, leaving the stiffest of grog -and the strongest of ‘bacca’ a-cause of a old yaller woman with a red -burgee; why, _he_ knowed the trim on ’em, that was _where_ it was. See if -it wasn’t. Here’s my service to you, mate—All ships at sea!” - -Long ere the two stanch friends, however, had arrived at this -intelligible conclusion, the object of their anxiety was half-way up the -mountain, in fulfilment of the promise he had made Célandine to meet her -at an appointed place. - -In justice to Slap-Jack, it is but fair to admit that his sentiments in -regard to the Quadroon were those of keen curiosity mingled with pity for -the obvious agitation under which she seemed to labour in his presence. -Fair Alice herself, far off in her humble home among the downs, need -not have grudged the elder woman an hour of her young seaman’s society, -although every minute of it seemed so strangely prized by this wild, -energetic, and mysterious person, with her swarthy face, her scarlet -head-dress, and her flashing eyes, gleaming with the fierce anxious -tenderness of a leopardess separated from her whelps. - -Slap-Jack’s sea legs had hardly time to become fatigued, ere at a turn -in the mountain-path he found Célandine waiting for him, and somewhat to -his disgust, peering about in every direction, as if loth to be observed; -a clandestine interpretation of their harmless meeting which roused the -young seaman’s ire, and against which he would have vehemently protested, -had she not placed her hand over his mouth and implored him urgently, -though in a whisper, to keep silence. Then she bade him follow, still -below her breath, and so preceded him up the steep ascent with cautious, -stealthy steps, but at a pace that made the foretopman’s unaccustomed -knees shake and his breath come quick. - -The sun was hot, the mountain high, the path overgrown with cactus and -other prickly plants, tangled with creepers and not devoid of snakes. -Monkeys chattered, parrots screamed, glittering insects quivered like -tinsel in the sun, or darted like flashes of coloured light across the -forest-shade. Vistas of beauty, such as he had never dreamed of, opened -out on either side, and looking back more than once to take breath while -he ascended, the deep blue sea lay spread out beneath him, rising broader -and broader to meet the blue transparent sky. - -But Slap-Jack, truth to tell, was sadly indifferent to it all. Uneasiness -of the legs sadly counteracted pleasure of the eye. It was with -considerable gratification that he observed his leader diverge from the -upward path, and rounding the shoulder of the hill, take a direction -somewhat on the downward slope. Then he wiped his brows, with a sigh of -relief, and asked audibly enough for something to drink. - -She seemed less afraid of observation now, although she did not comply -with his request, but pointed downward to a dark hollow, from which -ascended a thin, white, spiral line of smoke, the only sign denoting -human habitation in the midst of this luxuriant wilderness of tropical -growth and fragrance. Then, parting the branches with both hands, she -dived into the thicket, to stop at the door of a hut, so artfully -concealed amongst the dense luxuriant foliage that a man might have -passed within five yards and never known it was there but for the smoke. - -Célandine closed the door cautiously behind her visitor, handed him a -calabash of water, into which she poured some rum from a goodly stone -jar—holding at least a gallon—watched him eagerly while he drank, and -when he set the measure down, flung both arms round his neck, and kissing -him all over the eyes and face, murmured in fondest accents— - -“Do you not know why I have brought you here? Do you not know who and -what you are?” - -“I could have told you half an hour back,” answered Slap-Jack, with a -puzzled air, “but so many queer starts happen hereaway, mother, that I’m -blessed if I can tell you now.” - -Tears shone in the fierce black eyes that never left his face, but -seemed to feast on its comeliness with the desire of a famished appetite -for food. - -“Call me mother again!” exclaimed the Quadroon. “You called me mother -down yonder at the store, and my heart leaped to hear the word. Sit ye -down, my darling, there in the light, where I can see your innocent face. -How like you are to your father, my boy. You’ve got his own bold eyes, -and broad shoulders, and large, strong hands. I could not be deceived. I -knew you from the first. Tell me true; you guessed who I was. You would -never have gone up to a stranger as you did to me!” - -Slap-Jack looked completely mystified. Wisely reflecting, however, -that if a woman be left uninterrupted she will never “belay,” as he -subsequently observed, “till she has payed-out the whole of her yarn,” he -took another pull at the rum-and-water, and held his peace. - -“Look about you, boy,” continued Célandine, “and mark the wild, -mysterious retreat I have made myself, on your account alone. No other -white man has ever entered the Obi-woman’s hut. Not a negro in the island -but shakes with fear when he approaches that low doorway; not one but -leaves a gift behind when he departs. And now, chance has done for the -Obi-woman that which all her perseverance and all her cunning has failed -to effect. Influence I have always had amongst the blacks, for I am of -their kindred, and they believe that I possess supernatural powers. You -need not smile, boy. I can sometimes foretell the future so far as it -affects others, though blindly ignorant where it regards myself; just -as a man reads his neighbour’s face clearly, though he cannot see his -own. All my influence I have devoted to the one great object of making -money. For that, I left my sunny home to live years in the bleak, cold -plains of France; for that, I sold myself in my old age to one whom I -could not care for, even in my youth; for that I have been tampering of -late with the most desperate and dangerous characters in the island; and -money I only valued because, without it, I feared I could never find my -boy. Listen, my darling, and learn how a mother’s love outlives the fancy -of youth, the devotion of womanhood, and the covetousness of old age. -Look at me now, child. It is not so long since men have told me—even in -France, where they profess to understand such matters—that I retained my -attractions still. You may believe that thirty years ago the Quadroon of -Cash-a-crou, as they called her, had suitors, lovers, and admirers by -the score. Somehow, I laughed at them all. It seemed to me that a man’s -affection for a girl only lasted while she despised him, and I resolved -that no weakness of my own should ever bring me down a single step from -the vantage-ground I held. Planters, overseers, councillors, judges, all -were at my feet; not a white man in the island but would have given three -months’ pay for a smile from the yellow girl at Cash-a-crou; and the -yellow girl—slave though she was—carried her head high above them all. - -“Well, one bright morning, a week before crop-time, a fine large ship, -twice the size of that brigantine in the harbour, came and dropped her -anchor off the town. The same night her sailors gave a dance at one of -the negro-houses in Port Welcome. I never hear a banjo in the still, -calm evenings but it thrills to my very marrow still, though it will -be five-and-twenty long years, when the canes are cut, since I went -into that dancing-room a haughty, wilful beauty, and came out a humble, -love-stricken maid. Turn a bit more to the light, my boy, that I may look -into your blue eyes; they shine like his, when he came across the floor -and asked me to dance. I’ve heard the Frenchwoman say that it takes a -long time for a man to win his way into a girl’s heart. Theirs is a cold -country, and they have no African blood in their veins. All I know is, -that your father had not spoken half-a-dozen words ere I felt for him -as I never felt for any creature on earth before. I’d have jumped off -the Sulphur Mountain, and never thought twice about it, if he had asked -me. When we walked home together in the moonlight—for he begged hard to -see me safe to my own door, and you may think I wasn’t very difficult to -persuade—I told him honestly that I had never loved any man but him, and -never would love another, come what might. He looked down into my eyes -for a moment astonished, just as you look now, and then he smiled—no face -ever I saw had such a smile as your father’s—and wound his great strong -arm round my waist, and pressed me to his heart. I was happy then. If -I might live over just one minute of my life again, it should be that -first minute when I felt I belonged no more to myself, but to him. - -“So we were married by an old Spanish priest in the little white chapel -between the lighthouse and the town—yes, married right enough, my boy, -never doubt it, though I was but a slave. - -“I do not know how a great lady like our Marquise feels who can give -herself and all her possessions, proudly and in public, to the man she -loves, but she ought to be very happy. I was very happy, though I might -only meet your father by stealth, and with the fear of a punishment I -shuddered to think of before my eyes. I thought of it very often, too, -yet not without pride and pleasure, to risk it all for his sake. What -I dreaded far worse than punishment—worse than death, was the day his -ship would sail, and though she lay weeks and months refitting in the -harbour, that day arrived too soon. Never tell me people die of grief, my -boy, since I came off the hill alive when I had seen the last of those -white sails. I could have cursed the ship for taking him away, and yet I -blessed her for his sake. - -“There was consolation for me too. I had his solemn promise to come back -again, and I’ll never believe but he would have kept it had he been -alive. Nothing shall persuade me that my brave, blue-eyed Englishman has -not been sleeping many a year, rolled in his hammock, under the deep, -dark sea. It was well the conviction came on me by degrees that I was -never to see him again. I should have gone mad if I had known it that -last night when he bade me keep my heart up, and trust him to the end. -After a while I fretted less, for my time was near, and my beautiful boy -was born. Such an angel never lay on a mother’s knees. My son, my son, -you have the same eyes, and the same sweet smile still. I knew you that -day in the street, long before I turned your collar down, and saw the -little white mark like an anchor on your neck. How proud I was of you, -and how I longed to show my sturdy, blue-eyed boy, who began to speak at -eleven months, to every mother in the island, but I dared not—I dared -not, for your sake more than for my own. I was cunning then—ay, cunning, -and brave, and enduring as a panther. They never found me out—they never -so much as suspected me. I had money, plenty of it, and influence too, -with one man at least, who would have put his hand in the fire, coward as -I think he is, if I had only made him a sign. With his help, I concealed -the existence of my boy from every creature on the plantation—black or -white. In his house I used to come and nurse you, dear, and play with you -by the hour together. That man is my husband now, and I think he deserves -a better fate. - -“At last he was forced to leave the island, and then came another -parting, worse than the first. It was only for myself I grieved when I -lost your father, but when I was forced to trust my beautiful boy to the -care of another, to cross the sea, to sleep in strange beds, to be washed -and dressed by other hands, perhaps to meet with hard words and angry -looks, or worse still, to clasp his pretty arms about a nurse’s neck, and -to forget the mother that bore him, I thought my heart would break. My -boy, there is no such thing—I tell you again, these are fables—grief does -not kill. - -“For a long time I heard regularly of your welfare, and paid liberally -for the good news. I was sure the man to whom I had entrusted you looked -upon me as his future wife, and though I hated him for the thought, I—who -loved that bold, strong, outspoken sailor—I permitted it, I encouraged -it, for I believed it would make him kinder to my boy. When you were a -little older, I meant to buy my own freedom, and take you with me to live -in Europe—wherever you could be safe. - -“At last a ship sailed into Port Welcome, and brought no letter for me, -no news of my child. Another, and yet another, till months of longing, -sickening anxiety had grown to years, and I was nearly mad with fear and -pain. The father I had long despaired of, but I thought I was never to be -used so hardly as to lose the child. - -“I tell you again, my boy, grief does not kill. I lived on, but I was -a different creature now. My youth was gone, my beauty became terrible -rather than attractive. I possessed certain powers that rendered me an -object of dread more than love, and here, in this very hut, I devoted -myself to the practice of Obi, and the study of that magic which has -made the name of Célandine a word of fear to every negro in the island. - -“One only aim, one only hope, kept me from going mad. Money I was -resolved to possess, the more the better, for by the help of money alone, -I thought, could I ever gain tidings of my boy. The slaves paid well in -produce for the amulets and charms I sold them. That produce I converted -into coin, but it came in too slow. In Europe I might calculate on better -opportunities for gain, and to Europe I took the first opportunity of -sailing, that I might join the mistress I had never seen, as attendant -on her and her child. In their service I have remained to this day. The -mother I have always respected for her indomitable courage; the daughter -I loved from the first for her blue eyes, that reminded me of my boy. - -“And now look at me once more, my child—my darling. I have found you when -I had almost left off hoping; I have got you when I never expected to see -you again; and I am rewarded at last!” - -Slap-Jack, whose sentiments of filial affection came out the mellower -for rum-and-water, accepted the Quadroon’s endearments with sufficient -affability, and being naturally a good-hearted, easy-going fellow, gladly -enacted the part of dutiful son to a mother who had suffered such long -anxiety on his account. - -“A-course,” said he, returning her embrace, “now you’ve got a son, you -ain’t a-goin’ to keep him in this here round-house, laid up in lavender -like, as precious as a Blue Mountain monkey pickled in rum. We’ll just -wait here a bit, you and me, safe and snug, while the land-breeze holds, -and then drop easily down into the town, rouse out my shipmates, able -seamen every man of them, and go in for a regular spree. ’Tain’t every -day as a chap finds his mother, you know, and such a start as this here -didn’t ought to be passed over without a bobbery.” - -She listened to him delighted. His queer phrases were sweet in her ears; -to her they were no vulgar sea-slang, but the echo of a love-music that -had charmed her heart, and drowned her senses half a lifetime ago; that -rang with something of the old thrilling vibration still; but the wild -look of terror that had scared him more than once gleamed again in her -eyes, and she laid her hand on his shoulder as if to keep him down by -force, while she whispered—“My child, not so! How rash, how reckless! -Just like your father; but he, at least, had not your fate to fear. Do -you not see your danger? Can you not guess why I concealed your birth, -hid you up in your babyhood, and smuggled you out of the island as soon -as you could run? Born of a slave, on a slave estate, do you not know, my -boy, that you, too, are a slave?” - -“Gammon! mother,” exclaimed Slap-Jack, nothing daunted. “What -_me_?—captain of the foretop on board ‘The Bashful Maid,’—six guns on the -main-deck, besides carronades—master and owner, Captain George! and talk -to me as if I was one of them darkies what does mule’s work with monkey’s -allowance! Who’s to come and take me, I should like to know? Let ’em -heave ahead an’ do it, that’s all—a score at a spell if they can muster -’em. I’ll show ’em pretty quick what sort of a slave they can make out of -an able seaman!” - -“Hush, hush!” she exclaimed, listening earnestly, and with an expression -of intense fear contracting her worn features; “I can hear them -coming—negroes by the footfall, and a dozen at least. They will be at -the door in five minutes. They have turned by the old hog-plum now. As -you love your life, my boy; nay, as you love your mother, who has pined -and longed for you all these years, let me hide you away in there. You -will be safe. Trust me, you will be safe enough; they will never think of -looking for you there!” - -So speaking, and notwithstanding much good-humoured expostulation and -resistance from Slap-Jack, who, treating the whole affair as a jest, was -yet inclined to fight it out all the same, Célandine succeeded in pushing -her son into an inner division of the hut, containing only a bed-place, -shut off by a strong wooden door. This she closed hurriedly, at the very -moment a dozen pattering footsteps halted outside, and a rough negro -voice, in accents more imperative than respectful, demanded instant -admission. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -JACK AGROUND - - -Opening the door with a yawn, and stretching her arms like one lately -roused from sleep, the Quadroon found herself face to face with the -Coromantee, backed by nearly a score of negroes, the idlest and most -dissolute slaves on the estate. All seemed more or less intoxicated, -and Célandine, who knew the African character thoroughly, by no means -liked their looks. She was aware that much disaffection existed in the -plantation, and the absence of this disorderly gang from their work at -so early an hour in the afternoon argued something like open revolt. -It would have been madness, however, to show fear, and the Obi-woman -possessed, moreover, a larger share of physical courage than is usual -with her sex; assuming, therefore, an air of extreme dignity, she -stationed herself in the doorway and demanded sternly what they wanted. - -Hippolyte, who seemed to be leader of the party, doffed his cabbage-tree -hat with ironical politeness, and pointing over his shoulder at two -grinning negroes laden with plantains and other garden produce, came to -business at once. - -“We buy,—you sell, Missee Célandine. Same as storekeeper down Port -Welcome. Fust ask gentlemen step in, sit down, take something to drink.” - -There was that in his manner which made her afraid to refuse, and -inviting the whole party to enter, she accommodated them with difficulty -in the hut. Reviewing her assembled guests, the Quadroon’s heart sank -within her; but she was conscious of possessing cunning and courage, so -summoned both to her aid. - -A negro, under excitement, from whatever cause, is a formidable-looking -companion. Those animal points of head and countenance, by which he is -distinguished from the white man, then assume an unseemly prominence. The -lips thicken, the temples swell, the eyes roll, the brow seems to recede, -and the whole face alters for the worse, like that of a vicious horse, -when he lays his ears back, prepared to kick. - -Célandine’s visitors displayed all these alarming signs, and several -other disagreeable peculiarities, the result of partial intoxication. -Some of them carried axes, she observed, and all had knives. Their attire -too, though of the gaudiest colours, was extremely scanty, ragged, and -unwashed. They jested with one another freely enough, as they sat huddled -together on the floor of the hut, but showed little of the childish -good-humour common among prosperous and well-ordered slaves; while she -augured the worst from the absence of that politeness which, to do him -justice, is a prominent characteristic of the negro. Nevertheless, she -dissembled her misgivings, affected an air of dignified welcome, handed -round the calabash, with its accompanying stone bottle, to all in turn, -and felt but little reassured to find that the rum was nearly exhausted -when it had completed the circle. - -“Thirteen gentlemen, Missee Célandine,” observed the Coromantee, tossing -off his measure of raw spirits with exceeding relish; “thirteen charms, -best Obi-woman can furnish for the price, ’gainst evil eye, snake-bite, -jumbo-stroke, fire, water, and cold steel, all ’counted for, honourable, -in dem plantain baskets. Hi! you lazy nigger, pay out. Say, again, -missee, what day this of the month?” - -Célandine affected to consider. - -“The thirteenth,” she answered gravely; “the most unlucky day in the -whole year.” - -Hippolyte’s black face fell. “Golly?” said he. “Unlucky! for why? for -what? Dis nigger laugh at luck,” he added, brightening up and turning -what liquor was left in the stone bottle down his own throat. “Lookee -here, missee; you Obi-woman, right enough; you nigger too, yaller all -same as black: you go pray Jumbo for luck. All paid for in dat basket. -Pray Jumbo no rain to-night, put um fire out. Our work, make bobbery; -your work, stay up mountain where spirit can hear, and pray Jumbo till -monkeys wake.” - -A suspicion that had already dawned on the Quadroon’s mind was now -growing horribly distinct. It was obvious some important movement must -be intended by the gang that filled her hut, and there was every fear a -general rising might take place of all the slaves on the plantation, if -indeed the insurrection spread no further than the Montmirail estate. She -knew, none better, the nature of the half-reclaimed savage. She thought -of her courageous, high-souled mistress, of her delicate, beautiful -nursling, and shivered while she pictured them in the power of this huge -black monster who sat grinning at her over the empty calabash. She even -forgot for the moment her own long-lost son, hidden up within six feet of -her, and the double danger he would run in the event of detection. She -could only turn her mind in one direction, and that was, where Madame -and Mademoiselle were sitting, placid and unconscious, in the rich white -dresses her own fingers had helped to make. - -Their possible fate was too horrible to contemplate. She forced it from -her thoughts, and with all her power of self-concentration, addressed -herself to the means of saving them at any cost. In such an emergency -as the present, surrounded, and perhaps suspected, by the mutineers, -dissimulation seemed her only weapon left, and to dissimulation she -betook herself without delay. - -“Hippolyte,” said she, “you are a good soldier. You command all these -black fellows; I can see it in your walk. I always said you had the air -of an officer of France.” - -The Coromantee seemed not insensible to flattery. He grinned, wagged his -head, rolled his eyes, and was obviously well pleased. - -“Dese niggers make me deir colonel,” said he, springing from the floor -to an attitude of military attention. “Hab words of command like buckra -musketeer. _Par file à droite—Marche! Volte-face!_ Run for your lives!” - -“I knew it,” she replied, “and you ought to have learned already to trust -your comrades. Are we not in the same ranks? You say yourself, yellow and -black are all one. You and I are near akin; your people are the people -of my mother’s mother; whom you trust, I trust; whom you hate, I hate, -but far more bitterly, because my injuries are older and deeper than -yours.” - -He opened his eyes wondering, but the rum had taken effect, and nothing, -not even the Quadroon’s disloyalty to her mistress, seemed improbable -now. An Obi-woman too, if really in earnest, he considered a valuable -auxiliary; so signed his approval by another grin and a grunt of -acquiescence. - -“I live but for one object now,” continued Célandine, in a tone of -repressed fury that did credit to her power of acting. “I have been -waiting all my life for my revenge, and it seems to have come at last. -The Marquise should have given me my freedom long ago if she wished me -to forgive. Ay, they may call me _Mustee_, but I am black, black as -yourself, my brave Hippolyte, at heart. She struck me once,—I tell you, -struck me with her riding-whip, far away yonder in France, and I will -have her blood.” - -It is needless to observe this imputed violence was a fabrication for the -especial benefit of Hippolyte, and the energy with which he pronounced -the ejaculation, “Golly!” denoted that he placed implicit reliance on its -truth. - -“You are brave,” continued Célandine; “you are strong; you are the fine -tall negro whom we call the Pride of the Plantation. You do not know what -it is to hate like a poor weak woman. I would have no scruple, no mercy; -I would spare none, neither Madame nor Mademoiselle.” - -“Ma’amselle come into woods with me,” interrupted Hippolyte, with a -horrible leer. “Good enough wife for Pride of Plantation. Lilly-face look -best by um side of black man. Ma’amselle guess me come for marry her. -When floggee Fleurette, look at me so, afore all de niggers, sweet as -molasses!” - -Again Célandine shivered. The wretch’s vanity would have been ludicrous, -had he not been so formidable from his recklessness, and the authority he -seemed to hold over his comrades. She prepared to learn the worst. - -“They will both be in our power to-night, I suppose,” said she, -repressing with a strong effort her disgust and fierce desire to snatch -his long knife and stab him where he stood. “Tell me your plan of attack, -my brave colonel, and trust me to help you to the utmost.” - -The Coromantee looked about him suspiciously, rolling his eyes in -obvious perplexity. The superstition inherent in his nature made him -desirous of obtaining her assistance, while the Quadroon’s antecedents, -and particularly her marriage with the overseer, seemed to infer that -she would prove less zealous than she affected to be in the cause of -insurrection. He made up his mind therefore to bind her by an oath, which -he himself dictated, and made her swear by the mysterious power she -served, and from which she derived her influence, to be true, silent, -and merciless, till the great event had been accomplished, all the -whites in authority massacred, and the whole estate in the power of the -slaves. Every penalty, both horrible and ludicrous, that the grotesque -imagination of a savage could devise, was called down upon her head -in the event of treachery; and Célandine, who was a sufficiently good -Catholic at heart, swallowed all these imprecations imperturbably enough, -pledging herself, without the slightest hesitation, to the conspiracy. - -Then Hippolyte was satisfied and unfolded his plans, while the others -gathered round with fearful interest, wagging their heads, rolling their -eyes, grinning, stamping, and ejaculating deep gutturals of applause. - -His scheme was feasible enough; nor to one who knew no scruples of -gratitude, no instincts of compassion, did it present any important -obstacles. He was at the head of an organised body, comprising nearly all -the male slaves on the plantation; a body prepared to rise at a moment’s -notice, if only assured of success. The dozen negroes who accompanied him -had constituted themselves his guards, and were pledged to strike the -first blow, at his command. They were strong, able-bodied, sensual, idle, -dissolute, unscrupulous, and well enough fitted for their enterprise, -but that they were arrant cowards, one and all. As, however, little -resistance could be anticipated, this poltroonery was the more to be -dreaded by their victims, that in the hour of triumph it would surely -turn to cruelty and excess. - -Hippolyte, who was not deficient in energy, had also been in -communication with the disaffected slaves on the adjoining estates; these -too were sworn to rise at a given signal, and the Coromantee, feeling -that his own enterprise could scarcely fail, entertained a fervent hope -that in a few hours the whole of the little island, from sea to sea, -would be in possession of the negroes, and he himself chosen as their -chief. The sack and burning of Port Welcome, the massacre of the planters -and abduction of their families, were exciting little incidents of the -future, on which he could hardly trust himself to dwell; but the first -step in the great enterprise was to be taken at Montmirail West, and to -its details Célandine now listened with a horror that, while it curdled -her blood, she was forced to veil under a pretence of zeal and enthusiasm -in the cause. - -Her only hope was in the brigantine. Her early associations had taught -her to place implicit reliance on a boat’s crew of English sailors, -and if she could but delay the attack until she had communicated with -the privateer, Mademoiselle, for it was of Mademoiselle she chiefly -thought, might be rescued even yet. If she could but speak to her son, -lying within three feet of her! If she could but make him understand -the emergency! How she trusted he overheard their conversation! How she -prayed he might not have been asleep the whole time! - -Hippolyte’s plan of attack was simple enough. It would be dark in -a couple of hours. Long before then, he and his little band meant -to advance as far as the skirts of the bush, from whence they could -reconnoitre the house. Doors and windows would all be open. There was -but one white man in the place, and he unarmed. Nothing could be easier -than to overpower the overseer, and perhaps, for Célandine’s sake, -his life might be spared. Then, it was the Coromantee’s intention to -secure the Marquise and her daughter, which he opined might be done with -little risk, and at the expense of a shriek or two; to collect in the -store-room any of the domestic slaves, male or female, who showed signs -of resistance, and there lock them up; to break open the cellar, serve -out a plentiful allowance of wine to his guards, and then, setting fire -to the house, carry the Marquise and her daughter into the mountains. -The former, to be kept as a hostage, slain, or otherwise disposed of, -according to circumstances; the latter, as the African expressed it -with hideous glee, “for make lilly-face chief wife to dis here handsome -nigger!” - -Célandine affected to accept his views with great enthusiasm, but -objected to the time appointed. - -“The moon,” said she gravely, “is yet in her first quarter. Her spirit -is gone a journey to the mountains of Africa to bless the bones of our -forefathers. It will be back to-morrow. Jumbo has not been sufficiently -propitiated. Let us sacrifice to him for one night more with jar and -calabash. I will send down for rum to the stores. Brave colonel, you -and your guards shall bivouac here outside her hut, while the Obi-woman -remains within to spend the night in singing and making charms. Jumbo -will thus be pleased, and to-morrow the whole island may be ours without -opposition.” - -But Hippolyte was not to be deceived so easily. His plans admitted of -no delay, and the flames ascending from the roof of Montmirail West, -that same night, were to be the signal for a general rising from sea to -sea. His short period of influence had already taught him that such a -blow as he meditated, to be effectual, must be struck at once. Moreover, -the quality of cunning in the savage seems strong in proportion to his -degradation; the Coromantee was a very fox for vigilance and suspicion, -nor did he fail to attribute Célandine’s desire for procrastination to -its true motive. - -“To-night, Obi-woman!” said he resolutely. “To-night, or no night at -all. Dis nigger no leave yaller woman here, fear of accidents. Perhaps -to-morrow free blacks kill you same as white. You come with us down -mountain-side into clearing. We keep you safe. You make prayer and sing -whole time.” - -With a mischievous leer at a couple of his stalwart followers, he pointed -to the Quadroon. They sprang from the ground and secured her, one on each -side. The unfortunate Obi-woman strove hard to disarm suspicion by an -affectation of ready compliance, but it was obvious they mistrusted her -fidelity and had no intention of letting her out of their sight. It was -with difficulty that she obtained a few moments’ respite, on the plea -that night was about to fall, for the purpose of winding her shawl more -carefully round her head, and in that brief space she endeavoured to warn -her son of the coming outbreak, with a maddening doubt the while that -he might not understand their purport, even if he could hear her words. -Turning towards the door, behind which he was concealed, under pretence -of arranging her head-gear at a bit of broken looking-glass against the -panel, she sang, with as marked an emphasis as she dared, a scrap of some -doggrel sea-ditty, which she had picked up from her first love in the old -happy days, long ago:— - - “The boatswain looked upon the land, - And shrill his whistle blew, - The oars were out, the boat was manned, - Says he, ‘My gallant crew, - - “‘Our captain in a dungeon lies, - The sharks have got him flat, - But if we fire the town, my boys, - We’ll have him out of that! - - “‘We’ll stop their jaw, we’ll spike their guns! - We’ll larn ’em what they’re at— - You bend your backs, and pull, my sons, - We’ll have him out of that!’” - -This she sang twice, and then professed her readiness to accompany -Hippolyte and his band down the mountain, delaying their departure, -however, by all the means she could think of, including profuse offers -of hospitality, which had but little effect, possibly because the guests -were personally satisfied that there was nothing left to drink. - -Nay, even on the very threshold of the hut she turned back once more, -affecting to have forgotten the most important of the amulets she -carried about her person, and, crossing the floor with a step that must -have awakened the soundest sleeper, repeated, in clear loud tones, the -boatswain’s injunction to his men— - - “You bend your backs, and pull, my sons, - We’ll have him out of that!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - -JACK AFLOAT - - -But Slap-Jack was not asleep; far from it. His narrow hiding-place -offered but little temptation to repose, and almost the first sentence -uttered by Hippolyte aroused the suspicions of a man accustomed to -anticipate, without fearing, danger, or, as he expressed it, “to look out -for squalls.” - -He listened therefore intently the whole time, and although the -Coromantee’s jargon was often unintelligible, managed to gather quite -enough of its meaning to assure him that some gross outrage was in -preparation, of which a white lady and her daughter were to be the -victims. Now it is not only on the boards of a seaport theatre that the -British sailor vindicates his character for generous courage on behalf -of the conventional “female in distress.” The stage is, after all, a -representation, however extravagant, of real life, and the caricature -must not be exaggerated out of all likeness to its original. Coarse -in his language, rough in his bearing, reckless and riotous from the -very nature of his calling, there is yet in the thorough-going English -seaman a leavening of tenderness, simplicity, and self-sacrifice, which, -combined with his dauntless bravery, affords no ignoble type of manhood. -He is a child in his fancies, his credulity, his affections; a lion in -his defiance of peril and his sovereign contempt for pain. - -With regard to women, whatever may be his practice, his creed is pure, -exalted, and utterly opposed to his own experience; while his instincts -prompt him on all occasions, and against any odds, to take part with the -weaker side. Compared with the landsman, he is always a little behind -the times in worldly knowledge, possessing the faults and virtues of -an earlier age. With both of these in some excess, his chivalry is -unimpeachable, and a sense of honour that would not disgrace the noblest -chapters of knighthood is to be found nerving the blue-streaked arms and -swelling the brawny chests that man the forecastle. - -Slap-Jack knew enough of his late-discovered mother’s position to be -familiar with the name of the Marquise and the situation of Montmirail -West. As he was the only seaman belonging to ‘The Bashful Maid’ who -had been tempted beyond the precincts of the port, this knowledge was -shared by none of his shipmates. Captain George himself, postponing his -shore-going from hour to hour, while he had work in hand, little dreamed -he was within two leagues of Cerise. Beaudésir had never repeated his -visit to the town; and every other man in the brigantine was too much -occupied by duty or pleasure—meaning anchor-watch on board, alternated by -rum and fiddlers ashore—to think of extending his cruise a yard further -inland than the nearest drinking-house. - -On Slap-Jack, therefore, devolved the task of rescuing the Marquise and -her daughter from the grasp of “that big black swab,” as the foretopman -mentally denominated him, whom he longed ardently to “pitch into” on the -spot. He understood the position. His mother’s sea-song was addressed to -no inattentive nor unwilling ears. He saw the difficulties and, indeed, -the dangers of his undertaking; but the latter he despised, while the -former he resolved to overcome; and he never lay out upon a yard to reef -topsails in the fiercest squall with a clearer brain or a stouter heart -than he now summoned to his aid on behalf of the ladies whom his mother -loved so well. - -Creeping from his hiding-place, he listened anxiously to the retreating -footfall of the blacks, and even waited several minutes after it had -died away to assure himself the coast was clear. Discovery would have -been fatal; for armed though he was with a cutlass and pistols, thirteen -to one, as he sagely reflected, was long odds; and “if I should be -scuttled,” thought he, “before I can make signals, why, what’s to become -of the whole convoy?” Therefore he was very cautious and reflective. -He pondered, he calculated, he reckoned his time, he enumerated his -obstacles, he laid out his plans before he proceeded to action. His only -chance was to reach the brigantine without delay, and report the whole -matter to the skipper forthwith, who he was convinced would at once -furnish a boat’s crew to defend the ladies, and probably put himself at -their head. - -Emerging from the hut, he observed to his consternation that it was -already dusk. There is but a short twilight in these low latitudes, where -the evening hour—sweetest of the whole twenty-four—is gone almost as soon -as it arrives— - - “The sun’s rim dips, - The stars rush out, - At one stride comes the dark.” - -And that dark, in the jungle of a West Indian island, is black as -midnight. - -It was well for Slap-Jack that a seaman’s instinct had prompted him to -take his bearings before he came up the mountain. These, from time to -time, he corrected during his ascent, at the many places where he paused -for breath. He knew, therefore, the exact direction of the town and -harbour. Steering by the stars, he was under no apprehension of losing -his way, and could make for the brigantine where she lay. Tightening his -belt, then, he commenced the descent at a run, resolving to keep the path -as long as he could see it, and when it was lost in the bush at last, to -plunge boldly through till he reached the shore. - -The misadventure he foresaw soon came to pass. A path which he could -hardly have followed by daylight, without Célandine to pilot him, soon -disappeared from beneath his feet in the deepening gloom. He had not left -the hut many minutes ere he was struggling, breast-high, amongst the -wild vines and other creepers that twined and festooned in a tangle of -vegetable network from tree to tree. - -The scene was novel and picturesque, yet I am afraid he cursed and -swore a good deal, less impressed with its beauty than alive to its -inconveniences. Overhead, indeed, he caught a glimpse of the stars, by -which he guided his course through the interlacing boughs of the tall -forest trees, and underfoot, the steady lamp of the glow-worm, and the -sparks of a thousand wheeling fire-flies shed a light about his path; but -these advantages only served to point out the dangers and difficulties -of his progress. With their dubious help, every creeper thicker than -ordinary assumed the appearance of some glistening snake, swinging from -the branch in a grim repose that it was death to disturb; every rotten -stump leaning forward in its decay, draped with its garment of trailing -parasites, took the form of a watchful savage, poising his gigantic form -in act to strike; while a wild boar, disturbed from his lair between the -roots of an enormous gum-tree, to shamble off at a jog-trot, grumbling, -in search of thicker covert, with burning eye, gnashing tusks, and most -discordant grunt, swelled to the size of a rhinoceros. Slap-Jack’s -instincts prompted him to salute the monster with a shot from one of -the pistols that hung at his belt, but reflecting on the necessity -of caution, he refrained with difficulty, consoling himself by the -anticipation of several days’ leave ashore, and a regular shooting party -with his mates, in consideration of his services to-night. - -Thus he struggled on, breathless, exhausted, indefatigable—now losing -himself altogether, till a more open space in the branches, through which -he could see the stars, assured him that he was in a right direction—now -obtaining a glimpse of some cane-piece, or other clearing, white in -the tender light of the young moon, which had already risen, and thus -satisfying himself that he was gradually emerging from the bush, and -consequently nearing the shore—now tripping over a fallen tree—now held -fast in a knot of creepers—now pierced to the bone by a prickly cactus, -torn, bleeding, tired, sore, and drenched with perspiration, but never -losing heart for a moment, nor deviating, notwithstanding his enforced -windings, one cable’s length from the direct way. - -Thus at last he emerged on a clearing already trenched and hoed for -the reception of sugar-canes, and, to his infinite joy, beheld his own -shadow, black and distinct, in the trembling moonlight. The bush was now -behind him, the slope of the hill in his favour, and he could run down, -uninterrupted, towards the pale sea lying spread out like a sheet of -silver at his feet. He crossed a road here that he knew must lead him -into the town, but it would have taken him somewhat out of his course for -the brigantine, and he had resolved to lose no time, even for the chance -of obtaining a boat. - -He made, therefore, direct for the shore, and in a few minutes he was -standing on a strip of sand, with the retiring tide plashing gratefully -on his ear, while his eyes were fixed on the tapering spars of ‘The -Bashful Maid,’ and the light glimmering in her foretop. - -He stepped back a few paces to lay his arms and some of his garments -behind a rock, a little above high-water mark. There was small chance he -would ever find them again, but he belonged to a profession of which the -science is essentially precautionary, and the habit of foresight was a -second nature to Slap-Jack. In a few more seconds he was up to his knees, -his middle, his breast-bone, in the cooling waters, till a receding wave -lifted him off his feet, and he struck out boldly for the brigantine. - -How delightful to his heated skin was the contact of the pure, fresh, -buoyant element! Notwithstanding his fatigue, his hurry, his anxiety, he -could have shouted aloud in joy and triumph, as he felt himself wafted -on those long, regular, and powerful strokes nearer and nearer to his -object. It was the exultation of human strength and skill and daring, -dominant over nature, unassisted by mechanical art. - -Yet was there one frightful drawback, a contingency which had been -present to his mind from the very beginning, even while he was beating -laboriously through the jungle, but which he had never permitted himself -to realise, and on which it would now be maddening to dwell: Port Welcome -was infested with sharks! He forced himself to ignore the danger, and -swam gallantly on, till the wash and ripple of the tide upon the shore -was far behind him, and he heard only his own deep measured breathing, -and the monotonous plash of those springing, regulated strokes that -drove him steadily out to sea. He was already tired, and had turned on -his back more than once for relief, ere the hull of the brigantine rose -black and steep out of the water half a cable’s length ahead. He counted -that after fifty more strokes he would summon breath to hail the watch on -deck. He had scarce completed them ere a chill went curdling through his -veins from head to heel, and if ever Slap-Jack lost heart it was then. -The water surged beneath him, and lifted his whole body, like a wave, -though the surrounding surface was smooth as a mill-pond. One desperate -kick, that shot him two fathoms at a stroke, and his passing foot grazed -some slimy, scaly substance, while from the corner of his eye he caught -a glimpse the moment after of the back-fin of a shark. Then he hailed in -good earnest, swimming his wickedest the while, and ere the voracious -sea-scourge, or its consort, could turn over for a leisurely snap at him, -Slap-Jack was safe in the bight of a rope, and the anchor-watch, not a -little astonished, were hauling their exhausted shipmate over the side. - -“Come on board, sir!” exclaimed the new arrival, scrambling breathless -to his feet, after tumbling head-foremost over the gunwale, and pulling -with ludicrous courtesy at his wet hair. “Come on board, sir. Hands -wanted immediate. Ax your honour’s pardon. So blown I can hardly speak. -First-class row among the niggers. Bobbery all over the island. Devil to -pay, and no pitch hot!” - -Captain George was on deck, which perhaps accounted for the rapidity -of the foretopman’s rescue, and although justly affronted by so -unceremonious a return on the part of a liberty-man who had out-stayed -his leave, he saw at a glance that some great emergency was imminent, and -prepared to meet it with habitual coolness. - -“Silence, you fool!” said he, pointing to a negro amongst the crew. “Lend -him a jacket, some of you. Come below at once to my cabin, and make your -report. You can be punished afterwards.” - -Slap-Jack followed his commander nothing loth. The after-punishment, -as being postponed for twenty-four hours at least, was a matter of no -moment, but a visit to the Captain’s cabin entailed, according to the -_etiquette_ of the service, a measure of grog, mixed on certain liberal -principles, that from time immemorial have regulated the strength of that -complimentary refreshment. - -In all such interviews it is customary for the skipper to produce his -spirit-case, a tumbler, and a jug of water. The visitor helps himself -from the former, and esteems it only good breeding that he should charge -his glass to the depth of three fingers with alcohol, filling it up with -the weaker fluid. When the thickness of a seaman’s fingers is considered, -and the breadth to which he can spread them out on such occasions, it -is easy to conceive how little space is left near the rim of the vessel -for that insipid element, every additional drop of which is considered -by competent judges to spoil the beverage. Slap-Jack mixed as liberally -as another. Ere his draught, however, was half-finished, or his report -nearly concluded, the Captain had turned the hands up, and ordered a boat -to be manned forthwith, leaving Beaudésir to command in his absence; but -true to his usual system, informing no one, not even the latter, of his -intentions, or his destination. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV - -BESIEGED - - -In the meantime poor Célandine found herself hurried down the mountain -by Hippolyte and his band, in a state of anxiety and alarm that would -have paralysed the energies of most women, but that roused all the savage -qualities dormant in the character of the Quadroon. Not a word of her -captors, not a look escaped her; and she soon discovered, greatly to her -dismay, that she was regarded less as an auxiliary than a hostage. She -was placed in the centre of the band, unbound indeed, and apparently at -liberty; but no sooner did she betray, by the slightest independence of -movement, that she considered herself a free agent, than four stalwart -blacks closed in on her with brutal glee, attempting no concealment of a -determination to retain her in their power till they had completed their -merciless design. - -“Once gone,” said Hippolyte, politely affecting great reverence for the -Obi-woman’s supernatural powers, “never catchee no more!—Jumbo fly away -with yaller woman, same as black. Dis nigger no ’fraid of Jumbo, so -long as Missee Célandine at um back. Soon dark now. March on, you black -villains, and keep your ranks, same as buckra musketeer!” - -With such exhortations to discipline, and an occasional compliment to his -own military talents, Hippolyte beguiled their journey down the mountain. -It seemed to Célandine that far too short a space of time had elapsed ere -they reached the skirts of the forest, and even in the deepening twilight -could perceive clearly enough the long low building of _Cash-a-crou_, now -called Montmirail West. - -The lamps were already lit in the sitting-room on the ground floor. From -where she stood, in the midst of the band, outwardly stern and collected, -quivering with rage and fear within, the Quadroon could distinguish the -figures of Madame la Marquise and her daughter, moving here and there -in the apartment, or leaning out at window for a breath of the cool, -refreshing evening air. - -Their commander kept his men under covert of the woods, waiting till it -should be quite dark. There was little to fear from a garrison consisting -of but two ladies, backed by Fleurette and Bartoletti, for the other -domestic slaves were either involved in the conspiracy or had been -inveigled out of the way by its chief promoters; yet notwithstanding the -weakness of the besieged, some dread of their ascendancy made the negroes -loth to encounter by daylight even such weak champions of the white race -as two helpless women and a cowardly Italian overseer. - -Nevertheless, every moment gained was worth a purse of gold. Célandine, -affecting to identify herself with the conspirators, urged on them the -prudence of delay. Hippolyte, somewhat deceived by her enthusiasm, -offered an additional reason for postponing the attack, in the brilliancy -of a conflagration under a night sky. He intended, he said, to begin by -setting fire to the house—there could then be no resistance from within. -There would be plenty of time, he opined, for drink and plunder before -the flames gained a complete ascendancy, and he seemed to cherish some -vague half-formed notion that it would be a fine thing to appear before -Cerise in the character of a hero, who should rescue her from a frightful -death. - -A happy thought struck the Quadroon. - -“It was lucky you brought me with you,” said she earnestly. “Brave as you -are, I fancy you would have been scared had you acted on your own plan. -You talk of firing _Cash-a-crou_, as you would of roasting a turtle in -its shell. Do you know that madame keeps a dozen barrels of gunpowder -stowed away about the house—nobody knows where but herself. You would -have looked a little foolish, I think, my brave colonel, to find your -long body blown clean over the Sulphur Mountain into the sea on the -other side of the island. You and your guard here are as handsome a set -of blacks as a yellow woman need wish to look on. Not a morsel would have -been left of any one of you the size of my hand!” - -“Golly!” exclaimed Hippolyte in consternation. “Missee Célandine, you -go free for tanks, when this job clean done. Hi! you black fellows, -keep under shadow of gum-tree dere—change um plan now,” he added, -thoughtfully; and without taking his keen eyes off Célandine, walked from -one to the other of his band, whispering fresh instructions to each. - -The Quadroon counted the time by the beating of her heart. “Now,” she -thought, “my boy must have gained the edge of the forest—ten minutes more -to cross the new cane-pieces—another ten to reach the shore. He can swim -of course—his father swam like a pilot-fish. In forty minutes he might -be on board. Five to man a boat—and ten more to pull her in against the -ebb. Then they have fully a league to march, and sailors are such bad -walkers.” At this stage of her reflections something went through her -heart like a knife. She thought of the grim ground-sharks, heaving and -gaping in the warm translucent depths of the harbour at Port Welcome. - -But meanwhile Hippolyte had gathered confidence from the bearing of his -comrades. Their numbers and fierceness inspired him with courage, and he -resolved to enter the house at the head of his chosen body-guard, whilst -he surrounded it with a score of additional mutineers who had joined him -according to previous agreement at the head of the forest. These, too, -had brought with them a fresh supply of rum, and Célandine observed with -horror its stimulating effects on the evil propensities of the band. - -While he made his further dispositions, she found herself left for a -few seconds comparatively unwatched, and at once stole into the open -moonlight, where her white dress could be discerned plainly from the -house. She knew her husband would be smoking his evening tobacco, -according to custom, in the verandah. At little more than a hundred paces -he could hardly fail to see her; and in an instant she had unbound the -red turban and waved it round her head, in the desperate hope that he -might accept that warning for a danger signal. The quick-witted Italian -seemed to comprehend at once that something was wrong. He imitated her -gesture, retired into the house, and the next minute his figure was seen -in the sitting-room with the Marquise and her daughter. By this time -Hippolyte had returned to her side, and she could only watch in agony -for the result. Completely surrounded by the intoxicated and infuriated -negroes, there seemed to be no escape for the besieged, while the looks -and gestures of their leader, closely copied by his chosen band, denoted -how little of courtesy or common humanity was to be expected from the -Coromantee, excited to madness by all the worst passions of his savage -nature bursting from the enforced restraints that had so long kept them -down. - -A bolder spirit than the Signor’s might have been excused for betraying -considerable apprehension in such a crisis, and in good truth Bartoletti -was fairly frightened out of his wits. In common with the rest of the -whites on the island, he had long suspected a conspiracy amongst the -negroes, and feared that such an insurrection would take place; but no -great social misfortune is ever really believed in till it comes, and he -had neither taken measures for its prevention, nor thoroughly realised -the magnitude of the evil. Now that he felt it was upon him he knew not -where to turn for aid. There was no time to make phrases or to stand on -ceremony. He rushed into the sitting-room with a blanched cheek and a -wild eye, that caused each of the ladies to drop her work on her lap, and -gaze at him in consternation. - -“Madame!” he exclaimed, and his jaw shook so that he could hardly form -the syllables, “we must leave the house at once—we must save ourselves. -There is an _émeute_, a revolt, a rebellion among the slaves. I know -them—the monsters! They will not be appeased till they have drunk our -blood. Oh! why did I ever come to this accursed country?” - -Cerise turned as white as a sheet—her blue eyes were fixed, her lips -apart. Even the Marquise grew pale, though her colour came back, and she -held her head the more erect a moment afterwards. “Sit down,” she said, -imperiously, yet kindly enough. “Take breath, my good man, and take -courage also. Tell me exactly what you have seen;” and added, turning to -Cerise, “don’t be frightened, child—these overseers are sad alarmists. I -daresay it is only what the negroes call a ‘bobbery,’ after all!” - -Then Bartoletti explained that he had seen his wife waving a red shawl -from the edge of the jungle; that this was a preconcerted signal by which -they had agreed to warn each other of imminent danger; that it was never -to be used except on great emergencies; and that he was quite sure it was -intended to convey to him that she was in the power of the slaves, and -that the rising they had so often talked about had taken place at last. - -The Marquise thought for a moment. She seemed to have no fear now that -she realised her danger. Only once, when her eye rested on her daughter, -she shuddered visibly. Otherwise, her bearing was less that of a tender -woman in peril of her life, than of some wise commander, foiled and beset -by the enemy, yet not altogether without hope of securing his retreat. - -So might have looked one of her warlike ancestors when the besiegers set -fire to his castle by the Garonne, and he resolved to betake himself, -with his stout veterans, to the square stone keep where the well was -dug—a maiden fortress, that had never yet succumbed to famine nor been -forced by escalade. - -“Is there any one in the house whom we can trust?” said the Marquise; and -even while she spoke a comely black girl came crawling to her feet, and -seized her hand to cover it with tears and kisses. - -“Iss, missis!” exclaimed Fleurette, for Fleurette it was, who had indeed -been listening at the door for the last five minutes. “You trust _me_! -Life for life! Blood for blood! No fear Jumbo, so lilly ma’amselle go out -safe. Trust Fleurette, missis. Trust Fleurette, ma’amselle. Fleurette die -at um house-door, so! better than ugly black floggee-man come in.” The -Marquise listened calmly. - -“Attend to me, Fleurette,” said she, with an authoritative gesture. “Go -at once through the kitchen into the dark path that leads to the old -summer-house. See if the road to Port Welcome is clear. There is no -bush on that side within five hundred paces, and if they mean to stop -us, they must post a guard between the house and the gum-trees. Do not -show yourself, girl, but if they take you, say Célandine sent you down -to the negro-houses for eggs. Quick, and come back here like lightning. -Bartoletti—have you any firearms? Do not be afraid, my darling,” she -repeated, turning to her daughter, “I know these wretched people well. -You need but show a bold front, and they would turn away from a lady’s -fan if you only shook it hard at them.” - -“I am not afraid, mamma,” answered Cerise, valiantly, though her face -was very pale, and her knees shook. “I—I don’t _like_ it, of course, but -I can do anything you tell me. Oh, mamma! do you—do you think they will -kill us?” she added, with rather a sudden breakdown of the courage she -tried so gallantly to rally. - -“Kill us, mademoiselle!” exclaimed the overseer, quaking in every limb. -“Oh, no! never! They cannot be so bad as that. We will temporise, we will -supplicate, we will make terms with them; we will offer freedom, and rum, -and plunder; we will go on our knees to their chief, and entreat his -mercy!” - -The girl looked at him contemptuously. Strange to say, her courage rose -as his fell, and she seemed to gather strength and energy from the abject -selfishness of his despair. The Marquise did not heed him, for she heard -Fleurette’s footsteps returning, and was herself busied with an oblong -wooden case, brass-bound, and carefully locked up, that she lifted from -the recess of a cupboard in the room. - -Fleurette’s black feet could carry her swiftly and lightly as a bird. -She had followed her instructions implicitly, had crept noiselessly -through the kitchen, and advanced unseen to the old summer-house. Peering -from that concealment on the moonlit surface of the lawn, she was -horrorstruck to observe nearly a score of slaves intently watching the -house. She hurried back panting to her mistress’s presence, and made her -discouraging report. - -Madame de Montmirail was very grave now. The affair had become more than -serious. It was, in truth, desperate. Once again, as she looked at her -daughter, came that strange quiver over her features, that shudder of -repressed horror rather than pain. It was succeeded, as before, by a -moment of deep reflection, and then her eye kindled, her lips tightened, -and all her soft voluptuous beauty hardened into the obstinate courage of -despair. - -Cerise sank on her knees to pray, and rose with a pale, serene, undaunted -face. Hers was the passive endurance of the martyr. Her mother’s the -tameless valour of the champion, inherited through a long line of the -turbulent La Fiertés, not one of whom had ever blenched from death nor -yielded an inch before the face of man. - -“Bartoletti!” said the Marquise. “Bar the doors and windows; they can be -forced with half-a-dozen strokes, but in war every minute is of value. -Hold this rabble in parley as long as you can. I dare not trust you with -my pistols, for a weak heart makes a shaking hand, and I think fighting -seems less your trade than mine. When you can delay them no longer, -arrange your own terms with the villains. It is possible they may spare -you for your wife’s sake. Quick, man! I hear them coming now. Cerise, our -bedroom has a strong oaken door, and they cannot reach the window without -a ladder, which leaves us but one enemy to deal with at a time. Courage, -my darling! Kiss me! Again, again! my own! And now. A woman dies but -once! Here goes for France, and the lilies on the White Flag!” - -Thus encouraging her child, the Marquise led the way to the bed-chamber -they jointly occupied, a plainly-furnished room, of which the only -ornament was the Prince-Marshal’s portrait, already mentioned as -having occupied the place of honour in Madame’s _boudoir_ at the Hôtel -Montmirail. Both women glanced at it as they entered the apartment. Then -the Marquise, laying down the oblong box she carried, carefully shaded -the night-lamp that burned by her bedside, and peered stealthily from the -window to reconnoitre. - -“Four, six, ten,” said she, calmly, “besides their leader, a tall, big -negro, very like Hippolyte. It _is_ Hippolyte. _You_ at least, my friend, -will not leave this house alive! I can hardly miss so fair a mark as -those broad black shoulders. This of course is the _corps d’élite_. Those -at the back of the house I do not regard so much. The kitchen door is -strong, and they will do nothing if their champions are repulsed. Courage -again, my child! All is not lost yet. Open that box and help me to load -my pistols. Strange, that I should have practised with them for years, -only to beat Madame de Sabran, and now to-night we must both trust our -safety to a true eye and a steady hand!” - -Pale, tearless, and collected, Cerise obeyed. Her mother, drawing the -weapons from their case, wiped them with her delicate handkerchief, and -proceeded to charge them carefully, and with a preoccupied air, like a -mother preparing medicine for a child. Holding the ramrod between her -beautiful white teeth, while her delicate and jewelled fingers shook the -powder into the pan, she explained to Cerise the whole mystery of loading -and priming the deadly weapons. She would thus, as she observed, always -have one barrel in reserve. The younger woman listened attentively. Her -lip was steady, though her hand shook, and now that the worst was come -she showed that peculiar quality of race which is superior to the common -fighting courage possessed indiscriminately by all classes—the passive -concentrated firmness, which can take every advantage so long as a chance -is left, and die without a word at last, when hope gives place to the -resignation of despair. - -She even pointed out to her mother, that by half closing the shutter, the -Marquise, herself unseen, could command the approach to the front door. -Then taking a crucifix from her bosom, she pressed it to her lips, and -said, “I am ready now, mamma. I am calm. I can do anything you tell me. -Kiss me once more, dear, as you used when I was a child. And if we _must_ -die, it will not seem so hard to die together.” - -The Marquise answered by a long clinging embrace, and then the two women -sat them down in the gloomy shadows of their chamber, haggard, tearless, -silent, watching for the near approach of a merciless enemy armed with -horrors worse than death. