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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..de8c0d3 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55148 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55148) diff --git a/old/55148-8.txt b/old/55148-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 786cee6..0000000 --- a/old/55148-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9286 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Drums of War, by H. De Vere (Henry De -Vere) Stacpoole - - -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: The Drums of War - - -Author: H. De Vere (Henry De Vere) Stacpoole - - - -Release Date: July 18, 2017 [eBook #55148] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRUMS OF WAR*** - - -E-text prepared by Roger Frank, Martin Pettit, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made -available by the Google Books Library Project (https://books.google.com) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - the Google Books Library Project. See - https://books.google.com/books?id=zJgnAAAAMAAJ&hl=en - - - - - -THE DRUMS OF WAR - -by - -H. DE VERE STACPOOLE - -Author of "The Blue Lagoon," "Garryowen," -"The Pools of Silence," etc. - - - - - - -[Illustration: Logo] - -New York -Duffield & Company -1910 - -Copyright, 1910, by -Duffield & Company - -The Premier Press -New York - - - - -CONTENTS - - -PART I - -CHAPTER PAGE - I. THE ROAD TO FRANKFORT 1 - - II. VON LICHTENBERG 6 - - III. "I HAVE BEEN HERE BEFORE" 14 - - IV. ELOISE 18 - - V. I SEE MYSELF, NOT KNOWING 24 - - VI. LITTLE CARL 31 - - VII. THE MAN IN ARMOUR 37 - - VIII. THE HUNTING-SONG 41 - - IX. THE FAIRY TALE 46 - - X. THE DEATH OF VOGEL 57 - - XI. THE DUEL IN THE WOODS 60 - - XII. WE RETURN HOME 69 - - XIII. I FALL INTO DISGRACE 73 - - XIV. THE RUINED ONES 82 - - XV. THE PAVILION OF SALUCE 89 - - XVI. THE VICOMTE 96 - - -PART II - - XVII. A DÉJEÛNER AT THE CAFÉ DE PARIS 103 - - XVIII. MY FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS 113 - - XIX. MY FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS (_Continued_) 121 - - XX. WHEN IT IS MAY 133 - - XXI. "O YOUTH, WHAT A STAR THOU ART!" 138 - - XXII. A POLITICAL RECEPTION 144 - - XXIII. FÊTE CHAMPÊTRE 154 - - XXIV. LA PEROUSE 159 - - XXV. FRANZIUS MEETS ELOISE 165 - - XXVI. THE TURRET ROOM 173 - - XXVII. REMORSE 179 - - XXVIII. THE OLD COAT 185 - - XXIX. IN THE SUNK GARDEN 192 - - XXX. THE MARRIAGE OF ELOISE 197 - - -PART III - - XXXI. THE BALL 203 - - XXXII. TRYING TO ESCAPE FROM FATE 212 - - XXXIII. THE OVERTURE TO "UNDINE" 222 - - XXXIV. PREPARING FOR THE DUEL 231 - - XXXV. A LESSON WITH THE FOILS 238 - - XXXVI. THE DUEL 253 - - XXXVII. MARGARET 261 - -XXXVIII. THE DRUMS OF WAR 273 - - XXXIX. NIGHT 287 - - XL. THE SPIRIT OF EARTH 293 - - XLI. ENVOI 297 - - - - -The Drums of War - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE ROAD TO FRANKFORT - - -We had been travelling since morning, three of us--my father, General -Count Mahon, myself, and Joubert--to say nothing of Marengo the -boarhound which followed our carriage. The great old family -travelling-carriage, packed with luggage, wine, and cigars, and drawn by -two stout horses, had been making the dust of Germany fly over the -hedgeless German fields since dawn. It was noon now, and hot. I remember -still the exact feel and smell of the blazing blue cushions as I pressed -my childish cheek against them and felt how hot they were, and the -unfailing pleasure and wonder with which the apple and plum trees -bordering the road filled my soul. Apple trees and plum trees bordering -the road, laden with fruit and unprotected, the snub-nosed German -children we passed on the wayside, seemed to my mind happier than the -inhabitants of Golconda, living in a country like that. - -It was the first of September, 1860. I was only nine then, but I did not -complain of the heat or the dust, or the cramp that inhabited, like a -crab, the old-time travelling-carriage, seizing you now in the back, now -in the leg, now in the spirit. For one thing, I was to be a soldier, -like my father, and wear white moustaches and smoke cigars, and carry a -sword; for another thing, we had been travelling a month, and I was -inured to the business, and, for another thing, I was a Mahon. - -The man beside me, buttoned in a blue frock-coat, adorned with the -ribbon of the Legion of Honour, stout, rubicund of face, opulent, and -magnificent-looking, was, with the exception of my small self, the last -representative of the Mahons of Tullaghmore. - -Napoleon had drawn the Mahons from Ireland to France just as a magnet -attracts steel-filings. My grandfather had seen the burning of Moscow, -and had ridden in the charge of Millhaud's cuirassiers on that fatal -Sunday men call Waterloo Day; and my father, the man beside me in the -blue frock-coat, had adorned the French army with the help of his -splendid personality, his sword, and a few francs a day, till his -marriage with Marie Marquise de Saluce, a woman of marvellous beauty, -great wealth, and the inheritor of the Château de Saluce, which is near -Etiolles, but a few miles from Paris. - -It was a love-match pure and simple--one of those fairyland marriages -arranged by love--and she died when I was born. - -My father would have shot himself only for Joubert--Joubert, corporal in -the 121st of the Line, a personage with an angry, withered, sunburnt -face, eyes and moustache like the eyes and moustache of a wrathful cat, -the heart of a child, and the figure and perfume of a ramrod. - -The sense of smell plays a large part in the lives of children, and -conjures up visions with a tremendous potency, lost as the child -deteriorates into a man. - -Joubert smelt of gunpowder. Probably it was only the Caporal which he -smoked, but to my mind it was the true smell of the Grand Army. - -Sitting on Joubert's knee and listening to tales of battle, and sniffing -him at the same time, I could see the Mamelukes charging, backgrounded -by the Pyramids; I could hear the thunder of Marengo, the roar of the -cannons, and the drums of war leading the Grand Army over the highways -of Europe. - -Echoes from the time before I was born. - -What a splendid nurse for a child an old soldier makes if he is of the -right sort! Joubert was my nurse and my picture-book. - -A drummer of fifteen, he had beaten the charge for the "Growlers" at -Waterloo, when the 121st of the Line, shoal upon shoal of bayonets, had -stormed La Haye Sainte. He had received a bullet in the shoulder during -that same charge; he had killed an Englishman; but all that seemed -little compared with the fact that--HE HAD SEEN NAPOLEON! - -Joubert was driving us. - -We were bound for the Schloss Lichtenberg, not far from Homburg, on a -visit to Baron Carl Lichtenberg, a relation of my mother. Of course, we -could have travelled by more rapid means of transport, but it suited the -humour of my father to travel just as he did in his own carriage, driven -by his own man, with all his luggage about him, after the fashion of a -nobleman of the year 1810. - -We had stopped at Carlsruhe, we had stopped at Mayence, we had stopped -here and there. How that journey lies like a living and lovely picture -in my mind! Time has blown away the dust. I do not feel the fatigue now. -The vast blue sky of a continental summer, the poplar trees, the fields, -the storks' nests, the old-time inns, Carlsruhe and its military bands, -Mayence and its drums and marching soldiers, the vivid blue of the -Rhine, and the courtyards and pleasaunces of the lordly houses we -stopped at, lie before me, a picture made poetical by distance, a -picture which stands as the beginning of my life and the beginning of -this story of war and love. - -Joubert was driving us. - -"Joubert," cried my father, "we are near Frankfort now. Remember, the -Hôtel des Hollandaise." - -Joubert, who had been speechless for miles, flung up his elbows just as -a duck flings up her wings, he gave the horses a cut with the whip, and -then he burst out: - -"Frankfort. Ah, yes! Frankfort. Do you think I can't smell it? I can -smell a German town a league away, just as I can see a German woman a -league away, by the size of her feet. Ah, mon Dieu! Come up, Cæsare; -come up, Polastron. My God! Frankfort!" - -At a hotel, before strangers, in any public place, it was always "Oui, -mon Général," "Oui, monsieur"; but alone, with no one to listen, Joubert -talked to the General just as the General talked to Joubert. An -extraordinary and solid friendship cemented the relationship of master -and man ever since that terrible day in the library of the Château de -Saluce, when Joubert had torn the pistol from the hand of his master, -flung it through the glass of the great window, and, turning from a paid -servant into a man tremendous and heroic, had wrestled with him as the -angel wrestled with Jacob. - -We passed through the suburbs of the town, and then through the Ghetto. -You never can imagine how much colour is in dirt till you see the Jews' -quarter of Frankfort--how much poetry, and also, how much perfume! - -Joubert, who could not speak a word of the Hogs' language--as he was -pleased to style the language of Germany--drove on, piercing the narrow -streets to the heart of the town, and in the Kaisserstrasse he drew up. -The General inquired the way of a policeman, and in five minutes or less -we were before the doors of the Hôtel des Hollandaise. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -VON LICHTENBERG - - -The Hôtel des Hollandaise was situated, I believe, in the -Wilhelmstrasse, an old-fashioned inn with a courtyard. It has long -vanished, giving place to a more modern building. - -Nowadays, when the Continent is inundated with travellers, when you are -received at a great hotel with about as much consideration as a pauper -is received at a workhouse, it is hard to imagine the old conditions of -travel. - -Weigand, the proprietor of the Hôtel des Hollandaise, received us in -person, backed by half a dozen waiters, all happy and smiling. They had -the art of seeming to have known us for years; the luggage was removed -as tenderly as though it were packed with Sèvres, and, led by the host, -we were conducted to our rooms, a suite on the first floor. - -When Marie Antoinette came to France, at the first halting-place beyond -the frontier she slept in a room whose tapestry represented the Massacre -of the Innocents. - -Our sitting-room in the Hôtel des Hollandaise, a large room, had upon -its walls the Siege of Troy, not in tapestry, but wall-paper. On this -day, when the seeds of my future life were sown, it was a coincidence, -strange enough, this villainous wall-decoration, with its tale of war, -ruin, and love. - -Whilst my father was writing letters, I, active and inquisitive as a -terrier, explored the suite, examined the town from the balcony of the -sitting-room, and, finding the prospect unexciting, proceeded to the -examination of the hotel. - -A balcony surrounded the large central courtyard, where people were -seated at tables, some smoking, some drinking beer from tall mugs with -lids to them. Waiters passed to and fro; it was delightful to watch, -delightful to speculate and weave romances about the unromantical -drinkers--Jews, travellers, and traders; foreign to my eyes as the -denizens of a bazaar in Samarcand. - -Now casting my eyes up, and led by the spirit that makes children see -what is not intended for them, I saw, at a door in the gallery opposite -to me, Joubert, who had just been superintending the stabling of the -horses. He was coming on to the gallery from the staircase. A fat, ugly, -German maidservant was passing him, and he--just as another person would -say "Good-day!"--slipped his arm round her waist and kissed her, made a -grimace, and passed on round the gallery towards me. - -"Why do you kiss them if you say their feet are so large, Joubert?" I -asked, recalling his strictures on German females. - -"Ma foi!" replied Joubert--"one does not kiss their feet." - -He leaned with me over the balcony watching the scene below. - -The hatred of Germans which filled the breast of Joubert was a hatred -based on the firm foundation of Blücher. Joubert did not hate the -English. This "cur of a Blücher," who turned up on Waterloo Day to reap -the harvest of other men's work, gave him all the food for hatred he -required. - -"Joubert," said I, "do you see that man with the big stomach and -watchchain sitting there--the one with a cigar?" - -"Mais, oui!" replied Joubert. "I know him well." - -"What is he, Joubert?" - -"He? His name is Bambabouff; he lives just beyond there, in a street to -the right as you go out, and he sells sausages. And see you, beside -him--yes, he, that German rat--with the ring on his first finger. His -name is Squintz, he sells Bambabouff the dogs and cats of which he makes -his sausages. Ah, yes; if German sausages could bark and mew, you could -not hear yourself speak in Frankfort. And he--look you over -there!--sitting at the table behind Bambabouff, with the mug of beer to -his lips, he is Monsieur Saurkraut." - -"And what does he do, Joubert?" - -Before Joubert could answer, a man entered the hall, a dark man, just -off the road, to judge by his travelling costume, and with a face the -picture of which is stamped on my mind, an impression never to be -removed. - -"Ah, ha!" said Joubert. "Here comes the Marquis de Carabas. Hats -off--hats off, gentlemen, to the Marquis de Carabas!" - -Now, Bambabouff did look exactly like a person who might have made a -fortune out of sausages, for Joubert had the art of hitting a person -off, caricaturing him in a few words. Squintz's personality was -humorously in keeping with his supposed business in life. And the -new-comer--well, "the Marquis de Carabas" was his portrait in four -words. Tall, stately, a nobleman a league off; handsome enough, with a -dark, saturnine face, and a piercing eye that seemed at times to -contemplate things far beyond the world we live in. The face of a -mystic. - -Weigand, washing his hands with invisible soap, accompanied this -gentleman, half walking beside him, half leading the way. They had -reached the centre of the hall when the stranger looked up and saw my -small face and Joubert's cat-like physiognomy regarding him over the -balustrade of the gallery. - -He started, stopped dead, and stared at me. Had he seen a ghost he could -not have come to a sharper pause, or have expressed more astonishment -without speech. - -Then, with a word to the landlord, who also looked up, he passed on, and -we lost sight of him under the gallery. - -"Ma foi!" said Joubert. "The Marquis de Carabas seems to know us, then." - -"Joubert," said I, "that man knows me, and I'm-m-m----" "Afraid" was the -word, but I did not say it, for I was a Mahon, with the family -traditions to keep up. - -"Know you?" cried Joubert, becoming serious. "Why, where did you ever -see him before?" - -"Nowhere." - -Before Joubert could speak again Weigand appeared on the gallery. - -"His Excellency the Baron Carl von Lichtenberg, to see his Excellency -Count Mahon!" cried Weigand. "The Baron, hearing of his Excellency's -arrival, has driven over from the Schloss Lichtenberg to present his -respects in person. The Baron waits in the salon his Excellency's -convenience." - -Joubert took the card which Weigand presented, went to our sitting-room -door, knocked, and entered. - -I heard my father's voice. "Aha, the Baron! He must have got my letter -from Mayence. Show him up." - -Then I knew that the Marquis de Carabas was our relation Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg, the man at whose house we were to stop. A momentary and -inexplicable terror filled my soul, and was banished, giving place to a -deep curiosity. - -Then I heard steps on the gallery, and the Baron, led by the innkeeper, -made his appearance, and, without looking in my direction, entered the -sitting-room where my father was. - -I heard their greeting, then the door was shut. - -Waiters came up with wine. I leaned on the railing, wondering what my -father and the stranger were conversing about, and watching the people -in the courtyard below. Bambabouff and his supposed partner had entered -into an argument that seemed to threaten blows, and I had almost -forgotten the Baron and my fear of him, watching the proceedings below, -when the sitting-room door opened and my father cried: "Patrick!" - -He beckoned me into the room. A haze of cigar-smoke hung in the air, and -by the table, on which stood glasses and decanters, sat Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg, leaning sideways in his chair, his legs crossed, his arms -folded, his dark countenance somewhat drooped, as though he were in -meditation. - -"This is Patrick," said my father. "Patrick, this is our relation and -friend the Baron Carl von Lichtenberg." - -I had been taught to salute my elders and superiors in the military -style; my dress was the uniform of the French school-boy. I brought my -feet together, and, stiff as a ramrod, made the salute. The Baron, with -a half-laugh, returned it, sitting straight up in his chair to do so. - -Having returned my salute, and spoken a few words, the Baron resumed his -conversation with my father; and I, with the apparent heedlessness of -childhood, played with Marengo, our boarhound, on the hearthrug before -the big fireplace. - -I say the apparent heedlessness of childhood. There are few things so -deep as the subterfuge of a child. Whilst playing with the dog and -pulling his ears, I was listening intently; not a word of the -conversation was missed by me. They were talking mostly about the -Emperor of the French, a close friend of my father's. He was just then -at Biarritz, with the Empress; and the conversation, which included the -names of De Morny and half a dozen others, would have been interesting, -no doubt, to a diplomat. As I listened, I could tell that the Baron was -sustaining the conversation, despite the fact that his thoughts were -fixed elsewhere. I could tell that his thoughts were fixed on me; that -he was watching me intently, yet furtively, and I knew in some -mysterious manner that this man feared me. - -Feared me, a child of nine! - -I read it partly in his expression, partly in his furtive manner. He had -seemed to dismiss me from his mind after our introduction; yet no man -ever watched another with more furtive and brooding attention than the -Baron Carl von Lichtenberg as he sat watching me. - -"Well," said the Baron, rising to go, "to-morrow, we will expect you in -the afternoon. Till then, farewell." - -He saluted me as he left the room in the same forced, half-jocular -manner with which he had returned my salute when I entered. - -Then he was gone, and I was playing again with Marengo on the hearthrug, -and my father, cigar in mouth, had returned to the letters he had been -engaged on when the Baron was announced. - -"Joubert," said I, as he tucked me up in my bed that night, "I wish we -were home again. Joubert, I don't like the Marquis de Carabas." - -Joubert grunted. His opinion of the Marquis was the same as mine, -evidently, but be was too much of a nursery despot to admit the fact. -"Attention!" cried he, holding the candle-stick in one hand, and the -finger and thumb of the other ready to extinguish the light. -"Attention!" cried Joubert, as though he were addressing a company of -the "Growlers." "One!" I nestled down in bed. "Two!" I shut my eyes. -"Three!" he snuffed out the candle. - -That was the formula every night ere I marched off for dreamland with my -knapsack on my back, a soldier to the last buttons on my gaiters. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -"I HAVE BEEN HERE BEFORE." - - -I was awakened by the sound of a band, and the tramp, tramp, tramp of a -regiment of soldiers--solid, rhythmical and earthshaking as the -footsteps of the Statue of the Commander. - -A regiment of infantry was passing in the street below. - -At Carlsruhe, at Mayence, I had heard the same sounds, and even my -childish mind could recognise the perfect drill, the perfect discipline, -the solidarity of these legions of the German army. - -The sun was shining in through the window which Joubert had just flung -open; the band was playing, the soldiers marching, life was gay. - -"Attention!" cried Joubert, turning from the window. "One!" up I sat. -"Two!" out went a leg. "Three!" I was standing on the floor saluting. - -I declare, if anyone had put his ear to the door of my bedroom when I -was dressing, or rather, being dressed, in the morning, they might have -sworn that a company of soldiers were drilling. - -Mixed with the slashing of water and the gasps of a child being bathed -came Joubert's military commands; the putting on of my small trousers -was accompanied by shrill directions taken from the drill-book, and the -full-dress inspection would have satisfied the fastidious soul of -Maréchal Niel. - -After breakfast the carriage was brought to the door, the baggage -stowed, and, Joubert, taking the directions from my father, we started -for the Schloss Lichtenberg as the clocks of Frankfort were striking -eleven. - -No warmer or more beautiful autumn morning ever cast its light on -Germany. By permission of the German Foreign Office, we had a complete -set of road-maps, with our route laid down in red ink, each numbered, -and each to be returned to the German Embassy in Paris on the conclusion -of our tour. - -We did not hurry--time was our own; we stopped sometimes at posthouses, -with porches vine-overgrown, where I had plums, Joubert had beer, and my -father chatted to the country people, who crowded round our carriage, -and the stout innkeepers who served us. - -The Taunus Mountains, blue in the warm haze of distance, beautiful with -the magic of their pine forests, lay before us. At two o'clock we passed -up the steep, cobble-paved main street of Homburg--a smaller Homburg -then--and at three we had left the tiny village of Emsdorff and its -schloss behind us. - -We were in a different country here, the mountains were very close, and -the road threaded the edges of the great forest. I knew the Forest of -Sênart, which lies quite close to the Château de Saluce, but the Forest -of Sênart was tame as a flower-garden compared with this. The air was -filled with the perfume and the singing and sighing of the great pine -trees, the carriage went almost without sound over the carpet of -pine-needles, and once, in the deepest part, where all was green gloom -and dancing points of light, my father called a halt and we sat for a -moment to listen. - -You could hear the leagues of silence, and then, like the rustling of a -lady's skirt, came the wind sighing across the tree-tops and loudening -to the patter of falling fir-cones, and dying away again and leaving the -silence to herself. The bark of a fox, the far-off cry of a jay, -instantly peopled the place for my childish mind with the people of -Grimm and Hoffmann, Father Barbel, the beasts that talked, and the -robbers of the forest, more mysterious and fascinating than gnomes. - -"Listen!" said my father. Mournful, faint, and far away came the notes -of a horn. - -"They are hunting in the forest," said my father; and, at the words, I -could see in the gloom of the tree-caverns the phantom of the flying -game pursued by the phantom of the ghostly huntsman, bugle to lips and -cheeks puffed out, a picture in the fantastic tapestry that children -weave from the colours and the sounds of life. - -Then we drove on. - -It was long past four, and I was drowsy with the fresh air, half drugged -with the odour of the pine trees, when we reached the gates of the park -surrounding the schloss. - -They were opened for us by a jäger, an old man in a green uniform, who -saluted as we passed. Joubert whipping up the horses, we passed along -the great avenue of elm trees. The park, under the late afternoon sun, -lay swathed in light, beautiful and so spacious that the far-off deer -browsing in the sunshine seemed the denizens of their natural home. - -I was not drowsy now, I was sitting erect by my father, my heart was -filled with the wildest exaltation--mystery and enchantment surrounded -me. I could have cried aloud with the wonder of it all; for I had been -here before. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -ELOISE - - -"You have been here before?" Who does not know that mysterious greeting -with which, when we turn the corner of some road, the prospect meets us? - -Only a few years ago Charcot assured me that this strange sensation of -the mind is a result of inequality in the rhythm of thought, a -mechanical accident affecting one side of the brain. I accepted his -explanation with a smile. - -Seated now by my father as we dashed along the broad avenue, my heart -was on fire. I knew that at the turning just before us, the turning -where the avenue bent upon itself, the house would burst upon us in full -view. Unable to contain myself, scarce knowing what I did, I jumped on -the front seat, and, standing, holding on to Joubert's coat, I waited. - -The carriage turned the corner of the drive, the house broke into view, -and my dream vanished. - -It was like being recalled to consciousness from some happy vision by a -blow in the face. - -I could not in the least tell what sort of house it was that I expected -to see, but I could tell that the house before me was not--it. - -Vast and grey and formal, the Schloss Lichtenberg stood back-grounded by -waving pine-trees; above it, coiling to the wind, the flag of Prussia, -proclaiming that the king was a guest, floated in the evening sunshine. -Before the huge porch, trampling the gravel, the horses of a hunting -party were reined in; the hunters were dismounting. They had been -hawking; and on the gloved wrists of the green-coated jägers the hooded -falcons shook their little bells. - -"The King is here!" said my father, when he saw the flag. - -The horses of the hunters were being led away, and most of the party had -disappeared into the house when we drew up before the door. - -Only two people stood to greet us on the steps, Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg and a man--a great man, with a dominating face, and hooded -eyes that never wavered, never lowered, eyes direct, far-seeing, and -fearless as the eyes of an eagle. - -I was in a terrible fright. Those words, "The King is here," had thrown -me in consternation. Though my father was a close friend of Napoleon, I -had never been brought into contact, as yet, with that enigmatical -person. I knew nothing of courts; and the idea that I was to sleep under -the same roof as the King of Prussia, and be spoken to by him, perhaps, -filled my imaginative mind with such a panic that I quite forgot my -ghostly dread of Baron von Lichtenberg. - -I thought the big man with the strange eyes was the King. He was not the -King. He was Bismarck. - -Bismarck! Good heavens! How little we know of a man till we have seen -him in his everyday mood! Bismarck slapped my father on the back--he had -all the good-humour and boisterous manner of a great schoolboy--as he -accompanied us up the steps. He had met my father several times before, -and liked him, as everyone liked him. And in the vast hall of the -schloss, hung with trophies of the battle and the chase, I stood by, -forgotten, whilst my father, in the midst of a group of gentlemen, stood -talking to the boisterous great man, whose hard voice and tremendous -personality dominated the scene. - -I have said that Bismarck's voice was hard. It was, but it was not a -mean or commonplace voice; it was as full of force as the man, and you -never forgot it, once you heard it. - -A large party of guests were at the schloss; and I, standing alone, felt -very much alone indeed--shy, and filled with fear of the King. I was -standing like this, when from the door of a great room opening upon the -hall came a little figure skipping. - -Gay as a beam of sunshine, she came into the vast and gloomy hall. She -wore a blue scarf, white dress, frilled pantalettes, and shoes with -crossed straps over her tiny insteps. - -She glanced at me as she passed, making straight for Bismarck, whose -coat she plucked at. - -"Another time--another time!" growled he, letting drop a hand for the -sunbeam to play with whilst he continued his conversation with the -others. But I noticed that, despite his hardness and seeming -indifference, the big hand, with the seal-ring on the little finger, -caressed the child's hand; but she wanted more than this. Swinging -around, still clasping his hand, but pouting, and with a finger to her -lips, her eyes rested on me. - -I had forgotten the King now; a flood of bashfulness overwhelmed me, -and, as I stood there holding my képi in one hand, I, mesmerised by the -figure in pantalettes before me, made a stiff little bow. Dropping -Bismarck's hand, she made a little curtsey, and came skipping to me -across the shining floor. - -"And you, too, are a soldier?" said she, speaking in French. "Bon jour, -M. l'Officier!" - -"Bon jour, mademoiselle!" - -"My name is Eloise," said the apparition of light. "Do you like my -dress?" - -"Oui, mademoiselle!" - -She pursed her lips. "Oui, mademoiselle? Oh, how dull you are! Now, if I -wert thou, and thou wert I, know you what I would have said?" - -"Non, mademoiselle." - -"Non, mademoiselle! Oh, how droll you are. I would have said: -'Mademoiselle, your toilet is ravishing!' Now say it." - -"Mademoiselle, your toilet is ravishing." - -She laughed with pleasure at having made me repeat the words. Despite -her conversation, she had no touch of the old-fashioned, or the pert, or -the objectionable about her. Brimming over with life, pure from its -source, fresh as a daisy, sparkling as a dewdrop, sweetness was written -upon her brow, across that ineffable mark of purity with which God -stamps His future angels. - -"And your name?" said she. - -"Patrick," I replied. - -"Pawthrick," said she, trying to put her small mouth round the word. "I -cannot say it. I will call you Toto. Come with me," leading me by the -sleeve, "and I will introduce you to my mother. She is here"--drawing -towards the door of the room from whence she had come--"in here. Do you -know why I call you Toto?" - -"Non, mademoiselle." - -"He was my rabbit, and he died," said Eloise, as we entered a great -salon where several ladies were seated conversing. - -Toward one of these ladies, more beautiful in my eyes than the dawn, -Eloise led me. - -"Maman," said she, "this is Toto." - -The Countess Feliciani, for that was the name of the mother of Eloise, -smiled upon us. I dare say we made a quaint and pretty enough pair. She -was perhaps, thirty--the Countess Feliciana, a woman of Genoa, blue-eyed -and golden-haired, and beautiful--Ah! when a blonde is beautiful, her -beauty transcends the beauty of all brunettes. - -I bowed, she spoke to me, I stammered. She put my awkwardness down to -bashfulness, no doubt, but it was not bashfulness. I was in love with -the Countess Feliciani, stricken to the heart at first sight. - -The love of a child of nine for a beautiful woman of thirty! How absurd -it seems, but how real, and what a mystery! I swear that the love I had -for that woman, love that haunted me for a long, long time, was equal in -strength to the love of a full-grown man, with this difference: that it -was immaterial, and, as far as my conscience tells me, utterly divorced -from earthly passion. - -"Now go and play," said the Countess. And Eloise led me away, I knew not -whither. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -I SEE MYSELF, NOT KNOWING - - -But to the mind of a child the moment is everything. Had I been a man, -my inamorata would have driven me to solitude and cigars. Being what I -was, supper pushed her image to one side for the moment. Such a supper! -Served specially for the pair of us in a little room, once, I suppose, -some lady's boudoir, for the walls were hung with blue silk, and the -ceiling was painted with flowers and cupids. - -"Where is Carl?" asked Eloise of the German woman who served us. - -"Carl has been naughty," replied she. "Carl must remain in his room till -the Baron forgives him." - -This woman, by name Gretel, was tall, angular, and hard of face. I did -not care for her; and I noticed that she watched me from the corners of -her eyes, somewhat in the same manner that the Baron had watched me as I -played on the hearthrug with Marengo in the hotel at Frankfort. - -"Who is Carl?" said I. - -"Carl von Lichtenberg?" replied Eloise. "Why, he is the Baron's son. He -is eight, and he tore my frock this morning right up here." She shifted -in her chair, and plucked up the hem of her tiny skirt to show me the -place. "But it was not for that Carl has been put in prison, for I never -told, did I, Gretel?" - -Gretel grunted. - -"Come," said she, "if you have finished supper you can have half an -hour's play before bed." - -She took the lamp in her hand, and led us from the room down a corridor; -then, opening one side of a tall, double door, she led us into an -immense picture-gallery. - -Portraits of dead-and-gone Lichtenbergs stared at us from the walls. Men -in armour, knights dressed for the chase, ladies whose beauty or -ugliness wore the veil of the centuries. - -"Why, this is the picture-gallery!" cried Eloise. - -"It is the shortest way to the playroom," grimly replied Gretel, as she -stalked before us with the light. - -We followed her, walking hand-in-hand, as the babes in the wood walked -in that grim story, to which the pity of the robins is the sequel. - -Suddenly Gretel halted. She stood lamp in hand before a picture. - -"Ah, Toto!" cried Eloise. - -I had seized her arm, I suppose roughly in my agitation, for the picture -before which Gretel had halted filled me with a sensation I can scarcely -describe. Terror!--yes, it was terror, but something else as well. The -feeling I had experienced in the carriage, the feeling--"I have been -here before"--held my heart. - -It was the picture of a girl in the garb of many, oh, many years ago; -yet I knew her; and out of the past, far out of the past, came that -mysterious terror that filled my soul. - -But for a moment this lasted, and then faded away, and things became -commonplace once more; and Gretel was Gretel, the picture a picture, and -in my hand lay the warm and charming hand of Eloise, which I had taken -again. - -"That is the picture of Margaret von Lichtenberg," said Gretel, looking -at me as she spoke. - -"How like she is to little Carl!" murmured Eloise. "Gretel, how like she -is to little Carl!" - -"And this," said Gretel, holding the lamp to a small canvas under the -large one, "is a picture of an ancestor of yours, little boy, Philippe -de Saluce. He loved her, but it was many years ago. Eloise, come closer; -see, who is this little picture like?" - -"Why, it is Toto!" cried Eloise, clapping her hands. "Toto, look!" - -I looked. It was the picture of a boy, a picture of the Marquis Philippe -de Saluce, taken when he was quite young. - -I looked, but the thing made little impression upon me. Few people can -recognise their likeness in another. - -"Come," said Gretel, and she led us on to the playroom. - -Now, here let me give you the dark and gloomy fact that Philippe de -Saluce had cruelly killed Margaret von Lichtenberg in a fit of madness -and rage. He had drowned her in the lake which lies in the woods of -Schloss Lichtenberg, one dark and sad day of December, in the year of -our Lord 1611. He had slain himself, too, "body and soul," said the old -chronicles. 'Alas, what man can slay his soul or save it from the -punishment of its crimes! - -The playroom was full of toys, evidently Carl's, and we played till -bedtime, Eloise and I. Then I was marched off to the door of my bedroom, -where Joubert was waiting for me. - -A pretty chambermaid scuttled away at my approach. I will say for -Joubert that, judging from my childish recollections, this cat-whiskered -old fire-eater had an attraction for ladies of his own class quite -incommensurate with his age and personal charms. - -My bedroom was a little room opening off my father's. - -When Joubert had tucked me up I fell asleep, and must have slept several -hours, when I was awakened by the sound of voices. - -Joubert was assisting my father to undress. They were talking. - -No man, I think, ever saw Count Mahon drunk. I have seen him myself -consume two bottles of port without turning a hair. They built men -differently in those days. But he was the soul of good-fellowship; and -how much he and Bismarck had consumed together that night the butler of -Schloss Lichtenberg alone knew. - -"Joubert," said my father, "this relation of mine, Baron Lichtenberg, of -the Schloss Lichtenberg, in the province of What-do-you-call-it--put my -coat on that chair--strikes me as being a German, and, more than -that--mark you, Joubert, madness lies in the eyes of a man. I say -nothing, but I am glad the blood of the Lichtenbergs does not run in the -veins of the Mahons." Then, just before he fell asleep, and I could hear -Joubert giving the bedclothes a tuck at his back: "Ireland for ever!" -said my father. Yet he was a Frenchman, a Commander of the Legion of -Honour, a soldier of the Emperor. IN VINO VERITAS! - -Then I fell asleep, and scarcely had sleep touched me than I entered -dreamland. I was in the pine forest, standing just where the carriage -had stopped and where the sound of the distant horn had come to us from -the depths of the trees. I was lost, and someone was calling to me. It -was very dark. - -In this tragic dream, the terror and mystery of which even still haunts -me, I could see nothing save the outlines of the trees dimly visible; -and I followed the voice through the increasing gloom till at last the -darkness complete and absolute ringed me round like an iron band, and I -knew that the trees had ceased to be, and before me lay water. - -A gasping and bubbling sound came from the invisible water, and I knew -that it was the sound of a person drowning. - -Drowning in the dark. - -Then I awoke, and there were people in the room. - -The room was lit by a nightlight dimly burning in a little dish. I, -still possessed by the terror of the dream, lay very quiet. From the -next room came the deep and stertorous breathing of my father. The -people in my room, as though knowing him to be under the influence of -drugs or wine, seemed quite oblivious of his presence so close to them. -Baron Lichtenberg was standing by the foot of my bed; beside him stood -the woman Gretel. They were gazing upon me and talking about me, and I -was chill with terror. - -Peeping under my lids, I could see them, but in the dim light they could -not tell that I was awake as they gazed at me and talked in a -half-whisper. - -"It is horrible," said the man, "but it was prophesied. Look at him. Can -you doubt?" - -"Yes," said the woman; "it is he, as surely as she is Margaret." - -"And you say he recognised her picture?" - -"Surely," replied the woman, "by his face, which I watched narrowly." - -Now, the face of the man seen in the dim light was the face of Baron -Carl von Lichtenberg with the veil removed, the veil which every man -wears whilst playing his part in the social comedy. The face that was -looking down at me was both merciless and mad. Child though I was, I -dimly felt that this man was at enmity with me, and that he not only -feared me, but hated me. - -"And now," said the woman in the same half-whisper, "what is to do? Will -you bring them together?" - -"To-morrow," said the Baron. - -During this conversation, which had lasted some minutes, the Baron had -never once taken his eyes from my face. I could support it no longer. I -opened my eyes, tossed my arms, and, like a pair of evil spectres, my -visitors vanished from the room. - -Now that I was free of their presence, my terror became tinged with -curiosity. Who was Margaret? Who was the person they referred to as -being me? _The other person?_ - -In those questions lay the mystery and tragedy of my life. I was to have -the answer to them terribly soon. - -I listened to the turret clock striking the hours. This clock was of -very antique make. The figure of a man in armour, larger than life, -struck a ponderous bell with a mallet. You could see him in the turret, -and my father had pointed him out to me as we drove up to the house. - -As I listened, I pictured him standing there alone. A figure from -another age and a far-distant time. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -LITTLE CARL - - -I was awakened by the note of a horn blown by some ranger in the forest. -The sun was shining in through the window, night had vanished with all -its dreams and fears, and Joubert was at the door. - -Joubert, unsuccessful, perhaps, in one of his multifarious love-affairs, -was grumpy; and when I tried to explain about the nocturnal visitors he -wouldn't listen. He knew my imaginative powers, and put my story down to -them; and, as for me, attracted by the events of the moment as all -children are, I had nearly forgotten the whole matter by breakfast-time. - -I was led down by Joubert and given into the charge of Gretel. Breakfast -was laid for Eloise and me in the same boudoir where we had supped the -night before, but lo, and behold! when we reached the room another child -was there as well as Eloise. - -A boy of my own age. A charming little figure dressed in the uniform of -a Pomeranian grenadier. - -"This is Carl!" cried Eloise, pulling the little grenadier forward by -the hand. "This is Toto, Carl. I forgot his other name. No matter. I am -hungry. Gretel, I pray you let us have breakfast." - -Carl was dark; and he met me without smiling, and took my hand without -grasping it properly, and looked at me, not directly, but in a veiled -manner curious in a child so young. - -Carl repelled me, and yet attracted me. When I contrast his face with -the portrait in the picture-gallery of the schloss, I can see now, with -the eye of memory, the awful likeness between him and the dead and gone -Margaret von Lichtenberg, just as I can see the likeness between myself -and Philippe de Saluce. - -The "family likeness"--that mysterious fact in life before which science -is dumb--never was more manifest; but what made the thing more curious, -more deeply involved in mystery, was the fact that under the same roof, -hundreds of years after the old tragedy of long ago, the facsimiles of -the two actors should meet as children fresh to the world. - -As for me this morning, I saw nothing in Carl von Lichtenberg but a -little boy of my own age, somewhat fantastically dressed. The -half-terror, the extraordinary sensation that the picture of Margaret -von Lichtenberg had called up in my mind the night before, had expended -itself and vanished, leaving me incapable of further psychic perception. -Everything was commonplace again as the bread-and-butter that Gretel was -cutting for us at the side-table. - -The schloss was so vast, so solidly constructed, that no sound came to -us from the other guests. - -After breakfast, when we were running down a corridor making for the -garden, and led by Eloise, a gentleman stopped us, and spoke a few words -of greeting, and passed on. - -"That was the King," said Eloise. "He is leaving to-morrow--he and Graf -von Bismarck. We, too, are leaving the day after." - -"You, too?" I cried, my childish heart recalling the lovely Countess -Feliciani, who had been clean forgotten for twelve hours or more. - -"Yes," said Eloise. "And there's mamma. Come along. See, she is with -those ladies by the fountain." - -We had broken into the garden, a wonderful and beautiful garden, with -shaven lawns and clipped yew-trees, terraces, dim vistas cypress-roofed, -and, far away down one of these alleys a sight to fascinate the heart of -any child, the figure of a great stone man running. He was dressed in -green lichen, lent him by the years; he held a spear in his hand, and he -seemed in the act of hurling it at the game he was pursuing there beyond -the cypress-trees at the edge of the singing pines. - -For the garden became the forest without wall or barrier, except the -shadow cast by the trees; and you could walk from the sunlight and the -sound of the fountains into the dryad-haunted twilight and the old -quaint world of the woods. - -The Countess kissed Eloise; then she bent to kiss me, and I--I turned my -face away--a crimson face--and felt like a fool. - -Someone laughed--a gentleman who was standing by. The Countess laughed; -and then, to my extreme relief, someone came to my rescue. - -It was little Carl. He had run into the house for his drum, and now he -was coming along the path solemnly beating it, with Eloise for a -faithful camp follower. I joined her; and away down the garden we went, -hand in hand, marching in time to the rattle of the little drum. - -Eloise snatched flowers from the flower-beds as we passed them, and -pelted the drummer with them as he marched before us; and so we went, a -gallant company, through the garden, past the running man, and under the -forest trees, the echoes and the bluejays answering to the drum. - -My father, the Countess Feliciani, our host, and a number of ladies and -gentlemen were in the garden. They laughed as we marched away; and when -the shadow of the trees took us they forgot us, I suppose, and the -pretty picture we must have made. - - * * * * * - -Scarcely twenty minutes could have elapsed when screams from the wood -drew their startled attention, and out from the trees came Carl, -dripping with water, without his drum, running, and screaming as he ran. - -After him ran Eloise and I. - -"He tried to drown me in the lake in the wood!" screamed Carl, clasping -the knees of his father, who had run to meet him, and looking back at -me. "He tried to drown me; he did it before--he did it before! Save me -from him, father, father! Father! Father!" - -Baron Lichtenberg's face, as he clasped the child, was turned on me. He -was white as little Carl, and I shall never forget his expression. - -"Did you try to drown my child?" he said. And he spoke as though he were -speaking to a man. - -Before I could reply Eloise struck in: - -"Oh, Carl, how can you say such things? I saw it all. No, monsieur. -They had a little quarrel as to who should play with the drum, and Toto -pushed him, and he fell into the water. Was it not so, Carl?" - -But Carl was incapable of answering. Screaming like a girl in hysterics -he clung to the Baron, who had taken him in his arms. - -"Now, then," said my father, who had come up. "What is this? What is the -meaning of this, sir? Come, speak! Did you dare to----" - -"Father," I said, "I pushed him, but I did not mean to hurt him--truly I -did not." - -"Do not blame him," said Von Lichtenberg, turning to the house with Carl -in his arms. "It is Fate. Children do these things without knowing it. -Do not punish him." - -The hypocrisy of those last four words! Lost to my father, whose simple -mind could not read the tones of a man's voice or guess what hatred can -be hidden in honey. - -"All the same," said my father, as the Baron departed, "the child is -half drowned. You have disgraced yourself. Off with you to Joubert, and -place yourself under arrest." - -I saluted. - -"Bread and water," said my father; "and for three days." - -I saluted again, and marched off to the house dejectedly enough. - -As I went, little footsteps sounded behind me, and Eloise ran up. "You -must not mind Carl, Toto," said she. "He cannot help crying. Listen, -and I will tell you a secret. I heard mamma telling it to father; they -thought I was asleep. Little Carl is a girl! Monsieur le Baron has -brought her up as a boy to avoid something evil that has been -prophesied--so mother said. What is 'prophesied,' Toto?" - -"I don't know," I replied, my head too full of the dismal prospect of -arrest and bread and water to trouble much about anything else. Then -religiously I went to Joubert who formally placed me under arrest. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE MAN IN ARMOUR - - -Next day happened a thing which even still recurs to me in nightmare. - -When I came down to breakfast, released from arrest by special -intervention of the Baron, Carl was not there. Gretel said he had caught -a cold from his wetting, and was confined to his room. - -Late in the afternoon Eloise and I were in the great library. We had -watched the King depart, the Graf von Bismarck, cigar in mouth, -accompanying him. Carriage after carriage, containing guests, had driven -away; and Eloise and I were pressing our noses against the panes of the -window looking at the park, and speculating on Carl and the condition of -his cold, when the door opened, and Gretel looked in. - -"Oh, there you are, children!" cried Gretel. "Well, and what are you -doing with yourselves?" - -"Nothing," yawned Eloise, turning from the window. "We have played all -our games, haven't we, Toto?" - -"Well you are sure to be getting into mischief if you are left to -yourselves," said the woman. "Come with me, and I will show you a fine -game. It is now a quarter to five. We will go up to the turret and see -the Man in Armour strike the hour." - -"Hurrah!" cried I, and Eloise skipped. It was the desire of both our -hearts to see the mysterious Man in Armour close, and watch him strike -the bell. - -"Fetch your hats, then, for it is windy in the tower," said Gretel. And -off we went to fetch them. - -She led us through a door off the corridor, and up circular stone stairs -that seemed to have no end, till we reached the room where the machinery -was placed that drove the clock and struck the bell. - -A ladder from here led us to the topmost chamber, where the iron man -with the iron hammer stood before the iron bell. - -This chamber was open to the four winds, and gave a splendid view of the -mountains and the forest, and the lands lying towards Friedrichsdorff -and beyond. - -But little cared I for the scenery. I was examining the Man in Armour. -He was taller than a real man, and his head was one huge mass of iron -cast in the form of a morion. Clauss of Innsbruck had made him, and he -struck me with a creepy sensation that was half fear. He stood with his -huge hammer half raised; and the knowledge that at the hour he would -wheel on his pivot and hit the bell vested him with an uncanny -suggestion of life, even though one knew he was dead and made of iron. - -"He will not strike for ten minutes," said Gretel. "Gott! how cold it is -here, and how windy! Come, let us play a game of blind-man's buff to -keep ourselves warm." - -My small handkerchief was brought into requisition, and Gretel blinded -me, pinning the handkerchief to my képi. "And now," said Gretel, "I will -bind Eloise, and you can try to catch me." - -Then we played. - -If you had been standing below you might have heard our laughter. I had -just missed Eloise, when I was myself seized from behind by the waist, -and Gretel's voice cried: "Now I've caught you!" - -Even as she spoke a deep rumbling came from the machinery-room below. -"Now I've caught you. Now I've caught you!" cried Gretel's voice, that -seemed choking with laughter. - -Something like a mighty bird swept past my forehead, tearing the képi -from my head and the handkerchief from my eyes, and flinging me on the -floor with the wind of its passage. - -BOOM! - -The great hammer of the Man in Armour had struck its first stroke, and -with a thunderous, heart-shattering sound. The great hammer had passed -my head so close that another half inch would have meant death. - -BOOM! - -I lay paralysed, looking up at the iron figure swinging to its work. He -had nearly killed me, and I knew it. Again the hammer flew towards the -bell. - -BOOM! - -The tower rocked, and the sound roared through the openings, and the -joints of the iron figure groaned and the arms upflew once more. - -BOOM! - -And once again, urged by the might of the hammer-man, tremendous, -apocalyptic, and sinister the voice of the great bell burst over the -woods. - -BOOM! - -The woodmen in the forests of the Taunus corded their bundles and -prepared for home, for five o'clock had struck from the Schloss -Lichtenberg. - -At the first stroke, Eloise had sat down on the floor, screaming with -fright at the noise. She was sitting there still, with her eyes -bandaged, when the sound died away. - -"What an escape!" cried Gretel, who was white and shaking. "Little boy, -had I not plucked you away, the hammer would have killed you! It would -have killed you had it not been for me!" - -But in my heart I knew better than that. - - * * * * * - -That night I told Joubert of the thing. He said Gretel was a fool. - -"Joubert," I said, "I am afraid of this house, and I am afraid of -Gretel; and I want to say my prayers again, please, for I was not -thinking when I said them just now." - -I said them again; and Heaven knows I needed them more than any prince -trapped in the ogre's castle of a fairy tale. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE HUNTING-SONG - - -Scarcely had Joubert left me than a faint sound, stealing from below, -made me sit up in bed. - -The sound of violins tuning up. - -Ever since I could perceive the difference between musical sounds, music -has fascinated me, thrilled me, filled me with hauntings. Music can make -me drunk, music can make me everything but bad; but it is not in the -province of music to do that. - -A band of wandering musicians had come to the schloss, and were -preparing to entertain the guests in the great hall. - -Our rooms were quite close to the gallery surrounding the hall. I could -hear the complaint of the violin-strings protesting their readiness, and -the deep, gasping grunts of the 'cello saying as plainly as a 'cello -could speak, "Begin." - -Then the music struck up. - -A gay, dashing tune, vivid as a spring landscape with the daffodils -dancing in the wind; the high tremulous notes of a piccolo hovering over -the music of the strings as a skylark hovers in the air. - -It was more than mortal child could stand, to hear all that and not to -be there. - -I hopped out of bed, and made for the door. I had opened it, when the -thought came to me that Joubert might come back to the room, as he -sometimes did, to see if I were asleep; so I ran to the bed and propped -the pillow under the bedclothes. I often slept with the clothes over my -head, and the room was so dark that the protuberance of the pillow gave -quite a striking representation of a small boy curled up in slumber. - -Then I came down the passage to the gallery overlooking the hall. Down -below the place was brilliantly lit. - -The musicians--four men in long coats, with long hair, and two of them -bearded--were opposite to me. - -Seated about were the guests: my father, the Countess Feliciani, Count -Feliciani, Major von der Goltz, General Hahn, and another gentleman -whose name I did not know. Baron von Lichtenberg was not there. - -A servant was handing coffee, and the guests were chatting in two little -groups, and seemed quite oblivious of the music that was ravishing my -simple heart. - -The spring song ceased, the daffodils danced no longer in the wind, the -skylark dropped from the sky, and the musicians fell chatting one to the -other in an undertone whilst they tuned up again. The one most directly -facing me--a man quite young, with oh, such a good, kind, sweet -face!--glanced up as he was raising his violin and caught sight of me in -my little nightshirt away up in the gallery peeping down at him and his -brethren. He evidently knew at once that I was one of the children of -the schloss, a truant from bed, and that my portion would be smacks if I -were discovered; for, though a momentary smile lit his face, he made no -sign or attempt to point me out to his fellows. - -They broke into a hunting tune. I could tell, from the lilt of the -music, it was the chase that was speaking in the inarticulate language -of the strings. The piccolo had discarded his instrument for a horn; I -could hear the yapping of the dogs, and the pack bursting into full cry; -the horn, and the echoes of the horn from the rocks and woods, the -halalli. Gay, ghostly, beautiful, the music swept me along with it, the -very guests below forgot their chatter; I could see them keeping time -with their feet. Enchantment had seized upon the old schloss, the -green-coated jägers crowded, as if by permission, to the passage -entrance, and their harsh voices took up the song which now broke from -the lips of the magicians in the long coats to the accompaniment of the -violins and the hunting-horn, a song the words of which were not -translated for me till long, long afterwards: - - - Hound and horn give voice and tongue, - Fill the woods with echoes gay; - Let your music sweet be flung - To the Brocken far away. - - Jägers with the horns ye wind, - Hounds whose tongues the chase shall bay; - Let your voice the echoes find - Of the Brocken old and grey. - - Hark! amidst the bracken green - Bells the buck whose vigil keeps - Danger from the hind unseen, - Danger from the fawn that sleeps. - - Hears he us, yet heeds us not, - Dreams he that we are the wind; - Phantoms we of hounds forgot, - Ghosts of huntmen long since blind. - - Dreams we are the forest's breath - Waking to the touch of day; - Recks not 'tis the horn of Death - Dying in the distance grey. - Hound and horn give voice and tongue---- - - -And through it all the horn, now clear and ringing, now caught and dying -in the echoes of the forest, now lost in the echoes of the Brocken, the -wild notes flying before the phantom of the flying stag; ever the horn -threading the gushing music of the violins, the voices of the musicians, -and the chorus of the jägers. - -More music came after this, but nothing so beautiful; and as the -musicians put their instruments away, and prepared to go, I nodded to -the happy-faced one who had spied me. He smiled, and I trotted back to -bed. I had been there listening in the gallery for a full hour, and I -was cold as ice, but no one had seen me, or only the violin-player who -had the face of a good angel. - -I shut the door cautiously, and crept back to bed. But there was -something on the bed, something on the protuberance caused by my pillow. -It was the handle of a knife. The blade of the knife was plunged into -the mound of the bedclothes just where my head would have been. - -It was Joubert's knife--his "couteau de chasse," a thing he was -immensely proud of, a thing as keen as a razor. - -That was just like one of Joubert's tricks. He had come in, found my -device, and left this, as much as to say, "You'll see what you'll get in -the morning." - -I plucked the knife out and put it on the floor. Then I crawled into -bed. - -As I lay thinking of the music, my restless fingers kept digging into -holes in the sheet. Half a dozen holes, or rather slits, there were. One -might have thought that the hunting-knife of Joubert had been furiously -plunged again and again into the heap of bedclothes before being left -sticking there. But I did not think of this: the knife was Joubert's. -Besides, my head was alive with those dreams that stand at the door of -sleep to welcome the innocent in. - -The forms of the weather-beaten musicians, sent like good angels from -God to charm me and hold me with their music; the happy, innocent, and -friendly face of the one who had smiled at me, and the hunting-song: - - - Hark! amidst the bracken green - Bells the buck whose vigil keeps - Danger from the hind unseen, - Danger from the fawn that sleeps. - - -Then I, like a fawn, fell asleep, ignorant of Fate as the fawn, and of -the extreme wickedness of the heart of man. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE FAIRY TALE - - -"Levez-vous! Levez-vous! Levez-vous! Ta-ra-ra! Pom, pom! Hi! God's -teeth, my knife! What does it here?" - -Joubert could sound the réveille with his mouth almost as well as a -trumpeter, and he was grand at imitating the big drum. - -Up I shot in bed, rubbing my eyes. - -"Your what?" - -"My knife. Ha! I've caught you. Cutting your sticks and carving your -name with my couteau de chasse! You have been to my bedroom. Don't -answer me! You have been to my bedroom, and taken it from the pocket of -my coat. A pretty thing!" - -Joubert's temper all yesterday had been savage; his infernal amours were -not prospering, it seems. In fact, as I afterwards learned from his own -lips, a scullion, resenting his addresses, had called him an old French -dog without teeth. - -"It was sticking in my pillow when I came to bed!" cried I, indignant at -the accusation. - -"Your pillow, when you came to bed!" Joubert seized me, ran me across -the room by my shoulders to a large mirror, pointed to the reflection of -my shrinking form, and yelled: - -"Do you see that?" - -"Mais, oui." - -"Then you see a liar." - -"But, Joubert----" - -"Not a word!" - -"But I want to _tell_ you----" - -"Not a word!" - -That was always Joubert's way--"Not a word." - -"But I want to _tell_ you!" - -"Not a word!" And he jabbed the sponge in my mouth, for I was standing -by this time in the bath. - -I never could tell whether Joubert was joking or in earnest, so I said -no more; but it was none the less irritating to be called a liar by -Joubert, whose lies about battle, murder, and sudden death were -palpable, and sometimes cynically self-confessed. - -Little Carl did not appear at breakfast, and Eloise was very despondent, -not about Carl, but about going away. She would not touch jam, and she -made use sometimes, in a secretive manner, of a handkerchief, small -enough, goodness knows, yet chiefly composed of lace. - -"It is not the going away," said Eloise; "it is the parting from friends -that makes going away so sad." - -She was a terribly sentimental child by fits and starts, falling into -sentiment and falling out of it again with the facility of a newly -dislocated limb from its socket. - -Next moment I was chasing her down the corridor, both of us making the -corridor echoes ring with our laughter. At the end, just by the glass -door leading to the garden, down she plumped in a corner and put her -little pinafore over her head. - -I believe she wanted, or expected, me to pull the pinafore away and kiss -her, but I didn't. I just pulled her up by the arm, and we both bundled -out into the garden, and in a moment she had forgotten kissing amidst -the flowers, plucking the asters and the Michaelmas daisies, and chasing -the butterflies that were still plentiful in the late summer of that -year. - -We passed the fountains, and stopped to admire the running man. His -face, worn away by time and weather, still had a ferocious expression. -One wondered what he was chasing with the spear that seemed for ever on -the point of leaving his hand. - -"Toto," said Eloise, "yesterday when we took the drum with us, we forgot -to bring little Carl's sticks: we left them by the pond." - -"So we did," said I. - -"Let's go and fetch them," said Eloise. - -"Come on," I replied. - -We took the forest path leading to the lake. - -It was like plunging into a well of twilight. - -These trees that surrounded us were no tame trees of a pleasaunce: they -were the outposts of the immortal forest, a thing as living and -mysterious as the sea. Their twilight was but the fringe of a robe, -extending for hundreds and hundreds of square leagues. - -I am a lover of the forest. The forest, and the sea, and the blue sky of -God are all that are left to remind us of the youth of the world and the -poetry of it, and the old German forests retain most of that lost charm. - -They are haunted. The forests of the volcanic Eiffel, the Hartz, the -Taunus, still hold the ghost of Pan. I have been afraid in them. - -By the lake fringed with ferns, Eloise fell into another sentimental and -despairing fit. We were sitting on the lake edge, and I was playing with -the recovered drumsticks. - -"Ay di mi!" wept Eloise. "When you are gone! I mean when I am gone--when -we are departed----" - -"Courage!" said I. - -"It is the going away," sniffed Eloise, carefully arranging her little -skirt around her. - -"I know," I said, rattling the sticks; "but it will be soon over." - -Unhappy child! I believe she had fallen really in love with me, -unconscious of the fact that if I cared for any woman in the world it -was for the lovely Countess Feliciani, her mother, and that I had no -eyes at all for a thing of my own age in frilled pantalettes, no matter -how pretty she might be. - -Before Eloise could reply to my unintentionally brutal remark, a figure -came out from amidst the trees and towards us. It was one of the jägers. -A man past middle age, bent and warped like a tree that has stood the -tempest for years. - -This man's name was Vogel, and good cause I have to remember that name. - -"Aha!" said he. "The children! Fräulein Eloise, Gretel is seeking for -you in the house." - -We rose. - -"Come," said Eloise. And I was turning to go with her, but Vogel, who -held a stick in one hand and a small penknife in the other, said to me -as he whittled at the stick: - -"See you, have you ever made a whistle?" - -"No," I replied, interested, despite the man's German accent and his -face, which was not attractive, for his cheeks were sucked in as though -he were perpetually drawing at a pipe, and his nose, too small for his -face, was hooked. I have never seen a nose so exactly like the beak of a -screech-owl. - -Vogel, without a word, sat down and began cutting away at the whistle. - -"Are you not coming?" said little Eloise. - -"In a minute," I replied, looking over Vogel's shoulder at his -handiwork. - -"Then stay," she pouted. And away she ran. - -I looked on at Vogel and his work, one foot preparing to go, the other -foot holding me. - -"There is an old woman who lives in the wood," said Vogel, as he cut at -the stick, "and she makes whistles." - -"Does she?" I replied. - -"She does," said Vogel. "She makes them of silver, and of glass, and of -gold, and when you blow on them they go----" - -A strange warbling sound filled the wood. It was Vogel showing how the -whistles of the old woman sounded when you blew into them. - -He had put a bird-call--the thing foresters use for snaring -birds--between his lips. He removed it again with a laugh, and went on -with his work. - -"She lives in a house made of gingerbread," went on the fowler. "And -know you what the panes of her windows are made of?" - -"No." - -"Sugar, clear as your eye. And guess you what the door is made of?" - -"No." - -"Marzipan. Ah! that is a good house to live in," said Vogel. And I -mentally concurred. - -"She keeps white mice, and rabbits with green eyes." - -"Green eyes?" - -"Yes; and she gave little Carl a rabbit for himself last time I took him -to see her. There." He handed the whistle, which was finished, up to me -over his shoulder, and I blew on it and found it good. - -"Would you like to have a rabbit like that?" asked Vogel, filling his -pipe and lighting it. - -"I would." - -"Well, you can have one. I will get one for you to-morrow, or to-day, if -you like to come with me to see the old woman who makes the whistles. -Will you come?" - -"What time?" said I, hesitating. - -"Now," said Vogel. - -My answer was cut short by a sound from behind--the clinking of a -bucket--and Joubert and a stout servant-maid appeared from the path -leading to the lake. They were coming to gather water-plants for some -household decoration. - -Joubert was gallantly carrying the bucket. - -Vogel sprang to his feet. - -"I must go," said he. "It was my joke. I am the old woman who makes the -whistles." - -Off he went. - -I have often thought since that much weariness, much sorrow to me, and -much plotting and planning to the Great Writer of love-stories. Who -lives above, might have been saved if I had gone that day with Vogel to -see "the old woman who makes the whistles." - -"What was Skull-face saying to you?" asked Joubert. - -"He made me this," said I, showing him the pithed stick. - -The Felicianis departed at three o'clock. Eloise, with her cheeks -flushed, was laughing with excitement: she seemed quite to have -forgotten her grief. Four horses drew their