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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9f5f23 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52586 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52586) diff --git a/old/52586-8.txt b/old/52586-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 09bdf44..0000000 --- a/old/52586-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10872 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Clash of Arms, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -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: Clash of Arms - A Romance - -Author: John Bloundelle-Burton - -Release Date: July 17, 2016 [EBook #52586] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLASH OF ARMS *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (University of Illinois-Urbana) - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scans provided by Google Books - https://books.google.com/books?id=R29CAQAAMAAJ - (University of Illinois-Urbana) - - - - - - -THE CLASH OF ARMS - - - - - - -THE CLASH OF ARMS -A ROMANCE - - -BY -JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON - - - -"MON ÉSPÉE EST SI CARNACIERE QU'À CHASQUE PAS ELLE ME DONNEROIT LA -PEINE DE LA TIRER HORS DU FOURREAU."--_Brantôme_. - - - -NEW AND CHEAPER ISSUE - - - -METHUEN & CO. -36 ESSEX STREET W.C. -LONDON - - - - - - -_First Published . . . October 1897_ -_Second Edition . . . November 1897_ -_New and Cheaper Issue . 1905_ - - - - - - -TO MY FRIEND - -J. G. J. PENDEREL-BRODHURST - -I INSCRIBE THIS ROMANCE - - - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAPTER - - I. THE BRAVO - II. THE WRONG THAT WAS DONE - III. ONE SUMMER NIGHT - IV. WHAT HAVE I STUMBLED ON? - V. "HIS NAME IS--WHAT?" - VI. THE VICOMTE DE BOIS-VALLÉE - VII. THE HONOUR OF THE HOUSE - VIII. THE FIRST MEETING - IX. THE FURY OF DESPAIR - X. "THE LITTLE WOOD AT ENTZHEIM" - XI. INNOCENT - XII. A LIKENESS AND A CLUE - XIII. TO REMIREMONT - XIV. ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS - XV. "HE IS MINE. MUST BE MINE NOW" - XVI. THE HOUSE OF THE ENEMY - XVII. "A WOMAN IS THERE" - XVIII. THE SLEEPERS - XIX. WHERE IS DE BOIS-VALLÉE? - XX. ACROSS THE CHASM - XXI. IN THE ENEMY'S HOUSE - XXII. MARION WYATT - XXIII. L'ÉSPÉE CARNACIERE - XXIV. THE WEIRD WOMAN - XXV. THE UNEXPECTED - XXVI. A TRAPPED WOLF - XXVII. NEARER AND NEARER -XXVIII. ESCAPE - XXIX. THE LAST CHANCE - XXX. FREE - XXXI. THE STORY OF MARION WYATT - XXXII. MORE LIGHT -XXXIII. THE LAST MEETING - XXXIV. ADIEU - - - - - - -THE CLASH OF ARMS - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE BRAVO - - -"If," said the sick man, a little complainingly, perhaps a little -peevishly, "he comes not soon, he is as like as not to see me in my -coffin. Yet," he added a moment later, "he was ever used to keep his -word. With all his faults he always did that. Prided himself on it, -indeed, almost as much as on the broils and fights and troubles he was -always in." - -"If," said the other person in the room, "he said he would come, he -will come. Andrew Vause ever kept his promise." - -"What did he tell the messenger who found him when he rode to -London?--in a tavern, be sure! Tell me again the message he sent." - -"That he would come the instant he had seen the King--which it was -most urgent he should do. That His Majesty had promised him an -interview for to-day, and that the moment it was over he would take -horse and ride here. Also he sent you this," and the old woman drew -from a pouch at her girdle a bit of paper, and, adjusting her glasses, -began to read what was written on it--though as she did so she could -not resist a smile. - -"Why do you laugh, Bridget?" the sick man queried, still peevishly. -"Surely, knowing how near I am to death, Andrew has made no jest on -me. We have not met for five years--it is quite that, come Christmas, -since he has been roaming and fighting about the world--he could not -do that." - -"Nay, what he sends comes with a good heart, be sure. Yet I cannot -help but laugh in spite of--of--," she was going to say the nearness -to death in which the invalid stood, but changed it to "your poor -health." "I cannot help but laugh. 'Tis a new-fangled recipe for -lambswool, which he says you should drink frequently. Also, he writes -that he fears you do not take sufficient creature comforts. Alas!" she -exclaimed, her face clouding a little as she saw the look of annoyance -on the other's, "he cannot surely guess how ill you are. Otherwise, he -would scarce talk of lambswool--a draught, doubtless, he himself -partakes of far too often." - -"'Tis Andrew--that tells all! Andrew--the scapegrace, the -ne'er-do-well, the joker and giber. Heavens! when was he ever serious, -when did he ever apply himself to aught but ruffling and fighting and -brawling! Yet--yet----" - -"Yet, now you would see him! Long to see him! Philip Vause, you love -your brother better than you think--leastways, better than you say." - -"Nay, nay. I do not say I do not love him. Heavens! we all loved him. -And who could help but love him, after all! Yet I would he had been -more serious, would he were more serious now, as he scarce seems to -have become, judging by his--his--paper about lambswool. Could he send -me naught but that?" - -"Remember he is not like you. You have ever been a scholar and a -thinker--he a soldier and in many lands. He cannot be so sober as -those who bend only over books all day, whose companions are books -alone----" - -"Hark!" the other interrupted. "Hark! Do you hear anything? The hoofs -of a horse clattering along the road--it may be he, Bridget. Look to -the window. See." - -The old woman did as she was bid--going to the casement and gazing -along a broad, dusty road, bordered by limes almost flowering in the -warm May air, which led from the Downs above to the old house in which -the Vauses had lived longer than even the parish records told of; and -there, in the soft light of the fast-gathering twilight, she espied a -horseman riding at a good pace; a man who, she could see very well, -sat his horse easily, and seemed to extract a considerable speed from -it without any effort of spur or rein. - -"Ay," she said, "'tis a horseman sure enough--you have good ears, -Master Philip, ailing though you be; better ears in truth than I have -eyes, for they are dimmed somewhat with age; I cannot see if 'tis -Andrew. Yet," she went on, as the rider drew nearer and came more into -her view, while man and horse were suffused by the cherry glow of the -setting sun, "'tis his form and figure, too; large, broad, and brawny. -And, heaven preserve us! what a great, fierce sword clanks against his -horse's ribs with every stride it takes, and what a beard upon his -upper lip he has!" - -"'Tis very certain," the invalid interrupted from the couch on which -he lay, "that 'tis Andrew. Here, Bridget, help me up, let me see him." - -"It is he," the old woman said; "lie there, Master Philip, no need to -rise. He will be here ere many moments have passed. Ha!" she -exclaimed, thrusting open the lattice in her excitement, "he sees me, -waves his hand--he has not forgotten the old nurse--I will go down and -greet him, then bring him to you": while, excited and nervous, she -unceremoniously quitted Philip Vause and ran down the broad polished -staircase as fast as her old legs would carry her to where the hall -door stood open to the evening air, and thus reached the stoop as the -horseman drew up in front of it. - -"So, Bridget," he said, leaping from his horse and flinging the reins -to a serving-man who came from out the shrubbery hard by the house, -"so, Bridget, 'tis you in very truth, and not a day older than when I -went away, I do protest," and he stooped down over her and kissed her -grey hair where it waved across her old and wrinkled forehead. And, -pleased with his greeting, the woman smiled and cooed round the great -man standing above her, and muttered: - -"Why, Master Andrew, you are bigger than ever since you went away. -What a man! What a man you are now! So great and stalwart--alas! that -your poor brother Philip was as you." - -Indeed, he at whom she gazed well merited the praise she lavished on -his size and thews and sinews. Full six English feet in height stood -Andrew Vause, and broad and deep in chest was he, with great muscular -arms that looked as though it might be ill for any caught in their -grip. And, though doubtless unconsciously so to their wearer, his -garments themselves lent something to his powerful appearance. On his -body he wore a brown buckskin tunic--good for riding in, or, perhaps, -even for turning aside a rapier or dagger thrust--a tunic ornamented -at the opening with quilted leather of the same kind, and fringed in -the same manner below; his lower limbs were encased in stout hose, or, -at least, so much of them as could be seen betwixt the ending of his -jacket and the tops of his great riding boots of brown untanned -leather that reached almost to his thighs. And the sword old Bridget -had spoken of was there, its hilt reposing against one of those -thighs, while its long length ran behind him. A wicked-looking, -fighting rapier this, with its great _pas d'âne_ and enormous -quillons; a rapier that looked as though, once out of its sheath, -mischief was meant and to be dreaded from it. For the rest, his handsome -face was bronzed to copper hue, his brown moustache--Bridget's "beard on -the upper lip"--hung down below his under jaw, his thick brown hair fell -to his shoulders, and above it flapped a loose sombrero hat ornamented -with a single black feather. - -A vastly different-looking man this from the sickly elder brother -above! - -"Ay, Philip!" he said in answer to her mention of his brother's name, -as he strode into the tiled hall, making it ring with the jangle of -his brass spurs upon his heels. "Poor Philip! So he is sick--the -messenger found me at the Duck in Westminster!--'sick unto death,' he -wrote. Bridget, is this true, and if true what ails him? He was not -strong--nor like to be, since he pored ever over those accursed -books!--yet books need not kill a man. What ails him, Bridget?" he -repeated. - -"He is not well--seems to have no life nor strength in him. And--and -you know, you have heard, even in those foreign lands to which he -wrote you letters--he had a grievous sorrow fall upon him. Oh! he was -treacherously served!" - -"Ay, ay. And so he did write. Yet, fore gad! a man dies not for love -of woman--not though she jilts him cruelly. Odd's faith! no woman ever -jilted me--nor spoilt my rest o' nights. Yet," and he lowered his -voice a little, and seemed graver as he asked, "who was she? He never -told me that--seemed, indeed, in his letters to carefully refrain from -writing her name." - -"Let him tell you," the old woman said; "best hear it all from him." - -"But will he tell? Philip was ever somewhat too silent and secret--I -doubt me much if he will tell. Will hint at wrongs done--at cruel -treatments--be vague, but say no more." - -"I think he will tell you," she replied. "He has longed so to see you -since he knew you had returned from France. And, Andrew," the old -woman said, laying her hand on the sleeve of the great stalwart -soldier whom, as a lad, she had dandled on her knee, "I think he -cherishes hopes of revenge on her; above all, on him who did the -greater wrong." - -"Revenge! Why! what can he do? Unable to leave his chamber, a poor -scholar who knows neither passado nor cunning fence of any kind," and -the fingers of his left hand played lovingly with the hilt of his -sword as he spoke, "nor has ever wandered fifty miles from this old -Surrey home of ours--poor Philip! what can he do?" - -But as he asked the question, there clattered down the oak staircase -the high-heeled shoes worn by a waiting-maid, the wearer whereof -said--though not before she had cast a glance of approval over the -great sunburned man who stood before her--that her master desired to -know if his brother meant not to come and see him now he had come -home? - -"Ay, sweetheart," that brother said, looking down on the comely girl, -and winning her heart at once by that debonair manner which never -failed in its effect "Ay, sweetheart, I come at once. Shall we go -together, Bridget?" - -"Nay," she said, "go in alone to him. There needs no witness of your -meeting, and he has much to say. And, Andrew, you asked but now how he -might compass revenge for the wrong done him. Can you not guess what -he may hope to do--how it may come about?" - -"In truth, I cannot," he answered, while his eye still glanced at the -shapely waiting-maid now vanishing through a doorway to the back -portion of the house, "in truth, I cannot. No thinker I, as you may -remember, Bridget; 'twas ever Philip who did that for both of us. And, -had he not so thought, the Puritan justices of our boyhood would have -clapped me into jail often enough, and been glad of the chance to -punish my old cavalier father through me. No, if he means to get -vengeance he must make it clear. I will go and see him now." - -He strode towards the wide staircase as he spoke, and mounted it, -clattering still as he went; looking round the old hall, though, while -he did so, and thinking--wanderer as he had been--that, after all, it -was good to be under the old roof once more. - -"Well enough and pleasant," he muttered to himself, "the life of camps -and noise of brawls and battles and the sweet clash of steel 'gainst -steel--yet good, too, to come home, now and again." - -And, because he was not all a bravo nor free lance who lived only for -such fortune as came at the sword's point, his thoughts went back to -his childhood's day, when he used to come leaping down those stairs -three steps at a time, or swung by his gentle mother's side, his hand -in hers; also, he recalled her soft looks and words, and found himself -remembering the little simple prayers she had taught him to say. - -But by now he was at the head of the stairs, which made but one turn -from the hall to the corridor above, and at that head was the door of -the chief room of the old house, the room in which he knew his elder -brother lay. Then he knocked gently, and, hearing Philip's eager tones -of welcome, went in to him, bearing about him, as it seemed to the -poor invalid, an atmosphere of health and strength, and a suggestion -of fresh air and the wind that comes sweeping across salt seas and -breezy downs and moorlands. - -"And now!" Philip exclaimed, sitting up on his couch and holding out -his two thin, white hands to the swart soldier, who came in and seized -them in his own strong grasp, "now, Andrew, you have come back to me." - -It seemed to Philip, lying there, that the voice of that younger -brother was not as strong and powerful as he remembered it to have -been once--seemed not, indeed, to be the fierce tones that the soldier -of fortune should possess--as, stooping down on one knee so as better -to bring his face on a level with his brother's, Andrew said very -gently: - -"Philip! Philip! how is it that I find you thus? Oh, Philip!" and he -turned his face away for some reason as he spoke, "I did not know, -never guessed, you were as worn and sick as this." - -Then the other understood why the bronzed face had been turned from -him, and why the strong masterful voice had been so gentle when he -spoke. For, as Andrew turned back that face, the dark eyes were full -and running over with tears that coursed each other down the brown -cheeks, and a sob broke from his lips. - -"Nay, nay," Philip said, laying his hand on the long locks of the -other and stroking them. "Nay, Andrew, do not weep--I cannot bear -that. You are so strong and big, you must not weep, and--and--tears -are not for a soldier. Andrew, do not weep for me." - -But the brawler and ruffler made no answer, only, bending his head -still lower to his brother's shoulder, he let it lie there. And again -he muttered: - -"I did not understand. I did not know." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE WRONG THAT WAS DONE - - -"Tell me all, Philip," Andrew Vause said to his brother some two or -three evenings later, as he sat in the sick man's room, "tell me all. -I must know what has brought you to this." While, as he spoke, there -came a frown upon his face that did not pass off for a while--not, -indeed, until he had taken two deep draughts from a tankard that stood -by his side, and which old Bridget ever brought in and placed near to -his hand when he went to spend an hour or so with Philip. - -Full of excitement as this man's life had been for years--since the -soldier of fortune had fought at Candia, and at Choczim with Sobieski, -and taken part in many other frays, to say nothing of countless -skirmishes--he was now as gentle a companion as Philip could have -desired. Nay, sometimes, old Bridget would almost grow jealous as she -observed how softly he could turn and smooth a pillow, or sit -patiently by his brother listening to many of the querulous complaints -usual to some invalids, or, to while away the dreary hours of that -poor invalid, would tell him of courts and camps and strange doings in -other lands. So jealous, indeed, did the old woman grow--or think she -had grown--that she would forbid Andrew the sick room except at stated -hours, and, pretending that it was not good for him to pass his days -there, bid him go off and ride upon the downs, or attend the hawking -parties of a neighbouring squire, or take a rod and catch a dish of -trout in the stream. - -And Andrew would obey the old nurse, who had brought him and his -brother up from boyhood and domineered over them, as meekly as though -he had never roared orders to squadrons and troops in the face of -hordes of Turks and Imperialists, or taken the word of command from -Condé and Turenne; and would wander idly forth until the hours came -round when he might go and sit by Philip's side. - -Yet he found those hours pass slowly and leaden-footedly along, being -unable to take much pleasure from the simple country amusements he was -surrounded by. His horse was his chief companion, and, since he saw -always to its food and litter and its careful grooming, found him some -occupation, while he had made friends with two old half-bred watchdogs -who roamed about the place, and, at last, attached themselves so to -him that they ever attended at his heels when he went on foot. - -One day, too, he nearly frightened the sexton of the village church to -death by suddenly bursting through the half-open door and tramping -down the aisle to a large yawning pew beneath the pulpit, and entering -therein. - -"Good sir," the old man quavered, looking almost in fear and trembling -at the swarthy cavalier before him, "this is the pew of the Vause -family from the Grange hard by; none enter it----" - -"Ay, 'tis, James," the intruder answered the astonished old man. -"Wherefore I am here." Then he thrust his hands through his thick -matted hair and put it aside from his brow, and went on: "Because I, -too, am a Vause. Hast forgotten me, James?" - -"Lord sakes!" the old man piped through his toothless gums, while he -regarded the brown face and noticed the scar that ran adown his cheek, -"'tis Master Andrew. And so it is. I mind me I did hear that you were -back from foreign lands." Then, because some cheery, pleasant memory -rose to his mind, his wrinkled old face broke into a smile, and he put -out a gnarled hand and placed it on the buckskin sleeve of the -adventurer, and said, "You take me back a twenty year and more, Master -Andrew, and I recall how, when I looked not, or was a-digging of some -grave, you pelted me with mine own windfalls. And how brave you look, -and great and strong. Hast none of thy great strength to spare for -Master Philip?" - -"I would I had," said Andrew, "in very truth I do. He is sore -pressed." Then he took the old hand in his own and shook it--leaving -in it a shining new silver crown--and said: - -"Leave me here awhile, James. It comes not oft that I can sit beneath -my mother's monument--may never come again. Leave me awhile." - -The windows of the church were open this bright May day, and through -them he heard the dronings of the bees, the bleat of growing lambs and -all the sweet country sounds, as he gazed above upon the quaint -monument which his brother had had put up to their parents, Philip and -Alice Vause. And back to his memory there came again his boyish days, -his own turbulent youth and the gentle boyhood of his brother, and how -the latter had ever interceded 'twixt him and their father--a stern, -disappointed cavalier--saving him many a welting from the paternal -cane. And again he thought of the mother he had loved so dear, -recalled how she, too, had protected him from many a chastisement, -and, as he did so, bent his head forward to the pew rail and said some -kind of prayer. Perhaps he prayed for Philip's life to be spared, -perhaps---- - -Yet the days passed very slowly with him; he grew sick and weary of -the trout stream and old Squire Giles's hawkings, and the village -greens to which he would wander and take a part in quarter-staff with -the yokels, or, stripping off his jacket, would, with their simple -foils, show them some passes which set them gaping wide with wonder -and musing on where Master Andrew had learnt such tricks of fence. - -Sick and weary, yet he knew he must not go away. Not yet, at -least. Philip grew weaker day by day; the warm end of May and the -coming of the leafy June brought no access of strength, but rather -greater lassitude. And Andrew, though used to seeing sudden death -only--death dealt out by shot and fire and ball, death swift and -instantaneous--knew that, when the great summer heats had come, Philip -would be no more. The village chirurgeon had told him this, had said -that the end drew very near; the lungs were growing weaker day by day, -the heart-beats becoming more feeble. Yet he needed no telling--he -could see for himself. - -But still he did not know who it was who had treated his loved brother -so cruelly--and the time was slipping by! Then, at last, on this -night, when he said, "tell me all, Philip. I must know what has -brought you to this pass," the other seemed disposed to begin his -story; perhaps because he, too, knew the hour was near at hand when -there would be no more opportunity for the telling thereof. It was so -warm that the lattice was open, and Philip, lying on the couch, was -opposite to his brother sitting by the open window and inhaling the -perfume of the swift-flowering woodbine, and watching the laburnum -branches as the soft south wind beat them gently against the casement. - -Then suddenly, as though nerved all at once to confide in him he -loved, the sick man began: - -"I was in London when I met her first: attending the Court, seeking to -get from the restored King some recognition of our father's services -to his father and his cause. Enough of that--you understand the reward -of the Cavalier and the Cavalier's children! A well-bred bow, acquired -in courts and cities such as you have seen and know, a winning smile, -a gracious greeting, and a blessing--from his lips! a promise--never -fulfilled." - -"Put not your trust in princes," muttered Andrew, who had not -forgotten the regularity with which his mother had taken him to the -village church in days gone by. - -"Ay; in him least of all. But you know him, you saw him a while ago; -perhaps he gave you a promise too--if so, believe it not. Unless it be -for his own purpose it will not be fulfilled." - -Andrew shrugged his shoulders, and the other went on. - -"She was there, fresh come from Dorsetshire, attached to the Duchess -of York. Andrew," and he raised himself a little on his elbow as he -spoke, "even now, sometimes, by day and night, as I think of it, it -seems impossible she could have been so false to me. For, that -falsehood should lurk behind her pure innocent eyes, be hidden under -her gentle manner, appears incredible. Yet--yet--she was as false as -hell." - -Andrew shifted his seat a little, crossed the other leg, and said, "Go -on." - -"Not much to tell. I loved her; she said that she loved me. So--we -were engaged to be married. She came here on a visit--she and a friend -of hers--and I was very frank with her; told her this must be her -home, that our life would be easy, but not luxurious, and she -answered, 'It was enough. She cared nothing for Courts, and was only -in the suite of the Duchess at her father's desire.'" He paused a -moment, then he repeated, "We were engaged to be married." - -"Humph!" said Andrew. - -"Engaged to be married--the day was fixed. Then--then--oh! Andrew, I -never heard from her nor saw her again." - -"What had befallen?" asked his brother, gazing, as it seemed, almost -listlessly out at the laburnum branches swaying against the diamond -panes. "What?" - -"Treachery of the deepest, blackest kind. I could have borne very well -that she should not love me, but that she should treat me thus--flout -and despise me, leave me without a word of regret--that I cannot bear. -It has broken my heart." - -"Did it do that?" and Andrew's voice was low--thick--as he asked the -question. - -"Ay, it did. I learnt afterwards from the friend who came with her -here, also from her father--who cursed her name as I stood before him -in his Dorsetshire home, to which I had gone to seek for her--that for -some time, some weeks, she had been much with a Frenchman, a man who -had come over with the woman now made Duchess of Portsmouth; that soon -'twas thought they were lovers. And then, one day, they were gone--to -France." - -"Her name?" asked Andrew, briefly. - -"Marion Wyatt." - -"And his--this Frenchman's?" - -"De Bois-Vallée. He was termed the Vicomte de Bois-Vallée. They said -of him that he was a discarded lover of the Frenchwoman, who threw him -over when she learned that she was to be the favourite of a King--also -that he had fought many duels and was so good a swordsman that he -might have been a _maître d'armes_." - -"So, so!" muttered Andrew, nodding his head gently. Then he muttered -inwardly, "Perhaps some day we will see for this. Make trial of the -Vicomte's skill." Aloud he said: - -"You knew that they had gone to France? For sure you knew it?" - -"Beyond all doubt. De Bois-Vallée was a bully, it seems, cared for -none, vaunted himself as a Frenchman. There was a scene 'twixt him and -the woman, De Kéroualle--it was overheard and brought to me--they say -even that Charles broke in on him--was insulted, too. And he told the -Frenchwoman that, though an Englishman had deprived him of her, he was -yet about to be revenged, he would not return to France alone. Tit for -tat was fair play--an Englishwoman should replace her. And they say, -too, that the King and the Duchess laughed at him, the former telling -him he was very welcome, so that he left De Kéroualle behind." - -"He kept his word?" - -"Ay, he kept his word. The night he left for France she was missing. -She had gone out to walk in the garden that gave on the Mall; she -came back no more. And he had been seen, this Vicomte, up and down the -Mall for some time ere night fell, a coach waiting for him. Seen -peering over into the garden, and with some of his countrymen near at -hand--ready, no doubt, to interfere if any came to prevent her going -with him." - -"Has he married her, think you?" - -"Heaven knows! Yet almost I think it must be so. She jilted me, but, -but--'tis hard to believe she was a wicked, wanton woman. She would -not have gone with him unless they were married--or, at least, were -soon to be married." - -"And this was--when?" - -"Three years ago, soon after the Frenchwoman came first to England, -brought over in the suite of the Duchess of Orleans." - -"'Tis pity you never told me all," said Andrew, "specially since I -might have made my way to Paris after Candia!" - -"Andrew, I was ashamed, ashamed that even you should know it. -And--and--what could you have done?" - -"What!" exclaimed his brother. "What! Well! tested the skill of this -_maître d'armes_--perhaps avenged you." - -"It might have made a widow of her, left her alone and defenceless in -a strange land." - -"Possibly!" Andrew replied to this, with the careless shrug of the -shoulders which he had learnt unconsciously in his foreign travel. -"Possibly!" And again he spoke inwardly to himself, saying, "As I -shall do yet--if he has married her." - -There was silence after this for some time as they sat in the now -gathering darkness, a silence only interrupted by Bridget bringing in -the lamps. But when she had left them alone once more, after telling -Andrew he was sitting too long with his brother, who by now should be -abed, and that she would be back to assist him to it, the former spoke -again. - -"Bridget hinted a word," he said, "when first I came here, made -suggestion that you yourself nourished hopes of punishing this -man--this Vicomte de Bois-Vallée," and he pronounced the name clearly, -as though to make sure he had learnt it aright--"would have done so -had your health been stronger, and you more fit to cope with him." - -"I--I would have done so then," poor Philip said, "had I been able to -discover he had wronged her as well as me. I was mad, furious, at -first. Poor swordsman as I am, I would have tried to find him out; -have hurled myself against him; have, even though he had run me -through and through, striven to kill him." - -"So, so!" said Andrew, "you would have done that had you kept well and -strong?" - -"God help me! I fear I should." - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -ONE SUMMER NIGHT - - -It was so hot a July night in Paris that all who could be so were out -of doors, even the commonest people bringing forth stools and chairs, -and sitting on the side-paths outside their houses to get some breath -of air that might blow down the streets and alleys; while, in the -courtyards of the great nobles and rich merchants, the servants did -the same thing. And, as they thus took the air, their thoughts all -turned to memories of country lanes and fields, and of the green woods -that belted the city on all sides, and of quiet inn-gardens with -bowling-greens and archery grounds; turned also, perhaps, to the -recollection of cool draughts of wine gurgling pleasantly from out the -lips of flasks. - -A hot night, even spent thus--a hotter in taverns and tripots and -drinking shops where, as always, many of the Frenchmen in Paris passed -their evenings imbibing Montrachet from long-necked glasses, or red -Citron from big-bowled ones, or Frontignac from goblets. So hot that -jackets were thrown open, and lace fal-lals untied, and even belts -loosened for coolness. - -In such a way, on this hot night, sat Andrew Vause in an inn off the -Rue St. Honoré, known as "Le Point du Jour"--possibly because it was -chiefly patronized from nightfall to dawn by the wildest of French -gallants--his jacket open and his dress generally arranged to catch -any whiff of air that might blow in from the open door. He was -differently dressed now from the time when he arrived at his old home -in Surrey--the jacket being of black velvet and the whole of his -costume indicating that he was in mourning. For Philip had been in his -grave some weeks, the great heat which came in the early June of that -year having sapped from him the little vitality left, and Andrew, full -of a set purpose which he had resolved on as he saw his brother's -coffin lowered into the vault where so many other members of the -family lay, was now in Paris bent on carrying that purpose out. - -Before him on a table was a flask of wine; on the other side of the -table, leaning his elbows on it, sat a Frenchman who every now and -again filled his glass at the other's bidding, and then went on with -the recital of some narrative to which Andrew listened attentively. - -"He is," this man said, "in the _garde du corps_ of Turenne, his -business being always to be near the Marshal with others--to prevent -his master from either being insulted or assaulted in any tumult. -Naturally 'tis a light duty, Turenne being too popular just now for -any such _banalités_ to be perpetrated"; and the Frenchman lifted his -glass to his lips and again drank--this time in a meditative manner, -and as though thinking far more of something else than of the wine he -was sucking down his throat. After which he continued: - -"He is useful to Turenne now; doubly so, indeed. Monsieur understands -that he is of Lorraine, from Remiremont. Consequently knows well the -neighbourhood." - -"Of Lorraine! And fighting for France! Why! all Lorrainers, with their -Duke at their head, are with the Imperialists in spite of King Louis -claiming their country as a province." - -"Not all, Monsieur. Not all," the Court spy, for such he was, answered -with a bow and a shrug, as though deprecating the necessity for -contradicting Andrew. "Many of the noblesse go against the Duke and -throw in their lot with France--she protecting them from Charles of -Lorraine's anger. _He_ is one of them and has been since '70, when the -King claimed the province again." - -Whereon he filled his glass once more. - -"And where is Turenne now?" asked Andrew, playing with his own glass, -but drinking nothing. - -"The last news came from Sintzheim, where he had just beaten Caprara. -He is somewhere, therefore, in that neighbourhood." - -"And Sintzheim is on the east bank of the Rhine, if I remember -aright." - -"So, so! 'Twixt Philipsburg on the Rhine and Heilbronn on the Neckar." - -"Ay! thereabouts. And you are sure this man, this Camille de -Bois-Vallée, is there with his master?" - -"Where else? That is his post. Unless----" - -"Unless?" - -"He is killed. That may be. They are fighting always during the -summer. In the winter they go into quarters. Some returning to Paris -who can get leave--and, then, 'tis as though forty thousand devils -more than there are already here were let loose! Some stay there. The -married ones mostly. He does, I think." - -It was on the tip of Andrew's tongue to say, "he is married then?" but -he refrained. This man might not know that--although he knew much of -what took place in the higher circles in France. Instead, therefore, -he contented himself by saying: "Why so? Do their wives join them?" - -"_Si! Si!_ They join them. And sometimes others--but no matter." - -"Therefore you think he will be there--say next winter." - -"Unless he is killed." - -"Always, of course, unless he is killed. That is without saying." - -"He is there now," the Frenchman said, filling his glass furtively and -almost in a shamefaced manner at having drunk so much of what was in -the bottle, "I know that. You bade me a week ago find out, discover, -where he was. I have done it. You may rely on me." Then, with a slight -simper and somewhat of hesitation in his voice, he said: "I have done -my share of the work, monsieur." - -"That is true. I will do mine," and he produced from his breast a -small roll of what were evidently gold pieces--or pieces of money of -some sort--and slipped it across the table into the other's palm. -"Yet," said Andrew, as he did so, "I would you could have answered the -other portion of my question. I would have paid you well--will pay you -well now--if you can discover anything further." - -The man opposite him shrugged his shoulders, while at the same time he -was slipping the rouleau into his pouch, then he said, "_Ma foi!_ In -such cases it is a little difficult. _Fichtre!_ It is extremely -difficult. This Bois-Vallée has been so much mixed up with women -that----" - -"Hist!" exclaimed Andrew under his breath, while he made a sign to the -spy to be silent awhile. Then he turned his eyes towards a table in -the corner, the other following intuitively his glance. - -Doing so, they rested on a young fellow who was scarce more than a -lad--but an extremely good-looking one, with a pink and white -complexion, now flushed a little, as though from too deep an attention -having been paid to a bottle of amber-coloured wine on the table, upon -which he leant his arm. He was well dressed, too, the garb he wore -showing that he belonged to the wealthy classes, if not to the -noble--though his clear-cut, aristocratic features proclaimed almost -indubitably that he was of good birth. His coat of russet satin was -enriched with red and silver cording, his satin breeches had handsome -slashed seams, also showing red and silver lace, while the bows at his -knees above his brown silk stockings were of deep frilled lace. His -hat lay carelessly on the table where it had been tossed, and some -droppings from his bottle had somewhat soaked into the rich black -beaver and soiled its lace, while, unbelted from his body and with the -sash belt still attached to it, a handsome silver-hilted rapier stood -against the wall by his side. He wore his own hair, a bright chestnut -flecked with yellow, which, as he sat with his back against the wall, -with his eyes shut, shone like a new louis d'or against the somewhat -dingy background. - -Andrew had thought him asleep during the time he had been holding his -conversation with the informer, whom he had sent for some days since -and taken into his pay, but he thought so no longer when--on that -informer mentioning somewhat above his breath the name of "De -Bois-Vallée"--the youth had opened a pair of dark grey eyes and fixed -them on the speaker. And the manner in which he had done so gave the -astute cavalier the idea that that name was not unfamiliar to him, an -impression which he would have conceived earlier had he seen the lad -previously open his eyes more than once when the name of the Vicomte -had been mentioned. - -The young man, however, closed them again directly those other glances -were directed towards him, and, since Andrew Vause and his companion -turned their conversation to another subject, he opened them no more, -but seemed to drop of again into a sleep with his head against the -wall. Then a little later he aroused himself, called the serving-man, -and paying him, as well as tossing him a silver coin for his service, -buckled on his rapier and left the tavern. - -"Do you know the youth?" Andrew asked, as he too paid the man and -arranged his jacket and neckerchief previous to leaving the place. "He -was acquainted with, I will be sworn, the name of--of--the person we -have been discussing." - -"Nay," said the other. "Nay. Though doubtless I could discover. Shall -I follow him, watch where he goes to--find out who he is?" - -"No," replied Vause. "No. I have nought to do with him, and it may -well be that he knows the man; by his appearance he should be one -acquainted with the Court and such circles as those which De -Bois-Vallée frequents. Let be! Also, he is in Paris, and he whom I go -to seek is on the Rhine. And--he knows nothing." - -He did not add, which was the case, that to him, soldier of fortune -and free lance as he was, all kinds of espionage were distasteful, and -that, having now found out the Vicomte's whereabouts, he wanted no -more spyings. This fellow had put him on the track of the man whom he -had taken a vow to find and stand face to face with--that was enough. -He would do the rest himself, trusting only to his own manhood and to -his sword. - -He briefly bade the man "good-night," therefore, with some muttered -word of thanks for service rendered, and, telling him that should he -need him again he would send to his lodgings, went out into the night, -leaving the spy draining the last dregs from the bottle. He was -staying at "Le Point du Jour" for the present, having an airy, cool -room at the top of the house, but there was one duty he performed -nightly ere seeking that room. That was to go to the stables in the -next alley to the one in which the inn was situated, and there see -that all was well with his horse--a duty no man dared neglect even -though his love of his animal did not prompt him to it, so valuable an -adjunct to the life and safety of the soldier was his steed. But, with -Andrew Vause, the attention would have been given, even though neither -he nor the steed were ever likely to set forth on any journey of -adventure together again. - -Outside the tavern the air was cool and fresh, and, meditating much on -all that lay before him ere the task was done which he had vowed to -accomplish, he strolled leisurely along, reached the Rue St. Honoré, -and so wended his way towards where the stables were, casting up his -eyes as he went at the portals of a grim, deserted-looking palace over -which the light of a new moon showed him a cardinal's hat carved in -stone--the portals of the house where Richelieu breathed his last -thirty years before. - -"Ah! _votre eminence!_" he murmured, "you were a man, with all your -faults, worth serving. An unscrupulous devil too," he mused, "yet one -who knew good mettle when you found it. Better than the upstart -Louvois, better even than the great King who now fights bloodless -battles and leaves Turenne and Condé to fight the real ones. Ha! What -is that? The clash of arms hard by. Where? Where?" - -He soon discovered, for to his well-trained ear the metallic hiss of -rapier against rapier was as good a guide as any call would have been, -and, darting down a _ruelle_ close by, found himself in the -neighbourhood of the fight that was going on, on the cobble stones of -the court. - -"What!" he muttered, while he hastened forward, "three engaged. A -strange duel this, or, by the Lord, two against one." Then in a moment -his own great sword was out, and Andrew Vause was in his element. - -At the same time he recognized one of the combatants--the fair-haired -youth who had sat dozing in the tavern over his wine, now hard beset -by two others--brawny, common ruffians who, Andrew made no manner of -doubt, had fallen upon the well-dressed young fellow with the idea of -robbery, helped at first, if necessary, by assassination. The lad was -making a good fight of it, however, with his back against the wall of -an empty house, and seemed to be holding his own well, although the -accustomed eye of the trained soldier showed him that danger menaced -the young fellow in a manner unsuspected by him. - -"A higher guard," he called out as he approached, "higher, my lad. -That fellow with the loose cloak on his left arm will throw it on your -point else, and so disarm you. Higher--so--that's better!" - -Then he reached the trio, and, for a moment, there was a cessation of -hostilities. - -"Ha!" said Andrew grimly, as he ran his eye over the _spadassins_ who -had attacked the other, "I do perceive. A little duel in which -Monsieur the second is so carried away by his love of swordplay that, -unwittingly, he joins in the fray. Well, we can better that. Messieurs -doubtless know the gracious laws of the duello. While the principals -engage, the seconds may also amuse themselves. Monsieur," to the lad, -"attack your man--I will be your second and engage his friend," and -the long rapier was raised to the salute in irony. - -"Thanks," the young man said, feeling all the better for this -breathing space, "this ruffian is my man," and in an instant he had -fallen on one of the others with such fury that he had to defend -himself or be trussed like a woodcock on the spit. - -"Now, Monsieur," exclaimed Andrew, "_À vous_." - -But whether it was the terrible appearance of the brawny Englishman -who towered over him with swart complexion and fierce piercing eye, or -whether it was the equally terrible appearance of that rapier with its -long smooth blade and enormous quilloned hilt, there was now no fight -in the fellow--not, at least, when it was man to man and even chances! - -"I am no fighter," he muttered. "I did but think my friend got the -worst of it--and so came to his assistance." - -"No fighter," said Andrew quietly, yet appalling the man by his look, -"no fighter! Yet you wear a sword, and use it--when the odds are two -to one! Give it to me." - -The man hesitated a moment and again muttered something--this time -inaudibly--whereupon Andrew repeated his request for the other's -sword, and, to prove that he meant what he said, administered such a -swinging kick to the fellow that he reeled across the narrow _ruelle_. -"Now. The sword!" he said again. - -Then when it was in his hand he gazed at it a moment, thinking in -truth it was too good to be owned by such as this craven hound, and, -next, broke it across his knee, while, seeing the opening to a drain -close by, into which the water ran in wet weather, he threw the two -pieces down into it. Then he seized the owner by the collar of his -jacket, and, kicking him into a doorway, flung him on the step, where -he lay almost motionless. - -"Come out of that," he said, "until this rencounter is over, and by -all the saints in your knavish calendar I will thrust this through -your gizzard," and the fellow saw the rapier flash before his blurred -eyes as the other spoke. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -"WHAT HAVE I STUMBLED ON?" - - -"Now," said Andrew, standing a few paces off the other two, "let us -see a little skilful fence," and, his own rapier in hand, though with -the point resting on the stones of the court, he looked on as a -_maître d'escrime_ might gaze upon two pupils practising with the -foils. - -"Gently, gently," he said quietly to the young fellow who was lunging -furiously at his adversary, "you will lose your breath else." And, -still with what seemed to that adversary, as he fought wildly, -infernal calm, he added, "thrust a little lower, otherwise you may -break your sword against his breast-bone. Thus you will find a better -entrance. Pass through him easier. So, so. That's better"; and he -stepped back and, looking on still with an easy approval, watched the -encounter. - -But there was no heart left in the ruffian now; moreover, he knew he -was doomed, and he uttered, therefore, a piercing shriek for mercy to -which his opponent, his blood well up, answered with another angry -lunge. - -"Well, then," exclaimed Andrew, "make an end of it. The people above -are opening their windows--the watch will be here next--prick him and -have done with it. Take him in the shoulder, he is not worth killing. -Good! that's it. A pretty thrust." - -The lad had followed his instructions perfectly, and, beating down the -other's guard, had driven his point two inches into the fellow's right -deltoid, which he received with a yell, his blade clattering on to the -stones as it dropped from his wounded arm. - -"Well done," said Andrew, "now come along." And, picking up first the -rich laced beaver, which had fallen off the young fellow's head in the -encounter, he took him by the arm and led him out into the Rue -Richelieu. - -"A little breathless, eh?" he asked, as he heard the boy's lungs -working heavily. "A little blown! No matter, you fought a good -fight--though they might have beaten you in the end. I see," he added, -"you know something of the science." - -"Yes," the other answered, while--they being now some distance from -the place where he had been attacked--he leant against the wall to -recover his breath. "Yes, I know something of it. And I could have -done better had I not drunk that last accursed bottle. But I was -athirst, as, indeed, I am now." - -"Well. Well. Come into the nearest tavern and we will have -another--now is the time when a cup will do you good. Yet, arrange -yourself first, you are a little dishevelled, and your hat is dirty." - -"Nay," said the other with a laugh, "no more taverns for me to-night. -But I live hard by, was taking a short way home when those fellows set -on me; come with me. There is some good wine at our house." - -"Humph!" said Andrew, "the night is late--hark! there is St. Roch -striking midnight now--too late for wassailing! And--you do not know -me--yet you ask me to your house!" - -"Not know you! St. Denis! I do, though. I know enough to see what you -are. First, an Englishman--good as you have the French your accent -tells that. I wonder," he interjected, "if you are going to join -Turenne? There are hundreds of your countrymen with him. Then -next----" - -"Ay, next?" asked Andrew, not heeding the remark about Turenne. He was -going to join Turenne, or, at least, proceed to where his army was, -but he had seen the boy's eyes open when the name of one was mentioned -who was already with the great marshal, and, at present, he held his -peace. "What next?" - -"Next, you are _un brave homme_. You saved my life--certainly saved me -from getting a bad wound--and prevented those vagabonds from pillaging -me; they saw this, I suppose," and he touched lightly with his fingers -a thick gold chain round his neck to which a medallion hung, "and -wanted it. And, if you had desired, you could have slain all three of -us," he continued, with another laugh that so touched Andrew's sense -of humour that, scarce knowing why, he laughed too. Then the boy -added, "Come, come! I must know more of you. You are a soldier, anyone -can see that; well, so am I. Come, I say." - -"So you are a soldier, eh?" Andrew said, taken with a liking for the -young fellow and his frank open manner, and walking unresistingly now -by his side towards the house he was leading him to. "A soldier. A -young one, though you understand swordplay, or will later, as well as -many an older man." - -"We are all soldiers in our family," his companion replied. Then he -looked proudly at the great form beside him, and said, "I have made -two campaigns, though I am but seventeen." - -"Ay," replied Andrew, "no doubt. You French gentlemen go to the wars -early, I know. I have served with many such; younger, too, than you. -There was, now, at Choczim--so!" he broke off as the lad halted at a -great wooden door that doubtless opened into a large courtyard, "is -this your house?" - -"It is," the other answered, kicking meanwhile against the lower part -of the huge door, as though, thereby, to summon someone from within. -"The fiend take old Pierre, he is again asleep." And he kicked once -more and hammered with his fist. Then, at Andrew's thoughtful -suggestion that the noise might wake his father or his lady mother, he -replied: - -"Never fear! My lady mother, as you politely term her, sleeps at the -back looking over the garden, and my lady sisters above, while as for -my father--God rest his soul!--he has been dead these twelve years. -_Ciel!_ Must I beat down the door!" - -Even though it had been possible for him to do so, there was now, -however, no necessity, since it opened a few feet at this moment, and -an elderly man peering out, and seeing who was there, instantly pulled -it further back to admit the young man and his companion. An elderly -man who shook his head a little--perhaps from oncoming age or, maybe, -from disapprobation of such hours--but who still stood aside very -respectfully. Yet, from a corner of his eye, he shot a glance up at -the big frame of the man who accompanied his master. - -"Pierre, you sleep atrociously," that master replied. "Every night I -have to hammer and bang in the same way. However, in with you and -fetch a good bottle of the Muscadel from the cellar. Quick, hurry, I -say. We are athirst." Then, turning to Andrew, said, "Come, sir, I am -on the _rez-de-chaussée_. It suits my habits best, my mother says. We -shall not have far to go." - -Following his new friend, Andrew glanced at the paved stone courtyard -across which they went, the old man, Pierre, preceding them with a -flambeau which he took from a socket by his lodge door and ignited. -Whereby the visitor saw that he was in the house of some great family, -great, possibly by rank, and undoubtedly so by wealth. The old pieces -of armour hanging on the courtyard walls, burgonets, coats of mail, -gambesons, scaled or of chain, lances, and swords--all symmetrically -arranged--seemed to prove the former, while, as they reached the door -giving entrance to the house itself, the flickering light of the torch -confirmed the fact that this was no home of a mushroom family of large -means, or of a rich merchant, since it shone upon a great gilt coronet -above the door, and, above that, upon armorial bearings which none but -nobles could possess. - -Pierre, changing the flambeau for a huge wax taper, led the way down a -narrow passage giving off the hall, and, throwing open a polished -chestnut door over which some arras hung, ushered them into a large, -comfortably furnished apartment, though, like all the _entresols_ of -the period, low-roofed. Then, after lighting a dozen other wax candles -which stood in lustres and sconces, he withdrew, saying he would fetch -the wine. - -"And quickly, too," said Andrew's host. "Dost hear, Pierre? Quick, -quick." - -"_Si, Monsieur le Marquis_," the old fellow muttered, and so went off. - -"Now," said the young man, "be at your ease. Take off, your sword, -unlace your jacket, and repose. Here is a couch on which I have slept -many an hour; there a fauteuil which no soldier need despise. My -doting mother chose it specially. I beg you to use as much freedom as -you would in your own house." - -Andrew Vause accepted the gracefully proffered hospitality in the same -spirit that it was offered, and sank into the luxurious fauteuil, -while his eye, roaming round the room, observed with approval several -of the objects in it. For they all corroborated what his new -acquaintance had stated, that he was a soldier--nay, more, that he was -a soldier either on active service or about very soon to proceed on -such service. In one corner of the apartment was a bundle of swords of -the military type--spadroons and two or three heavy broadswords; in -another, hanging over a chair, was a passemented justaucorps, with -military gold braid and embroidery--an almost certain sign of the -owner's nobility, since scarcely any but officers of high social rank -were permitted to wear this garment; also a new bridle, some horse -fittings, and other things pertaining to a soldier, were strewn about. - -"Now," said Andrew's host again, when Pierre had brought the wine, -which, as the former held it before one of the wax lustres, sparkled -like amber through its dusty, cobwebby encasing--"Now, we will drink a -toast to our better acquaintance. And, first, let us know each other's -names. Mine is Valentin Debrasques, commonly called the Marquis -Debrasques." And as he spoke he poured out the first glass of wine, -carefully following the old custom of emptying a spoonful from the top -into his own glass, and passed it over to Andrew. - -"And mine," replied Andrew, "is Vause. The Captain Vause late serving -in the English Regiment, in Flanders and elsewhere, and to which one -of our soldiers, a Lieutenant-Colonel John Churchill, has recently -been appointed colonel by our King. Monsieur le Marquis, I drink your -health and to our future comradeship," and he raised his glass. - -Debrasques had been filling his glass as Andrew spoke, yet, by some -clumsiness scarcely to have been expected from him, at the moment the -latter mentioned his name, the bottle slipped in his hand, and, -clinking on to the long glass beneath, broke it, while the outrunning -wine deluged the tablecover. "_Peste!_" He exclaimed, his face -scarlet, "I am a clumsy fellow. If I were older, one would say my hand -was no longer fit to grasp a sword since it cannot hold a bottle." -Then, going over to a huge buffet, on which stood several silver and -parcel-gilt cups, he took down one, blew the dust out of it, and, -after wiping it with his lace handkerchief, poured out some of the -wine left in the flask, and, touching Andrew's glass with it, drank to -him. - -"So," he said, though now his face had somewhat lost its colour, and, -as Andrew thought, looked white and drawn, "you belong to our -auxiliary force supplied by your King, Charles. And--and--do you -proceed to join The English Regiment?" - -"Yes," replied the older soldier. "Yes. Charles has given me a letter -to Colonel Churchill--he is ten years younger than I, but such is -fortune! Yes. I quitted the army to go home on some affairs connected -with my family. Now those affairs are arranged, and I go back to serve -under Turenne." - -He spoke easily, yet all the time Debrasques knew that he was watching -him, perhaps considering why he had been so clumsy with the bottle, -and, because he himself knew what had caused him to drop it, he was -far from being at ease. - -"I am about to set out too," he said, after a moment's pause. "I am -sent to Listenai's Dragoons. I depart on Monday next." - -He still seemed, however, as he spoke, to be suffering from the -nervousness which had attacked him from the time of breaking the glass -and spilling some of the Muscadel; nor was that nervousness decreased -by the fact that the great bronzed cavalier sitting in his fauteuil -evidently perceived his state. Yet the latter, beyond keeping his dark -eyes fixed on him, gave no other sign that he noticed anything. - -Presently, after again filling Andrew's glass and his own goblet, -which brought the contents of the flask to an end, and for which the -young Marquis was profuse in apologies, offering to call Pierre and -bid him fetch another bottle--which hospitality his guest declined, -vowing he would drink no more that night--he said: - -"I owe you a great debt, Captain Vause, for saving me from those -_filous_ this evening." - -"Nay, nay," interrupted Andrew, with a twirl of his black moustache, -though still, as the boy saw, with his eyes upon him. "Nay, comrade -for comrade, that is all. I could not hear the scraping of steel -without being in the fray, and two to one was foul play. 'Tis nought." - -"Let me try in some way to show, at least, that I recognize the -service. Now, how do you proceed to join Colonel Churchill?" - -"Humph! In the soldier's way. I have a good horse, and I must find a -servant and a horse also for him. 'Tis easy. Also, I know the route. -From here to Metz, then through the country of Mont Tonnerre, and so -on to Heidelberg. There we shall come upon Turenne's outposts, a day -later reach the main army. Is it not so?" - -"That is the road. Yet, Captain Vause, let me, at least, proffer this -much. You speak of a servant; 'tis not necessary. I set out on Monday, -as I say; to-day is Thursday. Now, with me there go six troopers from -our estate by Evreux. Till they take their place in my troop in -Listenai's they will act both as escort and servants. Sir, will you -not ride in my company; be my guest? 'Tis but little beyond good -fellowship." - -Andrew reflected a moment--strange thoughts revolving in his mind as -he did so; thoughts that two incidents of the evening had given birth -to--then he spoke frankly, and said: - -"_Mon brave gar_, I will. We go together." - -"Good!" exclaimed Debrasques, "good! I thank you." And at last he -looked once more like himself, the colour returning to his cheeks and -his eyes sparkling. "Good!" Then, speaking very earnestly as Andrew -rose to go--for, borne on the soft air of the night as it came through -the open windows, were heard the chimes of St. Roch ringing out one -o'clock--he said: - -"And we are comrades--sworn? Is it not so? Whatever may--can--befall -in the future, friends and comrades?" - -"Why not, Monsieur Debrasques?" asked Andrew, looking down at the -slight young figure before him. - -"Oh! I know not. But say it, say it. Comrades and friends, no matter -what befall." - -"I say it," the other answered. "Comrades and friends," and he put out -his great sunburned hand and took the lad's delicate one in his, while -he saw the latter's fair complexion suffuse again, this time with -pleasure. - -The Marquis did not summon Pierre to escort his visitor to the -courtyard door, but, instead, conducted him out himself, carrying in -his hand a candelabra of three branches from which the candles therein -threw forth a bright light. And by that light Andrew saw far better -than he had seen by the taper the serving-man had earlier exchanged -for the smoking flambeau, how the great square hall, with its -staircase on either side, was filled with paintings of men of various -periods--armed and looking, as the boy had said, as if all had been -soldiers in their day--and also with pictures of many well-favoured -women in whom he seemed to trace something of a likeness to the bright -grey eyes and soft complexion of Debrasques. Also he saw a nearly new -full-length portrait of a man--the oils were quite fresh, he noticed, -and not laid on the canvas many months--a man young and good-looking, -though the hair inclined to red, while the eyes, a bright blue, had a -steely, menacing glance in them, that gave to their owner a forbidding -look which seemed to warn those who gazed at the portrait to take heed -how they trusted him whom it depicted. - -"Who is that, if I may be so bold as to ask?" inquired Andrew, pausing -a moment before this painting. "One of your house, I should suppose, -from its being honoured here." - -"That!" said the Marquis, "that! Oh! 'tis a cousin of mine on my -mother's side. She cared for him--that is why he hangs here." - -And, looking down at his host, Andrew saw by the light of the candles -that once more the young man's face was deathly pale. - - - * * * * * * - - -"What have I stumbled on?" he mused as he sought at last his inn, -after having paid the postponed visit to his horse and seen that all -was well with it. "What? What? Let me reflect. In the tavern this -young Marquis was startled at hearing the name of De Bois-Vallée--that -beyond all doubt; in his own house he was even more startled at -hearing mine--in his agitation his hand shook so that the glass was -broken by the bottle he held in it. There is some connection here! -Then the picture of that crafty-looking, blue-eyed cousin whom his -mother cared for--cared for! Is he then dead? And if not, who is he? -Well, we will see. Time will show. 'Twixt here and Heidelberg is a -long ride." - -And musing still, and trying to piece one thing with another, Andrew -went at last to bed. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -"HIS NAME IS--WHAT?" - - -"Sound! Sound!" said the Marquis Debrasques, addressing two of his -troopers who carried long, slim trumpets over their shoulders, "Sound, -I say, and let these slumberers know that two gentlemen set forth to -join the army and fight the King's enemies. Sound to let them know -that, in spite of Brandenburg and Zell, Swabia and Franconia, and a -dozen other petty principalities under their chief, Austria, France is -not afraid!" - -He spoke vauntingly this fine summer morning as, it being almost four -o'clock, the sun sent a thin slanting ray down the narrow street and -illuminated the great carved coat of arms that stood out over the -doorway of the Debrasques' house, while it lit up the archways and -_ruelles_ hard by; and, perhaps, the vaunt was pardonable. For above, -at a heavily grilled window, his mother--who had folded him to her -arms again and again through the greater part of the night, which they -had spent together--looked forth, and by her side stood his two -child-sisters. Also, he was going to maintain as best he might the -honour of all the dead and gone Debrasques who had followed their -kings and generals for centuries, and had either returned victoriously -to this old house or left their bones to whiten where they fell. - -Close by, his hat in hand, because of the presence of the Marquise at -the window above, and with a quiet smile upon his dark, handsome -features, sat Andrew upon his great horse; himself ready to set out. -Once more he had donned the buckskin tunic now, putting off for the -time being his suit of velvet mourning; but, since active service -would soon be near at hand, he wore his gorget. Otherwise, he carried -no body armour, though in his necessaries borne by one of the pack -horses which was to accompany them, was his steel back-and-breast, and -also his headpiece. The fighting would not begin till the Rhine and -Neckar were in sight--no need yet to encumber himself with superfluous -weight! - -Ringing down the length of the street, waking sleepers in their beds -and causing many to leap from them and run to the windows to see what -brave show was taking place beneath, was heard the blare of the two -trumpets, and so, amidst their noise, the little cavalcade set forth, -the young Marquis waving and kissing his hand until a turn in the -narrow winding road between the houses hid those he loved from his -view, while Andrew bowed again and again to the ladies. - -And, still, they woke the echoes as they went on and on till the East -Gate was reached and passed, and more people left their beds to peer -at them and point with approval to the two cavaliers who rode ahead of -the troop--the one so young and fair and debonair, the other so large -and bronzed, and looking like some paladin of old, without his -armour--and at the pennons which fluttered from the lances of the two -foremost dragoons. - -Behind them came the led horses, extra chargers for the Marquis and -for Andrew, each suited to the weight of their riders--Andrew had had -a difficulty to purchase one suitable to his requirements!--with other -animals carrying the baggage necessary for all--changes of raiment and -accoutrements for the backs and breasts of gentlemen and troopers -alike, as well as spare arms and powder and ball that might--who -knew!--be wanted in the enemies' neighbourhood if they missed -Turenne's army. Also--this principally owing to the forethought of -Madame la Marquise and an antique housekeeper who had served the -Debrasques since she was a child--two other animals carried great -wicker panniers in which were many things that the poor and overtaxed -inns on the road (for from all parts of France reinforcements were -marching to Turenne's army, sometimes, even, in whole regiments) were -not likely to be able to provide. Flasks of good wine, carefully -preserved meats, fine chipbread, pressed poultry and conserved fruits; -all were there, as well as many other things in the way of medicines -and styptics and balms for wounds. Likewise there was much provision -for the animals--which Andrew had superintended--and which was perhaps -the most necessary of all, for on every one of the principal roads -leading to the seat of the great war now raging in the Palatinate -there was scarcely any forage to be obtained, the passage of -battalions and regiments having swept bare the country round. - - - * * * * * * - - -"_Peste!_" exclaimed the Marquis as, on the tenth day, they found -themselves more than half-way between Metz and Spires, and knew now -that they were within measurable distance of the army, "_Peste!_ there -is nothing left, not so much as a drop of wine in the bottles nor a -drumstick of a fowl. _Madame ma mère_ should have had one more pannier -packed, whereby we should have done well enough, or, better still, we -might have economized our resources. And the country is as clean swept -of everything as this high road. What is to become of the animals?" - -"Have patience," replied Andrew, "we are now part of Turenne's force. -Therefore, we must take what we can. And we have already passed -baggage vans going and coming for provisions; the next must be -requisitioned. That is, unless at to-night's halt we find the -wherewithal." - -They had by now become fast friends, sworn comrades, as they had -agreed to be, and Andrew had told Debrasques much of his early days of -campaigning, and how he had first joined the French army with James, -Duke of York, then an exile with his brother Charles. Never once, -however, had he referred to Philip and the blight that had fallen on -his life, nor the reason why he was now with Debrasques on the road to -join Churchill's regiment under Turenne. - -"For," he pondered to himself over and over again in those ten days, -"silence is best. Also, why tell him that until I had learnt of the -whereabouts of this rogue, De Bois-Vallée, it had not been my -intention to repair here--but only to seek him high and low until he -was found, and then stand face to face with him?" - -Yet there was one thing that troubled him even as he went to seek his -quarry; the recollection of one thing that might step in between him -and De Bois-Vallée and rob him of that which he had come to consider -would be a righteous vengeance. - -"Suppose," he had mused to himself more than once, "suppose that, when -he is at last before me, I discover that he never knew of Philip's -existence, knew nothing of the wrong he had done him. It might be so, -might well be. Although Philip was at court sometimes they seem never -to have met and, if the woman he loved was a giddy, wanton thing, -whose fancy turned lightly from one to another, she may never have -told this Frenchman of the man she had betrayed." - -Yet, even as he so meditated he put resolutely away from him the -thought that this could be the case; refused to believe, or to let the -belief creep into his mind, that the crafty, discarded lover of De -Kéroualle did not know of the robbery he was committing. "And," he -meditated also, "even should that be the case, there is still the -woman to make my account with. She, at least, knew the wrong she was -doing. I must find her." But, when he arrived at this point, he had to -cease his self-communing, for he knew not in what way vengeance could -be wreaked on her. The rapier by his side was powerless against a -woman--some other form of punishment must be sought for! - -Once on their long ride--nay, more than once, indeed half a dozen -times--he had turned over and over again in his mind the Marquis's -strange agitation in connection with all that was of so much -importance to him--the manner in which he had opened his eyes in the -tavern, the startled look in them when the spy had mentioned De -Bois-Vallée's name; also he recalled again and again the lad's start -when he told his own name; his pallor and nervousness before the -picture of that cousin whom he spoke of as having been "cared" for by -his mother. "Cared for," Andrew Vause mused again, "cared for. In the -past, not now!" And he asked himself: "What had that red-haired, -blue-eyed cousin done to cease to be cared for by his kinswoman any -longer? Unless he were dead!" - -At last he could refrain no more, and as, one day, they were passing -through the soft rolling country between Verdun and Metz he spoke to -Debrasques, saying: - -"The cousin whose portrait I saw in your hall in Paris on the night -when first you welcomed me, and, afterwards, when Madame la Marquise -made me an honoured guest, ere we set forth on this journey--is he -dead, Debrasques? You spoke of him as one for whom her ladyship had -cared. Was it death that put an end to that care? It must be so, I -should suppose," and as he uttered the question he turned his eyes on -the boy by his side. - -Yet only to see again the look he had seen before--half terror, half -supplication!--in the other's face; to note also that the bright -boyish colour, beneath the brown which had come on his cheeks during -their long march, paled and disappeared at once as on that night. -Wherefore Andrew cursed himself for his ill-bred curiosity as he -witnessed its effect. - -"No," Valentin Debrasques said, after a moment's pause, during which -he leant forward and busied himself about something with his charger's -bridle. "No. He is not dead." - -"Forgive me," said Andrew gently. "Forgive me. I have pained you." - -"Nay. Nay. Never! But--but--he is a villain, and that picture should -not be there, would not be there, an I had my way. But my mother still -believes, hopes--tries to believe he is not so; therefore it has not -been removed." - -"I am sorry," Andrew answered. "Sorry my impertinent curiosity----" - -"Nay," Debrasques said. "Surely you--but--no matter." Then he -exclaimed, "How good you are!" - -"Good!" said Andrew, looking at him again, and wondering what he -meant; pondering, indeed, whether some stroke of the sun that had -beaten fiercely on them since they left Paris had not touched his -brain. "Good! Good!" - -"For--for--your forbearance, I mean." Yet, as he spoke, there was a -look of bewilderment on the young and troubled face that mystified the -other. And doubly mystified him because he had seen it there before, -on the night when first the portrait met his view; also he had seen it -on the face of the Marquise as he had spoken in courteous, easy tones -to her during the intermediate days ere they set out. A look of -bewilderment on both their faces, as though expressing surprise that -he should be invariably so much at his ease and so gentle with them. -At least that was how he had read those looks, and, reading them thus, -had found further proof for wonderment. - -"My forbearance!" he exclaimed. - -"Yes," the other stammered, evidently much distressed, though still -with the perplexity growing greater in his face. "Yes, I mean to -refrain from questioning further. We--I--never mention him. I hate him -and despise him. I wonder you----" - -"I will never," said Andrew, "wound you on that score again, at least. -Henceforth I am dumb." And, to his surprise, as he spoke Debrasques put -out his gauntletted hand and grasped his own with a glance of -unspeakable gratitude. - -Which only added further to Andrew Vause's mystification and caused -him to ride on still more deeply wrapped in meditation. - -And now as they drew near Neustadt at nightfall and began to speculate -on what accommodation might be obtained at the inns, if any--since -they knew that two regiments of Dragoons, "the King's" and "The -Queen's" were marching ahead of them to reinforce Turenne, who had -suffered heavily at Sintzheim--they observed that the whole -heavens appeared on fire and were suffused with a bright red colour. -Also, into the vast vault thus tinged, there shot up great flecks -of flame of a deeper, more crimson hue, with sometimes amid them -saffron-coloured ones, while, plain against the still lingering -remnants of daylight, great masses of dun-coloured smoke arose. - -"_Grand Dieu!_" exclaimed Debrasques, while all, including dragoons -and those who attended to the led horses, looked on amazed. "It must -be the city of Spires in flames. Who has done it--Turenne or De -Bournonville, who commands against him?" - -"Nay," said Andrew, "no city that, in flames, my lad. Rather a -dozen--if there were so many around! No city, I say. See where the -flames themselves fly up to the reddened sky; observe. They rise from -all points ahead of us, and, in some cases, are miles apart. -Debrasques," he added solemnly, "I have seen such as this before. It -has been done here before, too, I know; Tilly did it fifty years ago, -and----" - -"What--what--what is it?" the boy asked, the two campaigns he had -followed never having shown him aught of this nature. - -"This. One of the two armies has withdrawn--it must be the -Imperialists, since Turenne beat them at Sintzheim--the other is -destroying the land, so that no more shall his enemy find shelter nor -food enough for a grasshopper. That is what it means. Yet," he -exclaimed, as now the flames and the dun-coloured smoke mounted more -fiercely still into the crimsoned vault above, "it is horrible, awful! -My God it is awful!" - -As he spoke, there soon followed confirmation of his words. Down the -poplar-fringed road along which they were proceeding, there came -towards them in the night the sound of many horses' hoofs rushing -madly, swiftly; and in an instant Andrew had warned Debrasques to draw -aside his dragoons and followers. "We know not yet who or what they -are," he said; "best stand aside and see." - -On came the others even as the suggestion was followed, and--although -in the gloom of the night that had closed in under the trees--they -knew at once by the voice of the leader that they were of their own -side. Then an officer, followed by two dozen soldiers, would almost -have passed them when, beneath the poplars, he saw the headpieces of -the dragoons and the glisten of their trappings, and, as he did so, he -roared an order to his own men to halt, after which, amidst the rattle -and clang of bridles and of scabbards against spurs and horses' -flanks, he called out in French: - -"Speak--what troops are those?" while, as he did so, Andrew felt -Debrasques' hand clutch his arm convulsively--felt, too, that hand -tremble on his sleeve. - -"Answer him, answer him," he said, "or he may charge us. They are -treble our number." - -And from the Marquis's lips there came, in response to the demand, the -words: - -"A detachment of Listenai's dragoons and an English officer about to -join the Marshal." - -"Whose voice is that?" called back the other in a tone of -astonishment. - -"The voice of Valentin, Marquis Debrasques." - -"Ha! I thought so. So you are here, are you? Well, I have no time to -waste on you. Where are the dragoons of the 'King's' and 'Queen's' -regiments?" - -"Ahead of us," answered the deep voice of Andrew, he noticing that -Debrasques seemed more and more agitated--indeed, almost now unable to -speak. - -"Then they have missed their way. They should have joined by now. -Have, perhaps, branched off at Kaiserslautern." Then he gave an order -to the Marquis. "Ride forward at once with your party and endeavour to -find them, and, if you succeed, send them on at once to Spires. There -is the devil's work doing to-night." - -"What work?" asked Andrew. - -"Our men have lost all control of themselves and are burning the -villages for miles round, while the country people are massacring all -those whom they can catch alone, or in twos and threes. There is one -of our soldiers hanging head downwards on a tree not half a league -from here, riddled with a score of bullets, and, they say, some are -being burnt if surprised when by themselves. Forward at once and find -the Dragoons--they are not, at least, heated to boiling point!" and, -as he spoke, Andrew heard the thud of his heels against his horse's -flank and saw him rush on, followed by his men. And in the last rays -of daylight, aided by the glow of countless fires, he observed that he -was hatless and wigless, and that, behind him, streamed a mass of -long, red-brown hair. - -"Devil's work indeed!" said Andrew, turning to his companion, and in -that same light observing that the young man was pallid and his face -twitching. - -"Heart up, heart up, my boy!" he exclaimed. "The horrors of war must -not unseat a soldier thus"--but the other interrupted him, muttering -huskily: - -"You did not see--not recognize?" and as he spoke the astonishment on -his face was accompanied by a look of almost awestruck unbelief. - -"Not see--not recognize! Why, whom should I see, or recognize? 'Fore -heaven! what I heard was enough for me." - -"That man," Debrasques stammered. "The leader. You did not recognize -him?" - -"Not I. Debrasques," turning his gaze upon him swiftly, "who is he?" - -"Your--your--I mean, my cousin. The man whose picture hangs in our -hall----" - -"And his name is--what?" - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE VICOMTE DE BOIS-VALLÉE. - - -"Did he hear my question, or not?" asked Andrew of himself, as, -leaving the baggage and its caretakers behind under the charge of two -of the dragoons, they rode on swiftly in search of the "King's" and -"Queen's" regiments which had been ahead of them all the way from -Epernay, and which, since they had not kept in advance, must have -branched off, as Debrasques' cousin had surmised, on the road to -Kaiserslautern. "Did he hear it?" - -It was impossible he should be able to answer his own question, for, -even as he had asked that other one, "And his name is--what?" the -Marquis had given his order to advance as well as another to those who -were to remain with the baggage, and it was most probable that, in the -rattle and clatter of their steeds' hoofs and their accoutrements, it -had escaped the other's ears. - -And now, as they again went forward--more swiftly than they had done -as yet since quitting Paris--he knew that this was not the time for -repeating his question. Moreover, had he not solemnly promised, all -unasked though the promise had been by the Marquis, that never again -would he mention his cousin? And, man of honour as he was, he knew -that the promise bound him; that, even though his suspicions were -growing hot and furious within him, he must be as dumb as he had vowed -to be. - -"Yet," he thought, "that cousin is evidently a man of mark and -position in the army; soon I shall know if what my suspicions point to -is the case. And then--well, there is time enough. At present our -surroundings demand more than that which I seek to know and to -unravel." - -They did indeed! Since, as they advanced kilometre by kilometre, those -surroundings became more awful. The sky was now one vast pall of fiery -red stretching from horizon to horizon, yet spotted and blurred -beneath in twenty different directions by dense, compact masses of -flames enveloped in clouds of smoke--the flames and smoke of burning -villages, homesteads, and châteaux. Also, the air rang with the sound -of musket discharges, while shrieks were now and again borne to their -ears by the soft wind that blew in their faces; rang with shouts and -cries in French and German, and sometimes in English, and with the -horribly piteous yells of horses shut in burning stables and -forgotten. - -Ere they had ridden a quarter of a league from where the officer who -was Debrasques' cousin had passed them, they came across the body of -the man he had spoken of, hanging, as he had described, head downwards -from the branch of a tree, his body perforated by bullets that had -evidently been fired into him after he had been strung up. That was -undoubted, for beneath his head, which almost touched the ground, was -a pool of blood that must have dripped from his wounds as he swung -there, and which would not have been beneath him had he been shot ere -hung; nor, it was certain, would he have been hung at all if already -dead and no use as a living target. - -"Your countryman," said Andrew to the Marquis, as they paused a moment -to regard this awful spectacle. "See to his uniform--what it is I know -not, except that it is not that which we wore in the old days, and I -doubt if Jack Churchill has changed it." - -"I know it," said Debrasques--who had recovered somewhat his calm, as -well as his colour, since he was no longer in the vicinity of his -cousin--peering down from his horse at the unfortunate body on which -the rays of the rising moon now shone clear. "He is of Du Plessis' -corps. Observe the boar stamped on his shoulder-piece. 'Tis Du -Plessis' own cognizance." - -As he spoke there rose upon their ears more shouting and roaring of -voices than they had observed for some time--harsh voices close by -bawling in German, then shouts of approval--once they heard a raucous, -guttural laugh as from some deep, full throat--next an exclamation of -rage in English, and a loud call in the same tongue. "Help, help!" -they heard that voice cry--though Andrew alone understood it. "Help -me, save me from these bloodthirsty dogs!" After which the cries were -smothered with the German roars once more, and again that savage laugh -rolled forth. - -"A countryman!" exclaimed Andrew, "and in dire peril. And the voices -are close by. Debrasques, as I helped you, help me, help him, now," -and he gave the reins to his horse and clutched his sword firmly, -while he headed for where the noise and that piteous call had come -from. And, guided by him, Debrasques and the four remaining dragoons -rode for the spot, being assisted to find it by a bright light that -burned amongst a copse of young oaks. - -Soon they reached it, crushing through saplings and great ferns and -brushwood to do so, guided always by the roars of German throats, the -shrieks of the Englishman, above all, by that wild, savage laugh. -Reached an open spot, a grassy glade, some sixty feet square, in the -middle of which stood a sturdy oak that had obtained perhaps one-half -of what its full growth would be in days to come--and with, beneath -its branches and piled against its trunk, a freshly-lighted fire -already burning brightly; a fire composed of dry brushwood and two or -three young trees hastily chopped into fagots and billets. - -But it was above that fire that the real horror was, for there, -swinging from the lowest branch of the young oak by a cord, head -downwards, and perilously near the flames as they leaped up, was the -body of the Englishman whose cries they had heard--that body being -swung backwards and forwards by his struggles and convulsions, the -arms thrown wildly about, and the hands clutching at space. - -With a shout, Andrew, who led the way, was amongst some twenty wild -Rhenish Bavarian peasants, the bright sword flashing now like a streak -of phosphorus in the moonlight as it darted here and there--through -one man's throat and another's breast--while the horse he bestrode -flung the boors asunder as a ship's forefoot throws off the waves, and -while behind him came Debrasques and the dragoons, themselves dealing -blows right and left, and their steeds trampling down those who had -fallen. Then, dropping the reins upon his horse's neck, Andrew's great -left hand seized the swinging man by the belt and dragged him to one -side of the flames, one touch of the rapier sundered the rope, and, a -moment later, the Bavarians' would-be victim was lifted up in front of -him and thrown across the animal's shoulder--he was saved. - -Meanwhile, those of the avengers--for such, indeed they were--men -driven to madness by the destruction of their homes and crops--who -were not already on the ground and dead, or senseless from their -wounds, had fled into the darkness of the surrounding woods, and -Andrew and his party were left in possession of the glade. - -"Speak, man," said he to the Englishman he had saved, while he cut -away from his feet the end of the rope that bound them together, and -Debrasques held to his lips a dram from a flask, carried by one of his -followers, "speak! How came you to this pass; how fell into the hands -of these crazed fiends?" - -"I--I"--the soldier murmured, looking round wildly, and gazing up -fearfully at the great cavalier--who now towered above him since he -had been laid on the grass--as though he did not recognize him as his -saviour, "I--I--Oh! save me, save me!" - -"You are safe, my man. Yet speak, let us know what else is doing. Are -there more being served as they nearly served you?" - -"Worse," the man muttered, "if worse can be. There were two of us -caught by them, we were sent out to seek for the incoming cavalry--oh! -the other. The other! My comrade, Roger Bates!" And he raised his -hands to his eyes, all smarting and burning with the smoke that had -got into them, and rubbed the lids from which the flames of the fire -had singed the lashes, as it had his eyebrows and hair. "My comrade!" - -"What of him?" asked Andrew solemnly, knowing that some more fearful -atrocity was to meet their ears, more fearful even than this their -eyes had seen. "What of him?" - -"They took us together, and he--he," turning his glance to the body of -an enormous peasant lying close by, with his glassy eyes turned up to -the sky, while in his throat was the great stab Andrew's rapier had -made, "he who laughed so at our shrieks--directed our tortures. -Listen. They dug his eyes out with their knives--they are lying -somewhere about--then, blinded, they turned him into that wood to find -his way back to the army as best he might, or stumble in the river, or -fall down and die." - -Swiftly Andrew translated to Debrasques this last horror--shuddering -as he did so, and causing his hearers to shudder too, all soldiers as -they were!--and soon the wood re-echoed with the cries of two of the -troopers as they went forth to seek the mutilated man, and, haply, to -find him if still alive. - -But as they so went forth they heard from afar off more shouts and -cries mingling with the humane calls of the dragoons--loud yells of -triumph from some large body of men coming their way--and, not knowing -what this might mean--perhaps more maddened inhabitants of the -Palatinate with fresh victims!--they stood ready to either attack them -or defend themselves. Yet, in an instant, Andrew Vause exclaimed, -"More of my countrymen--some of Churchill's, or the Duke of -Monmouth's, men--what brings them here?" - -"Our countrymen are gone mad," the rescued soldier said, "mad! These -Germans have illtreated us the worst of any when caught, they are all -mad. Oh! if they can but catch those who blinded Roger! If they can." - -As he spoke there burst into the grassy glade, directed thereto -doubtless by the glimmering of the still burning fire, a score of -English soldiers all in the trappings of "The English Regiment," some -with their jackets torn, some with their heads bandaged up, each -armed, and with their weapons bare, and some with torches in their -hands. Then, seeing the group before them they rushed forward, though, -on observing their comrade, they paused, astonished. - -"Who are these?" one of the soldiers shouted, rolling his eyes over -Andrew and Debrasques and the dragoons. "These are no Germans!" - -"Nay," said Andrew, "no Germans. These are a French officer and some -of his men, and I am about to join you under Colonel Churchill. What -seek you?" Intuitively they all saluted him and the Marquis, then the -foremost man said, "the lives of all those devils we can find, sir. -They are killing, mutilating, burning all they can come across -alone--they cut the throats of the wounded after Sintzheim as they lay -on the ground. We seek revenge. God!" He exclaimed, starting back as -he saw the bodies of the three Germans on the ground, "What is this?" - -Briefly their comrade told them all that had happened to him and Roger -Bates, and how, even now, two of the French dragoons were searching -for the unhappy man, and as he did so their fury became terrible. They -cursed aloud the Palatinate and its inhabitants, the Imperialists and -the war itself; and then, suddenly from their midst, there were thrust -forth into the open two peasants, whom they had captured and dragged -along with them. - -"An eye for an eye," roared the leader, "life for life. We will have -vengeance--none shall stay us. Roger Bates has had his eyes dug out, -therefore so shall this man have his," and he pointed to one of the -shivering prisoners. "You were burnt head downwards, therefore so -shall this man be," and he indicated the other. "My lads, to work. Out -with the eyes, some of you, some blow up the fire." - -"Stop," said Andrew, "not that. There shall be no more horrors of this -sort. Take all men prisoners whom you find and bring them before -Marshal Turenne, but not such revenge as this." - -"Who shall prevent it?" the leader asked, forgetting all respect in -his fury. - -"We shall," Andrew said, nodding his head to those with him, "we -shall," and at the same time he whispered to Debrasques to cause his -dragoons who were searching for Bates to be recalled. - -But at that moment the two troopers came back unsummoned, and between -them they bore the dead body of Bates. They had found him in a brook -in the wood, into which he had evidently stumbled, and from which, in -his blindness, and being possibly weakened by other wounds, he had -been unable to extricate himself. - -Then his furious comrades, seeing the body, lost their last glimmer of -reason--they were, in truth, maniacs now in their thirst for -vengeance. And Andrew knew it. He whispered therefore a few hasty -words to Debrasques, who divined, without knowing one word of their -language, all that was occurring. After which he addressed the -foremost soldier, saying: - -"As I have told you, this shall not happen," and he leaped on to his -horse's back as he spoke. "If you want vengeance seek it in a fitting -manner from Turenne. Here it shall not be gratified. Attempt to -mutilate that man or burn this one, and by the Heaven above us we will -ride at and cut you down although most of us are fellow-countrymen. -Now reflect." And looking at him in the moon's rays, the soldiers saw -that this was one against whom they could not stand. - -But at that moment there came an interruption which caused them to -pause, even more than did the appearance of the fierce cavalier before -them and the dragoons by his side. - -Above the sound of swift-coming horses' feet there was heard a -somewhat shrill, though musical, English voice, saying: - -"At all hazards it must cease. Heavens! Turenne will string them up in -dozens when he hears of it, as it is." And a moment later two English -officers had ridden into the glade, though not before the soldiers had -had time to cast dubious glances at each other, even while their fury -still burnt within them, and to mutter, "the Colonel." - -"Some of my men, fore gad!" the speaker said, as now the two officers -were amongst the others; and he rode forward into the moonlight, his -slight, active young form standing out plainly in its rays, and his -handsome, youthful features being quite visible. Then, in the -shrill-pitched, refined tones that had just before broken on their -ears, he said: - -"So you are marauding again, are you?" and, turning to his companion, -he bade him take all their names. After which he ran his eyes over -Vause and the Marquis, and, seeing that they were gentlemen, raised -his laced hat most courteously while, bowing low over his horse's -neck, he asked them in French if they were attached to the Army, and, -if so, to whom he had the honour of speaking? - -"I am," said Valentin with equal courtesy, "the Marquis Debrasques, on -my way to join Listenai's dragoons, and have journeyed from Paris to -do so. May I beg the honour of knowing to whom I am accounting for -myself?" - -Again the laced hat was doffed, while the speaker said: - -"I am Lieutenant-Colonel John Churchill of King Charles's forces, and -Colonel of 'The English Regiment,' under King Louis, forming part of -the auxiliary forces sent from England. And you, sir?" turning to -Andrew. "May I, too, beg your name by right of the position I hold in -this campaign?" - -"My name, sir, is Vause; Captain Vause, once of the regiment which you -now command. I am on my way to present myself to you with a view of -serving once more with my comrades, and am the bearer of a letter to -you from King Charles himself." - -"Sir, you shall be very welcome," Churchill said, "as all soldiers are -here." And, after the exchange of a few more courtesies, he asked for -some explanation of all that had taken place in the glade--the -conversation on account of the Marquis being carried on in French. A -few rapid sentences from both Debrasques and Andrew served, however, -to explain what had happened since they arrived on the spot, while -ever, as he heard of how the batch of English soldiers had forced -their way to it with their two prisoners, Churchill's eyes turned to -them. - -Then he addressed his men, and, speaking in so quiet a tone that none -could know what he was meditating, he bade them fall in and march back -to their quarters, taking the Bavarians with them, but without doing -them any injury. - -"And you," he said, addressing the man who had been saved from -burning, "can you march, too?" - -"I think so, sir. Thank God I am little hurt." - -"So be it. March all." Then, while he was informing Debrasques that -the "King's" and "Queen's" Dragoons had found their proper route and -that he would conduct him to where his own regiment lay, a thought -seemed to strike him, and, turning to the rescued soldier, he said, -"how came you here? Alone with Bates or in a party?" - -"In a party, sir, before the French officer; but we missed them, and -so those Germans caught us." - -"What French officer?" - -"I know not his name, sir." Then the man paused and hesitated, while -Churchill looked calmly down at him; but after a moment he stammered, -"the officer with the red hair, sir." - -"Humph!" said the colonel, while in the now bright moonlight the -others could see a gentle smile appear on his handsome face. "The -French officer with red hair. True, he is scouting to-night." And, -turning to the other who accompanied him, he said, "Without doubt, the -Vicomte de Bois-Vallée." - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -THE HONOUR OF THE HOUSE. - - -The next morning about mid-day Valentin Debrasques was making his way -slowly through all the numerous impediments that encumbered the ground -between the spot where the dragoons of Listenai were encamped on one -side of Gross-Saxen, and the town of Ladenburg where Turenne's -headquarters were. It was difficult enough to progress quickly since, -first, he would encounter a regiment or a battalion passing from one -point to another, or next, be stopped upon his journey by a long -string of baggage waggons, or the artillery with their heavy guns -moving in the direction of where the Imperialists were under the -command of the Duke de Bournonville--nor, indeed, was he particularly -anxious to progress much more rapidly than at present he was doing. - -He was engaged upon the most hateful journey which he had ever yet -undertaken; was about to pay a visit to the cousin whom, not a year -before, he had requested never to speak to him again. Yet, now, -because he deemed it was for the honour of his house to do so, he was -going to that cousin's quarters to seek an interview with him--to -demand that he should receive his visit. - -When Churchill had said overnight that, without doubt, the red-haired -officer was the Vicomte de Bois-Vallée, the young marquis knew that -further concealment was impossible, and that the gallant soldier whose -name was Vause must ere long come into contact with him--and he -dreaded that contact, not for his cousin's sake, but for Vause's. For -he had learnt a year ago (not from Bois-Vallée himself, but from a -joint friend of theirs who had been in England at the same time as the -Vicomte) of what he had done there--he had learnt, also, that the man -who had been so cruelly injured was called Vause. And he remembered -the name well enough--better, perhaps, than he might have remembered -it had it been an ordinary English one, from the simple fact that -there were many of the same name in France. He thought, therefore, -that, like so many of his countrymen, this Englishman inherited his -name from some French ancestor who had originally passed over to -England. But, be this how it might, he did remember it as being the -name of him who had been so vilely injured, and, when the man sitting -in his room in Paris had said he was so called, it had agitated him to -such an extent that the broken glass and the spilt wine had been the -result. - -Yet, still, there was one thing he could not understand--Andrew Vause -showed no sign of recognition when he saw the picture hanging in his -hall, nor when he saw the man himself. Had they, therefore, never met? -It might be so. He knew the Englishman was a soldier who, by his own -showing, had roamed about Europe fighting in one campaign and another; -the wrong might have been done when his back was turned--when he was -away. - -It seemed, indeed, that such must be the case from the first words -Andrew spoke when, Churchill and the other officer having ridden -slowly ahead, they, with the dragoons as well as the baggage train, -which had been sent back for, followed. - -"Therefore," Andrew said, "that is De Bois-Vallée. And your cousin. -So, so! A pity." - -"I hoped you would never have met," the marquis said; "that you would -never have known that he was here in this campaign. Never, never! We -have grown firm friends--sworn comrades--and, God! it is a shame! It -is from our house that the offence has come." - -"Never have met!" Andrew repeated. "Never have met!" Then, after a -moment's pause, he said: "Debrasques, there must be no concealment -between us, come what may. It is to meet him that I am here. I have -one thing to do--you need no telling what that thing is." - -"I can guess. To slay the man who stole your promised wife." - -"My promised wife!" looking down at him. "My promised wife!" - -"Why, yes! Was she not? I had a friend in England who knew something -of his villainy." - -"Had she been my promised wife and fled with him thus, she might have -gone hang, and, for the matter of that, so might he. No woman who -could do as that woman did would have been worth a pair of crossed -swords. But, unhappily for him--for this cousin of yours--the -treachery was committed by them both against one whom I loved better -than myself--the gentlest soul on earth, and unable to avenge -himself." - -"Another Vause! Had I known that, my trepidation would not have been -so great when you saw his picture--when he passed us two hours ago." - -"Ay! Another Vause, my elder brother. But it makes no matter, except -that, as I tell you, I shall avenge him far more than I should avenge -myself. Debrasques," and he put his hand on the neck of the boy's -horse as it trotted side by side with his own, "Debrasques, there is -no need of concealment nor of lies and deception on my part. Listen! -We stand on the threshold of a new friendship, yet, though that -friendship will perforce wither and die through my future actions, I -must perform them. My friend until to-morrow, at least--I am here in -the Palatinate to slay your cousin." - -"Yet--yet," the lad stammered, scarce knowing what to say, "that was -not your intent when first we met. You said then you had returned to -France to join the army." - -"I returned to France to find him. But, ere I knew of the evil he had -done my brother, I had procured from King Charles letters to Turenne -commanding here, to Condé commanding in Flanders, one even to King -Louis in command of his army in Franche-Comté, and another to Colonel -Churchill now with us, for I had to be a soldier again. But, when I -learnt from my brother's dying lips of what this Vicomte had done, I -knew that, with those letters in my possession, I could make my way to -wherever he might be. I had heard," and Andrew looked terribly grim as -he uttered these last words, "that this man had the skill of a _maître -d'armes_, therefore I supposed him a soldier. In Paris, on the night I -met you, I learnt that he was one. Then my resolve was taken." - -"Will nothing shake it?" - -"Nothing--or only one thing. Let me find out that he was absolutely -without knowledge that he was injuring my brother--let it be proved to -me that he did not know the woman he took away with him was an -affianced wife, and I cease my quest; his death may come to him how it -will. I shall not seek it. Nay, if you, Debrasques, who appear to know -much of what has happened, can assure me such was the case, I cease to -seek for him from this moment." - -"Alas!" murmured the other, "I have no such assurance to give." - -"Did he know?" asked Andrew, pressing him, "had he ever heard of the -name of Vause? But, why ask? You knew my name; therefore, he knew it -too." - -And his companion's silence and wistful look told him that he had -suspected aright. - -And now, on this the following morning, the young man was winding his -way through all the bustle and confusion of a great army taking -breathing time between one battle and another that was imminent. And, -as he pursued that way, he whispered to himself: - -"If I can work on his fears so much as to force him--even in the teeth -of the enemy--to quit the field, to exchange either to the King's or -Condé's army, disgrace and misery may be avoided. But, can I? Can I? -Villain as he is, he is yet no coward." - -It was still two hours ere the Marquis Debrasques stood face to face -with his kinsman, he having been away with Turenne and several of his -generals on the road to Mannheim; but, at last, the weary time passed, -and the Marquis de Bois-Vallée entered the room in the farmhouse which -was allotted to him for quarters, and stood before his cousin, saying -as he did so: - -"_Eh bien!_ Monsieur le Marquis, this is an overwhelming honour and -not to have been expected, in spite of my having recognized you last -night. Well!" and he unbuckled his _porte-épée_ and flung that and the -weapon it bore into the corner of the room as he spoke, while also he -removed his wig and showed thereby the auburn, red-tinged hair that -was so noticeable, "to what am I to attribute that honour? Scarcely, I -should imagine, to the desire to pay a visit of courtesy, since, when -last we met, you forbade me ever to address you again." - -Standing there before Debrasques, his lean figure (which was set off -well enough by the handsome blue coat he wore, with its red facings -and gold galloonings, and with, across his breast, beneath the silver -gorget, the aiguilettes which showed that he was attached to the staff -of the Marshal) and his light blue eyes, which he never took off his -cousin, seemed to proclaim him a man of tenacious disposition. For the -tall, wiry form looked as though it were capable of almost any -endurance or exercise of strength, while the steely eyes spoke of an -invincible determination within. - -"No visit of courtesy would have brought me here to you," replied -Debrasques, who retained the common wooden chair in which he had been -seated for those two hours, and from which he had not risen on his -cousin's entrance. "Instead, something of a totally different nature. -For the reputation of the family of which I have the honour to be the -head, and of which you are a member, I desire that you shall remove -yourself from this camp." - -For a moment those blue eyes shot out a rapid glance at the young man -seated there; then their owner said, speaking in an extraordinarily -calm manner: - -"Have you, _par hazard_, Monsieur le Marquis, taken leave of your -senses? Are you aware of what you have asked?" - -"Perfectly. I have asked you, a soldier in the face of the enemy and -of the _garde du corps_ of the Marshal Turenne, to quit the camp. That -is what I have demanded in my senses, and is what I am anxious you -should do." - -Still gazing at him steadily, the Vicomte drew up another common -wooden chair in front of the other, and, sitting in it and facing him, -said, always in the same self-contained voice: - -"There is naturally some explanation of this--I will not honour it by -saying 'insulting'--request. Be good enough to give it, and then, head -of our family as you are, to take yourself back to your own lines. -Quick; I am much occupied with my duties, and shall be until I -relinquish them at your desire." - -"The explanation is, to begin with, that Captain Vause has arrived in -this camp with the full determination of calling you to account for -your proceedings in England some three years ago, in connection with a -certain lady of that country." - -"Indeed!" and now the Vicomte de Bois-Vallée allowed a smile to appear -faintly on his features. "_Et après!_ When he has done so, what next?" - -"When he has done so," repeated Debrasques, who was as calm as the -other, if not, perhaps, as skilled in word-fence. "Well, I have no -doubt that, having called you to account, he will kill you." - -"_Si?_" and again the other smiled. "Doubtless, therefore, he is a -fire-eater. But, permit me to say once more--what next?" - -"Your death will bring a scandal on our family. This I desire to -prevent. The Debrasques have had their faults, probably some of their -kinsmen before you have even brought scandal on that family, but no -such mean action as you committed----" - -"Monsieur le Marquis," the other interrupted quickly, and with no -smile on his face now, "I would suggest to you a more temperate tone. -Otherwise this man Vause, of whom you speak, may lose his opportunity -of, as you say, killing me. It may be necessary for me to offer you -the first chance." - -"Which would not be accepted. I should not cross swords with you. You -will remember that your flight with the lady in question was brought -to the ears of the King himself--in spite of the English King's -indifference--by our ambassador to England, on the complaint of her -father. Also, that his Majesty demanded an explanation from me for the -outrage that you, an accredited member of the suite sent over by him, -had committed, and that it was only on being able to state that you -had married the lady that you were allowed to retain your position -with the Marshal. But I have since found that that statement, made on -your authority, was a lie. You have not married the lady." - -"_Mon Dieu!_" the other exclaimed, roused now. "No, I have not--though -there is a strange explanation of----" - -"Stop. I will hear no explanation. You deceived me once, and you will -doubtless deceive me again. But, as I have said, you must leave this -camp." - -"I will not leave it. Bah! It would be ruin, ignominy. What! leave the -army with another engagement at hand, and--and--which is greater -ignominy if possible, run away from this man who has sought me out. -Sought me! Sought me the best master of fence in all Turenne's forces. -It is impossible." - -"Still, it must be done. Otherwise I shall inform the King of the -falsehood told him. Then--if he chooses to pardon you--I cannot help -it, and Andrew Vause may kill you." - -"Andrew Vause!" the other exclaimed. "Andrew Vause! Of whom are you -speaking? That is not the man to whom she was affianced. His name was -Philip." - -"And he is his brother." - -"Ha! So! I hope he is not so much of a weakling as report would have -that brother to be, otherwise he will scarce enjoy a quarter of an -hour with me, nor----" - -"I tell you he is no weakling, and he has come here with the -determination of killing you----" - -"Which would grieve you--my cousin, and his friend?" - -"It would not grieve me in the least. But, as I say, it would lead to -scandal, and might prevent my search for the unhappy lady whom you -have vilely deceived. Also----" - -"Your search for the unhappy lady, as you term her--your search! You -intend that? Monsieur le Marquis, what do you mean by this intrusion -in my affairs? Answer me!" And now he had risen from his chair and -stood before his young cousin, his eyes fixed piercingly on the boy's -face. "Quick. Answer." - -"I mean that the instant this campaign is over, be it long or -short--and if I live through it--I intend to find the woman you have -betrayed, inveigled from her own country to ours, and to return her to -her father, if he will take her back. And in my search for her I -intend to procure, if possible, the services of Captain Vause." - -"So. You intend to do that--if you live. Valentin Debrasques, you will -not live. Therefore, be warned in time. If Montecuculi's or Caprara's -soldiers do not put an end to your viperish young career--why, as you -say--the campaign will be over, and then you will have to make your -account with me. Now," he continued, and as he spoke he threw open the -door and pointed to it, "go. And, remember, when the campaign is over, -I shall demand an interview with you." - -"I will remember," Debrasques said, also rising now from his chair. -"Fear not. But, previously, there are other things which you had best -not forget. First, that the King will be informed of the lie about -your marriage with the lady, and, next----" - -"Yes? Next?" - -"That Montecuculi's or Caprara's soldiers may be as like to put an end -to your career as to mine, and, even if they do not, why, then----" - -"Yes?" De Bois-Vallée said again interrogatively. "Yes? And then?" - -"Why, then--if you are not previously sent away in disgrace from -Turenne's service--Andrew Vause will kill you himself." - -"Go!" the Vicomte said once more, and pointing still with his finger -to the door, while Debrasques, watching it, thought it shook somewhat -now. "Go, before it is too late." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THE FIRST MEETING. - - -A day or two after the interview between Debrasques and his cousin, -Andrew Vause sat in his tent, for the four English-speaking -regiments--namely, those under Churchill and Colonel Littleton, who -commanded the Duke of Monmouth's Foot, and those commanded -respectively by Hamilton and Lord Douglas--were not cantoned in the -villages which had escaped destruction by the flames, but were under -canvas around Ladenburg and Gross-Saxen. Indeed, so furious were the -members of the auxiliary forces, which Charles had sent to help his -brother monarch, at the manner in which scores of their comrades had -been treated by the people of the Palatinate in their mad revenge, -that Turenne wisely billeted them where there was no more property to -be destroyed. Already this wanton destruction had led to much outcry -against the Marshal, and also to a challenge to him to fight a duel -from Charles Louis, the Elector-Palatine; and, hampered and annoyed as -he was by shortness of men and continued reproaches from Louvois, the -Minister of War in Paris, he was desirous now that, outside actual -warfare with the Imperialists, there should be no more horrors -perpetrated than necessary. - -Before Andrew, on a common wooden table at which he sat, there lay a -sheet of paper on which he had written at the bottom, with as great -legibility as possible, his name in large clear characters, and this -paper he was now perusing for the second or third time ere folding it -and affixing a seal thereto. - -"Yes," he murmured to himself. "Yes; it should suffice. The disguise -is flimsy, 'tis true, but the name tells all. If he is not a cur -'twill do very well," and again he read it over. It ran as follows:-- - - -"To Monsieur le Vicomte de Bois-Vallée, of the bodyguard of the -Vicomte de Turenne, Marshal-General of the King's Armies. - -"Sir,--Your fame as a swordsman is so widespread that it has reached -my ears and inspired me with a desire to have evidence thereof, being -myself considered no mean wielder of the blade. As brother officers in -the same army may I, therefore, humbly beg that you will give me proof -of your cleverness. The weapon I usually carry is in length forty -inches, but in Paris, ere joining my present regiment, I purchased two -others, one being of the length in blade of thirty-six inches, and the -other of thirty-eight. As I do not doubt that, in your courtesy, you -will not refuse this favour to a brother swordsman, I will await you, -sir, at either sunrise or sunset at any retired spot you may honour me -by naming, and will attend either alone or with a second as you may -direct. And I have the honour to subscribe myself, Monsieur le -Vicomte, - -"Your most humble servitor, - -"ANDREW VAUSE, - -"Attached as volunteer to the Royal English Regiment, commanded by -Colonel John Churchill." - - -Then, having sent the document off by what he knew was a sure hand, -Andrew sat down and waited for the reply of De Bois-Vallée. - -But several days passed, yet none came, and, at last, Andrew growing -impatient (for now it was rumoured that there must be another battle -ere long, and he knew that the chance of war might rob him of his -vengeance by removing him or the Vicomte from each other's path), he -set about inditing another epistle. This time it was more laconic. - -"Sir," he now wrote, "owing doubtless to the attention demanded from -you by your duty, I have received no answer to my request for a trial -of our skill at swordplay. With much respect I still await that -answer," and he concluded his letter with the usual ceremonial -flourishes. - -Yet still some days passed by and no answer came, so that Andrew -thought he would once more be forced to take up his quill, while all -the time his great hand was itching to grasp one of the weapons on -which his eyes lovingly reposed as they stood in a bundle in a corner -of the room. Then, one night, as he returned to his tent after going -the rounds, and after also stopping to drink a glass or so of ratafia -with some of his brother officers, many of whom were old comrades, he -found lying on his table a letter--a letter with a great seal upon it, -on which was a vicomte's coronet and a coat-of-arms, and which he tore -open eagerly. - -Yet it was unsatisfactory, as he saw in a moment, though such was not -the description that the soldier applied to the writer of the document -while he perused it, but rather such words as "Cur" and "Craven." - -The communication was prefaced and concluded as Andrew's own -challenges had been, with all necessary politeness and ceremony, yet -it simply conveyed to him the fact that De Bois-Vallée refused to meet -him. - -"As you are aware," it said, "duelling is forbidden to officers on -active service; even the Marshal himself was forced to refuse to meet -the Elector-Palatine. Nor, since I cannot think, sir, that it is -simply a trial of skill which you desire, can I consent to meet you at -this present moment. Later on I hope I may be accorded that honour." - -Then, hot with passion, Andrew, before seeking his bed from which his -duties would necessitate his rising ere the dawn, sat down and -scratched off one more letter. - -"Sir," he wrote, "if you do not meet me within forty-eight hours, I -will affront you so publicly before some of your own officers that you -shall be forced to draw on the instant. And, if that suffice not, I -will there and then bodily chastise you, while, for justification, I -will publicly proclaim your conduct in England to my late brother, -Philip Vause, and the lady to whom he was betrothed. To-morrow night I -shall attend at seven o'clock in the glade a few minutes' walk west of -the burnt church, and also on the following night. Each night for an -hour. I counsel you to come." - -"Wait," he said in the morning to the soldier-servant who attended on -him, and who was about to proceed to Turenne's quarters with the -letter half an hour after daybreak, "wait for an answer by word of -mouth. Yes or No. Those who take the letter from your hand can bring -you back the reply. Remember, by word of mouth." - -Then he went forth to a hard day's duty with the regiment, which was -under orders to be ready at any moment to strike its tents and march -in all probability towards the defile of Rhinzabern, and did not -return again until the evening. - -By that time he knew that the opportunity for the Vicomte to avoid him -no longer existed; the order had gone forth that day that the -remainder of the army would possibly not move till the following week. -De Bois-Vallée could not, therefore, escape thus, as Andrew had feared -he would be able to do if the rout had been set for that night. - -"He is mine. Mine," he said to himself as he strode to his tent. "Mine -if only I have pricked him into consent. He cannot avoid me now. I -will have him somehow, even though he should again refuse to meet me." - -For that De Bois-Vallée could emerge triumphant from this "trial of -skill" he never believed; nay, gave no thought to. _Maître d'armes_ or -not, as he might be, Andrew Vause felt sure that, once point to point -with him, he would avenge his brother. - -His man met him at the door, and, in answer to the hasty question, -"Well, what reply?" said, "the reply, sir, is 'Yes. To-night,'" and, -as a glow of satisfaction rose to his master's bosom, the servant -continued, "Also, there is this for you, sir," and produced a letter -with, again, the great seal on it. - -"You force this upon me," it ran, "therefore the outcome is on your -own head. I choose swords of the length of thirty-eight inches. I -shall come alone, as I do not desire to be punished for your death." - -Andrew had smiled but little since he saw Philip's coffin lowered into -the grave by the side of his mother and father, nor had he made many -of the jokes he loved since that day, yet he smiled now so pleasantly -that his servant, who strongly suspected a duel to be lurking beneath -all this fetching and carrying of letters and messages, began to think -he was mistaken, and went to his night quarters quite cheerfully. Yet, -ere he departed, he asked his master if he desired to be awakened as -usual half an hour before daybreak--the question being put as much -with a desire to see if it would be answered with any shadow of doubt -attached to it, as to know his duty. - -"Ay," said Andrew quietly, "or maybe a little earlier. And have all my -necessaries ready for our departure. We shall most like strike tent -to-morrow." - -After which reply the man went away, thinking what a fool he had been -to suppose that people would be killing each other when there was an -enemy of twice their own force close at hand to do it for them. - -Left alone, Andrew picked out the rapier--a deep cup-hilted one--whose -size De Bois-Vallée had suggested, and tested it severely against the -floor and wall, bending it against each until it must have broken had -it not been of the finest-tempered steel; also he examined carefully -its hilt and quillon to see that all was secure and firm. - -"I must give my friend no chance," he thought; "a broken blade, a -loosened hilt, and--poof!--good-night to Andrew Vause!" - -So, satisfied that all was well with the weapon, he rubbed it -carefully on his sleeve, and, returning it to its black leather -scabbard, went forth with it behind his back. - -The glade near the burnt church which some of Hamilton's men had fired -a week ago--wherefore two were now hanging by Turenne's orders to a -yew tree outside it--was very peaceful in the glow of the summer -sunset, and here, at least, except for the view of the ruined church -through the trees that bordered the grassy space, there were no signs -of the devastation of the land. Above, the rooks were cawing as though -no such thing as powder and ball had ever disturbed them, and now and -again a rabbit or two, which had escaped the general pillage and -search for food, ran away at the sound of Andrew's footsteps on the -soft springy turf, whisking the underwhite of their tails before his -eyes. - -"A better spot for love-making than for killing," he thought to -himself; "for an arm to fold itself around a maiden's waist, than to -press down a scoundrel's guard--ah! here comes the scoundrel himself," -and he took off his hat with great courtesy to the Vicomte de -Bois-Vallée, who strode towards him. - -The latter seemed, however, to have exhausted his politeness in the -letters he had written, and, without deigning any reply to the other's -salutation, instantly divested himself of his coat, while he unlooped -the sheath from which he had already drawn his weapon, and threw it -down on top of the garment. Yet, as he did so, he gave an astonished -glance at the form of the man before him, and at his great sinewy -limbs. Perhaps he had heard from the woman who had betrayed Philip how -slight and delicate a man he was, and wondered that this other, who -was of the same flesh and blood, should be so strong and powerful! - -"I have but one question to ask," he said, as he stood now before -Andrew, "a usual one in our country when one honours a stranger by -crossing swords with him. You are, I presume, of gentle blood?" - -"I am Philip Vause's brother. And he was of sufficiently gentle blood -for you to steal his future wife from him like a thief." - -"Enough," the Vicomte said, while his face became suffused. "Enough. I -am at your service." - -"And," continued Andrew, "had we been of the commonest clay our -country owns, I should still carry out my determination of punishing -such a thief." - -Without another word their swords crossed, and as they did so Andrew -was surprised at the reckless fury of the man before him. Was this the -_maître d'armes_, the renowned _escrimeur_; this man who fought more -like a hot-headed boy than a practical swordsman, cool and wary! Yet, -Andrew reflected--as he parried thrust after thrust with his wrist of -steel, and waited his turn, which would come soon if the Vicomte -spent himself thus--doubtless the epithet of "thief" had roused -him--precisely as he had meant that it should do. - -Gradually, too, he edged his opponent round so that the rays of the -setting sun, which had been in his own eyes when the conflict began, -would, in another moment, be in those of his adversary; but this -advantage he could not obtain altogether, since the Frenchman -perceived his intention in an instant and endeavoured to drive Andrew -back to his original position. As well might he, however, have -endeavoured to drive back a rock from the earth it was set in! -Andrew's feet were firm upon the turf, and, henceforth, they fought -with the sun's rays athwart them, and not favouring one more than the -other. - -Watching De Bois-Vallée with an eye like a hawk's and parrying thrust -after thrust, he saw upon the other's forehead the moisture coming and -the drops gathering, and then, for the first time, he let his own -weapon shoot out, after thrusting the Vicomte's last lunge away from -him with another twist of his wrist. He missed his mark, it was true, -since the sword's point tore but an inch out of the cambric of the -other's shirt above his left shoulder, but the rip of the material -under his ear told De Bois-Vallée the danger he was in. The cool -Englishman before him was deadly, he recognized, otherwise how had the -point reached to where it did? He had calculated the other could not -come within half a foot of him. - -"I will take it a little lower next time, monsieur," Andrew said -quietly. "It is a charming pass when properly made!" - -But at his words the furious thrusts of his opponent ceased. The -Vicomte was a different man. Softly his blade now glided up and down -the other's, and Andrew knew that he was going to experience a real -taste of his antagonist's skill--he would learn a new pass in a -moment. - -And in a moment he did learn it. High up near his own hilt crept -the other's sword, then he disengaged, feinted once, and--a second -later--his rapier had slit the Englishman's waistcoat outside his left -ribs, had passed within four inches of his heart. But, since it was -four inches, it might as well have been a mile! - -"Ha!" said Andrew as the other recovered himself, and, jumping back -out of reach, glared at him, "a pretty _botte_. And worth knowing--as -I know it now. But, monsieur, you should have been sure of it, or made -no attempt. It will serve you no more." And with great suavity he -said, "Monsieur is perhaps ready to recommence?" - -"He is implacable," De Bois-Vallée thought to himself. "Curse him, he -knows as much as I!" and he felt creeping over him a horrible dread. -He began to fear he had fought his last duel--that in a few moments -more he would be stretched gasping on the grass with his life ebbing -away. Yet he nerved himself--such qualms and apprehensions as these, -he knew, were fatal--and again their swords crossed. - -There was no recklessness now in either combatant, no thrust made -heedlessly or thrown away; instead a devilish, cruel determination in -each man to strike firm and sure when next he struck at all, through -heart or lung. Their weapons clashed no longer, but hissed and scraped -softly against each other; once the Frenchman tried his _botte_ again, -failing utterly this time, and once Andrew's blade darted forth like -an adder's tongue, failing in its turn, but ripping an inch of flesh -from his opponent's side. - -He saw, though, that De Bois-Vallée's lips were flaky with slight -streaks of foam now; he saw the smallest bead of that foam fall from -his nether lip and drop upon his shirt, making a damp spot--a bead -that, when there, looked darker than the white cambric--just above -where his heart was. - -"A target," he said to himself, "a mark. I will take him on that -spot." - -And, henceforth, his eye never left that mark, and his rapier's point -sought it alone. Suddenly he thought he had found it! Nerved to -desperation, De Bois-Vallée thrust in tierce, disengaged, and thrust -again, and a moment afterwards, with a hoarse cry, staggered forward -against Andrew, letting his weapon fall to the ground, and clutching -at the grass with his hands as he dropped face downwards. - -"Humph!" said Andrew, bending over him, after plucking a long wisp of -grass from a tussock growing near, and wiping his rapier with it. "I -have missed after all. It will have to be done over again." And as he -rolled his late opponent on to his back, he muttered, "My eyes are -failing me, or is't the evening light? I could have sworn I was -through his heart, and I have but taken him in the shoulder. The hilt -of my sword banging up against him has hurt him as much as the passage -of the sword itself. Yet, 'twas a good blow, too! Clean through bone -and muscle from point to haft." - -"This will not kill him," he reflected, almost savagely for him, as he -loosened his enemy's lace neckerchief, "though the night air may--if I -leave him here. If--I leave him here!" And, as he so thought, he knew -he could not do that--could not leave him there to bleed to death, or -stiffen in the night dews. - -"I must fetch someone," he reflected, "even some of these poor boors -whom we have desolated, and send him back to quarters. I have a gold -piece or two--they will serve." - -And full of this resolve he turned to leave the glade and seek for -assistance. Yet, ere he went, he threw the wounded man's rich laced -coat over him, leaving his face free so that he might inhale the air, -and bent over him to make sure that he was not in truth dead. Doing -so, he saw that the eyes were open, staring up to the heavens, but -with no glassiness about them, and that his lips moved. Moved and -uttered something, too; something that seemed like the word "Marion." - -"Ay, Marion," repeated Andrew. "Marion. After you, I have next to make -my account with her. But how? How to do that? 'Twill be the harder -task." - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -THE FURY OF DESPAIR. - - -He went swiftly towards the end of the glade, bent on finding some -assistance for his enemy ere night was full upon him--for now there -was little daylight left. Yet, as he did so, he paused in the great -strides he was taking--paused, and looked back. - -In that glade, at the end furthest from where he had quitted it, he -heard voices and a confused jumble of sounds--coarse voices speaking -in the Rhenish _patois_. And, thinking that here might be the aid he -sought, he turned back once more to where he had left the Vicomte. - -Yet, swiftly as he returned, he hurried his steps still further, -bursting indeed into a run, and lugging forth his rapier once again as -he did so, on observing what was now taking place in the opening. For, -surrounding De Bois-Vallée were three or four rough-looking peasants, -one of whom had already wrenched the coat of the prostrate man from -off his body, while another was rapidly stripping him of his remaining -clothes, and still another stood with the Vicomte's weapon in his -hand, and with its point in murderous proximity to his throat. - -Bursting in amongst them--for he recognized that, in the power of -those maddened natives who had suffered so much at the hands of the -invaders, his fallen foe's life was not worth a moment's purchase -after they had despoiled him of his clothes and valuables--he -proceeded at once to summarily prevent them from carrying out their -intentions. The man holding the sword he dealt with first, by striking -him such a buffet as sent him reeling backwards until, his foot -catching in one of the tussocks, he fell heavily to the ground, after -which Andrew administered some sound kicks to two of the others, while -the fourth of the party ran roaring away. Nor, indeed, was it -extremely surprising that he should do so, since the appearance of -Andrew Vause, large, fierce, and terrible, and with a drawn weapon in -his hand, was enough to scare any German boor. Yet he recognized that -he had still a task before him, and that the rapier with which, but -half an hour before, he had sought his enemy's life, would now have to -stand him in good stead to protect both that life and his own. For, -from the outskirts of the glade, he could hear the man who had run -away, bawling in his Rhineland _patois_ to others who were undoubtedly -in the neighbourhood, and yelling, "the English. The English are here. -_Zur Hülfe! Zur Hülfe! Zur Hülfe!_" and presently the assistance he -sought for came. - -"Oh! that this vagabond, whose life I am doomed to save as well as -take, could be of some assistance," thought Andrew, as he gazed down -on De Bois-Vallée, who lay quite unconscious of what was passing above -him. "But that is hopeless. So be it; I must trust to myself or to the -patrol being out. Ha! here they come!" - -This last exclamation referred unhappily, however, to the succour -which the peasant had shrieked for, and not to the patrol, for at that -moment there burst into the opening four or five more men, some of -whom bore torches, and the others weapons--one of them being armed -with what looked like a pole-axe. - -And now Andrew knew that the task before him was a terrible one, and -that he alone, and with only a duelling rapier to his hand, had to -face nearly a dozen men, all of whom were almost insane with the -wrongs and cruelties they had suffered. But at that moment he could -not think of this; his own life was at stake; he must defend it. And, -fiercely as some wounded tiger at bay, he set about doing so. - -"You cravens," he called to them in German--for Andrew's roving life -had taught him more than one tongue beside his own--"you cravens, come -on! Here lies a dying man, also one living for you to attack. Come on, -I say, come on!" and in a moment he was amongst them all, his rapier -flashing like lightning in and out and under the guard of the rude -weapons they carried. - -But, unequal as the combat was in point of numbers, it was more than -balanced by the skill of Andrew, who saw that he had but one opponent -to really fear--the man with the pole-axe, which weapon he was already -swinging ominously. Twice, indeed, that pole-axe had descended, yet -each time it had missed its mark, burying itself in the ground once -and once alighting on the shoulder of one of its owner's countrymen, -who, at the moment it fell, had been thrust under it by Andrew. But he -knew that such luck as this could not last; it would be swung on high -again, and then--or the next time--it would not miss; his skull would -be cracked like a walnut shell. - -"Ha!" he exclaimed, as another peasant now seized his rapier with a -view to holding him while the wielder of the axe despatched him. "Ha! -so! Look to your fingers, my friend," and, as again that wielder -prepared to swing his weapon on high, the long sharp blade was drawn -swiftly from between those fingers, tearing them to ribbons in its -passage. And then, while the wounded peasant fled shrieking in agony, -with his mutilated hands held in horror before him, the rapier was -rapidly raised to guard its owner's head from the downward crash of -the huge hatchet. But it was a well-calculated blow that was now dealt -by its owner, so well calculated, indeed, that, had Andrew not been -able to free his sword at the moment he did, his brains would have -been dashed out by the axe as certainly as had been the brains of -countless slaughtered oxen previously. Yet, the sword was released in -time from the other's clutching fingers; in time to meet the falling -blow--though not in time to entirely prevent its effect. For, under -that stroke, the rapier was shattered like crystal, the hilt and an -inch or two of the blade alone remaining in Andrew's hand, while the -force of the axe's descent, as the handle struck him heavily, bore him -to the ground and on to one knee. - -With a roar the owner of that fearful weapon raised and swung it -again, this time to end his work effectively--yet that work was never -accomplished! - -Upward, with a rush like a wild cat springing at its prey, leaped -Andrew, half paralyzed as his shoulder was with the concussion, the -hilt and jagged broken blade in his uninjured hand, and full at the -other's face he plunged, dashing into it with all his remaining force -the broken weapon. And as he did so he knew he had won this fight. -Down on to the grass with a thud fell the pole-axe--with a terrible -cry its owner buried his wounded and disfigured face in his hands, and -then, moaning feebly, staggered away after the others who had already -fled as they saw their champion vanquished. And as he disappeared, -Andrew, staggering too, let himself drop on to the earth near where De -Bois-Vallée lay still unconscious, his features lit up by the light of -a smouldering torch which one of the peasants had thrown down in his -flight. - -For some moments he could not think nor collect his thoughts; could, -indeed, only sit on the grass, his head between his knees, his breath -coming in labouring gasps from his lungs, his left side feeling numb -and dead. But, as the cool night wind blew on his cheeks and forehead -and revived him somewhat, he put his uninjured right hand to the -earth, and, raising himself, tottered to his feet again. - -"I have won two fights to-night," he muttered, "two fights, -but--God!--this last one has been a terrible encounter. Yet--yet--they -are won! Enough!" - -Not without pain he moved towards the torch, picked it up and went -over to where De Bois-Vallée lay, and looked at him, seeing that his -wound had long ceased bleeding, and feeling that his pulse was beating -strongly. Also, he seemed now to be asleep and free from pain, no moan -coming from his lips. - -"After all," he thought, looking down at his enemy, "this night--as it -begins--must end our feud. Spent here, as you will spend it, wounded, -and with the cold of the early hours of morning to strike to that -wound, you will soon be dead--though, in the hands of the surgeon and -in a warm bed, you would recover in a week. Yet, what to do? I can -scarce drag myself back to my tent--and, all said, you are a villain. -So be it, lie there and die--there is nought else for you. Still," he -added, "I would save you an I could. An I could. I must have vengeance -for Philip; must see you dead. Yet it should be at my hands, not thus -like a maimed dog." - -But, knowing there was no hope of removing De Bois-Vallée, he turned -away, after once more covering him with his coat. To the last he was -merciful to his prostrate foe! - -The events of the night were not yet over, however, for even as Andrew -turned his footsteps towards where "the Royal English Regiment" was -cantoned he heard afar off the sound of three guns fired, and he -understood well enough their import. They were the signal that all in -Turenne's army were to be ready to march at a moment's notice, as six -guns were to be the signal from Maulevrier at Philipsburg that the -enemy had recrossed the river, and four the signal that they were -known to be advancing. And, a moment later, he heard something else, -as familiar to his ears as any sound in the world. The tramp of a vast -number of hoofs on the road a hundred yards away, the jangle of -bridles and chains, of sabres and accoutrements. - -"They are marching," he cried, "marching! And I am here!" and as fast -as his stiffness and bruises would permit he made his way through the -brushwood to the road. - -Then he knew at once what was taking place, that the Baron de -Montclar's five hundred dragoons were on their way to Rhinzabern. -Where, then, was the infantry to support them?--where was his own -regiment? - -"Has," he asked of a troop-sergeant who rode on the side of the road -where he was, "'the Royal English Regiment' got the order to march? -Tell me at once; I am attached to it." - -The man, a swarthy Burgundian, looked down at him, and then answered, -"To-morrow morning, Monsieur, at daybreak. But Monsieur seems unwell," -he added, seeing some blood on Andrew's hand. - -"Ay," he replied, "yet, 'tis nothing. I have been attacked again by -the peasants." While, seeing the glittering of some more corselets -coming on farther behind, he asked, "Who are these who come now? Your -baggage guard?" - -"Nay, sir. 