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - -AT BAY - - -In obedience to his mistress, Bartoletti had endeavoured to secure the -few weak fastenings of the house, but his hands shook so, that without -Fleurette’s aid not a bolt would have been pushed nor a key turned. -The black girl, however, seconded his efforts with skill and coolness, -so that Hippolyte’s summons to surrender was addressed to locked doors -and closed windows. The Coromantee was now so inflamed with rum as to -be capable of any outrage, and since neither his band nor himself were -possessed of firearms, nothing but Célandine’s happy suggestion about the -concealed powder restrained him from ordering a few faggots to be cut, -and the building set in a blaze. Advancing with an air of dignity, that -would at any other time have been ludicrous, and which he would certainly -have abandoned had he known that the Marquise covered his body with her -pistol the while, he thumped the door angrily, and demanded to know why -“dis here gentleman comin’ to pay compliment to buckra miss,” was not -immediately admitted; but receiving no answer, proceeded at once to -batter the panels with an iron crowbar, undeterred by the expostulations -of Fleurette, who protested vehemently, first, that her mistress was -engaged with a large party of French officers; secondly, that she lay -sick in bed, on no account to be disturbed; and lastly, that neither she -nor ma’amselle were in the house at all. - -The Coromantee of course knew better. Shouting a horrible oath, and a -yet more hideous threat, he applied his burly shoulders to the entrance, -and the whole wood-work giving way with a crash, precipitated himself -into the passage, followed by the rest of the band, to be confronted by -Fleurette alone, Bartoletti having fled ignominiously to the kitchen. - -“I could have hit him through the neck,” observed the Marquise, -withdrawing from her post behind the shutter, “but I was too directly -above him to make sure, and every charge is so valuable I would not waste -one on a mere wound. My darling, I still hope that two or three deadly -shots may intimidate them, and we shall escape after all.” - -Cerise answered nothing, though her lips moved. The two ladies listened, -with every faculty sharpened, every nerve strung to the utmost. - -A scream from Fleurette thrilled through them like a blow. Hippolyte, -though willing enough to dally with the comely black girl for a minute or -two, lost patience with her pertinacity in clinging about him to delay -his entrance, and struck her brutally to the ground. Turning fiercely on -him where she lay, she made her sharp teeth meet in the fleshy part of -his leg, an injury the savage returned with a kick, that after the first -shriek it elicited left poor Fleurette stunned and moaning in the corner -of the passage, to be crushed and trampled by the blacks, who now poured -in behind their leader, elated with the success of this, their first step -in open rebellion. - -Presently, loud shouts, or rather howls of triumph, announced that the -overseer’s place of concealment was discovered. Bartoletti, pale or -rather yellow, limp, stammering, and beside himself with terror, was -dragged out of the house and consigned to sundry ferocious-looking -negroes, who proceeded to amuse themselves by alternately kicking, -cuffing, and threatening him with instantaneous death. - -The Marquise listened eagerly; horror, pity, and disgust succeeding each -other on her haughty, resolute face. Once, something like contempt swept -over it, while she caught the tone of Bartoletti’s abject entreaties for -mercy. He only asked for life—bare life, nothing more; they might make a -slave of him then and there. He was their property, he and his wife, and -all that he had, to do what they liked with. Only let him live, he said, -and he would join them heart and hand; show them where the rum was kept, -the money, the jewels; nay, help them cheerfully to cut every white -throat on the island. The man was convulsed with terror, and the negroes -danced round like fiends, mocking, jeering, flouting him, exulting in the -spectacle of a _buckra_ overseer brought so low. - -“There is something in _race_ after all,” observed the Marquise, as if -discussing an abstract proposition. “I suppose it is only the _canaille_ -that can thus degrade themselves from mere dread of death. Though our -families have not always _lived_ very decently, I am glad to think that -there was never yet a Montmirail or La Fierté who did not know how _to -die_. My child, it is the pure old blood that carries us through such -moments as these; neither of us are likely to disgrace it now.” - -Again her daughter’s lips moved, although no sound escaped them. Cerise -was prepared to die, but she could not bring herself to reason on the -advantages of noble birth at such a moment, like the Marquise; and -indeed the girl’s weaker frame and softer heart quailed in terror at the -prospect of the ordeal they had to go through. - -From their chamber of refuge the two ladies could hear the insulting -jests and ribald gibberish of the slaves, now bursting into the -sitting-room, breaking the furniture, shivering the mirrors, and wantonly -destroying all the delicate articles of use and ornament, of which they -could neither understand the purpose nor appreciate the value. Presently -a discordant scream from Pierrot announced that the parrot had protested -against the intrusion of these riotous visitors, while a shout of pain, -followed by loud bursts of laughter, proclaimed the manner in which he -had resented the familiarity of one more daring than the rest. Taking the -bird roughly off its perch, a stout young negro named Achille had been -bitten to the bone, and the cross-cut wound inflicted by the parrot’s -beak so roused his savage nature, that twisting its neck round with a -vindictive howl, he slew poor Pierrot on the spot. - -The Marquise in her chamber above could hear the brutal acclamations -that greeted this exploit, and distinguished the smothered thump of her -favourite’s feathered body as it was dashed into a corner of the room. - -Then her lips set tight, her brows knit, and the white hand clenched -itself round her pistol, firm, rigid, and pitiless as marble. - -Heavy footsteps were now heard hurrying on the stairs, and whispered -voices urging contrary directions, but all with the same purport. -There seemed to be no thought of compassion, no talk of mercy. Even -while hearing their victims, Hippolyte and Achille, who was his second -in command, scrupled not to discuss the fate of the ladies when they -should have gained possession of their persons—a fate which turned the -daughter’s blood to ice, the mother’s to fire. It was no time now to -think of compromise or capitulation, or aught but selling life at the -dearest, and gaining every moment possible by the sacrifice of an enemy. - -Even in the last extremity, however, the genius of system, so remarkable -in all French minds, did not desert the Marquise. She counted the charges -in her pistol-case, and calculated the resources of her foes with a cool, -methodical appreciation of the chances for and against her, totally -unaffected by the enormous disproportion of the odds. She was good, she -argued, for a dozen shots in all. She would allow for two misses; sagely -reflecting that in a chance medley like the present she could hardly -preserve a steadiness of hand and eye that had heretofore so discomfited -Madame de Sabran in the shooting galleries of Marly and Versailles. -Eight shots would then be left, exclusive of two that she determined at -all risks to reserve for the last. The dead bodies of eight negroes she -considered, slain by the hand of one white woman, ought to put the whole -black population of the island to the rout; but supposing that the rum -they had drunk should have rendered them so reckless as to disregard even -such a warning, and that, with her defences broke down, she found herself -and daughter at their mercy, then—and while the Marquise reasoned thus, -the blood mounted to her eyes, and a hand of ice seemed to close round -her heart—the two reserve shots should be directed with unerring hand, -the one into her daughter’s bosom, the other through her own. - -And Cerise, now that the crisis had arrived at last, in so far as -they were to be substantiated by the enforced composure of a passive -endurance, fully vindicated her claims to noble blood. She muttered -many a prayer indeed, that arose straight from her heart, but her eyes -were fixed on her mother the while, and she had disposed the ammunition -on a chair beside her in such a manner as to reload for the Marquise -with rapidity and precision. “We are like a front and rear rank of the -Grey Musketeers,” said the latter, with a wild attempt at hilarity, in -which a strong hysterical tendency, born of over-wrought feelings, was -with difficulty kept down. “The affair will soon commence now, and, my -child, if worst comes to worst, remember there is no surrender. I hear -them advancing to the assault. Courage! my darling. Steady! and _Vive la -France_!” - -The words were still upon her lips, when a swarm of negroes, crowding -and shouldering up the narrow passage, halted at her door. Hippolyte -commenced his summons to the besieged by a smashing blow with the -crowbar, that splintered one of the panels and set the whole wood-work -quivering to its hinges. Then he applied his thick lips to the keyhole, -and shouted in brutal glee— - -“Time to wake up now, missee! You play ’possum no longer, else cut down -gum-tree at one stroke. Wot you say to dis nigger for buckra bridegroom? -Time to come out now and dance jigs at um wedding.” - -There was not a quiver in her voice while the Marquise answered in cold -imperious tones— - -“You are running up a heavy reckoning for this night’s work. I know your -ringleaders, and refuse to treat with them. Nevertheless, I am not a -severe mistress. If the rest of the negroes will go quietly home, and -resume their duties with to-morrow’s sunrise, I will not be hard upon -_them_. You know me, and can trust my word.” - -Cheers of derision answered this haughty appeal, and loud suggestions for -every kind of cruelty and insult, to be inflicted on the two ladies, were -heard bandied about amongst the slaves. Hippolyte replied fiercely— - -“Give in at once! Open this minute, or neither of you shall leave the -house alive! For the Marquise—Achille! I give her to you! For lilly -ma’amselle—I marry her this very night. See! before the moon goes down!” - -Cerise raised her head in scornful defiance. Her face was livid, but it -was stamped with the same expression as her mother’s now. There could be -no question both were prepared to die game to the last. - -The blows of Hippolyte’s crowbar resounded against the strong oaken -panels of the door, but the massive wood-work, though it shook and -groaned, resisted stoutly for a time. It was well for the inmates that -Célandine’s imaginative powers had suggested the concealed gunpowder. Had -it not been for their fears of an explosion the negroes would ere this -have set fire to the building, when no amount of resistance could have -longer delayed the fate of the two ladies. Bartoletti, intimidated by the -threats of his captors, and preoccupied only with the preservation of his -own life, had shown the insurgents where the rum was kept, and many of -these were rapidly passing from the reckless to the stupefied stage of -intoxication. The Italian, who was not deficient in cunning, encouraged -their potations with all his might. He thus hoped to elude them before -morning, and leaving his employers to their fate, reach Port Welcome -in safety; where he doubted not he should be met by Célandine, whose -influence as an Obi-woman, he rightly conjectured, would be sufficient -to insure her safety. A coward rarely meets with the fate he deserves, -and Bartoletti did indeed make his eventual escape in the manner he had -proposed. - -Plying his crowbar with vigorous strokes, Hippolyte succeeded at length -in breaking through one of the door panels, a measure to be succeeded -by the insertion of hand and arm for withdrawal of the bolts fastened -on the inside. The Coromantee possessed, however, a considerable share -of cunning mixed with the fierce cruelty of a savage. When he had torn -away enough wood-work to make a considerable aperture, he turned to his -lieutenant and desired him to introduce his body and unbar the door from -within. It is difficult to say what he feared, since even had he been -aware that his mistress possessed firearms, he could not have conceived -the possibility of her using them so recklessly in a house that he had -reason to believe was stored with powder. It was probably some latent -dread of the white race that prompted his command to his subordinate. -“You peep in, you black nigger. Ladies all in full dress now. Bow-’ticks -rosined and fiddlers dry. Open um door, and ask polite company to walk -in.” - -Thus adjured, Achille thrust his woolly head and half his shining black -body through the aperture. Madame de Montmirail, standing before her -daughter, was not five paces off. She raised her white arm slowly, and -covered him with steady aim. Ere his large thick hand had closed round -the bolt for which it groped, there was a flash, a loud report, a cloud -of smoke curling round the toilet accessories of a lady’s bed-chamber, -and Achille, shot through the brain, fell back stone dead into the -passage. - -“A little lighter charge of powder, my dear,” said the Marquise, giving -the smoking weapon to her daughter to be reloaded, while she poised -its fellow carefully in her hand. “I sighted him _very_ fine, and was -a trifle over my mark even then. These pistols always throw high at so -short a distance.” - -Then she placed herself in readiness for another enemy, and during a -short space waited in vain. - -The report of her pistol had been followed by a general scramble of the -negroes, who tumbled precipitately downstairs, and in some cases even out -of the house, under the impression that every succeeding moment might -find them all blown into the air. But the very cause of the besiegers’ -panic proved, when their alarm subsided, of the utmost detriment to the -garrison. Hippolyte, finding himself still in possession of his limbs and -faculties, on the same side of the Sulphur Mountain as before, argued, -reasonably enough, that the concealed powder was a delusion, and with -considerable promptitude at once set fire to the lower part of the house; -after which, once more mustering his followers, and encouraging them -by his example, he ascended the staircase, and betaking himself to the -crowbar with a will, soon battered in the weak defence that alone stood -between the ladies and their savage enemies. - -Cerise had loaded her mother’s pistol to perfection; that mother, roused -out of all thought of self by her child’s danger, was even now reckoning -the last frail chance by which her daughter might escape. During the -short respite afforded by the panic of the negroes, they had dragged -with desperate strength a heavy chest of drawers, and placed it across -the doorway. Even when the latter was forced, this slight breast-work -afforded an additional impediment to the assailants. - -“You must drop from the window, my child,” whispered the Marquise, when -the shattered door fell in at length across this last obstruction, -revealing a hideous confusion of black forms, and rolling eyes, and -grinning fiendish faces. “It is not a dozen feet, but mind you turn round -so as to light on your hands and knees. Célandine _must_ be outside. -If you can reach her you are safe. Adieu, darling! I can keep the two -foremost from following you, still!” - -The Marquise grasped a pistol in each hand, but she bent her brow—the -haughty white brow that had never been carried more proudly than -now—towards her child, and the girl’s pale lips clung to it lovingly, -while she vowed that neither life nor death should part her from her -mother. - -“It is all over, dear,” she said, calmly. “We can but die together as we -have lived.” - -Their case was indeed desperate. The room was already darkening with -smoke, and the wood-work on the floor below crackling in the flames that -began to light up the lawn outside, and tip with saffron the sleeping -woods beyond. The door was broken in; the chest of drawers gave way with -a loud crash, and brandishing his crowbar, Hippolyte leaped into the -apartment like a fiend, but stood for an instant aghast, rigid, like that -fiend turned to bronze, because the white lady, shielding her daughter -with her body, neither quailed nor flinched. Her eye was bright, her -colour raised, her lips set, her hand steady, her whole attitude resolute -and defiant. All this he took in at a glance, and the Coromantee felt -his craven heart shrink up to nothing in his breast, thus covered by the -deadly pistol of the Marquise. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - -JUST IN TIME - - -Moments are precious at such a time. The negro, goaded by shame, rage, -and alcohol, had drawn his breath for a spring, when a loud cheer was -heard outside, followed by two or three dropping shots, and the ring of a -hearty English voice exclaiming— - -“Hold on, mates! Don’t ye shoot wild a-cause of the ladies. It’s yard-arm -to yard-arm, this spell, and we’ll give these here black devils a taste -of the naked steel!” - -In another moment Slap-Jack was in the passage, leaving a couple of -wounded ruffians on the stairs to be finished by his comrades, and -cutting another down across the very door-sill of the Marquise’s -bed-chamber. Ere he could enter it, however, his captain had dashed -past him, leaping like a panther over the dead negroes under foot, and -flashing his glittering rapier in the astonished eyes of the Coromantee, -who turned round bewildered from his prey to fight with the mad energy of -despair. - -In vain. Of what avail was the massive iron crowbar, wielded even by the -strength of a Hercules, against the deadliest blade but one in the Great -Monarch’s body-guard? - -A couple of dazzling passes, that seemed to go over, under, all round the -clumsier weapon—a stamp—a muttered oath, shut in by clenched, determined -teeth, and the elastic steel shot through Hippolyte’s very heart, and out -on the other side. - -Spurning the huge black body with his foot, Captain George withdrew his -sword, wiped it grimly on the dead man’s woolly head, and, uncovering, -turned to the ladies with a polite apology for thus intruding under the -pressure of so disagreeable a necessity. - -He had scarcely framed a sentence ere he became deadly pale, and began to -stammer, as if he, too, was under the influence of some engrossing and -incontrollable emotion. - -The two women had shrunk into the farthest corner of the room. With the -prospect of a rescue, Madame de Montmirail’s nerves, strung to their -utmost tension, had completely given way. In a state of mental and bodily -prostration, she had laid her head in the lap of Cerise, whose courage, -being of a more passive nature, did not now fail her so entirely. - -The girl, indeed, pushing her hair back from her temples, looked wildly -in George’s face for an instant, like one who wakes from a dream; but -the next, her whole countenance lit up with delight, and holding out -both hands to him, she exclaimed, in accents of irrepressible tenderness -and self-abandonment, “_C’est toi!_” then the pale face flushed crimson, -and the loving eyes drooped beneath his own. To him she had always been -beautiful—most beautiful, perhaps, in his dreams—but never in dreams nor -in waking reality so beautiful as now. - -He gazed on her entranced, motionless, forgetful of everything in the -world but that one loved being restored, as it seemed, by a miracle, -at the very time when she had been most lost to him. His stout heart, -thrilling to its core from her glance, quailed to think of what must have -befallen had he arrived a minute too late, and a prayer went up from it -of hearty humble thanksgiving that he was in time. He saw nothing but -that drooping form in its delicate white dress, with its gentle feminine -gestures and rich dishevelled hair; heard nothing but the accents of that -well-remembered voice vibrating with the love that he felt was deep and -tender as his own. He was unconscious of the cheers of his victorious -boat’s crew, of the groans and shrieks uttered by wounded or routed -negroes, of the dead beneath his feet, the blazing rafters overhead, -the showers of sparks and rolling clouds of smoke that already filled -the house; unconscious even of Madame de Montmirail’s recovery from her -stupor, as she too recognised him, and raising herself with an effort -from her daughter’s embrace, muttered in deep passionate tones, “C’est -lui!” - -But it was no time for the exchanges of ceremonious politeness, or the -indulgence of softer emotions. The house was fairly on fire, the negroes -were up in arms all over the island. A boat’s crew, however sturdy, is -but a handful of men, and courage becomes foolhardy when it opposes -itself voluntarily at odds of one against a score. Slap-Jack was the -first to speak. “Askin’ _your_ pardon, ladies,” said he, with seamanlike -deference to the sex; “the sooner we can clear out of this here the -better. If you’ll have the kindness to point out your sea-chests, and -possibles, and such like, Bottle-Jack here, he’ll be answerable for their -safety, and me an’ my mates we’ll run you both down to the beach and have -you aboard in a pig’s whisper. The island’s getting hot, miss,” he added -confidentially to Cerise, who did not the least understand him. “In these -low latitudes, a house afire and a hundred of blacks means a bobbery, -just as sure as at home four old women and a goose makes a market!” - -“He is right,” observed the Captain, who had now recovered his presence -of mind. “From what I saw as I came along, I fear there is a general -rising of the slaves through the whole island. My brigantine, I need not -say, is at the disposal of madame and mademoiselle (Cerise thanked him -with a look), and I believe that for a time at least it will be the only -safe place of refuge.” - -Thus speaking, he offered his hand to conduct the Marquise from the -apartment, with as much courtliness and ceremony as though they had been -about to dance a minuet at Versailles, under the critical eye of the late -king. Hers trembled violently as she yielded it. That hand, so steady but -a few minutes ago, while levelling its deadly weapon against the leader -of a hundred enemies, now shook as if palsied. How little men understand -women. He attributed her discomposure entirely to fright. - -There is a second nature, an acquired instinct in the habits of -good-breeding, irrepressible even by the gravest emergency. Captain -George, conducting Madame de Montmirail down her own blazing staircase, -behaved with as ceremonious a politeness as if they had been descending -in accordance with etiquette to a formal dinner-party. Cerise, following -close, hung no doubt on every word that came from his lips, but it must -be confessed the conversation was somewhat frivolous for so important a -juncture. - -“I little thought,” said the Captain, performing another courtly bow, -“that it was Madame la Marquise whom I should have the honour of -escorting to-night out of this unpleasant little _fracas_. Had I known -madame was on the island, she will believe that I should have come ashore -and paid my respects to her much sooner.” - -“You could not have arrived at a more opportune moment, monsieur,” -answered the lady, whose strong physical energy and habitual presence -of mind were now rapidly reasserting themselves. “You have always been -welcome to my receptions; never more so than to-night. You found it a -little hot, I fear, and a good deal crowded. The latter disadvantage -I was remedying, to the best of my abilities, when you announced -yourself. The society, too, was hardly so polite as I could have wished. -Oh, monsieur!” she added, in a changed and trembling voice, suddenly -discarding the tone of banter she had assumed, “where should we have been -now, and what must have become of us, but for you? _You_, to whom we had -rather owe our lives than to any man in the world!” - -He was thinking of Cerise. He accepted the kind words gratefully, -happily; but, like all generous minds, he made light of the service he -had rendered. - -“You are too good to say so, madame,” was his answer. “It seemed to me -you were making a gallant defence enough when I came in. One man had -already fallen before your aim, and I would not have given much for the -life of that ugly giant whom I took the liberty of running through the -body without asking permission, although he is probably, like myself, a -slave of your own.” - -The Marquise laughed. “Confess, monsieur,” said she, “that I have a -steady hand on the pistol. Do you know, I never shot at anything but a -playing-card till to-night. It is horrible to kill a man, too. It makes -me shudder when I think of it. And yet, at the moment, I had no pity, -no scruples—I can even imagine that I experienced something of the wild -excitement which makes a soldier’s trade so fascinating. I hope it is -not so; I trust I may not be so cruel—so unwomanly. But you talk of -slaves. Are we not yours? Yours by every right of conquest; to serve and -tend you, and follow you all over the world. Ah! it would be a happy lot -for her who knew its value!” - -The last sentence she spoke in a low whisper and an altered tone, as if -to herself. It either escaped him or he affected not to hear. - -By this time they were out of the house, and standing on the lawn to -windward of the flames, which leaped and flickered from every quarter -of the building; nor, in escaping from the conflagration, had they by -any means yet placed themselves in safety. Captain George and the three -trusty Jacks, with half-a-dozen more stout seamen, constituting a boat’s -crew, had indeed rescued the ladies, for the moment, from a hideous -alternative; but it was more than doubtful, if even protected by so brave -an escort, they could reach the shore unmolested. Bands of negroes, -ready to commit every enormity, were ere now patrolling all parts of -the island. It was too probable that the few white inhabitants had been -already massacred, or, if still alive, would have enough to do to make -terms for themselves with the infuriated slaves. - -A slender garrison occupied a solitary fort on the other side of the -mountains, but so small a force might easily be overmastered, and even -if they had started on the march it was impossible they could arrive for -several hours in the vicinity of Port Welcome. By that time the town -might well be burned to the ground, and George, who was accustomed to -reason with rapidity on the chances and combinations of warfare, thought -it by no means unlikely that the ruddy glare, fleeting and wavering on -the night-sky over the blazing roof of Montmirail West, might be accepted -as a signal for immediate action by the whole of the insurgents. - -Hippolyte had laid his plans with considerable forethought, the result, -perhaps, of many a crafty war-path—many a savage foray in his own wild -home. He had so disposed the negroes under his immediate orders, that -Madame de Montmirail’s house was completely surrounded in every direction -by which escape seemed possible. The different egresses leading to the -huts, the mills, the cane-pieces, were all occupied, and a strong force -was posted on the high road to Port Welcome, chiefly with a view to -prevent the arrival of assistance from that quarter. One only path was -left unguarded; it was narrow, tangled, difficult to find, and wound up -through the jungle, across the wildest part of the mountain. - -By this route he had probably intended to carry off Mademoiselle de -Montmirail to some secure fastness of his own. Not satisfied with the -personal arrangements he had made for burning the house and capturing -the inmates, he had also warned his confederates, men equally fierce and -turbulent, if of less intelligence than his own, that they should hold -themselves in readiness to take up arms the instant they beheld a glare -upon the sky above _Cash-a-crou_; that each should then despatch a chosen -band of twenty stout negroes to himself for orders; and that the rest of -their forces should at once commence the work of devastation on their own -account, burning, plundering, rioting, and cutting all white throats, -without distinction of age or sex. - -That this wholesale butchery failed in its details was owing to no fault -of conception, no scruples of humanity on the part of its organiser. The -execution fell short of the original design simply because confided to -several different heads, acted on by various interests, and all more or -less bemused with rum. The ringleader had every reason to believe that -if his directions were carried out he would find himself, ere sunrise, -at the head of a general and successful revolt—a black emperor, perhaps, -with a black population offering him a crown. - -But this delusion had been dispelled by one thrust of Captain George’s -rapier, and the Coromantee’s dark body lay charring amongst the glowing -timbers of Madame de Montmirail’s bed-chamber. - -The dispositions that he had made, however, accounted for the large -force of negroes now converging on the burning house. Their shouts -might be heard echoing through the woods in all directions. When George -had collected his men, surrounded the two ladies by a trusty escort of -blue-jackets, and withdrawn his little company, consisting but of a -dozen persons, under cover of the trees, he held a council of war as to -the best means of securing a rapid retreat. Truth to tell, the skipper -would willingly have given the whole worth of her cargo to be once more -on her deck, or even under the guns of ‘The Bashful Maid.’ - -Slap-Jack gave his opinion unasked. - -“Up foresail,” said he, with a characteristic impetuosity: “run out the -guns—double-shotted and depressed; sport every rag of bunting; close in -round the convoy; get plenty of way on, and run clean through, exchanging -broadsides as we go ahead!” - -But Smoke-Jack treated the suggestion with contempt. - -“That’s wot I call rough-and-tumble fighting, your honour,” he grumbled, -with a sheepish glance at the ladies; for with all his boasted knowledge -of their sex, he was unaccustomed to such specimens as these, and -discomfited, as he admitted to himself, by the “trim on ’em.” “Them’s -not games as is fitted for such a company as this here, if I may make -so bold. No, no, your honour, it’s good advice to keep to windward of -a nigger, and it’s my opinion as we should weather them on this here -tack; get down to the beach with a long leg and a short one—half-a-mile -and more below the town—fire three shots, as agreed on, for the boat, -and so pull the ladies aboard on the quiet. After that, we might come -ashore again, d’ye see, and have it out comfortable. What say _you_, -Bottle-Jack?” - -That worthy turned his quid, and looked preternaturally wise; the more -so that the question was somewhat unexpected. He was all for keeping the -ladies safe, he decided, now they had got them. Captain Kidd always did -so, he remembered, and Captain Kidd could sail a ship and fight a ship, -&c.; but Bottle-Jack was more incoherent than usual—utterly adrift under -the novelty of his situation, and gasping like a gudgeon at the Marquise -and her daughter, whose beauty seemed literally to take away his breath. - -George soon made up his mind. - -“Is there any way to the beach,” said he, addressing himself rather to -Cerise than her mother, “without touching the road to Port Welcome? It -seemed to me, as we marched up, that the high road made a considerable -bend. If we could take the string instead of the bow we might save a good -deal of time, and perhaps escape observation altogether.” - -The Marquise and her daughter looked at each other helplessly. Had they -been Englishwomen, indeed, even in that hot climate, they would probably -have known every by-road and mountain path within three leagues of their -home; but the ladies of France, though they dance exquisitely, are not -strong walkers, and neither of these, during the months they had spent at -_Cash-a-crou_, had yet acquired such a knowledge of the locality as might -now have proved the salvation of the whole party. - -In this extremity a groan was heard to proceed out of the darkness at a -few paces’ distance. Slap-Jack, guided by the sound, and parting some -shrubs that concealed her, discovered poor Fleurette, more dead than -alive, bruised, exhausted, terrified, scarcely able to stand, and shot -through the ankle by a chance bullet from the blue-jackets, yet conscious -enough still to drag herself to the feet of Cerise and cover them with -kisses, forgetting everything else in her joy to find her young mistress -still alive. - -“You would serve me, Fleurette, I know,” said Mademoiselle de Montmirail, -in a cautious whisper; for, to her excited imagination, every shrub that -glistened in the moonlight held a savage. “I can trust you; I feel it. -Tell me, is there no way to the sea but through our enemies? Must we -witness more cruelties—more bloodshed? Oh! have we not had fighting and -horrors enough?” - -The black girl twined herself upwards, like a creeper, till her head -was laid against the other’s bosom; then she wept in silence for a few -seconds ere she could command her voice to reply. - -“Trust me, lilly ma’amselle,” said she, in a tone of intense feeling that -vouched for her truth. “Trust poor Fleurette, give last drop of blood -to help young missee safe. Go to Jumbo for lilly ma’amselle now. Show -um path safe across Sulphur Mountain down to sea-shore. Fleurette walk -pretty well tank you, now, if only buckra blue-jacket offer um hand. Not -so, sar! Impudent tief!” she added, indignantly, as Slap-Jack, thoroughly -equal to the occasion, at once put his arm round her waist. “Keep your -distance, sar! You only poor foretopman. Dis good daddy help me along -fust.” - -Thus speaking, she clung stoutly to Bottle-Jack, and proceeded to guide -the party up the mountain along a path that she assured them was known -but to few of the negroes themselves, and avoided even by these, as being -the resort of Jumbo and several other evil spirits much dreaded by the -slaves. Of such supernatural terrors, she was good enough to inform them, -they need have no fear, for that Jumbo and his satellites were fully -occupied to-night in assisting the “bobbery” taking place all over the -island; and that even were they at leisure they would never approach -a party in the centre of which was walking such an angel of light as -Ma’amselle Cerise. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII - -MÈRE AVANT TOUT - - -The path was steep and narrow, leading them, moreover, through the -most tangled and inaccessible parts of the jungle. Their progress was -necessarily tardy and laborious. Fleurette took the lead, supported by -Bottle-Jack, whose sea-legs seemed to carry him uphill with difficulty, -and who stopped to take breath more than once. The black girl’s wound was -painful enough, but she possessed that savage spirit of endurance which -successfully resists mere bodily suffering, and walked with an active -and elastic, though limping step. Blood, however, was still oozing from -her wound, and a sense of faintness, resisted by sheer force of will, -threatened at every moment to overpower her. She might just reach the -crest of the hill, she thought, and then it would be all over with poor -Fleurette; but the rest would need no guide after that point was gained, -and the faithful girl struggled on. - -Next came Smoke-Jack, in attendance on the ladies, much exhilarated by -the dignity of his position, yet ludicrously on his good behaviour, and -afraid of committing himself, on the score of manners, by word or deed. -The Marquise and her daughter walked hand in hand, wasting few words, -and busied each with her own thoughts. They seemed to have exchanged -characters with the events of the last few hours. Cerise, ever since her -rescue, had displayed an amount of energy and resolution scarcely to -be expected from her usual demeanour, making light of present fatigue -and coming peril in a true military spirit of gaiety and good-humour; -while her mother, on the contrary, betrayed in every word and gesture -the languor of subdued emotion, and a certain softened, saddened -preoccupation of manner, seldom to be remarked in the self-possessed and -brilliant Marquise. - -Captain George, with Slap-Jack and the rest of the blue-jackets, brought -up the rear. His fighting experience warned him that in no previous -campaign had he ever found himself in so critical a position as at -present. He was completely surrounded by the enemy. His own force, though -well-armed and full of confidence, was ridiculously weak in numbers. -He was encumbered with baggage (not to speak it disrespectfully) that -must be protected at any sacrifice, and he had to make a forced march, -through ground of which he was ignorant, dependent on the guidance of a -half-savage girl, who might after all turn out to be a traitress. - -Under so many disadvantages, the former captain of musketeers showed that -he had not forgotten his early training. All eyes and ears, he seemed to -be everywhere at once, anticipating emergencies, multiplying precautions, -yet finding a moment every now and then for a word of politeness and -encouragement to the ladies, to regret the roughness of the path, to -excuse the prospective discomforts of the brigantine, or to assure -them of their speedy arrival in a place of safety. On these occasions -he invariably directed his speech to the Marquise and his looks to her -daughter. - -Presently, as they continued to wind up the hill, the ascent grew more -precipitous. At length, having crossed the bed of a rivulet that they -could hear tumbling into a cascade many hundred feet below, they reached -a pass on the mountain side where the path became level, but seemed so -narrow as to preclude farther progress. It turned at a sharp angle round -the bare face of a cliff, which rose on one side sheer and perpendicular -several fathoms above their heads, and on the other shelved as abruptly -into a dark abyss, the depth of which, not even one of the seamen, -accustomed as they were to giddy heights, dared measure with his eye. -Fleurette alone, standing on the brink, peered into it without wavering, -and pointing downwards, looked back on the little party with triumph. - -“See down there,” said she, in a voice that grew fainter with every -syllable. “No road round up above; no road round down below. Once past -here all safe, same as in bed at home. Come by, you! take hands one by -one—so—small piece more—find white lagoon. All done then. Good-night!” - -Holding each other by the hand, the whole party, to use Slap-Jack’s -expression, “rounded the point” in safety. They now found themselves in -an open and nearly flat space, encircled but unshadowed by the jungle. -Below them, over a level of black tree tops, the friendly sea was shining -in the moonlight; and nearer yet, a gleam through the dark mass of forest -denoted that white lagoon of which Fleurette had spoken. - -On any other night it would have been a peaceful and a lovely sight; -but now a flickering glare on the sky showed them where the roof-tree -of Montmirail West was burning into ashes, and the yells of the rioters -could be heard, plainer and plainer, as they scoured the mountain in -pursuit of the fugitives, encouraging each other in their search. - -Some of these shouts sounded so near in the clear still night, that -Captain George was of opinion their track had been already discovered -and followed up. If this were indeed the case, no stand could be made so -effectually as at the defile they had lately threaded, and he determined -to defend it to the last. For this purpose he halted his party and gave -them their directions. - -“Slap-Jack,” said he, “I’ve got a bit of soldier’s work for you to do. -It’s play to a sailor, but you attend to my orders all the same. If these -black devils overhaul us, they can only round that corner one at a time. -I’ll leave you with a couple of your own foretopmen here to stop _that_ -game. But we soldiers never want to fight without a support. Smoke-Jack -and the rest of the boat’s crew will remain at your back. What say ye, my -lads? It will be something queer if you can’t hold a hundred darkies and -more in such a post as this, say, for three-quarters of an hour. I don’t -ask ye for a minute longer; but mind ye, I expect _that_, if not a man of -you ever comes on board again. When you’ve killed all the niggers, make -sail straight away to the beach, fire three shots, and I’ll send a boat -off. You won’t want to break your leave after to-night’s work. At all -events, I wouldn’t advise you to try, and I shall get the anchor up soon -after sunrise. Bottle-Jack comes with me, in case the ladies should want -more assistance, and this dark girl—what d’ye call her?—Fleurette, to -show us the way. God bless ye, my lads! Keep steady, level low, and don’t -pull till you see the whites of their eyes!” - -Bottle-Jack, slewing his body about with more than customary oscillation, -declared his willingness to accompany the Captain, but pointing to -Fleurette, expressed a fear that “this here gal had got a megrim or -something, and wanted caulkin’ very bad, if not refittin’ altogether in -dry dock.” - -The moon shed a strong light upon the little party, and it was obvious -that Fleurette, who had now sunk to the ground, with her head supported -by Bottle-Jack as tenderly and carefully as if the honest tar had been an -experienced nurse of her own sex, was seriously, if not mortally wounded, -and certainly unable to proceed. The Marquise and her daughter were at -her side in an instant, but she took no heed of the former, fixing her -filmy eyes on Cerise, and pressing her young mistress’s hand to her heart. - -“You kiss me once again,” said she, faintly, and with a sad smile on her -swarthy face, now turning to that wan leaden hue which makes a pale negro -so ghastly an object. “Once again, so sweet! ma’amselle, same as before. -You go straight on to white lagoon—see! Find canoe tied up. Stop here -berry well, missee—Fleurette camp out all night. No fear Jumbo now. Sleep -on long after monkeys wake! Good-night!” - -It was with difficulty that Cerise could be prevailed on to leave the -faithful girl who had sacrificed herself so willingly, and whom, indeed, -she could hardly expect to see again; but the emergency admitted of no -delay, even on the score of gratitude and womanly compassion. George -hurried the ladies forward in the direction of the lagoon, leaving -Fleurette, now prostrate and unconscious, to the care of Slap-Jack, who -pitied her from the depths of his honest heart. - -“It’s a bad job,” said he, taking off his jacket and folding it into a -pillow for the poor girl’s head, with as much tender care as if she -had been his own Alice, of whom, indeed, he was thinking at the moment. -“A real bad job, if ever there was one. Such a heart of oak as this -here; an’ a likely lass too, though as black as a nor’-easter. Well, -_somebody_’ll have to pay for this night’s work, that’s sartin. Ay! -yell away, you black beggars. We’ll give you something to sing out for -presently—an’ you shall have it hot and heavy when you _do_ get it, as -sure as my name’s Slap-Jack!” - -Captain George, in the meantime, led the two ladies swiftly down the -open space before them, in the direction of the lagoon, which was now in -sight. They had but to thread one more belt of lofty forest-trees, from -which the wild vines hung in a profusion of graceful festoons, and they -were on the brink of the cool, peaceful water, spread like a sheet of -silver at their feet. - -“Five minutes more,” said he, “and we are safe. Once across, and if that -girl speaks truth, less than a quarter of a league will bring us to the -beach. All seems quiet, too, on this side, and there is little chance of -our being intercepted from the town. The boat will be in waiting within a -cable’s length off shore, and my signal will bring her in at once. Then I -shall hope to conduct you safe on board, but both madame and mademoiselle -must excuse a sailor’s rough accommodation and a sailor’s unceremonious -welcome.” - -The Marquise did not immediately answer. She was looking far ahead into -the distance, as though she heard not, or at least heeded not, and yet -every tone of his voice was music to her ears, every syllable he spoke -curdled like some sweet and subtle poison in her blood. Notwithstanding -the severe fatigue and fierce excitement of the night, she walked -with head erect, and proud imperious step, like a queen amongst her -courtiers, or an enchantress in the circle she has drawn. There was a -wild brilliancy in her eyes, there was a fixed red spot on either cheek; -but for all her assumption of pride, for all her courage and all her -self-command, her hand trembled, her breath came quick, and the Marquise -knew that she had never yet felt so thoroughly a weak and dependent woman -as now, when she turned at last to thank her preserver for his noble -efforts, and dared not even raise her eyes to meet his own. - -“You have saved us, monsieur,” was all she could stammer out, “and how -can we show our gratitude enough? We shall never forget the moment of -supreme danger, nor the brave man who came between those ruffians and -their prey. Shall we, Cerise?” - -But Cerise made no answer, though she managed to convey her thanks in -some hidden manner that afforded Captain George a satisfaction quite out -of proportion to their value. - -They had now reached the edge of the lagoon, to find, as Fleurette had -indicated, a shallow rickety canoe, moored to a post half-buried in the -water, worm-eaten, rotten, and crumbling to decay. The bark itself was -in little better preservation, and on a near inspection they discovered, -much to their discomfiture, that it would hold at best but one passenger -at a time. It had evidently not been used for a considerable period, and -after months of exposure and ill-usage, without repair, was indeed, as -a means of crossing the lagoon, little better than so much brown paper. -George’s heart sank while he inspected it. There was no paddle, and -although such a want might easily be remedied with a knife and the branch -of a tree, every moment of delay seemed so dangerous, that the Captain -made up his mind to use another mode of propulsion, and cross over at -once. - -“Madame,” said he to the Marquise, “our only safety is on the other -side of this lagoon. Fifty strokes of a strong swimmer would take him -there. No paddle has been left in that rickety little craft, nor dare I -waste the few minutes it would take to fashion one. Moreover, neither -mademoiselle nor yourself could use it, and you need only look at your -shallop to be sure that it would never carry two. This, then, is what I -propose. I will place one of you in the canoe, and swim across, pushing -it before me. Bottle-Jack will remain here to guard the other. For that -purpose I will leave him my pistols in addition to his own. When my first -trip is safely accomplished, I will return with the canoe and repeat the -experiment. The whole can be done in a short quarter of an hour. Excuse -me, madame, but for this work I must divest myself of coat, cravat, and -waistcoat.” - -Thus speaking, Captain George disencumbered himself rapidly of these -garments, and assisted by Bottle-Jack, tilted the light vessel on its -side, to get rid of its superfluous weight of water. Then standing -waist-deep in the lagoon, he prepared it for the reception of its -freight; no easy matter with a craft of this description, little more -roomy and substantial than a cockle-shell, without the advantage of being -water-tight. Spreading his laced coat along the bottom of the canoe, he -steadied it carefully against the bank, and signed to the ladies that all -was now in readiness for embarkation. - -They exchanged wistful looks. Neither seemed disposed to grasp at her -own safety and leave the other in danger. Bottle-Jack, leaning over the -canoe, continued bailing the water out with his hand. Notwithstanding -the Captain’s precautions it leaked fast, and seemed even now little -calculated to land a passenger dry on the farther shore. - -“Mamma, I _will_ not leave you,” said Cerise, “you shall go first -with George. With monsieur, I mean.” She corrected herself, blushing -violently. “Monsieur can then return for me, and I shall be quite safe -with this good old man, who is, you perceive, armed to the teeth, and as -brave as a lion besides.” - -“That is why I do not fear to remain,” returned the Marquise. “Child, -I could not bear to see this sheet of water between us, and you on the -dangerous side. We can neither fly nor swim, alas! though the latter art -we _might_ have learned long ago. Cerise, I _insist_ on your crossing -first. It may be the last command I shall ever lay upon you.” - -But Cerise was still obstinate, and the canoe meanwhile filled fast, -in spite of Bottle-Jack’s exertions. That worthy, whose very nose was -growing pale, though not with fear, took no heed of their dilemma, but -continued his task with a mechanical, half-stupefied persistency, like -a man under the influence of opium. The quick eye of the Marquise had -detected this peculiarity of manner, and it made her the more determined -not to leave her daughter under the old seaman’s charge. Their dispute -might have been protracted till even Captain George’s courtesy would -have given way; but a loud yell from the defile they had lately quitted, -followed by a couple of shots and a round of British cheers, warned them -all that not a moment was to be lost, for that their retreat was even now -dependent on the handful of brave men left behind to guard the pass. - -“My daughter shall go first, monsieur? Is it not so?” exclaimed the -Marquise, with an eagerness of eye and excitement of manner she had not -betrayed in all the previous horrors of the night. - -“It is better,” answered George. “Mademoiselle is perhaps somewhat the -lightest.” And although he strove to make his voice utterly unmoved and -indifferent, there was in its tone a something of intense relief, of -deep, heartfelt joy, that told its own tale. - -The Marquise knew it all at last. She saw the past now, not piece by -piece, in broken detail as it had gone by, but all at once, as the -mariner, sailing out of a fogbank, beholds the sunny sky, and the blue -sea, and the purple outlines of the shore. It came upon her as a shot -goes through a wild deer. The creature turns sick and faint, and knowing -all is over, yet would fain ignore its hurt and keep its place, erect, -stately, and uncomplaining, amongst the herd; not the less surely has it -got its death-wound. - -How carefully he placed Cerise in the frail bark of which she was to -be the sole occupant. How tenderly he drew the laced coat between the -skirt of her delicate white dress and the flimsy shattered wood-work, -worn, splintered, and dripping wet even now. Notwithstanding the haste -required, notwithstanding that every moment was of such importance in -this life and death voyage, how he seemed to linger over the preparations -that brought him into contact with his precious freight. At last they -were ready. A farewell embrace between mother and daughter; a husky -cheer delivered in a whisper from Bottle-Jack; a hurried thanksgiving -for perils left behind; an anxious glance at the opposite shore, and the -canoe floated off with its burden, guided by George, who in a few yards -was out of his depth and swimming onward in long measured strokes that -pushed it steadily before him. - -The Marquise, watching their progress with eager restless glance, that -betrayed strong passions and feelings kept down by a stronger will, -observed that when within a pistol-shot of the opposite shore the bark -was propelled swiftly through the water, as if the swimmer exerted -himself to the utmost—so much so as to drive it violently against the -bank. George’s voice, while his dripping figure emerged into sight, -warned her that all was well; but straining her eyes in the uncertain -light, the Marquise, though she discerned her daughter’s white dress -plainly enough, could see nothing of the boat. Again George shouted, but -she failed to make out the purport of what he said; though a gleam of -intelligence on the old seaman’s face made her turn to Bottle-Jack. “What -is it?” she asked anxiously. “Why does he not come back to us with the -canoe?” - -“The canoe will make no more voyages, my lady,” answered the old -man, with a grim leer that had in it less of mirth than pain. “She’s -foundered, that’s wot she’s been an’ done. They’ll send back for us, -never fear; so you an’ me will keep watch and watch till they come; an’ -if you please, my lady, askin’ your pardon, I’ll keep _my_ watch first.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX - -ALL ADRIFT - - -The Marquise scarcely heard him. She was intent on those two figures -scrambling up the opposite shore, and fast disappearing into the darkness -beyond. It seemed that the darkness was closing in around herself, never -again to be dispelled. When those were gone what was there left on earth -for _her_? She had lost Cerise, she told herself, the treasure she had -guarded so carefully; the darling for whom she would have sacrificed her -life a thousand times, as the events of the last few hours proved; the -one aim and object of her whole existence, without which she was alone -in the world. And now this man had come and taken her child away, and it -would never be the same thing again. Cerise loved him, she was sure of -that. Ah! they could not deceive _her_; and he loved Cerise. She knew it -by his voice in those few words when he suggested that the girl should -cross the water first. The Marquise twined her fingers together, as if -she were in pain. - -They must be safe now. Walking side by side on the peaceful beach, -waiting for the boat that should bear them away, would they forget all -about her in the selfishness of their new-found happiness, and leave her -to perish here? She wished they would. She wished the rioters, coming -on in overwhelming numbers, might force the pass and drive these honest -blue-jackets in before them to make a last desperate stand at the water’s -edge. She could welcome death then, offering herself willingly to ensure -the safety of those two. - -And what was this man to her that she should give him up her daughter, -that she should be ready to give up her life rather than endanger his -happiness? She winced, she quivered with pain and shame because of the -feelings her own question called up. What was he to her? The noblest, -the dearest, the bravest, the best-beloved; the realisation of her -girl’s dreams, of her woman’s passions, the type of all that she had -ever honoured and admired and longed for to make her happiness complete! -She remembered so well the boy’s gentle brow, the frank kind eyes -that smiled and danced with delight to be noticed by her, a young and -beautiful widow, flattered and coveted of all the Great King’s Court. She -recalled, as if it were but yesterday, the stag-hunt at Fontainebleau; -the manly figure and the daring horsemanship of the Grey Musketeer; her -own mad joy in that wild gallop, and the strange keen zest life seemed -to have acquired when she rode home through those sleeping woods, under -the dusky purple of that soft autumnal night. How she used to watch -for him afterwards, amidst all the turmoil of feasts and pleasures -that constituted the routine of the new Court. How well she knew his -place of ceremony, his turn of duty, and loved the very sentries at the -palace-gate for his sake. Often had she longed to hint by a look, a -gesture, the flirt of a fan, the dropping of a flower, that he had not -far to seek for one who would care for him as he deserved; but even the -Marquise shrank, and feared, and hesitated, woman-like, where she really -loved. Then came that ever-memorable night at the Masked Ball, when -she cried out aloud, in her longing and her loneliness, and never knew -afterwards whether she was glad or sorry for what she had done. - -It was soon to be over then, for ere a few more days had elapsed the -Regent ventured on his shameless outrage at the Hôtel Montmirail, and lo! -in the height of her indignation and her need, who should drop down, as -it seemed, from the skies, to be her champion, but the man of all others -whom most she could have loved and trusted in the world! - -Since then, had she not thought of him by day and dreamt of him by night, -dwelling on his image with a fond persistency none the less cherished -because sad and desponding—content, if better might not be, to worship it -in secret to the last, though she might never look on its original again? - -The real and the ideal had so acted on each other, that while he seemed -to her the perfection of all manhood should be, that very type was -unconsciously but a faithful copy of himself. In short, she loved him; -and when such a man is loved by such a woman it is usually but little -conducive to his happiness, and thoroughly destructive of her own. - -If I have mistaken the originator of so beautiful and touching an -illustration, I humbly beg his pardon, but I think it is Alphonse Karr -who teaches, in his remarks on the great idolatry of all times and -nations, that it is well to sow plenty of flowers in that prolific -soil which is fertilised by the heart’s sunshine and watered by its -tears—plenty of flowers, the brighter, the sweeter, the more fragile, -perhaps, the better. Winter may cut them down indeed to the cold earth, -yet spring-time brings another crop as fair, as fresh, as fragile, and as -easily replaced as those that bloomed before. But it is unwise to plant -a tree; _because, if that tree be once torn up by the roots, the flowers -will never grow over the barren place again_! - -The Marquise had not indeed planted the tree, but she had allowed it -unwittingly to grow. Perhaps she would never have confessed its existence -to herself had it not thus been forcibly torn away by roots that had -for years twined deeper and deeper among all its gentlest and all its -strongest feelings, till they had become as the very fibres of her heart. - -It is needless to say that the Marquise was a woman elevated both by -disposition and education above the meaner and pettier weaknesses of her -sex. If she was masculine in her physical courage and moral recklessness -of consequences, she was masculine also in a certain generosity of -spirit and noble disdain for anything like malice or foul-play. Jealousy -with her—and, like all strong natures, she could feel jealousy very -keenly—would never be visited on the object that had caused it. She would -hate and punish herself under the torture; she might even be goaded to -hate and punish the man at whose hands she was suffering; but she would -never have injured the woman whom she preferred, and, indeed, supported -by a scornful pride, would have taken a strange morbid pleasure in -enhancing her own pain by ministering to that woman’s happiness. - -Therefore she was saved a keen pang now. A pang that might have rendered -her agony too terrible to endure. She had not concealed from herself -to-night that the thrill of delight she experienced from the arrival -of succour was due rather to the person who brought it than to the -assistance itself; but almost ere she had time to realise its charm the -illusion had been dispelled, and she felt that, dream as it all was, she -had been wakened ere she had time to dream it out. - -And now it seemed to her that nothing would be so good as the excitement -of another skirmish, another struggle, and a sudden death, with the -cheers of these brave Englishmen ringing in her ears. A death that Cerise -would never forget had been encountered for her safety, that _he_ would -sometimes remember, and remembering, accord a smile and a sigh to the -beauty he had neglected, and the devotion he had never known till too -late. - -Engrossed with such thoughts, the Marquise was less alive than usual -to surrounding impressions. Presently a deep groan, forced from her -companion by combined pain and weakness, against which the sufferer could -no longer hold out, roused her to a sense of her situation, which was -indeed sufficiently precarious to have warranted much anxiety and alarm. - -Hastening to his side, she was shocked to perceive that Bottle-Jack had -sunk to the ground, and was now endeavouring ineffectually to support -himself on his knees in an attitude of vigilance and defence. The -Captain’s pistols lay beside him, and he carried his own in each hand, -but his glazing eye and fading colour showed that the weapons could be -but of little service, and the time seemed fast approaching when the old -sailor should be relieved from his duty by an order against which there -was no appeal. - -The Marquise had scarcely listened to the words while he spoke them, but -they came back now, and she understood what he meant when he told her -that, if she pleased, “he would keep _his_ watch first.” - -She looked around and shuddered. It was, indeed, a cheerless position -enough. The moon was sinking, and that darkest hour of the night -approached which is followed by dawn, just as sorrow is succeeded by -consolation, and death by immortality. The breeze struck damp and chill -on her unprotected neck and bosom, for there had been no time to think -of cloaks or shawls when she escaped, nor was the air sufficiently cold -before midnight to remind her of such precautions. The surrounding jungle -stirred and sighed faintly, yet sadly, in the night air. The waters of -the deep lagoon, now darkening with a darkening sky, lapped drearily -against their bank. Other noises were there none, for the rioters seemed -to have turned back from the resistance offered by Slap-Jack with his -comrades, and to have abandoned for the present their search in that -direction. The seamen who guarded the defile were peering stealthily into -the gloom, not a man relaxing in his vigilance, not a man stirring on his -post. The only sounds that broke her solitude were the restless movements -of Bottle-Jack, and the groans that would not be suppressed. It was no -wonder the Marquise shuddered. - -She stooped over the old seaman and took his coarse, heavy hand in hers. -Even at such an extremity, Bottle-Jack seemed conscious of the contrast, -and touched it delicately, like some precious and fragile piece of -porcelain. “I fear you are hurt,” said she, in his own language, which -she spoke with the measured accent of her countrywomen. “Tell me what it -is; I am not a bad doctor myself.” - -Bottle-Jack tried to laugh. “It’s a flea-bite, my lady,” said he, setting -his teeth to conceal the pain he suffered. “’Tis but a poke in the side -after all, though them black beggars does grind their spear-heads to an -edge like a razor. It’s betwixt wind and water, d’ye see, marm, if I may -be so bold, and past caulking, in my opinion. I’m a-fillin’ fast, that’s -where it is, askin’ your pardon again for naming it to a lady like you.” - -She partly understood him, and for the first time to-night the tears came -into her eyes. They did her good. They seemed to clear her faculties -and cool her brain. She examined the old man’s hurt, after no small -resistance on his part, and found a deep wound between his ribs, which -even her experience warned her must be mortal. She stanched it as well -as she could, tearing up the lace and other trimmings of her dress to -form a temporary bandage. Then she bent down to the lagoon to dip her -coroneted handkerchief in water and lay it across his brow, while she -supported his sinking frame upon her knees. He looked in her face with -a puzzled, wandering gaze, like a man in a dream. The vision seemed -so unreal, so impossible, so unlike anything he had ever seen before, -Bottle-Jack began to think he had reached Fiddler’s Green at last. - -The minutes dragged slowly on. The sky became darker, the breeze colder, -and the strangely matched pair continued in the same position on the -brink of the white lagoon, the Marquise dipping her handkerchief at short -intervals, and moistening the sailor’s mouth. It was all she could do for -him, and like a faithful old dog, wounded to the death, he could only -thank her with his eyes. More than once she thought he was gone, but as -moment after moment crept by, so sad, so slow, she knew he was still -alive. - -Would it never be day? She could scarcely see him now, though his heavy -head rested on her knees, though her hand with the moistened handkerchief -was laid on his very lips. At last the breeze freshened, sighing audibly -through the tree-tops, which were soon dimly seen swaying to and fro -against a pale streak of sky on the horizon. Bottle-Jack started and sat -up. - -“Stand by!” he exclaimed, looking wildly round. “You in the fore-chains! -Keep you axe ready to cut away when she rounds to. Easy, lads! She’ll -weather it now, and I’ll go below and turn in.” - -Then he laid his head once more on Madame de Montmirail’s knees, like a -child who turns round to go to sleep. - -The grey streak had grown to a wide rent of pale green, now broadening -and brightening into day. Ere the sky flecked with crimson, or the -distant tree-tops tinged with golden fire, the life of the whole jungle -was astir, waking the discords of innumerable menageries. Cockatoos -whistled, monkeys chattered, parrots screamed, mockingbirds reproduced -these and a thousand other sounds a thousandfold. All nature seemed -renewed, exulting in the freshened energies of another day, but still the -Marquise sat by the lagoon, pale, exhausted, worn out, motionless, with -the dead seaman’s head in her lap. - - - - -CHAPTER XL - -HOMEWARD BOUND - - -“But, madame, I am as anxious as you can be! Independent of my own -feelings—and judge if they be not strong—the brigantine should not lie -here another hour. After last night’s work, it will not be long before -a Spanish man-of-war shows herself in the offing, and I have no desire -that our papers should be overhauled, now when my cruise is so nearly -finished. I tell you, my dearest wish is to have it settled, and weigh -with the next tide.” - -Captain George spoke from his heart, yet the Marquise seemed scarcely -satisfied. Her movements were abrupt and restless, her eyes glittered, -and a fire as of fever burned in her cheeks, somewhat wasted with all her -late excitement and suspense. For the first time, too, he detected silver -lines about the temples, under those heavy black locks that had always -seemed to him only less beautiful than her child’s. - -“Not a moment must be lost,” said she, “not a moment—not a moment,” and -repeating her words, walked across the deck to gaze wistfully over the -side on Port Welcome, with its white houses glistening in the morning -sun. They were safe on board ‘The Bashful Maid,’ glad to escape with life -from the successful revolt that had burned Montmirail West to the ground, -and destroyed most of the white people’s property on the island. Partly -owing to its distance from the original scene of outbreak, partly from -its lying under the very guns of the brigantine, of which the tonnage and -weight of metal had been greatly exaggerated by the negroes, Port Welcome -was yet standing, but its black population were keeping high holiday, -apparently masters of the situation, and its white residents crept about -in fear and trembling, not knowing how much longer they might be allowed -to call their very lives their own. It had been a memorable night, a -night of murder and rapine, and horror and dismay. Few escaped so well as -Madame de Montmirail and her daughter. None indeed had the advantage of -such a rescue. The negroes who tracked them into the bush, and who had -delayed their departure to appropriate such plunder as they could snatch -from the burning house, or to drink from its cellars success to the -revolt, only reached that defile through which the fugitives were guided -by Fleurette after these had passed by. The disappointed pursuers were -there received by a couple of shots from Slap-Jack and his shipmates, -which drove them back in disorder, yelling, boasting, vowing vengeance, -but without any thought of again placing themselves in danger of lead -or steel. In the death of Hippolyte, the revolt had lost its chief, and -became from that moment virtually a failure. The Coromantee was the only -negro concerned really capable of directing such a movement; and when -his leadership was disposed of by a rapid thrust from Captain George’s -rapier, the whole scheme was destined to fall to pieces of itself, after -the reaction which always follows such disorders had taken place, and the -habits of every-day life began to reassert themselves. In the meantime, -the blacks had more congenial amusements in store than voluntary -collision with an English boat’s crew, and soon desisted from a search -through the jungle, apparently as troublesome and hazardous as a hunt for -a hornet’s nest. - -By sunrise, therefore, Slap-Jack was able to draw off his party from -their post, and fall back to where the Marquise sat watching by the dead -seaman, on the brink of the lagoon. Nor was Bottle-Jack the only victim -of their escape, for poor Fleurette had already paid the price of her -fidelity with her life. - -A strong reinforcement from ‘The Bashful Maid,’ led by her Captain in -person, who had returned at once, after placing Cerise in safety, enabled -Madame de Montmirail and her defenders to take the high road to Port -Welcome in defiance of all opposition. They therefore rounded the lagoon -at once, and proceeding by an easier route than that which her daughter -followed, reached the quay at their leisure, thence to embark on board -the brigantine unmolested by the crowds of rioters with whom the town was -filled. - -Therefore it was that Madame de Montmirail now found herself on the deck -of ‘The Bashful Maid,’ urging with a strange persistency, unusual and -even unbecoming in a mother, Captain George’s immediate marriage to her -child, who was quietly sleeping off the night’s fatigues below. - -“There is the chapel, madame,” said George, pointing to the little white -edifice that stood between the lighthouse and the town, distinguished -by a cross that surmounted its glistening roof, “and here is the bride, -safe, happy, and I hope sound asleep beneath the very spot where we are -standing. I know not why there should be an hour’s delay, if indeed -the priest have not taken flight. There must have been a prospect of -martyrdom last night, which he would scarce wish to inspect too closely. -Ah! madame, I may seem cold and undemonstrative, but if you could look -into my heart you would see how happy I am!” - -His voice and manner carried with them a conviction not to be disputed. -It probed the Marquise to the quick, and true to her character, she -pressed the instrument deeper and deeper into the wound. - -“You love her then, monsieur?” she said, speaking very clearly and -distinctly through her set teeth. “You love her as a woman must be loved -if she would be happy—unreservedly, with your whole heart?” - -“I love her so well,” he answered, “that I only ask to pass my life in -contributing to her happiness. Mine has been a rude wild career, in -many scenes and many countries. I have lived _in_ society and _out of_ -society, afloat and ashore, at bivouac fires and Court receptions, yet I -have always carried the portrait of that one gentle loving face printed -on my heart.” - -“I compliment you on your constancy,” she answered, rather bitterly. -“Such gallants have been very rare of late both at the old and new -Courts. You must have seen other women too, as amiable, as beautiful, -who could have loved you perhaps as well.” - -Something like a sigh escaped her with the concluding sentence, but there -is no egotist like a happy lover, and he was too preoccupied with his own -thoughts to perceive it. Smiling in his companion’s face, with the old -honest expression that reminded her of what he had been as a boy, he took -her hand and kissed it affectionately. - -“Madame,” said he, “shall I make you a frank avowal? Ever since I was a -wild page at Versailles, and you were so kind to me, I have believed in -Madame de Montmirail as my ideal of all that woman should be, and perhaps -might never have loved Cerise so well had she not resembled her mother.” - -The Marquise was not without plenty of self-command, but she wanted it -all now. Under pretence of adjusting her glove, she snatched away the -hand he held, that he might not feel it tremble, and forced herself to -laugh while she replied lightly— - -“You are complimentary, monsieur, but your compliments are somewhat out -of date. An _old_ woman, you know, does not like to be reminded of her -age, and you were, yes, I honestly confess you were, a dear, mischievous, -good-looking, good-for-nothing boy in that far-off time so long ago. But -all this is nothing to the purpose. Let us send ashore at once to the -priest. The ceremony may take place at noon, and I can give the young -couple my blessing before wishing them good-bye.” - -“How, madame?” replied he, astonished. “You will surely accompany us? -You will return with us to Europe? You will never trust yourself amongst -these savages again, after once escaping out of their hands?” - -“I shall be safe enough when the garrison has crossed the mountain,” -she answered, “and that must be in a few hours, for they are probably -even now on the march. Till then I will take refuge with the Jesuits on -their plantation at Maria-Galante. I do not think all my people can have -rebelled. Some of them will escort me faithfully as far as that. No, -monsieur, the La Fiertés have never been accustomed to abandon a post -of danger, and I shall not leave the island until this rising has been -completely put down.” - -She spoke carelessly, almost contemptuously, but she scarcely knew what -she said. Her actual thoughts, had she allowed herself to utter them, -would have thus framed themselves: “Can there be anything so blind, so -heartless, so self-engrossed—shall I say it?