carriage. They were bound -for Homburg, where they would pass the night before going on to -Frankfort. - -I remember, as the carriage drove off. Countess Feliciani looked back -and smiled at us--at my father, myself, Von Lichtenberg, Major von der -Goltz, and General Hahn, all grouped on the steps. God! had she known -the happenings to follow, how that smile would have withered on her -lips! - -Carl was still invisible, and the great schloss, now that Eloise was -gone, seemed strangely empty to me. It is wonderful how much space a -child can fill with its presence. Eloise's happy little form had -diffused itself, spreading happiness and innocence far and wide, and -dispelling I know not what evil things. If a rose can fill a room with -its perfume, who knows how far may reach the perfume of an innocent and -beautiful soul! - -At six o'clock I was in the library; a box of tin soldiers, which my -father had bought for me at Carlsruhe, stood open on the table, and the -armies were opposed. - -I was not too old to play with soldiers like these, for there were -shoals of them: officers, and drummers, and gunners, cannon, -flags--everything. As a matter of fact, Major von der Goltz had been -playing with me, too, and I'll swear he took just as much interest in -them as I. - -He had gone now, and I was tired of the soldiers. I turned my attention -to the books. I was walking along by the shelves, examining the backs of -the volumes and trying to imagine what the German titles could mean, -when suddenly, from amidst the books, I heard a child's voice. - -The child seemed singing and talking to itself, and the sound seemed to -come from the volumes on the shelves. It was strange to hear it coming -from amidst the books like that, as though some volume of fairy tales -had suddenly become vocal, and Hänsel, playing by the witch-woman's -door, had found a voice. - -Then I noticed that the books before me were not real books, but -imitation. - -In the centre of one of these imitation book-racks there was a little -brass knob. I pressed it, and the wall gave, disclosing a passage. The -book-backs were but the covering of a narrow door. - -This passage, suddenly disclosed, fascinated me. - -It was dimly lit from above, and ended in a door of muffed glass. About -half way down on the floor stood a toy horse--a dappled-grey horse with -a broom-like tail and a well-worn saddle--evidently left there by some -child, and forgotten. - -I could hear the child's voice now distinctly. He or she was singing, -singing in a monotonous fashion, just as a child sings when quite alone. - -I came down the passage to the door. The muffing of the door had been -scratched. There was a spyhole, evidently made by a child, for it was -just on a level with my own eye, and there was a word scratched on the -paint of the muffing which, though I had to read it backwards, I made -out to be-- - - CARL. - -I peeped through the hole. It disclosed a room, evidently a nursery, -plainly but pleasantly furnished. On the window-seat, looking out and -drumming an accompaniment on the glass to the tune he was singing, knelt -Carl. - -I looked for the handle of the door, found it, turned it, opened the -door, without knocking, and entered the room. - -The child at the window turned, and, when he saw me, flung up his arms -with a gesture of terror and glanced round wildly, as if for somewhere -to hide. It cut me to the heart; it frightened me, too--this terror of -the child for me. I remembered Eloise's words: "Little Carl is a girl." - -"Gretel! Gretel! Gretel!" cried the child as I ran forward, took him in -my arms, and kissed him on the forehead. - -Whether he had expected me to hit him or not I don't know; but at this -treatment he ceased his cries, and, pushing me away from him, looked at -me dubiously. - -"I won't hurt you, little Carl!" And at the words a whole ocean of -tenderness welled up in my heart for the trembling and lonely little -figure in the soldier's dress, this Pomeranian grenadier, timorous as a -rabbit. I must, in this heart of mine, have some good; for, boy as I -was, with all the fighting instincts of the Mahons in my blood, I felt -no boyish ridicule for this creature that a blow would make cry, but all -the tenderness of a nurse, or a person who holds a live and trembling -bird in his hand. - -"I won't hurt you. I didn't _mean_ to knock you in the pond." - -"But you did," said Carl, still dubious. - -"I know, and I'm sorry. See here, Carl, I'll give you my dog." - -"Your big dog?" asked Carl, for he had seen Marengo bounding about the -lawn. - -"Yes," said I, knowing full well that the promise was about equivalent -to the promise of the moon. - -The little hand fell into mine. - -"Gretel," said Carl, now in a confidential tone, "told me you would kill -me if I played with you, or went near you, or if I looked at you." - -"Oh, how wicked!" I cried. "_I_ kill you!" And I clasped the little form -more tightly. - -"I know," said Carl. - -He was a personage of few words, and those two words told me quite -plainly that he believed me and had confidence in me. - -"It's not you," he said, after a pause. "She said you didn't want to do -it, but you'd have to do it; for you were a bad man once, and you'd have -to do it over again," said Carl. "What you'd done before, for someone -had said so. I don't know who they were." He had got the tale so mixed -up that I could scarcely follow his meaning. "When will you give me the -dog?" he finished, irrelevantly enough. - -"I'll give you him--I'll give you him to-morrow," I said, "if father -will let me. But he's sure to, if I ask him." - -Scarcely had I finished speaking than the door opened and Gretel -appeared. - -She stood for a moment when she saw us together, as though the sight had -turned her into stone. - -Then she came towards us. - -"How did you get here?" said she to me. - -"Through that door," I answered her. - -She took me by the hand and led me away. As she did so, something closed -round my neck, and something touched me on the cheek. - -It was Carl, who had put his arms round my neck and kissed me. - -Ah, little Carl, little Carl! Little we knew how next we should meet, or -the manner of that meeting! - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE DEATH OF VOGEL - - -"Joubert, what is father doing?" - -"He is playing cards down below with the gentlemen." - -I was undressing to go to bed that same night, and Joubert was -expediting my movements, anxious, most likely, to go downstairs and -drink with the house-steward. - -"Joubert, I wish he were here." - -"Why?" - -"I don't know; but I am frightened." - -"Of what?" - -"I don't know." - -Joubert blew out the light and left the room, and I lay looking at the -shadows the furniture made on the wall by the dim glimmer of the -nightlight. - -The door leading to my father's room was open. This did not give me any -comfort--rather the reverse; for the next room was in darkness, and I -could not help imagining faces peeping at me from the darkness. - -When frightened at night like this, I generally told myself fairy tales -to keep away the terrors. - -I tried this to-night with a bad result, for the attempt instantly -brought up Vogel and the old woman who lived in the wood. - -Now, there was something in this fairy tale that my heart knew to be -evil and malign. What this something was I could not tell, but it was -there, and the story did not bring me any peace. - -The clock in the turret struck ten, and I saw vividly the Man in Armour -up there alone in the dark, wheeling to his work. - -There was something terrific in this iron man. A live tiger was a thing -to me less fearful. Not for worlds would I have gone up alone to watch -him at his work, even at a safe distance. The fact that the hammer had -nearly killed me did not contribute much to this fear. I knew that was -not his fault. I was terrified by Him. - -Then I fell thinking of my promise to little Carl to give him Marengo, -and, thinking of this, I fell asleep. - -At least, I closed my eyes and entered a world of vague shapes. And then -I entered a wood. The cottage of the old woman who made the whistles was -before me. It had a window on either side of the door, and in one window -there were jars of sugar-sticks. - -I knocked at the door. It flew open, and there stood Vogel, the jäger -with the hooked nose. He smilingly beckoned me in. I entered, and, hey -presto! his smile vanished with the closing of the door, and I was on a -bed, and he was smothering me with a pillow. And then I awoke, and I was -in bed and I was being smothered by a pillow. - -Oh, horror! Oh, the horror of that waking! Someone was lying upon me; a -pillow was over my face, crushing it! I shrieked, and my shriek did not -go an inch beyond my mouth. My nose was crushed flat; my mouth, opening -to scream, could not close again. The pillow bulged in, and then, flung -away like a feather by the wind, went the form that was crushing me and -the pillow that was smothering me; and shriek upon shriek--the most -horrid, the most unearthly, the most soul-sickening--shriek after shriek -tore the air; and, jumping upon my feet, standing on the bed with arms -outspread, I gazed on the sight before me, adding my thin voice to the -outcries that were piercing the schloss from cellar to turret. - -On the floor, lit for my view by the halfpenny nightlight calmly burning -in its little dish, Marengo and a man were at war--and the victory was -with Marengo. The great dog had got the man by the back of the neck. The -man, face down, was drumming on the floor with his fists and feet, just -as you see an angry child in a fit of passion. - -The dog was dumb, and making mighty efforts to turn the man on his face. -He lifted him, he shifted him, he dragged him hither and thither. The -man, screaming, knew what the dog wanted, and clung to the floor. - -Suddenly the dog sprang away, and, like a flash of lightning, sprang -back. He had got the throat-hold, and a deep gobbling, worrying sound -was the end of the man and his hunting for ever. - -For the man was Vogel. I saw that, and then I saw nothing more. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE DUEL IN THE WOOD - - -When I regained consciousness I was in my father's room, lying on the -bed. Joubert was sitting on the bed beside me. - -"Joubert," said I, "where is he?" - -"Who?" - -"Vogel." - -"God knows!" said Joubert. "Here, drink this." - -It was brandy, and it nearly took my breath away, but it gave me life. - -"Now," said Joubert, putting the glass on the table by the bed and -taking my small trousers in his hand, "put these on." - -"Why am I to dress, Joubert?" - -"We are going away. Ah, fine doings there have been! And who knows the -end of it all?" - -As he helped me to dress, he told me of what had occurred. The gentlemen -below had been playing cards when the shrieks of Vogel had sundered the -cardplayers like the sword of death. - -Rushing upstairs, they had found Marengo guarding the dead body of -Vogel, and me standing on the bed screaming. When my father caught me in -his arms, I told all. Of Vogel's attempt to smother me, of the knife I -had found in my pillow, and of the occurrence in the bell-tower. It -must have been my subconscious intelligence speaking, for I remember -nothing of it; but it was enough. - -"Then," said Joubert, "the General, with you tucked under his left arm, -turned on the Baron. 'What is this?' said he. 'Assassination in the -Schloss Lichtenberg!'" - -"'Liar!' cried the Baron. And before the word was well from his mouth, -crack! the General had hit him open-fisted in the face, and the mark -sprang up as if the General had hit him red-handed. Mordieu! I never saw -a neater blow given, or one so taken, for the Baron never blinked. He -just nodded his head, as if to say, 'Yes.' Then he put his arm in Count -Hahn's, and the General turned to Major von der Goltz, and, taking him -by the arm, followed the others. Then word came to pack up and have you -ready, for we are leaving the schloss this night. Now then, vite!" - -"But, Joubert, I remember nothing of all that." - -"All what?" - -"Telling my father of Vogel and the bell." - -"Well, whether you remember it or not, there it is." - -"And the knife---- Joubert, did you not, you yourself, stick the knife -in the pillow?" - -"I!" said Joubert. "When would you catch me playing such fool's tricks -as that?" - -"Joubert." - -"Yes?" - -"I think I know why they wanted to kill me." - -"Why?" - -"Because they thought I would kill little Carl." - -Joubert grunted. - -"Here," said he, "hold up your foot till I lace that boot." - -Scarcely had he done so before General Hahn appeared at the door. - -"Dress the child, pack, and be ready to leave the schloss at once!" he -cried to Joubert. "The horses are being got ready." - -"I have my orders," replied Joubert. - -He grumbled and talked to himself, and swore, as he got the rest of my -clothes on, for I was quite unable to help myself. And then, when I was -ready, he gave me a great, smacking kiss that nearly took my breath -away, and his hand was shaky, and I had never seen it shake before, and -he had never kissed me before in his life. Then he left me sitting on -the bed, and I heard him in the next room, where the dead man was, -packing my things. - -In the midst of all this, the castle clock struck eleven. - -And now from below came the trampling of horses, and the crash of wheels -on gravel, and the harsh German voices of the servants. Doors banged, -and a man came up, flung our door open, and cried: "Ready!" And Joubert, -with a portmanteau on his shoulder, led me along by the hand down the -corridor, the servant following with the rest of our luggage. - -Down in the hall, which was brilliantly lit, Major von der Goltz and my -father stood talking together in one corner, and Von Lichtenberg and -General Hahn stood by the great fireplace, their hands behind them, -neither of them speaking, and both with their eyes on the floor as if in -profound thought. And I noticed that the great red mark on the Baron's -cheek was still there, just as if a blood-stained hand had struck him. - -When they saw us coming, with Marengo following us, Von Lichtenberg and -the General took their hats from a table close by and walked towards the -door, which was opened for them by a servant. - -General Hahn held under his arm a bundle done up in a cloak, and from it -protruded two sword-hilts. - -My father, taking my hand and followed by Major von der Goltz, came -after the Baron. - -It was a clear and windy night; flying clouds were passing over the -moon. Two carriages were drawn up at the door, and a dozen men with -torches blazing and blowing in the wind gave light whilst our luggage -was put in. - -The first carriage was our own, the second a carriage belonging to the -schloss. - -Joubert put our luggage in and mounted on the box; then my father, -bowing to Major von der Goltz, held the door open; the Major, with a -slight bow to my father, got in; we followed, the carriage started, -running torchmen leading us and following behind. - -"Are we truly going away, father?" I asked nestling close to him and -holding his hand. - -"Yes, my child; we are going away." - -"Why are those men with torches running with us?" - -"You will see--you will see. Major von der Goltz, I hope those words I -have just said to you will not be forgotten in the event----" - -"They shall be remembered," said the Major. - -Up to this all the company at the schloss had been hail-fellow-well-met -one with the other. My father had addressed Von der Goltz as Franz, and -the Major had been just as familiar in his manner, but all this was now -changed. The two men were as stiff and formal as though they had never -met before, one facing the other, bolt upright, and with heads somewhat -averted, as I could see by the dancing torchlight; and in my childish -heart I wondered at this. - -As we slowed up to pass the great gates of the avenue, I heard the -wheels of the other carriage coming behind, and as we made the turning, -I saw it, with the light of the torches glinting on the headpieces of -the horses, and behind the carriage the plumes of the pine-trees showed -against the moon, and they looked like the plumes of a hearse. - -The estate of Von Lichtenberg stretched for a mile and more beyond the -gates; and it seems that it is not etiquette to kill a man on his own -estate, no more than it is etiquette to strike a man in his own house. - -We took the forest road. Mixed with the sound of hoofs and wheels, I -could hear the footsteps of the running torchmen: the flickering light -shot in between the tree-boles, disturbing the wood creatures, and, as -we went, all of a sudden, the jägers running with us broke out in a -chorus of what seemed lamentation mixed with curses. - -Von der Goltz sprang up on the seat and looked ahead. - -"A white hare is running before us," said he. "That is bad for Count -Carl von Lichtenberg." - -My father bowed slightly, as if to a half-heard remark. - -A white hare, it seems, was the sign of death in the house of -Lichtenberg. - -Turning a bend in the road, the carriage drew up. - -We waited for a moment till the sound behind told us that the second -carriage had also stopped. Then we alighted. - -"Joubert," said my father, handing him a packet, "you will stay here -with the dog. Open this packet should anything befall me. Patrick, you -will come with me." - -"Dieu vous garde!" said Joubert. And, following the others, we entered -the forest. - -I felt sick and faint with fear, and the light of the dancing -torch-flames made me reel. I held tight to my father's hand, and I -remember thinking how big and strong and warm it was. What was about to -happen I could not guess, but I knew that the shadow of death was with -us, and the chill of him in my heart. - -We had not gone more than two hundred yards when we came to a clearing -amidst the trees--a breezy, open space, that the moon lit over the -waving pine-tops. Here the jägers divided themselves into two lines, -five yards or so apart, and stood motionless as soldiers on parade. -Baron von Lichtenberg with his arms folded, stood with his back to us, -looking at the clouds running across the face of the moon; and the two -army officers, drawing aside, began to undo the swords from the bundle. - -"Patrick," said my father, leading me under the shade of the trees, "I -struck my kinsman in his own house to-night. The only excuse I can make -for that action is to kill him, so let this be a lesson to you the -length of your life." He stopped, stooped, hugged me in his arms, and -then strode out into the torchlight, and took his sword from Von der -Goltz. - -It was a curious little speech, or would have been from anyone but an -Irishman. But I was not thinking of it. I was mesmerised by the sight -before me. - -When the two men took their swords they returned them to the seconds. -The swords were then bent to prove the steel, and measured, and then -returned to the principals. - -Then the jägers moved together almost shoulder to shoulder, and in the -space between the two lines of torches the duellists took their stand. -There was dead silence for a moment. - -I could hear the wind in the pines, and the guttering and slobbering of -the flambeaux, and a fox barking, away somewhere in the forest. - -Then came General Hahn's voice, and, instant upon it, the quarrelling of -the rapiers. - -The antagonists were perfect swordsmen; the rapiers were now invisible, -now like jets of light as the torchlight shot along them. Over the music -of the steel, the wind in the pine-trees said "Hush!" and the barking of -the fox still came from the far distance. - -At first you might have thought these two gentlemen were at play, till -the fury subdued by science broke loose at last, and the rings and -flashes of light and the clash of the steel spoke the language of the -thing and the meaning of it. - -It was a duel to the death; and I, looking on, my soul on fire, agony in -my heart, my hands thrust deep in the pockets of my caped overcoat, -counted the bits of biscuit-crumbs in those same pockets, and made tiny -balls from the fluff, and noted with deep and particular attention the -extent of a hole in one of the linings. The interior of my -overcoat-pockets marked itself upon my memory as sharply and insistently -as the scene before me--such a strange thing is mind. - -Yet I knew that, if Von Lichtenberg was the conqueror, my father would -die, and I would be left to the mercy of Von Lichtenberg. - -Yet, despite all my fears, oh, that heroic moment! The concentrated fury -of the fight beneath the singing pines, lit by the blazing torches! -Then, in a flash, it was over. Von Lichtenberg's sword flew from his -hand; his arms flung out as though he were crucified on the air; and -then, just as though he were a man of wax before a fiery furnace, he -fell together horribly, and became a heap on the ground. - -The hammer of Thor could not have felled him more effectually than the -rapier that had passed through his armpit like a ribbon of light. - -I ran to my father, and clung to him. - -General Hahn, on one knee, was supporting Von Lichtenberg in his arms. -The Baron's face was clay-coloured, his head drooped forward, and his -jaw hung loose. - -Hahn, with his knee in the armpit to suppress the terrible bleeding, -called for a knife to rip the sleeve; and as they were doing it the -stricken man came to and yawned. - -He yawned just as a man yawns who is deadly tired and half roused from -sleep, and he tossed his arms just in the same way. He seemed to care -about nothing, his weariness was so great. - -And then, just as a man speaks who is half roused and wants to drop -asleep again: - -"Hahn." - -"I am here." - -"Ah, yes! I leave the child to your care and Gretel----" - -"Yes" - -"She is to be brought up just as I have done. Should she love him, the -old tragedy will come again. She must never know love----" Then he -yawned, and yawned, rousing slightly as they cut his sleeve to pieces in -an attempt to reach the wound. He didn't seem to care. He spoke only -once again: "Hahn!" - -"I am listening." - -The wind in the pine-trees, and the fox in the wood and the slobbering -of the torches filled the silence. - -"I am listening." - -"He is dead," said Von der Goltz. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -WE RETURN HOME - - -We left the forest, my father leaning on the arm of his second. One man -with a torch preceded us, and lit us as we got into the carriage. - -"A strange end to our visit. Major von der Goltz," said my father. - -The Major bowed. - -"I shall remain at the Hôtel des Hollandaise in Frankfort for three -days." - -The Major bowed. - -"Joubert!" said my father. And the carriage drove off; and, looking -back, I saw Major von der Goltz and the jäger with the torch vanishing -amidst the trees. - -We passed through Homburg at four o'clock, and at six of a seraphic -morning spired Frankfort rose before us like a city in a fairy tale, so -beautiful, so vague, so ethereal one could not believe it a city of this -sordid earth. - -We stayed three days at the Hôtel des Hollandaise. Major von der Goltz -called, and General Hahn. A paper was drawn up, I believe, signed by the -seconds and my father, and by the chief jäger. It was done as a matter -of formality, for the duel was perfectly in order. - -Then we started on our return home; and one evening, towards the end of -September, we entered Paris and drew up at our house in the Avenue -Champs Elysées. - -Though the Emperor and Empress were still away on their southern tour, -the streets were gay--at least to my eyes. Oh, that Paris of the Second -Empire--that lost city whose gaiety surrounds the beginning of my life, -jewelled with gas-lamps or glittering in the sunlight! Whatever may have -been its faults, its wickedness, its falsity, it knew at least the -vitality and the charm of youth. Men knew how to laugh in those days, -when the echoes of the Boulevard de Gand still were heard in the -Boulevard des Italiens, when Carvalho was Director of the Opéra Comique, -and Moray President of the Council. - -"At last!" said my father, as we turned in at the gates and drew up at -the doorway. - -He had been depressed on the return journey--a depression caused, I -believe, not in the least by the fact that he had slain his kinsman. The -trouble at his heart was the blow. For a guest to strike his host in his -own house was a breach of etiquette and good manners unpardonable in his -eyes. Yet he had committed that crime. - -However, with our entry into Paris this depression seemed to lift. - -The major-domo came down the steps, and with his own august hands opened -the door for us, and let down the steps, and gave us welcome with a real -and human smile on his magnificent white, fat, stolid face--the face of -a perfect servant, expressionless as a cheese, which would doubtless -remain just the same were he, constrained by stress of circumstances, to -open the door of the drawing-room and announce: "The Last Trumpet has -sounded, sir." - -In the great hall, softly lit and flower-scented, the footmen in their -green-and-white livery stood in two gorgeous rows to give us welcome; -and Jacko, the macaw, four foot from the crest of his wicked head to the -tip of his tail-feathers, dressed also in the green-and-white livery of -the house, screamed his sentiments on the matter. My father had a word -for everyone. It was always just so. This grand seigneur, who had made -his way to fortune less with his sword than with his brilliant -personality, would speak to the meanest servant familiarly, jocularly, -yet never would he meet with disrespect. There was that about him which -inspired fear as well as love, and he was served as few other men are -served. Witness our return that night to a house as well in order as -though we had come back from a trip to Compiègne instead of a two -months' journey to a foreign country. - -He dismissed the servants with a word, and, with his hat on the back of -his head, stood at the table where his letters were set out, tearing -them open and flinging the unimportant ones on the floor. - -Whilst he was so engaged, a ring came to the door, and the footman who -answered it brought him a letter sealed with a great red seal, which he -tore open and read. - -"Aha!" muttered he. "De Morny wants to see me to-morrow. Wonder how he -knew that I was back? But De Moray knows everything. Is the servant -waiting, François?" - -"No, sir; the servant has gone." - -"Very well," said my father. Then to me: "Come now; get your supper, and -off to bed. François!" - -I was led off grumbling. - -Joubert tucked me into bed; and as I lay listening to the -carriage-wheels from the Champs Elysées bearing people home from -supper-party and theatre, the journey, the Schloss Lichtenberg, the -mysterious pine-forest, the drums and tramping soldiers of Carlsruhe and -Mayence, the blue Rhine--all rose before me as a picture. It was the -First Act of my life, an Act tragic enough; and, as the curtain of sleep -fell upon it, the glimmer of the jägers' torches still struggled through -that veil, with the sound of the swords, the murmur of the wind in the -pine-trees, and the far-off barking of the fox in the wood. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -I FALL INTO DISGRACE - - -I was dreaming of the Countess Feliciani. She had changed all of a -sudden, by the alchemy of dreamland, into little Carl. We were running -together down the forest path in the woods of Lichtenberg, and the Stone -Man was pursuing us, when a violent pull on my right leg awakened me, -and Joubert and a burst of sunshine replaced dreamland and its shadows. - -It was one of Joubert's pleasant ways of awakening a child from his -sleep, to catch him by the foot and nearly haul him out of bed. - -Oh, the agony of having to get up, straight, without any preliminary -stretching and yawning; to get up with that dead, blank tiredness of -childhood hanging on one like a cloak--and get into a cold bath! - -It was martial law with a vengeance. But there was no use in grumbling. - -"Come, lazybones," said Joubert; "rouse yourself. Gone eight; and you -are to go with the General at ten." - -"Where to?" said I, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. - -"Ma foi! where to? Why, on a visit to M. le Duc de Morny." - -"Oui." - -I was in the bath now, and soapsuds checked my questions. Joubert used -to wash me just as if I were a dog on the mornings that soapsuds were -the order of the day--that is to say, only twice a week, every Wednesday -and Saturday; for this old soldier was as full of fixed opinions as any -nurse, and he believed that too much soap took the oil out of the skin -and made children weak. You may be sure I did not combat his theory. - -"Your best coat," said Joubert, as he took the article from the drawer, -"and your best manners, if you please; for M. le Duc de Morny is the -first gentleman in Paris, now that the Emperor is away. Now you are -dressed, and--remember!" - -You may be sure I was in a flutter, for the Duc de Morny was a personage -I had never seen, and he loomed large even on my small horizon. From my -childhood's recollections I believe that the Duc had far more dominance -and power than poor old Louis Napoleon, whose craft lay chiefly in his -face. - -At a quarter to ten my father, in full general's uniform, very gorgeous, -wearing his medals and the cross, appeared in the hall, where I was -waiting for him. A closed carriage was at the door. We got in and -started. - -The Hôtel de Morny was situated on the Quai d'Orsay. It was a huge -building, with gardens running right down to the river. It was next to -the Spanish Embassy, and had two entrances, one by the river, the other -opening from the Rue de Lille. - -We passed down the Rue de Lille, and then turned in at the gates, and -by a short roadway to the great courtyard. - -Other carriages were there--quite a number of them. Our carriage drew up -at the steps, and we alighted. - -As we left the chilly morning, and passed through the swing-glass doors -held open for us by a powdered footman, it was like entering a -greenhouse, so warm was the air, and so perfumed with flowers. - -The Duc was far too astute a man to merge his personality in Government -apartments. The Hôtel de Morny was his palace. There he held his court, -receiving people in his bed-chamber after the fashion of a king. - -The salon was filled with people--all men, with one exception. - -We were expected, it seems; for the usher led us straight through the -throng towards the tall double oak door that gave entrance to the Duc's -room. - -"Stay here, Patrick," said my father, and he indicated a chair close to -the door. Then he vanished into the sanctum of the Minister, and I was -left alone to contemplate the people around me. - -They were arranged in little groups, talking together; fat men and thin -men, several priests, stout gentlemen with the red rosette of the Legion -of Honour in their buttonholes, sun-dried gentlemen from Provence with -fiery eyes and enormous moustaches, all talking, most of them -gesticulating, and each awaiting his audience with the Minister. - -Suddenly, through this crowd, which divided before her as the Red Sea -divided before Pharaoh, straight towards me came the only female -occupant of the room, an old lady at least seventy years of age, yet -dressed like a girl of sixteen. She was so evidently making for me that -I rose to meet her; and, before I could resent the outrage, a lace frill -tickled my chin, a perfume of stephanotis half smothered me, and a pair -of thin lips smacked against my cheek. - -She had kissed me. Scarlet to the eyes, conscious that I was observed by -all, not knowing exactly what I did, I did a very unmannerly -thing--wiped my cheek with the back of my hand as if to wipe the kiss -away. - -"I knew you at once," said the old lady, who was none other than the -Countess Wagner de Pons, reader to the Empress. "You are the dear -General's little boy, of whom I have heard so much--le petit Patrique. -And you have been away, and you have just returned. Mon Dieu! the -likeness is most speaking. Now, look you, Patrique, over there on that -fauteuil. That is the little Comte de Coigny, whom I have brought this -morning to make his bow to M. le Duc de Morny. Come with me, and I will -introduce you to him. He is of the haute noblesse, a child of the -highest understanding, trè propre." - -I glanced at the little Comte de Coigny. He was a tallow-faced, -heavy-looking individual, bigger than me, and older. He might have been -eleven. He was dressed like a little man, kid gloves and all; and he was -looking at me with a dull and sinister expression that spoke neither of -a high understanding nor a good heart. - -Before I could move towards him, led by the Countess Wagner de Pons, -the door of De Morny's room opened, and my father's voice said: -"Patrick." - -Leaving the old lady, I came. - -I found myself in a huge room, with long windows giving a view of the -garden and the river. It was, in fact, a salon set out with fauteuils -and couches. A bed in one corner, raised on a low platform, struck me by -its incongruity. How anyone could choose to sleep in such a vast and -gorgeous salon astonished my childish mind. But I had little time to -think of these things, for the man standing with his back to the -fireplace absorbed all my attention. - -He was above the middle height, with a bald, dome-like forehead, a -strong face, and wearing a moustache and imperial. He was dressed like -any other gentleman, but there was that about him--a self-contained -vigour, a calmness of manner, and a grace--that stamped him at once on -the memory as a person never to be forgotten. - -"This is my little son," said my father. I saluted, and the great man -bowed. - -Then I was questioned about the affair at Lichtenberg, for it seems the -matter had made more than a stir at the Prussian Court. Questions were -being asked; and there was that eruption of evil talk, that dicrotic -rebound of excitement, which, after every social tragedy, is sure to -follow the first wave. - -"And now," said my father, when I had finished my evidence, "run off and -play till I am ready for you." - -Play! With whom did he expect me to play? With the fat Deputies, the -opulent bankers, the sun-dried gentlemen from the south who thronged the -ante-chamber? - -The Countess Wagner de Pons answered the question. This old lady, whose -eccentricity and love of gossip had made her wait with her charge in the -ante-room, instead of having her name announced to the Duchess de Morny, -as any other lady of rank would have done, was deep in conversation with -a tall, dignified gentleman, deep in scandal, no doubt; for, when she -saw me she got rid of me at once by introducing me to the little Comte -de Coigny. "And now," said she, as if echoing my father's words, "run -off and play, both of you, in the garden." - -A footman in the blue-and-gold livery of the Duke led us down an iron -staircase to the gravelled walk upon which the lower windows opened, and -left us there. - -Play! There was less play in the stiff and starched little Comte de -Coigny, that child of the haute noblesse, très propre, than in the -elephant of the Jardin des Plantes, or any of the fat Deputies in M. de -Morny's ante-room. But there was much more dignity, of a heavy sort. - -We took the path towards the river. - -"And you," said he, breaking the silence as we walked along. "Where have -you come from?" - -"Germany," I replied. - -"I thought so," said he. - -He was a schoolboy of the Bourdaloue College, but all the planing and -polishing of the Jesuit fathers had not improved his manners, it seems. -The tone of his reply was an insult in itself, and I took it as such, -and held my tongue and waited. - -We walked right down to the balustrade overlooking the Seine. De Coigny -mounted, sat on the balustrade, whistled, and as he sat kicking his -heels he cast his eyes up and down me from crown to toe. - -I stood before him with the seeming humility of the younger child; but -my blood was boiling, and my knuckles itched at the sight of his flabby, -pasty face. - -Some trees sheltered us from the house, and my gentleman from the -Bourdaloue College took a box of Spanish cigaritos from his pocket and a -matchbox adorned with the picture of a ballet-girl. - -He put a cigarito between his thick lips, lit it, blew a puff of smoke, -and held out the box to me to have one. Fired with the manliness of the -affair I put out my hand, and received, instead of a cigarito, a rap on -the knuckles with his cane. - -"That's to teach you not to smoke," said Mentor. "How old are you?" - -"Nine," replied I. The blow hurt; but I put my hand in my pockets, and I -think neither my voice nor my face betrayed my feelings. - -"Nine. And what part of Germany do you come from?" - -"I was last staying at the Castle of Lichtenberg." - -"Aha!" said the gentleman on the balustrade. "And who, may I ask, did we -entertain at our Castle of Lichtenberg?" - -"King William of Prussia," I replied out of my childish vanity, "the -Count Feliciani, the great banker and----" - -"Mr. What's-your-name," said my tormentor, "you are a liar. The Count -Feliciani, the great banker as you call him, is in prison----" - -"How! What?" I cried. - -"Oh," said he, with the air of an old Boulevardier, "it is all over -Paris. Caught embezzling State funds; arrested at the railway station. A -nice acquaintance, truly, to boast of!" - -"Oh, Eloise!" I cried, my whole heart going out to the unhappy family; -for, though I did not know what embezzling funds meant, prison was plain -enough to my understanding. - -"Oh, Eloise!" mimicked the other, throwing his cigarette-end away, -slipping down from the balustrade, and adjusting his waistcoat -preparatory to returning to the house. "Oh, Eloise! Come on, cochon. I -have an appointment with M. le Duc de Morny." - -"Allons!" And again he hit me with the cane, this time over the right -shoulder. - -I struck him first in the wind, a foul blow, which I have never yet -regretted; and, as he doubled up, I struck him again, by good fortune, -just at the root of the nose. - -The effect was magical, and I stood in consternation looking at my -handiwork, for instantly his two eyes became black and his nose streamed -gore. - -He lay for a moment where he had fallen; then he scrambled on all fours, -got on his feet, and running, streaming blood, and bellowing at the same -time, without his dandy cane, without his cigarette-box, which he had -left on the balustrade, he made for the house, this enfant très propre, -and of the highest intelligence; a nice figure, indeed, for presentation -to the Duc de Morny! - -It was a veritable débâcle. He knew how to run, that child of the haute -noblesse; and, when I arrived in the ante-room, he was already roaring -his tale out into the Countess Wagner de Pons' brocaded skirts, for he -was clinging to her like a child of five, whilst the fat Deputies, the -Jew bankers, and other illuminati stood round in a circle, excited as -schoolboys. A nice scene, truly, to take place in a Minister of State's -salon. - -"He struck me in the stomach, he struck me on the head, he kicked me!" -roared the little Comte de Coigny. "Keep him away! Keep him away! Here -he is! Here he is!" - -The Countess de Pons screamed. A row of long-drawn faces turned on me, -and the bankers and Deputies, the priests, and the Southern delegates -made a hedge to protect the stricken one, and cooshed at me as if I were -a cat. Cries of "Ah! polisson! Mauvais enfant! Regardez! Regardez!" -filled the room, till the hubbub suddenly ceased at a stern voice that -said "Patrick!" - -It was my father, whose interview with De Morny was over. He stood at -the open door, and I saw the Duke, who had peeped out, and whose quick -intelligence had taken in the whole affair in a flash, vanishing with a -smile on his face. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE RUINED ONES - - -"Go home!" said my father, putting me into the carriage. "I will return -on foot. You have disgraced yourself; you have disgraced me. Hand -yourself over to Joubert. You are to be a prisoner under lock and key -until I devise some punishment to meet your case." Then, to the -coachman: "Home, Lubin!" He clapped the door on me, and I was driven -off, with his speech ringing in my ears, a speech which I believe was -meant as much for the gallery as for me. This was my first encounter -with the Comte de Coigny, and I believe I had the worst of it. But I was -not thinking of De Coigny--I was thinking of little Eloise, of the -Countess whose beauty haunted me, and of the Count, that noble-looking -gentleman, now in prison. - -Eloise had told me that their house in Paris was situated in the -Faubourg St. Germain, and, as we turned out of the Rue de Lille, an -inspiration came to me. I pulled the check-string, the carriage stopped, -and I put my head out of the window. - -"Lubin!" - -"Well?" - -"Drive me to the Faubourg St. Germain." - -"Likely, indeed! and lose my place. Ma foi!--Faubourg St. Germain!" - -"Lubin! I have a napoleon in my pocket, and I'll give it you if----" - -But the carriage drove on. - -I sank back on the cushions, but I was not defeated yet. There was a -block of traffic in the Rue de Trône. I put my hand out, opened the door -on the left side, and the next moment I was standing upon the pavement, -and the heavy old carriage was driving on, with the door swinging open. - -Then I ran, ran till I was out of breath, and in a broad street full of -shops. - -A barrel-organ was playing in the sunshine; a herd of she-asses were -trotting along, followed by an Auvergnat in sabots, and a cabriolet -plying for hire was approaching on the opposite side of the way. - -I hailed the driver, and told him to take me to the Faubourg St. -Germain. - -"Where to in the Faubourg St. Germain?" asked the man. - -"I want to go to the Count Feliciani's," I replied. - -"The Hôtel Feliciani?" - -"Yes" - -"Get in." He drove off. He knew the Hôtel Feliciani, did this driver. -All Paris was ringing with the disgrace of the man who, from his throne -in the kingdom of finance, had fallen to the gutter, involving a -thousand others in his ruin. But I knew nothing of this; and from the -man's unconcerned manner I began to hope that De Coigny had told me a -lie. - -The cabriolet drove in through the gates of a huge hôtel in the -Faubourg St. Germain. The courtyard was crowded with people--and such -people! Jews, porters, female furniture dealers with heavy earrings, -silken skirts, and ungloved, unwashed hands--all the sharks that ruin -attracts; and in the portico, on the steps, on the very gravel of the -drive, furniture, crystal chandeliers, tables, mirrors, lying like the -débris left by the wave of misfortune. - -It was as if one were looking at a lee shore the morning after the wreck -of some palatial ship: cabin-furniture, stores, the sailor's sea-chest -and the passengers' baggage, tossed up on the sands in horrible -incongruity, and speaking louder than a thousand trumpets of the fury of -the storm. - -There was a sale in progress at the Hôtel Feliciani. I knew nothing of -sales, I knew nothing of finance, speculation, or commercial ruin, but I -knew that what I saw was disaster. - -Getting out of the cabriolet, and telling the driver to wait for me, I -went up the steps and mixed with the throng in the hall. I wanted to -find the Felicianis, and some instinct told me they were not here; also, -that it was useless to ask any of these people their whereabouts. I -looked about me for someone in authority; and, as I looked, a voice from -the large salon adjoining the hall came: - -"Thirty thousand francs! Thirty thousand francs! Any advance on thirty -thousand francs? Gone!" Then followed the blow of a little hammer. - -They were selling the pictures. I turned to the doorway of the great -salon and squeezed my way in. The place was filled with people--all -Paris was there. Men who had shaken the Count Feliciani by the hand, -women who had kissed the Countess on the cheek, men and women of the -highest nobility, of the greatest intelligence--très propre, to use the -words of the old fool in De Morny's ante-chamber--were here, battening -on the sight, and trying to snatch bargains from the ruin of their -one-time friends. The Felicianis, as I afterwards learned, all but -beggared, had been cast adrift, mother and daughter, by society; cast -out like lepers from the pure precincts of the Court circle and the -buckramed salons of the Royalist clique. - -M. Hamard, the auctioneer, on his estrade, before his desk, a man in -steel spectacles, the living image of the late unlamented Procurator of -the Holy Synod, was clearing his throat before offering the next lot, a -Gerard Dow, eighteen inches by twelve. - -As the bidding leaped up by a thousand francs at a time, I edged my way -through the throng closer and closer to the auctioneer, treading on -dainty toes, wedging myself in between whispering acquaintances, -regardless of grumbles and muttered imprecations, till I was right -beside the estrade and within plucking distance of the auctioneer's -coat. - -"Sixty-five thousand francs!" cried M. Hamard. "This priceless Gerard -Dow--sixty-five thousand francs. Any advance on sixty-five thousand -francs? Gone! Well, what is it, little boy?" - -"Please," said I, "can you tell me where I can find the