'Tis the patrol--formed to-night from Listenai's." - -"So! Who is the officer in charge? Do you know?" - -"No, sir." Then, with an apology and a salute, and also a muttered -word that he must not fall out from the ranks, the sergeant rode on -with his regiment, while Andrew stood in the road to stop the patrol. -"De Bois-Vallée is saved," he said to himself, "they will remove him -to shelter." - -"Who goes there?" a clear voice rang out a few moments later, and as -he heard it Andrew's heart leapt within him. The voice that greeted -his ears was Debrasques'; he it was who headed the patrol, and, a -moment later, he rode up to the other. - -"Andrew Vause," was the answer to him as he came forward, followed -immediately by the words, "Send your men into yonder opening. De -Bois-Vallée lies there." - -"Dead?" asked the Marquis, bending down low over his horse's mane, as -though to peer into Andrew's face. "Dead? Have you slain him?" - -"Nay. Not yet! But--I have been attacked by the peasants--you will -see--fetch him forth and convey him to his quarters." - -"Stay here," said Debrasques, "I will go myself." And, calling to some -of his men he plunged into the glade, while the remaining soldiers of -the patrol sat their horses as still as statues, wondering whether -they were to keep the great Englishman before them under their eyes or -not. - -Presently, those who had followed the Marquis came back--following him -still--but now four of them were dismounted, and between them they -bore the wounded man, while the others, who had gone also, led their -horses for them. - -"Return to quarters with this gentleman," Debrasques ordered them, -"and carry him as gently as possible, while, if you can find a door, -make use of it. Thus, 'twill be easier for him and you. And carry him -to the Marshal's quarters--he is of the _garde du corps_. He and this -other officer have been attacked by peasants." - -"A brave weapon this to be attacked with," said one of the dragoons, -showing the pole-axe, which he had brought away by Debrasques' orders, -to his comrades. "A fair weapon, is't not? Yet," and he lowered his -voice and glanced at Andrew as he spoke, "it was not with this that -the other was wounded--but a clear, clean thrust from a sword." - -"Away!" exclaimed Debrasques, interrupting his whisperings, "and lose -no time. March!" - -Then he took Andrew by the arm, wondering why he winced as he did so, -and led him some distance off from where the rest of the patrol were -halted. - -"I understand," he said; "understand very well. You overcame him ere -you were attacked by the countrymen, then you stayed by to protect -him. Is it not so?" And without waiting for an answer, he said, -glancing up at his great friend, "I think you are very noble. Too -noble for him to cross swords with. Captain Vause, he is my cousin, -but, alas!--I must say it--he is unworthy to be your foe." - -"Nay," said Andrew, "make no mistake. If I did not let him lie here to -die of the night air, or be murdered by those unhappy men, 'twas from -no feeling of mercy. Debrasques, he is mine, I have vowed it. Mine, -unless the Imperialists rob me of him. And afterwards----" - -"Yes, afterwards?" seeing that the other paused. - -"Afterwards--the woman." - -"The woman," exclaimed the lad, recoiling a little from him, as Andrew -could see in the starlight. "The woman! Does your vengeance claim her, -too?" - -"Ay" - -"But how? How? You cannot kill her." - -"No. I cannot kill her. But----" and again he paused. - -"Yes--but?" and there was a quiver in the young man's voice as he -spoke. - -"There are other things than death." After which enigmatical answer -Andrew refused to say another word, but, changing the subject, asked -Debrasques if he knew that he marched to-morrow to Rhinzabern. - -"Yes," he said, "I know. And we remain with the main army!" - -"No matter, we shall meet again. Meanwhile, grant me one request. On -no account let your cousin know that I stayed by to--to protect him. I -will not have him know that." - -"You mean that it is war to the death, that----" - -"Yes, I mean that." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -"THE LITTLE WOOD AT ENTZHEIM." - - -The summer had almost passed and the early autumn come ere that other -battle which had been so long impending between the French and the -Imperialists seemed at last about to take place. For the Duke de -Bournonville had crossed the Rhine once more and was known to be -meditating the siege of Philipsburg, while Turenne, who had been -watching every movement of the enemy, at last made up his mind that he -would try conclusions with him, although the other was twenty thousand -men stronger than he. For he knew that, while this enemy was thus -double his own force of about twenty-two thousand men, it must soon be -treble, since now the Elector of Brandenburg was marching to join the -Austrian general with still another twenty thousand men. - -The time had come! He must prevent that coalition or see Franche-Comté -and Lorraine torn away from Louis' grasp almost ere it had tightened -on them; Champagne devastated, even as he himself had devastated the -Palatinate; see Philipsburg lost. For if Brandenburg joined De -Bournonville all this and worse would happen, while the Electress and -other princesses who accompanied the Elector--saying in their -bitterness that they did so with a view to making the acquaintance -of the French aristocracy, and thereby acquiring their good -breeding--would, without doubt, have good opportunity for gratifying -their desire. - -But it was October now, and at last--for Brandenburg was perilously -near with his twenty thousand men and his Electress and princesses--on -the second of the month the French army advanced. The night march -which was to bring the contending forces face to face had begun; -through a stormy, rainy night, over roads deep with pools of rain and -mud, the departure was made. - -Ahead of the Marshal there marched the "King's" and "Queen's" dragoons -and those of Listenai, with, riding by the side of the third troop of -these, Debrasques, his corselet on now, and, above his fair but -troubled face, his helmet; behind Turenne came the infantry commanded -by Mont-Georges, with, amongst it, Churchill's regiment, which had -just joined from Rhinzabern, then the artillery under St. Hilaire--all -marching in three columns. And, riding near Turenne ahead of the man -who had sworn to kill him, was De Bois-Vallée, with his left arm in a -sling, but not otherwise much incommoded by the sword-thrust he had -received six weeks before. - -Of those three men round whom this narrative revolves, perhaps -Debrasques was the most unhappy; unhappy because, turn his eyes which -way he might, he saw nothing but misery ahead. It was borne in on him -that his cousin would inevitably fall by Andrew's hand unless the -impending battle removed him from the other's path--which, in truth, -would not grieve him much!--he was doubly unhappy because of those -last words which Andrew had uttered ere he set out for the defile of -Rhinzabern; the words: "Afterwards--the woman." - -For he knew what Andrew had not the least thought of, namely, that, -base as had been De Bois-Vallée's treachery to Philip Vause, it was -nothing to the treachery which he had practised towards the woman -Philip had loved, towards Marion Wyatt. - -Yet, knowing what Debrasques did, he himself did not know all. - - - * * * * * * - - -Splashing through the miry roads, the rain beating down upon their -cloaks, their horses stumbling into ruts a foot deep, wheels of gun -carriages getting stuck fast in the mud and shoes being torn from of -the feet of the infantry, that night-march was continued until at last -a river called the Breusch was reached at four on the next afternoon, -and there, on the other side of it, in a half-moon position, the -Imperial army was seen. And all through that night-march one question -had troubled the lad far more than any inconvenience which he shared -with thousands of others, the question: "Shall I tell him all I know? -To-morrow, when the battle is over and if we three are all left alive, -or to-day, ere the fight begins and while there is still time?" And he -decided that it should be to-day; to-morrow might be too late. He -himself might be dead, and then the light he could throw on all that -had happened--a light which, at least, might shield Marion Wyatt from -Andrew Vause's vengeance--would never be cast. Yes, he must reach -Andrew somehow before the conflict began, if possible; must say one -word to him that would save the woman. As for his cousin, he was a -villain; he must take his chance. He had done his best for him because -his own mother's blood ran in his veins, had tried to frighten him -away from the neighbourhood of Andrew, and the other had refused to -go. Nay, had he not threatened to expose him to the King so as to -drive him away? but even as he made the threat he knew he would never -carry it out. Base as De Bois-Vallée was, he was a soldier; it was his -career, and he had won golden opinions from Turenne by his conduct in -this campaign and others. He could not be equally base and shut that -career against him. In spite of all, he was his kinsman. - -But the chance had not come for him to communicate with Andrew, when, -at nightfall, and with the whole French army sheltered from the -Imperialists, not only by the darkness, but also by the incessant rain -and mist, the passage of the Breusch was commenced, and when gradually -the distance between the enemy and the river--a plain of about a mile -and a half in extent, which had foolishly been left unoccupied by De -Bournonville--was filled with Turenne's army. Thus, when the day -broke, foggy and wet as ever, the two enemies were facing each -other--the French with the river at their backs, and the Germans with -a large wood serving as cover on their right and a smaller wood on -their left, and with the village of Entzheim between them and the foe. - -But if, by the time the filthy day had dawned, the Imperialists had -not found out that they were face to face with France once more, and -that the Elector of Brandenburg would be of no service to them here, -they discovered it soon, for from their enemy's position there rose -now the cheering of twenty thousand voices as Turenne rode along in -front of his first line, and, with an air of gaiety which he always -possessed on the day of battle, waved his hand and hat to them, and -gave the order to advance, the Little Wood being the spot principally -subjected to attack. And among those who first reached that wood was -Debrasques, the "King's" dragoons and those of Listenai being sent -forward to clear it of the enemy. Shortly the battle became general. - -Meanwhile Turenne, who was everywhere, saw that his cavalry was driven -back by numbers of the other side who were in possession of the wood, -and instantly gave the order for the infantry of the left to advance, -amongst those who went forward being the regiments of Churchill and -Monmouth. - -The chance Debrasques desired so much of communication with Andrew was -coming near! - -Avoiding the interior or middle part of the "Little Wood"--where were -three battalions of the enemy with two pieces of cannon--there went -forward the regiments of Burgundy and Orleans, the "King's" dragoons -and Monmouth's foot, after which followed Debrasques' regiment, it -being separated only from Churchill's by the men of Languedoc. And, -sweeping round to the left to prevent the enemy's troops from coming -to the assistance of those who were already in possession of the wood, -the whole of Turenne's right line advanced, while the left was engaged -with Caprara's right. - -And now the fight in the "Little Wood," as it was ever afterwards -called, became a scene of terrible slaughter, a scene made doubly so -by the downpour of rain which fell incessantly all that day, by the -fog and mist which surrounded and hid Austrians from French, and by -the vomiting of the cannons. Twice the French obtained possession of -the wood, and twice were driven out--for half an hour the battle -ceased, so thick did the fog become; then, at last, when once more the -whole of the left went at the wood again, the possession of it became -assured for the attackers. - -Amidst the scene of carnage, none fought more bravely on that day than -two Englishmen, Churchill and Andrew Vause. From the first, in that -high-pitched, aristocratic voice, which, later on in his life, was to -give the orders that should for ever crush the might of the French -king under whom he now fought as an auxiliary, was issued command -after command. From the other, tall, stalwart, grim, his big sword -grasped as easily as, not long before, his rapier had been, was dealt -forth blow after blow against Austrian, Bavarian, Luneburger, and -Holsteiner; while over their prostrate bodies he, in company with -others, leapt to find fresh foes. And in a pause, as still he and his -comrades swept their way into the fringe of the wood, he heard above -him a quiet voice exclaim, "Well done, my handsome Englishmen. Well -done," and looking up at the horseman above him--a broad-shouldered, -short-necked man, whose morose countenance belied his words--Andrew -recognized Turenne. But a moment later he was gone, riding all along -the advancing line to utter encouragement to other regiments. - -And now the charge was ordered for what was to be, happily, the last -time, when rushing down through the open ranks of the infantry went -the dragoons, while amongst them Andrew recognized the fair hair of -Debrasques, as, without covering to his head, he flew by. - -"Bravo, Debrasques! Bravo!" shouted Andrew, and the boy, turning his -face, saw his friend. Then he waved his sword and vanished into the -gloom around. - -The darkness was growing more intense, there was something more than -fog and mist enveloping them, they knew that the October evening was -at hand by the time the fight was done, and when, from neither little -nor great wood, nor from where the village of Entzheim lay, came aught -but desultory firing. - -"The battle is over," said Churchill as he passed Andrew; "they say we -have lost two thousand men, and the enemy double." - -"They are still firing," muttered the other, leaning against a tree to -take breath. - -"Nay, 'tis our side firing their own cannon at them. They are in full -retreat and have left their big guns behind. Hark! there is the -recall!" and he went on to muster his men together. - -"I must find the boy," Andrew said to himself. "Find how he has worn -through this day," and making his way over heaps of slain he went -towards where Listenai's dragoons had plunged into the wood for the -last time. - -And at last he found him, when there was but a little light left; -when, indeed, there would have been none had not the fog cleared away -suddenly and the rain ceased, leaving what remained of daylight clear. - -He found him amidst a heap of his own dragoons, who lay where they had -fallen, some above and some across their dead horses, some beneath -them, and some kicked to death by the animals in their agonized -struggles. Found him with his back against his own horse, which lay -dead on the ground with half its head blown away by a cannon ball, and -with his eyes staring wildly in front of him, though, as Andrew -thought, seeing nothing. - -Of others of that regiment there were none about, except the dead and -the dying--'twas evident that they had made their way through the -wood, driving before them the Imperialists who had earlier had -possession of it; perhaps, indeed, had followed them in their flight. - -"My boy," said Andrew, going up to him, and kneeling down by his side, -"this is a sad sight. Debrasques, what ails you? Are you sorely -wounded?" And, as he spoke, he slung a small canteen round that he -carried on his back, and, uncorking it, moistened the Marquis's lips -with some drops of spirit which he produced. - -At first the other could not answer, and, meanwhile, Andrew was -looking him all over to see where any wound might be, but finding -none--when, at last, after he had decided that the Marquis must be -hurt inwardly by some tremendous blow--perhaps from one of the -horses--the other spoke in a faint voice and said-- - -"Captain Vause--I--think--my back is broken by the fall. The horse -fell on me." - -"Nay, not so bad as that," whispered Andrew, "not so bad as that, pray -God. Yet, courage, _mon ami_, there will soon be some coming this way. -And if not, why I will carry you," and he set about undoing the -other's back and breast piece so as to give him more freedom. - -"I cannot move," the boy replied feebly. "I think I am dying. Oh! my -mother." - -"Nay, nay," repeated Andrew. "Nay. Heart up." - -But still the young man's voice grew more and more feeble, and now he -seemed wandering in his speech. - -"I--I--meant to tell you much if I had lived. I must speak now. -The--she--the woman we know of was----" - -"What?" asked Andrew quickly, catching his breath. He knew, something -told him, that the woman to whom the other referred could be one -only--Marion Wyatt. "What was she?" - -"She was--ah, God! Look there!" and, with a strange glance of -agitation in his eyes, he glared towards the wood. Following that -glance, Andrew saw what had so unnerved the other. - -For, coming from out the wood, urging his horse to its greatest pace, -though it was sadly blown, there rode swiftly De Bois-Vallée, hatless -and the sling from his wounded arm hanging loose, while as he left the -wood he was calling back orders to some whom doubtless he imagined -were still there. And Andrew knew that, as one of Turenne's -_aides-de-camp_, he had been sent out with instructions to the various -scattered regiments. - -At first he evidently recognized neither Debrasques nor Vause, and was -going as swiftly by as he could, and as all the impediments of dead -men and animals would permit, but as Andrew sprang to his feet, -intent, not on renewing his feud with him at such a moment as this, -but on summoning him to the assistance of his dying cousin, he saw him -plainly in the now clear evening light. And, even as he observed who -was before him, the Marquis, with his brain becoming evidently more -and more disordered, shouted out in a voice that seemed to have -acquired unnatural strength at this crisis-- - -"Traitor! scoundrel! I have told him all," and then sank back, either -dead or senseless, against his horse's side. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -INNOCENT. - - -When the roll was called that night in the French army it was seen how -hardly the victory had been bought, if victory it was! A doubtful one, -indeed, since Turenne had not been able to pursue the enemy for long -with his weakened army, and, as he fell back upon the position which -he had previously occupied, so De Bournonville did the same. The enemy -was, therefore, still in Alsace, and Brandenburg was drawing nearer -day by day. Over France there yet hovered the impending shadow of -further invasion and defeat. - -Amongst those who were wiped off for ever from the roll were the -bearers of such noble names as De Pizieux, De Reveillon, and the -Comte d'Auvergne; whilst among the English the Earl of Hamilton was -wounded--mortally, it was thought. Also, there were many missing whose -absence could only be accounted for by the supposition that they had -been slain in the short pursuit made of some portion of the enemy. - -Amongst these was the Vicomte De Bois-Vallée, whose disappearance was -not explained by the time Turenne fell back on Hagenau and Saverne; -and was not, indeed, generally known until the French army was once -more quartered in that neighbourhood. - -It was there that the news of this disappearance reached Andrew -Vause's ears, as he watched over Debrasques and tried to nurse him -back to life. It seemed, however, that there was little enough hope he -would succeed in this; the brain had received some injury which the -surgeons who had accompanied the army appeared unable to understand, -and, while it was perfectly apparent that he comprehended much that -was said to him, he was utterly unable to make himself intelligible. -No wonder, therefore, that Andrew, while he bemoaned the fate of the -brilliant young soldier whom he had come to love as a comrade, cursed -at the same time the fate which had chosen to thus visit the one man -who, as he had shown by the last coherent words he uttered, alone knew -the greater part, if not the whole, of his cousin's guilt. - -"Missing! missing!" he said to Colonel Churchill, who told him the -news of the man's disappearance on the second night they were back at -Hagenau, and while they sat together in a room of the house which -served as the headquarters of "The Royal English Regiment." "Missing, -eh? 'Tis strange!" - -"Why?" asked the other, in the quiet, well-bred tones in which he -always spoke. "Why? There are many others not accounted for who -followed the Imperialists out of the little wood. Doubtless they -followed them too far!" - -"Maybe," said Andrew reflectively. "Yet this man followed the enemy -not at all." - -"How know you that? Were you acquainted with the person of the -Vicomte?" - -"Ay, very well. I knew him." And he told Churchill of how he had been -attacked by the boors on the night ere the whole army set out towards -the Breusch, though, naturally, he made no reference to the duel. - -"Ah! I heard something of that, too. Yet, tell me, Vause--how is it -you know he did not follow those who chased the enemy out of the wood? -He may have done so to deliver the orders of recall. He was sent out -with others of the Marshal's guard to give such orders." - -"I saw him pass the other way--when the fight was over. Returning -towards Holtzheim where our base was. His cousin, Debrasques, who is -lying above wounded, spoke to him. It was the man." - -"Strange!" reflected Churchill. "Strange! What harm could come to him -between the wood and Holtzheim, and with the battle over, too, and the -enemy driven out of the former and in full retreat? He was not -wounded?" - -"No. He was not wounded." - -And thus the matter remained as it had been--a mystery from the first. -De Bois-Vallée had disappeared at the very moment when he was out of -danger, with the battle finished and he safe in the French lines. - -Yet, to Andrew Vause, meditating hour by hour on his disappearance as -he watched and tended Debrasques, it came to be no such mystery as it -was to Turenne and the companions of the absent man, his brethren of -the _garde du corps_. - -For he discovered that Debrasques was not astonished at his -disappearance--discovered it when he told him that it had taken place. - -"You understand what I say to you?" he asked, bending gently over the -half-paralysed man the next morning--and none who had not seen Andrew -in his gentler moments could, perhaps, have guessed how good a nurse -the great soldier could be. "You understand, my friend? De Bois-Vallée -is missing. Yet he was unhurt when he passed us, returning to our -ranks. What can have befallen him?" - -Debrasques, wounded and lying there, fixed his blue eyes on the other, -while it seemed to Andrew that there was a glance in them which showed -that, if he could speak, he would say that the news caused him no -surprise; and a moment later his lips moved as though muttering some -word, but no sound came from them. - -"What--what is it?" whispered Andrew. - -And again the lips moved, though with the same result, while still -from Debrasques' eye shone the look of intelligence--of comprehension. - -Andrew tried now another method. Debrasques could not tell him what -was in his thoughts, but, at least, he could make signs, though with -his eyes alone; he would question him, and, by a lucky chance, might -hit on some suggestion--strike some chord that would fathom the -other's meaning. - -"You are not surprised at--at this disappearance?" he asked therefore. -Then the eyes of the other told him by the bright glance that shot -into them that here, at least, he had questioned aright. The Marquis -was not surprised! - -"You do not think he is dead?" And again, as he watched the other's -face, he saw that he had surmised correctly. The eyelids closed over -the eyes for a moment, and, next, the latter looked out brightly at -him from beneath the re-opened lids. It was not death that, to -Debrasques' mind, had caused his cousin's disappearance. - -"What then? Why go? Oh! Valentin," for so he sometimes now addressed -the young man, "if you could but speak one word, only one." - -But this he could not do, try as he might. So that Andrew, seeing how -painful the effort was to him, desisted from his questioning almost as -soon as he had commenced it. - -Yet, even as he busied himself about the room, making his pillows more -comfortable, arranging the bed clothes, and doing other kindly -services, he observed that the Marquis seemed struggling to regain his -speech--that he had something to tell him. - -Suddenly, as still he mused on what Debrasques might mean, there came -back to his memory the manner in which De Bois-Vallée had received the -wild shout of his cousin, the words: "Traitor! Scoundrel! I have told -him all." He recalled the look on the Vicomte's face, the glance of -hatred he had darted at that cousin, followed by the look of fear -which had seemed to blanch his countenance, as, digging his spurs into -his already jaded horse, he had ridden off towards Holtzheim. - -The look of fear! Ay! that was it. It must be. For, not knowing that -Debrasques was delirious from his injuries, he had believed that, -whatever revelations he had to make, had in truth been made. Vause, he -doubtless thought, now knew as much of some mystery that lay beneath -his own conduct as Debrasques knew himself. And, dreading him more -than before, had therefore disappeared. Andrew felt certain that, in -this surmise, he had hit the mark. He knew it; it was borne in upon -him! - -"Valentin," he said, returning to the bed and gazing down at the young -man who lay there with his eyes still open, "Valentin, I think I -know--think I have penetrated your meaning. You believe De Bois-Vallée -has disappeared, because, now--since you told him that I knew all--he -fears me more than ever. Is it not so?" - -To his amazement--his utter amazement--he had not, after all, hit the -mark; it was not this that Debrasques meant. It was no increased fear -of him that had prompted his enemy to disappear. - -"What then? What then?" muttered Andrew. "What, if not that?" - -But from the sick man nothing came that could assist him--only, once -more, the look of grief at being unable to make himself understood. - -Yet, unsatisfactory, disheartening as this was, it told Andrew one -thing at least--there was in truth no mystery about the man's -disappearance. It was plain that he had a reason for so removing -himself. - -"Still," pondered the soldier, musing over what such reason could be, -or what powerful motives could have urged him thus to disappear from -the army in a time of war, and to, thereby, incur the necessity of -giving a thorough explanation of his conduct when he should reappear -or be for ever disgraced, a ruined and a broken soldier; "still it all -hangs, must hang, on Debrasques' words shouted to him in delirium, yet -near enough unto the truth to fright him; the words, 'I have told him -all.' Would that he had! Would that he had!" - -And again at night, as he turned restlessly on his bed, which was -placed in the same room as his friend's so that he might be near to -minister to him if required, he asked himself, "What more was there to -tell? What villainy that even I do not know of?" - -Also he remembered that, when he first found Valentin amidst the heap -of dead and dying dragoons by whom he was surrounded, he had said -something about the woman, Marion Wyatt--had exclaimed that she -was--what? Oh! that he had been able to finish that speech; to say -what Marion Wyatt was, or had been, in connection with this matter, in -connection with the bitter treachery that had broken Philip's heart. -"I would almost believe," he thought, "that he meant to say -'Innocent,' were it not that such must be impossible. Innocent! -innocent! How could that be? She who stole down the garden to the gate -that led to the Mall, who disappeared for ever from my brother's and -her father's knowledge; from whom no word ever came after that night. -It is impossible! How could she be innocent and he guilty?" - -Nevertheless, he decided now, that, as he had put other questions to -Debrasques in the hopes of hitting on some suggestion which might -prove to be the right one, so he would put this one--"Did he intend to -say that Marion Wyatt was an innocent woman?" Yet, even though that -answer should be Yes, it would bring him no nearer to understanding -why De Bois-Vallée had fled from the army! Only, if it could be proved -so--if, by any chance under heaven, it should be so--his determination -to be avenged on De Bois-Vallée for the wrong done his weak and -helpless brother would be intensified by a further determination to -avenge the wrong done also to that brother's affianced wife. - -But, how--how could such be the case? Though Debrasques should testify -to it he might still be mistaken. - -In the morning, however, he put his doubts to the proof. Bending over -the now awakened man, who, all through the night, while he had watched -near him, slept heavily, he asked the question, and, a second -afterwards, the look in the other's eyes showed that he had surmised -truly. Rightly or wrongly, with either clear or clouded brain, -Valentin believed the woman innocent. - -"You do believe it--think it? Nay," noticing the intensity of the -other's gaze, "you know it. You mean to signify that?" and, overcome -by his emotion at this new development, he returned the intensity of -that gaze. "There is no doubt?" - -From the speechless man there flashed back the answer of his eyes--as -eloquent as any words. There was no doubt. - -Yet, still, he could scarcely bring himself to believe; again through -his mind there flashed the thought, "how, if the man was guilty, was -the woman innocent?" - -Carried away now, however, by an overwhelming rush of ideas, he went -on: - -"And if innocent--Heavens! if innocent--does harm threaten -her--threaten her more, since he thinks I know all, than before?" - -Again he saw that he had struck the mark, had divined aright. Once -more the eyes of Debrasques answered "Yes." - -"Harm that may come to her through his fear of what he imagines I -know? Harm that may be averted, perhaps, by me if I can find her--or, -again, find him?" - -And still once more--none could have doubted it who saw the face over -which he bent!--the answer was in the affirmative. - -"You counsel me, you bid me go, you warn me to avert this harm? It is -so, Debrasques, even though I leave you?" - -"So be it," he continued, as still the other with his eyes endorsed -all he suggested. "So be it. I will go. Will find him and slay him, or -her and protect her. You agree with that?" - -And, as before, the other showed that he agreed! - -"An innocent woman! An innocent woman!" Andrew muttered once again. -"An innocent woman, and in his power! A power that will be doubly -exerted against her since he thinks I know all. I must lose no time." - -Yet, because he would make no mistake--because now, if he set out in -this further quest, he was resolved that it should have but one -ending--should, indeed, never end until he had accomplished his -determination, he repeated his questions again and again; he made -doubly sure. - -After which, and seeing that Debrasques adhered to all he had hitherto -conveyed to him, his resolution was taken. He hesitated no longer. - -Wherever De Bois-Vallée was he would find him; wherever Marion Wyatt -was he would serve her. And, once more face to face with the man who -had done what he now knew was a double wrong, he would slay him like a -dog. - -For that Debrasques had been deceived it was impossible to believe. - -Marion Wyatt must be--incredible as still it seemed--a deeply-wronged -woman. Also, a woman who now stood in dire peril. Well! he would -defend her from that peril if he were not too late. - - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -A LIKENESS AND A CLUE. - - -From Hagenau and Saverne there is a road which, winding sometimes -between vineyards and cornfields, and sometimes over billowy plains on -which little enough can be made to grow by the Rhinelanders, arrives -at last at the River Breusch, and so enters Holtzheim. - -It was along this road that Turenne's army had marched a fortnight or -three weeks before, and had found the Imperialists encamped between -that village and the somewhat larger one of Entzheim; along it once -more, as the late October winds blew down the leaves on to the -rain-sodden earth below, Andrew Vause was travelling now. Only, he was -riding his favourite horse instead of marching on foot with the -company of "The Royal English Regiment," to which he had been -assigned, and, instead of being accoutred as a soldier he was dressed -as an ordinary traveller. Yet, as became a traveller of that day, and -in such a locality--for Strasbourg was but a league or so off, and -under its protection the Austrians and all their following of petty -German princelings were encamped--Andrew was well armed. His sword -made music against his horse's flank and his left spur as he rode, his -holsters had each a pistol in them, and on his shoulders was a small -"back-and-breast," which his cloak, drawn tightly round him, now hid -from view. - -His second search for De Bois-Vallée had begun! - -It was not difficult for him to be thus at liberty to continue that -search; the contending armies had gone into winter quarters and, -beyond watching each other's movements carefully, expected to have no -more encounters until the spring, wherefore leave was granted freely. -Already Churchill was on his road back to St. James's and the -allurements of the court, as well as to the petulance of the woman he -loved so dearly and by whom he was teased so cruelly; many of his -regiment were also on their way home, numerous French officers were -making for Paris--and Andrew was returning to Entzheim. For from that -place, from the spot outside the Little Wood where last he had seen -the man he sought, and had witnessed the look of terror that came upon -his countenance at Debrasques' words, he intended to seek for the -clue--nay, he intended to find and take up the clue!--which should -finally bring him face to face and point to point with De Bois-Vallée -again. - -"For," he had said to his friend as he parted with him, and after all -arrangements had been made for his comfort and well-being that were -possible in such a place and in the circumstances, "For be very sure I -shall find him, Valentin. Be sure of that! Even though I have to track -him half over Europe, even though he should take refuge in your -mother's house in Paris, still he shall not escape me." - -Yet, as he spoke and gazed down at the wounded man, he saw that the -latter place, at least, would not be sought as a shelter by De -Bois-Vallée. The Marquis's eyes told him that, as plainly as, -heretofore, they had told him so much else. - -Whereby, seeing that glance, Andrew knew that he would not have to -return to Paris to find his quarry. - -"No matter," he said. "No matter. I shall find him. Alone and unaided -I shall. Also I will find her. Then I shall know all. All, until we -meet once more, and you shall be well enough--as I pray God!--to tell -me in your own words that I have guessed aright. Farewell, my boy." - -And so he went on his way after a tender parting with the youth he had -come to love since the first night when he saved him from the thieves -in Paris, and after, also, he had made his adieux to Turenne and -several old and new comrades. - -He drew near the wooden bridge that, crossing the Breusch, led into -Holtzheim, as the October evening set in dark and lowering, and with -great clouds coming up in the heavens from far down in the south, and -he knew that in this village he must find some shelter for the night -if possible. Yet he knew also that it would be a poor shelter at the -best, even if anyone in it was able to receive him, since it had -suffered considerably from its vicinity to the late battle. Indeed, -some of the houses had been struck by the cannon balls fired from the -Little Wood, and Turenne's troops had denuded it of food, wine, and -forage. Still, either here or at Entzheim, he must obtain what he -required; it would be impossible that he could gain admission to -Strasbourg. - -The bridge had already been rudely repaired since the departure of the -French Army--which had naturally destroyed it ere retiring--and, crazy -as the timbers were, he yet managed to lead his horse across it after -dismounting. Then, this done, he rode forward smartly to an inn he had -noticed on the day of the battle, an inn called the "Goldener Hirsch." - -"What is it you seek?" a man asked, coming forward to the door of -this house--a place which, at its best, looked as though it could -furnish little but the wine grown in the vineyard hard by, and the -coarsest of food. A man clad principally in the ordinary costume of a -peasant-landlord, yet now wearing on his back a coat richly laced and -gallooned, though stained with dark patches here and there. Doubtless, -it had been removed from the body of some fallen officer! - -"What should a man seek, my friend," asked Andrew, looking down at him -from his horse, "but that which most strangers desire at an inn? Rest -and food for himself and horse." - -"Strangers! _mein Gott!_ we have had enough of strangers here," and -his eyes wandered down the filthy, uncleansed and pathless street to -where, at the end, the open plain between Entzheim and this village -lay. "Enough of strangers! We are fools to live on this frontier-land -and be devastated every few years by these infernal wars." - -"You seem at least to have benefited by some strangers," remarked -Andrew; "did the last one who stayed here pay his reckoning with his -laced coat?" - -"Nay! An I had fifty such coats, and all that their pockets contained, -they would not pay this fellow's and his companion's shot. Look!" and -he pointed to a great hole above the doorway. "That's one piece of -their work. Done by a cannonball of the Austrians. 'Twill take fifty -thalers to repair. His coat's not worth that, all bloodstained as it -is and rain-soaked. Also, all my fodder is gone--the French took -that!--and my mare was slain by a spent bullet. Curse the -strangers--especially when they come fighting here." - -"I am not come fighting," Andrew reminded him. "And my question is not -yet answered. Can I and my horse rest here and have food? For me no -matter what I eat, so it is clean and wholesome." - -"I will see," the man replied. "At least you and the beast can -rest--if you will pay for it." - -"I will pay." - -"Dismount then." - -Doing as the man bid him, Andrew carefully tied his horse to a hook by -the door and followed the other, his spurs and the point of his -scabbard clanking on the frowsy stone floor of the passage as he did -so. Then the man threw open a door at the side and ushered him into a -room, at one end of which a fire burnt in a recess, the green logs -that lay on the stones level with the floor hissing and spluttering -under the mass of smoke that poured up the chimney. - -"At least I can drink," said Andrew, seeing that three or four -villagers were seated at a table near the fire with coarse bottles of -white wine before them, "also eat, my friend," and he pointed to two -great loaves of rye bread on the table, or loaves that had been great -ere huge hunks had been cut, or pulled, off them. - -"Oh! as for that," the landlord replied, "if you are content with this -you can eat and drink your fill. But," and his eye roved over Andrew's -apparel and his handsome sword, "doubtless the Herr is accustomed to -break his fast on better stuff than this." While, at the same time, he -seized a cup and filled it from one of the wine flasks, after which he -handed it to Andrew. - -"Good health," said the latter, taking it and raising it to his lips. -After which he went on in reply to the other's remark. - -"The Herr can eat anything. He is an old traveller. Meanwhile, I will -show you," whereon he seized one of the loaves, cut off an outside -piece which looked as though it had been fingered by the boors sitting -round, and then helped himself to a goodly slice and slowly masticated -it, washing it down all the time with draughts of the thin white wine. - -"I shall do," he said, "very well. Now for the horse." - -Half an hour later one might have thought Andrew Vause had been -used to passing his life--which had, in truth, been so full of -excitement--in no better way than hugger-muggering with Rhenish -peasants in humble inns. The landlord had been induced by him to find -a good feed for his animal, who was safely bestowed for the night in a -shed; also--by the clink of a ducatoon or so in his ear--to find -something better than bread for the newcomer. Indeed, by the time -that period had elapsed, Andrew was seated in front of a savoury stew -of vegetables and meat, and a better bottle of wine had been -discovered--as the host said, "marvellous to tell"--from the depths of -a cellar beneath the living-room. Moreover, to add to its flavour, the -soldier had produced from a flask in his holsters some choice -eau-de-vie, which--as many a campaign had taught him!--singularly -brisked up a poor wine when a spoonful or two of it was poured in. -And, as he passed this bottle, and a second, round the assembled -company, he very soon became a welcome guest. - -"The Herr does not say what brings him here," remarked, however, one of -the drinkers, "yet, perhaps, we can guess," and the man delivered -himself of a heavy wink. "Oh! yes, we can guess. There will be other -merchants along this way soon. Ha! _Mein Gott!_" and he laughed -hoarsely. "Oh! yes. Ere long." - -"Precisely," said Andrew, "without doubt. Ere long." But he added to -himself as he passed the bottle round, "What in the devil's name is -the fellow driving at? And what kind of a merchant am I?" - -Yet, since it had but recently struck him that it was indeed necessary -he should be able to produce some reason for his presence here, he was -determined to keep his ears open, and find out from the peasant what -that reason was. Evidently the man knew a great deal better than he -did! - -"Oh! for that, no matter. Let the others follow. First come first -served! And the Herr has the first choice. He will treat us fairly." - -"Fairly, my friend! fairly, my golden hart!"--for it was the landlord -who had now spoken. "Indeed, I will. Ha! ha! Trust me." Yet again -Andrew wondered on what dealings he was about to embark, and in what -way he was to act fairly. - -"You see," said another speaker, leaning forward over the greasy, -wine-slopped table, and speaking in a husky whisper, for which there -was not the least necessity, "it our only chance to recoup ourselves -for all our terrible losses. Our only chance. Therefore we must do our -best for ourselves." - -"Naturally," said Andrew, more bewildered than ever, "naturally. Rely -on me." - -"We will! Therefore, Muhlenbein," said the last speaker to the -landlord, "let us show the gentleman, and let him select." - -"_Ja, Ja_," replied the host, "he shall see. You would care to see -to-night?" turning interrogatively to Andrew. - -"Of all times! What better than the present! Let me see to-night!" -and, observing the others leave their chairs, he rose too; though -still wondering what it was he had to see. Then the peasants all -tramped out of the stone-flagged room and up a wooden ladder, he -following them and the landlord, who went before with a lamp which he -caught up. - -At first he thought this might be some trap--for, though ever -unsuspicious and bold to recklessness, his career had made him -wary--to get him alone into some room; yet, even as he so thought, he -laughed quietly to himself. He could feel his own strength within him, -as all powerful men can do--and the rapier's scabbard-point tapped on -the ladder as he mounted it; the hilt banged against his thigh! That -was enough! Then, as the trapdoor above the ladder was opened, and -they followed each other into the room, he understood what they -supposed him to be. A purchaser of spoils from off the battlefield! - -Piled up in heaps all around--as was plain to be seen by the -flickering oil light which Muhlenbein held over his head--were -numberless coats, jackets, vests, justaucorps, and tunics, most of -them covered with lace; most of them, also, heavily stained either -by the rain that had fallen all day during the battle, or by some -other fluid. Likewise, there were breeches innumerable, great -boots with the spurs still on them, piles of weapons standing in -different corners--these being sorted. Halberds and pikes, cavalry -cut-and-thrust swords; rich hilted weapons with great gold-thread -sword knots to them; muskets and musketoons; inlaid and silver chased -pistols--all that might be found and carried away after a terrible -encounter, in which two thousand men had fallen on one side and three -thousand on another, were there, as well as powder flasks and small -wooden boxes of shot--a charge to each. And, on a rude table, were -laid out various medallions and miniatures, with the chains by which -they had been hung round their owners' necks; in some cases bracelets, -which men then wore, crosses and reliquaries. - -Yet, stranger than all, and forming, perhaps, a more ghastly and grim -sight (though Andrew, pondering, knew not why such should be the -case), was a huge heap of wigs that lay piled up in the remaining -corner. Wigs of all colours; white, of course, the commonest; yet -also of black, blonde, and brown. Of every modern form, too, such as -full-bottomed, _à trois marteaux_ and _à la brigadier_. - -"A grim sight," thought Andrew, "especially to me, who must have known -many of the wearers in life." But, aloud, he said, "My friends, I -cannot buy all these things. 'Twould want a dozen mules to transport -them, nor, I fear me," and he smiled, "would they pass many of the -_octrois!_" - -"By degrees they could be removed," one of the men said, thirsting for -some of the pieces he had seen clinking in Andrew's purse when he had -produced the ducatoons. "By degrees. And these at least are worth -money and can easily be transported," and he swept his coarse hand -over the table, where the medallions and the miniatures and their gold -chains were. - -"Ay," said Andrew. "Ay! They are worth money. And, perhaps, to-morrow -I will buy some. Or a good sword now from out that heap. I could carry -a second one behind my saddle." - -"They are superb weapons, mostly," exclaimed Muhlenbein greedily, -"superb; richly-mounted and chased, worthy of a noble, and with -exquisite blades----" - -"Friend," replied Andrew quietly, "I know a good sword when I see it. -Perhaps none better. I deal in them." - -After which they all trooped down the ladder again, the rustics -wondering whether they were to construe the remark of the great -stalwart stranger as meaning that he was a trader in, or user of, such -tools. - -And Andrew, going to rest that night in the room found for him--a -cleaner one than the place below gave promise of, and with fairer -linen on the bed than might have been hoped for--was musing deeply. - -"For," said he to himself, as he drew off his long boots, "I would be -sworn that one of those miniatures was on his neck as I turned him -face upwards on the grass, upon the night I nearly killed him, while -in that bundle of swords--but therein I may be mistaken. However, -to-morrow we will see for it." - -Yet, ere he slept--his own sword laid along the bed by his side and -ready to his hand in case of need--he still pondered on what it might -mean if in very truth that medallion had been worn by De Bois-Vallée. - -"Might mean," he murmured between two enormous yawns, "that they found -him dead and stripped him, or that--or that----" - -By which time he was asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -TO REMIREMONT - - -In the morning there were none of the other peasants about, although -Andrew could see them plainly enough as they lolled in front of their -houses, or brushed the dust and rubbish from their doors into the -road, where it would lie until the next rain swept it into the common -sewer; or drove a grunting pig in front of them. And, as he looked at -them through the window, while he ate the rude meal his host was able -to set before him, he knew very well that the moment they suspected he -had gone upstairs with Muhlenbein to begin trafficking for any of the -"relics," they would flock in to take part in the bargain. For the -"Goldener Hirsch" was, he had learnt overnight, the repository of -their joint property, as being the place, or mart, where the -"merchants" could most easily see all that was for disposal. - -"Well!" He said to Muhlenbein after he had finished his breakfast, -while, prior to beginning it, he had been round to see to his horse, -"well, my host of the Golden Hart, if we are to have any dealings with -the choice curiosities above now is the time. I must away ere long, -and--and," this was an afterthought, which he considered would make -him look still more like a merchant--"there is Entzheim, you know. -Perhaps they have something there to sell, too." - -"Nothing, nothing!" exclaimed Muhlenbein hastily. "Nothing. Unless the -Herr wants to buy a wounded horse or two and some gun carriages and -powder--tumbrils left behind by the Austrians--that's all they have -got. The Herr doesn't want those." - -"No," replied Andrew, "the Herr does not. Still, he must visit -Entzheim. But now for the merchandise. Up, my man, up, and let us see -what I can have for a few pieces of silver." - -Up the ladder they went, therefore, as they had gone overnight, -Muhlenbein muttering, however, that it was not "a few pieces of -silver," but many pieces of gold which would be required to purchase -anything worth having from his choice museum of relics; and, as Andrew -had suspected, hardly were they in the room above, ere the men who had -been with them on the evening before were there again. - -"Fore gad!" he said to himself, "they are as keen as hawks. Their eyes -must be able to see through the walls to know that I am a-marketing." -And undoubtedly, whether they had seen through the walls, or the open -door, or the two-foot-square window, there they were. - -Disguising his desire to inspect the medallion which he believed to -have hung round De Bois-Vallée's neck on the night when his sword had -passed within four inches of it, disguising also his wish to observe -if one of the rapiers in the bundle was likely to prove that which he -suspected it to be, Andrew turned his attention to the wigs. Yet he -had no intention of becoming a purchaser of any of these melancholy -relics, nor of wearing the hair that had been on the head of any -recently dead man. And, in spite of the recommendations of their -present possessors--one of whom tried several on to give Andrew an -idea of their suitability!--and of their chatterings and mutterings, -he soon announced that he would have nothing to do with any of them. - -"Nor of the clothes either!" exclaimed he. "What! wear them with this -and this upon them," and he pointed with his finger to the dark -stains, and--in some places--to the clean cuts through them from front -to back, where sword or lance had passed. "Heavens! they would think I -had murdered the previous wearer or stripped some gallows tree." - -"But the lace, _gnädiger Herr_, the lace," whispered one, "the gold -galloon. Look to it. See this"; and he held up a gorgeously-faced coat -that when new must have cost many score of crowns. - -"Nay, I will not have it either. 'Tis tarnished, spoilt--with rain and -powder. No lace for me! Now, let us see for the weapons"; and he -directed his eyes towards the bundle of swords. - -"Ah! the weapons," said Muhlenbein, "the weapons. They are indeed -worthy of so great a merchant as, without doubt, the Herr is. Now that -one," speaking of a sword which Andrew was examining carefully, "is a -noble tool, of splendid steel, a----" - -"Tush," said Andrew. "Be silent, man. Did I not tell you last night I -know a good sword. Your recommendations are useless." - -However, even as he looked at the weapon in his hand he knew that -there was no trace of De Bois-Vallée here. This sword had never been -his, although it bore a strange resemblance to the one he had used -against himself in their encounter; it being the exact length the -Vicomte had selected, and with its hilt and handle almost a facsimile -of the other. But it had fallen from some Austrian's hand he saw in a -moment, and not from the Frenchman's; the knot showed that, while the -maker's name stamped into it of "Kraft, Nürnberg," added confirmation. - -Still, it was so good a weapon that he was loth not to buy it and -strap it up with other things he carried--only it was sheathless; so -from this he passed on also--appeasing the men, however, who were now -getting very discontented, by purchasing a pair of handsome pistols, -after much chaffering. - -Then he approached the medallions, while, as he did so, he thought, -"If this, which I expect, fails too, I am no nearer than before." - -Yet, when he held the trinket in his hand and gazed at it under the -light thrown by the window of the loft, he felt sure it was the one on -which he had looked as he opened the wounded man's shirt to give him -air. The painted face that stared at him from the miniature, set in -rose diamonds, was the one he had seen on the man's breast that -night--the face of a handsome woman of some forty-five or fifty years -of age, a woman with blue eyes and auburn hair, flecked with red. - -"Doubtless his mother," Andrew thought. And, recognizing the -similarity of the traits of the woman of the medallion and the man he -sought, he knew that this was the ornament he had previously seen. -Even the links of the gold chain attached to it seemed familiar. - -Yet, still, he knew that there was no clue here; there were a score or -more of such things lying on the table that had been taken from the -necks of their dead owners, or picked up on the battlefield. - -"A pretty toy," he said aloud, "the face of a beautiful woman. Nay!" -holding up his hand at the exclamations of admiration which the man -who owned this particular treasure instantly began to utter, while at -the same time he loudly called attention to the splendid, the -magnificent, the superb jewels with which it was surrounded. "Nay, -friend, their value is known to me as well as the worth of the -weapons. Yet I will buy it of you at a reasonable rate--though, since -the battlefield has yielded you so many other treasures of a like -kind----" - -"But," burst in the present owner, "that is no battlefield spoil; 'tis -better, much better--oh! far better--than any of the others. No simple -officer dropped that, I will be sworn, but some great general in the -retreat. Doubtless his wife, now, or----" - -"No battlefield spoil! In the retreat!" Andrew repeated. "Fellow, what -do you mean?" - -But as he asked the question he knew there was a slight eagerness in -his tone, though it was not apparent to their dull senses; senses -blunted, too, by their desire to make a swift and profitable bargain. -Also he felt a tremor at his heart! Not picked up on the battlefield! -"Where then? Where?" he mused. - -"Some half league from here--though now I think upon it, 'twas -not the road along which either army retreated. But the track that -leads to----" - -"To!" exclaimed Andrew in his impatience. - -"To St. Dié. The track known to many--across the mountains to -Remiremont." - -To Remiremont! - -Andrew's pulse beat faster, almost his head swam, as he heard those -last words. To Remiremont! Yet he had to pause to collect himself, to -ask when and where and how, in connection with his enemy, he had heard -that place mentioned? To pause while, all the time, his would-be -vendor was dinning in his ears the value of the medallion portrait, -especially the value of its setting, for which he would not take less -than seventy écus. "From anyone else," he added, "though from the -gracious Herr, because he was first come, he would take fifty." - -Mechanically, scarce knowing why he should possess himself of the -miniature, yet feeling he must stop the boor's clamour somehow and get -time to think; reflecting also that to keep up his appearance of a -"merchant," he must buy more than the pair of pistols, he again had -recourse to the leathern purse and told out ten gold pieces of five -crowns into the owner's dirty palm, while as he did so the word -"Remiremont," "Remiremont," was beating at his brain. - -"Where, where," he murmured to himself, "is the connection between -that place and De Bois-Vallée? Where?" - -In a moment it had come to him! - -"'He is of the _pays_; of Lorraine, near the Vosges, of the seigneurie -of Remiremont. He will be doubly useful to Turenne in the Palatinate.'" - -That was it; those almost the words! Uttered by the Court spy as he -drank with Andrew at the inn in Paris! Of the seigneurie of -Remiremont! - -The bargaining came to an end as the clue rose to his mind; pushing -the peasants aside, Andrew swiftly went down the ladder, his scabbard -clanking on each rung, and the boors following--offering their wares -at half, at a quarter, what they had previously demanded, now that -they saw that there was no more huckstering to be done. Also, because -their eyes had glinted into the leather purse and had seen many other -gold pieces therein! - -"Nay No more," he said; "I have done. Your treasures are too tempting. -You will beggar me if I stay here. Now," laughing and pushing back -with his masterful hands the men who flocked round him, begging all -the time that he should miss no chance, and, therefore, offer his own -price, "now, a bottle of the best, my golden hart, to drink to our -next meeting, and then away. And the reckoning, too, Muhlenbein, the -reckoning--though that should count as nothing with so good a customer -as I!" and he laughed merrily, making even the peasants laugh too, his -gaiety being infectious. - -He had a little more to say, or ask, however, and it necessitated the -drinking of a second bottle whereby to provide the time for obtaining -the information he desired. Still, he did obtain it. - -"This track," he said, "across the mountains of which you speak; to -where does it lead? And Remiremont, what kind of place is that? And -what leads from there?" - -The second question none of them could properly answer, though one, -who seemed to know more than the others, said there was a great -nunnery at Remiremont itself, he thought. But as to where the road -from it led, all knew. South to the old Burgundian city--the boors -around him called it the "great" Burgundian city of Dijon; west, to -far-off Paris, where the French King was who sent out his accursed -armies; north to Flanders, where he might have heard other fightings -were going on. While their town--for so they called it--of Holtzheim -was to the east, but with the mountains between. - -"So!" exclaimed Andrew, and now the third bottle was broached--which, -after all, was not much amongst six of them! "So I, who must myself go -that way--Dijon, you say, is great and prosperous?--or anyone who -wished to go that way from here, would do well to proceed by this -track? Better than the high roads, which are doubtless roundabout and -lengthy." - -"Better far," replied Muhlenbein, "since thereby you save half the -distance. Yet, have a care if you adventure by it. In the mountains -there are no inns--none such as this; _mein Gott_, no!--no refuge nor -shelter. Nothing but the great trees, and, in a storm, the riven -branches on your head." - -"_Ja, Ja_," said another, the man who had sold Andrew the medallion, -"and sometimes worse than that, worse than shattered branches to burst -in the head. Worse! outlaws and outcasts, men driven from France and -from this land, too, to whom the Vosges alone offer retreat. -Travellers have entered those mountains on one side before now, and -have never come forth on the other yet. _Gott in Himmel!_ Their heads -were not broken in by fallen branches. Not by fallen branches!" - -"Ha!" said Andrew. "Well! here is one traveller who must pass that -way. And we will see for the breaking of heads. We will see. While, -for shelter, I have a cloak. 'Tis not," forgetting for the moment that -he was a "merchant" and not a soldier, "'tis not the first time it has -been my only roof. Friends, adieu!" - -"The Herr will go," said Muhlenbein. "Soh! Well! he is big and strong. -Has been a soldier, perhaps?" - -"Ay, has been a soldier," and as he spoke he made his way to where his -horse was. Yet, ere he mounted it he paused and said, while the -rustics lolling at the inn door cast admiring glances over both man -and steed: - -"Where begins this ascent to the mountains? Tell me; or, rather, if -anyone will earn a crown, let him conduct me to it." - -In an instant all had proffered their services, and each man sprang -forth as quickly as his great wooden shoes would let him, whereon -Andrew, selecting one, set out upon his journey. - -His journey! To end how, he knew not, and cared less, so long as it -brought him to Remiremont. To Remiremont where he believed he would -stand face to face with De Bois-Vallée once more, would find Marion -Wyatt. The woman who, Debrasques had testified, was innocent, yet -against whom all circumstances pointed as being guilty. - -The road the peasant led him passed across the plains lying between -Holtzheim and Entzheim, across the fields on which he had fought some -few weeks ago, but which were now deserted except that there were -other peasants from each of those villages still hunting and scraping -for further pickings. For, to them, anything was precious, would fetch -money some day if not now, would help to mend their broken and burst -walls or buy fresh seed for their devastated fields. - -Of the dead he saw but little, and what little he did see was enough -even for him--a soldier. For if--half uncovered by the earth that had -been lightly thrown over it, and, later on, washed away again by the -drenching rains which had continued for days after the fight was -over--any body met his eye, he saw that it was stripped naked by those -who had come across it. Neither on man nor fallen beast was there left -so much as, in the case of the former, a rag, or, in that of the -latter, a bridle rein or smallest piece of leather; nay, in the case -of the latter their manes and tails were gone--they were useful for -something! Yet, still, amongst the heaps and mounds, where the bodies -of all lay covered, so that pestilence might not be bred in the -villages, there moved the human ghouls who sought for a broken piece -of chain, a ring, or coin, anything that would remunerate them for -their losses, even though in their search that pestilence should seize -on them. - -Beyond the Little Wood, now tranquil enough except for the cries to -one another of the searchers in it, and showing no other signs of what -had happened there but those furnished by trees shattered with -cannonballs, by broken gun carriages and fallen cannon not yet -removed--the road turned to the right; half a mile further the opening -to the track was reached which led across the mountains to Lorraine. - -"God speed," the peasant said, as he pouched the crown tossed him by -Andrew, "God speed. Beware of the storm; beware the marauders of the -woods. Have your sword easy in its scabbard, your holster-flap open. -Farewell." - -"Adieu," Andrew replied. "I will beware." - -And, slackening his horse's rein as the ascent began, he took the -first steps that led towards the seigneurie of Remiremont. While, as -he did so, he whispered to himself: - -"This time. This time." - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS - - -"'Tis better, perhaps," thought Andrew, as, walking now by the side of -his beast to ease it, he gazed down from the elevation he had reached -to the plain lying below, "better that I did not slay him on that -night, or leave him there to die. For then I should have accomplished -only the task I was pledged to; might never have discovered that, -besides revenging Philip, there was the woman to save if may be." And -still pondering on all this, he continued: - -"Debrasques might have been actually slain instead of condemned to -this living death--as well be dead, poor boy, as he now is!--and then -I should have known nothing; my search would have been ended with his -cousin's death. Nothing. Nothing. And all my life I should have been -coupling the name of Marion Wyatt with that of a treacherous, false -wanton, as doubtless her father does if still alive. As Philip did -unto the last, though sometimes he doubted. Well! his doubts had -reason, it should seem!" - -But now he almost laughed aloud as a new thought, or memory, rose to -his mind. The memory of what description of revenge he had meditated -on the woman when he supposed her to be as equally guilty as the man. -A determination to carry her off from him as that man had carried her -off from Philip, or to find her and, in some way, steal her love from -De Bois-Vallée; to pretend love for her until her own was won--then to -break her heart and fling her away. All this he had thought of doing, -or of attempting to do, and had pondered on how it should be done, and -now--now--instead--he was seeking her so that he might save her. He -had reason to laugh at the change that had come into his heart. - -The October night was setting in and the evening vapours arising -amongst the great beech and fir trees on the mountain slopes, as -Andrew reached the top of the pass and stood upon the level of the -summit; seeing as he did so--through the rime and dank mist made by -the dripping trees--that the track ran flat for some distance now. -Whereon he set to work to calculate if it were possible for him to -descend into the plains of Lorraine that night--to reflect also if it -would be best to do so. - -"I know naught of Remiremont," he reflected, "nor whether 'tis large -or small--a place where a stranger may shelter himself without -attracting attention, or be the object of all eyes by appearing there. -I would I did so know, could see the place ere arriving at it." - -Also, he reflected, he had to find out where this man for whom he -sought dwelt. It might be, he knew, that he would have some great -mansion in the town itself, or, which would be far better, that he -lived in some outlying manor or grange. - -"For then," he thought, "I could better find an entrance to it, bring -myself face to face with him. Could summon him to come forth and meet -me, or, stealing in, confront him. Yet, whichever it be, I will find -him. Even though he is surrounded by servitors I will get at him, have -him point to point at last." - -And as he said these words he determined to push on along the track -once more, in the hope that, at least, the descent might soon begin. - -He found, however, that he could of necessity go but little further -that night. From the herbage at his feet there was rising now so -strong and penetrating a mist that, already, it was difficult for him -to follow the track; soon that mist would be a mountain fog enveloping -everything and preventing further progress, and he recognized the -unpleasantness of the situation. He was on the top of the mountains -without so much as a cave to shelter him or his horse, and there he -would doubtless have to stay until daylight--unless the fog which was -thickening every moment should clear suddenly away, and the moon, -which he remembered rose late, come forth. Stay there while both he -and his beast would become chilled to the bone, so that in the morning -they must be stiff with cold and cramp. - -"A cheering prospect, truly," he thought, while as he did so he took -from his valise his flask and some bread, and, having drunk a little -spirit, moistened a portion of the bread with it and gave it to the -horse, "a cheering prospect! Fore gad! I begin to think I am no wary -campaigner after all, to be thus caught without a retreat. Yet that -vagabond, my host of the Golden Hart, said the passage of the -mountains might be made ere nightfall. It seems he was a liar, or I -have come too slow." - -Now, in truth, Muhlenbein had in this case told him no lie, since the -passage of the Vosges from some parts of Alsace to the other side of -the mountains was possible in a day--though not such short days as -those of October; moreover, Andrew had set out late, it being ten in -the morning ere he had left the Goldener Hirsch. But, if the man had -not deceived Andrew in this manner he had in another, since, for his -own selfish ends and to keep him longer at the inn, whereby he might -be induced to make further purchases and to part with some more of his -gold pieces, he had grievously lied when he said there was no -accommodation to be found on the road. For--unless his memory was -exceedingly treacherous!--he should have remembered that there were -shepherds' and goatherds' huts at frequent intervals on the summit of -the mountains, while but a little divergence from that summit and an -earlier descent would have brought the traveller to St. Dié or Epinal. -But doubtless his greed prompted his forgetfulness, or, to do him -justice, he may have thought Andrew would not care to branch off to -either of those places. - -Therefore the latter soon found that, for certain, Muhlenbein was -wrong when he said there was no shelter but that of the mountain pines -to be found on the road, since now, as he led his horse along the -level flat, and felt with his feet at every step to make sure that he -kept the hard and beaten track, he distinctly heard voices ahead of -him--voices that, from the dull and muffled manner in which they -reached his ears, came undoubtedly from within some walls. Then, still -feeling his way carefully over the soft and sodden _chaume_, on which -both his and the horse's feet trod noiselessly, and directing their -footsteps off the path towards the spot whence the sound of the voices -came, he found himself outside a long low hut, as he concluded it to -be--a hut from which a murky gleam of light was visible in the fog, -proceeding evidently from some opening that served as a window. - -"I tell you," a voice, harsh and rough, was saying, "the war is over! -Otherwise how would he be here? I tell you I have seen him. And we -know, we old and tried soldiers, that none leave the ranks till peace -is signed." After which the speaker emitted a laugh as raucous as, and -fitting mate to, his speech. - -"Ha!" said another, "that is all very well for such poor devils as we -are, 'when peace is signed.' But with him, now, of the noblesse--and -of Turenne's staff, they say--'tis different. They leave the army when -it goes into winter quarters; he would do so. Curse him! He needs come -here to harry us about." - -"Ay, but we will harry him, too, in God's good time. Some day he shall -come back from other wars and find he has no home to enter. We will -light the mountain tops with the flames of his old house in spite of -his being Vicomte and----" - -Unfortunately, at this moment, Andrew--who, at the words "of Turenne's -staff" first, and of "Vicomte" next, had pricked up his ears wondering -on what he had lighted on now, and what revelations he was about to -hear--was prevented from listening to any more of their talk. His -horse, chilled and cold, shook itself violently, rattling as it did so -its bridle and chain and stirrups, so that none within could fail to -hear the noise it made. - -In an instant there was silence in the hut; a moment later a door was -flung open and the shadow of a man, blurred and indistinct in the foul -air that was lit up by the surly light cast out, was visible through -the fog. - -"Who's there?" came in an instant a different voice which Andrew had -not previously heard, and, as he advanced to where the figure of the -man was, he answered: "A traveller seeking shelter for the night for -himself and animal; shelter at least till it is clearer, and he can -pursue his way." - -"There is no shelter here, monsieur," the voice replied, and the -expression "monsieur" told him he was dealing with Lorrainers now. -"None." - -"My friend, there must be. We are cold and perishing, and I see you -have a fire within. Let me come in," and, suiting the action to the -word, he pushed up against the man standing in the doorway, who fell -back somewhat at the sight of the stalwart figure before him. Yet he -was stalwart, too, or had been once when younger, though he was now -old and presented to Andrew nothing but the wreck of a powerful man. -Still, old as he was, he seemed inclined to resent the intrusion and -appeared almost as though about to bar his entrance, when another -voice from within exclaimed-- - -"Nay, Gaspard, if the traveller wants warmth and shelter let him come -in. Poor as our auberge is, doubtless he will pay for his -accommodation." - -"Doubtless," replied Andrew, not stopping, however, his inward -progress while he spoke, but advancing towards the fire where he -warmed his hands and feet, glancing round all the time at the -inhabitants of the hut and thinking them about as villainous a looking -crew as he had ever set eyes on. Nevertheless, this did not deter him -from the resolve he had taken of obtaining shelter here, if not food, -nor prevent him from assuming the masterful manner which he saw at -once was the only one likely to serve him now. - -Also he wanted to know--and meant to know!--who was the "Vicomte," the -member of the noblesse, and likewise of Turenne's staff, who was here -and had been seen by one of the speakers. For, putting those remarks -together and coupling them with the fact that Remiremont was not far -from here, he thought it would be marvellously strange if he had not -lighted on the clue to De Bois-Vallée's present whereabouts. - -Assuming, therefore, this masterful manner, which he felt would serve -him so well, he administered a kick to a log of wood that had fallen -almost from the rude fire on to the earthen floor without, stretched -his large body in front of the embers until the warmth was obscured -from all the others, and, looking down at the two men by the side of -the old one, said-- - -"Well, my good friends, you seem to have devilish little hospitality -amongst you, since you wish to close the door to any wandering -traveller across these cursed mountains. Hey! is it not so?" - -"We keep no open house," the elder one said, looking sourly at him as -he stood there, his sword by his side, his hat on his head, and with -one hand twirling his moustache, "therefore one may close their door -against whomsoever they please." - -"May they! What! When over that door hangs a bush--foul as the -night is I could see that, the feather in my hat had almost brushed it -as I spake to you--testifying you have wine for those who can pay for -it--and what traveller goes without money for his wants? Also, I -observe you have accommodation for beasts as well--if I mistake not I -see the hindquarters of a horse down there," and he pointed with his -finger to the end of the long hut--where, behind a piece of horribly -dirty canvas that hung from a rafter to the earthen floor, he saw a -grey tail switching every now and then. - -None of the three men sitting there and gazing up at this -powerful-looking intruder answered a word; instead, all scowled at -him, giving Andrew the idea--doubtless a true one--that they were -meditating some sort of attack upon him. Maybe to pull him to earth; -one to spring at his throat, another at his legs. It was likely enough -to be so, he told himself! And at the thought his spirits rose and -danced within him; it was the love of encountering such adventures as -these that had sent him wandering about Europe and fighting in any -campaign where his sword would be accepted, when, had he followed his -dead mother's desire, he would have remained at home. - -"For those who can pay for their accommodation, I say," he repeated, -and with this love of excitement egging him forward, he decided on -tantalizing the men. Whereon he thrust his hand into his pocket, drew -out his leathern bag, and emptied some gold and silver coins into his -other palm. - -"Here," said he, pitching a silver dollar down on to the table, "find -me some food and drink, and drink with me yourselves. Meanwhile, I -will attend to my beast," and he strode out into the raw fog again, -and a moment later led in the animal by the bridle, when, taking it up -to the end of the hut, he tied it by the reins to a nail in the wall. - -"Now, a bucketful of water," he exclaimed, "and a handful of oats, and -we shall do very well." After which he glanced at the others to see -what disposition there was amongst them to obey him. - -The sight of the money--or, perhaps, 'twas rather the sight of the -leathern purse--had, however, wonderfully sharpened their hospitality, -whereon, muttering that "since monsieur appeared desirous of -recompensing them for his intrusion they were willing to oblige him," -the old man, still looking sour and grim, set about finding some -refreshments. From a hole in the wall he produced a bottle of wine -that, by its appearance, seemed to be old, if not strong; some cheese -and rye bread was also forthcoming, but he said that, as regards meat, -he had none whatever. - -"We are poor, very poor," he explained, "simple charcoal burners and -truffle-hunters--nothing else." - -"Humph!" said Andrew, as he masticated the provender before him, -though he did not sit down to the table until he had seen the horse -also given water and a feed, "Nothing else, eh? Now I should have -supposed you two worthy gentlemen," and he directed a glance at the -others, whose mugs at the same time he filled to the brim, "would -have been something more in my way. Soldiers, for instance. There is a -good regiment raised hereabouts, the one of Epinal; I have seen it in -the field. Commanded, when I knew it, by Maisonfleur. Yet the -_arrière-ban_ has been out a long while and you are here." - -"The war is over," one of these answered, speaking now for the first -time since Andrew had been making himself at home. "We know that." - -"How?" asked Andrew, looking at him with a swift glance over his -glass. "How, friend, do you know that?" - -"Have we not proof? Monsieur suggests he is a soldier. Yet he is -here--as we are." - -"A cunning _riposte_," said Andrew to himself, while he exclaimed -aloud. "My friend, I do not count. I am an auxiliary, or what you -choose to call me--volunteer, nay, mercenary, if you please--and can -do as I desire, only if I do not fight I am not paid. But for you, you -are Frenchmen, and the war is not over. Turenne will engage the -Imperialists again, Condé is in full campaign. Fine fellows like you -should be earning laurels--and louis d'ors." - -"_Peste!_" exclaimed the one who had not hitherto spoken. "Louis -d'ors! How many of them does monsieur think we get? And as for being -here--well, why not? It is our _pays_, and we are not the only ones -out of the war. There are others of this neighbourhood back from -it--as we know very well," and he gave a glance as he spoke at the two -men. - -"To wit--whom?" asked Andrew, knowing that now the conversation was -approaching the point he desired. Knowing also that it behoved him to -be very careful. If he was that, if he could but be a diplomatist for -half an hour, he might learn much. - -"Oh! _avec ça!_" the man said, "it would be useless to tell monsieur. -He would not understand. But we know--we know, _mes amis_," addressing -his friends, "_N'est ce pas?_" - -"Perhaps," said Andrew, "I know, too. Know to whom you refer. Shall I -say--for instance--a Vicomte. Mention another name? Humph! Also -beginning with a V?" - -All looked at him, the big old man over a pair of horn spectacles he -had assumed, the others under their brows. Then the younger of the two -remaining ones, a dark handsome man, though with a face spoilt by -signs of debauchery and, perhaps, of rough living, said: - -"Is monsieur a friend of his?" - -"Scarcely that! Otherwise I might be riding on my way now, reckless of -fog and reeking mist, reckless of missing my path and falling to the -bottom of some abyss from one of your crags, to tell him he was in -danger of his house being burned to the ground, of these mountain tops -being lighted by the reflections of the flames from that burning -house." - -He had hit the mark when he mentioned the letter V as the first one of -the name of the man they undoubtedly hated, knew it, saw it directly -from their actions. - -The man whose home was to be burned over his head, the man who they -had said harried them, whom they had sworn that very evening to harry -in God's good time, was, must be, De Bois-Vallée. - -And Andrew laughed fiercely under his moustache as he thought to -himself: - -"Between us--with me first--he should not escape this time!" - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -"HE IS MINE. MUST BE MINE NOW!" - - -Nevertheless he knew that it was necessary for him to be very careful. - -For, to begin with, these men were doubtful allies--even if he wanted -any such, which, after all, he was not sure about. Certainly he wanted -none to help him slay De Bois-Vallée and thereby avenge Philip--but -even as he so paused, endeavouring to think what was best to do, he -observed the looks of consternation still on their faces at -discovering he had overheard their remarks when outside. Yet, might -not their assistance be of the greatest use to him in rescuing Marion -Wyatt from evil at the Vicomte's hands? Might not they also be of the -greatest service to him in helping to discover what evil it was that -threatened the woman? Or, further and better, was it possible that -they had some knowledge of what that evil was? - -"Harm that may come to her through his fear of what I know, as he -imagines; harm that may be averted perhaps by me if I can find her--or -again find him?" he had asked Debrasques, he remembered; remembered -also that from Debrasques' eyes had come the answer in the -affirmative. And he had bidden Andrew go and avert the harm impending; -now he was here, and it seemed that an opportunity had arisen which -might assist him in thus averting it. - -He must extract all that he could from these men; he must lose no -chance. Indeed, his only regret was that his manner had not been more -propitiatory from the outset, less rough with them, and he prayed that -the big leather purse, and another which he had put carefully away, -might be able to win their goodwill. If so they should have it all, -even though he had to go without food until more money could be -obtained from England. - -They sprang up--or two of them did--as he uttered the words about the -burning house and the flames whose reflection should be cast on the -mountain tops, while the elder man cast an evil glance at him that -would have augured badly for his safety in that lonely spot had he not -been so big and strong. Then the first of these two men, whom he had -heard called Jean, exclaimed, "You heard that--outside! And know that -it was of him and of his house we spoke?" - -"I know it now." - -"And what will you do?" while as he spoke he bent forward with a -sinister look on his face, and with his hand in his coarse brown -blouse, "What will you do?" - -"I will tell you," replied Andrew, "only, first, give me that," while -as he answered he darted his own hand out like lightning, seized the -fellow by the wrist, and drew his hand from out of his bosom. In it -was a long knife. - -"Let it fall to the floor," he said, compressing the man's wrist so -that he winced, while Andrew turned as he did so and spoke to the -other two (who had sprung up and were standing over him threateningly) -in a marvellously quiet voice, yet one that had its effect. - -"Make no interference," he said. "Be warned. Resume your seats or we -shall all regret it. Do as I say," he continued, his voice sinking -even lower as he fixed his eyes on them. "As I say. It will be best." - -Whether it was his height or his broad chest, or, perhaps, the sight -of the huge hand that compressed Jean's wrist, which forced them to -obey, cannot be said. Suffice it that, after a look of indecision on -the part of the well-favoured, dissolute-looking man, and a scowl on -the part of the old one, they did as he said. Each returned to the -settle, or stool, he had occupied, though not without murmuring and -muttering. - -Another squeeze from Andrew finished also Jean's affair; the fingers -unloosed the knife, which clattered down on to the earth, and, at the -same time, his wrist was released, scored with a red mark as though an -iron vice had been screwed on it. - -"Enough," said Andrew; "now we shall be very good friends. Listen, -therefore, to what I have to say. But, first, find another bottle of -wine." - -Obedient to his orders--although it might be but for a time and until -they could concert some joint attack on him--another dusty, cobwebby -bottle was produced from the hole in the wall, and, when the one glass -from which Andrew drank and the mugs of the others had been filled, -the former spoke again, though with his eyes on all their faces and on -their hands, too, to see if they threatened harm. - -"I will tell you," he said, "what I shall do. Yet, first, let there be -no mistake. The man of whom you speak as having come across these -mountains, the man whose home you purpose to burn to the ground, is -the Vicomte De Bois-Vallée. Nay," seeing the look that came on their -countenances, "deny it not! There is but one who has so come from -Turenne's camp, but one who has fled from the army, deserted his post. -The man I seek and follow." - -"Fled! Deserted!" they repeated, while the old man muttered -incoherently. - -"Ay, fled, deserted. Shall I tell you why? If I do, you will perhaps -acknowledge that, for the present, at least, you may leave his house -in peace." - -"Tell us," all said together. - -"He has fled," continued Andrew, "because thereby he imagines he can -evade me--me, who have sworn to slay him. And I am resolved to slay -him. See, listen. I am an Englishman, well-to-do now, though not long -ago I had nought but that which I could earn with this," and he let -his left hand fall on his sword hilt. "Well-to-do, I tell you, might -live at home in my own land, run no greater danger than a man -encounters in his own fields and gardens. Yet I am here. To slay him." - -"To slay him!" the dissolute, good-looking peasant repeated. "To slay -him! Camille De Bois-Vallée! To slay him!" - -"Ay! From England to Paris I came, from Paris to Turenne's army, from -that army here. To-morrow to Remiremont, to-morrow night, as it shall -fall out, or in a week, or month, or year, to return to England with -my sword left sticking through him. Say, shall I do that first, ere -you burn his house down?" - -"What is your wrong?" asked Laurent, the good-looking man. "What? -_Pardie!_ a woman, I suppose." - -"Ay, a woman. Yet from your words, your guess at that, it should seem -I am not the only one. Has he wronged other men--through the women -they love?" - -"Yes," Laurent answered. "Yes. That way and others." - -"That way and others. So, 'tis not I alone who seek to punish him. Yet -from me the punishment shall come. And 'tis better so, is it not? If -you, or others, destroy him, you are here to be punished in return, -you are yourselves of the _pays_, as you tell me. But I--I am a -stranger, and, that done which I must do, I shall be gone; none can -harm me. Moreover, he will fall at my hands in honourable duello. I -shall not spare him as I spared him before." - -"What!" came from all their lips, while the old man thrust his horn -spectacles up on his forehead, and leaned across the table to stare at -him. "What you had him once, and you spared him?" - -"Yes, to finish the work better next time. And it was not his murder I -sought" Whereupon he rapidly told them of the fight in the glade -behind the church, and of how the peasants would have slain De -Bois-Vallée, had he not interfered for his protection. - -"'Twas folly," Laurent said, "I would have left him there for them to -do the work. Thereby, monsieur would have had his desire gratified at -no cost to himself." - -"Nay," replied Andrew, "'twas because I had not done the work that I -saved him, as now I prevent you from wreaking your vengeance on him. -'Tis I who must do it. Also, there is something else to be done. -Listen!" - -And now, because he saw and knew that he could bind these men to -him either through their hatred of his enemy or because of their -cupidity--or through both combined--he told them that the woman who -had been wronged by this man was, he believed, somewhere in his power, -and that, before all--before his revenge, before theirs--she must be -found and saved. "Could they," he asked, "help him to save her?" - -"Where is she?" answered Laurent, who seemed to take the lead now -amongst his companions. "Let us know that, and, since you desire it, -we may be of service. Alas! that we could have saved other women!" - -"That," replied Andrew, "is what I do not know. Is what, indeed, at -present, I seek to learn. Further, I know not where his house is, nor -how to find entrance. Though soon I shall." - -Then, at once, spurred on as it seemed to Andrew by a desire for -vengeance on the part of Laurent particularly, who, he could see, -nourished a personal hatred against the man, and, on the part of the -others, by a desire for gain, and by greed, they gave him some -information which he did not doubt was true. - -De Bois-Vallée, they told him, lived not in Remiremont itself, but, -instead, some four or five miles this side of it, and at the foot of -the very mountain which they were now on the summit of. It was a large -property known as Bois-le-Vaux, they said, consisting of wood and -forest with a mountain stream through it that afterwards joined the -Meurthe, and, in the middle of this estate and backed up by the hills, -was the house itself. - -"Of what description?" asked Andrew. - -"Oh! for that, old, very old. Dating back, some said, to the days of -Le Duc Thierry," the old man, Gaspard, answered. "Built partly of -stone, hewn out of these mountains, one should suppose; a house long -and low, with, above the ground floor, much wood. Also outhouses and -stables and a granary, all of wood. Therefore," he added, "it would -burn well." - -"But not yet," answered Andrew, "not yet. That is for after I am gone, -by which time he will be dead. For which reason there may be no -necessity to thus destroy it. Are there any as bad as he to come -after, and have all who went before him been equally as bad?" - -No, they answered, each telling the tale by little pieces; no, there -were none to come after of whom they knew; he had neither brother nor -sister, nor was he married. - -"Wherefore," interjected Gaspard, who seemed the most anxious for the -destruction by flames of the mansion of Bois-le-Vaux, "it may properly -be burned down. All of this country hate it and him; after his death -we desire no memorial of his race." - -"And of those before him. Were they like him?" again asked Andrew. - -"His mother was a saint on earth," the old man said; "I knew her. And -his father was harmless. The old wolf-blood of his forerunners has -come out in him." - -"His mother!" exclaimed Andrew. "His mother!" and he clapped his hand -to his pocket and drew out the medallion. "You knew her. Is this she?" -and he showed them the portrait. - -"Ay," exclaimed Gaspard, after he had brought the spectacles down from -his forehead to their proper place again, "ay, 'tis. I knew her well. -She was a saint--all loved her--'tis for the sake of her memory we -have so long borne with the son." - -"Enough," said Andrew. "I will return it to him." - -"Wherefore?" asked Laurent, not understanding. - -"As something which he dropped in fleeing from the army, from me. He -can scarce refuse to take it, to come and take it from my hands; thus -we shall be face to face again." - -"And the woman?" one asked. - -"Ah the woman. I had forgotten. No; first I must find out if she is -here, below, in this gloomy mansion you speak of. Then--then--it will -be time to decide what I must do. But it grows late; to-morrow I must -see this house and reconnoitre. My friends, if you will be such, let -us make terms. Will you place yourselves at my service?" - -"As I told monsieur," said Gaspard, "we are very poor. We must live. -And if monsieur desires vengeance on one whom we all hate we will -serve him. Though I for one can do but little. I am old--yet I do not -forget. Ah, Julie! Also he forced me from my cottage, raising the -seigneurial rights month by month till I became an outcast, living -here on no man's land." - -"Curse him!" exclaimed Laurent. "All I desire is to see him dead. And -as for payment--well, I have no money--I, too, am an outcast, he would -send me to the galleys if he caught me. Curse him!" he cried again, -"give me but the wherewithal to live, and I will help you. Either you -or I shall slay him." - -"He has wronged you deeply?" Andrew asked, noticing how the handsome -features of this man were convulsed by his fury. - -"Wronged me! Wronged me! My God! Listen. I married this man's -daughter, Julie," and his hand shook as he beat it against Gaspard's -shoulder, "and he took her from me, took her to that hell, Paris, -and--and--left her to die there. Judge if he has wronged me." - -"And you?" turning to the third, the man Jean. "Do you hate him, too?" - -"I hate all aristocrats," he replied. "They grind us to the earth. And -him I doubly hate. For--for--well, I have cause. Also," and he laughed -now the harsh and reckless laugh which Andrew had heard as he -approached the hut, "you saw how I loved him when, for fear that you -might be here to help him, I drew that on you," and he pointed to the -knife lying where it had fallen. - -"'Tis well," said Andrew, "we understand one another. And, for earnest -of my good faith, take this and do what you will with it"; whereon he -drew forth once more the leathern bag and emptied its contents--a -dozen good louis d'ors and as many écus and German dollars--on the -table. As he did so he noticed to whom the spoils fell. Gaspard, with -a greed often enough the accompaniment of old age, especially when -that old age is surrounded by and steeped in poverty, thrust out his -gnarled and knotty hands, endeavouring to cover all the pieces. Jean, -with a laugh, clutched some ere the other could prevent him. Laurent -alone was moderate. One gold coin rolled towards him, which he picked -up and thrust under his blouse. - -"'Twill suffice a long time for meat and drink," he said. "By the time -'tis spent--well!--what I desire more than money may be accomplished." - -"You have left yourself without any," the old man said, turning to -Andrew, almost with a look of shame on his withered face, yet still -with his hands on all the coins that Jean had been unable to wrench -from beneath them. "What will you do?" - -"Nay! never fear. It is not my all. I have more--for myself and you. -And, after that, can obtain still more. Serve me faithfully and you -will find me a good paymaster." - -Then, after they had vowed again and again that they would do -so--Laurent alone wasting no words in protestation--Andrew remarked: - -"He is mine. Must be mine now. Nothing can save him or prevent me -bringing him to book. Even though we have to besiege him in his house! -He is mine. And, even should he escape me for a time, he is a ruined -man. To the army he can never return. His desertion prevents that. My -friends," and he rose from his chair, "De Bois-Vallée will never harry -you again. From this time forth we harry him." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -THE HOUSE OF THE ENEMY - - -The fog was gone next morning when Andrew awoke from the bed of straw -on which he had lain all night covered by his cloak, and with--for he -was too wary a soldier to entirely trust his new-found acquaintances -until he knew them better!--his unsheathed sword by his side under -that cloak. - -Gone, swept away by a soft breeze that came up from across the Meurthe -and sighed amongst the great fir trees all round, and amidst also -those at his feet on the slopes below--at the base of which lay -Remiremont--while, above his head, were the blue skies and the bright -October sun. And, talking to his new friends, he learnt that he was on -what is known in that fair mountain region as the _Ballon d'Alsace_, -and that the river sparkling in the distance like a silver thread was -the Moselle, while the blue mountains in the still further distance -were the Jura. - -Already some plans had been decided on between him and the two younger -men while they sat at breakfast--a meagre meal of more rye bread, -an egg or so which Gaspard had managed to produce, and a bottle of -wine--and this is what they had resolved upon doing first. - -Laurent was to lead Andrew by a path which he very well knew (though -it was doubtful if any stranger to the neighbourhood could ever have -found it) to a copse on the lower slopes, from which he could look -down on the house itself; could, indeed, he said, approach so near -above it that a man might throw a piece of twisted paper, or any light -substance, on to the roof. - -"For," said the man, as now they prepared to set out, "it was cleverly -placed was the old house, _voyez-vous_, when the forerunners of this -Vicomte--the men who were known as _Les Loups de Lorraine_--set it up. -It stands back so near to the slope that, from the mountains, no -attack can come--from men at least, though missiles might be thrown. -Between the house and a vast stone wall, with which the side of the -hill is faced, is a space of twenty feet--who can overpass that? Also -the ledge of this wall-facing is some twenty feet higher than the flat -roof; who will dare to jump down? A reckless man might attempt it, -'tis true, or two, or three, but where would they be? They could never -reach the roof, even though they slung themselves over with a rope; -should they by chance arrive they would be thrown down into the -stone-flagged space 'twixt house and wall." - -"Doubtless," replied Andrew, "there is no method of reaching the house -that way. Yet, supposing there was a large number of men above this -ledge of wall, and firing down on to the roof--would they not injure -it, break it in; perhaps do as friend Gaspard says, fire it? It might -be." - -"Nay, you shall see," replied Laurent. "Meanwhile, come," and they set -forth from the hut on foot, Andrew's horse being left there for the -time, since the path they were about to descend offered no passage for -any animal larger than a sheep or goat. - -As to Jean he was already gone, he having another mission to fulfil in -the service of their new employer. - -He had said overnight as they lay talking on their straw pallets ere -sleep came, that he had a cousin at Bois-le-Vaux, a man who was half -gamekeeper and half gardener there, and who--as the house had been -more or less shut up since the death of the Vicomtesse five years -ago--did also many odd jobs, such as attending to the poultry, what -horses there were in the stables, the dogs, and so forth. This man he -had, therefore, set out to find, with the object of learning if -possible if any strange lady was detained within the mansion unknown -to all outside it. - -"A thing," Laurent had remarked, "that might well enough happen. My -wife--ah, my God! my wife--was there a month ere he took her to Paris, -and none outside knew it--not even I nor old Gaspard here, though we -searched the country for miles around, even suspected this man. None -knew of it. Not one." - -"Yet," replied Andrew thoughtfully, "'twould be strange if this lady -can be here and her presence unknown. It is near two years--a full -year and a half at least--since she must have come here, perhaps was -brought here. Could all knowledge of her presence in this house have -been concealed so long from the outside world?" - -"Oh! _comprenez!_" exclaimed Jean, "that would not be so difficult. He -has two custodians who let none enter that mansion, and who can be -dumb and secret as death. Inside the house they would warrant none -finding out her presence." - -"Who are these custodians?" - -"One--the worst!--a man, his steward, bound to him by many ties. A -fellow he saved from the wheel for endeavouring to rob the abbey----" - -"Is there an abbey here, then?" - -"_Mais oui_, a noble abbey. And the abbesses mostly princesses. _Mon -Dieu!_ they live as such; 'tis a great abbey, as they are great -ladies. Forty years past, Turenne, making his first campaign, -endeavoured to besiege it, and these noble women drove him back so -that he failed." - -"Turenne beaten by women!" murmured Andrew, recalling the great -soldier's career betwixt then and now. "Beaten by women! Think of -it![1] But," turning to Jean, "about this man? He would have robbed -the abbey, you say?" - -"They say so. It is full of precious relics. Gold and jewels, the -bodies of three saints--Amé, Romaric, and Adelphe--and he tried for -some of the treasure; the bodies of the saints he wanted not! But the -ladies caught him and would have broken him on the wheel--only there -was no man to do it, no _bourreau_, and the townspeople would not -without licence from the Duke. Then De Bois-Vallée begged for his life -and saved it--his mother, the lady of the portrait you have, had been -brought up there, might have been _chanoinesse_ if she would." - -"Therefore his steward serves him well?" - -"As his own brother might. If De Bois-Vallée is a devil, so is Armand -Beaujos; if devil's work is to be done he loves to do it. Be sure if -any woman is kept there by his master's orders he will keep her tight." - -"And the other?" - -"A woman. Also a villain, yet true to him. She was his foster-mother, -and they say--but," breaking off, "it may be lies." - -"What do they say?" - -"That this woman loved his father--that, _par consequent_, she hated -his mother. Has said she should have been the old man's wife, the -young one's mother, had things gone well with her." - -"Humph!" said Andrew, "an interesting family, a pleasant house to make -the acquaintance of. Well, it shall be done, nevertheless. Now, Jean, -speed on your way and find out, if you can, if there is any woman -known to be there. Then come back to me." - -"Ay," said Jean, "to-night. To Plombières." - -"To Plombières. What is the auberge you say I may find accommodation -at?" - -"La Tête d'Or. I shall be there to-night. Yet, since you desire to -attract no more attention than necessary, be ready for me in the -street; thereby I am not forced to ask for you. There is a fountain of -good water facing the inn. Look for me there, monsieur. Ere sunset." - -"I will not fail. Neither do you do so. Remember--I have another -purse." - -It had been arranged, when all arose that morning, that it would be -best Andrew should seek some place where he could remain as long as he -desired to be in the neighbourhood; until, as he himself had said, -"the work was done." The work which, as he reflected, meant so much -more now than the slaying of De Bois-Vallée, namely, the finding of -Marion Wyatt, and, if all was as Debrasques had said, the rescuing -her. That was now the first and most important part of what he had to -do, the other would follow in due course. - -Also it was impossible, or almost so, that he should remain in -Gaspard's hut. Soldier, adventurer, as he was, used on occasion to -hard living, he could not stay there; he and his beast would be -starved as the least of evils, while, in case prompt action became -necessary--swift movement on his part one way or another, either in -pursuing De Bois-Vallée should he again elude him, or in fleeing from -him for a time and from any whom he might summon to his assistance, -should Andrew be able to carry off Marion Wyatt from Bois-le-Vaux--the -hut was no suitable place. Therefore he had decided, after taking -counsel with the others, that Plombières must be his abiding place -until the work was done. It was, they said, a quiet little village, -well situated for leaving at any moment, since good roads led to all -four quarters, and, as it was some five miles from Remiremont and two -more from the house on which his attention was fixed, his presence -there was not likely to be known to De Bois-Vallée until he himself -proclaimed it. - -"And meanwhile," he said, "I shall be near enough to him to move at -any moment, near enough to present myself before him when the time -comes. It will do very well." - -And now he and Laurent set forth to descend to that spot whence he -could overlook the house into which he meant ere long to obtain -entrance, the house from which he meant to rescue Marion Wyatt if -things were as he believed and as Debrasques had, by nods and glances -from his sick bed, hinted; the house, or the surroundings of which, he -meant to make the scene of De Bois-Vallée's death. For that it should -be the scene of his own death, that he should fail in what he had set -himself to do, he never permitted himself to imagine. If the idea -arose it was banished as soon as it came. It was, he told himself, an -impossible one. He would not fail! - -Following his guide he passed swiftly down paths that seemed made only -for rabbits, so narrow were they; through groves and copses of oak and -fir trees, from which a sweet, delicious aroma was diffused through -the morning air; and, pushing aside bushes in which the wild raspberry -grew in profusion, though now the fruit was gone, they came at last to -an open space below which was a fringe of more fir trees. - -"We must skirt this," Laurent remarked, "otherwise we may be seen from -the grounds down there. Observe beneath that line of trees," and he -pointed to the fringe below, "the woods and pastures. All those are -his property. If he, or any, are outside the house this morning, none -could pass down this open spot without being seen." - -"Come then," replied Andrew, "let us skirt this glade and so -continue"; whereon, keeping beneath the wood that grew all along the -side, they descended still further. - -A few moments later and they were above the house--looking down on to -the roof and back of it. From where they had thrown themselves flat -after creeping to the very edge of the slope (they being, indeed, so -near the wall which had been built up as a facing to that slope that -they could touch its topmost stones with their hands) they might, as -Laurent had said, have thrown a rolled-up piece of paper on to the -roof. Yet there were full twenty feet between those topmost stones and -the parapet of the house, which was itself some twenty feet lower than -the summit of the wall and lip of the slope! A space wide and yawning, -through which, if any should fall, instant annihilation would await -them at the bottom on the hard stones. A space over which projectiles -might be hurled from cannon or, in older days, from catapult and -warlike engine, but across which neither man nor deer could leap and -hope to reach the other side below. - -"Safe enough from all attack this way," said Andrew, while he gazed -down at the topmost windows of the ancient house, "safe enough. A -regiment might demolish it by firing on it from here, but nought else -would avail. And how many would be picked off by musket ball and -caliver from masked windows and loopholes while doing so? 'Twould be a -perilous attack!" - -"Gaspard's thought is," whispered Laurent, as though fearing their -voices might be carried across the chasm on the morning air, and so -reach any within the gloomy house, "that burning brands cast down on -it at night, when all slept, might easily cause destruction. Observe, -all is of wood above, even the roof. The old man is right. It would -burn well. Must burn well some day!" - -"But not yet," Andrew answered, also in a half whisper. "Remember, the -woman I have come to save is doubtless in this house, held fast. If it -were afire there might be no escape for her." - -"Not yet, perhaps," replied Laurent, "but some day, _a coup sûr!_" - -After this, Andrew busied himself by observing the whole situation of -the house and the approaches to it from various quarters. - -That the lower part of it might well date back to the time of Duke -Thierry was easy to believe; it being built of vast stones that looked -as though Time itself could never destroy nor remove them, and Andrew, -who could see only the back of the house, judged that the front would -be exactly the same, with, he supposed, one huge, iron-studded doorway -in it. Likewise, he pictured to himself small lancet windows, heavily -barred also with iron; windows that swept the great open _place_ in -front of them, and across which not so much as a dog could pass -without being instantly observed! Above this stone basement, the -wooden part began and formed another, or second floor, yet, though of -wood and supported by enormous beams, it looked scarcely more -modern than the lower part. For beams and supports, stanchions and -cross-beams, were all black with age and with the stains of countless -storms, and even the various devices--some with the Cross Florettée -upon them as sign of Crusading ancestors--were almost obliterated now. -Yet, old and weather-beaten as this ancient mansion looked, it -presented to Andrew's gaze a firmness and solidity that appeared -almost impregnable. - -"A house hard to get into," he thought, "if well defended. A house -equally hard to get out of when once in it. Yet, in some way, I will -do both, and, when I attempt the latter, it should go hard if she whom -I believe to be a prisoner here comes not away with me. At least the -attempt shall be made. Ere a week is past I will be inside." - -Then, after sweeping his eye round the woods which bordered this -mansion, he told Laurent he had seen enough for his first view, and -that there was no more to be done at present. - -"But to-night," he added, "if Jean brings to Plombières the news I -want, I may be back again. Only--next time I must see the front of the -house. 'Tis from there the entrance must be obtained, by fair means or -foul 'Tis that which I must reconnoitre to-night when the moon is up. -She rises at eight, I think. Pray heaven there is no fog!" - -"Beware what you do," said Laurent. "If caught and overwhelmed by -numbers, it may go hard with you. He has many whom he can summon to do -his bidding." - -"Bah! I have encountered numbers before and fought my way through -them." - -"That may be so. But, once inside that house, you will have others -than men to contend with. Strong bars and locks; ay, even chains. -Beware." - -"I shall run no risks," replied Andrew, "but if the woman I seek is -there I will reach her. On that I am resolved. Nothing shall thwart -me." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -"A WOMAN IS THERE" - - -Lolling against the doorpost of the yard of "La Tête d'Or" stood -Andrew that evening, watching the sunset, glancing his eye up at the -crimson glow on the top of the mountains behind the village of -Plombières, wishing "Good-night" to any passing peasant who spoke to -him, and occasionally patting some child on the head as it stopped to -gaze at the figure of the great stranger at the inn-yard gate. - -His arrival had caused some little commotion an hour or so before, -when he had ridden up to the door--though not, perhaps, as much as it -would have done had the times been more peaceful. For in such a period -a stranger looking like a soldier, though with no particularly -distinctive marks of his calling about him, would indeed have caused a -fluster in the little village, to which none from the outside world -ever came, except some broken-down, gouty Lorrainer from Nancy or -Epinal, to whom the boiling springs of Plombières were known as -health-giving, since they drove out, or were supposed to drive out, -all the evils produced by wine drinking and gluttony, and gave to -those who partook of them a fresh lease of indulgence. - -But now the village was full of soldiers, men of Lorraine who, since -the Imperialists were going into winter quarters, were straggling back -to their homes, or to where they were billeted, and who, as Andrew -drew rein in front of the door, were engaged in drinking confusion to -the French King, although he was at that present moment master of the -province. For a strange state of things prevailed all through it just -then. The reigning Duke, Charles IV., hated France, and fought against -her under De Bournonville and Montecuculi, while, at the same time, -Louis called himself King over Lorraine, and, although most of the -nobility followed the Duke with their dependants and threw in their -fortunes with his, there were some who, being discontented, espoused, -and had done so for some time, the cause of France. Amongst these was -De Bois-Vallée, who had been French from interest, if not from -feeling, since 1670, when Louis's proclamation of his sovereignty over -Lorraine had been made. Yet, had Turenne not prevented the -Imperialists from advancing across the Vosges, the French claim to -possess the department would have been even more hollow than it -actually was at the moment, and the local champions of France would -have been in a dangerous position. Indeed, they were in a dangerous -one now, since, should the Austrian allies finally defeat the Marshal, -Charles--who never forgave!--would probably ruin, if he did not -destroy, every subject who had espoused the French cause. - -"Is the gallant gentleman on his road home from the campaign?" asked a -gigantic Lorrainer who stood at the entrance to the inn-yard as Andrew -rode up, a man who wore the cognizance of De Vaudemont on breast and -hat. "For sure he is a soldier." - -"For sure he is," replied Andrew briefly. "Yet not on his way home at -present," and he dismounted from his horse as he spoke. - -"Ay! that I see, or rather hear by your accent. You," said the -soldier, "are no Lorrainer." - -"Friend," replied Andrew, facing him, "have I said I am?" while, -with something very like a sneer, he added, "there are other forces -engaged in this campaign, I understand, as well as the inhabitants -of your province. Also Providence--doubtless in a moment of -forgetfulness!--made other countries besides Lorraine. I myself belong -to one almost as small--so small, indeed, that probably you never -heard the name of it." - -"I have been to school--what is the name of this little country?" - -"England," and, as Andrew answered, he unceremoniously pushed by the -man, who was bigger than himself, and jeopardized his great feet as he -led his horse over them. - -"Figure to yourselves," Andrew heard this fellow say to some comrades -half an hour later, as he sat eating a meal the landlord had placed -before him, after providing him with a room in the roof and a stall -for his horse, "figure to yourselves, he is an Englishman, and a -surly one at that." Whereon he narrated his little interview with -Andrew--who calmly went on demolishing part of a pasty and drinking -his wine without glancing at him--and concluded by saying he believed -he had fought on the French side. To all of which the other vouchsafed -no attention until he heard the Lorrainer growl--he being now well in -his cups!--that he was afraid he would have to chastise the -Englishman. - -Then Andrew looked over to him across the room, put out his fork -carelessly, and tapped the hilt of his sword with its double prong. - -"Thirty-eight inches in length, friend," he said. "What length is -yours?" - -Whereon the group to whom the man was talking burst into a roar of -laughter, and, clapping the giant on the shoulder, bade him not be a -fool. - -After that, however, they left him alone, perhaps because he looked -dangerous, perhaps because they knew that an assault upon the stranger -might go hard with them if the Syndic or the Prince de Vaudemont heard -of it. Louis--the great King, the man who, although they served him -not, had a terrible reputation amongst them--had been in the -neighbourhood not long before, and had won the hearts of many by his -graciousness. For, contrary to the ways of the Duke, he had told them -that he perfectly well understood that their sympathies were not with -him, and that he would not take it ill if they bestowed their swords -where their consciences prompted them. Also he had bidden the -Marquises de Maraucourt and de Beauvau join the Imperialists since -they desired to do so, and had publicly praised the Prince de -Vaudemont for the manner in which he had defended Besançon against -him. - -Therefore they knew that it would go badly with them if De Vaudemont -heard they had outraged in his land--he being the Duke's son--any man -serving the French King. And, later, they were all drinking together, -and paying chopine for chopine as though they had been comrades -fighting side by side, instead of serving against each other--though -Andrew's first acquaintance seemed still a little sore at his -raillery. - -But, as the sun dipped towards Le Marne, Andrew, who had kept his head -cool, and whose potations had been of the slightest, put on his -sword-belt and strolled towards the inn door. It was the time when -Jean should be near at hand. - -He had not leaned long against the inn door, bidding, as has been -said, good-night to passers-by who spoke civilly to him, when down the -street he perceived the man approaching--on the other side where the -water from the fountain ran. On which he advanced to it, and, as Jean -came up, lifted the iron cup and drank a draught of the cool, fresh -water. - -"Well?" he asked, as he handed it afterwards to the other. "Well? What -have you discovered?" - -"A woman is there," Jean replied, holding the cup himself in a -nonchalant manner under the spout, as anyone might do who desired to -drink. "Has been there, my cousin says, for more than a year." - -"Ha! Is she a prisoner?" - -"He thinks so. He has never seen her, yet----" - -"Yes!" - -"Others have. Have seen her face at a window." - -"At what part of the house?" - -"The top. On the front. A woman pale as death and sad. They say she -has made signs to those who have approached near, yet has never been -able to communicate with any. Once she threw a paper down, but Armand -Beaujos secured it. He could tell me no more." - -"And De Bois-Vallée? Is he there?" - -"He does not know. He was a week ago, and my cousin saw him. Since, he -has not seen him." - -"Does your cousin know what men there are in or about the house?" - -"I know," Jean replied. Whereon, peasant-like, he began to count upon -his fingers. - -"First," he said, "the wolf himself, if he is there. Next, Beaujos, -the steward. Then, one, two, three, four serving-men--_ma foi!_ I -cannot think of more. Outside, those who attend to the horses and -dogs, away in the _écurie_." - -"Where is this _écurie?_" - -"Near the house, to the right of it. There are no more." - -"There is your cousin." - -"Oh! for him, he counts not. He sleeps not there, but in Remiremont, -to the other side. Also, I have spoken to him. Told him danger -threatens the wolf. He is glad; he hates him, too." - -"Is he safe?" - -"Safe! _Mon Dieu!_ He is of my blood. We all hate him. He will say no -word." - -After that Andrew bade the man good-night, making an appointment with -him for the next evening at the same hour. - -But before they parted, he said: "Remember this. If I am not here, if -you can glean no news of me, I shall be dead. Otherwise, I shall -return. And, if I come not back, then you must wreak your vengeance on -him and his house as beseems you all best. Only--remember the woman. -Save her if you can. It will be worth your while. She is of good blood -in my land; if you can restore her to her father you will be made men -for life. I guarantee it. Will you do this?" - -"In truth I will. Does monsieur give that message to Laurent and to -Gaspard too!" - -"To all who hate him, De Bois-Valle." - -"_Ma foi!_ they are many," while, hearing sounds of revelry proceeding -from the inn door and windows, he, glancing over towards the house, -broke off, and said: "Who are inside? They are gay and joyous." - -"Men of De Vaudemont's service. Carousing at going into winter -quarters----" - -"De Vaudemont's! service De Vaudemont's service!" He repeated, nodding -his head. "So--so!" and again he nodded. - -"What strikes you?" Andrew asked. "What is it?" - -"He," whispered Jean, "he--the Vicomte--was under De Vaudemont once, -then joined France, and, 'tis thought--we have always thought so -here--gave information that helped the French generals to take many -places round about. _Corbleu!_ If some of De Vaudemont's men could -catch him, they--they--well!" and he laughed and used a local -expression, "they would not kiss him." - -"Are they, these men belonging to the Prince, of this neighbourhood?" -asked Andrew, struck by a sudden idea, "or only passing through to -their homes. What think you?" - -"How can I tell? I hear their voices all jangling together, but can -distinguish none. They sing," he said, "a song of the _pays_ all the -same--but then we all sing that." And he bent his right ear towards -the Tête d'Or, whence was issuing, amidst the clinking of glasses and -other sounds, the refrain of "_Lorraine, Lorraine, ma douce patrie_." - -"Go in and see," said Andrew; "drink a cup with them, you may know -some." - -And as Jean, seemingly nothing loth, entered the inn, Andrew strolled -up and down in the darkness that had now set in. - -He could not judge from the sounds that arose as the song finished -whether they were applause and excitement at the performance, or a -welcome extended by the returned soldiers to an old friend, but after -waiting a quarter of an hour or, perhaps, less, Jean returned--wiping -his mouth on his sleeve--and instantly said: - -"Four are of this neighbourhood. One of Plombières itself, another of -Fougerolles, another of Aillevillers, a fourth from the Val d'Ajol." - -"Who is the biggest of all--one bigger than I? With a great beard? Do -you know him?" - -"He--he is from Aillevillers, hard by. Pierre Lupin. Ho! -_figurez-vous_, if he thought De Bois-Vallée was here he would spit -him like a lark, or hug him to death in those great arms. Lupin was in -his troop when the Vicomte rode captain under De Vaudemont, and was -badly treated. If he only knew--nay, if all the four only knew." - -"Yet," said Andrew, "let them not think so yet. I command you. -Later--if I come not back--then enlist them in the service of -vengeance. And, for this Lupin--tell him that the Englishman who -offended him has been slain by De Bois-Vallée. He and I had a few -words together, yet that passed--is drowned in a cup. And he seems a -brave and honest soldier--he will forget our difference. Remember, -however, tell them nothing as yet." - -"I will remember," answered Jean, repeating his lesson; "if you come -not back soon, the wolf's house will meet its fate. Also, we will -remember there is a woman to be saved. Fear not!" Whereon they -separated. - -The moon hung rusty in the heavens half an hour later, proclaiming -that there was mist between her and the earth, as Andrew rode slowly -up the ascent of the pass which lay between Plombières and Remiremont. -Yet it was a good night, too, for the errand he was on, one of -inspection of the house of his enemy, into which he meant later to -obtain entrance somehow; a night on which a figure keeping well in the -shadow could be screened from observation. A night in which, he -thought, he might draw near enough to the house to examine the front -and the other two sides he had been unable to see from the summit of -the wall beneath the slope, at the back of the mansion. To examine, -also, if there was any way by which silent entry might be obtained, -though, even as he reflected on this, his mind turned and turned again -to that wall and slope. - -"I could make entrance thus I am sure, and doubly sure," he pondered, -"could attain at least that roof. A rope tied round my body and -lowered from the top of the wall until level with the top of the -house, then a lusty thrust with my feet, as a swimmer thrusts against -a bank to propel himself--and I should be there. So! that would be -easy enough. But how to return, and with the burden of a woman--one -who may be small, but, again, may be big? How to do that? 'Tis a -yawning chasm--I should scarce dare look down the height myself!--no -woman, unless she had nerves of brass, would ever consent to pass it. -Yet she may hate her imprisonment so much that even that would not -appal her." - -He was armed now to the fullest extent possible; his great sword of -course by his side, his "back-and-breast" on, a pistol in his belt. He -knew the undertaking he was upon was full of danger, and that, from -the moment he entered the estate of Bois-le-Vaux, he would be in -direst peril. For that De Bois-Vallée would cause him to be slain -without giving him any opportunity of defence, and without meeting him -in fair fight, he never doubted; nay, he felt very sure that, if the -chance came in his enemy's way, he would slay him treacherously, -wherever they might meet. How much more certain then his fate if he -should be caught on the villain's own land, and with the villain's own -creatures to do his bidding! - -But such reflections as these troubled him not a jot, and when, on -rising the summit of the Little Pass, he saw Remiremont lying under -the clear rays of the moon, which had now freed herself from the mists -below, he gave his horse rein and rode on swiftly to the town. - -The town from which a road branched off that, a little further, would -bring him beneath the mountains, and to the spot where the woman was -whom he had vowed to rescue. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -THE SLEEPERS - - -An hour later and Andrew Vause was slowly making his way through a -deep wood of chestnuts that fringed the property of De Bois-Vallée, -and which lay between the open _place_ in front of the mansion and the -side road along which he had come from the southern entrance to -Remiremont. - -From the beginning, from the moment he knew he was outside -Bois-le-Vaux, he had been forced to recognize that no chances were -omitted for rendering the property what it was, and what it had in all -probability been since first constructed in the time of Duke Thierry, -namely, a strongly guarded and protected place. Inside the road, -between the chestnut wood and the road itself, ran a high stone -wall--the mountains above providing the stones for that as well as for -the house itself--which was two feet above Andrew's tall head, and -which at first presented the appearance of being insurmountable. Yet -this was not the case, as very shortly the adventurous soldier proved. - -Having tied his horse to a tree, he, from its back, soon clambered on -to the summit of the wall, and then (since, inside, the copse of -chestnuts grew close up to it) lowered himself by a branch to the -ground. He stood, therefore, within the place which held his enemy and -the woman whom that enemy kept prisoner, as he believed. - -But, because he was a wary adventurer who knew that now his life hung -by the veriest thread if discovered, he lost no opportunity of making -himself safe, and no sooner was he within the place than he took steps -to provide for his exit. - -"It may come to a rush for escape," he thought, "to the necessity for -reaching the horse's back the moment I am on the wall--let's see for a -mark to guide me," whereon he paused and looked around for something -that should give him a clue to the exact spot where he had left the -steed. He was not long in finding one. - -Through the copse, or fringe of chestnuts that ran parallel with the -wall, he saw that there were one or two small paths which crossed each -other at intervals, some following the line of the wall itself, and -some running directly forward from it. Paths used doubtless by the -woodmen and trappers of small game, such as hares and rabbits; and, -walking carefully along one of those that ran from the wall, he -finding it close to his feet, he emerged soon into an open grassy -space. And here he discovered the mark that should direct him back -safely to the spot outside of which the horse was tethered; namely, -three small trees scarce better than saplings, yet standing out clear -and distinct in the full flood of the moon's light, and casting a long -shadow beneath them on to the grass. - -"It will do very well," he thought. "I cannot miss these trees once I -regain this glade," after which he drew his sword, carrying it -henceforth naked in his hand, clasped half-way down, and, thus -prepared, skirted the chestnut copse as he made his way towards where -he knew the house stood. - -As he progressed he noticed how intense the silence was on this still -October night; so intense, indeed, that his own footsteps on the now -fast falling leaves, which each breath of air brought down about him, -seemed loud to his ears. Also the creeping of anything in the copse, -such as a mouse, or the rustling of a disturbed bird in the branches -above, could be distinctly heard. But beyond these sounds nothing -else; no barking of dog nor neigh of horse. Nothing. All as still as -death! - -"But that I keep ever before my eyes the memory of Philip's broken -life, the knowledge, which I now believe myself to possess, that this -woman whom I go to rescue has been as treacherously betrayed as he, I -would be on no such secret quest as this," he thought. "This midnight -skulking is not to my taste. Were it not for her safety, I should be -hammering at his door, calling to him to come forth and try -conclusions man to man with me, smiting him before all his following. -Yet, to save her, I must do it thus." And, again, stealthily and -cautiously he pursued his way beneath the shadow of the trees. - -And still all was as silent as before, except that now the wind rose a -little more and rustled the leaves, and brought them down in bigger -handfuls. A wind that blew towards the house to which he was slowly -making his way. - -He was near it soon, however, after having progressed for something -like a quarter of an hour; already above him he could see its wooden -upper portion rising higher than the trees, with, above that, the -topmost slopes of the mountains. He was very near now! Then, suddenly, -the woods finished, he was on the eastern side of the great open -_place_--paved, he plainly observed, with great cobble stones that -were worn very smooth by time, and also, doubtless, with the passage -of many feet, both of horse and man, during the centuries. For that -the great _place_ had been the rendezvous of all the followers of the -De Bois-Vallées, of those who had gone forth with them to countless -wars, and those who had assembled there for merriment and rejoicing, -was certain. - -Now, it was empty, deserted; across its surface nothing passed but the -shadow of some cloud that occasionally scurried beneath the moon; it -seemed almost as if the house was deserted also. - -Yet Andrew, keeping himself well within the darkness of the wood which -ran close up to where the cobble-stoning of the place began, or ended, -saw at once that such was not the case. In the topmost floor of -wood--there being two--a light glimmered--and threw a dull glare out; -a light shielded by some curtain, or hanging, which obscured the rays. -"It may be hers," he thought, "nay, must. It is the position Jean -spoke of. On the top, to the front. Yet the room from which it comes -is unattainable from the outside at least." And again he said to -himself as he had said before, "It will be from the back, from across -the chasm I must reach that room--as I shall reach it. It is the only -way." - -For that he would reach it somehow he was resolved--that he should -fail to do so he never considered. Not unless he was killed that night -would he fail. - -In truth, none could have attained the room in which the light burned, -from the front. There was no foothold by which a cat could have -climbed to it from the outside; naught but a bird could have gone -straight to that small window. The lower part of the house stared out -blank and unrelieved by any ornament or window-sill, or other -projection by which one might mount; the huge arch, which formed the -frame of the one great door, was unadorned by any moulding or -decoration that would assist either foot or hand. All was bare wall, -except for slits of windows no bigger, than eyelets, with sloping -sills, and the door. Above, on the wooden floors, there were -outstanding beams and stanchions by which an agile man might perhaps -have raised himself, but those wooden floors were thirty feet from the -ground and unreachable. - -From the great door there came also two strips of light, one from -beneath it, the other a bright ray that seemed to the man regarding it -from afar as though proceeding from some huge keyhole. - -"If," he thought, as still he watched and saw this flow of the light, -"it can stream out thus, an eye placed to the orifice can see in. Mine -shall be that eye. I will not return until I have observed what hall -it is from which that ray proceeds," and, as he spoke, he drew from -his belt a pistol, saw to its priming, and carefully shook fresh -powder into the pan, then returned it to its place and made ready for -his task. Yet he did not hesitate to acknowledge to himself that, if -his footfall outside was heard by any who might be within--if that -door should open while he was outside it--his life would possibly -cease on the instant. The hall might be half full of armed men, and -of them he could possibly kill two; the rest would undoubtedly kill -him--bury a dozen swords or daggers in his breast. - -But, even as he so reflected, he was on his way to see what was beyond -that ray of light; was, under the shadow of the half-leafless trees, -creeping up the copse until he stood level with the face of the house, -and with its left angle to his side. Then, on tiptoe and keeping close -to that bare face, he passed along it until he reached the huge door -and stood on the half-moon of flagged stones before it, so that the -light from underneath played on his feet, and the light from the great -keyhole made a luminous star upon his breast. - -He prayed his knees would not crack as he bent down to put his eye to -the hole--even such a slight noise as that might suffice to betray his -presence; he did not venture even to put his fingers to the door to -aid his stooping position--without their support he brought his body -down so that his eye was close to, and level with, the hole, and, -thus, looked in. - -At first his sight was blurred by gazing into the light, then, -gradually, he became able to see and to distinguish clearly what was -within. - -In a well in the middle of a great hall, so vast that fifty men at -least might have sat at table there, and fifty more have found room to -walk about and wait on them, there burnt a log fire, the embers low -and charred now, and lurid, as though they had not been put together -for some time. Around this fire five men sat in deep wooden chairs, -all of them asleep, or seeming so. One, he who had the largest and -most comfortable seat, appeared by his dress to be superior to the -rest, he having on a dark blue coat, passemented with galloon, a satin -waistcoat, and knee breeches of the same. Also, there was a wig upon -his head--thrust somewhat awry by the movement of his shoulders as he -slumbered--a wig that had not been powdered nor combed for many a day, -and was thus of a dirty brown and touzled. An elderly man this, with a -red, blotched face, coarse thick lips, and--as he slept--of a frowning -aspect; a man big and brawny, too, as Andrew could well see; one who, -although no longer young, might be a difficult antagonist in an -encounter. - -"Doubtless the steward, Beaujos," Andrew thought; then scanned the -others. - -These were fellows clad half as serving and half as fighting men, it -seemed, wearing leathern jerkins of a period somewhere earlier than -the present; coarse, baggy breeches and rough hose, and with their own -hair, matted and thick, hanging about their heads. They carried in -their belts knives in wooden sheaths in contradistinction to the -other, whose sword lay on the table by his hand. On that table, too, -Andrew could see, was a great flagon, doubtless drained of its -contents ere they slept, and some cups; also a lamp from which the -light came that streamed forth into the night. And still there were -two other sleepers in that great hall--though sleepers less sound than -these five. They, instead of being round the fire in the well, by the -side of which, indeed, no room had been left for them by the men, lay -at the foot of the huge broad staircase that led up from the left of -the hall, yet were still in Andrew's range of vision. And he, looking -at them, knew that here was a greater danger to him than might come -from the others. - -They were two enormous hounds--half boarhounds, as it appeared to him -gazing in through the keyhole, of the sort much used in Alsace and -Lorraine, and all the region; yet, it seemed also, as though with -something of the bloodhound, too, since their great heads rose -conical, and their huge ears swept the ground. - -"I must away," said Andrew to himself, "there is danger here. By -heavens! my presence is known to them already." Yet, with that danger -which now threatened him--as it had not threatened from the other -sleepers--impending near, he felt himself fascinated by the monstrous -creatures. - -Impending very near, since he had divined the truth when he said to -himself that they knew of his presence already. He saw one--the -female, he thought, since she was longer and leaner than the -other--slowly lift her head as a snake lifts its head ere it -strikes--the snout raised sniffing towards the roof of the hall, the -ears drooping to the paved floor. And the bloodshot eyes cast -backwards, the shift of those eyes around the hall, proclaimed what -would happen next. A roar of alarm, a warning to those who slumbered -still. - -"Away," Andrew muttered, "away!" and, as he spoke to himself, he slid -swiftly along the wall and regained the copse. - -Not a moment too soon! There came a deep, sharp yap from the dog; an -instant after another from her mate, and then the roar from each -throat. Almost it seemed to Andrew as he withdrew that he heard the -patter of the great paws upon the flagged floor as the dogs rushed to -the door; almost it seemed as though their great forms were hurled -against it, they striving for egress. - -And he heard other sounds ere he was gone from outside that -door--those from the human throats within! - -First the voice of the man he supposed to be Beaujos, shouting: - -"Awake, you vagabonds, awake! Hark to the dogs! Unbar the door. Heaven -and earth, there are some without! 