—so entirely and hopelessly -_stupid_ as a man?” - -It was not for George to dispute her wishes. Though little given to -illusions, he could scarcely believe that he was not dreaming now, so -strange did it seem to have achieved in the last twelve hours that -which had hitherto formed the one engrossing object of his life, -prized, coveted, dwelt on the more that it looked almost impossible of -fulfilment. There was but one drawback to his joy, one difficulty left, -perplexing indeed, although simple, and doubly annoying because others of -apparently far greater moment had been surmounted. There was no priest to -be found in Port Welcome! The good old Portuguese Curé who took spiritual -charge of the white inhabitants, and such negroes as could be induced -to pay attention to his ministering, had been nearly frightened out of -his wits by the outbreak. This quiet meek old man, who, since he left -his college forty years before, had never known an excitement or anxiety -greater than a visit from his bishop or a blight in his plantain-ground, -now found himself surrounded by swarms of drunken and infuriated slaves, -yelling for his life. It was owing to the presence of mind shown by an -old coloured woman who lived with him as housekeeper, and to no energy -or activity of his own, that he made his escape. She smuggled him out -of the town through a by-street, and when he had once got his mule into -an amble he never drew rein till he reached the Jesuits’ establishment -at Maria-Galante, where he found a qualified welcome and a precarious -refuge. From this shelter, defenceless and uncertain as it was, nothing -would induce him to depart till the colours of a Spanish three-decker -were flying in the harbour, and ere such an arrival could restore -confidence to the colony it would behove ‘The Bashful Maid’ to spread her -wings and flee away. - -Captain George was at his wits’ end. In such a dilemma he bethought him -of consulting his second in command. For this purpose he went below to -seek Beaudésir, and found him keeping guard at the cabin door within -which Mademoiselle de Montmirail was reposing, a post he had held without -stirring since she came on board before dawn, and was confided by the -Captain to his care. He had not spoken to her, he had not even seen her -face; but from that moment he had exchanged no words with his comrades, -standing as pale, as silent, and almost as motionless as a statue. He -started violently when the Captain spoke, and collected his faculties -with an obvious effort. George could not but observe his preoccupation. - -“I am in a difficulty,” said the latter, “as I have already told you more -than once. Try and comprehend me. I do not often ask for advice, but I -want yours now.” - -“You shall have it at any cost,” replied the other. “Do not I owe -everything in the world to you?” - -“Listen,” continued George. “The young lady whom my honest fellows -rescued last night, and whom I brought on board, is—is—Mademoiselle de -Montmirail herself.” - -“I know—I know,” answered Beaudésir, impatiently. “At least, I mean you -mentioned it before.” - -“Very likely,” returned the Captain, “though I do not remember it. Well, -it so happens, you see, that this is the same young lady—the person—the -individual—in short, I have saved the woman of all others who is most -precious to me in the world.” - -“Of course—of course,” repeated Beaudésir, impatiently, “she cannot go -back—she _shall_ not go back amongst those wretches. She must stay on -board. You must take her to Europe. There should be no delay. You must be -married—now—immediately—within two hours—before we get the anchor up.” - -He seemed strangely eager, restless, excited. Without actually -acknowledging it, George felt instinctively that something in his -friend’s manner reminded him of the Marquise. - -“There is a grave difficulty,” said the Captain. “Where can we find a -priest? That fat little Portuguese who looked like a guinea-pig is sure -to have run away, if the negroes have not cut his throat.” - -The other reflected, his pale face turning paler every moment. Then he -spoke, in a low determined voice— - -“My Captain, there is a Society of Jesuits on the island: I know it for -certain; do not ask me why. I have never failed you, have I? Trust me yet -this once. Order a boat to be manned; I will go ashore instantly; follow -in an hour’s time with a strong guard; bring your bride with you; I will -undertake that everything shall be ready at the chapel, and a priest in -waiting to perform the ceremony.” - -George looked him straight in the face. “You are a true friend,” said he, -and gave him his hand. The other bent over it as if he would have put -it to his lips, and when he raised his head again his eyes were full of -tears. He turned away hastily, sprang on deck, and in five minutes the -boat was lowered and Beaudésir over the side. - -George tapped humbly at the cabin door, and a gentle face, pale but -lovely, peeped out to greet him. After his whisper the face was anything -but pale, and although the little monosyllable “No” was repeated again -and again in that pleading, yielding tone which robs the negative of all -its harshness, the boon he begged must have been already nearly accorded -if there be any truth in the old Scottish proverb which affirms that -“Nineteen nay-says make half a grant.” - -In less than two hours the bridal procession was formed upon the quay, -guarded by some score of stalwart, weather-beaten tars, and presenting -an exceedingly formidable front to the crowds of grinning negroes who -were idling in the sun, talking over the events of the past night, and -congratulating themselves that no such infliction as field-work was ever -to be heard of in the island again. - -It was a strange and picturesque wedding, romantic enough in appearance -and reality to have satisfied the wildest imagination. Smoke-Jack -and certain athletic able seamen marched in front; Slap-Jack and his -foretopmen brought up the rear. In the centre walked the Marquise and -her daughter, accompanied by the bridegroom. Four deep on each side -were the special attendants of the bride, reckless in gait, free in -manner, bronzed, bearded, broad-shouldered, and armed to the teeth, yet -cherishing perhaps as deep a devotion for her whom they attended to the -altar as could have been entertained by the fairest bevy of bridesmaids -that ever belonged to her own sex. - -Cerise was very grave and very silent; happy indeed beyond expression, -yet a little frightened at the extent as at the suddenness of her own -happiness. - -It seemed so strange to be besieged, rescued, carried off by a lover, -and married to him, all within twenty-four hours. The Marquise, on the -contrary, was gay, talkative, brilliant, full of life and spirits; more -beautiful too than usual, in the bright light of that noonday sun. -Slap-Jack, who considered himself no mean judge of such matters, was much -distracted by the conflict in his own mind as to whether, under similar -circumstances, he would have chosen the mother or the child. - -Taking little notice of the crowd who followed at a respectful distance, -having received from the free-handed sailors several very intelligible -hints not to come too near, the bridal procession moved steadily through -the outskirts of the town and ascended the hill on which the chapel stood. - -Halting at its door, the crew formed a strong guard to prevent -interruption, and the principal performers, accompanied only by -Smoke-Jack, Slap-Jack, and the Marquise, entered the building. There were -flowers on the altar, with wax tapers already lighted, and everything -seemed prepared for the ceremony. A priest, standing with his back -to them, was apparently engaged in putting a finishing touch to the -decorations when they advanced. Cerise, bewildered, frightened, agitated, -clung to her mother’s arm. “Courage, my child,” said the Marquise, “it -will soon be over, and you need never do this again!” - -There was something in the voice so hard, so measured, so different from -its usual tone, that the girl glanced anxiously in her face. It betrayed -no symptoms of emotion, not even the little flutter of maternal pride -and anxiety natural to the occasion. It was flushed, imperious, defiant, -and strangely beautiful. Slap-Jack entertained no longer the slightest -doubt of its superiority to any face he had ever seen. And yet no -knightly visor, or Eastern _yashmak_ ever concealed its real wearer more -effectually than that lovely mask which she forced to do her bidding, -though every muscle beneath was quivering in pain the while. - -Nor was the Marquise the only person under this consecrated roof who -curbed unruly feelings with a strong and merciless hand. That priest, -with his back to the little congregation, adjusting with trembling -gestures the sacred symbols of his faith, had fought during the last hour -or two such a battle as a man can only fight once in a lifetime; a battle -that, if lost, yields him a prey to evil without hope of rescue; if won, -leaves him faint, exhausted, bleeding, a maimed and shattered champion -for the rest of his earthly life. Since sunrise he had wrestled fiercely -with sin and self. They had helped each other lustily to pull him down, -but he had prevailed at last. Though one insuperable barrier already -existed between himself and the woman he loved so madly at the cost of -his very soul, it was hard to rear another equally insurmountable, with -his own hand; but it would insure her happiness—he resolved to do it, and -therefore he was here. - -So when Cerise and her lover advanced to the altar, and the Jesuit -priest, whom they had imagined to be a stranger from Maria-Galante, -turned round to confront them, in spite of his contracted features, in -spite of the wan, death-like hue of his face, they recognised him at -once, and exclaimed simultaneously, in accents of intense surprise, -“Brother Ambrose!” and “Beaudésir!” - -The sailors, too much taken aback to speak, gasped at each other in -mute astonishment, nor did Slap-Jack, who had constituted himself in a -manner director of the proceedings, recover his presence of mind till the -conclusion of the ceremony. - -If a corpse could be galvanised and set up in priest’s robes to bless -a loving couple whom Heaven has joined together, its benediction could -scarcely be more passionless and mechanical than was that which Florian -de St. Croix—the Brother Ambrose who had been the bride’s confessor, the -Beaudésir who had been the bridegroom’s lieutenant—now pronounced over -George Hamilton and Cerise de Montmirail. Not an eyelash quivered, not a -muscle trembled, not a tone of emotion could be detected in his voice. -Still young, still enthusiastic, still, though it was wild and warped and -wilful, possessing a human heart, he believed honestly that he then bade -farewell at once and for ever to earth and earthly things. - -When they left the chapel, he was gone; gone back, so said some negroes -lounging in the neighbourhood, to the other Jesuits at Maria-Galante. -They believed him to be a priest of that order, resident at their -plantation, who had simply come across the island, and returned in the -regular performance of his duty. They cheered him when he emerged from -a side door and departed swiftly through their ranks. They cheered the -bridal party a few minutes later, leaving the chapel to re-embark. -They even cheered the Marquise, when, after bidding them farewell, -she separated from the others, and sought a house in the town, where -Célandine had already collected several faithful slaves who could be -trusted to defend her, and in the cellars of which refuge the Italian -overseer was even then concealed. They cheered Slap-Jack more than any -one, turning round to curse them, not without blows, for crowding in too -close. Lighthearted and impressionable, they were delighted with the -glitter, the bustle, the parade of the whole business, and thought it -little inferior to the “bobbery” of the preceding night. - -So Cerise and her husband embarked on board the brigantine without delay. -In less than an hour the anchor was up, and with a following tide and a -wind off shore, ‘The Bashful Maid’ stood out to sea, carrying at least -two happy hearts along with her, whatever she may have left behind. - -Before sunset she was hull-down on the horizon, but long after white -sails vanished their last gleam seemed yet to linger on the eyes of two -sad, wistful watchers, for whom, henceforth, it was to be a gloomier -world. - -They knew not each other’s faces, they never guessed each other’s -feelings, nor imagined how close a link between the two existed in that -sunny speck, fading to leeward on the deep blue sea. - -None the less longingly did they gaze eastward; none the less keenly -did the Marquise de Montmirail and Florian de St. Croix feel that their -loves, their hopes, their better selves-all that brightened the future, -that enhanced the past, that made life endurable—was gone from them in -the Homeward Bound. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI - -LADY HAMILTON - - -The daisies we string in chains before ten, we tread under foot without -compunction after twenty. Cerise, pacing a noble terrace rolled and -levelled beneath the windows of her husband’s home, gave no thought to -the humble petals bending to her light footfall, and rising again when it -passed on; gave no thought to the flaring hollyhocks, the crimson roses, -all the bright array of autumn’s gaudier flowers flaunting about her in -the imposing splendour of maturity; gave no thought even to the fair -expanse of moor and meadow, dale and dingle, copse and corn-field, wood, -wold, and water, on which her eyes were bent. - -She might have travelled many a mile, too, even through beautiful -England, without beholding such a scene. Overhead, the sky, clear and -pure in the late summer, or the early autumn, seemed but of a deeper -blue, because flecked here and there with wind-swept streaks of misty -white. Around her glowed, in Nature’s gaudiest patch-work, all the -garden beauty that had survived July. On a lower level by a few inches -lay a smooth, trim bowling-green, dotted with its unfinished game; and -downward still, foot by foot, like a wide green staircase, row after -row of terraces were banked, and squared, and spread between their -close-cut black yew hedges, till they descended to the ivy-grown wall -that divided pleasure-ground from park. Here, slopes of tufted grass, -swelling into bolder outlines as they receded, rolled, like the volume of -a freshening sea, into knolls, and dips, and ridges, feathered in waving -fern—dotted with goodly oaks—traversed by deep, narrow glades, in which -the deer were feeding—shy, wild, and undisturbed. Beyond this, again, the -variegated plain, rich in orchards, hedgerows, and enclosures studded -with shocks of corn, seamed too by the silver of more than one glistening -stream, was girdled by a belt of purple moorland; while, in the far -distance, the horizon was shut in by a long low range of hills, lost in a -grey-blue vapour, where they melted into sky. - -Behind her stood the grim and weatherworn mansion, with its thick stone -walls, dented, battered, and defaced, as if it had defied a thousand -tempests and more than one siege, which, indeed, was the fact. Every old -woman in the country-side could tell how the square grey keep, at the end -of the south wing, had resisted the Douglas, and there was no mistaking -Cromwell’s handwriting on more than one rent in the comparatively modern -portions of the building. Hamilton Hill, though it had never been -called a fort, a castle, or even a hall, was known far and wide for a -stronghold, that, well supplied and garrisoned, might keep fifty miles of -the surrounding district in check; and the husband of Cerise was now lord -of Hamilton Hill. - -No longer the soldier adventurer, the leader of Grey Musketeers, compound -of courtier and bravo—no longer the doubtful skipper of a suspicious -craft, half-trader, half-pirate—Sir George Hamilton, with position, -property, tenants, and influence, found himself a very different person -from the Captain George who used to relieve guard at the Palais Royal, -and lay ‘The Bashful Maid’ broadside on to a Spanish galleon deep in the -water, with her colours down and her foresail aback, a rich prize and an -easy prey. Ere the brigantine had dropped her anchor in the first English -port she made, George received intelligence of his far-off kinsman’s -death, and his own succession to a noble inheritance. It came at an -opportune moment, and he was disposed to make the most of it. Therefore -it was that Cerise (now Lady Hamilton) looked from the lofty terrace -over many a mile of fair English scenery, much of which belonged, like -herself, to the man she loved. - -They were fairly settled now, and had taken their established place—no -lowly station—amongst their neighbours. Precedence had not, indeed, been -yielded them without a struggle; for in the last as in the present -century, detraction claimed a fair fling at all new-comers, and not what -they were, but _who_ they were, was the important question amongst a -provincial aristocracy, who made up by minute inquiry for the limited -sphere of their research. At first people whispered that the husband -was an adventurer and the wife an actress. Well, if not an actress, at -least a dancing-girl, whom he had picked up in Spain, in Paris, in the -West Indies, at Tangiers, Tripoli, or Japan! Lady Hamilton’s beauty, her -refined manners, her exquisite dresses, warranted the meanest opinion -of her in the minds of her own sex; and although, when they could no -longer conceal from themselves that she was a Montmirail of the real -Montmirails, they were obliged to own she had at least the advantage of -a high birth, I doubt if they loved her any better than before. They -pitied Sir George, they said, one and all—“He, if you like, was charming. -He had been page to the great King; he had been adored by the ladies of -the French Court; he had killed a Prince of the Blood in a duel; he had -sacked a convent of Spanish nuns, and wore the rosary of the Lady Abbess -under his waistcoat; he had been dreadfully wicked, but he was so polite! -he had the _bel air_; he had the _tourneur Louis Quatorze_; he had the -manners of the princes, and the electors, and the archdukes now passing -away. Such men would be _impossible_ soon; and to think he could have -been entrapped by that tawdry Frenchified Miss, with her airs and graces, -her fans and furbelows, and yards of the best Mechlin lace on the dress -she went gardening in! It was nothing to _them_, of course, that the -man should have committed such an absurdity; but, in common humanity, -they could not help being sorry for it, and, unless they were very much -deceived, so was he!” - -With the squires, again, and county grandees of the male sex, including -two or three baronets, a knight of the shire, and the lord-lieutenant -himself, it was quite different. These honest gentlemen, whether fresh -or fasting in the morning, or bemused with claret towards the afternoon, -prostrated themselves before Cerise, and did homage to her charms. -Her blue eyes, her rosy lips, the way her gloves fitted, the slender -proportions of her feet, the influence of her soft, sweet manner, -resulting from a kindly, innocent heart—above all, the foreign accent, -which added yet another grace, childish, mirth-inspiring, and bewitching, -to everything she said—caused men of all ages and opinions to place their -necks voluntarily beneath the yoke. They swore by her; they toasted her; -they broke glasses innumerable in her honour; they vowed, with repeated -imprecations, nothing had ever been seen like her before; and they held -out to her husband the right hand of fellowship, as much for her sake as -for his own. - -Sir George’s popularity increased on acquaintance. A man who could fly -a hawk with science—who could kill his game on the wing—who could ride -any horse perfectly straight over any part of their country—who seemed -to care very little for politics, except in so far as that the rights of -_venerie_ should be protected—who was reputed a consummate swordsman, -and seen, on occasion, to empty his bottle of claret with exceeding -good-will—was not likely to remain long in the background amongst the -hardy northern gentlemen with whom his lot was cast. Very soon Sir George -Hamilton’s society was sought as eagerly by both sexes, as his wife’s -beauty was admired by the one and envied—shall I say denied?—by the other. - -Notwithstanding female criticism, which female instinct may possibly rate -at its true value, Cerise found herself very happy. Certainly, the life -she led was very different from that to which she had been accustomed in -her youth. An English lady of the last century devoted much of her time -to duties that are now generally performed by a housekeeper, and Cerise -had resolved to become a thorough English lady simply, I imagine, because -she thought it would please George. So she rose early, inspected the -dairies, betrayed contemptible ignorance in the manufacture of butter and -cream, reviewed vast stores of linen, put her white arms through a coarse -canvas apron, and splashed little dabs of jam upon her delicate nose, -with the conviction that she was a perfectly competent and efficient -housewife. Such occupations, if more healthy, were certainly less -exciting than the ever-recurring gaieties of the family hotel in Paris, -less agreeable than the luxurious tropical indolence of Montmirail West. - -There were servants, plenty of them, at Hamilton Hill, who would -literally have shed their blood in defence of their mistress, but they -showed neither the blind obedience of the negro nor the shrewd readiness -of the Parisian domestic. On the contrary, they seemed persuaded -that length of service entitled them to be obstinate, perverse, and -utterly negligent of orders. There were two or three seniors of whom -Lady Hamilton positively stood in awe, and an old grey-headed butler, -perfectly useless from gout and obesity, would expostulate angrily with -his mistress for walking bareheaded on the terrace in an east wind. That -same east wind, too, was another trial to Cerise. It gave her cold, it -made her shiver, and she was almost afraid it sometimes made her cross. -There were drawbacks, you see, even to a love-match, a fortune, and -Hamilton Hill! - -Yet she was very happy. She continually repeated to herself how happy -she was. To be sure, she missed her mother’s society, missed it far -more than she expected when at first she acquired the freedom of the -Matron’s Guild. Perhaps, too, she may have missed the incense of flattery -so delicately offered at the receptions of the Marquise; nay, even the -ponderous and well-turned compliments of the Prince-Marshal, who, to -do him justice, treated her with a chivalrous affection, compounded of -romantic devotion to her mother, and paternal regard for herself. But I -am sure she would never have allowed that a drop could be wanting in the -full cup of her happiness, for was not George the whole world to her, and -had she not got him here all to herself? - -She walked thoughtfully on the terrace, surrounded by the glorious -beauty of earth and sky, looking, and seeing not. Perhaps she was -back in Touraine amongst the vineyards, perhaps she was in the shady -convent-garden, cooling her temples in the pure fresh breeze that -whispered to the beeches how it had gathered perfumes from the orchards -and the hedgerows and the scented meadows of pleasant Normandy. Perhaps -she was rustling through a minuet in the same set with a daughter of -France, or fanning mamma in the hot West Indian evening, or straining her -eyes to windward from the deck of ‘The Bashful Maid,’ with George’s arm -round her waist, and his telescope pointing to the distant sail, that -seemed plain to every eye on board but hers. At any rate, she appeared -to be leagues off in mind, though her dainty feet, with slow, measured -steps, were pacing to and fro on the terrace at Hamilton Hill. All at -once her colour came, her eyes sparkled, she brightened up like one who -wakes from sleep, for her heart still leaped to the trample of boot and -jingle of spur, as it had leaped in the days gone by, when a certain -Musketeer would visit his guard at unseasonable hours, that he might have -an excuse for passing under her window. - -She ran across the terrace to meet him, with a little exclamation of -delight. “How long you have been, George!” she said, smiling up in his -face; “_why_ did you not ride faster? It is so dull here without _you_.” - -She had him by the arm, and clasped her pretty white hands across his -sleeve, leaning her weight on his wrist. He looked affectionately down in -the fair young face, but he had come at a gallop for five or six miles -across the moor, as the state of his boots no less than his flushed face -indicated, and he did not feel inclined to admit he had been dilatory, so -his answer was less that of the lover than the husband. - -“Dull, Cerise! I am sorry you find this place so dull, seeing that you -and I must spend the greater part of our lives here. I thought you liked -England, and a country life!” - -Why is a man flattered by those exactions in a mistress that gall him so -in a wife? Perhaps it is because a generous nature concedes willingly -the favour, but is stern to resist the claim. When his mistress says -she cannot do without him, all the protective instincts, so strong in -masculine affection rise in her behalf, but the same sentiment expressed -by one who assumes a right to his time and attention, rather awakes a -sense of apprehension, and a spirit of revolt. Where woman only sees -the single instance, man establishes the broad principle. If he yields -on this occasion, he fears his time will never again be his own, and -such misgivings show no little ignorance of the nature with which he -has to deal, a nature to be guided rather than taught, persuaded rather -than convinced, sometimes advised, but never confuted, and on which -close reasoning is but labour thrown away. I think that woman wise who -is careful never to weary her husband. The little god thrives well on -smiles, and is seldom stronger than when in tears. While he frowns and -sets his teeth, he is capable of a lion’s efforts and a mule’s endurance, -but when he begins to yawn, he is but like other children, and soon falls -fast asleep. - -Cerise hated George to speak to her in that grave tone. It grated on -the poor girl’s nerves, and frightened her besides, which was indeed -unreasonable, for he had never said a harsh word to her in his life. She -looked timidly in his face, and answered meekly enough— - -“Every place is dull to me, George, without you. I wish I could be -always with you—to help you with the tenants, to dine with you at the -court-house, to sit behind you on Emerald when you go for a gallop across -the moor. Why could I not ride with you this morning?” - -He laughed good-humouredly, and stroked the hands clasped on his wrist. - -“It would have been the very thing, Cerise!” said he. “I think I see -you assisting at a cock-fight, placing the fowls, picking them up, and -counting them out! I think I can see Sir Marmaduke’s face when you walked -into the pit. I think I can hear the charitable remarks of all our county -ladies, who are not disposed to let you off more easily, my dear, because -you are so much better-looking and better dressed than anything they ever -saw north of the Trent. Yes, my darling, come to the next cock-fight by -all means. _Il ne manquerait que ça!_” - -The little French sentence was music to her ears. It was the language -in which he had wooed her; and though she spoke _his_ language now -assiduously, and spoke it well, the other was her mother-tongue. She -laughed, too. - -“Perhaps I shall take you at your word,” said she, “though it is a cruel, -horrid, wicked amusement. Did you win, George?” - -“Fifty gold pieces!” was his answer; “and the same on a return match next -week, which I am equally sure of. They will get you two new dresses from -Paris.” - -“I want no dresses from Paris,” said she, drawing him towards the -bowling-green. “I want you to help me in my garden. Come and look at my -Provence roses.” - -But Sir George had no time to spare even for so tempting a pursuit. A -fresh horse was even now waiting to carry him ten miles off to a training -of the militia, in which constitutional force, as became his station, he -took a proper interest. He was the country gentleman now from head to -heel, and frequented all gatherings and demonstrations in which country -gentlemen take delight. Of these, a cock-fight was not the most refined, -but it was the fashion of his time and class, so we must not judge him -more severely than did Cerise, who, truth to tell, thought he could not -possibly do wrong, and would have given him absolution for a worse crime, -in consideration of his accompanying her to the garden to look at her -Provence roses. - -“To-morrow,” said he; husbandlike, missing the chance of a compliment -about the roses, which a lover would not have let slip; the latter, -indeed, if obliged to depart, would probably have ridden away with one -of the flowers in his bosom. “To-morrow, Cerise. I have a press of -business to-day, but will get back in time for dinner.” And touching her -forehead lightly with his lips, Sir George was gone before she could stop -him, and in another minute his horse’s hoofs were clattering out of the -stable-yard. - -From the terrace where she stood, Cerise watched his receding figure -as he galloped merrily down the park, knee-deep in fern, threading the -old oaks, and sending the deer scampering on all sides across the open; -watched him with a cloud upon her young face, and a quiver about her -mouth, that was near akin to tears; watched long after he was out of -sight, and then turned wearily away with a languid step and a deep-drawn -sigh. - -She was but going through the ordeal that sooner or later must be endured -by every young wife who dearly loves her husband. She was but learning -the unavoidable lesson that marriage is not courtship, that reality -is not illusion, that the consistent tenderness of a husband, if more -practical, is less flattering than the romantic adoration of a lover. She -was beginning to shape into suspicion certain vague misgivings which had -lately haunted her, that although George was all the world to _her_, she -was only part of the world to George! It is from the sweetest dreams -that we are most unwilling to awake, and therefore it is no wonder that -Lady Hamilton’s preoccupation prevented her observing a strange horseman -riding up the avenue, slowly and laboriously, as though after a long -journey, of which the final destination seemed to be Hamilton Hill. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII - -THE DESIRE OF THE MOTH - - -In the year 1540, five Spaniards and a Savoyard, styling themselves -“Clerks of the Company of Jesus,” left Paris under the leadership of the -famous Ignatius Loyola, to found an establishment at Rome. - -Here Pope Paul III. presented them with a church, and in return these -half-dozen of energetic priests gave in an unqualified adhesion to the -Sovereign Pontiff. Their avowed intention in thus forming themselves into -a separate and independent body (except in so far as they owed allegiance -to its supreme head), was the propagation of the Roman Catholic faith, -the conversion of heathens, the suppression of heresy, and the education -of the young. For these purposes a system was at once organised which -should combine the widest sphere of action with the closest surveillance -over its agents, the broadest views with the most minute attention to -details, an absolute unquestioned authority with a stanch and implicit -obedience. To attain universal rule (possibly for a good motive, but -at any sacrifice to attain it) over the opinions of humanity, however -different in age, sex, character, and nationalities, was the object -proposed; and almost the first maxim laid down, and never departed from -in the Order, established that all means were justifiable to such an -end. It was obvious that to win universal dominion over the moral as -over the physical world, every effort must not only be vigorous, but -combined and simultaneous, such waste of power must never be contemplated -as the possibility of two forces acting in opposite directions, and -therefore a code of discipline must be established, minute, stringent, -and comprehensive, like that of an army before an enemy, but with this -difference, that its penalties must never be modified by circumstances, -nor its bonds relaxed by conquest or defeat. In the Order of Jesus must -be no speaking, no questioning, no individuality, and—no forgiveness! - -Their constitution was as follows: A “General,” as he was styled, -resided in perpetuity at Rome, and from that central spot sent forth -his directions over the whole civilised world, enjoying absolute -authority and exacting unqualified obedience. Even to the supreme head, -however, was attached an officer entitled his “Admonisher.” It was his -duty to observe the conduct of his chief, and report on it to the five -“Assistants,” who constituted that chief’s council. These, again, were -instructed to watch each other carefully, and thus, not even at the very -head and fountain of supreme authority, could any single individual -consider himself a free agent, even in the most trifling matters of -dress, deportment, or daily conversation. - -In every country where the Jesuits obtained a footing (and while there -are few in which they have not been notoriously powerful, even in those -which betray no traces of their presence, who shall say that their -influence has not been at work below the surface?) a “Provincial,” as he -was called, assumed the direction of affairs within a certain district, -and on his administration every one of his subordinates, temporal and -spiritual, was instructed to report. There were three degrees in the -Order, according to the experience and utility of its votaries—these -were “Professors,” “Coadjutors,” both priests and laymen, for their -ramifications extended from the highest to the lowest, through all -classes of society, and “Novices.” - -To enter the Order, many severe examinations had to be passed, and while -it numbered among its votaries men of superlative abilities in a thousand -different callings, every member was employed according to his capacity -of useful service. - -With such an organisation it may be imagined that the society has been -a powerful engine for good and for evil. It has planted Christianity -in the most remote corners of the earth, and has sent missionaries of -skill, eloquence, piety, and dauntless courage, amongst savages who -otherwise might never have heard the faintest echo of the Glad Tidings, -in which all men claim interest alike; but, on the other hand, it has -done incalculable mischief in the households of Christian Europe, has -wormed itself into the confidence of women, has destroyed the concord of -families, has afforded the assailants of religion innumerable weapons of -offence, and in its dealings with those whom it was especially bound to -succour and protect, has brought on them desolation rather than comfort, -remorse where there should be hope, and war instead of peace. - -It is necessary to remember the effect of a constant and reciprocal -supervision, not only on the outward actions and conduct, but on the very -thoughts and characters of men unavoidably fettered by its influence, to -understand the position of two priests walking side by side along one of -the narrow level banks that intersect the marshy country lying near the -town of St. Omer. - -These old friends, if, indeed, under such conditions as theirs men can -ever be termed friends, had not met since they sat together, many years -before, beneath the limes at Versailles, when the younger had not yet -taken orders, and the elder, although he accepted the title of Abbé, -neither led the life of an ecclesiastic, nor admitted openly that he was -in any way amenable to the discipline observed by the Jesuits. Now, both -were ostensibly votaries of the Order. Its impress might be seen in their -measured steps, their thoughtful faces, and their downward looks, taking -no heed of the peaceful scene around: the level marshes, the ripening -orchards, the lazy cattle knee-deep in rich wet herbage, the peasant’s -punt pushed drowsily and sluggishly along the glistening ditches that -divided his fields, the mellow warmth of the autumnal sun, and the swarms -of insects wheeling in his slanting, reddening rays. - -They saw, or at least they heeded, none of this—deep in conversation, -their subject seemed of engrossing interest; yet each looked only by -stealth in the other’s face, withdrawing his glance and bending it on the -path at his feet the instant it met his friend’s. - -At times neither spoke for several paces, and it was during such periods -of silence that the expression of habitual mistrust and constraint -became painfully apparent. In the elder man it was softened and smoothed -over, partly by effort, partly by the acquired polish of society, but -the younger seemed to chafe with repressed ardour, like a rash horse, -impatient but generous, fretting under the unaccustomed curb. - -After a longer pause than usual, this one spoke with more energy than he -had yet displayed. - -“I only wish to do _right_. What is it to me, Malletort, that the -world should misjudge me, or that I should sink in the esteem of those -whose good opinion I value? I only wish to do right, I say, always in -compliance with the orders of my superiors.” - -The other smiled. “In the first place,” said he, “you must not call me -Malletort, at least not within so short a distance of those college -chimneys; but we will let that pass; for though a novice, still you are -worthy of speedy promotion, and it is only for ‘novices’ in the first -period of probation that our rules are so exacting. You wish to do right. -So be it. You have done very wrong hitherto, or you might have been a -‘provincial’ by this time. Well, my son, confession is the first step to -amendment, and then―” - -He paused, and bit his lip. It was difficult to keep down the old -sarcastic smile, but he did it, and looked gravely in the other’s face. - -“Penance!” replied the younger. “I know it too well. Ah! _mea culpa! mea -culpa!_ I have been a great sinner. I have repented in sackcloth and -ashes. I have confessed freely. I wish, yes, I repeat I _wish_ to atone -humbly, and yet, oh! for mercy’s sake, tell me, is there no way but this?” - -His agony of mind was too apparent on his face. Even Malletort felt a -momentary compunction when he remembered the hopeful enthusiastic youth -who had sat with him under the limes at Versailles all those years ago; -when he remembered the desperate career on which he had embarked, his -insubordination, his apostasy, and those paroxysms of remorse that drove -him back into the bosom of the church. Could this depressed and miserable -penitent be the once bright and happy Florian de St. Croix? and had he -been brought to this pass simply because he possessed such inconvenient -superfluities as a heart and a conscience? Malletort, I say, felt a -twinge of compunction, but of pity very little, of indecision, not one -bit. - -“Would you go to a doctor,” said he, gravely, “and teach him how to cure -you of a deadly malady? Would you choose your own medicine, my son, and -refuse the only healing draught prescribed, because it was bitter to -the taste? There is but one way of retracing your steps. You must go -back along the very path that led you into evil. That the effort will be -trying, I admit. All uphill work is trying to the utmost, but how else -can men attain the summit? That the task is painful I allow, but were -it pleasant, where would be the penance? Besides, you know our rules, -my son, the time is not far off when I shall be permitted to say, my -brother. We have got you. Will you dare to hesitate ere you obey?” - -An expression of intense fear came over Florian’s face, but it seemed -less the physical fear of danger from without than an absorbing dread of -the moral enemy within. - -“I _must_ obey,” he answered in a low voice, shuddering while he spoke. -“I _must_ obey, I know, readily, willingly. Alas! Malletort, there is -my unforgiven sin, my mortal peril. _Too_ willingly do I undertake the -task. It is my dearest wish to find myself addressed to it—that is why I -entreat not to be sent—that is why I implore them to spare me. It is my -soul that is in danger. Heart, hope, happiness, home, liberty, identity, -are all gone from me, and now I shall lose my soul.” - -“Your soul!” repeated the other, again repressing a sneer. “Do not -distress yourself, my son, about your soul. It is in very safe keeping, -and your superiors are, doubtless, the best judges of its value and -eventual destination. In the meantime, do not give way to a far-fetched -casuistry, or a morbid delicacy of sentiment. If your heart is in your -task, and you go to it willingly, it will be the more easily and the more -effectually accomplished. Congratulate yourself, therefore, that your -penance is not distasteful as well as dangerous, a torture of bodily -weakness, rather than a trial of spiritual strength. Remember, there is -no sin of action where there is none of intention. There can be none of -intention where a deed is done simply in compliance with the superior’s -will. If that deed be pleasurable, it is but so much gained on the -chances of the service. Enjoy it as you would enjoy the sun’s rays if -you were standing sentry on a winter’s day at the Louvre. It is not for -_you_, a simple soldier of the Order, to speculate on your own merits -or your own failures, those above you will take care that neither are -overlooked. Eat your rations and be thankful. Your duty, first and last, -is but to obey!” - -It will be seen by these phrases, so carefully worded according to the -rules of the Order, yet bearing the while a covert sarcasm for his own -private gratification, that the real character of Malletort was but -little changed, since he intrigued at the council table or drank at the -suppers of the Regent. - -He was a Jesuit priest now in garb and outward semblance; he was still -the clever, unscrupulous, unbelieving, pleasure-loving Abbé at the core. -So necessary had he become to the Regent as the confidant of his secret -schemes, whether their object were the acquisition of a province or the -dismissal of a mistress, that he would have found little difficulty in -making his peace with his Prince, even after the untoward failure of -the Montmirail Gardens, had he chosen to do so. The Regent, maddened -with disappointment, and especially sore because of the ridicule created -by the whole business, turned at first fiercely enough on his trusty -adviser, but found, to his surprise, that the Abbé was beforehand with -him. The latter assumed an air of high-minded indignation, talked of -the honour of an ancient house, of the respect due, at least in outward -courtesy, to a kinswoman of his own, hinted at his fidelity and his -services, protested against the ingratitude with which they had been -requited, and ended by tendering his resignation, with a request for -leave to absent himself from Paris. The result, as usual with the Duke -of Orleans, was a compromise. His outraged servant should quit him for a -time, but would remain at least faithful in heart to the master who now -entreated his pardon. In a few weeks the matter, he thought, would be -forgotten, and for those few weeks he must manage his own affairs without -the Abbé’s assistance. - -Malletort had several good reasons for thus detaching himself from -the Court. The first, and most important, was the state of the Duke’s -health. The Abbé had not failed to mark the evil effects produced even -by so slight an excitement as the affair at the Hôtel Montmirail. He -perceived the Regent’s tendency to apoplexy growing stronger day by day; -he observed that the slightest emotion now caused him to flush a dark red -even in the morning, and he knew that at supper his fulness of habit was -so obvious as to alarm the very _roués_, lest every draught should be his -last. If sudden death were to carry off the Regent, Malletort felt all -his labour would have been thrown away, and he must begin at the lowest -round of the ladder again. - -His connection with the Jesuits, for he had long ago enlisted himself -as a secret member of that powerful Order, was now of service to him. -They had influence with the advisers of the young king, they were ardent -promoters of the claims to the British crown, laid by that James Stuart, -whom history has called the Old Pretender. It was quite possible that -under a new state of things they might hold some of the richest rewards -in France and England to bestow on their adherents. Above all, the very -keystone of their system, the power that set all their machinery in -motion, was a spirit of busy and unremitting intrigue. Abbé Malletort -never breathed so freely as in an atmosphere of plots and counterplots. -With all the energy of his nature, he devoted himself to the interests -of the Order, keeping up his connection with the Court, chiefly on its -behalf. He was as ready now to betray the Regent to his new allies, as -he had been a few months before to sacrifice honour and probity for the -acquisition of that prince’s good-will. - -There are few men, however, who can thoroughly divest themselves of -all personal feelings in pursuit of their own interest. Even Malletort -possessed the weaknesses of pride, pique, and certain injudicious -partialities which he could not quite overcome. He hated his late patron -for many reasons of his own, for none more than that his persecution had -compelled Madame de Montmirail and her daughter to leave France and seek -a refuge beyond the sea. If he cared for anything on earth, besides his -own aggrandisement, it was his kinswoman; and when he thought of the -Marquise, a smile would overspread his features that denoted anything -but Christian charity or good-will to her royal admirer. - -He spent much of his time at St. Omer now, where several provincials -and other influential members of the Order were assembled, organising a -movement in favour of the so-called James III.; these were in constant -correspondence with the English Jacobites, and according to their -established principle, were enlisting every auxiliary, legitimate or -otherwise, for the furtherance of their schemes. They possessed lists -of surprising accuracy, in which were noted down the names, resources, -habits, and political tendencies of many private gentlemen in remote -countries, who little dreamed they were of such importance. - -An honest squire, whose ideas scarcely soared beyond his harriers, his -claret, and his fat cattle, would have been surprised to learn that his -character, his income, his pursuits, his domestic affections, and his -habitual vices were daily canvassed by a society of priests, numbering -amongst them the keenest intellects in Europe, who had travelled many -hundred leagues expressly to meet in a quiet town in Artoise, of which he -had never heard the name, and give their opinions on himself. Perhaps his -insular love of isolation would have been disgusted, and he might have -been less ready to peril life and fortune, had he known the truth. - -But every landholder of importance was the object of considerable -discussion. It was Abbé Malletort’s familiarity with previous -occurrences, and the characters of all concerned, that led him now to put -the pressure on the renegade who had lost his rank with his desertion, -and returned in the lowest grade as a novice, to make his peace with the -Order. - -“My friend,” resumed the Abbé, after another long silence, during which -the sun had reached the horizon, and was now shedding a broad red glare -on his companion’s face, giving him an excuse to shade it with his hand; -“your penance has been well begun, and needs but this one culminating -effort to be fully accomplished. I have been at Rome very lately, and the -General himself spoke approvingly of your repentance and your return. -The provincial at Maria-Galante had reported favourably on your conduct -during the disturbances in the island, and your unfeigned penitence, when -you gave yourself up as a deserter from the Order. We have no secrets, -you know, amongst ourselves; or rather, I should say nothing is so secret -but that it has its witnesses. Here, at Paris, in Rome, will be known all -that you do in England; more, all that you leave undone. I need scarcely -charge you to be diligent, trustworthy, secret; but I must warn you not -to be over-scrupulous. Remember, the intention justifies the deed. It is -not only expedient, but meritorious to do evil that good may come.” - -They were now approaching the town, and the sentry was being relieved at -its fortified gate. The clash of arms, the measured tramp, the martial -bearing of the soldiers, called up in Florian’s mind such associations -as for the moment drowned the sentiments of religious penitence and -self-accusation that had lately taken possession of his heart. He longed -to throw off the priest’s robe, the grave deportment, the hateful -trammels of an enforced and professional hypocrisy, and to feel a man -once more—a man, adventurous, free, desperate, relying for very life on -the plank beneath his foot or the steel in his hand, but at least able to -carry his head high amongst his fellows, and to know that were it but for -five minutes, the future was his own. It was sin even to dream of such -things. - -“_Mea culpa, mea culpa!_” he muttered in a desponding tone, and beat his -breast, and bent his eyes once more upon the ground. - -“When am I to go?” said he meekly, reverting to their previous -conversation, and abandoning, as though after deep reflection, the -unwillingness he had shown from the first. - -“This evening, after vespers,” answered the Abbé, with a scarce -perceptible inflection of contempt in his voice that denoted he had -read him through like a book. “You will attend as usual. Everything is -prepared, even to a garb less grave than that you wear, and a good horse -(ah! you cannot help smiling now) will be waiting for you at the little -gate. You ought to be half way to Calais before the moon is up.” - -His face brightened now, though he strove hard to conceal his -satisfaction. Here was change, freedom, excitement, liberty, at least -for a time, and an adventurous journey, to terminate in _her_ presence, -who was still to his eyes the ideal of womankind. All, too, in the -fulfilment of a penance, the execution of a duty. His heart leaped -beneath his cassock, and warned him of the danger he incurred. Danger, -indeed! It did but add to the intoxication of the draught. With -difficulty he restrained the bounding impatience of his step, and kept -his face averted from his friend. - -The precaution was useless. Malletort knew his thoughts as well as if he -had been his penitent in the confessional, and laughed within himself. -The tool at least was sharp and ready, quivering, highly-tempered, and -flexible; it needed but a steady hand to drive it home. - -“You will come to the provincial for final instructions half an hour -before you mount,” said he gravely, and added, without altering his tone -or moving a muscle of his countenance, “Your especial duty is to gain -over Sir George. For this object it is essential to obtain the good-will -of Lady Hamilton.” - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII - -FOR THE STAR - - -He ought to have known, he _did_ know, his danger. If he was not sure -of it during his ride to the coast, while he crossed the Channel, and -felt the wild spray dash against his face like the greeting of an old -friend, nor in the long journey that took him northward through many -a smiling valley and breezy upland of that country which he had once -thought so gloomy and desolate, which seemed so fair and sunny now, -because it was _hers_, he ought to have realised it when he rode under -the old oaks at Hamilton Hill, and dreaded, even more than he longed, to -see her white dress glancing among their stems. Above all, he ought to -have been warned, when, entering the house, though Lady Hamilton herself -did not appear, he felt surrounded by her presence, and experienced -that sensation of repose which, after all his tumult of anxiety and -uncertainty, pervades a man’s whole being in the home of the woman he -loves. There were her gardening gloves, and plain straw hat, perhaps yet -warm from her touch, lying near the door. There were flowers that surely -must have been gathered by her hands but a few hours ago, on the table -where he laid his pistols and riding-wand. There was her work set aside -on a chair, her shawl thrown over its back, the footstool she had used -pushed half across the floor, and an Iceland hawk, with hood, bell, and -jesses, moving restlessly on the perch, doubtless in expectation of its -mistress’s return. - -He tried hard to deceive himself, and he succeeded. He felt that in all -his lawless infatuation for this pure, spotless woman, he had never loved -her so well as now—now, that she was his friend’s wife! But he argued, he -pleaded, he convinced himself in his madness, that such a love as his, -even a husband must approve. It was an affection, he repeated, or rather -a worship, completely spiritualised and self-sacrificing, to outlast the -material trammels of this life, and follow her, still faithful, still -changeless, into eternity. So true, so holy, however hopeless, however -foolish, could such a love as this, deprived of all earthly leaven, be -criminal, even in _him_, the priest, for _her_, the wedded wife? No, no, -he told himself, a thousand times, no! And all the while the man within -the man, who sits, and mocks, and judges, and condemns us all, said Yes—a -thousand times—Yes! - -There is but one end to such debate, when the idol is under the same roof -with the worshipper. He put the question from him for the present, and -only resolved that, at least, he might love all belonging to her, for -her sake. All, even to the very flowers she gathered and the floor she -trod. He took up the work she had set aside, and pressed it passionately -to his lips, his heart, his eyes. The door opened, and he dropped it, -scared, startled, guilty, like a man detected in a crime. It was a -disappointment, yet he felt it a relief, to find that the intruder was -not Cerise. He had scarcely yet learned to call her Lady Hamilton. -There was no disappointment, however, in the new-comer’s face, as he -stood for a moment with the door in his hand, looking at Florian with -a quaint comical smile, in which respect for Sir George’s guest was -strangely mingled with a sailor’s hearty welcome to his shipmate. The -latter sentiment soon predominated, and Slap-Jack, hurrying forward with -a scrape of his foot and a profusion of sea-bows, seized the visitor by -both hands, called him “my hearty!” several times over; and, finally, -relapsing with considerable effort into the staid and confidential -servant of the family, offered him, in his master’s absence, liquid -refreshment on the spot. - -“It’s a fair wind, whichever way it blowed, as brought _you_ here,” -exclaimed the late foretopman, when the energy of his greeting had -somewhat subsided; “and so the skipper, I mean Sir George, will swear, -when he knows his first lieutenant’s turned up in this here anchorage, -and my lady too, askin’ your reverence’s pardon once more, being that I’m -not quite so sure as I ought to be of your honour’s rating.” - -Slap-Jack was becoming a little confused, remembering the part played by -Beaudésir on the last occasion of their meeting. - -“Sir George does not expect me,” answered Florian, returning the seaman’s -greeting with cordial warmth; “but unless he is very much altered, I -think his welcome will be no less hearty than your own.” - -“That I’ll swear it will—that I’ll swear he doesn’t,” protested -Slap-Jack, taking upon himself the character of confidential domestic -more and more. “Sir George never ordered so much as a third place to be -laid at dinner; but we’ll make that all ship-shape with a round turn -in no time; an’ if you don’t drink ‘Sweethearts and Wives’ to-day in a -flagon of the best, why, say I’m a Dutchman! When I see them towing your -nag into harbour, and our old purser’s steward, butler, as we calls him -ashore, he hails me and sings out as there’s a visitor between decks, I -knowed as something out of the common was aboard. I can’t tell you for -why; but I knowed it as sure as the compass. I haven’t been pleased since -I was paid off. If it wasn’t that my lady’s in the room above this, and -it’s not discipline to disturb her, blowed if I wouldn’t give three such -cheers as should shake the acorns down at the far end of the west avenue. -But I’ll do it to-night after quarters, see if I won’t, Lieutenant -Bo―askin’ your pardon, your honour’s reverence.” - -Thus conversing, and occupying himself the whole time with the guest’s -comforts, for Slap-Jack, sailor-like, had not forgotten to be two-handed, -he showed Florian into a handsome bed-chamber, and unpacked with ready -skill the traveller’s valise, taken off his horse’s croup, that contained -the modest wardrobe, which in those days of equestrian journeys was -considered sufficient for a gentleman’s requirements. He then assured him -that Sir George’s arrival could not be long delayed, as dinner would be -served in half an hour, and the waiting-woman had already gone upstairs -to dress her ladyship; also, that there was a sirloin of beef on the spit -and ale in the cellar brewed thirty-five years ago next October; with -which pertinent information he left the visitor to his toilet and his -reflections. - -The former was soon concluded; the latter lasted him through his -labours, and accompanied him downstairs to the great hall, where -Slap-Jack had told him he would find dinner prepared. His host and -hostess were already there. Of Lady Hamilton’s greeting he was -unconscious, for his head swam, and he dared not lift his eyes to her -face; but Sir George’s welcome was hearty, even boisterous. Florian could -not help thinking that, had he been in the hospitable baronet’s place, he -would have been less delighted with the arrival of a visitor. - -Whatever people’s feelings may be, however, they go to dinner all the -same. Slap-Jack, an old grey-headed butler, and two or three livery -servants stood in attendance. The dishes were uncovered, and Florian -found himself seated at a round table in the centre of the fine old -hall like a man in a dream, confused indeed and vaguely bewildered, yet -conscious of no surprise at the novelty of his situation, and taking in -all its accessories with a glance. He was aware of the stag’s skeleton -frontlet, crowned by its gigantic antlers, beetling, bleached, and grim, -over the door; of the oak panelling and stained glass, the high carved -chimneypiece, with its grotesque supporters, the vast logs smouldering -in embers on the hearth, the dressed deer-skins, that served for rug or -carpet wherever a covering seemed needed on the polished floor; nay, even -of a full-length picture by Vandyck, representing the celebrated Count -Anthony Hamilton, looking his very politest, in a complete suit of plate -armour, with a yard or two of cambric round his neck, and an enormous wig -piling its hyacinthine curls above his forehead, to descend in coarse -cascades of hair below his waist. - -All this had Florian taken note of before he could conscientiously -declare that he had looked his hostess in the face. - -It made him start to hear the sweet voice once more, frank, cordial, and -caressing as of old. One of the many charms which Cerise exercised over -her fellow-creatures was the gentle, kindly tone in which she spoke to -all. - -“You have just come from France, you say, Father Ambrose. Pardon, -Monsieur de St. Croix. How am I to address you? From our dear France, -George. Only think. He has scarcely left it a week.” - -“Where they did not give you such ale as that, I’ll be bound,” answered -Sir George, motioning Slap-Jack to fill for the guest, a hospitable rite -performed by the old privateer’s-man with extreme good-will, and a solemn -wink of approval, as he placed the beaker at his hand. “What! You have -not learned to drink our _vin ordinaire_ yet? And now, I remember, you -were always averse to heavy potations. Here, fill him a bumper of claret, -some of you! Taste that, my friend. I don’t think we ever drank better -in the ‘Musketeers.’ Welcome to Hamilton Hill, old comrade. My lady -will drink to your health too, before she hears the latest Paris news. -She has not forgotten her country; and as for me, why, you know our old -principle, _Mousquetaire avant tout!_” - -Sir George emptied his glass, and Cerise, bowing courteously, touched -hers with her lips. Florian found himself at once, so to speak “_enfant -de la maison_,” and recovered his presence of mind accordingly. - -He addressed himself, however, chiefly to his host. “You forget,” -said he, “that I have been living in the seclusion of a cloister. -Though I have carried a sword and kept my watch under your command, -and spent almost the happiest days of my life in your company, I was -a priest before I was a Musketeer, and a priest I must always remain. -Nevertheless, even at St. Omer, we are not utterly severed from the world -and its vanities; and though we do not participate in them, we hear them -freely canvassed. The first news, of course, for madame (pardon! I must -learn to call you by your English name—for Lady Hamilton), regards the -despotism of King Chiffon. The farthingale is worn more oval; diamond -buckles are gone out; it is bad taste just now to carry a fan anywhere -except to church.” - -In spite of his agitation he adopted a light tone of jest befitting -the subject—for was he not a Jesuit?—and stole a look at Cerise while -he spoke. Many a time had he dreamt of a lovely girl blooming into -womanhood, in the Convent of our Lady of Succour. Ever since the tumult -of her hasty wedding, after the escape from _Cash-a-crou_, he had been -haunted by a pale, sweet, agitated face, on which he had invoked a -blessing at the altar from the depths of his tortured heart; but what -did he think of her now? She had reached that queenly standard to which -women only attain after marriage; and while she had lost none of her -early charms, her frankness, her simplicity, her radiant smile, her deep -truthful eyes, she had added to them that gentle dignity, that calm, -assured repose of manner, which completes the graces of mature womanhood, -and adorns the wedded wife as fitly as her purple robe becomes a queen. - -She could look him in the face quietly and steadily enough; but while -his very heart thrilled at her voice, his eyes fell, as though dazzled, -beneath her beauty. - -“You forget, monsieur,” said she, with an affectionate glance at her -husband, “I am an Englishwoman now; and we have deeper interests here -even than the change of fashions and the revolutions in the kingdom of -dress. Besides, mamma keeps me informed on all such subjects, as well as -those of more importance; but she is in Touraine now, and I am quite in -the dark as regards everything at Paris; above all, the political state -of the Court. You see we are no longer Musketeers.” - -She smiled playfully at George, in allusion to the sentiment he had -lately broached, and looked, Florian thought, lovelier than ever. - -The excitement of conversation had brought a colour to her cheek. Now, -when she ceased, it faded away, leaving her perhaps none the less -beautiful, that she was a little pale and seemed tired. He observed -the change of course. Not an inflection of her voice, not a quiver of -an eyelash, not one of those silken hairs out of place on her soft -forehead, could have escaped his notice. “Was she unhappy?” he thought; -“was she, too, dissatisfied with her lot? Had she failed to reach that -resting-place of the heart which is sought for eagerly by so many, and -found but by so few?” It pained him; yes, he was glad to feel that it -pained him to think this possible. Yet would he have been better pleased -to learn that her languor of manner, her pale weariness of brow, were -only the effects of her morning’s disappointment, when she waited in vain -for the company of her husband? - -But such an under-current of reflection in no way affected the tide of -his conversation; nor had he forgotten the primary cause of his journey, -the especial object for which he was now sitting at Sir George Hamilton’s -table. - -“I cannot pretend,” said he, “to be so well informed on political matters -as Madame la Marquise. I can only tell you the news of all the world—the -gossip that people talk in the streets. The Regent is unpopular, and -grows more so day by day. His excesses have at last disgusted the good -_bourgeoisie_ of the capital; and these honest citizens, who think only -of selling spices over a counter, will, as you know, endure a good deal -before they venture to complain of a prince who throws money about with -both hands. As the young King grows older, they are more encouraged to -cry out; and in Paris, as in Persia, they tell me, it is now the fashion -to worship the rising sun. Of course France will follow suit; but we are -quiet people at St. Omer; and I do not think our peasantry in Artois -have yet realised the death of Louis Quatorze. When Jean Baptiste is -thoroughly satisfied on that point, he will, of course, throw up his red -cap, and shout, “Vive Louis Quinze!” Till then the Regency assumes all -the indistinct terrors of the Unknown. Seriously, I believe the Duke’s -day is over, and that the way to Court favour lies through Villeroy’s -orderly-room into the apartment of the young King!” - -“And the Musketeers?” asked Sir George, eagerly. “That must be all in -their favour. They have stood so firm by the Marshal and the _real_ -throne, their privileges will now surely be respected and increased.” - -“On the contrary,” replied Florian, “the Musketeers are in disgrace. -The grey company was actually warned to leave Paris for Marly, although -neither the King nor the Regent were to be there in person. At the last -moment the order was revoked, or there must have been a mutiny. As -it was, they refused to parade on the Duke’s birthday, and were only -brought to reason by Bras-de-Fer, who made them a speech as long as that -interminable sword he wears at his belt.” - -“Which was not long enough to reach my ribs, however,” interrupted Sir -George, heartily, “with the Cadet Eugène Beaudésir at my side to parry -it. Oh! that such a fencer should be thrown away on the Church! Well, -fill your glass, Sir Priest, and never blush about it. Cerise here knows -the whole story, and has only failed to thank you because she has not yet -had the opportunity.” - -“But I do now,” interposed Lady Hamilton, bending on him her blue eyes -with the pure tenderness of an angel. “I thank you for it with my whole -heart.” - -He felt at that moment how less than trifling had been his service -compared with his reward. In his exaltation he would have laid his life -down willingly for them both. - -“That was a mere chance,” said he, making light of his exploit with a -forced laugh. “The whole affair was but the roughest cudgel-play from -beginning to end. I, at least, have no cause to regret it, speaking in -my secular capacity, for it led to an agreeable cruise and a sight of -the most beautiful island in the world, where, I hope, I was fortunate -enough to be of some service to Sir George in a manner more befitting my -calling.” - -Again he forced himself to smile, addressing his speech to Lady Hamilton, -without looking at her. - -“And what of the new Court?” asked Cerise, observing his confusion with -some astonishment, and kindly endeavouring to cover it. “Will the young -King fulfil all the promise of his boyhood? They used to say he would -grow up the image of Louis le Grand.” - -“The new Court,” answered Florian, lightly, “like all other new Courts, -is the exact reverse of the old. To be in favour with the Regent is to be -an eyesore to the King; to have served Louis le Grand faithfully, is to -be wearisome, _rococo_, and behind the times; while, if a courtier wishes -to bid for favour with the Duke, he must forswear the rest of the Royal -family—go about drunk by daylight, and set at open defiance, not only the -sacred moralities of life, but all the common decencies of society.” - -“The scum, then, comes well to the surface,” observed Sir George, -laughing. “It seems that in the respectable Paris of to-day there is a -better chance than ever for a reprobate!” - -“There is a way to fortune for honest men,” answered the Jesuit, “that -may be trodden now with every appearance of safety, and without the loss -of self-esteem. It leads, in my opinion, directly to success, and keeps -the straight, unswerving path of honour all the time. ‘The Bashful -Maid,’ Sir George, used to lay her course faithfully by the compass, -and I have often thought what a good example that inanimate figure-head -showed to those who controlled her movements. But I must ask Lady -Hamilton’s pardon,” he added, with mock gravity, “for thus mentioning her -most formidable rival in her presence. If you can call to mind, madame, -her resolute front, her coal-black hair, her glaring eyes, her complexion -of rich vermilion, mantling even to the tip of her nose, and the devotion -paid to her charms by captain as well as crew, you must despair of -equalling her in Sir George’s eyes, and can never know a moment’s peace -again.” - -Slap-Jack, clearing the table with much ceremony, could scarcely refrain -from giving audible expression to his delight. - -Lady Hamilton laughed. - -“As you have chosen such a subject of conversation,” said she, “it is -time for me to retire. After you have done justice to the charms of ‘The -Bashful Maid,’ whom, when she was not too lively, I admired as much as -any one, and have exhausted your Musketeer’s reminiscences, you will find -_me_, and, what is more to the purpose, a dish of hot coffee, in the -little room at the end of the gallery. Till then, _Sans adieu_!” And her -ladyship walked out, laying her hand on Sir George’s shoulder to prevent -his rising while she passed, with an affectionate gesture that was in -itself a caress. - -The Jesuit gazed after her as she disappeared, and, resuming his place at -the table, felt that whatever difficulties he had already experienced, -the worst part of his task was now to come. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV - -“BOX IT ABOUT” - - -When the door had closed on his wife, Sir George settled himself -comfortably in his chair, filled a bumper from the claret jug, and, -passing it to Florian, proposed the accustomed toast, drank at many -hundred tables in merry England about the same hour. - -“Church and King!” said the baronet, and quaffed off a goodly draught, as -if he relished the liquor no less than the pledge. - -It gave the Jesuit an opening, and, like a skilful fencer, he availed -himself of it at once. - -“The _true_ Church,” said he, wetting his lips with wine, “and the _true_ -King.” - -Sir George laughed, and looked round the hall. - -“Ashore,” he observed, “I respect every man’s opinions, though nobody has -a right to think differently from the skipper afloat; but let me tell -you, my friend, such sentiments as your qualification implies had better -be kept to yourself. They might shorten your visit to Hamilton, and even -cause your journey to end at Traitor’s Gate in the Tower of London.” - -He spoke in his usual reckless, good-humoured tone. Despite the warning, -Florian perceived that the subject was neither dreaded nor discouraged -by his host. He proceeded, therefore, to feel his ground cautiously, but -with confidence. - -“Your English Government,” said he, “is doubtless on the watch, and with -good reason. In the Trades, I remember, we used to say that ‘The Bashful -Maid’ might be left to steer herself but when we got among the squalls -of the Caribbean Sea, we kept a pretty sharp look-out, as you know, to -shorten sail at a moment’s warning. Your ship up there in London is not -making very good weather of it even now, and the breeze is only springing -up to-day that will freshen to a gale to-morrow. At least, so we think -over the water. Perhaps we are misinformed.” - -Sir George raised his eyebrows, and pondered. He had guessed as much -for some time. Though with so many new interests, he had busied himself -of late but little with politics, yet it was not in his nature to be -entirely unobservant of public affairs. He had seen plenty of clouds -on the horizon, and knew they portended storms; but the old habits of -military caution had not deserted him, and he answered, carelessly— - -“That depends on what you think, you know. These Jesuits—pardon me, -comrade, I cannot help addressing you as a Musketeer—these Jesuits -sometimes know a great deal more than their prayers, but rather than -prove mistaken, they will themselves create the complications they claim -to have discovered. Frankly, you may speak out here. Our oak panels have -no ears, and my servants are most of them deaf, and all faithful. What -is the last infallible scheme at St. Omer? How many priests are stirring -hard at the broth? How many marshals of France are longing to scald their -mouths? Who is blowing the fire up, to keep it all hot and insure the -caldron’s bubbling over at the right moment?” - -Florian laughed. “Greater names than you think for,” he replied; “fewer -priests, more marshals. Peers of France to light the fire, and a prince -of the blood to take the cover off. Oh! trust me this is no _soupe -maigre_. The stock is rich, the liquid savoury, and many a tempting -morsel lies floating here and there for those who are not afraid of a -dash with the flesh-hook, and will take their chance of burnt fingers in -the process.” - -“That is all very well for people who are hungry,” answered Sir George; -“but when a man has dined, you can no longer tempt with a _ragoût_. The -desire of a full man is to sit still and digest his food.” - -“Ambition has never dined,” argued the other; “ambition is always hungry -and has the digestion of an ostrich. Like that insatiable bird, it can -swallow an earl’s patent, parchment, ribbons, seals, and all, thankfully -and at a gulp!” - -The baronet considered, took a draught of claret, and spoke out. - -“Earls’ patents don’t go begging about in a Jesuit’s pocket without -reason; nor are they given to the first comer who asks, only because he -can swallow them. Tell me honestly what you mean Eugène—Florian. How am -I to call you? With _me_, you are as safe as in the confessional at St. -Omer. But speak no more in parables. Riddles are my aversion. A hidden -meaning is as irritating as an ugly woman in a mask, and I never in my -life could fence for ten minutes with an equal adversary, but I longed to -take the buttons off the foils!” - -Thus adjured, Florian proceeded to unfold the object of his mission. - -“You were surprised, perhaps,” said he, “to learn from Slap-Jack, who no -doubt thought me a ghost till I spoke first, that your old comrade would -be sitting with his legs at the same table as yourself this afternoon. -You were gratified, I am sure, but you must have been puzzled. Now, Sir -George, if you believe that my only reason for crossing the Channel, and -riding post a couple of hundred miles, was that I might empty a stoup of -this excellent claret in your company, you are mistaken.” He stopped, -blushed violently, somewhat to his host’s astonishment, and hid his -confusion by replenishing his glass. - -“I had another object of far more importance both to yourself and to your -country. Besides this, I am but fulfilling the orders of my superiors. -They employed me—Heaven knows why they employed me!” he broke out -vehemently, “except that they thought you the dearest friend I had on -earth. And so you _are_! and so you _shall_ be! Listen, Sir George. The -last person I spoke with before leaving France, had dined with Villeroy, -previous to setting out for St. Omer. The young King had just seen the -Marshal, the latter was charged with his Majesty’s congratulations to the -King of England (the real King of England) on his infant’s recovery. The -boy who had been ailing is still in arms, and his Majesty asked if the -young Prince Charles could speak yet? ‘When he does,’ said Villeroy, -who has been a courtier for forty years, ‘the first sentence he ought to -say is ‘God bless the King of France.’ ‘Not so,’ answered his Majesty, -laughing, ‘let him learn the Jacobite countersign, “Box it about, it -will come to my father!” If they only “box it about” enough,’ he added, -‘that child in arms should be as sure of the British crown as I am of the -French!’ This is almost a declaration in form. It is considered so in -Paris. The King’s sentiments can no longer be called doubtful, and with -the strong party that I have every reason to believe exists in England -disaffected to your present Government, surely the time for action has -arrived. They thought so at St. Omer, in a conclave to which I am a mere -mouthpiece. I should think so myself, might a humble novice presume -to offer an opinion; and when the movement takes place, if Sir George -Hamilton is found where his blood, his antecedents, his high spirit and -adventurous character are likely to lead him, I have authority to declare -that he will be Sir George Hamilton no longer. The earl’s patent is -already made out, which any moment he pleases may be swallowed at a gulp, -for digestion at his leisure. I have said my say; I have made a clean -breast of it; send for Slap-Jack and your venerable butler; put me in -irons; hand me over to your municipal authorities, if you have any, and -let them drag me to prison; but give me another glass of that excellent -claret first, for my throat is dry with so much talking!” - -Sir George laughed and complied. - -“You are a plausible advocate, Florian,” he observed, after a moment’s -thought, “and your powers of argument are little inferior to your skill -in fence. But this is a lee-shore, my good friend, to which you are -driving, a lee-shore with bad anchorage, shoal water, and thick weather -all round. I like to keep the lead going on such a course, and only to -carry sail enough for steerage-way. As far as I am concerned, I should -wish to see them ‘box it about’ a little longer, before I made up my mind -how the game would go!” - -“That is not like _you_!” exclaimed the Jesuit hotly. “The Hamiltons have -never yet waited to draw till they knew which was the winning side.” - -“No man shall say that of me,” answered the other, in a stern, almost an -angry tone, and for a space, the two old comrades sat sipping their wine -in silence. - -Sir George had spoken the truth when he said that a full man is willing -to sit still—at least as far as his own inclinations were concerned. He -had nothing to gain by a change, and everything to lose, should that -change leave him on the beaten side. Moreover, he relished the advantages -of his present position far more than had he been born with the silver -spoon in his mouth. Then, perhaps, he would have depreciated the luxury -of plate and believed that the pewter he had not tried might be equally -agreeable. People who have never been really hungry hardly understand the -merits of a good dinner. You must sleep on the bare ground for a week -or two before you know the value of sheets and blankets and a warm soft -bed. Sir George had got into safe anchorage now, and it required a strong -temptation to lure him out to sea again. True, the man’s habits were -those of an adventurer. He had led a life of action from the day he first -accompanied his father across the Channel in an open boat, at six years -old, till he found himself a prosperous, wealthy, disengaged country -gentleman at Hamilton Hill. He might grow tired of that respectable -position—it was very likely he would—but not yet. The novelty was still -pleasant; the ease, the leisure, the security, the freedom from anxiety, -were delightful to a man who had never before been “off duty,” so to -speak, in his life. Then he enjoyed above all things the field sports -of the wild country in which he lived. His hawks were the best within -a hundred miles. His hounds, hardy, rough, steady, and untiring, would -follow a lean travelling fox from dawn to dark of the short November day, -and make as good an account of him at last as of a fat wide-antlered stag -under the blazing sun of August. He had some interest, some excitement -for every season as it passed. If all his broad acres were not fertile -in corn, he owned wide meres covered with wild-fowl, streams in which -trout and grayling leaped in the soft May mornings, like rain-drops in -a shower, where the otter lurked and vanished, where the noble salmon -himself came arrowing up triumphant from the sea. Woods, too, in which -the stately red deer found a shelter, and swelling hills of purple -heather, where the moorcock pruned his wing, and the curlew’s plaintive -wail died off in the surrounding wilderness. - -All this afforded pleasant pastime, none the less pleasant that his -limbs were strong, his health robust, and the happy, hungry sportsman -could return at sundown to a comfortable house, an excellent table, and -a cellar good enough for the Pope. Such material comforts are not to be -despised—least of all by men who have known the want of them. Ask any old -campaigner whether he does not appreciate warmth, food, and shelter; even -idleness, so long as the effects of previous fatigue remain. These things -may pall after a time, but until they _do_ so pall they are delightful, -and not to be relinquished but for weighty motives, nor even then without -regret. - -Sir George, too, in taking a wife, had “given pledges to fortune,” -as Lord Bacon hath it. He loved Cerise very dearly, and although an -elevating affection for a worldly object will never make a man a coward, -it tones down all the wild recklessness of his nature, and bids the -boldest hesitate ere he risks his earthly treasure even at the call of -ambition. It is the sore heart that seeks an anodyne in the excitement of -danger and the confusion of tumultuous change. - -Moreover, men’s habits of thought are acted on far more easily than they -will admit, by the opinions of those amongst whom they live. - -Sir George’s friends and neighbours, the honest country gentlemen with -whom he cheered his hounds or killed his game abroad, and drank his -claret at home, were enthusiastic Jacobites in theory, but loyal and -quiet subjects of King George in practice. They inherited, indeed, much -of the high feeling, and many of the chivalrous predilections that -had instigated their grandfathers and great-grandfathers to strike -desperately for King Charles at Marston Moor and Naseby Field, but they -inherited also the sound sense that was often found lurking under the -Cavalier’s love-locks, the dogged patriotism, and strong affection for -their church, which filled those hearts that beat so stoutly behind laced -shirts and buff coats when opposed to Cromwell and his Ironsides. - -With the earlier loyalists, to uphold the Stuart was to fight for -principle, property, personal freedom, and liberty of conscience, but to -support his grandson now was a different matter altogether. His cause -had but one argument in its favour, and that was the magic of a name. To -take up arms on his behalf was to lose lands, position, possibly life, if -defeated, of which catastrophe there seemed every reasonable prospect; -while, in the event of victory, there was too much ground to suppose that -the reward of these efforts would be to see the Church of England, the -very institution for which they had been taught by their fathers to shed -their blood, oppressed, persecuted, and driven from her altars by the -Church of Rome. - -As in a long and variable struggle between two wrestlers, each of the -great contending parties might now be said to stand upon the adversary’s -ground, their tactics completely altered, their positions exactly -reversed. - -It was only in the free intercourse of conviviality, with feelings roused -by song, or brains heated by claret, that the bulk of these Northern -country gentlemen ever thought of alluding to the absent family in terms -of affection and regret. They were for the most part easy in their -circumstances and happy in their daily course of life; their heads were -safe, their rents rising, and they were satisfied to leave well alone. - -George had that day met some dozen of his new companions, neighbouring -gentlemen with whom he was now on friendly and familiar terms, at a -cock-fight; this little assemblage represented fairly enough the tone of -feeling that prevailed through the whole district, these jovial squires -might be taken as fair representatives of their order in half a dozen -counties north of the Trent. As he passed them mentally in review, one -by one, he could not think of a single individual likely to listen -favourably to such proposals as Florian seemed empowered to make, at -least at an earlier hour than three in the afternoon. - -When dinner was pretty well advanced, many men, in those days, were -wont to display an enthusiastic readiness for any wild scheme broached, -irrespective of their inability to comprehend its bearings, and their -impatience of its details; but when morning brought headache and -reflection, such over-hasty partisans were, of all others, the least -disposed to encounter the risk, the expense, and especially the trouble, -entailed by another Jacobite rising in favour of the Stuarts. Sir George -could think of none who, in sober earnest, would subscribe a shilling to -the cause, or bring a single mounted soldier into the field. - -There was also one more reason, touching his self-interest very closely, -which rendered Sir George Hamilton essentially an upholder of the -existing state of things. He had broad acres, indeed, but the men with -broad acres have never in the history of our country been averse to -meddling with public affairs—they have those acres to look to in every -event. If worst comes to worst, sequestration only lasts while the enemy -remains in power, and landed property, though it may elude its owner for -a while, does not vanish entirely off the face of the earth. But Sir -George had made considerable gains during his seafaring career, with -the assistance of ‘The Bashful Maid,’ and these he had invested in a -flourishing concern, which, under the respectable title of the Bank of -England, has gone on increasing in prosperity to the present day. The -Bank of England had lent large sums of money to the Government, and as -a revolution would have forced it to stop payment, Sir George, even if -he had chosen to accept his earl’s patent, must have literally bought it -with all the hard cash he possessed in the world. - -Such a consideration alone would have weighed but little, for he was -neither a timid man nor a covetous; but when, with his habitual quickness -of thought, he reviewed the whole position, scanning all its difficulties -at a glance, he made up his mind that unless his old lieutenant had -some more dazzling bait to offer than an earl’s coronet, he would not -entertain his proposals seriously for a moment. - -“And what have _you_ to gain?” he asked, good-humouredly, after a short -silence, during which each had been busy with his own meditations. “What -do they offer the zealous Jesuit priest in consideration of his services, -supposing those services are successful? What will they give you? The -command of the Body-Guard in London, or the fleet at Sheerness? Will they -make you a councillor, a colonel, or a commodore? Lord Mayor of London, -or Archbishop of Canterbury? On my honour, Florian, I believe you are -capable of filling any one of these posts with infinite credit. Something -has been promised you, surely, were it only a pair of scarlet hose and a -cardinal’s hat.” - -“_Nothing_! as I am a gentleman and a priest!” answered Florian, eagerly. -“My advocacy is but for your own sake! For the aggrandisement of yourself -and those who love you! For the interests of loyalty and the true -religion!” - -“You were always an enthusiast,” answered the baronet, kindly, “and -enthusiasts in every cause are juggled out of their reward. Take a leaf -from the book of your employers, and remember their own watchword: ‘Box -it about, it will come to my father.’ Do you let them box it about, till -it has nearly reached the—the—well—the claimant of the British crown, and -when he has opened his hands to seize the prize, _you_ give it the last -push that sends it into his grasp—the Pope could not offer you better -counsel. If you have drunk enough claret, let us go to our coffee in Lady -Hamilton’s boudoir.” - -But Florian excused himself on the plea of fatigue and business. He had -letters to write, he said, which was perfectly true, though they might -well have been postponed for a day, or even a week—but he wanted an -hour’s solitude to survey his position, to look steadily on the future, -and determine how far he should persevere in the course on which he had -embarked. Neither had he courage to face Cerise again so soon. He felt -anxious, agitated, unnerved, by her very presence, and the sound of her -voice. To-morrow he would feel more like himself. To-morrow he could -learn to look upon her as she must always be to him in future, the wife -of his friend. Of course, he argued, this task would become easier day -by day; and so, to begin it, he leaned out of window, watching the stars -come one by one into view, breathing the perfume from the late autumn -flowers in her garden, and thinking that, while to him she was more -beautiful than the star, more loveable than the flower, he might as well -hope to reach the one as to pluck _her_ like the other, and wear her for -himself. - -Still, he resolved that his affection, mad, hopeless as it was, should -never exceed the limits he had marked out. He would watch over her steps -and secure her happiness; he would make her husband great and noble for -her sake; everything belonging to her should be for him a sacred and -inviolable trust. He would admire her as an angel, and adore her as a -saint! It was good, he thought, for both of them, that he was a priest! - -Enthusiasm in all but the cause of Heaven is, indeed, usually juggled out -of its reward, and Sir George had read Florian’s character aright when he -called him an enthusiast. - - - - -CHAPTER XLV - -THE LITTLE RIFT - - - _From Lady Hamilton to Madame la Marquise de Montmirail._ - -“MY VERY DEAR MAMMA,— - -“You shall not again have cause to complain of my negligence in writing, -nor to accuse me of forgetting my own dear mother, amongst all the new -employments and dissipations of my English home. - -“You figure to yourself that both are extremely engrossing, and so -numerous that I have not many moments to spare, even for the most sacred -of duties. Of employments, yes, these are indeed plentiful, and recur -day by day. Would you like to know what they are? At seven every morning -my coffee is brought by an English maid, who stares at me open-mouthed -while I drink it, and wonders I do not prefer to breakfast like herself, -directly I am up, on salt beef and small beer. She has not learned any -of my dresses by name; and when she fastens my hair, her hands tremble -so, that it all comes tumbling about my shoulders long before I can get -downstairs. She is stupid, awkward, slow, but gentle, willing, and rather -pretty. Somehow I cannot help loving her, though I wish with all my heart -she was a better maid. - -“If George has not already gone out on some sporting expedition—and he -is passionately fond of such pursuits, perhaps because they relieve the -monotony of married life, which, I fear, is inexpressibly tedious to men -like him, who have been accustomed to constant excitement—I find him -in the great hall eating as if he were famished, and in a prodigious -hurry to be off. I fill him his cup of claret with my own hands, for -my darling says he can only drink wine in the morning when I pour it -out for him myself; and before I have time to ask a single question he -is in the saddle and gallops off. Mamma, I never _have_ time to ask him -any questions. I suppose men are always so busy. I sometimes think I -too should like to have been a man. Perhaps, then, this large, dark, -over-furnished house would not look so gloomy when he is gone. - -“Perhaps, too, the housekeeper would not tell me such long stories about -what they did in the time when Barbara, Lady Hamilton, reigned here. By -all accounts she must have been an ogress, with a mania for accumulating -linen. You will laugh at me, dear mamma—you who never feared the face of -any human being—but I am a little afraid of this good Dame Diaper, and so -glad when our interview is over. I wish I had more courage. George must -think me such a coward, he who is so brave. I heard him say the other -day that the finest sight he ever saw in his life was the _beautiful -Marquise_ (meaning you, mamma) at bay. I asked him if he did not see -poor frightened me at a sad disadvantage? and he answered by—No, I won’t -tell you how he answered. Ah! dear mother, I always wished to be like -you from the time I was a little girl. Every day now I wish it more and -more. After my release from Dame Diaper I go to the garden and look at my -Provence roses—there are seven buds to flower yet; and the autumn here, -though finer than I expected, is much colder than in France. Then I walk -out and visit my poor. I wish I could understand their _patois_ better, -but I am improving day by day. - -“The hours do not pass by very quick till three o’clock; but at three we -dine, and George is sure to be back, often bringing a friend with him who -stays all night, for in this country the gentlemen do not like travelling -after dinner, and perhaps they are very right. When we have guests I see -but little of George again till supper-time, and then I am rather tired, -and he is forced to attend to his company, so that I have no opportunity -of conversing with him. Would you believe it, mamma, for three days I -have wanted to speak to him about an alteration in my garden, and we have -never yet had a spare five minutes to go and look at it together? - -“Our employments in England, you see, are regular, and perhaps a little -monotonous, but they are gaiety itself, compared with our amusements. I -like these English, or rather, I should say, I respect them (mind, mamma, -I do not call my husband a regular Englishman), but I think when they -amuse themselves they appear to the greatest disadvantage. - -“We were invited, George and I, the other day, to dine with our -neighbour, Sir Marmaduke Umpleby. Heavens! what a strange name! We -started at noon, because he lives three leagues off, and the roads are -infamous; they are not paved like ours, but seem mere tracts through -the fields and across the moor. It rained the whole journey; and though -we had six horses, we stuck twice and were forced to get out and walk. -George carried me in his arms that I might not wet my feet, and swore -horribly, but with good humour, and only, as he says, _en Mousquetaire_! -I was not a bit frightened—I never am with _him_. At last there we are -arrived, a party of twenty to meet us, and dinner already served. I am -presented to every lady in turn—there are nine of them—and they all shake -hands with me; but, after that, content themselves with hoping I am not -wet, and then they stare—how they stare! as if I were some wild animal -caught in a trap. I do not know where to look. You cannot think, mamma, -what a difference there is between a society in England and with us. The -gentlemen are then presented to me, and I like these far better than the -ladies; they are rather awkward perhaps and unpolished in manner, but -they seem gentlemen at heart, terribly afraid of a woman, one and all, -yet respecting her, obviously because she _is_ a woman; and though they -blush, and stammer, and tread on your dress, something seems to tell you -that they are really ready to sacrifice for you their own vanity and -convenience. - -“This is to me more flattering than the external politeness of our French -gallants, who bow indeed with an air of inimitable courtesy, and use the -most refined phrases, while all the time they are saying things that make -you feel quite hot. Now, George never puts one in a false position—I -mean, he never used. He has an Englishman’s heart, and the manners of a -French prince; but then, you know, there is nobody like my own Musketeer. - -“At last we go to dinner. Such a dinner! Enormous joints of sheep and -oxen steaming under one’s very nose! In England, to amuse oneself, it is -not only necessary to have prodigious quantities to eat, but one must -also sit among the smoke and savour of the dishes till they are consumed. - -“It took away my appetite completely, and I think my fan has smelt -of beef ever since. I sat next Sir Marmaduke, and he good-naturedly -endeavoured to make conversation for me by talking of Paris and the -Regent’s Court. His ideas of our manners and customs were odd, to say -the least, and he seemed quite surprised to learn that unmarried ladies -never went into general society alone, and even married ones usually with -their husbands. I hope he has a better opinion of us now. I am quite sure -the poor old gentleman thought the proprieties were sadly disregarded in -Paris till I enlightened him. - -“The English ladies are scrupulously correct in their demeanour; they -are, I do believe, the most excellent of wives and mothers; but oh! -mamma, to be virtuous, is it necessary to be so ill-dressed? When we -left the gentlemen to their wine, which is always done here, and which, -I think, must be very beneficial to the wine-trade, we adjourned to a -large cold room, where we sat in a circle, and had nothing to do but -look at each other. I thought I had never seen so many bright colours so -tastelessly put together. My hostess herself, a fresh, well-preserved -woman of a certain age, wore a handsome set of amethysts with a purple -dress—Amethysts and purple! great Heaven! It would have driven Célandine -mad! - -“It was dull—figure to yourself how dull—nine women waiting for their -nine husbands, and not a subject in common except the probability of -continued rain! Still we talked—it must be admitted we contrived to -talk—and after a while the gentlemen appeared, and supper came; so the -day was over at last, and next morning we were to go home. Believe me, I -was not sorry. - -“Yesterday we had a visitor, and imagine if he was welcome, since he -brought me news of my dear mamma. He had seen Madame la Marquise passing -the Palais Royal in her coach before she left Paris for Touraine. ‘How -was she looking?’ ‘As she always does, avowedly the most beautiful lady -in France.’ ‘Like a damask rose,’ says George, with a laugh at poor pale -me. Our visitor did not speak to Madame, for he has not the honour of her -acquaintance; ‘but it is enough to see her once in a season,’ said he, -‘and do homage from a distance.’ - -“Was not all this very polite, and very prettily expressed? Now can you -guess who this admirer of yours may be? I will give you ten chances; I -will give you a hundred. Monsieur de St. Croix! the priest who was my -director at the convent, and who appeared so opportunely at the little -white chapel above Port Welcome. Is it not strange that he should be here -now? I have put him into the oak-room on the _entresol_, because it is -warm and quiet, and he looks so pale and ill. He is the mere shadow of -what he used to be, and I should hardly have known him but for his dark -expressive eyes. So different from George, who is the picture of health, -and handsomer, I think, than ever. He (I mean Monsieur de St. Croix) is -very agreeable and full of French news. He is also an excellent gardener, -and helps me out-of-doors almost every day, now that George is so much -occupied. He says that the priests of his Order learn to do everything; -and I believe if I asked him to dress an omelette, he would manage to -accomplish it. At least, I am sure he would try. To-day he is gone to see -some of his colleagues who have an establishment far up in the Dales, as -we call them here, and George is out with his hawks, so I am rather dull; -but do not think that is the reason I have sat down to write you this -foolish letter. Next to hearing from you, it is my greatest pleasure to -tell you all about myself, and fancy that I am speaking to you even at -this great distance. Think of me, dear mamma, very often, for scarcely an -hour passes that I do not think of you.” - -The letter concluded with an elaborate account of a certain white dress, -the result of a successful combination, in which lace, muslin, and -cherry-coloured ribbons formed the principal ingredients, which George -had admired very much—not, however, until his attention was called to it -by the wearer—and which was put on for the first time the day of Monsieur -de St. Croix’s arrival. - -Madame de Montmirail received this missive in little more than a week -after it was written, and replied at once. - - _Madame de Montmirail to Lady Hamilton._ - -“It rejoiced me so much to hear from you, my dear child. I was getting -anxious about your health, your spirits, a thousand things that I think -of continually; for my darling Cerise is never out of my mind. What you -say of your society amuses me, and I can well imagine my shy girl feeling -lost amongst an assemblage of awkward gentlemen and stupid ladies, far -more than in a court ball at the Palais Royal, or a reception at Marly -as it used to be; alas! as it will be no more. When you are as old as -I am—for I am getting very old now, as you would say if you could see -me closeted every morning over my accounts with my intendant—when you -are as old as I am, you will have learned that there is very little -difference between one society and another, so long as people are of a -certain class, of course, and do not eat with their knives. Manner is -but a trick, easily acquired if we begin young, but impossible to learn -after thirty. Real politeness, which is a different thing altogether, -is but good nature in its best clothes, and consists chiefly in the -faculty of putting oneself in another person’s place, and the wish to do -as one would be done by. I have often seen people with very bad manners -exceedingly polite. I have also even oftener seen the reverse. If you do -not suffer yourself to find these English tedious, you will extract from -them plenty of amusement; and the talent of being easily entertained is -one to be cultivated to the utmost. - -“Even in Paris, they tell me to-day, such a talent would be most -enviable; for all complain of the dulness pervading society, and -the oppressive influence of the Court. I cannot speak from my own -observation, for I have been careful to go nowhere while in the capital, -and to retire to my estates here in Touraine as quickly as possible. I -have not even seen the Prince-Marshal, nor do I feel that my spirits -would be good enough to endure his importunate kindness. I hear, -moreover, that he devotes himself now to Mademoiselle de Villeroy, the -old Marshal’s youngest daughter; so you will excuse me of pique rather -than ingratitude. - -“I am not unhappy here, for I think I like a country life. My intendant -is excessively stupid, and supplies me with constant occupation. I pass -my mornings in business, and see my housekeeper too, but am not the -least afraid of her, and I write an infinity of letters, some of them to -Montmirail West. Célandine is still there with her husband, and they have -got the estate once more under cultivation. Had I left it immediately -after the revolt, I am persuaded every acre of it would have passed out -of our possession. We had a narrow escape, my darling, though I think I -could have held out five minutes longer; but I shall never forget the -flash of Sir George’s sword as he leaped in, nor, I think, will _you_. -He is a brave man, my child, and a resolute. Such are the easiest for a -woman to manage; but still the art of guiding a husband is not unlike -that of ruling a horse. You must adapt yourself instinctively to his -movements; but, although you should never seem mistrustful, you must -not altogether abandon the rein. Whilst you feel it gently, he has all -imaginable liberty; but you know _exactly where he is_. Above all, never -wound yours in his self-love. He would not show he was hurt, but the -injury with him would, therefore, be incurable. I do not think he would -condescend to expostulate, or to give you a chance of explanation; but -day by day you would find yourselves farther and farther apart. You would -be miserable, and perhaps so would he. - -“You will wonder that I should have studied his character so carefully; -but is not your happiness now the first, my only object, in the world? - -“Monsieur de St. Croix seems to be an agreeable addition to your family -_tête-à-tête_. Not that such an addition can be already required; but I -suppose, as an old comrade and friend, your husband cannot but entertain -him so long as he chooses to remain. Was not he the man with the romantic -story, who had been priest, fencing-master, pirate, what shall I say? -and priest again? I cannot imagine such avocations imparting a deeper -knowledge of flowers than is possessed by your own gardener at home; and -if I were in your place, I should on no account permit him to interfere -with the omelette in any way. Neither in a flower-garden nor a kitchen -is a priest in his proper place. I think yours would be better employed -in the saddle _en route_ for St. Omer, or wherever his college is -established. - -“Talking of the last-named place reminds me of Malletort. The Abbé, -strange to say, has thrown himself into the arms of the Jesuits. Though I -have seen him repeatedly, I cannot learn his intentions, nor the nature -of his schemes, for scheme he will, I know, so long as his brain can -think. He talks of absence from France, and hints at a mission from the -Order to some savage climes; but if he anticipates martyrdom, which I -cannot easily believe, his spirits are wonderfully little depressed by -the prospect, and he seems, if possible, more sarcastic than ever. He -even rode with me after dinner the last time he was here, and asked me a -thousand questions about you. I ride by myself now, and I like it better. -I can wander about these endless woods, and think—think. What else is -left when the time to act is gone by? - -“You tell me little about Sir George; his health, his looks, his -employments. Does he mingle with the society of the country? Does he -interest himself in politics? Whatever his pursuits, I am sure he will -take a leading part. Give him my kindest regards. You will both come and -see me here some day before very long. Write again soon to your loving -mother. They brought me a half-grown fawn last week from the top of the -Col St. Jacques, where you dropped your glove into the waterfall. We are -trying to tame it in the garden, and I call it Cerise.” - -No letter could be more affectionate, more motherly. Why did Lady -Hamilton shed the first tears of her married life during its perusal? -She wept bitterly, confessed she was foolish, nervous, hysterical; read -it over once more, and wept again. Then she bathed her eyes, as she used -at the convent, but without so satisfactory a result, smoothed her hair, -composed her features, and went downstairs. - -Florian had been absent all the morning. He had again ridden abroad to -meet a conclave of his Order, held at an old abbey far off amongst the -dales, and was expected back to dinner. It now occurred to her, for -the first time, that the hours passed less quickly in his absence. She -was provoked at the thought, and attributed her ill-humour, somewhat -unfairly, to her mother’s letter. The tears nearly sprang to her eyes -again, but she sent them back with an effort, and descended the wide old -staircase in an uncomfortable, almost an irritable, frame of mind, for -which she could give no reason even to herself. - -Strange to say, George was waiting for her in the hall. He had returned -wet from hunting, and was now dressed and ready for dinner a few minutes -before the usual time. Florian had not yet made his appearance. - -“What has become of our priest?” called out the baronet, good-humouredly, -as his wife descended the stairs. “I thought, Cerise, he was tied to your -apron-strings, and would never be absent at this hour of the day. I wish -he may not have met with some disaster,” he added more gravely; “there -are plenty of hawks even in this out-of-the-way place, to whom Florian’s -capture, dead or alive, would be worth a purse of gold!” - -It was impossible to help it, coming thus immediately on her mother’s -letter, and although she was fiercely angry with herself for the -weakness, Cerise blushed down to the very tips of her fingers. George -could not but remark her confusion, and observed, at the same time, that -her eyelids were red from recent tears. He looked surprised, but his -voice was kindly and reassuring as usual. - -“Good heavens, my darling! What has happened?” he asked, putting his arm -round her waist. “You have had bad news, or you are ill, or something is -amiss!” - -She was as pale now as she had been crimson a moment before. How could -she explain to _him_ the cause of her confusion? How could she hope to -make a _man_ understand her feelings? Her first impulse was to produce -her mother’s letter, but the remarks in it about their guest prevented -her following so wise a course, and yet if she ignored it altogether -would not this be the first secret from her husband? No wonder she turned -pale. It seemed as if her mother’s warning were required already. - -In such a dilemma she floundered, of course, deeper and deeper. By way -of changing the subject, she caught at her husband’s suggestion, and -exclaimed with her pale face and tearful eyes— - -“Capture! Monsieur de St. Croix captured! Heavens, George, we cannot go -to dinner unconcerned if our guest is in real danger. You can save him, -you _must_ save him! What shall we do?” - -He had withdrawn his arm from her waist. He looked her scrutinisingly in -the face, and then turned away to the window. - -“Make yourself easy, Cerise,” he answered, coldly. “I see him riding up -the avenue. Your suspense will be over in less than five minutes now.” - -Then he began to play with the hawk on its perch, teasing the bird, and -laughing rather boisterously at its ruffled plumage and impotent anger. - -She felt she had offended, though she scarcely knew how, and after a -moment’s consideration determined to steal behind him, put her arms round -his neck and tell him so. The very conflict showed she loved him, the -victory over her own heart’s pride proved how dearly, but unfortunately -at this moment Florian entered full of apologies for being late, followed -by Slap-Jack and a line of servants bringing dinner. - -Unfortunately, also, and according to the usual fatality in such cases, -Monsieur de St. Croix addressed most of his conversation to Lady -Hamilton during the meal, and she could not but betray by her manner an -embarrassment she had no cause to feel. Sir George may possibly have -observed this, some womanly intuition told Cerise that he did, but his -bearing was frank and good-humoured to both, though he filled his glass -perhaps oftener than usual, and laughed a little louder than people do -who are quite at ease. The wife’s quick ear, no doubt, detected so much, -and it made her wretched. She loved him very dearly, and it seemed so -hard that without any fault of her own she should thus mark “the little -rift within the lute,” threatening her with undeserved discord; “the -little pitted speck in the garnered fruit,” eating into all the bloom and -promise of her life. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI - -THE MUSIC MUTE - - -When Cerise found herself alone, she naturally read her mother’s letter -once again, and made a variety of resolutions for her future conduct -which she could not but acknowledge were derogatory to her own dignity -the while. It was her duty, she told herself, to yield to her husband’s -prejudices, however unreasonable; to give way to him in this, as in every -other difference of married life—for she felt it _was_ a difference, -though expressed only by a turn of his eyebrow, a contraction of his -lip—and to trample her own pride under foot when he required it, however -humiliating and disagreeable it might be to herself. If George was so -absurd as to think she showed an over-anxiety for the safety of their -guest, why, she must bear with his folly because he was her husband, and -school her manner to please him, as she schooled her thoughts. After all, -was she not interested in Florian only as _his_ friend? What was it, what -_could_ it be to her, if the priest were carried off to York gaol, or -the Tower of London, to-morrow? Lady Hamilton passed very rapidly over -this extreme speculation, and perhaps she was right; though it is easy -to convince yourself by argument that you are uninterested in any one, -the actual process of your thoughts is apt to create something very like -a special interest which increases in proportion to the multitude of -reasons adduced against its possibility, and that which was but a phantom -when you sat down to consider it has grown into a solid and tangible -substance when you get up. Lady Hamilton, therefore, was discreet in -reverting chiefly to what her husband thought of _her_, not to what -_she_ thought of Monsieur de St. Croix. - -“He is jealous!” she said to herself, clasping her hands with an emotion -that was not wholly without pleasure. “Jealous, poor fellow, and that -shows he loves me. Ah! he little knows! he little knows!” - -By the time the two gentlemen had finished their wine, and come to her -small withdrawing-room, according to custom, for coffee, Cerise had -worked herself up into a high state of self-sacrifice and wife-like -devotion. It created rather a reaction to find that Sir George’s manner -was as cordial and open as ever. He was free with his guest, and familiar -with herself, laughing and jesting as if the cloud that had overshadowed -his spirits before dinner was now completely passed away and forgotten. -She was a little disappointed—a little provoked. After all, then, what -mountains had she been making of mole-hills! What a deep grief and -abject penitence that had been to _her_, which was but a chance moment -of ill-humour, an unconsidered thoughtless whim of her husband, and what -a fool had she been so to distress herself, and to resolve that she -would even relax the rules of good breeding—fail in the common duties of -hospitality, for such a trifle! - -She conversed with Florian, therefore, as usual, which was a little. She -listened to him also as usual, which was a good deal. Sir George forced -the thought from his mind again and again, yet he could not get rid of -it. “How bright Cerise looks when he is talking to her! I never saw her -so amused and interested in any one before!” - -Now, Monsieur de St. Croix’s life at Hamilton Hill ought to have been -sufficiently agreeable, if it be true that the real way to make time pass -pleasantly is to alternate the labour of the head and the hands; to be -daily engaged in some work of importance, varied by periods of relaxation -and moderate excitement. Florian’s correspondence usually occupied him -for several hours in the morning, and it was remarked that the voluminous -packets he received and transmitted were carried by special couriers who -arrived and departed at stated times. Some of the correspondence was in -cipher, most of it in French, with an English translation, and it seemed -to refer principally to the geological formation of the neighbourhood, -though a line or two of political gossip interspersed would relieve -the dryness of that profound subject. Perhaps many of these packets, -ciphers, scientific information, and all, were intended to be read by the -authorities at St. James’s. Perhaps every courier was entrusted with a -set of despatches on purpose to be seized, and a line in the handle of -his whip, a word or two spoken in apparent jest, a mere sign that might -be forwarded to a confederate looker-on, signifying the real gist of his -intelligence. - -At any rate the papers required a deal of preparation, and Florian was -seldom able to accompany his host on the sporting expeditions in which -the latter took such delight. - -Sir George, then, would be off soon after daylight, to return at -dinner-time, and in a whole fortnight had not yet found that spare five -minutes for a visit to Lady Hamilton’s garden, while Florian would be -at leisure by noon, and naturally devoted himself to the service of his -hostess for the rest of the day. - -They read together—they walked together—they gardened together. Some of -those special packets that arrived from France, even contained certain -seeds which Cerise had expressed a wish to possess, and they talked of -their future crop, and the result of their joint labours next year, as if -Florian had become an established member of the family, and was never to -depart. - -This mode of life might have been interrupted by her ladyship’s -misgivings at first, but she reflected that it would be absurd for her -to discontinue an agreeable companionship of which her husband obviously -approved, only because she had misapplied her mother’s letter, or her -mother had misunderstood hers; also it is difficult to resume coldness -and reserve, where we have given, and wish to give, confidence and -friendship, so Florian and Cerise were to be seen every fine day on the -terrace at Hamilton Hill hard at work, side by side, like brother and -sister, over the same flower-bed. - -“Florian!” she would say, for Cerise had so accustomed herself to his -Christian name in talking of him with her husband, that she did not -always call him Monsieur de St. Croix to his face. “Florian! come and -help me to tie up this rose-tree—there, hold the knot while I fasten -it—now run and fetch me the scissors, they are lying by my flowers on the -step. Quick—or it will slip out of my hands! So _there_ is my Provence -rose at last—truly a rose without a thorn!” - -And Florian did her bidding like a dog, watched her eye, followed her -about, and seemed to take a dog’s pleasure in the mere fact of being -near her. His reward, too, was much the same as that faithful animal’s, -a kind word, a bright look, a wave of the white hand, denoting a mark of -approval rather than a caress. Sometimes, for a minute or two, he could -almost fancy he was happy. - -And Sir George—did Sir George approve of this constant intercourse, this -daily companionship? Were his hawks and his hounds, his meetings with his -neighbours for the administration of justice and the training of militia, -for the excitement of a cock-fight or the relaxation of a bowling-match, -so engrossing that he never thought of his fair young wife, left for -hours in that lonely mansion on the hill to her own thoughts and the -society of a Jesuit priest? It was hard to say—Sir George Hamilton’s -disposition was shrewd though noble, ready to form suspicion but -disdaining to entertain it, prone more than another to suffer from -misplaced confidence, but the last in the world to confess its injuries -even to himself. - -He had never seemed more energetic, never showed better spirits than now. -His hawks struck their quarry, his hounds ran into their game, his horses -carried him far ahead of his fellow-sportsmen. His advice was listened to -at their meetings, his opinions quoted at their tables, his popularity -was at its height with all the country gentlemen of the neighbourhood. -He cheered lustily in the field, and drank his bottle fairly at the -fire-side, yet all the time, under that smooth brow, that jovial manner, -that comely cheek, there lurked a something which turned the chase to -penance, and the claret to gall. - -He was not jealous, far from it. _He_ jealous—what degradation! And of -Cerise—what sacrilege! No, it was not jealousy that thus obtruded its -shadow over those sunny moors, athwart that fair autumn sky; it was -more a sense of self-reproach, of repentance, of remorse, as if he -had committed some injustice to a poor helpless being, that he could -never now repay. A lower nature incapable of the sentiment would in -its inferiority have been spared much needless pain. It was as if he -had wounded a child, a lamb, or some such weak loveable creature, by -accident, and could not stanch the wound. It would have been cowardly had -he meant it, but he did not mean it, and it was only clumsy; yet none the -less was he haunted by the patient eyes, the mute appealing sorrow that -spoke so humbly to his heart. - -What if this girl, whose affection he had never doubted, did really not -love him after all? What if the fancy that he knew she had entertained -for him was but a girl’s fancy for the first man who had roused her -vanity and flattered her self-esteem? It might be that she had only -prized him because she had seen so few others, that her ideal was -something quite different, he said in bitterness of spirit, to a rough -ignorant soldier, a mere hunting, hawking, north-country baronet, -whose good qualities, if he had any, were but a blunt honesty, and an -affection for herself he had not the wit to express; whose personal -advantages did but consist in a strong arm, and a weather-browned cheek, -like any ploughman on his estate. Perhaps the man who would really have -suited her was of a different type altogether, a refined scholar, an -accomplished courtier, one who could overlay a masculine understanding -with the graceful trickeries of a woman’s fancy, who could talk to her of -sentiment, romance, affinity of spirits, and congeniality of character. -Such a man as this pale-faced priest—not him in particular, that had -nothing to do with it! but some one like him—there were hundreds of them -whom she might meet at any time. It was not that he thought she loved -another, but that the possibility now dawned of her not loving him. - -He did not realise this at first. It was long before he could bring -himself to look such a privation in the face—the blank it would make in -his own life was too chilling to contemplate—and to do him justice his -first thought was not of his own certain misery, but of her lost chances -of happiness. If now, when it was too late, she should find one whom she -could really love, had he not stood between her and the light? Would he -not be the clog round her neck, the curse rather than the blessing of her -existence? - -Of all this he was vaguely conscious, not actually thinking out his -reflections, far less expressing them, but aware, nevertheless, of some -deadening, depressing influence that weighed him down like a nightmare, -from which, morning after morning, he never woke. - -But this inner life which all men must live, affected the outer not -at all. Sir George flung his hawks aloft and cheered his hounds with -unabated zest, while Florian held Lady Hamilton’s scissors, and helped to -tie up her roses, under the grey and gold of the soft autumnal sky. - -They had a thousand matters to talk about, a thousand reminiscences in -common, now that the old intimacy had returned. On many points they -thought alike, and discoursed pleasantly enough, on many they differed, -and it was to these, I think, that they reverted with the keenest relish -again and again. - -Cerise was a rigid Catholic—the more so now that she lived in a -Protestant country, and with a husband whose antecedents had taught him -to place little value on the mere external forms of religion. One of the -dogmas on which she chiefly insisted was the holiness of the Church, -and the separation of the clergy from all personal interests in secular -pursuits. - -“A priest,” said Cerise, snipping off the ends of the matting with which -she had tied up her rose-tree, “a priest is priest _avant tout_—that -of course. But in my opinion his character is not one bit less sacred -outside, in the street, than when he is saying high mass before the -altar. He should never approach the line of demarcation that separates -him from the layman. So long as he thinks only the thoughts of the -Church, and speaks her words, he is infallible. When he expresses his own -opinions and yields to his own feelings, he is no longer the priest, but -the man. He might as well, perhaps better, be a courtier or a musketeer!” - -He stooped low down over the rose-tree, and his voice was very sad and -gentle while he replied— - -“Far better—far better—a labourer, a lackey, or a shoe-black. It is a -cruel lot to bear a yoke that is too heavy for the neck, and to feel that -it can never be taken off. To sit in a prison looking into your empty -grave and knowing there is no escape till you fill it—perhaps not even -then—while all the time the children are laughing at their play outside, -and the scent of the summer roses comes in through the bars—the summer -roses that your hands shall never reach, your lips shall never press! Ah! -that is the ingenuity of the torture, when perhaps, to wear one of these -roses in your bosom for an hour, you would barter your priesthood here, -and your soul hereafter!” - -“It must be hard sometimes,” answered Cerise, kindly—“very hard; but is -not that the whole value of the ordeal? What do _we_ give up for our -faith—even we poor women, who hold ourselves good Catholics?