Countess -Feliciani?" - -A dead silence took the room, for my nervousness had made me speak -louder than I intended. People looked at one another; an awkward silence -it must have been following the voice of the enfant terrible flinging -the name of the woman they had cast out and deserted into the face of -these worldlings who had come to examine her effects and snatch bargains -from her ruin. - -M. Hamard, aghast, stared down at me through his spectacles. - -"You---- Who are you?" said he. - -"I am her friend. My name is Patrick Mahon. My father is General Count -Mahon, and I wish to see the Countess Feliciani." - -M. Hamard seized a pen from the desk, scribbled some words on a piece of -paper, and handed it to me. - -"Go," he said. "That is the address. You are interrupting the sale." - -Then, with the paper in my hand, I came back through the crush without -difficulty, for the crowd made a lane for me down which I walked, paper -in hand, a child of nine, the last and only friend of the once great and -powerful Felicianis. - -I read the address on the piece of paper to the driver of the cabriolet. - -"Ma foi!" said he, "but that is a long way from here." - -"Drive me there," said I. - -"Yes; that is all very well, but how about my fare?" - -I showed him my napoleon, got into the vehicle, and we drove off. - -It was indeed a long way from there. We retook the route by which we -had come, we drove through the broad streets, through the great -boulevards, and then we plunged into a quarter of the city where the -streets were shrunken and mean, where the people were in keeping with -the streets, and the light of the bright September day seemed dull as -the light of December. - -At the Hôtel de Mayence in the Rue Ancelot we drew up. It was a -respectable, third-rate hotel. A black cat was crouched in the doorway, -watching the street with imperturbable yellow eyes, and a waiter with a -stained serviette in his hand made his appearance at the sound of the -vehicle drawing up. - -Yes; Madame Feliciani was in: he would go up and see whether she could -receive visitors. I waited, trying to make friends with the sphinx-like -cat; then I was shown upstairs, and into a shabby sitting-room -overlooking the street. - -By the window, stitching at a child's small garment, sat an old lady -with snow-white hair. It was the Countess Feliciani. - -It was as if I had seen by some horrible enchantment a woman of -thirty-five, happy and beautiful, surrounded by the wealth and luxury of -life, suddenly withered, touched by the wand of some malevolent fairy -and transformed into a woman old and poor. - -It was my first lesson in the realities of life, this fairy tale, which, -for hidden terror, put Vogel's story of the old woman who made the -whistles completely in the shade. - -Next moment I was at her knee, blubbering, with my nose rubbing the -bombazine of her black skirt--for she was in mourning--and next moment -little Eloise was in her room, looking just the same as ever, and I was -being comforted as if all the misfortune were mine; and Madame -Feliciani, for so she chose to be styled, was smiling for the first -time, I am sure, since the disaster. A late déjeûner was brought in, and -I was given a place at the table. It is all misty and strange in my -mind. A few things of absolute unimportance stand out--the coat of the -waiter, shiny at the elbows; the hotel dog that came in for scraps; the -knives and forks, worn and second-rate--but of what we said to each -other I remember nothing. - -"And you will come and see us?" said I as I took my departure. - -"Some day," replied the Countess, with a smile, the significance of -which I now understand, as I understand the horrible mockery of my -innocent invitation. - -Eloise ran down to see me off; and the last I saw of her was a small -figure standing at the door of the hotel, and holding in its arms the -black cat with the imperturbable yellow eyes. - -When we arrived at the Champs Elysées I was so frightened with my doings -that I gave the driver the whole napoleon without waiting for change, -and then I went to meet my doom like a man, and confessed the whole -business to my father. - -The sentence was expulsion from Paris to the pavilion in the grounds of -the Château de Saluce, whither, accordingly, I was transported next day -with Joubert for a gaoler. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE PAVILION OF SALUCE - - -Since my mother's death, my father had not lived in the château. He was -too grand to let it, so it was placed in the hands of a caretaker. It -was a gloomy house, dating from 1572, but the pavilion was the -pleasantest place in the world. It was situated in the woods of the -château, woods adjoining the forest of Sénart. It had six rooms, and was -surrounded by a deep moat. A drawbridge gave access to it; and by -touching a lever the drawbridge would rise; and you were as completely -isolated from the world as though you were surrounded by a wall of iron. - -The water in the moat, fed by some unknown source, was very dark and -still and deep, reflecting with photographic perfection the treetops of -the wood and the fern-fronds of the bank. The water never varied in -height, and, a strange thing, was rarely, even in the severest weather, -covered with ice. It had a gloomy and secret look. - -"Joubert," I remember saying once, as I looked over the rail of the -drawbridge at the reflections on the oily surface below, "has it ever -drowned a man?" - -"Which?" asked Joubert. - -"The water." - -That was the feeling with which it inspired me, and I never lingered on -the bridge when I was alone. And I was often alone now, for Joubert, -having extracted my parole d'honneur to be of good behaviour and not get -into mischief or bolt back to Paris, spent most of his time at the -château, where the caretaker had a pretty daughter, or at the cabaret at -Etiolles, Lisette, the old woman who did our cooking and made our beds, -being deputed deputy-gaoler. - -The weather had the feeling of early spring, though in the forest, half -stricken by autumn, the leaves were falling--falling to every touch of -the wind. Where the forest of Sénart began, and the woods of the château -ended, the frontier was marked by a thin line of wire easy for a child -to slip under. Then one felt free, free as the cock pheasant whose -corkscrew-sounding voice echoed from the liquid twilight of the drives, -free as the wind in the tree tops. The great pine forest of Lichtenberg -had a voice. You would hear the wind rising and passing over its leagues -of perfumed branches, and dying away, and rising and dying away--ever -the same voice filling and deserting the same vast silence. But here, in -the forest of Sénart, the tongue of the beech spoke a different language -to that of the fir and the larch. There were open spaces, swathes of -sunshine, forest pools like lost sapphires, where the bulrushes painted -their forms on the water-surface, blue with the reflection of the autumn -sky. - -These woods, whose echoes had once answered to the hunting-horn of Le -Roi Soleil, were haunted, but not by the ghost of Pan. Rousseau had once -botanised in them, and M. de Jussien, in his coat of ribbed Indian -satin, his lilac silk vest, and white silk stockings of extraordinary -fineness, had here filled his herbal with the vicris hieracioides and -the cerastium aquaticum so dear to his herboristic heart. Pompadour had -wandered where the rabbits played now; and the glades, shot through with -sunlight and draped in the muslin of the morning mist, were the -backgrounds beloved of Fragonnard for his wreaths of flying drapery, his -fêtes champêtres, and his sylvan scenes. - -The forest keepers all wore a state uniform. Fanchard, the one who lived -nearest to us, an old soldier and a crony of Joubert's, would take me -with him whilst he set his traps; and there were gypsies that haunted -the clearings, real children of Egypt these, lineal descendants of -Hennequin Dandèche and Clopin Trouillefou. - -On the evening of our sixth day at the pavilion, a visitor arrived. It -was my father. He had left his carriage in the road at the gates of the -château, and had come to the pavilion on foot. - -I was at supper when he arrived. He ordered another plate, and a bottle -of wine; he was gay, excited, his eyes were brilliant, and he seemed -quite to have forgotten my escapades in Paris, for he never referred to -them. He had only come for an hour, to see how I was getting on, so he -said; but he stayed three, for after supper he called Joubert, and they -both went out into the night. - -These two old soldiers must have had something very important to say to -one another, for they were gone an hour or more. When they returned, my -father beckoned me to him and kissed me, and bade me good-night; then, -as if something had suddenly occurred to him, he said to Joubert: -"Patrick can come down to the road and see me off. Come, both of you, -and bring a lantern." - -Joubert lit a lantern. The night was black as black velvet, and the -lantern only showed Joubert's legging-clad legs as he marched before us -down the gravel of the drive. - -The carriage was standing in the road. My father kissed me, got in, and -drove away. - -Just as the vehicle moved off, he looked out of the window, and the -light of the lantern which Joubert was holding up struck his face. What -a reckless, daring, jolly face it was, that face I was destined never to -see again! - -"What did father want to say to you, Joubert?" I asked as we returned to -the pavilion. - -"What did he want to say?" cried Joubert, whose temper seemed sharper -than usual. "Why, that the price of cabbages has gone up. What else -would he have to say to me at this hour of the night? Mordieu! If I -could be there!" - -"Where, Joubert?" - -But Joubert did not reply. - -Next morning the fine weather still held, and I was up at dawn. It was -no trouble to get up early when one lived in the pavilion. The birds -wakened one; and, then, the forest! - -In the very early morning, the forest, like the sea, is full of tender -lights. Shadows and trees are equally unsubstantial, the rides are -wreathed in vague mists, the last star has not quite faded from the sky, -and the voice of the thrush comes from the glens as in the story of -Vitigab, crying: "Deep--down deep--there somewhere in the darkness I see -a ray of light." The hollow tapping of the woodpecker comes from the -beech glades, whilst the rabbits shake the dew from their fur, and the -rustle of the stoat comes from the ferns; a nut falls, and, looking up, -you see against the sky, where the treetops are waving in the palest -sapphire air, the squirrel, the sweetest of all wood things. - -You observe one another and he is gone, and the wind draws up from -leagues away like the rustling of a silken skirt, till, suddenly, the -whole forest draws breath. You can hear it waking from its slumber just -as at dusk you can hear it falling to sleep; for the forest is a living -thing, a thing that breathes and speaks and has its dreams. - -I was out early this morning, for I was going to breakfast with -Fauchard. I passed the glades where the rabbits were sporting, chasing -each other in circles smoothly and for all the world like toy rabbits on -wheels and driven by clockwork. I passed the pools where the bulrushes -stood up out of the mist, and nothing spoke of water save the splash of -the frog, or the ripple of the water-rat swimming. - -Fauchard was waiting for me. We had breakfast--a simple enough repast, -consisting of coffee, biscuits, and cheese--and then we started off to -visit the traps and see what they had caught. - -When Fauchard had collected his harvest of stoats and moles, killed two -snakes, and shot a marauding cat, it was late morning; the sun was well -over the treetops, and it was time for me to return home. - -"Take that path," said the ranger. "Turn neither to the right nor left, -and it will lead you straight as an omnibus to the pavilion." - -I bade him good morning, and, taking the path indicated, I set off. It -was not a drive; in fact, it was so narrow in parts that the hawthorn -bushes growing in this part of the wood nearly met; the fern in places -nearly blocked the way. It was warm, and very silent. - -When I paused now and then to listen, I could hear nothing except the -buzzing of wasps and flies. The ground in places was boggy, the path, it -seemed to me, had not been used for years. Stories of murderers and -goblins occurred to my mind and made me press on all the faster. - -I had turned past a clump of alders when before me I caught a glimpse of -someone going in the same direction as myself--a boy of my own age, to -judge from his height, but I could not see what he was dressed in, or -whether he was a gypsy or a woodranger's child, for he was always just -ahead of my sight at the turnings, glimpsed for a moment and then gone. -I halloed to him to stop, for his company would have been very -acceptable in that lonely place, but he made no reply. I ran, and -pausing out of breath, I heard his footsteps running, too; then they -ceased, as though he were waiting for me. It was like a game of -hide-and-seek, and I laughed. - -I walked softly and as quickly as I could, hoping to surprise him. -Then, at the next turning, I saw him. He was amidst the bushes on the -right; his head just peeped over the tops of them, and--he was a child -of about my own age, and extraordinarily like little Carl. - -Filled with astonishment, not thinking what I did, I ran through the -bushes towards him, calling his name. - -Then I remember nothing more. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE VICOMTE - - -I had fallen into a disused gravel-pit, treacherously hidden by the -bushes, so they told me afterwards. When I recovered from my stunned -condition, my cries for help had attracted the attention of Fauchard's -eldest son, who, fortunately, had been passing. I do not remember -calling for help; I remember nothing distinctly till I found myself on -my bed, and old Dr. Perichaud of Etiolles bending over me. Then I became -keenly alive to my position, for my right thigh was broken in two -places, and the doctor was setting it. When the thing was over, the -doctor retired with Joubert to the next room, and there they talked. -When will people learn that the sick have ears to hear with, and a sense -of hearing doubly acute? - -This conversation came to my ears. The speakers spoke in a muted voice, -it is true, but this only made the matter worse. - -"You have sent for the General, you say?" - -"Oui, monsieur. A man on horseback has started to fetch him. He will be -here in an hour, unless----" - -"Unless?" - -"Monsieur does not know. The General has an affair of honour on hand. -This morning, in the Bois de Boulogne, he was to meet Baron Imhoff." - -"Aha!" said Perichaud, with appreciation. He was an old army surgeon, -who had tasted smoke, and seen men carved with other things than -scalpels. He was also a gossip, as most old army men are. "Aha! And what -was the cause of the affair? Do you know?" - -"Oh, mon Dieu!" said Joubert, "it was all that cursed business at the -Schloss Lichtenberg, of which everyone is speaking. Baron Imhoff was -cousin"--mark the "was"--"of the Baron von Lichtenberg, Baron Imhoff -picked a quarrel at the Grand Club yesterday with the General. That's -all. It is a bad affair." - -"And the Lichtenberg affair--the cause of all this?" said Perichaud. - -"Ah, that beats the Moscow campaign," said Joubert, "for blackness and -treachery. Mark you: this is between ourselves. You will never breathe a -word of it to anyone?" - -"No, no; not a word!" - -"Well, the Baron Carl von Lichtenberg was mad." - -"Mad?" - -"Mad. What else can you call a man who brings his little daughter up as -a boy?" - -"A boy?" - -"It is true. He fancied she was some old dead-and-gone Lichtenberg -returned, and that she was doomed to be killed by the child in there -with the broken leg, whom he thought was some old dead-and-gone Saluce -returned. Then-- Listen to me; and I trust monsieur's honour never to -let these words go further. He, or at least one of his damned jägers, -tried to smother the child. The night before, they tried to stab -him--as he lay asleep in bed--with my couteau de chasse, and would have -done it only the Blessed Virgin interposed." - -"Great Heaven!" said the old doctor. - -"Oh, yes," said Joubert; "that's the story. I saw it all with my own -eyes, or I wouldn't believe my own tongue with my own ears. And now -monsieur, what do you think of him?" - -"Of him?" said Perichaud. - -"Of the child. Is there danger?" - -"Not a bit; but he'll be lame for life." - -"Lame for life!" - -"The femur is broken in two places, and splintered. The right leg will -be two inches shorter than the left. All the surgeons in Paris could not -do him any good." - -"Then he will be useless for the army!" said Joubert. And I could hear -the catching of his breath. - -"He will never see service," replied Perichaud. - -A loud smash of crockery came as a reply to the doctor's pronouncement. -It was Joubert kicking a great Japanese jar on to the floor. - -As for me, I had heard the death-sentence of my hopes. I would never -wear a sword or lead a company into action. I would be a thing with a -lame leg--a cripple. Fortunately, an opiate which the doctor had given -me began to take effect. It did not make me sleepy, but it dulled my -thoughts--some of them; others it made more bright. I lay listening to -the doctor departing, and watching the red sunset which was dyeing -Etiolles, and the woods, and the walls of my bedroom. - -Then Joubert's words came into my head about Lichtenberg, and the duel -the General had fought that morning with Baron Imhoff. I did not feel in -the least uneasy about my father, and I was picturing the duel in the -woods of Lichtenberg, when a sound through the open window came to my -ears. - -It was a carriage rapidly driving up the distant avenue to the château. - -It was my father, I felt sure. A long time passed, and then I heard -steps on the drawbridge; voices sounded from below. Then came a step on -the stairs; my door opened, and a gentleman stood framed in the doorway. - -I shall never forget my first sight of the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan, -my father's cousin on the Saluces' side, and my future guardian. - -I had never seen him before. He was not, indeed, a sight to come often -in a child's way, this flower of the boulevards, seventy if a day, -scented, exquisite, with a large impassive, evenly coloured red face, -the face of a Roman consul, in which were set the blue eyes of a -good-tempered child. - -This great gentleman, who left the pavements of Paris only once a year -for a three weeks' visit to his estates in Auvergne, had travelled -express from Paris to tell a child that its father was lying dead, shot -through the heart by the Baron Imhoff. And this is how he did it: He -made a kindly little bow to me, and indicated Joubert to place a chair -by the bedside. - -"And how are we this evening?" asked he, taking my wrist as a physician -might have done to feel my pulse. - -I did not know who he was. I had vague suspicions that he was another -doctor. Never for a moment did I dream he was the bearer of evil -tidings. I said I was better--that old reply of the sick child--and he -talked on various subjects: the airiness of the room, the beauty of the -woods, and so forth. Then, to Joubert: "Distinctly feverish. Must not be -disturbed to-night. Ah, yes, in the morning; that will be different. And -no more tumbling into gravel pits," finished this astute old gentleman -as he glanced back at me before leaving the room. - -Then the opiate closed its lid on me, and I did not even hear the -departure of the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan, my future guardian, who -shuffled out of the unpleasant business of grieving my heart on the same -evening that he shuffled into my life, he and his grand, queer, quaint, -and sometimes despicable personality, perfumed with vervain and the -cigars of the Café de Paris. - - - - -PART II - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -A DÉJEÛNER AT THE CAFÉ DE PARIS - - -The death of my father cast me into an entirely new life. Anyone less -fitting than the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan to be the guardian of a -child of nine it would be hard to imagine at first sight. But my father -was no fool. - -This gorgeous old night-moth of the Second Empire, this frequenter of -Tortoni's and the Café de Paris--always hard up, with an income of two -hundred thousand francs a year--was a man of rigid honour in his way. - -Left sole and irresponsible guardian of me and my money, he shuffled out -of his difficulties and bothers by placing the latter in the funds and -the former in the Bourdaloue College--that same college of the Jesuit -fathers where the Comte de Coigny was receiving his education. - -Here nine years of my life were spent--nine dull but not unhappy years. -Lame and unfit for the army, completely cut off from the only profession -fit for a gentleman--to use the Vicomte's expression--I saw the others -go off to join the Military College, and I would not have felt it so -bitterly had not De Coigny been amongst them. He was my natural enemy. -All the time we spent together at the Bourdaloue, we scarcely spoke a -word one to the other. Speechless enmity: there can scarcely be a worse -condition between boys or men. - -Once a month or so the Vicomte came to see me. Joubert came often. He -was installed as caretaker in the Château de Saluce, and he would bring -me presents of game and plovers' eggs, huge Jaronel pears from the -orchard, and cakes baked by Fauchard's wife. - -During the first few months at the college, I had got leave from the -Father Superior to visit the Felicianis. A young priest accompanied me. -But the Felicianis were not at the Hôtel de Mayence; no one knew -anything about them; the hotel itself had changed hands after the -fashion of these small hotels, the short chapters of whose histories -have for heading "Bankruptcy." - -Then I forgot. - -Little by little the beautiful Countess and the sprightly Eloise faded -from my mind. Never entirely, but they passed to the region of ghosts, -the limbo of things half remembered. - -I was not a diligent student. Good for nothing much except drawing. I -was an artist born, I believe, and had the artistic temperament, which -takes a delight in all things brilliant and beautiful, and tuneful and -grand, and holds in abhorrence all things dull and most things useful. -Smuggled novels and the poems of De Musset were the literature of my -heart. D'Artagnan and Bussey were my