'Tis sure! Unbar, I say." - -Also, he heard cries from the men themselves, the clatter of their -wooden-shod feet upon the flags--of this there was no doubt--a grating -noise in the great lock, and a thumping sound as though some ponderous -transverse wooden bar had been thrown back to admit of the door being -opened. - -And, from where he was, he could perceive now a vast body of light -streaming out into, and mixing with, that of the moon, could hear the -deep-mouthed bay of the hounds broken by short angry barks. - -From where he was by this time, namely, passing swiftly down to the -open spot where the three saplings grew, pushing branches large and -small aside, trampling down the wet leaves and sodden grass, he prayed -fervently that he might reach the spot outside where his horse stood -ere they found him. For, brave man as he was, and ready to face a -dozen, or a score, of human foes, his blood curdled in him at the -thought of those ferocious fangs tearing him to pieces; the thought of -the hot breath of the brutes in his face as they sprang at his throat -and dragged him to the earth. - -"Any number of men," he said, "and armed to the teeth I can face and -laugh at, but five men and two hounds such as those---nay, I am no -coward to avoid them." - -Yet, even as those thoughts coursed through his brain, he shuddered -and his flesh crept. The deep bays had ceased; so, too, the equally -deep barks; but now he heard another and a more fearsome sound in -their place. A sound of snorting, of heavy soughing, low down on the -earth, mingled with the crushing and snapping of brush and underwood. - -He knew what those sounds meant. - -The hounds had found his trail, were on the scent. - -There was no doubt of it, there could be no chance of doubt--a glance -back over his shoulder showed him it was so. Close to the ground, not -fifty paces off, were sparkling two pairs of beautifully green -circles. Those circles were the eyes of the dogs that were tracking -him, as they glistened in the darkness of the wood. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -WHERE IS DE BOIS-VALLÉE? - - -Andrew thanked God for one thing! He was near the wall, near the spot -outside which the horse stood. Down through an opening a little way -ahead of him he could see the three trees--the shadow which they cast -being directly under them now as the moon rose higher--a hundred feet -to the left, and there was the wall and the branches of the tree by -which he had descended! But--could he reach them? - -The dogs were nearer now--their eyes scintillating less as they -approached more closely, but their grunting and soughing as they -sniffed the earth more distinct. They would be upon him soon--in -another moment or so--and then! - -Still, he ran as hard as the thick growth of the trees and the -underbrush would allow him; once he stumbled and nearly fell, -recovered himself, and, as he did so, saw them--saw their dark forms -close behind him! Yet, now, he was near the spot where safety lay. -Only--he was too late! - -As they rushed at him he sprang behind a tree--it would save him for -an instant!--and one of the brutes tore past it ahead of its -companion, and went on some paces ere it could stop the impetus it had -upon it. The other came full at him. - -"Now," he murmured, "now, God give me courage!" and as the beast came -he thrust full with his sword at its breast, and just as it reared to -drag him down. Then he felt his weapon torn from his grasp, wrenched -from out that great brawny hand as no human foe had ever yet had power -to wrench it--but it was by the falling body of the hound, pierced -through and through. The good sword had entered the animal's breast -and come out close by its spine; as the dog fell, with a hideous roar, -the weight of its body carried the sword within that body to the -earth. Yet, he knew there was no time to waste; in spite of the dying -creature's snappings and plungings at him--its ferocity as great in -death, if not greater, as in life--he must regain his sword. Otherwise -he would have to use the pistol on the second dog, and thereby give a -signal to the men, whom the beasts had far outstripped, as to his -whereabouts. - -By the grace of heaven the dying creature had fallen on its back, the -hilt of his sword protruded from its chest; in a moment he had seized -it and drawn it forth--never before had Andrew been forced to so exert -his strength to release his weapon from the body of a prostrate foe! -It seemed as though it were wedged in wood! But, now, he was ready for -the other! And, leaping back, he stood on his guard against those -monstrous claws and the hideous white fangs that gleamed in what light -there was; the body of the convulsive creature between him and the -other hound. - -Yet there happened that which he could not have hoped for--could never -have dreamt of nor anticipated. His wildest expectations, even had he -had time to think in those exciting moments, could never have pictured -this. - -The animal--it was the female--paused in its onward rush -astonished--almost, it would appear, dismayed--at the sight -of its fallen companion; then walked round it--crawled round it, -indeed--sniffing, and lifting its head next, and emitting a loud and -long howl. It seemed as if its agony was so great that all else was -forgotten--even Andrew, its quarry. - -Slowly, therefore, he backed away from it, keeping ever his eye upon -the moaning, grief-stricken creature--taking care, too, that his -reeking sword was ready for thrusting out at any sudden attack made, -and also taking care to have ever some tree in front of him as he -retreated, which might ward off for the moment any rapid rush. Yet, -moving swiftly backwards all the time, for now he heard other sounds -coming near--the sounds of men talking hurriedly to each other and -calling the names of the hounds; above all others, the harsh rasping -voice of Beaujos, if it were he, being the most distinct. - -At last his back was to the wall that bounded the domain. Propelling -himself sideways along it, and facing always towards the quarter -whence the attack must come if renewed by the stricken beast, he felt -the leather of his jacket scraping against the tendrils of the ivy -with which the wall was overgrown; a few more seconds and he was by -the tree that had helped him to descend. And his horse whinnied as he -sent a whispered word over the wall to it--whinnied and moved; he -could hear its hoofs striking the earth as though the creature -rejoiced at his return. - -Another moment and he would be safe. His hands were on the lower -branches; he was drawing himself up level with the top of the wall, -when there came an awful roar and the crash of the dog's great body -tearing through the brush after him, while an instant later it had -reached the spot--was close by the escaping man. And the horse, -affrighted by these sounds, neighed piteously in its terror. - -But Andrew was safe. As the huge jaws clashed together at the same -time that the hound sprang at him, and, missing his mark, hurled -itself heavily against the wall in its onrush--while, at the same -time, it uttered a grunt of pain--he was on the ledge. Another -instant, and he was in the saddle. Another, and the bridle chains were -clanking and his saddle creaking merrily as he went down the road and -left behind him the noise of the yelling and shouting of the five -men--caused, doubtless, by the discovery of the dead hound. - -He wiped the sweat from off his face and hands as he rode along, while -inwardly he sent up a devout prayer of thanksgiving for his -preservation. - -"Heaven defend me from such another encounter," he muttered. "It is -too much! Henceforward, send me only men, not brutes." Yet, because he -loved all animals--especially those of the noblest orders--his heart -was sore within him, both at the slaying of the first hound and at the -pitiable grief of its mate. "I have killed a nobler creature than the -master it owned; at least, it faced me, rushed boldly to its fate--but -where is that shrinking, unworthy master? May fortune grant that, when -next I see him, my sword makes as clean a passage through his breast -as through that of his dog." - -Where was his foe? He had pondered upon that more than once since the -time he had brought his eye to the large and worn keyhole, and had -seen through it only that foe's menials. Where? Surely if he had been -in his house he must have been aroused by the baying of the dogs and -the excitement and noise of his servants--must have joined in the -search made by them. Yet, of all the voices, Andrew had not heard his. - -"He must be away--for some reason he has not remained here long--what -does it mean? Did he fly his post by Turenne's side for other purposes -than his fear of me, and of what he imagined I had learnt--does he -even dread now to remain in his own fortress--for such it almost is! -It must be so. Had he been there to-night the turmoil would surely -have roused him--brought him forth--and----" at which thought Andrew -smiled. "He could not have suspected I was there, however. Even his -men can but have supposed the intruder was some midnight thief, or -poacher, creeping about the house." - -He passed through Remiremont as it lay sleeping quietly under the -moon's rays, and with no light glimmering from any windows except that -of the inn--from which, even now, at midnight, came forth the eternal -chant of "_Lorraine, Lorraine, ma douce patrie_," and he would have -given something considerable for a drink of wine, or even of water, to -quench the thirst which his late adventure had created. But he knew he -must forego it until he reached Plombières--the road he was upon came -only from Bois-le-Vaux; to halt here would be to give a clue as to -what kind of man had been within its precincts that night, should -inquiry be made the next day. - -Instead, therefore, he went quietly by the auberge, riding slowly so -as to make no more clatter than necessary, and looking carefully as he -passed to see if any face came to the window or any form to the door. -But none did; the provincial song drowned the sound of the horse's -hoofs, and he went through the village unheeded. - -And then, once on the little pass that led from Remiremont to -Plombières, he put his animal to the trot again, and so reached the -latter place as the church clock tolled one, finding some of De -Vaudemont's men still drinking and singing, and some lying about on -the settles and benches, their carousals over for that occasion. - -In the morning he told Jean--who had spent the night in Plombières at -another inn with some acquaintances who were also back from the war -for the winter--all that had happened to him, and the latter appeared -much struck by the encounter with the hounds. Yet, he shook his head, -too, on hearing of the conclusion of the adventure, and muttered a few -words as to the effect of its being "a pity." - -"What is a pity?" asked Andrew, looking up from his plate. They were -alone now, for most of the De Vaudemont men had already set out for -the outlying villages to which they belonged, others were not yet -risen, and others, still, were wandering about Plombières chatting -with friends and acquaintances, and beginning another day of -wassailing. Therefore, they had the living-room of the inn to -themselves. - -"What is a pity?" - -"That also you did not slay the second dog, I know the breed, though I -knew not that the _scélérat_, De Bois-Vallée, possessed any. They are -mountain dogs--old Cantecroix--whose daughter was affianced, if not -married, to the Duke--some do say that she was his lawful wife--bred -them, up at Gerardmer. One scarce knows, though, what this strain -is--the old man would never tell--but they are terribly fierce, as -monsieur has learned. Also, their scent is remarkable; they never -forget those they have once smelt, and----" - -But here he broke off and put a question. - -"Monsieur intends to visit Bois-le-Vaux again?" - -"Without doubt I do. Only, next time in a different way." - -"You should have slain the other. She will remember you." - -"_Peste_, man! how could I slay her? I was on the branch--on the -wall--as she reached me; my sword is not a mile long, and it would -have been folly to shoot. The men were near; the report would have -brought them to us--and I was saved. That was enough." - -"All the same, 'tis a pity. The dog should be dead ere monsieur goes -again. Of a surety she will smell him out if he is in or about the -house. And, when she scents him, she will go nigh mad in her desire to -reach him; will make noise enough to wake the dead." - -"Humph!" said Andrew. "Perhaps 'tis a pity, too, since such is the -case. Yet, 'tis too late now. There is nothing to be done." - -"Ho, la, la!" exclaimed the other, "'tis not yet too late. She can be -made away with. There are more ways than one of killing a dog." - -For a minute or so Andrew reflected on the man's words. Reflected, -because it was repugnant to him that the creature should be put out of -the way--a creature who, although a brute, was a noble one. Yet, must -her life stand in the way of what he had to accomplish--must he spare -the hound and, thereby, fail in what he had to do, namely, to find his -way to Marion Wyatt, to avenge his brother? No! If the animal stood -between him and his task, better she perished a hundred times--better -a hundred noble animals perished than that he should fail. - -"She is certain to remember me--to discover my presence there when I -return--you think?" he asked, still touched with regret at the -necessity for her fate. - -"I do not think. I am sure." - -"How to do it, then?" - -"Leave that to me, I will do it. To-day, I will go to my cousin--we -had best know what they conclude from the affray last night--and then -I shall find my chance. To-morrow, or the day after, the dog will have -gone to join its mate. When next you visit Bois-le-Vaux you will not -have her to contend with for one." - -Andrew would not ask him in what way the creature was to be destroyed, -though he imagined it was by the simple method of poison; he preferred -that he should simply learn later that it was removed from his path. -He had seen enough of the alertness of both it and its mate to -thoroughly understand how keen their senses were--they had discovered -his presence outside on the _place_ when not one of the human sleepers -had been disturbed; also, he had had solid proofs of their fierceness. -And, if now, to that fierceness and that keenness, was to be added -also the certainty that the dog would be doubly alert through its -previous knowledge of him, it must be removed. The lives of countless -noble hounds must not stand in his way, he thought again. - -"So," he said, therefore, "it must be. Let me know ere I go there once -more that it is done. Also, bid Laurent meet me here as soon as may -be. I have work for him--need his assistance." - -"To enter Bois-le-Vaux--the house this time, perhaps?" - -"Ay, the house this time." - -"You do not count nor dread the risk?" - -"I dread nothing. As for counting, it is done. I count my life against -the undertaking. One or the other will rise uppermost. Either the -undertaking succeeds, or I fail. If I fail, the price of failure will -be, must be, death." - -"Monsieur is very brave," said Jean, looking at him with eyes full of -admiration. - -"He is very determined," Andrew answered. "That is all." - -"And," the man asked, after a moment's pause, "the instructions are -the same? If you come not back soon--in a day or so--we are to be sure -you are dead? Then, to take our own way." - -"Remembering always the woman's safety." - -"That always." - -After which Andrew told him there was one other thing he desired to -know ere paying his next visit to the house, namely, where De -Bois-Vallée was! If that could be discovered it would be useful -intelligence to him. Did he think he could find out? - -He could try, at least, Jean said. And, though gone, he might be able -to find out where the Vicomte was. He could, he thought, discover -whether he was at home or not. - -"Do that," said Andrew, "and it will suffice." - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -ACROSS THE CHASM - - -"The moon," said Andrew, "is past her full, therefore she will not -rise until close upon eleven. Now is the time." - -He was seated in the general room, or parlour, of La Tête d'Or, and -opposite to him was Laurent--it being the third day after his visit to -Bois-le-Vaux. - -He had the inn to himself now, as far as regarded visitors, since all -of De Vaudemont's service, as well as several other Lorrainers who had -returned with their masters from the campaign, had by this time gone -to their respective homes. Yet, to some of them a hint had been -given--a whisper sent round--that one of those who were most hated -amongst the seigneurie might ere long be brought to his account, and -that, if they desired to participate in the knowledge of what was -happening, they should let Jean know their whereabouts. - -"For," said he, over many an ale-house table in various villages -around, "there may be some brave doings ere long--doings in which some -of you may like to share. There are many of us who have had our noses -to the grindstone a long while--many who have eaten hard bread so that -those who have dominated us should feed well--some, too, whose -hearths have been made desolate. Well! it may so happen now--God, -He only knows!--that there will be one more hearth desolated soon. -That--well!--that the oppressor shall have no hearth to warm himself -at." - -He had given many other hints, too--accompanied by divers winks and -nods and shrugs, common to peasants of his class--hints that there -might be a house to be burnt down and so forth; a fearful retaliation -to be made on one whom they, in that part of Lorraine, had come to -regard as a pest and curse; a man who was a traitor to all their -traditions; one who--this being in the eyes of many the worst crime -possible--had given in his allegiance to France. - -And in the telling of all this he had so inflamed the imagination of -his hearers--rude soldiers, mostly, who had been born and nurtured -in the one idea that, above all other things, France was never to -be permitted to enfold in her grasp their fair province of -Lorraine--that, at any moment, they would be willing to rise and wreak -their vengeance on the man at whom Jean hinted. And, their curiosity -being also much aroused, as was natural enough, they tried hard to -extract from him the name of the identical seigneur against whom such -retaliation would probably be practised. This, however, he would not -divulge--having been warned by Andrew and Laurent on no account to do -so--and, thereby, inflamed their imagination the more! So that, when -he left them, he did so knowing that they were fully primed to join at -any moment in any attack to which they might be summoned, should the -necessity arise; both he and Laurent believing in their own minds that -that opportunity would not be long in coming. - -For, though both these men considered that it was most probable Andrew -would obtain the entrance to the mansion of Bois-le-Vaux which he -desired, neither of them thought he would ever return or escape from -that mansion alive. And, with him destroyed, there would be no further -necessity for delaying the project on which they and others had long -meditated--the project of destroying and razing to the ground the -ancient home of the De Bois-Vallées. Therefore, the warning to those -others had gone forth; they were bidden to be ready. - -"So," said Laurent now, in answer to Andrew's remark, "it is to be -to-night?" - -"It is to-night. If all goes well I shall be in the house by ten -o'clock, and out of it again an hour later with, I trust and pray, the -lady safely rescued." - -"I pray so," Laurent answered. But again he whispered to himself, as -he had done before, that the English stranger would never return -alive. He would be caught, discovered by some of the servitors--men -thoroughly in their master's interests, since he at any moment could -send them to the gallows-tree for past offences--and would be set upon -and slain. Yet, when he told Andrew this, the other turned a deaf ear -to him--refused to believe in such peril. - -"There are five," he replied, "since their master is away--what -devil's work is he on now, I wonder? What are five? How many times -think you, my friend, have I been opposed to five men in the campaigns -I have made? Why! 'twas but at Entzheim the other day that I was alone -and unsupported amongst a dozen of the Duke of Holstein-Pleon's -soldiers; yet, as you see, I am here, and without a scratch." - -"Ay, I see," muttered Laurent, "but 'twas on an open field, your -friends and comrades near you, ready at any moment to come to your -assistance as, doubtless, they did. Oh! I know, I have been a soldier -myself! But now, see, it is different. You will be alone in a strange -house--in the dark--egress impossible during an attack on you. _Mon -Dieu!_ you will be run through and through or shot ere you can get -back to the slope--with no possibility of help from friends and -comrades there. Heavens!" he concluded, "the risk is fearful." - -"Bah!" answered Andrew, his nerves not touched one whit by Laurent's -forebodings. "Bah! 'Twould want forty men to place me at such -disadvantage as you speak of. For, observe! I shall be at the top of -the house, since I enter that way, and she is also there--do not -you--one who has been a soldier--see the advantage I have? Five cannot -mount the stairs abreast, 'tis unlike they will be broad in that part -of the house. As they come singly, or in twos, I shall have my -chance." - -"They will use firearms." - -"And so shall I. Fear not, my friend, I shall return alive." - -And again Laurent said, "I pray so," while, again, he thought to -himself, "It is impossible." - -Then Andrew asked him if it was certain, as Jean had reported, that -the dog was dead? - -"He says," replied the other, "that almost for sure it must be. He and -his cousin have laid the poison carefully; the cousin, indeed, getting -at the meat with which it is fed. It cannot be still alive." - -"Therefore," said Andrew, "I am safe from its discovery. Yet, poor -beast, I would it had not been necessary." - -"Pray God it is dead," replied Laurent. "Pray God it is. For if it -still lives when you are in that house, nothing can save your presence -from being known." - -"Bah! croaker! Even if it still lives it must have a strong scent to -discover me in the topmost part of the building when they are all -below. I will not believe it." - -After which he set about making all necessary arrangements for -reaching the mansion into which he had resolved to penetrate that -night. - -They were soon concluded, as he himself had pondered much over them -during the time that had elapsed since his escape from the jaws of the -hounds on that, his first and only, visit--it but remained for him to -go over them carefully with Laurent. Therefore, he asked now, "Is the -coil of rope safely bestowed?" - -"Ay, it is," Laurent replied. "Thirty good metres of the newest and -best. Placed in our hut far down the slope, where the wood is kept -after the felled trees are cut into billets. It is there. To-night we -shall find it." - -"'Tis very well. Now listen. To-night I set forth from this inn and -shall reach Gaspard's cabin about the hour of nine. You will be there. -Then we shall descend without loss of time and, ere ten minutes have -elapsed, I shall be across. It will not take long, once the rope is -fixed to that chestnut which grows close down to the summit of the -wall." - -"It will not take long, in truth," Laurent replied. "That will not, -Monsieur," and the man's face testified true anxiety. "It is the -returning I fear." - -"Dispel your fear--I shall return." - -"And with the lady?" - -"And with the lady!" - -"Suppose," said Laurent, "you find her guarded by the woman. It may be -she sleeps with her, or close by her side. What then?" - -"I must find means to silence without hurting her." While, -impetuously, he said, "My friend, all is thought of--as far as may be, -all foreseen. I know well the risks and dangers I have to encounter. -See. Let me tell them over to you," and swiftly he proceeded to do so. - -"First--there is the risk that the rope may break--then----" - -"For that never fear! I guarantee that!" - -"So be it. Then, first--since that counts not--I may be seen ere I -reach the roof by someone on the look out--'tis not very like, yet it -may be so. Whereon I shall be shot like a sparrow, and die hanging -'twixt earth and heaven. Or, let me reach the roof, and be hacked to -death, or hurled to the paved court below. Is not all possible?" - -For answer Laurent shuddered. "_Mon Dieu!_" he muttered, "your nerve -is iron." - -"On the other hand, allow I gain the roof and find all -barred--trapdoor or ladder--or discover no entrance that way I must -then come back and try elsewhere, another time. But, presuming I can -gain the entrance--what then? I have to reach the lady, silence her -fear at sight of me--poor soul! doubtless she will think at first I am -her doomsman--persuade her to come away with me, force her to pass -across the chasm. 'Twill terrify her, yet--it is the only way. We can -never escape below--specially if the hound happens by any chance to be -still alive!--I must fasten her to the rope, let her swing across, -while you from the other side will draw her up. Then the rope can be -thrown back to me; why should we fail? Fail, bah we will, we must -succeed. Say, have I not thought of all?" - -"In truth you have," Laurent exclaimed, and, catching some of Andrew's -spirit, he answered, "We will succeed." - - - * * * * * * - - -The night came--dark as pitch, with, above, dense clouds rolling so -low that they swept the tops of the fir trees on the summit; covered, -indeed, that summit so that Gaspard's cabin was enveloped in the dank, -reeking mist. And, through that mist, Andrew and Laurent were -descending to where was the ledge of the stone-facing to the slope -that backed up the mansion of Bois-le-Vaux. - -As far as was possible, every arrangement had been made for removing -the woman, known to Andrew as Marion Wyatt, to a place of safety -directly she was out of the house, it being deemed by him not -necessary that, at first, she should be taken farther than Remiremont -itself, or, at most, Plombières. For, once beyond Bois-le-Vaux and -with him to protect her, Andrew shrewdly suspected that the Vicomte -would make no further attempt upon her liberty, since to do so he -would once more find himself opposed to his sword, of which--_maître -d'escrime_ as he almost was--De Bois-Vallée must now have learnt to -have a wholesome respect. And, as for summoning any authority there -might be in the neighbourhood to his assistance--that was not to be -imagined. Even though he should be able to show some kind of right to -retain the lady, none in that place would be likely to lend assistance -to one so cordially detested as he was, both because of his family and -of the manner in which he had broken with all the traditions of the -province in espousing the cause of France instead of--as most others -had done--contenting himself with remaining lukewarm, if not inclined -to join the Duke. - -No! there was no danger once outside the house. It all lay inside! - -They reached the hut where the wood was stored by the peasants when -cut into billets, ere being sent down to the mansions and towns that -lay around the western side of the Vosges, and, furnishing themselves -with the thirty metres of good new rope which Laurent had purchased by -Andrew's orders--rope two inches in circumference and strong enough to -bear the strain of four men of even his bulk--they set forth again -on the descent. Also, Andrew took with him a small lantern and a -tinder-box, since he knew not what impenetrable darkness might bar his -way towards the room of the woman he sought, when inside the house. - -But this was not all. He recognized that, once he quitted the -comparative safety of the walled slope, his life would not be worth a -moment's purchase if he were observed; he was resolved to part with -that life as dearly as possible. To his sword, therefore, were now -added the pistols in his belt, well charged and primed; likewise he -had in his breast a dagger-knife, good either for stabbing or cutting. - -"For all," he said to Laurent, "may be needed. The sword in close -encounter with a number--they will be clever if they get beyond its -point!--the pistols for use at a distance. To wit, when I am swinging -over the chasm! For, there, a bullet would reach a man ere, perhaps, -one from him can reach me. And for the knife--well, 'twill cut a lock -away from an old door, or hack a rope in half with one lusty cut. Is't -not so, my friend?" - -"It is so," Laurent assented. Then he muttered, "You appal me! I never -thought the man lived who knew not fear. Yet now I have found him." - -But Andrew only laughed and bade him push on his way by the path that, -even in the sodden, rimy darkness, the Lorrainer was well able to -find. - -At last they were on the brink of the chasm; they stood upon the -coping of the wall of rock erected, doubtless, centuries ago by some -De Bois-Vallée to prevent the flattened face of the slope from falling -away and filling up the gap left between it and the house itself. The -gap of twenty feet across which Andrew was now to pass. - -Below, in front, nothing was visible; the mist rolling up from the -plains obscured all. It was so profound that none who had not been -there before could have imagined that, some yards away, though lower -down, there stood the roof of a vast mansion; that, between the roof -and their feet there was a gulf--a space--through which a step more, -if taken by one who did not know every inch of the mountains, would -hurl him to annihilation below. - -"It is the safest moat--the most devilish!" Andrew whispered, "ever -devised or thought of. How many have stumbled over this to death and -destruction, I wonder, in the years that are gone and on such a night -as this?" - -"They are devils all, these De Bois-Vallées; devils all! Perhaps the -_Loup de Lorraine_, the first of their race, foresaw the many stumbles -that would happen here in the days that were to come." - -"Maybe," said Andrew. "Well! by God's blessing I will not stumble nor -fail in my passage. Now for the rope." - -They wound it round the chestnut tree half a dozen times, knotting and -making it fast at this end, so that by no chance could it slip and -become uncoiled; they tugged singly and together at it until they were -assured that it was as secure and fast as human hand could make it. -Then they measured the length of what remained and judged that it was -as nearly as possible what was desired. - -"I shall be," said Andrew, "a little lower than the roof when I am at -its full length below, therefore 'tis very well. For, when I am about -to plunge across, it will require more length to gain that roof. Now, -I will make a trial. And, one last word. Remember, I shall come back -ere long. I feel it--know it. As man to man, I charge you not to -desert me; not to quit this spot until all human hope of my return has -vanished from your mind. On you my life, and the life of her I go to -rescue, depends." - -"There is my hand," Laurent said, finding that of the other in the -darkness. "Alive I will not quit the place. Even though you come not -back for forty-eight hours I shall be here." - -"Enough! If I come not back in that time I shall be dead. Then--do as -you will." - -He looped the end of the coil about his body under his armpits, and, -taking as well one turn of the rope beneath his shoulder, so that it -should by no possibility be able to slip up over his head, he also -wound it round his left arm. That done, he knew that nothing but the -fraying of the strands upon the coping of the wall, or a sudden hack -at it from a knife, could plunge him on to the stones below. It would -never leave his body now until he removed it, or until, if dead, some -other performed that office. - -"Let it slip gradually round the trunk of the tree," he said, "till it -is all payed out. About a foot from the ground; thereby it will escape -the rough stones of the edge. Farewell! Remember!" - -And now he knelt down upon the extreme lip of the coping-stone, found -that one place in particular was very smooth, and decided that it was -over this that the rope must run. Thereby, the friction would be -scarcely anything. - -"Lower me down," he whispered, as his legs hung dangling in the -unfathomable space, and the toes of his boots scraped against the -surface of the wall. "Lower me now." - -And as he spoke he perceived himself slowly gliding down the face of -the dank, wet wall, and felt the ferns and mosses that grew upon it -brushing against his jacket. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -IN THE ENEMY'S HOUSE - - -Once--the man above letting the rope slip a little too quickly around -the body of the tree--he felt the speed at which he was descending -increased, and, a moment later, that descent stopped by a sudden jerk. -And he thought the rope had broken; that, in another second, he would -be dashed to pieces on the stones below! No wonder, therefore, if from -all the pores of his body the sweat oozed out, that his heart seemed -to have stopped beating. Yet, another second, and the rope was running -slowly again, and he understood what had happened and thanked God -fervently. One of the turns had been made too loosely round the trunk -of the tree. That was all! Yet, for the time being, bad enough! - -A few more moments and again it stopped with another jerk, though from -a different cause. It had come to its end. - -And now he had to prepare for the plunge across to the unseen roof -that he knew was there; would have, when he arrived on the other side, -to feel with feet and hands--since his eyes were useless in this black -darkness!--for something, either coping of roof, chimney, or gable to -which to clutch, and, thereby, find foothold. "Oh!" he thought, "if I -could but see, could but know how to direct my body." Yet, even as he -so thought, he remembered that the darkness served him as equally as -it rendered his task more difficult. If he could not see, neither -could he be seen. No one could fire at him, as he had suggested might -happen, or, firing, could hope to hit him. - -He had not recognized before, though he did so now, how fair a boon -the darkness and the reeking clouds of autumn fog were to him, by -hiding from his vision the dreadful depth below. For, though he knew -'twas there, and that, between him and a swift flight down to death -and destruction, there was naught to save him but the goodness of the -rope's strength and quality--he did not see it! Therefore, he felt it -less, could keep his head cool and his nerves calm in a manner that he -doubted if he could have done on a bright sunny day, or even moonlight -night. - -Turning his face towards where the roof was, he prepared to take the -plunge, his feet drawn up behind him and pressed against the wall, so -as to get the full force of his propulsion, as a swimmer drives -himself forward into a stream from the river's bank. Also--again like -a swimmer--he threw his long arms in front of him so that he might -either grasp aught which his hands should encounter or, with them, -defend his face and head from being struck by wall or parapet. -Then--for the moment had come!--he pushed with all the force of his -feet against the rope and shot himself swiftly across the chasm. A -minute later and he knew that he had failed! - -His outstretched hands had struck something--he thought it was a -horizontal water-pipe beneath the edge of the roof--but the strong -fingers missed their grasp, the weight of his body in the rebound tore -them away from whatever the object was which they had touched; a -moment later and his form was swung back to the spot whence he had -come, while the impetus given to the rope by the concussion of the -rebound caused him to spin round and round like a teetotum till he was -sick and giddy. Yet, with his hands against the damp, slimy wall, he -managed to arrest the spinning at last; a moment or so later and he -was hanging as before. - -His breath was coming laboriously from his breast now, the swift -return to the wall having nearly knocked him senseless--also the rope -had tightened so about his body that it seemed as though it must cut -through him. He lifted his hands above his head, therefore, and, -seizing the rope, while he placed his right heel on a little -unevenness it had encountered in the wall, eased himself somewhat by -relieving the strain. - -"Next time I must not fail," he thought. "If I do, I must desist and -be drawn up." But as he set his teeth firmly, he muttered through -them: "I will not fail. Now for it!" - -With even more force than before he repeated what he had previously -done, drew his feet a little higher behind him so that, as he -thought--for quaint ideas come to our minds, even in the moment of -most deadly danger!--he must present the appearance of some huge -gargoyle, had there been any eye to see him, and then launched himself -again across the chasm. - -This time he did not fail. - -He had shot himself beyond the edge of the roof, his hands -struck against some hard substance which he clutched with all his -might--breaking his nails as he did so--his feet scraped something -beneath them; then he let them fall with all the weight he was capable -of--and a moment, a second later, he was standing firm. - -"I have arrived!" He said. "Arrived! Thank God!" Whereon he sat down -exactly where his feet were just before, and felt all around him with -his hands to discover how much more solid space there was beneath and -about him. For, with all his wariness and coolness returned to him, he -knew that he might be on the immediate edge of the roof, from which -one false move would hurl him to as instant destruction as must have -been his lot had the rope broken during his aerial flight. - -As far as his hands--and feet--could reach there was a roof under him -covered by some metal--which he guessed to be sheets of tin placed -there to keep out the rain and damp from the woodwork beneath--covered -also by soft masses of innumerable leaves blown across the chasm from -the trees on the slope. Leaves that, maybe, had deadened any sound of -his falling feet as he alighted; would have almost, he thought, have -deadened the sound to any who might be immediately below. So far all -was well. - -Still, he was not satisfied of his whereabouts, nor of how much -solidity there was around him; he drew, therefore, his long sword and, -bending over in each direction, felt about with its point, discovering -that there was no open space near. He had landed well upon the roof, -he knew, consequently; until he should move from this spot there was -no danger. - -The object against which his hands had struck and his nails been -broken and torn was, he found out directly afterwards, a great -chimney--it was quite warm, and showed thereby that fires were burning -somewhere below; also, as he reclined a moment with his back against -it, the warmth was grateful. It served likewise for attaching the rope -to, which he now removed from his arm and body, though as he did so he -did not forget that, should aught arise to prevent his return with -Marion Wyatt ere the day dawned, it must be allowed to fall back to -the other side, and be drawn up by Laurent. To be seen from below when -the dawn came--as undoubtedly it would be seen ere the day was an hour -or so old--would tell too plain a tale. - -He had reflected long ere this present moment that, once inside the -house, it was more than possible he might have to remain within it -until another night had come; even, perhaps, longer. For the -prisoner's fears might prevent her from being able to summon up -courage to cross that awful gap at a moment's notice; she might be -ill--twenty things, he knew, might bar the way to an immediate flight. -Wherefore, the tell-tale rope must not be there. Must be returned, and -later on, when wanted, cast across again by Laurent. That could be -effected easily; a stone attached to it would make its passage sure, -as well as cause the end to remain when once it had landed on the -roof. - -From Laurent there came no noise nor signal--on the other side all was -as still as death! That this should be so they had agreed, yet now -Andrew could not resist sending a little whistle across the chasm, a -whistle that, to the man watching over there, would be understood, -while, if heard by others, it would doubtless be thought to be the cry -of some bird in the night. That it was heard and understood he had no -reason to doubt. - -A second or so afterwards a similar sound was returned. Therefore, -Andrew knew that Laurent kept his watch well; knew also that nothing -untoward had arisen on that side. - -He was refreshed now with his slight rest; the time had come for him -to continue his task, to commence, as he recognized, the harder -portion of it. To penetrate into the house of the man whom he had -forced to be his enemy, to endeavour to rescue by the same perilous -means which had so far gained him admission to the outer part of that -house, a woman. Truly, if his arrival at this spot had been dangerous -and terrible, how much more so would the quitting it be for her? - -Yet he meant to do it--or die in the attempt. - -Upon his hands and knees now, one after the other of the former -carefully put out before him to feel for any break in the roof which -might plunge him to the depths beneath, as well as to seek for, and -haply find, any trapdoor or entrance to what was below, he crept -carefully forward, directing his course to where he supposed the -centre of the roof was. Yet, at first, he encountered nothing beneath -the mass of leaves swept on to the roof by the autumn winds, or -nothing else beyond another stack of chimneys. Chimneys that were warm -like the others. - -"They keep good fires," he thought. "'Tis fortunate! Pray heaven the -whole house is warmed, if I can find a way into it. Otherwise I am -likely to perish of the cold." - -While he so reflected his hand struck a projection, something that -rose perpendicularly from the roof for some three feet or so, as he -felt by running that hand upon it. What was it? - -He knew in an instant. The side-rail of a ladder rising above the -roof--a side-rail which anyone, on emerging from below, would grasp as -they stepped forth. Here was the entrance! - -Yet, flat and level with the tin covering, or leads, there was still -the closed trap, it being fastened from within by some bolt or pin, -but--as further search proved--with its great hinge outside, so that -it could be pushed upwards from the inside. - -Shortly, however, he had forced the trap open--the dagger-knife with -which he had provided himself having cut away the tin and woodwork -from around that hinge, so that he could lift it some few inches, and, -drawing it towards him, he drew also the bolt inside from out the -staple. The road was free to him now! - -Without a moment's hesitation he descended, one hand grasping the -side-rail, the other the hilt of his sword; carefully counting the -steps as he went. Fifteen in all he numbered, so that he thought the -floor below must be close at hand--when, suddenly, the steps ceased. -Yet--there was nothing below! No floor that he could feel, though he -lowered himself as far as he might, grasping the bottom rung and the -rail for support, and plunging his long leg down into the space. Nor -even when, bending down as low as possible in another position, he -tried to touch something solid with his sword! - -Nothing! - -He was not cold now; instead, all over him he felt the perspiration -ooze out at the idea that here was a _guet-apens_, into which he had -almost stumbled. - -"Doubtless an oubliette," he thought, "a death-trap for any coming -hastily down. Heavens! those _loups de Lorraine_ forgot no precaution. -Have any others ever passed the way that I have come, found an -entrance from across the chasm to the roof, only to perish here?" Yet, -even as he spoke, he was standing firmly on the lower step and feeling -for his tinder box and lanthorn. A few moments and the latter was -ignited, and, even with the dim rays it cast around, he was able to -see and appreciate his position. - -Below that last step there yawned a circular opening some ten or -twelve feet in circumference, and large enough, therefore, for any -human body to pass through it; the opening of a great shaft that, -doubtless, passed all down the centre of the mansion, to end, perhaps, -in some stone-floored dungeon or, maybe, some bottomless well fed by -the mountain streams. Led to--no matter in what form--certain death -below! - -But, glancing round the rough, wooden-walled garret, or _sous-toit_, -in which he was, and observing all that was possible by the flickering -of the lamp, he saw, too, that, for those who were acquainted with the -place, the ascent or descent of the ladder offered no difficulty. To -the left of it, outside the rim of the shaft and not a foot away, was -a species of wooden mounting block by which one could step on to, or -off, it--the danger threatened only those who did not know of the -trap, or should come hurriedly down the ladder in the dark as he had -done! Also, he perceived almost immediately opposite to where he -stood, a small door let in to the wall or side of the garret, or -rather a doorway or arch. - -"My way lies there," he said to himself, and stepping on to the block -he proceeded to follow it. - -The lamp in one hand, it being shielded by his other palm, he passed -beneath that arch and so encountered another flight of steps, or, in -this case, stairs, having balustrades on either side, and thus -descended to what was, in actual fact, the topmost floor, since that -which he had just quitted was no more than the support of, and space -beneath, the roof. - -He was now in the house proper; now was the time when danger was close -at hand, when one false step, a stumble, the slightest creak of a -board beneath his foot, one glimmer from his lanthorn, would bring -destruction on his head. - -For, up to this floor the great staircase rose unbroken, and up the -well of the house which that staircase made there came the warmth from -the hall below, the odour of the burning logs, the noise made by -snoring men. And Andrew, the lamp out now, peered over the topmost -rail of the stair's balustrade and gazed down. - -As before, the watchers slept, Beaujos in his great chair, the tankard -on the table by his side; upon that table also his sword. Only, now, -the weapon was flanked by two others--by two great pistols. He saw, -too, that in the belts of each of the serving-men were pistols added -to their wooden-sheathed knives. All were doubly armed! - -"Thank God!" he muttered; "the dog at least is not there. It must have -met its end: perhaps 'tis from that end and my previous visit, added -to the death of its companion, that they take this double caution. -Yet, had they taken five hundred times as much, I must go on. I have -embarked; I must see the voyage through." - -He knew--had known all along--none could have failed to know!--the -risk he was running, the door of Death at which he stood. One slip -now, a cough alone, and he would be face to face with those -doubly-armed men. Yet the knowledge of his danger did but one -thing--it made him all the more determined, while resolving at the -same time to exert his utmost caution. - -Removing his eyes from the men below, he let them roam swiftly round -the floor on which he was, though, up here, all was in so much -darkness that he could distinguish nothing. Yet he knew that there was -at least one room upon it used and inhabited; a room which faced, as -he calculated, to the front, and looked out over the great courtyard. - -A room from under the door of which, as he peered through the -darkness, there stole now a gleam of light. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -MARION WYATT - - -As calmly as he had ever gone into battle, or--as he had told -Laurent--had fought his way through the Duke of Holstein-Pleon's men -at Entzheim, he prepared to find out who was the occupant of the room -from under the door of which that ray of light emerged. - -He began by doing what he had before thought of in the garret above, -and would have done but for the fear of rusty nails or other things -which might wound his feet. He took off his boots. Then, carrying them -in his hands, creeping as softly as a mouse in spite of his great -size, and holding the scabbard of his sword tightly, so that no clank -of it should arouse the sleepers below, he made his way towards where -the light streamed forth from under the door. Yet, as he went, he cast -ever an eye over the balustrade towards those sleepers, and observed -that none stirred. - -Soon he was close by that light; it shone upon his stocking feet--the -moment had come for him to discover, if possible, what was beyond that -door. Whether the inhabitant was the woman he sought--or--? Was it De -Bois-Vallée himself? - -That supposition had already arisen in his mind. It might be--probably -it was!--he. What then? What next to do? He thought he knew--nay, he -did know! His determination was already taken. His soul revolted -against the necessity for creeping as he had done into another man's -house, although that man was his enemy and a scoundrel: if it was De -Bois-Vallée, another five moments should see him on the inside of that -door, or the owner of the house outside it, and their swords crossed. -And then--and then! Well then the servitors below might rush up to -their master's assistance, plunge their daggers and knives into his -body--only, first, he would make sure of the man who had broken -Philip's life and sent him to his grave. He would make sure of him! -Ere the men could mount those stairs the last owner of this gruesome -fortress should be dead. But was it he behind the door? He must know -that! Possibly his task was not yet near its accomplishment. - -He bent down to the keyhole, as he had done three nights before when -outside the great main door, but this one offered him no opportunity -of seeing through it. The key stood in the hole and blocked all chance -of his peering into the room--he must find some other way. - -So, next, still as soft as a mouse, he brought his great form level -with the floor and endeavoured to see under the door; but again he was -foiled. The gap was not large enough; he could observe nothing. Then, -suddenly, as he pondered what to do next, there arose voices from -below. Had they discovered his presence above? In a moment he was able -to give himself the answer. Not yet. Though it seemed likely that ere -long they must do so. They were going to their beds--would they mount -to where he was? - -"He will not come to-night," he heard Beaujos say, recognizing at once -the voice that had roared at the sleeping servitors three nights back; -"no need to watch longer. Get you all to bed, all, that is, except -Brach. As for you," doubtless he was now addressing the one so called, -"sleep you here, yet sleep light. If he comes, best be wide awake on -the instant, or beware the Vicomte's anger." - -Were they speaking, Andrew wondered, of their master, for whose return -they might be waiting, or of him--the man who had disturbed them so -before; the slayer of the hound. Yet, no matter which it was, he must -not be caught here should they mount the stairs. He must hide himself -till they had retired for the night, and, thinking this, he stole -softly back to the garret above. - -Half an hour later, and all in the house was again as still as death. -The men who had been ordered off to bed were gone and Beaujos with -them, and, fortunately for Andrew, and for them also--since he had -resolved to slay the first who should discover his presence -above--they had not mounted the stairs. Instead, they must have -betaken themselves to some room leading out of the hall: must have -done so since, to the watcher above, no sound of a footfall on the -stairs had come. All were gone except the one addressed as Brach, and -he, Andrew could see by once more stealthily glancing over the -balustrade, was already asleep again, this time in Beaujos' great -chair. - -Through the silent house he made his way a second time to the door -from under which the light streamed; again he reached it and sought -for some means whereby he might discover who was in that room. Not De -Bois-Vallée, he felt sure now, since, almost for certain, had he been -there the servitors--Beaujos, at least--would have come to him for -their last final orders for the night and the next morning. Therefore -it must be she--and guarded, perhaps, by the woman of whom the peasant -had spoken--the woman who had loved the Vicomte's father. - -As he mused thus, wondering also how it could happen that anyone -within that room should remain so quiet for the time he had been in -the neighbourhood of it--since, with the exception of once hearing the -logs of a fire within fall together with a dull crash, no sound had -issued from that chamber--another ray of light caught his eye. A ray -so tiny that, at first, he thought he was subject to some illusion -produced by the excitement of his mind. For it was close to him as he -stood outside the heavy, rude, oak door; so close that it seemed to -shine straight into his eye--a ray no bigger than a pin's point! He -looked at it again, and steadily put up his hand in front of his face, -when, lo! it was gone; put next his finger out towards it and touched -the spot whence it proceeded, and found that, set in the door at about -the height of an ordinary man, was a little wicket an inch or two -square, with a sliding cover running in an upper and lower groove. A -spy-hole for those outside to gaze through upon the inmate of the -room, which, by accident, had been left unclosed the smallest -fraction. - -His finger moved it still another fraction, and the interior of the -room was visible at last! - -It was a large apartment hung with tapestry and handsomely furnished; -a great table in the middle of it; upon that table a lamp giving a -bright light, also a vase containing some brightly-coloured autumn -leaves and flowers. In the far corner of the room, a bed with the -clothes turned down for the night; by the table, a great lounge on -which a woman lay sleeping--a woman whose face was so pale and white -that, in truth, she might have been dead and yet no paler. - -Her hair, of a golden hue, was all undone, and, being thick and long, -hung over the head of the couch so that it reached almost to the -thickly-carpeted floor; one hand as white as marble hung over the side -of the couch, also: her dress, a _robe de chambre_, was likewise -white, and added to the general ghastliness of her appearance. And -Andrew, peering in at her, wondered if he had come too late; if he was -gazing into a death chamber instead of the apartment of a living -being! - -Yet, in a moment he knew such could not be the case--the woman lying -there turned the slightest degree possible in her sleep, and sighed -once. Then slept again--if she had, indeed, awakened. - -But, now, he was face to face with a difficulty which, although he had -considered it more than once before, presented itself more forcibly -than ever to him. That difficulty was how to open communication with -her; how to arouse her and make his presence known without causing her -so much alarm that she should shriek or call out, and, by doing so, -spoil all. How? How? - -At last he decided. Poor plan though it was, it was the only one--it -might answer. Especially might it answer since he had made sure she -was alone, and that the other woman of whom he had heard was of a -certainty not in that room also. His eyes had taken in everything in -the chamber; whoever her custodian was, at least she was not there -to-night. - -He went back swiftly, therefore, to the garret above, recognizing that -no time must be lost, since, at any moment, that pale ghastly figure -might arise from the couch and prepare for bed--and, when there, he -lit once more his lanthorn. Next, he took hastily from his breast a -small set of tablets which he carried--they had been Philip's once, -and bore upon the case his name and their family crest--and hastily -wrote:-- - -"Make no noise. Philip Vause's brother is here. To save you if need -be. It is the truth, I swear. If you believe and wish to escape, open -the door. To-night the chance is yours. Perhaps to-night only!--ANDREW -VAUSE." - -As quickly as he had come he went back to the door of the room, peered -in once more through the slit of the little lattice, and, seeing that -still the woman slept upon her couch, bent down towards the space -where the light streamed out. - -Then, his nerves tingling, for on the next few moments, and the -woman's actions during them, depended all--his life, perhaps hers!--he -pushed the tablets under the door, gave them a fillip with his hand -which sent them a couple of feet into the room, and struck once upon -the oak. Struck a sharp, quick blow, loud enough to awaken her, he -thought, yet not loud enough to startle any others asleep in the dark -and silent house. - -He waited now for what should happen. - -Nor had he long to do so ere he knew that the rap he had given had had -its effect. He had re-closed the lattice tightly after he had come -back from the garret, fearing to alarm her either by looking through -it or by letting her find it open; he relied, therefore, upon his -hearing. That hearing told him now that the woman had awakened--he -heard a rustle of her garments, heard her feet touch the floor as she -rose from the couch; heard, too, that she came swiftly towards where -the tablets lay, the whiteness of the ivory catching, doubtless, her -eyes as she arose. - -In the silence that reigned in the house he could hear those tablets -being picked up by her, almost hear the grating of the hard leaves -against each other; did, without doubt, hear a gasp as his message was -perused. Then silence--or a silence broken only by rapid, -quickly-caught breathing. But no noise, no word from the woman on the -other side of the door! - -At last, however--when he himself could scarce restrain the breath -from coming in great gusts from his lungs, so terrible was the -suspense--he knew that she had moved again, was close against the -door. Then a soft, low voice said-- - -"As you are a man and I a helpless, unhappy woman, is this true?" - -"Before God and as a soldier, it is true." - -"You swear you are Philip Vause's brother?" - -"I swear it." - -The key turned in the lock; then, a moment later, the voice within -spoke again. - -"I am a prisoner here. The door is fast on your side also. There is a -bolt above." - -He raised his hand as she spoke, thrust back the bolt quietly--it -making no noise as it left the staple--and when this was done the door -opened from within, and Andrew entered the room. - -Seeing the great form before her, regarding with amazement--perhaps -alarm--the bronzed face and long black hair of Andrew; observing also -that the clothes he wore were torn and smirched by the efforts he had -made in crossing the chasm and reaching the roof above; noticing, too, -his unbooted feet--the woman raised her hand involuntarily to her -breast and exclaimed, though in a whisper-- - -"You! You Philip's brother!" - -"In truth, lady, I am. And you? There can be no mistake. You are -Marion Wyatt." - -"Unhappily." Then she said, still gazing up at him, "I have waited -long for this release to come. Prayed night and day for it--feared at -last that he would never follow nor seek me out. And now, even -now, he comes not himself, but sends you. Oh, sir! why has Philip not -come--or--or"--and she paused, but continued a moment later. "It -cannot be that he thinks----" - -"Madame," said Andrew, regarding her steadfastly--it had never dawned -on him until now that she could not possibly know that Philip was in -his grave--"Madame, this is no time for explanations. They will -suffice when we are outside this house." And because, even as he -spoke, he wondered if he knew all there was to know in connection with -this woman, he added, "It is your desire to quit it, I imagine? You -have no--no wish to remain?" - -"To remain! Here! My God!" and now she lifted her eyes and looked him -straight in the face, he seeing as she did so that they were large, -grey, truthful-looking eyes. "To remain here! In this villain's house -Oh! have I not tried to escape more than once--almost succeeded; -should have done so, but that they found me by aid of the dogs----" - -"The dogs!" Andrew exclaimed. "The dogs! They set them on you. Ha! -Since that is so I regret no longer they are dead." - -"Dead!" she exclaimed in her turn. "Dead! Was it you, then, who slew -the first one?" - -"It was I. You know of that?" - -"I know it. They thought it was some _braconnier_ stealing about the -place, or some enemy of his. And it was you!" - -"I came here to find a way to you--to save you, if might be," Andrew -replied. "To find some entrance to this house. I have found it. -Madame," and his voice was very grave and serious as he continued, -"being here we must not tarry. This is our chance--to-night. By dawn -it may be gone. It is not well to lose time." - -"How to go?" she asked. "How escape?" - -He told her of the rope and of Laurent watching on the other side of -the chasm; made light of any danger there might be--which he assured -her was but imaginary--told her that when across and safely on the -slope her liberty was assured. - -"For," he said, "once there, none dare to harm you or me. Nor to -attack us. I beseech you, delay not; I beseech you come." - -At first she shivered with fear, said she knew of the distance between -the house and the slope; that she would rather live there a prisoner -for life than venture on so terrible an escape. Yet, also, at last she -yielded to his persuasions, nay, his threats almost, that, if she came -not now he must leave her and seek his own safety. She would go, she -decided. - -"So be it," Andrew replied. "It is best. There can be no other chance. -I will go prepare the peasant. Be ready, I pray you, when I return." -And, pointing out of the window of the room, to which he had stepped, -he said, "See, madame, the mist and fog are gone, the stars shine -forth--it will not be so dark and terrible. And, as I have said, it is -nothing. From the roof you will glide swiftly across the gap--'tis not -far--a moment later you will be drawn up. Courage! Courage! I go to -prepare Laurent," and he turned towards the door. - -"I must be muffled, blindfolded," she whispered, "then I shall be -brave. But, if I saw what is below, my courage would fail--I should -draw back at the last moment." - -"It shall be so," Andrew said, removing the last objection she was -likely to make. "I will muffle you." Then a thought struck him -suddenly, and he said, "there is a woman attends to you. Where is -she?" - -"In heaven's mercy away for the night. Her father, an old man, is ill -at Gerardmer hard by; she has gone to him. She will return at -daybreak. Oh!" she added, "you do not know how I am watched. When I -tell Philip all he will weep for me." - -"'Tis well she is away," Andrew replied, ignoring the latter part of -her remarks. "To-morrow she may return, and welcome. The bird will be -flown. Again I say, courage, madame. Courage, and be ready at my -return. 'Twill be immediate." - -Swiftly he passed to the garret and, from it, to the roof, lighting -his lanthorn for an instant, so as to avoid the shaft beneath the -ladder that mounted to the leads; then, having drawn on his boots once -more, he climbed up and stood again upon the roof. As he had said, the -fog and mist were gone now, the wind had changed and blown them both -away, the stars were shining brightly above; across the chasm he could -see dimly the trunk of the tree round which the further end of the -rope had been wound by him and Laurent. - -The night, too, was very still, nothing broke the silence--or only one -thing. Far off as yet, though drawing nearer every moment, it seemed -to his trained ears as though there was the sound of a horse's hoofs -beating with regularity upon some road. Yet, he remembered, there was -but one road near of which he knew; the road from Remiremont to -Bois-le-Vaux. He must be mistaken! It was some other sound which, in -the stillness of the night, resembled that made by a swift oncoming -horse. - -He whistled once, gently, yet loud and clear enough to reach the -watcher on the other side; but no reply came. And again he whistled -soft and low, but still the result was the same. - -"Heavens!" he muttered, under his breath. "To sleep at such a time!" -And, having arrived by now at the great chimney to which he had -attached his end of the rope, he grasped at and jerked it violently so -as either to arouse Laurent--if he was in truth asleep--or to attract -his attention if awake. - -As he did so, his hair seemed to stand on his head in horror! - -For, in the moment when he tugged at the rope, he felt that the other -end was loose--was no longer attached to the tree across the brink. -Loose and hanging down over the side of the house on the roof of which -he stood. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -L'ESPÉE CARNACIERE - - -"God knows what has happened," he said to Marion Wyatt when he had -returned to her. "Yet one thing is sure. There is no escape now. We -are snared." - -"Is it treachery?" she whispered, shaking and white to the lips with -terror, so that she looked more like a spectre than before. "Treachery -on the part of the man in whom you confided?" - -It was not strange the girl should be so startled, so overcome. For -more than a year she had been incarcerated in this house (as yet -Andrew knew not how she had been brought here, scarce knew, indeed, -whether, after all, Debrasques had not been mistaken, and that, -originally, at least, she might have come here of her own free will, -even though made a prisoner of afterwards), had been incarcerated -here with no hope of escape. Then, as she reflected hurriedly, the -chance had come, unlooked for--as chances come always to us in this -life--and, as unexpectedly, had been snatched away a moment -afterwards. Snatched away, while leaving behind it a horror greater -than before! For now, this man, the brother of that other who was her -affianced husband, had placed himself also in deadly, hideous peril. A -peril that must surely engulf him, since there was no loophole left -for escape. He would be found here, must be found ere many hours had -passed--and then! What would happen then? She dared not even think, -could not think; could do nothing but stand trembling before him, -white to the lips. - -"Scarcely treachery on Laurent's part, madame," Andrew replied, and, -as he spoke, Marion still gazing at him as she had done since his -return from the garret, wondered if this cool, determined man could, -indeed, be gentle Philip's brother! This man who, here, shut up in a -hostile house, with death threatening him as the reward for his -intrusion when once he should be discovered, spoke as calmly as though -he stood on his own brother's hearth. - -"Scarcely treachery, I think. The rope was not-unwound from the tree -as, doubtless, it would have been by him, had he resolved to play me -false. Instead, when I drew it up to make examination, it was cut -cleanly through. Also, somewhat shorter than before. Whereby I found -it had been severed hastily." - -"By whom, think you?" - -"How can I say? How tell? The following of the man, in whose -house we are, are all asleep. Not by them, therefore. As for him, De -Bois-Vallée. Where Is he?" - -For answer, she started as one starts who is suddenly reminded of that -which it would be well they had not forgotten. - -"My God!" she exclaimed, "to-day is Friday. He was expected back -to-night." - -"From where?" - -"From Nancy. He had gone to seek the Duke----" - -"To seek the Duke!" Andrew echoed. "To seek the Duke! Perhaps to make -his peace with him," he continued with a bitter laugh. "To be well -with the side that seems the winning one now!" Then he continued, -"Nancy is north of this. Between it and Remiremont the mountains run. -He might pass them, would pass them, doubtless, to gain his home. Yet, -why descend to the slope? There could be naught to arouse his -suspicions." - -"Who else could have done this?" she asked, shaking still. - -"I cannot say. Yet be sure of one thing, we shall know very soon. If -it is he, he must be here ere long, and then--then we shall meet -again." - -"Again You have met before? And you do not fear him?" - -"Fear him," said Andrew, looking down at her and touching her arm with -one finger as he spoke. "Fear him! Mistress Wyatt, I came from England -to----" Then he paused, knowing that he must not say too much as to -why he was there instead of Philip. Contented himself, consequently, -with saying, "No, madame, I do not fear him," and he laughed beneath -his breath, remembering that, unless he wished to precipitate matters, -he must not wake the sleepers below. - -"Wake the sleepers below," he repeated to himself, musing, "wake the -sleepers below!" - -Even as the thought of doing so ran through his mind, there sprang new -born into that mind another idea--the recollection that all was not -yet lost. - -"What is it?" she whispered, knowing intuitively by his changed -countenance that some fresh plan had suddenly dawned on him. "What? -Tell me. I will be brave." - -"Listen," he said, catching her by the arm in his excitement; bending -so low to murmur in her ear that his long moustache brushed her neck. -"There is one last hope. But--to avail ourselves of it you must be -bold. Very bold. You promise that you will?" - -"Yes. Yes. I am brave now. What shall I do?" - -"Come," he replied. "Come. Follow me," and he unlocked the door in -which he had turned the key on re-entering the room. - -"Hold up your dress so that it makes no noise if you can do without -them, put off your shoes. I will carry you when we near the sleeping -quarters. Come." - -She obeyed him, lifting up the end of her long robe with one hand, -then--because she was now, in truth, brave and nerved to face all--she -took off her shoes and carried them in her other hand. And, stepping -gently, she followed him out without question into the darkness of the -corridor. - -Looking below, he could see by the flickering light of the still -burning logs that the man called Brach was fast asleep; indeed, could -very well hear that such was the case by the noise he made. But, -beyond the faint light which those logs emitted as they now smouldered -to an end, the whole house was enveloped in black gloom. Surely, he -thought, they should be able to steal to the great door, to turn the -key and emerge into the night without anyone being aroused. And, if -they were aroused--why! he had his sword and his pistols. - -Feeling their way by the balustrades, her hand following his, they -crept down stair by stair until they had reached the floor below, and -could look over the wooden parapet that ran all around the square hall -here, seeing plainly the features of the slumbering man, on which, -occasionally, the light cast by little flecks of flame from the logs -would glance. Could see that he was plunged in a profound sleep--could -hear also the noise of the others snoring somewhere near. - -He tapped now the hand that followed his down the stair-rail; once he -looked back and his lips muttered, "We shall succeed"; then they went -on. Stood at last in the stone-flagged hall with, between them and -Brach, a huge pillar that served as one of the supports to the floor -they had just left. - -And still the sleeper never moved, but, instead, snored loudly, the -noise reverberating through the house. - -Turning, he put his arm around Marion Wyatt's waist and lifted her off -the ground so that her body was on his shoulder--he seeming to her to -do this as easily as she, herself, could have lifted a velvet -cushion--then, on tiptoe, and keeping always in the deepest blackness -of the hall's extremity, he advanced to the great door and felt for -the lock. But the key was not in it! Had it been, another moment would -have seen them outside, since there was but one transverse bar to push -up, and one turn to be given to that key. - -"The bunch is on the table," he whispered. "I see it glittering in the -light cast by the logs. Stay here while I go back for it and--if you -can--push up the bar that is athwart the panels. But, in the name of -heaven, of all our hopes, do it gently, softly. If it creaks or makes -any noise so as to awaken the man, I must stab him to the heart for -our own protection. Be careful--do it inch by inch--I will stand over -him. Begin when I am by his side." - -A few moments more and he did stand over the other, his hand upon his -dagger ready to plunge it into Brach's heart should he awaken. Once, -too, that hand half drew the knife from its sheath--for the great -transverse bar creaked slightly as the girl removed it from its wooden -socket and pushed it upwards! - -In his other hand he held the great bunch of keys! - -And now the time had come; they were saved! The bar was up. Brach -still slept. All in the house was quiet as death. There was no more to -do but to fit in the key, turn it, and so go forth into the night. -They were saved! - - - * * * * * * - - -Across the hall he made his way, Marion Wyatt standing by -the great portal, her back to it, waiting for him to reach her. -Then--suddenly--on the vast _place_ without, they heard the rapid -clatter of a horse's hoofs, heard the iron of its shoes ring smartly -out upon the stones as it struck them; heard a man's voice call -harshly, "Ho! within. Open quickly," and, with a smothered shriek, -Marion fell on her knees, her hands clasped and wrung together. - -"'Tis he," she wailed. "He! De Bois-Vallée. God help us We are lost." - -"'Tis he for sure," Andrew replied. "As for being lost, we will see -for that. Put back the bolt. He is not in his house yet. Later, we -will open to him. At present the work is here," and, wasting no -further time, he rushed at the man, Brach, who, even though he had not -been already awakened, would have been so by the loud reverberation of -the bar as the distracted woman flung it back across the door into its -socket. - -But he was awake now--as, Andrew knew, were the others. From the -room whence their snoring had proceeded, Beaujos was shouting, "the -master! the master!"--evidently he was not yet aware what else was -happening!--also the men clattering and stamping about, as they pulled -on their garments, were plainly to be heard. It was, however, with -Brach that Andrew had first to deal; Brach, who had by now staggered -from his chair to his feet and, although dazed with astonishment, -hurled himself with bulldog-like ferocity at the intruder. He was, -however, no match for him, who, added to other advantages, had no -drowsy slumbers to shake off, and who, as Brach rushed at him, struck -full at his head with the bunch of great keys and knocked him -senseless to the floor. Then, since it was no part of his intention to -allow De Bois-Vallée to enter his own house yet--in spite of the -infernal din which he was making on the door, accompanied by oaths, -threats of terrible punishments and other exclamations--he flung the -bunch on to the ashes of the now almost extinct fire. - -He had but time to stride over to Marion Wyatt, who, a mass of -shivering fear, crouched against the door; to whisper a word to her -and bid her take heart--"they were not," he said, "undone yet"--when -into the hall rushed all the others, Beaujos at their head, while two -of those behind him carried lamps. - -"Who in the devil's name are you?" exclaimed the steward, starting -back appalled at the sight of the man before him. "Who? Who? And how -come you here?" - -That he should be appalled was not strange! - -Andrew had by now unsheathed his sword--it shining ominously in the -light of the lamps carried by the men--in his left hand he held a -pistol. Also, his size and aspect, as he stood before Marion Wyatt, -covering her with his great form, were enough to affright a bolder man -than Beaujos. - -"Your master's enemy to the death," he replied. "One also who has -vowed to save this woman from him. Hark, how that master clamours at -the door! Well, I will not have it opened. Therefore, stand back." - -"Stand back!" exclaimed the other. "Stand back at your command! -Ay! thus," and with that he rushed at Andrew, wielding a large, -dangerous-looking blade as he did so. - -"You are a fool," exclaimed the latter, "a fool! Best go and lock -yourself up in some room, I warn you. Otherwise it will go hard with -you." - -For answer, the steward attacked him vigorously enough, and not -without some skill in the use of his weapon, yet jumped back quickly -at a sudden pass which Andrew made. A wicked pass he did not -understand, since, to his astonishment, the other's blade ran along -his until the hilts met with a clash, and, with a quick turn from its -owner's wrist, forced his own weapon from his hand. - -"Away!" said Andrew, "you are useless at this play! Find another -weapon." - -"I will," yelled Beaujos, and, as he stepped back, he seized a pistol -from the hand of one of the men and discharged it at Andrew. Then the -fellow thought his doom was sealed! For, in a moment, he knew that he -had missed him, and that the pistol which Andrew now lifted in his -left hand would be used with better aim. And, with a harsh cry, he -jumped behind one of the pillars, calling to the men to shoot Andrew -down; to throw themselves upon him and drag him to the ground. - -Meanwhile, from outside the door, amidst the kicks and beatings which -the master of the house was administering, his voice arose: - -"What devil's work is doing in there?" he called out. "And what means -this clash of arms and firing while I wait outside? Answer, you hounds -Are you snarling between yourselves, or whom have you there?" - -For reply, Andrew struck the door with the butt of the pistol and -called back: - -"You desire to know?" - -"Ay, answer! Whose voice is that?" And it appeared as though his own -voice had changed somewhat as he asked the question. - -"The voice," Andrew replied, "of Philip Vause's brother." - -It seemed to him--his ears on the alert to catch the other's next -words--as though that reply produced a gasp from the man outside; -also, he thought, an awful, blasphemous curse. One thing for certain -it did produce--silence henceforth. De Bois-Vallée spoke no more. - -But, now, he had to return to those around him, since, though Beaujos -had fled behind the pillar as Andrew raised his pistol, it was evident -that he had not desisted, but only retired temporarily from the -attack. - -He was coming at him again, supported this time by the others; was -whispering--though so loudly and excitedly that each word was plainly -to be heard, "You, at his legs, you, seize his sword arm; I will run -him through. If that fails--shoot him dead." - -"Gad so," said Andrew, answering him, "we will see." - -Then the affray began. One man against four--a helpless, shaking woman -crouching behind that one. - -Did ever sword flash as flashed that sword wielded by the intruder, -the pistols being unused at present! Beaujos' strokes were parried as -though by magic; like streaks of lightning the outnumbered man's -weapon darted forth; one, two, three passes it made, and, with a -clang, the steward's blade fell to the floor, his right arm pierced -through--the muscles and sinews cut to pieces, while, uttering a moan, -the wielder sank down slowly to the ground. Yet, as Andrew drew his -blade back, a serving-man leaped to his sword-arm, seized it by both -hands and, with the whole weight of his body, bore it down to Andrew's -side. But, even now, he was not conquered; with his left hand he dealt -the fellow such a blow as sent him reeling away--he was free again! - -Free to face the others coming at him, their pistols ready, their -swords raised! In his movements his own pistol had fallen to the -ground and he did not see, nor know, what was happening behind. Yet, a -moment later, a report rang in his ears, one of the servitors threw up -his arms with a shriek and fell headlong before him--the fingers -clenched at the first joint above the palms--sure sign the heart was -reached! - -'Twas Marion's hand had slain him! Her hand which had grasped the -fallen pistol! - -Still, there were the others to be dealt with, and he braced himself -to do it. - -Again his sword flashed, beat down the blade of the servitor who -struck at him, would, in a moment, have sent him to join the man whom -Marion had shot, when another report rang through the hall, a lurid -gleam of fire almost blinded him--and his own noble weapon dropped -from his hand; a faintness came over him, and he reeled back heavily -against the door. - -As he did so, through the fast coming darkness that seemed to be -enveloping him he saw the remaining servitors raise their swords as -though to strike him down, saw also, behind them, another form -advancing swiftly from a low arched passage at the extremity of the -hall; recognized De Bois-Vallée! - -And, as Andrew saw him, it seemed to his numbed senses that he heard -his enemy say: - -"Hold your hand. He is for me alone. Injure him not." - -Then the darkness became intense and he knew no more. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -THE WEIRD WOMAN - - -Andrew Vause raised himself on his left elbow--though his right arm -and shoulder were so intolerably painful that it caused him agony to -do so--and endeavoured to peer into the darkness in which he was -enveloped. Endeavoured to discover, or imagine, where he was; also to -remember what had happened. - -Yet he could recollect nothing, had no more conception where he was, -or why he was lying on his back suffering excruciating agony -accompanied by a burning thirst, than he would have possessed had he -been but that moment born. - -All was chaos to him. - -As, however, the lowest form of creature on which nature confers -existence, even though owning no power of reasoning or memory, or the -knowledge of why or how it so exists, yet seeks for the necessities -that existence requires and for the wherewithal to supply its wants, -so the man lying there sought for some assuagement of that intolerable -thirst. Sought for it by endeavouring unconsciously to moisten his -lips with his dry and parched tongue--then, failing in this attempt, -relapsed into the lethargy, followed by the oblivion, which had -previously been his. - -Yet again, later on--though he knew it not himself, no more than -he knew that many more hours had passed since first his eyes had -opened--he awoke a second time, still dazed, still unconscious of -who, or what, or where he was; knowing only as the unreasoning -brute-beast knows that it is suffering, yet also knowing not why. - -But now his agony was so intense--the agony of thirst! for the other -pain, that of his right side, might be borne--that, like some wounded -creature, he writhed and tossed about upon whatever object it might be -on which he lay, and in his writhings and the tossings of his long -arms his left hand struck something. Something that, even to his -bemused mind, seemed to give promise of containing the wherewithal to -quench his thirst. Whereon the long fingers twining round that object -found that it held water. Then, still with no knowledge of what he -did, with nothing beyond that instinct shared by the lowest of -creatures to tell him that what he was doing would bring him relief, -he drew the vessel nearer and drank. Drank and drank, long and -copiously, until at last there was no drop left, then sank back once -more, and once more lapsed into unconsciousness. - - - * * * * * * - - -Again he awoke, more hours afterwards, with still the impenetrable -darkness all around him, and with still the dazed blankness of memory -and the inability to recall who or what he was, yet with now through -all his density of mind some feeble glimmering of humanity working in -his brain. Some hazy idea coursing through that brain and suggesting -that he was a thing that had life in it, that he had not only just -begun to exist, but, instead, had been existing heretofore. That he -was a creature not used to lying paralyzed and helpless here, but, on -the contrary, one full of action. - -Memory was beginning to assert itself! Though, even as it did so, he -slept again, went off once more into oblivion. - -At last, awakening for the fourth time, with the terrible thirst gone, -he awoke also to life and reason. A little longer--after lying still -in the darkness--he recalled the fact that his name was Andrew Vause. - -After that the rest was easy, indeed, too easy; for, with this clue to -aid him, the whole of the past surged up in such huge waves of -remembrance that they almost served to engulf memory altogether, That -past rushed in upon him, recollections crowded swift and fast upon his -mind and hurtled one another away; gradually he remembered all. All! -The passage from the mountain slope to the roof; the meeting with -Marion Wyatt; the still unexplained reasons why this English girl -should be a prisoner here in the Lorrainer's house; the attempted -escape; the fight and his defeat. But, beyond and after that, only the -blank occasioned by his insensibility--and now this black impenetrable -darkness! - -Where was he? He must know that! Always a man of action, and with the -promptings to action still working in him, all wounded as he was, he -made, therefore, an attempt to rise, but found that attempt useless. -His leg was attached by a chain to something at the foot of where he -lay, a chain that, as he moved the leg, hung heavily upon it above the -ankle and clasped it tight. He was a prisoner. That much was certain -But what else? - -His hands, which were free--though the right still caused him great -pain when he endeavoured to move it--told him he lay close above a -floor upon some stretched-out rug or skin; his other senses revealed -to him that he was in some large, vast place into which the air -entered freely; a damp, cold air, too, that blew upon his face, yet -was grateful since it cooled the fever that raged within him still. -But that was all; he could discover nothing further, could, from where -he was, touch nothing beyond the bare boards around him, excepting -only the vessel which he had some time previously--he could not -recollect whether it was an hour or a day ago!--drunk from. No more. - -Yet now, lying there--half dozing sometimes; sometimes forgetful of -everything and recalling next each incident as it had happened and in -its proper sequence, as well as with strange clearness--it seemed that -a sound broke on his ears. A sound as of one who slowly mounted some -steps, or stairs. A footstep that came nearer each time it fell. And, -suddenly, as he lay listening, wondering if, with this approaching -footfall, his doom approached too, if he was now to pay with his life -for the entrance into his enemy's house, a light sparkled in his eyes -from a slight distance, then blazed full into them, and a woman -carrying a lanthorn in her hand stood before him. A woman who had -mounted some steps close by him, and thus entered the place in which -he lay. By the light of that lanthorn he recognized where he was -namely, the garret beneath the roof of the mansion of Bois-le-Vaux! - -She held the lanthorn high above her head, peering down at him under -its rays for some time as though scrutinizing the great form stretched -before her, and, perhaps, did not see that his eyes were open and -looking at her from under his long and much dishevelled hair as -curiously as she regarded him. Whereby he had time and opportunity for -observing what manner of woman this was who stood there. - -She was no longer young, that he saw from the great streaks of grey -which mingled with her hair, that once must have been as raven black -as his own was now; was, indeed, a woman of about fifty years of age. -Yet no man could regard her and fail to observe that she must also -once have been beautiful, though with a beauty spoilt and marred by -the workings of strong passions within--sensual passions, as testified -by the full thick lips and large gleaming eyes--which even now shone -with a strange, fierce brightness!--cruel, vindictive passions, as -shown by the manner in which those lips closed tightly together; by -the broad jaw, and by the perpendicular line between the eyes, which -caused a frown to be always upon her face. - -Fixing her glance at last full on him she saw he was awake and -conscious, and, so seeing, moved the lanthorn a little and peered -under it into his eyes. Then she spoke, while as she did so her -features either assumed a cynical smile or seemed, in the flickering -light of the lamp, to assume it. - -"So," she said, "you are the man who found his way into this house by -a road none have ever been known to travel before in our day. The man -who thought to carry off your countrywoman--almost succeeded in doing -so! _Ciel!_ at least you are a brave one." - -"I am the man," Andrew assented calmly; "who are you?" - -It seemed, however, to be no part of her intention to tell him this, -since, after casting another glance at his stretched-out form, she -strode off to that part of the garret where the ladder, or steps, from -below entered it, and, stooping down to the floor, picked up a jar of -water and a platter of bread which she had placed there ere she -advanced towards him. Then she returned to where he lay, put them by -his side, and, taking up the other water-pitcher which he had drained -when alone in the darkness, prepared to retire. But Andrew--who hoped -that, even from this stern-looking woman (who was, he did not doubt, -that custodian of Marion Wyatt of whom the peasant had spoken--the -woman who had loved De Bois-Vallée's father and hated, in consequence, -his mother) he might obtain some information as to what had been the -conclusion of the events which had occurred in the hall--put out his -hand as though to stop her going, and exclaimed: - -"Tell me, I beseech you--as a woman yourself--what has befallen that -countrywoman of mine. Is all well with her?" - -Pausing in her withdrawal to gaze down at him, while the dark, -piercing eyes looked into his, she made the enigmatic answer: - -"As well as before. As well as it is ever like to be," then again -directed her steps towards where the ladder descended from the room. - -"And I----" he cried, endeavouring thereby to arrest her steps, -"I--what is to be done to me--what attempted? Tell me that." - -But she answered no more, continuing still upon her way to the steps. -Yet, had Andrew been a timorous man who feared for whatever was about -to befall him, he might have shuddered even as much as though she had -told him he was to be done to death that very hour. For she turned -her dark, grey-flecked head over her shoulder and looked at him with -those piercing eyes--pausing in her progress as she did so--and in the -eyes, nay! in the whole face, there was so mocking, devilish an -expression--in the flickering rays of the lanthorn it seemed to be a -grin!--that he divined there was no hope for him. That look told as -plainly as a hundred words that he was doomed! Was in the hands of one -who would forego nothing of the opportunity that had fallen in his -way--and this woman knew it, gloated over it! - -Yet, with what he felt to be his fate foretold by that baleful glance, -this creature with her air of weird sardonic _espièglerie_ fascinated -him, even as the snake fascinates those who cannot fly from it, and, -as she strode slowly towards the other end of the vast garret, he -followed her with his eyes, unable to withdraw them. For it seemed to -him that in her he saw a living semblance of those women, those Fates -or Furies, of whom his mother and gentle, scholarly Philip had read to -him in his wild boyish days; the dark and terrible women who held the -web of men's lives in their hands and tore it as they listed. And he -wondered if she, this woman, whose worn face told of fierce and stormy -passions not yet spent--perhaps only subdued and half burnt out--might -hold his fate. Was she to be the administrator of some terrible death -marked out for him by the man in whose power he now was--did that -hideous glance she had given him over her shoulder mean this, or mean, -instead, that though death might not come to him at her hands she knew -well how it must and would come? - -Watching her still, half awed, half bewitched by her weirdness, he saw -her suddenly stop ere she approached close to the ladder-head, gaze on -the ground, then flash the lanthorn's miserable light on the spot at -which she stared; next, stoop swiftly to the floor--supple now as a -girl of twenty!--pick something up from the floor and, holding it in -the palm of her disengaged hand, regard it by the lamp's gleam. And, -if her face had stirred him with an undefined feeling of repulsion as -she cast that leering, evil look over her shoulder, it horrified him -now by the glance of hate it bore as she inspected the object in her -hand. - -For it was the face of a devil glaring on an enemy, and that a -well-hated one; the face of a fiend regarding that which it would -blast to all eternity if possessing the power to do so. The mouth -twitching--the full lips livid now, and with the teeth clenched over -the lower one so that they seemed dug into it, until Andrew wondered -no blood spurted forth--the eyes staring, the last remaining colour -gone from the already dead-ivory of the cheeks--the woman gazed -Medusa-like at what she held in her hand. - -Then, suddenly, her long, loose gown swishing the floor as she moved, -she strode back to him, her movements resembling a tigress's now; and, -standing quivering before him, she said--while her voice sounded -hoarse from out her throat-- - -"This! This! This! This cursed thing! It has fallen from your -body--must have done so when you were brought here. How came it yours? -Answer!" - -"If," replied Andrew calmly, yet marvelling now at what the "cursed -thing" could be, the finding of which had stirred her so--observing, -too, the shaking of her limbs and the wild tempestuous fury that held -her in its grasp, "If madame would deign to say what it is that she -has found which moves her so----" - -"What it is! What!" she repeated. Then exclaimed, "Man, trifle not -with me, or I shall anticipate your death by some few hours. God! why -bring this before my eyes? This! This picture of Fleurange Debrasques! -His mother! And in your possession. In yours! It is some trick 'twixt -you and him! Are you in truth his enemy?" and she bent her livid face -down and peered into his face. "Or is this a scheme to torture me even -in my swift-coming age, as, oh my God," and she wailed out these last -words, "I have been tortured all my life by her. By her and by her -memory," and, while she spoke, she struck the miniature against the -side of the lanthorn as though demented. - -In a moment it seemed to Andrew's now cleared brain that here was an -accident, a chance, that might go far to help him to win, perhaps, -this wild cat, this creature of mad passions, to his side. To win -her--to!--to!--ah! it seemed more than one might hope for! Yet he -would make the attempt. His life--Marion's life--might hang on what he -could do with this woman. - -"That," he said quietly, "Oh! that. The miniature. Why, 'tis nothing. -Only his mother's portraiture. True, I have heard she was a -Debrasques. And beautiful as the morning. Is it not so?" - -Yet he had to pause as he looked now at the fury above him. For, by -his remarks on the beauty of the woman whose likeness she held in her -hand, he saw that he had goaded her almost too far. That she was -trembling from head to foot, that a little more and he would spoil his -chance. He must goad her further--but by degrees. - -As he so paused she controlled herself. Calmed herself enough to say, -"how came it in your possession? Answer that." - -"'Tis simple. He dropped it fleeing from Turenne's army--fleeing, as I -do pride myself, from me. For in solemn truth I am his enemy. Yet, I -pray, an honest one. And, therefore, because I know he loved that -lady, his mother, dearly, because also I knew his father worshipped -her from the moment he set eyes on her first, it was my intention to -have returned the jewel to him." - -Andrew never moved his eye from off her as he spoke; he knew it might -have been death to do so. If she had a weapon about her, his words -were as like as not to cause her to use it on him. He was driving her -to desperation; only--he did not want that desperation vented on him. -And, watching the woman thus, he knew that it must find its vent -somehow. Those livid lips--dashed now with flecks of foam--those -glaring eyes, told clearly of the fire burning within. - -"His father worshipped her! His father worshipped her!" she repeated, -bringing out the words, as it seemed to him lying there before her, -with an agonizing effort. "His father worshipped her. From the moment -he set eyes on her first. My God! that they had been blinded first! -That she had never come across my-- Yet," calming herself with another -strong effort, while she took a step nearer, so that now she stood -rigid before him--"how know you that? How? How? You never knew nor saw -his father--nor," and she seemed to force her glance to rest upon the -medallion--"this woman, Fleurange Debrasques--his wife." - -In Andrew's mind there rang the Lorrainer's words, "She loved his -father and, they say, hated his mother _par consequent_"--he knew that -his cue was here. Also he knew he must be careful. Must be ready to -ward off any blow from hidden knife or dagger that might come; be -prepared to feel himself struck to the heart with some bullet from -concealed pistol when next he spoke. Yet the train was laid. The time -had come to say his last words. - -And he said them. - -"Know it? How know it? Is not the tale oft told hereabouts? Even I, a -stranger, have heard it! Sometimes with laughter--sometimes with pity -for another--sometimes----" - -"With pity for another! What other?" - -As she spoke no statue of marble, no corpse, was ever more rigid than -this woman standing there before him. Nor more white! - -"What other?" - -"One whom he thought he loved at first," the words coming clear and -distinct from Andrew's lips, "yet found he cared nothing for when -Fleurange Debrasques--ay! that was her name--met his view. One whom -they say he even then meant to discard, having grown weary of her; one -whom he did discard when Mdlle. Debrasques made him love her. Have you -never heard this?" - - - * * * * * * - - -The woman spoke no more, nor, as Andrew had thought would happen, did -she spring at him. Instead, without one word, she turned on her heel -and slowly made her way to the ladder, where, grasping the side-rail, -she descended it. Yet, ere she did so, she turned her face once and -glanced at him, the look she gave him piercing to his heart. - -And, as he flung himself back on his rug, he muttered in the darkness -by which he was once more surrounded: - -"Heaven forgive me! Heaven forgive me! I had to do it--it may win her -to our side; help Marion Wyatt and myself to our freedom. It had to be -done. Yet, it has driven her mad--if she was not already so. Heaven -forgive me!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -THE UNEXPECTED - - -Lying on his couch--if the bare floor and the rug upon which he found -himself could be called such--Andrew began to perceive that whatever -hurt he might have taken in the affray of the hall was leaving him. He -had long since, in the passage of one weary hour after another, -discovered that the wound which had rendered him insensible was not -serious, and that the blow had not proceeded from the pistol which had -been fired in his face. On the contrary, it was certain that he had -been struck down from behind, at the moment that weapon exploded, by -either some bludgeon or sword wielded by one of the servitors, and -that, beyond this, he had received little harm. As for the pain in his -shoulder--that did, indeed, proceed from the pistol bullet which had -grazed his collar-bone, but had done no further injury. - -And, now, in spite of his hard bed and poor nourishment--for nothing -beyond the jug of water and the platter of bread was ever given -him--he still found himself returning to strength and health. His mind -had cleared also, as he perceived when he was able to so work upon the -feelings of the maddened woman who had visited him--he felt he was -ready to resist his doom in whatever form it might approach him. Nay, -more, that he was ready to combat and avoid that doom should any -opportunity arise of doing so. - -Yet, he asked himself again and again as he lay there, how was the -resistance to be offered! How? He was chained, and at the top of the -house. There was no exit that way. Doubtless, those who had carried -him up to this garret while he was insensible remembered that; -calculated also that, even though the chain had not been about his leg -and securely rivetted to the floor, he had no chance of escape. The -chasm was impassable and there was no other mode of egress, since, -never again, would he be allowed to reach the lower part of the house -unobserved. - -The woman had come no more by the time that he supposed a day and a -night must have passed since she visited him, or, if she had come, he -had not known it. Yet he had found the water replenished again in the -vase by his side, and the empty platter filled with bread. - -Therefore he knew this must have been done when he slept, and, -doubtless, done in the dark. Otherwise he would have been awakened by -the glare of the light! - -But now, having discovered that this had happened, he resolved that it -should not do so again. It was contrary to all his military ideas to -be thus surprised without knowing it; repugnant also to him to be thus -visited by some enemy, or some creature of his particular enemy. It -should not be repeated, he vowed. - -To prevent any such further unknown visitation, he raised himself into -a sitting posture and stretched out his hand for the stone pitcher -which stood by his side, when, grasping it round the neck, he drew it -towards him. He meant to sleep when next slumber came to him with his -hand around it, and to place the platter beneath his arms. Thereby, -unless they were left untouched and fresh supplies put in their place, -it would be impossible for his food and drink to be replenished -without his knowing it, as well as being awakened. And, should it be -the woman who thus replenished them, it might happen that he could -wile her into conversation, might, indeed, by working upon her -feelings, induce her to say something that should give him a clue as -to what fate was before him. - -Thinking this, he drew the vessel towards him, when, to his amazement, -he found that it struck against and moved something lying on the -floor; something that, when he had previously raised the jug to his -lips directly from the floor, he had not observed. Something long and -thin that slid on the boards with a scraping sound. - -To his further intense astonishment as he grasped the object, he found -it was a sword in its scabbard. A moment later he knew it was his own -sword. - -There was no doubt about it. He could recognize his own long curled -quillon amongst a thousand, knew the particular shape of the steel -hook by which he fastened his leather-slashed "carriage," or _porte -épée_, to his belt; knew also the feel and grip of the handle. It was -his own sword, the one that, below, had dropped from his numbed hand -as the bludgeon, or other weapon, had struck him down at the same time -that the flash from the pistol had blinded him. - -"What does it mean?" he whispered to himself, as, lovingly, he ran his -finger along the keen, sharp blade. "What? That I am to have a chance -for life even though against tremendous odds; even though outnumbered. -Ha! well, no matter! Better that, with this true friend to my hand, -than poison or a swift fall down that hellish shaft to regions -unknown. Far better that, with you in my grasp," and he thrust the -blade back into its scabbard. Yet, cheered as he was by discovering -this good servant by his side once more, a moment's reflection told -him how, even now, it was of little use to him. Rivetted to the floor -was one end of the accursed chain that held him fast--with that about -his ankle what could he do even though armed? - -"Kill one or two, 'tis true," he mused, "even as they come at me. Kill -them, run them through, as once I saw a Turk at Choczim kill four men, -while he lay on the ground with both his legs torn off beneath the -knee by one of Sobieski's cannonballs. Well! even so, 'tis best. Best -to die fighting, causing as many as I can to travel the same dark road -I go upon. Far best." And, hugging his sword to him, he lay back and -pondered on who could have done him so fair a service as this. - -"The woman, without doubt," he thought. "The poor mad, distracted -thing. It may be that she deems I shall be the instrument of vengeance -on the son of the man who threw her off, and so provided me the -wherewithal." - -Still thinking over all this, and musing, as he had mused more than -once in the long lonely hours spent in the darkness, on what could -have caused Laurent to either cut, or permit to be cut, the rope which -would have saved him and Marion Wyatt--would have opened the door to -their freedom--wondering, also, if he had been suddenly attacked from -behind--perhaps slain--Andrew dropped off once more into a gentle -slumber. Though now, with the sword to one hand, and with the other -round the pitcher's neck, while the bread platter lay beneath his arm. - -Dropped off into a slumber from which he was awakened by hearing a -step upon the ladder, and by the room becoming suddenly lit up by the -rays of an approaching lanthorn. The lanthorn carried by the woman -whom he deemed distraught. - -Because he thought that, after all, she might not be the one who, in -her mercy, had placed his weapon by his side, he pushed it beneath his -body so that, if such were the case, it might be possible she would -not observe it; then he leant over towards where she was advancing to -him and regarded her fixedly, looking straight into her full, -wandering eyes. - -"So, madame," he said, "you visit me again. Is't on some errand of -pity that you come--or to tell me my fate?" - -For a moment she answered nothing--standing motionless before, and -gazing down fixedly upon, him, though he perceived that those strange -eyes were searching the floor as though in quest of something. -Doubtless the sword! Then she said-- - -"What fate do you expect--at his hands?" - -"God only knows! Yet, if you should know also, tell me." - -Again she paused--the eyes still sweeping the floor, so that now he -felt sure 'twas she who had restored his weapon to him--when a moment -later she said, speaking in a harsh, emotionless voice-- - -"You are to be taken from here to Nancy, where the Duke is for the -winter period. There you will be tried on various charges--attempted -murder, abduction--he will swear she is his wife! You will be -condemned. Nothing can save you; he has given in his adherence to the -Duke now; he will obtain his desire--to see you broken on the wheel." - -"So! A brave scheme! When is it to be put in practice?" - -"When you are recovered." - -"I am recovered now. See!" and he sat up on the rug stretched over the -floor. "Observe! I am not so weak but that I can stand if I desire to -do so. Will you tell the Vicomte there is no hurt to prevent me -setting out at once to see this Duke, to make acquaintance with the -wheel." - -"My God!" the woman muttered, stirred out of herself. "Can this be -real? Are you, in truth, so careless of fate?" - -"Bah!" He replied. "What you prophesy is child's play--child's talk! -The fellow whom you serve," and at the word "serve" she started, -"dares no more haul me before the Duke than he dare haul me before the -Duke's own master, Louis; the Duke's better in war, Turenne. 'Tis to -them the Duke has himself to account. Babe's prattle, I tell you, -woman! If I am to perish, it will be here in this house, down that -well, by poison in my food or drink, or dagger-thrust through my -heart when I lie sleeping. The wheel is an open death for all to see, -set up at cross-roads or in market places--such things are not for De -Bois-Vallée. Go, give him my service, and say so!" - -"You wish me to repeat that?" - -"Ay, repeat it. Repeat also this. That, though I lie here with a chain -round my leg like an ox at the shambles; though I am here in his -topmost garret a prisoner, I shall ere long be free again. I know -it--feel it. Tell him, also, that Andrew Vause was never born to die -at his hands--but, instead, to slay him--as I will! And, if he dares -to come to this garret--fail not to tell him this!--and stand before -me within the reach of this chain at my ankle, I will throttle the -life out of him as I would out of a savage dog. Will never lose my -hold till his tongue is a foot out of his mouth. Begone, and fail not -to repeat my words!" - -The woman said no more--yet cast one long searching glance at him as -though wondering what manner of man this was--then went to the head of -the steps, or ladder, leading from below, and brought back still -another fresh jug of water and a platter, both of which she had left -there on entering. - -"Here is food and drink for you," she said. Then added: "There is no -poison in it!" - -"'Tis well. But, remember what I say. If your master compasses my -death 'twill come that way--or in some other equally subtle. Yet it -will not pass unknown. His cousin, Debrasques, knows him for the -unscrupulous villain he is; knows I have come here. If he recovers, as -every chirurgeon who saw him believed he would do, he will denounce -this man. Therefore, I care not what he does. Now go." - -"Debrasques!" the woman repeated, turning sharply on him. "Valentin -Debrasques! He knows you and you know him? You say that?" and he saw -that her astonishment was great. - -"Ay, he is my friend!" - -"Debrasques," she whispered. "Debrasques. And your friend!" Then she -muttered to herself, though not so low but that he heard her. "And his -enemy; as his kinswoman, Fleurange, was mine. 'Twill come. 'Twill -surely come." - -She stooped down now to lift up the empty water-pitcher and the -platter and to put in their place those which she had just brought, -and, having done this, again prepared to depart from the garret, -walking slowly towards the ladder head. But as, once before, she had -turned to cast that evil glance at him over her shoulder, so she -turned again. Only her face was different now from what it had been on -the occasion of her first visit--there was no evil, demoniacal smile -upon her features nor devil's light glancing from her piercing eyes. -Instead, a softer look shone from them, a look such as one might cast -upon another with whom they were at peace. - -"All men's fate is in their own hands," she whispered, as though half -to him, half to herself, then turned swiftly and was gone, leaving him -alone again with the darkness and his thoughts. - -"Fore gad!" he said to himself, feeling strangely exhilarated by this -woman's visit--he knew not why!--though, perhaps, 'twas her last words -had cheered him thus! "I do think the lady desires I should escape. -Yet, if so, why in heaven's name not help me even more than she has -done? My sword is useless while I am bound thus to this accursed -floor; if my foot were free from that 'twould not be long ere once -more the weapon was at his throat. Oh! De Bois-Vallée, the moment must -arrive at last. It must! It must! It must!" - -For something told him that this garret was not to be only one last -step to his doom; he felt, he knew, as certainly as though an angel -had spoken to him trumpet-tongued, that the wheel at Nancy would never -be his fate. It was not thus that Philip's shade was to be mulcted of -its revenge! - -Once more he slept, thanking God each time that he awoke for His mercy -in permitting him to so forget his captivity for long periods at a -time, and then, when he again returned to wakefulness, he put out his -hand for the sparse meal the woman had brought him. - -"Though I would," he murmured, "that I might find such another boon as -I found in my good sword. With my pistols, now, and they well charged, -I could do much when they come for me--if they ever come--could slay -one or two more ere the chain should be taken from my leg and I -dragged forth--not to the Duke of whom she speaks--that is -impossible!--but to some ignoble death." - -He did not find his pistols; yet, even as he muttered those last -words, his hand touched something that was not there before, something -which caused him to utter so loud an exclamation that, a second after -he had done so, he could have cursed himself for his folly in making a -noise which might have been heard by anyone happening to be below the -garret. - -He had found that which was worth to him a thousand pistols fully -charged and primed! He had found something which would do more than -ever they could have done! Would give him his liberty from this -garret; enable him to once more search the lower part of the -mansion--to once more make a bold bid for escape. - -His hand had touched a file! - -"Heaven bless her!" he muttered. "Mad or sane, Heaven bless her! For -this is no trap, no _guet-apens_, no lure to set me loose from where I -am, only to plunge me into a state worse than my present; I shall be -free and out of this house with Marion Wyatt ere many hours are -passed. Free--since she, this heaven-sent friend, will doubtless aid -me--will, it may be, set open the door which leads to that freedom. -She must have placed this file here when she changed the food and -water; therefore, again I say, Heaven bless her. Even though it may be -but a portion of a deep-laid snare, 'tis a good portion. It gives me -one more chance." - -Wasting no further time in thought or meditation, he set to work to -obtain his, now near, release. Set to work to--as silently as might -be--file through the shackle-bolt that encircled his ankle. Worked -hard at it, with the sweat dropping from his face as he bent over his -foot in a terribly cramped position; yet never faltered, and only -stopped to change sometimes his hands. - -Worked hard in the dark, paying no heed to anything but that into -which he had now thrown his whole heart and soul; worked until, at -last, the chain was off his leg and he was free. Free to stand up, to -hook on his sword once more to his belt, to make his way from out that -prison. To find and save Marion Wyatt and himself, or perish in the -attempt. - -As he did thus stand up and feel his feet once more unbound, and moved -towards where the ladder-head was--avoiding, for sure, the deadly -shaft so near at hand--a woman who, unknown to him, had been crouching -for the last two hours on that ladder in the darkness, rose and went -swiftly away from it towards the room to which Marion Wyatt had been -taken back after the fight below. - -A woman who had sat crouched upon that ladder for so long, listening -eagerly to the harsh grating of the file, and who, as she listened, -had held her breath and stared with wild eyes into the darkness all -around. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -A TRAPPED WOLF - - -His first idea was to remove his boots, which had been on his feet -when he recovered consciousness and had remained there since; but, -after a moment's reflection, he decided to still keep them on. It was -impossible, he thought, that he could quit the house without another -encounter taking place; therefore, it was best to be booted. Also, if -he did by good fortune so quit it, and could get well outside, they -would be necessary, since otherwise he could scarcely reach -Remiremont, not to consider Plombières. - -Then, having decided this, he made his way at once to the room where -he had previously found Marion Wyatt, and tapped lightly on the door. - -It was opened--to his astonishment--not by her, but by the woman he -deemed mad! - -"So," she said, "you are free." Then laughed under her breath, and as -low as she had spoken--laughed a weird, witchlike laugh. Adding a -second later: "So far!" - -"So far at present, thanks be to God and to you," and as he spoke he -touched her hand with his--noticing, however, even as he did so, that -she drew back shuddering from the touch. "Now, where is the lady?" - -"Here!" whereon Marion Wyatt came through the hangings that fell -before the square embrasure in front of the window. - -If it were possible that she could have been whiter, more ghastly pale -than when he had first seen her, she was so now; her face being -absolutely devoid of colour. Yet it seemed almost as if some tinge -came to it as, swiftly, she advanced across the room to him, while, -grasping both hands, she whispered: - -"You are free again. Free! Oh God in His mercy be thanked. Yet--yet--I -know--she, Clemence, said it should be so," and she gazed at the -fateful woman standing by. "It is heaven's grace that has turned her -heart to us!" - -That woman's eyes, deep, mysterious, unfathomable as ever--puzzling -Andrew as they had done before; irritating him, almost, in his desire -to know what lay behind them and what thoughts they concealed--blazed -forth from their sombre depths; yet she answered nothing. Only, -standing there before them, her bosom heaved, her mouth became drawn -downwards with some spasm that seemed to express the deepest misery, -and a gust of breath that was more than a sigh came from her lips. - -"It is by heaven's grace," Andrew re-echoed. "Yet, much as we owe her, -now is no fitting time to pay our thanks." Then, turning to her whom -Marion had called Clemence, he said: - -"Madame, being, so far free, enable us, I beseech you in your -goodness, to finish our task. Put us in the way to quit this accursed -house, without bloodshed if possible, yet--no matter how--to quit it." - -She repeated the words, "this accursed house," twice, letting her left -hand fall heavily to her side as she spoke; then a moment later she -quivered, drew herself up, and said: "It shall be so, if possible. I -will go down and unbar the door. Yet you say 'without bloodshed.' -What"--and now she stood so tall and erect that, almost, her height -equalled that of the great man before her--"What are you then in this -accursed house for? Why hangs that once more upon your thigh?" and she -pointed to the long scabbard of his sword. "Are you not come here from -your own land to shed his, Camille De Bois-Vallée's, blood?" - -"To shed it--yes!" Andrew replied, wondering why his words came hoarse -and raucous from his throat; "yet not to-night, if it may be -prevented. Nor in his own house; on his own hearth! But, afterwards, -in fair open fight; to right a deep wrong to one unable to right -himself." - -"I go," she said, "to open the door, if may be. Follow me later--in -five minutes hence. Yet--yet remember; I deem it a vow, a sacred -pledge: you slay him when the time comes. Swear that, or I do no -more." - -And all amazed, almost appalled, Andrew muttered: "When the time -comes. I have said it." - -An instant later she was gone, had passed through the door into the -darkness of the house, gliding out as some dark spectre might have -glided from light to shadow, and those two were alone. - -"In five minutes, she said," Andrew whispered in Marion's ear. "In -five minutes. Yet, what means it? Is she in truth mad? I thought she -loved him; had loved his father. Was his faithful slave and worshipped -him. Yet, now, she inclines to us." - -From the white lips of the woman by his side there came the answer, -the words falling quick and rapid from those lips; she knowing how few -were the moments in which to tell the meaning of Clemence's manner. - -"It was so," she answered, "once. She loved him, worshipped him, -until--until--her madness growing on her, she began to hate him. For -he, in his turn, loved and worshipped the memory of his mother--it is -the one pure thing remaining to him--his love for me was never pure, -was engendered in desire; is turned now to hate and fear of my escape. -And his love for that mother and that memory for her whom Clemence -hates, even though she has long lain in her grave, explains all. -Because she hates the woman who was his mother, also she now hates -him. Hopes, prays, you will kill him. Said to me to-night that, when -he lies dead below from your thrust, she will stamp upon the features -that are so like what hers were." - -As she told him thus rapidly the meaning of the woman's frenzy, and as -she concluded her story, she saw Andrew's face change. Saw, too, a -stare come into his eyes; his attitude denoting that of one who -listened intently. - -"You hear?" he asked. - -"What?" - -Yet, even as she spoke, she heard, too. Heard a distant hum--a -something indefinite on the night air--a murmur that, all intangible -as it was at present, resolved itself in another moment into something -else that she understood. It was the hum of human voices--the voices -of a great crowd somewhere in the vicinity--of a crowd that drew -nearer and nearer every moment. - -"You hear--you understand?" he asked, grasping her arm. - -"God help me! No. What is it?" - -"As I hope, as I think, a rescue. It may be that those in this -neighbourhood have risen against him at last; that our path to safety -is open. Come, Marion, if 'tis as I believe, our freedom is at hand, -should we be able to reach them. Yet, be sure, he will bar our -exit--and their entrance; we--I--shall have to fight our way out. -Come." And swift as lightning his arm was round her waist, while he -prepared to lift her to his shoulder, knowing that, ere long, all in -the house would hear those sounds--if they had not done so already; -would be aroused. Also, he knew--divined in a moment--that their way -out would be barred. And, recognizing this, his sword leapt from its -scabbard, drawn forth by his right hand. - -"Come," he said again. "We must descend. Be brave and fear nothing. I -shall be with you always. We escape together, or--or stay here -together." - -Then, bearing her on his shoulder, he went towards the door. - -Yet, ere he reached it, it was flung wide open; once more Clemence -stood before them. - -"All hope is gone--for you--for all--for him," she said, her lips -flecked with foam, her eyes staring with the madness of despair and -frenzy, her grey-streaked black hair hanging down below her shoulders. -"Undone! Undone! Undone!" - -"What mean you?" Andrew asked. "The house is besieged, yet one may -struggle out of it. May yet escape. Is the door open?" - -"None can escape," she almost shrieked. "It is surrounded. The -Lorrainers are here, outside. They swear to burn him in his den; I -have heard them--seen the glint of their weapons--they swear to shoot -down all who rush forth. The death of Laurent has maddened them." - -"The death of Laurent! My God! Is he dead?" - -"He is dead. He slew him--he--he--De Bois-Vallée: He found him there -watching for you--he never returned home without visiting the chasm to -see if all was safe--and ran him through, then hurled his body to the -courtyard below. And they have learnt he did it--there was another one -who knew the work you and Laurent were upon--they are here. God none -can escape. There are more than a hundred of them. See!" - -As she spoke, she rushed through the embrasure and flung open the -diamond-paned window. - -"See," she said again, drawing Andrew to the window. "They are there -below. You can perceive their firelocks gleam in the moonlight from -here." - -Peering forth, glancing out into the night, he saw beneath the rays of -the watery moon, as the light breeze blew the clouds from under it, -that what the woman said was true. He could observe the beams glancing -on musket barrels and other arms--almost, he thought, that sometimes -they glistened on upturned eyes!--could perceive men lurking all round -the fringe of the copse which bordered the enormous flagged court in -front of the mansion. - -Moreover, he knew soon enough that they, too, were seen by the -midnight foe--also that that foe was ruthless. As the light of the -lamp streamed out into the darkness, it being no more veiled by the -heavy curtains of the embrasure within, it served to show the -besiegers those two faces at the window. An instant later there was -the crack of musketry and three balls hurtled against the stone frame, -splintering it, and cutting each of their faces with those splinters. - -"Come away," Andrew said, dragging her back and noticing that one of -the fragments had struck her cheek, from which the blood began to -trickle. "Come away. All in this house are deemed enemies. How should -they know there is one here who hates its owner as much as they do." - -"How should they know that there are _two?_" the woman muttered -hoarsely in reply. Then she added: "Doubtless, they deem you dead. -Since he slew Laurent they would not think he would spare you." - -Her words caused Andrew to start. It was true; they must deem him -dead! His own instructions had been that, if he came not back in three -days, they were to consider him as fallen--murdered--and with Laurent -slain they could suppose nothing else. All in that house were enemies, -therefore, since few knew of Marion's existence; all to be -exterminated as such. - -"There must be a truce to our feud for a time at least," he muttered -beneath his moustache, while he smiled grimly; "a truce for a time. No -need for De Bois-Vallée and me to be fighting with one another, like -rats in a pit, while the dogs are outside ready to tear us to pieces. -No need for that! Come," he said, addressing the two women. "Come. We -must descend. There is no way out here." - -Then, all together, they left the room and, making their way to the -head of the stairs, looked down over it into the hall below. - -And in a moment he knew--as the women knew, too, that neither was -there any exit there. - -Below, in that hall, were mustered De Bois-Vallée and some -men--Beaujos being absent. Upon the huge table which had stood for -unnumbered years within it, were laid all the firearms which they -could hastily gather together; muskets and musketoons, fuzils and -fuzees, pistols and petronels. Also other arms, halberds, axes, -swords--they meant to make a stand for it! - -As for De Bois-Vallée himself--his look appalled the women, if not -Andrew, as they gazed down on him. His face was white--was it with -fear or rage!--as he bent over the table, and, selecting two carbines, -loaded them carefully; upon it, as he turned towards the great porte, -outside which the murmurs had now increased to a roar, accompanied by -heavy knocks and thumps--there was the grin of a devil at bay. Then, -suddenly, they saw him point to a spot away down one of the passages -leading out of the hall, saw the man Brach disappear, and, a moment or -two later, come back, bearing in his arms a long ladder which he -placed against the door. While, casting his eyes up over that door, -Andrew saw that, above it, was a little window unnoticed hitherto by -him--a window a foot square, but covered inside with a close-fitting -shutter. And, since a few moments later he saw there was no glass to -it, he judged that it was used only to admit air. - -As he watched thus the trapped man in his own house, he saw him slowly -mount half-way up that ladder, so that, at last, the top of his head -was almost level with the lower part of the shutter, and take the -carbines from his servitor's hands--then saw him suddenly stop in his -upward progress. Stop, clinging to the ladder posts, his face -half-turned round to those in the hall, the grin upon that face -horribly intensified. For, even as he had thus half-mounted it, the -beatings on the door against which the ladder leant had been -redoubled. - -"Surely," whispered Andrew, "they are using some tree-trunk as -battering ram"--and it seemed as if the next moment must see that door -fall in from the tremendous blows administered from the outside. - -Next, a babel of voices and a shouting arose. - -"Is the wolf there?" one called, while even as he did so another -answered: "Be very sure he is"; and others were heard shouting: "Bring -him forth. Give him to us, and we spare the house. Otherwise all are -doomed." - -And again the beatings and the buffetings were renewed, while now a -part of the door a few feet from the ground was burst in, and through -it there protruded the jagged edge of a hastily-chopped-down tree. - -Andrew had guessed aright! They were using roughly-improvised -battering rams! - -For a moment the hunted wretch--the man caught like a rat in a -trap--glared round his hall; even in the dim light and gloom Andrew -could see his tongue rolling over his lips as though to moisten their -feverish burning, then, urged by God knows what desperation--the -desperation perhaps of despair, perhaps of tigerish rage and -ferocity!--he leapt up the last remaining rungs of the ladder, -carrying the carbines in his hand. - -Leapt up, as the wild cat leaps up the branches of forest trees, until -he was level with the little shutter, flung it open with one hand, -and, in an instant, had discharged both carbines into the midst of -whatever crowd might be without. - -And he shrieked: - -"Hounds, _bélîtres_, scum, he is here!" then flung the shutter to -again and descended the ladder swiftly. - -'Twas well that he did so; 'twas well he wasted no time. Ere he had -reached the hall's stone floor that shutter fell in splinters after -him, shattered by a score of bullets from without; also at this moment -the upper part of the door was beaten in amidst terrible roars and -howls and curses from the attackers. Fortunately for those in that -hall, there were still some seven feet of the lower part left standing -to protect them from the besiegers' shot. - -"Save yourselves," cried De Bois-Vallée to his men. "Save yourselves. -They may spare you. Me they will never spare. I must find a way." - -And, flinging the lamp upon the flames of the fire--so that, after one -brief moment of explosive brightness, the hall became all dark but for -the remaining flames which glistened amidst the gloom like fiery -eyes--he and all below were instantly obscured from the sight of those -above. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -NEARER AND NEARER - - -"How can he escape?" Andrew whispered in Marion's ear. "The house is -surrounded. There is no other outlet but the great door. Or do you -know of aught?" - -Yet, as he asked the girl that question, he told himself it was -impossible there could be any such outlet known to her. Had there been -she would have apprized him of it on the night when they made their -first attempt to fly; would never have let the risk be encountered of -endeavouring to unbar the great door while all round the hall lay the -sleeping servants, ready to spring out on them at the first alarm. The -question was useless! - -It was answered, however, by a sound that caused him to start and look -round--a sound that was, indeed, a laugh; yet one of so strange and -sinister a nature that he almost shuddered as he heard it. - -It came from the woman, Clemence. Then she spoke, while as she did so -her great eyes gleamed and sparkled in so wild a manner that he -imagined she had now become entirely demented. - -"There is a way out," she said, "but none know it except he. Not -even I--though often enough I tried to learn it from his father; have -even in later days tried to make him tell it to me. Yet neither ever -would! The wolves of Lorraine have expected to-night's work for -generations--they have kept the secret to themselves." - -"'Sdeath!" exclaimed Andrew, though the oath he used was stronger than -this, "but he shall share his secret with us to-night. Where he goes -forth we three go also--or he goes not at all. Quick, let us get near -and stay near him. Ha! see, he comes this way. Mounts the stairs. -Observe--stand by. We must keep him in sight." - -It was as he had said. De Bois-Vallée was creeping up the stairs -now--they could see a dark form against the balustrades coming up and -up and up--once the dying embers of the fire in the hall below -flickered into a fresh blaze--they could see, too, that he had -discarded his pistols and carried in his hand his bare sword. Even saw -the steel scintillating now and again in the faint glow sent up while -he mounted. - -Watching him coming towards them and, for certain, never dreaming of -whom he would encounter above, it seemed to those three as though some -hunted wild beast was fleeing for its life. Crawling up with one hand -on the balustrade, the other grasping his weapon, they observed his -bright red hair--for he was wigless--as he mounted. Watched, and saw -also the terror-stricken glances he flung over his shoulder as, -reaching the first landing, he knew that he could be seen over the top -of the shattered door by those who might be standing in, or near, the -doorway. - -And that he was seen they learnt at once; there came two spits of -flame from firelocks discharged outside, and, through the rent space, -the sharp crack of the weapons; then, next, the splinters flying from -two of the balustrade posts. And they saw the savage grin of hate and -fury on his face--saw his white teeth gleam like a hunted wolf's, as -he, himself the Wolf of Lorraine, ran round the landing and began to -mount the next flight. The flight that would bring him to where they -were! - -From outside, too, they could hear the shouts of the avengers; hear -harsh calls and cries in both the French and German tongues, derisive -laughter, voices that called out, "the wolf is trapped! He can never -escape! Fire not at him, let him find death in his own house of evil!" -while, above all, the soft, silvery voice of a boy sang the strain, -"_Lorraine, Lorraine, ma douce patrie_." - -He turned once more--his foot on the first stair, a look of horror in -his eyes as that sweet voice arose, turned and glared back again to -the ruined door whence the sound entered. It almost seemed to those so -close above him as though they heard him groan. - -"Kill him," Clemence hissed in Andrew's ear. "Dead!" - -Then, even as she spoke, the man fleeing from below sprang up the -stairs that led to where they were, and so came full upon them. - -Upon Clemence, regarding him with sparkling eyes, and with, on her -face, a hideous smile; upon Marion Wyatt a little behind her. - -Upon Andrew Vause standing also regarding him, his arms folded, but in -his right hand his sword! - -He reeled back gasping, astonished, perhaps terrified at the sight of -those three figures standing at the top of the stairs. - -Staggered back, though as he did so he shifted the sword he carried, -so that he no longer held it by the blade in his left hand, but -grasped its handle with his right. Yet, even as he thus reeled, and -with even, as they observed by the light of the moon now streaming in -through an upper window, the look upon his face of a hunted creature -at bay doubly intensified, so, too, they saw the bewilderment he -experienced at finding them there together. - -"You are free!" He hissed; "and you, too!" while, as he spoke, he -lifted his left arm and pointed with his forefinger up the few steps -that separated him from them. "Free! No need to ask how. By her--the -traitress!" - -As he spoke he leapt up the remaining stairs, and, in the eyes of all -of them there flashed a bright ray as though of phosphorus--a ray that -seemed to be met and entwined with another. Then, a hiss of steel -grating against steel and a clang, and the sword he had held a moment -before in his hand, and had thrust out with murderous intent against -the mad woman, slid down the steps hilt first. - -"Not yet," said Andrew, lowering now his own point. "This is no time -for murder nor--for execution. That comes later. Pick up your blade, -Monsieur De Bois-Vallée, and sheathe it. Otherwise I take it away from -you. There is something else to be done, ere you use it again--against -me." - -"Curse you! What?" yet as he spoke he obeyed Andrew, in so far that he -reclaimed his fallen weapon. Also, as he did so--as he picked up the -sword--he mounted the stairs one step higher. - -"This; listen. There is a secret exit known to you from this doomed -house--nay, deny it not, I know full well 'tis so--by that exit you -are about to escape. So be it. 'Tis no intention of mine to prevent -you. Only----" - -"Only?" repeated De Bois-Vallée in a whisper. "Only?" - -"You take us with you. Then, when we are outside, free from these -howling Lorrainers who justly seek your life, you shall use that -sword--against me. At once you shall use it. But, now, be quick, waste -no time. Hark, see, look over, they are almost in your hall. There is, -I say, no time to waste." - -It was true! There was no time to waste! He, De Bois-Vallée, could see -that as well as Andrew; glancing down through the rude-carved mediæval -balustrades, he recognized the swift impending doom of his house. - -For the door was almost down now--the shouts of the Lorrainers would -have told that if nothing else had done so. Also the beating of axes -and sledges on it, the clatter of countless feet outside on the -stones, the glare of lights from torches and flambeaux that sent -gleams through the windows, and winked and trembled on the carved -beams of the stairs, and the armour and arms with which the ancient -hall was hung, and lit up all their faces above. - -Also, still, above all the noise outside, above the yells and -execrations and curses of the Lorrainers, above their shouts and -cries, and the firing of their weapons over the broken-down door into -dark upper corners, there rose the sweet, clear voice of the boy -singing, "_Lorraine, Lorraine, ma douce patrie_." - -"You hear, you see!" Andrew said. "The end of you and of your vile -house is at hand. All escape below is long since past. Lead us to the -secret exit you know of." - -He stood there before them; before the woman he had deeply wronged, -though, as yet, Andrew knew not how; before the mad woman whose love -had turned to gall and hate and treachery; before that huge avenger in -whom he saw, and, seeing, recognized his doom. Stood before them, a -shadow almost, in the fitful light which illuminated the darkness, as -they, too, stood shadows before him. - -"Quick," Andrew exclaimed again. "Quick. Or we all die together -in this house. Only--you first. If you tarry longer--another -moment--while I count ten--I fling you over to those men below," and -as he spoke he advanced towards De Bois-Vallée. - -Unheeding his actions, in truth not valuing these actions sufficiently -to oppose them, his attention too much occupied by the awful -destruction going on below, Andrew had let the villain surmount the -topmost stair--gradually, and step by step--there being but three of -them--so that now he stood on a level with the others. And in his hand -was his sword. - -Then, in answer, he spoke, while still his form was indistinct to them -and he loomed a blurred figure near them. - -"There is," he said, "no exit to this house. All here are doomed, all -must die----" - -"You lie," Clemence hissed, "you lie. Your father knew of one, you -know it too." - -"Quick," again said Andrew, "trifle no longer." And now he advanced to -him, his own sword raised level with the other's breast. "Lead us to -it, or this through you." - -"Come then," the other said. "Come. Yet," he continued, muttering to -himself, as though he meant them not to hear the savage words which he -could not repress in his hate, "yet, if I had my way as I hoped to -have had it, you should all have perished. All. All." - -In truth, neither Andrew nor Marion Wyatt did hear these words, while -if Clemence caught them she gave no sign. But still those marvellous -eyes shone and sparkled, and the full liquid orbs never ceased their -endeavour to pierce the darkness. Why did she watch him so? - -But, in spite of Andrew not having caught his mutterings, he knew full -well that this acquiescence might be a ruse of his enemy to take him -unawares, wherefore he bent his face nearer to him--for, now (so great -were the roars and the thunderings below) ordinary tones were of no -avail--and said: - -"Go first and turn not. If you do, I will run you through without -hesitation. Also, sheathe your sword. Do as I say. Obey me." - -He was obeyed; through the darkness he saw the other act as he -commanded. Then, without another word, he again gave De Bois-Vallée -the signal to go forwards. And, touching both the women by his -side, he indicated that they too should follow the owner of the -soon-to-be-destroyed house. - -His arms stretched out in front of him as though groping his way, as -indeed he was, De Bois-Vallée moved on now, one hand sometimes upon -the rail that protected the uppermost landing from the well of the -house, the other against the wall of the rooms opening from that -landing. And, so, they reached at last the arched doorway that led to -the steps by which the ascent to the garret was made. - -"How escape thus?" asked Andrew, "there is no outlet there. This leads -alone to the roof and to the oubliette. Beware, man, what you do! Your -life is in my hands. Play me false and you lose it on the instant." - -"The way is here," the other muttered, though loud enough for Andrew -to hear him very well. "I know my own house." - -"The way for all--not you alone?" and Andrew's voice sounded sinister -and threatening to the other. - -"Ay, for all." - -Even as he spoke there came an increased din from below, and, though -none spoke to the other, all knew, or imagined, what had happened. - -The door was down--the besiegers in the house! - -Soon--who could doubt it?