—three hours -at most in the week, and a slice of the sirloin or the haunch on Friday. -Oh, Florian, it is dreadful to me to think how little I can do to further -the work of the Church! I feel as if a thousand strong men were pulling, -with all their might, at a load, and I could only put one of my poor weak -fingers on the rope for a second at a time.” - -“My daughter,” he answered, assuming at once the sacerdotal character, -“the weakest efforts, rendered with a will, are counted by the Church -with the strongest. St. Clement says that ‘if one, going on his daily -business, shall move out of his way but two steps towards the altar, he -shall not be without his reward.’ Submit yourself to the Church and her -ministers, in thought, word, and deed, so will she take your burden on -her own shoulders, and be answerable for your welfare in this world and -the next.” - -It was the old dangerous doctrine he had learned by rote and repeated -to so many penitents during his ministration. He saw the full influence -of it now, and wished, for one wild moment, that he could be a better -Christian, or a worse! But when she turned her eyes on him so hopefully, -so trustfully, the evil spirit was rebuked, and came out of the man, -tearing him the while, and almost tempting him to curse her—the woman -he worshipped—because, for the moment, her face was “as the face of -an angel.” He had a mind then to return to St. Omer at once—to trust -himself no longer with this task, this duty, this penance, whatever their -cruelty chose to call it—to confess his insubordination without reserve, -and accept whatever penalty the Order might inflict! But she put her -hand softly on his arm, and spoke so kindly, that evil desires and good -resolutions were dispelled alike. - -“Florian,” said she, “you will help me to do right, I know. And I, too—I -can be of some small aid even to you. You are happy here, I am sure.” - -“Happy!” he repeated, almost with a sob; and, half-conquering his enemy, -half-giving in, adopted at last that middle course, which runs so smooth -and easy, like a tram-way down the broad road. “I am happy in so far as -that, by remaining at Hamilton, I can hope to speed the interests of the -true Church. You say that a priest should never mix himself with secular -affairs. You little know how, in these evil days, our chief duties are -connected with political intrigue—our very existence dependent on the -energy we show as men of action and men of the world. Why am I here, Lady -Hamilton, do you think? Is it to counsel you, as I used at the convent, -and hold your gloves, and look in your face, and tie up your roses? It -would be happy for me, indeed, if such were all my duties; for I could -live and die, desiring no better. Alas! it is not so. My mission to -England does not affect you. Its object is the aggrandisement of your -husband.” - -“Not affect _me_!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands eagerly. “Oh, -Florian! how can you say so? Tell me what it is, quick! I am dying to -know. Is it a secret? Not now. Here he comes!” - -Sir George may, perhaps, have heard these last words, as he ascended the -terrace steps. Whether he heard them or not, he could scarce fail to mark -his wife’s excited gestures—her brightened eyes—her raised colour—and the -sudden check in the conversation, caused by his own arrival. - -Again that dull pain seemed to gnaw at his heart, when he thought how -bright and eager and amused she always seemed in Florian’s company. - -He had seen the two on the terrace as he rode home across the park, and -joined them by the shortest way from the stable, without a tinge of that -suspicion he might not be wanted, which was so painful now. Still he kept -down all such unworthy feelings as he would have trampled an adder under -his heavy riding-boots. - -“Bring me a rose, Cerise,” he said, cheerily, as he passed his wife. -“There are not many of them left now. Here, Florian,” he added, tossing -him a packet he held in his hand. “A note from pretty Alice at the -‘Hamilton Arms.’ Have a care, man! there are a host of rivals in the -field.” - -Florian looked at the writing on the cover, and turned pale. This might -easily be accounted for, but why should Cerise, at the same instant, have -blushed so red—redder even than the rose she was plucking for her husband? - -Perhaps that was the question Sir George asked himself as he walked -moodily into the house to dress. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII - -THE “HAMILTON ARMS” - - -Like many old country places of the time, Hamilton Hill had a village -belonging to it, which seemed to have nestled itself into the valley -under shelter of the great house, just near enough to reap the benefits -of so august a neighbourhood, but at such a distance as not to infringe -on the sacred precincts of the deer-park, or on the romantic privacy of -the pleasure-grounds. - -Where there is a village there will be thirst, and thirst seems to be -an Englishman’s peculiar care and privilege; therefore, instead of -slaking and quenching it at once by the use of water, he cherishes -and keeps it alive, so to speak, with the judicious application of -beer. A public-house is, accordingly, as necessary an adjunct to an -English hamlet as an oven to a cookshop, a copper to a laundry, or a -powder-magazine to a privateer. - -The village of Nether-Hamilton possessed, then, one of these -indispensable appendages; but, fortunately for the landlady, its -inhabitants were obliged to ascend a steep hill, for the best part of a -mile, before they could fill their cans with beer;—I say fortunately for -the landlady, because such an exertion entailed an additional draught -of this invigorating beverage to be consumed and paid for on the spot. -The “Hamilton Arms,” for the convenience of posting, stood on the Great -North Road, at least half a league, as the crow flies, from that abrupt -termination of upland, the ridge of which was crowned by the towers and -terraces of Hamilton Hill. Twice a week a heavy lumbering machine, drawn -by six, and in winter, often by eight horses, containing an infinity of -passengers, stopped for a fresh relay at the “Hamilton Arms”; and when -this ponderous vehicle had once been pulled up, it was not to be set -going again without many readjustments, inquiries, oaths, protestations, -and other incentives to delay. - -The “Flying-Post Coach,” as it was ambitiously called, did not change -horses in a minute and a half; a bare-armed helper at each animal to pull -the rugs off, almost before the driver had time to exchange glances with -the barmaid, in days of which the speed, esteemed so wondrous then, was -but a snail’s crawl compared with our rate of travelling now. Nothing -of the kind. The “Flying-Post Coach” was reduced to a deliberate walk -long before it came in sight of its haven, where it stopped gradually, -and in a succession of spasmodic jerks, like a musical-box running down. -The coachman descended gravely from his perch, and the passengers, -alighting one and all, roamed about the yard, or hovered round the inn -door, as leisurely as if they had been going to spend the rest of the -afternoon at the “Hamilton Arms,” and scarcely knew how to get rid of -the spare time on their hands. Till numerous questions had been asked -and answered—the weather, the state of the roads, and the last highway -robbery discussed—packets delivered, luggage loaded or taken off, and -refreshments of every kind consumed—there seemed to be no intention of -proceeding with the journey. At length, during a lull in the chatter of -many voices, one lumbering horse after another might be seen wandering -round the gable-end of the building; two or three ostlers, looking and -behaving like savages, fastened the broad buckles and clumsy straps of -harness, in which rope and chain-work did as much duty as leather, and -after another pause of preparation, the passengers were summoned, the -coachman tossed off what he called his “last toothful” of brandy and -ascended solemnly to his place, gathering his reins with extreme caution, -and imparting a scientific flourish to the thong of his heavy whip. - -The inexperienced might have now supposed a start would be immediately -effected. Not a bit of it. Out rushed a bare-armed landlady with -streaming cap-ribbons—a rosy chambermaid, all smiles and glances—a -rough-headed potboy, with a dirty apron—half-a-dozen more hangers-on of -both sexes, each carrying something that had been forgotten—more oaths, -more protestations, more discussions, and at least ten more minutes of -the waning day unnecessarily wasted—then the coachman, bending forward, -chirped and shouted—the poor sore-shouldered horses jerked, strained, and -scrambled, plunging one by one at their collars, and leaning in heavily -against the pole—the huge machine creaked, tottered, wavered, and finally -jingled on at a promising pace enough, which, after about twenty yards, -degenerated into the faintest apology for a trot. - -But the portly landlady looked after it nevertheless well pleased; for -its freight had carried off a goodly quantity of fermented liquors, -leaving in exchange many welcome pieces of silver and copper to replenish -the insatiable till. - -Mrs. Dodge had but lately come to reside at the “Hamilton Arms.” -Originally a plump comely lass, only daughter of a drunken old -blacksmith at Nether-Hamilton, and inheriting what was termed in that -frugal locality “a tidy bit of money,” she was sought in marriage by a -south-country pedlar, who visited her native village in the exercise of -his calling, and whose silver tongue persuaded her to leave kith and kin -and country for his sake. After many ups and downs in life, chiefly the -result of her husband’s rascality, she found herself established in a -southern seaport, at a pot-house called the “Fox and Fiddle,” doing, as -she expressed it, “a pretty business enough,” in the way of crimping for -the merchant service; and here, previous to the death of her husband, -known by his familiars as “Butter-faced Bob,” she made the acquaintance -of Sir George Hamilton, then simple captain of ‘The Bashful Maid,’ little -dreaming she would ever become his tenant so near her old home. - -Mrs. Dodge made lamentable outcries for her pedlar when she lost him; -but there can be no question she was much better off after his death. He -was dishonest, irritable, self-indulgent, harsh; and she had probably no -better time of it at the “Fox and Fiddle” than is enjoyed by any other -healthy, easy-tempered woman, whose husband cheats a good deal, drinks -not a little, and is generally dissatisfied with his lot. He left her, -however, a good round sum of money, such as placed her completely beyond -fear of want; and after a decent term of mourning had expired, after she -had received the condolences of her neighbours, besides two offers of -marriage from publicans in adjoining streets, she took her niece home to -live with her, sold off the good-will of the “Fox and Fiddle,” wished her -rejected suitors farewell, and sought the hamlet of her childhood, to sit -down for life, as she said, in the bar of the “Hamilton Arms.” “It would -be lonesome, no doubt,” she sometimes observed, “without Alice; and if -ever Alice took and left her, as leave her she might for a home of her -own any day, being a good girl and a comely, why then;” and here Mrs. -Dodge would simper and look conscious, bristling her fat neck till her -little round chin disappeared in its folds, and inferring thereby that, -in the event of such a contingency, she might be induced to make one -of her customers happy, by consenting to embark on another matrimonial -venture before she had done with the institution for good and all. Nor, -though Mrs. Dodge was fifty years of age, and weighed fifteen stone, -would she have experienced any difficulty in finding a second husband, -save, perhaps, the pleasing embarrassment of selection from the multitude -at her command. And if her aunt could thus have “lovyers,” as she said, -“for the looking at ’em,” it may be supposed that pretty Alice found no -lack of admirers in a house-of-call so well frequented as the “Hamilton -Arms.” Pretty Alice, with her pale brow, her hazel eyes, her sweet smile, -and soft gentle manners, that made sad havoc in the hearts of the young -graziers, cattle-dealers, and other travellers that came under their -comforting influence off the wild inhospitable moor. Even Captain Bold, -the red-nosed “blood,” as such persons were then denominated, whose -calling nobody knew or dared ask him, but who was conspicuous for his -flowing wig, laced coat, and wicked bay mare, would swear, with fearfully -ingenious oaths, that Alice was prettier than any lady in St. James’s; -and if she would but say the word, why burn him, blight him, sink him -into the lowest depths of Hamilton Mere, if _he_, John Bold, wouldn’t -consent to throw up his profession, have his comb cut, and subside at -once into a homely, helpless, henpecked, barndoor fowl. - -But Alice would not say the word, neither to Captain Bold nor to any -honester man. She had been true to her sailor-love, through a long weary -time of anxiety, and now she had her reward. Slap-Jack was domiciled -within a mile of her, by one of those unforeseen strokes of fortune which -he called a “circumstance,” and Alice thanked heaven on her knees day and -night for the happiness of her lot. - -It may be supposed that her sweetheart spent much of his leisure -at the “Hamilton Arms.” Though he got through half the work of Sir -George’s household, for the foretopman never could bear to be idle, his -occupations did not seem so engrossing as to prevent a daily visit to -Alice. It was on one of these occasions that, gossiping with Mrs. Dodge, -as was his wont, he observed a gold cross heaving on her expansive bosom, -and taxed her with a favoured lover and a speedy union forthwith. - -“Go along with you,” wheezed the jolly landlady, in no way offended -by the accusation. “It’s our new lodger as gave me this trinket only -yesterday. Lovyers! say you. ‘Marry!’ as my poor Bob used to say, ‘_his_ -head is not made of the wood they cut blocks from;’ an’ let me tell you, -Master Slap-Jack, a man’s never so near akin to a fool as when he’s -a-courting. Put that in your pipe, my lad, and smoke it. Why Alice, my -poppet, how you blush! Well, as I was a sayin’, this is a nice civil -gentleman, and a well spoken. Takes his bottle with his dinner, and, -mind ye, he _will_ have it o’ the best. None of your ranting, random, -come-by-chance roysterers, like Captain Bold, who’ll sing as many songs -and tell as many—well, _lies_ I call ’em, honest gentleman—over a rummer -of punch, as would serve most of my customers two gallons of claret and a -stoup of brandy to finish up with.” - -“There’s not much pith in that Captain Bold,” interposed Slap-Jack, -contemptuously. “You put a strain on him, and see if he don’t start -somewhere. Captain, indeed! It’s a queer ship’s company where they made -_him_ skipper, askin’ your pardon, Mrs. Dodge.” - -Slap-Jack had on one occasion interrupted the captain in a warmer -declaration to his sweetheart than he quite relished, and hated him -honestly enough in consequence. - -“Hoity-toity!” laughed the landlady. “The captain’s nothing to me. I -never could abide your black men; and I don’t know that they’re a bit -better set off by wearing a red nose. The captain’s Alice’s admirer, not -mine; and I think Alice likes him a bit too sometimes, I do!” - -This was said, as the French express it, “with intention.” It made Alice -toss her head; but Slap-Jack only winked. - -“I know better,” said he. “Alice always _was_ heart-of-oak; as true as -the compass; wasn’t you, my lass? See how she hoists her colours if -you do but hail her. No, no, Aunt Dodge—for aunt you’ll be to me afore -another year is out—it’s your broad bows and buxom figure-head as brings -the customers cruising about this here bar, like flies round a honey-pot. -Come, let’s have the rights now of your gold cross. Is it a keepsake, or -a charm, or a love-token, or what?” - -“Love-token!” repeated Mrs. Dodge, in high glee. “What do you know of -love-tokens? Got a wisp of that silly girl’s brown hair, may be, and a -broken sixpence done up in a rag of canvas all stained with sea-water! -Why, when my poor Bob was a-courtin’ _me_, the first keepsake as ever he -gave me was eighteen yards of black satin, all off of the same piece, -and two real silver bodkins for my hair, as thick a’most as that kitchen -poker. Ay, lass! it was something like keeping company in my day to have -a pedlar for a bachelor. Well, well; our poor sailor lad maybe as good as -here and there a one after all. Who knows?” - -“Good enough for _me_, aunt,” whispered Alice, looking shyly up at her -lover from the dish she was wiping, ere she put it carefully on the shelf. - -Mrs. Dodge laughed again. “There’s as good fish in the sea, Alice, as -ever came out of it; and a maid may take her word back again, ay, at the -church door, if she has a mind. The foreign gentleman in the blue room, -him as gave me this little cross, he says to me only yesterday morning, -‘Madame,’ says he, as polite as you please, ‘no man was ever yet deceived -by a woman if he trusted her entirely. I repose entire confidence in -madame,’ that was _me_, Alice; ‘her face denotes good manners, a good -heart, a good life.’ Perhaps he meant good living; but that’s what he -said. ‘I am going to ask madame to charge herself with an important -trust for me, because I rely securely on her integrity.’ Oh! he spoke -beautiful, I can tell you. ‘In case of my absence,’ says he, ‘from your -respectable apartments, I will confide to you a sealed packet, to be -delivered to a young man who will call for it at a certain hour on a -certain day that I shall indicate before I leave. If the young man does -not appear, I can trust madame to commit this packet to the flames.’ He -was fool enough to add,” simpered Mrs. Dodge, looking a little conscious, -“‘that it was rare to see so much discretion joined to so much beauty,’ -or some such gammon; but of course I made no account of that.” - -“If he paid out his palaver so handsome,” observed Slap-Jack, “take my -word for it the chap’s a papist.” - -But Mrs. Dodge would not hear of such a construction being put on her -lodger’s gallantry. - -“Papist!” she repeated angrily; “no more a papist than you are! Why, -I sent him up a slice o’ powdered beef was last Friday, with a bit of -garnishing, parsnips and what not, and he eats it up every scrap, and -asks for another plateful. Papist! says you! and what if he were? I -tell you if he was the Pope o’ Rome, come to live respectable on my -first floor, he’s a sight more to my mind for a lodger than his friend -the captain! Papists, indeed! If I wanted to lay my hand on a papist, -I needn’t to travel far for to seek one. Though, I will say, my lady’s -liker a hangel nor a Frenchwoman, and if all the papists was made up to -her pattern, why for my part, I’d up and cry ‘Bless the Pope!’ with the -rankest on ’em all!” - -It was obvious that this northern district took no especial credit to -itself for the bigotry of its Protestantism, and Mrs. Dodge, though a -staunch member enough of the reformed religion, allowed no scruples of -conscience to interfere with the gains of her hostelry, nor perhaps -entertained any less kindly sentiments towards the persecuted members of -the Church of Rome, that they formed some of her best customers, paying -handsomely for the privacy of their apartments, while they ate and drank -of the choicest during their seclusion. - -But this unacknowledged partiality was a bone of contention between his -sweetheart’s aunt and Slap-Jack. The latter prided himself especially on -being what he termed True-Blue, holding in great abhorrence everything -connected with Rome, St. Germains, and the Jacobite party. He allowed of -no saints in the calendar except Lady Hamilton, whom he excepted from his -denunciations by some reasoning process of his own which it is needless -to follow out. Nevertheless Alice knew right well that such an argument -as now seemed imminent was the sure forerunner of a storm. “Aunt,” said -she softly, “I’ve looked out all the table linen, and done my washing-up -till supper-time. If you want nothing particular, I’ll run out and get a -breath of fresh air off the moor before it gets dark.” - -“And it’s time for me to be off, Aunt Dodge!” exclaimed Slap-Jack, as -Alice knew full well he would. “Bless ye, we shall beat to quarters at -the Hill, now in less than half an hour, and being a warrant-officer, as -you may say, o’ course it’s for me to set a good example to the ship’s -company. Fare ye well, Mrs. Dodge, and give the priest a wide berth, if -he comes alongside, though I’ll never believe as you’ve turned papist, -until I see you barefoot at the church door, in a white sheet with a -candle in your hand!” - -With this parting shot, Slap-Jack seized his hat and ran out, leaving -Mrs. Dodge to smile blandly over the fire, fingering her gold cross, -and thinking drowsily, now of her clean sanded floor, now of her bright -dishes and gaudy array of crockery, now of her own comely person and the -agreeable manners of her lodger overhead. - -Meanwhile it is scarcely necessary to say, that although Slap-Jack had -expressed such haste to depart, he lingered in the cold wind off the moor -not far from the house door, till he saw Alice emerge for the mouthful -of fresh air that was so indispensable, but against which she fortified -herself with a checked woollen shawl, which she muffled in a manner he -thought very becoming, round her pretty head. - -Neither need I describe the start of astonishment with which she -acknowledged the presence of her lover, as if he was the very last -person she expected to meet; nor the assumed reluctance of her consent -to accompany him a short distance on his homeward way; nor even the -astonishment she expressed at his presumption in adjusting her muffler -more comfortably, and exacting for his assistance the payment that is -often so willingly granted while it is so vehemently refused. These -little manœuvres had been rehearsed very often of late, but had not yet -begun to pall in the slightest degree. The lovers had long ago arrived at -that agreeable phase of courtship, when the reserve of an agitating and -uncertain preference has given way to the confidence of avowed affection. -They had a thousand things to talk about, and they talked about them very -close together, perhaps because the wind swept bleak and chill over the -moor in the gathering twilight. It was warmer no doubt, and certainly -pleasanter, thus to carry two faces under one hood. - -It is impossible to overhear the conversation of people in such close -juxtaposition, nor is it usually, we believe, worth much trouble on the -part of an eavesdropper. I imagine it consists chiefly of simple, not -to say idiotic remarks, couched in corresponding language, little more -intelligible to rational persons than that with which a nurse endeavours -to amuse a baby, whose demeanour, by the way, generally seems to express -a dignified contempt for the efforts of its attendant. When we consider -the extravagances of speech by which we convey our strongest sentiments, -we need not be surprised at the follies of which we are guilty in their -indulgence. When we recall the absurdities with which an infant’s -earliest ideas of conversation must be connected, can we wonder what -fools people grow up in after life? - -It was nearly dark when they parted, and a clear streak of light still -lingered over the edge of the moor. Alice indeed would have gone further, -but Slap-Jack had his own ideas as to his pretty sweetheart being abroad -so late, and the chance of an escort home, from Captain Bold returning -not quite sober on the wicked bay mare; so he clasped her tenderly in -his arms, receiving at the same time a hearty kiss given ungrudgingly -and with good-will, ere she fleeted away like a phantom, while he stood -watching till the last flutter of her dress disappeared through the -gloom. Then he, too, turned unwillingly homeward, with a prayer for the -woman he loved on his lips. - -If Alice looked round, it was under the corner of her muffler, and she -sped back to her gleaming saucepans, her white dishes, and the warm glow -of her aunt’s kitchen, with a step as light as her happy maiden heart. - -But there were only two ways of re-entering the “Hamilton Arms”—up a -gravel-walk that led straight to the front door across a washing green, -separated from the high road by a thick close-cut hedge, or through the -stable-yard and back entrance into the scullery. This last ingress was -effectually closed for the present by the arrival of Captain Bold, rather -more drunk than common, swearing strings of new and fashionable oaths, -while he consigned his wicked bay mare to the charge of the admiring -ostler. Alice heard his reckless treble screaming above the hoarse notes -of the stableman before she turned the corner of the house, and shrank -back to enter at the other door. But here, also, much to her dismay, she -found her retreat cut off. Two gentlemen were pacing up and down the -gravel path in earnest conversation. One of them, even in the dusk, she -recognised as the inmate of their blue room, who had given her aunt the -gold cross. The other was a younger, taller, and slimmer man than his -companion. Both were dressed in dark plain garments, gesticulating much -while they spoke, and seemed deeply engrossed with the subject under -discussion. Foolish Alice might well have run past unnoticed, and taken -shelter at once in the house, but the girl had some shy feeling as to her -late tryst with her sweetheart, and shrank perhaps from the good-humoured -banter of the elder man, whose quiet sarcastic smile she had already -learned to dread. So she stopped short, and cowered down with a beating -heart under shelter of the hedge, thinking to elude them as they turned -in their walk, and glide by unobserved into the porch. - -They talked with such vehemence, that had they been Englishmen she would -have thought they were quarrelling. Their arms waved, their hands worked, -their voices rose and fell. The elder man was the principal speaker, and -seemed to be urging something with considerable vehemence to which the -other was disinclined; but none of his arguments, pointedly as they were -put, arrested Alice’s attention so much as two proper names muttered in -a tone of deprecation by his companion. These were “Lady Hamilton” and -“Slap-Jack.” Of the first she was almost sure, in the latter she could -not be mistaken. - -Her experience on a southern seaboard, to which many smugglers from -the opposite coast resorted, had taught Alice to understand the French -language far better than she could speak it. With her ears sharpened and -her faculties roused, by the mention of her lover’s name, she cowered -down in her hiding-place, and listened, rapt, fearful, attentive, like a -hare with the beagles on its track. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII - -PRESSURE - - -“Do you suppose I came here to amuse myself?” asked Malletort, passing -his arm under his companion’s so as to turn him round on the gravel walk -within a yard of Alice’s hiding-place. “Do you think it is agreeable -to reside in a pot-house where eggs and bacon form the _ne plus ultra_ -of cookery, and if a man cannot drink sour claret he must be satisfied -with muddy ale? Every one of us has to sacrifice his own identity, -has to consecrate himself entirely to such an effort as ours. Look at -me, Florian, and ask yourself, was I born for such a life as this, to -vegetate by the wayside in the dullest province of the dullest country -in Europe—my only society, that awful landlady, my only excitement, the -daily fear of a blunder from that puzzle-headed brigand who calls himself -Captain Bold, and whom I can hang at any moment I please, or I would not -trust him five yards from my side. If I should be discovered, and unable -to get out of the way in time, why it _might_ go very hard with me, but -even against this contingency I have provided. You would find all the -directions you need drawn out in our own cipher, and consigned to my -respectable hostess. I have left the money for her weekly account sealed -up and addressed to Mrs. Dodge on my chimneypiece, also the day and hour -of your visit, as we have agreed. If we _both_ fall into difficulties, -which is most improbable, the packet will be burned, for I can trust the -woman, I believe, and with so much the more confidence, that I doubt -if any one on this side the Channel has the key to our cipher. So far, -you observe, I have provided for all contingencies; and now, my good -Florian, what have _you_ done? You tell me you have failed with his -confidential servant.” - -“What, Slap-Jack!” answered Florian, and the name brought Alice’s heart -to her mouth as the two priests again approached her hiding-place. -“Impossible! I tell you he is as true as steel. Why, he sailed with us -in the brigantine. We were all like brothers. Ah, Malletort, you cannot -understand these things!” - -“I can understand any scruple, any superstition, any weakness of -humanity, for I see examples every day,” replied the Abbé, “but I -cannot and _will_ not understand that such imaginary obstacles are -insurmountable. Bah! You have _carte blanche_ in promises, you have -even a round sum to draw upon in hard cash. Will you tell me that man’s -honesty or woman’s virtue is not to be bought if you bid high enough? -The whole business is simply a game of _bouillote_. Not the best card, -nor even the deepest purse, but the boldest player sweeps the stakes. -Florian, I fear you have done but little in all these long weeks; that -was why, at great risk, I sent you a note, begging an interview, that I -might urge on you the importance of despatch.” - -“It was a risk,” observed Florian. “The note was brought by Sir George -himself.” - -Malletort laughed. “He carried his fate without knowing it,” commented -the Abbé. “After all, it is the destiny of mankind. Every one of us -bears about with him the germ of that which shall some day prove his -destruction. I don’t know that one’s step is the heavier till palsy has -begun to tingle, or one’s appetite the worse till digestion already -fails. Come, Florian, the plot is nearly ripe now, and there is little -more time to lose. We must have Sir George in it up to his neck. He -carries this district with him, and I am then sure of all the country -north of the Trent. You have impressed on him, I trust, that it is an -earldom to begin with, if we win?” - -“And if we lose?” asked the other wistfully. - -Malletort smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, making, at -the same time, a significant gesture with his hand under his ear. - -“A leap from a ladder would finish it,” he remarked abruptly. “For that -matter we are all in the same boat. If a plank starts, it is simply, _Bon -soir la compagnie!_” - -Florian could control himself no longer. “Are you a man?” he burst out. -“A man? Are you anything less devilish than the arch-fiend himself, to -bid me take part in such a scheme? And what a part! To lure my only -friend, my comrade, whose bread has fed me in want, whose hand has kept -me in danger, down, down, step by step, to crime, ruin, and a shameful -death. What am I? What have I done, that you should ask me to join in -such a plot as this?” - -“What you _are_, is a novice of the Society of Jesus,” answered Malletort -coldly, “degraded to that rank for what you have _done_, which I need -hardly remind you. Florian, it is well that you have to deal with me, -who am a man of the world no less than a priest, instead of some stern -provincial who would report your disobedience to the Order, even before -he referred you to its statutes. Look your task firmly in the face. What -is it? To make your friend, the man for whom you profess this ludicrous -attachment, one of the first subjects in England. To raise his charming -wife—they tell me she has grown more charming than ever—to a station for -which she is eminently fitted; and all this at a certain risk of course, -but what risk?—that the best organised movement Europe has seen for a -hundred years, should fail at the moment of success, and that Sir George -should be selected for a victim, amongst a score of names nobler, richer, -more obnoxious to the Government than his own. And even then. If worst -came to worst, what would be Lady Hamilton’s position? An heiress in her -own right, a widow further enriched by marriage, beautiful, unencumbered, -and free. I cannot see why you should hesitate a moment.” - -Florian groaned. “Have mercy on me!” he muttered hoarsely, writhing his -hands in despair. “Can you not spare me this one trial, remit this one -penance? Send me anywhere—Tartary, Morocco, Japan. Let me starve in -a desert, pine in a dungeon, suffer martyrdom at the stake; anything -but this, and I submit myself cheerfully, willingly, nay, thankfully. -Malletort, you _must_ have a human heart. You are talented, respected, -powerful. You have influence with the Order. You have known me since I -was a boy. For the love of Heaven have pity on me, and spare me this!” - -The Abbé was not one of those abnormal specimens of humanity who take -pleasure in the sufferings of their fellow-creatures. It could not be -said of him that his heart was cruel or malicious. He had simply no heart -at all. But it was a peculiarity he shared with many governing spirits, -that he grew cooler and cooler in proportion to the agitation with which -he came in contact. He took a pinch of snuff, pausing for the refreshment -of a sneeze before he replied: - -“And with the next report I furnish to the Order send in your refusal -to obey? Your refusal, Florian; you know what that means? Well, be it -so. The promotion to a coadjutor’s rank is revoked, the former novice is -recalled, and returns to St. Omer at once, where I will not enlarge on -his reception. Riding post to the seaboard he meets another traveller, -young, handsome, well provided, and unscrupulous, hurrying northward on -a mission which seems to afford him considerable satisfaction. It is -Brother Jerome, we will say, or Brother Boniface! the one known in the -world as Beauty Adolphe of the King’s Musketeers, the other as Count -Victor de Rosny, whose boast it is that love and credit are universally -forced on him, though he has never paid a tradesman nor kept faith with -a woman in his life. Either of these would be an agreeable addition to -the family party up there on the hill. Either would labour hard to obtain -influence over Sir George, and do his best or worst to be agreeable to -Lady Hamilton. Shall I forward your refusal by to-morrow’s courier, -Florian, or will you think better of it, and at least take a night to -consider the subject in all its bearings?” - -Florian pondered, passed his hand across his brow, and looked wildly in -his adviser’s face. - -“Not a moment!” said he, “not a moment! I was wrong—I was impatient—I -was a fool—I was wicked, _mea culpa, mea culpa_. What am I that I should -oppose the will of the Order—that I should hesitate in anything they -think fit to command? What is a Jesuit priest, what is _any_ one, after -all, but a leaf blown before the wind—a bubble floating down the stream? -There is no free agency—Destiny rules the game. The Moslem is not far -wrong when he refuses to stir out of the destroyer’s way, and says, ‘It -is ordained!’ I am wiser now—I seem to have woke up from a dream. What -is it you would have me do? Am I to put poison in his wine, or cut Sir -George’s throat to-night when he is asleep? You have only to say the -word—are you not my superior? Am I not a Jesuit? I must obey!” - -Alice, still crouching behind the close-cut hedge, might well be alarmed -at the scraps she overheard of such a dialogue as this. Malletort, on -the contrary, watched his junior with the well-satisfied air of a cook -who perceives the dish on which his skill is concentrated bubbling -satisfactory towards projection. He allowed the young man’s emotion to -exhaust itself ere he plied him again with argument, and knowing that all -strong feelings have their ebb and flow like the tide, trusted to find -him more malleable than ever after his late outbreak. - -It was difficult to explain to Florian that his superiors desired him -to make love to Lady Hamilton, in order that he might bring her husband -into their hands; and the task was only rendered the more delicate by -the young Jesuit’s hopeless yet sincere attachment to his hostess—an -attachment which had in it the germ of ruin or salvation according to his -own powers of self-control—such an attachment as the good call a trial -and the weak a fatality. - -At times the Abbé almost wished he had selected some less scrupulous -novice for the execution of this critical manœuvre—one like Brother -Jerome or Brother Boniface, who would have disposed himself to it with -all the relish and good-will of those who resume a favourite occupation -which circumstances have obliged them, for a time, to forego. Such -tools would have been easier to manipulate; but perhaps, he reflected, -their execution would not be so effectual and complete. The steel was -dangerously flexible and elastic, but then it was of the truest and -finest temper forged. He flattered himself it was now in the hands of a -workman. - -“Let us talk matters over like men of the world my dear Florian,” -said the Abbé, after they had made two turns of the walk in silence, -approaching within a foot of Alice while he spoke. “We are neither of us -boys, but men playing a game at _bouillote_, _ombre_, _picquet_, what -you will, and holding nearly all the winning cards in our hands. You are -willing, I think, to believe I am your friend?” - -Florian shuddered, but nodded assent. - -“Well, then, as friends,” continued the Abbé, “let there be no -concealment between us. I have already gone over the details of our -programme. I need not recapitulate the plan of the campaign, nor, to a -man of intelligence like yourself, need I insist on the obvious certainty -of success. All dispositions of troops and such minor matters are left -to our commanders, and they number some of the first soldiers of the -age. With such affairs we need not meddle. Intellect confines itself to -intrigue, and leaves hard knocks to the hard-fisted, hard-headed fools -whose business it is to give and take them. I have been busy since I came -here—busier almost than you could believe. I have made acquaintance with -―, and ―, and ―.” - -Here the Abbé sank his voice to a cautious whisper, so that Alice, -straining her ears to listen, could not catch the names he enumerated. - -“Although they seemed lukewarm at first, and are esteemed loyal subjects -of King George, they are ripe for a restoration now. By the by with -these people never forget to call it a Restoration. Nothing affects an -Englishman so strongly as a phrase, if it be old enough. I have seen a -red-nosed squire of to-day fidget uneasily in his chair, and get quite -hot and angry if you mentioned the Warrant of the Parliament; call it the -law of the land and he submits without a murmur. They eat beef, these -islanders, and they drink ale, muddy ale, so thick, my dear Florian, you -might cut it with a knife. Perhaps that is what makes them so stupid. It -is hard work to drive an idea into their heads; but when once there, it -must be admitted, you cannot eradicate it. If they are the most obstinate -of opponents, they are also the staunchest of partisans. Well, I have -a score of names here in my pocket—men who have pledged themselves to -go through with us, even if it comes to cold steel, sequestration—ay, -hanging for high treason! Not a man of them will flinch. I can undertake -to say so much; and this, you observe, my dear Florian, would greatly -facilitate _our_ escape in the event of a failure. But in the entire list -I have none fit to be a leader—none whose experience would warrant him in -taking command of the others, or whose adventurous spirit would urge him -to assume such authority. Sir George Hamilton is the very man I require. -He is bold, reckless, ambitious, not entirely without brains, and has -been a soldier of France. Florian, we _must_ have him at the head of the -movement. It is your duty to put him there.” - -Florian bowed submissively. - -“I can only persuade,” said he; “but you do not know your man as well as -I do. Nothing will induce Sir George so much as to have a horse saddled -until he can see for himself that there is a reasonable prospect of -success. I have heard him say a hundred times, ‘Never show your teeth -till your guns are shotted;’ and he has acted up to his maxim, ever -since I have known him, in all the relations of life. It is, perhaps, -presumptuous in me to advise one of your experience and abilities, but -I warn you to be careful in this instance. On every account I am most -anxious that our undertaking should not miscarry. I am pledged to you -myself, but, believe me, I must have something more than empty assurances -to enlist my friend.” - -“Quite right,” answered the other, slapping him cheerfully on the -shoulder; “quite right. A man who goes blindly into these matters seldom -sees his way very clearly afterwards. But what would your friend have? We -possess all the material of success, only waiting to be set in motion; -and this I can prove to him in black and white. We have men, arms, -artillery, ammunition, and money. This insurrection shall not fail, like -some of its predecessors, for lack of the grease that keeps all human -machinery in motion. A hundred thousand louis are ready at an hour’s -notice, and another hundred thousand every week till the new coinage of -James the Third is issued from the mint. Here, in the next province, in -Lancashire, where the sun never shines, every _seigneur_, squire—what are -they called?—has mounted his dependents, grooms, falconers, huntsmen, -tenants—all horsemen of the first force. Five thousand cavalry will -be in the saddle at twenty-four hours’ notice. Several battalions of -Irish soldiers, brave and well-disciplined as our own, are assembled -on the coast of Normandy, waiting only the signal to embark. Our -infantry have shoes and clothes; our cavalry are provided with farriers -and accoutrements; our artillery, on _this_ occasion, not without -draught-horses and harness. Come to me to-morrow afternoon, and I will -furnish you with a written statement of our resources for Sir George’s -information. And, Florian, you believe honestly that he might be tempted -to join us?” - -The other was revolving a thousand probabilities in his mind. - -“I will do my best,” he answered, absently. - -“Then I will risk it,” replied Malletort. “You shall also have a list of -the principal noblemen and gentlemen who have given their adhesion to -their rightful sovereign. I have upstairs a manifesto, to which these -loyal cavaliers have attached their signatures. I never trust a man by -halves, Florian, just as I never trust a woman at all. Nothing venture, -nothing have. That paper would hang us all, no doubt; but I will confide -it to you and take the risk. Yours shall be the credit of persuading Sir -George to subscribe to it in his own hand.” - -Florian assented, with a nod. Too much depressed to speak, he felt -like some poor beast driven to the shambles, blundering on, dogged and -stupefied, to its fate. - -Malletort’s keen perceptions detected this despondency, and he -endeavoured to cheer him up. - -“At the new Court,” said he, “we shall probably behold our retired -Musketeer commanding the Guards of his Sovereign, and carrying his gold -baton on the steps of the throne. A peer, a favourite, a Councillor of -State—what you will. His beautiful wife the admired and envied of the -three kingdoms. They will owe their rank, their grandeur, their all, to -Florian de St. Croix. Will not he—will not she be grateful? And Florian -de St. Croix shall choose his own reward. Nothing the Church can offer -will be esteemed too precious for such a servant. I am disinterested for -once, since I shall return to France. In England, a man may exist; were -it not for the climate he might even vegetate; but it is only in Paris -that he can be said to live. Florian, it is a glorious prospect, and the -road to fortune lies straight before us.” - -“Through an enemy’s country,” replied the other, gravely. “Nothing -shall persuade me but that the mass of the people are staunch to the -Government.” - -“The mass of the people!” repeated Malletort, contemptuously; “the mass -of the people neither make revolutions nor oppose them. In point of -fact they are the women and children who sit quietly at home. It is the -highest and the lowest who are the discontented classes, and if you set -these in motion, the one to lead in front, the other to push behind, why, -the mass of the people, as you call them, may be driven whichever way -you please, like a flock of sheep into a pen. Listen to those peasants -singing over their liquor, and tell me if their barbarian ditties do -not teach you which way the tide of feeling acts at present amongst the -rabble?” - -They stopped in their walk, and through the open window of the tap-room -could hear Captain Bold’s treble quavering out a Jacobite ballad of the -day, no less popular than nonsensical, as was attested by the stentorian -chorus and wild jingling of glasses that accompanied it. - - “We are done with sodden kale, - Are we not? Are we not? - We are done with sodden kale, - Are we not? - And the reptile in his mail, - Though he tore with tooth and nail, - We have got him by the tail, - Have we not? - - “We will bring the Stuart back, - Will we not? Will we not? - We will bring the Stuart back, - Will we not? - With a whip to curl and crack - Round the Hanoverian pack, - And ’twill lend King George a smack, - Will it not? - - “We are done with rebel rigs, - Are we not? Are we not? - We are done with rebel rigs, - Are we not? - - We will teach them ‘Please the pigs!’ - English tunes for foreign jigs, - And the devil take the Whigs! - Will he not? Will he not? - And the devil take the Whigs! - Will he not?” - -While the priests were thus occupied, Alice darting past them unobserved, -took refuge in the house. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX - -POOR EMERALD - - -Of all passions that tear and worry at the human heart, jealousy seems to -be not only the most painful but the most contradictory. Anger, desire, -avarice, revenge, all these propose to themselves a certain end, in the -accomplishment of which there is doubtless an evil satisfaction for the -moment, however closely remorse may tread on the heels of indulgence, -but jealousy, conscious only of its own bitterness, knows not even what -to hope or what to fear. It hates itself, though its torture is purely -selfish; it hates another whom all the while it madly loves. It is proud, -yet stoops to meanness—cruel, yet quivers with the pain it inflicts, -desperate while cowardly, pitiless though sensitive, obstinate and -unstable, a mass of incongruities, and a purgatory from which there is -neither present purification nor prospective escape. - -It may please a woman to feel that she can make her lover jealous, it -may even please her, in her feminine relish for dominion, to mark the -painful effect of her power; but if it were possible to love and be -wise, he would know that he had better hold his hand in the fire without -wincing, than let her discover the force of the engine with which she -can thus place him on the rack. Some women are generous enough not to -inflict a torture so readily at command, but even these take credit for -their forbearance, and assume, in consequence, a position of authority, -which is sometimes fatal to the male interest in such a partnership. The -sweetest kisses to a woman are those she gives on tiptoe. A man, at least -such a one as is best worth winning, cares for a woman because she loves -_him_. A woman, I imagine, is never so devoted as when she feels there is -yet something more to be gained of that dominion at which she is always -striving, but which she is apt to undervalue when attained. - -Now, if she has taken it into her head to make her lover jealous, and -finds his equanimity utterly undisturbed, the result is a mortifying -and irremediable defeat to the aggressive Amazon. She has hazarded a -large stake and won nothing. Worse than this, she is led to suspect -the stability of her empire, and sees it (because women always jump to -conclusions) slipping like ice out of her grasp. Besides, she has put -herself in the wrong, as after a burst of tears and a storm of unfounded -reproaches, she will herself acknowledge; and the probable result of -her operations will be a penitent and unqualified submission. Let the -conqueror be high-minded enough to abstain from ever casting this little -vagary in her teeth, and he will have reason to congratulate himself on -his own self-command for the rest of the alliance. - -But if the indulgence of jealousy be thus impolitic in a lover, it is -not only an unworthy weakness, but a fatal mistake on the part of a -husband. The doubts and fears, the uncertainties and anxieties, that -are only ludicrous in the outer courts of Cupid, become contemptible at -the fire-side of Hymen, derogatory to the man’s dignity, and insulting -to the woman’s faith. There are few individuals of either sex, even -amongst the worst natures, but can be safely trusted, if only the trust -be complete and unqualified. It is the little needless reservation, -the suspicion rather inferred than expressed, that leads to breach of -confidence and deceit. With ninety-nine women out of every hundred, the -very fact of possessing full and unquestioned freedom constitutes the -strongest possible restraint from its abuse. To suspect a wife, is to -kindle a spark of fire that eats into, and scorches, and consumes the -whole comfort of home; to let her know she is suspected, is to blow that -spark into a conflagration which soon reduces the whole domestic edifice -to ruins. - -There are some noble natures, however, that unite with generosity of -sentiment, keen perceptive faculties, and a habit of vigilance bordering -on suspicion. These cannot but suffer under the possibility of betrayal, -the more so that they despise themselves for a weakness which yet they -have not power to shake off. They stifle the flame indeed, and it burns -them all the deeper to the quick—they scorn to cry out, to groan, even to -remonstrate, but the sternest and bravest cannot repress the quiverings -of the flesh under the branding-iron, and perhaps she, of all others, -from whom it would be wise to conceal the injury, is the first to find -it out. Wounded affections chafe in silence on one side, insulted pride -scowls and holds aloof on the other; the evil festers, the sore spreads, -the breach widens, the gloom gathers; it is well if some heavy blow falls -to bring the sufferers to their senses, if some grand explosion takes -place to clear the conjugal atmosphere, and establish a footing of mutual -confidence once more. - -Cerise could hardly keep her tears back when Sir George, passing hastily -through the hall, booted as usual for the saddle, would stop to address -her in a few commonplace words of courtesy, with as much deference, she -told herself bitterly, as if she had been an acquaintance of yesterday. -There were no more little foolish familiarities, no more affected -chidings, betraying in their childish absurdities the overflowing of -happy affection, no more silly jests of which only themselves knew the -import. It was all grave politeness and ceremonious kindness now. It -irritated, it maddened her—the harshest usage had been less distressing. -If he would only speak cruel words! If he would only give her an excuse -to complain! - -She could not guess how this change had been caused, or if she did guess, -she was exceedingly careful not to analyse her suppositions; but she -hunted her husband about wistfully, looking penitent without a fault, -guilty without a crime, longing timidly for an explanation which yet she -had not courage to demand. - -The room at Hamilton in which Sir George spent his mornings on those -rare occasions when he remained indoors, was, it is needless to observe, -the gloomiest and most uncomfortable apartment in the house. Its -furniture consisted chiefly of guns, fishing-rods, and jack-boots. It -was generally very untidy, and contained for its only ornaments a model -of a brigantine and a sketch in crayons of his wife. Whenever Sir George -thought he had anything very particular to do, it was his habit to retire -here and barricade himself in. - -The morning after Florian’s interview with Malletort, Cerise took up her -post at the door of this stronghold, with a vague hope that chance might -afford an opportunity for the explanation she desired. - -“If he is really angry,” thought poor Cerise, “and I am sure he must be, -perhaps he will have taken my picture down, and I can ask him why, and he -will scold me, and I shall put my arms round his neck, and he cannot help -forgiving me then! Nobody else would be so unkind without a reason. And -yet he is not unkind; I wish he were; and I wish, too, I had courage to -speak out! Ah! it would be so much easier if I did not care for him!” - -Lady Hamilton’s hands were very cold while she stood at the door. After -waiting at least five minutes she took courage, gave a timid little -knock, and went in. - -Nothing in the aspect of the apartment or its inmate afforded the -opportunity she desired. Sir George, tranquilly engaged with a pair -of compasses and a foot-rule, was whistling softly over a plan of his -estates. Her own picture hung in its usual place. Glancing at it, she -wondered whether she had ever been so pretty, and if so, how he could -have got tired of her already. His calmness, too, was in irritating -contrast to her own agitation. Altogether she did not feel half so meek -as on the other side of the door. - -He looked up from his employment, and rose. - -“What is it, my lady?” he asked, pushing the implements aside. “Can I be -of any service to you before I get on my horse? Emerald is at this moment -saddled and waiting for me.” - -The tone was good-humoured enough, but cool and unconcerned as if he -had been speaking to his grandmother. Besides, scarcely yet more than a -bride, and to be called _my lady_! It was unbearable! - -“If you are in such a hurry,” she answered, angrily, “I will not detain -you. What I had to say was of no importance, and probably would not in -the least interest _you_. I am sorry I came in.” - -“Not at all,” he replied, in the same matter-of-course voice. “When I am -at leisure I am always glad of your society. Just now, I fear, I cannot -take advantage of it. I must be absent all the morning, but St. Croix is, -doubtless, at home, and will keep you company.” - -Guarded as was his tone, either her woman’s ear detected a false note in -the mention of Florian’s name, whom he seldom spoke of so ceremoniously, -or her woman’s intuition taught her to suspect the true grievance. At -any rate, she persuaded herself she ought to be more displeased than she -really felt. It would have been only right to show it. Now was the time -to get upon her high horse, and she would have mounted at once, but that -her blushes would not be kept down. It was too provoking! What must her -husband think of them? She could have burst out crying, but that would -be infinitely worse. She turned away, therefore, and assuming all the -dignity she could muster, walked off to her own apartment without another -word. - -Sir George did not follow. Had he done so, it might have altered his -whole morning’s employment, to see his young wife fling herself down on -her knees at the bedside, and weep as if her heart would break. - -No, _he_ flung himself into the saddle, and in five minutes was alone -with Emerald on the moor. - -I wonder what the good horse thought of his rider, when he felt his head -steadied by the strong familiar hand, the well-known limbs grasping his -sides with pliant energy, the caressing voice whispering its cheering -words of caution and encouragement? Did he know that his master urged him -to his speed because the care that is proverbially said to sit behind -the horseman _cannot_ keep her seat on a fine goer, in good condition, -when fairly in his swing? Did he know that while that smooth, powerful -stride, regular and untiring as machinery, swept furlong by furlong over -the elastic surface of the moor, she must be left panting behind, to come -up indeed at the first check, rancorous and vindictive as ever, but still -beaten by a horse’s length at least so long as the excitement of the -gallop lasted and the extreme pace could hold? - -Emerald enjoyed it as much as his master. When pulled up, he stopped -willingly, his whole frame glowing with health and energy, his eye -glancing, his ear alert, his broad red nostril drinking in the free -moorland air like a cordial, and his bit ringing cheerfully, while he -tossed his head in acknowledgment of the well-earned caress that smoothed -the warm supple skin on his swelling neck. - -The horse seemed a little puzzled too, looking round in vain for his -friends the hounds, as if he wondered why he had been brought thus -merrily over the moor, good fun as it was, without any further object -than the ride. - -In this matter there was little sympathy between man and horse. Sir -George was thinking neither of hounds, nor hawks, nor any other -accessories of the chase. He neither marked the secluded pool in which -he had set up the finest stag of the season at bay last month, nor the -ledge of rocks into which he ran his fox to ground last week. He was far -back in the past. He was a young Musketeer again, with neither rank, -nor wealth, nor broad acres, but with that limitless reversion of the -future which was worth all his possessions ten times told. Yet even thus -looking back to his earliest manhood, he could not shake himself free -from the memory of Cerise. Ever since he could remember, that gentle face -and those blue eyes had softened his waking thoughts and haunted him in -his dreams; there was no period in his life at which she had not been -the ideal of his imagination, the prize he desired. Even if he had not -married her, he thought with a groan, he would still be cursed with this -gnawing, festering pain that drove him out here into the wilderness for -the mere bodily relief of incessant action. If he had not married her! -Another thought stung him now. Perhaps then she might have continued -to love him. Were they all alike, these women? All vain, unstable, -irrational creatures; best acted on by the jugglery of false sentiment, -alive only to the unworthy influence of morbid pique or unbridled -passion, tempted to evil by an infamous notoriety, or dazzled by the -glare of an impossible romance? He asked himself these questions, and his -own observation afforded no satisfactory reply. - -He had lived much at the Court of France, when that Court, with all -its splendour and all its refinement, was little distinguished by -self-denial in man, or self-restraint in woman. Amongst those of his own -age and sphere, he was accustomed to hear conjugal fidelity spoken of -as a prejudice not only superfluous but unrefined and in bad taste. The -wife _as_ a wife was to be considered a proper object of pursuit, the -husband to be borne with as an encumbrance, but in right of his office -habitually to be derided, out-witted, and despised. That a woman should -care for the man to whom she had plighted her faith at the altar seemed -an absurdity not to be contemplated; that a man should continue to love -the girl he had chosen was a vulgarity to which no gentleman would -willingly plead guilty. Such were the morals of the stage, such was the -too common practice of real life. And George had laughed with the rest at -the superstition of matrimony, had held its sanctity in derision, perhaps -trifled with its vows _en mousquetaire_. - -And now was the punishment overtaking him at last? Was the foundation of -_his_ happiness, like that of others, laid in sand, and the whole edifice -crumbling to pieces in his very sight? It was hard, but he was a man, he -thought, and he must bear it as best he might. As for the possibility -that Cerise should actually love another, he dismissed such an idea -almost ere it was formed. That was not the grievance, he told Emerald -aloud, while he stood by the good horse on the solitary moor, it was that -Cerise should not love _him_! He could scarcely believe it, and yet he -could see she was unhappy, she for whose happiness he would sacrifice so -willingly wealth, influence, position, life itself, everything but his -honour. When he thought of the pale pining face, it seemed as if a knife -was driven into his heart. - -He sprang into his saddle, and once more urged his horse to a gallop. -Once more the brown heathery acres flew back beneath his eyes, but -Emerald began to think that all this velocity was a waste of power when -unaccompanied by the music of the hounds, and stopped of his own accord -to look for them within a bow-shot of the great north road where it led -past the “Hamilton Arms.” - -Ordinary people do not usually talk to themselves, but I believe every -man speaks aloud to his horse. - -“Quite right, old fellow!” said Sir George, as if he were addressing a -comrade. “I may as well stop and have a glass of beer, for I am as hot as -you are, and I dare say twice as thirsty.” - -Emerald acquiesced with a snort and a prolonged shake the moment his -rider’s foot touched the ground, and Sir George, filling the whole of the -narrow passage to the bar, bounced against Florian de St. Croix returning -from an interview with the Abbé on the first floor. Each must have been -thinking of the other, for both exclaimed mentally, “The very man!” while -at the same instant Slap-Jack, looking rather sheepish, and not in his -usual spirits, slunk out of another room and tried to leave unobserved. - -“Foretop, there!” hallooed Sir George, good-humouredly, “as you are -aloft, look smart and make yourself useful. See that lubber gives Emerald -a go-down of chilled water, and tows him about at a walk till I come out.” - -“Ay, ay, sir,” replied Slap-Jack, his whole face brightening up. He loved -to be so addressed by his old commander; and although he was to-day not -without his own troubles, or he would scarce have been here so early, he -set to work to obey instructions with a will. - -Florian accompanied the new arrival into the bar, where Mrs. Dodge, -all smiles and ribbons, drew for this honoured guest a measure of the -best with her own fat hands; while Alice, who looked as if she had been -crying, hovered about admiringly, watching Sir George quench his thirst -as if he had been some rare and beautiful animal she had paid her penny -to see. - -“Good stuff!” said the baronet, setting down his jug with a sigh. “Better -than _vin ordinaire_, or even three-water grog. Eh, Florian?” - -But Florian’s mind was bent on other matters. “You are always so -occupied,” said he, “that I can never catch you for half an hour alone. -Will you have your horse led home, and walk back the short way with me? -We had more leisure on board ‘The Bashful Maid,’ after all; especially in -the ‘Trades.’” - -Sir George assented cheerily. For the moment his gloomy thoughts fled at -the sound of the other’s voice. They were tried comrades in many a rough -adventure, and it takes a good deal to turn a man’s heart from an old -friend. - -“Of course I will,” he assented, putting his arm through Florian’s. “We -can cross the deer-park, and go over the footbridge above the waterfall. -It saves nearly half a mile. Slap-Jack,” he added, emerging from the -house, “take that horse home, under easy sail, d’ye mind? and see him -well dressed over when you get to the stable.” - -Then he and Florian strolled quietly away to cross the deer-park and -thread a certain picturesque dingle adorned by the above-mentioned -waterfall. It was the show bit of scenery at Hamilton Hill, and the track -leading to it was so precipitous as to be impassable by any four-footed -animal less nimble than a goat. - -It was Slap-Jack’s duty to conduct Emerald by an easier route to his -own stable; and for this purpose the adventurous seaman proceeded to -“get up the side,” as he called it, an ascent which he effected with -some difficulty, and so commenced his voyage with considerable prudence, -according to orders, “under easy sail.” - -But Emerald’s blood was up after his gallop. The seaman’s awkward seat -and unskilled hand on the rein irritated him considerably. He fretted, -he danced, he sidled, he snatched at his bridle, he tossed his head, he -showed symptoms of mutiny from the very beginning. - -“I knowed as we should make bad weather of it,” said Slap-Jack, relating -his adventure that evening in the servants’ hall, “when we come into open -sea. Steer he wouldn’t, and every time I righted him he broached-to, as -if he was going down stern foremost. So I lashed the helm amid-ships, and -held on by my eyelids to stand by for a capsize.” - -In truth the horse soon took the whole affair into his own management, -and after one or two long reaching plunges, that would have unseated -Slap-jack had he not held on manfully by the mane, started off at a -furious gallop, which brought him to his own stable-yard in about five -minutes from the time he left the inn door. - -Cerise, wandering pale and listless amongst her roses, heard the clatter -of hoofs entering at this unusual pace, and rushed to the stables -in some alarm. She was relieved to find that no serious casualty had -occurred, and that Slap-Jack, very much out of breath, with his legs -trembling and powerless from the unwonted exercise, was the only -sufferer. He gasped and panted sadly; but she gathered that he had been -ordered to bring the horse quietly home, at which she could not forbear -smiling, and that Sir George was going to walk back the short way. It was -a chance to be seized eagerly. She had been very low and dispirited all -the morning, wishing she had spoken out to him before he went, and now -here came another opportunity. Cerise was still young, and, to use the -graphic expression of her own country, “a woman to the very tips of her -fingers.” She ran upstairs, put on her prettiest hat, and changed her -breast-knots for fresh ribbons of newer gloss and a more becoming colour. -Then she fluttered out through her garden, and crossing the home-park -with a rising colour and a more elastic step, as the fresh air told upon -her animal spirits, reached one end of the wooden footbridge as the two -gentlemen arrived at the other. - -She had only expected _one_. It was a disappointment; more, it was an -embarrassment. She coloured violently, and looked, as she felt, both -agitated and put out. Sir George could not but observe her distress, and -again his heart ached with the dull, wearing, unacknowledged pain. - -He jumped to conclusions; a man under such an influence always does. It -seemed clear to him that his wife must have chosen this direction for -her walk in order to meet the Jesuit. He did not blame Florian, for the -priest had himself proposed they should return together, and could not, -therefore, have expected her. Stay! Was this a blind? He stole a glance -at him, and thought he seemed as much discomposed as her ladyship. All -that he could disentangle afterwards. In the meantime one thing alone -seemed clear. That Cerise, contrary to her usual habits, had come this -distance on foot to meet her lover, and had found—her husband! He laughed -to himself fiercely, with a grim savage humour, and felt as once or twice -formerly in a duel, when his adversary, taking unfair advantage, had been -foiled by his own act. Well, he would fight this battle at least with all -the skill of fence he knew; patiently, warily, scientifically, without -loss of temper or coolness, neglecting no precaution, overlooking no -mistake, and giving no quarter. - -He could not help thinking of his old comrade, Bras-de-Fer, as he -remembered him, one gloomy morning in Spain, stripped and in silk -stockings on the wet turf outside the lines, with the deadliest point -in three armies six inches from his throat, and how nothing but perfect -self-command and endurance had given his immoveable old comrade the -victory. His heart softened when he thought of those merry campaigning -days, but not to Lady Hamilton nor to the pale thoughtful Jesuit on the -other side. - -It was scarcely a pleasant walk home for any one of the three. Florian, -though he loved the very ground she trod on, was disconcerted at her -ladyship’s inopportune appearance just as he thought he was gaining -ground in his canvass, and had prepared the most telling arguments for -the conversion of his proselyte. Moreover, he had now passed the stage -at which he could converse freely with Cerise in company, and grudged -her society even to the man who had a right to it. Alone with her he had -plenty to say; but, without approaching forbidden topics, he had acquired -a habit of conversing on abstruse and speculative subjects, interesting -enough to two persons in the same vein of thought, but which strike even -these as exaggerated when submitted to the criticism of a third. Many a -pleasant and harmonious duet jangles painfully when played as a trio. -He was impatient now of any interference with Lady Hamilton’s opinions. -These he considered his own, in defiance of a thousand husbands; and so -strangely constituted is the human mind, he could presume to be jealous -even of the vague, shadowy, unsubstantial share in her mind that he -imagined he possessed. - -So he answered in monosyllables, and took nothing off the constraint -under which they all laboured. Sir George conversed in a cold formal -tone on indifferent matters, and was as unlike himself as possible. He -addressed his remarks alternately to Florian and Cerise, scanning the -countenance of each narrowly the while. This did not tend to improve -their good understanding; and Lady Hamilton, walking with head erect and -set face, looking straight before her, dared not trust herself to answer. -It was a relief when they reached the house, and most of all to her, for -she rushed upstairs and locked herself into her own room, where she could -be miserable to her heart’s content. - -It was hard for this fair young wife, good, loving, and true, to seek -that refuge, so cruelly wounded, twice in one day. - - - - -CHAPTER L - -CAPTAIN BOLD - - -I have mentioned that Slap-Jack, too, while he rode perforce so -rapidly homewards, was pursued by a black Care of his own, waiting for -a momentary halt to leap up behind. Even with a foretopman, though, -perhaps, no swain ought to have a better chance, the course of true love -does not always run smooth. There was a pebble now ruffling Slap-Jack’s -amatory stream, and that pebble was known at the “Hamilton Arms” as -Captain Bold. - -He might have had a score of other designations in a score of other -places; in fact, he was just the sort of gentleman whom one name would -suffice less than one shirt; but here, at least, he was welcomed, and, to -a certain extent, trusted under that title. - -Now Captain Bold, if he ever disguised himself for the many expeditions -in which he boasted to have been engaged, must have done considerable -violence to his feelings by suppressing the three peculiarities for -which he was most conspicuous, and in which he seemed to take the -greatest pride. These specialities were the Captain’s red nose, his -falsetto voice, and his bay mare. The first he warmed and comforted with -generous potations at all hours, for though not a deep, he was a frequent -drinker; the second, he exercised continually in warbling lyrics tending -to the subversion of morals—in shrieking out oaths denoting a fertile -imagination, with a cultivated talent for cursing—and in narrating -interminable stories over his cups, of which his own triumphs in love and -war formed the groundwork; the third—he was never tired of riding to and -fro over the moor, of going to visit in the stable, or of glorifying in -the tap-room for the edification of all comers, expatiating on her shape, -her qualities, her speed, her mettle, and her queer temper, amenable to -no authority but his own. - -The captain’s first acquaintance with Mrs. Dodge dated some two months -back, when he entered the hostelry one stormy evening, and swaggered -about the stable-yard and premises as if thoroughly familiar with -the place. This did not astonish the landlady, who, herself a late -arrival, concluded he was some old customer of her predecessor’s; but, -hazarding that natural supposition to an ancient ostler, who had been -at the “Hamilton Arms” from a boy, and never slept out of the stable -since he could remember, she was a little surprised to learn old Robin -had no recollection whatever of the captain, though he was perfectly -well acquainted with the mare. That remarkable animal had been fed and -dressed over by his own hands, he declared, only last winter, and was -then the property of a Quaker from the East Riding, a respectable-looking -gentleman as ever he clapped eyes on—warm, no doubt, for the mare was in -first-rate condition, and her master paid him from a purse full of broad -pieces—a _wet_ Quaker, old Robin thought, by reason of his smelling so -strong of brandy when he mounted before daylight in the morning. - -Mrs. Dodge, conversing with her guest of the wonderful mare, mentioned -her old servant’s reminiscences. - -“Right!” exclaimed the captain, with his accustomed flourish—“right as -my glove! or, I should say, my dear madam, right as your own bodice! A -Quaker—very true! A man about my own size, with a—well, a _prominent_ -nose. Pale, flaxen-haired; would have been a good-looking chap with a -little more colouring; and respectable—most respectable! Oh, yes! that’s -the Quaker I bought her of and a good bargain I made. We’ll drink the -Quaker’s health, if you please. A very good bargain!” - -And the captain laughed heartily, though Mrs. Dodge could not, for the -life of her, see the point of his jest. - -But, while she reprobated his profane conversation, and entertained no -very profound respect for his general character, the captain was yet a -welcome guest in Mrs. Dodge’s sanctum. His anecdotes were so lively—his -talk was so fluent—he took off his glass with so gallant a flourish to -her own and her niece’s health, paying them, at the same time, such -extravagant compliments of the newest town mode—that it was impossible to -damp this genial spirit with an austerity which must have been assumed, -or rebukes uttered by lips endeavouring to repress a smile. - -But with Alice it was not so; she held the captain in a natural -abhorrence, and shrank from him as people sometimes do from a toad or -other reptile, when she happened to meet him in passages, staircases, -or out-of-the-way corners, never permitting him to approach her unless -protected by the company of her aunt. - -Mrs. Dodge, however, would sometimes spend an hour and more in certain -household duties upstairs, leaving Alice to mind the bar during her -absence. The girl was singing over her needlework, according to custom, -thinking, in all probability, of Slap-Jack, when, much to her annoyance, -the captain’s red nose protruded itself over the half-door, followed, in -due course, by his laced coat, his jack-boots, and the rest of his gaudy, -tarnished, and somewhat dissipated person. - -Seeing Alice alone, he affected to start with pleasure, made a feint -of retiring, and then insinuated himself towards the fireplace, with a -theatrical gallantry that was to her, of all his airs and graces, the -most insupportable. - -“Divine Alice!” he exclaimed, flourishing his dirty hand, adorned with -rings, “alone in her bower, and singing over her sampler like a siren. -The jade Fortune owed honest Jack Bold this turn. Strike him blind if -she didn’t! He comes for a vulgar drain, and lo! a cordial—the elixir of -life—the rosy dew of innocence—the balmy breath of beauty!” - -“What d’ye lack, sir?” asked Alice, contemptuously ignoring this -rhodomontade, and stretching her pretty hand towards a shelf loaded with -divers preparations of alcohol well known to the visitor. - -“What I lacked, my sweetest,” said the unabashed captain, “when I entered -this bower of bliss and bastion of beauty, was a mere mortal’s morning -draught—a glass of strong waters, we will say, with a clove in it, or -perhaps a mouthful of burnt brandy, to keep out the raw moorland air. -What I lack now, since I have seen your lovely lips, seems to be the -chaste salute valour claims from beauty. We will take the brandy and -cloves afterwards!” - -So speaking, the captain moved a little round table out of his way, and, -taking off his cocked hat with a flourish, advanced the red nose and -forbidding face very close to Alice, as if to claim the desired salute. -In his operations, the skirt of his heavily laced coat brought work, -work-box, thimble, and all to the ground. - -Alice stooped to pick them up. When she rose again her colour was very -bright, possibly from the exertion, and she pointed once more to the -bottles. - -“Give your orders, sir,” said she, angrily, “and go! I am sure I never—I -never expected to be rude to a customer, but—there—it’s too bad—I won’t -stand it, I won’t—not if I go up to my aunt in her bedroom this very -minute!” - -Poor Alice was now dissolved in tears, but, true to her instincts, filled -the captain his glass of brandy all the same. - -The latter drank it slowly, relishing every drop, and, keeping his -person between Alice and the half-door, seemed to enjoy her confusion, -which, obviously, from the conceited satisfaction of his countenance, -he attributed to an unfortunate passion for himself. Suddenly her face -brightened, a well-known footstep hastened up the passage, and the next -moment Slap-Jack entered the bar. - -Alice dashed away her tears, the captain assumed an attitude of profound -indifference, and the new arrival looked from one to the other with a -darkening brow. - -“What, again?” said he, turning fiercely on the intruder, and approaching -very close, in that aggressive manner which is almost equivalent to a -blow. “I thought as I’d given _you_ warning already to let this here -young woman be. You think as you’re lying snug enough, may be, in smooth -water, with your name painted out and a honest burgee at your truck; but -I’ll larn you better afore I’ve done with you, if you comes cruising any -more in my fishing-ground. There’s some here as’ll make you show your -number, and we’ll soon see who’s captain then!” - -Honest Jack Bold, as he called himself, was not deficient in -self-command. Sipping his brandy with the utmost coolness, he turned to -Alice, and, motioning towards Slap-Jack, boiling over within six inches -of him, observed, in his high-quavering voice: - -“Favoured lover, I presume! Visits here, I hope, with our good aunt’s -sanction. Seems a domestic servant by his dress, though I gather, from -the coarseness of his language, he has served before the mast!—a sad -come-down, sweet Alice! for a girl with your advantages. These seaman, I -fancy, are all given to liquor. Offer your bachelor something to drink, -and score it, if you please, to my account. A sad come-down!—a sad -come-down! Why burn me, Mistress Alice, with your good looks, you might -almost have married a gentleman—you might, indeed! Sink me to the lowest -depths of matrimonial perdition, if you might not!” - -Slap-Jack could have stood a good deal, but to be offered a dram by a -rival in this off-hand way, through the medium of his own sweetheart, -was more than flesh and blood could swallow. In defiance of Alice’s -entreaties, who was horribly frightened at the prospect of a quarrel, and -as pale now as she had been flushed a few minutes back, he shook a broad -serviceable fist in the captain’s face, and burst out— - -“A gentleman! you swab! What do _you_ know about gentlemen? All the -sort as _you’ve_ seen is them that hangs at Tyburn; and look, if you’re -not rove up there yourself some fine morning, my saucy blade, with your -night-cap over your ears, and a bunch of rue in your hand. Gentlemen -indeed! Now look you here, Captain John Bold, or whatever other _alias_ -your papers may show when they’re overhauled, if ever I catches of you -in here alone, a parsecutin’ of my Alice, or even hears o’ your so much -as standing’ off-and-on, a watchin’ for her clearin’ out, or on the open -moor, or homeward bound, or what not, I’ll smash that great red nose -of yours as flat as a Port-Royal jelly-fish, you ugly, brandy-faced, -bottle-nosed, lop-sided son of a gun!” - -The captain had borne with considerable equanimity his adversary’s -quarrelsome gestures and threats of actual violence, keeping very near -the door, corporeally, indeed, and entrenching himself morally, as it -were, in the dignity of his superior position, but at these allusions to -his personal appearance he lost all self-control. His face grew livid, -his very nose turned pale, his eyes blazed, and his hand stole to the -short cutlass or hanger he carried at his side. Something in Slap-Jack’s -face, whose glance followed the movement of his fingers, checked any -resort to this weapon, and even in his fury, the captain had the presence -of mind to place himself outside the half-door of the bar; but when there -he caught hold of it with both hands, for he was trembling all over, and -burst forth— - -“You think the sun is on _your_ side of the hedge, my fine fellow, I -dare say, but you’ll know better before a week’s out. Ay, you may laugh, -but you’ll laugh the other side of your mouth when the right end is -uppermost, as uppermost it will be, and I take you out on the terrace -with a handkerchief over your eyes, and a file of honest fellows, with -carbines loaded, who are in my pay even now. Ay, you’ll sing small then, -I think, for all your blare and bluster to-day. You’ll sing small, d’ye -hear? on the wet grass under the windows at Hamilton Hill, and your -master’ll sing small with his feet tied under his horse’s belly, riding -down the north road and on his way to Tyburn, under a warrant from King -Ja― Well, a warrant from the king; and that Frenchified jade, your -missus’ll sing small―” - -But here the captain sprang to the door, at which his mare was standing -ready, leaped to the saddle, and rode off at a gallop, cursing his tongue -the while, which, in his exasperation, he had suffered to get so entirely -the better of his discretion. - -It was high time; Slap-Jack, infuriated at the allusion to his lady, had -broken from the gentle grasp of Alice, and in another moment would have -been upon him. He even followed the mare for a few paces and shook his -fist at the retreating figure fleeting away over the moor like the wind; -then he returned to his sweetheart, and drowned his wrath in a flagon of -sound ale drawn by her sympathising hands. - -He soon ceased to think of his opponent’s threats, for when the -excitement of action was over, the seaman bore no malice and nursed no -apprehensions; but Alice, who, like many silent, quiet women, was of a -shrewd and reflective turn of mind, pondered them deeply in her heart. -She seemed to see the shadow of some great danger threatening her lover -and the family whose bread he ate. - - - - -CHAPTER LI - -SIR MARMADUKE - - -A woman’s wits are usually quick to detect intrigue, and are sharpened -all the more keenly when she suspects danger to the one she loves. - -The threats Captain Bold had been so indiscreet as to utter afforded an -explanation of much that had hitherto puzzled Alice in the habits and -demeanour of her aunt’s guests. It seemed clear enough now, that the -shrewd, dark-clothed gentleman upstairs, and his friend from the Hill, -were involved in a treasonable plot, of which her abhorred suitor with -the bay mare was a paid instrument. From the hints dropped by the last, -it looked that some signal vengeance was contemplated against Sir George -Hamilton, and worse still, against her own beloved Slap-Jack. Alice was -not the girl to sit still with folded hands and bemoan herself in such -a predicament. Her first impulse was at once to follow Sir George home -and warn him of all she knew, all she suspected; but reflecting how -little there was of the former, and how much of the latter; remembering, -moreover, that one chief conspirator was his fast friend, and then in his -company, she hesitated to oppose her own bare word against the latter’s -influence, and resolved to strike boldly across the moor till she saw -the chimneys of Brentwood, and tell her tale to Sir Marmaduke Umpleby, a -justice of the peace, therefore, in all probability, a loyal subject of -King George. - -It was a long walk for a girl accustomed to the needlework and -dish-scouring of an indoor life, but Alice’s legs had been stretched and -her lungs exercised on the south-country downs, till she could trip over -a Yorkshire moor as lightly and as gracefully, if not so swiftly, as -a hind. Leaving word, then, for her aunt, that she should not be back -till after dark, she put on her best shoe-buckles, her lace pinners, her -smartest hat, and tucking her red stuff gown through its pocket-holes, -started boldly on her mission in the teeth of an east wind. - -Brentwood was a snug-looking long grey house, lying low amongst tall -trees in a little green nook of the moor, sheltered by brown swelling -undulations that rose all round. A straight road, rough in some places, -swampy in others, and execrable in all, led up to the door, between -two dilapidated stone walls coped with turf. There was no pretence of -porch or other abutment, as in newer residences, nor were there curves -round clumps of plantation, sweeps to coast flower-beds, nor any such -compromise from a direct line in the approach to the house. The inmates -of Brentwood might see their visitors for a perspective of half a mile -from the front windows, and at these windows would take up their position -from dawn till dark. - -Dame Umpleby and her five daughters were at their usual station when -Alice appeared in sight. These young ladies, of whom the eldest seemed -barely fifteen, were being educated under their mother’s eye, that is -to say, they were writing out recipes, mending house-linen, reading the -“Pilgrim’s Progress,” and working samplers, according to their several -ages. They had a spinet also, somewhat out of repair, on which the elder -girls occasionally practised, but father would not stand this infliction -within ear-shot, and father was now enjoying his after-dinner slumbers in -their common sitting-room. - -Sir Marmaduke did not appear to advantage in the attitude he had chosen. -His wig was off, and hung stately on its own account over a high-backed -chair. His round smooth head was discoloured in patches like the shield -of a tortoise, his heavy features looked the heavier that they were -somewhat swollen after eating, the lower jaw had dropped comfortably to -its rest, and his whole frame was sunk in an attitude of complete and -ungainly repose. - -A half-smoked pipe had dropped from his relaxed fingers to the floor, and -a remnant of brown ale stood at his elbow in a plain silver tankard on -the table. - -The apartment was their usual family parlour, as it was then called, and -therefore plainly, not to say meanly, furnished. Sir Marmaduke being a -gentleman of ancient blood and considerable possessions, owned flocks and -herds in plenty, fertile corn land under the plough, miles of pasturage -over the hill. He kept good horses in his stable, fleet greyhounds in -his kennel, and a cast of hawks in his mews, only surpassed by those -of Sir George Hamilton; but he could not afford, he said, to waste his -substance on “Frenchified luxuries,” and this opprobrious term seemed to -comprise all such vanities as carpets, curtains, couches, pictures, and -ornaments of every description. For indoors, he argued, why, he didn’t -frequent that side of the house much himself, and what had been good -enough for his mother must be good enough for his wife and the girls. -When hard pressed, as be sure he was by these on the score of certain -damask hanging and gorgeous carpets at Hamilton Hill, he would reply that -Lady Hamilton was the sweetest woman in Europe, whereat his audience -dissented, but that extravagance was her crying fault, only excusable on -the ground of her foreign birth and education, and it couldn’t go on. It -could _not_ go on! He should live to see his neighbour ruined, and sold -up, but he should be sorry for it, prodigiously sorry! for Hamilton was a -good fellow, very strong in the saddle, and took his bottle like a man! - -He had spoken to the same effect just before he dropped asleep, and Dame -Umpleby with her daughters had continued the subject in whispers till it -died out of itself just as the far-off figure of Alice, coming direct to -the house, afforded fresh food for conversation. - -Margery being the youngest, saw the arrival some half-second before her -sisters, and for one rapturous moment believed her dearest visions were -realised, and little Red Riding Hood was coming to pay them a visit -in person; but this young woman being about five years of age, and of -imaginative temperament, was already accustomed to disillusions, and -felt, therefore, more disgusted than surprised when her eldest sister -Janet suggested the less startling supposition that it was Goody Round’s -grand-daughter on an errand for red salve and flannel, offering, at the -same time, to procure those palliatives in person from the store-room. -Janet, like most elder girls in a large family, was as steady as a -matron, taking charge of the rest with the care of an aunt, and the -authority of a governess. But the mother’s sight was sharper than her -children’s. “Bessie Round’s not half the height of that girl,” said she, -rising for a better look. “See how she skims across the stepping-stones -at the ford! She’s in a hurry, whoever she is! But that is no reason, -Margery, why you shouldn’t learn your spelling, nor that I should have to -unpick the last half-dozen stitches in Marian’s sampler. Hush! my dears, -I pray you! Less noise, or you will wake father.” - -Pending this discussion, Alice, whose pace was at least twice as good -as Bessie Round’s, had reached the house. She looked very pretty, all -flushed and tumbled out of the moorland breezes, and Dame Umpleby’s -heart reproached her for the hundredth time that she had allowed her -husband to establish as a rule the administration of justice in his own -room, unhampered by her presence. He had once in their early married -life admitted her assistance to his judicial labours, but such confusion -resulted from this indulgence that the experiment was never repeated. - -Though Sir Marmaduke had been married a score of years, and was the model -of a steady-going, middle-aged gentleman, such is the self-tormenting -tendency of the female mind that his wife could not mark without certain -painful twinges, the good looks of this visitor waiting at the hall-door, -lest her errand should prove as usual—“A young woman, if you please, -wants to see Sir Marmaduke on justice business!” - -Such twinges are generally prophetic. Long before Margery and Marian had -settled a disputed point as to the identity of the wolf and little Red -Riding Hood’s grandmother in the story-book, a plethoric serving-man, who -had obviously been employing his leisure in the kitchen, like his master -in the parlour, entered with a red shining face, and announced Alice’s -arrival in the very words his mistress knew so well. - -Sir Marmaduke woke up with a start, rubbed his eyes, his nose, the whole -of his bald head, and replied as usual— - -“Directly, Jacob, directly. Offer the young woman a horn of small ale, -and show her into the justice-room.” - -It was a tradition at Brentwood that no visitor, however humble, should -walk six steps within the threshold dry-lipped, and old Jacob, who loved -a gossip only less than a drink, was exceedingly careful not to break -through this hospitable practice. - -Sir Marmaduke, blinking like an old owl in the daylight, adjusted his -wig, shook himself to rights, and, ignoring his wife’s uneasiness, -wandered off scarce half-awake, to receive the new arrival in the -justice-room. - -There were few eavesdroppers at Brentwood, least of all at that hour of -the day. A general stagnation habitually pervaded the establishment from -dinner-time till dusk. The men slumbered over the fire in the hall, the -women, at least the elder ones, crossed their arms under their aprons, -and dozed in the kitchen; the younger maids stole out to meet their -bachelors in the wood-house of the cattle-sheds. Even Rupert, the old -mastiff, retired to his kennel, and unless the provocation was of an -extraordinary nature, refused to open more than one eye at a time, so -that fear was uncalled-for, which Alice obviously entertained, lest her -communication to Sir Marmaduke should be overheard. - -The latter concluding it was the usual grievance, cast a hasty glance -at the girl as he passed on to the leathern arm-chair that formed his -throne, but seating himself thereon, and obtaining a full view of her -face, gave a start of recognition, and exclaimed in surprise— - -“Why, it’s Mistress Alice! Take a chair, Mistress Alice, and believe me, -you’re welcome. Heartily welcome, however tangled be the skein you’ve -brought me to unravel.” - -Pretty Alice of the “Hamilton Arms” was as well known as the sign of that -hostelry itself to every hard-riding, beer-drinking, cattle-jobbing, -country gentleman within fifty miles. Sir Marmaduke often said, and -sometimes swore, that “he didn’t care how they bred ’em in London and -thereabouts, but to _his_ mind Alice was the likeliest girl he saw north -o’ Trent, be t’other who she might!” - -The object of his admiration, standing very near the door, hoped “Lady -Umpleby and the young ladies were well,” a benevolent wish it seemed she -had walked all this distance to express, for she immediately broke down, -and began to adjust plaits in the hem of her pinners with extreme nicety. - -Sir Marmaduke, marking her confusion, suspected it _must_ be the old -business after all. - -“Take a seat, my dear,” repeated he paternally. “Don’t ye be frightened; -nobody will hear ye here. Take your own time, and tell your own story.” - -Thus adjured, Alice still close to the door, looked anxiously round, and -whispered— - -“Oh! Sir Marmaduke, are you quite sure nobody can hear us?” - -The justice smiled, and pulled his wig straight. It was evident she -had something very secret to confide. He was glad she had come to him -at once, and what a pretty girl she was! Of course, he would stand her -friend. He told her so. - -“Oh! Sir Marmaduke,” said Alice, “it’s something dreadful. It’s something -I’ve found out. I know I shall get killed by some of them! It’s a plot, -Sir Marmaduke! That’s what it is. There!” - -The justice started. His brow clouded, and his very wig seemed to -come awry. He was a stout-hearted gentleman enough, and feared danger -certainly less than trouble. But a plot! Ever since he could remember in -his own and his father’s time, the word had been synonymous with arrests, -imprisonments, authorised oppression, packed juries, commissions of -inquiry, false witness, hard swearing, and endless trouble to justices of -the peace. - -It was, perhaps, the one thing of all others that he most dreaded, so his -first impulse was, of course, to ignore the whole matter. - -“Plot! My dear. Pooh! Nonsense! What do you know of plots, except a plot -to get married, you little jade? Hey? Plot! There’s no such thing in -these days. We smothered the whole brood, eggs and all, in Fifteen. We’ll -give you a drop of burnt sherry, and send you home behind Ralph on a -pillion. Don’t ye trouble your pretty head about plots, my dear. If you’d -seen as many as I have, you’d never wish for another.” - -Alice thought of Slap-Jack, and collected her ideas. “I’m sure,” said -she, “I wouldn’t have taken the liberty of coming to trouble your -honour, but I thought as you would like to know, Sir Marmaduke, being as -it concerns Sir George Hamilton, who’s aunt’s landlord, you know, Sir -Marmaduke, and his sweet lady; and if they were to come for to be taken -and carried to London town with their feet tied under their horses’ -bellies, Sir Marmaduke, why whatever would become of us all?” - -The picture that Alice conjured up was too much for her, and she dried -her tears on her apron. - -Sir Marmaduke opened his eyes wider than he had done since he closed -them for his afternoon nap. “Sir George Hamilton!” he repeated, in great -astonishment; “how can he be implicated? What d’ye mean, my dear? Dry -your eyes, there’s a good girl, and tell your story from the beginning.” - -She had recovered her composure now, and made her statement lucidly and -without reserve. She detailed the whole circumstances of her lover’s -dispute with Captain Bold, and the latter’s threats, from which she -gathered, reasonably enough, that another Jacobite rising was imminent, -in which their party were to be successful, whereby the loyal subjects of -King George, including the Hamiltons, Slap-Jack, her aunt, and herself, -were to be ruined, and utterly put to confusion. She urged Sir Marmaduke -to lay his hands at once on the conspirators within reach. Three of them, -she said, would be together at the “Hamilton Arms” that very evening. -She did not suppose two of the gentlemen would make much resistance, as -they seemed to be priests; and fighting, she thought, could not be their -trade; while as for the red-nosed captain, with his bay mare, though he -talked very big, and said he had served in every country in Europe, why, -she would not be afraid to promise that cook and herself could do his -business, for that matter, with a couple of brooms and a slop-pail. - -Sir Marmaduke laughed, but he was listening very attentively now, -altogether changed from the self-indulgent slumberer of half an hour ago. -As she continued her story his interest became more and more excited, -the expression of his face cleared from lazy indifference into shrewd, -penetrating common sense, and denoted the importance he attached to her -communication, of which not a word escaped him. - -At the mention of the red-nosed captain with his bay mare, he interrupted -her, dived into a table-drawer, from which he produced a note-book, and -referred to an entry amongst its red-lined pages. - -“Stop a moment, Mistress Alice,” said he, turning over the leaves. “Here -it is. Bay mare, fast, well-bred, kicks in the stable, white hind-foot, -star, and snip on muzzle. Owner, middle height, speaks in a shrill voice, -long nose, pale face, and flaxen hair in a club.” - -Alice’s eyes kindled with the first part of this description, but she -seemed disappointed when he reached the end. - -“That’s not our captain, Sir Marmaduke,” said she. “Our captain’s got -a squeaky voice, sure enough; but his hair is jet-black, and his face, -especially his nose, as red, ay, red as my petticoat. It’s the moral -of the mare, to be sure, and a wicked beast she is,” added Alice, -reflectively. - -Sir Marmaduke pondered. “Is your captain, as you call him, a good-looking -man?” said he, slyly. - -Alice was indignant. “As ugly as sin!” she exclaimed. “Bloodshot eyes, -scowling eyebrows, and a seam down one cheek that reaches to his -chin. No, Sir Marmaduke, to do him justice, he’s a very hard-featured -gentleman, is the captain.” - -Sir Marmaduke, keeping his finger between the leaves of his note-book, -referred once more to the entry. - -“Tastes differ, Mistress Alice,” said he, good-humouredly. “I think I -can recognise the gentleman, though I’ve got him described here, and by -one of your sex too, as ‘exceedingly handsome-featured, of commanding -presence, with an air of the highest fashion.’ Never mind. I knew he -was somewhere this side of the Border, but did not guess he was such a -near neighbour. If it’s any satisfaction, I don’t mind telling you, my -dear, he’s likely enough to be in York gaol before the month’s out. In -the meantime, don’t you let anybody know you’ve seen me, and keep your -captain, if you possibly can, at the ‘Hamilton Arms’ till I want him.” - -Alice curtsied demurely. She had caught the excitement inseparable from -everything that resembles a pursuit by this time, and had so thoroughly -entered into the spirit of the game, that she felt she could let the -captain make love to her for an hour at a stretch, red nose and all, -rather than he should escape out of their clutches. - -“And the other gentleman?” she asked, glancing at the note-book, as if -she thought they too might be inscribed on its well-filled pages. “Him -that sits upstairs writing all day, and him that lives up with Sir George -at the Hill, and only comes down our way about dusk. There can’t be much -harm about that one, Sir Marmaduke, I think. Such a pale, thin, quiet -young gentleman, and for all he seems so unhappy, as meek as a mouse.” - -“Let the other gentlemen alone, Alice,” answered the justice. “You’re a -good girl, and a pretty one, and you showed your sense in coming over -here at once without saying a word to anybody. Now, you’ll take my -advice, my dear; I am sure you will. Get home before it’s dark. I’d send -you with Ralph and old Dapple, but that it would make a talk. Never mind, -you’ve a good pair of legs, I know; so make all the use you can of them. -I don’t like such a blooming lass to be tramping about these wild moors -of ours after nightfall. Tell your aunt to brew you a posset the moment -you get home. If she asks any questions, say I told you to come up here -about renewing the license. Above all, don’t tattle. Keep silence for a -week, only a week, and I’ll give you leave after that to chatter till -your tongue aches. And now, Alice, you’re a sensible girl, I believe, and -not easily frightened. Listen to what these two priests say. Hide behind -the window-curtain, under the bed, anywhere, only find out for certain -what they’re at, and come again to me.” - -“But they speak French,” objected Alice, whereat her listener’s face -fell, though he smiled well-pleased when she added, modestly; “not but -what I know enough to understand them, if I don’t have to answer.” - -“Quite right, quite right, my dear,” assented the justice; “you’re a -clever girl enough. Mind you show your cleverness by keeping your tongue -between your teeth. And now it’s high time you were off. Remember what -I’ve told you. Mum’s the word, my dear; and fare ye well.” - -So the justice, opening the door for Alice with all courtesy, imprinted -such a kiss upon her blooming face, as middle-aged gentlemen of those -days distributed liberally without scandal, a kiss that, given in all -honour and kindliness, left the maiden’s cheek no rosier than before. - -Then, as soon as the door was shut, Sir Marmaduke pulled his wig off, and -began pacing his chamber to and fro, as was his custom when in unusual -perplexity. - -“A plot,” he reflected; “no doubt of it. Another veritable Jacobite plot, -to disturb private comfort and public credit; to make every honest man -suspect his neighbour, and to set the whole country by the ears.” - -Though he had wisely concealed from Alice the importance he really -attached to her information, he could not but admit her story was very -like many another that had previously warned him of these risings, in one -of which, long ago, he had himself been concerned on the other side. His -sympathies even to-day were not enthusiastically with his duty. That duty -doubtless was, to warn the executive at once. - -He wished heartily that he knew which of his friends and neighbours was -concerned in the business. It would be terrible if some of his intimates -(by no means an unlikely supposition) were at its head. He thought it -extremely probable that Sir George Hamilton was only named as a victim -for a blind, and had really accepted a prominent part in the rising. -Could he not give him a hint he was suspected, in time to get out of the -way? Sir Marmaduke was not very bitter against the Jacobites; and perhaps -it occurred to him, moreover, that if they should get the upper hand, -it would be well to have such an advocate as Sir George on the winning -side. He might tell him what he had heard, under pretence of asking his -assistance and advice. - -At all events he thought he had shut Alice’s mouth for the present, by -setting her to watch the conspirators closely in her aunt’s house. “If -she finds _them_ out,” said Sir Marmaduke, rubbing his bald head, “I -shall have timely notice of their doings, and if they find _her_ out, -why, they will probably change the scene of operation with all haste, and -I shall have got an exceedingly awkward job off my hands.” - - - - -CHAPTER LII - -THE BOWL ON THE BIAS - - -It was Sir Marmaduke’s maxim, as he boasted it had been his father’s and -grandfather’s, to sleep on a resolution before putting it in practice. -He secured, therefore, a good night’s rest and a substantial breakfast -ere he mounted his best horse to wait upon his neighbour at Hamilton -Hill, ordering the grey to be saddled, because Sir George had sometimes -expressed his approval of that animal. The lord of Brentwood was -sufficiently a Yorkshireman to seize the opportunity of “a deal,” even -while more important matters were under consideration. - -“He was getting on,” he meant to tell Sir George. “His nerve was -beginning to fail. The grey was as good as gold, but _a little too much -of a horse_ for him now. He was scarce able to do the animal justice like -a younger man.” - -And as this suggestion could not but be flattering to the _younger man_, -he thought it not improbable his friend might be tempted to purchase on -the spot. - -So he rode the horse quietly and carefully, avoiding the high road, which -would have taken him past the “Hamilton Arms,” and, threading a labyrinth -of bridleways through the moor, very easy to find for those who were -familiar with them, but exceedingly puzzling to those who were not. - -The grey looked fresh and sleek, as if just out of the stable, when Sir -Marmaduke rode into the courtyard at Hamilton Hill, whence he was ushered -by Slap-Jack, who had a great respect for him as a “True Blue, without -any gammon,” to the terrace where Sir George, her ladyship, and Monsieur -de St. Croix were engaged in a game of bowls. - -Sir Marmaduke followed boldly, although, finding he had to confront Lady -Hamilton, he was at some pains to adjust his neckcloth and tie-wig, -wishing, at the same time, he had got on his flowing “Steinkirk” cravat -and a certain scarlet waistcoat with gold-lace, now under repair. - -The game was proceeding with much noise and hilarity, especially from -Sir George. Florian, an adept at every pastime demanding bodily skill, -had already acquired a proficiency not inferior to his host’s, who was -no mean performer. They were a capital match, particularly without -lookers-on; but the baronet remarked, with prim inward sarcasm, that he -could generally beat his adversary in the presence of Cerise. The very -sound of Lady Hamilton’s voice seemed to take Florian’s attention off the -game. - -She was watching the players now with affected interest—smiling -encouragement to her husband with every successful rub—bringing all her -artless charms to bear on the man whom she had resolved to win back if -she could. She was very humble to-day, but no less determined to make a -desperate struggle for her lost dominion, feeling how precious it was -now, and that her heart would break if it was really gone for ever. - -And Sir George saw everything through the distorted glass of his own -misgivings. - -“All these caressing ways—all these smiles and glances,” thought -he, bitterly, “only prove her the most fickle of women, or the most -hypocritical of wives!” - -He could not but acknowledge their power, and hated himself for the -weakness. He could not prevent their thrilling to his heart, but he -steeled it against her all the more. The better he loved her, the deeper -was her treachery, the blacker was her crime. There should be no haste, -no prejudice, no violence, and—no forgiveness! - -All the while he poised his bowl with a frank brow and a loud laugh. He -sipped from a tankard on the rustic table with a good-humoured jest. With -a success which surprised him, and for which he hated himself while he -admired, he acted the part of a confiding, indulgent husband towards -Cerise—of a hearty, unsuspicious friend towards St. Croix. - -And the latter was miserable, utterly and confessedly miserable! Every -caress lavished on her husband by the wife, was a shaft that pierced -him to the marrow. Every kind word addressed by the latter to himself, -steeped that shaft in venom, and sent the evil curdling through his blood. - -“Penance,” he murmured inwardly. “They talk of penance—of punishment for -sin—of purgatory—of hell! Why, _this_ is hell! I am in hell already!” - -The arrival of Sir Marmaduke, therefore, with his broad brown face, his -old-fashioned dress, and his ungainly manners, was felt as a relief to -the whole party; and, probably, not one of them separately would have -given him half so gratifying a reception as was now accorded him by all -three. - -Nevertheless, his greeting to Lady Hamilton was so ludicrous in its -ceremonious awkwardness, that she could scarcely repress a laugh. -Catching Florian’s eye, she did, indeed, indulge in a smile, which she -hoped might be unobserved. So it was by Sir Marmaduke, whose faculties -were completely absorbed in his bow; but her husband noted the glance of -intelligence exchanged, and scored it up as an additional proof against -the pair. - -“Good-morrow, Sir George,” continued the new arrival, completing his -salutations, as he flattered himself, in the newest mode; “and to you -sir,” he added, turning rather sternly upon Florian, whom he was even -then mentally committing, under a magistrate’s warrant, to take his trial -for high treason. “I made shift to ride over thus early in order to be -sure of finding my host before he went abroad. Harbouring our stag, as we -say, my lady, before he rouses; for if I had come across his blemish in -the rack as I rode up the park, it would have been a disappointment to -myself, and a disgrace to my reputation as a woodsman.” - -Cerise did not in the least understand, but she bowed her pretty head and -answered— - -“Yes, of course—clearly—so it would.” - -[Illustration: “THE ARRIVAL OF SIR MARMADUKE WAS A RELIEF.” - -(_Page 460._)] - -“Therefore,” continued Sir Marmaduke, somewhat inconsequently, for the -sweet foreign accent rang in his ears and heated his brain, as if he had -been a younger man. “Therefore St. George, I thought you might like to -have another look at Grey Plover before I send him to Catterick fair. He -stands ready saddled at this present speaking in your own stable, and if -you would condescend to mount and try his paces in the park, I think you -must allow that you have seldom ridden a more gallant goer.” - -Sir Marmaduke was pleased with his own diplomacy. Casting his eyes on -her ladyship’s pretty feet, he had quite satisfied himself she was -too lightly shod to accompany her husband through the most luxuriant -herbage of the park. The priest, too, being a Frenchman, would be safe -to know little, and care less, about a horse. He could thus secure an -uninterrupted interview with his friend, and might, possibly, make an -advantageous sale into the bargain. - -“Oh, go with him, George!” exclaimed Cerise, thinking to please her -husband, who was, as she knew, still boy enough dearly to love a gallop. -“Go with him, and ride round by the end of the garden into the park. We -can watch you from here. I do so like to see you on horseback!” - -He laughed and assented, leaving her again alone with Florian. Always -alone with Florian! He ground a curse between his teeth, as he strode -off to the stable, and, trying Grey Plover’s speed over the undulating -surface of the home-park, took that animal in a grasp of iron that made -it exert its utmost powers, in sheer astonishment. - -Sir Marmaduke scanning from underneath a clump of trees, thought he had -never seen his horse go so fast. - -Once round the home-park—once across the lower end at speed—a leap -over a ditch and bank—a breather up the hill—and Sir George trotted -Grey Plover back to his owner, in an easy, self-satisfied manner that -denoted the horse was sold. Never once had he turned his head towards -the terrace where Cerise stood watching. She knew it as well as he did, -but made excuses for him to herself. He was so fond of horses—he rode -so beautifully—nobody could ride so well unless his whole attention was -fixed on his employment. But she sighed nevertheless, and Florian, at her -side, heard the sigh, and echoed it in his heart. - -“Fifty broad pieces,” said Sir George, drawing up to the owner’s side, -and sliding lightly to the ground. - -“He’s worth more than that,” answered the other, loosening the horse’s -girths and turning his distended nostrils to the wind. “But we’ll talk -about the price afterwards. We are not likely to differ on that point. -You never rode behind such shoulders, Sir George; and did you remark how -he breasted the hill? Like a lion, Ah! If I was twenty years younger, or -even ten! But it’s no matter for that. I want your advice, Sir George. -You carry a grey lining, as we say, to a green doublet. Give me the -benefit. There’s something brewing here between your house and mine that -will come to hell-broth anon, if we take not some order with it in the -meantime!” - -The other turned his back resolutely on the terrace where his wife was -standing, and shot a penetrating glance at the speaker. - -“Let it brew!” said he. “If it’s hot from the devil’s caldron, I think -you and I can make shift to drink it out between us.” - -Sir Marmaduke laughed. - -“I don’t like the smell of it,” he answered, “not to speak of the taste. -Seriously, my friend, I’ve lit on a nest of Jacobites, here, on your own -property, at the ‘Hamilton Arms’! They’ve got another of their cursed -plots hatching in the chimney-corner, about fit to chip the shell by now. -There’s a couple of priests in it, of course; a lad, I know well enough, -with a good bay mare, that has saved his neck in more ways than one, for -a twelvemonth past. He’s only put to the dirty work, you may be sure, and -I can guess, though on this point I have no certain information, there -are two or three more honest gentlemen, friends of yours and mine, whom -I had rather meet at Otterdale Head with the hounds than see badgered by -an attorney-general at the Exchequer Bar or the Old Bailey, with as many -witnesses arrayed against them, at half a guinea an oath, as would swear -away the nine lives of a cat! A murrain of their plots! say I; there’s -neither pleasure nor profit in ’em, try ’em which side you will, and I’ve -had _my_ experience o’ both!” - -Sir George’s brow went down, and his lips closed. In his frank, manly -face came the pitiless expression of a duellist who spies the weakness of -his adversary’s sword, and braces his muscles to dash in. He had got the -Jesuit, he told himself, “on the hip”! - -It was all over with the scheme, he felt. Ere such intelligence could -have reached his thick-witted neighbour, he argued, it must be known in -other, and more dangerous quarters. If he had ever suffered the promised -earldom to dazzle him for an instant, his eyes were opened now; that -bit of parchment was but a patent for the gallows. He could hang the -tempter who had offered it him, within a week! At this reflection the -whole current of his passions turned—the man’s nature was of the true -conquering type—stern, fierce, almost savage, while confronted with his -adversary; generous, forbearing, even tender, when the foe was at his -feet. - -The noblest instincts of chivalry were at work within his bosom; they -found expression in the simple energy with which he inwardly ejaculated, -“No! D―n it! I’ll fight fair!” - -“My advice,” said he, quietly, “is easily followed. Do nothing in a -hurry—this country is not like France; these cancers often die out of -themselves, because the whole body is healthy and full of life, but, for -that very reason, if you eradicate them with the knife, your loss of -blood, is more injurious than the sore itself. Get all the information -you can, Sir Marmaduke, and when the time arrives, act with your usual -vigour and good sense. Come! Fifty pieces for the grey horse? my man -shall fetch him from Brentwood to-morrow.” - -Sir Marmaduke was well pleased. He flattered himself that he had -fulfilled his delicate mission with extraordinary dexterity, and sold -Grey Plover very fairly, besides. His friends were warned now, and if -they chose to persist in thrusting their heads through a halter, why he -could do no more. He was satisfied Sir George had taken the hint he meant -to offer. Very likely the conspiracy would come to nothing after all, -but, at any rate, it was time to hang Captain Bold. He must see about -it that afternoon, so he would take his leave at once, and return to -Brentwood by the way he came. - -Conscious of the disadvantage under which he laboured for want of the red -waistcoat, Sir Marmaduke sturdily refused his host’s hospitable offer -of refreshment, and was steering Grey Plover through the oaks at the end -of the avenue by the time George had rejoined his wife and Florian on -the terrace. Walking back, the latter smiled and shook his head. He was -thinking, perhaps, how his neighbour’s loyalty was leavened with a strong -disinclination to exertion, and no little indulgence for those whose -political opinions differed from his own. - -But the smile clouded over as he approached the terrace. Together -again—always together! and in such earnest conversation. He could see his -wife’s white hands waving with the pretty trick of gesticulation he loved -so dearly. What could they have to say? what could _she_ have to say that -demanded so much energy? If he might only have heard. She was talking -about himself; praising his horsemanship, his strength, his courage, -his manly character, in the fond, deprecatory way that a woman affects -when speaking of the man she loves. Every word the sweet lips uttered -made Florian wince and quiver, yet her husband, striding heavily up the -terrace-steps, almost wished that he could change places with the Jesuit -priest. - -The latter left her side when Sir George approached; and Cerise, who was -conscious of something in her husband’s manner that wounded her feelings -and jarred upon her pride, assumed a colder air and a reserved bearing, -not the least natural to her character, but of late becoming habitual. -Everything conspired to increase the distance between two hearts that -ought to have been knit together by bonds no misunderstanding nor want of -confidence should ever have been able to divide. - -Sir George, watching his wife closely, addressed himself to Florian— - -“Bad news!” said he, whereat she started and changed colour. “But not -so bad as it might have been. The hounds are on the scent, my friend. I -told you I expected it long ago, and if the fox breaks cover now, as Sir -Marmaduke would say, they will run into him as sure as fate. Halloa, man! -what ails you? You never used to hoist the white ensign thus, when we -cleared for action!” - -The Jesuit’s discomposure was so obvious as to justify his host’s -astonishment. Florian felt, indeed, like a man who, having known an -earthquake was coming, and wilfully kept it out of his mind, sees the -earth at last sliding from beneath his feet. His face grew livid, and the -drops stood on his brow. In proportion to his paleness, Lady Hamilton’s -colour rose. Sir George looked from one to the other with a curling lip. - -“There is no occasion for all this alarm,” he observed, rather -contemptuously. “The fox can lie at earth till the worst danger of the -chase is over. Perhaps his safest refuge is the very hen-roost he has -skulked in to rob! Cheer up, Florian,” he added, in a kinder tone. “You -don’t suppose I would give up a comrade so long as the old house can -cover him! I must only make you a prisoner, that is all, with my lady, -here, for your gaoler. Keep close for a week or two, and the fiercest of -the storm will have blown over. It will be time enough then to smuggle -you back to St. Omer, or wherever you have to furnish your report. Don’t -be afraid, man. Why, you used to be made of sterner stuff than this!” - -Florian could not answer. A host of conflicting feelings filled his -breast to suffocation, but at that moment how cheerfully, how gladly, -would he have laid down his life for the husband of the woman he so madly -loved! Covering his face in his hands he sobbed aloud. - -Cerise raised her eyes with a look of enthusiastic approval; but they -sank terrified and disheartened by the hard, inscrutable expression of -Sir George’s countenance. Her gratitude, he thought, was only for the -preservation of Florian. They might congratulate each other, when his -back was turned, on the strange infatuation that befriended them, and -perhaps laugh at his blind stupidity; but he would fight fair. Yes, -however hard it seemed, he was a gentleman, and he would fight fair! - - - - -CHAPTER LIII - -FAIR FIGHTING - - -So the duel began. The moral battle that a man wages with his own temper, -his own passions, words, actions, his very thoughts, and a few days of -the uncongenial struggle seemed to have added years to Sir George’s life. -Of all the trials that could have been imposed on one of his nature, -this was, perhaps, the severest, to live day by day, and hour by hour, -on terms of covert enmity with the woman best loved—the friend most -frankly trusted in the world. Two of the chief props that uphold the -social fabric seemed cut away from under him. Outward sorrows, injuries, -vexations can be borne cheerfully enough while domestic happiness -remains, and the heart is at peace within. They do but beat outside, like -the blast of a storm on a house well warmed and water-tight. Neither can -the utmost perfidy of woman utterly demoralise him who owns some staunch -friend to trust, on whose vigorous nature he can lean, in whose manly -counsel he can take comfort, till the sharp anguish has passed away. -But when love and friendship fail both at once, there is great danger -of a moral recklessness which affirms, and would fain believe, that no -truth is left in the world. This is the worst struggle of all. Conduct -and character flounder in it hopelessly, because it affords no foothold -whence to make an upward spring, so that they are apt to sink and -disappear without even a struggle for extrication. - -Sir George had indeed a purpose to preserve him from complete -demoralisation, but that purpose was in itself antagonistic to every -impulse and instinct of his nature. It did violence to his better -feelings, his education, his principles, his very prejudices and habits, -but he pursued it consistently nevertheless, whilst it poisoned every -hour of his life. He went about his daily avocations as usual. He never -thought of discontinuing those athletic exercises and field sports which -were elevated into an actual business by men of his station at that -period, but except for a few thrilling moments at long intervals, the -zest seemed to be gone from them all. - -He flung his hawks aloft on the free open moor, and cursed them bitterly -when they failed to strike. He cheered his hounds in the deep wild dales -through which they tracked their game so busily, and hurried Emerald -or Grey Plover along at the utmost speed those generous animals could -compass, but was with a grim sullen determination to succeed, rather than -with the hearty jovial enthusiasm that naturally accompanies the chase. -Hawks, hounds, and horses were neither cordials nor stimulants now. Only -anodynes, and scarcely efficacious as such for more than a few minutes at -a time. - -It had been settled that for a short period, depending on the alarm -felt by the country at the proposed rising, and consequent strictness -of search for suspected characters, Florian should remain domiciled as -before at Hamilton Hill. It was only stipulated that he should not show -himself abroad by daylight, nor hold open communication with such of his -confederates as might be prowling about the “Hamilton Arms.” With Sir -Marmaduke’s good-will, and the general laxity of justice prevailing in -the district, he seemed to incur far less peril by hiding in his present -quarters than by travelling southward even in disguise on his way to the -coast. - -There were plenty more of his cloth, little distinguished by the -authorities indeed, from non-juring clergymen of the Church of England, -who remained quietly unnoticed, on sufferance as it were, in the northern -counties. Even if watched, Florian might pass for one of these, so his -daily life went on much as before Sir Marmaduke’s visit. He did not -write perhaps so many letters, for his correspondence with the continent -had been discontinued, but this increase of leisure only gave him more -time for Lady Hamilton’s society, and as he could not accompany her -husband to the moor, for fear of being seen, he now spent every day till -dinner-time under the same roof with Cerise. - -Sir George used to wonder sometimes in his own heavy heart what they -could find to talk about through all those hours that seemed so long to -him in the saddle amongst the dales—the dales he had loved so dearly -a few short weeks ago, that seemed so wearisome, so gloomy, and so -endless now—wondered what charm his wife could discover in this young -priest’s society; in which of the qualities, he himself wanted, lay -the subtle influence that so entwined her when Florian first arrived, -that had changed her manner and depressed her spirits of late since -they had been more thrown together, and caused her to look so unhappy -now that they were soon to part. Stronger and stronger, struggle -as he might, grew a horrible conviction that she loved the visitor -in her heart. Like a gallant swimmer, beating against the tide, he -strove not to give way, battling inch by inch, gaining less with every -effort—stationary—receding—till, losing head and heart alike, and -wheeling madly with the current, he struck out in sheer despair for -the quicksands, instinctively preferring to meet rather than await -destruction. - -Abroad all the morning from daybreak, forcing himself to leave the house -lest he should be unable to resist the temptation of watching her, Sir -George gave Cerise ample opportunities to indulge in Florian’s society, -had she been so inclined. He thought she availed herself of them to -the utmost, he thought that while he was away chafing and fretting, -and eating his own heart far away on those bleak moors, Lady Hamilton, -passing gracefully amongst her rose-trees on the terrace, or sitting -at ease in her pretty boudoir, appreciated the long release from his -company, and made the most of it with her guest. He could fancy he saw -the pretty head droop, the soft cheek flush, the white hands wave. He -knew all her ways so well. But not for him now. Not for _him_! - -Then Grey Plover would wince and swerve aside, scared by the fierce -energy of that half-spoken oath, or Emerald would plunge wildly forward, -maddened by the unaccustomed spur, the light grasp bearing suddenly so -hard upon the rein. But neither Emerald nor Grey Plover, mettled hunters -both, could afford more than a temporary palliative to the goad that -pricked their rider’s heart. - -Sir George had better have been _more_ or _less_ suspicious. Had he -chosen to lower himself in his own eyes by ascertaining how Lady Hamilton -spent her mornings, he would have discovered that she employed herself in -filling voluminous sheets with her neat, illegible French hand, writing -in her boudoir, where she sat _alone_. Very unhappy poor Cerise was, -though she scorned to complain. Very pale she grew and languid, going -through her housekeeping duties with an effort, and ceasing altogether -from the carolling of those French ballads in which the Yorkshire -servants took an incomprehensible delight. - -She seemed, worst sign of all, to have no heart even for her flowers now, -and