--what else was there for those men of -vengeance to do?--it would be in flames! Nothing could save it! - -Or only one thing. The yielding up of De Bois-Vallée to their ire. - -"Stop," he said, addressing him, "stop. You know what will, what must, -happen next. It can be but one thing, the destruction of your house. -Retrace your steps if you choose, defend the house singly if you -desire--since I do believe that they come partly to rescue me, expect -from me no help--give yourself up to them. Thereby the flames may be -avoided. And--and--I grant you that respite." - -For answer, the other snarled at him--Andrew could plainly see that he -did so in the added light which now streamed up from the hall, -illuminating all the balconies and corridors. - -Then he spoke. - -"It may be that they come to save you. Yet there can be few to whom -you are known. Therefore, being here, they deem you my friend--or will -when they see you." - -"Your friend!" the tone contemptuous and full of loathing as Andrew -answered him. - -"Ay. If you doubt it--and since you are so bold and brave a man--show -yourself to them and see." - -For a moment, stung by the taunt of even such as he, Andrew was -disposed to take him at his word. To descend towards those rioters, to -thrust his head over the balcony. To call to them and say who he was -and what he did in the house. - -Another moment's reflection, and he decided against that resolve. - -"Nay," he said, "nay. They may not know me--there are but one or two -who have ever seen my face--a dozen bullets in my body would reward me -for my pains and foolhardiness. Also, vagabond, you would be alone -with the women. Even though I returned in safety it would be to find -them dead at your hands--and you gone! Lead on, show us the way. We go -together." - -And, touching him none too gently, he urged him forward. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -ESCAPE - - -Andrew shortened his sword at this time, for, since he could not -doubt that De Bois-Vallée intended treachery, he meant to slay him at -the first moment that treachery became apparent; meant to use the -sword as a dagger and, striking down swiftly under the other's left -shoulder, end him. That there should be no doubt of his intention, and -because his action might not be perceptible in the obscurity around -them, he whispered in De Bois-Vallée's ear a word to that effect. -Took, too, his hand and placed it against his own where it grasped the -blade low down, and ran that hand along it till it touched the point. - -"He must know full well now," thought Andrew to himself, "what awaits -him if he plays me false." - -Then, as the other withdrew his own hand from the blade, they went on -again. - -By this time they were at the foot of the steps leading up to the -garret; the garret where Andrew had lain a prisoner for so many days. - -Behind him, encouraged now and again by a whispered word, and, in -Marion Wyatt's case, by a gentle touch or so from his great hand, the -women came--she next to him, Clemence behind. - -As for the former, it seemed that the time had come when she could -persevere no more. Her face was almost invisible, but her actions and -her drooping attitude showed Andrew, as he peered through the darkness -at her, that she could struggle little longer. Already she leant -half-fainting, half in a stupor, on the woman, Clemence--it -seemed that there was scarce any life or strength left in her. - -"Courage, courage!" He whispered to the girl. "Courage. He must know -some way out--there must be some secret doorway here leading to -hidden stairs behind. Courage, I say. Lean on me. See, he mounts the -stairs--once there he shows us the way, or dies." - -But Marion could not answer now--her breath came in terrible gasps -from her, she seemed choking, while at the same time almost incapable -of further motion, although still she forced one foot after the other -as, supported by Clemence, they stood at the bottom of the garret -ladder. As for her, Clemence, she appeared to have superhuman -strength; her arms around the tottering woman she helped her to mount -those steps up which all went following De Bois-Vallée, whose almost -indistinct figure crept forward in front of them. And now they stood -within the garret itself, when Andrew, putting out his hand, laid it -on the other man's shoulder. - -"Go not so fast," he whispered in his ear. "The darkness is intense. -We must not lose you. And," tightening his grasp on De Bois-Vallée's -sleeve, "direct not your steps this way. The oubliette is here. Is it -to that you lead us?" - -From the man whom his hand clutched there came no word, only Andrew -heard him catch his breath suddenly with a hoarse gasp; from the woman -behind it seemed to him as though there came once more that low, -gurgling laugh he had before remarked. Then he heard her whisper in -his ear. "'Tis that--'tis that! Beware of----" - -Her words were drowned by another roar from below--something fresh had -occurred. What was it? - -Their ears told them--sight was unnecessary, though that too aided -them ere long. - -They could hear the trampling of the men beneath, hear huge weighty -things being thrown down in the hall, which fell with a sound -resembling the fall of tons of lead, and they knew--Andrew and -Clemence--perhaps, too, De Bois-Vallée--that they were trees being -brought in and cast on the hall as fuel; they heard orders being -given. Orders for powder-flasks and horns to be ignited beneath -kindlings--another order that none should rush up the stairs to seek -for the wolf. - -"It is enough that he is here," a fierce, strident voice cried. "We -know it. We will burn him in his hole as we burnt the bear last year. -Pray God we see him rush out in flames as Bruin rushed." - -And, even above the voice, pealed that of the boy singing: - -"_Lorraine, Lorraine, ma douce patrie_." - -From Marion there came at this added horror a shriek, long, wailing, -piteous to hear, the shriek of one in mortal dread; Andrew's ears -caught once again a hoarse whisper from Clemence, and the words, "this -is death. So best!" In his grasp he felt the man whom he held shaking -with terror, and then, suddenly, as he turned to speak another word of -encouragement to Marion, he knew that De Bois-Vallée had escaped him -Either in his terror, or in the quickly acquired knowledge that, as -Andrew so turned, the grasp relaxed somewhat, he shook himself free. - -He was gone! Escaped! There was nothing before Andrew but empty -darkness! His sword told him that, as he plunged it furiously into the -empty space in all directions, except where the women were. - -"He has escaped," he whispered to Clemente. "Escaped, and left us -here. Has reached the exit, and left us to die." - -"Escaped?" she screamed. "Escaped? How? How? How?" - -Yet in another moment it seemed as if her rage at this was swallowed -up by some new idea. - -"If he is gone," she said, "why let them destroy the house? And--surely -if they know women are in it--they will spare us. She," and the woman -cast her eyes upon the almost insensible form of Marion, "cannot descend -to them. I will go myself." - -"Nay, nay," said Andrew, "it will be useless. They will not believe. -Will think 'tis but a ruse to save him and his house. 'Twill not -avail." - -Also he remembered, though he could not say so to her, that Jean and -Laurent had hinted, even if they had not said so in as many words, -that this woman was as unpopular in all the country round as the owner -of Bois-le-Vaux himself, was regarded as an evil creature of his. What -likelihood, therefore, that they would desist from glutting the -passions now aroused in their breasts, or from their determination to -destroy the house, should she show herself? - -"I will come with you," he said a moment later, seeing that nothing -could turn her from this newly arrived at determination. "There may be -none who know me, and can thereby stay their comrades' hands, but, at -least, one glance will show that I am not he. There is no resemblance -betwixt us. We will go together." - -"No! no! no!" she said, stopping in the descent she had already -commenced on the stairs. "Man! are you mad? If there are none who know -you they will deem, must deem, you his friend, accomplice. And," she -went on, almost imperiously, "I bid you stay--for her sake," pointing -to Marion as she spoke. "If a bullet find your heart or brain, what of -her? She will be burnt to a cinder in this house." - -It was true! He must not leave her; never leave her now. Death had -threatened them, the end was very near--another hour and the mansion -would be in flames; his place was by her side. Either in life or -death! Henceforth, come what might--safety or destruction--they must -find it together. - -Even as he recognized that this was so, Clemence was gone, had -descended the upper flight of stairs, was about to descend the lower. -And as he, peering over once more, looked down, he knew the awful risk -to which the woman had exposed herself. - -Up from the hall floor, as they saw her above, came a shout of many -voices. In an instant the crack of half a dozen muskets came, too, -also shrieks and ribald cries. - -"The witch, Clemence. The hell-cat. The beldam. His mother's rival. -The curse of all her days. At her! At her! Tear her to pieces." - -"Nay!" roared out that harsh, strident voice he had heard before. -"Nay. Not so. And come you back," its owner cried to three others who -had already begun to rush up the stairs, as though to seize on her. -"Come back, I say. Nor fire on her more. There is a better way. He is -here and she is with him. Let them burn together!" - -The shots had missed her--every one!--though Andrew, watching, had -seen her stagger back as they struck the stairs and the wall around -her; now she turned and retraced her steps to where he stood. - -"Are you wounded?" he gasped when she had rejoined him, noticing that -her face was bloodless, white as that of a corpse--that the great -pendulous lips--in years gone by, doubtless, so full and ruddy--shook -and trembled. - -"No," she said, "unharmed. Yet doomed. Doomed! Still, there is a -chance. If I go back to them, fling my body from this landing to the -stone floor below, they may cease." - -"Are you also mad?" he asked hoarsely; "Are you mad? You think I shall -permit that?" - -"'Tis the only way to stop them." - -"Bah!" Andrew exclaimed. "Nothing will stop them. You forget. They -know he is here. Also they cannot know of any secret escape--even -though there be one." - -Her hands fell in despair by her side, her eyes rolled piteously, she -recognized that it was as he had said. It was the wolf they sought -first and chiefly--her next. - -"We are lost!" she muttered. "Lost! Lost!" - -It was impossible to doubt that such was the case. - -Looking over once more, down into that great well beneath them, he -saw that the floor was piled the height of a man's head with saplings -and trees, both green and dry, and with kindlings formed from -wrenched-down tapestry, broken chairs and stools and other things, -chopped up small; even the great table itself was being hacked into -firewood. All hope was gone! - -Likewise, he saw three men standing close together, the palms of two -of them placed side by side, so as to form a bowl, while the third -emptied all their powder-horns into those hands; after which they -placed the heap beneath the accumulated fuel. No need to doubt that -the fire would blaze fiercely! Then one strode forward--the man with -the great raucous voice--and said some words of gloating, while, as he -did so, he bent his knees and stooped down, and peered into the mass -collected together, and nodded approbation of the heap of powder -beneath. Then rose and stood back some yards and drew a great pistol -from his belt. - -Drew it, gave one look to the priming and his flint--fired, and -ignited the heap. And as the powder leapt up a mass of green and -yellow flames, as the kindlings and the logs caught, even as the -report rang through the house of the De Bois-Vallées, so, too, there -rang cheer after cheer, howl after howl, as though hell itself had let -loose all its fiends. Also they danced and capered round and round -that pyre, Andrew seeing two men clasp hands and waists and execute a -grim fantastic dance about the hall! They stirred, too, with pikes and -halberds wrenched from off the walls, the logs; some even thrust the -swords they carried into the flames to make the fire burn more -fiercely. Then, all stood away from the great open doorway, from which -the door had long since been torn, so that the breeze of morning--for -the day was nigh at hand--might blow in and fan those flames. The -great door itself as well was lifted up upon their shoulders, carried -in, and flung upon them. - -"To the leads! To the leads!" Clemence muttered. "To the leads. Better -die there than here, as we must if we stay longer. See! See!" and she -pointed down. "The lower stairs are on fire; already the way--that -way--is cut off. We are trapped. To the leads." - -"Ay," said Andrew, "to the leads. After that--death, unless some -portions of the house stand firm. How is it with her?" - -"She is insensible--not dead. Not yet." - -"Not yet, I pray God. Give her to me. Come--if we can find the opening -to the roof the air may revive her." Whereon, stooping down, he lifted -the girl once more to his shoulder. - -267 - -"Go carefully," he said to Clemence, "carefully--beware the oubliette. -For God's sake, avoid that." - -Thus they returned to the garret, groping their way in the dense -blackness. - -"Give me your hand," she answered, putting out her own and finding -his. "I have been here in the dark before, and know where the exit is. -Now come." - -And, following her, with his burden clasped to his breast with one -arm, he let her guide him slowly and step by step--each one made sure -of ere another was taken--through the darkness and the ever-increasing -atmosphere of suffocation, towards where stood the ladder leading to -the roof. - -And so, feeling their way inch by inch, Clemence first, with Andrew -following, he bearing Marion in his arms, and having at the same time -to keep touch with the former and also to carry his drawn sword--since -he knew not if, even now, De Bois-Vallée might not be lurking -somewhere close by in that dark garret, ready to thrust his own weapon -through him, or, indeed, through all of them--they reached shortly the -ladder that led to the roof. And, then, a few moments more and they -had emerged on to the leads. - -The rain, that had been falling at intervals (though sometimes it had -been clear moonlight) since the wintry sun had set amidst a bank of -deep blood-coloured clouds, backed up and surrounded by still deeper -leaden ones, had ceased now--up from the south-west, as they gained -the roof, there blew a soft, warm breeze that was as the breath of -heaven to them after the reeking interior from which they had escaped. -Yet--escaped for how long, Andrew and Clemence wondered inwardly? For -how long? How long would it be ere that portion of the house on which -they stood might be alight, and, thus destroyed, engulf them below? -Below, where it was easy enough to see that already the house was in -flames--and whence there reached their nostrils the fumes of smoke. -Already, too, by gazing over the parapet Andrew could see the red -tongues of fire shooting out from windows, and volumes of dun-coloured -smoke emerging. Could hear, also, those windows bursting and the sound -of rent glass as it fell on the stones of the courtyard. - -Heard, too, and saw other things ere an hour had elapsed--an hour in -which Clemence had sat on the ladder giving to the roof, with Marion -lying in her arms. For, at the end of that hour, a terrible roar and -rending sound reached his ears from beneath, and, looking once more -over the parapet, he saw the left side of the house rent open; knew -that a portion of one of the wings had fallen inwards. The north wing, -and that the one which joined the part of the house above which they -all were. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -THE LAST CHANCE - - -Another hour passed--the dawn was close at hand--and the ruin of the -greater part of the fabric was almost accomplished. For that was what -Andrew perceived now, as still he kept his vigil above and listened -still to the cries of those below, who were all by this time outside -in the courtyard and the fringe of the copse, revelling in their -handiwork and the accomplishment of their long-thirsted-for vengeance. - -Beneath him the fire still raged and burned, though by God's mercy it -had even now left untouched that side of the building on which they -were--the side that was nearest to the slope of the mountain from -which he had originally crossed: untouched at least at present! -Therefore, he knew that for some time they were safe; below where they -stood there was still the floor of more or less solid masonry, then -the other floor from which they had escaped--the one that was beneath -the leads on which they were. In the front, also, the fire had not yet -got a hold, it was on the two sides that its fury seemed to have been -most expended. Of them, the north wing had already fallen in, as has -been said; the south one looked as though it would do so at any -moment. And, gazing at the gap made by that destroyed on the other -side, Andrew could not but shudder, for had it so happened that they -had been there when it gave way, had it so happened that the way to -the leads had lain through the north wing, they would have gone with -it in its fall, have all been lying crushed to death beneath the -stonework and woodwork which had been hurled into the great hall. - -Yet, even as he looked across the gap left by that fallen wing, as he -peered down into the now blocked-up hall, so blocked up, indeed, that -the _débris_ of the north side rose almost level with the top floors -of the sides still standing, he saw that here was something which -would prevent the total annihilation of the house, and deprive the -Lorrainers of their vengeance in its entirety; would also prevent the -whole of the building from being razed to the ground. - -Something, too, that would, perhaps, save those who were upon the -roof, render it unlikely that that roof should sink beneath them, and, -in so sinking, carry them with it to destruction. - -He saw that, as the northern side had crashed in, the lower, or stone, -portion had fallen upon the mass of burning matter, and, thereby, had -beaten out much of the fire, which now only smouldered beneath the -masonry and wreckage of that lower portion, which, in its turn, had -received above it the wooden part. The flames from below--even if not -totally extinguished--could never, therefore, reach the woodwork -above; it was as likely as not that, soon, they would be entirely -pressed out by the weight. If, therefore, the foundations of that -portion of the house over which they now stood were not injured, if -that wing did not fall in, they were saved. The fire would die out, -and, when it had done so, surely some means of descending to earth -again could be found, even though there were now no stairs left. - -"There is yet a chance for us," he said, going back to where Clemence -was, and telling her briefly what he had observed, and what he deduced -from that observation. "Still a chance--that is, if the Lorrainers are -content with what they have done. Will they be, or will nothing -satisfy them but the total destruction of the house? If so, they will -set it alight again on the other sides. Then nothing can save us." - -"They may be content," the woman answered, glancing up at him, "if -they suppose that he is dead. Otherwise they will not. And more than -one half of the house still stands secure. Therefore, they may think -he is safe somewhere. They will begin again; they will never desist -until he is slain." - -"Our danger is not then over," Andrew said quietly. "It seems--if you -guess aright--that we are doomed. How is it now with her?" and he -glanced down at Marion as she lay in the woman's arms. - -"She is more peaceful. And she breathes easily. Yet, the shock has -been too much for her. She will not live." - -"You are sure of that?" - -"I fear so." - -"Therefore," said Andrew more to himself than to her, "my -determination to kill him is greater than ever. Two lives now to -demand expiation for, besides his other crimes." Then, turning to -Clemence, and bending down to her, he asked: "What think you? Has he -escaped? Oh! that I should have let him--let him go without me at his -heels." - -"I know not," she muttered, "yet, as I have said, there is some way -out of this house. His father knew it--I have heard him speak of -it--though he kept the secret well. But, even though he escapes you, -he is a doomed man if he stays in this land. They have begun," and she -waved her hand to the depths below, where still the Lorrainers could -be heard calling to each other and--sometimes, it seemed--from the -sounds which arose in the early morning air--gloating over the ruin -they had wrought: "now there can be but one end. I know my own -people." - -"He will not escape me," Andrew replied. "As you know your own people, -so I know myself. If I live through this night--this day which is now -dawning--I will find him. And then his last chance is gone. I spared -him once when he lay stretched at my feet--I saved his life--to-night -I have let him trick me and so save himself. Well! 'tis the last. When -next we stand face to face I slay him like some poisonous reptile." - -While, as he spoke, he gazed down on Clemence, and saw her great -starry eyes gleaming out at him through what was not, now, all the -darkness of night. - -And they had lived through it! For he had said truly--the dawn of -another day was come--that night of horror had passed. - -Far away to the east, away to the side of the slope from which he had -crossed to the roof of this now ruined house, there was a light in the -sky--dim at present, yet gradually becoming clearer, which told that -the night was indeed over; also the tree-tops were beginning to be -visible, other objects to stand out and be recognizable. And as Andrew -on that roof gazed towards the coming day--wondering if, with it, -would come also safety and escape; if the next night would find all or -any of them alive--he knew that he, too, had become visible to those -below. He heard a shout from the fringe of copse beyond the great -courtyard, and, turning his eyes down, saw the danger which threatened -him. - -Observed the gleam of a dozen musketoon barrels pointed his way, and, -as he sprang back behind the buttress of an angle close to where the -women were, saw their puffs of smoke and darts of flame, followed half -a second after by the reports, and heard some of the bullets hurtle -against that buttress while others sang through the air over the very -spot he had just quitted. - -In a moment he knew and understood! - -"They take me for him," he said, turning to Clemence, who had half -sprung from the ladder where she sat supporting Marion, while the girl -moaned, either at being disturbed, or at the falling pieces of brick -and stone that scattered round her, "take me for him. 'Tis not strange -in this half light. Yet, how to make them understand? Even if there -are any there who have known me--Jean, to wit--they think me dead. -They knew I was within this house." - -"See," the woman interrupted, and scarce listening to his words, "see, -the fire breaks out again. On the south side now--and it has reached -the top floor. Soon all that will be in flames. There is no hope." - -It was true. From the parapet that ran beneath the leads of the south -side, and which was at a left angle to that portion of the roof on -which they were, there sprang a long thin line of flame--flame that -bubbled out accompanied by white, clear smoke, but which, thin as it -was, yet grew thicker every moment Both flame and smoke were finding a -vent from below; they could not doubt that, underneath, a large -portion of the south wing was burning fiercely. - -"There is one hope," Andrew said, "still one. Observe. The volumes of -smoke from the hall no longer roll up as they did; there the fire is -almost extinguished by the masonry and _débris_ that has fallen on it. -Also, the trap leading here from the garret is open, yet none comes -forth either. I will back to the garret. I may find the secret way. -The way he went." - -"Impossible. Others have sought for it, even though only to gratify -curiosity--I myself have done so all over the house. You will never -find it." - -"Yet will I try. If that fresh fire spreads and we cannot escape, we -shall be roasted alive. I will go," and as he spoke he went towards -the trap opening below (shielding himself behind buttress and chimney -base as he did so, so that no bullet from the Lorrainers should find -its mark), and descended. - -Yet, when he had spent half an hour looking round the garret in all -directions, he had to give up his search, had to acknowledge that it -was unavailing. No use to look under the bare, uncovered rafters, to -see if there was any entrance, however small, to some descent--there -was none a cat could have crept down; no use to stamp upon the boards -of the floor on which he had lain so many days and nights; they were -solid oak planks, affixed to the joists below with great clove-headed -nails. It would have taken an hour to get one of them from its place. -Yet, fearing to miss any chance, he tried and tested each one -separately. - -Once he advanced to the horrid shaft--the "oubliette"--and peered down -that, wondering if, there, might be the secret way. Yet, he felt sure -and told himself, the way out could not be there. The great mouth of -the shaft gaped black and cavernous, while, as he laid himself on the -floor, and, with face over the edge, peered down into it, there came -up a damp odour which seemed to tell for certain that its depth was -terrible. And if it were not an "oubliette"--a "_guet-apens_," as he -had once termed it--wherefore that mounting block which they had all -had to use so recently, and why that treacherous staircase, or ladder, -from above, which ended abruptly, so that the hastening victim should -be plunged blindly into the abyss of the shaft below? - -Yet he sounded it as well as he was able; leant over and, with his -sword in his extended hand, thrust down to see if there were any ledge -or bottom within reach--and found none! He discovered, too, a link of -the chain which had bound him, and hurled it down, listening for the -sound of its fall. But heard nothing--except that it struck once -against the side, owing to his not throwing it precisely straight. -Then, nothing more. - -"There is no way there, except to death!" He muttered. "It is useless. -As well return to the roof and await what comes. At least, Marion -Wyatt will not die alone." - -The flames of the south side had increased to a great extent as he -regained the spot where the women were--also a soft wind was fanning -them, so that now they leapt up some feet from the roof, burning clear -and bright against what was still half night, half day. Standing there -watching them, and watching also the direction in which the wind came, -he knew that it would not be long--not an hour perhaps--ere those -flames had spread to the wing where they all were. - -Then the end would be very near. Well! it must be borne. There was -nothing for it but that. - -From these thoughts he was startled by the action of the woman, -Clemence, at this moment. Startled! Amazed! - -She had been sitting gazing heedlessly, almost, it might have seemed, -indifferently, at those flames towards which he had at that instant -turned his back to look down on Marion, when, suddenly, she removed -the girl's head from her lap and rose swiftly to her feet--heedless of -whether she might be seen or not by the besiegers below. Then she -raised her hand--her eyes gleaming strangely as ever--and pointed away -towards where the road to Remiremont ran behind the woods. The road -along which Andrew had come on that night when he paid his visit of -observation. - -"Look," she said, and he noticed how firm and unshaken her voice was, -"Look, what is that? There are none to help us; none here; not one of -the Duke's men would raise a finger to help him--also they come not -from where the Duke is. Yet, look. Look, I say." - -Following her glance, Andrew did look. And saw that which, at first, -he could not understand the meaning of. Amongst the trees, over which -the wintry day had now broken, the trees which separated Bois-le-Vaux -from the Remiremont road, he saw a long cavalcade of horsemen winding -down from the mountain slopes. A cavalcade of horsemen which stretched -on and on until several hundreds of them had descended and were still -descending to the plains of Lorraine--horsemen on whose glittering -corselets and backs-and-breasts and headpieces, as well as bridles and -stirrups (though over many of them their long riding cloaks were -thrown) the now rising winter sun sparkled. He saw, too, from the roof -of the ruined house on which he stood, that, in the morning light, -there fluttered the pennons of lances and banners, bearing on them -devices of many kinds, guidons also, having on them a large and -glittering sun; flags bearing emblems, crests, and coats-of-arms. - -Overmastered by that which he observed--for the shining splendour of -that great sun upon a purple silk ground told him plainly enough who -were those men streaming down from the Vosges--overmastered by the -certainty of their safety being at last assured, he threw prudence to -the winds, and, boldly exposing himself to the Lorrainers below, he -shouted: - -"Look! Look! Behold! Your hour is past--you have missed your chance. -Behold the army of France is in your land." - -Whether surprise at seeing him there--for now none could believe that -it was De Bois-Vallée himself--prevented one single shot from being -fired at him, or whether it was that, as they saw that army streaming -down into Lorraine, they became paralyzed with consternation, Andrew -could not tell. Yet one of these it must have been, for soon, from all -below, there came a babel of shouts and cries, from all their throats -there rose the words: - -"The army of France! the army of France! Lorraine is lost to all -eternity!" And, even as they so cried, they dispersed and sped away. -Sped, too, as fast as they could go, for now it was evident that the -burning house had been observed by some in the ranks of the advancing -cavalry. Already more than one troop had been detached and was -breaking off from the main body, and seeking for a road that should -bring them to it. - -While Clemence, white now to the lips, white as the woman whose face -lay once more on her lap, muttered hoarsely: - -"What? What does it mean? What portend?" - -"It means," replied Andrew, "that Turenne has crossed the Vosges, that -your fair Lorraine will be wrenched from out your Duke's hands for -ever--that the Imperialists are in a trap. Also--it means that we are -saved." - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -FREE! - - -Andrew had divined aright. That was what, in truth, it did mean. - -Turenne had performed the greatest military feat of Louis' reign, had -set the chief seal upon a long career of glory. - -Weary of lying inert in winter quarters for weeks after the battle of -Entzheim, he had suddenly conceived, and afterwards carefully matured, -the achievement which he had now carried through. The whole of his -army had left Alsace in three different brigades, and, passing over -the Vosges in the depth of a winter remarkable for its inclemency and -particularly for the amount of rain which fell--progressing through -roads and mountain paths rendered almost impassable by the mud and -water with which they were soaked--had reached Lorraine. There -remained nothing now but to fall upon the unsuspecting Imperialists at -Belfort, Mühlhausen, and elsewhere, to hunt them from Lorraine and, -once more and finally, to make Louis master of that much disputed -province. How this was done countless other pens have told. - -Of those three brigades which had so wondrously and rapidly crossed -the mountains, the one that had met the eyes of Clemence first and of -Andrew afterwards, on this winter morning and after that night of -horror, was led by the great captain himself--it taking possession of -Remiremont ere many more hours had passed. Amongst those who had been -detached towards the still burning house, the moment that the flames -were seen, were some that formed the brigade of cavalry under the -Count de Lusignan, with also several of the English and Scotch -auxiliaries, under the command for the moment of the Marquis De La -Fare. - -They rode into that great courtyard half an hour after the Lorrainers -had deserted the place, and, used though they were--God knows the -devastation of the Palatinate had made them so!--to the sight of -burning houses, even of burning towns and cities, they could not but -stare in amazement at what met their eyes. - -For, still, from the south wing of that great house the flames poured -forth in fury--that side of it having now caught well alight; upon the -roof of the west wing they saw, clear against the threatening sky, the -form of a great man standing looking down upon them, his arms folded. - -Then, from the midst of those rescuers, there rode forward one who -was, undoubtedly, in command of them--the rich justaucorps with its -gold gallooning and _flammes d'or_ showing that he who wore it -belonged to the nobility--who called up to Andrew standing above. - -"Sir, are you the owner of this unfortunate house?" while, as he -spoke, he raised his hand to his thick, three-cornered felt hat. - -"Nay, sir. Yet am I the last man left alive in it. But if you will, or -can, rescue us from our perilous position, for there are two women -here as well as I----" - -But, as he spoke, he noticed that his questioner's attention had been -withdrawn from him by several of his followers, all of whom appeared -to be speaking earnestly to their leader, while at the same time they -directed their eyes up to Andrew, as did that leader also a moment -later. Then the latter said, or rather called up to him again: - -"Sir, my men here tell me strange news. I cannot think but that they -are mistaken. Yet they aver it is not so, and you can soon decide. -They say that you are of our army, of the English auxiliary force, and -fought for us recently." - -"'Tis true, sir. I was of the English Regiment under Colonel -Churchill, and am on leave of absence. And," pointing to where some of -the English and Scotch were now making their way towards the house, -"there are some who should know me, seeing that we fought side by -side. But, monsieur, the fire gains rapidly, if the wind shifts a -point it will soon reach here; I beseech you lose no time in effecting -our rescue. We have had a terrible night of it, and--once I am with -you--I have a marvellous story to tell." - -The rescue was not effected for still some two hours, while, during -the passage of that time, the fire in the south wing crept ever nearer -and nearer towards the one on which Andrew and the two others were. At -last, however, it was accomplished. And thus it was done. - -Leaving Marion in the charge of Clemence, and observing that she -seemed somewhat easier now, though all that she had gone through -during the night, the excitement of the past few days, the terror of -the burning house, and the exposure to the cold of the early morning, -had undoubtedly brought her very near her end, he descended once more -to the garret and, through it, to the floor below. This was still -untouched by the fire, and it seemed indeed as though, should the -flames from the south wing be prevented from spreading, or should they -by any chance become extinguished, that portion of the house would not -be destroyed. Then he went on farther down, reaching at last the top -of the first floor, and standing over the gulf left yawning by the -falling in of the great oak stairs. - -It was here that his further descent was impeded, though, had the fire -not still been smouldering below, he could perhaps have escaped easily -enough: could have leaped down on to all the fallen _débris_ that was -heaped up a dozen feet beneath him, have attempted a way across it to -the open doorway--bereft now of its huge double-door, which had been -chopped off its hinges by the besiegers and hurled on as fresh fuel to -feed the flames--have possibly forced his way out thus to safety and -freedom. - -But, now, at this time, no such attempt was wise--not wise, even had -he been alone and unencumbered with Marion Wyatt and Clemence. - -For, although the fire no longer blazed up from the centre of that -hall, although from the vast heap beneath him there rose only the -slow-curling, grey smoke that told of what was smouldering beneath, he -knew that, to spring into its midst yet, would be to spring into a -seething, still burning mass, to hurl himself into a vast heap of -charred embers--to be choked, burnt, suffocated beyond any hope of -recovery. - -The way was not to be found there! - -He went, therefore, rapidly along the gallery of that floor on the -west side in hopes of finding, perhaps, some other descent, some -_escalier de service_, or back stairs, by which escape might be made. -But there was none, or, if there had ever been any, it must have -existed in the north wing, which was long since entirely destroyed, or -in the south, which was on fire--or perhaps the front, which was -unreachable. - -"There is but one way," he told himself, "one way left. From some -window. I must bring the women down here, find somehow the opportunity -of lowering them to the ground. Yet 'twill be no easy task. This stone -basement is high, was once the whole height of the house--was the -house itself. Laurent told me--'tis far to the ground from here." - -It was, indeed; the windows of the rooms that opened off the corridor -he was now on being fully thirty-five feet from the ground. A height -to appal a man who had to lower two almost helpless women--one -certainly helpless--from it to the earth; a man who had also not so -much as a cord in his possession wherewith to do so. Yet that, he -thought, could be overcome, provided for. The cavalry men outside -might catch the women in their arms as he lowered them; if they sat -close upon their horses and near together under the windows from which -he let down Marion and Clemence, at his--and their--full arms' length, -the distance would not be so much to fall. But entering the room -nearest to him, in which, to his horror, he found Beaujos, the -steward, lying dead in a bed--no doubt he had been keeping that bed -since the injuries he had received in Andrew's encounter with him when -he and Marion made their first attempt to escape, and had been -suffocated while lying there forgotten--another obstacle presented -itself. Outside the small diamond-paned lattice windows, themselves a -strong barrier to any exit, with their leaden framework for the small -panes, and with small stone columns dividing each window into three -compartments, he noticed at once that they were strongly guarded by -iron bars crossed both horizontally and perpendicularly. He tried -another room--it was the same, both as regarded bars outside and stone -columns within; was indeed a counterpart of the first. They offered no -chance. - -"Curse these Lorraine wolves," he muttered to himself, as he rushed to -a third room, "they protected themselves well. Did indeed mean that -none should get into their house, or, being in, should ever get out -again." - -The third room was as useless as the first for his purpose, and--there -was but one more left! If that was the same, God only knew how the -escape could ever be made, unless it was back across the chasm, the -way he had come. Could that be done, he mused, as now he approached -the fourth room. Was that possible? If one, or a dozen, of the men -outside should proceed to the brink of the chasm, fasten a rope to the -tree as he and Laurent had done--if---- - -"Ha! the chance is here," he exclaimed, breaking off in his -calculations. "Here. Here. It must be." - -He had entered the fourth room--in this case he had to burst the door -open by hurling himself against its stout oak panels, since it was -locked--and, in doing so, found the chance of which he spoke. - -The window was of the same form as the others, but it had been -subjected to some great violence and was much damaged by the shock; -the slim columns were broken quite out of base and socket, the -shattered fragments of the stone lay on the floor and, with them, lay, -too, the leaden framework of the diamond panes, and most of the panes -themselves. The violence had come from outside--later on, Andrew -learnt that, during the night attack, a petard carried by the -besieging Lorrainers--one of a number brought by them to assist in -destroying the house--had been hurled against that window and had -blown it in. Yet, when this had been accomplished, their object had -failed. The window was too high from the ground to allow of their -obtaining entry, and the petard, after bursting it open, had fallen -back, doing no further damage. - -Still, it had performed a service never dreamt of by the -Lorrainers--it had provided a way for the escape of those three -prisoners in the burning house. - -The cavalry men, who had by now been joined by those belonging to the -English and Scotch auxiliaries, were all upon that side of the -mansion--since 'twas there, above, that they had first perceived the -form of Andrew outlined against the threatening morning clouds--and as -his head appeared through the shattered window they hailed him with a -shout. Also from those of his own countrymen, as well as from the -Scotch, came noisy greetings. Some had stood side by side with him in -other campaigns than these; all had seen his prowess at Entzheim and -honoured him for it. - -"Yet," called up the young Marquis De La Fare, he being the officer in -command, "the height is great. How to descend; how bring the ladies -you speak of?" While, as he himself spoke, he bade some of the men -search the outhouses they observed near by. Perchance some ladder -might be there, by which the window could be reached. - -"It may happen," said Andrew, "that I can drop the women to you--yet -the distance is almost too great--if they should be missed by your -soldiers it would be instant death." - -"It is impossible," the other replied. "Yet, have patience--my men -seek even now for some means to reach you--if a ladder can be found -all will be well. Meanwhile, I counsel you, go bring the ladies to the -window. By then the way may have been found." - -The advice was good, and Andrew lost no time in following it. Ere a -quarter of an hour had passed, Clemence and Marion had been brought -down from the roof, and were with him in the room. But, almost he -feared that ere they should be rescued Marion would be a dead woman. -She was nearly helpless now--nay, quite so, and half insensible; it -was in those great, untiring arms that she had to be carried from the -roof below. - -And behind them had followed Clemence, muttering: - -"She will die. She will die." While as she so said she wept. - -That she would die, Andrew could not doubt; this last shock, following -on the long detention she had been subjected to by her deceiver, De -Bois-Vallée; following on, too, the agony of mind she must have -suffered in musing on what those at home would feel at her -disappearance; had brought her to her end. He could not doubt it. - -"And still," he murmured to himself, "Philip is unavenged. Soon there -will be two victims of his villainy. God! how I have failed. Failed to -avenge him, to save her--failed even to learn how the evil was -wrought. And if she dies now--to-day--to-night--I shall never know." - -Yet, even as he so spoke, there came into his face a look which would -have told plainly enough to anyone observing it, that, in one thing, -at least, he would not fail. If ever De Bois-Vallée stood face to face -with Andrew Vause again, he would escape no more with life--the hour -when he did so would be his last. Only--would he ever so stand? Might -he not by now have put leagues between them; might he not ere long put -the mountains, the seas, between him and the avenger who sought for -him! - -As Andrew gazed below from the window of the room in which they were -now, he learnt that no ladder was to be found, either in outhouse or -elsewhere. If there had ever been one it had been removed, probably by -the Lorrainers; had possibly been used by them to furnish fresh fuel -for the flames inside. But, even as the men who returned from the -search told the Marquis De La Fare of their failure, from another -group who had wandered further into the woods around the house there -came a shout--it seemed of triumph and rejoicing. Then, quickly, one -came running back, breathless, and soon the story was told of what -they had lit upon. - -A shed not far from the mansion, hidden in one of the copses of -Bois-le-Vaux; a house used by the woodmen for storing the felled logs -of trees--a house piled full of what was, doubtless, the winter store -of fuel--doubtless, also, overlooked by and unknown to the besiegers. -Otherwise, for sure, all in that but would have gone to swell the -flames--the attackers would not have laboured to hew down saplings and -branches had they known of that store so near to their hands. - -Now, it was to be directed to a vastly different purpose--to save -instead of to destroy. By twos and threes, by squads as well, those -men who, for nights, had scarce rested during that weary and rough -passage of the mountains, set to work once more, bringing one by one, -or half a dozen at a time between them, the logs to the spot beneath -where those three prisoners were; untiringly they worked. And so they -placed them against the window from which Andrew gazed, making first a -deep base of the larger billets, edged round and secured by fallen -masses of stone and beams from the old house, and then building others -above, pyramid-wise, until, at last, the work was done. - -Until, at last, the stage was erected on to which those three could -step forth to safety and salvation. To which two of them, at least, -could step forth, but on to which the other, the dying woman, had to -be lifted. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -THE STORY OF MARION WYATT - - -For three days the rain--when it was not a damp snow that melted ere -it reached the earth--had fallen, had been falling incessantly since -Andrew and his companions were rescued; and now, in the best room of -the inn at Plombières, Marion Wyatt lay slowly dying. - -Andrew had caused her to be brought here for more reasons than one: -firstly, because it was the best inn of the neighbourhood; and, -secondly, because at Remiremont, on the morning of their escape, every -room in the place had been occupied by the first brigade of Turenne's -army, the brigade of cavalry eighteen hundred strong, accompanied by -two companies of the Auxiliaries, which had crossed the Vosges with -him. - -Now, all were gone--the war had rolled towards Mühlhausen and Belfort, -the junction was being made with the brigades which had passed the -mountains by other routes; soon, this night, perhaps--the army of -France would fall upon the unsuspecting Imperialists. - -Yet, of that army, one member, at least, remained behind--one who, -feeble and unable to take the field, though no longer with his brain -clouded or his speech impaired, had been on his way into Lorraine -under the protection of his countrymen--Valentin, Marquis Debrasques. -The news of the rescue of two women and a man from the burning house -which the brigade had observed on its downward march from the -mountains, had reached his ears almost before he had found -quarters--he having also been sent on to Plombières to do so; ere -another hour had passed he, standing at the door of the inn, had seen -them approaching, Marion and Clemence in a _calèche_ that had been -obtained at Remiremont, Andrew walking by their side on foot. Also, he -had heard--nay, knew well enough, for in his aunt's life he had been -here with her--whose house it was from which the flames streamed forth -on the wintry morning air. - -"You have saved her from him, at least," he said, his eye glancing -into the _calèche_, where he saw Marion lying inert, her head on -Clemence's shoulder. Then, sinking his voice even lower than it had -been, he asked: - -"And he. Is he dead?" - -"Not yet," answered Andrew. "Not yet. He has evaded me so far!" - -"Where is he?" - -Later in the day--when Marion had been put into a warm and comfortable -bed, in which she lay in a stupor for hour after hour--Andrew told -him, and gave the Marquis the history of all that had occurred since -he quitted the army for a time, after having obtained leave from -Turenne to do so. - -"And now, Valentin," he said, "since you have recovered sufficiently -to do so, and since, also, it seems, poor girl! that Marion will pass -away without being able to throw any light on all the mystery which -surrounds her abduction from England--her long detention in that house -of his--I ask you, I call upon you to tell me----" - -But, ere he could proceed further in his demand, they were interrupted -by the entrance of Clemence into the room in which they sat--the room -in which, a month, ago, he and Jean had meditated on how he should -gain admission into the now ruined house of the Wolf of Lorraine. - -"She desires to see you," she said, addressing Andrew; "she is now -entirely herself again. Yet," and, as she spoke, both the others could -see that she had been weeping; that, also, it was with difficulty she -kept back her tears. "Yet, it will not, cannot be for long. My God! My -God!" she exclaimed, with a sudden wail of anguish, while the great -full lips trembled with emotion, and from her large eyes the drops ran -down to her cheeks, "she is dying. Will not live through the night! -Come to her. Come at once!" - -Bidding Debrasques await his return, Andrew arose and followed her. -Followed her, recognizing that, if he ever was to hear the whole story -of De Bois-Vallée's villainy, it must be now. If what Clemence said -was true--if she was not mistaken, and the unhappy girl was close to -her end--he must learn all now or never. - -He found her sitting up in her bed, her fair hair streaming down -behind her back, her eyes sunk deep in their sockets, with, round -them, an awful purple blackness; upon her face that look which even -those who have never previously seen the signs of swift advancing -death understand in a moment. And one quick glance at her from him, -who had been so often face to face with death, was sufficient now. No -need to speak, to ask any question--that look told all. - -He stood before her, by her side--this man who had striven so hard to -save her, this rough, valiant soldier, whose life had been risked a -dozen times within the last month in the hope that he should bear her -off to freedom again; stood before her gazing down on that pallid -face, then turned his own away as once--how long ago it seemed -now!--he had turned it away from the brother whom he had also seen -stretched upon what was soon to be his death-bed. - -"Nay," she said, looking up at him--and he was startled, he knew not -why, at the calmness of her tones--"Nay! do not turn away. Ah!" for as -at her bidding he faced round again, she saw that his eyes were wet -with tears, "do not weep. You have been so bold, so strong, so brave, -have struggled so hard for me, on my behalf, on Philip's behalf. Do -not weep!" and she put out her hand--he felt the clamminess of death -upon it!--and clasped his. - -He strove to speak, to say some word--yet none came to his lips; he -was mute. Yet wondered at himself for being so, remembering how rarely -words failed him when wanted--whether gibe, or joke, or defiance to a -foe. Could do nothing but seat himself in the deep chair by the -bed-head, to which she had motioned him with a glance of her eyes, and -hold her hand in his own great brown one. Nor could he think of aught -except the two lives which had both been wrecked by the same man, and -wonder if words--or, better still, actions--would fail him when at -last, and finally (it must be finally this time, he found himself -meditating), he and De Bois-Vallée met again. - -Then suddenly, breaking in on his thoughts, he heard Marion Wyatt -speaking again. The voice clear as before. - -"You will meet Philip soon now," she was saying. "You will tell him -all. Alas! that I may not see him myself ere I die." - -He could not find it in his heart to tell her how near she was to -meeting his brother now: how soon their souls would be together--dared -not tell her that he was dead. - -"Of what use to do that?" he thought. "If I inform her, she will die, -thinking her disappearance slew him. Time enough to know when they -meet in heaven." - -"I wrote him," she said, "as I was brought through Paris. Confided my -letter to a sure hand. Told him how I had been trapped, snared. Bade -him come seek for me, save me. Often," she went on, "since first you -made your way into that house, I have wondered why he came not himself -in answer to my prayer; why sent you in his place. Was it because you -are so big and powerful--or was he sick; could not come himself?" - -What answer should be made? To say that his brother sent him in his -place must bring her lover before the dying woman's eyes in a pitiable -light; to say that he was dead would torture her last hours -unnecessarily. And--how let her know that the letter she spoke of had -never reached her lover's hands?--that he had died believing against -his own will that she was false to him. Yet, he must say something, -give her some answer. Tell her that the letter had never been -received! Yes, that would be best. When, suddenly, even as he so -determined--her mind, perhaps, unhinged by approaching death--she -herself relieved him of the necessity for any answer. - -She began dejectedly to go over the whole story of De Bois-Vallée's -connection with her; his treachery to her. And he, sitting there by -her bedside, piecing together one broken sentence with another, learnt -at last the truth. Learnt what, before, neither Philip nor her father -had ever known or he, himself, guessed at. - -Discovered that De Bois-Vallée was no stranger to her when he arrived -in London in the suite of Henrietta of Orleans. - -"I had not seen him for four years," she murmured, lying back upon her -pillows, with still her hot, moist hand in his; "not since my father -and I returned to England after the King was seated safely on his -throne. Not for four years." - -"You knew him, Marion?" Andrew asked astonished. - -"Very well--surely I told you--I mean, told Philip. Surely! Surely! He -was often at my father's lodgings in the Quartier de Picpus. It was -there, he being a welcome guest of my father's, who liked him well -because of his manliness, his activity, his cleverness with the sword -and all arms--that he first told me he loved me, asked my love in -return." - -"My God!" muttered Andrew beneath his breath, so that she heard him -not. "My God! Strange news this. Strange news. Philip knew naught of -it." - -"But," the dying girl went on, "I had none to give him. I liked him -well enough then, but I had no love for him. Yet he teased me often; -swore some day I should be his; vowed he would never lose me. But at -that time my father had resolved to return home, to die, as he said, -in his own house where he was born. It was while Camille De -Bois-Vallée was absent from Paris that we left for England." - -"Ha!" muttered Andrew, again to himself, and unheard by her. "Ha! And -he followed?" he said aloud. - -"He wrote," the girl went on--and it seemed to him, listening by her -side, that her voice was growing weaker--"that, though I had put the -sea between us even that should not deter him. He would find me yet; -win me. He used no threat, even as he thus wrote; he contented himself -with saying he loved me so fondly that he must gain his way to my -heart in the end." - -"Ay," Andrew said, still unheard by her, "in the end. Well, let's see -for the end. He won you away from Philip, anyhow." - -"Three years later," Marion continued, "I knew that he had come to -London--with the Duchess of Orleans. I was in the Duke of York's -garden giving on the Mall, in the suite of his Duchess, when I saw him -pass. He, too, saw me. Then he left the Mall and came over to where I -was and spoke to me. Said that never for an instant had he forgotten -me; never ceased to love me. Now that we had met again, would I -not return his love? I told him that I was affianced to Philip. -To--to--Philip." - -She paused a moment; lay back even more than before on her pillow. -Andrew thought she would speak no further. Yet, again, she took up her -story. - -"Affianced to Philip. Philip, my beloved. Philip whom I shall never -see in this world again. Ah! Philip! Philip! Philip!"--and she -stretched out her arms before her as though calling to him. - -"Heart up, poor girl," Andrew murmured. "Heart up. Ere long you may -meet again." - -"Never now in this world. Never. And--and--my God! how long I may have -to wait in heaven for him ere he joins me. How long!" - -He dared not tell her that Philip was already there awaiting her -coming; dared not give her a shock which should shorten her almost -closed life by one moment. The thread was nearly run out now; why snap -it at the end! - -Therefore, still he held his peace. - -"Where was I? What saying?" she asked, staring at him, and he noticed -that her eyes were more glassy than before. "What? And--and--why has -it grown so dark? Is the night at hand?" - -"Not yet, Marion," Andrew answered, in a broken voice. "Not yet, poor -child. And--it will be lighter soon." - -"I pray God. A light clear as day, in which I shall see Philip. -Philip! We are affianced still--are we not?" she asked suddenly, her -hot, feverish hand closing more tightly on his. - -"Always. Always. Have patience, dear one. It cannot be long ere you -and he meet again." - -His words, though, it may be, she did not grasp their meaning, seemed -to bring comfort to her as she lay dying there. Soon she grew as -tranquil as before; began once more her recital. - -"When he heard that, he said then all hope was gone for him; -that--that he must forget he had ever known and loved me. Must go -away, return to France, live for his profession of arms alone. -Philip--Andrew--the light does not come." - -"Patience, dear Marion." - -But, as he calmed her, he knew that the end was very near at hand; -feared, too, that, ere she went, her story would not be told. He -doubted if she would ever speak again. - -Yet once more she roused herself, the flame still flickering in the -lamp of life, though, now, as she spoke, her words were incoherent and -without sequence, making it difficult for him to piece them together. - -"My father could not live," she whispered: "He must see me. A night's -journey, at least, to Dorchester. And no horses. No horses to be had. -None! Ah! what was to do? And nigh fifty leagues--nigh fifty leagues." - -"What is she telling me?" Andrew wondered, gazing at her. - -"Hark how their hoofs ring upon the ground," she went on, speaking -rapidly, strongly also. "Hark! See, too, how the carriage sways; -listen to the crack of the whips. And he will live, he tells me; will -surely live till I reach him. Live to bless me, his child! Away! On! -Always on! Now across a moor, a heath; now a village; and now rest. A -change of horses. Ha! we grow nearer. He brings me drink and food; -drink, warm and spiced. And, see, the summer dawn is coming; the rooks -leave the trees. Soon--soon we shall be there. I can feel the sea -breeze on my cheek--feel it, inhale it--we are on the sea. We shall be -there soon, he tells me--on the sea." - -"On the sea!" muttered Andrew to himself. "On the sea! To reach -Dorchester!" - -"Over the sea, now. Over. Away. We draw near. Yet. Yet--I do not -recognize my own country, my father's land. Why do these people speak -the French tongue? What plains, what mountains are these? It is not -Dorset; not--not Dorset; the door opens. See, there is Clemence--how -she scowls at me--and Beaujos. Ha! look, Andrew; look, he scowls too. -Look! Look! Look! Where am I? My God! a prisoner. In his power. -Philip! Father! Andrew! Save me. Save me. Save----" - -She fell back exhausted, her hands trembling on the coverlet, plucking -and clutching at it, too; her hair dank and heavy with wet, her face -as marble, and her lips flecked with foam. - -"Philip! Philip," she moaned. "Philip, save me!" - -"Be calm, Marion, there is none can harm you. I am by your side. -Here." - -"And Philip?" - -"He--he is not far now!" - -"Thank God! Yet Philip--Andrew--oh! I cannot see your face, know not -which it is; keep him away from me. Kill him rather--kill him--kill -him dead. Hark he is coming up the stairs; he is outside; listen. And -Clemence, too; can you not hear her? Hark how she speaks to him. Calls -him coward, villain, base, vile--ah! like his mother! You hear him?" - -She raised herself by some last remaining force within her, stretched -out her hands, and seemed to push away some hateful form from her, -whispered once--with horror unspeakable in her glazed eyes--"Marry -you! Better death!" then fell back once more. Yet still again her lips -moved, again she muttered "Kill him! Kill him dead!" - -After these last words she lay quietly for a considerable space of -time, her breathing calm and tranquil, her bosom heaving gently, the -wave of life receding peacefully. Yet once or twice she murmured to -herself, also uttered Philip's name and her father's, then was quiet -and still again--so still that Andrew knew not at some moments whether -she was sleeping or dying; whether she was asleep or dead. - -But the last change came ere long; she murmured now of the fire from -which she thought they were still fleeing; of the black night, and, -next, the breaking dawn. Then, half rose up in her bed once more, and -held out feebly, piteously, her hands. - -"Andrew," she whispered, "Andrew, how dark the night is. I can scarce -see your face. Will daylight never come?" - -"Soon, sweet; soon, poor one," he said, standing now close by her, his -arms around her, his voice deep and low. "The light is coming fast." - -"And Philip. Will he not come? I shall see him?" - -"Soon. Very soon." - -"Never more to part?" - -"Never more to part," he answered in broken tones. "We shall be happy -always? Always together?" - -"Always now. For ever!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -MORE LIGHT - - -"Yes," Debrasques said, after Andrew told him of Marion's death and -also of all that, in the delirium of her end, she had revealed. "I -knew something of what she informed you. Knew that he had brought her -to France, had run away with her from an Englishman of your name. -Thought at first, when we met in Paris--after you helped me with those -vagabonds--that you were he. You remember my agitation?" - -"Yes. I remember." Then, reflectively--putting the fire logs together -with the toe of his boot--he went on: "Yet--yet--do not be hurt with -me, Valentin--but--such an affair as that is deemed in France only one -of gallantry--deemed so, too, in England now, since Charles has -returned. Why, therefore, was the agitation of which you speak so -great? He was a good swordsman, could hold his own well--in our -encounter 'twas chance as much as skill gave me the advantage. Was it -fear for his life--of my vengeance--that unnerved you so?" - -"Nay. Nay," the other said. "Nay! Rather the fear of disgrace to our -family if he were exposed--the fear of the punishment Louis would mete -out to him for his deception. For his lie." - -"His deception! His lie! To whom--Louis?" - -"Ay," Debrasques answered. "Ay. And to Turenne. Barillon, our Minister -to your Court, sent over a complaint that had been made by her -father--it reached Louis' ears--he sent it on to the Marshal--to -Turenne. Then--then--De Bois-Vallée had to give an explanation -and--nothing short of his word that he and the lady were married -would have saved him from disgrace--from expulsion from Turenne's -bodyguard." - -"And," said Andrew quickly, "he gave that word?" - -"Heaven help him! Yes. So, also, did I." - -"You, Valentin?" - -"Yes. Believing him. He told me--told my mother--in our own house, -that she came from England with him willingly enough--that they were -married when they landed at Ambleteuse." - -"And every word was a lie!" - -"So we knew later--so I found out. And in a marvellous way." - -"How?" - -"From the woman now in this house--the woman who watches ever upstairs -by that poor girl's body----" - -"Clemence?" - -"Ay, Clemence! You know her history?" - -"Something of it. Also I know--heaven grant I may never forget!--that -to her it is owing that I am not lying choked to death in that garret. -By a chance only that I am not also lying a mass of charred ashes. As -well might that wing have caught fire as the others while I still lay -shackled in it, and then farewell to Andrew Vause and his opportunity -for saving Marion from that death, if no other. And 'tis to Clemence -that all is owing. Yet--how ever to have believed it!" - -"She is the strangest creature," Debrasques said; "a vast combination -of good and evil promptings. Half woman--sometimes half -tigress--demoniac! She thought his father loved her--cherished the -belief that he would marry her for her wild beauty--I have heard my -mother say that in her youth she was as beautiful as the Queen of -Night--went mad for a time when he did marry--thought my cousin was -her own son. Then--for she would never quit the house--she passed her -life alternately loving him and--torturing him, so that, at last, she -was never allowed to see the child for fear that she would do it -mortal injury. Again, later, when both his father and mother were -dead, her love for him was another change in her insanity--until he -brought that poor dead one upstairs to the house----" - -"And then," said Andrew--"and then?" - -As he asked the question the door behind them opened slightly--had not -both been sitting with their backs to it and gazing into the fire, -they would have seen four long, slim fingers grasping it. Would have -seen, too, a moment later, the form of Clemence standing behind them. -Yet, in another instant, they knew that she was there, heard her voice -give the answer to Andrew's question--heard her say: - -"Then she hated him." - -Springing from their seats they turned and faced her--appalled almost -by the change that had come over her. - -The face--always pallid since Andrew had first seen it--was livid now -to the lips, the eyes dim and sunken into their sockets--the full lips -shook and quivered. And--was it fancy on both their parts, or was it -the case?--it seemed to them that the dark hair was now doubly -streaked with grey--was far whiter than it had been a day or so ago -when she and the others were saved from the ruined house. - -"Then--she hated him. Listen. Let me tell the story," and as she spoke -she advanced to where they were, and stood before them. - -"I hated him because of what he had done to this poor helpless -girl--one could not help but love her!--hated him, too, because I saw -another victim to the insensate passions of all his race. Told him he -was a coward, a villain, to thus betray a woman, bring her a prisoner -from her own land. Yet--listen--there is one thing you do not know, -neither of you know. It was no fault of his that they were not man and -wife--as he tricked you into believing they had become, Valentin -Debrasques. He loved the woman dearly, madly--again and again he -besought her to marry him. In that respect he was no villain." - -"Thank God!" broke from the Marquis's lips as he heard these -words--from Andrew Vause there came no utterance. In truth, he was -amazed. Had he misjudged the man after all--had----? But he paused in -his reflections--remembering that the allurement of the woman from her -own land, the breaking thereby of Philip's heart, the long detention -of Marion, were sufficient villainy. Again Clemence went on. - -"When he returned hastily from his post in Turenne's guard, but a -little while ere you yourself came here"--and she directed her eyes -towards Andrew--"it was to cast himself once more at her feet, to beg, -to pray, to implore that she would pardon him for all the wrong he had -done--that she would be his wife. Great God how he besought her. And, -when she turned still a deaf ear to him--answering that, sooner would -she linger out years here, sooner die here than grant what he -demanded--ay! though she remained a prisoner till she was old and -grey, he besought her in another manner. Told her that, already, he -had suffered enough for his sin--that there was one who sought his -life, who ere long would obtain it--was implacable--and that, now, -worse even than loss of life threatened him. That this sin was known -to more than one, that his honour was in peril--unless he could stand -before his King with her for wife at his side, he was a ruined, broken -man. That nothing could save him--even though he should abjure France -and join with the Duke it would but forestall the King's vengeance for -a time. Soon Louis would triumph over Lorraine, and then he would -still be disgraced." - -"And her answer?" asked Andrew. "Yet--what need the question! I know -it." And to himself he muttered, "thank God, she was true to Philip. -Even though he is in his grave, thank God for that," while, even as he -so thought, another reflection ran swiftly through his mind. - -"Perhaps--perhaps," he pondered, "he knows all now. Perhaps!" - -"What more to tell!" Clemente went on, standing still before those -two, controlling herself as best she could--mastering, as it seemed to -Andrew, some terrible agony that racked her soul. "What more? You came -here, entered his house as none have ever entered it before, your life -hung on a thread a dozen times; you know not how nearly it was taken -as you lay stretched in that hall ere you were carried to the -garret--how nearly again--by--but no matter! And in your coming I saw -her chance, recognized that you who feared nothing might open the way -to freedom for that poor, injured lamb--show her the road back to him -she loves. Alas! 'twas not to be." - -"Alas!" also said Andrew, "it never could have been. He whom she loved -had gone before her." - -"Dead!" Clemente said, staring at him. "He is dead? Her lover--your -brother?" - -"Yes, dead." - -"Did she know it?" the woman asked, almost hissed, as she bent forward -and touched his arm, "did she know it--and die cursing him?" - -"Nay, nay, she died cursing none--left the world with peace in her -heart, upon her lips, believing that they would soon meet again now. -As they will--as they have done," and he turned his face away from her -and Debrasques so that they might not see his grief. - -Later that night, when Andrew and the Marquis sat once more together -in front of the fire, and while Clemence still watched above in the -room where the dead girl lay--she was to be buried in the morning in a -remote portion of the abbey grounds, the noble ladies of Remiremont -having permitted that, in spite of her not being of their faith--the -Marquis spoke to him and said: - -"Is the feud ended now, Captain Vause, the task accomplished? Are you -content?" - -"Content?" Andrew said, looking up at him. "Content with -what--failure?" - -"Have you failed?" - -"Ay, from first to last. See! Reflect! My brother lies in his grave -unavenged--to-morrow she will lie in hers. Both victims to that man. -And--he--is free." - -"Free! Free! He is ruined, beggared, bankrupt in honour, too. His -career is ended--he can never rejoin the army nor serve France -again--even though you should spare him, he should not draw sword -again for my country. I would prevent it. Would myself tell the King. -Also he must fly Lorraine; they, his own countrymen, will never -let him obtain another denier from his land. He must be an -outcast--proscribed--a vagabond on the face of the earth. Will that -not suffice?" - -"No," Andrew said, bending across the table to look into the young -man's eyes. "No, Valentin Debrasques, it cannot suffice. If it -could--for your sake--I would be content. But--my brother is -unavenged, Marion Wyatt is unavenged--De Bois-Vallée and Andrew Vause -are alive. The feud ends when one or both are dead. Not before." - -"He said to her--to Clemence," whispered Debrasques, "that you were -implacable." - -"He said true. In such a cause, Valentin, I am implacable. Listen to -me, deem me pagan, bloodthirsty--what you will--but understand me. I -was a _vaurien_ from my boyhood, always in trouble, doing ever the -wrong thing--yet never losing the love of two creatures on this earth. -My mother--and Philip. Because of that, because when I was a man, a -soldier--a bravo, some called me!--because of their love for me, -because the door of our old home stood open always when I turned my -wandering steps that way; because, too, there was never aught of -reproach but only words of love and welcome for greeting--sweeter to -the ears of him who has been homeless for weeks and months together -than to any other!--I loved, I worshipped those two." - -He paused a moment--and, to the younger man gazing up at him, it -seemed as if the firm, strong soldier was overmastered by an emotion -such as none could have ever dreamt would sway him--then went on. - -"Loved, worshipped them. Became at last, through that love, I think, a -better, more thoughtful man. Grew careful of my reputation, did naught -that should bring discredit to them, to the old name I bore. Do you -wonder, therefore, that, when I saw my brother lowered to his -grave--knowing well what had driven him to it--I took the vow I did, -swore that the man who was the primary cause of all should himself -find his grave at my hands?" - -"I do not wonder," Valentin Debrasques replied softly--"I understand." - -"And," Andrew went on, "there is one other thing. I owe this man an -opportunity of crossing swords with me again--villain though he -is--and he shall have it." - -"Yet he seeks not that reparation. Has escaped, fled. What will you -do? Follow him across the world--perhaps never to find him even then?" - -"No. Again listen. I do not believe I shall have far to go. Valentin, -it is borne in on me that De Bois-Vallée is at no very great distance -from here now." - -"What!" - -"I believe that he is secreted somewhere in that house of his at this -moment." - -"At Bois-le-Vaux?" - -"Yes. At Bois-le-Vaux." - -"It is impossible." - -"Nay--it is most probable. Let me repeat to you what I have said -happened at the moment when he escaped from my grasp. The garret was -full of smoke--dense, black smoke--none could see an inch beyond -themselves. Then--in an instant, he was gone. Yet--where? Not -backwards to the corridor; that was impossible. There, even if he had -regained it, he could not have lived ten minutes--in the garret -itself, we should have been suffocated in the same space of time had I -not been able to get the trap open--moreover, he could not have passed -behind us. We were all together--Marion's form extended along the -floor. That was impossible." - -"And the roof? Might there be no way down from that?" - -"There may be, yet it seems unlikely. For, see. Even though there were -some opening, some descent--'tis possible--I searched not the leads as -carefully as afterwards I searched the garret floor!--to where would -it lead him? Back into that burning house again." - -"And the shaft?" - -"Ay! the shaft. The oubliette. 'Tis in truth there, I do believe, that -he escaped." - -"Yet you have said you probed it as far as you were able, flung down -the link of chain to test its depth, and found nothing. How, -therefore, is it likely that he can have escaped by that road?" - -"That, I purpose to once more seek out. At best my examination was but -hasty. A second search may reveal more." - -"A second search. You intend to make one? In that ruined house--the -walls likely enough to fall at any moment and overwhelm you, bury you -beneath them. You will do that?" - -"I will--and ere many hours are passed. To-morrow, when--she--has been -laid in her grave I make my way to Bois-le-Vaux again. And," he -continued--speaking now in a tone that, almost unknowingly to -Debrasques, carried conviction to his mind, "the clue will be there to -his whereabouts. The end will not be far off then." - -"Let us go together." - -"You wish to go? Remember, it is not the end itself--but the beginning -of the end only. If he has escaped down that oubliette it may be that -he is a hundred leagues away ere now, that I may have far to go ere I -come up with him. Your road lies towards Paris and your mother's -house, Valentin--mine leads I know not where." - -"No matter. At least let me accompany you to Bois-le-Vaux." - -"So be it. We will set out together." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - -THE LAST MEETING - - -Marion Wyatt lay in her grave under the west wall of the burying -ground belonging to the Abbey of Remiremont--she was at rest for ever -now. - -And, on the road to Bois-le-Vaux, to the house which had been her -prison for so long, Andrew Vause and the Marquis Debrasques rode -together, bent upon finding out, if possible, the manner in which De -Bois-Vallée had eluded the grasp of the former on that night of -horror. - -Strapped to their saddles they carried with them some implements which -they thought might be of considerable assistance in enabling them--or -at least one of them--to descend into that yawning oubliette, since -down it Andrew Vause was determined to go, even though it sank into -the bowels of the earth. These implements consisted of, first, a solid -iron bar which would stretch easily across the diameter of the -oubliette's mouth, also a couple of lanterns, then some grappling -hooks which would be of use in catching hold of any projection, or -side of the shaft, in their descent, if necessary, and next, a coil of -rope strong as that which Andrew had previously used in his flight -across the chasm, and of the same length, namely, thirty metres. - -"For," said he, when overnight they made these purchases in -Plombières, "the house is but half that height; therefore, by the time -I have descended some fifteen mètres I shall be on the level of the -earth. And, if the shaft goes below the earth as much again, and then -ceases not--which is scarce likely--why, the rope must be got down, -and I go on still." - -"Yet, how for that?" asked Debrasques. "How to do it? I am resolved to -follow you, even though 'tis into the bowels of the earth--how shall -it be lowered, therefore, from above? We want a third, and one who is -trustworthy, in our company." - -"Nay," replied Andrew, "we want no third, and we will have -none--trustworthy or not. Laurent was trustworthy, and he died in -keeping his pledge. Jean has disappeared, dispersed into air with all -the other besiegers of the ill-fated house. There is none other. Nor, -if there were, would we enlist him. The work shall be done alone by -us." - -Marion had been laid to rest at daybreak of this wintry morning, -therefore it was still very early when they drew near the -half-demolished mansion, and, as they entered the estate, saw its -blackened walls in which yawned the great gaps where the wings had -partly fallen, and observed the still larger gap where the whole of -one side was gone. Also, they saw the gable chimneys still standing on -that portion of the roof to which Andrew and the women had escaped -from the garret--the stack of chimneys to which he had fastened that -first rope after he had taken his flight across. - -The desolation was complete--was penetrating to the senses of those -who now regarded it--yet this very desolation seemed an appropriate -monument to the downfall of the race which had so long been known -and feared as "The Wolves of Lorraine." For the family was gone, -extinct now--the last member of it, Camille De Bois-Vallée, could -never build it up nor restore it again, any more than he could build -up and restore the house which had sheltered that family for -generations--'twas perhaps well, therefore, that it should go too. In -years to come, these now blackened walls would tell the tale of how -the vengeful Lorrainers had swept away at last those who had used -their power to trample on and ill-treat them. - -Against the side of the building, under the shattered window from -which the three had eventually escaped, they found the logs and -billets of wood piled up precisely as they had been left--there were -none to disturb them now!--and, leaving their horses in the very -outhouse where the wood had been discovered, they entered at once the -ruined mansion. - -"'Twill take but little time to reach the roof," Andrew said, "and as -little to see if by chance he found a passage that way. Come, -Valentin." Whereon, each carrying some of the necessaries they had -brought with them, they entered by the window. - -To the younger man the scene of ruin and devastation on which he gazed -was appalling--also, it was saddening. For, as a child, and even later -in his still short existence, he had been here often--had run up and -down those huge staircases which were now torn from their settings and -lying in ruins below; in those rooms by which they passed swiftly--and -in one of which the dead body of Beaujos was stretched, as Andrew -knew--he had slept many a night; from that great yawning doorway, now -open to the cold wind that blew up from the west and whistled through -the empty vastness of the hall, he had issued forth often enough, bent -on a hawking or a hunting party. - -And now--what a scene to gaze upon! What desolation and silence--what -an atmosphere of death and ruin, and the decay that time would bring, -prevailed over all! - -They stood at last upon the roof of this remaining wing, arriving at -it by the way the others had left a few nights ago, their feet -embedded in the dank, decaying leaves blown on it by the autumn -winds--leaves now becoming skeletons under the winter rain and -frost--and made inspection of the whole to see what outlet there -might be for the fugitive. Yet there was none. Upon those leads there -was no opening beneath all that rotting mass--as they found quickly -enough--nothing except the trapdoor leading to the garret, to which -they now returned. - -"As for the chimney stacks," said Andrew, "they are impossible. -Observe their height; he could never have reached their summit alone -and unaided--and--even though he had--what then? Come--'tis time to -inspect the oubliette." - -In the dull, dim light that penetrated to the garret from the open -trapdoor above, they made their preparations swiftly--indeed, there -were but few to make. A turn or two of the rope (already previously -knotted at intervals of four feet to aid in the descent) around the -iron bar was made by Andrew, he fastening it by what is known to -sailors as a bowline knot, and he was ready to descend. - -Then he sat down upon the edge of the oubliette, grasped the bar, and, -with his two hands, worked himself immediately over the middle of it, -the rope being between his legs. - -"Now, Valentin," he said, "the search begins. What shall I find -below?" and as he spoke he ignited his tinder, communicated the flame -to the lamp attached to his belt, and peered down into the depths -beneath him. - -But the rays of the lamp showed nothing--nothing beyond the bare walls -of the shaft, built, as was the lower part of the house itself, of -stone. And from up that shaft there came a cool, damp air, that made -itself perceptible even as he sat dangling over it. - -"For Heaven's sake, be careful," Valentin whispered. Then--in even a -lower tone, added: "If he is there below--if he should be still -there--he may spring out at you." - -But Andrew, glancing at him from his perch on the bar, pointed over -his shoulder to where his sword was braced on to his back -perpendicularly, since, had it been by his side, it might have impeded -his descent. Also he showed a pistol ready to his grasp. - -"Have no fear," he said. - -A moment later he was going down the rope hand over hand, the knots in -it assisting his feet. And Valentin Debrasques, lying on the floor of -the garret, face downwards, with his head over the edge of the -oubliette, saw beneath him the flame of the lamp descending further -and further. Andrew was now, he calculated, twenty feet below the -opening where he himself was. - -Then, suddenly, he heard him call up. - -"He passed this way." - -"You know that?" - -"Ay. I know it now." - -"How?" - -"He has left his traces. Also--now--I know how he descended." - -"I must follow," Valentin called back. "'Tis nothing. And the rope -will surely bear both." - -"It needs but to bear one," Andrew replied. "I have reached a -platform, a half platform--crescent-moon shaped--leaving still, -however, room for the passage of a man below, to further depths. He -has gone that way." - -"I come," Debrasques called once more--and, heedless of Andrew's -warning him to remember that he was still weak from his wounds, he -seized the rope and slung his slight young form down it--the other -holding up the lantern so that he might better see as he descended. - -A moment later and the two men were standing side by side upon the -platform mentioned by Andrew, a slab of flat stone, jutting out from -one side of the oubliette's now slimy walls--for the damp was very -perceptible here; the sides reeked with it, and drops of water oozed -from out of them and ran down to the stone slab itself. And, at their -feet, was the opening to the further depths. - -But, also at their feet, was something else, something beside the coil -of the lower part of the rope by which they had come. - -A chain, itself lying in a coil upon the platform--with a foot or so -of it hanging over into the abyss below. With, upon the ledge of the -platform, an inch of brown-coloured velvet--a strip torn doubtless -from a man's sleeve as he let himself down from the ledge and laid one -arm along the stone, while groping with the other for the means to -descend. - -"His coat," said Debrasques, turning the strip over in his hand -beneath the light of the lantern. "He was wearing such a one when last -I saw him out of his trappings." - -"And, as I think, on the night when he returned to this house; loomed -up before my eyes as they struck me down. Come, Valentin, let us go -on. To the end now." - -"But how get there?" asked the Marquis, "how arrive? How use that -chain?" - -"Easy enough. A foot below the mouth of the oubliette above, there is -a broken hook--I saw it as I descended. On that hook hung this chain, -and he knew it--it not being broken then. He descended part way by. -that--as I think--then the hook broke and he fell the rest, on to this -platform--the chain coming with him, grasped in his hand. No great -harm that--if he missed this smaller opening, as without doubt he did. -Had he not so missed it--poof! he would be lying somewhere below a -mangled corpse." - -"Suppose--suppose," said Debrasques, "that, nevertheless, he did not -miss it--fell through, the chain remaining behind." - -"Then, 'tis as I have said. We shall find him there--dead. Yet, what -use surmise? Let us on; I will go first." - -As he spoke, he lifted up the coils of their own rope and let them -fall down through the opening, observing that the cord did not tighten -nor spin round a moment later. By that he judged that it had struck -some bottom, since, otherwise, it would doubtless have done both, -instead of, as now, lying against the side as though not extended its -full length. - -"The end of the journey is near," he muttered again, "near now," and, -so speaking, he grasped the rope as it hung down through the orifice -from the iron beam above, and began to descend once more. Yet, in an -instant, he stopped and put out his hand in front of him, clutching -the rope now with the other alone, yet still seeming as though easily -supported and without effort. - -"There are," he said to Debrasques, glancing up at him as though able -to see his face as plainly as the Marquis could himself see his by the -light of the lamp at his waist, "long staples let into the wall at -short intervals. They serve the use of a ladder, being bent at the -sides, thereby to enter the wall. Come, the rope is unnecessary. Let -yourself down the hole, feel with your feet until they touch the -staples, use the platform as a hold till your hands grasp the -uppermost bar; the rest is easy. Come." - -And he went lower down himself, discarding the use of the rope -entirely now. - -Behind, from above, followed Debrasques. Hand under hand, foot -succeeding foot, they went down those staples, the air growing more -chilly and damp and penetrating as still they descended, and giving -sure proof that they were now below the level of the earth; were among -the foundations of the great old house. Also, the feeble lamp-flicker -showed this, too--showed that they had reached the vaults and actual -basement on which the whole building had been placed--vaults, or -dungeons, separated from each other by short, round shafts of rough, -untrimmed stone, and with the earth into which they were set -unlevelled. And now there was no damp; instead, only the dull mildewed -smell that such places have, places to which no air has penetrated for -centuries. - -"He is not here," Andrew said, as they stood upon this earthen floor, -the crown of his hat touching almost the roof of the vault above him. -"Not here. He has gone on. Knew a way out. We must find it." While, as -he spoke, he flashed the lantern, which he had now taken in his hand, -around the dark and gloomy place, it casting fantastic shadows behind -the pillars and shafts as he did so. - -"Come," he said once more. - -So they went on--though not without obstruction either. Once his foot -caught in a mass of tangled chain lying at the base of a shaft to -which one end of it was attached, and, stooping to look at it, Andrew -saw amidst the coils of that chain some bones, and, a little farther -off, more bones--of a hand! Yet, when he put his own hand out to touch -them, they lost their shape, the fingers were gone at that touch; -there lay but a feathery mass of white dust upon the earth a moment -later. - -"That tells its own tale," he whispered to the other. "Have centuries -rolled away since that poor thing gasped its last within the chain's -embrace?" - -"God knows!" His companion whispered back. "They never forgave! Once -in their power and all hope was gone." - -"It appears," said Andrew briefly. - -The vault, the foundations, were as square as the house above; ere -long they had gone round them--finding more proof of how the De -Bois-Vallées had used it as a final prison. A knife, rusty now, yet -once a long, keen blade, was sticking point downward in the earth; -they asked themselves if, ages ago, it had struck, pierced something -between its hilt and point that was not earth then?--something that -had long since vanished away to dust. They found, also, a woman's -necklace set with quaint cut stones lying near a heap of rags, black -with time and perishable to the touch, and asked again what story of -horror was buried and forgotten here? - -At last they found the outlet from that gloomy vault--a long dark -passage that led away to blackness impenetrable. A passage that, -in the past, had had a thick sturdy door to bar all entrance to, -and way through it, but which door now lay flat upon the earthen -floor--mouldered and decayed from off its hinges. - -"Come," again said Andrew, wasting no words now, "Come, Debrasques." - -And on down that passage they moved, side by side, the light -flickering on earthen walls shored up with old beams and rotting -staves, and with the bottoms of roots of trees showing through the -uppermost parts. - -Also--though they scarce knew why, nor could they have told what they -expected--each had in his hand his drawn sword now. - -Afar off, adown that ghastly passage, they saw a gleam of light that -each knew to be the light of the winter day--a gleam that was no -bigger, as it seemed, than a star, yet that still told the end was -there. Was the end of the outlet. - -Onward they went, faster now, their footfalls sounding dull and -leaden on the earthy floor, their breath coming--again they knew not -why!--faster and faster. - -Then--the passage traversed--the daylight now illuminating faintly a -space some dozen feet square, Debrasques clutched Andrew's arm and -pointed to a dark blur upon the ground before them--a heap of -blackness that bore some resemblance to a crouching human form--it -lying a little space outside the circle of dim light. - -"Look! look!" He said, "it is a human figure. _Ciel!_ is it he? Is he -dead? See--the eyes glare at us!" - -"Ay," replied Andrew, advancing to that blurred mass, "it is he." - -While, stooping over the body of De Bois-Vallée, he added, "And he is -dead." - -Then he lifted his _porte épée_, and thrust back his sword into the -scabbard gently, saying, "No more need for you now. Your work here is -done." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - -ADIEU - - -"How has he died?" asked Debrasques, avoiding those open, glaring orbs -that looked out glassily from the dead man's face, the body lying on -its side, the arms extended, the head turned up so that the eyes -stared down the passage. "How?" - -Andrew looked round the small space into which the passage, or vault, -had widened at its end, lifted high his lantern with one hand above -his head, then pointed with his hat which he held in the other--almost -unknowingly, both had doffed their hats in the presence of that thing -at their feet--towards the opening whence the light came from without. -An opening many feet above his head, of about a foot in circumference, -through which the daylight streamed murky and dull. - -Then, after a moment's thought, he said: - -"There was an exit here--once. Observe, here was an opening, yet now -there is none. Yet, 'tis easy to comprehend. Look at what that light -streams over as it enters--heaps of earth with broken trunks of trees -mixed in them, also great stones. You see--understand?" - -"A landslip from above, perhaps?" Debrasques answered, comprehending. - -"Ay, 'tis that. Washed down, loosened by winter storm or spring -torrent--riven perhaps by lightning stroke--may be a month ago, may be -years. Who knows? But, of one thing be sure--he," and he glanced down -to his feet, "knew it not when he fled here. May not have visited -these vaults for years--may never have been here before, yet -was aware of this escape and thought to profit by it. Then died of -frenzy--perhaps starvation, too--after learning he was snared." - -He advanced towards the immense mass of earth that blocked up the hole -through which the flight should have been made, and flashed his -lantern on it at about a man's--at about De Bois-Vallée's--height from -the ground, and called the other's attention to how the mould was -scored--as though with finger clutches! and scooped away and dug into. -Scratched at and scooped away until the trapped creature had given up -in despair; had, perhaps, fallen fainting at his task. - -Next, he went back to where the body lay, and lifted up the hands, the -rings on them sparkling in the lantern's gleam, and showed Debrasques -the nails all earthy, and the top joints of the fingers clogged and -smeared with dirt. - -"You see?" he whispered. "You see?" - -"Yet, why not return?" - -"You forget. The chain was broken. The way back was barred, therefore. -He had no rope as we have." - - - * * * * * * - - -The roads part outside Plombières, one going north, one south, one -west. Behind, to the east, is the way across the Vosges. - -And here, by the spring which marks their divergence, Andrew Vause and -Valentin Debrasques clasped hands one bright winter morning, a few -days later, and bade farewell to each other for a time. - -"God send you health and fair recovery," the former said, as he stood -by his horse's side; "make, too, my service to your mother. When next -I pass through Paris----" - -"Our house will be yours. Your home. Remember," and he glanced up at -the other with a wistful look in his eyes, "we are sworn friends: -sworn long ago. You will not let aught that has passed break that?" - -"Fear not," Andrew replied. "Even though France and England fly at -each other's throats in days to come--which Heaven forefend!--we must -remember that." - -"And," went on Valentin, "you said a night or so ago that you had -failed in--in--what brought you here. Spoke with regret, it seemed, of -that failure. Andrew," and now he laid his hand pleadingly on the -other's arm, "you do not regret? Is the end not best as it is? He is -in his grave--not sent there by your hand--does it not suffice?" - -"It must suffice," Andrew replied. "And--Valentin, I am not so -vengeful as to wish now that it could have been otherwise. Perhaps it -is better so. Far better to think in after years, if I live to be old, -that he died without my aid." - -"I thank God that you can say so." - -He gave his orders to his men who were to accompany him; slowly the -dragoons fell in and set out upon their march; once more they clasped -hands. - -"Farewell, dear friend," he said. - -"Farewell, my boy," Andrew replied, "yet courage, courage, we must -meet again. Turenne has driven back Montecuculi and all the German -brood; ere I reach him the war will be over. Then I, too, will come to -Paris. Also I will bring you news of Clemence, tell you if she is at -peace in her new home in the abbey. See, lad, your dragoons mount the -hill--after them and away. Adieu--till next we meet." - -"Farewell, Andrew, my friend." - -"Farewell. God bless and speed you." - - - -FOOTNOTES - -[Footnote 1: It is an historical fact.] - - - -THE END - - - - - - -PLYMOUTH -WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON -PRINTERS - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Clash of Arms, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLASH OF ARMS *** - -***** This file should be named 52586-8.txt or 52586-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/5/8/52586/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (University of Illinois-Urbana) - -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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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/52586-8.zip b/old/52586-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3443bfd..0000000 --- a/old/52586-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52586-h.zip b/old/52586-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7b4dda6..0000000 --- a/old/52586-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52586-h/52586-h.htm b/old/52586-h/52586-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 5c2a886..0000000 --- a/old/52586-h/52586-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11013 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> -<html> -<head> -<title>The Clash of Arms. A Romance.</title> -<meta name="Author" content="John Bloundelle-Burton"> - -<meta name="Publisher" content="Methuen & Co."> -<meta name="Date" content="1905"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;} - - -p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} -.center {margin: auto; text-align:center; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} - - - -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} - -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} - - - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} -span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} - -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} - -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} -p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} - - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Clash of Arms, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -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: Clash of Arms - A Romance - -Author: John Bloundelle-Burton - -Release Date: July 17, 2016 [EBook #52586] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLASH OF ARMS *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (University of Illinois-Urbana) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> -1. Page scans provided by Google Books<br> -https://books.google.com/books?id=R29CAQAAMAAJ<br> -(University of Illinois-Urbana)</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE CLASH OF ARMS</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE CLASH OF ARMS</h3> -<h4>A ROMANCE</h4> -<br> -<br> -<h5>BY</h5> -<h4>JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>"MON ÉSPÉE EST SI CARNACIERE QU'À CHASQUE PAS ELLE ME DONNEROIT LA -PEINE DE LA TIRER HORS DU FOURREAU."--<i>Brantôme</i>.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>NEW AND CHEAPER ISSUE</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>METHUEN & CO.<br> -36 ESSEX STREET W.C.<br> -LONDON</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<div style="margin-left:20%"> -<p><i>First Published . . . October 1897</i> -<i>Second Edition . . . November 1897</i> -<i>New and Cheaper Issue . 1905</i></p> -</div> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>TO MY FRIEND</h5> - -<h4>J. G. J. PENDEREL-BRODHURST</h4> - -<h5>I INSCRIBE THIS ROMANCE</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<table cellpadding="10" style="width:80%; margin-left:20%; font-weight:bold"> -<colgroup><col style="width:10%; text-align:right"><col style="width:90%; text-align:right"></colgroup> -<tr> -<td colspan="2"><h4>CONTENTS</h4></td> -</tr><tr> -<td>CHAPTER</td> -<td></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">I.</a></td> -<td>THE BRAVO</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">II.</a></td> -<td>THE WRONG THAT WAS DONE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">III.</a></td> -<td>ONE SUMMER NIGHT</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">IV.</a></td> -<td>WHAT HAVE I STUMBLED ON?</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">V.</a></td> -<td>"HIS NAME IS--WHAT?"</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">VI.</a></td> -<td>THE VICOMTE DE BOIS-VALLÉE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">VII.</a></td> -<td>THE HONOUR OF THE HOUSE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">VIII.</a></td> -<td>THE FIRST MEETING</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">IX.</a></td> -<td>THE FURY OF DESPAIR</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">X.</a></td> -<td>"THE LITTLE WOOD AT ENTZHEIM"</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">XI.</a></td> -<td>INNOCENT</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">XII.</a></td> -<td>A LIKENESS AND A CLUE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">XIII.</a></td> -<td>TO REMIREMONT</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">XIV.</a></td> -<td>ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">XV.</a></td> -<td>"HE IS MINE. MUST BE MINE NOW"</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">XVI.</a></td> -<td>THE HOUSE OF THE ENEMY</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">XVII.</a></td> -<td>"A WOMAN IS THERE"</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">XVIII.</a></td> -<td>THE SLEEPERS</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">XIX.</a></td> -<td>WHERE IS DE BOIS-VALLÉE?</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20">XX.</a></td> -<td>ACROSS THE CHASM</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21">XXI.</a></td> -<td>IN THE ENEMY'S HOUSE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22">XXII.</a></td> -<td>MARION WYATT</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23">XXIII.</a></td> -<td>L'ÉSPÉE CARNACIERE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_24" href="#div1_24">XXIV.</a></td> -<td>THE WEIRD WOMAN</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_25" href="#div1_25">XXV.</a></td> -<td>THE UNEXPECTED</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_26" href="#div1_26">XXVI.</a></td> -<td>A TRAPPED WOLF</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_27" href="#div1_27">XXVII.</a></td> -<td>NEARER AND NEARER</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_28" href="#div1_28">XXVIII.</a></td> -<td>ESCAPE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_29" href="#div1_29">XXIX.</a></td> -<td>THE LAST CHANCE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_30" href="#div1_30">XXX.</a></td> -<td>FREE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_31" href="#div1_31">XXXI.</a></td> -<td>THE STORY OF MARION WYATT</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_32" href="#div1_32">XXXII.</a></td> -<td>MORE LIGHT</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_33" href="#div1_33">XXXIII.</a></td> -<td>THE LAST MEETING</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_34" href="#div1_34">XXXIV.</a></td> -<td>ADIEU</td> -</tr></table> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE CLASH OF ARMS</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">CHAPTER I.</a></h4> - -<h4>THE BRAVO</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"If," said the sick man, a little complainingly, perhaps a little -peevishly, "he comes not soon, he is as like as not to see me in my -coffin. Yet," he added a moment later, "he was ever used to keep his -word. With all his faults he always did that. Prided himself on it, -indeed, almost as much as on the broils and fights and troubles he was -always in."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," said the other person in the room, "he said he would come, he -will come. Andrew Vause ever kept his promise."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What did he tell the messenger who found him when he rode to -London?--in a tavern, be sure! Tell me again the message he sent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That he would come the instant he had seen the King--which it was -most urgent he should do. That His Majesty had promised him an -interview for to-day, and that the moment it was over he would take -horse and ride here. Also he sent you this," and the old woman drew -from a pouch at her girdle a bit of paper, and, adjusting her glasses, -began to read what was written on it--though as she did so she could -not resist a smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why do you laugh, Bridget?" the sick man queried, still peevishly. -"Surely, knowing how near I am to death, Andrew has made no jest on -me. We have not met for five years--it is quite that, come Christmas, -since he has been roaming and fighting about the world--he could not -do that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, what he sends comes with a good heart, be sure. Yet I cannot -help but laugh in spite of--of--," she was going to say the nearness -to death in which the invalid stood, but changed it to "your poor -health." "I cannot help but laugh. 'Tis a new-fangled recipe for -lambswool, which he says you should drink frequently. Also, he writes -that he fears you do not take sufficient creature comforts. Alas!" she -exclaimed, her face clouding a little as she saw the look of annoyance -on the other's, "he cannot surely guess how ill you are. Otherwise, he -would scarce talk of lambswool--a draught, doubtless, he himself -partakes of far too often."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis Andrew--that tells all! Andrew--the scapegrace, the -ne'er-do-well, the joker and giber. Heavens! when was he ever serious, -when did he ever apply himself to aught but ruffling and fighting and -brawling! Yet--yet----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet, now you would see him! Long to see him! Philip Vause, you love -your brother better than you think--leastways, better than you say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay. I do not say I do not love him. Heavens! we all loved him. -And who could help but love him, after all! Yet I would he had been -more serious, would he were more serious now, as he scarce seems to -have become, judging by his--his--paper about lambswool. Could he send -me naught but that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Remember he is not like you. You have ever been a scholar and a -thinker--he a soldier and in many lands. He cannot be so sober as -those who bend only over books all day, whose companions are books -alone----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hark!" the other interrupted. "Hark! Do you hear anything? The hoofs -of a horse clattering along the road--it may be he, Bridget. Look to -the window. See."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old woman did as she was bid--going to the casement and gazing -along a broad, dusty road, bordered by limes almost flowering in the -warm May air, which led from the Downs above to the old house in which -the Vauses had lived longer than even the parish records told of; and -there, in the soft light of the fast-gathering twilight, she espied a -horseman riding at a good pace; a man who, she could see very well, -sat his horse easily, and seemed to extract a considerable speed from -it without any effort of spur or rein.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," she said, "'tis a horseman sure enough--you have good ears, -Master Philip, ailing though you be; better ears in truth than I have -eyes, for they are dimmed somewhat with age; I cannot see if 'tis -Andrew. Yet," she went on, as the rider drew nearer and came more into -her view, while man and horse were suffused by the cherry glow of the -setting sun, "'tis his form and figure, too; large, broad, and brawny. -And, heaven preserve us! what a great, fierce sword clanks against his -horse's ribs with every stride it takes, and what a beard upon his -upper lip he has!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis very certain," the invalid interrupted from the couch on which -he lay, "that 'tis Andrew. Here, Bridget, help me up, let me see him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is he," the old woman said; "lie there, Master Philip, no need to -rise. He will be here ere many moments have passed. Ha!" she -exclaimed, thrusting open the lattice in her excitement, "he sees me, -waves his hand--he has not forgotten the old nurse--I will go down and -greet him, then bring him to you": while, excited and nervous, she -unceremoniously quitted Philip Vause and ran down the broad polished -staircase as fast as her old legs would carry her to where the hall -door stood open to the evening air, and thus reached the stoop as the -horseman drew up in front of it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, Bridget," he said, leaping from his horse and flinging the reins -to a serving-man who came from out the shrubbery hard by the house, -"so, Bridget, 'tis you in very truth, and not a day older than when I -went away, I do protest," and he stooped down over her and kissed her -grey hair where it waved across her old and wrinkled forehead. And, -pleased with his greeting, the woman smiled and cooed round the great -man standing above her, and muttered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Master Andrew, you are bigger than ever since you went away. -What a man! What a man you are now! So great and stalwart--alas! that -your poor brother Philip was as you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Indeed, he at whom she gazed well merited the praise she lavished on -his size and thews and sinews. Full six English feet in height stood -Andrew Vause, and broad and deep in chest was he, with great muscular -arms that looked as though it might be ill for any caught in their -grip. And, though doubtless unconsciously so to their wearer, his -garments themselves lent something to his powerful appearance. On his -body he wore a brown buckskin tunic--good for riding in, or, perhaps, -even for turning aside a rapier or dagger thrust--a tunic ornamented -at the opening with quilted leather of the same kind, and fringed in -the same manner below; his lower limbs were encased in stout hose, or, -at least, so much of them as could be seen betwixt the ending of his -jacket and the tops of his great riding boots of brown untanned -leather that reached almost to his thighs. And the sword old Bridget -had spoken of was there, its hilt reposing against one of those -thighs, while its long length ran behind him. A wicked-looking, -fighting rapier this, with its great <i>pas d'âne</i> and enormous -quillons; a rapier that looked as though, once out of its sheath, -mischief was meant and to be dreaded from it. For the rest, his handsome -face was bronzed to copper hue, his brown moustache--Bridget's "beard on -the upper lip"--hung down below his under jaw, his thick brown hair fell -to his shoulders, and above it flapped a loose sombrero hat ornamented -with a single black feather.</p> - -<p class="normal">A vastly different-looking man this from the sickly elder brother -above!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, Philip!" he said in answer to her mention of his brother's name, -as he strode into the tiled hall, making it ring with the jangle of -his brass spurs upon his heels. "Poor Philip! So he is sick--the -messenger found me at the Duck in Westminster!--'sick unto death,' he -wrote. Bridget, is this true, and if true what ails him? He was not -strong--nor like to be, since he pored ever over those accursed -books!--yet books need not kill a man. What ails him, Bridget?" he -repeated.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is not well--seems to have no life nor strength in him. And--and -you know, you have heard, even in those foreign lands to which he -wrote you letters--he had a grievous sorrow fall upon him. Oh! he was -treacherously served!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay. And so he did write. Yet, fore gad! a man dies not for love -of woman--not though she jilts him cruelly. Odd's faith! no woman ever -jilted me--nor spoilt my rest o' nights. Yet," and he lowered his -voice a little, and seemed graver as he asked, "who was she? He never -told me that--seemed, indeed, in his letters to carefully refrain from -writing her name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let him tell you," the old woman said; "best hear it all from him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But will he tell? Philip was ever somewhat too silent and secret--I -doubt me much if he will tell. Will hint at wrongs done--at cruel -treatments--be vague, but say no more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think he will tell you," she replied. "He has longed so to see you -since he knew you had returned from France. And, Andrew," the old -woman said, laying her hand on the sleeve of the great stalwart -soldier whom, as a lad, she had dandled on her knee, "I think he -cherishes hopes of revenge on her; above all, on him who did the -greater wrong."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Revenge! Why! what can he do? Unable to leave his chamber, a poor -scholar who knows neither passado nor cunning fence of any kind," and -the fingers of his left hand played lovingly with the hilt of his -sword as he spoke, "nor has ever wandered fifty miles from this old -Surrey home of ours--poor Philip! what can he do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But as he asked the question, there clattered down the oak staircase -the high-heeled shoes worn by a waiting-maid, the wearer whereof -said--though not before she had cast a glance of approval over the -great sunburned man who stood before her--that her master desired to -know if his brother meant not to come and see him now he had come -home?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, sweetheart," that brother said, looking down on the comely girl, -and winning her heart at once by that debonair manner which never -failed in its effect "Ay, sweetheart, I come at once. Shall we go -together, Bridget?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," she said, "go in alone to him. There needs no witness of your -meeting, and he has much to say. And, Andrew, you asked but now how he -might compass revenge for the wrong done him. Can you not guess what -he may hope to do--how it may come about?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In truth, I cannot," he answered, while his eye still glanced at the -shapely waiting-maid now vanishing through a doorway to the back -portion of the house, "in truth, I cannot. No thinker I, as you may -remember, Bridget; 'twas ever Philip who did that for both of us. And, -had he not so thought, the Puritan justices of our boyhood would have -clapped me into jail often enough, and been glad of the chance to -punish my old cavalier father through me. No, if he means to get -vengeance he must make it clear. I will go and see him now."</p> - -<p class="normal">He strode towards the wide staircase as he spoke, and mounted it, -clattering still as he went; looking round the old hall, though, while -he did so, and thinking--wanderer as he had been--that, after all, it -was good to be under the old roof once more.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well enough and pleasant," he muttered to himself, "the life of camps -and noise of brawls and battles and the sweet clash of steel 'gainst -steel--yet good, too, to come home, now and again."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, because he was not all a bravo nor free lance who lived only for -such fortune as came at the sword's point, his thoughts went back to -his childhood's day, when he used to come leaping down those stairs -three steps at a time, or swung by his gentle mother's side, his hand -in hers; also, he recalled her soft looks and words, and found himself -remembering the little simple prayers she had taught him to say.</p> - -<p class="normal">But by now he was at the head of the stairs, which made but one turn -from the hall to the corridor above, and at that head was the door of -the chief room of the old house, the room in which he knew his elder -brother lay. Then he knocked gently, and, hearing Philip's eager tones -of welcome, went in to him, bearing about him, as it seemed to the -poor invalid, an atmosphere of health and strength, and a suggestion -of fresh air and the wind that comes sweeping across salt seas and -breezy downs and moorlands.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now!" Philip exclaimed, sitting up on his couch and holding out -his two thin, white hands to the swart soldier, who came in and seized -them in his own strong grasp, "now, Andrew, you have come back to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">It seemed to Philip, lying there, that the voice of that younger -brother was not as strong and powerful as he remembered it to have -been once--seemed not, indeed, to be the fierce tones that the soldier -of fortune should possess--as, stooping down on one knee so as better -to bring his face on a level with his brother's, Andrew said very -gently:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Philip! Philip! how is it that I find you thus? Oh, Philip!" and he -turned his face away for some reason as he spoke, "I did not know, -never guessed, you were as worn and sick as this."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then the other understood why the bronzed face had been turned from -him, and why the strong masterful voice had been so gentle when he -spoke. For, as Andrew turned back that face, the dark eyes were full -and running over with tears that coursed each other down the brown -cheeks, and a sob broke from his lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay," Philip said, laying his hand on the long locks of the -other and stroking them. "Nay, Andrew, do not weep--I cannot bear -that. You are so strong and big, you must not weep, and--and--tears -are not for a soldier. Andrew, do not weep for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the brawler and ruffler made no answer, only, bending his head -still lower to his brother's shoulder, he let it lie there. And again -he muttered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did not understand. I did not know."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">CHAPTER II.</a></h4> - -<h4>THE WRONG THAT WAS DONE</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Tell me all, Philip," Andrew Vause said to his brother some two or -three evenings later, as he sat in the sick man's room, "tell me all. -I must know what has brought you to this." While, as he spoke, there -came a frown upon his face that did not pass off for a while--not, -indeed, until he had taken two deep draughts from a tankard that stood -by his side, and which old Bridget ever brought in and placed near to -his hand when he went to spend an hour or so with Philip.</p> - -<p class="normal">Full of excitement as this man's life had been for years--since the -soldier of fortune had fought at Candia, and at Choczim with Sobieski, -and taken part in many other frays, to say nothing of countless -skirmishes--he was now as gentle a companion as Philip could have -desired. Nay, sometimes, old Bridget would almost grow jealous as she -observed how softly he could turn and smooth a pillow, or sit -patiently by his brother listening to many of the querulous complaints -usual to some invalids, or, to while away the dreary hours of that -poor invalid, would tell him of courts and camps and strange doings in -other lands. So jealous, indeed, did the old woman grow--or think she -had grown--that she would forbid Andrew the sick room except at stated -hours, and, pretending that it was not good for him to pass his days -there, bid him go off and ride upon the downs, or attend the hawking -parties of a neighbouring squire, or take a rod and catch a dish of -trout in the stream.</p> - -<p class="normal">And Andrew would obey the old nurse, who had brought him and his -brother up from boyhood and domineered over them, as meekly as though -he had never roared orders to squadrons and troops in the face of -hordes of Turks and Imperialists, or taken the word of command from -Condé and Turenne; and would wander idly forth until the hours came -round when he might go and sit by Philip's side.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet he found those hours pass slowly and leaden-footedly along, being -unable to take much pleasure from the simple country amusements he was -surrounded by. His horse was his chief companion, and, since he saw -always to its food and litter and its careful grooming, found him some -occupation, while he had made friends with two old half-bred watchdogs -who roamed about the place, and, at last, attached themselves so to -him that they ever attended at his heels when he went on foot.</p> - -<p class="normal">One day, too, he nearly frightened the sexton of the village church to -death by suddenly bursting through the half-open door and tramping -down the aisle to a large yawning pew beneath the pulpit, and entering -therein.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good sir," the old man quavered, looking almost in fear and trembling -at the swarthy cavalier before him, "this is the pew of the Vause -family from the Grange hard by; none enter it----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, 'tis, James," the intruder answered the astonished old man. -"Wherefore I am here." Then he thrust his hands through his thick -matted hair and put it aside from his brow, and went on: "Because I, -too, am a Vause. Hast forgotten me, James?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord sakes!" the old man piped through his toothless gums, while he -regarded the brown face and noticed the scar that ran adown his cheek, -"'tis Master Andrew. And so it is. I mind me I did hear that you were -back from foreign lands." Then, because some cheery, pleasant memory -rose to his mind, his wrinkled old face broke into a smile, and he put -out a gnarled hand and placed it on the buckskin sleeve of the -adventurer, and said, "You take me back a twenty year and more, Master -Andrew, and I recall how, when I looked not, or was a-digging of some -grave, you pelted me with mine own windfalls. And how brave you look, -and great and strong. Hast none of thy great strength to spare for -Master Philip?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would I had," said Andrew, "in very truth I do. He is sore -pressed." Then he took the old hand in his own and shook it--leaving -in it a shining new silver crown--and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Leave me here awhile, James. It comes not oft that I can sit beneath -my mother's monument--may never come again. Leave me awhile."</p> - -<p class="normal">The windows of the church were open this bright May day, and through -them he heard the dronings of the bees, the bleat of growing lambs and -all the sweet country sounds, as he gazed above upon the quaint -monument which his brother had had put up to their parents, Philip and -Alice Vause. And back to his memory there came again his boyish days, -his own turbulent youth and the gentle boyhood of his brother, and how -the latter had ever interceded 'twixt him and their father--a stern, -disappointed cavalier--saving him many a welting from the paternal -cane. And again he thought of the mother he had loved so dear, -recalled how she, too, had protected him from many a chastisement, -and, as he did so, bent his head forward to the pew rail and said some -kind of prayer. Perhaps he prayed for Philip's life to be spared, -perhaps----</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet the days passed very slowly with him; he grew sick and weary of -the trout stream and old Squire Giles's hawkings, and the village -greens to which he would wander and take a part in quarter-staff with -the yokels, or, stripping off his jacket, would, with their simple -foils, show them some passes which set them gaping wide with wonder -and musing on where Master Andrew had learnt such tricks of fence.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sick and weary, yet he knew he must not go away. Not yet, at -least. Philip grew weaker day by day; the warm end of May and the -coming of the leafy June brought no access of strength, but rather -greater lassitude. And Andrew, though used to seeing sudden death -only--death dealt out by shot and fire and ball, death swift and -instantaneous--knew that, when the great summer heats had come, Philip -would be no more. The village chirurgeon had told him this, had said -that the end drew very near; the lungs were growing weaker day by day, -the heart-beats becoming more feeble. Yet he needed no telling--he -could see for himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">But still he did not know who it was who had treated his loved brother -so cruelly--and the time was slipping by! Then, at last, on this -night, when he said, "tell me all, Philip. I must know what has -brought you to this pass," the other seemed disposed to begin his -story; perhaps because he, too, knew the hour was near at hand when -there would be no more opportunity for the telling thereof. It was so -warm that the lattice was open, and Philip, lying on the couch, was -opposite to his brother sitting by the open window and inhaling the -perfume of the swift-flowering woodbine, and watching the laburnum -branches as the soft south wind beat them gently against the casement.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then suddenly, as though nerved all at once to confide in him he -loved, the sick man began:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was in London when I met her first: attending the Court, seeking to -get from the restored King some recognition of our father's services -to his father and his cause. Enough of that--you understand the reward -of the Cavalier and the Cavalier's children! A well-bred bow, acquired -in courts and cities such as you have seen and know, a winning smile, -a gracious greeting, and a blessing--from his lips! a promise--never -fulfilled."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Put not your trust in princes," muttered Andrew, who had not -forgotten the regularity with which his mother had taken him to the -village church in days gone by.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay; in him least of all. But you know him, you saw him a while ago; -perhaps he gave you a promise too--if so, believe it not. Unless it be -for his own purpose it will not be fulfilled."</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew shrugged his shoulders, and the other went on.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She was there, fresh come from Dorsetshire, attached to the Duchess -of York. Andrew," and he raised himself a little on his elbow as he -spoke, "even now, sometimes, by day and night, as I think of it, it -seems impossible she could have been so false to me. For, that -falsehood should lurk behind her pure innocent eyes, be hidden under -her gentle manner, appears incredible. Yet--yet--she was as false as -hell."</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew shifted his seat a little, crossed the other leg, and said, "Go -on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not much to tell. I loved her; she said that she loved me. So--we -were engaged to be married. She came here on a visit--she and a friend -of hers--and I was very frank with her; told her this must be her -home, that our life would be easy, but not luxurious, and she -answered, 'It was enough. She cared nothing for Courts, and was only -in the suite of the Duchess at her father's desire.'" He paused a -moment, then he repeated, "We were engaged to be married."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" said Andrew.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Engaged to be married--the day was fixed. Then--then--oh! Andrew, I -never heard from her nor saw her again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What had befallen?" asked his brother, gazing, as it seemed, almost -listlessly out at the laburnum branches swaying against the diamond -panes. "What?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Treachery of the deepest, blackest kind. I could have borne very well -that she should not love me, but that she should treat me thus--flout -and despise me, leave me without a word of regret--that I cannot bear. -It has broken my heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did it do that?" and Andrew's voice was low--thick--as he asked the -question.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, it did. I learnt afterwards from the friend who came with her -here, also from her father--who cursed her name as I stood before him -in his Dorsetshire home, to which I had gone to seek for her--that for -some time, some weeks, she had been much with a Frenchman, a man who -had come over with the woman now made Duchess of Portsmouth; that soon -'twas thought they were lovers. And then, one day, they were gone--to -France."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Her name?" asked Andrew, briefly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Marion Wyatt."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And his--this Frenchman's?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"De Bois-Vallée. He was termed the Vicomte de Bois-Vallée. They said -of him that he was a discarded lover of the Frenchwoman, who threw him -over when she learned that she was to be the favourite of a King--also -that he had fought many duels and was so good a swordsman that he -might have been a <i>maître d'armes</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, so!" muttered Andrew, nodding his head gently. Then he muttered -inwardly, "Perhaps some day we will see for this. Make trial of the -Vicomte's skill." Aloud he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You knew that they had gone to France? For sure you knew it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beyond all doubt. De Bois-Vallée was a bully, it seems, cared for -none, vaunted himself as a Frenchman. There was a scene 'twixt him and -the woman, De Kéroualle--it was overheard and brought to me--they say -even that Charles broke in on him--was insulted, too. And he told the -Frenchwoman that, though an Englishman had deprived him of her, he was -yet about to be revenged, he would not return to France alone. Tit for -tat was fair play--an Englishwoman should replace her. And they say, -too, that the King and the Duchess laughed at him, the former telling -him he was very welcome, so that he left De Kéroualle behind."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He kept his word?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, he kept his word. The night he left for France she was missing. -She had gone out to walk in the garden that gave on the Mall; she -came back no more. And he had been seen, this Vicomte, up and down the -Mall for some time ere night fell, a coach waiting for him. Seen -peering over into the garden, and with some of his countrymen near at -hand--ready, no doubt, to interfere if any came to prevent her going -with him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has he married her, think you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven knows! Yet almost I think it must be so. She jilted me, but, -but--'tis hard to believe she was a wicked, wanton woman. She would -not have gone with him unless they were married--or, at least, were -soon to be married."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And this was--when?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Three years ago, soon after the Frenchwoman came first to England, -brought over in the suite of the Duchess of Orleans."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis pity you never told me all," said Andrew, "specially since I -might have made my way to Paris after Candia!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Andrew, I was ashamed, ashamed that even you should know it. -And--and--what could you have done?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" exclaimed his brother. "What! Well! tested the skill of this -<i>maître d'armes</i>--perhaps avenged you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It might have made a widow of her, left her alone and defenceless in -a strange land."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Possibly!" Andrew replied to this, with the careless shrug of the -shoulders which he had learnt unconsciously in his foreign travel. -"Possibly!" And again he spoke inwardly to himself, saying, "As I -shall do yet--if he has married her."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was silence after this for some time as they sat in the now -gathering darkness, a silence only interrupted by Bridget bringing in -the lamps. But when she had left them alone once more, after telling -Andrew he was sitting too long with his brother, who by now should be -abed, and that she would be back to assist him to it, the former spoke -again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bridget hinted a word," he said, "when first I came here, made -suggestion that you yourself nourished hopes of punishing this -man--this Vicomte de Bois-Vallée," and he pronounced the name clearly, -as though to make sure he had learnt it aright--"would have done so -had your health been stronger, and you more fit to cope with him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I--I would have done so then," poor Philip said, "had I been able to -discover he had wronged her as well as me. I was mad, furious, at -first. Poor swordsman as I am, I would have tried to find him out; -have hurled myself against him; have, even though he had run me -through and through, striven to kill him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, so!" said Andrew, "you would have done that had you kept well and -strong?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"God help me! I fear I should."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">CHAPTER III.</a></h4> - -<h4>ONE SUMMER NIGHT</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was so hot a July night in Paris that all who could be so were out -of doors, even the commonest people bringing forth stools and chairs, -and sitting on the side-paths outside their houses to get some breath -of air that might blow down the streets and alleys; while, in the -courtyards of the great nobles and rich merchants, the servants did -the same thing. And, as they thus took the air, their thoughts all -turned to memories of country lanes and fields, and of the green woods -that belted the city on all sides, and of quiet inn-gardens with -bowling-greens and archery grounds; turned also, perhaps, to the -recollection of cool draughts of wine gurgling pleasantly from out the -lips of flasks.