did not visit the terrace for five days on a stretch. The very first -time she went there, George happened to spend the morning at home. - -From the window of his room he could see one end of the terrace with some -difficulty, and a good deal of inconvenience to his neck; nevertheless, -catching a glimpse of his wife’s figure as she moved about amongst -her rose-trees, he could not resist watching it for a while, neither -suspiciously nor in anger, but with something of the dull aching -tenderness that looks its last on the dead face a man has loved best on -earth. It is, and it is _not_. The remnant left serves only to prove how -much is lost, and that which makes his deepest sorrow affords his sole -consolation—to feel that love remains while the loved one is for ever -gone. - -Half a dozen times he rose from his occupation. It was but refitting some -tackle on the model brigantine, yet it connected itself, like everything -else, with _her_. Half a dozen times he sat down again with a crack in -his neck, and an inward curse on his own folly, but he went back once -more just the same. Then he resumed his work, smiling grimly while his -brown face paled, for Monsieur de St. Croix had just made his appearance -on the terrace. - -“As usual, I suppose,” muttered Sir George, waxing an inch or two of -twine with the nicest care, and fitting it into a block the size of a -silver penny. But somehow he could not succeed in his manipulation; -he was inventing a self-reefing topsail, but he couldn’t get the four -haulyards taut enough, and do what he would the jack-stay came foul of -the yard. “As usual,” he repeated more bitterly. “Easy it is! He’s the -best helmsman who knows when to let the ship steer herself!” Then he -applied once more to his task, whistling an old French quickstep somewhat -out of time. - -Florian had been watching his opportunity, and took advantage of it at -once. He, too, had suffered severely during the past few days. Perhaps, -in truth, his greatest torture was to have been deprived of Lady -Hamilton’s society. He fancied she avoided him, though in this he was -wrong, for lately she had hardly given him a thought, except of friendly -pity for his lot. Had it been otherwise, Cerise would have taken care to -allow no such interviews as the present, because she would have suspected -their danger. Young, frank, and as little of a coquette as it was -possible for her mother’s daughter to be, she had never yet even thought -of analysing her feelings towards Florian. - -And he, too, was probably fool enough to shrink from the idea of her -shunning him, forgetting (as men always do forget, the fundamental -principles of gallantry in regard to the woman they really love) that -such a mistrust would have been a step, and a long one, towards the -interest he could not but feel anxious to inspire. - -Had she been more experienced or less preoccupied, she must have learned -the truth from his changing colour, his faltering step, his awkward -address, to all others so quiet, graceful, and polite. She was thinking -of George, she was low-spirited and unhappy. Florian’s society was a -change and a distraction. She welcomed him with a kind greeting and a -bewitching smile. - -The more anxious men are to broach an interesting subject, the more -surely do they approach it by a circuitous route. Florian asked half a -dozen questions concerning the budding, grafting, and production of roses -in general, before he dared approach the topic nearest his heart. Cerise -answered good-humouredly, and became more cheerful under the influence of -fresh air, a gleam of sun, and the scent of her favourite flowers. - -Bending sedulously over an especial treasure, she did not remark how long -a silence was preserved by her companion, though rising she could not -fail to observe the agitation of his looks nor the shaking hands with -which he strove to assist her in a task already done. - -“These are very late roses,” said he, in a tone strangely earnest for the -enunciation of so simple a remark. “There are still half a dozen more -buds to blow, and winter has already arrived.” - -“That’s why I am so fond of them,” she replied. “Winter comes too early -both in the garden and in the house. I like to keep my flowers as long as -I can, and my illusions too.” - -She sighed while she spoke, and Florian, looking tenderly in her face, -noticed its air of languor and despondency. A wild, mad hope shot through -his heart, and coming close to her side, he resumed— - -“It will be a week at least before this green bud blows, and in a week, -Lady Hamilton, I shall be gone.” - -“So soon?” she said, in a low, tender voice, modulated to sadness by -thoughts of her own in no way connected with his approaching departure. -“I had hoped you would stay with us the whole winter, Monsieur de St. -Croix. We shall miss you dreadfully.” - -“I shall be gone,” he repeated, mournfully, “and a man in my position can -less control his own movements than a wisp of seaweed on the wave. In a -day or two, perhaps in a few hours, I must wish you good-bye, and—and—it -is more than probable that I shall never see you again.” - -Clasping her hands, she looked at him with her blue eyes wide open, -like a child who is half-grieved, half-frightened, to see its plaything -broken, yet not entirely devoid of curiosity to know what there is -inside. Like a flash came back to him the white walls, the drooping -laburnums, the trellised beech-walk in the convent garden, and before him -stood Mademoiselle de Montmirail, the Cerise of the old, wild, hopeless -days, whom he ought never to have loved, whom least of all should he dare -to think of now. - -“Do you remember our Lady of Succour?” said he; “do you remember the -pleasant spring-time, the smiling fields, and the sunny skies of our -own Normandy? How different from these grey, dismal hills! And do you -remember the day you told me your mother recalled you to Paris? You -cannot have forgotten it! Lady Hamilton, everything else is changed, but -I alone remain the same.” - -The broken voice, the trembling gestures betrayed deep and uncontrollable -emotion. Even Cerise could not but feel that this man was strangely -affected by her presence, that his self-command was every moment -forsaking him, and that already words might be hovering on his lips to -which she must not listen. Perhaps, too, there was some little curiosity -to hear what those words could be—some half-scornful reflection that when -spoken it would be time enough to disapprove—some petulant triumph to -think that everybody was not distant, reserved, impenetrable, like Sir -George. - -“And who wishes you to change?” said she, softly. “Not I for one.” - -“I shall remember those words when I am far away,” he answered, -passionately. “Remember them! I shall think of them day by day, and hour -by hour, long after you have forgotten there was ever such a person -in existence as Florian de St. Croix. Your director, your worshipper. -Cerise! your slave!” - -She turned on him angrily. All her dignity was aroused by such an appeal -in such a tone, made to _her_, a wedded wife, but her indignation, -natural as it was, changed to pity when she marked his pale, worn face, -his imploring looks, his complete prostration, as it seemed, both of mind -and body. It was no fault of hers, yet was it the wreck she herself had -made. Angry! No, she could not be angry, when she thought of all he must -have suffered, and for _her_; when she remembered how this man had never -so much as asked for a kind word in exchange for the sacrifice of his -soul. - -The tears stood in her eyes, and when she spoke again her voice was very -low and pitiful. - -“Florian,” said she, “listen to me. If not for your own sake, at least -for mine, forbear to speak words that can never be unsaid. You have been -to me, I hope and believe, the truest friend man ever was to woman. Do -you think I have forgotten the white chapel above Port Welcome, or the -bright morning that made me a happy wife?” Her face clouded, but she -resumed in a more composed tone, “We have all our own burdens to bear, -our own trials to get through. It is not for _me_ to teach _you_ that -this world is no place of unchequered sunshine. You are right. I shall, -perhaps, never see you again. Nay; it is far better so. But let me always -remember you hereafter as the Florian St. Croix, on whose truth, and -unselfishness, and right feeling Cerise Hamilton could rely, even if the -whole world besides should fail, and turn against her at her need!” - -He was completely unmanned. Her feminine instinct had taught her to use -the only weapon against which he was powerless, and she conquered, as a -woman always does conquer, when madly loved by him who has excited her -interest, her pity, and her vanity, but who has failed to touch her heart. - -“And you _will_ remember me? Promise that!” was all he could answer. -“It is enough; it is my reward. What happiness have I, but to obey your -lightest wish?” - -“You go to France?” she asked, cheerfully, opining with some discretion -that it would be well to turn the conversation as soon as possible into a -less compromising channel. “You will see the Marquise? You will be near -her, at any rate? Will you charge yourself with a packet I have been -preparing for days, hoping it would be conveyed to my dear mother by no -hand but yours?” - -It was a masterly stroke enough. It not only changed the whole -conversation, but gave Cerise an opportunity of escaping into the house, -and breaking up the interview. - -He bowed assent of course. He would have bowed assent had she bid him -shed his own blood then and there on the gravel-walk at her feet; but -when she left him to fetch her packet, he waited for her return with the -open mouth and fixed gaze of one who has been vouchsafed a vision from -another world, and looks to see it just once again before he dies. - -The rigging of the brigantine proceeded but slowly. Sir George could not -apply himself to his task for five minutes at a time; and had the tackle -of the real ‘Bashful Maid’ ever become so hopelessly fouled and tangled -as her model’s, she must have capsized with the first breeze that filled -her sails. His right hand had forgotten its cunning, and his very head -seemed so utterly confused that, to use his own professional metaphor, -“He didn’t know truck from taffrail; the main-brace from the captain’s -quadrant.” - -What a lengthened interview was held by those two on the terrace! Again -and again rising and dislocating his neck to look—there they were still! -In the same place, in the same attitude, the same earnest conversation! -What subject could there be but one to bear all this discussion -from two young people like these? So much at least he had learned -_en mousquetaire_, but it is difficult to look at such matters _en -mousquetaire_, when they affect oneself. Ha! She is gone at last. And he, -why does he stand there watching like an idiot? Sir George turned once -more to the brigantine, and her dolphin-striker snapped short off between -his fingers. - -Again to the window. Florian not gone yet! And with reason, too, as it -seems; for Lady Hamilton returns, and places a packet in his hand. He -kisses hers as he bends over it, and hides the packet carefully away -in his breast. Zounds! This is too much. But Sir George will command -himself. Yes, he will command himself from respect to his own character, -if for nothing else. - -So with an affectation of carelessness, so marked as to be utterly -transparent, the baronet walked down to the garden-door, where he could -not fail to meet his wife as she re-entered the house for a second time, -leaving Florian without. It added little to his peace of mind that her -manner was flurried, and traces of recent tears were on her face. - -“Cerise,” said he, and she looked up smiling; “I beg your pardon, Lady -Hamilton, may I ask what was that packet you brought out even now, and -delivered to Monsieur de St. Croix?” - -She flashed at him a glance of indignant reproach, not, as he believed, -to reprove his curiosity, but because he had checked himself in calling -her by the name he loved. - -“They are letters for Madame le Marquise, Sir George,” she answered, -coldly; and, without turning her head, walked haughtily past him into the -house. - - - - -CHAPTER LIV - -FRIENDS IN NEED - - -“What a sky! what weather! what a look-out! what an apartment, and what -chocolate!” exclaimed Madame de Montmirail to her maid, in an accent of -intense Parisian disgust; while the latter prepared her mistress to go -abroad and encounter in the streets of London the atmosphere of a really -tolerably fine day for England at the time of year. “Quick, Justine! -do not distress yourself about costume. My visits this morning are of -business rather than ceremony. And what matters it now? Yet, after all, -I suppose a woman never likes to look her worst, especially when she is -growing old.” - -Justine made no answer. The ready disclaimer which would indeed have -been no flattery died upon her lips; for Justine also felt aggrieved -in many ways by this untoward expedition to the English capital. In -the first place, having spent but one night in Paris, she had been -compelled to leave it at the very period when its attractions were -coming into bloom: in the next, she had encountered, while crossing the -Channel, such a fresh breeze, as she was pleased to term, “_un vent de -Polichinelle!_” and which upset her digestive process for a week; in -the third, though disdaining to occupy a hostile territory with her war -material disorganised, she was painfully conscious of looking her worst; -while, lastly, she had no opportunity for resetting the blunted edge of -her attractions, because in the whole household below-stairs could be -discovered but one of the opposite sex, sixty years old, and obviously -given, body and soul, to that mistress who cheers while she inebriates. - -So Justine bustled about discontentedly, and her expressive French face, -usually so pleasant and lively, now looked dull, and bilious, and cross. - -She brightened up a little, nevertheless, when a chair stopped at the -door, and a visitor was announced. The street, though off the Strand, -then a fashionable locality, was yet tolerably quiet and retired. - -It cheered Justine’s spirits to bring up a gentleman’s name for -admission; and she almost recovered her good-humour when she learned he -was a countryman of her own. - -The Marquise, sipping chocolate and dressed to go out, received her -visitor more than cordially. She had been restless at Chateau-la-Fierté, -restless in Paris, restless through her whole journey, and was now -restless in London. But restlessness is borne the easier when we have -some one to share it with; and this young man had reason to be gratified -with the welcome accorded him by so celebrated a beauty as Madame de -Montmirail. - -She might almost have been his mother, it is true; but all his life he -had accustomed himself to think of her as the brilliant Marquise with -whom everybody of any pretence to distinction was avowedly in love, and -without looking much at her face, or affecting her society, he accepted -the situation too. What would you have? It was _de rigueur_. He declared -himself her adorer just as he wore a Steinkirk cravat, and took snuff, -though he hated it, from a diamond snuff-box. - -The Marquise could not help people making fools of themselves, she said; -and perhaps did not wish to help it. She too had dreamed her dream, and -all was over. The sovereignty of beauty can at no time be disagreeable, -least of all when the bloom begins to fade, and the empire grows day by -day more precarious. If young Chateau-Guerrand chose to be as absurd as -his uncle, let him singe his wings, or his wig, or any part of his attire -he pleased. She was not going to put her lamp out because the cockchafer -is a blunderer, and the moth a suicide. - -He was a good-looking young gentleman enough, and in Justine’s opinion -seemed only the more attractive from the air of thorough coxcombry with -which his whole deportment, person, and conversation were imbued. He -had quarrelled with his uncle, the Prince-Marshal, on the score of that -relative’s undutiful conduct. The veteran had paid the young soldier’s -debts twice, and lo! the third time he remonstrated. His nephew, under -pretext of an old wound disabling the sword-arm, obtained permission to -retire from the army, thinking thus to annoy his uncle, and accepted -an appointment as _attaché_ to the French embassy at the Court of St. -James’s, for which he was specially unfitted both by nature and education. - -“You arrived, madame, but yesterday,” said he, bowing over the hand -extended to him, with an affectation of extreme devotion. “I learned it -this morning, and behold I fly here on the instant, to place myself, my -chief, and all the resources of my country, at the disposition of madame.” - -“Of course,” she answered, smiling; “but in the meantime, understand -me, I neither want yourself, however charming, nor your chief, however -discreet, nor the resources of your country and mine, however powerful. -I am here on private affairs, and till they are concluded I shall have -no leisure to enter society. What I ask of your devotion now is, to sit -down in that chair, and tell me the news, while I finish my chocolate in -peace.” - -He obeyed delighted—evidently, she was rejoiced to meet him here, so -unexpectedly, and could not conceal her gratification. He was treated -like an intimate friend, an established favourite—Justine had retired. -The Marquise loitered over her chocolate. She looked well, wonderfully -handsome for her age, and she had never appeared so kind. “Ah, rogue!” -thought this enviable youth, apostrophising the person he most admired in -the world, “must it always be so? mothers and daughters, maids, wives, -and widows.—No escape, _parbleu_, and no mercy. What is it about you, -my boy, that thus prostrates every creature in a petticoat before the -feet of Casimir de Chateau-Guerrand? Is it looks, is it manners, is it -intellect? Faith, I think it must be a happy mixture of them all!” - -“Well!” said the Marquise with one of her victorious glances, “I am not -very patient, you know that of old. Quick! out with the news, you who -have the knack of telling it so well.” - -He glanced in an opposite mirror, and looked as fascinating as he could. - -“It goes no further, madame, of course; and indeed I would trust you with -my head, as I have long since trusted you with my heart.” An impatient -gesture of his listener somewhat discomfited him, but he proceeded, -nevertheless, in a tone of ineffable self-satisfaction. - -“We are behind the scenes, you know, we diplomatists, and see the players -before the wigs are adjusted or the paint laid on. Such actors! madame, -and oh! such actresses! the old Court is a comedy to which no one pays -attention. The young Court is a farce played with a tragic solemnity. -Even Mrs. Bellenden has thrown up her part. There is no gooseberry bush -now behind which the heir-apparent fills his basket. Some say that none -is necessary, but Mrs. Howard still dresses the Princess, and―” - -“Spare me your green-room scandal,” interrupted the Marquise. “Surely I -have heard enough of it in my time. At Fontainebleau, at Versailles, at -Marly. I am sick to death of all the gossips and slanders that gallop up -and down the backstairs of a palace. Talk politics to me, for heaven’s -sake, or don’t talk at all!” - -“I know not what you call politics, madame,” answered the unabashed -attaché, “if the Prince’s likings and vagaries are not to be included in -the term. What say you to a plot, a conspiracy, more, a Jacobite rising? -In the north of course! that established stronghold of legitimacy. Do I -interest you now?” - -He did indeed, and though she strove hard not to betray her feelings, no -observer, less preoccupied with the reflection of his own beloved image -in the looking-glass, could have failed to remark the gleam of her dark -eyes, her rising colour, and quick-drawn breath. Though she recovered -herself with habitual self-command, there was still a slight tremor in -her voice, while she repeated as unconcernedly as she could— - -“In the north, you say? Ah! it is a long distance from the capital. Your -department is very likely misinformed, or has itself dressed up a goblin -to frighten idle children like yourself, monsieur, into paying more -attention to their lessons.” - -But Casimir, who laid great stress on his own diplomatic importance, -vehemently repudiated such an assumption. - -“Goblin, indeed!” he cried, indignantly. “It is a goblin that will be -found to have body and bones, and blood too, I fear, unless I am much -misinformed and mistaken. We have nothing to do with it of course, but I -can tell you, madame, that we have information of the time, the locality, -the numbers, the persons implicated. I believe if you put me to it, I -could even furnish you with the names of the accused.” - -She bowed carelessly. “A few graziers, I suppose, and cattle-drivers,” -she observed, “with a Scottish house-breaker, and a drunken squire or two -for leaders. It is scarcely worth the trouble to ask any more questions.” - -“Far graver than that, madame,” he answered, determined not to be put -down. “Some of the best names in the north, as I am informed, are already -compromised beyond power to retreat. I could tell them over from memory, -but my tongue fails to pronounce the barbarous syllables. Would you like -to have them in black and white?” - -“Not this morning, monsieur,” she answered with a shrug of the -shoulders. “Do you think I came to London in order to mix myself up in -an unsuccessful rebellion? I, who have private affairs of my own that -require all my attention. You might as well suppose I had followed -yourself across the Channel because I could not exist apart from Casimir -de Chateau-Guerrand! Frankly, I am glad to see you too. Very glad,” she -added, stretching her white hand to the young man, with another of her -bewitching smiles. “But I must hunt you away now. Positively I must; I -ought to have sold an estate, and touched the purchase-money by this -time. I am a thorough woman of business, monsieur, I would have you know; -which does not prevent my loving amusement at the right season, like -other people.” - -He took his hat to depart, feeling perhaps, for the first time, that -there were women in the world to whom even he dare not aspire, and that -it was provoking such should be the best worth winning. The Marquise had -not yet lost the knack of playing a game from which she had never risen -a loser but once, and indeed if her weapons were a little less bright, -her skill of fence was better than ever. Few women have thoroughly -learned the art of man-taming till they are past their prime, and even -then, perhaps the influence that subdued his fellows, is powerless alone -on him whom most they wish to capture. - -Admiration from young Chateau-Guerrand gratified the Marquise as some -stray woodcock in a bag of a hundred head, gratifies a sportsman. It -hardly even stimulated her vanity. She wanted him though, like the -woodcock for ulterior purposes, and shot him, therefore, so to speak, -gracefully, neatly, and in proper form. - -“I should fear to commit an indiscretion by remaining one moment longer, -madame,” said he, “but—but—” and he looked longingly, though with less -than his accustomed assurance, in the beautiful eyes that met his own so -kindly. - -“But—but—” she interposed laughing, “you may come again to-morrow at -the same time; I shall be alone. And, Casimir, I have some talent for -curiosity, bring with you that list you spoke of—at least if no one else -has seen it. A scandal, you know, is like a rose, if I may not gather it -fresh from the stalk, I had rather not wear it at all!” - -“Honour,” said he, kissing the hand she extended to him, and in high glee -tripped downstairs to regain his chair in the street. - -Satisfied with the implied promise, Madame de Montmirail looked wistfully -at a clock on the chimneypiece and pondered. - -“Twenty-four hours gained on that young man’s gossiping tongue at least. -To-morrow night I might be there—the horses are good in this country. -I have it! When I near the place I must make use of their diligence. I -shall overtake more than one. I cannot appear too quickly. I shall have -a famous laugh at Malletort, to be sure, if my information is earlier -than his—and at any rate, I shall embrace my darling Cerise, and see her -husband—my son-in-law now—my son-in-law! How strange it seems! Well, -business first and pleasure afterwards.” - -“Justine!” - -“Madame!” replied Justine, re-entering with a colour in her cheek and a -few particles of soot, such as constitute an essential part of a London -atmosphere, on her dainty forehead, denoting that she had been leaning -out at window to look down the street. - -“Madame called, I think. Can I do anything more for madame before she -goes out?” - -Much to Justine’s astonishment, she was directed to pack certain -articles of wearing apparel without delay. These were to be ready in two -hours’ time. Was madame going again to voyage? That was no business of -Justine’s. Was Pierre not to accompany Madame? nor Alphonse? nor even -old Busson? If any of these were wanted, madame would herself let them -know. And when was madame coming back? Shortly; Justine should learn in -a day or two. So, without further parley, madame entered her chair and -proceeded to that business which she imagined was the sole cause of her -journey to London. - -After some hesitation, and a few tiresome interviews with her intendant, -the Marquise had lately decided on selling her estates in the West -Indies, stipulating only, for the sake of Célandine, that Bartoletti -should be retained as overseer at _Cash-a-crou_. The locality, indeed, -had but few agreeable associations connected with it. Months of wearisome -exile, concluded by a night of bloodshed and horror, had not endeared -Montmirail West in the eyes of its European owner. - -It is not now necessary to state that Madame de Montmirail was a lady of -considerable enterprise, and especially affected all matters connected -with business or speculation. In an hour she made up her mind that London -was the best market for her property, and in twenty-four she was in her -carriage, on the road to England. Much to her intendant’s admiration, she -also expressed her decided intention of managing the whole negotiations -herself. The quiet old Frenchman gratefully appreciated an independence -of spirit that saved him long journeys, heavy responsibilities, and one -or two of his mistress’s sharpest rebukes. - -To effect her sale, the preliminaries of which had been already arranged -by letter, the Marquise had to proceed as far as St. Margaret’s Hill -in the borough of Southwark. Her chairmen, after so long a trot, felt -themselves doubtless entitled to refreshment, and took advantage of -her protracted interview with the broker whom she visited, to adjourn -to a neighbouring tavern for the purpose of recruiting their strength. -The beer was so good that, returning past the old Admiralty Office, -her leading bearer was compelled to sit down between the poles of his -chair, taking off his hat, and proceeding to wipe his brows in a manner -extremely ludicrous to the bystanders, and equally provoking to the -inmate, who desired to be carried home. His yokefellow, instead of -reproving him, burst into a drunken laugh, and the Marquise inside, -though half-amused, was yet at the same time provoked to find herself -placed in a thoroughly false position by so absurd a casualty. - -She let down the window and expostulated, but with no result, except -to collect a crowd, who expressed their sympathy with the usual good -taste and kind feeling of a metropolitan mob. Madame de Montmirail’s -appearance denoted she was a highborn lady, and her accent proclaimed her -a foreigner. The combination was irresistible; presently coarse jests -and brutal laughter rose to hootings of derision, accompanied by ominous -cries—“Down with the Pretender! No Popery! Who heated the warming-pan?” -and such catchwords of political rancour and ill-will. - -Ere long an apple or two began to fly, then a rotten egg, and the body -of a dead cat, followed by a brickbat, while the less drunken chairman -had his hat knocked over his eyes. That which began in horse-play was -fast growing to a riot, and the Marquise might have found herself -roughly handled if it had not been for an irruption of seamen from a -neighbouring tavern, who were whiling away their time by drinking strong -liquors during the examination of their papers at the Admiralty Office, -adjoining. Though not above half a dozen in number, they were soon -“alongside the wreck,” as they called it, making a lane through the crowd -by the summary process of knocking down everybody who opposed them, but -before they had time to give “three cheers for the lady,” their leader, -a sedate and weatherworn tar, who had never abandoned his pipe during -the heat of the action, dropped it short from between his lips, and stood -aghast before the chair window, rolling his hat in his hands, speechless -and spell-bound with amazement. - -The Marquise recognised him at once. - -“It is Smoke-Jack! and welcome!” she exclaimed. “I should know you -amongst a thousand! Indeed, I scarcely wanted your assistance more the -night you saved us at _Cash-a-crou_. Ah! I have not forgotten the men -of ‘The Bashful Maid,’ nor how to speak to them. _Come, bear a hand, my -hearty!_ Is it not so?” - -The little nautical slang spoken in her broken English, acted like a -charm. Not a man but would have fought for her to the death, or drank her -health till all was blue! - -They cheered lustily now, they crowded round in enthusiastic admiration, -and the youngest of the party, with a forethought beyond all praise, -rushed back to the tavern he had quitted, for a jorum of hot punch, in -case the lady should feel faint after her accident. - -Smoke-Jack’s stoicism was for once put to flight. - -“Say the word, marm!” exclaimed the old seaman, “and we’ll pull the -street down. Who began it?” he added, looking round and doubling his -great round fists. “Who began it?—that’s all I want to know. Ain’t nobody -to be started for this here game? Ain’t nobody to get his allowance? I’ll -give it him, hot and hot!” - -With difficulty Smoke-Jack was persuaded that no benefit would accrue -to the Marquise from his doing immediate battle with the bystanders, -consisting by this time of a few women and street-urchins, for most of -the able-bodied rioters had slunk away before the threatening faces of -the seamen. He had to content himself, therefore, with administering -sundry kicks and cuffs to the chairmen, both of whom were too drunk to -proceed, and with carrying the Marquise home, in person, assisted by -a certain elderly boatswain’s mate, on whom he seemed to place some -reliance, while the rest of the sailors sought their favourite resort -once more, to drink success and a pleasant voyage to the lady, in the -money with which she had liberally rewarded them. - -“It is droll!” thought Madame de Montmirail, as she felt the chair jerk -and sway to the unaccustomed action of its maritime bearers. “Droll -enough to be thus carried through the streets of London by the British -navy! and droller than all, that I should have met Smoke-Jack at a time -like the present. This accident may prove extremely useful in the end. -Doubtless, he is still devoted to his old captain. Everybody seems -devoted to that man. Can I wonder at my little Cerise? And Sir George -may be none the worse of a faithful follower in days like these. I will -ask him, at any rate, and it is not often when I ask anything that I am -refused!” - -So when the chair halted at last before Madame de Montmirail’s door, -she dismissed the boatswain’s mate delighted, with many kind words and -a couple of broad pieces, while Smoke-Jack, no less delighted, found -himself ushered into the sitting-room upstairs, even before he had time -to look round and take his bearings. - -The Marquise prided herself on knowledge of mankind, and offered him -refreshment on the spot. - -“Will you have grog?” she said. “It is bad for you sailors to talk with -the mouth dry.” - -Smoke-Jack, again, prided himself on his manners, and declined -strenuously. Neither would he be prevailed upon to sit down, but balanced -his person on either leg alternately, holding his hat with both hands -before the pit of his stomach. - -“Smoke-Jack,” said the Marquise, “I know you of old; brave, discreet, -and trustworthy. I am bound on a journey in which there is some little -danger, and much necessity for caution; have you the time and the -inclination to accompany me?” - -His impulse was to follow her to the end of the world, but he mistrusted -these sirens precisely because it _was_ always his impulse so to follow -them. - -“Is it for a spell, marm?” he asked; “or for a long cruise? If I might -make so free, marm, I’d like to be told the name of the skipper and the -tonnage of the craft!” - -“I start in an hour for the north,” she continued, neither understanding -nor heeding his proviso. “I am going into the neighbourhood of your old -captain, Sir George Hamilton.” - -“Captain George!” exclaimed the seaman, with difficulty restraining -himself from shying his hat to the ceiling, and looking sheepishly -conscious, he had almost committed this tempting solecism. “What! _our_ -Captain George? I’m not much of a talking chap, marm; I haven’t got the -time, but if that’s the port you’re bound for, I’ll sail round the world -with you, if we beat against a headwind the whole voyage through!” - -With such sentiments the preliminaries were easily adjusted, and it was -arranged that Smoke-Jack should accompany the Marquise on her journey -with no more delay than would be required to purchase him landsman’s -attire. He entered into the scheme with thorough good-will, though -expressing, and doubtless feeling, some little disappointment when he -learned that Justine, of whom he had caught a glimpse on the stairs, was -not to be of the party. - -Avowedly a woman-hater, he had, of course, a _real_ weakness for the -softer sex, and with all his deference to the Marquise, would have found -much delight in the society of her waiting-maid. Such specimens as -Justine he considered his especial study, and believed that of all men he -best understood their qualities, and was most conversant with “the trim -on ’em.” - - - - -CHAPTER LV - -FOREWARNED - - -It is needless to follow Madame de Montmirail and her new retainer -through the different stages of their journey to the north. By dint of -liberal pay, with some nautical eloquence on the part of Smoke-Jack, who, -being a man of few words, spoke those few to the purpose, they overtook -the ‘Flying Post’ coach by noon of the second day at a town some fifteen -miles south of Hamilton Hill. Calculating to arrive before nightfall, -they here transferred themselves and their luggage to that lumbering -conveyance; and if the Marquise wished to avoid notice, such a measure -was prudent enough. In the masked lady closely wrapped up and silent, who -sat preoccupied inside, no one could suspect the brilliant and sumptuous -Frenchwoman, the beauty of two consecutive Courts. Nor, so long as he -kept his mouth shut, did Smoke-Jack’s seafaring character show through -his shore-going disguise, consisting of jack-boots, three-cornered hat, -scratch-wig, and long grey duffle greatcoat, in which he might have -passed for a Quaker, but that the butt-end of a pistol peeped out of its -side-pockets on each side. - -Their fellow-passengers found their curiosity completely baffled by the -haughty taciturnity of the one and the surly answers of the other. Even -the ascent of Otterdale Scaur failed to elicit anything, although the -rest of the freight alighted to walk up that steep and dangerous incline. -In vain the ponderous coach creaked, and strained, and laboured; in vain -driver flogged and guard expostulated; the lady inside was asleep, and -must not be disturbed. Smoke-Jack, on the roof, swore that he had paid -his passage, and would stick to the ship while a plank held. It was -impossible to make anything satisfactory out of this strangely-assorted -couple, and the task was abandoned in despair long before the weary -stretch of road had been traversed that led northward over the brown -moorland past the door of the “Hamilton Arms.” - -The lady was tired—the lady would alight. Though their places were taken -for several miles further, she and her domestic would remain here. It was -impossible she could proceed. Were these rooms vacant? - -Rooms vacant! Mrs. Dodge, in a pair of enormous earrings, with the gold -cross glittering on her bosom, lifted her fat hands in protestation. -Theoretically, she never had a corner to spare in which she could stow -away a mouse; practically, she so contrived that no wealthy-looking -traveller ran a risk by “going further—of faring worse.” On the present -occasion “she was very full,” she said. “Never was such markets; never -was such a press of customers, calling here and calling there, and not -to be served but with the best! Nevertheless, madam should have a room -in five minutes! Alice, lay a fire in the Cedars. The room was warm and -comfortable, but the look-out (into the stable-yard) hardly so airy as -she could wish. Madam would excuse that—madam—” Here Mrs. Dodge, who was -no fool, pulled herself short up. “She begged pardon. Her ladyship, she -hoped, would find no complaints to make. She hoped her ladyship would be -satisfied!” - -Her ladyship simply motioned towards the staircase, up which Alice had -run a moment before with a red-hot poker in her hand, and, preceded by -Mrs. Dodge, retired to the apartment provided for her, while a roar of -laughter, in a tone that seemed not entirely strange, reached her ears -from the bar, into which her new retainer had just dragged her luggage -from off the coach. - -Now the Marquise, though never before in England, was not yet ignorant of -the general economy prevailing at the “Hamilton Arms,” or the position of -its different apartments. She had still continued her correspondence with -Malletort, or rather she had suffered him to write to her, as formerly, -when he chose. - -His very last letter contained, amongst political gossip and -protestations of friendship, a ludicrous description of his present -lodgings, in which the very room she now occupied, opening through -folding-doors into his own, was deplored as one of his many annoyances. - -Even had she not known his step, therefore, she would have no difficulty -in deciding that it was the Abbé himself whom she now heard pacing the -floor of the adjoining apartment, separated only by a thin deal door, -painted to look like cedar-wood. - -She was not given to hesitation. Trying the lock, she found it -unfastened, and, taking off her travelling mask, opened the door -noiselessly, to stand like a vision in the entrance, probably the very -last person he expected to see. - -Malletort was a difficult man to surprise. At least he never betrayed any -astonishment. With perfectly cool politeness he handed a chair, as if he -had been awaiting her for an hour. - -“Sit down, madame,” said he, “I entreat you. The roads in this weather -are execrable for travelling. You must have had a long and fatiguing -journey.” - -She could not repress a laugh. - -“It seems, then, that you expected me,” she answered, accepting the -proffered seat. “Perhaps you know why I have come.” - -“Without presumption,” he replied, “I may be permitted to guess. Your -charming daughter lives within half a league of this spot. You think of -her day by day. You look on her picture at your château, which, by the -way, is not too amusing a residence. You pine to embrace her. You fly -on the wings of maternal love and tired post-horses. You arrive in due -course, like a parcel. In short, here you are. Ah! what it is to have a -mother’s heart!” - -She appreciated and admired his coolness. The man had a certain -diplomatic kind of courage about him, and was worth saving, after -all. How must he have suffered, too, this poor Abbé, in his gloomy -hiding-place, with the insufferable cooking that she could smell even -here! - -“Abbé,” she resumed, “I am serious, though you make me laugh. Listen. I -did _not_ come here to see my daughter, though I hope to embrace her -this very night. More, I came to see _you_—to warn you that the sooner -you leave this place the better. I know you too well to suppose you -have not secured your retreat. Sound the _alerte_, my brave Abbé, and -strike your tents without delay. Your plot has failed—the whole thing has -exploded—and I have travelled night and day to save a kinsman, and, I -believe, as far as his nature permits, a friend! There is nothing more to -be said on the subject.” - -Malletort was moved, but he would not show it any more than he would -acknowledge this intelligence came upon him like a thunderclap. He -fidgeted with some papers to hide his face for a moment, but looked up -directly afterwards calm and clear as ever. - -“I know—I know,” said he. “I was prepared for this—though, perhaps, not -quite so soon. I might have been prepared too, for my cousin’s kindness -and self-devotion. She has always been the noblest and bravest of women. -Madame, you have by this as by many previous benefits, won my eternal -gratitude. We shall be uninterrupted here, and cannot be overheard. -Detail to me the information that has reached you in the exact words -used. I wish to see if it tallies with mine.” - -The Marquise related her interview with young Chateau-Guerrand, adding -several corroborative facts she had learned in the capital, none of which -were of much importance apart, though, when taken together, they afforded -strong evidence that the British Government was alive to the machinations -of the Abbé and his confederates. - -“It is an utter rout,” concluded the Marquise, contemptuously; “and there -is no honour, as far as I can see, to save. Best turn bridle out of the -press, Abbé, like a defeated king in the old romances, put spurs to your -horse, and never look over your shoulder on the field you have deserted!” - -“Not quite so bad as that, madame,” replied he. “’Tis but a leak sprung -as yet, and we may, perhaps, make shift to get safe into port after all. -In the meantime, I need scarcely remain in such absolute concealment any -longer. It must be known in London that I am here. Once more, madame, -accept my heartfelt thanks. When you see her this evening, commend me -humbly to your beautiful daughter and to her husband, my old friend, the -Captain of Musketeers.” - -So speaking, the Abbé held open the door of communication and bowed the -Marquise into the adjoining room, where food and wine were served with -all the ceremonious grace of the old Court. His brow was never smoother, -his smile never more assured; but as soon as he found himself alone, he -sat down at the writing-table and buried his face in his hands. - -“So fair a scheme!” he muttered. “So deep! So well-arranged! And to fail -at last like this! But what tools I have had to work with! What tools! -What tools!” - -Meantime two honest voices in the bar were pealing louder and louder -in joyous interchange of questions, congratulations, and entreaties to -drink. The shouts of laughter that had reached the Marquise at the top of -the stairs came from no less powerful lungs than those of Slap-Jack, who -had stolen down from the hill as usual for the hindrance of Alice in her -household duties. He was leaning over her chair, probably to assist her -in mending the house linen, when his occupation was interrupted by the -arrival of a tall, dried-up looking personage dressed in a long duffle -coat, who entered the sanctum with a valise and other luggage in his -hands. Something in the ship-shape accuracy with which he disposed of -these roused Slap-Jack’s professional attention, and when the stranger -turning round pushed his hat off his forehead, and shut one eye to have a -good look, recognition on both sides was instantaneous and complete. - -“Why, Alice, it’s Smoke-Jack!” exclaimed her sweetheart, while volumes -would have failed to express more of delight and astonishment than the -new-comer conveyed in the simple ejaculation, “Well! Blow me!” - -A bowl of punch was ordered, and pipes were lit forthwith, Alice filling -her lover’s coquettishly, and applying a match to it with her own pretty -fingers. Smoke-Jack looked on approving, and winked several times in -succession. Mentally he was scanning the damsel with a critical eye, -her bows, her run, her figure-head, her tackle, and the trim of her -generally. When the punch came he filled three glasses to the brim, and -observed with great solemnity— - -“My sarvice to you, shipmate, and your consort. The sooner you two gets -spliced the better. No offence, young woman. If I’d ever come across -such a craft as yourn, mate, I’d have been spliced myself. But these -here doesn’t swim to windward in shoals like black fish, and I was never -a chap to take and leap overboard promiscuous after a blessed mermyed -’a-cause she hailed me off a reef. That’s why I’m a driftin’ to leeward -this day. I’ll take it as a favour, young woman, if you’ll sip from my -glass!” - -This was the longest speech Slap-Jack ever remembered from his shipmate, -and was valued accordingly. It was obvious that Smoke-Jack, contrary to -his usual principles, which were anti-matrimonial, looked on his old -friend’s projected alliance with the utmost favour. The three found -themselves extremely pleasant company. Alice, indeed, moved in and out -on her household duties, rendered the more engrossing that her aunt was -occupied in the kitchen, but the two seamen stuck to the leeside of their -bowl of punch till it was emptied, and never ceased smoking the whole -time. They had so much to talk about, so many old stories to recall, -questions to ask, and details to furnish on their own different fortunes -since they met, to say nothing of the toasts that accompanied each -separate glass. - -They drank ‘The Bashful Maid’ twice, and Alice three times, in the course -of their merry-making. Now it came to pass that during their conversation -the name of Captain Bold was mentioned by Slap-Jack, as an individual -whose head it would give him extreme gratification to punch on some -fitting occasion; and that his friend showed some special interest in the -subject appeared by the cock of his eye and the removal of his pipe from -between his lips. - -“Bold!” repeated Smoke-Jack, as if taxing his memory. “Captain Bold you -calls him. Not a real skipper, but only a soger captain, belike?” - -“Not even good enough for a soger to my thinking,” answered the other, -in a tone of disgust. “Look ye here, brother, I’ve heard some of the old -hands say, though, mind ye, I doesn’t go along with them, that sogers is -like onions, never looks so well as when you hangs them up in a string. -But this here captain’s not even good enough for hanging, though he’ll -come to the yard-arm at last, or I’m mistaken.” - -Again Smoke-Jack pondered, and took a pull at his punch. - -“A flaxen-haired chap,” inquired he, “with a red nose and a pair of -cunning eyes? As thirsty as a sand-bank, and hails ye in a voice like the -boatswain’s whistle?” - -“That’s about the trim, all but the hair,” answered his friend. “To be -sure, he may have hoisted a wig. This beggar’s got the gift of the gab, -though, and pays ye out a yarn as long as the maintop bowline.” - -“It _must_ be the same,” said Smoke-Jack, and proceeded to relate his -grievances, which were as follows:— - -Paid off from a cruise, and finding he was pretty well to do in the -world, Smoke-Jack had resolved to amuse himself in London, by studying -life in a more enlarged phase than was afforded at his usual haunts near -the river-side. For this purpose he had dressed himself in a grave suit, -which made him look like some retired merchant captain, and in that -character frequented the more respectable ordinaries about the Savoy and -such civilised parts of the town. Here he made casual acquaintances, -chiefly of sedate exterior, especially affecting those who assumed a wise -port and talked heavy nonsense in the guise of philosophy. - -Not many weeks ago he had met a person at one of these dinner-tables -with whose conversation he was much delighted. Flaxen-haired, dark-eyed, -red-nosed, with a high voice, and of _quasi_-military appearance, but -seeming to be well versed in a spurious kind of science, and full -of such grave saws and aphorisms as made a deep impression on a man -like Smoke-Jack, reflective, uneducated, and craving for intellectual -excitement. That he could not understand half the captain said did -but add to the charm of that worthy’s discourse, and for two days the -pair were inseparable. On the third they concluded a dry argument on -fluids with the appropriate termination of a debauch, and the landsman -drugged the sailor’s liquor, so as to rob him of his purse, containing -twenty-five broad pieces, with the utmost facility, whilst he slept. - -Waking and finding his companion and his money gone, while the score was -left unpaid, Smoke-Jack remembered to have seen the captain stroke the -neck of a bay mare held by a boy at the door of the tavern they entered, -though he denied all knowledge of the animal. After this the sailor never -expected to set eyes on his scientific friend again. - -The mention of the bay mare proved beyond a doubt that the two shipmates -owed a grudge to the same individual. They laid their heads together to -pay it off accordingly, and called Alice, who was nowise unwilling, into -council. - -Her feminine aversion to violence dissuaded them from their first -intention of avenging their grievances by the strong hand. - -“It’s far better that such boasters as the captain should be frightened -than hurt,” observed gentle Alice. “If I’d my way, he should be well -scared once for all, like a naughty child, and then perhaps he’d never -come here any more.” - -Smoke-Jack listened as if spell-bound to hear a woman speak so wisely; -but her sweetheart objected— - -“It’s not so easy to frighten a man, Alice. I don’t quite see my bearings -how to set about it.” - -“He’s not like _you_, dear,” answered Alice, with a loving smile, and -showing some insight into the nature of true courage. “It would be easy -enough to scare _him_, for I’ve heard him say many a time he feared -neither man nor devil, and if Satan himself was to come across him, he’d -turn him round and catch him by the tail.” - -“I should like to see them grapple-to!” exclaimed both seamen -simultaneously. - -“Well,” answered Alice, in her quiet voice, “old Robin skinned our black -bullock only yesterday. Hide, and horns, and tail are all together in -the corner of the cow-house now. I’m sure I quite shuddered when I went -by. It’s an ugly sight enough, and I’m very much mistaken if it wouldn’t -frighten a braver man than Captain Bold!” - - - - -CHAPTER LVI - -FOREARMED - - -Notwithstanding the excitement under which she laboured, and the emotion -she painfully though contemptuously kept down, Madame de Montmirail -could not but smile at the unpretending mode in which she reached her -daughter’s new home. Slap-Jack, leading an old pony, that did all the odd -work of the “Hamilton Arms,” and that now swayed from side to side under -the traveller’s heavy valises, showed the way across the moor, while the -Marquise, on a pillion, sat behind Smoke-Jack, who, by no means at home -in the position, bestrode a stamping cart-horse with unexampled tenacity, -and followed his shipmate with perhaps more circumspection, and certainly -less confidence than if he had been steering the brigantine through shoal -water in a fog. He was by no means the least rejoiced of the three to -“make the lights” that twinkled in the hospitable windows of Hamilton -Hill. - -It is needless to enlarge on the reception of so honoured a guest as -Lady Hamilton’s mother, or the delighted welcome, the affectionate -inquiries, the bustle of preparation, the running to and fro of servants, -the tight embrace of Cerise, the cordial greeting of Sir George, the -courteous salute of Florian, and the strange restraint that, after the -first demonstrative warmth had evaporated, seemed to lour like a cloud -over the whole party. Under pretext of the guest’s fatigue, all retired -earlier than usual to their apartments; yet long before they broke up for -the night the quick perception of the Marquise warned her something was -wrong, and this because she read Sir George’s face with a keener eye -than scanned even her daughter’s. How handsome he looked, she thought, -standing stately in the doorway of his hall, to greet her with the frank -manly courtesy of which she knew the charm so well. Yes, Cerise was -indeed a lucky girl! and could she be unworthy of her happiness? Could -she have mismanaged or trifled with it? This was always the way. Those -who possessed the treasure never seemed to appreciate its worth. Ah! It -was a strange world! She had hoped Cerise would be so happy! And now—and -now! Could the great sacrifice have been indeed offered up in vain? - -Cerise was a good girl too; so kind, so truthful, so affectionate. Yet -in the present instance, if a shadow had really come between husband and -wife, Cerise must be in the wrong! - -Women generally argue thus when they adjudicate for the sexes. In the -absence of proof they almost invariably assume that their own is in -fault. Perhaps they decide from internal evidence, and know best. - -Lady Hamilton accompanied the Marquise to her bedroom, where mother and -daughter found themselves together again as they used to be in the old -days. It was not quite the same thing now. Neither could tell why, yet -both were conscious of the different relation in which they stood to each -other. It was but a question of perspective after all. Formerly the one -looked up, the other down. Now they occupied the dead level of a common -experience, and the mother felt her child was in leading-strings no more. - -Then came the old story; the affectionate fencing match, wherein one -tries to obtain a full and free confession without asking a single direct -question, while the other assumes an appearance of extreme candour, to -cover profound and impenetrable reserve. The Marquise had never loved -her child so little as when the latter took leave of her for the night, -having seen with her own eyes to every appliance for her mother’s -comfort, combining gracefully and fondly the solicitude of a hostess -with the affectionate care of a daughter; and Lady Hamilton, seeking her -own room, with a pale face and a heavy heart, wondered she could feel so -little inspirited by dear mamma’s arrival, and acknowledged with a sigh -that the bloom was gone from everything in life, and the world had grown -dull and dreary since this cold shadow came between her and George. - -He alone seemed satisfied with the turn affairs had taken. There need be -no more hesitation now, and it was well to know the worst. Sir George’s -demeanour always became the more composed the nearer he approached -a disagreeable necessity. Though Madame de Montmirail’s arrival had -exceedingly startled him, as in the last degree unexpected, he received -her with his customary cordial hospitality. Though he had detected, as -he believed, a deliberate falsehood, told him for the first time by the -wife of his bosom, he in no way altered the reserved, yet good-humoured -kindness of manner with which he forced himself to accost her of -late. Though he had discovered, as he thought, a scheme of black and -unpardonable treachery on the part of his friend, he could still afford -the culprit that refuge which was only to be found in his protection; -could treat him with the consideration due to every one beneath his own -roof. - -But none the more for this did Sir George propose to sit down patiently -under his injuries. I fear the temper cherished by this retired -Captain of Musketeers savoured rather of a duellist’s politeness than -a philosopher’s contempt, or the forgiveness of a Christian. When he -sought his chamber that night, the chamber in which stood the unfinished -model of his brigantine, and from the window of which he had watched his -wife and Florian on the terrace, there was an evil smile round his lips, -denoting that thirst of all others the most insatiable, the thirst for -blood. He went calmly through the incidents of the past day, as a man -adds up a sum, and the wicked smile never left his face. Again he saw -his wife’s white dress among the roses, and her graceful figure bending -over the flower-beds with that pale dark-eyed priest. Every look of both, -every gesture, seemed stamped in fire on his brain. He remembered the -eagerness with which she brought out her packet and confided it to the -Jesuit. He had not forgotten the cold, haughty tone in which she told -him, _him_, her husband, who perhaps had some little right to inquire, -that it contained letters for her mother in France. In France! And that -very night her mother appears at his own house in the heart of Great -Britain! - -He shuddered in a kind of pity to think of his own Cerise descending -to so petty a shift. Poor Cerise! Perhaps, after all, this coquetry -was bred in her, and she could not help it. She was her mother’s own -daughter, that was all. He remembered there used to be strange stories -about the Marquise in Paris, and he himself, if he had chosen—well, it -was all over now; but he ought never to have entrusted his happiness to -_that_ family. Of course if a married woman was a thorough coquette, as a -Montmirail seemed sure to be, she must screen herself with a lie! It was -contemptible, and he only despised her! - -But was nobody to be punished for all the annoyances thus thrust upon -himself; the disgrace that had thus overtaken his house? The smile -deepened and hardened now, while he took down a glittering rapier from -the wall, and examined the blade and hilt carefully, bending the weapon -and proving its temper against the floor. - -His mind was made up what to do, and to-morrow he would set about his -task. - -So long as Florian remained under his roof, he argued, the rights of -hospitality required that a host should be answerable for his guest’s -safety. Nay more, he would never forgive himself if, from any undue haste -or eagerness of his own, the satisfaction should elude him of avenging -his dishonour for himself. What gratification would it be to see the -Jesuit hanged by the neck on Tower Hill? No, no. His old comrade and -lieutenant should die a fairer death than that. Die like a soldier, on -his back, with an honourable man’s sword through his heart. But how if it -came about the other way? Florian’s was a good blade, the best his own -had ever crossed. He flourished his wrist involuntarily, remembering that -deadly disengagement which had run poor Flanconnade through the body, and -was the despair of every scientific fencer in the company. What if it -should be his own lot to fall? Well, at least, he should have taken no -advantage, he would have fought fair all through, and Cerise, in the true -spirit of coquetry, would love him very dearly when she found she was -never to see him again. - -He resolved, therefore, that he and Florian should depart forthwith. His -own character for loyalty stood so high, his intimacy with Sir Marmaduke -Umpleby and other gentlemen in authority was so well known, that he -anticipated no danger of discovery to any one who travelled under his -protection. Monsieur St. Croix should simply assume the ordinary dress -of a layman; they would not even ride on horseback. Every precaution -should be taken to avoid notice, and the ‘Flying Post’ coach, with its -interminable crawl, and innumerable delays, would probably answer the -purpose of unpretending secrecy better than any other mode of conveyance, -especially when they approached London. Thence, without delay, they would -post to the seaboard, charter a fast-sailing lugger, and so proceed in -safety to the coast of France. Once there, they would be on equal terms, -and no power on earth should come between them then. He liked to think of -the level sand, the grey sky overhead, the solitary shore, the moaning -wave, not a soul in sight or hearing but his enemy and his own point -within six inches of that enemy’s throat! - -Sir George’s night was disturbed and restless, but he slept sound towards -morning, as he had accustomed himself in his former life to sleep at any -given time, after he had placed his sentries on an outpost, or gone below -to his cabin for an hour’s rest while giving chase to a prize. - -When he awoke a cold grey sky loured overhead, and a light fall of snow -sprinkled the ground. It was the first morning of winter, come earlier -than usual even to those bleak moorlands, and strange to say, a foolish, -hankering pity for Lady Hamilton’s roses was the feeling uppermost in -his mind while he looked gloomily out upon the terrace. “Poor Cerise!” -he muttered. “Bleak sky and withered flowers—lover and husband both gone -by this time to-morrow! She will be lonely at first, no doubt, and it -is fortunate her mother should have arrived last night. But she will -console herself. They always do. Ah! these women, these women! That a man -should ever be such an idiot as to entrust his honour. Psha! his honour -has nothing to do with it—his happiness, nay, his mere comfort in their -hands. There is something even ludicrous in the infatuation. It reminds -me of Madame Parabére’s monkey playing with the Regent’s porcelain -flower-basket!—a laugh, a chatter, a stealthy glance or two, and down -goes the basket. What does it matter? They are all alike, I suppose, and -cannot help themselves. A man’s dog is faithful, his horse is honest, his -very hawk stoops to no lure but her master’s, while his wife. And I loved -her—I loved her. Fool that I am, I love her still! By the faith of a -gentleman, Monsieur de St. Croix, you will need every trick of the trade -to keep my point off your body if I once get you within distance!” - -Then Sir George descended to meet his guest with a quiet manner and an -unclouded brow, though the murderous smile still hovered about his mouth. - -“Florian,” said he, “do not condemn my hospitality if I announce -that you must depart this evening. Hamilton Hill is no longer a -sure refuge, though I believe that my company can still afford you -protection—therefore I travel with you. I do not leave you till I see you -landed in France. Till I have placed you in safety it concerns my honour -that you should be my care. But not a moment longer—not a moment longer, -remember that! You had better walk quietly down to the ‘Hamilton Arms’ -during the day. I will follow with your luggage and my own. We shall -proceed to London in the weekly coach, which passes southward to-night. -We can be across the water by the fifth day. Do you understand? The fifth -day. You must be well armed. Take any sword of mine that pleases you, -only be sure you choose one with two feet six inches of blade, and not -too pliant; you might meet with an adversary who uses brute force rather -than skill. A strong arm drives a stiff blade home. In the meantime I -recommend you to make your farewell compliments at once to the Marquise -and—and Lady Hamilton.” - -Florian assented, confused and stupefied like one in a dream. The hour he -had expected was come at last, and seemed none the more welcome for his -expectation. He must go—must leave the woman he worshipped, and the man -whom, strange to say, he loved as a brother, though that woman’s husband. -His senses seemed numbed, and he felt that to-day he could scarcely -appreciate his desolate condition. To-morrow it would not matter. There -was no to-morrow for him. Henceforth everything would be a blank. What -was it Sir George had said about a sword? Ah! the weapon might prove his -best friend. One home-thrust would put an end to all his sufferings. His -heart was dead within him, but he would see Cerise once more before he -left. A quick sharp pang warned him that his heart was not yet paralysed, -when he reflected how the Marquise was here, and he would not, therefore, -see Lady Hamilton alone. - -But the latter, pitiful, perhaps, because of her own sorrow, met him by -one of those accidents that are essentially feminine, as he traversed the -hall, booted and cloaked for his departure. She gave him her hand kindly, -and he pressed it to his lips. He knew then, while she passed on, that -never in this world was he to set eyes on her again. - -The door clanged to, the wind moaned, the crisp brown leaves eddied round -his feet on the frozen path, the cold struck to his very heart. How -dreary looked the white outline of those swelling moors against the black -laden clouds that scowled behind the hill. - -But Sir George was careful to avoid an uninterrupted interview with his -wife. He shut himself into his own apartment, and found the time pass -quicker than he expected, for he had many dispositions to make, many -affairs of business to arrange. If he came alive out of that prospective -conflict, he meant to be absent from England for an indefinite period. -Come what might, he would never see Cerise again. Not that he believed -her guilty—no, he said to himself, a thousand times, but she was as bad -as guilty—she had deceived him—she could never have loved him. It was all -over. There was nothing more to be said. - -The early night began to close ere his last pile of papers was burned, -his last packet sealed. Then Sir George took the compromising list of -his friends and neighbours with which Florian had entrusted him, and -placed it carefully in his breast. It might be an effective weapon, he -thought, if the Jesuit should prove restive about leaving England, or if -he himself should meet with opposition from any of the confederates. A -brace of pistols were now to be loaded and disposed in the large pockets -of his riding-coat, the trusty rapier to be buckled on, hat, gloves, -and cloak to be placed on the hall-table, Slap-Jack summoned to be in -readiness with the luggage, and Sir George was prepared for his journey. - -Not till these arrangements were made did he seek Lady Hamilton’s -withdrawing-room, where, perhaps to his disappointment, he found the -Marquise alone. - -His wife, however, soon entered, and accosted him with a very wife-like -inquiry— - -“Have you had no dinner, George? and before travelling, too? We would -have waited, but the servants said you had given orders not to be -disturbed.” - -“Sleep is food,” observed the Marquise. “I believe you have been -preparing for your journey with a _siesta_?” - -How homelike and comfortable looked the pretty room, with its blazing -fire and its beautiful occupants! And perhaps he was never to see it -again; was certainly never again to hear the voice he loved in that -endearing and familiar tone. - -But he would not pain his wife even now. As far as _he_ could spare -her she should be spared. They must not part on any terms but those of -kindness and good-will. He drew her towards his chair and called her by -her Christian name. - -“I would have dined with you, indeed, but I had not a moment to bestow,” -said he, “and the Marquise will excuse ceremony in such a family party as -ours. You will take care of Cerise, madame, when I am gone? I know I can -trust her safely with _you_.” - -The tears were standing in Lady Hamilton’s eyes, and she bent her face -towards her husband. - -“You will come back soon, George?” said she in a broken voice. “London is -not so far. Promise me you will only be a week away.” - -He drew her down and kissed her, once, twice, fondly, passionately, but -answered not a word. Then he took leave of the Marquise with something -less than his usual composure, which she did not fail to remark, and -notwithstanding a certain delay in the hall, of which Cerise tried in -vain to take advantage for another embrace, he summoned Slap-Jack and -departed. - -“My head must be going,” thought Sir George, as he walked with his old -foretopman across the frozen park. “I could have sworn I put both gloves -on the hall-table with my hat. Never mind, I have _one_ left at least for -Monsieur de St. Croix to take up. Five days more—only five days more! and -then―” - -Slap-Jack, looking into his master’s face under the failing light, saw -something there that strangely reminded him of the night when the captain -of ‘The Bashful Maid’ passed his sword through Hippolyte’s black body at -_Cash-a-crou_. - - - - -CHAPTER LVII - -AN ADDLED EGG - - -“Go ahead, Jack!” said the baronet, after they had crunched the frozen -snow in silence for a quarter of a mile. “See that everything is ready, -and secure a couple of berths in the ‘Weekly Dispatch,’ or whatever they -call that lumbering ‘Flying Post’ coach’s consort, for the whole trip. -I’ll be down directly.” - -“For you and me, Sir George?” asked Slap-Jack, exhilarated by the -prospect of a voyage to London. “Deck passengers, both, if I may be so -bold? The fore-hold of a slaver’s a joke to them London coaches between -decks.” - -“Do as you’re ordered,” answered his master, “and be smart about it. Keep -your tongue between your teeth, and wait at the ‘Hamilton Arms’ till I -come.” - -Sir George was obviously disinclined for conversation, and Slap-Jack -hastened on forthwith, delighted to have an hour or two of leisure in his -favourite resort, for reasons which will hereafter appear. - -No sooner was his servant out of sight than the baronet retraced -his steps, and took up a position under some yew-trees, so as to be -completely screened from observation. Hence he could watch the door -opening on his wife’s garden, and the windows of the gallery, already -lighted, which she must traverse to reach her own room. - -It was a pitiful weakness, he thought, but it could do no harm just to -see her shadow pass once more for the last, last time! - -Meanwhile Slap-Jack, arriving all in a glow at the “Hamilton Arms,” found -that hostelry in a great state of turmoil and confusion; the stables -were full of horses, the parlours were crowded with guests, even the bar -was thronged with comers and goers, most of whom had a compliment to -spare for mistress Alice. It was some minutes before she could find an -opportunity of speaking to him, but the whisper must have been ludicrous -as well as affectionate, for her sweetheart burst out laughing, and -exploded again at intervals, while he sat with Smoke-Jack over a cup of -ale in the tap. - -The two shipmates adjourned presently to the stable, where they were -followed by Alice, with a lanthorn, an armful of waxed twine, and a large -needle, furnished by the elder seaman, such as is used for thrumming -sails. - -Their occupation seemed to afford amusement, for they laughed so much as -greatly to endanger the secrecy enjoined by their feminine assistant, who -was so pleased with its progress that she returned to visit them more -than once from her avocations in the bar. - -The press of company to-night at the “Hamilton Arms” consisted of a very -different class from the usual run of its customers; the horses in the -stable were well-bred, valuable animals, little inferior in quality to -Captain Bold’s bay mare herself; the guests, though plainly dressed, -were of a bearing that seemed at once to extinguish the captain’s claims -to consideration, and caused him to slink about in a very unassuming -manner till he had fortified his failing audacity with strong drink. They -threw silver to old Robin the ostler, and called for measures of claret -or burnt sack with an unostentatious liberality that denoted habits of -affluence, while their thoughtful faces and intellectual features seemed -strangely at variance with the interest they displayed in the projected -cock-fight, which was their ostensible cause of gathering. A match for -fifty broad pieces a side need scarcely have elicited such eager looks, -such anxious whispers, such restless, quivering gestures, above all, such -morbid anxiety for the latest news from the capital. They wore their -swords, in which there was nothing remarkable, but every man was also -provided with a brace of pistols, carried on his person, as though loth -to trust the insecurity of saddle-holsters. - -Malletort walked about from one to the other like the presiding genius -of the commotion. For these he had a jest, for those a secret, for all a -word of encouragement, a smile of approval; and yet busy as he was, he -never took his eye off Florian, watching him as one watches a wild animal -caught in a snare too weak to insure its capture, and likely to break -with every struggle. - -Without appearing to do so, he had counted over the guests and found -their number complete. - -“Gentlemen,” said he, in a loud, open voice, “I have laid out pen and -ink in the Cedars, as my poor apartment is loftily entitled. If you will -honour me so far, I propose that we now adjourn to that chamber, and -there draw out the conditions of our match!” - -Every man of them knew he had a halter round his neck, and the majority -were long past the flush of youth, yet they scuffled upstairs, and played -each other practical jokes, like schoolboys, as they shouldered through -the narrow doorway into the room. - -Malletort, signing to Captain Bold, and taking Florian’s arm, brought up -the rear. - -“How now, Mrs. Dodge?” he called out, as he crossed the threshold. “I -ordered a fire to be lighted. What have you been about?” - -“Alice must be sent for! Alice had been told! Alice had forgotten! How -careless of Alice!” And Mrs. Dodge, in the presence of such eligible -customers, really felt much of the sorrow she expressed for her niece’s -thoughtlessness. - -When Alice did arrive to light the fire, her candle went out, her paper -refused to catch, her sticks to burn; altogether, she put off so much -time about the job, that, despite her good looks, the meeting lost -patience, and resolved to go to business at once; Captain Bold, who had -recovered his impudence, remarking that, “If what he heard from London -was true, some of them would have warm work enough now before all was -done!” - -The captain seemed a privileged person: all eyes turned on him anxiously, -while several eager voices asked at once— - -“What more have you heard?” - -Bold looked to the Abbé for permission, and on a sign from the latter, -handed him a letter, which Malletort retained unopened in his hand. - -Sensations of excitement, and even apprehension, now obviously pervaded -the assembly. Rumours had as usual mysteriously flown ahead of the real -intelligence they were about to learn, and men looked in each other’s -faces, for the encouragement they desired, in vain. - -“Gentlemen,” said the Abbé, taking his place at the table, and motioning -the others to be seated, whilst he remained standing, “if I fail to -express myself as clearly as I should wish, I pray you attribute my -shortcomings to a foreign idiom, and an ignorance of your expressive -language, rather than to any doubt or hesitation existing in my own mind -as to our line of conduct in the present crisis. I will not conceal from -you—why should I conceal from you—nay, how _can_ I conceal from you, that -the moment of action has now arrived. I look around me, and I see on -every countenance but one expression, a noble and courageous anxiety to -begin.” - -Murmurs of applause went through the apartment, while two or three voices -exclaimed, “Hear! hear!” “Well said!” “Go on!” - -“Yes, gentlemen,” resumed the Abbé, “the moment has at last arrived, the -pear is ripe, and has dropped off the wall from its own weight. The first -shot, so to speak, has been fired by the enemy. It is the signal for -attack. Gentlemen, I have advices here, informing me that the Bishop of -Rochester has been arrested, and is now imprisoned in the Tower.” - -His listeners rose to a man, some even seizing their hats, and drawing -the buckles of their sword-belts, as if under an irresistible impulse to -be off. One by one, however, they sat down again, with the same wistful -and even ludicrous expression of shame on the countenance of each, like a -pack of foxhounds that have been running hare. - -The reaction did not escape Malletort, who was now in his element. - -“I should have been unworthy of your confidence, gentlemen,” he -proceeded, with something of triumph in his tone, “had such a blow -as this fallen and found me unprepared. I was aware it had been -meditated, I was even aware that it had been resolved on, and although -the moment of execution could only be known to the government, I learned -enough yesterday to impress on me the policy of calling together this -influential meeting to-night. Our emissary, Captain Bold, here, will tell -you that the intelligence had only reached his colleague at the next post -two hours ago, though it travelled from London as fast as your English -horses can gallop and your English couriers can ride. It must be apparent -to every gentleman here that not another moment should be lost. My lord, -I will ask your lordship to read over the resolutions as revised and -agreed to at our last meeting.” - -He bowed low to an elderly and aristocratic-looking personage, who, -taking a paper from the Abbé’s hands, proceeded somewhat nervously to -read aloud as follows:— - -“Resolved—No. 1. That this Meeting do constitute itself a Committee of -Direction for the re-establishment of public safety, by authority of His -Majesty King James III., as authorised under his hand and seal. - -“No. 2. That the noblemen and gentlemen whose signatures are attached to -the document annexed, do pledge themselves to act with zeal, secrecy, and -unanimity, for the furtherance of the sacred object declared above. - -“No. 3. That for this purpose the oath be administered, jointly and -severally, as agreed. - -“No. 4. That the person now officially in correspondence with His -Majesty’s well-wishers in Artois be appointed Secretary to the Committee, -with full powers, as detailed under the head of Secret Instructions for -Committee of Safety, No. 7. - -“No. 5. That the Secretary be authorised in all cases of emergency to -call a meeting of the entire Committee at his discretion.” - -His lordship here paused to take breath, and Malletort again struck in. - -“By authority of that resolution, I have called you together to-night. I -cannot conceive it possible that there is present here one dissentient -to our great principle of immediate action. Immediate, because thus only -simultaneous. At the same time, if any nobleman or gentleman at this -table has a suggestion to make, let him now submit his views to the -meeting.” - -Several heads were bent towards each other, and a good deal of -conversation took place in whispers, ere a stout, good-humoured looking -man, constituting himself a mouthpiece for the rest, observed bluntly— - -“Tell us your plan, Mr. Secretary, and we’ll answer at once. Not one of -us is afraid of a leap in the dark, or we should scarcely be here now; -but there is no harm in taking a look whilst we can!” - -A murmur of applause denoted the concurrence of the majority in this -prudent remark, and Malletort, still with his eye on Florian, rose once -more to address them. - -“I need not recapitulate to this meeting, and especially to you, Sir -Rupert (saluting the last speaker), all the details set forth in those -secret instructions of which each man present has a copy. The invasion -from the Continent will take place on the appointed day, but with this -additional assurance of success, that three thousand Irish troops are -promised from a quarter on which we can implicitly rely. His lordship -here, as you are aware, following the instincts of his illustrious -line, assumes the post of honour and the post of danger amongst us in -the north, by placing himself at the head of a loyal and enthusiastic -multitude, only waiting his signal to take up arms. You, Sir Rupert, have -pledged yourself and your dalesmen to overawe the Whigs and Puritans of -the east. Other gentlemen, now listening to me, are prepared to bring -their several troops of an irregular, but highly efficient cavalry, into -the field. To you, who are all intimately acquainted with our military -dispositions, I need not insist on the certainty of success. Let each man -read over his secret instructions and judge for himself. But gentlemen, -the scheme of a campaign on a grand scale is not all with which we -have to occupy ourselves. Something more than a military triumph, -something more than a victorious battle is indispensable to our complete -success. And I need not remind you that there is no compromise between -complete success and irremediable disaster. It is an unavoidable choice -between St James’s Palace and Temple Bar. I now come to the germ of the -undertaking—the essence of the whole movement—the keystone of that -bridge we must all pass over to reach the wished-for shore. I allude to -the suppression of the Usurper and the fall of the House of Hanover.” - -A stir, almost a shudder, went through the assemblage. Men looked -askance at the papers on the table, the buckles of their sword-belts, -the spur-leathers on their boots, anything rather than betray to their -neighbours either too eager an apprehension of the Abbé’s meaning, or -too cold an approval of his object. He was speaking high treason with a -vengeance, and the one might place them in too dangerous a prominence, -while the other might draw down the equally dangerous mistrust of their -fellow-conspirators. Malletort knew well what was passing in his hearers’ -minds, but he never expected to get the iron hotter than it was to-night, -and he struck at it with his whole force. - -“The arrangements for our great blow,” said he, “have been confided to -a few zealous loyalists, with whose plans, as your Secretary, I have -been made acquainted. In five days from the present, King George, as he -is still called, returns to Kensington. He will arrive at the palace -about dusk. What do I say? He will never arrive there at all! Captain -Bold here, whom I have had the honour to present to this meeting, has -organised a small body of his old comrades, men of tried bravery and -broken fortunes, who are pledged to possess themselves of the Usurper’s -person. His guard will be easily overpowered, for it will be outnumbered -three to one. The titular Prince of Wales and his children will at the -same time be made prisoners, and the chief officers of state secured, -if possible without bloodshed. Such a bold stroke, combined with a -simultaneous rising here in the north, cannot but insure success. It is -for you, gentlemen, to assemble your followers, to hold yourselves in -readiness, and trusting implicitly to the co-operation of your friends in -London, to declare on the same day for His Majesty King James III.!” - -The enthusiasm Malletort contrived to fling into his last sentence caught -like wildfire. - -“Long live James the Third!”—“Down with the Whigs!” exclaimed several of -his listeners; and Sir Rupert flung his hat to the low ceiling ere he -placed it on his head, as if preparing to depart; but the tall figure of -the elderly nobleman, as he rose from his chair, seemed to dominate the -tumult, and every syllable was distinctly audible, while he inquired, -gravely— - -“Can this be accomplished without violence to the person of him whom we -deem a Usurper?” - -Only the narrowest observers could have detected the sneer round -Malletort’s mouth, while he replied— - -“Certainly, my lord!—certainly! With as little personal violence as is -possible when armed men are fighting round a king in the dark! My lord, -if you please, we will now pass on to a few trifling matters of finance, -after which I need detain the meeting no longer.” - -The meeting, as usual, was only too happy to be dissolved. In less than -ten minutes hats and cloaks were assumed, reckonings paid, horses led out -from the stable, and riders, with anxious hearts, diverging by twos and -threes on their homeward tracks. - -There was no question, however, about the cock-fight which was supposed -to have called these gentlemen together. - -Malletort, Florian, and Captain Bold remained in the Cedars. The two -priests seemed anxious, thoughtful, and preoccupied; but the Captain’s -eye twinkled with sly glances of triumphant vanity, and he appeared -extremely self-satisfied, though a little fidgety, and anxious for his -employer to leave the room. - - - - -CHAPTER LVIII - -HORNS AND HOOFS - - -“There is nothing but the Declaration to be provided for now,” observed -Malletort, after a pause. “You had better give it me back, Florian, even -without Sir George’s name subscribed. He is a man of mettle, and will be -in the saddle as soon as he hears steel and stirrup ring.” - -Although the Abbé did not fail to observe how strange an alteration had -to-day come over his young friend’s manner, he simply attributed it to -the qualms of conscience which are often so embarrassing to beginners -in the science of deception, but which, as far as his own experience -served him, he had found invariably disappeared with a little practice. -He never doubted that Florian was equally interested with himself in -the success of their undertaking, though for different reasons. He -attributed it to nervousness, anxiety, and a foolish hankering after Lady -Hamilton, the wildness of the young priest’s dark eye—the fixed spot of -colour in his cheek, lately so pale and wan—the resolute expression of -his feminine mouth, denoting some desperate intention—and the general -air of abstraction that showed as well unconsciousness of the present -as recklessness of the future into which he seemed to project his whole -being. The Abbé simply expected that Florian would place his hand in -his bosom and bring out the roll of paper required. He was surprised, -therefore, to receive no answer; and repeated, hastily, for he had still -a press of business to get through— - -“The manifesto, my friend—quick! It must be retained in my care till it -is printed!” - -Florian woke up from a brown study, and looked vacantly around. - -“It is still in Sir George’s hands,” said he. “I believe I have asked him -for it more than once, but I could not get it back.” - -“In Sir George’s hands!” repeated the Abbé, almost losing patience, “and -without Sir George’s signature! Do you know what you are saying? Florian, -listen, man, and look up. Are you awake?” - -The other passed his hand wearily across his brow. - -“I have slept little of late,” was all he answered. “It is as I tell you.” - -Even Captain Bold could not but admire the Abbé’s self-control, that -kept down the impatience naturally resulting from such a confession, so -composedly announced. He mused for a moment with his peculiar smile, and -observed, quietly— - -“You travel to London to-night, I believe, and you travel together?” - -Florian only bowed his head in reply. - -“I wish you a pleasant journey,” continued the Abbé. “Had you not better -go now and make the necessary preparations?” - -Then, as soon as the door closed on Florian, who walked out dejectedly, -without another word, he grasped Captain Bold’s arm, and laughed a low, -mocking laugh. - -“Business increases, captain,” said he. “Yours is a trade sure to thrive, -for its occasions come up fresh every day. Did you hear that Sir George -Hamilton possesses a paper I require? and that he proceeds to London -to-night?” - -“I heard it,” answered the captain, doggedly. - -He, too, knew something of Sir George, and did not much relish the job -which he began to suspect was provided for him. - -“That paper must be in my hands before daybreak,” continued the Abbé, -speaking in such low, distinct accents, as his emissary had already -learned admitted of no appeal. “You will name your own price, Captain -Bold, and you will bring me what I require—as little blood on it as -possible—at least two hours before dawn.” - -The captain pondered, and his face fell. - -“Do you know how Sir George travels?” said he, in his high, quavering -voice, more tremulous than its wont. “There has been such a press of -work lately that I am rather short both of men and horses. If he takes -anything like a following with him it might come to a coil; and such jobs -won’t bear patching. They must be done clean or let alone. That’s my -principle! He’s a cock of the game, this, you see,” added the captain, -apologetically; “and you’ll not cut his comb without a thick pair of -gloves on, I’ll warrant him!” - -“Permit me to observe, my friend,” replied Malletort, coolly, “that this -is a mere matter of detail with which I can have no concern. It is not -the least in my line, but exclusively in yours. Must I repeat? You name -your own price, and work in your own way.” - -“It cannot be done without cutting his throat,” said Bold, despondingly, -regretting the while, not so much a necessity for bloodshed, as his own -sorry chance of carrying out the adventure with a whole skin. - -“Of course not,” assented the Abbé. “Why, he was in the Grey Musketeers -of the King!” - -“To-night, you say,” continued the captain, in the same mournful tone. “I -wonder if he rides that bay with the white heels. I’ve seen him turn the -horse on a sixpence, and he’s twice as heavy as my mare.” - -Again Malletort laughed his low, mocking laugh. - -“Fear not,” said he; “there need be no personal collision on foot or -on horseback. Sir George travels by the heavy post-coach, like any fat -grazier or cattle-dealer, whom you may bid ‘Stand and deliver’ without a -qualm.” - -“By the coach!” repeated Bold, his face brightening. “That’s a different -job altogether. That makes the thing much more like business, especially -if there’s many passengers. You see, they frighten and hamper one -another. Why, if there’s a stoutish old woman or two anyways near him, -it’s as likely as not they’ll pinion Sir George by both arms, and hold -on till we’ve finished, screaming awful, of course! But you won’t make -any difference in the price on account of the coach, now, will you? Even -chancing the old women, you see, we’re very short-handed to do it clean.” - -“I have said more than once, name your own price,” answered the Abbé. -“I deduct nothing for a friend whom I will myself place by Sir George’s -side, and who will do the pinioning you speak of more effectually, if -with less noise, than a ton of old women. How many hands can you muster?” - -“Mounted, of course?” replied the captain. “There’s myself, and Blood -Humphrey, and Black George. I don’t think I can count on any others, but -we ought to have one more to do it handsome.” - -“I will come with you myself,” said the Abbé. “I have a horse here in the -stable, and better arms than any of you.” - -The captain stared aghast, but so great was the respect with which -Malletort inspired his subordinates, that he never dreamed for an instant -of dissuading the Abbé from an adventure which he might have thought -completely out of a churchman’s line. On the contrary, satisfied that -whatever the chief of the plot undertook would be well accomplished, he -looked admiringly in his principal’s face, and observed— - -“We’ll stop them at the old thorns, half-way up Borrodaile Rise. The -coach will back off the road, and likely enough upset in the soft moor. -I’ll cover Sir George, and pull the moment he’s off his seat to get down. -The others will rob the passengers, and—and I suppose there is nothing -more to arrange?” - -The Abbé, folding up his papers to leave the room, nodded carelessly and -replied:— - -“We mount in half an hour. Through the heart, I think, Bold. The head is -easily missed at a dozen paces from the saddle.” - -“Through the heart,” answered the captain, but Malletort had already -quitted the room and closed the door. - -“Half an hour,” mused Bold, now left to himself in the cold and -dimly-lighted apartment. “In half an hour a good deal may be done both -in love and war. And Alice promised to be here by now. I thought the -gentleman never _would_ go away. What a time they were, to be sure! -We make quicker work of it in our trade. How cold it is! I wish I’d a -glass of brandy; but I dursn’t, no, I dursn’t, though I’m all of a shake -like. I’ll have one ‘steadier’ just before I get on the mare. If I’m -over-primed I shall miss him, and he’s not the sort to give a chap a -second chance. I wish this job was over. I never half-liked it from the -first. Hush! I think that’s Alice’s cough. Poor little girl! She loves -the very boots I wear. I wish she’d come, though. This room is cursed -lonesome, and I don’t like my own company unless I can have it really to -myself. I always fancy there’s somebody else I can’t see. How my teeth -chatter. It’s the cold. It _must_ be the cold! Well, there’s no harm in -lighting the fire, at any rate.” - -So speaking, or rather muttering, the captain, on whose nerves repeated -glasses of brandy at all hours of the day and night had not failed to -make an impression, proceeded to collect with trembling hands certain -covers of despatches and other coarse scraps of paper left on the floor -and table, which litter he placed carefully on the hearth, building the -damp sticks over them skilfully enough, and applying his solitary candle -to the whole. - -His paper flared brightly, but with no other effect than to produce -thick, stifling clouds of smoke from the saturated fuel and divers oaths -spoken out loud from the disgusted captain. - -“May the devil fly away with them!” said he, in a towering rage, “to a -place where they’ll burn fast enough without lighting. And me, too!” he -added yet more wrathfully, “for wasting my time like a fool waiting for a -jilt who can’t even lay a fire properly in an inn chimney.” - -The words had scarce left his lips when a discordant roar resounded, as -it seemed, from the very wall of the house, and a hideous monster, that -he never doubted was the Arch Fiend whom he had invoked, came sprawling -on all-fours down the chimney which the smoke had refused to ascend, and -made straight for the terrified occupant of the apartment, whose hair -stood on end, and whose whole senses were for a moment paralysed with -horror and dismay. - -In a single glance the captain beheld the black shaggy hide, the -wide-spreading horns, the cloven hoofs, the long and tufted tail! -That glance turned him for one instant to a man of stone. The next, -with an irrepressible shout that denoted the very anguish of fear, he -sprang through the door, upsetting and extinguishing the candle in his -flight, and hurried downstairs, closely, though silently followed by the -monster, who thus escaped from the room before Malletort, alarmed at the -disturbance, could re-enter it with a light. - -“He’s not heart of oak, isn’t that chap!” said Slap-Jack, as he turned -noiselessly into the stable, where he proceeded to divest himself of the -bullock’s hide he had worn for his masquerade, and so much of the filth -it had left as could be effaced by scraping his garments and washing face -and hands with soap and water. But the jest which had been compiled so -merrily with his friend and sweetheart seemed to have lost all its mirth -in the execution, for the seaman looked exceedingly grave and thoughtful, -stealing quietly into the bar in search of his shipmate, with whom he -presently disappeared to hold mysterious conference outside the house, -secure from all eavesdroppers. - -Captain Bold, though for a short space well-nigh frightened out of -his wits, was not so inexperienced in the maladies of those who, -like himself, applied freely and continuously to the brandy bottle, -to be ignorant that such jovial spirits are peculiarly subject to -hallucinations, and often visited by phantoms which only exist in their -own diseased imaginations. He had scarcely reached the bar, therefore—a -refuge he sought unconsciously and by instinct—ere he recovered himself -enough to remember that alcohol was the only specific for the horrors, -and he proceeded accordingly to swallow glass after glass till his -usual composure of mind should return. He was nothing loth to use the -remedy, yet each succeeding draught, while it strung his nerves, seemed -to increase his depression, and for the first time in his life, he felt -unable to shake off an uncomfortable conviction, that whether the phantom -was really in the chimney or only in his own brain, he had that night -received a warning, and was doomed. - -There was little leisure, however, either for apprehension or remorse. -Malletort, booted and well armed beneath his cassock, was already -descending the stairs, and calling for his horse. To judge by his open -brow and jaunty manner, his final interview with Florian, whom he had -again summoned for a few last words, must have been satisfactory in the -extreme. The latter, too, carried his head erect, and there was a proud -glance in his eye, as of one who marches to victory. - -“You will not fail at the last moment?” said the Abbé, pressing St. -Croix’s hand while they descended the wooden staircase in company, and -Florian’s reply, “Trust me, I will not fail!” carried conviction even to -the cold heart of the astute and suspicious churchman. - -So Captain Bold tossed off his last glass of brandy, examined the -priming of his pistols, and swung himself into the saddle. His staunch -comrades were at his side. The Abbé, of whose administrative powers he -entertained the highest opinion, was there to superintend the expedition. -It was easy, it was safe. Once accomplished, his fortune was made for -life. As they emerged upon the snow, just deep enough to afford their -horses a sure foothold, the bay mare shook her bit and laid her ears -back cheerfully. Even Black George, usually a saturnine personage, -acknowledged the bracing influence of the keen night air and the -exhilarating prospect of action. He exchanged a professional jest with -Blood Humphrey, and slapped his commander encouragingly on the shoulder; -but, for all this, a black shadow seemed to hover between Captain Bold -and the frosty stars—something seemed to warn him that the hour he had so -often jested of was coming on him fast, and that to-night he must look -the death he had so lightly laughed at in the face. - - - - -CHAPTER LIX - -A SUBSTITUTE - - -We left Sir George watching in the cold, under a clump of yews, for the -chance of seeing his wife’s shadow cross one of the lighted windows in -the gallery. He remained there far longer than he supposed. So many -thoughts were passing through his mind, so many misgivings for the -future, so many memories of the past, that he was conscious neither of -bodily discomfort nor lapse of time, the chill night-wind nor the waning -evening. At length he roused himself from his abstraction with a smile of -self-contempt, and, wrapping his cloak around him, would have departed -at once, but that his attention was arrested by a muffled figure passing -swiftly and stealthily into the garden through the very door he had been -watching so long. A thrill of delight shot through him at the possibility -of its being Cerise, followed by one of anger and suspicion, as he -thought she might, in sheer despair at her lover’s absence, be preparing -to follow Florian in his flight. But the figure walked straight to his -hiding-place, and long before it reached him, even in the doubtful light, -he recognised the firm step and graceful bearing of the Marquise. - -How did she know he was there? How long could she have been watching him? -He felt provoked, humiliated; but all such angry feelings dissolved at -the sound of her sweet voice, so like her daughter’s, while she asked him -softly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world that he should -be waiting outside within twenty paces of his own house— - -“George, what is it? You are disturbed; you are anxious. Can I help you? -George, I would do anything in the world for you. Are you not dear to me -as my own child, _almost_?” - -He tried to laugh it off, but his mirth was forced and hollow. - -“I have so many preparations to make. There are so many trifles to be -thought of, even in leaving a place like this, that really, madame, I was -only waiting here for a while to remember if I had forgotten anything.” - -She laid her hand on his arm, as she had laid it long ago at the masked -ball, and perhaps the gesture brought back that time to both. - -“Even if you can blind Cerise,” she said, “you cannot deceive me. And -Cerise, poor child, is crying her eyes out by herself; miserable, utterly -miserable, as if you had gone away from her for ever. But it is no -question now of my daughter; it is a question of yourself, George. _You_ -are unhappy, I tell you. I saw it as soon as I came here. And I have been -watching ever since you left the house, till it should be quite dark, -to come and speak to you before you go, and ask for the confidence that -Heaven only knows how fully I, of all people, deserve.” - -There was a world of suppressed feeling in her voice while she spoke -the last sentence, but he marked it not. He was thinking of Cerise. -“Miserable,” said her mother, “utterly miserable, as if he had gone away -from her for ever.” Then it was for Florian she was grieving, of course. -Bah! he had known it all through. Of what use was it thus to add proof to -proof—to pile disgrace upon disgrace? It irritated him, and he answered -abruptly— - -“You must excuse me, madame; this is no time for explanations, even were -any necessary, and I have already loitered here too long.” - -She placed herself directly in his path, standing with her hands clasped, -as was her habit when moved by any unusual agitation. - -“If you had gone away at once,” said she, “I was prepared to follow you. -I have watched you from the moment you crossed the threshold. Am I blind? -Am I a young inexperienced girl, who has never felt, never suffered, to -be imposed on by a haughty bearing and a forced smile? Bah! Do people -stand for an hour in the snow reflecting if they have forgotten their -luggage? You men think women have no perception, no mind, no heart. You -are going, George, and I shall never set eyes on you again—never, never; -for I could not bear to see you miserable, and I alone of all the world -must not endeavour to console you. Therefore I do not fear to speak -frankly now. Listen; something has come between you and Cerise. Do not -interrupt me. I know it. I feel it. Do not ask me why. It is not your -hand that should add one stripe to my punishment. George, my poor girl -is breaking her heart for your sake; and you, you the man of all others -qualified to make a woman happy, and to be happy with her yourself, are -destroying your home with your own hands. Look at me, George. I have seen -the world, as you know. My lot has been brilliant, fortunate, envied by -all; and yet—and yet—I have never had the chance that you so recklessly -throw away. No, no; though I may have dreamed of it, I never so deceived -myself as to fancy for a moment it was mine! Cerise loves you, George, -loves the very ground you walk on, and you are leaving her in anger.” - -“I wish I could believe it,” he muttered, in a hoarse, choking voice; for -he was thinking of the pale, dark-eyed priest bending over the rose-trees -with his wife. - -“Do you think I can be deceived?” broke out the Marquise, seizing his -hand with both her own, and then flinging it off in a burst of sorrowful -reproach. “Wilful! heartless! cruel! Go, then, if go you must, and so -farewell for ever. But remember, I warned you. I, who know by bitter -experience, the madness, the shame, the agony of an impossible love!” - -She turned from him and fled into the house, muttering, as she crossed -its threshold, “The poor pelican! how it must hurt when she digs her beak -into her bosom, and feeds her young with her own heart’s blood!” - -Sir George Hamilton stood looking after her for a moment; then he shook -his head, drew his cloak tighter round him, and strode resolutely across -the park to the “Hamilton Arms.” - -Thus it fell out that when he arrived there, he found the hostelry, -lately so full of guests, occupied only by Florian and the two seamen; -the first depressed, silent, preoccupied; the others obviously swelling -with importance, and bursting to communicate some great intelligence at -once. - -It was fortunate that the former commander of ‘The Bashful Maid,’ -retained enough of his old habits to comprehend the tale Slap-Jack had to -tell, garnished as it was with professional phrases and queer sea-going -metaphors that no landsman could have followed out. From his faithful -retainer the baronet learned all the particulars of the Jacobite meeting, -and the conspiracy so carefully organised against the throne, discovered -by no less futile a contingency than the freak of a barmaid to frighten a -highwayman. Sir George believed it his duty now to warn the Government at -once. Yet even while reflecting on the importance of his information, and -the noble reward it might obtain, he was pondering how he could escape -the delay of an hour in London, and longing for the moment when he should -find himself face to face with Florian on the coast of France. - -It was characteristic of the man that he gave little thought to the -attack meditated upon his own person, simply examining his arms as usual, -and desiring Slap-Jack, who had come unprovided, to borrow a brace of -pistols wherever he could get them, while he bestowed on Smoke-Jack, who -piteously entreated leave to “join the expedition,” a careless permission -“to take his share in the spree if he liked.” - -So these four men waited in the warm inn-parlour for the roll of the -lumbering coach that was to bear them, so each well knew, into a struggle -for life and death. - -When their vehicle arrived at last, they found themselves its only -passengers. The burly coachman descending from his seat to refresh, -cursed the cold weather heartily, and in the same breath tendered a -gruff salutation to Sir George. The guard, whose face was redder, whose -shoulders were broader, and whose voice was huskier even than the -coachman’s, endorsed his companion’s remarks, and followed suit in his -greetings to the baronet, observing, at the same time, that he should -“take a glass of brandy neat, to drive the cold out of his stomach.” -This stimulant was accordingly administered by Alice, and paid for by Sir -George, who had not lived at Hamilton Hill without learning the etiquette -of coach travelling as practised on the north road. While he placed some -silver on the counter, it did not escape him that both functionaries had -been drinking freely, possibly to console them for the lack of company, -while Slap-Jack, grinning in delight, whispered to his mate— - -“If you an’ me was to go for to take _our_ spell at the wheel, -half-slewed, like them chaps, my eyes, wot a twistin’ _we_ should get -to-morrow mornin’ afore eight bells!” - -With so light a freight there was less delay in changing horses than -usual. Scarcely a quarter of an hour had elapsed since its arrival ere -four moderate-looking animals were harnessed to the coach. The luggage -was hoisted on, old Robin rewarded, Mrs. Dodge paid, Alice kissed with -much energy by her sweetheart, and Sir George, with Florian, invited -to take their places on the front seat behind the driver; then the -two seamen clambered up beside the guard, the whip cracked, the hoofs -clattered, the whole machine creaked and jingled, while Smoke-Jack, -removing the pipe from his mouth with a certain gravity, expressed his -devout hope that “old brandy-face would keep her well up in the wind and -steer small!” - -It was a cold night, and a cheerless, though light as day, for the moon -had risen and the ground was white with snow. Sir George, wrapped in his -cloak, with his hand on the butt of a pistol, after some vague remarks -about the weather, which Florian appeared not to hear, relapsed into the -silence of one who prepares all his energies for an approaching crisis. - -The Jesuit seemed unconscious of his companion’s existence. Pale as -death, even to the lips, his face set, his teeth clenched, his eyes fixed -on the horizon before him, as his mental sight projected itself into the -unknown future he had this night resolved to penetrate, there pervaded -the whole bearing of the man that unearthly air of abstraction peculiar -to those who are doomed, whose trial is over, whose sentence is recorded, -for whom henceforth there can be neither hope nor fear. - -Sir George meditated on a thousand possible contingencies. Already his -mind had overleaped the immediate affairs of the night, the coming -skirmish, and its possible disaster. These were but every-day matters, -familiar to his old habits, and scarce worth thinking of. But there was -one scene beyond which his imagination could not be forced; it seemed, as -it were, to limit his future in its bounds, and afterwards there would be -no aim, no purpose, no relish in life. It represented a spit of sand on -the coast of Picardy, and a man with shirt-sleeves rolled up, grasping a -bloody rapier in his hand, who was smiling bitterly down on a dead face -white and rigid at his feet. - -Florian, too, sitting by his side, had his own vision. This, also, was of -blood, but blood freely offered in atonement to friendship, and expiation -for love. - -The night was still, and the moonlight tempered by a misty sky that -denoted there would be more snow before morning. The coachman dozed over -his wheelers. The guard, overcome with brandy, laid his head on a hamper, -and went fast asleep. The two seamen, silently consoling themselves with -tobacco, shut an eye apiece, and screwed their faces into the expression -of inscrutable sagacity affected by their class when they expect bad -weather of any kind. The horses, taking counsel together, as such beasts -do, jogged on at the slowest possible pace that could not be stigmatised -for a walk, and the heavy machine lumbered wearily up the gradual ascent, -which half a mile further on, where the hill became steeper and the road -worse, was known as Borrodaile Rise. - -Now the Abbé, in command of his little troop, had intended to conceal -them behind a clump of thorns that diversified the plain surface of the -moor, almost on the summit of this acclivity, and so pounce out upon his -prey at the moment it was most hampered by the difficulties of its path; -but, like other good generals, he suffered his plans to be modified by -circumstances, and would change them, if advisable, at the very moment of -execution. - -On the right of the road, if road that could be called, which was but a -soft and deeply-rutted track through the heather, stood the four walls of -a roofless building, uninhabited within the memory of man, about twenty -paces from a deep holding slough, through which the coach must pass; -this post, with the concurrence of Bold and his confederates, the Abbé -seized at once. It offered them some shelter against the storms of sleet -that drove at intervals across the moor, while it afforded a covert from -which, though mounted, they could reconnoitre unseen, for two miles in -every direction, and rush out at a moment’s notice on their unsuspecting -prey. - -So, behind those grey, weather-stained walls, the little party sat their -horses, erect and vigilant, reins shortened, firearms primed, swords -loosened in the sheath, like a picket of light-cavalry when the alarm has -sounded, and its outposts have been driven in. - -The advancing coach made but little noise as it crept slowly onward -through the snow, nevertheless a muttered oath from Blood Humphrey, and -the scowl on Black George’s brow, announced its arrival ere it came -in sight. By the time it could emerge from a certain hollow at fifty -yards’ distance, and gain the slough, through which it moved heavily and -wearily, like a hearse, its huge black mass brought out against the dead -white of the misty, moonlit sky, afforded as fair a target for close -shooting as a marksman need desire. - -Captain Bold had been trembling all over but a few minutes back, now -he was firm as a rock, but it cost him a desperate effort thus to man -himself, and even while he cocked the pistol in his right hand, gathering -his mare at the same time, for a dash to the front, he wished, from the -bottom of his heart, he had undertaken any job but this. - -“Steady, my friend!” whispered the Abbé. “In ten more paces the whole -machine must come to a halt. At the instant it stops, cover your man, and -level low!” - -Then Malletort placed himself behind the others in readiness for any -emergency that should arrive. - -The slough reached nearly to the axles, the wheels scarce moved, the -horses laboured—failed—stopped; the coachman, waking with a jerk, swore -lustily as he nearly fell from his seat; the guard jumped up and shook -himself; Florian’s eyes flashed, and a strange, wild smile played over -his wan face, while Slap-Jack protested angrily, that “the lubber was -aground, d’ye see? and however could he expect the poor thing would -answer her helm, when she hadn’t got no steerage-way!” - -Even while he spoke, a horseman, rising, as it seemed, from the earth, -dashed out before the leaders, followed by three more, who, in the hurry -and confusion of the moment, looked like a dozen at least. - -“Stand and deliver!” exclaimed the foremost, in the customary language of -“the road”; but, without waiting to see if this formidable command would -be obeyed, he pulled his bay mare together, till she stood motionless -like a statue, covered the larger of the two figures behind the coachman, -as it rose from its seat, and—fired! - -Bold’s hand and eye had never served him better than in this, his last -crime; but he was anticipated, foiled by a quicker eye, a readier hand -than his own. With the very flash of the pistol, even ere the smoke that -curled above their heads had melted into air, a heavy body, falling -across Sir George’s knees, knocked him back into his seat, and Florian, -shot through the lungs, lay gasping out his life in jets of blood with -every breath he drew. - -It was instinct, rather than inhumanity, that caused the old Musketeer -to take steady aim at the assassin over the very body of his preserver. -Ever coolest in extremity of danger, Sir George was, perhaps, surer of -his mark than he would have been shooting for a wager in the galleries of -Marly or Versailles. Ere a man could have counted ten, his finger pressed -the trigger, and Bolt, shot clean through the heart, fell from the saddle -in a heap, nor, after one quiver of the muscles, did he ever move again. - -The bay mare, snorting wildly, would not leave her master, but snuffed -wistfully and tenderly round that tumbled wisp of tawdry clothes, from -which a crimson stain was soaking slowly into the snow. - -Then Sir George turned to Florian, and rested the dying, drooping form -against his own broad breast. Where was the spit of sand, the lonely -duel, now?—the pitiless arm, the bloody rapier, and all the hideous -vision of revenge? Gone—vanished—as if it had never been; and, in its -stead, a tried, beloved comrade, pale, sinking, prostrate, bleeding -helplessly to death. - -“Courage, Florian!” whispered Sir George, tenderly. “Lean on me while I -stanch the blood. You will pull through yet. We will have you back at the -Hill in an hour. D― it, man! Lady Hamilton shall nurse you herself till -you get well!” - -A gleam came over the dying face, like a ray of sunlight gilding the -close of a bleak winter’s day. - -“I have never been false,” he murmured, “never false really in my heart. -I swore to save you, George, life for life, and I have kept my oath. I -shall not live to see Lady Hamilton again, but—but—you will tell her that -it was _my_ body which―” - -He turned fainter now, and lay half-propped against the seat he had -lately occupied, holding Sir George’s hand, and effectually preventing -the baronet from taking any further part in the fray. - -It is not to be supposed that the two seamen in the back of the coach had -been idle witnesses of a tumult which so exactly coincided with their -notions of what they termed “a spree.” Protected from the fire of the -horsemen by a pile of luggage on its roof, or, as Slap-Jack called it, by -the deck-cargo, they had made an excellent defence, and better practice -than might have been looked for with a brace of borrowed pistols, apt to -hang fire and throw high. The guard, too, after a careful and protracted -aim, discharged his blunderbuss, with a loud explosion; and the result -of their joint efforts was, that the highwaymen, as the last-named -functionary believed them, were beaten off. Blood Humphrey’s horse was -shot through the flank, though the poor brute made shift to carry his -rider swiftly away. Black George had his ankle-bone broken, but managed -to gallop across the moor after his comrade, writhing in pain, and with -his boot full of blood. Bold lay dead on the ground. There was but one of -the assailants left—a well-armed man in a cassock, who had kept somewhat -in the background; and _his_ horse, too, was badly wounded behind its -girths. - -Sir George was occupied with Florian, but the others sprang down to take -the last of their foes captive; ere they could reach him, however, he had -leaped into the bay mare’s saddle, and was urging her over the heather at -a pace that promised soon to place him in safety, for the bay mare was -the fastest galloper in Yorkshire, and her rider knew it was a race for -life and death. - -“By heavens, it is Malletort!” exclaimed Sir George, looking up from -his charge, at sound of the flying hoofs, to observe something in the -fugitive’s seat and figure that identified him with the Abbé, and -gazing after him so intently, that he did not mark the expression of -satisfaction on Florian’s pain-stricken face when he learned the other -had escaped. “I never thought he could ride so well,” muttered the -baronet, while he watched the good bay mare speeding steadily over the -open, and saw the Frenchman put her straight at a high stone wall, beyond -which he knew, by his own experience, there was a considerable drop into -a ravine. The mare jumped it like a deer, and after a time rose the -opposite slope at a swifter pace than ever. Sir George could only make -her out very indistinctly now, yet something in the headlong manner of -her career caused him to fancy she was going without a rider. - -He had more important matters to occupy him. It had begun to snow -heavily, and Florian was growing weaker every minute. With a dying man -for their freight; with the absence of other passengers; above all, with -the prospect of increased difficulty in progression at every yard they -advanced, for the sky had darkened, and the flakes fell thicker, guard -and driver were easily persuaded to turn their horses’ heads, and make -the best of their way back to Hamilton Hill. - -It was but a few miles distant, and Sir George, hoping against hope, -tried to persuade himself that if he could only get Florian under his own -roof alive, he might be saved. - -They were good nurses, that tried campaigner and his two rough, hardy -seamen. Tenderly, like women, they stanched the welling life-blood, -supported the nerveless, drooping figure, and wiped the froth from -the dry, white lips that could no longer speak, but yet made shift to -smile. Tenderly, too, they whispered soothing words, in soft, hushed -voices, looking blankly in each other’s faces for the hope their hearts -denied; and thus slowly, sadly, solemnly, the dark procession laboured -back, taking the road they had lately travelled, passed the well-known -hostelry, and so wearily climbed the long ascent to the grim, looming -towers of Hamilton Hill. - -Not a word was spoken. Scarce a sound betrayed their progress. The air -was hushed—the flakes fell softly, heavily—the earth lay wrapped in a -winding-sheet of snow—and Florian was dead before they reached the house! - - - - -CHAPTER LX - -SOLACE - - -Bad news proverbially flies apace, and it is strange how soon the -intelligence of any catastrophe pervades an entire household. - -Though it was towards the small hours of morning that the coach arrived, -with its dead freight, at the gates of Hamilton Hill, the whole -establishment seemed to arouse itself on the instant, and to become -aware, as though by instinct, that something had occurred productive of -general confusion and dismay. - -Cerise, pale and spiritless, was sitting in her bed-chamber, over the -embers of a dying fire, thinking wearily of her husband, wondering, with -aching heart and eyes full of tears, what could be this shadow that had -of late come up between them, and now threatened to darken her whole life. - -How she wished, yes, she actually wished now, she had never married -him. He would have remembered her then as the girl he might have loved. -For his own happiness, she protested, she could give him up readily, -cheerfully even, to another woman. Then she reviewed all the women of -her acquaintance, without, however, being able to fix on one to whom she -could make this sacrifice ungrudgingly. She thought, too, how forlorn -she would feel deprived of George. And yet, was she not deprived of -him already? Could any separation be more complete than theirs? It was -torture to reflect that he could not really have loved her, or it would -never have come to this. And to leave her thus, without an opportunity -for inquiry or explanation. It was careless, unkind, unpardonable. -Better to have been sure of his affection, to have known his last thought -was for her, and to have seen him brought in dead before her very eyes -into the house! - -A hurried step was on the stair, a trembling hand flung open the door, -and Lady Hamilton’s maid rushed into the room, pale, scared, and -incoherent, to exclaim— - -“Oh! my lady—my lady! Whatever are we to do? The coach has been robbed, -and they’ve brought him back home! They’re carrying him up the front -stairs now. Stone dead, my lady! He never spoke, Ralph says, nor moved -after the shot. Such a home-coming! such a home-coming! Oh dear! oh dear!” - -Lady Hamilton’s jaw dropped, and her whole face stiffened, as if she -had been shot herself. Then she wailed out, “He was angry with me when -he went away,” repeating the same words over and over again, as though -attaching no meaning to the sounds, and staggering, with hands extended, -like a blind woman to the staircase, while, numbed and palsied, as it was -by the cruel pain, a silent prayer went out from her heart that she might -die. - -A strong form caught her in its arms, and she looked up in her husband’s -face, living, unhurt, and kindly; but saddened with a grave and sorrowing -expression she had never seen there before. - -“Cerise,” he whispered, “a great grief has come upon us. There has been a -skirmish on the moor, and Florian, poor Florian, has lost his life.” - -She was sobbing in his embrace, sobbing with an intense and fearful joy. - -“Thank God!” she gasped, putting her hair back from her white face, and -devouring him with wild, loving eyes. “Darling, they told me it was -_you_—they told me it was _you_.” - -Nearer, nearer, he clasped her, and a tear stole down his cheek. It was -_him_, then, all the time she had loved with her whole heart _in spite_ -of his being her husband. It was for his departure she had been grieving -in patient silence; it was his displeasure, and no unhallowed fondness -for another, that had lately dimmed the soft blue eyes, and turned the -sweet face so pale. - -“My love!” he whispered; but, notwithstanding his past suspicions, his -injustice, his cruel condemnation, this seemed all the amends he was -disposed to make; for he went on to tell her how the coach had been -beset, and how he must himself have been killed, but for Florian’s -self-devotion—Florian, who was now lying dead in the very room that had -lately come to be called his own. - -She wanted no explanation, no apology. She had forgiven him long before -he spoke. She had thought him estranged; she had believed him dead; and -now he was alive again, and he was her own. - -“I care not! I care not!” she exclaimed, wildly. “Let them live or die; -what is it to me, so that you are safe! Shame on me,” she added, with -more composure, “how selfish I am—how heartless! Let us go to him, -George, and see if nothing can be done.” - -Nothing could be done, of course. Hand in hand, husband and wife visited -the chamber of death, hand in hand they left it, with saddened faces -and slow, reverential step. But Sir George never forgot the lesson of -that night; never again doubted the woman who had given him her whole -heart; nor joined in the sneer of those who protest that purity and -self-sacrifice are incompatible with earthly love. - -But for the snow, Madame de Montmirail would have left Hamilton Hill next -day. It was delightful, no doubt, to witness the perfect understanding, -the mutual confidence, that had been re-established between Cerise -and her husband; but it was not amusing. “Gratifying, but a little -wearisome,” said the Marquise to herself, while she looked from her -window on the smooth undulating expanse of white that forbade the -prospect of travelling till there should come a thaw. Never perhaps -in her whole life had this lady so much felt the want of excitement, -intrigue, business, dissipation, even danger, to take her out of herself, -as she expressed it, and preserve the blood from stagnating in her veins. -It is only doing her justice also to state that she was somewhat anxious -about Malletort. With half a yard of snow on the ground, however, not to -mention drifts, it was hopeless to speculate on any subject out of doors -till the weather changed. - -For Slap-Jack, nevertheless, whose whole life had been passed in conflict -with the elements, even a heavy fall of snow seemed but a trifling -obstacle, easily to be overcome, and on no account to interfere with so -important a ceremony as a seaman’s wedding. Assisted by his shipmate, who -had consented to officiate as “best man” on the occasion, he set to work, -“with a will,” so he expressed it, and cleared away a path four feet -broad from the Hill to the “Hamilton Arms.” Down this path he proceeded -in great state to be married, on the very day the thaw set in, attended -by Sir George and Lady Hamilton, the Marquise, Smoke-Jack, and all the -servants of the establishment. Ere the ceremony was accomplished, the -wind blew high and the rain fell in torrents, omens to which the old -foretopman paid not the slightest attention, but of which his best man -skilfully availed himself to congratulate the bridegroom on his choice. - -“It looks dirty to windward,” he proclaimed, in a confidential whisper, -heard by the whole company; “and a chap ain’t got overmuch sea-room when -he’s spliced. But she’s weatherly, mate; that’s what _she_ is—wholesome -and weatherly. I knows the trim on ’em.” - -At a later period in the afternoon, however, when I am sorry to say, -he had become more than slightly inebriated, Smoke-Jack was heard to -express an equally flattering opinion as to the qualities, “wholesome -and weatherly,” of Mrs. Dodge, not concealing his intention of making a -return voyage, “in ballast o’ coorse,” as he strongly insisted, to these -latitudes, when he had delivered a cargo in London. Shrewd observers were -of opinion, from these compromising remarks and other trifling incidents -of the day, that it was possible the hostess of the “Hamilton Arms” -might be induced to change her name once more, under the irresistible -temptation of subjugating so consistent a woman-hater as Smoke-Jack. - -But in the last century, as in the present, death and marriage trod close -on each other’s heels. The customers at the “Hamilton Arms” had not done -carousing to the health of bride and bridegroom, the wintry day had not -yet closed in with a mild, continuous rain, and Smoke-Jack was in the -middle of an interminable forecastle yarn, when a couple of labouring -men brought in the body of a darkly-clad foreign gentleman, who had -lately been lodging at this roadside hostelry. They had found him half -covered by a waning snow-wreath just under the wall in the “stell,” said -these honest dalesmen, below Borrodaile Rise. He must have been dead for -days, but there was no difficulty in identifying the Abbé, for the frozen -element in which he was wrapped had kept off the very taint of death, -and preserved him, to use their own language, “in uncommon fettle, to be -sure!” Except the Marquise, I doubt if any one regretted him, and yet -it seemed a strange and piteous fate for the gifted scholar, the able -churchman, the polished courtier, thus to perish by breaking his neck off -a Yorkshire mare on a Yorkshire moor. - -“Men are so different!” observed Cerise, as she and George discussed the -Abbé’s death, and, indeed, his character, walking together through the -park, after the snow was gone, in the soft air of a mild winter’s day, -nowhere so calm and peaceful as in our English climate. - -“And women, too,” replied George, looking fondly in the dear face he -had loved all his life, and thinking that her like could only be found -amongst the angels in heaven. - -Cerise shook her head. - -“You know nothing about us,” said she. “My own, how blind you must have -been when you went away and left me nothing of your cruel self but a -riding-glove.” - -He laughed, no doubt well pleased. - -“It was you, then, who had taken it? I looked for it everywhere, and was -forced to go away without it.” - -“You did not look _here_,” she answered, and warm from the whitest bosom -in the world she drew the missing glove that had lain there ever since -the night he left her. - -“George,” she added, and the love-light in her eyes betrayed her feelings -no less than the low, soft accents of her voice, “you know now that I -prize your little finger more than all the rest of the world. I never saw -another face than yours that I cared twice to look upon, and it is my -happiness, my pride, to think that I was never loved by any man on earth -but _you_!” - -She raised her head and looked around in triumph while she spoke. Her -eye, resting on the church of the distant village, caught a gleam of -white from a newly-raised tomb-stone amongst its graves. An old man -wrapping up his tools was in the act of leaving that stone, for he had -finished his task. It was but to cut the following inscription:— - - FLORIAN DE ST. CROIX. - ✚ - R. I. P. - - - - -FOOTNOTES - - -[1] Au petit couvert. - -[2] A national banking scheme was about this period proposed to the -Regent of France by a financial speculator of Scottish extraction named -Law. - -[3] The progeny of a white and a Quadroon, sometimes called an Octoroon. - -[4] A witch. - -[5] Evil eye. - -[6] Runaway negroes who join in bands and live by plunder in the woods. - - -UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CERISE*** - - -******* This file should be named 65619-0.txt or 65619-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/5/6/1/65619 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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