</p> - -<p class="normal">A hot night, even spent thus--a hotter in taverns and tripots and -drinking shops where, as always, many of the Frenchmen in Paris passed -their evenings imbibing Montrachet from long-necked glasses, or red -Citron from big-bowled ones, or Frontignac from goblets. So hot that -jackets were thrown open, and lace fal-lals untied, and even belts -loosened for coolness.</p> - -<p class="normal">In such a way, on this hot night, sat Andrew Vause in an inn off the -Rue St. Honoré, known as "Le Point du Jour"--possibly because it was -chiefly patronized from nightfall to dawn by the wildest of French -gallants--his jacket open and his dress generally arranged to catch -any whiff of air that might blow in from the open door. He was -differently dressed now from the time when he arrived at his old home -in Surrey--the jacket being of black velvet and the whole of his -costume indicating that he was in mourning. For Philip had been in his -grave some weeks, the great heat which came in the early June of that -year having sapped from him the little vitality left, and Andrew, full -of a set purpose which he had resolved on as he saw his brother's -coffin lowered into the vault where so many other members of the -family lay, was now in Paris bent on carrying that purpose out.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before him on a table was a flask of wine; on the other side of the -table, leaning his elbows on it, sat a Frenchman who every now and -again filled his glass at the other's bidding, and then went on with -the recital of some narrative to which Andrew listened attentively.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is," this man said, "in the <i>garde du corps</i> of Turenne, his -business being always to be near the Marshal with others--to prevent -his master from either being insulted or assaulted in any tumult. -Naturally 'tis a light duty, Turenne being too popular just now for -any such <i>banalités</i> to be perpetrated"; and the Frenchman lifted his -glass to his lips and again drank--this time in a meditative manner, -and as though thinking far more of something else than of the wine he -was sucking down his throat. After which he continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is useful to Turenne now; doubly so, indeed. Monsieur understands -that he is of Lorraine, from Remiremont. Consequently knows well the -neighbourhood."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of Lorraine! And fighting for France! Why! all Lorrainers, with their -Duke at their head, are with the Imperialists in spite of King Louis -claiming their country as a province."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not all, Monsieur. Not all," the Court spy, for such he was, answered -with a bow and a shrug, as though deprecating the necessity for -contradicting Andrew. "Many of the noblesse go against the Duke and -throw in their lot with France--she protecting them from Charles of -Lorraine's anger. <i>He</i> is one of them and has been since '70, when the -King claimed the province again."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereon he filled his glass once more.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And where is Turenne now?" asked Andrew, playing with his own glass, -but drinking nothing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The last news came from Sintzheim, where he had just beaten Caprara. -He is somewhere, therefore, in that neighbourhood."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And Sintzheim is on the east bank of the Rhine, if I remember -aright."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, so! 'Twixt Philipsburg on the Rhine and Heilbronn on the Neckar."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay! thereabouts. And you are sure this man, this Camille de -Bois-Vallée, is there with his master?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where else? That is his post. Unless----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Unless?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is killed. That may be. They are fighting always during the -summer. In the winter they go into quarters. Some returning to Paris -who can get leave--and, then, 'tis as though forty thousand devils -more than there are already here were let loose! Some stay there. The -married ones mostly. He does, I think."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was on the tip of Andrew's tongue to say, "he is married then?" but -he refrained. This man might not know that--although he knew much of -what took place in the higher circles in France. Instead, therefore, -he contented himself by saying: "Why so? Do their wives join them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Si! Si!</i> They join them. And sometimes others--but no matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore you think he will be there--say next winter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Unless he is killed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Always, of course, unless he is killed. That is without saying."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is there now," the Frenchman said, filling his glass furtively and -almost in a shamefaced manner at having drunk so much of what was in -the bottle, "I know that. You bade me a week ago find out, discover, -where he was. I have done it. You may rely on me." Then, with a slight -simper and somewhat of hesitation in his voice, he said: "I have done -my share of the work, monsieur."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is true. I will do mine," and he produced from his breast a -small roll of what were evidently gold pieces--or pieces of money of -some sort--and slipped it across the table into the other's palm. -"Yet," said Andrew, as he did so, "I would you could have answered the -other portion of my question. I would have paid you well--will pay you -well now--if you can discover anything further."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man opposite him shrugged his shoulders, while at the same time he -was slipping the rouleau into his pouch, then he said, "<i>Ma foi!</i> In -such cases it is a little difficult. <i>Fichtre!</i> It is extremely -difficult. This Bois-Vallée has been so much mixed up with women -that----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hist!" exclaimed Andrew under his breath, while he made a sign to the -spy to be silent awhile. Then he turned his eyes towards a table in -the corner, the other following intuitively his glance.</p> - -<p class="normal">Doing so, they rested on a young fellow who was scarce more than a -lad--but an extremely good-looking one, with a pink and white -complexion, now flushed a little, as though from too deep an attention -having been paid to a bottle of amber-coloured wine on the table, upon -which he leant his arm. He was well dressed, too, the garb he wore -showing that he belonged to the wealthy classes, if not to the -noble--though his clear-cut, aristocratic features proclaimed almost -indubitably that he was of good birth. His coat of russet satin was -enriched with red and silver cording, his satin breeches had handsome -slashed seams, also showing red and silver lace, while the bows at his -knees above his brown silk stockings were of deep frilled lace. His -hat lay carelessly on the table where it had been tossed, and some -droppings from his bottle had somewhat soaked into the rich black -beaver and soiled its lace, while, unbelted from his body and with the -sash belt still attached to it, a handsome silver-hilted rapier stood -against the wall by his side. He wore his own hair, a bright chestnut -flecked with yellow, which, as he sat with his back against the wall, -with his eyes shut, shone like a new louis d'or against the somewhat -dingy background.</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew had thought him asleep during the time he had been holding his -conversation with the informer, whom he had sent for some days since -and taken into his pay, but he thought so no longer when--on that -informer mentioning somewhat above his breath the name of "De -Bois-Vallée"--the youth had opened a pair of dark grey eyes and fixed -them on the speaker. And the manner in which he had done so gave the -astute cavalier the idea that that name was not unfamiliar to him, an -impression which he would have conceived earlier had he seen the lad -previously open his eyes more than once when the name of the Vicomte -had been mentioned.</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man, however, closed them again directly those other glances -were directed towards him, and, since Andrew Vause and his companion -turned their conversation to another subject, he opened them no more, -but seemed to drop of again into a sleep with his head against the -wall. Then a little later he aroused himself, called the serving-man, -and paying him, as well as tossing him a silver coin for his service, -buckled on his rapier and left the tavern.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you know the youth?" Andrew asked, as he too paid the man and -arranged his jacket and neckerchief previous to leaving the place. "He -was acquainted with, I will be sworn, the name of--of--the person we -have been discussing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," said the other. "Nay. Though doubtless I could discover. Shall -I follow him, watch where he goes to--find out who he is?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," replied Vause. "No. I have nought to do with him, and it may -well be that he knows the man; by his appearance he should be one -acquainted with the Court and such circles as those which De -Bois-Vallée frequents. Let be! Also, he is in Paris, and he whom I go -to seek is on the Rhine. And--he knows nothing."</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not add, which was the case, that to him, soldier of fortune -and free lance as he was, all kinds of espionage were distasteful, and -that, having now found out the Vicomte's whereabouts, he wanted no -more spyings. This fellow had put him on the track of the man whom he -had taken a vow to find and stand face to face with--that was enough. -He would do the rest himself, trusting only to his own manhood and to -his sword.</p> - -<p class="normal">He briefly bade the man "good-night," therefore, with some muttered -word of thanks for service rendered, and, telling him that should he -need him again he would send to his lodgings, went out into the night, -leaving the spy draining the last dregs from the bottle. He was -staying at "Le Point du Jour" for the present, having an airy, cool -room at the top of the house, but there was one duty he performed -nightly ere seeking that room. That was to go to the stables in the -next alley to the one in which the inn was situated, and there see -that all was well with his horse--a duty no man dared neglect even -though his love of his animal did not prompt him to it, so valuable an -adjunct to the life and safety of the soldier was his steed. But, with -Andrew Vause, the attention would have been given, even though neither -he nor the steed were ever likely to set forth on any journey of -adventure together again.</p> - -<p class="normal">Outside the tavern the air was cool and fresh, and, meditating much on -all that lay before him ere the task was done which he had vowed to -accomplish, he strolled leisurely along, reached the Rue St. Honoré, -and so wended his way towards where the stables were, casting up his -eyes as he went at the portals of a grim, deserted-looking palace over -which the light of a new moon showed him a cardinal's hat carved in -stone--the portals of the house where Richelieu breathed his last -thirty years before.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! <i>votre eminence!</i>" he murmured, "you were a man, with all your -faults, worth serving. An unscrupulous devil too," he mused, "yet one -who knew good mettle when you found it. Better than the upstart -Louvois, better even than the great King who now fights bloodless -battles and leaves Turenne and Condé to fight the real ones. Ha! What -is that? The clash of arms hard by. Where? Where?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He soon discovered, for to his well-trained ear the metallic hiss of -rapier against rapier was as good a guide as any call would have been, -and, darting down a <i>ruelle</i> close by, found himself in the -neighbourhood of the fight that was going on, on the cobble stones of -the court.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" he muttered, while he hastened forward, "three engaged. A -strange duel this, or, by the Lord, two against one." Then in a moment -his own great sword was out, and Andrew Vause was in his element.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the same time he recognized one of the combatants--the fair-haired -youth who had sat dozing in the tavern over his wine, now hard beset -by two others--brawny, common ruffians who, Andrew made no manner of -doubt, had fallen upon the well-dressed young fellow with the idea of -robbery, helped at first, if necessary, by assassination. The lad was -making a good fight of it, however, with his back against the wall of -an empty house, and seemed to be holding his own well, although the -accustomed eye of the trained soldier showed him that danger menaced -the young fellow in a manner unsuspected by him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A higher guard," he called out as he approached, "higher, my lad. -That fellow with the loose cloak on his left arm will throw it on your -point else, and so disarm you. Higher--so--that's better!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he reached the trio, and, for a moment, there was a cessation of -hostilities.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said Andrew grimly, as he ran his eye over the <i>spadassins</i> who -had attacked the other, "I do perceive. A little duel in which -Monsieur the second is so carried away by his love of swordplay that, -unwittingly, he joins in the fray. Well, we can better that. Messieurs -doubtless know the gracious laws of the duello. While the principals -engage, the seconds may also amuse themselves. Monsieur," to the lad, -"attack your man--I will be your second and engage his friend," and -the long rapier was raised to the salute in irony.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thanks," the young man said, feeling all the better for this -breathing space, "this ruffian is my man," and in an instant he had -fallen on one of the others with such fury that he had to defend -himself or be trussed like a woodcock on the spit.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Monsieur," exclaimed Andrew, "<i>À vous</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">But whether it was the terrible appearance of the brawny Englishman -who towered over him with swart complexion and fierce piercing eye, or -whether it was the equally terrible appearance of that rapier with its -long smooth blade and enormous quilloned hilt, there was now no fight -in the fellow--not, at least, when it was man to man and even chances!</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am no fighter," he muttered. "I did but think my friend got the -worst of it--and so came to his assistance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No fighter," said Andrew quietly, yet appalling the man by his look, -"no fighter! Yet you wear a sword, and use it--when the odds are two -to one! Give it to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man hesitated a moment and again muttered something--this time -inaudibly--whereupon Andrew repeated his request for the other's -sword, and, to prove that he meant what he said, administered such a -swinging kick to the fellow that he reeled across the narrow <i>ruelle</i>. -"Now. The sword!" he said again.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then when it was in his hand he gazed at it a moment, thinking in -truth it was too good to be owned by such as this craven hound, and, -next, broke it across his knee, while, seeing the opening to a drain -close by, into which the water ran in wet weather, he threw the two -pieces down into it. Then he seized the owner by the collar of his -jacket, and, kicking him into a doorway, flung him on the step, where -he lay almost motionless.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come out of that," he said, "until this rencounter is over, and by -all the saints in your knavish calendar I will thrust this through -your gizzard," and the fellow saw the rapier flash before his blurred -eyes as the other spoke.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">CHAPTER IV.</a></h4> - -<h4>"WHAT HAVE I STUMBLED ON?"</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Now," said Andrew, standing a few paces off the other two, "let us -see a little skilful fence," and, his own rapier in hand, though with -the point resting on the stones of the court, he looked on as a -<i>maître d'escrime</i> might gaze upon two pupils practising with the -foils.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gently, gently," he said quietly to the young fellow who was lunging -furiously at his adversary, "you will lose your breath else." And, -still with what seemed to that adversary, as he fought wildly, -infernal calm, he added, "thrust a little lower, otherwise you may -break your sword against his breast-bone. Thus you will find a better -entrance. Pass through him easier. So, so. That's better"; and he -stepped back and, looking on still with an easy approval, watched the -encounter.</p> - -<p class="normal">But there was no heart left in the ruffian now; moreover, he knew he -was doomed, and he uttered, therefore, a piercing shriek for mercy to -which his opponent, his blood well up, answered with another angry -lunge.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then," exclaimed Andrew, "make an end of it. The people above -are opening their windows--the watch will be here next--prick him and -have done with it. Take him in the shoulder, he is not worth killing. -Good! that's it. A pretty thrust."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lad had followed his instructions perfectly, and, beating down the -other's guard, had driven his point two inches into the fellow's right -deltoid, which he received with a yell, his blade clattering on to the -stones as it dropped from his wounded arm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well done," said Andrew, "now come along." And, picking up first the -rich laced beaver, which had fallen off the young fellow's head in the -encounter, he took him by the arm and led him out into the Rue -Richelieu.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A little breathless, eh?" he asked, as he heard the boy's lungs -working heavily. "A little blown! No matter, you fought a good -fight--though they might have beaten you in the end. I see," he added, -"you know something of the science."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," the other answered, while--they being now some distance from -the place where he had been attacked--he leant against the wall to -recover his breath. "Yes, I know something of it. And I could have -done better had I not drunk that last accursed bottle. But I was -athirst, as, indeed, I am now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well. Well. Come into the nearest tavern and we will have -another--now is the time when a cup will do you good. Yet, arrange -yourself first, you are a little dishevelled, and your hat is dirty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," said the other with a laugh, "no more taverns for me to-night. -But I live hard by, was taking a short way home when those fellows set -on me; come with me. There is some good wine at our house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" said Andrew, "the night is late--hark! there is St. Roch -striking midnight now--too late for wassailing! And--you do not know -me--yet you ask me to your house!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not know you! St. Denis! I do, though. I know enough to see what you -are. First, an Englishman--good as you have the French your accent -tells that. I wonder," he interjected, "if you are going to join -Turenne? There are hundreds of your countrymen with him. Then -next----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, next?" asked Andrew, not heeding the remark about Turenne. He was -going to join Turenne, or, at least, proceed to where his army was, -but he had seen the boy's eyes open when the name of one was mentioned -who was already with the great marshal, and, at present, he held his -peace. "What next?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Next, you are <i>un brave homme</i>. You saved my life--certainly saved me -from getting a bad wound--and prevented those vagabonds from pillaging -me; they saw this, I suppose," and he touched lightly with his fingers -a thick gold chain round his neck to which a medallion hung, "and -wanted it. And, if you had desired, you could have slain all three of -us," he continued, with another laugh that so touched Andrew's sense -of humour that, scarce knowing why, he laughed too. Then the boy -added, "Come, come! I must know more of you. You are a soldier, anyone -can see that; well, so am I. Come, I say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So you are a soldier, eh?" Andrew said, taken with a liking for the -young fellow and his frank open manner, and walking unresistingly now -by his side towards the house he was leading him to. "A soldier. A -young one, though you understand swordplay, or will later, as well as -many an older man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We are all soldiers in our family," his companion replied. Then he -looked proudly at the great form beside him, and said, "I have made -two campaigns, though I am but seventeen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," replied Andrew, "no doubt. You French gentlemen go to the wars -early, I know. I have served with many such; younger, too, than you. -There was, now, at Choczim--so!" he broke off as the lad halted at a -great wooden door that doubtless opened into a large courtyard, "is -this your house?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is," the other answered, kicking meanwhile against the lower part -of the huge door, as though, thereby, to summon someone from within. -"The fiend take old Pierre, he is again asleep." And he kicked once -more and hammered with his fist. Then, at Andrew's thoughtful -suggestion that the noise might wake his father or his lady mother, he -replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never fear! My lady mother, as you politely term her, sleeps at the -back looking over the garden, and my lady sisters above, while as for -my father--God rest his soul!--he has been dead these twelve years. -<i>Ciel!</i> Must I beat down the door!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Even though it had been possible for him to do so, there was now, -however, no necessity, since it opened a few feet at this moment, and -an elderly man peering out, and seeing who was there, instantly pulled -it further back to admit the young man and his companion. An elderly -man who shook his head a little--perhaps from oncoming age or, maybe, -from disapprobation of such hours--but who still stood aside very -respectfully. Yet, from a corner of his eye, he shot a glance up at -the big frame of the man who accompanied his master.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pierre, you sleep atrociously," that master replied. "Every night I -have to hammer and bang in the same way. However, in with you and -fetch a good bottle of the Muscadel from the cellar. Quick, hurry, I -say. We are athirst." Then, turning to Andrew, said, "Come, sir, I am -on the <i>rez-de-chaussée</i>. It suits my habits best, my mother says. We -shall not have far to go."</p> - -<p class="normal">Following his new friend, Andrew glanced at the paved stone courtyard -across which they went, the old man, Pierre, preceding them with a -flambeau which he took from a socket by his lodge door and ignited. -Whereby the visitor saw that he was in the house of some great family, -great, possibly by rank, and undoubtedly so by wealth. The old pieces -of armour hanging on the courtyard walls, burgonets, coats of mail, -gambesons, scaled or of chain, lances, and swords--all symmetrically -arranged--seemed to prove the former, while, as they reached the door -giving entrance to the house itself, the flickering light of the torch -confirmed the fact that this was no home of a mushroom family of large -means, or of a rich merchant, since it shone upon a great gilt coronet -above the door, and, above that, upon armorial bearings which none but -nobles could possess.</p> - -<p class="normal">Pierre, changing the flambeau for a huge wax taper, led the way down a -narrow passage giving off the hall, and, throwing open a polished -chestnut door over which some arras hung, ushered them into a large, -comfortably furnished apartment, though, like all the <i>entresols</i> of -the period, low-roofed. Then, after lighting a dozen other wax candles -which stood in lustres and sconces, he withdrew, saying he would fetch -the wine.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And quickly, too," said Andrew's host. "Dost hear, Pierre? Quick, -quick."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Si, Monsieur le Marquis</i>," the old fellow muttered, and so went off.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," said the young man, "be at your ease. Take off, your sword, -unlace your jacket, and repose. Here is a couch on which I have slept -many an hour; there a fauteuil which no soldier need despise. My -doting mother chose it specially. I beg you to use as much freedom as -you would in your own house."</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew Vause accepted the gracefully proffered hospitality in the same -spirit that it was offered, and sank into the luxurious fauteuil, -while his eye, roaming round the room, observed with approval several -of the objects in it. For they all corroborated what his new -acquaintance had stated, that he was a soldier--nay, more, that he was -a soldier either on active service or about very soon to proceed on -such service. In one corner of the apartment was a bundle of swords of -the military type--spadroons and two or three heavy broadswords; in -another, hanging over a chair, was a passemented justaucorps, with -military gold braid and embroidery--an almost certain sign of the -owner's nobility, since scarcely any but officers of high social rank -were permitted to wear this garment; also a new bridle, some horse -fittings, and other things pertaining to a soldier, were strewn about.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," said Andrew's host again, when Pierre had brought the wine, -which, as the former held it before one of the wax lustres, sparkled -like amber through its dusty, cobwebby encasing--"Now, we will drink a -toast to our better acquaintance. And, first, let us know each other's -names. Mine is Valentin Debrasques, commonly called the Marquis -Debrasques." And as he spoke he poured out the first glass of wine, -carefully following the old custom of emptying a spoonful from the top -into his own glass, and passed it over to Andrew.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And mine," replied Andrew, "is Vause. The Captain Vause late serving -in the English Regiment, in Flanders and elsewhere, and to which one -of our soldiers, a Lieutenant-Colonel John Churchill, has recently -been appointed colonel by our King. Monsieur le Marquis, I drink your -health and to our future comradeship," and he raised his glass.</p> - -<p class="normal">Debrasques had been filling his glass as Andrew spoke, yet, by some -clumsiness scarcely to have been expected from him, at the moment the -latter mentioned his name, the bottle slipped in his hand, and, -clinking on to the long glass beneath, broke it, while the outrunning -wine deluged the tablecover. "<i>Peste!</i>" He exclaimed, his face -scarlet, "I am a clumsy fellow. If I were older, one would say my hand -was no longer fit to grasp a sword since it cannot hold a bottle." -Then, going over to a huge buffet, on which stood several silver and -parcel-gilt cups, he took down one, blew the dust out of it, and, -after wiping it with his lace handkerchief, poured out some of the -wine left in the flask, and, touching Andrew's glass with it, drank to -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," he said, though now his face had somewhat lost its colour, and, -as Andrew thought, looked white and drawn, "you belong to our -auxiliary force supplied by your King, Charles. And--and--do you -proceed to join The English Regiment?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," replied the older soldier. "Yes. Charles has given me a letter -to Colonel Churchill--he is ten years younger than I, but such is -fortune! Yes. I quitted the army to go home on some affairs connected -with my family. Now those affairs are arranged, and I go back to serve -under Turenne."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke easily, yet all the time Debrasques knew that he was watching -him, perhaps considering why he had been so clumsy with the bottle, -and, because he himself knew what had caused him to drop it, he was -far from being at ease.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am about to set out too," he said, after a moment's pause. "I am -sent to Listenai's Dragoons. I depart on Monday next."</p> - -<p class="normal">He still seemed, however, as he spoke, to be suffering from the -nervousness which had attacked him from the time of breaking the glass -and spilling some of the Muscadel; nor was that nervousness decreased -by the fact that the great bronzed cavalier sitting in his fauteuil -evidently perceived his state. Yet the latter, beyond keeping his dark -eyes fixed on him, gave no other sign that he noticed anything.</p> - -<p class="normal">Presently, after again filling Andrew's glass and his own goblet, -which brought the contents of the flask to an end, and for which the -young Marquis was profuse in apologies, offering to call Pierre and -bid him fetch another bottle--which hospitality his guest declined, -vowing he would drink no more that night--he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I owe you a great debt, Captain Vause, for saving me from those -<i>filous</i> this evening."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay," interrupted Andrew, with a twirl of his black moustache, -though still, as the boy saw, with his eyes upon him. "Nay, comrade -for comrade, that is all. I could not hear the scraping of steel -without being in the fray, and two to one was foul play. 'Tis nought."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me try in some way to show, at least, that I recognize the -service. Now, how do you proceed to join Colonel Churchill?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph! In the soldier's way. I have a good horse, and I must find a -servant and a horse also for him. 'Tis easy. Also, I know the route. -From here to Metz, then through the country of Mont Tonnerre, and so -on to Heidelberg. There we shall come upon Turenne's outposts, a day -later reach the main army. Is it not so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is the road. Yet, Captain Vause, let me, at least, proffer this -much. You speak of a servant; 'tis not necessary. I set out on Monday, -as I say; to-day is Thursday. Now, with me there go six troopers from -our estate by Evreux. Till they take their place in my troop in -Listenai's they will act both as escort and servants. Sir, will you -not ride in my company; be my guest? 'Tis but little beyond good -fellowship."</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew reflected a moment--strange thoughts revolving in his mind as -he did so; thoughts that two incidents of the evening had given birth -to--then he spoke frankly, and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Mon brave gar</i>, I will. We go together."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good!" exclaimed Debrasques, "good! I thank you." And at last he -looked once more like himself, the colour returning to his cheeks and -his eyes sparkling. "Good!" Then, speaking very earnestly as Andrew -rose to go--for, borne on the soft air of the night as it came through -the open windows, were heard the chimes of St. Roch ringing out one -o'clock--he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"And we are comrades--sworn? Is it not so? Whatever may--can--befall -in the future, friends and comrades?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why not, Monsieur Debrasques?" asked Andrew, looking down at the -slight young figure before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! I know not. But say it, say it. Comrades and friends, no matter -what befall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I say it," the other answered. "Comrades and friends," and he put out -his great sunburned hand and took the lad's delicate one in his, while -he saw the latter's fair complexion suffuse again, this time with -pleasure.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Marquis did not summon Pierre to escort his visitor to the -courtyard door, but, instead, conducted him out himself, carrying in -his hand a candelabra of three branches from which the candles therein -threw forth a bright light. And by that light Andrew saw far better -than he had seen by the taper the serving-man had earlier exchanged -for the smoking flambeau, how the great square hall, with its -staircase on either side, was filled with paintings of men of various -periods--armed and looking, as the boy had said, as if all had been -soldiers in their day--and also with pictures of many well-favoured -women in whom he seemed to trace something of a likeness to the bright -grey eyes and soft complexion of Debrasques. Also he saw a nearly new -full-length portrait of a man--the oils were quite fresh, he noticed, -and not laid on the canvas many months--a man young and good-looking, -though the hair inclined to red, while the eyes, a bright blue, had a -steely, menacing glance in them, that gave to their owner a forbidding -look which seemed to warn those who gazed at the portrait to take heed -how they trusted him whom it depicted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is that, if I may be so bold as to ask?" inquired Andrew, pausing -a moment before this painting. "One of your house, I should suppose, -from its being honoured here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That!" said the Marquis, "that! Oh! 'tis a cousin of mine on my -mother's side. She cared for him--that is why he hangs here."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, looking down at his host, Andrew saw by the light of the candles -that once more the young man's face was deathly pale.</p> -<br> - -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:25px">* * * * * *</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"What have I stumbled on?" he mused as he sought at last his inn, -after having paid the postponed visit to his horse and seen that all -was well with it. "What? What? Let me reflect. In the tavern this -young Marquis was startled at hearing the name of De Bois-Vallée--that -beyond all doubt; in his own house he was even more startled at -hearing mine--in his agitation his hand shook so that the glass was -broken by the bottle he held in it. There is some connection here! -Then the picture of that crafty-looking, blue-eyed cousin whom his -mother cared for--cared for! Is he then dead? And if not, who is he? -Well, we will see. Time will show. 'Twixt here and Heidelberg is a -long ride."</p> - -<p class="normal">And musing still, and trying to piece one thing with another, Andrew -went at last to bed.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">CHAPTER V.</a></h4> - -<h4>"HIS NAME IS--WHAT?"</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Sound! Sound!" said the Marquis Debrasques, addressing two of his -troopers who carried long, slim trumpets over their shoulders, "Sound, -I say, and let these slumberers know that two gentlemen set forth to -join the army and fight the King's enemies. Sound to let them know -that, in spite of Brandenburg and Zell, Swabia and Franconia, and a -dozen other petty principalities under their chief, Austria, France is -not afraid!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke vauntingly this fine summer morning as, it being almost four -o'clock, the sun sent a thin slanting ray down the narrow street and -illuminated the great carved coat of arms that stood out over the -doorway of the Debrasques' house, while it lit up the archways and -<i>ruelles</i> hard by; and, perhaps, the vaunt was pardonable. For above, -at a heavily grilled window, his mother--who had folded him to her -arms again and again through the greater part of the night, which they -had spent together--looked forth, and by her side stood his two -child-sisters. Also, he was going to maintain as best he might the -honour of all the dead and gone Debrasques who had followed their -kings and generals for centuries, and had either returned victoriously -to this old house or left their bones to whiten where they fell.</p> - -<p class="normal">Close by, his hat in hand, because of the presence of the Marquise at -the window above, and with a quiet smile upon his dark, handsome -features, sat Andrew upon his great horse; himself ready to set out. -Once more he had donned the buckskin tunic now, putting off for the -time being his suit of velvet mourning; but, since active service -would soon be near at hand, he wore his gorget. Otherwise, he carried -no body armour, though in his necessaries borne by one of the pack -horses which was to accompany them, was his steel back-and-breast, and -also his headpiece. The fighting would not begin till the Rhine and -Neckar were in sight--no need yet to encumber himself with superfluous -weight!</p> - -<p class="normal">Ringing down the length of the street, waking sleepers in their beds -and causing many to leap from them and run to the windows to see what -brave show was taking place beneath, was heard the blare of the two -trumpets, and so, amidst their noise, the little cavalcade set forth, -the young Marquis waving and kissing his hand until a turn in the -narrow winding road between the houses hid those he loved from his -view, while Andrew bowed again and again to the ladies.</p> - -<p class="normal">And, still, they woke the echoes as they went on and on till the East -Gate was reached and passed, and more people left their beds to peer -at them and point with approval to the two cavaliers who rode ahead of -the troop--the one so young and fair and debonair, the other so large -and bronzed, and looking like some paladin of old, without his -armour--and at the pennons which fluttered from the lances of the two -foremost dragoons.</p> - -<p class="normal">Behind them came the led horses, extra chargers for the Marquis and -for Andrew, each suited to the weight of their riders--Andrew had had -a difficulty to purchase one suitable to his requirements!--with other -animals carrying the baggage necessary for all--changes of raiment and -accoutrements for the backs and breasts of gentlemen and troopers -alike, as well as spare arms and powder and ball that might--who -knew!--be wanted in the enemies' neighbourhood if they missed -Turenne's army. Also--this principally owing to the forethought of -Madame la Marquise and an antique housekeeper who had served the -Debrasques since she was a child--two other animals carried great -wicker panniers in which were many things that the poor and overtaxed -inns on the road (for from all parts of France reinforcements were -marching to Turenne's army, sometimes, even, in whole regiments) were -not likely to be able to provide. Flasks of good wine, carefully -preserved meats, fine chipbread, pressed poultry and conserved fruits; -all were there, as well as many other things in the way of medicines -and styptics and balms for wounds. Likewise there was much provision -for the animals--which Andrew had superintended--and which was perhaps -the most necessary of all, for on every one of the principal roads -leading to the seat of the great war now raging in the Palatinate -there was scarcely any forage to be obtained, the passage of -battalions and regiments having swept bare the country round.</p> - -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:25px">* * * * * *</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Peste!</i>" exclaimed the Marquis as, on the tenth day, they found -themselves more than half-way between Metz and Spires, and knew now -that they were within measurable distance of the army, "<i>Peste!</i> there -is nothing left, not so much as a drop of wine in the bottles nor a -drumstick of a fowl. <i>Madame ma mère</i> should have had one more pannier -packed, whereby we should have done well enough, or, better still, we -might have economized our resources. And the country is as clean swept -of everything as this high road. What is to become of the animals?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have patience," replied Andrew, "we are now part of Turenne's force. -Therefore, we must take what we can. And we have already passed -baggage vans going and coming for provisions; the next must be -requisitioned. That is, unless at to-night's halt we find the -wherewithal."</p> - -<p class="normal">They had by now become fast friends, sworn comrades, as they had -agreed to be, and Andrew had told Debrasques much of his early days of -campaigning, and how he had first joined the French army with James, -Duke of York, then an exile with his brother Charles. Never once, -however, had he referred to Philip and the blight that had fallen on -his life, nor the reason why he was now with Debrasques on the road to -join Churchill's regiment under Turenne.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," he pondered to himself over and over again in those ten days, -"silence is best. Also, why tell him that until I had learnt of the -whereabouts of this rogue, De Bois-Vallée, it had not been my -intention to repair here--but only to seek him high and low until he -was found, and then stand face to face with him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet there was one thing that troubled him even as he went to seek his -quarry; the recollection of one thing that might step in between him -and De Bois-Vallée and rob him of that which he had come to consider -would be a righteous vengeance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Suppose," he had mused to himself more than once, "suppose that, when -he is at last before me, I discover that he never knew of Philip's -existence, knew nothing of the wrong he had done him. It might be so, -might well be. Although Philip was at court sometimes they seem never -to have met and, if the woman he loved was a giddy, wanton thing, -whose fancy turned lightly from one to another, she may never have -told this Frenchman of the man she had betrayed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, even as he so meditated he put resolutely away from him the -thought that this could be the case; refused to believe, or to let the -belief creep into his mind, that the crafty, discarded lover of De -Kéroualle did not know of the robbery he was committing. "And," he -meditated also, "even should that be the case, there is still the -woman to make my account with. She, at least, knew the wrong she was -doing. I must find her." But, when he arrived at this point, he had to -cease his self-communing, for he knew not in what way vengeance could -be wreaked on her. The rapier by his side was powerless against a -woman--some other form of punishment must be sought for!</p> - -<p class="normal">Once on their long ride--nay, more than once, indeed half a dozen -times--he had turned over and over again in his mind the Marquis's -strange agitation in connection with all that was of so much -importance to him--the manner in which he had opened his eyes in the -tavern, the startled look in them when the spy had mentioned De -Bois-Vallée's name; also he recalled again and again the lad's start -when he told his own name; his pallor and nervousness before the -picture of that cousin whom he spoke of as having been "cared" for by -his mother. "Cared for," Andrew Vause mused again, "cared for. In the -past, not now!" And he asked himself: "What had that red-haired, -blue-eyed cousin done to cease to be cared for by his kinswoman any -longer? Unless he were dead!"</p> - -<p class="normal">At last he could refrain no more, and as, one day, they were passing -through the soft rolling country between Verdun and Metz he spoke to -Debrasques, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The cousin whose portrait I saw in your hall in Paris on the night -when first you welcomed me, and, afterwards, when Madame la Marquise -made me an honoured guest, ere we set forth on this journey--is he -dead, Debrasques? You spoke of him as one for whom her ladyship had -cared. Was it death that put an end to that care? It must be so, I -should suppose," and as he uttered the question he turned his eyes on -the boy by his side.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet only to see again the look he had seen before--half terror, half -supplication!--in the other's face; to note also that the bright -boyish colour, beneath the brown which had come on his cheeks during -their long march, paled and disappeared at once as on that night. -Wherefore Andrew cursed himself for his ill-bred curiosity as he -witnessed its effect.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," Valentin Debrasques said, after a moment's pause, during which -he leant forward and busied himself about something with his charger's -bridle. "No. He is not dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Forgive me," said Andrew gently. "Forgive me. I have pained you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay. Nay. Never! But--but--he is a villain, and that picture should -not be there, would not be there, an I had my way. But my mother still -believes, hopes--tries to believe he is not so; therefore it has not -been removed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry," Andrew answered. "Sorry my impertinent curiosity----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," Debrasques said. "Surely you--but--no matter." Then he -exclaimed, "How good you are!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good!" said Andrew, looking at him again, and wondering what he -meant; pondering, indeed, whether some stroke of the sun that had -beaten fiercely on them since they left Paris had not touched his -brain. "Good! Good!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For--for--your forbearance, I mean." Yet, as he spoke, there was a -look of bewilderment on the young and troubled face that mystified the -other. And doubly mystified him because he had seen it there before, -on the night when first the portrait met his view; also he had seen it -on the face of the Marquise as he had spoken in courteous, easy tones -to her during the intermediate days ere they set out. A look of -bewilderment on both their faces, as though expressing surprise that -he should be invariably so much at his ease and so gentle with them. -At least that was how he had read those looks, and, reading them thus, -had found further proof for wonderment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My forbearance!" he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," the other stammered, evidently much distressed, though still -with the perplexity growing greater in his face. "Yes, I mean to -refrain from questioning further. We--I--never mention him. I hate him -and despise him. I wonder you----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will never," said Andrew, "wound you on that score again, at least. -Henceforth I am dumb." And, to his surprise, as he spoke Debrasques put -out his gauntletted hand and grasped his own with a glance of -unspeakable gratitude.</p> - -<p class="normal">Which only added further to Andrew Vause's mystification and caused -him to ride on still more deeply wrapped in meditation.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now as they drew near Neustadt at nightfall and began to speculate -on what accommodation might be obtained at the inns, if any--since -they knew that two regiments of Dragoons, "the King's" and "The -Queen's" were marching ahead of them to reinforce Turenne, who had -suffered heavily at Sintzheim--they observed that the whole -heavens appeared on fire and were suffused with a bright red colour. -Also, into the vast vault thus tinged, there shot up great flecks -of flame of a deeper, more crimson hue, with sometimes amid them -saffron-coloured ones, while, plain against the still lingering -remnants of daylight, great masses of dun-coloured smoke arose.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Grand Dieu!</i>" exclaimed Debrasques, while all, including dragoons -and those who attended to the led horses, looked on amazed. "It must -be the city of Spires in flames. Who has done it--Turenne or De -Bournonville, who commands against him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," said Andrew, "no city that, in flames, my lad. Rather a -dozen--if there were so many around! No city, I say. See where the -flames themselves fly up to the reddened sky; observe. They rise from -all points ahead of us, and, in some cases, are miles apart. -Debrasques," he added solemnly, "I have seen such as this before. It -has been done here before, too, I know; Tilly did it fifty years ago, -and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What--what--what is it?" the boy asked, the two campaigns he had -followed never having shown him aught of this nature.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This. One of the two armies has withdrawn--it must be the -Imperialists, since Turenne beat them at Sintzheim--the other is -destroying the land, so that no more shall his enemy find shelter nor -food enough for a grasshopper. That is what it means. Yet," he -exclaimed, as now the flames and the dun-coloured smoke mounted more -fiercely still into the crimsoned vault above, "it is horrible, awful! -My God it is awful!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, there soon followed confirmation of his words. Down the -poplar-fringed road along which they were proceeding, there came -towards them in the night the sound of many horses' hoofs rushing -madly, swiftly; and in an instant Andrew had warned Debrasques to draw -aside his dragoons and followers. "We know not yet who or what they -are," he said; "best stand aside and see."</p> - -<p class="normal">On came the others even as the suggestion was followed, and--although -in the gloom of the night that had closed in under the trees--they -knew at once by the voice of the leader that they were of their own -side. Then an officer, followed by two dozen soldiers, would almost -have passed them when, beneath the poplars, he saw the headpieces of -the dragoons and the glisten of their trappings, and, as he did so, he -roared an order to his own men to halt, after which, amidst the rattle -and clang of bridles and of scabbards against spurs and horses' -flanks, he called out in French:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speak--what troops are those?" while, as he did so, Andrew felt -Debrasques' hand clutch his arm convulsively--felt, too, that hand -tremble on his sleeve.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Answer him, answer him," he said, "or he may charge us. They are -treble our number."</p> - -<p class="normal">And from the Marquis's lips there came, in response to the demand, the -words:</p> - -<p class="normal">"A detachment of Listenai's dragoons and an English officer about to -join the Marshal."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whose voice is that?" called back the other in a tone of -astonishment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The voice of Valentin, Marquis Debrasques."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! I thought so. So you are here, are you? Well, I have no time to -waste on you. Where are the dragoons of the 'King's' and 'Queen's' -regiments?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ahead of us," answered the deep voice of Andrew, he noticing that -Debrasques seemed more and more agitated--indeed, almost now unable to -speak.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then they have missed their way. They should have joined by now. -Have, perhaps, branched off at Kaiserslautern." Then he gave an order -to the Marquis. "Ride forward at once with your party and endeavour to -find them, and, if you succeed, send them on at once to Spires. There -is the devil's work doing to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What work?" asked Andrew.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Our men have lost all control of themselves and are burning the -villages for miles round, while the country people are massacring all -those whom they can catch alone, or in twos and threes. There is one -of our soldiers hanging head downwards on a tree not half a league -from here, riddled with a score of bullets, and, they say, some are -being burnt if surprised when by themselves. Forward at once and find -the Dragoons--they are not, at least, heated to boiling point!" and, -as he spoke, Andrew heard the thud of his heels against his horse's -flank and saw him rush on, followed by his men. And in the last rays -of daylight, aided by the glow of countless fires, he observed that he -was hatless and wigless, and that, behind him, streamed a mass of -long, red-brown hair.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Devil's work indeed!" said Andrew, turning to his companion, and in -that same light observing that the young man was pallid and his face -twitching.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heart up, heart up, my boy!" he exclaimed. "The horrors of war must -not unseat a soldier thus"--but the other interrupted him, muttering -huskily:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You did not see--not recognize?" and as he spoke the astonishment on -his face was accompanied by a look of almost awestruck unbelief.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not see--not recognize! Why, whom should I see, or recognize? 'Fore -heaven! what I heard was enough for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That man," Debrasques stammered. "The leader. You did not recognize -him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not I. Debrasques," turning his gaze upon him swiftly, "who is he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your--your--I mean, my cousin. The man whose picture hangs in our -hall----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And his name is--what?"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">CHAPTER VI.</a></h4> - -<h4>THE VICOMTE DE BOIS-VALLÉE.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Did he hear my question, or not?" asked Andrew of himself, as, -leaving the baggage and its caretakers behind under the charge of two -of the dragoons, they rode on swiftly in search of the "King's" and -"Queen's" regiments which had been ahead of them all the way from -Epernay, and which, since they had not kept in advance, must have -branched off, as Debrasques' cousin had surmised, on the road to -Kaiserslautern. "Did he hear it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was impossible he should be able to answer his own question, for, -even as he had asked that other one, "And his name is--what?" the -Marquis had given his order to advance as well as another to those who -were to remain with the baggage, and it was most probable that, in the -rattle and clatter of their steeds' hoofs and their accoutrements, it -had escaped the other's ears.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, as they again went forward--more swiftly than they had done -as yet since quitting Paris--he knew that this was not the time for -repeating his question. Moreover, had he not solemnly promised, all -unasked though the promise had been by the Marquis, that never again -would he mention his cousin? And, man of honour as he was, he knew -that the promise bound him; that, even though his suspicions were -growing hot and furious within him, he must be as dumb as he had vowed -to be.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," he thought, "that cousin is evidently a man of mark and -position in the army; soon I shall know if what my suspicions point to -is the case. And then--well, there is time enough. At present our -surroundings demand more than that which I seek to know and to -unravel."</p> - -<p class="normal">They did indeed! Since, as they advanced kilometre by kilometre, those -surroundings became more awful. The sky was now one vast pall of fiery -red stretching from horizon to horizon, yet spotted and blurred -beneath in twenty different directions by dense, compact masses of -flames enveloped in clouds of smoke--the flames and smoke of burning -villages, homesteads, and châteaux. Also, the air rang with the sound -of musket discharges, while shrieks were now and again borne to their -ears by the soft wind that blew in their faces; rang with shouts and -cries in French and German, and sometimes in English, and with the -horribly piteous yells of horses shut in burning stables and -forgotten.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ere they had ridden a quarter of a league from where the officer who -was Debrasques' cousin had passed them, they came across the body of -the man he had spoken of, hanging, as he had described, head downwards -from the branch of a tree, his body perforated by bullets that had -evidently been fired into him after he had been strung up. That was -undoubted, for beneath his head, which almost touched the ground, was -a pool of blood that must have dripped from his wounds as he swung -there, and which would not have been beneath him had he been shot ere -hung; nor, it was certain, would he have been hung at all if already -dead and no use as a living target.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your countryman," said Andrew to the Marquis, as they paused a moment -to regard this awful spectacle. "See to his uniform--what it is I know -not, except that it is not that which we wore in the old days, and I -doubt if Jack Churchill has changed it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know it," said Debrasques--who had recovered somewhat his calm, as -well as his colour, since he was no longer in the vicinity of his -cousin--peering down from his horse at the unfortunate body on which -the rays of the rising moon now shone clear. "He is of Du Plessis' -corps. Observe the boar stamped on his shoulder-piece. 'Tis Du -Plessis' own cognizance."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke there rose upon their ears more shouting and roaring of -voices than they had observed for some time--harsh voices close by -bawling in German, then shouts of approval--once they heard a raucous, -guttural laugh as from some deep, full throat--next an exclamation of -rage in English, and a loud call in the same tongue. "Help, help!" -they heard that voice cry--though Andrew alone understood it. "Help -me, save me from these bloodthirsty dogs!" After which the cries were -smothered with the German roars once more, and again that savage laugh -rolled forth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A countryman!" exclaimed Andrew, "and in dire peril. And the voices -are close by. Debrasques, as I helped you, help me, help him, now," -and he gave the reins to his horse and clutched his sword firmly, -while he headed for where the noise and that piteous call had come -from. And, guided by him, Debrasques and the four remaining dragoons -rode for the spot, being assisted to find it by a bright light that -burned amongst a copse of young oaks.</p> - -<p class="normal">Soon they reached it, crushing through saplings and great ferns and -brushwood to do so, guided always by the roars of German throats, the -shrieks of the Englishman, above all, by that wild, savage laugh. -Reached an open spot, a grassy glade, some sixty feet square, in the -middle of which stood a sturdy oak that had obtained perhaps one-half -of what its full growth would be in days to come--and with, beneath -its branches and piled against its trunk, a freshly-lighted fire -already burning brightly; a fire composed of dry brushwood and two or -three young trees hastily chopped into fagots and billets.</p> - -<p class="normal">But it was above that fire that the real horror was, for there, -swinging from the lowest branch of the young oak by a cord, head -downwards, and perilously near the flames as they leaped up, was the -body of the Englishman whose cries they had heard--that body being -swung backwards and forwards by his struggles and convulsions, the -arms thrown wildly about, and the hands clutching at space.</p> - -<p class="normal">With a shout, Andrew, who led the way, was amongst some twenty wild -Rhenish Bavarian peasants, the bright sword flashing now like a streak -of phosphorus in the moonlight as it darted here and there--through -one man's throat and another's breast--while the horse he bestrode -flung the boors asunder as a ship's forefoot throws off the waves, and -while behind him came Debrasques and the dragoons, themselves dealing -blows right and left, and their steeds trampling down those who had -fallen. Then, dropping the reins upon his horse's neck, Andrew's great -left hand seized the swinging man by the belt and dragged him to one -side of the flames, one touch of the rapier sundered the rope, and, a -moment later, the Bavarians' would-be victim was lifted up in front of -him and thrown across the animal's shoulder--he was saved.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile, those of the avengers--for such, indeed they were--men -driven to madness by the destruction of their homes and crops--who -were not already on the ground and dead, or senseless from their -wounds, had fled into the darkness of the surrounding woods, and -Andrew and his party were left in possession of the glade.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speak, man," said he to the Englishman he had saved, while he cut -away from his feet the end of the rope that bound them together, and -Debrasques held to his lips a dram from a flask, carried by one of his -followers, "speak! How came you to this pass; how fell into the hands -of these crazed fiends?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I--I"--the soldier murmured, looking round wildly, and gazing up -fearfully at the great cavalier--who now towered above him since he -had been laid on the grass--as though he did not recognize him as his -saviour, "I--I--Oh! save me, save me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are safe, my man. Yet speak, let us know what else is doing. Are -there more being served as they nearly served you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Worse," the man muttered, "if worse can be. There were two of us -caught by them, we were sent out to seek for the incoming cavalry--oh! -the other. The other! My comrade, Roger Bates!" And he raised his -hands to his eyes, all smarting and burning with the smoke that had -got into them, and rubbed the lids from which the flames of the fire -had singed the lashes, as it had his eyebrows and hair. "My comrade!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What of him?" asked Andrew solemnly, knowing that some more fearful -atrocity was to meet their ears, more fearful even than this their -eyes had seen. "What of him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They took us together, and he--he," turning his glance to the body of -an enormous peasant lying close by, with his glassy eyes turned up to -the sky, while in his throat was the great stab Andrew's rapier had -made, "he who laughed so at our shrieks--directed our tortures. -Listen. They dug his eyes out with their knives--they are lying -somewhere about--then, blinded, they turned him into that wood to find -his way back to the army as best he might, or stumble in the river, or -fall down and die."</p> - -<p class="normal">Swiftly Andrew translated to Debrasques this last horror--shuddering -as he did so, and causing his hearers to shudder too, all soldiers as -they were!--and soon the wood re-echoed with the cries of two of the -troopers as they went forth to seek the mutilated man, and, haply, to -find him if still alive.</p> - -<p class="normal">But as they so went forth they heard from afar off more shouts and -cries mingling with the humane calls of the dragoons--loud yells of -triumph from some large body of men coming their way--and, not knowing -what this might mean--perhaps more maddened inhabitants of the -Palatinate with fresh victims!--they stood ready to either attack them -or defend themselves. Yet, in an instant, Andrew Vause exclaimed, -"More of my countrymen--some of Churchill's, or the Duke of -Monmouth's, men--what brings them here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Our countrymen are gone mad," the rescued soldier said, "mad! These -Germans have illtreated us the worst of any when caught, they are all -mad. Oh! if they can but catch those who blinded Roger! If they can."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke there burst into the grassy glade, directed thereto -doubtless by the glimmering of the still burning fire, a score of -English soldiers all in the trappings of "The English Regiment," some -with their jackets torn, some with their heads bandaged up, each -armed, and with their weapons bare, and some with torches in their -hands. Then, seeing the group before them they rushed forward, though, -on observing their comrade, they paused, astonished.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who are these?" one of the soldiers shouted, rolling his eyes over -Andrew and Debrasques and the dragoons. "These are no Germans!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," said Andrew, "no Germans. These are a French officer and some -of his men, and I am about to join you under Colonel Churchill. What -seek you?" Intuitively they all saluted him and the Marquis, then the -foremost man said, "the lives of all those devils we can find, sir. -They are killing, mutilating, burning all they can come across -alone--they cut the throats of the wounded after Sintzheim as they lay -on the ground. We seek revenge. God!" He exclaimed, starting back as -he saw the bodies of the three Germans on the ground, "What is this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Briefly their comrade told them all that had happened to him and Roger -Bates, and how, even now, two of the French dragoons were searching -for the unhappy man, and as he did so their fury became terrible. They -cursed aloud the Palatinate and its inhabitants, the Imperialists and -the war itself; and then, suddenly from their midst, there were thrust -forth into the open two peasants, whom they had captured and dragged -along with them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"An eye for an eye," roared the leader, "life for life. We will have -vengeance--none shall stay us. Roger Bates has had his eyes dug out, -therefore so shall this man have his," and he pointed to one of the -shivering prisoners. "You were burnt head downwards, therefore so -shall this man be," and he indicated the other. "My lads, to work. Out -with the eyes, some of you, some blow up the fire."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stop," said Andrew, "not that. There shall be no more horrors of this -sort. Take all men prisoners whom you find and bring them before -Marshal Turenne, but not such revenge as this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who shall prevent it?" the leader asked, forgetting all respect in -his fury.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We shall," Andrew said, nodding his head to those with him, "we -shall," and at the same time he whispered to Debrasques to cause his -dragoons who were searching for Bates to be recalled.</p> - -<p class="normal">But at that moment the two troopers came back unsummoned, and between -them they bore the dead body of Bates. They had found him in a brook -in the wood, into which he had evidently stumbled, and from which, in -his blindness, and being possibly weakened by other wounds, he had -been unable to extricate himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then his furious comrades, seeing the body, lost their last glimmer of -reason--they were, in truth, maniacs now in their thirst for -vengeance. And Andrew knew it. He whispered therefore a few hasty -words to Debrasques, who divined, without knowing one word of their -language, all that was occurring. After which he addressed the -foremost soldier, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"As I have told you, this shall not happen," and he leaped on to his -horse's back as he spoke. "If you want vengeance seek it in a fitting -manner from Turenne. Here it shall not be gratified. Attempt to -mutilate that man or burn this one, and by the Heaven above us we will -ride at and cut you down although most of us are fellow-countrymen. -Now reflect." And looking at him in the moon's rays, the soldiers saw -that this was one against whom they could not stand.</p> - -<p class="normal">But at that moment there came an interruption which caused them to -pause, even more than did the appearance of the fierce cavalier before -them and the dragoons by his side.</p> - -<p class="normal">Above the sound of swift-coming horses' feet there was heard a -somewhat shrill, though musical, English voice, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"At all hazards it must cease. Heavens! Turenne will string them up in -dozens when he hears of it, as it is." And a moment later two English -officers had ridden into the glade, though not before the soldiers had -had time to cast dubious glances at each other, even while their fury -still burnt within them, and to mutter, "the Colonel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Some of my men, fore gad!" the speaker said, as now the two officers -were amongst the others; and he rode forward into the moonlight, his -slight, active young form standing out plainly in its rays, and his -handsome, youthful features being quite visible. Then, in the -shrill-pitched, refined tones that had just before broken on their -ears, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"So you are marauding again, are you?" and, turning to his companion, -he bade him take all their names. After which he ran his eyes over -Vause and the Marquis, and, seeing that they were gentlemen, raised -his laced hat most courteously while, bowing low over his horse's -neck, he asked them in French if they were attached to the Army, and, -if so, to whom he had the honour of speaking?</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am," said Valentin with equal courtesy, "the Marquis Debrasques, on -my way to join Listenai's dragoons, and have journeyed from Paris to -do so. May I beg the honour of knowing to whom I am accounting for -myself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Again the laced hat was doffed, while the speaker said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am Lieutenant-Colonel John Churchill of King Charles's forces, and -Colonel of 'The English Regiment,' under King Louis, forming part of -the auxiliary forces sent from England. And you, sir?" turning to -Andrew. "May I, too, beg your name by right of the position I hold in -this campaign?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My name, sir, is Vause; Captain Vause, once of the regiment which you -now command. I am on my way to present myself to you with a view of -serving once more with my comrades, and am the bearer of a letter to -you from King Charles himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir, you shall be very welcome," Churchill said, "as all soldiers are -here." And, after the exchange of a few more courtesies, he asked for -some explanation of all that had taken place in the glade--the -conversation on account of the Marquis being carried on in French. A -few rapid sentences from both Debrasques and Andrew served, however, -to explain what had happened since they arrived on the spot, while -ever, as he heard of how the batch of English soldiers had forced -their way to it with their two prisoners, Churchill's eyes turned to -them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he addressed his men, and, speaking in so quiet a tone that none -could know what he was meditating, he bade them fall in and march back -to their quarters, taking the Bavarians with them, but without doing -them any injury.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you," he said, addressing the man who had been saved from -burning, "can you march, too?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think so, sir. Thank God I am little hurt."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it. March all." Then, while he was informing Debrasques that -the "King's" and "Queen's" Dragoons had found their proper route and -that he would conduct him to where his own regiment lay, a thought -seemed to strike him, and, turning to the rescued soldier, he said, -"how came you here? Alone with Bates or in a party?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In a party, sir, before the French officer; but we missed them, and -so those Germans caught us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What French officer?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not his name, sir." Then the man paused and hesitated, while -Churchill looked calmly down at him; but after a moment he stammered, -"the officer with the red hair, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" said the colonel, while in the now bright moonlight the -others could see a gentle smile appear on his handsome face. "The -French officer with red hair. True, he is scouting to-night." And, -turning to the other who accompanied him, he said, "Without doubt, the -Vicomte de Bois-Vallée."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">CHAPTER VII.</a></h4> - -<h4>THE HONOUR OF THE HOUSE.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The next morning about mid-day Valentin Debrasques was making his way -slowly through all the numerous impediments that encumbered the ground -between the spot where the dragoons of Listenai were encamped on one -side of Gross-Saxen, and the town of Ladenburg where Turenne's -headquarters were. It was difficult enough to progress quickly since, -first, he would encounter a regiment or a battalion passing from one -point to another, or next, be stopped upon his journey by a long -string of baggage waggons, or the artillery with their heavy guns -moving in the direction of where the Imperialists were under the -command of the Duke de Bournonville--nor, indeed, was he particularly -anxious to progress much more rapidly than at present he was doing.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was engaged upon the most hateful journey which he had ever yet -undertaken; was about to pay a visit to the cousin whom, not a year -before, he had requested never to speak to him again. Yet, now, -because he deemed it was for the honour of his house to do so, he was -going to that cousin's quarters to seek an interview with him--to -demand that he should receive his visit.</p> - -<p class="normal">When Churchill had said overnight that, without doubt, the red-haired -officer was the Vicomte de Bois-Vallée, the young marquis knew that -further concealment was impossible, and that the gallant soldier whose -name was Vause must ere long come into contact with him--and he -dreaded that contact, not for his cousin's sake, but for Vause's. For -he had learnt a year ago (not from Bois-Vallée himself, but from a -joint friend of theirs who had been in England at the same time as the -Vicomte) of what he had done there--he had learnt, also, that the man -who had been so cruelly injured was called Vause. And he remembered -the name well enough--better, perhaps, than he might have remembered -it had it been an ordinary English one, from the simple fact that -there were many of the same name in France. He thought, therefore, -that, like so many of his countrymen, this Englishman inherited his -name from some French ancestor who had originally passed over to -England. But, be this how it might, he did remember it as being the -name of him who had been so vilely injured, and, when the man sitting -in his room in Paris had said he was so called, it had agitated him to -such an extent that the broken glass and the spilt wine had been the -result.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, still, there was one thing he could not understand--Andrew Vause -showed no sign of recognition when he saw the picture hanging in his -hall, nor when he saw the man himself. Had they, therefore, never met? -It might be so. He knew the Englishman was a soldier who, by his own -showing, had roamed about Europe fighting in one campaign and another; -the wrong might have been done when his back was turned--when he was -away.</p> - -<p class="normal">It seemed, indeed, that such must be the case from the first words -Andrew spoke when, Churchill and the other officer having ridden -slowly ahead, they, with the dragoons as well as the baggage train, -which had been sent back for, followed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore," Andrew said, "that is De Bois-Vallée. And your cousin. -So, so! A pity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hoped you would never have met," the marquis said; "that you would -never have known that he was here in this campaign. Never, never! We -have grown firm friends--sworn comrades--and, God! it is a shame! It -is from our house that the offence has come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never have met!" Andrew repeated. "Never have met!" Then, after a -moment's pause, he said: "Debrasques, there must be no concealment -between us, come what may. It is to meet him that I am here. I have -one thing to do--you need no telling what that thing is."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can guess. To slay the man who stole your promised wife."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My promised wife!" looking down at him. "My promised wife!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, yes! Was she not? I had a friend in England who knew something -of his villainy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Had she been my promised wife and fled with him thus, she might have -gone hang, and, for the matter of that, so might he. No woman who -could do as that woman did would have been worth a pair of crossed -swords. But, unhappily for him--for this cousin of yours--the -treachery was committed by them both against one whom I loved better -than myself--the gentlest soul on earth, and unable to avenge -himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Another Vause! Had I known that, my trepidation would not have been -so great when you saw his picture--when he passed us two hours ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay! Another Vause, my elder brother. But it makes no matter, except -that, as I tell you, I shall avenge him far more than I should avenge -myself. Debrasques," and he put his hand on the neck of the boy's -horse as it trotted side by side with his own, "Debrasques, there is -no need of concealment nor of lies and deception on my part. Listen! -We stand on the threshold of a new friendship, yet, though that -friendship will perforce wither and die through my future actions, I -must perform them. My friend until to-morrow, at least--I am here in -the Palatinate to slay your cousin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet--yet," the lad stammered, scarce knowing what to say, "that was -not your intent when first we met. You said then you had returned to -France to join the army."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I returned to France to find him. But, ere I knew of the evil he had -done my brother, I had procured from King Charles letters to Turenne -commanding here, to Condé commanding in Flanders, one even to King -Louis in command of his army in Franche-Comté, and another to Colonel -Churchill now with us, for I had to be a soldier again. But, when I -learnt from my brother's dying lips of what this Vicomte had done, I -knew that, with those letters in my possession, I could make my way to -wherever he might be. I had heard," and Andrew looked terribly grim as -he uttered these last words, "that this man had the skill of a <i>maître -d'armes</i>, therefore I supposed him a soldier. In Paris, on the night I -met you, I learnt that he was one. Then my resolve was taken."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will nothing shake it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing--or only one thing. Let me find out that he was absolutely -without knowledge that he was injuring my brother--let it be proved to -me that he did not know the woman he took away with him was an -affianced wife, and I cease my quest; his death may come to him how it -will. I shall not seek it. Nay, if you, Debrasques, who appear to know -much of what has happened, can assure me such was the case, I cease to -seek for him from this moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas!" murmured the other, "I have no such assurance to give."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did he know?" asked Andrew, pressing him, "had he ever heard of the -name of Vause? But, why ask? You knew my name; therefore, he knew it -too."</p> - -<p class="normal">And his companion's silence and wistful look told him that he had -suspected aright.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, on this the following morning, the young man was winding his -way through all the bustle and confusion of a great army taking -breathing time between one battle and another that was imminent. And, -as he pursued that way, he whispered to himself:</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I can work on his fears so much as to force him--even in the teeth -of the enemy--to quit the field, to exchange either to the King's or -Condé's army, disgrace and misery may be avoided. But, can I? Can I? -Villain as he is, he is yet no coward."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was still two hours ere the Marquis Debrasques stood face to face -with his kinsman, he having been away with Turenne and several of his -generals on the road to Mannheim; but, at last, the weary time passed, -and the Marquis de Bois-Vallée entered the room in the farmhouse which -was allotted to him for quarters, and stood before his cousin, saying -as he did so:</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Eh bien!</i> Monsieur le Marquis, this is an overwhelming honour and -not to have been expected, in spite of my having recognized you last -night. Well!" and he unbuckled his <i>porte-épée</i> and flung that and the -weapon it bore into the corner of the room as he spoke, while also he -removed his wig and showed thereby the auburn, red-tinged hair that -was so noticeable, "to what am I to attribute that honour? Scarcely, I -should imagine, to the desire to pay a visit of courtesy, since, when -last we met, you forbade me ever to address you again."</p> - -<p class="normal">Standing there before Debrasques, his lean figure (which was set off -well enough by the handsome blue coat he wore, with its red facings -and gold galloonings, and with, across his breast, beneath the silver -gorget, the aiguilettes which showed that he was attached to the staff -of the Marshal) and his light blue eyes, which he never took off his -cousin, seemed to proclaim him a man of tenacious disposition. For the -tall, wiry form looked as though it were capable of almost any -endurance or exercise of strength, while the steely eyes spoke of an -invincible determination within.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No visit of courtesy would have brought me here to you," replied -Debrasques, who retained the common wooden chair in which he had been -seated for those two hours, and from which he had not risen on his -cousin's entrance. "Instead, something of a totally different nature. -For the reputation of the family of which I have the honour to be the -head, and of which you are a member, I desire that you shall remove -yourself from this camp."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment those blue eyes shot out a rapid glance at the young man -seated there; then their owner said, speaking in an extraordinarily -calm manner:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you, <i>par hazard</i>, Monsieur le Marquis, taken leave of your -senses? Are you aware of what you have asked?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perfectly. I have asked you, a soldier in the face of the enemy and -of the <i>garde du corps</i> of the Marshal Turenne, to quit the camp. That -is what I have demanded in my senses, and is what I am anxious you -should do."</p> - -<p class="normal">Still gazing at him steadily, the Vicomte drew up another common -wooden chair in front of the other, and, sitting in it and facing him, -said, always in the same self-contained voice:</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is naturally some explanation of this--I will not honour it by -saying 'insulting'--request. Be good enough to give it, and then, head -of our family as you are, to take yourself back to your own lines. -Quick; I am much occupied with my duties, and shall be until I -relinquish them at your desire."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The explanation is, to begin with, that Captain Vause has arrived in -this camp with the full determination of calling you to account for -your proceedings in England some three years ago, in connection with a -certain lady of that country."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" and now the Vicomte de Bois-Vallée allowed a smile to appear -faintly on his features. "<i>Et après!</i> When he has done so, what next?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"When he has done so," repeated Debrasques, who was as calm as the -other, if not, perhaps, as skilled in word-fence. "Well, I have no -doubt that, having called you to account, he will kill you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Si?</i>" and again the other smiled. "Doubtless, therefore, he is a -fire-eater. But, permit me to say once more--what next?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your death will bring a scandal on our family. This I desire to -prevent. The Debrasques have had their faults, probably some of their -kinsmen before you have even brought scandal on that family, but no -such mean action as you committed----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur le Marquis," the other interrupted quickly, and with no -smile on his face now, "I would suggest to you a more temperate tone. -Otherwise this man Vause, of whom you speak, may lose his opportunity -of, as you say, killing me. It may be necessary for me to offer you -the first chance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which would not be accepted. I should not cross swords with you. You -will remember that your flight with the lady in question was brought -to the ears of the King himself--in spite of the English King's -indifference--by our ambassador to England, on the complaint of her -father. Also, that his Majesty demanded an explanation from me for the -outrage that you, an accredited member of the suite sent over by him, -had committed, and that it was only on being able to state that you -had married the lady that you were allowed to retain your position -with the Marshal. But I have since found that that statement, made on -your authority, was a lie. You have not married the lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" the other exclaimed, roused now. "No, I have not--though -there is a strange explanation of----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stop. I will hear no explanation. You deceived me once, and you will -doubtless deceive me again. But, as I have said, you must leave this -camp."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not leave it. Bah! It would be ruin, ignominy. What! leave the -army with another engagement at hand, and--and--which is greater -ignominy if possible, run away from this man who has sought me out. -Sought me! Sought me the best master of fence in all Turenne's forces. -It is impossible."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Still, it must be done. Otherwise I shall inform the King of the -falsehood told him. Then--if he chooses to pardon you--I cannot help -it, and Andrew Vause may kill you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Andrew Vause!" the other exclaimed. "Andrew Vause! Of whom are you -speaking? That is not the man to whom she was affianced. His name was -Philip."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And he is his brother."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! So! I hope he is not so much of a weakling as report would have -that brother to be, otherwise he will scarce enjoy a quarter of an -hour with me, nor----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I tell you he is no weakling, and he has come here with the -determination of killing you----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which would grieve you--my cousin, and his friend?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would not grieve me in the least. But, as I say, it would lead to -scandal, and might prevent my search for the unhappy lady whom you -have vilely deceived. Also----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your search for the unhappy lady, as you term her--your search! You -intend that? Monsieur le Marquis, what do you mean by this intrusion -in my affairs? Answer me!" And now he had risen from his chair and -stood before his young cousin, his eyes fixed piercingly on the boy's -face. "Quick. Answer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I mean that the instant this campaign is over, be it long or -short--and if I live through it--I intend to find the woman you have -betrayed, inveigled from her own country to ours, and to return her to -her father, if he will take her back. And in my search for her I -intend to procure, if possible, the services of Captain Vause."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So. You intend to do that--if you live. Valentin Debrasques, you will -not live. Therefore, be warned in time. If Montecuculi's or Caprara's -soldiers do not put an end to your viperish young career--why, as you -say--the campaign will be over, and then you will have to make your -account with me. Now," he continued, and as he spoke he threw open the -door and pointed to it, "go. And, remember, when the campaign is over, -I shall demand an interview with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will remember," Debrasques said, also rising now from his chair. -"Fear not. But, previously, there are other things which you had best -not forget. First, that the King will be informed of the lie about -your marriage with the lady, and, next----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes? Next?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That Montecuculi's or Caprara's soldiers may be as like to put an end -to your career as to mine, and, even if they do not, why, then----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes?" De Bois-Vallée said again interrogatively. "Yes? And then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, then--if you are not previously sent away in disgrace from -Turenne's service--Andrew Vause will kill you himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go!" the Vicomte said once more, and pointing still with his finger -to the door, while Debrasques, watching it, thought it shook somewhat -now. "Go, before it is too late."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h4> - -<h4>THE FIRST MEETING.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">A day or two after the interview between Debrasques and his cousin, -Andrew Vause sat in his tent, for the four English-speaking -regiments--namely, those under Churchill and Colonel Littleton, who -commanded the Duke of Monmouth's Foot, and those commanded -respectively by Hamilton and Lord Douglas--were not cantoned in the -villages which had escaped destruction by the flames, but were under -canvas around Ladenburg and Gross-Saxen. Indeed, so furious were the -members of the auxiliary forces, which Charles had sent to help his -brother monarch, at the manner in which scores of their comrades had -been treated by the people of the Palatinate in their mad revenge, -that Turenne wisely billeted them where there was no more property to -be destroyed. Already this wanton destruction had led to much outcry -against the Marshal, and also to a challenge to him to fight a duel -from Charles Louis, the Elector-Palatine; and, hampered and annoyed as -he was by shortness of men and continued reproaches from Louvois, the -Minister of War in Paris, he was desirous now that, outside actual -warfare with the Imperialists, there should be no more horrors -perpetrated than necessary.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before Andrew, on a common wooden table at which he sat, there lay a -sheet of paper on which he had written at the bottom, with as great -legibility as possible, his name in large clear characters, and this -paper he was now perusing for the second or third time ere folding it -and affixing a seal thereto.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he murmured to himself. "Yes; it should suffice. The disguise -is flimsy, 'tis true, but the name tells all. If he is not a cur -'twill do very well," and again he read it over. It ran as follows:--</p> -<br> - -<p class="hang1">"To Monsieur le Vicomte de Bois-Vallée, of the bodyguard of the -Vicomte de Turenne, Marshal-General of the King's Armies.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir,--Your fame as a swordsman is so widespread that it has reached -my ears and inspired me with a desire to have evidence thereof, being -myself considered no mean wielder of the blade. As brother officers in -the same army may I, therefore, humbly beg that you will give me proof -of your cleverness. The weapon I usually carry is in length forty -inches, but in Paris, ere joining my present regiment, I purchased two -others, one being of the length in blade of thirty-six inches, and the -other of thirty-eight. As I do not doubt that, in your courtesy, you -will not refuse this favour to a brother swordsman, I will await you, -sir, at either sunrise or sunset at any retired spot you may honour me -by naming, and will attend either alone or with a second as you may -direct. And I have the honour to subscribe myself, Monsieur le -Vicomte,</p> - -<p style="text-indent:50%">"Your most humble servitor,</p> - -<p style="text-indent:55%">"<span class="sc">Andrew Vause</span>,</p> - -<p class="normal" style="font-size:smaller">"Attached as volunteer to the Royal English Regiment, commanded by -Colonel John Churchill."</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Then, having sent the document off by what he knew was a sure hand, -Andrew sat down and waited for the reply of De Bois-Vallée.</p> - -<p class="normal">But several days passed, yet none came, and, at last, Andrew growing -impatient (for now it was rumoured that there must be another battle -ere long, and he knew that the chance of war might rob him of his -vengeance by removing him or the Vicomte from each other's path), he -set about inditing another epistle. This time it was more laconic.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir," he now wrote, "owing doubtless to the attention demanded from -you by your duty, I have received no answer to my request for a trial -of our skill at swordplay. With much respect I still await that -answer," and he concluded his letter with the usual ceremonial -flourishes.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet still some days passed by and no answer came, so that Andrew -thought he would once more be forced to take up his quill, while all -the time his great hand was itching to grasp one of the weapons on -which his eyes lovingly reposed as they stood in a bundle in a corner -of the room. Then, one night, as he returned to his tent after going -the rounds, and after also stopping to drink a glass or so of ratafia -with some of his brother officers, many of whom were old comrades, he -found lying on his table a letter--a letter with a great seal upon it, -on which was a vicomte's coronet and a coat-of-arms, and which he tore -open eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet it was unsatisfactory, as he saw in a moment, though such was not -the description that the soldier applied to the writer of the document -while he perused it, but rather such words as "Cur" and "Craven."</p> - -<p class="normal">The communication was prefaced and concluded as Andrew's own -challenges had been, with all necessary politeness and ceremony, yet -it simply conveyed to him the fact that De Bois-Vallée refused to meet -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As you are aware," it said, "duelling is forbidden to officers on -active service; even the Marshal himself was forced to refuse to meet -the Elector-Palatine. Nor, since I cannot think, sir, that it is -simply a trial of skill which you desire, can I consent to meet you at -this present moment. Later on I hope I may be accorded that honour."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, hot with passion, Andrew, before seeking his bed from which his -duties would necessitate his rising ere the dawn, sat down and -scratched off one more letter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir," he wrote, "if you do not meet me within forty-eight hours, I -will affront you so publicly before some of your own officers that you -shall be forced to draw on the instant. And, if that suffice not, I -will there and then bodily chastise you, while, for justification, I -will publicly proclaim your conduct in England to my late brother, -Philip Vause, and the lady to whom he was betrothed. To-morrow night I -shall attend at seven o'clock in the glade a few minutes' walk west of -the burnt church, and also on the following night. Each night for an -hour. I counsel you to come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wait," he said in the morning to the soldier-servant who attended on -him, and who was about to proceed to Turenne's quarters with the -letter half an hour after daybreak, "wait for an answer by word of -mouth. Yes or No. Those who take the letter from your hand can bring -you back the reply. Remember, by word of mouth."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he went forth to a hard day's duty with the regiment, which was -under orders to be ready at any moment to strike its tents and march -in all probability towards the defile of Rhinzabern, and did not -return again until the evening.</p> - -<p class="normal">By that time he knew that the opportunity for the Vicomte to avoid him -no longer existed; the order had gone forth that day that the -remainder of the army would possibly not move till the following week. -De Bois-Vallée could not, therefore, escape thus, as Andrew had feared -he would be able to do if the rout had been set for that night.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is mine. Mine," he said to himself as he strode to his tent. "Mine -if only I have pricked him into consent. He cannot avoid me now. I -will have him somehow, even though he should again refuse to meet me."</p> - -<p class="normal">For that De Bois-Vallée could emerge triumphant from this "trial of -skill" he never believed; nay, gave no thought to. <i>Maître d'armes</i> or -not, as he might be, Andrew Vause felt sure that, once point to point -with him, he would avenge his brother.</p> - -<p class="normal">His man met him at the door, and, in answer to the hasty question, -"Well, what reply?" said, "the reply, sir, is 'Yes. To-night,'" and, -as a glow of satisfaction rose to his master's bosom, the servant -continued, "Also, there is this for you, sir," and produced a letter -with, again, the great seal on it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You force this upon me," it ran, "therefore the outcome is on your -own head. I choose swords of the length of thirty-eight inches. I -shall come alone, as I do not desire to be punished for your death."</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew had smiled but little since he saw Philip's coffin lowered into -the grave by the side of his mother and father, nor had he made many -of the jokes he loved since that day, yet he smiled now so pleasantly -that his servant, who strongly suspected a duel to be lurking beneath -all this fetching and carrying of letters and messages, began to think -he was mistaken, and went to his night quarters quite cheerfully. Yet, -ere he departed, he asked his master if he desired to be awakened as -usual half an hour before daybreak--the question being put as much -with a desire to see if it would be answered with any shadow of doubt -attached to it, as to know his duty.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," said Andrew quietly, "or maybe a little earlier. And have all my -necessaries ready for our departure. We shall most like strike tent -to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">After which reply the man went away, thinking what a fool he had been -to suppose that people would be killing each other when there was an -enemy of twice their own force close at hand to do it for them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Left alone, Andrew picked out the rapier--a deep cup-hilted one--whose -size De Bois-Vallée had suggested, and tested it severely against the -floor and wall, bending it against each until it must have broken had -it not been of the finest-tempered steel; also he examined carefully -its hilt and quillon to see that all was secure and firm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must give my friend no chance," he thought; "a broken blade, a -loosened hilt, and--poof!--good-night to Andrew Vause!"</p> - -<p class="normal">So, satisfied that all was well with the weapon, he rubbed it -carefully on his sleeve, and, returning it to its black leather -scabbard, went forth with it behind his back.</p> - -<p class="normal">The glade near the burnt church which some of Hamilton's men had fired -a week ago--wherefore two were now hanging by Turenne's orders to a -yew tree outside it--was very peaceful in the glow of the summer -sunset, and here, at least, except for the view of the ruined church -through the trees that bordered the grassy space, there were no signs -of the devastation of the land. Above, the rooks were cawing as though -no such thing as powder and ball had ever disturbed them, and now and -again a rabbit or two, which had escaped the general pillage and -search for food, ran away at the sound of Andrew's footsteps on the -soft springy turf, whisking the underwhite of their tails before his -eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A better spot for love-making than for killing," he thought to -himself; "for an arm to fold itself around a maiden's waist, than to -press down a scoundrel's guard--ah! here comes the scoundrel himself," -and he took off his hat with great courtesy to the Vicomte de -Bois-Vallée, who strode towards him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The latter seemed, however, to have exhausted his politeness in the -letters he had written, and, without deigning any reply to the other's -salutation, instantly divested himself of his coat, while he unlooped -the sheath from which he had already drawn his weapon, and threw it -down on top of the garment. Yet, as he did so, he gave an astonished -glance at the form of the man before him, and at his great sinewy -limbs. Perhaps he had heard from the woman who had betrayed Philip how -slight and delicate a man he was, and wondered that this other, who -was of the same flesh and blood, should be so strong and powerful!</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have but one question to ask," he said, as he stood now before -Andrew, "a usual one in our country when one honours a stranger by -crossing swords with him. You are, I presume, of gentle blood?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am Philip Vause's brother. And he was of sufficiently gentle blood -for you to steal his future wife from him like a thief."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Enough," the Vicomte said, while his face became suffused. "Enough. I -am at your service."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," continued Andrew, "had we been of the commonest clay our -country owns, I should still carry out my determination of punishing -such a thief."</p> - -<p class="normal">Without another word their swords crossed, and as they did so Andrew -was surprised at the reckless fury of the man before him. Was this the -<i>maître d'armes</i>, the renowned <i>escrimeur</i>; this man who fought more -like a hot-headed boy than a practical swordsman, cool and wary! Yet, -Andrew reflected--as he parried thrust after thrust with his wrist of -steel, and waited his turn, which would come soon if the Vicomte -spent himself thus--doubtless the epithet of "thief" had roused -him--precisely as he had meant that it should do.</p> - -<p class="normal">Gradually, too, he edged his opponent round so that the rays of the -setting sun, which had been in his own eyes when the conflict began, -would, in another moment, be in those of his adversary; but this -advantage he could not obtain altogether, since the Frenchman -perceived his intention in an instant and endeavoured to drive Andrew -back to his original position. As well might he, however, have -endeavoured to drive back a rock from the earth it was set in! -Andrew's feet were firm upon the turf, and, henceforth, they fought -with the sun's rays athwart them, and not favouring one more than the -other.</p> - -<p class="normal">Watching De Bois-Vallée with an eye like a hawk's and parrying thrust -after thrust, he saw upon the other's forehead the moisture coming and -the drops gathering, and then, for the first time, he let his own -weapon shoot out, after thrusting the Vicomte's last lunge away from -him with another twist of his wrist. He missed his mark, it was true, -since the sword's point tore but an inch out of the cambric of the -other's shirt above his left shoulder, but the rip of the material -under his ear told De Bois-Vallée the danger he was in. The cool -Englishman before him was deadly, he recognized, otherwise how had the -point reached to where it did? He had calculated the other could not -come within half a foot of him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will take it a little lower next time, monsieur," Andrew said -quietly. "It is a charming pass when properly made!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But at his words the furious thrusts of his opponent ceased. The -Vicomte was a different man. Softly his blade now glided up and down -the other's, and Andrew knew that he was going to experience a real -taste of his antagonist's skill--he would learn a new pass in a -moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">And in a moment he did learn it. High up near his own hilt crept -the other's sword, then he disengaged, feinted once, and--a second -later--his rapier had slit the Englishman's waistcoat outside his left -ribs, had passed within four inches of his heart. But, since it was -four inches, it might as well have been a mile!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said Andrew as the other recovered himself, and, jumping back -out of reach, glared at him, "a pretty <i>botte</i>. And worth knowing--as -I know it now. But, monsieur, you should have been sure of it, or made -no attempt. It will serve you no more." And with great suavity he -said, "Monsieur is perhaps ready to recommence?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is implacable," De Bois-Vallée thought to himself. "Curse him, he -knows as much as I!" and he felt creeping over him a horrible dread. -He began to fear he had fought his last duel--that in a few moments -more he would be stretched gasping on the grass with his life ebbing -away. Yet he nerved himself--such qualms and apprehensions as these, -he knew, were fatal--and again their swords crossed.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was no recklessness now in either combatant, no thrust made -heedlessly or thrown away; instead a devilish, cruel determination in -each man to strike firm and sure when next he struck at all, through -heart or lung. Their weapons clashed no longer, but hissed and scraped -softly against each other; once the Frenchman tried his <i>botte</i> again, -failing utterly this time, and once Andrew's blade darted forth like -an adder's tongue, failing in its turn, but ripping an inch of flesh -from his opponent's side.</p> - -<p class="normal">He saw, though, that De Bois-Vallée's lips were flaky with slight -streaks of foam now; he saw the smallest bead of that foam fall from -his nether lip and drop upon his shirt, making a damp spot--a bead -that, when there, looked darker than the white cambric--just above -where his heart was.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A target," he said to himself, "a mark. I will take him on that -spot."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, henceforth, his eye never left that mark, and his rapier's point -sought it alone. Suddenly he thought he had found it! Nerved to -desperation, De Bois-Vallée thrust in tierce, disengaged, and thrust -again, and a moment afterwards, with a hoarse cry, staggered forward -against Andrew, letting his weapon fall to the ground, and clutching -at the grass with his hands as he dropped face downwards.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" said Andrew, bending over him, after plucking a long wisp of -grass from a tussock growing near, and wiping his rapier with it. "I -have missed after all. It will have to be done over again." And as he -rolled his late opponent on to his back, he muttered, "My eyes are -failing me, or is't the evening light? I could have sworn I was -through his heart, and I have but taken him in the shoulder. The hilt -of my sword banging up against him has hurt him as much as the passage -of the sword itself. Yet, 'twas a good blow, too! Clean through bone -and muscle from point to haft."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This will not kill him," he reflected, almost savagely for him, as he -loosened his enemy's lace neckerchief, "though the night air may--if I -leave him here. If--I leave him here!" And, as he so thought, he knew -he could not do that--could not leave him there to bleed to death, or -stiffen in the night dews.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must fetch someone," he reflected, "even some of these poor boors -whom we have desolated, and send him back to quarters. I have a gold -piece or two--they will serve."</p> - -<p class="normal">And full of this resolve he turned to leave the glade and seek for -assistance. Yet, ere he went, he threw the wounded man's rich laced -coat over him, leaving his face free so that he might inhale the air, -and bent over him to make sure that he was not in truth dead. Doing -so, he saw that the eyes were open, staring up to the heavens, but -with no glassiness about them, and that his lips moved. Moved and -uttered something, too; something that seemed like the word "Marion."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, Marion," repeated Andrew. "Marion. After you, I have next to make -my account with her. But how? How to do that? 'Twill be the harder -task."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">CHAPTER IX.</a></h4> - -<h4>THE FURY OF DESPAIR.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">He went swiftly towards the end of the glade, bent on finding some -assistance for his enemy ere night was full upon him--for now there -was little daylight left. Yet, as he did so, he paused in the great -strides he was taking--paused, and looked back.</p> - -<p class="normal">In that glade, at the end furthest from where he had quitted it, he -heard voices and a confused jumble of sounds--coarse voices speaking -in the Rhenish <i>patois</i>. And, thinking that here might be the aid he -sought, he turned back once more to where he had left the Vicomte.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, swiftly as he returned, he hurried his steps still further, -bursting indeed into a run, and lugging forth his rapier once again as -he did so, on observing what was now taking place in the opening. For, -surrounding De Bois-Vallée were three or four rough-looking peasants, -one of whom had already wrenched the coat of the prostrate man from -off his body, while another was rapidly stripping him of his remaining -clothes, and still another stood with the Vicomte's weapon in his -hand, and with its point in murderous proximity to his throat.</p> - -<p class="normal">Bursting in amongst them--for he recognized that, in the power of -those maddened natives who had suffered so much at the hands of the -invaders, his fallen foe's life was not worth a moment's purchase -after they had despoiled him of his clothes and valuables--he -proceeded at once to summarily prevent them from carrying out their -intentions. The man holding the sword he dealt with first, by striking -him such a buffet as sent him reeling backwards until, his foot -catching in one of the tussocks, he fell heavily to the ground, after -which Andrew administered some sound kicks to two of the others, while -the fourth of the party ran roaring away. Nor, indeed, was it -extremely surprising that he should do so, since the appearance of -Andrew Vause, large, fierce, and terrible, and with a drawn weapon in -his hand, was enough to scare any German boor. Yet he recognized that -he had still a task before him, and that the rapier with which, but -half an hour before, he had sought his enemy's life, would now have to -stand him in good stead to protect both that life and his own. For, -from the outskirts of the glade, he could hear the man who had run -away, bawling in his Rhineland <i>patois</i> to others who were undoubtedly -in the neighbourhood, and yelling, "the English. The English are here. -<i>Zur Hülfe! Zur Hülfe! Zur Hülfe!</i>" and presently the assistance he -sought for came.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! that this vagabond, whose life I am doomed to save as well as -take, could be of some assistance," thought Andrew, as he gazed down -on De Bois-Vallée, who lay quite unconscious of what was passing above -him. "But that is hopeless. So be it; I must trust to myself or to the -patrol being out. Ha! here they come!"</p> - -<p class="normal">This last exclamation referred unhappily, however, to the succour -which the peasant had shrieked for, and not to the patrol, for at that -moment there burst into the opening four or five more men, some of -whom bore torches, and the others weapons--one of them being armed -with what looked like a pole-axe.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now Andrew knew that the task before him was a terrible one, and -that he alone, and with only a duelling rapier to his hand, had to -face nearly a dozen men, all of whom were almost insane with the -wrongs and cruelties they had suffered. But at that moment he could -not think of this; his own life was at stake; he must defend it. And, -fiercely as some wounded tiger at bay, he set about doing so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You cravens," he called to them in German--for Andrew's roving life -had taught him more than one tongue beside his own--"you cravens, come -on! Here lies a dying man, also one living for you to attack. Come on, -I say, come on!" and in a moment he was amongst them all, his rapier -flashing like lightning in and out and under the guard of the rude -weapons they carried.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, unequal as the combat was in point of numbers, it was more than -balanced by the skill of Andrew, who saw that he had but one opponent -to really fear--the man with the pole-axe, which weapon he was already -swinging ominously. Twice, indeed, that pole-axe had descended, yet -each time it had missed its mark, burying itself in the ground once -and once alighting on the shoulder of one of its owner's countrymen, -who, at the moment it fell, had been thrust under it by Andrew. But he -knew that such luck as this could not last; it would be swung on high -again, and then--or the next time--it would not miss; his skull would -be cracked like a walnut shell.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" he exclaimed, as another peasant now seized his rapier with a -view to holding him while the wielder of the axe despatched him. "Ha! -so! Look to your fingers, my friend," and, as again that wielder -prepared to swing his weapon on high, the long sharp blade was drawn -swiftly from between those fingers, tearing them to ribbons in its -passage. And then, while the wounded peasant fled shrieking in agony, -with his mutilated hands held in horror before him, the rapier was -rapidly raised to guard its owner's head from the downward crash of -the huge hatchet. But it was a well-calculated blow that was now dealt -by its owner, so well calculated, indeed, that, had Andrew not been -able to free his sword at the moment he did, his brains would have -been dashed out by the axe as certainly as had been the brains of -countless slaughtered oxen previously. Yet, the sword was released in -time from the other's clutching fingers; in time to meet the falling -blow--though not in time to entirely prevent its effect. For, under -that stroke, the rapier was shattered like crystal, the hilt and an -inch or two of the blade alone remaining in Andrew's hand, while the -force of the axe's descent, as the handle struck him heavily, bore him -to the ground and on to one knee.</p> - -<p class="normal">With a roar the owner of that fearful weapon raised and swung it -again, this time to end his work effectively--yet that work was never -accomplished!</p> - -<p class="normal">Upward, with a rush like a wild cat springing at its prey, leaped -Andrew, half paralyzed as his shoulder was with the concussion, the -hilt and jagged broken blade in his uninjured hand, and full at the -other's face he plunged, dashing into it with all his remaining force -the broken weapon. And as he did so he knew he had won this fight. -Down on to the grass with a thud fell the pole-axe--with a terrible -cry its owner buried his wounded and disfigured face in his hands, and -then, moaning feebly, staggered away after the others who had already -fled as they saw their champion vanquished. And as he disappeared, -Andrew, staggering too, let himself drop on to the earth near where De -Bois-Vallée lay still unconscious, his features lit up by the light of -a smouldering torch which one of the peasants had thrown down in his -flight.</p> - -<p class="normal">For some moments he could not think nor collect his thoughts; could, -indeed, only sit on the grass, his head between his knees, his breath -coming in labouring gasps from his lungs, his left side feeling numb -and dead. But, as the cool night wind blew on his cheeks and forehead -and revived him somewhat, he put his uninjured right hand to the -earth, and, raising himself, tottered to his feet again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have won two fights to-night," he muttered, "two fights, -but--God!--this last one has been a terrible encounter. Yet--yet--they -are won! Enough!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Not without pain he moved towards the torch, picked it up and went -over to where De Bois-Vallée lay, and looked at him, seeing that his -wound had long ceased bleeding, and feeling that his pulse was beating -strongly. Also, he seemed now to be asleep and free from pain, no moan -coming from his lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">"After all," he thought, looking down at his enemy, "this night--as it -begins--must end our feud. Spent here, as you will spend it, wounded, -and with the cold of the early hours of morning to strike to that -wound, you will soon be dead--though, in the hands of the surgeon and -in a warm bed, you would recover in a week. Yet, what to do? I can -scarce drag myself back to my tent--and, all said, you are a villain. -So be it, lie there and die--there is nought else for you. Still," he -added, "I would save you an I could. An I could. I must have vengeance -for Philip; must see you dead. Yet it should be at my hands, not thus -like a maimed dog."</p> - -<p class="normal">But, knowing there was no hope of removing De Bois-Vallée, he turned -away, after once more covering him with his coat. To the last he was -merciful to his prostrate foe!</p> - -<p class="normal">The events of the night were not yet over, however, for even as Andrew -turned his footsteps towards where "the Royal English Regiment" was -cantoned he heard afar off the sound of three guns fired, and he -understood well enough their import. They were the signal that all in -Turenne's army were to be ready to march at a moment's notice, as six -guns were to be the signal from Maulevrier at Philipsburg that the -enemy had recrossed the river, and four the signal that they were -known to be advancing. And, a moment later, he heard something else, -as familiar to his ears as any sound in the world. The tramp of a vast -number of hoofs on the road a hundred yards away, the jangle of -bridles and chains, of sabres and accoutrements.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are marching," he cried, "marching! And I am here!" and as fast -as his stiffness and bruises would permit he made his way through the -brushwood to the road.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he knew at once what was taking place, that the Baron de -Montclar's five hundred dragoons were on their way to Rhinzabern. -Where, then, was the infantry to support them?--where was his own -regiment?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has," he asked of a troop-sergeant who rode on the side of the road -where he was, "'the Royal English Regiment' got the order to march? -Tell me at once; I am attached to it."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man, a swarthy Burgundian, looked down at him, and then answered, -"To-morrow morning, Monsieur, at daybreak. But Monsieur seems unwell," -he added, seeing some blood on Andrew's hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," he replied, "yet, 'tis nothing. I have been attacked again by -the peasants." While, seeing the glittering of some more corselets -coming on farther behind, he asked, "Who are these who come now? Your -baggage guard?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, sir. 'Tis the patrol--formed to-night from Listenai's."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So! Who is the officer in charge? Do you know?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, sir." Then, with an apology and a salute, and also a muttered -word that he must not fall out from the ranks, the sergeant rode on -with his regiment, while Andrew stood in the road to stop the patrol. -"De Bois-Vallée is saved," he said to himself, "they will remove him -to shelter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who goes there?" a clear voice rang out a few moments later, and as -he heard it Andrew's heart leapt within him. The voice that greeted -his ears was Debrasques'; he it was who headed the patrol, and, a -moment later, he rode up to the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Andrew Vause," was the answer to him as he came forward, followed -immediately by the words, "Send your men into yonder opening. De -Bois-Vallée lies there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dead?" asked the Marquis, bending down low over his horse's mane, as -though to peer into Andrew's face. "Dead? Have you slain him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay. Not yet! But--I have been attacked by the peasants--you will -see--fetch him forth and convey him to his quarters."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay here," said Debrasques, "I will go myself." And, calling to some -of his men he plunged into the glade, while the remaining soldiers of -the patrol sat their horses as still as statues, wondering whether -they were to keep the great Englishman before them under their eyes or -not.</p> - -<p class="normal">Presently, those who had followed the Marquis came back--following him -still--but now four of them were dismounted, and between them they -bore the wounded man, while the others, who had gone also, led their -horses for them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Return to quarters with this gentleman," Debrasques ordered them, -"and carry him as gently as possible, while, if you can find a door, -make use of it. Thus, 'twill be easier for him and you. And carry him -to the Marshal's quarters--he is of the <i>garde du corps</i>. He and this -other officer have been attacked by peasants."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A brave weapon this to be attacked with," said one of the dragoons, -showing the pole-axe, which he had brought away by Debrasques' orders, -to his comrades. "A fair weapon, is't not? Yet," and he lowered his -voice and glanced at Andrew as he spoke, "it was not with this that -the other was wounded--but a clear, clean thrust from a sword."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Away!" exclaimed Debrasques, interrupting his whisperings, "and lose -no time. March!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he took Andrew by the arm, wondering why he winced as he did so, -and led him some distance off from where the rest of the patrol were -halted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand," he said; "understand very well. You overcame him ere -you were attacked by the countrymen, then you stayed by to protect -him. Is it not so?" And without waiting for an answer, he said, -glancing up at his great friend, "I think you are very noble. Too -noble for him to cross swords with. Captain Vause, he is my cousin, -but, alas!--I must say it--he is unworthy to be your foe."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," said Andrew, "make no mistake. If I did not let him lie here to -die of the night air, or be murdered by those unhappy men, 'twas from -no feeling of mercy. Debrasques, he is mine, I have vowed it. Mine, -unless the Imperialists rob me of him. And afterwards----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, afterwards?" seeing that the other paused.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Afterwards--the woman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The woman," exclaimed the lad, recoiling a little from him, as Andrew -could see in the starlight. "The woman! Does your vengeance claim her, -too?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how? How? You cannot kill her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. I cannot kill her. But----" and again he paused.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes--but?" and there was a quiver in the young man's voice as he -spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are other things than death." After which enigmatical answer -Andrew refused to say another word, but, changing the subject, asked -Debrasques if he knew that he marched to-morrow to Rhinzabern.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he said, "I know. And we remain with the main army!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No matter, we shall meet again. Meanwhile, grant me one request. On -no account let your cousin know that I stayed by to--to protect him. I -will not have him know that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You mean that it is war to the death, that----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I mean that."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h4> - -<h4>"THE LITTLE WOOD AT ENTZHEIM."</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The summer had almost passed and the early autumn come ere that other -battle which had been so long impending between the French and the -Imperialists seemed at last about to take place. For the Duke de -Bournonville had crossed the Rhine once more and was known to be -meditating the siege of Philipsburg, while Turenne, who had been -watching every movement of the enemy, at last made up his mind that he -would try conclusions with him, although the other was twenty thousand -men stronger than he. For he knew that, while this enemy was thus -double his own force of about twenty-two thousand men, it must soon be -treble, since now the Elector of Brandenburg was marching to join the -Austrian general with still another twenty thousand men.</p> - -<p class="normal">The time had come! He must prevent that coalition or see Franche-Comté -and Lorraine torn away from Louis' grasp almost ere it had tightened -on them; Champagne devastated, even as he himself had devastated the -Palatinate; see Philipsburg lost. For if Brandenburg joined De -Bournonville all this and worse would happen, while the Electress and -other princesses who accompanied the Elector--saying in their -bitterness that they did so with a view to making the acquaintance -of the French aristocracy, and thereby acquiring their good -breeding--would, without doubt, have good opportunity for gratifying -their desire.</p> - -<p class="normal">But it was October now, and at last--for Brandenburg was perilously -near with his twenty thousand men and his Electress and princesses--on -the second of the month the French army advanced. The night march -which was to bring the contending forces face to face had begun; -through a stormy, rainy night, over roads deep with pools of rain and -mud, the departure was made.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ahead of the Marshal there marched the "King's" and "Queen's" dragoons -and those of Listenai, with, riding by the side of the third troop of -these, Debrasques, his corselet on now, and, above his fair but -troubled face, his helmet; behind Turenne came the infantry commanded -by Mont-Georges, with, amongst it, Churchill's regiment, which had -just joined from Rhinzabern, then the artillery under St. Hilaire--all -marching in three columns. And, riding near Turenne ahead of the man -who had sworn to kill him, was De Bois-Vallée, with his left arm in a -sling, but not otherwise much incommoded by the sword-thrust he had -received six weeks before.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of those three men round whom this narrative revolves, perhaps -Debrasques was the most unhappy; unhappy because, turn his eyes which -way he might, he saw nothing but misery ahead. It was borne in on him -that his cousin would inevitably fall by Andrew's hand unless the -impending battle removed him from the other's path--which, in truth, -would not grieve him much!--he was doubly unhappy because of those -last words which Andrew had uttered ere he set out for the defile of -Rhinzabern; the words: "Afterwards--the woman."</p> - -<p class="normal">For he knew what Andrew had not the least thought of, namely, that, -base as had been De Bois-Vallée's treachery to Philip Vause, it was -nothing to the treachery which he had practised towards the woman -Philip had loved, towards Marion Wyatt.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, knowing what Debrasques did, he himself did not know all.</p> -<br> -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:25px">* * * * * *</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Splashing through the miry roads, the rain beating down upon their -cloaks, their horses stumbling into ruts a foot deep, wheels of gun -carriages getting stuck fast in the mud and shoes being torn from of -the feet of the infantry, that night-march was continued until at last -a river called the Breusch was reached at four on the next afternoon, -and there, on the other side of it, in a half-moon position, the -Imperial army was seen. And all through that night-march one question -had troubled the lad far more than any inconvenience which he shared -with thousands of others, the question: "Shall I tell him all I know? -To-morrow, when the battle is over and if we three are all left alive, -or to-day, ere the fight begins and while there is still time?" And he -decided that it should be to-day; to-morrow might be too late. He -himself might be dead, and then the light he could throw on all that -had happened--a light which, at least, might shield Marion Wyatt from -Andrew Vause's vengeance--would never be cast. Yes, he must reach -Andrew somehow before the conflict began, if possible; must say one -word to him that would save the woman. As for his cousin, he was a -villain; he must take his chance. He had done his best for him because -his own mother's blood ran in his veins, had tried to frighten him -away from the neighbourhood of Andrew, and the other had refused to -go. Nay, had he not threatened to expose him to the King so as to -drive him away? but even as he made the threat he knew he would never -carry it out. Base as De Bois-Vallée was, he was a soldier; it was his -career, and he had won golden opinions from Turenne by his conduct in -this campaign and others. He could not be equally base and shut that -career against him. In spite of all, he was his kinsman.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the chance had not come for him to communicate with Andrew, when, -at nightfall, and with the whole French army sheltered from the -Imperialists, not only by the darkness, but also by the incessant rain -and mist, the passage of the Breusch was commenced, and when gradually -the distance between the enemy and the river--a plain of about a mile -and a half in extent, which had foolishly been left unoccupied by De -Bournonville--was filled with Turenne's army. Thus, when the day -broke, foggy and wet as ever, the two enemies were facing each -other--the French with the river at their backs, and the Germans with -a large wood serving as cover on their right and a smaller wood on -their left, and with the village of Entzheim between them and the foe.</p> - -<p class="normal">But if, by the time the filthy day had dawned, the Imperialists had -not found out that they were face to face with France once more, and -that the Elector of Brandenburg would be of no service to them here, -they discovered it soon, for from their enemy's position there rose -now the cheering of twenty thousand voices as Turenne rode along in -front of his first line, and, with an air of gaiety which he always -possessed on the day of battle, waved his hand and hat to them, and -gave the order to advance, the Little Wood being the spot principally -subjected to attack. And among those who first reached that wood was -Debrasques, the "King's" dragoons and those of Listenai being sent -forward to clear it of the enemy. Shortly the battle became general.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile Turenne, who was everywhere, saw that his cavalry was driven -back by numbers of the other side who were in possession of the wood, -and instantly gave the order for the infantry of the left to advance, -amongst those who went forward being the regiments of Churchill and -Monmouth.</p> - -<p class="normal">The chance Debrasques desired so much of communication with Andrew was -coming near!</p> - -<p class="normal">Avoiding the interior or middle part of the "Little Wood"--where were -three battalions of the enemy with two pieces of cannon--there went -forward the regiments of Burgundy and Orleans, the "King's" dragoons -and Monmouth's foot, after which followed Debrasques' regiment, it -being separated only from Churchill's by the men of Languedoc. And, -sweeping round to the left to prevent the enemy's troops from coming -to the assistance of those who were already in possession of the wood, -the whole of Turenne's right line advanced, while the left was engaged -with Caprara's right.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now the fight in the "Little Wood," as it was ever afterwards -called, became a scene of terrible slaughter, a scene made doubly so -by the downpour of rain which fell incessantly all that day, by the -fog and mist which surrounded and hid Austrians from French, and by -the vomiting of the cannons. Twice the French obtained possession of -the wood, and twice were driven out--for half an hour the battle -ceased, so thick did the fog become; then, at last, when once more the -whole of the left went at the wood again, the possession of it became -assured for the attackers.</p> - -<p class="normal">Amidst the scene of carnage, none fought more bravely on that day than -two Englishmen, Churchill and Andrew Vause. From the first, in that -high-pitched, aristocratic voice, which, later on in his life, was to -give the orders that should for ever crush the might of the French -king under whom he now fought as an auxiliary, was issued command -after command. From the other, tall, stalwart, grim, his big sword -grasped as easily as, not long before, his rapier had been, was dealt -forth blow after blow against Austrian, Bavarian, Luneburger, and -Holsteiner; while over their prostrate bodies he, in company with -others, leapt to find fresh foes. And in a pause, as still he and his -comrades swept their way into the fringe of the wood, he heard above -him a quiet voice exclaim, "Well done, my handsome Englishmen. Well -done," and looking up at the horseman above him--a broad-shouldered, -short-necked man, whose morose countenance belied his words--Andrew -recognized Turenne. But a moment later he was gone, riding all along -the advancing line to utter encouragement to other regiments.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now the charge was ordered for what was to be, happily, the last -time, when rushing down through the open ranks of the infantry went -the dragoons, while amongst them Andrew recognized the fair hair of -Debrasques, as, without covering to his head, he flew by.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bravo, Debrasques! Bravo!" shouted Andrew, and the boy, turning his -face, saw his friend. Then he waved his sword and vanished into the -gloom around.</p> - -<p class="normal">The darkness was growing more intense, there was something more than -fog and mist enveloping them, they knew that the October evening was -at hand by the time the fight was done, and when, from neither little -nor great wood, nor from where the village of Entzheim lay, came aught -but desultory firing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The battle is over," said Churchill as he passed Andrew; "they say we -have lost two thousand men, and the enemy double."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are still firing," muttered the other, leaning against a tree to -take breath.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, 'tis our side firing their own cannon at them. They are in full -retreat and have left their big guns behind. Hark! there is the -recall!" and he went on to muster his men together.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must find the boy," Andrew said to himself. "Find how he has worn -through this day," and making his way over heaps of slain he went -towards where Listenai's dragoons had plunged into the wood for the -last time.</p> - -<p class="normal">And at last he found him, when there was but a little light left; -when, indeed, there would have been none had not the fog cleared away -suddenly and the rain ceased, leaving what remained of daylight clear.</p> - -<p class="normal">He found him amidst a heap of his own dragoons, who lay where they had -fallen, some above and some across their dead horses, some beneath -them, and some kicked to death by the animals in their agonized -struggles. Found him with his back against his own horse, which lay -dead on the ground with half its head blown away by a cannon ball, and -with his eyes staring wildly in front of him, though, as Andrew -thought, seeing nothing.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of others of that regiment there were none about, except the dead and -the dying--'twas evident that they had made their way through the -wood, driving before them the Imperialists who had earlier had -possession of it; perhaps, indeed, had followed them in their flight.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My boy," said Andrew, going up to him, and kneeling down by his side, -"this is a sad sight. Debrasques, what ails you? Are you sorely -wounded?" And, as he spoke, he slung a small canteen round that he -carried on his back, and, uncorking it, moistened the Marquis's lips -with some drops of spirit which he produced.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first the other could not answer, and, meanwhile, Andrew was -looking him all over to see where any wound might be, but finding -none--when, at last, after he had decided that the Marquis must be -hurt inwardly by some tremendous blow--perhaps from one of the -horses--the other spoke in a faint voice and said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Captain Vause--I--think--my back is broken by the fall. The horse -fell on me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, not so bad as that," whispered Andrew, "not so bad as that, pray -God. Yet, courage, <i>mon ami</i>, there will soon be some coming this way. -And if not, why I will carry you," and he set about undoing the -other's back and breast piece so as to give him more freedom.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot move," the boy replied feebly. "I think I am dying. Oh! my -mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay," repeated Andrew. "Nay. Heart up."</p> - -<p class="normal">But still the young man's voice grew more and more feeble, and now he -seemed wandering in his speech.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I--I--meant to tell you much if I had lived. I must speak now. -The--she--the woman we know of was----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What?" asked Andrew quickly, catching his breath. He knew, something -told him, that the woman to whom the other referred could be one -only--Marion Wyatt. "What was she?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She was--ah, God! Look there!" and, with a strange glance of -agitation in his eyes, he glared towards the wood. Following that -glance, Andrew saw what had so unnerved the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">For, coming from out the wood, urging his horse to its greatest pace, -though it was sadly blown, there rode swiftly De Bois-Vallée, hatless -and the sling from his wounded arm hanging loose, while as he left the -wood he was calling back orders to some whom doubtless he imagined -were still there. And Andrew knew that, as one of Turenne's -<i>aides-de-camp</i>, he had been sent out with instructions to the various -scattered regiments.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first he evidently recognized neither Debrasques nor Vause, and was -going as swiftly by as he could, and as all the impediments of dead -men and animals would permit, but as Andrew sprang to his feet, -intent, not on renewing his feud with him at such a moment as this, -but on summoning him to the assistance of his dying cousin, he saw him -plainly in the now clear evening light. And, even as he observed who -was before him, the Marquis, with his brain becoming evidently more -and more disordered, shouted out in a voice that seemed to have -acquired unnatural strength at this crisis--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Traitor! scoundrel! I have told him all," and then sank back, either -dead or senseless, against his horse's side.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h4> - -<h4>INNOCENT.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">When the roll was called that night in the French army it was seen how -hardly the victory had been bought, if victory it was! A doubtful one, -indeed, since Turenne had not been able to pursue the enemy for long -with his weakened army, and, as he fell back upon the position which -he had previously occupied, so De Bournonville did the same. The enemy -was, therefore, still in Alsace, and Brandenburg was drawing nearer -day by day. Over France there yet hovered the impending shadow of -further invasion and defeat.</p> - -<p class="normal">Amongst those who were wiped off for ever from the roll were the -bearers of such noble names as De Pizieux, De Reveillon, and the -Comte d'Auvergne; whilst among the English the Earl of Hamilton was -wounded--mortally, it was thought. Also, there were many missing whose -absence could only be accounted for by the supposition that they had -been slain in the short pursuit made of some portion of the enemy.</p> - -<p class="normal">Amongst these was the Vicomte De Bois-Vallée, whose disappearance was -not explained by the time Turenne fell back on Hagenau and Saverne; -and was not, indeed, generally known until the French army was once -more quartered in that neighbourhood.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was there that the news of this disappearance reached Andrew -Vause's ears, as he watched over Debrasques and tried to nurse him -back to life. It seemed, however, that there was little enough hope he -would succeed in this; the brain had received some injury which the -surgeons who had accompanied the army appeared unable to understand, -and, while it was perfectly apparent that he comprehended much that -was said to him, he was utterly unable to make himself intelligible. -No wonder, therefore, that Andrew, while he bemoaned the fate of the -brilliant young soldier whom he had come to love as a comrade, cursed -at the same time the fate which had chosen to thus visit the one man -who, as he had shown by the last coherent words he uttered, alone knew -the greater part, if not the whole, of his cousin's guilt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Missing! missing!" he said to Colonel Churchill, who told him the -news of the man's disappearance on the second night they were back at -Hagenau, and while they sat together in a room of the house which -served as the headquarters of "The Royal English Regiment." "Missing, -eh? 'Tis strange!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why?" asked the other, in the quiet, well-bred tones in which he -always spoke. "Why? There are many others not accounted for who -followed the Imperialists out of the little wood. Doubtless they -followed them too far!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Maybe," said Andrew reflectively. "Yet this man followed the enemy -not at all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How know you that? Were you acquainted with the person of the -Vicomte?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, very well. I knew him." And he told Churchill of how he had been -attacked by the boors on the night ere the whole army set out towards -the Breusch, though, naturally, he made no reference to the duel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! I heard something of that, too. Yet, tell me, Vause--how is it -you know he did not follow those who chased the enemy out of the wood? -He may have done so to deliver the orders of recall. He was sent out -with others of the Marshal's guard to give such orders."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I saw him pass the other way--when the fight was over. Returning -towards Holtzheim where our base was. His cousin, Debrasques, who is -lying above wounded, spoke to him. It was the man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Strange!" reflected Churchill. "Strange! What harm could come to him -between the wood and Holtzheim, and with the battle over, too, and the -enemy driven out of the former and in full retreat? He was not -wounded?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. He was not wounded."</p> - -<p class="normal">And thus the matter remained as it had been--a mystery from the first. -De Bois-Vallée had disappeared at the very moment when he was out of -danger, with the battle finished and he safe in the French lines.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, to Andrew Vause, meditating hour by hour on his disappearance as -he watched and tended Debrasques, it came to be no such mystery as it -was to Turenne and the companions of the absent man, his brethren of -the <i>garde du corps</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">For he discovered that Debrasques was not astonished at his -disappearance--discovered it when he told him that it had taken place.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You understand what I say to you?" he asked, bending gently over the -half-paralysed man the next morning--and none who had not seen Andrew -in his gentler moments could, perhaps, have guessed how good a nurse -the great soldier could be. "You understand, my friend? De Bois-Vallée -is missing. Yet he was unhurt when he passed us, returning to our -ranks. What can have befallen him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Debrasques, wounded and lying there, fixed his blue eyes on the other, -while it seemed to Andrew that there was a glance in them which showed -that, if he could speak, he would say that the news caused him no -surprise; and a moment later his lips moved as though muttering some -word, but no sound came from them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What--what is it?" whispered Andrew.</p> - -<p class="normal">And again the lips moved, though with the same result, while still -from Debrasques' eye shone the look of intelligence--of comprehension.</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew tried now another method. Debrasques could not tell him what -was in his thoughts, but, at least, he could make signs, though with -his eyes alone; he would question him, and, by a lucky chance, might -hit on some suggestion--strike some chord that would fathom the -other's meaning.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are not surprised at--at this disappearance?" he asked therefore. -Then the eyes of the other told him by the bright glance that shot -into them that here, at least, he had questioned aright. The Marquis -was not surprised!</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not think he is dead?" And again, as he watched the other's -face, he saw that he had surmised correctly. The eyelids closed over -the eyes for a moment, and, next, the latter looked out brightly at -him from beneath the re-opened lids. It was not death that, to -Debrasques' mind, had caused his cousin's disappearance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What then? Why go? Oh! Valentin," for so he sometimes now addressed -the young man, "if you could but speak one word, only one."</p> - -<p class="normal">But this he could not do, try as he might. So that Andrew, seeing how -painful the effort was to him, desisted from his questioning almost as -soon as he had commenced it.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, even as he busied himself about the room, making his pillows more -comfortable, arranging the bed clothes, and doing other kindly -services, he observed that the Marquis seemed struggling to regain his -speech--that he had something to tell him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Suddenly, as still he mused on what Debrasques might mean, there came -back to his memory the manner in which De Bois-Vallée had received the -wild shout of his cousin, the words: "Traitor! Scoundrel! I have told -him all." He recalled the look on the Vicomte's face, the glance of -hatred he had darted at that cousin, followed by the look of fear -which had seemed to blanch his countenance, as, digging his spurs into -his already jaded horse, he had ridden off towards Holtzheim.</p> - -<p class="normal">The look of fear! Ay! that was it. It must be. For, not knowing that -Debrasques was delirious from his injuries, he had believed that, -whatever revelations he had to make, had in truth been made. Vause, he -doubtless thought, now knew as much of some mystery that lay beneath -his own conduct as Debrasques knew himself. And, dreading him more -than before, had therefore disappeared. Andrew felt certain that, in -this surmise, he had hit the mark. He knew it; it was borne in upon -him!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Valentin," he said, returning to the bed and gazing down at the young -man who lay there with his eyes still open, "Valentin, I think I -know--think I have penetrated your meaning. You believe De Bois-Vallée -has disappeared, because, now--since you told him that I knew all--he -fears me more than ever. Is it not so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">To his amazement--his utter amazement--he had not, after all, hit the -mark; it was not this that Debrasques meant. It was no increased fear -of him that had prompted his enemy to disappear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What then? What then?" muttered Andrew. "What, if not that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But from the sick man nothing came that could assist him--only, once -more, the look of grief at being unable to make himself understood.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, unsatisfactory, disheartening as this was, it told Andrew one -thing at least--there was in truth no mystery about the man's -disappearance. It was plain that he had a reason for so removing -himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Still," pondered the soldier, musing over what such reason could be, -or what powerful motives could have urged him thus to disappear from -the army in a time of war, and to, thereby, incur the necessity of -giving a thorough explanation of his conduct when he should reappear -or be for ever disgraced, a ruined and a broken soldier; "still it all -hangs, must hang, on Debrasques' words shouted to him in delirium, yet -near enough unto the truth to fright him; the words, 'I have told him -all.' Would that he had! Would that he had!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And again at night, as he turned restlessly on his bed, which was -placed in the same room as his friend's so that he might be near to -minister to him if required, he asked himself, "What more was there to -tell? What villainy that even I do not know of?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Also he remembered that, when he first found Valentin amidst the heap -of dead and dying dragoons by whom he was surrounded, he had said -something about the woman, Marion Wyatt--had exclaimed that she -was--what? Oh! that he had been able to finish that speech; to say -what Marion Wyatt was, or had been, in connection with this matter, in -connection with the bitter treachery that had broken Philip's heart. -"I would almost believe," he thought, "that he meant to say -'Innocent,' were it not that such must be impossible. Innocent! -innocent! How could that be? She who stole down the garden to the gate -that led to the Mall, who disappeared for ever from my brother's and -her father's knowledge; from whom no word ever came after that night. -It is impossible! How could she be innocent and he guilty?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, he decided now, that, as he had put other questions to -Debrasques in the hopes of hitting on some suggestion which might -prove to be the right one, so he would put this one--"Did he intend to -say that Marion Wyatt was an innocent woman?" Yet, even though that -answer should be Yes, it would bring him no nearer to understanding -why De Bois-Vallée had fled from the army! Only, if it could be proved -so--if, by any chance under heaven, it should be so--his determination -to be avenged on De Bois-Vallée for the wrong done his weak and -helpless brother would be intensified by a further determination to -avenge the wrong done also to that brother's affianced wife.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, how--how could such be the case? Though Debrasques should testify -to it he might still be mistaken.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the morning, however, he put his doubts to the proof. Bending over -the now awakened man, who, all through the night, while he had watched -near him, slept heavily, he asked the question, and, a second -afterwards, the look in the other's eyes showed that he had surmised -truly. Rightly or wrongly, with either clear or clouded brain, -Valentin believed the woman innocent.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do believe it--think it? Nay," noticing the intensity of the -other's gaze, "you know it. You mean to signify that?" and, overcome -by his emotion at this new development, he returned the intensity of -that gaze. "There is no doubt?"</p> - -<p class="normal">From the speechless man there flashed back the answer of his eyes--as -eloquent as any words. There was no doubt.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, still, he could scarcely bring himself to believe; again through -his mind there flashed the thought, "how, if the man was guilty, was -the woman innocent?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Carried away now, however, by an overwhelming rush of ideas, he went -on:</p> - -<p class="normal">"And if innocent--Heavens! if innocent--does harm threaten -her--threaten her more, since he thinks I know all, than before?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Again he saw that he had struck the mark, had divined aright. Once -more the eyes of Debrasques answered "Yes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Harm that may come to her through his fear of what he imagines I -know? Harm that may be averted, perhaps, by me if I can find her--or, -again, find him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">And still once more--none could have doubted it who saw the face over -which he bent!--the answer was in the affirmative.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You counsel me, you bid me go, you warn me to avert this harm? It is -so, Debrasques, even though I leave you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it," he continued, as still the other with his eyes endorsed -all he suggested. "So be it. I will go. Will find him and slay him, or -her and protect her. You agree with that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">And, as before, the other showed that he agreed!</p> - -<p class="normal">"An innocent woman! An innocent woman!" Andrew muttered once again. -"An innocent woman, and in his power! A power that will be doubly -exerted against her since he thinks I know all. I must lose no time."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, because he would make no mistake--because now, if he set out in -this further quest, he was resolved that it should have but one -ending--should, indeed, never end until he had accomplished his -determination, he repeated his questions again and again; he made -doubly sure.</p> - -<p class="normal">After which, and seeing that Debrasques adhered to all he had hitherto -conveyed to him, his resolution was taken. He hesitated no longer.</p> - -<p class="normal">Wherever De Bois-Vallée was he would find him; wherever Marion Wyatt -was he would serve her. And, once more face to face with the man who -had done what he now knew was a double wrong, he would slay him like a -dog.</p> - -<p class="normal">For that Debrasques had been deceived it was impossible to believe.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marion Wyatt must be--incredible as still it seemed--a deeply-wronged -woman. Also, a woman who now stood in dire peril. Well! he would -defend her from that peril if he were not too late. -</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h4> - -<h4>A LIKENESS AND A CLUE.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">From Hagenau and Saverne there is a road which, winding sometimes -between vineyards and cornfields, and sometimes over billowy plains on -which little enough can be made to grow by the Rhinelanders, arrives -at last at the River Breusch, and so enters Holtzheim.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was along this road that Turenne's army had marched a fortnight or -three weeks before, and had found the Imperialists encamped between -that village and the somewhat larger one of Entzheim; along it once -more, as the late October winds blew down the leaves on to the -rain-sodden earth below, Andrew Vause was travelling now. Only, he was -riding his favourite horse instead of marching on foot with the -company of "The Royal English Regiment," to which he had been -assigned, and, instead of being accoutred as a soldier he was dressed -as an ordinary traveller. Yet, as became a traveller of that day, and -in such a locality--for Strasbourg was but a league or so off, and -under its protection the Austrians and all their following of petty -German princelings were encamped--Andrew was well armed. His sword -made music against his horse's flank and his left spur as he rode, his -holsters had each a pistol in them, and on his shoulders was a small -"back-and-breast," which his cloak, drawn tightly round him, now hid -from view.</p> - -<p class="normal">His second search for De Bois-Vallée had begun!</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not difficult for him to be thus at liberty to continue that -search; the contending armies had gone into winter quarters and, -beyond watching each other's movements carefully, expected to have no -more encounters until the spring, wherefore leave was granted freely. -Already Churchill was on his road back to St. James's and the -allurements of the court, as well as to the petulance of the woman he -loved so dearly and by whom he was teased so cruelly; many of his -regiment were also on their way home, numerous French officers were -making for Paris--and Andrew was returning to Entzheim. For from that -place, from the spot outside the Little Wood where last he had seen -the man he sought, and had witnessed the look of terror that came upon -his countenance at Debrasques' words, he intended to seek for the -clue--nay, he intended to find and take up the clue!--which should -finally bring him face to face and point to point with De Bois-Vallée -again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," he had said to his friend as he parted with him, and after all -arrangements had been made for his comfort and well-being that were -possible in such a place and in the circumstances, "For be very sure I -shall find him, Valentin. Be sure of that! Even though I have to track -him half over Europe, even though he should take refuge in your -mother's house in Paris, still he shall not escape me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, as he spoke and gazed down at the wounded man, he saw that the -latter place, at least, would not be sought as a shelter by De -Bois-Vallée. The Marquis's eyes told him that, as plainly as, -heretofore, they had told him so much else.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereby, seeing that glance, Andrew knew that he would not have to -return to Paris to find his quarry.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No matter," he said. "No matter. I shall find him. Alone and unaided -I shall. Also I will find her. Then I shall know all. All, until we -meet once more, and you shall be well enough--as I pray God!--to tell -me in your own words that I have guessed aright. Farewell, my boy."</p> - -<p class="normal">And so he went on his way after a tender parting with the youth he had -come to love since the first night when he saved him from the thieves -in Paris, and after, also, he had made his adieux to Turenne and -several old and new comrades.</p> - -<p class="normal">He drew near the wooden bridge that, crossing the Breusch, led into -Holtzheim, as the October evening set in dark and lowering, and with -great clouds coming up in the heavens from far down in the south, and -he knew that in this village he must find some shelter for the night -if possible. Yet he knew also that it would be a poor shelter at the -best, even if anyone in it was able to receive him, since it had -suffered considerably from its vicinity to the late battle. Indeed, -some of the houses had been struck by the cannon balls fired from the -Little Wood, and Turenne's troops had denuded it of food, wine, and -forage. Still, either here or at Entzheim, he must obtain what he -required; it would be impossible that he could gain admission to -Strasbourg.</p> - -<p class="normal">The bridge had already been rudely repaired since the departure of the -French Army--which had naturally destroyed it ere retiring--and, crazy -as the timbers were, he yet managed to lead his horse across it after -dismounting. Then, this done, he rode forward smartly to an inn he had -noticed on the day of the battle, an inn called the "Goldener Hirsch."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it you seek?" a man asked, coming forward to the door of -this house--a place which, at its best, looked as though it could -furnish little but the wine grown in the vineyard hard by, and the -coarsest of food. A man clad principally in the ordinary costume of a -peasant-landlord, yet now wearing on his back a coat richly laced and -gallooned, though stained with dark patches here and there. Doubtless, -it had been removed from the body of some fallen officer!</p> - -<p class="normal">"What should a man seek, my friend," asked Andrew, looking down at him -from his horse, "but that which most strangers desire at an inn? Rest -and food for himself and horse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Strangers! <i>mein Gott!</i> we have had enough of strangers here," and -his eyes wandered down the filthy, uncleansed and pathless street to -where, at the end, the open plain between Entzheim and this village -lay. "Enough of strangers! We are fools to live on this frontier-land -and be devastated every few years by these infernal wars."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You seem at least to have benefited by some strangers," remarked -Andrew; "did the last one who stayed here pay his reckoning with his -laced coat?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay! An I had fifty such coats, and all that their pockets contained, -they would not pay this fellow's and his companion's shot. Look!" and -he pointed to a great hole above the doorway. "That's one piece of -their work. Done by a cannonball of the Austrians. 'Twill take fifty -thalers to repair. His coat's not worth that, all bloodstained as it -is and rain-soaked. Also, all my fodder is gone--the French took -that!--and my mare was slain by a spent bullet. Curse the -strangers--especially when they come fighting here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not come fighting," Andrew reminded him. "And my question is not -yet answered. Can I and my horse rest here and have food? For me no -matter what I eat, so it is clean and wholesome."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will see," the man replied. "At least you and the beast can -rest--if you will pay for it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will pay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dismount then."</p> - -<p class="normal">Doing as the man bid him, Andrew carefully tied his horse to a hook by -the door and followed the other, his spurs and the point of his -scabbard clanking on the frowsy stone floor of the passage as he did -so. Then the man threw open a door at the side and ushered him into a -room, at one end of which a fire burnt in a recess, the green logs -that lay on the stones level with the floor hissing and spluttering -under the mass of smoke that poured up the chimney.</p> - -<p class="normal">"At least I can drink," said Andrew, seeing that three or four -villagers were seated at a table near the fire with coarse bottles of -white wine before them, "also eat, my friend," and he pointed to two -great loaves of rye bread on the table, or loaves that had been great -ere huge hunks had been cut, or pulled, off them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! as for that," the landlord replied, "if you are content with this -you can eat and drink your fill. But," and his eye roved over Andrew's -apparel and his handsome sword, "doubtless the Herr is accustomed to -break his fast on better stuff than this." While, at the same time, he -seized a cup and filled it from one of the wine flasks, after which he -handed it to Andrew.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good health," said the latter, taking it and raising it to his lips. -After which he went on in reply to the other's remark.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Herr can eat anything. He is an old traveller. Meanwhile, I will -show you," whereon he seized one of the loaves, cut off an outside -piece which looked as though it had been fingered by the boors sitting -round, and then helped himself to a goodly slice and slowly masticated -it, washing it down all the time with draughts of the thin white wine.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall do," he said, "very well. Now for the horse."</p> - -<p class="normal">Half an hour later one might have thought Andrew Vause had been -used to passing his life--which had, in truth, been so full of -excitement--in no better way than hugger-muggering with Rhenish -peasants in humble inns. The landlord had been induced by him to find -a good feed for his animal, who was safely bestowed for the night in a -shed; also--by the clink of a ducatoon or so in his ear--to find -something better than bread for the newcomer. Indeed, by the time -that period had elapsed, Andrew was seated in front of a savoury stew -of vegetables and meat, and a better bottle of wine had been -discovered--as the host said, "marvellous to tell"--from the depths of -a cellar beneath the living-room. Moreover, to add to its flavour, the -soldier had produced from a flask in his holsters some choice -eau-de-vie, which--as many a campaign had taught him!--singularly -brisked up a poor wine when a spoonful or two of it was poured in. -And, as he passed this bottle, and a second, round the assembled -company, he very soon became a welcome guest.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Herr does not say what brings him here," remarked, however, one of -the drinkers, "yet, perhaps, we can guess," and the man delivered -himself of a heavy wink. "Oh! yes, we can guess. There will be other -merchants along this way soon. Ha! <i>Mein Gott!</i>" and he laughed -hoarsely. "Oh! yes. Ere long."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Precisely," said Andrew, "without doubt. Ere long." But he added to -himself as he passed the bottle round, "What in the devil's name is -the fellow driving at? And what kind of a merchant am I?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, since it had but recently struck him that it was indeed necessary -he should be able to produce some reason for his presence here, he was -determined to keep his ears open, and find out from the peasant what -that reason was. Evidently the man knew a great deal better than he -did!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! for that, no matter. Let the others follow. First come first -served! And the Herr has the first choice. He will treat us fairly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fairly, my friend! fairly, my golden hart!"--for it was the landlord -who had now spoken. "Indeed, I will. Ha! ha! Trust me." Yet again -Andrew wondered on what dealings he was about to embark, and in what -way he was to act fairly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You see," said another speaker, leaning forward over the greasy, -wine-slopped table, and speaking in a husky whisper, for which there -was not the least necessity, "it our only chance to recoup ourselves -for all our terrible losses. Our only chance. Therefore we must do our -best for ourselves."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Naturally," said Andrew, more bewildered than ever, "naturally. Rely -on me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will! Therefore, Muhlenbein," said the last speaker to the -landlord, "let us show the gentleman, and let him select."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Ja, Ja</i>," replied the host, "he shall see. You would care to see -to-night?" turning interrogatively to Andrew.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of all times! What better than the present! Let me see to-night!" -and, observing the others leave their chairs, he rose too; though -still wondering what it was he had to see. Then the peasants all -tramped out of the stone-flagged room and up a wooden ladder, he -following them and the landlord, who went before with a lamp which he -caught up.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first he thought this might be some trap--for, though ever -unsuspicious and bold to recklessness, his career had made him -wary--to get him alone into some room; yet, even as he so thought, he -laughed quietly to himself. He could feel his own strength within him, -as all powerful men can do--and the rapier's scabbard-point tapped on -the ladder as he mounted it; the hilt banged against his thigh! That -was enough! Then, as the trapdoor above the ladder was opened, and -they followed each other into the room, he understood what they -supposed him to be. A purchaser of spoils from off the battlefield!</p> - -<p class="normal">Piled up in heaps all around--as was plain to be seen by the -flickering oil light which Muhlenbein held over his head--were -numberless coats, jackets, vests, justaucorps, and tunics, most of -them covered with lace; most of them, also, heavily stained either -by the rain that had fallen all day during the battle, or by some -other fluid. Likewise, there were breeches innumerable, great -boots with the spurs still on them, piles of weapons standing in -different corners--these being sorted. Halberds and pikes, cavalry -cut-and-thrust swords; rich hilted weapons with great gold-thread -sword knots to them; muskets and musketoons; inlaid and silver chased -pistols--all that might be found and carried away after a terrible -encounter, in which two thousand men had fallen on one side and three -thousand on another, were there, as well as powder flasks and small -wooden boxes of shot--a charge to each. And, on a rude table, were -laid out various medallions and miniatures, with the chains by which -they had been hung round their owners' necks; in some cases bracelets, -which men then wore, crosses and reliquaries.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, stranger than all, and forming, perhaps, a more ghastly and grim -sight (though Andrew, pondering, knew not why such should be the -case), was a huge heap of wigs that lay piled up in the remaining -corner. Wigs of all colours; white, of course, the commonest; yet -also of black, blonde, and brown. Of every modern form, too, such as -full-bottomed, <i>à trois marteaux</i> and <i>à la brigadier</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A grim sight," thought Andrew, "especially to me, who must have known -many of the wearers in life." But, aloud, he said, "My friends, I -cannot buy all these things. 'Twould want a dozen mules to transport -them, nor, I fear me," and he smiled, "would they pass many of the -<i>octrois!</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By degrees they could be removed," one of the men said, thirsting for -some of the pieces he had seen clinking in Andrew's purse when he had -produced the ducatoons. "By degrees. And these at least are worth -money and can easily be transported," and he swept his coarse hand -over the table, where the medallions and the miniatures and their gold -chains were.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," said Andrew. "Ay! They are worth money. And, perhaps, to-morrow -I will buy some. Or a good sword now from out that heap. I could carry -a second one behind my saddle."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are superb weapons, mostly," exclaimed Muhlenbein greedily, -"superb; richly-mounted and chased, worthy of a noble, and with -exquisite blades----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Friend," replied Andrew quietly, "I know a good sword when I see it. -Perhaps none better. I deal in them."</p> - -<p class="normal">After which they all trooped down the ladder again, the rustics -wondering whether they were to construe the remark of the great -stalwart stranger as meaning that he was a trader in, or user of, such -tools.</p> - -<p class="normal">And Andrew, going to rest that night in the room found for him--a -cleaner one than the place below gave promise of, and with fairer -linen on the bed than might have been hoped for--was musing deeply.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," said he to himself, as he drew off his long boots, "I would be -sworn that one of those miniatures was on his neck as I turned him -face upwards on the grass, upon the night I nearly killed him, while -in that bundle of swords--but therein I may be mistaken. However, -to-morrow we will see for it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, ere he slept--his own sword laid along the bed by his side and -ready to his hand in case of need--he still pondered on what it might -mean if in very truth that medallion had been worn by De Bois-Vallée.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Might mean," he murmured between two enormous yawns, "that they found -him dead and stripped him, or that--or that----"</p> - -<p class="normal">By which time he was asleep.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h4> - -<h4>TO REMIREMONT</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">In the morning there were none of the other peasants about, although -Andrew could see them plainly enough as they lolled in front of their -houses, or brushed the dust and rubbish from their doors into the -road, where it would lie until the next rain swept it into the common -sewer; or drove a grunting pig in front of them. And, as he looked at -them through the window, while he ate the rude meal his host was able -to set before him, he knew very well that the moment they suspected he -had gone upstairs with Muhlenbein to begin trafficking for any of the -"relics," they would flock in to take part in the bargain. For the -"Goldener Hirsch" was, he had learnt overnight, the repository of -their joint property, as being the place, or mart, where the -"merchants" could most easily see all that was for disposal.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well!" He said to Muhlenbein after he had finished his breakfast, -while, prior to beginning it, he had been round to see to his horse, -"well, my host of the Golden Hart, if we are to have any dealings with -the choice curiosities above now is the time. I must away ere long, -and--and," this was an afterthought, which he considered would make -him look still more like a merchant--"there is Entzheim, you know. -Perhaps they have something there to sell, too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing, nothing!" exclaimed Muhlenbein hastily. "Nothing. Unless the -Herr wants to buy a wounded horse or two and some gun carriages and -powder--tumbrils left behind by the Austrians--that's all they have -got. The Herr doesn't want those."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," replied Andrew, "the Herr does not. Still, he must visit -Entzheim. But now for the merchandise. Up, my man, up, and let us see -what I can have for a few pieces of silver."</p> - -<p class="normal">Up the ladder they went, therefore, as they had gone overnight, -Muhlenbein muttering, however, that it was not "a few pieces of -silver," but many pieces of gold which would be required to purchase -anything worth having from his choice museum of relics; and, as Andrew -had suspected, hardly were they in the room above, ere the men who had -been with them on the evening before were there again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fore gad!" he said to himself, "they are as keen as hawks. Their eyes -must be able to see through the walls to know that I am a-marketing." -And undoubtedly, whether they had seen through the walls, or the open -door, or the two-foot-square window, there they were.</p> - -<p class="normal">Disguising his desire to inspect the medallion which he believed to -have hung round De Bois-Vallée's neck on the night when his sword had -passed within four inches of it, disguising also his wish to observe -if one of the rapiers in the bundle was likely to prove that which he -suspected it to be, Andrew turned his attention to the wigs. Yet he -had no intention of becoming a purchaser of any of these melancholy -relics, nor of wearing the hair that had been on the head of any -recently dead man. And, in spite of the recommendations of their -present possessors--one of whom tried several on to give Andrew an -idea of their suitability!--and of their chatterings and mutterings, -he soon announced that he would have nothing to do with any of them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nor of the clothes either!" exclaimed he. "What! wear them with this -and this upon them," and he pointed with his finger to the dark -stains, and--in some places--to the clean cuts through them from front -to back, where sword or lance had passed. "Heavens! they would think I -had murdered the previous wearer or stripped some gallows tree."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the lace, <i>gnädiger Herr</i>, the lace," whispered one, "the gold -galloon. Look to it. See this"; and he held up a gorgeously-faced coat -that when new must have cost many score of crowns.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I will not have it either. 'Tis tarnished, spoilt--with rain and -powder. No lace for me! Now, let us see for the weapons"; and he -directed his eyes towards the bundle of swords.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! the weapons," said Muhlenbein, "the weapons. They are indeed -worthy of so great a merchant as, without doubt, the Herr is. Now that -one," speaking of a sword which Andrew was examining carefully, "is a -noble tool, of splendid steel, a----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tush," said Andrew. "Be silent, man. Did I not tell you last night I -know a good sword. Your recommendations are useless."</p> - -<p class="normal">However, even as he looked at the weapon in his hand he knew that -there was no trace of De Bois-Vallée here. This sword had never been -his, although it bore a strange resemblance to the one he had used -against himself in their encounter; it being the exact length the -Vicomte had selected, and with its hilt and handle almost a facsimile -of the other. But it had fallen from some Austrian's hand he saw in a -moment, and not from the Frenchman's; the knot showed that, while the -maker's name stamped into it of "Kraft, Nürnberg," added confirmation.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still, it was so good a weapon that he was loth not to buy it and -strap it up with other things he carried--only it was sheathless; so -from this he passed on also--appeasing the men, however, who were now -getting very discontented, by purchasing a pair of handsome pistols, -after much chaffering.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he approached the medallions, while, as he did so, he thought, -"If this, which I expect, fails too, I am no nearer than before."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, when he held the trinket in his hand and gazed at it under the -light thrown by the window of the loft, he felt sure it was the one on -which he had looked as he opened the wounded man's shirt to give him -air. The painted face that stared at him from the miniature, set in -rose diamonds, was the one he had seen on the man's breast that -night--the face of a handsome woman of some forty-five or fifty years -of age, a woman with blue eyes and auburn hair, flecked with red.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless his mother," Andrew thought. And, recognizing the -similarity of the traits of the woman of the medallion and the man he -sought, he knew that this was the ornament he had previously seen. -Even the links of the gold chain attached to it seemed familiar.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, still, he knew that there was no clue here; there were a score or -more of such things lying on the table that had been taken from the -necks of their dead owners, or picked up on the battlefield.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A pretty toy," he said aloud, "the face of a beautiful woman. Nay!" -holding up his hand at the exclamations of admiration which the man -who owned this particular treasure instantly began to utter, while at -the same time he loudly called attention to the splendid, the -magnificent, the superb jewels with which it was surrounded. "Nay, -friend, their value is known to me as well as the worth of the -weapons. Yet I will buy it of you at a reasonable rate--though, since -the battlefield has yielded you so many other treasures of a like -kind----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," burst in the present owner, "that is no battlefield spoil; 'tis -better, much better--oh! far better--than any of the others. No simple -officer dropped that, I will be sworn, but some great general in the -retreat. Doubtless his wife, now, or----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No battlefield spoil! In the retreat!" Andrew repeated. "Fellow, what -do you mean?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But as he asked the question he knew there was a slight eagerness in -his tone, though it was not apparent to their dull senses; senses -blunted, too, by their desire to make a swift and profitable bargain. -Also he felt a tremor at his heart! Not picked up on the battlefield! -"Where then? Where?" he mused.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Some half league from here--though now I think upon it, 'twas -not the road along which either army retreated. But the track that -leads to----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To!" exclaimed Andrew in his impatience.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To St. Dié. The track known to many--across the mountains to -Remiremont."</p> - -<p class="normal">To Remiremont!</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew's pulse beat faster, almost his head swam, as he heard those -last words. To Remiremont! Yet he had to pause to collect himself, to -ask when and where and how, in connection with his enemy, he had heard -that place mentioned? To pause while, all the time, his would-be -vendor was dinning in his ears the value of the medallion portrait, -especially the value of its setting, for which he would not take less -than seventy écus. "From anyone else," he added, "though from the -gracious Herr, because he was first come, he would take fifty."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mechanically, scarce knowing why he should possess himself of the -miniature, yet feeling he must stop the boor's clamour somehow and get -time to think; reflecting also that to keep up his appearance of a -"merchant," he must buy more than the pair of pistols, he again had -recourse to the leathern purse and told out ten gold pieces of five -crowns into the owner's dirty palm, while as he did so the word -"Remiremont," "Remiremont," was beating at his brain.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where, where," he murmured to himself, "is the connection between -that place and De Bois-Vallée? Where?"</p> - -<p class="normal">In a moment it had come to him!</p> - -<p class="normal">"'He is of the <i>pays</i>; of Lorraine, near the Vosges, of the seigneurie -of Remiremont. He will be doubly useful to Turenne in the Palatinate.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">That was it; those almost the words! Uttered by the Court spy as he -drank with Andrew at the inn in Paris! Of the seigneurie of -Remiremont!</p> - -<p class="normal">The bargaining came to an end as the clue rose to his mind; pushing -the peasants aside, Andrew swiftly went down the ladder, his scabbard -clanking on each rung, and the boors following--offering their wares -at half, at a quarter, what they had previously demanded, now that -they saw that there was no more huckstering to be done. Also, because -their eyes had glinted into the leather purse and had seen many other -gold pieces therein!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay No more," he said; "I have done. Your treasures are too tempting. -You will beggar me if I stay here. Now," laughing and pushing back -with his masterful hands the men who flocked round him, begging all -the time that he should miss no chance, and, therefore, offer his own -price, "now, a bottle of the best, my golden hart, to drink to our -next meeting, and then away. And the reckoning, too, Muhlenbein, the -reckoning--though that should count as nothing with so good a customer -as I!" and he laughed merrily, making even the peasants laugh too, his -gaiety being infectious.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had a little more to say, or ask, however, and it necessitated the -drinking of a second bottle whereby to provide the time for obtaining -the information he desired. Still, he did obtain it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This track," he said, "across the mountains of which you speak; to -where does it lead? And Remiremont, what kind of place is that? And -what leads from there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The second question none of them could properly answer, though one, -who seemed to know more than the others, said there was a great -nunnery at Remiremont itself, he thought. But as to where the road -from it led, all knew. South to the old Burgundian city--the boors -around him called it the "great" Burgundian city of Dijon; west, to -far-off Paris, where the French King was who sent out his accursed -armies; north to Flanders, where he might have heard other fightings -were going on. While their town--for so they called it--of Holtzheim -was to the east, but with the mountains between.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So!" exclaimed Andrew, and now the third bottle was broached--which, -after all, was not much amongst six of them! "So I, who must myself go -that way--Dijon, you say, is great and prosperous?--or anyone who -wished to go that way from here, would do well to proceed by this -track? Better than the high roads, which are doubtless roundabout and -lengthy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Better far," replied Muhlenbein, "since thereby you save half the -distance. Yet, have a care if you adventure by it. In the mountains -there are no inns--none such as this; <i>mein Gott</i>, no!--no refuge nor -shelter. Nothing but the great trees, and, in a storm, the riven -branches on your head."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Ja, Ja</i>," said another, the man who had sold Andrew the medallion, -"and sometimes worse than that, worse than shattered branches to burst -in the head. Worse! outlaws and outcasts, men driven from France and -from this land, too, to whom the Vosges alone offer retreat. -Travellers have entered those mountains on one side before now, and -have never come forth on the other yet. <i>Gott in Himmel!</i> Their heads -were not broken in by fallen branches. Not by fallen branches!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said Andrew. "Well! here is one traveller who must pass that -way. And we will see for the breaking of heads. We will see. While, -for shelter, I have a cloak. 'Tis not," forgetting for the moment that -he was a "merchant" and not a soldier, "'tis not the first time it has -been my only roof. Friends, adieu!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Herr will go," said Muhlenbein. "Soh! Well! he is big and strong. -Has been a soldier, perhaps?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, has been a soldier," and as he spoke he made his way to where his -horse was. Yet, ere he mounted it he paused and said, while the -rustics lolling at the inn door cast admiring glances over both man -and steed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where begins this ascent to the mountains? Tell me; or, rather, if -anyone will earn a crown, let him conduct me to it."</p> - -<p class="normal">In an instant all had proffered their services, and each man sprang -forth as quickly as his great wooden shoes would let him, whereon -Andrew, selecting one, set out upon his journey.</p> - -<p class="normal">His journey! To end how, he knew not, and cared less, so long as it -brought him to Remiremont. To Remiremont where he believed he would -stand face to face with De Bois-Vallée once more, would find Marion -Wyatt. The woman who, Debrasques had testified, was innocent, yet -against whom all circumstances pointed as being guilty.</p> - -<p class="normal">The road the peasant led him passed across the plains lying between -Holtzheim and Entzheim, across the fields on which he had fought some -few weeks ago, but which were now deserted except that there were -other peasants from each of those villages still hunting and scraping -for further pickings. For, to them, anything was precious, would fetch -money some day if not now, would help to mend their broken and burst -walls or buy fresh seed for their devastated fields.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of the dead he saw but little, and what little he did see was enough -even for him--a soldier. For if--half uncovered by the earth that had -been lightly thrown over it, and, later on, washed away again by the -drenching rains which had continued for days after the fight was -over--any body met his eye, he saw that it was stripped naked by those -who had come across it. Neither on man nor fallen beast was there left -so much as, in the case of the former, a rag, or, in that of the -latter, a bridle rein or smallest piece of leather; nay, in the case -of the latter their manes and tails were gone--they were useful for -something! Yet, still, amongst the heaps and mounds, where the bodies -of all lay covered, so that pestilence might not be bred in the -villages, there moved the human ghouls who sought for a broken piece -of chain, a ring, or coin, anything that would remunerate them for -their losses, even though in their search that pestilence should seize -on them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beyond the Little Wood, now tranquil enough except for the cries to -one another of the searchers in it, and showing no other signs of what -had happened there but those furnished by trees shattered with -cannonballs, by broken gun carriages and fallen cannon not yet -removed--the road turned to the right; half a mile further the opening -to the track was reached which led across the mountains to Lorraine.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God speed," the peasant said, as he pouched the crown tossed him by -Andrew, "God speed. Beware of the storm; beware the marauders of the -woods. Have your sword easy in its scabbard, your holster-flap open. -Farewell."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Adieu," Andrew replied. "I will beware."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, slackening his horse's rein as the ascent began, he took the -first steps that led towards the seigneurie of Remiremont. While, as -he did so, he whispered to himself:</p> - -<p class="normal">"This time. This time."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h4> - -<h4>ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis better, perhaps," thought Andrew, as, walking now by the side of -his beast to ease it, he gazed down from the elevation he had reached -to the plain lying below, "better that I did not slay him on that -night, or leave him there to die. For then I should have accomplished -only the task I was pledged to; might never have discovered that, -besides revenging Philip, there was the woman to save if may be." And -still pondering on all this, he continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Debrasques might have been actually slain instead of condemned to -this living death--as well be dead, poor boy, as he now is!--and then -I should have known nothing; my search would have been ended with his -cousin's death. Nothing. Nothing. And all my life I should have been -coupling the name of Marion Wyatt with that of a treacherous, false -wanton, as doubtless her father does if still alive. As Philip did -unto the last, though sometimes he doubted. Well! his doubts had -reason, it should seem!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But now he almost laughed aloud as a new thought, or memory, rose to -his mind. The memory of what description of revenge he had meditated -on the woman when he supposed her to be as equally guilty as the man. -A determination to carry her off from him as that man had carried her -off from Philip, or to find her and, in some way, steal her love from -De Bois-Vallée; to pretend love for her until her own was won--then to -break her heart and fling her away. All this he had thought of doing, -or of attempting to do, and had pondered on how it should be done, and -now--now--instead--he was seeking her so that he might save her. He -had reason to laugh at the change that had come into his heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">The October night was setting in and the evening vapours arising -amongst the great beech and fir trees on the mountain slopes, as -Andrew reached the top of the pass and stood upon the level of the -summit; seeing as he did so--through the rime and dank mist made by -the dripping trees--that the track ran flat for some distance now. -Whereon he set to work to calculate if it were possible for him to -descend into the plains of Lorraine that night--to reflect also if it -would be best to do so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know naught of Remiremont," he reflected, "nor whether 'tis large -or small--a place where a stranger may shelter himself without -attracting attention, or be the object of all eyes by appearing there. -I would I did so know, could see the place ere arriving at it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Also, he reflected, he had to find out where this man for whom he -sought dwelt. It might be, he knew, that he would have some great -mansion in the town itself, or, which would be far better, that he -lived in some outlying manor or grange.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For then," he thought, "I could better find an entrance to it, bring -myself face to face with him. Could summon him to come forth and meet -me, or, stealing in, confront him. Yet, whichever it be, I will find -him. Even though he is surrounded by servitors I will get at him, have -him point to point at last."</p> - -<p class="normal">And as he said these words he determined to push on along the track -once more, in the hope that, at least, the descent might soon begin.</p> - -<p class="normal">He found, however, that he could of necessity go but little further -that night. From the herbage at his feet there was rising now so -strong and penetrating a mist that, already, it was difficult for him -to follow the track; soon that mist would be a mountain fog enveloping -everything and preventing further progress, and he recognized the -unpleasantness of the situation. He was on the top of the mountains -without so much as a cave to shelter him or his horse, and there he -would doubtless have to stay until daylight--unless the fog which was -thickening every moment should clear suddenly away, and the moon, -which he remembered rose late, come forth. Stay there while both he -and his beast would become chilled to the bone, so that in the morning -they must be stiff with cold and cramp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A cheering prospect, truly," he thought, while as he did so he took -from his valise his flask and some bread, and, having drunk a little -spirit, moistened a portion of the bread with it and gave it to the -horse, "a cheering prospect! Fore gad! I begin to think I am no wary -campaigner after all, to be thus caught without a retreat. Yet that -vagabond, my host of the Golden Hart, said the passage of the -mountains might be made ere nightfall. It seems he was a liar, or I -have come too slow."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, in truth, Muhlenbein had in this case told him no lie, since the -passage of the Vosges from some parts of Alsace to the other side of -the mountains was possible in a day--though not such short days as -those of October; moreover, Andrew had set out late, it being ten in -the morning ere he had left the Goldener Hirsch. But, if the man had -not deceived Andrew in this manner he had in another, since, for his -own selfish ends and to keep him longer at the inn, whereby he might -be induced to make further purchases and to part with some more of his -gold pieces, he had grievously lied when he said there was no -accommodation to be found on the road. For--unless his memory was -exceedingly treacherous!--he should have remembered that there were -shepherds' and goatherds' huts at frequent intervals on the summit of -the mountains, while but a little divergence from that summit and an -earlier descent would have brought the traveller to St. Dié or Epinal. -But doubtless his greed prompted his forgetfulness, or, to do him -justice, he may have thought Andrew would not care to branch off to -either of those places.</p> - -<p class="normal">Therefore the latter soon found that, for certain, Muhlenbein was -wrong when he said there was no shelter but that of the mountain pines -to be found on the road, since now, as he led his horse along the -level flat, and felt with his feet at every step to make sure that he -kept the hard and beaten track, he distinctly heard voices ahead of -him--voices that, from the dull and muffled manner in which they -reached his ears, came undoubtedly from within some walls. Then, still -feeling his way carefully over the soft and sodden <i>chaume</i>, on which -both his and the horse's feet trod noiselessly, and directing their -footsteps off the path towards the spot whence the sound of the voices -came, he found himself outside a long low hut, as he concluded it to -be--a hut from which a murky gleam of light was visible in the fog, -proceeding evidently from some opening that served as a window.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I tell you," a voice, harsh and rough, was saying, "the war is over! -Otherwise how would he be here? I tell you I have seen him. And we -know, we old and tried soldiers, that none leave the ranks till peace -is signed." After which the speaker emitted a laugh as raucous as, and -fitting mate to, his speech.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said another, "that is all very well for such poor devils as we -are, 'when peace is signed.' But with him, now, of the noblesse--and -of Turenne's staff, they say--'tis different. They leave the army when -it goes into winter quarters; he would do so. Curse him! He needs come -here to harry us about."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, but we will harry him, too, in God's good time. Some day he shall -come back from other wars and find he has no home to enter. We will -light the mountain tops with the flames of his old house in spite of -his being Vicomte and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">Unfortunately, at this moment, Andrew--who, at the words "of Turenne's -staff" first, and of "Vicomte" next, had pricked up his ears wondering -on what he had lighted on now, and what revelations he was about to -hear--was prevented from listening to any more of their talk. His -horse, chilled and cold, shook itself violently, rattling as it did so -its bridle and chain and stirrups, so that none within could fail to -hear the noise it made.</p> - -<p class="normal">In an instant there was silence in the hut; a moment later a door was -flung open and the shadow of a man, blurred and indistinct in the foul -air that was lit up by the surly light cast out, was visible through -the fog.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who's there?" came in an instant a different voice which Andrew had -not previously heard, and, as he advanced to where the figure of the -man was, he answered: "A traveller seeking shelter for the night for -himself and animal; shelter at least till it is clearer, and he can -pursue his way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is no shelter here, monsieur," the voice replied, and the -expression "monsieur" told him he was dealing with Lorrainers now. -"None."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My friend, there must be. We are cold and perishing, and I see you -have a fire within. Let me come in," and, suiting the action to the -word, he pushed up against the man standing in the doorway, who fell -back somewhat at the sight of the stalwart figure before him. Yet he -was stalwart, too, or had been once when younger, though he was now -old and presented to Andrew nothing but the wreck of a powerful man. -Still, old as he was, he seemed inclined to resent the intrusion and -appeared almost as though about to bar his entrance, when another -voice from within exclaimed--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, Gaspard, if the traveller wants warmth and shelter let him come -in. Poor as our auberge is, doubtless he will pay for his -accommodation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless," replied Andrew, not stopping, however, his inward -progress while he spoke, but advancing towards the fire where he -warmed his hands and feet, glancing round all the time at the -inhabitants of the hut and thinking them about as villainous a looking -crew as he had ever set eyes on. Nevertheless, this did not deter him -from the resolve he had taken of obtaining shelter here, if not food, -nor prevent him from assuming the masterful manner which he saw at -once was the only one likely to serve him now.</p> - -<p class="normal">Also he wanted to know--and meant to know!--who was the "Vicomte," the -member of the noblesse, and likewise of Turenne's staff, who was here -and had been seen by one of the speakers. For, putting those remarks -together and coupling them with the fact that Remiremont was not far -from here, he thought it would be marvellously strange if he had not -lighted on the clue to De Bois-Vallée's present whereabouts.</p> - -<p class="normal">Assuming, therefore, this masterful manner, which he felt would serve -him so well, he administered a kick to a log of wood that had fallen -almost from the rude fire on to the earthen floor without, stretched -his large body in front of the embers until the warmth was obscured -from all the others, and, looking down at the two men by the side of -the old one, said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, my good friends, you seem to have devilish little hospitality -amongst you, since you wish to close the door to any wandering -traveller across these cursed mountains. Hey! is it not so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"We keep no open house," the elder one said, looking sourly at him as -he stood there, his sword by his side, his hat on his head, and with -one hand twirling his moustache, "therefore one may close their door -against whomsoever they please."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May they! What! When over that door hangs a bush--foul as the -night is I could see that, the feather in my hat had almost brushed it -as I spake to you--testifying you have wine for those who can pay for -it--and what traveller goes without money for his wants? Also, I -observe you have accommodation for beasts as well--if I mistake not I -see the hindquarters of a horse down there," and he pointed with his -finger to the end of the long hut--where, behind a piece of horribly -dirty canvas that hung from a rafter to the earthen floor, he saw a -grey tail switching every now and then.</p> - -<p class="normal">None of the three men sitting there and gazing up at this -powerful-looking intruder answered a word; instead, all scowled at -him, giving Andrew the idea--doubtless a true one--that they were -meditating some sort of attack upon him. Maybe to pull him to earth; -one to spring at his throat, another at his legs. It was likely enough -to be so, he told himself! And at the thought his spirits rose and -danced within him; it was the love of encountering such adventures as -these that had sent him wandering about Europe and fighting in any -campaign where his sword would be accepted, when, had he followed his -dead mother's desire, he would have remained at home.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For those who can pay for their accommodation, I say," he repeated, -and with this love of excitement egging him forward, he decided on -tantalizing the men. Whereon he thrust his hand into his pocket, drew -out his leathern bag, and emptied some gold and silver coins into his -other palm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here," said he, pitching a silver dollar down on to the table, "find -me some food and drink, and drink with me yourselves. Meanwhile, I -will attend to my beast," and he strode out into the raw fog again, -and a moment later led in the animal by the bridle, when, taking it up -to the end of the hut, he tied it by the reins to a nail in the wall.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, a bucketful of water," he exclaimed, "and a handful of oats, and -we shall do very well." After which he glanced at the others to see -what disposition there was amongst them to obey him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The sight of the money--or, perhaps, 'twas rather the sight of the -leathern purse--had, however, wonderfully sharpened their hospitality, -whereon, muttering that "since monsieur appeared desirous of -recompensing them for his intrusion they were willing to oblige him," -the old man, still looking sour and grim, set about finding some -refreshments. From a hole in the wall he produced a bottle of wine -that, by its appearance, seemed to be old, if not strong; some cheese -and rye bread was also forthcoming, but he said that, as regards meat, -he had none whatever.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We are poor, very poor," he explained, "simple charcoal burners and -truffle-hunters--nothing else."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" said Andrew, as he masticated the provender before him, -though he did not sit down to the table until he had seen the horse -also given water and a feed, "Nothing else, eh? Now I should have -supposed you two worthy gentlemen," and he directed a glance at the -others, whose mugs at the same time he filled to the brim, "would -have been something more in my way. Soldiers, for instance. There is a -good regiment raised hereabouts, the one of Epinal; I have seen it in -the field. Commanded, when I knew it, by Maisonfleur. Yet the -<i>arrière-ban</i> has been out a long while and you are here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The war is over," one of these answered, speaking now for the first -time since Andrew had been making himself at home. "We know that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How?" asked Andrew, looking at him with a swift glance over his -glass. "How, friend, do you know that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have we not proof? Monsieur suggests he is a soldier. Yet he is -here--as we are."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A cunning <i>riposte</i>," said Andrew to himself, while he exclaimed -aloud. "My friend, I do not count. I am an auxiliary, or what you -choose to call me--volunteer, nay, mercenary, if you please--and can -do as I desire, only if I do not fight I am not paid. But for you, you -are Frenchmen, and the war is not over. Turenne will engage the -Imperialists again, Condé is in full campaign. Fine fellows like you -should be earning laurels--and louis d'ors."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Peste!</i>" exclaimed the one who had not hitherto spoken. "Louis -d'ors! How many of them does monsieur think we get? And as for being -here--well, why not? It is our <i>pays</i>, and we are not the only ones -out of the war. There are others of this neighbourhood back from -it--as we know very well," and he gave a glance as he spoke at the two -men.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To wit--whom?" asked Andrew, knowing that now the conversation was -approaching the point he desired. Knowing also that it behoved him to -be very careful. If he was that, if he could but be a diplomatist for -half an hour, he might learn much.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! <i>avec ça!</i>" the man said, "it would be useless to tell monsieur. -He would not understand. But we know--we know, <i>mes amis</i>," addressing -his friends, "<i>N'est ce pas?</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps," said Andrew, "I know, too. Know to whom you refer. Shall I -say--for instance--a Vicomte. Mention another name? Humph! Also -beginning with a V?"</p> - -<p class="normal">All looked at him, the big old man over a pair of horn spectacles he -had assumed, the others under their brows. Then the younger of the two -remaining ones, a dark handsome man, though with a face spoilt by -signs of debauchery and, perhaps, of rough living, said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is monsieur a friend of his?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Scarcely that! Otherwise I might be riding on my way now, reckless of -fog and reeking mist, reckless of missing my path and falling to the -bottom of some abyss from one of your crags, to tell him he was in -danger of his house being burned to the ground, of these mountain tops -being lighted by the reflections of the flames from that burning -house."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had hit the mark when he mentioned the letter V as the first one of -the name of the man they undoubtedly hated, knew it, saw it directly -from their actions.</p> - -<p class="normal">The man whose home was to be burned over his head, the man who they -had said harried them, whom they had sworn that very evening to harry -in God's good time, was, must be, De Bois-Vallée.</p> - -<p class="normal">And Andrew laughed fiercely under his moustache as he thought to -himself:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Between us--with me first--he should not escape this time!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">CHAPTER XV.</a></h4> - -<h4>"HE IS MINE. MUST BE MINE NOW!"</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless he knew that it was necessary for him to be very careful.</p> - -<p class="normal">For, to begin with, these men were doubtful allies--even if he wanted -any such, which, after all, he was not sure about. Certainly he wanted -none to help him slay De Bois-Vallée and thereby avenge Philip--but -even as he so paused, endeavouring to think what was best to do, he -observed the looks of consternation still on their faces at -discovering he had overheard their remarks when outside. Yet, might -not their assistance be of the greatest use to him in rescuing Marion -Wyatt from evil at the Vicomte's hands? Might not they also be of the -greatest service to him in helping to discover what evil it was that -threatened the woman? Or, further and better, was it possible that -they had some knowledge of what that evil was?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Harm that may come to her through his fear of what I know, as he -imagines; harm that may be averted perhaps by me if I can find her--or -again find him?" he had asked Debrasques, he remembered; remembered -also that from Debrasques' eyes had come the answer in the -affirmative. And he had bidden Andrew go and avert the harm impending; -now he was here, and it seemed that an opportunity had arisen which -might assist him in thus averting it.</p> - -<p class="normal">He must extract all that he could from these men; he must lose no -chance. Indeed, his only regret was that his manner had not been more -propitiatory from the outset, less rough with them, and he prayed that -the big leather purse, and another which he had put carefully away, -might be able to win their goodwill. If so they should have it all, -even though he had to go without food until more money could be -obtained from England.</p> - -<p class="normal">They sprang up--or two of them did--as he uttered the words about the -burning house and the flames whose reflection should be cast on the -mountain tops, while the elder man cast an evil glance at him that -would have augured badly for his safety in that lonely spot had he not -been so big and strong. Then the first of these two men, whom he had -heard called Jean, exclaimed, "You heard that--outside! And know that -it was of him and of his house we spoke?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know it now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what will you do?" while as he spoke he bent forward with a -sinister look on his face, and with his hand in his coarse brown -blouse, "What will you do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will tell you," replied Andrew, "only, first, give me that," while -as he answered he darted his own hand out like lightning, seized the -fellow by the wrist, and drew his hand from out of his bosom. In it -was a long knife.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let it fall to the floor," he said, compressing the man's wrist so -that he winced, while Andrew turned as he did so and spoke to the -other two (who had sprung up and were standing over him threateningly) -in a marvellously quiet voice, yet one that had its effect.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Make no interference," he said. "Be warned. Resume your seats or we -shall all regret it. Do as I say," he continued, his voice sinking -even lower as he fixed his eyes on them. "As I say. It will be best."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether it was his height or his broad chest, or, perhaps, the sight -of the huge hand that compressed Jean's wrist, which forced them to -obey, cannot be said. Suffice it that, after a look of indecision on -the part of the well-favoured, dissolute-looking man, and a scowl on -the part of the old one, they did as he said. Each returned to the -settle, or stool, he had occupied, though not without murmuring and -muttering.</p> - -<p class="normal">Another squeeze from Andrew finished also Jean's affair; the fingers -unloosed the knife, which clattered down on to the earth, and, at the -same time, his wrist was released, scored with a red mark as though an -iron vice had been screwed on it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Enough," said Andrew; "now we shall be very good friends. Listen, -therefore, to what I have to say. But, first, find another bottle of -wine."</p> - -<p class="normal">Obedient to his orders--although it might be but for a time and until -they could concert some joint attack on him--another dusty, cobwebby -bottle was produced from the hole in the wall, and, when the one glass -from which Andrew drank and the mugs of the others had been filled, -the former spoke again, though with his eyes on all their faces and on -their hands, too, to see if they threatened harm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will tell you," he said, "what I shall do. Yet, first, let there be -no mistake. The man of whom you speak as having come across these -mountains, the man whose home you purpose to burn to the ground, is -the Vicomte De Bois-Vallée. Nay," seeing the look that came on their -countenances, "deny it not! There is but one who has so come from -Turenne's camp, but one who has fled from the army, deserted his post. -The man I seek and follow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fled! Deserted!" they repeated, while the old man muttered -incoherently.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, fled, deserted. Shall I tell you why? If I do, you will perhaps -acknowledge that, for the present, at least, you may leave his house -in peace."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell us," all said together.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has fled," continued Andrew, "because thereby he imagines he can -evade me--me, who have sworn to slay him. And I am resolved to slay -him. See, listen. I am an Englishman, well-to-do now, though not long -ago I had nought but that which I could earn with this," and he let -his left hand fall on his sword hilt. "Well-to-do, I tell you, might -live at home in my own land, run no greater danger than a man -encounters in his own fields and gardens. Yet I am here. To slay him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To slay him!" the dissolute, good-looking peasant repeated. "To slay -him! Camille De Bois-Vallée! To slay him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay! From England to Paris I came, from Paris to Turenne's army, from -that army here. To-morrow to Remiremont, to-morrow night, as it shall -fall out, or in a week, or month, or year, to return to England with -my sword left sticking through him. Say, shall I do that first, ere -you burn his house down?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is your wrong?" asked Laurent, the good-looking man. "What? -<i>Pardie!</i> a woman, I suppose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, a woman. Yet from your words, your guess at that, it should seem -I am not the only one. Has he wronged other men--through the women -they love?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," Laurent answered. "Yes. That way and others."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That way and others. So, 'tis not I alone who seek to punish him. Yet -from me the punishment shall come. And 'tis better so, is it not? If -you, or others, destroy him, you are here to be punished in return, -you are yourselves of the <i>pays</i>, as you tell me. But I--I am a -stranger, and, that done which I must do, I shall be gone; none can -harm me. Moreover, he will fall at my hands in honourable duello. I -shall not spare him as I spared him before."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" came from all their lips, while the old man thrust his horn -spectacles up on his forehead, and leaned across the table to stare at -him. "What you had him once, and you spared him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, to finish the work better next time. And it was not his murder I -sought" Whereupon he rapidly told them of the fight in the glade -behind the church, and of how the peasants would have slain De -Bois-Vallée, had he not interfered for his protection.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twas folly," Laurent said, "I would have left him there for them to -do the work. Thereby, monsieur would have had his desire gratified at -no cost to himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," replied Andrew, "'twas because I had not done the work that I -saved him, as now I prevent you from wreaking your vengeance on him. -'Tis I who must do it. Also, there is something else to be done. -Listen!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, because he saw and knew that he could bind these men to -him either through their hatred of his enemy or because of their -cupidity--or through both combined--he told them that the woman who -had been wronged by this man was, he believed, somewhere in his power, -and that, before all--before his revenge, before theirs--she must be -found and saved. "Could they," he asked, "help him to save her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is she?" answered Laurent, who seemed to take the lead now -amongst his companions. "Let us know that, and, since you desire it, -we may be of service. Alas! that we could have saved other women!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That," replied Andrew, "is what I do not know. Is what, indeed, at -present, I seek to learn. Further, I know not where his house is, nor -how to find entrance. Though soon I shall."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, at once, spurred on as it seemed to Andrew by a desire for -vengeance on the part of Laurent particularly, who, he could see, -nourished a personal hatred against the man, and, on the part of the -others, by a desire for gain, and by greed, they gave him some -information which he did not doubt was true.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Bois-Vallée, they told him, lived not in Remiremont itself, but, -instead, some four or five miles this side of it, and at the foot of -the very mountain which they were now on the summit of. It was a large -property known as Bois-le-Vaux, they said, consisting of wood and -forest with a mountain stream through it that afterwards joined the -Meurthe, and, in the middle of this estate and backed up by the hills, -was the house itself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of what description?" asked Andrew.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! for that, old, very old. Dating back, some said, to the days of -Le Duc Thierry," the old man, Gaspard, answered. "Built partly of -stone, hewn out of these mountains, one should suppose; a house long -and low, with, above the ground floor, much wood. Also outhouses and -stables and a granary, all of wood. Therefore," he added, "it would -burn well."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But not yet," answered Andrew, "not yet. That is for after I am gone, -by which time he will be dead. For which reason there may be no -necessity to thus destroy it. Are there any as bad as he to come -after, and have all who went before him been equally as bad?"</p> - -<p class="normal">No, they answered, each telling the tale by little pieces; no, there -were none to come after of whom they knew; he had neither brother nor -sister, nor was he married.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wherefore," interjected Gaspard, who seemed the most anxious for the -destruction by flames of the mansion of Bois-le-Vaux, "it may properly -be burned down. All of this country hate it and him; after his death -we desire no memorial of his race."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And of those before him. Were they like him?" again asked Andrew.</p> - -<p class="normal">"His mother was a saint on earth," the old man said; "I knew her. And -his father was harmless. The old wolf-blood of his forerunners has -come out in him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"His mother!" exclaimed Andrew. "His mother!" and he clapped his hand -to his pocket and drew out the medallion. "You knew her. Is this she?" -and he showed them the portrait.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," exclaimed Gaspard, after he had brought the spectacles down from -his forehead to their proper place again, "ay, 'tis. I knew her well. -She was a saint--all loved her--'tis for the sake of her memory we -have so long borne with the son."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Enough," said Andrew. "I will return it to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wherefore?" asked Laurent, not understanding.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As something which he dropped in fleeing from the army, from me. He -can scarce refuse to take it, to come and take it from my hands; thus -we shall be face to face again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the woman?" one asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah the woman. I had forgotten. No; first I must find out if she is -here, below, in this gloomy mansion you speak of. Then--then--it will -be time to decide what I must do. But it grows late; to-morrow I must -see this house and reconnoitre. My friends, if you will be such, let -us make terms. Will you place yourselves at my service?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As I told monsieur," said Gaspard, "we are very poor. We must live. -And if monsieur desires vengeance on one whom we all hate we will -serve him. Though I for one can do but little. I am old--yet I do not -forget. Ah, Julie! Also he forced me from my cottage, raising the -seigneurial rights month by month till I became an outcast, living -here on no man's land."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Curse him!" exclaimed Laurent. "All I desire is to see him dead. And -as for payment--well, I have no money--I, too, am an outcast, he would -send me to the galleys if he caught me. Curse him!" he cried again, -"give me but the wherewithal to live, and I will help you. Either you -or I shall slay him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has wronged you deeply?" Andrew asked, noticing how the handsome -features of this man were convulsed by his fury.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wronged me! Wronged me! My God! Listen. I married this man's -daughter, Julie," and his hand shook as he beat it against Gaspard's -shoulder, "and he took her from me, took her to that hell, Paris, -and--and--left her to die there. Judge if he has wronged me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you?" turning to the third, the man Jean. "Do you hate him, too?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hate all aristocrats," he replied. "They grind us to the earth. And -him I doubly hate. For--for--well, I have cause. Also," and he laughed -now the harsh and reckless laugh which Andrew had heard as he -approached the hut, "you saw how I loved him when, for fear that you -might be here to help him, I drew that on you," and he pointed to the -knife lying where it had fallen.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis well," said Andrew, "we understand one another. And, for earnest -of my good faith, take this and do what you will with it"; whereon he -drew forth once more the leathern bag and emptied its contents--a -dozen good louis d'ors and as many écus and German dollars--on the -table. As he did so he noticed to whom the spoils fell. Gaspard, with -a greed often enough the accompaniment of old age, especially when -that old age is surrounded by and steeped in poverty, thrust out his -gnarled and knotty hands, endeavouring to cover all the pieces. Jean, -with a laugh, clutched some ere the other could prevent him. Laurent -alone was moderate. One gold coin rolled towards him, which he picked -up and thrust under his blouse.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twill suffice a long time for meat and drink," he said. "By the time -'tis spent--well!--what I desire more than money may be accomplished."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have left yourself without any," the old man said, turning to -Andrew, almost with a look of shame on his withered face, yet still -with his hands on all the coins that Jean had been unable to wrench -from beneath them. "What will you do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay! never fear. It is not my all. I have more--for myself and you. -And, after that, can obtain still more. Serve me faithfully and you -will find me a good paymaster."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, after they had vowed again and again that they would do -so--Laurent alone wasting no words in protestation--Andrew remarked:</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is mine. Must be mine now. Nothing can save him or prevent me -bringing him to book. Even though we have to besiege him in his house! -He is mine. And, even should he escape me for a time, he is a ruined -man. To the army he can never return. His desertion prevents that. My -friends," and he rose from his chair, "De Bois-Vallée will never harry -you again. From this time forth we harry him."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h4> - -<h4>THE HOUSE OF THE ENEMY</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The fog was gone next morning when Andrew awoke from the bed of straw -on which he had lain all night covered by his cloak, and with--for he -was too wary a soldier to entirely trust his new-found acquaintances -until he knew them better!--his unsheathed sword by his side under -that cloak.</p> - -<p class="normal">Gone, swept away by a soft breeze that came up from across the Meurthe -and sighed amongst the great fir trees all round, and amidst also -those at his feet on the slopes below--at the base of which lay -Remiremont--while, above his head, were the blue skies and the bright -October sun. And, talking to his new friends, he learnt that he was on -what is known in that fair mountain region as the <i>Ballon d'Alsace</i>, -and that the river sparkling in the distance like a silver thread was -the Moselle, while the blue mountains in the still further distance -were the Jura.</p> - -<p class="normal">Already some plans had been decided on between him and the two younger -men while they sat at breakfast--a meagre meal of more rye bread, -an egg or so which Gaspard had managed to produce, and a bottle of -wine--and this is what they had resolved upon doing first.</p> - -<p class="normal">Laurent was to lead Andrew by a path which he very well knew (though -it was doubtful if any stranger to the neighbourhood could ever have -found it) to a copse on the lower slopes, from which he could look -down on the house itself; could, indeed, he said, approach so near -above it that a man might throw a piece of twisted paper, or any light -substance, on to the roof.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," said the man, as now they prepared to set out, "it was cleverly -placed was the old house, <i>voyez-vous</i>, when the forerunners of this -Vicomte--the men who were known as <i>Les Loups de Lorraine</i>--set it up. -It stands back so near to the slope that, from the mountains, no -attack can come--from men at least, though missiles might be thrown. -Between the house and a vast stone wall, with which the side of the -hill is faced, is a space of twenty feet--who can overpass that? Also -the ledge of this wall-facing is some twenty feet higher than the flat -roof; who will dare to jump down? A reckless man might attempt it, -'tis true, or two, or three, but where would they be? They could never -reach the roof, even though they slung themselves over with a rope; -should they by chance arrive they would be thrown down into the -stone-flagged space 'twixt house and wall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless," replied Andrew, "there is no method of reaching the house -that way. Yet, supposing there was a large number of men above this -ledge of wall, and firing down on to the roof--would they not injure -it, break it in; perhaps do as friend Gaspard says, fire it? It might -be."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, you shall see," replied Laurent. "Meanwhile, come," and they set -forth from the hut on foot, Andrew's horse being left there for the -time, since the path they were about to descend offered no passage for -any animal larger than a sheep or goat.</p> - -<p class="normal">As to Jean he was already gone, he having another mission to fulfil in -the service of their new employer.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had said overnight as they lay talking on their straw pallets ere -sleep came, that he had a cousin at Bois-le-Vaux, a man who was half -gamekeeper and half gardener there, and who--as the house had been -more or less shut up since the death of the Vicomtesse five years -ago--did also many odd jobs, such as attending to the poultry, what -horses there were in the stables, the dogs, and so forth. This man he -had, therefore, set out to find, with the object of learning if -possible if any strange lady was detained within the mansion unknown -to all outside it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A thing," Laurent had remarked, "that might well enough happen. My -wife--ah, my God! my wife--was there a month ere he took her to Paris, -and none outside knew it--not even I nor old Gaspard here, though we -searched the country for miles around, even suspected this man. None -knew of it. Not one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," replied Andrew thoughtfully, "'twould be strange if this lady -can be here and her presence unknown. It is near two years--a full -year and a half at least--since she must have come here, perhaps was -brought here. Could all knowledge of her presence in this house have -been concealed so long from the outside world?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! <i>comprenez!</i>" exclaimed Jean, "that would not be so difficult. He -has two custodians who let none enter that mansion, and who can be -dumb and secret as death. Inside the house they would warrant none -finding out her presence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who are these custodians?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"One--the worst!--a man, his steward, bound to him by many ties. A -fellow he saved from the wheel for endeavouring to rob the abbey----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is there an abbey here, then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Mais oui</i>, a noble abbey. And the abbesses mostly princesses. <i>Mon -Dieu!</i> they live as such; 'tis a great abbey, as they are great -ladies. Forty years past, Turenne, making his first campaign, -endeavoured to besiege it, and these noble women drove him back so -that he failed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Turenne beaten by women!" murmured Andrew, recalling the great -soldier's career betwixt then and now. "Beaten by women! Think of -it!<a name="div4Ref_01" href="#div4_01"><sup>[1]</sup></a> But," turning to Jean, "about this man? He would have robbed -the abbey, you say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They say so. It is full of precious relics. Gold and jewels, the -bodies of three saints--Amé, Romaric, and Adelphe--and he tried for -some of the treasure; the bodies of the saints he wanted not! But the -ladies caught him and would have broken him on the wheel--only there -was no man to do it, no <i>bourreau</i>, and the townspeople would not -without licence from the Duke. Then De Bois-Vallée begged for his life -and saved it--his mother, the lady of the portrait you have, had been -brought up there, might have been <i>chanoinesse</i> if she would."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore his steward serves him well?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As his own brother might. If De Bois-Vallée is a devil, so is Armand -Beaujos; if devil's work is to be done he loves to do it. Be sure if -any woman is kept there by his master's orders he will keep her tight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the other?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A woman. Also a villain, yet true to him. She was his foster-mother, -and they say--but," breaking off, "it may be lies."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do they say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That this woman loved his father--that, <i>par consequent</i>, she hated -his mother. Has said she should have been the old man's wife, the -young one's mother, had things gone well with her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" said Andrew, "an interesting family, a pleasant house to make -the acquaintance of. Well, it shall be done, nevertheless. Now, Jean, -speed on your way and find out, if you can, if there is any woman -known to be there. Then come back to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," said Jean, "to-night. To Plombières."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To Plombières. What is the auberge you say I may find accommodation -at?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"La Tête d'Or. I shall be there to-night. Yet, since you desire to -attract no more attention than necessary, be ready for me in the -street; thereby I am not forced to ask for you. There is a fountain of -good water facing the inn. Look for me there, monsieur. Ere sunset."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not fail. Neither do you do so. Remember--I have another -purse."</p> - -<p class="normal">It had been arranged, when all arose that morning, that it would be -best Andrew should seek some place where he could remain as long as he -desired to be in the neighbourhood; until, as he himself had said, -"the work was done." The work which, as he reflected, meant so much -more now than the slaying of De Bois-Vallée, namely, the finding of -Marion Wyatt, and, if all was as Debrasques had said, the rescuing -her. That was now the first and most important part of what he had to -do, the other would follow in due course.</p> - -<p class="normal">Also it was impossible, or almost so, that he should remain in -Gaspard's hut. Soldier, adventurer, as he was, used on occasion to -hard living, he could not stay there; he and his beast would be -starved as the least of evils, while, in case prompt action became -necessary--swift movement on his part one way or another, either in -pursuing De Bois-Vallée should he again elude him, or in fleeing from -him for a time and from any whom he might summon to his assistance, -should Andrew be able to carry off Marion Wyatt from Bois-le-Vaux--the -hut was no suitable place. Therefore he had decided, after taking -counsel with the others, that Plombières must be his abiding place -until the work was done. It was, they said, a quiet little village, -well situated for leaving at any moment, since good roads led to all -four quarters, and, as it was some five miles from Remiremont and two -more from the house on which his attention was fixed, his presence -there was not likely to be known to De Bois-Vallée until he himself -proclaimed it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And meanwhile," he said, "I shall be near enough to him to move at -any moment, near enough to present myself before him when the time -comes. It will do very well."</p> - -<p class="normal">And now he and Laurent set forth to descend to that spot whence he -could overlook the house into which he meant ere long to obtain -entrance, the house from which he meant to rescue Marion Wyatt if -things were as he believed and as Debrasques had, by nods and glances -from his sick bed, hinted; the house, or the surroundings of which, he -meant to make the scene of De Bois-Vallée's death. For that it should -be the scene of his own death, that he should fail in what he had set -himself to do, he never permitted himself to imagine. If the idea -arose it was banished as soon as it came. It was, he told himself, an -impossible one. He would not fail!</p> - -<p class="normal">Following his guide he passed swiftly down paths that seemed made only -for rabbits, so narrow were they; through groves and copses of oak and -fir trees, from which a sweet, delicious aroma was diffused through -the morning air; and, pushing aside bushes in which the wild raspberry -grew in profusion, though now the fruit was gone, they came at last to -an open space below which was a fringe of more fir trees.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must skirt this," Laurent remarked, "otherwise we may be seen from -the grounds down there. Observe beneath that line of trees," and he -pointed to the fringe below, "the woods and pastures. All those are -his property. If he, or any, are outside the house this morning, none -could pass down this open spot without being seen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come then," replied Andrew, "let us skirt this glade and so -continue"; whereon, keeping beneath the wood that grew all along the -side, they descended still further.</p> - -<p class="normal">A few moments later and they were above the house--looking down on to -the roof and back of it. From where they had thrown themselves flat -after creeping to the very edge of the slope (they being, indeed, so -near the wall which had been built up as a facing to that slope that -they could touch its topmost stones with their hands) they might, as -Laurent had said, have thrown a rolled-up piece of paper on to the -roof. Yet there were full twenty feet between those topmost stones and -the parapet of the house, which was itself some twenty feet lower than -the summit of the wall and lip of the slope! A space wide and yawning, -through which, if any should fall, instant annihilation would await -them at the bottom on the hard stones. A space over which projectiles -might be hurled from cannon or, in older days, from catapult and -warlike engine, but across which neither man nor deer could leap and -hope to reach the other side below.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Safe enough from all attack this way," said Andrew, while he gazed -down at the topmost windows of the ancient house, "safe enough. A -regiment might demolish it by firing on it from here, but nought else -would avail. And how many would be picked off by musket ball and -caliver from masked windows and loopholes while doing so? 'Twould be a -perilous attack!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gaspard's thought is," whispered Laurent, as though fearing their -voices might be carried across the chasm on the morning air, and so -reach any within the gloomy house, "that burning brands cast down on -it at night, when all slept, might easily cause destruction. Observe, -all is of wood above, even the roof. The old man is right. It would -burn well. Must burn well some day!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But not yet," Andrew answered, also in a half whisper. "Remember, the -woman I have come to save is doubtless in this house, held fast. If it -were afire there might be no escape for her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet, perhaps," replied Laurent, "but some day, <i>a coup sûr!</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">After this, Andrew busied himself by observing the whole situation of -the house and the approaches to it from various quarters.</p> - -<p class="normal">That the lower part of it might well date back to the time of Duke -Thierry was easy to believe; it being built of vast stones that looked -as though Time itself could never destroy nor remove them, and Andrew, -who could see only the back of the house, judged that the front would -be exactly the same, with, he supposed, one huge, iron-studded doorway -in it. Likewise, he pictured to himself small lancet windows, heavily -barred also with iron; windows that swept the great open <i>place</i> in -front of them, and across which not so much as a dog could pass -without being instantly observed! Above this stone basement, the -wooden part began and formed another, or second floor, yet, though of -wood and supported by enormous beams, it looked scarcely more -modern than the lower part. For beams and supports, stanchions and -cross-beams, were all black with age and with the stains of countless -storms, and even the various devices--some with the Cross Florettée -upon them as sign of Crusading ancestors--were almost obliterated now. -Yet, old and weather-beaten as this ancient mansion looked, it -presented to Andrew's gaze a firmness and solidity that appeared -almost impregnable.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A house hard to get into," he thought, "if well defended. A house -equally hard to get out of when once in it. Yet, in some way, I will -do both, and, when I attempt the latter, it should go hard if she whom -I believe to be a prisoner here comes not away with me. At least the -attempt shall be made. Ere a week is past I will be inside."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, after sweeping his eye round the woods which bordered this -mansion, he told Laurent he had seen enough for his first view, and -that there was no more to be done at present.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But to-night," he added, "if Jean brings to Plombières the news I -want, I may be back again. Only--next time I must see the front of the -house. 'Tis from there the entrance must be obtained, by fair means or -foul 'Tis that which I must reconnoitre to-night when the moon is up. -She rises at eight, I think. Pray heaven there is no fog!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beware what you do," said Laurent. "If caught and overwhelmed by -numbers, it may go hard with you. He has many whom he can summon to do -his bidding."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bah! I have encountered numbers before and fought my way through -them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That may be so. But, once inside that house, you will have others -than men to contend with. Strong bars and locks; ay, even chains. -Beware."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall run no risks," replied Andrew, "but if the woman I seek is -there I will reach her. On that I am resolved. Nothing shall thwart -me."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h4> - -<h4>"A WOMAN IS THERE"</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Lolling against the doorpost of the yard of "La Tête d'Or" stood -Andrew that evening, watching the sunset, glancing his eye up at the -crimson glow on the top of the mountains behind the village of -Plombières, wishing "Good-night" to any passing peasant who spoke to -him, and occasionally patting some child on the head as it stopped to -gaze at the figure of the great stranger at the inn-yard gate.</p> - -<p class="normal">His arrival had caused some little commotion an hour or so before, -when he had ridden up to the door--though not, perhaps, as much as it -would have done had the times been more peaceful. For in such a period -a stranger looking like a soldier, though with no particularly -distinctive marks of his calling about him, would indeed have caused a -fluster in the little village, to which none from the outside world -ever came, except some broken-down, gouty Lorrainer from Nancy or -Epinal, to whom the boiling springs of Plombières were known as -health-giving, since they drove out, or were supposed to drive out, -all the evils produced by wine drinking and gluttony, and gave to -those who partook of them a fresh lease of indulgence.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now the village was full of soldiers, men of Lorraine who, since -the Imperialists were going into winter quarters, were straggling back -to their homes, or to where they were billeted, and who, as Andrew -drew rein in front of the door, were engaged in drinking confusion to -the French King, although he was at that present moment master of the -province. For a strange state of things prevailed all through it just -then. The reigning Duke, Charles IV., hated France, and fought against -her under De Bournonville and Montecuculi, while, at the same time, -Louis called himself King over Lorraine, and, although most of the -nobility followed the Duke with their dependants and threw in their -fortunes with his, there were some who, being discontented, espoused, -and had done so for some time, the cause of France. Amongst these was -De Bois-Vallée, who had been French from interest, if not from -feeling, since 1670, when Louis's proclamation of his sovereignty over -Lorraine had been made. Yet, had Turenne not prevented the -Imperialists from advancing across the Vosges, the French claim to -possess the department would have been even more hollow than it -actually was at the moment, and the local champions of France would -have been in a dangerous position. Indeed, they were in a dangerous -one now, since, should the Austrian allies finally defeat the Marshal, -Charles--who never forgave!--would probably ruin, if he did not -destroy, every subject who had espoused the French cause.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is the gallant gentleman on his road home from the campaign?" asked a -gigantic Lorrainer who stood at the entrance to the inn-yard as Andrew -rode up, a man who wore the cognizance of De Vaudemont on breast and -hat. "For sure he is a soldier."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For sure he is," replied Andrew briefly. "Yet not on his way home at -present," and he dismounted from his horse as he spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay! that I see, or rather hear by your accent. You," said the -soldier, "are no Lorrainer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Friend," replied Andrew, facing him, "have I said I am?" while, -with something very like a sneer, he added, "there are other forces -engaged in this campaign, I understand, as well as the inhabitants -of your province. Also Providence--doubtless in a moment of -forgetfulness!--made other countries besides Lorraine. I myself belong -to one almost as small--so small, indeed, that probably you never -heard the name of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been to school--what is the name of this little country?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"England," and, as Andrew answered, he unceremoniously pushed by the -man, who was bigger than himself, and jeopardized his great feet as he -led his horse over them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Figure to yourselves," Andrew heard this fellow say to some comrades -half an hour later, as he sat eating a meal the landlord had placed -before him, after providing him with a room in the roof and a stall -for his horse, "figure to yourselves, he is an Englishman, and a -surly one at that." Whereon he narrated his little interview with -Andrew--who calmly went on demolishing part of a pasty and drinking -his wine without glancing at him--and concluded by saying he believed -he had fought on the French side. To all of which the other vouchsafed -no attention until he heard the Lorrainer growl--he being now well in -his cups!--that he was afraid he would have to chastise the -Englishman.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then Andrew looked over to him across the room, put out his fork -carelessly, and tapped the hilt of his sword with its double prong.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thirty-eight inches in length, friend," he said. "What length is -yours?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereon the group to whom the man was talking burst into a roar of -laughter, and, clapping the giant on the shoulder, bade him not be a -fool.</p> - -<p class="normal">After that, however, they left him alone, perhaps because he looked -dangerous, perhaps because they knew that an assault upon the stranger -might go hard with them if the Syndic or the Prince de Vaudemont heard -of it. Louis--the great King, the man who, although they served him -not, had a terrible reputation amongst them--had been in the -neighbourhood not long before, and had won the hearts of many by his -graciousness. For, contrary to the ways of the Duke, he had told them -that he perfectly well understood that their sympathies were not with -him, and that he would not take it ill if they bestowed their swords -where their consciences prompted them. Also he had bidden the -Marquises de Maraucourt and de Beauvau join the Imperialists since -they desired to do so, and had publicly praised the Prince de -Vaudemont for the manner in which he had defended Besançon against -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Therefore they knew that it would go badly with them if De Vaudemont -heard they had outraged in his land--he being the Duke's son--any man -serving the French King. And, later, they were all drinking together, -and paying chopine for chopine as though they had been comrades -fighting side by side, instead of serving against each other--though -Andrew's first acquaintance seemed still a little sore at his -raillery.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, as the sun dipped towards Le Marne, Andrew, who had kept his head -cool, and whose potations had been of the slightest, put on his -sword-belt and strolled towards the inn door. It was the time when -Jean should be near at hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had not leaned long against the inn door, bidding, as has been -said, good-night to passers-by who spoke civilly to him, when down the -street he perceived the man approaching--on the other side where the -water from the fountain ran. On which he advanced to it, and, as Jean -came up, lifted the iron cup and drank a draught of the cool, fresh -water.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well?" he asked, as he handed it afterwards to the other. "Well? What -have you discovered?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A woman is there," Jean replied, holding the cup himself in a -nonchalant manner under the spout, as anyone might do who desired to -drink. "Has been there, my cousin says, for more than a year."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! Is she a prisoner?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He thinks so. He has never seen her, yet----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Others have. Have seen her face at a window."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At what part of the house?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The top. On the front. A woman pale as death and sad. They say she -has made signs to those who have approached near, yet has never been -able to communicate with any. Once she threw a paper down, but Armand -Beaujos secured it. He could tell me no more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And De Bois-Vallée? Is he there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He does not know. He was a week ago, and my cousin saw him. Since, he -has not seen him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Does your cousin know what men there are in or about the house?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know," Jean replied. Whereon, peasant-like, he began to count upon -his fingers.</p> - -<p class="normal">"First," he said, "the wolf himself, if he is there. Next, Beaujos, -the steward. Then, one, two, three, four serving-men--<i>ma foi!</i> I -cannot think of more. Outside, those who attend to the horses and -dogs, away in the <i>écurie</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is this <i>écurie?</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Near the house, to the right of it. There are no more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is your cousin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! for him, he counts not. He sleeps not there, but in Remiremont, -to the other side. Also, I have spoken to him. Told him danger -threatens the wolf. He is glad; he hates him, too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is he safe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Safe! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> He is of my blood. We all hate him. He will say no -word."</p> - -<p class="normal">After that Andrew bade the man good-night, making an appointment with -him for the next evening at the same hour.</p> - -<p class="normal">But before they parted, he said: "Remember this. If I am not here, if -you can glean no news of me, I shall be dead. Otherwise, I shall -return. And, if I come not back, then you must wreak your vengeance on -him and his house as beseems you all best. Only--remember the woman. -Save her if you can. It will be worth your while. She is of good blood -in my land; if you can restore her to her father you will be made men -for life. I guarantee it. Will you do this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In truth I will. Does monsieur give that message to Laurent and to -Gaspard too!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To all who hate him, De Bois-Valle."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Ma foi!</i> they are many," while, hearing sounds of revelry proceeding -from the inn door and windows, he, glancing over towards the house, -broke off, and said: "Who are inside? They are gay and joyous."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Men of De Vaudemont's service. Carousing at going into winter -quarters----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"De Vaudemont's! service De Vaudemont's service!" He repeated, nodding -his head. "So--so!" and again he nodded.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What strikes you?" Andrew asked. "What is it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He," whispered Jean, "he--the Vicomte--was under De Vaudemont once, -then joined France, and, 'tis thought--we have always thought so -here--gave information that helped the French generals to take many -places round about. <i>Corbleu!</i> If some of De Vaudemont's men could -catch him, they--they--well!" and he laughed and used a local -expression, "they would not kiss him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are they, these men belonging to the Prince, of this neighbourhood?" -asked Andrew, struck by a sudden idea, "or only passing through to -their homes. What think you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"How can I tell? I hear their voices all jangling together, but can -distinguish none. They sing," he said, "a song of the <i>pays</i> all the -same--but then we all sing that." And he bent his right ear towards -the Tête d'Or, whence was issuing, amidst the clinking of glasses and -other sounds, the refrain of "<i>Lorraine, Lorraine, ma douce patrie</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go in and see," said Andrew; "drink a cup with them, you may know -some."</p> - -<p class="normal">And as Jean, seemingly nothing loth, entered the inn, Andrew strolled -up and down in the darkness that had now set in.</p> - -<p class="normal">He could not judge from the sounds that arose as the song finished -whether they were applause and excitement at the performance, or a -welcome extended by the returned soldiers to an old friend, but after -waiting a quarter of an hour or, perhaps, less, Jean returned--wiping -his mouth on his sleeve--and instantly said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Four are of this neighbourhood. One of Plombières itself, another of -Fougerolles, another of Aillevillers, a fourth from the Val d'Ajol."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is the biggest of all--one bigger than I? With a great beard? Do -you know him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He--he is from Aillevillers, hard by. Pierre Lupin. Ho! -<i>figurez-vous</i>, if he thought De Bois-Vallée was here he would spit -him like a lark, or hug him to death in those great arms. Lupin was in -his troop when the Vicomte rode captain under De Vaudemont, and was -badly treated. If he only knew--nay, if all the four only knew."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," said Andrew, "let them not think so yet. I command you. -Later--if I come not back--then enlist them in the service of -vengeance. And, for this Lupin--tell him that the Englishman who -offended him has been slain by De Bois-Vallée. He and I had a few -words together, yet that passed--is drowned in a cup. And he seems a -brave and honest soldier--he will forget our difference. Remember, -however, tell them nothing as yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will remember," answered Jean, repeating his lesson; "if you come -not back soon, the wolf's house will meet its fate. Also, we will -remember there is a woman to be saved. Fear not!" Whereon they -separated.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moon hung rusty in the heavens half an hour later, proclaiming -that there was mist between her and the earth, as Andrew rode slowly -up the ascent of the pass which lay between Plombières and Remiremont. -Yet it was a good night, too, for the errand he was on, one of -inspection of the house of his enemy, into which he meant later to -obtain entrance somehow; a night on which a figure keeping well in the -shadow could be screened from observation. A night in which, he -thought, he might draw near enough to the house to examine the front -and the other two sides he had been unable to see from the summit of -the wall beneath the slope, at the back of the mansion. To examine, -also, if there was any way by which silent entry might be obtained, -though, even as he reflected on this, his mind turned and turned again -to that wall and slope.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I could make entrance thus I am sure, and doubly sure," he pondered, -"could attain at least that roof. A rope tied round my body and -lowered from the top of the wall until level with the top of the -house, then a lusty thrust with my feet, as a swimmer thrusts against -a bank to propel himself--and I should be there. So! that would be -easy enough. But how to return, and with the burden of a woman--one -who may be small, but, again, may be big? How to do that? 'Tis a -yawning chasm--I should scarce dare look down the height myself!--no -woman, unless she had nerves of brass, would ever consent to pass it. -Yet she may hate her imprisonment so much that even that would not -appal her."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was armed now to the fullest extent possible; his great sword of -course by his side, his "back-and-breast" on, a pistol in his belt. He -knew the undertaking he was upon was full of danger, and that, from -the moment he entered the estate of Bois-le-Vaux, he would be in -direst peril. For that De Bois-Vallée would cause him to be slain -without giving him any opportunity of defence, and without meeting him -in fair fight, he never doubted; nay, he felt very sure that, if the -chance came in his enemy's way, he would slay him treacherously, -wherever they might meet. How much more certain then his fate if he -should be caught on the villain's own land, and with the villain's own -creatures to do his bidding!</p> - -<p class="normal">But such reflections as these troubled him not a jot, and when, on -rising the summit of the Little Pass, he saw Remiremont lying under -the clear rays of the moon, which had now freed herself from the mists -below, he gave his horse rein and rode on swiftly to the town.</p> - -<p class="normal">The town from which a road branched off that, a little further, would -bring him beneath the mountains, and to the spot where the woman was -whom he had vowed to rescue.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h4> - -<h4>THE SLEEPERS</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">An hour later and Andrew Vause was slowly making his way through a -deep wood of chestnuts that fringed the property of De Bois-Vallée, -and which lay between the open <i>place</i> in front of the mansion and the -side road along which he had come from the southern entrance to -Remiremont.</p> - -<p class="normal">From the beginning, from the moment he knew he was outside -Bois-le-Vaux, he had been forced to recognize that no chances were -omitted for rendering the property what it was, and what it had in all -probability been since first constructed in the time of Duke Thierry, -namely, a strongly guarded and protected place. Inside the road, -between the chestnut wood and the road itself, ran a high stone -wall--the mountains above providing the stones for that as well as for -the house itself--which was two feet above Andrew's tall head, and -which at first presented the appearance of being insurmountable. Yet -this was not the case, as very shortly the adventurous soldier proved.</p> - -<p class="normal">Having tied his horse to a tree, he, from its back, soon clambered on -to the summit of the wall, and then (since, inside, the copse of -chestnuts grew close up to it) lowered himself by a branch to the -ground. He stood, therefore, within the place which held his enemy and -the woman whom that enemy kept prisoner, as he believed.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, because he was a wary adventurer who knew that now his life hung -by the veriest thread if discovered, he lost no opportunity of making -himself safe, and no sooner was he within the place than he took steps -to provide for his exit.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may come to a rush for escape," he thought, "to the necessity for -reaching the horse's back the moment I am on the wall--let's see for a -mark to guide me," whereon he paused and looked around for something -that should give him a clue to the exact spot where he had left the -steed. He was not long in finding one.</p> - -<p class="normal">Through the copse, or fringe of chestnuts that ran parallel with the -wall, he saw that there were one or two small paths which crossed each -other at intervals, some following the line of the wall itself, and -some running directly forward from it. Paths used doubtless by the -woodmen and trappers of small game, such as hares and rabbits; and, -walking carefully along one of those that ran from the wall, he -finding it close to his feet, he emerged soon into an open grassy -space. And here he discovered the mark that should direct him back -safely to the spot outside of which the horse was tethered; namely, -three small trees scarce better than saplings, yet standing out clear -and distinct in the full flood of the moon's light, and casting a long -shadow beneath them on to the grass.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will do very well," he thought. "I cannot miss these trees once I -regain this glade," after which he drew his sword, carrying it -henceforth naked in his hand, clasped half-way down, and, thus -prepared, skirted the chestnut copse as he made his way towards where -he knew the house stood.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he progressed he noticed how intense the silence was on this still -October night; so intense, indeed, that his own footsteps on the now -fast falling leaves, which each breath of air brought down about him, -seemed loud to his ears. Also the creeping of anything in the copse, -such as a mouse, or the rustling of a disturbed bird in the branches -above, could be distinctly heard. But beyond these sounds nothing -else; no barking of dog nor neigh of horse. Nothing. All as still as -death!</p> - -<p class="normal">"But that I keep ever before my eyes the memory of Philip's broken -life, the knowledge, which I now believe myself to possess, that this -woman whom I go to rescue has been as treacherously betrayed as he, I -would be on no such secret quest as this," he thought. "This midnight -skulking is not to my taste. Were it not for her safety, I should be -hammering at his door, calling to him to come forth and try -conclusions man to man with me, smiting him before all his following. -Yet, to save her, I must do it thus." And, again, stealthily and -cautiously he pursued his way beneath the shadow of the trees.</p> - -<p class="normal">And still all was as silent as before, except that now the wind rose a -little more and rustled the leaves, and brought them down in bigger -handfuls. A wind that blew towards the house to which he was slowly -making his way.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was near it soon, however, after having progressed for something -like a quarter of an hour; already above him he could see its wooden -upper portion rising higher than the trees, with, above that, the -topmost slopes of the mountains. He was very near now! Then, suddenly, -the woods finished, he was on the eastern side of the great open -<i>place</i>--paved, he plainly observed, with great cobble stones that -were worn very smooth by time, and also, doubtless, with the passage -of many feet, both of horse and man, during the centuries. For that -the great <i>place</i> had been the rendezvous of all the followers of the -De Bois-Vallées, of those who had gone forth with them to countless -wars, and those who had assembled there for merriment and rejoicing, -was certain.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, it was empty, deserted; across its surface nothing passed but the -shadow of some cloud that occasionally scurried beneath the moon; it -seemed almost as if the house was deserted also.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet Andrew, keeping himself well within the darkness of the wood which -ran close up to where the cobble-stoning of the place began, or ended, -saw at once that such was not the case. In the topmost floor of -wood--there being two--a light glimmered--and threw a dull glare out; -a light shielded by some curtain, or hanging, which obscured the rays. -"It may be hers," he thought, "nay, must. It is the position Jean -spoke of. On the top, to the front. Yet the room from which it comes -is unattainable from the outside at least." And again he said to -himself as he had said before, "It will be from the back, from across -the chasm I must reach that room--as I shall reach it. It is the only -way."</p> - -<p class="normal">For that he would reach it somehow he was resolved--that he should -fail to do so he never considered. Not unless he was killed that night -would he fail.</p> - -<p class="normal">In truth, none could have attained the room in which the light burned, -from the front. There was no foothold by which a cat could have -climbed to it from the outside; naught but a bird could have gone -straight to that small window. The lower part of the house stared out -blank and unrelieved by any ornament or window-sill, or other -projection by which one might mount; the huge arch, which formed the -frame of the one great door, was unadorned by any moulding or -decoration that would assist either foot or hand. All was bare wall, -except for slits of windows no bigger, than eyelets, with sloping -sills, and the door. Above, on the wooden floors, there were -outstanding beams and stanchions by which an agile man might perhaps -have raised himself, but those wooden floors were thirty feet from the -ground and unreachable.</p> - -<p class="normal">From the great door there came also two strips of light, one from -beneath it, the other a bright ray that seemed to the man regarding it -from afar as though proceeding from some huge keyhole.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," he thought, as still he watched and saw this flow of the light, -"it can stream out thus, an eye placed to the orifice can see in. Mine -shall be that eye. I will not return until I have observed what hall -it is from which that ray proceeds," and, as he spoke, he drew from -his belt a pistol, saw to its priming, and carefully shook fresh -powder into the pan, then returned it to its place and made ready for -his task. Yet he did not hesitate to acknowledge to himself that, if -his footfall outside was heard by any who might be within--if that -door should open while he was outside it--his life would possibly -cease on the instant. The hall might be half full of armed men, and -of them he could possibly kill two; the rest would undoubtedly kill -him--bury a dozen swords or daggers in his breast.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, even as he so reflected, he was on his way to see what was beyond -that ray of light; was, under the shadow of the half-leafless trees, -creeping up the copse until he stood level with the face of the house, -and with its left angle to his side. Then, on tiptoe and keeping close -to that bare face, he passed along it until he reached the huge door -and stood on the half-moon of flagged stones before it, so that the -light from underneath played on his feet, and the light from the great -keyhole made a luminous star upon his breast.</p> - -<p class="normal">He prayed his knees would not crack as he bent down to put his eye to -the hole--even such a slight noise as that might suffice to betray his -presence; he did not venture even to put his fingers to the door to -aid his stooping position--without their support he brought his body -down so that his eye was close to, and level with, the hole, and, -thus, looked in.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first his sight was blurred by gazing into the light, then, -gradually, he became able to see and to distinguish clearly what was -within.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a well in the middle of a great hall, so vast that fifty men at -least might have sat at table there, and fifty more have found room to -walk about and wait on them, there burnt a log fire, the embers low -and charred now, and lurid, as though they had not been put together -for some time. Around this fire five men sat in deep wooden chairs, -all of them asleep, or seeming so. One, he who had the largest and -most comfortable seat, appeared by his dress to be superior to the -rest, he having on a dark blue coat, passemented with galloon, a satin -waistcoat, and knee breeches of the same. Also, there was a wig upon -his head--thrust somewhat awry by the movement of his shoulders as he -slumbered--a wig that had not been powdered nor combed for many a day, -and was thus of a dirty brown and touzled. An elderly man this, with a -red, blotched face, coarse thick lips, and--as he slept--of a frowning -aspect; a man big and brawny, too, as Andrew could well see; one who, -although no longer young, might be a difficult antagonist in an -encounter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless the steward, Beaujos," Andrew thought; then scanned the -others.</p> - -<p class="normal">These were fellows clad half as serving and half as fighting men, it -seemed, wearing leathern jerkins of a period somewhere earlier than -the present; coarse, baggy breeches and rough hose, and with their own -hair, matted and thick, hanging about their heads. They carried in -their belts knives in wooden sheaths in contradistinction to the -other, whose sword lay on the table by his hand. On that table, too, -Andrew could see, was a great flagon, doubtless drained of its -contents ere they slept, and some cups; also a lamp from which the -light came that streamed forth into the night. And still there were -two other sleepers in that great hall--though sleepers less sound than -these five. They, instead of being round the fire in the well, by the -side of which, indeed, no room had been left for them by the men, lay -at the foot of the huge broad staircase that led up from the left of -the hall, yet were still in Andrew's range of vision. And he, looking -at them, knew that here was a greater danger to him than might come -from the others.</p> - -<p class="normal">They were two enormous hounds--half boarhounds, as it appeared to him -gazing in through the keyhole, of the sort much used in Alsace and -Lorraine, and all the region; yet, it seemed also, as though with -something of the bloodhound, too, since their great heads rose -conical, and their huge ears swept the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must away," said Andrew to himself, "there is danger here. By -heavens! my presence is known to them already." Yet, with that danger -which now threatened him--as it had not threatened from the other -sleepers--impending near, he felt himself fascinated by the monstrous -creatures.</p> - -<p class="normal">Impending very near, since he had divined the truth when he said to -himself that they knew of his presence already. He saw one--the -female, he thought, since she was longer and leaner than the -other--slowly lift her head as a snake lifts its head ere it -strikes--the snout raised sniffing towards the roof of the hall, the -ears drooping to the paved floor. And the bloodshot eyes cast -backwards, the shift of those eyes around the hall, proclaimed what -would happen next. A roar of alarm, a warning to those who slumbered -still.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Away," Andrew muttered, "away!" and, as he spoke to himself, he slid -swiftly along the wall and regained the copse.</p> - -<p class="normal">Not a moment too soon! There came a deep, sharp yap from the dog; an -instant after another from her mate, and then the roar from each -throat. Almost it seemed to Andrew as he withdrew that he heard the -patter of the great paws upon the flagged floor as the dogs rushed to -the door; almost it seemed as though their great forms were hurled -against it, they striving for egress.</p> - -<p class="normal">And he heard other sounds ere he was gone from outside that -door--those from the human throats within!</p> - -<p class="normal">First the voice of the man he supposed to be Beaujos, shouting:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Awake, you vagabonds, awake! Hark to the dogs! Unbar the door. Heaven -and earth, there are some without! 'Tis sure! Unbar, I say."</p> - -<p class="normal">Also, he heard cries from the men themselves, the clatter of their -wooden-shod feet upon the flags--of this there was no doubt--a grating -noise in the great lock, and a thumping sound as though some ponderous -transverse wooden bar had been thrown back to admit of the door being -opened.</p> - -<p class="normal">And, from where he was, he could perceive now a vast body of light -streaming out into, and mixing with, that of the moon, could hear the -deep-mouthed bay of the hounds broken by short angry barks.</p> - -<p class="normal">From where he was by this time, namely, passing swiftly down to the -open spot where the three saplings grew, pushing branches large and -small aside, trampling down the wet leaves and sodden grass, he prayed -fervently that he might reach the spot outside where his horse stood -ere they found him. For, brave man as he was, and ready to face a -dozen, or a score, of human foes, his blood curdled in him at the -thought of those ferocious fangs tearing him to pieces; the thought of -the hot breath of the brutes in his face as they sprang at his throat -and dragged him to the earth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Any number of men," he said, "and armed to the teeth I can face and -laugh at, but five men and two hounds such as those---nay, I am no -coward to avoid them."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, even as those thoughts coursed through his brain, he shuddered -and his flesh crept. The deep bays had ceased; so, too, the equally -deep barks; but now he heard another and a more fearsome sound in -their place. A sound of snorting, of heavy soughing, low down on the -earth, mingled with the crushing and snapping of brush and underwood.</p> - -<p class="normal">He knew what those sounds meant.</p> - -<p class="normal">The hounds had found his trail, were on the scent.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was no doubt of it, there could be no chance of doubt--a glance -back over his shoulder showed him it was so. Close to the ground, not -fifty paces off, were sparkling two pairs of beautifully green -circles. Those circles were the eyes of the dogs that were tracking -him, as they glistened in the darkness of the wood.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h4> - -<h4>WHERE IS DE BOIS-VALLÉE?</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Andrew thanked God for one thing! He was near the wall, near the spot -outside which the horse stood. Down through an opening a little way -ahead of him he could see the three trees--the shadow which they cast -being directly under them now as the moon rose higher--a hundred feet -to the left, and there was the wall and the branches of the tree by -which he had descended! But--could he reach them?</p> - -<p class="normal">The dogs were nearer now--their eyes scintillating less as they -approached more closely, but their grunting and soughing as they -sniffed the earth more distinct. They would be upon him soon--in -another moment or so--and then!</p> - -<p class="normal">Still, he ran as hard as the thick growth of the trees and the -underbrush would allow him; once he stumbled and nearly fell, -recovered himself, and, as he did so, saw them--saw their dark forms -close behind him! Yet, now, he was near the spot where safety lay. -Only--he was too late!</p> - -<p class="normal">As they rushed at him he sprang behind a tree--it would save him for -an instant!--and one of the brutes tore past it ahead of its -companion, and went on some paces ere it could stop the impetus it had -upon it. The other came full at him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," he murmured, "now, God give me courage!" and as the beast came -he thrust full with his sword at its breast, and just as it reared to -drag him down. Then he felt his weapon torn from his grasp, wrenched -from out that great brawny hand as no human foe had ever yet had power -to wrench it--but it was by the falling body of the hound, pierced -through and through. The good sword had entered the animal's breast -and come out close by its spine; as the dog fell, with a hideous roar, -the weight of its body carried the sword within that body to the -earth. Yet, he knew there was no time to waste; in spite of the dying -creature's snappings and plungings at him--its ferocity as great in -death, if not greater, as in life--he must regain his sword. Otherwise -he would have to use the pistol on the second dog, and thereby give a -signal to the men, whom the beasts had far outstripped, as to his -whereabouts.</p> - -<p class="normal">By the grace of heaven the dying creature had fallen on its back, the -hilt of his sword protruded from its chest; in a moment he had seized -it and drawn it forth--never before had Andrew been forced to so exert -his strength to release his weapon from the body of a prostrate foe! -It seemed as though it were wedged in wood! But, now, he was ready for -the other! And, leaping back, he stood on his guard against those -monstrous claws and the hideous white fangs that gleamed in what light -there was; the body of the convulsive creature between him and the -other hound.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet there happened that which he could not have hoped for--could never -have dreamt of nor anticipated. His wildest expectations, even had he -had time to think in those exciting moments, could never have pictured -this.</p> - -<p class="normal">The animal--it was the female--paused in its onward rush -astonished--almost, it would appear, dismayed--at the sight -of its fallen companion; then walked round it--crawled round it, -indeed--sniffing, and lifting its head next, and emitting a loud and -long howl. It seemed as if its agony was so great that all else was -forgotten--even Andrew, its quarry.</p> - -<p class="normal">Slowly, therefore, he backed away from it, keeping ever his eye upon -the moaning, grief-stricken creature--taking care, too, that his -reeking sword was ready for thrusting out at any sudden attack made, -and also taking care to have ever some tree in front of him as he -retreated, which might ward off for the moment any rapid rush. Yet, -moving swiftly backwards all the time, for now he heard other sounds -coming near--the sounds of men talking hurriedly to each other and -calling the names of the hounds; above all others, the harsh rasping -voice of Beaujos, if it were he, being the most distinct.</p> - -<p class="normal">At last his back was to the wall that bounded the domain. Propelling -himself sideways along it, and facing always towards the quarter -whence the attack must come if renewed by the stricken beast, he felt -the leather of his jacket scraping against the tendrils of the ivy -with which the wall was overgrown; a few more seconds and he was by -the tree that had helped him to descend. And his horse whinnied as he -sent a whispered word over the wall to it--whinnied and moved; he -could hear its hoofs striking the earth as though the creature -rejoiced at his return.</p> - -<p class="normal">Another moment and he would be safe. His hands were on the lower -branches; he was drawing himself up level with the top of the wall, -when there came an awful roar and the crash of the dog's great body -tearing through the brush after him, while an instant later it had -reached the spot--was close by the escaping man. And the horse, -affrighted by these sounds, neighed piteously in its terror.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Andrew was safe. As the huge jaws clashed together at the same -time that the hound sprang at him, and, missing his mark, hurled -itself heavily against the wall in its onrush--while, at the same -time, it uttered a grunt of pain--he was on the ledge. Another -instant, and he was in the saddle. Another, and the bridle chains were -clanking and his saddle creaking merrily as he went down the road and -left behind him the noise of the yelling and shouting of the five -men--caused, doubtless, by the discovery of the dead hound.</p> - -<p class="normal">He wiped the sweat from off his face and hands as he rode along, while -inwardly he sent up a devout prayer of thanksgiving for his -preservation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven defend me from such another encounter," he muttered. "It is -too much! Henceforward, send me only men, not brutes." Yet, because he -loved all animals--especially those of the noblest orders--his heart -was sore within him, both at the slaying of the first hound and at the -pitiable grief of its mate. "I have killed a nobler creature than the -master it owned; at least, it faced me, rushed boldly to its fate--but -where is that shrinking, unworthy master? May fortune grant that, when -next I see him, my sword makes as clean a passage through his breast -as through that of his dog."</p> - -<p class="normal">Where was his foe? He had pondered upon that more than once since the -time he had brought his eye to the large and worn keyhole, and had -seen through it only that foe's menials. Where? Surely if he had been -in his house he must have been aroused by the baying of the dogs and -the excitement and noise of his servants--must have joined in the -search made by them. Yet, of all the voices, Andrew had not heard his.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He must be away--for some reason he has not remained here long--what -does it mean? Did he fly his post by Turenne's side for other purposes -than his fear of me, and of what he imagined I had learnt--does he -even dread now to remain in his own fortress--for such it almost is! -It must be so. Had he been there to-night the turmoil would surely -have roused him--brought him forth--and----" at which thought Andrew -smiled. "He could not have suspected I was there, however. Even his -men can but have supposed the intruder was some midnight thief, or -poacher, creeping about the house."</p> - -<p class="normal">He passed through Remiremont as it lay sleeping quietly under the -moon's rays, and with no light glimmering from any windows except that -of the inn--from which, even now, at midnight, came forth the eternal -chant of "<i>Lorraine, Lorraine, ma douce patrie</i>," and he would have -given something considerable for a drink of wine, or even of water, to -quench the thirst which his late adventure had created. But he knew he -must forego it until he reached Plombières--the road he was upon came -only from Bois-le-Vaux; to halt here would be to give a clue as to -what kind of man had been within its precincts that night, should -inquiry be made the next day.</p> - -<p class="normal">Instead, therefore, he went quietly by the auberge, riding slowly so -as to make no more clatter than necessary, and looking carefully as he -passed to see if any face came to the window or any form to the door. -But none did; the provincial song drowned the sound of the horse's -hoofs, and he went through the village unheeded.</p> - -<p class="normal">And then, once on the little pass that led from Remiremont to -Plombières, he put his animal to the trot again, and so reached the -latter place as the church clock tolled one, finding some of De -Vaudemont's men still drinking and singing, and some lying about on -the settles and benches, their carousals over for that occasion.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the morning he told Jean--who had spent the night in Plombières at -another inn with some acquaintances who were also back from the war -for the winter--all that had happened to him, and the latter appeared -much struck by the encounter with the hounds. Yet, he shook his head, -too, on hearing of the conclusion of the adventure, and muttered a few -words as to the effect of its being "a pity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is a pity?" asked Andrew, looking up from his plate. They were -alone now, for most of the De Vaudemont men had already set out for -the outlying villages to which they belonged, others were not yet -risen, and others, still, were wandering about Plombières chatting -with friends and acquaintances, and beginning another day of -wassailing. Therefore, they had the living-room of the inn to -themselves.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is a pity?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That also you did not slay the second dog, I know the breed, though I -knew not that the <i>scélérat</i>, De Bois-Vallée, possessed any. They are -mountain dogs--old Cantecroix--whose daughter was affianced, if not -married, to the Duke--some do say that she was his lawful wife--bred -them, up at Gerardmer. One scarce knows, though, what this strain -is--the old man would never tell--but they are terribly fierce, as -monsieur has learned. Also, their scent is remarkable; they never -forget those they have once smelt, and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">But here he broke off and put a question.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur intends to visit Bois-le-Vaux again?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Without doubt I do. Only, next time in a different way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You should have slain the other. She will remember you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Peste</i>, man! how could I slay her? I was on the branch--on the -wall--as she reached me; my sword is not a mile long, and it would -have been folly to shoot. The men were near; the report would have -brought them to us--and I was saved. That was enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All the same, 'tis a pity. The dog should be dead ere monsieur goes -again. Of a surety she will smell him out if he is in or about the -house. And, when she scents him, she will go nigh mad in her desire to -reach him; will make noise enough to wake the dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" said Andrew. "Perhaps 'tis a pity, too, since such is the -case. Yet, 'tis too late now. There is nothing to be done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ho, la, la!" exclaimed the other, "'tis not yet too late. She can be -made away with. There are more ways than one of killing a dog."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a minute or so Andrew reflected on the man's words. Reflected, -because it was repugnant to him that the creature should be put out of -the way--a creature who, although a brute, was a noble one. Yet, must -her life stand in the way of what he had to accomplish--must he spare -the hound and, thereby, fail in what he had to do, namely, to find his -way to Marion Wyatt, to avenge his brother? No! If the animal stood -between him and his task, better she perished a hundred times--better -a hundred noble animals perished than that he should fail.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is certain to remember me--to discover my presence there when I -return--you think?" he asked, still touched with regret at the -necessity for her fate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not think. I am sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How to do it, then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Leave that to me, I will do it. To-day, I will go to my cousin--we -had best know what they conclude from the affray last night--and then -I shall find my chance. To-morrow, or the day after, the dog will have -gone to join its mate. When next you visit Bois-le-Vaux you will not -have her to contend with for one."</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew would not ask him in what way the creature was to be destroyed, -though he imagined it was by the simple method of poison; he preferred -that he should simply learn later that it was removed from his path. -He had seen enough of the alertness of both it and its mate to -thoroughly understand how keen their senses were--they had discovered -his presence outside on the <i>place</i> when not one of the human sleepers -had been disturbed; also, he had had solid proofs of their fierceness. -And, if now, to that fierceness and that keenness, was to be added -also the certainty that the dog would be doubly alert through its -previous knowledge of him, it must be removed. The lives of countless -noble hounds must not stand in his way, he thought again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," he said, therefore, "it must be. Let me know ere I go there once -more that it is done. Also, bid Laurent meet me here as soon as may -be. I have work for him--need his assistance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To enter Bois-le-Vaux--the house this time, perhaps?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, the house this time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not count nor dread the risk?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I dread nothing. As for counting, it is done. I count my life against -the undertaking. One or the other will rise uppermost. Either the -undertaking succeeds, or I fail. If I fail, the price of failure will -be, must be, death."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur is very brave," said Jean, looking at him with eyes full of -admiration.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is very determined," Andrew answered. "That is all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," the man asked, after a moment's pause, "the instructions are -the same? If you come not back soon--in a day or so--we are to be sure -you are dead? Then, to take our own way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Remembering always the woman's safety."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That always."</p> - -<p class="normal">After which Andrew told him there was one other thing he desired to -know ere paying his next visit to the house, namely, where De -Bois-Vallée was! If that could be discovered it would be useful -intelligence to him. Did he think he could find out?</p> - -<p class="normal">He could try, at least, Jean said. And, though gone, he might be able -to find out where the Vicomte was. He could, he thought, discover -whether he was at home or not.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do that," said Andrew, "and it will suffice."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">CHAPTER XX.</a></h4> - -<h4>ACROSS THE CHASM</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"The moon," said Andrew, "is past her full, therefore she will not -rise until close upon eleven. Now is the time."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was seated in the general room, or parlour, of La Tête d'Or, and -opposite to him was Laurent--it being the third day after his visit to -Bois-le-Vaux.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had the inn to himself now, as far as regarded visitors, since all -of De Vaudemont's service, as well as several other Lorrainers who had -returned with their masters from the campaign, had by this time gone -to their respective homes. Yet, to some of them a hint had been -given--a whisper sent round--that one of those who were most hated -amongst the seigneurie might ere long be brought to his account, and -that, if they desired to participate in the knowledge of what was -happening, they should let Jean know their whereabouts.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," said he, over many an ale-house table in various villages -around, "there may be some brave doings ere long--doings in which some -of you may like to share. There are many of us who have had our noses -to the grindstone a long while--many who have eaten hard bread so that -those who have dominated us should feed well--some, too, whose -hearths have been made desolate. Well! it may so happen now--God, -He only knows!--that there will be one more hearth desolated soon. -That--well!--that the oppressor shall have no hearth to warm himself -at."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had given many other hints, too--accompanied by divers winks and -nods and shrugs, common to peasants of his class--hints that there -might be a house to be burnt down and so forth; a fearful retaliation -to be made on one whom they, in that part of Lorraine, had come to -regard as a pest and curse; a man who was a traitor to all their -traditions; one who--this being in the eyes of many the worst crime -possible--had given in his allegiance to France.</p> - -<p class="normal">And in the telling of all this he had so inflamed the imagination of -his hearers--rude soldiers, mostly, who had been born and nurtured -in the one idea that, above all other things, France was never to -be permitted to enfold in her grasp their fair province of -Lorraine--that, at any moment, they would be willing to rise and wreak -their vengeance on the man at whom Jean hinted. And, their curiosity -being also much aroused, as was natural enough, they tried hard to -extract from him the name of the identical seigneur against whom such -retaliation would probably be practised. This, however, he would not -divulge--having been warned by Andrew and Laurent on no account to do -so--and, thereby, inflamed their imagination the more! So that, when -he left them, he did so knowing that they were fully primed to join at -any moment in any attack to which they might be summoned, should the -necessity arise; both he and Laurent believing in their own minds that -that opportunity would not be long in coming.</p> - -<p class="normal">For, though both these men considered that it was most probable Andrew -would obtain the entrance to the mansion of Bois-le-Vaux which he -desired, neither of them thought he would ever return or escape from -that mansion alive. And, with him destroyed, there would be no further -necessity for delaying the project on which they and others had long -meditated--the project of destroying and razing to the ground the -ancient home of the De Bois-Vallées. Therefore, the warning to those -others had gone forth; they were bidden to be ready.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," said Laurent now, in answer to Andrew's remark, "it is to be -to-night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is to-night. If all goes well I shall be in the house by ten -o'clock, and out of it again an hour later with, I trust and pray, the -lady safely rescued."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I pray so," Laurent answered. But again he whispered to himself, as -he had done before, that the English stranger would never return -alive. He would be caught, discovered by some of the servitors--men -thoroughly in their master's interests, since he at any moment could -send them to the gallows-tree for past offences--and would be set upon -and slain. Yet, when he told Andrew this, the other turned a deaf ear -to him--refused to believe in such peril.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are five," he replied, "since their master is away--what -devil's work is he on now, I wonder? What are five? How many times -think you, my friend, have I been opposed to five men in the campaigns -I have made? Why! 'twas but at Entzheim the other day that I was alone -and unsupported amongst a dozen of the Duke of Holstein-Pleon's -soldiers; yet, as you see, I am here, and without a scratch."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, I see," muttered Laurent, "but 'twas on an open field, your -friends and comrades near you, ready at any moment to come to your -assistance as, doubtless, they did. Oh! I know, I have been a soldier -myself! But now, see, it is different. You will be alone in a strange -house--in the dark--egress impossible during an attack on you. <i>Mon -Dieu!</i> you will be run through and through or shot ere you can get -back to the slope--with no possibility of help from friends and -comrades there. Heavens!" he concluded, "the risk is fearful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bah!" answered Andrew, his nerves not touched one whit by Laurent's -forebodings. "Bah! 'Twould want forty men to place me at such -disadvantage as you speak of. For, observe! I shall be at the top of -the house, since I enter that way, and she is also there--do not -you--one who has been a soldier--see the advantage I have? Five cannot -mount the stairs abreast, 'tis unlike they will be broad in that part -of the house. As they come singly, or in twos, I shall have my -chance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They will use firearms."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so shall I. Fear not, my friend, I shall return alive."</p> - -<p class="normal">And again Laurent said, "I pray so," while, again, he thought to -himself, "It is impossible."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then Andrew asked him if it was certain, as Jean had reported, that -the dog was dead?</p> - -<p class="normal">"He says," replied the other, "that almost for sure it must be. He and -his cousin have laid the poison carefully; the cousin, indeed, getting -at the meat with which it is fed. It cannot be still alive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore," said Andrew, "I am safe from its discovery. Yet, poor -beast, I would it had not been necessary."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pray God it is dead," replied Laurent. "Pray God it is. For if it -still lives when you are in that house, nothing can save your presence -from being known."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bah! croaker! Even if it still lives it must have a strong scent to -discover me in the topmost part of the building when they are all -below. I will not believe it."</p> - -<p class="normal">After which he set about making all necessary arrangements for -reaching the mansion into which he had resolved to penetrate that -night.</p> - -<p class="normal">They were soon concluded, as he himself had pondered much over them -during the time that had elapsed since his escape from the jaws of the -hounds on that, his first and only, visit--it but remained for him to -go over them carefully with Laurent. Therefore, he asked now, "Is the -coil of rope safely bestowed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, it is," Laurent replied. "Thirty good metres of the newest and -best. Placed in our hut far down the slope, where the wood is kept -after the felled trees are cut into billets. It is there. To-night we -shall find it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis very well. Now listen. To-night I set forth from this inn and -shall reach Gaspard's cabin about the hour of nine. You will be there. -Then we shall descend without loss of time and, ere ten minutes have -elapsed, I shall be across. It will not take long, once the rope is -fixed to that chestnut which grows close down to the summit of the -wall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will not take long, in truth," Laurent replied. "That will not, -Monsieur," and the man's face testified true anxiety. "It is the -returning I fear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dispel your fear--I shall return."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And with the lady?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And with the lady!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Suppose," said Laurent, "you find her guarded by the woman. It may be -she sleeps with her, or close by her side. What then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must find means to silence without hurting her." While, -impetuously, he said, "My friend, all is thought of--as far as may be, -all foreseen. I know well the risks and dangers I have to encounter. -See. Let me tell them over to you," and swiftly he proceeded to do so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"First--there is the risk that the rope may break--then----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For that never fear! I guarantee that!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it. Then, first--since that counts not--I may be seen ere I -reach the roof by someone on the look out--'tis not very like, yet it -may be so. Whereon I shall be shot like a sparrow, and die hanging -'twixt earth and heaven. Or, let me reach the roof, and be hacked to -death, or hurled to the paved court below. Is not all possible?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For answer Laurent shuddered. "<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" he muttered, "your nerve -is iron."</p> - -<p class="normal">"On the other hand, allow I gain the roof and find all -barred--trapdoor or ladder--or discover no entrance that way I must -then come back and try elsewhere, another time. But, presuming I can -gain the entrance--what then? I have to reach the lady, silence her -fear at sight of me--poor soul! doubtless she will think at first I am -her doomsman--persuade her to come away with me, force her to pass -across the chasm. 'Twill terrify her, yet--it is the only way. We can -never escape below--specially if the hound happens by any chance to be -still alive!--I must fasten her to the rope, let her swing across, -while you from the other side will draw her up. Then the rope can be -thrown back to me; why should we fail? Fail, bah we will, we must -succeed. Say, have I not thought of all?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In truth you have," Laurent exclaimed, and, catching some of Andrew's -spirit, he answered, "We will succeed."</p> -<br> -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:25px">* * * * * *</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The night came--dark as pitch, with, above, dense clouds rolling so -low that they swept the tops of the fir trees on the summit; covered, -indeed, that summit so that Gaspard's cabin was enveloped in the dank, -reeking mist. And, through that mist, Andrew and Laurent were -descending to where was the ledge of the stone-facing to the slope -that backed up the mansion of Bois-le-Vaux.</p> - -<p class="normal">As far as was possible, every arrangement had been made for removing -the woman, known to Andrew as Marion Wyatt, to a place of safety -directly she was out of the house, it being deemed by him not -necessary that, at first, she should be taken farther than Remiremont -itself, or, at most, Plombières. For, once beyond Bois-le-Vaux and -with him to protect her, Andrew shrewdly suspected that the Vicomte -would make no further attempt upon her liberty, since to do so he -would once more find himself opposed to his sword, of which--<i>maître -d'escrime</i> as he almost was--De Bois-Vallée must now have learnt to -have a wholesome respect. And, as for summoning any authority there -might be in the neighbourhood to his assistance--that was not to be -imagined. Even though he should be able to show some kind of right to -retain the lady, none in that place would be likely to lend assistance -to one so cordially detested as he was, both because of his family and -of the manner in which he had broken with all the traditions of the -province in espousing the cause of France instead of--as most others -had done--contenting himself with remaining lukewarm, if not inclined -to join the Duke.</p> - -<p class="normal">No! there was no danger once outside the house. It all lay inside!</p> - -<p class="normal">They reached the hut where the wood was stored by the peasants when -cut into billets, ere being sent down to the mansions and towns that -lay around the western side of the Vosges, and, furnishing themselves -with the thirty metres of good new rope which Laurent had purchased by -Andrew's orders--rope two inches in circumference and strong enough to -bear the strain of four men of even his bulk--they set forth again -on the descent. Also, Andrew took with him a small lantern and a -tinder-box, since he knew not what impenetrable darkness might bar his -way towards the room of the woman he sought, when inside the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">But this was not all. He recognized that, once he quitted the -comparative safety of the walled slope, his life would not be worth a -moment's purchase if he were observed; he was resolved to part with -that life as dearly as possible. To his sword, therefore, were now -added the pistols in his belt, well charged and primed; likewise he -had in his breast a dagger-knife, good either for stabbing or cutting.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For all," he said to Laurent, "may be needed. The sword in close -encounter with a number--they will be clever if they get beyond its -point!--the pistols for use at a distance. To wit, when I am swinging -over the chasm! For, there, a bullet would reach a man ere, perhaps, -one from him can reach me. And for the knife--well, 'twill cut a lock -away from an old door, or hack a rope in half with one lusty cut. Is't -not so, my friend?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is so," Laurent assented. Then he muttered, "You appal me! I never -thought the man lived who knew not fear. Yet now I have found him."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Andrew only laughed and bade him push on his way by the path that, -even in the sodden, rimy darkness, the Lorrainer was well able to -find.</p> - -<p class="normal">At last they were on the brink of the chasm; they stood upon the -coping of the wall of rock erected, doubtless, centuries ago by some -De Bois-Vallée to prevent the flattened face of the slope from falling -away and filling up the gap left between it and the house itself. The -gap of twenty feet across which Andrew was now to pass.</p> - -<p class="normal">Below, in front, nothing was visible; the mist rolling up from the -plains obscured all. It was so profound that none who had not been -there before could have imagined that, some yards away, though lower -down, there stood the roof of a vast mansion; that, between the roof -and their feet there was a gulf--a space--through which a step more, -if taken by one who did not know every inch of the mountains, would -hurl him to annihilation below.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is the safest moat--the most devilish!" Andrew whispered, "ever -devised or thought of. How many have stumbled over this to death and -destruction, I wonder, in the years that are gone and on such a night -as this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are devils all, these De Bois-Vallées; devils all! Perhaps the -<i>Loup de Lorraine</i>, the first of their race, foresaw the many stumbles -that would happen here in the days that were to come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Maybe," said Andrew. "Well! by God's blessing I will not stumble nor -fail in my passage. Now for the rope."</p> - -<p class="normal">They wound it round the chestnut tree half a dozen times, knotting and -making it fast at this end, so that by no chance could it slip and -become uncoiled; they tugged singly and together at it until they were -assured that it was as secure and fast as human hand could make it. -Then they measured the length of what remained and judged that it was -as nearly as possible what was desired.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall be," said Andrew, "a little lower than the roof when I am at -its full length below, therefore 'tis very well. For, when I am about -to plunge across, it will require more length to gain that roof. Now, -I will make a trial. And, one last word. Remember, I shall come back -ere long. I feel it--know it. As man to man, I charge you not to -desert me; not to quit this spot until all human hope of my return has -vanished from your mind. On you my life, and the life of her I go to -rescue, depends."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is my hand," Laurent said, finding that of the other in the -darkness. "Alive I will not quit the place. Even though you come not -back for forty-eight hours I shall be here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Enough! If I come not back in that time I shall be dead. Then--do as -you will."</p> - -<p class="normal">He looped the end of the coil about his body under his armpits, and, -taking as well one turn of the rope beneath his shoulder, so that it -should by no possibility be able to slip up over his head, he also -wound it round his left arm. That done, he knew that nothing but the -fraying of the strands upon the coping of the wall, or a sudden hack -at it from a knife, could plunge him on to the stones below. It would -never leave his body now until he removed it, or until, if dead, some -other performed that office.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let it slip gradually round the trunk of the tree," he said, "till it -is all payed out. About a foot from the ground; thereby it will escape -the rough stones of the edge. Farewell! Remember!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And now he knelt down upon the extreme lip of the coping-stone, found -that one place in particular was very smooth, and decided that it was -over this that the rope must run. Thereby, the friction would be -scarcely anything.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lower me down," he whispered, as his legs hung dangling in the -unfathomable space, and the toes of his boots scraped against the -surface of the wall. "Lower me now."</p> - -<p class="normal">And as he spoke he perceived himself slowly gliding down the face of -the dank, wet wall, and felt the ferns and mosses that grew upon it -brushing against his jacket.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">CHAPTER XXI.</a></h4> - -<h4>IN THE ENEMY'S HOUSE</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Once--the man above letting the rope slip a little too quickly around -the body of the tree--he felt the speed at which he was descending -increased, and, a moment later, that descent stopped by a sudden jerk. -And he thought the rope had broken; that, in another second, he would -be dashed to pieces on the stones below! No wonder, therefore, if from -all the pores of his body the sweat oozed out, that his heart seemed -to have stopped beating. Yet, another second, and the rope was running -slowly again, and he understood what had happened and thanked God -fervently. One of the turns had been made too loosely round the trunk -of the tree. That was all! Yet, for the time being, bad enough!</p> - -<p class="normal">A few more moments and again it stopped with another jerk, though from -a different cause. It had come to its end.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now he had to prepare for the plunge across to the unseen roof -that he knew was there; would have, when he arrived on the other side, -to feel with feet and hands--since his eyes were useless in this black -darkness!--for something, either coping of roof, chimney, or gable to -which to clutch, and, thereby, find foothold. "Oh!" he thought, "if I -could but see, could but know how to direct my body." Yet, even as he -so thought, he remembered that the darkness served him as equally as -it rendered his task more difficult. If he could not see, neither -could he be seen. No one could fire at him, as he had suggested might -happen, or, firing, could hope to hit him.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had not recognized before, though he did so now, how fair a boon -the darkness and the reeking clouds of autumn fog were to him, by -hiding from his vision the dreadful depth below. For, though he knew -'twas there, and that, between him and a swift flight down to death -and destruction, there was naught to save him but the goodness of the -rope's strength and quality--he did not see it! Therefore, he felt it -less, could keep his head cool and his nerves calm in a manner that he -doubted if he could have done on a bright sunny day, or even moonlight -night.</p> - -<p class="normal">Turning his face towards where the roof was, he prepared to take the -plunge, his feet drawn up behind him and pressed against the wall, so -as to get the full force of his propulsion, as a swimmer drives -himself forward into a stream from the river's bank. Also--again like -a swimmer--he threw his long arms in front of him so that he might -either grasp aught which his hands should encounter or, with them, -defend his face and head from being struck by wall or parapet. -Then--for the moment had come!--he pushed with all the force of his -feet against the rope and shot himself swiftly across the chasm. A -minute later and he knew that he had failed!</p> - -<p class="normal">His outstretched hands had struck something--he thought it was a -horizontal water-pipe beneath the edge of the roof--but the strong -fingers missed their grasp, the weight of his body in the rebound tore -them away from whatever the object was which they had touched; a -moment later and his form was swung back to the spot whence he had -come, while the impetus given to the rope by the concussion of the -rebound caused him to spin round and round like a teetotum till he was -sick and giddy. Yet, with his hands against the damp, slimy wall, he -managed to arrest the spinning at last; a moment or so later and he -was hanging as before.</p> - -<p class="normal">His breath was coming laboriously from his breast now, the swift -return to the wall having nearly knocked him senseless--also the rope -had tightened so about his body that it seemed as though it must cut -through him. He lifted his hands above his head, therefore, and, -seizing the rope, while he placed his right heel on a little -unevenness it had encountered in the wall, eased himself somewhat by -relieving the strain.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Next time I must not fail," he thought. "If I do, I must desist and -be drawn up." But as he set his teeth firmly, he muttered through -them: "I will not fail. Now for it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">With even more force than before he repeated what he had previously -done, drew his feet a little higher behind him so that, as he -thought--for quaint ideas come to our minds, even in the moment of -most deadly danger!--he must present the appearance of some huge -gargoyle, had there been any eye to see him, and then launched himself -again across the chasm.</p> - -<p class="normal">This time he did not fail.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had shot himself beyond the edge of the roof, his hands -struck against some hard substance which he clutched with all his -might--breaking his nails as he did so--his feet scraped something -beneath them; then he let them fall with all the weight he was capable -of--and a moment, a second later, he was standing firm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have arrived!" He said. "Arrived! Thank God!" Whereon he sat down -exactly where his feet were just before, and felt all around him with -his hands to discover how much more solid space there was beneath and -about him. For, with all his wariness and coolness returned to him, he -knew that he might be on the immediate edge of the roof, from which -one false move would hurl him to as instant destruction as must have -been his lot had the rope broken during his aerial flight.</p> - -<p class="normal">As far as his hands--and feet--could reach there was a roof under him -covered by some metal--which he guessed to be sheets of tin placed -there to keep out the rain and damp from the woodwork beneath--covered -also by soft masses of innumerable leaves blown across the chasm from -the trees on the slope. Leaves that, maybe, had deadened any sound of -his falling feet as he alighted; would have almost, he thought, have -deadened the sound to any who might be immediately below. So far all -was well.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still, he was not satisfied of his whereabouts, nor of how much -solidity there was around him; he drew, therefore, his long sword and, -bending over in each direction, felt about with its point, discovering -that there was no open space near. He had landed well upon the roof, -he knew, consequently; until he should move from this spot there was -no danger.</p> - -<p class="normal">The object against which his hands had struck and his nails been -broken and torn was, he found out directly afterwards, a great -chimney--it was quite warm, and showed thereby that fires were burning -somewhere below; also, as he reclined a moment with his back against -it, the warmth was grateful. It served likewise for attaching the rope -to, which he now removed from his arm and body, though as he did so he -did not forget that, should aught arise to prevent his return with -Marion Wyatt ere the day dawned, it must be allowed to fall back to -the other side, and be drawn up by Laurent. To be seen from below when -the dawn came--as undoubtedly it would be seen ere the day was an hour -or so old--would tell too plain a tale.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had reflected long ere this present moment that, once inside the -house, it was more than possible he might have to remain within it -until another night had come; even, perhaps, longer. For the -prisoner's fears might prevent her from being able to summon up -courage to cross that awful gap at a moment's notice; she might be -ill--twenty things, he knew, might bar the way to an immediate flight. -Wherefore, the tell-tale rope must not be there. Must be returned, and -later on, when wanted, cast across again by Laurent. That could be -effected easily; a stone attached to it would make its passage sure, -as well as cause the end to remain when once it had landed on the -roof.</p> - -<p class="normal">From Laurent there came no noise nor signal--on the other side all was -as still as death! That this should be so they had agreed, yet now -Andrew could not resist sending a little whistle across the chasm, a -whistle that, to the man watching over there, would be understood, -while, if heard by others, it would doubtless be thought to be the cry -of some bird in the night. That it was heard and understood he had no -reason to doubt.</p> - -<p class="normal">A second or so afterwards a similar sound was returned. Therefore, -Andrew knew that Laurent kept his watch well; knew also that nothing -untoward had arisen on that side.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was refreshed now with his slight rest; the time had come for him -to continue his task, to commence, as he recognized, the harder -portion of it. To penetrate into the house of the man whom he had -forced to be his enemy, to endeavour to rescue by the same perilous -means which had so far gained him admission to the outer part of that -house, a woman. Truly, if his arrival at this spot had been dangerous -and terrible, how much more so would the quitting it be for her?</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet he meant to do it--or die in the attempt.</p> - -<p class="normal">Upon his hands and knees now, one after the other of the former -carefully put out before him to feel for any break in the roof which -might plunge him to the depths beneath, as well as to seek for, and -haply find, any trapdoor or entrance to what was below, he crept -carefully forward, directing his course to where he supposed the -centre of the roof was. Yet, at first, he encountered nothing beneath -the mass of leaves swept on to the roof by the autumn winds, or -nothing else beyond another stack of chimneys. Chimneys that were warm -like the others.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They keep good fires," he thought. "'Tis fortunate! Pray heaven the -whole house is warmed, if I can find a way into it. Otherwise I am -likely to perish of the cold."</p> - -<p class="normal">While he so reflected his hand struck a projection, something that -rose perpendicularly from the roof for some three feet or so, as he -felt by running that hand upon it. What was it?</p> - -<p class="normal">He knew in an instant. The side-rail of a ladder rising above the -roof--a side-rail which anyone, on emerging from below, would grasp as -they stepped forth. Here was the entrance!</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, flat and level with the tin covering, or leads, there was still -the closed trap, it being fastened from within by some bolt or pin, -but--as further search proved--with its great hinge outside, so that -it could be pushed upwards from the inside.</p> - -<p class="normal">Shortly, however, he had forced the trap open--the dagger-knife with -which he had provided himself having cut away the tin and woodwork -from around that hinge, so that he could lift it some few inches, and, -drawing it towards him, he drew also the bolt inside from out the -staple. The road was free to him now!</p> - -<p class="normal">Without a moment's hesitation he descended, one hand grasping the -side-rail, the other the hilt of his sword; carefully counting the -steps as he went. Fifteen in all he numbered, so that he thought the -floor below must be close at hand--when, suddenly, the steps ceased. -Yet--there was nothing below! No floor that he could feel, though he -lowered himself as far as he might, grasping the bottom rung and the -rail for support, and plunging his long leg down into the space. Nor -even when, bending down as low as possible in another position, he -tried to touch something solid with his sword!</p> - -<p class="normal">Nothing!</p> - -<p class="normal">He was not cold now; instead, all over him he felt the perspiration -ooze out at the idea that here was a <i>guet-apens</i>, into which he had -almost stumbled.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless an oubliette," he thought, "a death-trap for any coming -hastily down. Heavens! those <i>loups de Lorraine</i> forgot no precaution. -Have any others ever passed the way that I have come, found an -entrance from across the chasm to the roof, only to perish here?" Yet, -even as he spoke, he was standing firmly on the lower step and feeling -for his tinder box and lanthorn. A few moments and the latter was -ignited, and, even with the dim rays it cast around, he was able to -see and appreciate his position.</p> - -<p class="normal">Below that last step there yawned a circular opening some ten or -twelve feet in circumference, and large enough, therefore, for any -human body to pass through it; the opening of a great shaft that, -doubtless, passed all down the centre of the mansion, to end, perhaps, -in some stone-floored dungeon or, maybe, some bottomless well fed by -the mountain streams. Led to--no matter in what form--certain death -below!</p> - -<p class="normal">But, glancing round the rough, wooden-walled garret, or <i>sous-toit</i>, -in which he was, and observing all that was possible by the flickering -of the lamp, he saw, too, that, for those who were acquainted with the -place, the ascent or descent of the ladder offered no difficulty. To -the left of it, outside the rim of the shaft and not a foot away, was -a species of wooden mounting block by which one could step on to, or -off, it--the danger threatened only those who did not know of the -trap, or should come hurriedly down the ladder in the dark as he had -done! Also, he perceived almost immediately opposite to where he -stood, a small door let in to the wall or side of the garret, or -rather a doorway or arch.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My way lies there," he said to himself, and stepping on to the block -he proceeded to follow it.</p> - -<p class="normal">The lamp in one hand, it being shielded by his other palm, he passed -beneath that arch and so encountered another flight of steps, or, in -this case, stairs, having balustrades on either side, and thus -descended to what was, in actual fact, the topmost floor, since that -which he had just quitted was no more than the support of, and space -beneath, the roof.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was now in the house proper; now was the time when danger was close -at hand, when one false step, a stumble, the slightest creak of a -board beneath his foot, one glimmer from his lanthorn, would bring -destruction on his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">For, up to this floor the great staircase rose unbroken, and up the -well of the house which that staircase made there came the warmth from -the hall below, the odour of the burning logs, the noise made by -snoring men. And Andrew, the lamp out now, peered over the topmost -rail of the stair's balustrade and gazed down.</p> - -<p class="normal">As before, the watchers slept, Beaujos in his great chair, the tankard -on the table by his side; upon that table also his sword. Only, now, -the weapon was flanked by two others--by two great pistols. He saw, -too, that in the belts of each of the serving-men were pistols added -to their wooden-sheathed knives. All were doubly armed!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God!" he muttered; "the dog at least is not there. It must have -met its end: perhaps 'tis from that end and my previous visit, added -to the death of its companion, that they take this double caution. -Yet, had they taken five hundred times as much, I must go on. I have -embarked; I must see the voyage through."</p> - -<p class="normal">He knew--had known all along--none could have failed to know!--the -risk he was running, the door of Death at which he stood. One slip -now, a cough alone, and he would be face to face with those -doubly-armed men. Yet the knowledge of his danger did but one -thing--it made him all the more determined, while resolving at the -same time to exert his utmost caution.</p> - -<p class="normal">Removing his eyes from the men below, he let them roam swiftly round -the floor on which he was, though, up here, all was in so much -darkness that he could distinguish nothing. Yet he knew that there was -at least one room upon it used and inhabited; a room which faced, as -he calculated, to the front, and looked out over the great courtyard.</p> - -<p class="normal">A room from under the door of which, as he peered through the -darkness, there stole now a gleam of light.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">CHAPTER XXII.</a></h4> - -<h4>MARION WYATT</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">As calmly as he had ever gone into battle, or--as he had told -Laurent--had fought his way through the Duke of Holstein-Pleon's men -at Entzheim, he prepared to find out who was the occupant of the room -from under the door of which that ray of light emerged.</p> - -<p class="normal">He began by doing what he had before thought of in the garret above, -and would have done but for the fear of rusty nails or other things -which might wound his feet. He took off his boots. Then, carrying them -in his hands, creeping as softly as a mouse in spite of his great -size, and holding the scabbard of his sword tightly, so that no clank -of it should arouse the sleepers below, he made his way towards where -the light streamed forth from under the door. Yet, as he went, he cast -ever an eye over the balustrade towards those sleepers, and observed -that none stirred.</p> - -<p class="normal">Soon he was close by that light; it shone upon his stocking feet--the -moment had come for him to discover, if possible, what was beyond that -door. Whether the inhabitant was the woman he sought--or--? Was it De -Bois-Vallée himself?</p> - -<p class="normal">That supposition had already arisen in his mind. It might be--probably -it was!--he. What then? What next to do? He thought he knew--nay, he -did know! His determination was already taken. His soul revolted -against the necessity for creeping as he had done into another man's -house, although that man was his enemy and a scoundrel: if it was De -Bois-Vallée, another five moments should see him on the inside of that -door, or the owner of the house outside it, and their swords crossed. -And then--and then! Well then the servitors below might rush up to -their master's assistance, plunge their daggers and knives into his -body--only, first, he would make sure of the man who had broken -Philip's life and sent him to his grave. He would make sure of him! -Ere the men could mount those stairs the last owner of this gruesome -fortress should be dead. But was it he behind the door? He must know -that! Possibly his task was not yet near its accomplishment.</p> - -<p class="normal">He bent down to the keyhole, as he had done three nights before when -outside the great main door, but this one offered him no opportunity -of seeing through it. The key stood in the hole and blocked all chance -of his peering into the room--he must find some other way.</p> - -<p class="normal">So, next, still as soft as a mouse, he brought his great form level -with the floor and endeavoured to see under the door; but again he was -foiled. The gap was not large enough; he could observe nothing. Then, -suddenly, as he pondered what to do next, there arose voices from -below. Had they discovered his presence above? In a moment he was able -to give himself the answer. Not yet. Though it seemed likely that ere -long they must do so. They were going to their beds--would they mount -to where he was?</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will not come to-night," he heard Beaujos say, recognizing at once -the voice that had roared at the sleeping servitors three nights back; -"no need to watch longer. Get you all to bed, all, that is, except -Brach. As for you," doubtless he was now addressing the one so called, -"sleep you here, yet sleep light. If he comes, best be wide awake on -the instant, or beware the Vicomte's anger."</p> - -<p class="normal">Were they speaking, Andrew wondered, of their master, for whose return -they might be waiting, or of him--the man who had disturbed them so -before; the slayer of the hound. Yet, no matter which it was, he must -not be caught here should they mount the stairs. He must hide himself -till they had retired for the night, and, thinking this, he stole -softly back to the garret above.</p> - -<p class="normal">Half an hour later, and all in the house was again as still as death. -The men who had been ordered off to bed were gone and Beaujos with -them, and, fortunately for Andrew, and for them also--since he had -resolved to slay the first who should discover his presence -above--they had not mounted the stairs. Instead, they must have -betaken themselves to some room leading out of the hall: must have -done so since, to the watcher above, no sound of a footfall on the -stairs had come. All were gone except the one addressed as Brach, and -he, Andrew could see by once more stealthily glancing over the -balustrade, was already asleep again, this time in Beaujos' great -chair.</p> - -<p class="normal">Through the silent house he made his way a second time to the door -from under which the light streamed; again he reached it and sought -for some means whereby he might discover who was in that room. Not De -Bois-Vallée, he felt sure now, since, almost for certain, had he been -there the servitors--Beaujos, at least--would have come to him for -their last final orders for the night and the next morning. Therefore -it must be she--and guarded, perhaps, by the woman of whom the peasant -had spoken--the woman who had loved the Vicomte's father.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he mused thus, wondering also how it could happen that anyone -within that room should remain so quiet for the time he had been in -the neighbourhood of it--since, with the exception of once hearing the -logs of a fire within fall together with a dull crash, no sound had -issued from that chamber--another ray of light caught his eye. A ray -so tiny that, at first, he thought he was subject to some illusion -produced by the excitement of his mind. For it was close to him as he -stood outside the heavy, rude, oak door; so close that it seemed to -shine straight into his eye--a ray no bigger than a pin's point! He -looked at it again, and steadily put up his hand in front of his face, -when, lo! it was gone; put next his finger out towards it and touched -the spot whence it proceeded, and found that, set in the door at about -the height of an ordinary man, was a little wicket an inch or two -square, with a sliding cover running in an upper and lower groove. A -spy-hole for those outside to gaze through upon the inmate of the -room, which, by accident, had been left unclosed the smallest -fraction.</p> - -<p class="normal">His finger moved it still another fraction, and the interior of the -room was visible at last!</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a large apartment hung with tapestry and handsomely furnished; -a great table in the middle of it; upon that table a lamp giving a -bright light, also a vase containing some brightly-coloured autumn -leaves and flowers. In the far corner of the room, a bed with the -clothes turned down for the night; by the table, a great lounge on -which a woman lay sleeping--a woman whose face was so pale and white -that, in truth, she might have been dead and yet no paler.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her hair, of a golden hue, was all undone, and, being thick and long, -hung over the head of the couch so that it reached almost to the -thickly-carpeted floor; one hand as white as marble hung over the side -of the couch, also: her dress, a <i>robe de chambre</i>, was likewise -white, and added to the general ghastliness of her appearance. And -Andrew, peering in at her, wondered if he had come too late; if he was -gazing into a death chamber instead of the apartment of a living -being!</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, in a moment he knew such could not be the case--the woman lying -there turned the slightest degree possible in her sleep, and sighed -once. Then slept again--if she had, indeed, awakened.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, now, he was face to face with a difficulty which, although he had -considered it more than once before, presented itself more forcibly -than ever to him. That difficulty was how to open communication with -her; how to arouse her and make his presence known without causing her -so much alarm that she should shriek or call out, and, by doing so, -spoil all. How? How?</p> - -<p class="normal">At last he decided. Poor plan though it was, it was the only one--it -might answer. Especially might it answer since he had made sure she -was alone, and that the other woman of whom he had heard was of a -certainty not in that room also. His eyes had taken in everything in -the chamber; whoever her custodian was, at least she was not there -to-night.</p> - -<p class="normal">He went back swiftly, therefore, to the garret above, recognizing that -no time must be lost, since, at any moment, that pale ghastly figure -might arise from the couch and prepare for bed--and, when there, he -lit once more his lanthorn. Next, he took hastily from his breast a -small set of tablets which he carried--they had been Philip's once, -and bore upon the case his name and their family crest--and hastily -wrote:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Make no noise. Philip Vause's brother is here. To save you if need -be. It is the truth, I swear. If you believe and wish to escape, open -the door. To-night the chance is yours. Perhaps to-night only!--ANDREW -VAUSE."</p> - -<p class="normal">As quickly as he had come he went back to the door of the room, peered -in once more through the slit of the little lattice, and, seeing that -still the woman slept upon her couch, bent down towards the space -where the light streamed out.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, his nerves tingling, for on the next few moments, and the -woman's actions during them, depended all--his life, perhaps hers!--he -pushed the tablets under the door, gave them a fillip with his hand -which sent them a couple of feet into the room, and struck once upon -the oak. Struck a sharp, quick blow, loud enough to awaken her, he -thought, yet not loud enough to startle any others asleep in the dark -and silent house.</p> - -<p class="normal">He waited now for what should happen.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nor had he long to do so ere he knew that the rap he had given had had -its effect. He had re-closed the lattice tightly after he had come -back from the garret, fearing to alarm her either by looking through -it or by letting her find it open; he relied, therefore, upon his -hearing. That hearing told him now that the woman had awakened--he -heard a rustle of her garments, heard her feet touch the floor as she -rose from the couch; heard, too, that she came swiftly towards where -the tablets lay, the whiteness of the ivory catching, doubtless, her -eyes as she arose.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the silence that reigned in the house he could hear those tablets -being picked up by her, almost hear the grating of the hard leaves -against each other; did, without doubt, hear a gasp as his message was -perused. Then silence--or a silence broken only by rapid, -quickly-caught breathing. But no noise, no word from the woman on the -other side of the door!</p> - -<p class="normal">At last, however--when he himself could scarce restrain the breath -from coming in great gusts from his lungs, so terrible was the -suspense--he knew that she had moved again, was close against the -door. Then a soft, low voice said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"As you are a man and I a helpless, unhappy woman, is this true?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Before God and as a soldier, it is true."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You swear you are Philip Vause's brother?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I swear it."</p> - -<p class="normal">The key turned in the lock; then, a moment later, the voice within -spoke again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am a prisoner here. The door is fast on your side also. There is a -bolt above."</p> - -<p class="normal">He raised his hand as she spoke, thrust back the bolt quietly--it -making no noise as it left the staple--and when this was done the door -opened from within, and Andrew entered the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">Seeing the great form before her, regarding with amazement--perhaps -alarm--the bronzed face and long black hair of Andrew; observing also -that the clothes he wore were torn and smirched by the efforts he had -made in crossing the chasm and reaching the roof above; noticing, too, -his unbooted feet--the woman raised her hand involuntarily to her -breast and exclaimed, though in a whisper--</p> - -<p class="normal">"You! You Philip's brother!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In truth, lady, I am. And you? There can be no mistake. You are -Marion Wyatt."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Unhappily." Then she said, still gazing up at him, "I have waited -long for this release to come. Prayed night and day for it--feared at -last that he would never follow nor seek me out. And now, even -now, he comes not himself, but sends you. Oh, sir! why has Philip not -come--or--or"--and she paused, but continued a moment later. "It -cannot be that he thinks----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madame," said Andrew, regarding her steadfastly--it had never dawned -on him until now that she could not possibly know that Philip was in -his grave--"Madame, this is no time for explanations. They will -suffice when we are outside this house." And because, even as he -spoke, he wondered if he knew all there was to know in connection with -this woman, he added, "It is your desire to quit it, I imagine? You -have no--no wish to remain?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To remain! Here! My God!" and now she lifted her eyes and looked him -straight in the face, he seeing as she did so that they were large, -grey, truthful-looking eyes. "To remain here! In this villain's house -Oh! have I not tried to escape more than once--almost succeeded; -should have done so, but that they found me by aid of the dogs----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The dogs!" Andrew exclaimed. "The dogs! They set them on you. Ha! -Since that is so I regret no longer they are dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dead!" she exclaimed in her turn. "Dead! Was it you, then, who slew -the first one?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was I. You know of that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know it. They thought it was some <i>braconnier</i> stealing about the -place, or some enemy of his. And it was you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I came here to find a way to you--to save you, if might be," Andrew -replied. "To find some entrance to this house. I have found it. -Madame," and his voice was very grave and serious as he continued, -"being here we must not tarry. This is our chance--to-night. By dawn -it may be gone. It is not well to lose time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How to go?" she asked. "How escape?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He told her of the rope and of Laurent watching on the other side of -the chasm; made light of any danger there might be--which he assured -her was but imaginary--told her that when across and safely on the -slope her liberty was assured.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," he said, "once there, none dare to harm you or me. Nor to -attack us. I beseech you, delay not; I beseech you come."</p> - -<p class="normal">At first she shivered with fear, said she knew of the distance between -the house and the slope; that she would rather live there a prisoner -for life than venture on so terrible an escape. Yet, also, at last she -yielded to his persuasions, nay, his threats almost, that, if she came -not now he must leave her and seek his own safety. She would go, she -decided.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it," Andrew replied. "It is best. There can be no other chance. -I will go prepare the peasant. Be ready, I pray you, when I return." -And, pointing out of the window of the room, to which he had stepped, -he said, "See, madame, the mist and fog are gone, the stars shine -forth--it will not be so dark and terrible. And, as I have said, it is -nothing. From the roof you will glide swiftly across the gap--'tis not -far--a moment later you will be drawn up. Courage! Courage! I go to -prepare Laurent," and he turned towards the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must be muffled, blindfolded," she whispered, "then I shall be -brave. But, if I saw what is below, my courage would fail--I should -draw back at the last moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It shall be so," Andrew said, removing the last objection she was -likely to make. "I will muffle you." Then a thought struck him -suddenly, and he said, "there is a woman attends to you. Where is -she?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In heaven's mercy away for the night. Her father, an old man, is ill -at Gerardmer hard by; she has gone to him. She will return at -daybreak. Oh!" she added, "you do not know how I am watched. When I -tell Philip all he will weep for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis well she is away," Andrew replied, ignoring the latter part of -her remarks. "To-morrow she may return, and welcome. The bird will be -flown. Again I say, courage, madame. Courage, and be ready at my -return. 'Twill be immediate."</p> - -<p class="normal">Swiftly he passed to the garret and, from it, to the roof, lighting -his lanthorn for an instant, so as to avoid the shaft beneath the -ladder that mounted to the leads; then, having drawn on his boots once -more, he climbed up and stood again upon the roof. As he had said, the -fog and mist were gone now, the wind had changed and blown them both -away, the stars were shining brightly above; across the chasm he could -see dimly the trunk of the tree round which the further end of the -rope had been wound by him and Laurent.</p> - -<p class="normal">The night, too, was very still, nothing broke the silence--or only one -thing. Far off as yet, though drawing nearer every moment, it seemed -to his trained ears as though there was the sound of a horse's hoofs -beating with regularity upon some road. Yet, he remembered, there was -but one road near of which he knew; the road from Remiremont to -Bois-le-Vaux. He must be mistaken! It was some other sound which, in -the stillness of the night, resembled that made by a swift oncoming -horse.</p> - -<p class="normal">He whistled once, gently, yet loud and clear enough to reach the -watcher on the other side; but no reply came. And again he whistled -soft and low, but still the result was the same.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heavens!" he muttered, under his breath. "To sleep at such a time!" -And, having arrived by now at the great chimney to which he had -attached his end of the rope, he grasped at and jerked it violently so -as either to arouse Laurent--if he was in truth asleep--or to attract -his attention if awake.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he did so, his hair seemed to stand on his head in horror!</p> - -<p class="normal">For, in the moment when he tugged at the rope, he felt that the other -end was loose--was no longer attached to the tree across the brink. -Loose and hanging down over the side of the house on the roof of which -he stood.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></h4> - -<h4>L'ESPÉE CARNACIERE</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"God knows what has happened," he said to Marion Wyatt when he had -returned to her. "Yet one thing is sure. There is no escape now. We -are snared."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it treachery?" she whispered, shaking and white to the lips with -terror, so that she looked more like a spectre than before. "Treachery -on the part of the man in whom you confided?"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not strange the girl should be so startled, so overcome. For -more than a year she had been incarcerated in this house (as yet -Andrew knew not how she had been brought here, scarce knew, indeed, -whether, after all, Debrasques had not been mistaken, and that, -originally, at least, she might have come here of her own free will, -even though made a prisoner of afterwards), had been incarcerated -here with no hope of escape. Then, as she reflected hurriedly, the -chance had come, unlooked for--as chances come always to us in this -life--and, as unexpectedly, had been snatched away a moment -afterwards. Snatched away, while leaving behind it a horror greater -than before! For now, this man, the brother of that other who was her -affianced husband, had placed himself also in deadly, hideous peril. A -peril that must surely engulf him, since there was no loophole left -for escape. He would be found here, must be found ere many hours had -passed--and then! What would happen then? She dared not even think, -could not think; could do nothing but stand trembling before him, -white to the lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Scarcely treachery on Laurent's part, madame," Andrew replied, and, -as he spoke, Marion still gazing at him as she had done since his -return from the garret, wondered if this cool, determined man could, -indeed, be gentle Philip's brother! This man who, here, shut up in a -hostile house, with death threatening him as the reward for his -intrusion when once he should be discovered, spoke as calmly as though -he stood on his own brother's hearth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Scarcely treachery, I think. The rope was not-unwound from the tree -as, doubtless, it would have been by him, had he resolved to play me -false. Instead, when I drew it up to make examination, it was cut -cleanly through. Also, somewhat shorter than before. Whereby I found -it had been severed hastily."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By whom, think you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"How can I say? How tell? The following of the man, in whose -house we are, are all asleep. Not by them, therefore. As for him, De -Bois-Vallée. Where Is he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For answer, she started as one starts who is suddenly reminded of that -which it would be well they had not forgotten.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My God!" she exclaimed, "to-day is Friday. He was expected back -to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"From where?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"From Nancy. He had gone to seek the Duke----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To seek the Duke!" Andrew echoed. "To seek the Duke! Perhaps to make -his peace with him," he continued with a bitter laugh. "To be well -with the side that seems the winning one now!" Then he continued, -"Nancy is north of this. Between it and Remiremont the mountains run. -He might pass them, would pass them, doubtless, to gain his home. Yet, -why descend to the slope? There could be naught to arouse his -suspicions."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who else could have done this?" she asked, shaking still.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot say. Yet be sure of one thing, we shall know very soon. If -it is he, he must be here ere long, and then--then we shall meet -again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Again You have met before? And you do not fear him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear him," said Andrew, looking down at her and touching her arm with -one finger as he spoke. "Fear him! Mistress Wyatt, I came from England -to----" Then he paused, knowing that he must not say too much as to -why he was there instead of Philip. Contented himself, consequently, -with saying, "No, madame, I do not fear him," and he laughed beneath -his breath, remembering that, unless he wished to precipitate matters, -he must not wake the sleepers below.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wake the sleepers below," he repeated to himself, musing, "wake the -sleepers below!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Even as the thought of doing so ran through his mind, there sprang new -born into that mind another idea--the recollection that all was not -yet lost.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it?" she whispered, knowing intuitively by his changed -countenance that some fresh plan had suddenly dawned on him. "What? -Tell me. I will be brave."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Listen," he said, catching her by the arm in his excitement; bending -so low to murmur in her ear that his long moustache brushed her neck. -"There is one last hope. But--to avail ourselves of it you must be -bold. Very bold. You promise that you will?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. Yes. I am brave now. What shall I do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," he replied. "Come. Follow me," and he unlocked the door in -which he had turned the key on re-entering the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold up your dress so that it makes no noise if you can do without -them, put off your shoes. I will carry you when we near the sleeping -quarters. Come."</p> - -<p class="normal">She obeyed him, lifting up the end of her long robe with one hand, -then--because she was now, in truth, brave and nerved to face all--she -took off her shoes and carried them in her other hand. And, stepping -gently, she followed him out without question into the darkness of the -corridor.</p> - -<p class="normal">Looking below, he could see by the flickering light of the still -burning logs that the man called Brach was fast asleep; indeed, could -very well hear that such was the case by the noise he made. But, -beyond the faint light which those logs emitted as they now smouldered -to an end, the whole house was enveloped in black gloom. Surely, he -thought, they should be able to steal to the great door, to turn the -key and emerge into the night without anyone being aroused. And, if -they were aroused--why! he had his sword and his pistols.</p> - -<p class="normal">Feeling their way by the balustrades, her hand following his, they -crept down stair by stair until they had reached the floor below, and -could look over the wooden parapet that ran all around the square hall -here, seeing plainly the features of the slumbering man, on which, -occasionally, the light cast by little flecks of flame from the logs -would glance. Could see that he was plunged in a profound sleep--could -hear also the noise of the others snoring somewhere near.</p> - -<p class="normal">He tapped now the hand that followed his down the stair-rail; once he -looked back and his lips muttered, "We shall succeed"; then they went -on. Stood at last in the stone-flagged hall with, between them and -Brach, a huge pillar that served as one of the supports to the floor -they had just left.</p> - -<p class="normal">And still the sleeper never moved, but, instead, snored loudly, the -noise reverberating through the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">Turning, he put his arm around Marion Wyatt's waist and lifted her off -the ground so that her body was on his shoulder--he seeming to her to -do this as easily as she, herself, could have lifted a velvet -cushion--then, on tiptoe, and keeping always in the deepest blackness -of the hall's extremity, he advanced to the great door and felt for -the lock. But the key was not in it! Had it been, another moment would -have seen them outside, since there was but one transverse bar to push -up, and one turn to be given to that key.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The bunch is on the table," he whispered. "I see it glittering in the -light cast by the logs. Stay here while I go back for it and--if you -can--push up the bar that is athwart the panels. But, in the name of -heaven, of all our hopes, do it gently, softly. If it creaks or makes -any noise so as to awaken the man, I must stab him to the heart for -our own protection. Be careful--do it inch by inch--I will stand over -him. Begin when I am by his side."</p> - -<p class="normal">A few moments more and he did stand over the other, his hand upon his -dagger ready to plunge it into Brach's heart should he awaken. Once, -too, that hand half drew the knife from its sheath--for the great -transverse bar creaked slightly as the girl removed it from its wooden -socket and pushed it upwards!</p> - -<p class="normal">In his other hand he held the great bunch of keys!</p> - -<p class="normal">And now the time had come; they were saved! The bar was up. Brach -still slept. All in the house was quiet as death. There was no more to -do but to fit in the key, turn it, and so go forth into the night. -They were saved!</p> -<br> -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:25px">* * * * * *</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Across the hall he made his way, Marion Wyatt standing by -the great portal, her back to it, waiting for him to reach her. -Then--suddenly--on the vast <i>place</i> without, they heard the rapid -clatter of a horse's hoofs, heard the iron of its shoes ring smartly -out upon the stones as it struck them; heard a man's voice call -harshly, "Ho! within. Open quickly," and, with a smothered shriek, -Marion fell on her knees, her hands clasped and wrung together.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis he," she wailed. "He! De Bois-Vallée. God help us We are lost."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis he for sure," Andrew replied. "As for being lost, we will see -for that. Put back the bolt. He is not in his house yet. Later, we -will open to him. At present the work is here," and, wasting no -further time, he rushed at the man, Brach, who, even though he had not -been already awakened, would have been so by the loud reverberation of -the bar as the distracted woman flung it back across the door into its -socket.</p> - -<p class="normal">But he was awake now--as, Andrew knew, were the others. From the -room whence their snoring had proceeded, Beaujos was shouting, "the -master! the master!"--evidently he was not yet aware what else was -happening!--also the men clattering and stamping about, as they pulled -on their garments, were plainly to be heard. It was, however, with -Brach that Andrew had first to deal; Brach, who had by now staggered -from his chair to his feet and, although dazed with astonishment, -hurled himself with bulldog-like ferocity at the intruder. He was, -however, no match for him, who, added to other advantages, had no -drowsy slumbers to shake off, and who, as Brach rushed at him, struck -full at his head with the bunch of great keys and knocked him -senseless to the floor. Then, since it was no part of his intention to -allow De Bois-Vallée to enter his own house yet--in spite of the -infernal din which he was making on the door, accompanied by oaths, -threats of terrible punishments and other exclamations--he flung the -bunch on to the ashes of the now almost extinct fire.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had but time to stride over to Marion Wyatt, who, a mass of -shivering fear, crouched against the door; to whisper a word to her -and bid her take heart--"they were not," he said, "undone yet"--when -into the hall rushed all the others, Beaujos at their head, while two -of those behind him carried lamps.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who in the devil's name are you?" exclaimed the steward, starting -back appalled at the sight of the man before him. "Who? Who? And how -come you here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">That he should be appalled was not strange!</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew had by now unsheathed his sword--it shining ominously in the -light of the lamps carried by the men--in his left hand he held a -pistol. Also, his size and aspect, as he stood before Marion Wyatt, -covering her with his great form, were enough to affright a bolder man -than Beaujos.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your master's enemy to the death," he replied. "One also who has -vowed to save this woman from him. Hark, how that master clamours at -the door! Well, I will not have it opened. Therefore, stand back."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stand back!" exclaimed the other. "Stand back at your command! -Ay! thus," and with that he rushed at Andrew, wielding a large, -dangerous-looking blade as he did so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are a fool," exclaimed the latter, "a fool! Best go and lock -yourself up in some room, I warn you. Otherwise it will go hard with -you."</p> - -<p class="normal">For answer, the steward attacked him vigorously enough, and not -without some skill in the use of his weapon, yet jumped back quickly -at a sudden pass which Andrew made. A wicked pass he did not -understand, since, to his astonishment, the other's blade ran along -his until the hilts met with a clash, and, with a quick turn from its -owner's wrist, forced his own weapon from his hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Away!" said Andrew, "you are useless at this play! Find another -weapon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will," yelled Beaujos, and, as he stepped back, he seized a pistol -from the hand of one of the men and discharged it at Andrew. Then the -fellow thought his doom was sealed! For, in a moment, he knew that he -had missed him, and that the pistol which Andrew now lifted in his -left hand would be used with better aim. And, with a harsh cry, he -jumped behind one of the pillars, calling to the men to shoot Andrew -down; to throw themselves upon him and drag him to the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile, from outside the door, amidst the kicks and beatings which -the master of the house was administering, his voice arose:</p> - -<p class="normal">"What devil's work is doing in there?" he called out. "And what means -this clash of arms and firing while I wait outside? Answer, you hounds -Are you snarling between yourselves, or whom have you there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For reply, Andrew struck the door with the butt of the pistol and -called back:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You desire to know?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, answer! Whose voice is that?" And it appeared as though his own -voice had changed somewhat as he asked the question.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The voice," Andrew replied, "of Philip Vause's brother."</p> - -<p class="normal">It seemed to him--his ears on the alert to catch the other's next -words--as though that reply produced a gasp from the man outside; -also, he thought, an awful, blasphemous curse. One thing for certain -it did produce--silence henceforth. De Bois-Vallée spoke no more.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, now, he had to return to those around him, since, though Beaujos -had fled behind the pillar as Andrew raised his pistol, it was evident -that he had not desisted, but only retired temporarily from the -attack.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was coming at him again, supported this time by the others; was -whispering--though so loudly and excitedly that each word was plainly -to be heard, "You, at his legs, you, seize his sword arm; I will run -him through. If that fails--shoot him dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gad so," said Andrew, answering him, "we will see."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then the affray began. One man against four--a helpless, shaking woman -crouching behind that one.</p> - -<p class="normal">Did ever sword flash as flashed that sword wielded by the intruder, -the pistols being unused at present! Beaujos' strokes were parried as -though by magic; like streaks of lightning the outnumbered man's -weapon darted forth; one, two, three passes it made, and, with a -clang, the steward's blade fell to the floor, his right arm pierced -through--the muscles and sinews cut to pieces, while, uttering a moan, -the wielder sank down slowly to the ground. Yet, as Andrew drew his -blade back, a serving-man leaped to his sword-arm, seized it by both -hands and, with the whole weight of his body, bore it down to Andrew's -side. But, even now, he was not conquered; with his left hand he dealt -the fellow such a blow as sent him reeling away--he was free again!</p> - -<p class="normal">Free to face the others coming at him, their pistols ready, their -swords raised! In his movements his own pistol had fallen to the -ground and he did not see, nor know, what was happening behind. Yet, a -moment later, a report rang in his ears, one of the servitors threw up -his arms with a shriek and fell headlong before him--the fingers -clenched at the first joint above the palms--sure sign the heart was -reached!</p> - -<p class="normal">'Twas Marion's hand had slain him! Her hand which had grasped the -fallen pistol!</p> - -<p class="normal">Still, there were the others to be dealt with, and he braced himself -to do it.</p> - -<p class="normal">Again his sword flashed, beat down the blade of the servitor who -struck at him, would, in a moment, have sent him to join the man whom -Marion had shot, when another report rang through the hall, a lurid -gleam of fire almost blinded him--and his own noble weapon dropped -from his hand; a faintness came over him, and he reeled back heavily -against the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he did so, through the fast coming darkness that seemed to be -enveloping him he saw the remaining servitors raise their swords as -though to strike him down, saw also, behind them, another form -advancing swiftly from a low arched passage at the extremity of the -hall; recognized De Bois-Vallée!</p> - -<p class="normal">And, as Andrew saw him, it seemed to his numbed senses that he heard -his enemy say:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold your hand. He is for me alone. Injure him not."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then the darkness became intense and he knew no more.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_24" href="#div1Ref_24">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></h4> - -<h4>THE WEIRD WOMAN</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Andrew Vause raised himself on his left elbow--though his right arm -and shoulder were so intolerably painful that it caused him agony to -do so--and endeavoured to peer into the darkness in which he was -enveloped. Endeavoured to discover, or imagine, where he was; also to -remember what had happened.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet he could recollect nothing, had no more conception where he was, -or why he was lying on his back suffering excruciating agony -accompanied by a burning thirst, than he would have possessed had he -been but that moment born.</p> - -<p class="normal">All was chaos to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">As, however, the lowest form of creature on which nature confers -existence, even though owning no power of reasoning or memory, or the -knowledge of why or how it so exists, yet seeks for the necessities -that existence requires and for the wherewithal to supply its wants, -so the man lying there sought for some assuagement of that intolerable -thirst. Sought for it by endeavouring unconsciously to moisten his -lips with his dry and parched tongue--then, failing in this attempt, -relapsed into the lethargy, followed by the oblivion, which had -previously been his.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet again, later on--though he knew it not himself, no more than -he knew that many more hours had passed since first his eyes had -opened--he awoke a second time, still dazed, still unconscious of -who, or what, or where he was; knowing only as the unreasoning -brute-beast knows that it is suffering, yet also knowing not why.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now his agony was so intense--the agony of thirst! for the other -pain, that of his right side, might be borne--that, like some wounded -creature, he writhed and tossed about upon whatever object it might be -on which he lay, and in his writhings and the tossings of his long -arms his left hand struck something. Something that, even to his -bemused mind, seemed to give promise of containing the wherewithal to -quench his thirst. Whereon the long fingers twining round that object -found that it held water. Then, still with no knowledge of what he -did, with nothing beyond that instinct shared by the lowest of -creatures to tell him that what he was doing would bring him relief, -he drew the vessel nearer and drank. Drank and drank, long and -copiously, until at last there was no drop left, then sank back once -more, and once more lapsed into unconsciousness.</p> -<br> -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:25px">* * * * * *</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Again he awoke, more hours afterwards, with still the impenetrable -darkness all around him, and with still the dazed blankness of memory -and the inability to recall who or what he was, yet with now through -all his density of mind some feeble glimmering of humanity working in -his brain. Some hazy idea coursing through that brain and suggesting -that he was a thing that had life in it, that he had not only just -begun to exist, but, instead, had been existing heretofore. That he -was a creature not used to lying paralyzed and helpless here, but, on -the contrary, one full of action.</p> - -<p class="normal">Memory was beginning to assert itself! Though, even as it did so, he -slept again, went off once more into oblivion.</p> - -<p class="normal">At last, awakening for the fourth time, with the terrible thirst gone, -he awoke also to life and reason. A little longer--after lying still -in the darkness--he recalled the fact that his name was Andrew Vause.</p> - -<p class="normal">After that the rest was easy, indeed, too easy; for, with this clue to -aid him, the whole of the past surged up in such huge waves of -remembrance that they almost served to engulf memory altogether, That -past rushed in upon him, recollections crowded swift and fast upon his -mind and hurtled one another away; gradually he remembered all. All! -The passage from the mountain slope to the roof; the meeting with -Marion Wyatt; the still unexplained reasons why this English girl -should be a prisoner here in the Lorrainer's house; the attempted -escape; the fight and his defeat. But, beyond and after that, only the -blank occasioned by his insensibility--and now this black impenetrable -darkness!</p> - -<p class="normal">Where was he? He must know that! Always a man of action, and with the -promptings to action still working in him, all wounded as he was, he -made, therefore, an attempt to rise, but found that attempt useless. -His leg was attached by a chain to something at the foot of where he -lay, a chain that, as he moved the leg, hung heavily upon it above the -ankle and clasped it tight. He was a prisoner. That much was certain -But what else?</p> - -<p class="normal">His hands, which were free--though the right still caused him great -pain when he endeavoured to move it--told him he lay close above a -floor upon some stretched-out rug or skin; his other senses revealed -to him that he was in some large, vast place into which the air -entered freely; a damp, cold air, too, that blew upon his face, yet -was grateful since it cooled the fever that raged within him still. -But that was all; he could discover nothing further, could, from where -he was, touch nothing beyond the bare boards around him, excepting -only the vessel which he had some time previously--he could not -recollect whether it was an hour or a day ago!--drunk from. No more.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet now, lying there--half dozing sometimes; sometimes forgetful of -everything and recalling next each incident as it had happened and in -its proper sequence, as well as with strange clearness--it seemed that -a sound broke on his ears. A sound as of one who slowly mounted some -steps, or stairs. A footstep that came nearer each time it fell. And, -suddenly, as he lay listening, wondering if, with this approaching -footfall, his doom approached too, if he was now to pay with his life -for the entrance into his enemy's house, a light sparkled in his eyes -from a slight distance, then blazed full into them, and a woman -carrying a lanthorn in her hand stood before him. A woman who had -mounted some steps close by him, and thus entered the place in which -he lay. By the light of that lanthorn he recognized where he was -namely, the garret beneath the roof of the mansion of Bois-le-Vaux!</p> - -<p class="normal">She held the lanthorn high above her head, peering down at him under -its rays for some time as though scrutinizing the great form stretched -before her, and, perhaps, did not see that his eyes were open and -looking at her from under his long and much dishevelled hair as -curiously as she regarded him. Whereby he had time and opportunity for -observing what manner of woman this was who stood there.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was no longer young, that he saw from the great streaks of grey -which mingled with her hair, that once must have been as raven black -as his own was now; was, indeed, a woman of about fifty years of age. -Yet no man could regard her and fail to observe that she must also -once have been beautiful, though with a beauty spoilt and marred by -the workings of strong passions within--sensual passions, as testified -by the full thick lips and large gleaming eyes--which even now shone -with a strange, fierce brightness!--cruel, vindictive passions, as -shown by the manner in which those lips closed tightly together; by -the broad jaw, and by the perpendicular line between the eyes, which -caused a frown to be always upon her face.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fixing her glance at last full on him she saw he was awake and -conscious, and, so seeing, moved the lanthorn a little and peered -under it into his eyes. Then she spoke, while as she did so her -features either assumed a cynical smile or seemed, in the flickering -light of the lamp, to assume it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," she said, "you are the man who found his way into this house by -a road none have ever been known to travel before in our day. The man -who thought to carry off your countrywoman--almost succeeded in doing -so! <i>Ciel!</i> at least you are a brave one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am the man," Andrew assented calmly; "who are you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">It seemed, however, to be no part of her intention to tell him this, -since, after casting another glance at his stretched-out form, she -strode off to that part of the garret where the ladder, or steps, from -below entered it, and, stooping down to the floor, picked up a jar of -water and a platter of bread which she had placed there ere she -advanced towards him. Then she returned to where he lay, put them by -his side, and, taking up the other water-pitcher which he had drained -when alone in the darkness, prepared to retire. But Andrew--who hoped -that, even from this stern-looking woman (who was, he did not doubt, -that custodian of Marion Wyatt of whom the peasant had spoken--the -woman who had loved De Bois-Vallée's father and hated, in consequence, -his mother) he might obtain some information as to what had been the -conclusion of the events which had occurred in the hall--put out his -hand as though to stop her going, and exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell me, I beseech you--as a woman yourself--what has befallen that -countrywoman of mine. Is all well with her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Pausing in her withdrawal to gaze down at him, while the dark, -piercing eyes looked into his, she made the enigmatic answer:</p> - -<p class="normal">"As well as before. As well as it is ever like to be," then again -directed her steps towards where the ladder descended from the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I----" he cried, endeavouring thereby to arrest her steps, -"I--what is to be done to me--what attempted? Tell me that."</p> - -<p class="normal">But she answered no more, continuing still upon her way to the steps. -Yet, had Andrew been a timorous man who feared for whatever was about -to befall him, he might have shuddered even as much as though she had -told him he was to be done to death that very hour. For she turned -her dark, grey-flecked head over her shoulder and looked at him with -those piercing eyes--pausing in her progress as she did so--and in the -eyes, nay! in the whole face, there was so mocking, devilish an -expression--in the flickering rays of the lanthorn it seemed to be a -grin!--that he divined there was no hope for him. That look told as -plainly as a hundred words that he was doomed! Was in the hands of one -who would forego nothing of the opportunity that had fallen in his -way--and this woman knew it, gloated over it!</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, with what he felt to be his fate foretold by that baleful glance, -this creature with her air of weird sardonic <i>espièglerie</i> fascinated -him, even as the snake fascinates those who cannot fly from it, and, -as she strode slowly towards the other end of the vast garret, he -followed her with his eyes, unable to withdraw them. For it seemed to -him that in her he saw a living semblance of those women, those Fates -or Furies, of whom his mother and gentle, scholarly Philip had read to -him in his wild boyish days; the dark and terrible women who held the -web of men's lives in their hands and tore it as they listed. And he -wondered if she, this woman, whose worn face told of fierce and stormy -passions not yet spent--perhaps only subdued and half burnt out--might -hold his fate. Was she to be the administrator of some terrible death -marked out for him by the man in whose power he now was--did that -hideous glance she had given him over her shoulder mean this, or mean, -instead, that though death might not come to him at her hands she knew -well how it must and would come?</p> - -<p class="normal">Watching her still, half awed, half bewitched by her weirdness, he saw -her suddenly stop ere she approached close to the ladder-head, gaze on -the ground, then flash the lanthorn's miserable light on the spot at -which she stared; next, stoop swiftly to the floor--supple now as a -girl of twenty!--pick something up from the floor and, holding it in -the palm of her disengaged hand, regard it by the lamp's gleam. And, -if her face had stirred him with an undefined feeling of repulsion as -she cast that leering, evil look over her shoulder, it horrified him -now by the glance of hate it bore as she inspected the object in her -hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">For it was the face of a devil glaring on an enemy, and that a -well-hated one; the face of a fiend regarding that which it would -blast to all eternity if possessing the power to do so. The mouth -twitching--the full lips livid now, and with the teeth clenched over -the lower one so that they seemed dug into it, until Andrew wondered -no blood spurted forth--the eyes staring, the last remaining colour -gone from the already dead-ivory of the cheeks--the woman gazed -Medusa-like at what she held in her hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, suddenly, her long, loose gown swishing the floor as she moved, -she strode back to him, her movements resembling a tigress's now; and, -standing quivering before him, she said--while her voice sounded -hoarse from out her throat--</p> - -<p class="normal">"This! This! This! This cursed thing! It has fallen from your -body--must have done so when you were brought here. How came it yours? -Answer!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," replied Andrew calmly, yet marvelling now at what the "cursed -thing" could be, the finding of which had stirred her so--observing, -too, the shaking of her limbs and the wild tempestuous fury that held -her in its grasp, "If madame would deign to say what it is that she -has found which moves her so----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What it is! What!" she repeated. Then exclaimed, "Man, trifle not -with me, or I shall anticipate your death by some few hours. God! why -bring this before my eyes? This! This picture of Fleurange Debrasques! -His mother! And in your possession. In yours! It is some trick 'twixt -you and him! Are you in truth his enemy?" and she bent her livid face -down and peered into his face. "Or is this a scheme to torture me even -in my swift-coming age, as, oh my God," and she wailed out these last -words, "I have been tortured all my life by her. By her and by her -memory," and, while she spoke, she struck the miniature against the -side of the lanthorn as though demented.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a moment it seemed to Andrew's now cleared brain that here was an -accident, a chance, that might go far to help him to win, perhaps, -this wild cat, this creature of mad passions, to his side. To win -her--to!--to!--ah! it seemed more than one might hope for! Yet he -would make the attempt. His life--Marion's life--might hang on what he -could do with this woman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That," he said quietly, "Oh! that. The miniature. Why, 'tis nothing. -Only his mother's portraiture. True, I have heard she was a -Debrasques. And beautiful as the morning. Is it not so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet he had to pause as he looked now at the fury above him. For, by -his remarks on the beauty of the woman whose likeness she held in her -hand, he saw that he had goaded her almost too far. That she was -trembling from head to foot, that a little more and he would spoil his -chance. He must goad her further--but by degrees.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he so paused she controlled herself. Calmed herself enough to say, -"how came it in your possession? Answer that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis simple. He dropped it fleeing from Turenne's army--fleeing, as I -do pride myself, from me. For in solemn truth I am his enemy. Yet, I -pray, an honest one. And, therefore, because I know he loved that -lady, his mother, dearly, because also I knew his father worshipped -her from the moment he set eyes on her first, it was my intention to -have returned the jewel to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew never moved his eye from off her as he spoke; he knew it might -have been death to do so. If she had a weapon about her, his words -were as like as not to cause her to use it on him. He was driving her -to desperation; only--he did not want that desperation vented on him. -And, watching the woman thus, he knew that it must find its vent -somehow. Those livid lips--dashed now with flecks of foam--those -glaring eyes, told clearly of the fire burning within.</p> - -<p class="normal">"His father worshipped her! His father worshipped her!" she repeated, -bringing out the words, as it seemed to him lying there before her, -with an agonizing effort. "His father worshipped her. From the moment -he set eyes on her first. My God! that they had been blinded first! -That she had never come across my-- Yet," calming herself with another -strong effort, while she took a step nearer, so that now she stood -rigid before him--"how know you that? How? How? You never knew nor saw -his father--nor," and she seemed to force her glance to rest upon the -medallion--"this woman, Fleurange Debrasques--his wife."</p> - -<p class="normal">In Andrew's mind there rang the Lorrainer's words, "She loved his -father and, they say, hated his mother <i>par consequent</i>"--he knew that -his cue was here. Also he knew he must be careful. Must be ready to -ward off any blow from hidden knife or dagger that might come; be -prepared to feel himself struck to the heart with some bullet from -concealed pistol when next he spoke. Yet the train was laid. The time -had come to say his last words.</p> - -<p class="normal">And he said them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Know it? How know it? Is not the tale oft told hereabouts? Even I, a -stranger, have heard it! Sometimes with laughter--sometimes with pity -for another--sometimes----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"With pity for another! What other?"</p> - -<p class="normal">As she spoke no statue of marble, no corpse, was ever more rigid than -this woman standing there before him. Nor more white!</p> - -<p class="normal">"What other?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"One whom he thought he loved at first," the words coming clear and -distinct from Andrew's lips, "yet found he cared nothing for when -Fleurange Debrasques--ay! that was her name--met his view. One whom -they say he even then meant to discard, having grown weary of her; one -whom he did discard when Mdlle. Debrasques made him love her. Have you -never heard this?"</p> -<br> -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:25px">* * * * * *</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The woman spoke no more, nor, as Andrew had thought would happen, did -she spring at him. Instead, without one word, she turned on her heel -and slowly made her way to the ladder, where, grasping the side-rail, -she descended it. Yet, ere she did so, she turned her face once and -glanced at him, the look she gave him piercing to his heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">And, as he flung himself back on his rug, he muttered in the darkness -by which he was once more surrounded:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven forgive me! Heaven forgive me! I had to do it--it may win her -to our side; help Marion Wyatt and myself to our freedom. It had to be -done. Yet, it has driven her mad--if she was not already so. Heaven -forgive me!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_25" href="#div1Ref_25">CHAPTER XXV.<</a></h4> - -<h4>THE UNEXPECTED</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Lying on his couch--if the bare floor and the rug upon which he found -himself could be called such--Andrew began to perceive that whatever -hurt he might have taken in the affray of the hall was leaving him. He -had long since, in the passage of one weary hour after another, -discovered that the wound which had rendered him insensible was not -serious, and that the blow had not proceeded from the pistol which had -been fired in his face. On the contrary, it was certain that he had -been struck down from behind, at the moment that weapon exploded, by -either some bludgeon or sword wielded by one of the servitors, and -that, beyond this, he had received little harm. As for the pain in his -shoulder--that did, indeed, proceed from the pistol bullet which had -grazed his collar-bone, but had done no further injury.</p> - -<p class="normal">And, now, in spite of his hard bed and poor nourishment--for nothing -beyond the jug of water and the platter of bread was ever given -him--he still found himself returning to strength and health. His mind -had cleared also, as he perceived when he was able to so work upon the -feelings of the maddened woman who had visited him--he felt he was -ready to resist his doom in whatever form it might approach him. Nay, -more, that he was ready to combat and avoid that doom should any -opportunity arise of doing so.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, he asked himself again and again as he lay there, how was the -resistance to be offered! How? He was chained, and at the top of the -house. There was no exit that way. Doubtless, those who had carried -him up to this garret while he was insensible remembered that; -calculated also that, even though the chain had not been about his leg -and securely rivetted to the floor, he had no chance of escape. The -chasm was impassable and there was no other mode of egress, since, -never again, would he be allowed to reach the lower part of the house -unobserved.</p> - -<p class="normal">The woman had come no more by the time that he supposed a day and a -night must have passed since she visited him, or, if she had come, he -had not known it. Yet he had found the water replenished again in the -vase by his side, and the empty platter filled with bread.</p> - -<p class="normal">Therefore he knew this must have been done when he slept, and, -doubtless, done in the dark. Otherwise he would have been awakened by -the glare of the light!</p> - -<p class="normal">But now, having discovered that this had happened, he resolved that it -should not do so again. It was contrary to all his military ideas to -be thus surprised without knowing it; repugnant also to him to be thus -visited by some enemy, or some creature of his particular enemy. It -should not be repeated, he vowed.</p> - -<p class="normal">To prevent any such further unknown visitation, he raised himself into -a sitting posture and stretched out his hand for the stone pitcher -which stood by his side, when, grasping it round the neck, he drew it -towards him. He meant to sleep when next slumber came to him with his -hand around it, and to place the platter beneath his arms. Thereby, -unless they were left untouched and fresh supplies put in their place, -it would be impossible for his food and drink to be replenished -without his knowing it, as well as being awakened. And, should it be -the woman who thus replenished them, it might happen that he could -wile her into conversation, might, indeed, by working upon her -feelings, induce her to say something that should give him a clue as -to what fate was before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thinking this, he drew the vessel towards him, when, to his amazement, -he found that it struck against and moved something lying on the -floor; something that, when he had previously raised the jug to his -lips directly from the floor, he had not observed. Something long and -thin that slid on the boards with a scraping sound.</p> - -<p class="normal">To his further intense astonishment as he grasped the object, he found -it was a sword in its scabbard. A moment later he knew it was his own -sword.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was no doubt about it. He could recognize his own long curled -quillon amongst a thousand, knew the particular shape of the steel -hook by which he fastened his leather-slashed "carriage," or <i>porte -épée</i>, to his belt; knew also the feel and grip of the handle. It was -his own sword, the one that, below, had dropped from his numbed hand -as the bludgeon, or other weapon, had struck him down at the same time -that the flash from the pistol had blinded him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What does it mean?" he whispered to himself, as, lovingly, he ran his -finger along the keen, sharp blade. "What? That I am to have a chance -for life even though against tremendous odds; even though outnumbered. -Ha! well, no matter! Better that, with this true friend to my hand, -than poison or a swift fall down that hellish shaft to regions -unknown. Far better that, with you in my grasp," and he thrust the -blade back into its scabbard. Yet, cheered as he was by discovering -this good servant by his side once more, a moment's reflection told -him how, even now, it was of little use to him. Rivetted to the floor -was one end of the accursed chain that held him fast--with that about -his ankle what could he do even though armed?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kill one or two, 'tis true," he mused, "even as they come at me. Kill -them, run them through, as once I saw a Turk at Choczim kill four men, -while he lay on the ground with both his legs torn off beneath the -knee by one of Sobieski's cannonballs. Well! even so, 'tis best. Best -to die fighting, causing as many as I can to travel the same dark road -I go upon. Far best." And, hugging his sword to him, he lay back and -pondered on who could have done him so fair a service as this.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The woman, without doubt," he thought. "The poor mad, distracted -thing. It may be that she deems I shall be the instrument of vengeance -on the son of the man who threw her off, and so provided me the -wherewithal."</p> - -<p class="normal">Still thinking over all this, and musing, as he had mused more than -once in the long lonely hours spent in the darkness, on what could -have caused Laurent to either cut, or permit to be cut, the rope which -would have saved him and Marion Wyatt--would have opened the door to -their freedom--wondering, also, if he had been suddenly attacked from -behind--perhaps slain--Andrew dropped off once more into a gentle -slumber. Though now, with the sword to one hand, and with the other -round the pitcher's neck, while the bread platter lay beneath his arm.</p> - -<p class="normal">Dropped off into a slumber from which he was awakened by hearing a -step upon the ladder, and by the room becoming suddenly lit up by the -rays of an approaching lanthorn. The lanthorn carried by the woman -whom he deemed distraught.</p> - -<p class="normal">Because he thought that, after all, she might not be the one who, in -her mercy, had placed his weapon by his side, he pushed it beneath his -body so that, if such were the case, it might be possible she would -not observe it; then he leant over towards where she was advancing to -him and regarded her fixedly, looking straight into her full, -wandering eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, madame," he said, "you visit me again. Is't on some errand of -pity that you come--or to tell me my fate?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment she answered nothing--standing motionless before, and -gazing down fixedly upon, him, though he perceived that those strange -eyes were searching the floor as though in quest of something. -Doubtless the sword! Then she said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"What fate do you expect--at his hands?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"God only knows! Yet, if you should know also, tell me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again she paused--the eyes still sweeping the floor, so that now he -felt sure 'twas she who had restored his weapon to him--when a moment -later she said, speaking in a harsh, emotionless voice--</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are to be taken from here to Nancy, where the Duke is for the -winter period. There you will be tried on various charges--attempted -murder, abduction--he will swear she is his wife! You will be -condemned. Nothing can save you; he has given in his adherence to the -Duke now; he will obtain his desire--to see you broken on the wheel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So! A brave scheme! When is it to be put in practice?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"When you are recovered."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am recovered now. See!" and he sat up on the rug stretched over the -floor. "Observe! I am not so weak but that I can stand if I desire to -do so. Will you tell the Vicomte there is no hurt to prevent me -setting out at once to see this Duke, to make acquaintance with the -wheel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My God!" the woman muttered, stirred out of herself. "Can this be -real? Are you, in truth, so careless of fate?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bah!" He replied. "What you prophesy is child's play--child's talk! -The fellow whom you serve," and at the word "serve" she started, -"dares no more haul me before the Duke than he dare haul me before the -Duke's own master, Louis; the Duke's better in war, Turenne. 'Tis to -them the Duke has himself to account. Babe's prattle, I tell you, -woman! If I am to perish, it will be here in this house, down that -well, by poison in my food or drink, or dagger-thrust through my -heart when I lie sleeping. The wheel is an open death for all to see, -set up at cross-roads or in market places--such things are not for De -Bois-Vallée. Go, give him my service, and say so!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You wish me to repeat that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, repeat it. Repeat also this. That, though I lie here with a chain -round my leg like an ox at the shambles; though I am here in his -topmost garret a prisoner, I shall ere long be free again. I know -it--feel it. Tell him, also, that Andrew Vause was never born to die -at his hands--but, instead, to slay him--as I will! And, if he dares -to come to this garret--fail not to tell him this!--and stand before -me within the reach of this chain at my ankle, I will throttle the -life out of him as I would out of a savage dog. Will never lose my -hold till his tongue is a foot out of his mouth. Begone, and fail not -to repeat my words!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The woman said no more--yet cast one long searching glance at him as -though wondering what manner of man this was--then went to the head of -the steps, or ladder, leading from below, and brought back still -another fresh jug of water and a platter, both of which she had left -there on entering.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here is food and drink for you," she said. Then added: "There is no -poison in it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis well. But, remember what I say. If your master compasses my -death 'twill come that way--or in some other equally subtle. Yet it -will not pass unknown. His cousin, Debrasques, knows him for the -unscrupulous villain he is; knows I have come here. If he recovers, as -every chirurgeon who saw him believed he would do, he will denounce -this man. Therefore, I care not what he does. Now go."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Debrasques!" the woman repeated, turning sharply on him. "Valentin -Debrasques! He knows you and you know him? You say that?" and he saw -that her astonishment was great.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, he is my friend!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Debrasques," she whispered. "Debrasques. And your friend!" Then she -muttered to herself, though not so low but that he heard her. "And his -enemy; as his kinswoman, Fleurange, was mine. 'Twill come. 'Twill -surely come."</p> - -<p class="normal">She stooped down now to lift up the empty water-pitcher and the -platter and to put in their place those which she had just brought, -and, having done this, again prepared to depart from the garret, -walking slowly towards the ladder head. But as, once before, she had -turned to cast that evil glance at him over her shoulder, so she -turned again. Only her face was different now from what it had been on -the occasion of her first visit--there was no evil, demoniacal smile -upon her features nor devil's light glancing from her piercing eyes. -Instead, a softer look shone from them, a look such as one might cast -upon another with whom they were at peace.</p> - -<p class="normal">"All men's fate is in their own hands," she whispered, as though half -to him, half to herself, then turned swiftly and was gone, leaving him -alone again with the darkness and his thoughts.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fore gad!" he said to himself, feeling strangely exhilarated by this -woman's visit--he knew not why!--though, perhaps, 'twas her last words -had cheered him thus! "I do think the lady desires I should escape. -Yet, if so, why in heaven's name not help me even more than she has -done? My sword is useless while I am bound thus to this accursed -floor; if my foot were free from that 'twould not be long ere once -more the weapon was at his throat. Oh! De Bois-Vallée, the moment must -arrive at last. It must! It must! It must!"</p> - -<p class="normal">For something told him that this garret was not to be only one last -step to his doom; he felt, he knew, as certainly as though an angel -had spoken to him trumpet-tongued, that the wheel at Nancy would never -be his fate. It was not thus that Philip's shade was to be mulcted of -its revenge!</p> - -<p class="normal">Once more he slept, thanking God each time that he awoke for His mercy -in permitting him to so forget his captivity for long periods at a -time, and then, when he again returned to wakefulness, he put out his -hand for the sparse meal the woman had brought him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Though I would," he murmured, "that I might find such another boon as -I found in my good sword. With my pistols, now, and they well charged, -I could do much when they come for me--if they ever come--could slay -one or two more ere the chain should be taken from my leg and I -dragged forth--not to the Duke of whom she speaks--that is -impossible!--but to some ignoble death."</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not find his pistols; yet, even as he muttered those last -words, his hand touched something that was not there before, something -which caused him to utter so loud an exclamation that, a second after -he had done so, he could have cursed himself for his folly in making a -noise which might have been heard by anyone happening to be below the -garret.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had found that which was worth to him a thousand pistols fully -charged and primed! He had found something which would do more than -ever they could have done! Would give him his liberty from this -garret; enable him to once more search the lower part of the -mansion--to once more make a bold bid for escape.</p> - -<p class="normal">His hand had touched a file!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven bless her!" he muttered. "Mad or sane, Heaven bless her! For -this is no trap, no <i>guet-apens</i>, no lure to set me loose from where I -am, only to plunge me into a state worse than my present; I shall be -free and out of this house with Marion Wyatt ere many hours are -passed. Free--since she, this heaven-sent friend, will doubtless aid -me--will, it may be, set open the door which leads to that freedom. -She must have placed this file here when she changed the food and -water; therefore, again I say, Heaven bless her. Even though it may be -but a portion of a deep-laid snare, 'tis a good portion. It gives me -one more chance."</p> - -<p class="normal">Wasting no further time in thought or meditation, he set to work to -obtain his, now near, release. Set to work to--as silently as might -be--file through the shackle-bolt that encircled his ankle. Worked -hard at it, with the sweat dropping from his face as he bent over his -foot in a terribly cramped position; yet never faltered, and only -stopped to change sometimes his hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">Worked hard in the dark, paying no heed to anything but that into -which he had now thrown his whole heart and soul; worked until, at -last, the chain was off his leg and he was free. Free to stand up, to -hook on his sword once more to his belt, to make his way from out that -prison. To find and save Marion Wyatt and himself, or perish in the -attempt.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he did thus stand up and feel his feet once more unbound, and moved -towards where the ladder-head was--avoiding, for sure, the deadly -shaft so near at hand--a woman who, unknown to him, had been crouching -for the last two hours on that ladder in the darkness, rose and went -swiftly away from it towards the room to which Marion Wyatt had been -taken back after the fight below.</p> - -<p class="normal">A woman who had sat crouched upon that ladder for so long, listening -eagerly to the harsh grating of the file, and who, as she listened, -had held her breath and stared with wild eyes into the darkness all -around.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_26" href="#div1Ref_26">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></h4> - -<h4>A TRAPPED WOLF</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">His first idea was to remove his boots, which had been on his feet -when he recovered consciousness and had remained there since; but, -after a moment's reflection, he decided to still keep them on. It was -impossible, he thought, that he could quit the house without another -encounter taking place; therefore, it was best to be booted. Also, if -he did by good fortune so quit it, and could get well outside, they -would be necessary, since otherwise he could scarcely reach -Remiremont, not to consider Plombières.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, having decided this, he made his way at once to the room where -he had previously found Marion Wyatt, and tapped lightly on the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was opened--to his astonishment--not by her, but by the woman he -deemed mad!</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," she said, "you are free." Then laughed under her breath, and as -low as she had spoken--laughed a weird, witchlike laugh. Adding a -second later: "So far!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So far at present, thanks be to God and to you," and as he spoke he -touched her hand with his--noticing, however, even as he did so, that -she drew back shuddering from the touch. "Now, where is the lady?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here!" whereon Marion Wyatt came through the hangings that fell -before the square embrasure in front of the window.</p> - -<p class="normal">If it were possible that she could have been whiter, more ghastly pale -than when he had first seen her, she was so now; her face being -absolutely devoid of colour. Yet it seemed almost as if some tinge -came to it as, swiftly, she advanced across the room to him, while, -grasping both hands, she whispered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are free again. Free! Oh God in His mercy be thanked. Yet--yet--I -know--she, Clemence, said it should be so," and she gazed at the -fateful woman standing by. "It is heaven's grace that has turned her -heart to us!"</p> - -<p class="normal">That woman's eyes, deep, mysterious, unfathomable as ever--puzzling -Andrew as they had done before; irritating him, almost, in his desire -to know what lay behind them and what thoughts they concealed--blazed -forth from their sombre depths; yet she answered nothing. Only, -standing there before them, her bosom heaved, her mouth became drawn -downwards with some spasm that seemed to express the deepest misery, -and a gust of breath that was more than a sigh came from her lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is by heaven's grace," Andrew re-echoed. "Yet, much as we owe her, -now is no fitting time to pay our thanks." Then, turning to her whom -Marion had called Clemence, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madame, being, so far free, enable us, I beseech you in your -goodness, to finish our task. Put us in the way to quit this accursed -house, without bloodshed if possible, yet--no matter how--to quit it."</p> - -<p class="normal">She repeated the words, "this accursed house," twice, letting her left -hand fall heavily to her side as she spoke; then a moment later she -quivered, drew herself up, and said: "It shall be so, if possible. I -will go down and unbar the door. Yet you say 'without bloodshed.' -What"--and now she stood so tall and erect that, almost, her height -equalled that of the great man before her--"What are you then in this -accursed house for? Why hangs that once more upon your thigh?" and she -pointed to the long scabbard of his sword. "Are you not come here from -your own land to shed his, Camille De Bois-Vallée's, blood?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To shed it--yes!" Andrew replied, wondering why his words came hoarse -and raucous from his throat; "yet not to-night, if it may be -prevented. Nor in his own house; on his own hearth! But, afterwards, -in fair open fight; to right a deep wrong to one unable to right -himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I go," she said, "to open the door, if may be. Follow me later--in -five minutes hence. Yet--yet remember; I deem it a vow, a sacred -pledge: you slay him when the time comes. Swear that, or I do no -more."</p> - -<p class="normal">And all amazed, almost appalled, Andrew muttered: "When the time -comes. I have said it."</p> - -<p class="normal">An instant later she was gone, had passed through the door into the -darkness of the house, gliding out as some dark spectre might have -glided from light to shadow, and those two were alone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In five minutes, she said," Andrew whispered in Marion's ear. "In -five minutes. Yet, what means it? Is she in truth mad? I thought she -loved him; had loved his father. Was his faithful slave and worshipped -him. Yet, now, she inclines to us."</p> - -<p class="normal">From the white lips of the woman by his side there came the answer, -the words falling quick and rapid from those lips; she knowing how few -were the moments in which to tell the meaning of Clemence's manner.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was so," she answered, "once. She loved him, worshipped him, -until--until--her madness growing on her, she began to hate him. For -he, in his turn, loved and worshipped the memory of his mother--it is -the one pure thing remaining to him--his love for me was never pure, -was engendered in desire; is turned now to hate and fear of my escape. -And his love for that mother and that memory for her whom Clemence -hates, even though she has long lain in her grave, explains all. -Because she hates the woman who was his mother, also she now hates -him. Hopes, prays, you will kill him. Said to me to-night that, when -he lies dead below from your thrust, she will stamp upon the features -that are so like what hers were."</p> - -<p class="normal">As she told him thus rapidly the meaning of the woman's frenzy, and as -she concluded her story, she saw Andrew's face change. Saw, too, a -stare come into his eyes; his attitude denoting that of one who -listened intently.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You hear?" he asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, even as she spoke, she heard, too. Heard a distant hum--a -something indefinite on the night air--a murmur that, all intangible -as it was at present, resolved itself in another moment into something -else that she understood. It was the hum of human voices--the voices -of a great crowd somewhere in the vicinity--of a crowd that drew -nearer and nearer every moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You hear--you understand?" he asked, grasping her arm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God help me! No. What is it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As I hope, as I think, a rescue. It may be that those in this -neighbourhood have risen against him at last; that our path to safety -is open. Come, Marion, if 'tis as I believe, our freedom is at hand, -should we be able to reach them. Yet, be sure, he will bar our -exit--and their entrance; we--I--shall have to fight our way out. -Come." And swift as lightning his arm was round her waist, while he -prepared to lift her to his shoulder, knowing that, ere long, all in -the house would hear those sounds--if they had not done so already; -would be aroused. Also, he knew--divined in a moment--that their way -out would be barred. And, recognizing this, his sword leapt from its -scabbard, drawn forth by his right hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," he said again. "We must descend. Be brave and fear nothing. I -shall be with you always. We escape together, or--or stay here -together."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, bearing her on his shoulder, he went towards the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, ere he reached it, it was flung wide open; once more Clemence -stood before them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"All hope is gone--for you--for all--for him," she said, her lips -flecked with foam, her eyes staring with the madness of despair and -frenzy, her grey-streaked black hair hanging down below her shoulders. -"Undone! Undone! Undone!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What mean you?" Andrew asked. "The house is besieged, yet one may -struggle out of it. May yet escape. Is the door open?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"None can escape," she almost shrieked. "It is surrounded. The -Lorrainers are here, outside. They swear to burn him in his den; I -have heard them--seen the glint of their weapons--they swear to shoot -down all who rush forth. The death of Laurent has maddened them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The death of Laurent! My God! Is he dead?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is dead. He slew him--he--he--De Bois-Vallée: He found him there -watching for you--he never returned home without visiting the chasm to -see if all was safe--and ran him through, then hurled his body to the -courtyard below. And they have learnt he did it--there was another one -who knew the work you and Laurent were upon--they are here. God none -can escape. There are more than a hundred of them. See!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As she spoke, she rushed through the embrasure and flung open the -diamond-paned window.</p> - -<p class="normal">"See," she said again, drawing Andrew to the window. "They are there -below. You can perceive their firelocks gleam in the moonlight from -here."</p> - -<p class="normal">Peering forth, glancing out into the night, he saw beneath the rays of -the watery moon, as the light breeze blew the clouds from under it, -that what the woman said was true. He could observe the beams glancing -on musket barrels and other arms--almost, he thought, that sometimes -they glistened on upturned eyes!--could perceive men lurking all round -the fringe of the copse which bordered the enormous flagged court in -front of the mansion.</p> - -<p class="normal">Moreover, he knew soon enough that they, too, were seen by the -midnight foe--also that that foe was ruthless. As the light of the -lamp streamed out into the darkness, it being no more veiled by the -heavy curtains of the embrasure within, it served to show the -besiegers those two faces at the window. An instant later there was -the crack of musketry and three balls hurtled against the stone frame, -splintering it, and cutting each of their faces with those splinters.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come away," Andrew said, dragging her back and noticing that one of -the fragments had struck her cheek, from which the blood began to -trickle. "Come away. All in this house are deemed enemies. How should -they know there is one here who hates its owner as much as they do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How should they know that there are <i>two?</i>" the woman muttered -hoarsely in reply. Then she added: "Doubtless, they deem you dead. -Since he slew Laurent they would not think he would spare you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her words caused Andrew to start. It was true; they must deem him -dead! His own instructions had been that, if he came not back in three -days, they were to consider him as fallen--murdered--and with Laurent -slain they could suppose nothing else. All in that house were enemies, -therefore, since few knew of Marion's existence; all to be -exterminated as such.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There must be a truce to our feud for a time at least," he muttered -beneath his moustache, while he smiled grimly; "a truce for a time. No -need for De Bois-Vallée and me to be fighting with one another, like -rats in a pit, while the dogs are outside ready to tear us to pieces. -No need for that! Come," he said, addressing the two women. "Come. We -must descend. There is no way out here."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, all together, they left the room and, making their way to the -head of the stairs, looked down over it into the hall below.</p> - -<p class="normal">And in a moment he knew--as the women knew, too, that neither was -there any exit there.</p> - -<p class="normal">Below, in that hall, were mustered De Bois-Vallée and some -men--Beaujos being absent. Upon the huge table which had stood for -unnumbered years within it, were laid all the firearms which they -could hastily gather together; muskets and musketoons, fuzils and -fuzees, pistols and petronels. Also other arms, halberds, axes, -swords--they meant to make a stand for it!</p> - -<p class="normal">As for De Bois-Vallée himself--his look appalled the women, if not -Andrew, as they gazed down on him. His face was white--was it with -fear or rage!--as he bent over the table, and, selecting two carbines, -loaded them carefully; upon it, as he turned towards the great porte, -outside which the murmurs had now increased to a roar, accompanied by -heavy knocks and thumps--there was the grin of a devil at bay. Then, -suddenly, they saw him point to a spot away down one of the passages -leading out of the hall, saw the man Brach disappear, and, a moment or -two later, come back, bearing in his arms a long ladder which he -placed against the door. While, casting his eyes up over that door, -Andrew saw that, above it, was a little window unnoticed hitherto by -him--a window a foot square, but covered inside with a close-fitting -shutter. And, since a few moments later he saw there was no glass to -it, he judged that it was used only to admit air.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he watched thus the trapped man in his own house, he saw him slowly -mount half-way up that ladder, so that, at last, the top of his head -was almost level with the lower part of the shutter, and take the -carbines from his servitor's hands--then saw him suddenly stop in his -upward progress. Stop, clinging to the ladder posts, his face -half-turned round to those in the hall, the grin upon that face -horribly intensified. For, even as he had thus half-mounted it, the -beatings on the door against which the ladder leant had been -redoubled.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Surely," whispered Andrew, "they are using some tree-trunk as -battering ram"--and it seemed as if the next moment must see that door -fall in from the tremendous blows administered from the outside.</p> - -<p class="normal">Next, a babel of voices and a shouting arose.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is the wolf there?" one called, while even as he did so another -answered: "Be very sure he is"; and others were heard shouting: "Bring -him forth. Give him to us, and we spare the house. Otherwise all are -doomed."</p> - -<p class="normal">And again the beatings and the buffetings were renewed, while now a -part of the door a few feet from the ground was burst in, and through -it there protruded the jagged edge of a hastily-chopped-down tree.</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew had guessed aright! They were using roughly-improvised -battering rams!</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment the hunted wretch--the man caught like a rat in a -trap--glared round his hall; even in the dim light and gloom Andrew -could see his tongue rolling over his lips as though to moisten their -feverish burning, then, urged by God knows what desperation--the -desperation perhaps of despair, perhaps of tigerish rage and -ferocity!--he leapt up the last remaining rungs of the ladder, -carrying the carbines in his hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">Leapt up, as the wild cat leaps up the branches of forest trees, until -he was level with the little shutter, flung it open with one hand, -and, in an instant, had discharged both carbines into the midst of -whatever crowd might be without.</p> - -<p class="normal">And he shrieked:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hounds, <i>bélîtres</i>, scum, he is here!" then flung the shutter to -again and descended the ladder swiftly.</p> - -<p class="normal">'Twas well that he did so; 'twas well he wasted no time. Ere he had -reached the hall's stone floor that shutter fell in splinters after -him, shattered by a score of bullets from without; also at this moment -the upper part of the door was beaten in amidst terrible roars and -howls and curses from the attackers. Fortunately for those in that -hall, there were still some seven feet of the lower part left standing -to protect them from the besiegers' shot.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Save yourselves," cried De Bois-Vallée to his men. "Save yourselves. -They may spare you. Me they will never spare. I must find a way."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, flinging the lamp upon the flames of the fire--so that, after one -brief moment of explosive brightness, the hall became all dark but for -the remaining flames which glistened amidst the gloom like fiery -eyes--he and all below were instantly obscured from the sight of those -above.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_27" href="#div1Ref_27">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></h4> - -<h4>NEARER AND NEARER</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"How can he escape?" Andrew whispered in Marion's ear. "The house is -surrounded. There is no other outlet but the great door. Or do you -know of aught?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, as he asked the girl that question, he told himself it was -impossible there could be any such outlet known to her. Had there been -she would have apprized him of it on the night when they made their -first attempt to fly; would never have let the risk be encountered of -endeavouring to unbar the great door while all round the hall lay the -sleeping servants, ready to spring out on them at the first alarm. The -question was useless!</p> - -<p class="normal">It was answered, however, by a sound that caused him to start and look -round--a sound that was, indeed, a laugh; yet one of so strange and -sinister a nature that he almost shuddered as he heard it.</p> - -<p class="normal">It came from the woman, Clemence. Then she spoke, while as she did so -her great eyes gleamed and sparkled in so wild a manner that he -imagined she had now become entirely demented.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is a way out," she said, "but none know it except he. Not -even I--though often enough I tried to learn it from his father; have -even in later days tried to make him tell it to me. Yet neither ever -would! The wolves of Lorraine have expected to-night's work for -generations--they have kept the secret to themselves."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Sdeath!" exclaimed Andrew, though the oath he used was stronger than -this, "but he shall share his secret with us to-night. Where he goes -forth we three go also--or he goes not at all. Quick, let us get near -and stay near him. Ha! see, he comes this way. Mounts the stairs. -Observe--stand by. We must keep him in sight."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was as he had said. De Bois-Vallée was creeping up the stairs -now--they could see a dark form against the balustrades coming up and -up and up--once the dying embers of the fire in the hall below -flickered into a fresh blaze--they could see, too, that he had -discarded his pistols and carried in his hand his bare sword. Even saw -the steel scintillating now and again in the faint glow sent up while -he mounted.</p> - -<p class="normal">Watching him coming towards them and, for certain, never dreaming of -whom he would encounter above, it seemed to those three as though some -hunted wild beast was fleeing for its life. Crawling up with one hand -on the balustrade, the other grasping his weapon, they observed his -bright red hair--for he was wigless--as he mounted. Watched, and saw -also the terror-stricken glances he flung over his shoulder as, -reaching the first landing, he knew that he could be seen over the top -of the shattered door by those who might be standing in, or near, the -doorway.</p> - -<p class="normal">And that he was seen they learnt at once; there came two spits of -flame from firelocks discharged outside, and, through the rent space, -the sharp crack of the weapons; then, next, the splinters flying from -two of the balustrade posts. And they saw the savage grin of hate and -fury on his face--saw his white teeth gleam like a hunted wolf's, as -he, himself the Wolf of Lorraine, ran round the landing and began to -mount the next flight. The flight that would bring him to where they -were!</p> - -<p class="normal">From outside, too, they could hear the shouts of the avengers; hear -harsh calls and cries in both the French and German tongues, derisive -laughter, voices that called out, "the wolf is trapped! He can never -escape! Fire not at him, let him find death in his own house of evil!" -while, above all, the soft, silvery voice of a boy sang the strain, -"<i>Lorraine, Lorraine, ma douce patrie</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">He turned once more--his foot on the first stair, a look of horror in -his eyes as that sweet voice arose, turned and glared back again to -the ruined door whence the sound entered. It almost seemed to those so -close above him as though they heard him groan.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kill him," Clemence hissed in Andrew's ear. "Dead!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, even as she spoke, the man fleeing from below sprang up the -stairs that led to where they were, and so came full upon them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Upon Clemence, regarding him with sparkling eyes, and with, on her -face, a hideous smile; upon Marion Wyatt a little behind her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Upon Andrew Vause standing also regarding him, his arms folded, but in -his right hand his sword!</p> - -<p class="normal">He reeled back gasping, astonished, perhaps terrified at the sight of -those three figures standing at the top of the stairs.</p> - -<p class="normal">Staggered back, though as he did so he shifted the sword he carried, -so that he no longer held it by the blade in his left hand, but -grasped its handle with his right. Yet, even as he thus reeled, and -with even, as they observed by the light of the moon now streaming in -through an upper window, the look upon his face of a hunted creature -at bay doubly intensified, so, too, they saw the bewilderment he -experienced at finding them there together.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are free!" He hissed; "and you, too!" while, as he spoke, he -lifted his left arm and pointed with his forefinger up the few steps -that separated him from them. "Free! No need to ask how. By her--the -traitress!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke he leapt up the remaining stairs, and, in the eyes of all -of them there flashed a bright ray as though of phosphorus--a ray that -seemed to be met and entwined with another. Then, a hiss of steel -grating against steel and a clang, and the sword he had held a moment -before in his hand, and had thrust out with murderous intent against -the mad woman, slid down the steps hilt first.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet," said Andrew, lowering now his own point. "This is no time -for murder nor--for execution. That comes later. Pick up your blade, -Monsieur De Bois-Vallée, and sheathe it. Otherwise I take it away from -you. There is something else to be done, ere you use it again--against -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Curse you! What?" yet as he spoke he obeyed Andrew, in so far that he -reclaimed his fallen weapon. Also, as he did so--as he picked up the -sword--he mounted the stairs one step higher.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This; listen. There is a secret exit known to you from this doomed -house--nay, deny it not, I know full well 'tis so--by that exit you -are about to escape. So be it. 'Tis no intention of mine to prevent -you. Only----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only?" repeated De Bois-Vallée in a whisper. "Only?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You take us with you. Then, when we are outside, free from these -howling Lorrainers who justly seek your life, you shall use that -sword--against me. At once you shall use it. But, now, be quick, waste -no time. Hark, see, look over, they are almost in your hall. There is, -I say, no time to waste."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was true! There was no time to waste! He, De Bois-Vallée, could see -that as well as Andrew; glancing down through the rude-carved mediæval -balustrades, he recognized the swift impending doom of his house.</p> - -<p class="normal">For the door was almost down now--the shouts of the Lorrainers would -have told that if nothing else had done so. Also the beating of axes -and sledges on it, the clatter of countless feet outside on the -stones, the glare of lights from torches and flambeaux that sent -gleams through the windows, and winked and trembled on the carved -beams of the stairs, and the armour and arms with which the ancient -hall was hung, and lit up all their faces above.</p> - -<p class="normal">Also, still, above all the noise outside, above the yells and -execrations and curses of the Lorrainers, above their shouts and -cries, and the firing of their weapons over the broken-down door into -dark upper corners, there rose the sweet, clear voice of the boy -singing, "<i>Lorraine, Lorraine, ma douce patrie</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You hear, you see!" Andrew said. "The end of you and of your vile -house is at hand. All escape below is long since past. Lead us to the -secret exit you know of."</p> - -<p class="normal">He stood there before them; before the woman he had deeply wronged, -though, as yet, Andrew knew not how; before the mad woman whose love -had turned to gall and hate and treachery; before that huge avenger in -whom he saw, and, seeing, recognized his doom. Stood before them, a -shadow almost, in the fitful light which illuminated the darkness, as -they, too, stood shadows before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quick," Andrew exclaimed again. "Quick. Or we all die together -in this house. Only--you first. If you tarry longer--another -moment--while I count ten--I fling you over to those men below," and -as he spoke he advanced towards De Bois-Vallée.</p> - -<p class="normal">Unheeding his actions, in truth not valuing these actions sufficiently -to oppose them, his attention too much occupied by the awful -destruction going on below, Andrew had let the villain surmount the -topmost stair--gradually, and step by step--there being but three of -them--so that now he stood on a level with the others. And in his hand -was his sword.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, in answer, he spoke, while still his form was indistinct to them -and he loomed a blurred figure near them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is," he said, "no exit to this house. All here are doomed, all -must die----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You lie," Clemence hissed, "you lie. Your father knew of one, you -know it too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quick," again said Andrew, "trifle no longer." And now he advanced to -him, his own sword raised level with the other's breast. "Lead us to -it, or this through you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come then," the other said. "Come. Yet," he continued, muttering to -himself, as though he meant them not to hear the savage words which he -could not repress in his hate, "yet, if I had my way as I hoped to -have had it, you should all have perished. All. All."</p> - -<p class="normal">In truth, neither Andrew nor Marion Wyatt did hear these words, while -if Clemence caught them she gave no sign. But still those marvellous -eyes shone and sparkled, and the full liquid orbs never ceased their -endeavour to pierce the darkness. Why did she watch him so?</p> - -<p class="normal">But, in spite of Andrew not having caught his mutterings, he knew full -well that this acquiescence might be a ruse of his enemy to take him -unawares, wherefore he bent his face nearer to him--for, now (so great -were the roars and the thunderings below) ordinary tones were of no -avail--and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go first and turn not. If you do, I will run you through without -hesitation. Also, sheathe your sword. Do as I say. Obey me."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was obeyed; through the darkness he saw the other act as he -commanded. Then, without another word, he again gave De Bois-Vallée -the signal to go forwards. And, touching both the women by his -side, he indicated that they too should follow the owner of the -soon-to-be-destroyed house.</p> - -<p class="normal">His arms stretched out in front of him as though groping his way, as -indeed he was, De Bois-Vallée moved on now, one hand sometimes upon -the rail that protected the uppermost landing from the well of the -house, the other against the wall of the rooms opening from that -landing. And, so, they reached at last the arched doorway that led to -the steps by which the ascent to the garret was made.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How escape thus?" asked Andrew, "there is no outlet there. This leads -alone to the roof and to the oubliette. Beware, man, what you do! Your -life is in my hands. Play me false and you lose it on the instant."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The way is here," the other muttered, though loud enough for Andrew -to hear him very well. "I know my own house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The way for all--not you alone?" and Andrew's voice sounded sinister -and threatening to the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, for all."</p> - -<p class="normal">Even as he spoke there came an increased din from below, and, though -none spoke to the other, all knew, or imagined, what had happened.</p> - -<p class="normal">The door was down--the besiegers in the house!</p> - -<p class="normal">Soon--who could doubt it?--what else was there for those men of -vengeance to do?--it would be in flames! Nothing could save it!</p> - -<p class="normal">Or only one thing. The yielding up of De Bois-Vallée to their ire.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stop," he said, addressing him, "stop. You know what will, what must, -happen next. It can be but one thing, the destruction of your house. -Retrace your steps if you choose, defend the house singly if you -desire--since I do believe that they come partly to rescue me, expect -from me no help--give yourself up to them. Thereby the flames may be -avoided. And--and--I grant you that respite."</p> - -<p class="normal">For answer, the other snarled at him--Andrew could plainly see that he -did so in the added light which now streamed up from the hall, -illuminating all the balconies and corridors.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may be that they come to save you. Yet there can be few to whom -you are known. Therefore, being here, they deem you my friend--or will -when they see you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your friend!" the tone contemptuous and full of loathing as Andrew -answered him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay. If you doubt it--and since you are so bold and brave a man--show -yourself to them and see."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment, stung by the taunt of even such as he, Andrew was -disposed to take him at his word. To descend towards those rioters, to -thrust his head over the balcony. To call to them and say who he was -and what he did in the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">Another moment's reflection, and he decided against that resolve.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," he said, "nay. They may not know me--there are but one or two -who have ever seen my face--a dozen bullets in my body would reward me -for my pains and foolhardiness. Also, vagabond, you would be alone -with the women. Even though I returned in safety it would be to find -them dead at your hands--and you gone! Lead on, show us the way. We go -together."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, touching him none too gently, he urged him forward.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_28" href="#div1Ref_28">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></h4> - -<h4>ESCAPE</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Andrew shortened his sword at this time, for, since he could not -doubt that De Bois-Vallée intended treachery, he meant to slay him at -the first moment that treachery became apparent; meant to use the -sword as a dagger and, striking down swiftly under the other's left -shoulder, end him. That there should be no doubt of his intention, and -because his action might not be perceptible in the obscurity around -them, he whispered in De Bois-Vallée's ear a word to that effect. -Took, too, his hand and placed it against his own where it grasped the -blade low down, and ran that hand along it till it touched the point.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He must know full well now," thought Andrew to himself, "what awaits -him if he plays me false."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, as the other withdrew his own hand from the blade, they went on -again.</p> - -<p class="normal">By this time they were at the foot of the steps leading up to the -garret; the garret where Andrew had lain a prisoner for so many days.</p> - -<p class="normal">Behind him, encouraged now and again by a whispered word, and, in -Marion Wyatt's case, by a gentle touch or so from his great hand, the -women came--she next to him, Clemence behind.</p> - -<p class="normal">As for the former, it seemed that the time had come when she could -persevere no more. Her face was almost invisible, but her actions and -her drooping attitude showed Andrew, as he peered through the darkness -at her, that she could struggle little longer. Already she leant -half-fainting, half in a stupor, on the woman, Clemence--it -seemed that there was scarce any life or strength left in her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Courage, courage!" He whispered to the girl. "Courage. He must know -some way out--there must be some secret doorway here leading to -hidden stairs behind. Courage, I say. Lean on me. See, he mounts the -stairs--once there he shows us the way, or dies."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Marion could not answer now--her breath came in terrible gasps -from her, she seemed choking, while at the same time almost incapable -of further motion, although still she forced one foot after the other -as, supported by Clemence, they stood at the bottom of the garret -ladder. As for her, Clemence, she appeared to have superhuman -strength; her arms around the tottering woman she helped her to mount -those steps up which all went following De Bois-Vallée, whose almost -indistinct figure crept forward in front of them. And now they stood -within the garret itself, when Andrew, putting out his hand, laid it -on the other man's shoulder.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go not so fast," he whispered in his ear. "The darkness is intense. -We must not lose you. And," tightening his grasp on De Bois-Vallée's -sleeve, "direct not your steps this way. The oubliette is here. Is it -to that you lead us?"</p> - -<p class="normal">From the man whom his hand clutched there came no word, only Andrew -heard him catch his breath suddenly with a hoarse gasp; from the woman -behind it seemed to him as though there came once more that low, -gurgling laugh he had before remarked. Then he heard her whisper in -his ear. "'Tis that--'tis that! Beware of----"</p> - -<p class="normal">Her words were drowned by another roar from below--something fresh had -occurred. What was it?</p> - -<p class="normal">Their ears told them--sight was unnecessary, though that too aided -them ere long.</p> - -<p class="normal">They could hear the trampling of the men beneath, hear huge weighty -things being thrown down in the hall, which fell with a sound -resembling the fall of tons of lead, and they knew--Andrew and -Clemence--perhaps, too, De Bois-Vallée--that they were trees being -brought in and cast on the hall as fuel; they heard orders being -given. Orders for powder-flasks and horns to be ignited beneath -kindlings--another order that none should rush up the stairs to seek -for the wolf.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is enough that he is here," a fierce, strident voice cried. "We -know it. We will burn him in his hole as we burnt the bear last year. -Pray God we see him rush out in flames as Bruin rushed."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, even above the voice, pealed that of the boy singing:</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Lorraine, Lorraine, ma douce patrie</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">From Marion there came at this added horror a shriek, long, wailing, -piteous to hear, the shriek of one in mortal dread; Andrew's ears -caught once again a hoarse whisper from Clemence, and the words, "this -is death. So best!" In his grasp he felt the man whom he held shaking -with terror, and then, suddenly, as he turned to speak another word of -encouragement to Marion, he knew that De Bois-Vallée had escaped him -Either in his terror, or in the quickly acquired knowledge that, as -Andrew so turned, the grasp relaxed somewhat, he shook himself free.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was gone! Escaped! There was nothing before Andrew but empty -darkness! His sword told him that, as he plunged it furiously into the -empty space in all directions, except where the women were.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has escaped," he whispered to Clemente. "Escaped, and left us -here. Has reached the exit, and left us to die."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Escaped?" she screamed. "Escaped? How? How? How?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet in another moment it seemed as if her rage at this was swallowed -up by some new idea.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If he is gone," she said, "why let them destroy the house? And--surely -if they know women are in it--they will spare us. She," and the woman -cast her eyes upon the almost insensible form of Marion, "cannot descend -to them. I will go myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay," said Andrew, "it will be useless. They will not believe. -Will think 'tis but a ruse to save him and his house. 'Twill not -avail."</p> - -<p class="normal">Also he remembered, though he could not say so to her, that Jean and -Laurent had hinted, even if they had not said so in as many words, -that this woman was as unpopular in all the country round as the owner -of Bois-le-Vaux himself, was regarded as an evil creature of his. What -likelihood, therefore, that they would desist from glutting the -passions now aroused in their breasts, or from their determination to -destroy the house, should she show herself?</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will come with you," he said a moment later, seeing that nothing -could turn her from this newly arrived at determination. "There may be -none who know me, and can thereby stay their comrades' hands, but, at -least, one glance will show that I am not he. There is no resemblance -betwixt us. We will go together."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No! no! no!" she said, stopping in the descent she had already -commenced on the stairs. "Man! are you mad? If there are none who know -you they will deem, must deem, you his friend, accomplice. And," she -went on, almost imperiously, "I bid you stay--for her sake," pointing -to Marion as she spoke. "If a bullet find your heart or brain, what of -her? She will be burnt to a cinder in this house."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was true! He must not leave her; never leave her now. Death had -threatened them, the end was very near--another hour and the mansion -would be in flames; his place was by her side. Either in life or -death! Henceforth, come what might--safety or destruction--they must -find it together.</p> - -<p class="normal">Even as he recognized that this was so, Clemence was gone, had -descended the upper flight of stairs, was about to descend the lower. -And as he, peering over once more, looked down, he knew the awful risk -to which the woman had exposed herself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Up from the hall floor, as they saw her above, came a shout of many -voices. In an instant the crack of half a dozen muskets came, too, -also shrieks and ribald cries.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The witch, Clemence. The hell-cat. The beldam. His mother's rival. -The curse of all her days. At her! At her! Tear her to pieces."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay!" roared out that harsh, strident voice he had heard before. -"Nay. Not so. And come you back," its owner cried to three others who -had already begun to rush up the stairs, as though to seize on her. -"Come back, I say. Nor fire on her more. There is a better way. He is -here and she is with him. Let them burn together!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The shots had missed her--every one!--though Andrew, watching, had -seen her stagger back as they struck the stairs and the wall around -her; now she turned and retraced her steps to where he stood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you wounded?" he gasped when she had rejoined him, noticing that -her face was bloodless, white as that of a corpse--that the great -pendulous lips--in years gone by, doubtless, so full and ruddy--shook -and trembled.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," she said, "unharmed. Yet doomed. Doomed! Still, there is a -chance. If I go back to them, fling my body from this landing to the -stone floor below, they may cease."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you also mad?" he asked hoarsely; "Are you mad? You think I shall -permit that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis the only way to stop them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bah!" Andrew exclaimed. "Nothing will stop them. You forget. They -know he is here. Also they cannot know of any secret escape--even -though there be one."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her hands fell in despair by her side, her eyes rolled piteously, she -recognized that it was as he had said. It was the wolf they sought -first and chiefly--her next.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We are lost!" she muttered. "Lost! Lost!"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was impossible to doubt that such was the case.</p> - -<p class="normal">Looking over once more, down into that great well beneath them, he -saw that the floor was piled the height of a man's head with saplings -and trees, both green and dry, and with kindlings formed from -wrenched-down tapestry, broken chairs and stools and other things, -chopped up small; even the great table itself was being hacked into -firewood. All hope was gone!</p> - -<p class="normal">Likewise, he saw three men standing close together, the palms of two -of them placed side by side, so as to form a bowl, while the third -emptied all their powder-horns into those hands; after which they -placed the heap beneath the accumulated fuel. No need to doubt that -the fire would blaze fiercely! Then one strode forward--the man with -the great raucous voice--and said some words of gloating, while, as he -did so, he bent his knees and stooped down, and peered into the mass -collected together, and nodded approbation of the heap of powder -beneath. Then rose and stood back some yards and drew a great pistol -from his belt.</p> - -<p class="normal">Drew it, gave one look to the priming and his flint--fired, and -ignited the heap. And as the powder leapt up a mass of green and -yellow flames, as the kindlings and the logs caught, even as the -report rang through the house of the De Bois-Vallées, so, too, there -rang cheer after cheer, howl after howl, as though hell itself had let -loose all its fiends. Also they danced and capered round and round -that pyre, Andrew seeing two men clasp hands and waists and execute a -grim fantastic dance about the hall! They stirred, too, with pikes and -halberds wrenched from off the walls, the logs; some even thrust the -swords they carried into the flames to make the fire burn more -fiercely. Then, all stood away from the great open doorway, from which -the door had long since been torn, so that the breeze of morning--for -the day was nigh at hand--might blow in and fan those flames. The -great door itself as well was lifted up upon their shoulders, carried -in, and flung upon them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To the leads! To the leads!" Clemence muttered. "To the leads. Better -die there than here, as we must if we stay longer. See! See!" and she -pointed down. "The lower stairs are on fire; already the way--that -way--is cut off. We are trapped. To the leads."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," said Andrew, "to the leads. After that--death, unless some -portions of the house stand firm. How is it with her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is insensible--not dead. Not yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet, I pray God. Give her to me. Come--if we can find the opening -to the roof the air may revive her." Whereon, stooping down, he lifted -the girl once more to his shoulder.</p> - -<p class="normal">267</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go carefully," he said to Clemence, "carefully--beware the oubliette. -For God's sake, avoid that."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus they returned to the garret, groping their way in the dense -blackness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give me your hand," she answered, putting out her own and finding -his. "I have been here in the dark before, and know where the exit is. -Now come."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, following her, with his burden clasped to his breast with one -arm, he let her guide him slowly and step by step--each one made sure -of ere another was taken--through the darkness and the ever-increasing -atmosphere of suffocation, towards where stood the ladder leading to -the roof.</p> - -<p class="normal">And so, feeling their way inch by inch, Clemence first, with Andrew -following, he bearing Marion in his arms, and having at the same time -to keep touch with the former and also to carry his drawn sword--since -he knew not if, even now, De Bois-Vallée might not be lurking -somewhere close by in that dark garret, ready to thrust his own weapon -through him, or, indeed, through all of them--they reached shortly the -ladder that led to the roof. And, then, a few moments more and they -had emerged on to the leads.</p> - -<p class="normal">The rain, that had been falling at intervals (though sometimes it had -been clear moonlight) since the wintry sun had set amidst a bank of -deep blood-coloured clouds, backed up and surrounded by still deeper -leaden ones, had ceased now--up from the south-west, as they gained -the roof, there blew a soft, warm breeze that was as the breath of -heaven to them after the reeking interior from which they had escaped. -Yet--escaped for how long, Andrew and Clemence wondered inwardly? For -how long? How long would it be ere that portion of the house on which -they stood might be alight, and, thus destroyed, engulf them below? -Below, where it was easy enough to see that already the house was in -flames--and whence there reached their nostrils the fumes of smoke. -Already, too, by gazing over the parapet Andrew could see the red -tongues of fire shooting out from windows, and volumes of dun-coloured -smoke emerging. Could hear, also, those windows bursting and the sound -of rent glass as it fell on the stones of the courtyard.</p> - -<p class="normal">Heard, too, and saw other things ere an hour had elapsed--an hour in -which Clemence had sat on the ladder giving to the roof, with Marion -lying in her arms. For, at the end of that hour, a terrible roar and -rending sound reached his ears from beneath, and, looking once more -over the parapet, he saw the left side of the house rent open; knew -that a portion of one of the wings had fallen inwards. The north wing, -and that the one which joined the part of the house above which they -all were.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_29" href="#div1Ref_29">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></h4> - -<h4>THE LAST CHANCE</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Another hour passed--the dawn was close at hand--and the ruin of the -greater part of the fabric was almost accomplished. For that was what -Andrew perceived now, as still he kept his vigil above and listened -still to the cries of those below, who were all by this time outside -in the courtyard and the fringe of the copse, revelling in their -handiwork and the accomplishment of their long-thirsted-for vengeance.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beneath him the fire still raged and burned, though by God's mercy it -had even now left untouched that side of the building on which they -were--the side that was nearest to the slope of the mountain from -which he had originally crossed: untouched at least at present! -Therefore, he knew that for some time they were safe; below where they -stood there was still the floor of more or less solid masonry, then -the other floor from which they had escaped--the one that was beneath -the leads on which they were. In the front, also, the fire had not yet -got a hold, it was on the two sides that its fury seemed to have been -most expended. Of them, the north wing had already fallen in, as has -been said; the south one looked as though it would do so at any -moment. And, gazing at the gap made by that destroyed on the other -side, Andrew could not but shudder, for had it so happened that they -had been there when it gave way, had it so happened that the way to -the leads had lain through the north wing, they would have gone with -it in its fall, have all been lying crushed to death beneath the -stonework and woodwork which had been hurled into the great hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, even as he looked across the gap left by that fallen wing, as he -peered down into the now blocked-up hall, so blocked up, indeed, that -the <i>débris</i> of the north side rose almost level with the top floors -of the sides still standing, he saw that here was something which -would prevent the total annihilation of the house, and deprive the -Lorrainers of their vengeance in its entirety; would also prevent the -whole of the building from being razed to the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">Something, too, that would, perhaps, save those who were upon the -roof, render it unlikely that that roof should sink beneath them, and, -in so sinking, carry them with it to destruction.</p> - -<p class="normal">He saw that, as the northern side had crashed in, the lower, or stone, -portion had fallen upon the mass of burning matter, and, thereby, had -beaten out much of the fire, which now only smouldered beneath the -masonry and wreckage of that lower portion, which, in its turn, had -received above it the wooden part. The flames from below--even if not -totally extinguished--could never, therefore, reach the woodwork -above; it was as likely as not that, soon, they would be entirely -pressed out by the weight. If, therefore, the foundations of that -portion of the house over which they now stood were not injured, if -that wing did not fall in, they were saved. The fire would die out, -and, when it had done so, surely some means of descending to earth -again could be found, even though there were now no stairs left.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is yet a chance for us," he said, going back to where Clemence -was, and telling her briefly what he had observed, and what he deduced -from that observation. "Still a chance--that is, if the Lorrainers are -content with what they have done. Will they be, or will nothing -satisfy them but the total destruction of the house? If so, they will -set it alight again on the other sides. Then nothing can save us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They may be content," the woman answered, glancing up at him, "if -they suppose that he is dead. Otherwise they will not. And more than -one half of the house still stands secure. Therefore, they may think -he is safe somewhere. They will begin again; they will never desist -until he is slain."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Our danger is not then over," Andrew said quietly. "It seems--if you -guess aright--that we are doomed. How is it now with her?" and he -glanced down at Marion as she lay in the woman's arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is more peaceful. And she breathes easily. Yet, the shock has -been too much for her. She will not live."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are sure of that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore," said Andrew more to himself than to her, "my -determination to kill him is greater than ever. Two lives now to -demand expiation for, besides his other crimes." Then, turning to -Clemence, and bending down to her, he asked: "What think you? Has he -escaped? Oh! that I should have let him--let him go without me at his -heels."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not," she muttered, "yet, as I have said, there is some way -out of this house. His father knew it--I have heard him speak of -it--though he kept the secret well. But, even though he escapes you, -he is a doomed man if he stays in this land. They have begun," and she -waved her hand to the depths below, where still the Lorrainers could -be heard calling to each other and--sometimes, it seemed--from the -sounds which arose in the early morning air--gloating over the ruin -they had wrought: "now there can be but one end. I know my own -people."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will not escape me," Andrew replied. "As you know your own people, -so I know myself. If I live through this night--this day which is now -dawning--I will find him. And then his last chance is gone. I spared -him once when he lay stretched at my feet--I saved his life--to-night -I have let him trick me and so save himself. Well! 'tis the last. When -next we stand face to face I slay him like some poisonous reptile."</p> - -<p class="normal">While, as he spoke, he gazed down on Clemence, and saw her great -starry eyes gleaming out at him through what was not, now, all the -darkness of night.</p> - -<p class="normal">And they had lived through it! For he had said truly--the dawn of -another day was come--that night of horror had passed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Far away to the east, away to the side of the slope from which he had -crossed to the roof of this now ruined house, there was a light in the -sky--dim at present, yet gradually becoming clearer, which told that -the night was indeed over; also the tree-tops were beginning to be -visible, other objects to stand out and be recognizable. And as Andrew -on that roof gazed towards the coming day--wondering if, with it, -would come also safety and escape; if the next night would find all or -any of them alive--he knew that he, too, had become visible to those -below. He heard a shout from the fringe of copse beyond the great -courtyard, and, turning his eyes down, saw the danger which threatened -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Observed the gleam of a dozen musketoon barrels pointed his way, and, -as he sprang back behind the buttress of an angle close to where the -women were, saw their puffs of smoke and darts of flame, followed half -a second after by the reports, and heard some of the bullets hurtle -against that buttress while others sang through the air over the very -spot he had just quitted.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a moment he knew and understood!</p> - -<p class="normal">"They take me for him," he said, turning to Clemence, who had half -sprung from the ladder where she sat supporting Marion, while the girl -moaned, either at being disturbed, or at the falling pieces of brick -and stone that scattered round her, "take me for him. 'Tis not strange -in this half light. Yet, how to make them understand? Even if there -are any there who have known me--Jean, to wit--they think me dead. -They knew I was within this house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"See," the woman interrupted, and scarce listening to his words, "see, -the fire breaks out again. On the south side now--and it has reached -the top floor. Soon all that will be in flames. There is no hope."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was true. From the parapet that ran beneath the leads of the south -side, and which was at a left angle to that portion of the roof on -which they were, there sprang a long thin line of flame--flame that -bubbled out accompanied by white, clear smoke, but which, thin as it -was, yet grew thicker every moment Both flame and smoke were finding a -vent from below; they could not doubt that, underneath, a large -portion of the south wing was burning fiercely.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is one hope," Andrew said, "still one. Observe. The volumes of -smoke from the hall no longer roll up as they did; there the fire is -almost extinguished by the masonry and <i>débris</i> that has fallen on it. -Also, the trap leading here from the garret is open, yet none comes -forth either. I will back to the garret. I may find the secret way. -The way he went."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Impossible. Others have sought for it, even though only to gratify -curiosity--I myself have done so all over the house. You will never -find it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet will I try. If that fresh fire spreads and we cannot escape, we -shall be roasted alive. I will go," and as he spoke he went towards -the trap opening below (shielding himself behind buttress and chimney -base as he did so, so that no bullet from the Lorrainers should find -its mark), and descended.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, when he had spent half an hour looking round the garret in all -directions, he had to give up his search, had to acknowledge that it -was unavailing. No use to look under the bare, uncovered rafters, to -see if there was any entrance, however small, to some descent--there -was none a cat could have crept down; no use to stamp upon the boards -of the floor on which he had lain so many days and nights; they were -solid oak planks, affixed to the joists below with great clove-headed -nails. It would have taken an hour to get one of them from its place. -Yet, fearing to miss any chance, he tried and tested each one -separately.</p> - -<p class="normal">Once he advanced to the horrid shaft--the "oubliette"--and peered down -that, wondering if, there, might be the secret way. Yet, he felt sure -and told himself, the way out could not be there. The great mouth of -the shaft gaped black and cavernous, while, as he laid himself on the -floor, and, with face over the edge, peered down into it, there came -up a damp odour which seemed to tell for certain that its depth was -terrible. And if it were not an "oubliette"--a "<i>guet-apens</i>," as he -had once termed it--wherefore that mounting block which they had all -had to use so recently, and why that treacherous staircase, or ladder, -from above, which ended abruptly, so that the hastening victim should -be plunged blindly into the abyss of the shaft below?</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet he sounded it as well as he was able; leant over and, with his -sword in his extended hand, thrust down to see if there were any ledge -or bottom within reach--and found none! He discovered, too, a link of -the chain which had bound him, and hurled it down, listening for the -sound of its fall. But heard nothing--except that it struck once -against the side, owing to his not throwing it precisely straight. -Then, nothing more.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is no way there, except to death!" He muttered. "It is useless. -As well return to the roof and await what comes. At least, Marion -Wyatt will not die alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">The flames of the south side had increased to a great extent as he -regained the spot where the women were--also a soft wind was fanning -them, so that now they leapt up some feet from the roof, burning clear -and bright against what was still half night, half day. Standing there -watching them, and watching also the direction in which the wind came, -he knew that it would not be long--not an hour perhaps--ere those -flames had spread to the wing where they all were.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then the end would be very near. Well! it must be borne. There was -nothing for it but that.</p> - -<p class="normal">From these thoughts he was startled by the action of the woman, -Clemence, at this moment. Startled! Amazed!</p> - -<p class="normal">She had been sitting gazing heedlessly, almost, it might have seemed, -indifferently, at those flames towards which he had at that instant -turned his back to look down on Marion, when, suddenly, she removed -the girl's head from her lap and rose swiftly to her feet--heedless of -whether she might be seen or not by the besiegers below. Then she -raised her hand--her eyes gleaming strangely as ever--and pointed away -towards where the road to Remiremont ran behind the woods. The road -along which Andrew had come on that night when he paid his visit of -observation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Look," she said, and he noticed how firm and unshaken her voice was, -"Look, what is that? There are none to help us; none here; not one of -the Duke's men would raise a finger to help him--also they come not -from where the Duke is. Yet, look. Look, I say."</p> - -<p class="normal">Following her glance, Andrew did look. And saw that which, at first, -he could not understand the meaning of. Amongst the trees, over which -the wintry day had now broken, the trees which separated Bois-le-Vaux -from the Remiremont road, he saw a long cavalcade of horsemen winding -down from the mountain slopes. A cavalcade of horsemen which stretched -on and on until several hundreds of them had descended and were still -descending to the plains of Lorraine--horsemen on whose glittering -corselets and backs-and-breasts and headpieces, as well as bridles and -stirrups (though over many of them their long riding cloaks were -thrown) the now rising winter sun sparkled. He saw, too, from the roof -of the ruined house on which he stood, that, in the morning light, -there fluttered the pennons of lances and banners, bearing on them -devices of many kinds, guidons also, having on them a large and -glittering sun; flags bearing emblems, crests, and coats-of-arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">Overmastered by that which he observed--for the shining splendour of -that great sun upon a purple silk ground told him plainly enough who -were those men streaming down from the Vosges--overmastered by the -certainty of their safety being at last assured, he threw prudence to -the winds, and, boldly exposing himself to the Lorrainers below, he -shouted:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Look! Look! Behold! Your hour is past--you have missed your chance. -Behold the army of France is in your land."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether surprise at seeing him there--for now none could believe that -it was De Bois-Vallée himself--prevented one single shot from being -fired at him, or whether it was that, as they saw that army streaming -down into Lorraine, they became paralyzed with consternation, Andrew -could not tell. Yet one of these it must have been, for soon, from all -below, there came a babel of shouts and cries, from all their throats -there rose the words:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The army of France! the army of France! Lorraine is lost to all -eternity!" And, even as they so cried, they dispersed and sped away. -Sped, too, as fast as they could go, for now it was evident that the -burning house had been observed by some in the ranks of the advancing -cavalry. Already more than one troop had been detached and was -breaking off from the main body, and seeking for a road that should -bring them to it.</p> - -<p class="normal">While Clemence, white now to the lips, white as the woman whose face -lay once more on her lap, muttered hoarsely:</p> - -<p class="normal">"What? What does it mean? What portend?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It means," replied Andrew, "that Turenne has crossed the Vosges, that -your fair Lorraine will be wrenched from out your Duke's hands for -ever--that the Imperialists are in a trap. Also--it means that we are -saved."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_30" href="#div1Ref_30">CHAPTER XXX.</a></h4> - -<h4>FREE!</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Andrew had divined aright. That was what, in truth, it did mean.</p> - -<p class="normal">Turenne had performed the greatest military feat of Louis' reign, had -set the chief seal upon a long career of glory.</p> - -<p class="normal">Weary of lying inert in winter quarters for weeks after the battle of -Entzheim, he had suddenly conceived, and afterwards carefully matured, -the achievement which he had now carried through. The whole of his -army had left Alsace in three different brigades, and, passing over -the Vosges in the depth of a winter remarkable for its inclemency and -particularly for the amount of rain which fell--progressing through -roads and mountain paths rendered almost impassable by the mud and -water with which they were soaked--had reached Lorraine. There -remained nothing now but to fall upon the unsuspecting Imperialists at -Belfort, Mühlhausen, and elsewhere, to hunt them from Lorraine and, -once more and finally, to make Louis master of that much disputed -province. How this was done countless other pens have told.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of those three brigades which had so wondrously and rapidly crossed -the mountains, the one that had met the eyes of Clemence first and of -Andrew afterwards, on this winter morning and after that night of -horror, was led by the great captain himself--it taking possession of -Remiremont ere many more hours had passed. Amongst those who had been -detached towards the still burning house, the moment that the flames -were seen, were some that formed the brigade of cavalry under the -Count de Lusignan, with also several of the English and Scotch -auxiliaries, under the command for the moment of the Marquis De La -Fare.</p> - -<p class="normal">They rode into that great courtyard half an hour after the Lorrainers -had deserted the place, and, used though they were--God knows the -devastation of the Palatinate had made them so!--to the sight of -burning houses, even of burning towns and cities, they could not but -stare in amazement at what met their eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">For, still, from the south wing of that great house the flames poured -forth in fury--that side of it having now caught well alight; upon the -roof of the west wing they saw, clear against the threatening sky, the -form of a great man standing looking down upon them, his arms folded.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, from the midst of those rescuers, there rode forward one who -was, undoubtedly, in command of them--the rich justaucorps with its -gold gallooning and <i>flammes d'or</i> showing that he who wore it -belonged to the nobility--who called up to Andrew standing above.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir, are you the owner of this unfortunate house?" while, as he -spoke, he raised his hand to his thick, three-cornered felt hat.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, sir. Yet am I the last man left alive in it. But if you will, or -can, rescue us from our perilous position, for there are two women -here as well as I----"</p> - -<p class="normal">But, as he spoke, he noticed that his questioner's attention had been -withdrawn from him by several of his followers, all of whom appeared -to be speaking earnestly to their leader, while at the same time they -directed their eyes up to Andrew, as did that leader also a moment -later. Then the latter said, or rather called up to him again:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir, my men here tell me strange news. I cannot think but that they -are mistaken. Yet they aver it is not so, and you can soon decide. -They say that you are of our army, of the English auxiliary force, and -fought for us recently."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis true, sir. I was of the English Regiment under Colonel -Churchill, and am on leave of absence. And," pointing to where some of -the English and Scotch were now making their way towards the house, -"there are some who should know me, seeing that we fought side by -side. But, monsieur, the fire gains rapidly, if the wind shifts a -point it will soon reach here; I beseech you lose no time in effecting -our rescue. We have had a terrible night of it, and--once I am with -you--I have a marvellous story to tell."</p> - -<p class="normal">The rescue was not effected for still some two hours, while, during -the passage of that time, the fire in the south wing crept ever nearer -and nearer towards the one on which Andrew and the two others were. At -last, however, it was accomplished. And thus it was done.</p> - -<p class="normal">Leaving Marion in the charge of Clemence, and observing that she -seemed somewhat easier now, though all that she had gone through -during the night, the excitement of the past few days, the terror of -the burning house, and the exposure to the cold of the early morning, -had undoubtedly brought her very near her end, he descended once more -to the garret and, through it, to the floor below. This was still -untouched by the fire, and it seemed indeed as though, should the -flames from the south wing be prevented from spreading, or should they -by any chance become extinguished, that portion of the house would not -be destroyed. Then he went on farther down, reaching at last the top -of the first floor, and standing over the gulf left yawning by the -falling in of the great oak stairs.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was here that his further descent was impeded, though, had the fire -not still been smouldering below, he could perhaps have escaped easily -enough: could have leaped down on to all the fallen <i>débris</i> that was -heaped up a dozen feet beneath him, have attempted a way across it to -the open doorway--bereft now of its huge double-door, which had been -chopped off its hinges by the besiegers and hurled on as fresh fuel to -feed the flames--have possibly forced his way out thus to safety and -freedom.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, now, at this time, no such attempt was wise--not wise, even had -he been alone and unencumbered with Marion Wyatt and Clemence.</p> - -<p class="normal">For, although the fire no longer blazed up from the centre of that -hall, although from the vast heap beneath him there rose only the -slow-curling, grey smoke that told of what was smouldering beneath, he -knew that, to spring into its midst yet, would be to spring into a -seething, still burning mass, to hurl himself into a vast heap of -charred embers--to be choked, burnt, suffocated beyond any hope of -recovery.</p> - -<p class="normal">The way was not to be found there!</p> - -<p class="normal">He went, therefore, rapidly along the gallery of that floor on the -west side in hopes of finding, perhaps, some other descent, some -<i>escalier de service</i>, or back stairs, by which escape might be made. -But there was none, or, if there had ever been any, it must have -existed in the north wing, which was long since entirely destroyed, or -in the south, which was on fire--or perhaps the front, which was -unreachable.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is but one way," he told himself, "one way left. From some -window. I must bring the women down here, find somehow the opportunity -of lowering them to the ground. Yet 'twill be no easy task. This stone -basement is high, was once the whole height of the house--was the -house itself. Laurent told me--'tis far to the ground from here."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was, indeed; the windows of the rooms that opened off the corridor -he was now on being fully thirty-five feet from the ground. A height -to appal a man who had to lower two almost helpless women--one -certainly helpless--from it to the earth; a man who had also not so -much as a cord in his possession wherewith to do so. Yet that, he -thought, could be overcome, provided for. The cavalry men outside -might catch the women in their arms as he lowered them; if they sat -close upon their horses and near together under the windows from which -he let down Marion and Clemence, at his--and their--full arms' length, -the distance would not be so much to fall. But entering the room -nearest to him, in which, to his horror, he found Beaujos, the -steward, lying dead in a bed--no doubt he had been keeping that bed -since the injuries he had received in Andrew's encounter with him when -he and Marion made their first attempt to escape, and had been -suffocated while lying there forgotten--another obstacle presented -itself. Outside the small diamond-paned lattice windows, themselves a -strong barrier to any exit, with their leaden framework for the small -panes, and with small stone columns dividing each window into three -compartments, he noticed at once that they were strongly guarded by -iron bars crossed both horizontally and perpendicularly. He tried -another room--it was the same, both as regarded bars outside and stone -columns within; was indeed a counterpart of the first. They offered no -chance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Curse these Lorraine wolves," he muttered to himself, as he rushed to -a third room, "they protected themselves well. Did indeed mean that -none should get into their house, or, being in, should ever get out -again."</p> - -<p class="normal">The third room was as useless as the first for his purpose, and--there -was but one more left! If that was the same, God only knew how the -escape could ever be made, unless it was back across the chasm, the -way he had come. Could that be done, he mused, as now he approached -the fourth room. Was that possible? If one, or a dozen, of the men -outside should proceed to the brink of the chasm, fasten a rope to the -tree as he and Laurent had done--if----</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! the chance is here," he exclaimed, breaking off in his -calculations. "Here. Here. It must be."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had entered the fourth room--in this case he had to burst the door -open by hurling himself against its stout oak panels, since it was -locked--and, in doing so, found the chance of which he spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">The window was of the same form as the others, but it had been -subjected to some great violence and was much damaged by the shock; -the slim columns were broken quite out of base and socket, the -shattered fragments of the stone lay on the floor and, with them, lay, -too, the leaden framework of the diamond panes, and most of the panes -themselves. The violence had come from outside--later on, Andrew -learnt that, during the night attack, a petard carried by the -besieging Lorrainers--one of a number brought by them to assist in -destroying the house--had been hurled against that window and had -blown it in. Yet, when this had been accomplished, their object had -failed. The window was too high from the ground to allow of their -obtaining entry, and the petard, after bursting it open, had fallen -back, doing no further damage.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still, it had performed a service never dreamt of by the -Lorrainers--it had provided a way for the escape of those three -prisoners in the burning house.</p> - -<p class="normal">The cavalry men, who had by now been joined by those belonging to the -English and Scotch auxiliaries, were all upon that side of the -mansion--since 'twas there, above, that they had first perceived the -form of Andrew outlined against the threatening morning clouds--and as -his head appeared through the shattered window they hailed him with a -shout. Also from those of his own countrymen, as well as from the -Scotch, came noisy greetings. Some had stood side by side with him in -other campaigns than these; all had seen his prowess at Entzheim and -honoured him for it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," called up the young Marquis De La Fare, he being the officer in -command, "the height is great. How to descend; how bring the ladies -you speak of?" While, as he himself spoke, he bade some of the men -search the outhouses they observed near by. Perchance some ladder -might be there, by which the window could be reached.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may happen," said Andrew, "that I can drop the women to you--yet -the distance is almost too great--if they should be missed by your -soldiers it would be instant death."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is impossible," the other replied. "Yet, have patience--my men -seek even now for some means to reach you--if a ladder can be found -all will be well. Meanwhile, I counsel you, go bring the ladies to the -window. By then the way may have been found."</p> - -<p class="normal">The advice was good, and Andrew lost no time in following it. Ere a -quarter of an hour had passed, Clemence and Marion had been brought -down from the roof, and were with him in the room. But, almost he -feared that ere they should be rescued Marion would be a dead woman. -She was nearly helpless now--nay, quite so, and half insensible; it -was in those great, untiring arms that she had to be carried from the -roof below.</p> - -<p class="normal">And behind them had followed Clemence, muttering:</p> - -<p class="normal">"She will die. She will die." While as she so said she wept.</p> - -<p class="normal">That she would die, Andrew could not doubt; this last shock, following -on the long detention she had been subjected to by her deceiver, De -Bois-Vallée; following on, too, the agony of mind she must have -suffered in musing on what those at home would feel at her -disappearance; had brought her to her end. He could not doubt it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And still," he murmured to himself, "Philip is unavenged. Soon there -will be two victims of his villainy. God! how I have failed. Failed to -avenge him, to save her--failed even to learn how the evil was -wrought. And if she dies now--to-day--to-night--I shall never know."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, even as he so spoke, there came into his face a look which would -have told plainly enough to anyone observing it, that, in one thing, -at least, he would not fail. If ever De Bois-Vallée stood face to face -with Andrew Vause again, he would escape no more with life--the hour -when he did so would be his last. Only--would he ever so stand? Might -he not by now have put leagues between them; might he not ere long put -the mountains, the seas, between him and the avenger who sought for -him!</p> - -<p class="normal">As Andrew gazed below from the window of the room in which they were -now, he learnt that no ladder was to be found, either in outhouse or -elsewhere. If there had ever been one it had been removed, probably by -the Lorrainers; had possibly been used by them to furnish fresh fuel -for the flames inside. But, even as the men who returned from the -search told the Marquis De La Fare of their failure, from another -group who had wandered further into the woods around the house there -came a shout--it seemed of triumph and rejoicing. Then, quickly, one -came running back, breathless, and soon the story was told of what -they had lit upon.</p> - -<p class="normal">A shed not far from the mansion, hidden in one of the copses of -Bois-le-Vaux; a house used by the woodmen for storing the felled logs -of trees--a house piled full of what was, doubtless, the winter store -of fuel--doubtless, also, overlooked by and unknown to the besiegers. -Otherwise, for sure, all in that but would have gone to swell the -flames--the attackers would not have laboured to hew down saplings and -branches had they known of that store so near to their hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, it was to be directed to a vastly different purpose--to save -instead of to destroy. By twos and threes, by squads as well, those -men who, for nights, had scarce rested during that weary and rough -passage of the mountains, set to work once more, bringing one by one, -or half a dozen at a time between them, the logs to the spot beneath -where those three prisoners were; untiringly they worked. And so they -placed them against the window from which Andrew gazed, making first a -deep base of the larger billets, edged round and secured by fallen -masses of stone and beams from the old house, and then building others -above, pyramid-wise, until, at last, the work was done.</p> - -<p class="normal">Until, at last, the stage was erected on to which those three could -step forth to safety and salvation. To which two of them, at least, -could step forth, but on to which the other, the dying woman, had to -be lifted.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_31" href="#div1Ref_31">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></h4> - -<h4>THE STORY OF MARION WYATT</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">For three days the rain--when it was not a damp snow that melted ere -it reached the earth--had fallen, had been falling incessantly since -Andrew and his companions were rescued; and now, in the best room of -the inn at Plombières, Marion Wyatt lay slowly dying.</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew had caused her to be brought here for more reasons than one: -firstly, because it was the best inn of the neighbourhood; and, -secondly, because at Remiremont, on the morning of their escape, every -room in the place had been occupied by the first brigade of Turenne's -army, the brigade of cavalry eighteen hundred strong, accompanied by -two companies of the Auxiliaries, which had crossed the Vosges with -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, all were gone--the war had rolled towards Mühlhausen and Belfort, -the junction was being made with the brigades which had passed the -mountains by other routes; soon, this night, perhaps--the army of -France would fall upon the unsuspecting Imperialists.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, of that army, one member, at least, remained behind--one who, -feeble and unable to take the field, though no longer with his brain -clouded or his speech impaired, had been on his way into Lorraine -under the protection of his countrymen--Valentin, Marquis Debrasques. -The news of the rescue of two women and a man from the burning house -which the brigade had observed on its downward march from the -mountains, had reached his ears almost before he had found -quarters--he having also been sent on to Plombières to do so; ere -another hour had passed he, standing at the door of the inn, had seen -them approaching, Marion and Clemence in a <i>calèche</i> that had been -obtained at Remiremont, Andrew walking by their side on foot. Also, he -had heard--nay, knew well enough, for in his aunt's life he had been -here with her--whose house it was from which the flames streamed forth -on the wintry morning air.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have saved her from him, at least," he said, his eye glancing -into the <i>calèche</i>, where he saw Marion lying inert, her head on -Clemence's shoulder. Then, sinking his voice even lower than it had -been, he asked:</p> - -<p class="normal">"And he. Is he dead?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet," answered Andrew. "Not yet. He has evaded me so far!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Later in the day--when Marion had been put into a warm and comfortable -bed, in which she lay in a stupor for hour after hour--Andrew told -him, and gave the Marquis the history of all that had occurred since -he quitted the army for a time, after having obtained leave from -Turenne to do so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now, Valentin," he said, "since you have recovered sufficiently -to do so, and since, also, it seems, poor girl! that Marion will pass -away without being able to throw any light on all the mystery which -surrounds her abduction from England--her long detention in that house -of his--I ask you, I call upon you to tell me----"</p> - -<p class="normal">But, ere he could proceed further in his demand, they were interrupted -by the entrance of Clemence into the room in which they sat--the room -in which, a month, ago, he and Jean had meditated on how he should -gain admission into the now ruined house of the Wolf of Lorraine.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She desires to see you," she said, addressing Andrew; "she is now -entirely herself again. Yet," and, as she spoke, both the others could -see that she had been weeping; that, also, it was with difficulty she -kept back her tears. "Yet, it will not, cannot be for long. My God! My -God!" she exclaimed, with a sudden wail of anguish, while the great -full lips trembled with emotion, and from her large eyes the drops ran -down to her cheeks, "she is dying. Will not live through the night! -Come to her. Come at once!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Bidding Debrasques await his return, Andrew arose and followed her. -Followed her, recognizing that, if he ever was to hear the whole story -of De Bois-Vallée's villainy, it must be now. If what Clemence said -was true--if she was not mistaken, and the unhappy girl was close to -her end--he must learn all now or never.</p> - -<p class="normal">He found her sitting up in her bed, her fair hair streaming down -behind her back, her eyes sunk deep in their sockets, with, round -them, an awful purple blackness; upon her face that look which even -those who have never previously seen the signs of swift advancing -death understand in a moment. And one quick glance at her from him, -who had been so often face to face with death, was sufficient now. No -need to speak, to ask any question--that look told all.</p> - -<p class="normal">He stood before her, by her side--this man who had striven so hard to -save her, this rough, valiant soldier, whose life had been risked a -dozen times within the last month in the hope that he should bear her -off to freedom again; stood before her gazing down on that pallid -face, then turned his own away as once--how long ago it seemed -now!--he had turned it away from the brother whom he had also seen -stretched upon what was soon to be his death-bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," she said, looking up at him--and he was startled, he knew not -why, at the calmness of her tones--"Nay! do not turn away. Ah!" for as -at her bidding he faced round again, she saw that his eyes were wet -with tears, "do not weep. You have been so bold, so strong, so brave, -have struggled so hard for me, on my behalf, on Philip's behalf. Do -not weep!" and she put out her hand--he felt the clamminess of death -upon it!--and clasped his.</p> - -<p class="normal">He strove to speak, to say some word--yet none came to his lips; he -was mute. Yet wondered at himself for being so, remembering how rarely -words failed him when wanted--whether gibe, or joke, or defiance to a -foe. Could do nothing but seat himself in the deep chair by the -bed-head, to which she had motioned him with a glance of her eyes, and -hold her hand in his own great brown one. Nor could he think of aught -except the two lives which had both been wrecked by the same man, and -wonder if words--or, better still, actions--would fail him when at -last, and finally (it must be finally this time, he found himself -meditating), he and De Bois-Vallée met again.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then suddenly, breaking in on his thoughts, he heard Marion Wyatt -speaking again. The voice clear as before.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will meet Philip soon now," she was saying. "You will tell him -all. Alas! that I may not see him myself ere I die."</p> - -<p class="normal">He could not find it in his heart to tell her how near she was to -meeting his brother now: how soon their souls would be together--dared -not tell her that he was dead.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of what use to do that?" he thought. "If I inform her, she will die, -thinking her disappearance slew him. Time enough to know when they -meet in heaven."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wrote him," she said, "as I was brought through Paris. Confided my -letter to a sure hand. Told him how I had been trapped, snared. Bade -him come seek for me, save me. Often," she went on, "since first you -made your way into that house, I have wondered why he came not himself -in answer to my prayer; why sent you in his place. Was it because you -are so big and powerful--or was he sick; could not come himself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">What answer should be made? To say that his brother sent him in his -place must bring her lover before the dying woman's eyes in a pitiable -light; to say that he was dead would torture her last hours -unnecessarily. And--how let her know that the letter she spoke of had -never reached her lover's hands?--that he had died believing against -his own will that she was false to him. Yet, he must say something, -give her some answer. Tell her that the letter had never been -received! Yes, that would be best. When, suddenly, even as he so -determined--her mind, perhaps, unhinged by approaching death--she -herself relieved him of the necessity for any answer.</p> - -<p class="normal">She began dejectedly to go over the whole story of De Bois-Vallée's -connection with her; his treachery to her. And he, sitting there by -her bedside, piecing together one broken sentence with another, learnt -at last the truth. Learnt what, before, neither Philip nor her father -had ever known or he, himself, guessed at.</p> - -<p class="normal">Discovered that De Bois-Vallée was no stranger to her when he arrived -in London in the suite of Henrietta of Orleans.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had not seen him for four years," she murmured, lying back upon her -pillows, with still her hot, moist hand in his; "not since my father -and I returned to England after the King was seated safely on his -throne. Not for four years."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You knew him, Marion?" Andrew asked astonished.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very well--surely I told you--I mean, told Philip. Surely! Surely! He -was often at my father's lodgings in the Quartier de Picpus. It was -there, he being a welcome guest of my father's, who liked him well -because of his manliness, his activity, his cleverness with the sword -and all arms--that he first told me he loved me, asked my love in -return."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My God!" muttered Andrew beneath his breath, so that she heard him -not. "My God! Strange news this. Strange news. Philip knew naught of -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," the dying girl went on, "I had none to give him. I liked him -well enough then, but I had no love for him. Yet he teased me often; -swore some day I should be his; vowed he would never lose me. But at -that time my father had resolved to return home, to die, as he said, -in his own house where he was born. It was while Camille De -Bois-Vallée was absent from Paris that we left for England."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" muttered Andrew, again to himself, and unheard by her. "Ha! And -he followed?" he said aloud.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He wrote," the girl went on--and it seemed to him, listening by her -side, that her voice was growing weaker--"that, though I had put the -sea between us even that should not deter him. He would find me yet; -win me. He used no threat, even as he thus wrote; he contented himself -with saying he loved me so fondly that he must gain his way to my -heart in the end."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," Andrew said, still unheard by her, "in the end. Well, let's see -for the end. He won you away from Philip, anyhow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Three years later," Marion continued, "I knew that he had come to -London--with the Duchess of Orleans. I was in the Duke of York's -garden giving on the Mall, in the suite of his Duchess, when I saw him -pass. He, too, saw me. Then he left the Mall and came over to where I -was and spoke to me. Said that never for an instant had he forgotten -me; never ceased to love me. Now that we had met again, would I -not return his love? I told him that I was affianced to Philip. -To--to--Philip."</p> - -<p class="normal">She paused a moment; lay back even more than before on her pillow. -Andrew thought she would speak no further. Yet, again, she took up her -story.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Affianced to Philip. Philip, my beloved. Philip whom I shall never -see in this world again. Ah! Philip! Philip! Philip!"--and she -stretched out her arms before her as though calling to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heart up, poor girl," Andrew murmured. "Heart up. Ere long you may -meet again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never now in this world. Never. And--and--my God! how long I may have -to wait in heaven for him ere he joins me. How long!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He dared not tell her that Philip was already there awaiting her -coming; dared not give her a shock which should shorten her almost -closed life by one moment. The thread was nearly run out now; why snap -it at the end!</p> - -<p class="normal">Therefore, still he held his peace.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where was I? What saying?" she asked, staring at him, and he noticed -that her eyes were more glassy than before. "What? And--and--why has -it grown so dark? Is the night at hand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet, Marion," Andrew answered, in a broken voice. "Not yet, poor -child. And--it will be lighter soon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I pray God. A light clear as day, in which I shall see Philip. -Philip! We are affianced still--are we not?" she asked suddenly, her -hot, feverish hand closing more tightly on his.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Always. Always. Have patience, dear one. It cannot be long ere you -and he meet again."</p> - -<p class="normal">His words, though, it may be, she did not grasp their meaning, seemed -to bring comfort to her as she lay dying there. Soon she grew as -tranquil as before; began once more her recital.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When he heard that, he said then all hope was gone for him; -that--that he must forget he had ever known and loved me. Must go -away, return to France, live for his profession of arms alone. -Philip--Andrew--the light does not come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Patience, dear Marion."</p> - -<p class="normal">But, as he calmed her, he knew that the end was very near at hand; -feared, too, that, ere she went, her story would not be told. He -doubted if she would ever speak again.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet once more she roused herself, the flame still flickering in the -lamp of life, though, now, as she spoke, her words were incoherent and -without sequence, making it difficult for him to piece them together.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My father could not live," she whispered: "He must see me. A night's -journey, at least, to Dorchester. And no horses. No horses to be had. -None! Ah! what was to do? And nigh fifty leagues--nigh fifty leagues."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is she telling me?" Andrew wondered, gazing at her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hark how their hoofs ring upon the ground," she went on, speaking -rapidly, strongly also. "Hark! See, too, how the carriage sways; -listen to the crack of the whips. And he will live, he tells me; will -surely live till I reach him. Live to bless me, his child! Away! On! -Always on! Now across a moor, a heath; now a village; and now rest. A -change of horses. Ha! we grow nearer. He brings me drink and food; -drink, warm and spiced. And, see, the summer dawn is coming; the rooks -leave the trees. Soon--soon we shall be there. I can feel the sea -breeze on my cheek--feel it, inhale it--we are on the sea. We shall be -there soon, he tells me--on the sea."</p> - -<p class="normal">"On the sea!" muttered Andrew to himself. "On the sea! To reach -Dorchester!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Over the sea, now. Over. Away. We draw near. Yet. Yet--I do not -recognize my own country, my father's land. Why do these people speak -the French tongue? What plains, what mountains are these? It is not -Dorset; not--not Dorset; the door opens. See, there is Clemence--how -she scowls at me--and Beaujos. Ha! look, Andrew; look, he scowls too. -Look! Look! Look! Where am I? My God! a prisoner. In his power. -Philip! Father! Andrew! Save me. Save me. Save----"</p> - -<p class="normal">She fell back exhausted, her hands trembling on the coverlet, plucking -and clutching at it, too; her hair dank and heavy with wet, her face -as marble, and her lips flecked with foam.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Philip! Philip," she moaned. "Philip, save me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be calm, Marion, there is none can harm you. I am by your side. -Here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And Philip?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He--he is not far now!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God! Yet Philip--Andrew--oh! I cannot see your face, know not -which it is; keep him away from me. Kill him rather--kill him--kill -him dead. Hark he is coming up the stairs; he is outside; listen. And -Clemence, too; can you not hear her? Hark how she speaks to him. Calls -him coward, villain, base, vile--ah! like his mother! You hear him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">She raised herself by some last remaining force within her, stretched -out her hands, and seemed to push away some hateful form from her, -whispered once--with horror unspeakable in her glazed eyes--"Marry -you! Better death!" then fell back once more. Yet still again her lips -moved, again she muttered "Kill him! Kill him dead!"</p> - -<p class="normal">After these last words she lay quietly for a considerable space of -time, her breathing calm and tranquil, her bosom heaving gently, the -wave of life receding peacefully. Yet once or twice she murmured to -herself, also uttered Philip's name and her father's, then was quiet -and still again--so still that Andrew knew not at some moments whether -she was sleeping or dying; whether she was asleep or dead.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the last change came ere long; she murmured now of the fire from -which she thought they were still fleeing; of the black night, and, -next, the breaking dawn. Then, half rose up in her bed once more, and -held out feebly, piteously, her hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Andrew," she whispered, "Andrew, how dark the night is. I can scarce -see your face. Will daylight never come?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Soon, sweet; soon, poor one," he said, standing now close by her, his -arms around her, his voice deep and low. "The light is coming fast."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And Philip. Will he not come? I shall see him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Soon. Very soon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never more to part?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never more to part," he answered in broken tones. "We shall be happy -always? Always together?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Always now. For ever!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_32" href="#div1Ref_32">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></h4> - -<h4>MORE LIGHT</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," Debrasques said, after Andrew told him of Marion's death and -also of all that, in the delirium of her end, she had revealed. "I -knew something of what she informed you. Knew that he had brought her -to France, had run away with her from an Englishman of your name. -Thought at first, when we met in Paris--after you helped me with those -vagabonds--that you were he. You remember my agitation?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. I remember." Then, reflectively--putting the fire logs together -with the toe of his boot--he went on: "Yet--yet--do not be hurt with -me, Valentin--but--such an affair as that is deemed in France only one -of gallantry--deemed so, too, in England now, since Charles has -returned. Why, therefore, was the agitation of which you speak so -great? He was a good swordsman, could hold his own well--in our -encounter 'twas chance as much as skill gave me the advantage. Was it -fear for his life--of my vengeance--that unnerved you so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay. Nay," the other said. "Nay! Rather the fear of disgrace to our -family if he were exposed--the fear of the punishment Louis would mete -out to him for his deception. For his lie."</p> - -<p class="normal">"His deception! His lie! To whom--Louis?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," Debrasques answered. "Ay. And to Turenne. Barillon, our Minister -to your Court, sent over a complaint that had been made by her -father--it reached Louis' ears--he sent it on to the Marshal--to -Turenne. Then--then--De Bois-Vallée had to give an explanation -and--nothing short of his word that he and the lady were married -would have saved him from disgrace--from expulsion from Turenne's -bodyguard."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," said Andrew quickly, "he gave that word?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven help him! Yes. So, also, did I."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You, Valentin?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. Believing him. He told me--told my mother--in our own house, -that she came from England with him willingly enough--that they were -married when they landed at Ambleteuse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And every word was a lie!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So we knew later--so I found out. And in a marvellous way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"From the woman now in this house--the woman who watches ever upstairs -by that poor girl's body----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Clemence?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, Clemence! You know her history?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Something of it. Also I know--heaven grant I may never forget!--that -to her it is owing that I am not lying choked to death in that garret. -By a chance only that I am not also lying a mass of charred ashes. As -well might that wing have caught fire as the others while I still lay -shackled in it, and then farewell to Andrew Vause and his opportunity -for saving Marion from that death, if no other. And 'tis to Clemence -that all is owing. Yet--how ever to have believed it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is the strangest creature," Debrasques said; "a vast combination -of good and evil promptings. Half woman--sometimes half -tigress--demoniac! She thought his father loved her--cherished the -belief that he would marry her for her wild beauty--I have heard my -mother say that in her youth she was as beautiful as the Queen of -Night--went mad for a time when he did marry--thought my cousin was -her own son. Then--for she would never quit the house--she passed her -life alternately loving him and--torturing him, so that, at last, she -was never allowed to see the child for fear that she would do it -mortal injury. Again, later, when both his father and mother were -dead, her love for him was another change in her insanity--until he -brought that poor dead one upstairs to the house----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And then," said Andrew--"and then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">As he asked the question the door behind them opened slightly--had not -both been sitting with their backs to it and gazing into the fire, -they would have seen four long, slim fingers grasping it. Would have -seen, too, a moment later, the form of Clemence standing behind them. -Yet, in another instant, they knew that she was there, heard her voice -give the answer to Andrew's question--heard her say:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then she hated him."</p> - -<p class="normal">Springing from their seats they turned and faced her--appalled almost -by the change that had come over her.</p> - -<p class="normal">The face--always pallid since Andrew had first seen it--was livid now -to the lips, the eyes dim and sunken into their sockets--the full lips -shook and quivered. And--was it fancy on both their parts, or was it -the case?--it seemed to them that the dark hair was now doubly -streaked with grey--was far whiter than it had been a day or so ago -when she and the others were saved from the ruined house.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then--she hated him. Listen. Let me tell the story," and as she spoke -she advanced to where they were, and stood before them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hated him because of what he had done to this poor helpless -girl--one could not help but love her!--hated him, too, because I saw -another victim to the insensate passions of all his race. Told him he -was a coward, a villain, to thus betray a woman, bring her a prisoner -from her own land. Yet--listen--there is one thing you do not know, -neither of you know. It was no fault of his that they were not man and -wife--as he tricked you into believing they had become, Valentin -Debrasques. He loved the woman dearly, madly--again and again he -besought her to marry him. In that respect he was no villain."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God!" broke from the Marquis's lips as he heard these -words--from Andrew Vause there came no utterance. In truth, he was -amazed. Had he misjudged the man after all--had----? But he paused in -his reflections--remembering that the allurement of the woman from her -own land, the breaking thereby of Philip's heart, the long detention -of Marion, were sufficient villainy. Again Clemence went on.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When he returned hastily from his post in Turenne's guard, but a -little while ere you yourself came here"--and she directed her eyes -towards Andrew--"it was to cast himself once more at her feet, to beg, -to pray, to implore that she would pardon him for all the wrong he had -done--that she would be his wife. Great God how he besought her. And, -when she turned still a deaf ear to him--answering that, sooner would -she linger out years here, sooner die here than grant what he -demanded--ay! though she remained a prisoner till she was old and -grey, he besought her in another manner. Told her that, already, he -had suffered enough for his sin--that there was one who sought his -life, who ere long would obtain it--was implacable--and that, now, -worse even than loss of life threatened him. That this sin was known -to more than one, that his honour was in peril--unless he could stand -before his King with her for wife at his side, he was a ruined, broken -man. That nothing could save him--even though he should abjure France -and join with the Duke it would but forestall the King's vengeance for -a time. Soon Louis would triumph over Lorraine, and then he would -still be disgraced."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And her answer?" asked Andrew. "Yet--what need the question! I know -it." And to himself he muttered, "thank God, she was true to Philip. -Even though he is in his grave, thank God for that," while, even as he -so thought, another reflection ran swiftly through his mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps--perhaps," he pondered, "he knows all now. Perhaps!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What more to tell!" Clemente went on, standing still before those -two, controlling herself as best she could--mastering, as it seemed to -Andrew, some terrible agony that racked her soul. "What more? You came -here, entered his house as none have ever entered it before, your life -hung on a thread a dozen times; you know not how nearly it was taken -as you lay stretched in that hall ere you were carried to the -garret--how nearly again--by--but no matter! And in your coming I saw -her chance, recognized that you who feared nothing might open the way -to freedom for that poor, injured lamb--show her the road back to him -she loves. Alas! 'twas not to be."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas!" also said Andrew, "it never could have been. He whom she loved -had gone before her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dead!" Clemente said, staring at him. "He is dead? Her lover--your -brother?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did she know it?" the woman asked, almost hissed, as she bent forward -and touched his arm, "did she know it--and die cursing him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, she died cursing none--left the world with peace in her -heart, upon her lips, believing that they would soon meet again now. -As they will--as they have done," and he turned his face away from her -and Debrasques so that they might not see his grief.</p> - -<p class="normal">Later that night, when Andrew and the Marquis sat once more together -in front of the fire, and while Clemence still watched above in the -room where the dead girl lay--she was to be buried in the morning in a -remote portion of the abbey grounds, the noble ladies of Remiremont -having permitted that, in spite of her not being of their faith--the -Marquis spoke to him and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is the feud ended now, Captain Vause, the task accomplished? Are you -content?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Content?" Andrew said, looking up at him. "Content with -what--failure?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you failed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, from first to last. See! Reflect! My brother lies in his grave -unavenged--to-morrow she will lie in hers. Both victims to that man. -And--he--is free."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Free! Free! He is ruined, beggared, bankrupt in honour, too. His -career is ended--he can never rejoin the army nor serve France -again--even though you should spare him, he should not draw sword -again for my country. I would prevent it. Would myself tell the King. -Also he must fly Lorraine; they, his own countrymen, will never -let him obtain another denier from his land. He must be an -outcast--proscribed--a vagabond on the face of the earth. Will that -not suffice?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," Andrew said, bending across the table to look into the young -man's eyes. "No, Valentin Debrasques, it cannot suffice. If it -could--for your sake--I would be content. But--my brother is -unavenged, Marion Wyatt is unavenged--De Bois-Vallée and Andrew Vause -are alive. The feud ends when one or both are dead. Not before."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He said to her--to Clemence," whispered Debrasques, "that you were -implacable."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He said true. In such a cause, Valentin, I am implacable. Listen to -me, deem me pagan, bloodthirsty--what you will--but understand me. I -was a <i>vaurien</i> from my boyhood, always in trouble, doing ever the -wrong thing--yet never losing the love of two creatures on this earth. -My mother--and Philip. Because of that, because when I was a man, a -soldier--a bravo, some called me!--because of their love for me, -because the door of our old home stood open always when I turned my -wandering steps that way; because, too, there was never aught of -reproach but only words of love and welcome for greeting--sweeter to -the ears of him who has been homeless for weeks and months together -than to any other!--I loved, I worshipped those two."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused a moment--and, to the younger man gazing up at him, it -seemed as if the firm, strong soldier was overmastered by an emotion -such as none could have ever dreamt would sway him--then went on.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Loved, worshipped them. Became at last, through that love, I think, a -better, more thoughtful man. Grew careful of my reputation, did naught -that should bring discredit to them, to the old name I bore. Do you -wonder, therefore, that, when I saw my brother lowered to his -grave--knowing well what had driven him to it--I took the vow I did, -swore that the man who was the primary cause of all should himself -find his grave at my hands?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not wonder," Valentin Debrasques replied softly--"I understand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," Andrew went on, "there is one other thing. I owe this man an -opportunity of crossing swords with me again--villain though he -is--and he shall have it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet he seeks not that reparation. Has escaped, fled. What will you -do? Follow him across the world--perhaps never to find him even then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. Again listen. I do not believe I shall have far to go. Valentin, -it is borne in on me that De Bois-Vallée is at no very great distance -from here now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I believe that he is secreted somewhere in that house of his at this -moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At Bois-le-Vaux?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. At Bois-le-Vaux."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is impossible."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay--it is most probable. Let me repeat to you what I have said -happened at the moment when he escaped from my grasp. The garret was -full of smoke--dense, black smoke--none could see an inch beyond -themselves. Then--in an instant, he was gone. Yet--where? Not -backwards to the corridor; that was impossible. There, even if he had -regained it, he could not have lived ten minutes--in the garret -itself, we should have been suffocated in the same space of time had I -not been able to get the trap open--moreover, he could not have passed -behind us. We were all together--Marion's form extended along the -floor. That was impossible."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the roof? Might there be no way down from that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There may be, yet it seems unlikely. For, see. Even though there were -some opening, some descent--'tis possible--I searched not the leads as -carefully as afterwards I searched the garret floor!--to where would -it lead him? Back into that burning house again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the shaft?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay! the shaft. The oubliette. 'Tis in truth there, I do believe, that -he escaped."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet you have said you probed it as far as you were able, flung down -the link of chain to test its depth, and found nothing. How, -therefore, is it likely that he can have escaped by that road?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That, I purpose to once more seek out. At best my examination was but -hasty. A second search may reveal more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A second search. You intend to make one? In that ruined house--the -walls likely enough to fall at any moment and overwhelm you, bury you -beneath them. You will do that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will--and ere many hours are passed. To-morrow, when--she--has been -laid in her grave I make my way to Bois-le-Vaux again. And," he -continued--speaking now in a tone that, almost unknowingly to -Debrasques, carried conviction to his mind, "the clue will be there to -his whereabouts. The end will not be far off then."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us go together."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You wish to go? Remember, it is not the end itself--but the beginning -of the end only. If he has escaped down that oubliette it may be that -he is a hundred leagues away ere now, that I may have far to go ere I -come up with him. Your road lies towards Paris and your mother's -house, Valentin--mine leads I know not where."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No matter. At least let me accompany you to Bois-le-Vaux."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it. We will set out together."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_33" href="#div1Ref_33">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></h4> - -<h4>THE LAST MEETING</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Marion Wyatt lay in her grave under the west wall of the burying -ground belonging to the Abbey of Remiremont--she was at rest for ever -now.</p> - -<p class="normal">And, on the road to Bois-le-Vaux, to the house which had been her -prison for so long, Andrew Vause and the Marquis Debrasques rode -together, bent upon finding out, if possible, the manner in which De -Bois-Vallée had eluded the grasp of the former on that night of -horror.</p> - -<p class="normal">Strapped to their saddles they carried with them some implements which -they thought might be of considerable assistance in enabling them--or -at least one of them--to descend into that yawning oubliette, since -down it Andrew Vause was determined to go, even though it sank into -the bowels of the earth. These implements consisted of, first, a solid -iron bar which would stretch easily across the diameter of the -oubliette's mouth, also a couple of lanterns, then some grappling -hooks which would be of use in catching hold of any projection, or -side of the shaft, in their descent, if necessary, and next, a coil of -rope strong as that which Andrew had previously used in his flight -across the chasm, and of the same length, namely, thirty metres.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," said he, when overnight they made these purchases in -Plombières, "the house is but half that height; therefore, by the time -I have descended some fifteen mètres I shall be on the level of the -earth. And, if the shaft goes below the earth as much again, and then -ceases not--which is scarce likely--why, the rope must be got down, -and I go on still."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet, how for that?" asked Debrasques. "How to do it? I am resolved to -follow you, even though 'tis into the bowels of the earth--how shall -it be lowered, therefore, from above? We want a third, and one who is -trustworthy, in our company."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," replied Andrew, "we want no third, and we will have -none--trustworthy or not. Laurent was trustworthy, and he died in -keeping his pledge. Jean has disappeared, dispersed into air with all -the other besiegers of the ill-fated house. There is none other. Nor, -if there were, would we enlist him. The work shall be done alone by -us."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marion had been laid to rest at daybreak of this wintry morning, -therefore it was still very early when they drew near the -half-demolished mansion, and, as they entered the estate, saw its -blackened walls in which yawned the great gaps where the wings had -partly fallen, and observed the still larger gap where the whole of -one side was gone. Also, they saw the gable chimneys still standing on -that portion of the roof to which Andrew and the women had escaped -from the garret--the stack of chimneys to which he had fastened that -first rope after he had taken his flight across.</p> - -<p class="normal">The desolation was complete--was penetrating to the senses of those -who now regarded it--yet this very desolation seemed an appropriate -monument to the downfall of the race which had so long been known -and feared as "The Wolves of Lorraine." For the family was gone, -extinct now--the last member of it, Camille De Bois-Vallée, could -never build it up nor restore it again, any more than he could build -up and restore the house which had sheltered that family for -generations--'twas perhaps well, therefore, that it should go too. In -years to come, these now blackened walls would tell the tale of how -the vengeful Lorrainers had swept away at last those who had used -their power to trample on and ill-treat them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Against the side of the building, under the shattered window from -which the three had eventually escaped, they found the logs and -billets of wood piled up precisely as they had been left--there were -none to disturb them now!--and, leaving their horses in the very -outhouse where the wood had been discovered, they entered at once the -ruined mansion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twill take but little time to reach the roof," Andrew said, "and as -little to see if by chance he found a passage that way. Come, -Valentin." Whereon, each carrying some of the necessaries they had -brought with them, they entered by the window.</p> - -<p class="normal">To the younger man the scene of ruin and devastation on which he gazed -was appalling--also, it was saddening. For, as a child, and even later -in his still short existence, he had been here often--had run up and -down those huge staircases which were now torn from their settings and -lying in ruins below; in those rooms by which they passed swiftly--and -in one of which the dead body of Beaujos was stretched, as Andrew -knew--he had slept many a night; from that great yawning doorway, now -open to the cold wind that blew up from the west and whistled through -the empty vastness of the hall, he had issued forth often enough, bent -on a hawking or a hunting party.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now--what a scene to gaze upon! What desolation and silence--what -an atmosphere of death and ruin, and the decay that time would bring, -prevailed over all!</p> - -<p class="normal">They stood at last upon the roof of this remaining wing, arriving at -it by the way the others had left a few nights ago, their feet -embedded in the dank, decaying leaves blown on it by the autumn -winds--leaves now becoming skeletons under the winter rain and -frost--and made inspection of the whole to see what outlet there -might be for the fugitive. Yet there was none. Upon those leads there -was no opening beneath all that rotting mass--as they found quickly -enough--nothing except the trapdoor leading to the garret, to which -they now returned.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As for the chimney stacks," said Andrew, "they are impossible. -Observe their height; he could never have reached their summit alone -and unaided--and--even though he had--what then? Come--'tis time to -inspect the oubliette."</p> - -<p class="normal">In the dull, dim light that penetrated to the garret from the open -trapdoor above, they made their preparations swiftly--indeed, there -were but few to make. A turn or two of the rope (already previously -knotted at intervals of four feet to aid in the descent) around the -iron bar was made by Andrew, he fastening it by what is known to -sailors as a bowline knot, and he was ready to descend.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he sat down upon the edge of the oubliette, grasped the bar, and, -with his two hands, worked himself immediately over the middle of it, -the rope being between his legs.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Valentin," he said, "the search begins. What shall I find -below?" and as he spoke he ignited his tinder, communicated the flame -to the lamp attached to his belt, and peered down into the depths -beneath him.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the rays of the lamp showed nothing--nothing beyond the bare walls -of the shaft, built, as was the lower part of the house itself, of -stone. And from up that shaft there came a cool, damp air, that made -itself perceptible even as he sat dangling over it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For Heaven's sake, be careful," Valentin whispered. Then--in even a -lower tone, added: "If he is there below--if he should be still -there--he may spring out at you."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Andrew, glancing at him from his perch on the bar, pointed over -his shoulder to where his sword was braced on to his back -perpendicularly, since, had it been by his side, it might have impeded -his descent. Also he showed a pistol ready to his grasp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have no fear," he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">A moment later he was going down the rope hand over hand, the knots in -it assisting his feet. And Valentin Debrasques, lying on the floor of -the garret, face downwards, with his head over the edge of the -oubliette, saw beneath him the flame of the lamp descending further -and further. Andrew was now, he calculated, twenty feet below the -opening where he himself was.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, suddenly, he heard him call up.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He passed this way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You know that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay. I know it now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has left his traces. Also--now--I know how he descended."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must follow," Valentin called back. "'Tis nothing. And the rope -will surely bear both."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It needs but to bear one," Andrew replied. "I have reached a -platform, a half platform--crescent-moon shaped--leaving still, -however, room for the passage of a man below, to further depths. He -has gone that way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I come," Debrasques called once more--and, heedless of Andrew's -warning him to remember that he was still weak from his wounds, he -seized the rope and slung his slight young form down it--the other -holding up the lantern so that he might better see as he descended.</p> - -<p class="normal">A moment later and the two men were standing side by side upon the -platform mentioned by Andrew, a slab of flat stone, jutting out from -one side of the oubliette's now slimy walls--for the damp was very -perceptible here; the sides reeked with it, and drops of water oozed -from out of them and ran down to the stone slab itself. And, at their -feet, was the opening to the further depths.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, also at their feet, was something else, something beside the coil -of the lower part of the rope by which they had come.</p> - -<p class="normal">A chain, itself lying in a coil upon the platform--with a foot or so -of it hanging over into the abyss below. With, upon the ledge of the -platform, an inch of brown-coloured velvet--a strip torn doubtless -from a man's sleeve as he let himself down from the ledge and laid one -arm along the stone, while groping with the other for the means to -descend.</p> - -<p class="normal">"His coat," said Debrasques, turning the strip over in his hand -beneath the light of the lantern. "He was wearing such a one when last -I saw him out of his trappings."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And, as I think, on the night when he returned to this house; loomed -up before my eyes as they struck me down. Come, Valentin, let us go -on. To the end now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how get there?" asked the Marquis, "how arrive? How use that -chain?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Easy enough. A foot below the mouth of the oubliette above, there is -a broken hook--I saw it as I descended. On that hook hung this chain, -and he knew it--it not being broken then. He descended part way by. -that--as I think--then the hook broke and he fell the rest, on to this -platform--the chain coming with him, grasped in his hand. No great -harm that--if he missed this smaller opening, as without doubt he did. -Had he not so missed it--poof! he would be lying somewhere below a -mangled corpse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Suppose--suppose," said Debrasques, "that, nevertheless, he did not -miss it--fell through, the chain remaining behind."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, 'tis as I have said. We shall find him there--dead. Yet, what -use surmise? Let us on; I will go first."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, he lifted up the coils of their own rope and let them -fall down through the opening, observing that the cord did not tighten -nor spin round a moment later. By that he judged that it had struck -some bottom, since, otherwise, it would doubtless have done both, -instead of, as now, lying against the side as though not extended its -full length.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The end of the journey is near," he muttered again, "near now," and, -so speaking, he grasped the rope as it hung down through the orifice -from the iron beam above, and began to descend once more. Yet, in an -instant, he stopped and put out his hand in front of him, clutching -the rope now with the other alone, yet still seeming as though easily -supported and without effort.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are," he said to Debrasques, glancing up at him as though able -to see his face as plainly as the Marquis could himself see his by the -light of the lamp at his waist, "long staples let into the wall at -short intervals. They serve the use of a ladder, being bent at the -sides, thereby to enter the wall. Come, the rope is unnecessary. Let -yourself down the hole, feel with your feet until they touch the -staples, use the platform as a hold till your hands grasp the -uppermost bar; the rest is easy. Come."</p> - -<p class="normal">And he went lower down himself, discarding the use of the rope -entirely now.</p> - -<p class="normal">Behind, from above, followed Debrasques. Hand under hand, foot -succeeding foot, they went down those staples, the air growing more -chilly and damp and penetrating as still they descended, and giving -sure proof that they were now below the level of the earth; were among -the foundations of the great old house. Also, the feeble lamp-flicker -showed this, too--showed that they had reached the vaults and actual -basement on which the whole building had been placed--vaults, or -dungeons, separated from each other by short, round shafts of rough, -untrimmed stone, and with the earth into which they were set -unlevelled. And now there was no damp; instead, only the dull mildewed -smell that such places have, places to which no air has penetrated for -centuries.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is not here," Andrew said, as they stood upon this earthen floor, -the crown of his hat touching almost the roof of the vault above him. -"Not here. He has gone on. Knew a way out. We must find it." While, as -he spoke, he flashed the lantern, which he had now taken in his hand, -around the dark and gloomy place, it casting fantastic shadows behind -the pillars and shafts as he did so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," he said once more.</p> - -<p class="normal">So they went on--though not without obstruction either. Once his foot -caught in a mass of tangled chain lying at the base of a shaft to -which one end of it was attached, and, stooping to look at it, Andrew -saw amidst the coils of that chain some bones, and, a little farther -off, more bones--of a hand! Yet, when he put his own hand out to touch -them, they lost their shape, the fingers were gone at that touch; -there lay but a feathery mass of white dust upon the earth a moment -later.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That tells its own tale," he whispered to the other. "Have centuries -rolled away since that poor thing gasped its last within the chain's -embrace?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"God knows!" His companion whispered back. "They never forgave! Once -in their power and all hope was gone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It appears," said Andrew briefly.</p> - -<p class="normal">The vault, the foundations, were as square as the house above; ere -long they had gone round them--finding more proof of how the De -Bois-Vallées had used it as a final prison. A knife, rusty now, yet -once a long, keen blade, was sticking point downward in the earth; -they asked themselves if, ages ago, it had struck, pierced something -between its hilt and point that was not earth then?--something that -had long since vanished away to dust. They found, also, a woman's -necklace set with quaint cut stones lying near a heap of rags, black -with time and perishable to the touch, and asked again what story of -horror was buried and forgotten here?</p> - -<p class="normal">At last they found the outlet from that gloomy vault--a long dark -passage that led away to blackness impenetrable. A passage that, -in the past, had had a thick sturdy door to bar all entrance to, -and way through it, but which door now lay flat upon the earthen -floor--mouldered and decayed from off its hinges.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," again said Andrew, wasting no words now, "Come, Debrasques."</p> - -<p class="normal">And on down that passage they moved, side by side, the light -flickering on earthen walls shored up with old beams and rotting -staves, and with the bottoms of roots of trees showing through the -uppermost parts.</p> - -<p class="normal">Also--though they scarce knew why, nor could they have told what they -expected--each had in his hand his drawn sword now.</p> - -<p class="normal">Afar off, adown that ghastly passage, they saw a gleam of light that -each knew to be the light of the winter day--a gleam that was no -bigger, as it seemed, than a star, yet that still told the end was -there. Was the end of the outlet.</p> - -<p class="normal">Onward they went, faster now, their footfalls sounding dull and -leaden on the earthy floor, their breath coming--again they knew not -why!--faster and faster.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then--the passage traversed--the daylight now illuminating faintly a -space some dozen feet square, Debrasques clutched Andrew's arm and -pointed to a dark blur upon the ground before them--a heap of -blackness that bore some resemblance to a crouching human form--it -lying a little space outside the circle of dim light.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Look! look!" He said, "it is a human figure. <i>Ciel!</i> is it he? Is he -dead? See--the eyes glare at us!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," replied Andrew, advancing to that blurred mass, "it is he."</p> - -<p class="normal">While, stooping over the body of De Bois-Vallée, he added, "And he is -dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he lifted his <i>porte épée</i>, and thrust back his sword into the -scabbard gently, saying, "No more need for you now. Your work here is -done."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_34" href="#div1Ref_34">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></h4> - -<h4>ADIEU</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"How has he died?" asked Debrasques, avoiding those open, glaring orbs -that looked out glassily from the dead man's face, the body lying on -its side, the arms extended, the head turned up so that the eyes -stared down the passage. "How?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Andrew looked round the small space into which the passage, or vault, -had widened at its end, lifted high his lantern with one hand above -his head, then pointed with his hat which he held in the other--almost -unknowingly, both had doffed their hats in the presence of that thing -at their feet--towards the opening whence the light came from without. -An opening many feet above his head, of about a foot in circumference, -through which the daylight streamed murky and dull.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, after a moment's thought, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"There was an exit here--once. Observe, here was an opening, yet now -there is none. Yet, 'tis easy to comprehend. Look at what that light -streams over as it enters--heaps of earth with broken trunks of trees -mixed in them, also great stones. You see--understand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A landslip from above, perhaps?" Debrasques answered, comprehending.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, 'tis that. Washed down, loosened by winter storm or spring -torrent--riven perhaps by lightning stroke--may be a month ago, may be -years. Who knows? But, of one thing be sure--he," and he glanced down -to his feet, "knew it not when he fled here. May not have visited -these vaults for years--may never have been here before, yet -was aware of this escape and thought to profit by it. Then died of -frenzy--perhaps starvation, too--after learning he was snared."</p> - -<p class="normal">He advanced towards the immense mass of earth that blocked up the hole -through which the flight should have been made, and flashed his -lantern on it at about a man's--at about De Bois-Vallée's--height from -the ground, and called the other's attention to how the mould was -scored--as though with finger clutches! and scooped away and dug into. -Scratched at and scooped away until the trapped creature had given up -in despair; had, perhaps, fallen fainting at his task.</p> - -<p class="normal">Next, he went back to where the body lay, and lifted up the hands, the -rings on them sparkling in the lantern's gleam, and showed Debrasques -the nails all earthy, and the top joints of the fingers clogged and -smeared with dirt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You see?" he whispered. "You see?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet, why not return?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You forget. The chain was broken. The way back was barred, therefore. -He had no rope as we have."</p> -<br> -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:25px">* * * * * *</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The roads part outside Plombières, one going north, one south, one -west. Behind, to the east, is the way across the Vosges.</p> - -<p class="normal">And here, by the spring which marks their divergence, Andrew Vause and -Valentin Debrasques clasped hands one bright winter morning, a few -days later, and bade farewell to each other for a time.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God send you health and fair recovery," the former said, as he stood -by his horse's side; "make, too, my service to your mother. When next -I pass through Paris----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Our house will be yours. Your home. Remember," and he glanced up at -the other with a wistful look in his eyes, "we are sworn friends: -sworn long ago. You will not let aught that has passed break that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear not," Andrew replied. "Even though France and England fly at -each other's throats in days to come--which Heaven forefend!--we must -remember that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," went on Valentin, "you said a night or so ago that you had -failed in--in--what brought you here. Spoke with regret, it seemed, of -that failure. Andrew," and now he laid his hand pleadingly on the -other's arm, "you do not regret? Is the end not best as it is? He is -in his grave--not sent there by your hand--does it not suffice?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It must suffice," Andrew replied. "And--Valentin, I am not so -vengeful as to wish now that it could have been otherwise. Perhaps it -is better so. Far better to think in after years, if I live to be old, -that he died without my aid."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thank God that you can say so."</p> - -<p class="normal">He gave his orders to his men who were to accompany him; slowly the -dragoons fell in and set out upon their march; once more they clasped -hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Farewell, dear friend," he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Farewell, my boy," Andrew replied, "yet courage, courage, we must -meet again. Turenne has driven back Montecuculi and all the German -brood; ere I reach him the war will be over. Then I, too, will come to -Paris. Also I will bring you news of Clemence, tell you if she is at -peace in her new home in the abbey. See, lad, your dragoons mount the -hill--after them and away. Adieu--till next we meet." -<br>"Farewell, Andrew, my friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Farewell. God bless and speed you."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_01" href="#div4Ref_01">Footnote 1</a>: It is an -historical fact.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE END</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>PLYMOUTH<br> -WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON<br> -PRINTERS</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Clash of Arms, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLASH OF ARMS *** - -***** This file should be named 52586-h.htm or 52586-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/5/8/52586/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (University of Illinois-Urbana) - -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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