heroes, and Esmeralda, that -brilliant and gemlike creation, was my mistress. - -Life is a love-story, a story that Nature alone can teach you to read. -And what are the poets and the great writers of prose but Nature's -priests, who repeat her litanies? Yet love-stories were banned at the -Bourdaloue, and Dumas was accounted a child of Satan. Which statement is -a preface to the comedy of my eighteenth birthday, or, in other words, -the twelfth of May, 1869. - -I was to leave school on that day. The Vicomte de Chatellan was to -entertain me at déjeûner. I was to have rooms at his house in the Place -Vendôme; I was, in fact, to burst my sheath and become a dragon-fly. I -was to have an allowance of four hundred a year, to teach me, as the -Vicomte said, the value of money. Joubert was to be unearthed from the -Château de Saluce, and constituted my valet. Blacquerie, the Viscount's -tailor, and Champardy, his bootmaker, had already called and taken the -measurements for my new wardrobe. I can tell you I was elated; and no -debutante ever looked forward more eagerly to the day of her debut than -I to the twelfth of May. - -At ten o'clock the Vicomte called for me. He was received in the salon -by the Principal and two of the Fathers. They liked me, these men, and I -liked them; and though I had imbibed Jesuitism as little as a rock -imbibes the sea-water in which it is immersed, I respected Père -Hyacinthe, and I loved, without any reserve, Father Ambrose, a -bull-necked Arlesian, who, incapable of hurting a fly in practice, burnt -heretics in theory, for ever, and for ever, and for ever in hell. - -As we got into the Vicomte's carriage, this same Father Ambrose came -running out, and, just as we drove off, popped into my hand a little -green-covered book on the seven deadly sins. - -"What's that?" asked the Vicomte, as I turned the leaves. - -I showed it to him. "Pshaw!" said he, and flung it out of the window. - -"All that stuff you have learned," said this worthy man, "is excellent -for children; but when we become men we put away childish things, as M. -de Voltaire or some other scoundrel of a philosopher, I think it was, -once remarked. Mark you, I say nothing against religion. Religion is a -most excellent institution; but in the world, my dear Patrique, we are -brought face to face with men. Religion is a fixed institution; and the -nones, or complines, whatever you call it that they say to-day, were -what they said two hundred years ago. But men are very shifty, and, as a -matter of fact, damned rogues. It is very easy to be a saint in the -College Bourdaloue; but it is very difficult to be a gentleman in the -Boulevard des Italiens, especially in this bourgeois age" (he was a -Royalist, with one foot in the Tuileries and the other in the Faubourg -St. Germain), "when we have a what-do-you-call-it as President of the -Council and a thingumbob on the throne of France." - -So he went on as he sat, erect as a man of thirty, gazing at the passing -streets with those blue tranquil eyes of a child, out of which youth -still looked; and turning to me the pro-consular profile of which he was -secretly so proud, and which was the thing, I believe, up to which this -strange old gentleman lived. - -To live up to your profile is not a bad rule of life, if you have a -face like that possessed by the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan. - -When we drew up at the Place Vendôme, I put my hand to open the door, -and received my first lesson in the convenances from the Vicomte, who -laid his gloved hand on my arm without a word. The footman opened the -door, and the grand old gentleman descended. M. le Vicomte did not get -out of a carriage--he descended. And with what a grace! He waited -courteously for me on the pavement; and then, with a little wave of his -clouded cane, shepherded me into the house. - -At the door, Beril, the Vicomte's personal servant, a man older than his -master, received us; and Joubert was in the hall with my luggage. - -"And now," said the Vicomte, when I had been shown my suite of rooms, -and very sumptuous they were, "déjeûner." - -We got into the carriage which was waiting, the footman closed the door, -and we started for the Café de Paris. - -Fourteen people were invited to the repast, besides myself. It took -place in the Amber Room overlooking the Boulevard; and six of the guests -were ladies. Very great ladies--duchesses, in my simple eyes. Had I -known more of breakfast-parties and the world, I might have wondered at -the disposition of the guests; for the Duc d'Harmonville, an old -gentleman with a white imperial and the exact expression of a -billy-goat, sat between two of the duchesses; and the rest of the female -illuminati sat, three of them altogether in one cluster, and the sixth -at the right of my guardian. - -There was Pélisson of the "Moniteur," the only Press man present; -Carvalho of the Opéra Comique; the Duc de Cadore; Prince Metternich, -with his long Dundreary whiskers now lightly streaked with grey; and, as -for the rest, I did not catch their names, and I have all but forgotten -their faces. - -One thing especially struck me in the male guests. With the exception of -Pélisson and Prince Metternich, their manner and their voices recalled -something or somebody to my mind, yet what thing or person I could not -remember, till Memory suddenly chalked on the vacant space before her: - -De Morny. - -The languid air, the half-lisp, the attentive inattention of manner, all -were here, the very voice. - -What a triumph! De Morny had been dead and buried nearly four years, yet -his reflection still lingered on the faces of these apes; his voice had -been silent since the orations and muffled drums of that dramatic -funeral, which outvied in splendour the funeral of Germanicus, and which -I had witnessed in company with Père Hyacinthe and the pupils of the -Bourdaloue; yet his voice still was heard in the supper-rooms of Paris, -discussing the length of ballet-girls' skirts and the scandals of -Plon-Plon. - -With the fish the conversation became more general, and with the iced -champagne--served from jeroboams that took two waiters to lift--decency -and the ghost of De Morny rose to take their departure. - -It was strange to me, a water-drinker, and therefore an observer of the -others, to see these men forgetting themselves, to see languid faces -become flushed, to hear soft voices become harsh, tongues become ribald; -to watch brutal lines asserting themselves in countenances unveiled by -alcohol. And it was surpassingly funny to see the evanescence of the De -Morny air. - -At the head of the table, a tint more ruddy than usual, sat my guardian, -enjoying it all. - -We had all, like the lunatic guests at the dinner-party of Dr. Tar and -Professor Feather, sat down to table apparently staid and respectable -people, and by degrees, just as lunacy set off the Doctor's guests -crowing like cocks and braying like asses, the spirit of the Second -Empire in its last and rottenest stages invaded the Amber Room of the -Café de Paris. Furious discussions, fumes of spilt wines, wreaths of -cigar and cigarette smoke, the cracked and cruel laughter of women, -filled the air. - - * * * * * - -And in the midst of it all sat my guardian, in his element, enjoying the -enjoyment of his guests, paternal, and with those childish blue eyes -through which youth looked so frankly, and that voice, so courtly and -well modulated, infecting the others with I know not what. I only know -that from him seemed to emanate the diablerie of the party. Sober as -myself, self-contained and courtly, he seemed like the negative pole of -some diabolical battery, of which the others were the positive. - -In the midst of the smoke and chatter he rose, and with a glass of -champagne between two fingers, as a lady holds a lily, he proposed my -health and my success in the world of Paris; and I rose and said -something--foolish, no doubt, but it did not matter, for Amy Féraud, of -the Théâtre Montparnasse, whilst she pelted Prince Metternich with -bonbons, lost her balance, fell smash on her back, pulling the -tablecloth with her, and in the confusion I sat down. - -Half an hour later, arm-in-arm with my guardian, I was taking a -digestion walk down the Boulevard des Italiens. The old gentleman was -pleased, very pleased, for it seems I had conducted myself in a modest -and becoming manner, and the few words I had said had been well said; -and you might have thought that he was discussing a children's party as -he strolled by my side, saluting every person of distinction that he -met, and being saluted in return. - -I really believe that this man was as innocent at heart as any child, -yet he was an old roué, a duellist, a gambler, all that a bad man could -be. Yet, though always hard up, he had jealously guarded my patrimony, -which he could have plundered if he had chosen with impunity. His -charity was boundless if you tapped it; and though he spoke of women in -a light way, _I never heard him speak a bad word of any man_. And he -loved animals, stopping to stroke a cat in the Rue de Rivoli, and -pausing, as he led me across to the Tuileries, to admire the sparrows -taking their dust-baths in the Royal precincts. - -"Where are we going?" I asked, with a sudden apprehension. - -"It is your eighteenth birthday," replied the Vicomte. And, still with -his arm in mine, he led me past the Cent-Gardes, up the steps, and into -the hall of the Palace. - -One might have thought that the Palace of the Tuileries belonged to the -Vicomte de Chatellan, so perfectly at home did he seem. That he was a -well-known and respected visitor was evident from the manner of the -ushers. I was left in an anteroom, whilst the old gentleman, led by the -usher, disappeared for a moment; then he came back, and, motioning me to -follow him, he led the way into a room, where, at a desk-table, with a -cigarette between his lips and a pen in his hand, sat Napoleon. - -He threw the pen down and rose to greet us. - -How wrinkled he looked! And how different, seen close and familiarly, -from what he appeared in his carriage, amidst a cloud of dust, a glitter -of sabres, and surrounded by his guards and gentlemen! - -Quite an unfearful person; old, and rather shuffling, easy-going, and -putting you at your ease, rather dreamy, and speaking with a slightly -nasal voice, rolling an armchair for you to sit in with his own august -hands, offering cigarettes with a little shake of the box to loosen them -and make your acceptance of one more easy, searching for a matchbox -amidst the papers on the desk: a true gentleman, though an unfortunate -Emperor. - -Though I was eighteen, I was still very much of a child, and that is -perhaps why I felt an affection for the old gentleman at almost first -sight. He remembered my father perfectly well; and, with a shade of -sadness and wreathed in his cigarette smoke, he fell into a little -reverie. We talked--he, my guardian, and I. My lameness was explained -and commiserated, and, when our audience was ended and M. Ollivier was -announced as waiting, he pushed us out of his cabinet, holding our hands -affectionately, patting my shoulder, and all with such a grace and -goodness of heart as to make me for ever his admirer and friend. - -Ah, that was a good man lost in an Emperor! - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -MY FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS - - -"I am due to dine at the Duc de Bassano's," said my guardian as I parted -with him outside the Tuileries. "So, if we do not see one another till -to-morrow morning, au revoir. You have plenty of money in your pocket, -Paris is before you, you are young: amuse yourself." - -Then the old gentleman marched off, and left me standing on the -pavement. - -I could not help recalling my father's words in the room of the Duc de -Morny, years ago, when he dismissed me: - -"Go and play." - -I had five hundred francs in my pocket, I possessed rooms in the Place -Vendôme, a princely fortune lay at my back, I had a guardian, everything -that a guardian ought to be from a young man's point of view, I had just -shaken hands with the Emperor, I had the entrée of the very best of -society in France, yet I doubt if you could have found a more forlorn -creature than myself if you had searched the whole of Paris. - -I did not know where to go or what to do, so I went back to the Place -Vendôme, superintended the unpacking of my things, looked at my new -clothes, and at seven o'clock, called by the lovely evening, I went out -again, proposing to myself to dine somewhere and see life. - -Over the western sky, brilliant and liquid as a topaz, hung the evening -star. Paris was preparing for the festival of the night, wrapping -herself in the dark gauze of shadows and spangling herself with lights. -I hung on the Pont des Arts, looking at the dark lilac of the Seine, -looking at the drifting barges, listening to the sounds of the city. - -Then I walked on. - -Oh, there is no doubt that we are led in this world when we seem to -lead, and that when we take a direction that brings us to fate it is not -by our own volition. This I was soon to prove. - -I walked on--walked in the blindness of reverie--and opened my eyes to -find myself in a new world. - -A broad boulevard, a blaze of lights, cafés thronged to the pavement, -the music of barrel-organs, laughter, and a crowd. - -Such a crowd! Men with long hair, gentlemen in pegtop trousers, wearing -smoking-caps with tassels, smoking long pipes; men in rags, hawkers -yelling their wares, blind men tapping their way with their sticks, deaf -men blowing penny whistles, grisettes, gamins, poets, painters, gnomes -from the Rue du Truand, goblins from Montmartre, Thénard and Claquesons, -Fleur de Marie and Mimi Pinson, Bouchardy and Bruyon; skull-like faces, -ghost-like faces, faces like roses, paint, satin, squalor, beauty; and -all drifting as if blown by the wind of the summer night, drifting under -the stars, here in shadow, here in the blaze of the roaring cafés, -drifting, drifting, in a double current from and towards the voiceless -and gas-spangled Seine. - -Not in the bazaars of Bagdad, or on the Bardo of Tunis, could you see so -fantastic a sight as the Boulevard St. Michel in the year 1869. - -It fascinated me, and, mixing with the crowd, I drifted half the length -of the boulevard, till suddenly I was brought up as if by the blast of a -trumpet in my face. By the pavement a man had placed a little carpet, -six inches square; on this carpet, lit by the light of a bullseye -lantern, two tiny dolls, manipulated by an invisible thread, were -wrestling and tumbling, to the edification of a small crowd of -interested onlookers. One of these--a man with a violin under his arm, a -man with a round, fresh-coloured childish face--I knew at sight. He had -not altered in nine years. He was the good angel, the violinist of that -troupe of wandering musicians, whose music had held me in the gallery of -the Schloss Lichtenberg. - -I laughed to myself with pleasure as I watched him watching the dolls, -all his simple soul absorbed in the sight, his violin under his arm, and -a hand in the pocket of his shabby coat, feeling for a coin to pay for -the entertainment. - -He did not know me in the least. How could he connect the child in its -nightgown, looking down from the gallery of the castle, with the young -dandy who was raising his hat to him in the Boulevard St. Michel? - -"Excuse me, monsieur," said I, "but I believe I have the pleasure of -your acquaintance, though we have never spoken one word to each other." - -He smiled dubiously and plucked nervously at a violin-string, evidently -ransacking memories of beer-gardens and café-chantants to find my face. - -"You will not remember me," I went on, "but I remember you. Over nine -years ago, it was, in Germany, in the Schloss Lichtenberg. You remember -the Hunting-Song, the horn----" - -"Ach Gott!" he cried, slapping himself on the forehead. "The child in -the gallery, the one in white----" - -"Yes," said I; "that was me. You see, I don't forget my friends." - -He was too astounded to say anything for a moment; the wretched -difference our clothes made in us confused his simple mind. - -Then he wiped his hand with fingers outspread across his broad face. It -was just as if he had wiped away his amazement like a veil, exposing the -beneficent smile that was his true expression. - -"Wunderschön!" said he. - -"Wunderschön indeed," replied I, laughing. "But I have much more to tell -you. Come, let us walk down the Boulevard together, if you have a moment -to spare. You saved my life that night--you and those friends of -yours--and I must tell you about it." - -I knew this man quite well, though I had never spoken to him before. A -really good man is the friend of all the world; you speak to him, and -you know him as though you had known him all your life, for the soul and -essence of his goodness is simplicity, and instinct tells you he has no -dark corners in his soul. In his greatness he does not dream of dark -corners in yours, and so at a word you become friends. - -I told him my story, and then he told me his. - -He had belonged to a band of wandering musicians, long since dispersed; -and on that eventful day in September, nine years ago, he and the rest -of the band had been playing at Homburg. They had done badly; and, after -a long day's tramp, making for Friedrichsdorff, they saw before them, -just at sunset, the towers of Lichtenberg in the distance. - -He, Franzius, pointed them out to the others, and proposed that they -should try their luck there, but Marx, the leader of the band, demurred. -A coin was tossed, and the answer of Fate was "Go," so they went. - -"Ah, yes," said Franzius, as he finished. "And well it was we did so. -And the child who was with you in the gallery--the little boy--how is -he?" - -"What child?" said I. - -"He in the gallery standing beside you, dressed as a soldier, with -cross-belt like the grenadiers of Pomerania." - -A cold hand seemed laid on my heart, for no child had been with me in -the gallery on that night; and the description given by Franzius was the -description of little Carl. - -"Franzius," said I, stopping and facing him, "there was no one in the -gallery but myself. Of that I am positive." - -There we stood facing each other in the glare of a café, with the roar -of the Boul' Miche around us, each equally astonished. - -Then Franzius laughed at the absurdity of the notion that he was wrong. - -"With these two eyes I saw him," said he. "And, more: once, when you -made a movement as if to go, he plucked you by the sleeve of your little -nightshirt--so--"--and he plucked my coat--"as if to hold you back, to -keep you there listening to the music." - -"He did that?" - -"Mais oui." - -"Ah, well," I said, with a laugh that was rather forced, "I suppose I -was so taken up with the music that I did not see him. Let us walk on." - -We walked on. I was perturbed. This, and the occurrence that day when I -had seen little Carl in the forest of Sénart, my father's death and all -that had gone before, made me feel that there was something working in -my life that I but dimly understood. - -For the first time, fully, Von Lichtenberg's mad attempt at my -destruction rose before me, and demanded an explanation on another basis -than that of madness. He had brought up his daughter as a boy, for it -had been prophesied that she would be slain as a girl--slain by a -Saluce; and I was the last descendant of that family. Then the picture -of Margaret von Lichtenberg rose before me, and its likeness to little -Carl, and the fact of my own likeness to Philippe de Saluce, who had -murdered Margaret so many years ago; and it was just then, walking down -the Boulevard St. Michel, amidst the crush and turmoil, jostled by -students and grisettes, beggars and thieves, that the question came -before me: "Can the dead return? Has Margaret von Lichtenberg come back -to this sad old world again as little Carl? Am I Philippe de Saluce?" -And then like a pang through my heart came the recollection, the _fact_, -that I had recognised the park of Lichtenberg as a thing I had seen once -before. I had not recognised the Schloss, but even that fact was an -indirect confirmation of my fantastic idea, for the Schloss had been -rebuilt in 1703, and the murder of Margaret had occurred many years -before that. - -All these questions and ideas assailing my mind at once brought terror -to my heart for a moment. Only for a moment. "Well?" said I to myself, -"suppose this is true, what then? What is the world around me, dull and -commonplace and sordid, even under its gold and glitter? I have seen the -highest pleasures that life can give men in exchange for gold to-day in -the Amber Salon of the Café de Paris. I have seen an Emperor who has -attained his ambition, and the futility and weariness of it all in his -face. I have lost and left behind the only country where dreams are real -and life worth living--childhood. I love the past; and should it come to -me and surround me with its romance, should some mysterious fate call it -up to me, should the end be tragedy even, then welcome, for one can only -die; and what care I about death if I am given one draught from the -water of romance in this arid desert of commonplace things which they -call the world?" - -I walked beside Franzius intoxicated: the woods of Lichtenberg were -around me, the winds of some far-distant day were rocking the trees. -Romance had touched me with her wand. I heard the Hunting-Song, the -horn, the cries of the jägers; and now I was in the gallery of the -Schloss, the sound of the violins was in my ears, the music that was -holding me from death, the ghostly child was plucking at my sleeve. Ah, -God! whoever has tasted the waters of romance like that will never want -wine again. - -And then the wand was withdrawn, and I was walking in the Boulevard St. -Michel with Franzius. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -MY FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS (_continued_) - - -He was holding out his hand timidly, as if to bid me good-bye. - -"Oh, but," said I, "we must not part so soon. Can you not come and have -some dinner with me? What are you doing?" - -He looked at a big clock over a café on the opposite side of the way, -and sighed. It pointed to a quarter to nine. He was due at La Closerie -de Lilas at ten; he was a member of the band; there was a students' -fancy-dress ball that night, and he evidently hated the business, though -he said no word of complaint. Poor Franzius! Simple soul, poet and -peasant, child of a woodcutter in Hartz, condemned to live by the gift -that God had given him, just as one might imagine some child condemned -to live by the sale of some lovely toy, the present of an Emperor--what -a fate his was, forever surrounded by the flare of gas, the clatter of -beer-mugs, and the foetid life of music-hall and café-chantant! - -"Come," I said. And, taking him by the arm, I led him into the nearest -café. - -You could dine here sumptuously for 1 franc 50, wine included. We found -a vacant table; and as we waited for our soup the heart in me was -touched at the way the world and the years had treated this friend who -was part of the romance of my life; for the pitiless gaslight showed up -all--the coat so old and frayed, yet still, somehow, respectable; the -face showing lines that ought never to have been there. I hugged myself -at the thought of my money, and what I could do for him. But in this I -reckoned without Franzius. - -He was hungry, and he enjoyed his dinner frankly, and like a child. He -had the whole bottle of wine to himself. He had not had such a dinner -for a long time, and he said so. Then I gave him the best cigar the café -could supply, a black affair that smelt like burning rags, and we -wandered out of the café, he, at least in outward appearance, the -happiest man in Paris. - -"And the Closerie de Lilas?" said I, when we were on the pavement. - -"Ah, oui!" sighed Franzius, coming back from the paradise of digestion. -"It is true that I should be getting there, and we must say good-bye." - -"You said it was a fancy-dress ball?" - -"Yes." - -"I'd have gone with you only for that." - -"But you will do as you are!" cried he, his face lighting up with -pleasure at the thought of bringing me along with him. "Ma foi! it is -not altogether fancy-dress, for Messieurs les Étudiants have not always -the money to spend on dress. People go as they like." - -"Very well," I replied. "Allons!" And we started. - -When we reached our destination people were arriving fast, and there -was a good deal of noise. A Japanese lantern was going in, and a cabinet -was being put out by two grave-faced gendarmes. The cabinet was -shouting, laughing, and protesting; at least, the head was that was -stuck out of the top of it, and belonged presumably to the two legs that -appeared below. It was very funny and fantastic, the gravity of the -officers of the law contrasting so quaintly with the business they were -about. Inside the big saloon all was light and colour and laughter, the -band was tuning up, and Franzius rushed to the orchestra, promising to -see me before I went. - -I leaned against the wall and looked around me. - -What a scene! Monkeys, goats, cabbages, pierrots, pierrettes, men in -everyday clothes, girls in dominoes--and very little else--and then, -boom, boom! the band broke into a waltz, and set the whole fantastic -scene whirling. A girl, dressed as a bonbon, danced up to me, nearly -kicked me in the face, and danced off again, seizing a carrot by the -waist and whirling around with him. Too lame to join in the revelry, I -watched, leaning against the wall and feeling horribly alone amidst all -this gaiety. - -I was standing like this when a fresh eruption of guests burst into the -room--two men and three girls, all friends evidently, and linked -together arm-in-arm. - -It was well I had the wall behind me to lean against, for one of the -girls, a lovely blonde, dressed as a shepherdess, was the Countess -Feliciani! - -The woman I had lost my heart to as a child, the woman I had seen -touched by premature old age in the little sitting-room of the Hôtel de -Mayence, the same woman rejuvenated, and turned by some magic wand into -a girl of eighteen, laughing and joyous. - -I gazed at this prodigy; and the prodigy, who had unlinked herself from -her companions, was now whirling before me in the waltz, in the arms of -a grenadier with a cock's feather stuck in his hat, and totally -unconscious of the commotion she had raised in my breast. - -"You aren't dancing?" - -"No," I said. "I'm lame." - -She looked at me to see if I were serious or not; then she made a -grimace, and linked her arm in mine. It was the bonbon girl. The dance -was over, and the carrot had vanished to the bar, without, it seems, -offering her refreshment. She had beady, black eyes, a low forehead, and -rather thick lips. - -"That's bad," said she, "to be lame. Let us take a stroll." And she led -me towards the bar. - -How many times I led that damsel, or rather was led by her towards the -bar during the evening, I can't tell. After every dance she came to me -and commiserated me on my lameness. She was not in great request, it -seems, as a partner, dancing with anybody she could seize upon, and -coming to me, as to a drinking fountain, to allay her thirst. I did not -care. I scarcely heeded. All my mind was absorbed by the girl, the -marvellous girl with the golden hair, who was the Countess Feliciani -reborn. - -"Do you know her name?" I asked the bonbon on one of our strolls in -search of refreshment. - -"Whose? Oh, that doll with the yellow hair? Know her name? Why, the -whole quarter knows her name. Marie--what's this it is? She's a model at -Cardillac's. A brandy for me, with some ice in it. Hurry up! There's the -band beginning again." - -The ball had now become infected by the element of riot. Scarcely had -the music struck up than it ceased. Shrill screams, shouts, and sounds -of scuffling came from the saloon, and, leaving the bonbon, who seemed -quite unconcerned, to finish her brandy, I ran out and nearly into the -arms of two gendarmes, who were making for the centre of the floor, -where the carrot and the grenadier with the cock's feather were engaged -in mortal combat. A ring of shouting spectators surrounded the -combatants, and amidst them stood the shepherdess, weeping. - -She had been dancing with the grenadier, it seems, when they had -cannoned against the carrot and his partner. Hence the blows. Scarcely -had the gendarmes seized upon the combatants than someone struck a -chandelier. The crash and the shower of glass were like a signal. -Shouts, shrieks, the crowing of cocks, the blowing of horns seized from -the orchestra, the smash of glass, the crash of benches overthrown, -filled the air. - -The lights went out; someone hit me a blow on the head that made me see -a thousand stars; and then I was in the street, with someone on my arm, -someone I had seized and rescued; and the great white moon of May was -lighting us, and the street, and the entry to the Closerie de Lilas, -that beer-garden that the police had now seized upon and bottled. We had -only just escaped in time. More and more gendarmes were hurrying up; and -speechless, like deer who scent the hunters on the tracks, we ran, our -shadows running before us, as if leading the way. - -"We are safe here," I said, glad to pull up, for my lameness did not -lend grace to my running. "We are safe here. Those gendarmes are so busy -with the others, they have no time to run after us." - -She had been crying when I pulled her out of the turmoil. She was -laughing now. - -"Oh, mon Dieu!" said she. "That Changarnier! Never will I dance with him -again." - -"Who is Changarnier?" I asked, looking at the lock of golden hair that -had fallen loose on her shoulder, and which the moonlight was silvering, -just as sorrow had silvered the hair of the once beautiful Countess -Feliciani. - -"He is a beast!" replied she. "Is my dress torn?" She held out her dress -by a finger and thumb on either side, and rotated before me solemnly in -the moonlight, so that I might examine it back and front. - -"No," I said; "it is not torn, but you have lost your crook." - -"Yes," replied the shepherdess; "but I have found my sheep. Oh, I saw -you looking at me. You followed me with your eyes the whole evening. You -made Changarnier furious; he said you were an aristocrat. Who are you, -M. l'Aristocrat?" - -"And you?" - -"I am a shepherdess. And you?" - -"I am an aristocrat." - -She laughed, put her arm in mine, and we walked, the great moon casting -our shadows before us. - -"If we go this way," said she, "we can get something to eat. This is the -Rue Petit Thouars. Are you hungry?" - -"Are you?" - -"Famished. Have you any money?" - -"Lots." - -"Good. Ah, yes; I saw you watching me. And, do you know, my friend, I -have seen you before, or someone like you--and you look so friendly. -Indeed, I would have spoken to you but for Changarnier. He is so -jealous! You are lame?" - -"Yes, I am lame." - -"Then," said she, "I can never have met you before, for I have never -known a lame man. But here we are." - -She led the way into a small café. The place was crowded enough, but we -managed to get a seat. The people at the supper were mostly the remnants -of the fancy-dress ball that had escaped from the police. - -I ordered everything that the place could supply, and I watched her as -she ate. - -She was very beautiful; quite the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, -with the exception of the Countess Feliciani. - -"You are not drinking. Why, you are not eating! What is the matter with -you, M. l'Aristocrat?" - -"I am in love," replied I. - -She laughed. - -A Red Indian, who was supping at the next table with a grizzly bear who -had taken his head off to eat more conveniently, spoke to her -occasionally over his shoulder, giving details of their escape; and I -was glad enough when the bill was presented, and we wandered out again -into the street. - -The supper had put her in the highest spirits. She laughed at our -fantastic shadows as we walked arm-in-arm down the silent Rue Petit -Thouars. She chatted, not noticing my silence: told me of Cardillac's -studio, and the "rapins," and the rules, and the life, and what her -dress cost. "Thirty-five francs the material alone, for I made it -myself. Do you admire it?" - -"Yes." - -"Oh, how dull you are! Yes! You ought to have said: 'Mademoiselle, your -toilet is charming.' Now, repeat it after me." - -"Mademoiselle, your toilet is charming." - -"Good heavens! If a hearse could speak, it would speak like that. You -are not gay. Never mind; you are all the nicer. Ah!" And she fell into a -sentimental and despondent fit, drawing closer to me, so that our -shadows made one. - -Then, at a door in a side street, down which we had turned, she stopped, -and drew a key from her pocket. - -"I must see you again," I said. "It is absolutely necessary. When can I -see you, and where?" - -The door was open now. She drew me close to her, as if to whisper -something, but she whispered nothing. Our lips had met in the darkness. - -Then I was in the hall; the door was closed, and, following her, I was -led up a steep staircase, past a landing, up another staircase to a -door. She opened the door, and the moonlight struck us in the face. The -great moon was framed in the lattice window, and against its face the -fronds of a plant growing on the sill in a flower pot were silhouetted. -The bare, poorly furnished room was filled with light, pure as driven -snow. - -She shut the door, with a little laugh, and I took her in my arms. - -"Eloise!" I said. - -She pushed me away, and stared at me with the laugh withered on her -lips. Never shall I forget her face. - -"Have you forgotten Toto?" - -"Toto! Who--where----" Recollections were rushing upon her, but she did -not yet understand. She seemed straining to catch some distant voice. - -"The Castle of Lichtenberg, the pine forests, little Carl. I tried to -find you, but you were gone--years ago. I was only a child, and I could -not find you. But I have found you now!" - -She was clinging to me, sobbing wildly; and I made her sit down on the -side of the little bed. Then I sat by her, holding her whilst the sobs -seemed to tear her to pieces. - -"I knew you," she said at last. "I knew you, but I did not -recollect--little Toto! How could I tell?" - -Ah, yes, how could she tell? Through the miserable veils that lay -between her and that happy time, the past seemed vague to her as a dream -of earliest childhood. - -Then, bit by bit, with her head on my shoulder, the miserable tale -unfolded itself. The Countess Feliciani had died when Eloise was -fifteen. They were in the greatest poverty, living in the Rue St. -Lazare. It was the old, old, wicked, weary story that makes us doubt at -times the existence of a God. - -A model at Cardillac's and this wretched room. That was the story. - -We had entered that room a man and woman, the woman with a laugh on her -lips. We sat on the side of the bed together--two children. Children -just as we were that day sitting by the pond in the woods of -Lichtenberg, with little Carl and his drum. - -For Eloise had never grown up. The thing she was then in heart and -spirit she was now. - -Then, as the moon drew away slowly, and the room grew darker, we talked: -and I can fancy how the evil ones who are for ever about us covered -their faces and cowered as they listened and watched. - -"And little Carl?" asked Eloise. "Where is he?" - -The question, spoken in the semi-darkness, caused a shiver to run -through me. - -"Who knows?" I said. "Or what he is doing? Eloise, I am half afraid. I -met a man to-night, a musician; he saw me at the Schloss that time which -seems so long ago. He spoke about Carl, and then I came with him to the -ball. Only for him, I would not have met you, and it all seems like -fate. Let us talk of ourselves. You can't stay here in this house: you -must leave it to-morrow. I will arrange everything. I am rich. Think of -it!" - -She laughed and clung closer to me. Despite her bitter experiences, she -had no more real knowledge of the world than myself. Money was a thing -to amuse oneself with--a thing very hard to obtain. - -"You will leave this place and live in the country. You will never go to -Cardillac's again. Think, Eloise; it is May! You never see the country -here in Paris. The hawthorn is out, and the woods at Etiolles are more -beautiful than the forest was at Lichtenberg. Why, you are crying!" - -"I am crying because I am happy," said she, whispering the words against -my shoulder. - -Then I left her. - -I cannot tell you my feelings. I cannot put them into words. It was as -if I had seen Moloch face to face, seen the brazen monster in the Square -of Carthage, seen the officiating priests and the little veiled children -seized by the brazen arms and plunged in the burning stomach. - -I had seen that day Eloise Feliciani, the living child, and Amy Feraud, -the cinder remnants of a child consumed; and God in His mercy had given -me power to seize Eloise from the monster, scorched, indeed, but living. - -I found the Boulevard St. Michel almost deserted now, and took my way -along it to the Seine. - -"What are you to do with her?" - -That is the question I would have asked myself had I been a man of the -world. But I knew nothing of the world or the convenances. I was not in -love with her. Had I met her for the first time that night it might have -been different; but for me she was just the child of Lichtenberg, the -little figure I had last seen standing at the door of the Hôtel de -Mayence, holding in her arms the black cat with the amber eyes. - -What was I to do with her? I had already made up my mind. I would put -her to live in the Pavilion of Saluce. I had not a real friend in the -world except old Joubert, or a thing to love. I would be no longer -lonely. What good times we would have! - -I leaned over the parapet of the Pont des Arts, looking at the river, -all lilac in the dawn, thinking of the woods at Saluce, and watching -myself in fancy wandering there with Eloise. - -Then I returned to the Place Vendôme. It was very late, or, rather, very -early; and before our house a carriage was drawn up, and from it M. le -Vicomte Armand de Chatellan was being assisted. - -He had only just returned from the Duc de Bassano's, and he was very -tipsy. He was an object lesson to vulgar tipplers. Severe and stately, -assisted by Beril on one side and the footman on the other, the grand -old aristocrat marched towards the door he could not see. - -I watched the pro-consular silhouette vanish. One could almost hear the -murmur of the togaed crowd and the "Consul Romanus" of the lictors. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -WHEN IT IS MAY - - -The meeting with Eloise so disturbed my mind that I had quite forgotten -one thing--Franzius. I had promised to see him after the ball--an -impossible promise to fulfil considering the way the affair ended. - -When I awoke at six of this bright May morning, which was the herald of -a new chapter of my life, Franzius and his old fiddle, one under the arm -of the other, entered my mind directly the door of consciousness was -opened by Joubert's knock at the door of my room. - -I had told him to waken me at six. So, though I had fallen asleep -directly my head touched the pillow, I had slept only two hours when the -summons came to get up. - -But I did not care. I was as fresh as a lark. Youth, good health, the -absence of any earthly trouble, and the spirit of May, which peeped with -the sun into the courtyard of the Hôtel de Chatellan, made life a thing -worth waking up to. - -But it was different with Joubert. He was yawning, and as sulky as any -old servant could possibly be, as he put out my clothes and drew up the -blind. - -"Joubert," said I, sitting up in bed, "do you remember, nine years ago, -when we were staying at the Schloss Lichtenberg, a little girl in a -white dress and a blue scarf, and white pantalettes with frills to -them?" - -"Mordieu!" grumbled Joubert, putting out my razors. "Do I remember? -Well, what about her?" - -"I met her last night." - -Joubert, who, with a towel over his arm, was just on the point of going -into the bathroom adjoining, wheeled round. - -"Met her! And where?" - -"At a students' ball." Then I told him the whole business; told him of -the ruin of the Felicianis, of the death of the Countess, of Eloise's -forlorn position, and of the plans I had half made for her future; to -all of which he listened without enthusiasm. "But that is not all," said -I. And told him of my meeting with Franzius, the wandering musician -whose music had held me in the gallery of the Schloss, whilst the -assassin had been at work plunging his dagger into the pillow of my bed. - -"You met him, and he brought you to the place where you met her," said -Joubert when I had finished. "Mark me, something evil will come of this. -Mon Dieu! the Lichtenbergs have not done with us yet. On the night -before the General fought with Baron Imhoff he came to the Pavilion--you -remember that night? He took me outside in the dark--you remember he -took me out? And what said he? Ah, he said a lot. He said: 'Joubert, -even if I fall to-morrow the Lichtenbergs will not have done with us. -Fate, like an old damned mole'--those were his words--'has been working -underground in the families of the Saluces and Lichtenbergs for three -hundred years and more. She's showing her nose, and what will be the end -of it the Virgin in heaven only can tell. If I fall, Joubert,' said he, -'I trust you to keep my boy apart from that child of Von Lichtenberg's -they call Carl. Keep him apart from anyone who has ever had anything to -do with the Lichtenbergs.' And look you," continued Joubert, "the first -night you have liberty to go and amuse yourself, what happens? You meet -two of the lot that were at the Schloss: one leads you to the other, and -now you are going to set the girl up in the Pavilion. Think you I would -mind if you filled the Pavilion with your girls, filled the chateau, -stuffed the moat with them? Not I, but there you are: wagon-loads, army -corps of girls to choose from, and you strike the one of all others---- -Peste! and what's the use of my talking? You were ever the same, -self-willed, just the same as when you were a child you would have your -box of tin soldiers beside you in the carriage instead of packed safely -in the baggage--just the same!" And so forth and so on, flinging my -childish vagaries in my teeth just as a mother or an old nurse might -have done. - -"All right, Joubert," said I, dressing; "there is no use in arguing with -you. I am going to offer the Pavilion as a home to Mademoiselle -Feliciani. That is settled. No evil can come to me for helping the -unfortunate." - -"Yes; that's what those sort of people call themselves," grumbled -Joubert. "Good name, too, for her." - -"So," I finished, "order a carriage to the door as quick as it can be -got, and come with me to Etiolles, for I want to get the Pavilion in -order." - -"Monsieur's orders as to the carriage shall be attended to," said the -old man with fine sarcasm, considering that he had turned "Monsieur" -over his knee and spanked him with a slipper often enough in the past. -"But as for me, I will not go; no, I will not go!" - -He vanished into the bathroom to prepare my bath. - -When I was dressed I ordered Potirin, the concierge, to send a man to -the Closerie de Lilas, and, if the place was still standing after the -riots of last night, to obtain Franzius' address. Then, when the front -door was opened for me, I found the carriage waiting, and on the box, -beside the coachman--Joubert! - -I smiled as I got in, and we started. - -It was an open carriage; and in the superb May morning Paris lay white -and almost silent; the Rue St. Honoré was deserted, and a weak wind, -warm and lilac perfumed, blew from the west under a sky of palest -sapphire. We passed Bercy, we passed through Charenton and Villeneuve -St. George's, the poplars whitening to the west wind, the villages -wakening, the cocks crowing, and the sun flooding all the holiday-world -of May with tender tints. The white houses, the vineyards, the -greenswards embanking the sparkling Seine: how beautiful they were, and -how good life was! How good life was that morning in May, effaced now by -so many weary years, effaced from time but not from my recollection -where it lies vivid as then, with the Seine sparkling, and the wind -blowing the poplar-trees that have never lost a leaf! - -The road took us by the skirt of the forest ringing with the laughter -and the chatter of the birds. - -Old Fauchard's married daughter was in charge of the Pavilion. I -had not seen the place for a long time; it had been redecorated by -order of my guardian, and the old gentleman used it occasionally for -luncheon-parties; a charming rural retreat where the Amy Férauds and -Francine Volnays of the Théâtre Montparnasse enjoyed themselves, -plucking bulrushes from the ponds in the forest, and chasing with shrill -laughter the echoes of the Pompadour-haunted groves. - -The little dining-room had a painted ceiling--a flock of doves circling -in a blue sky. The kitchen was red tiled, and clean as a Dutch dairy. -The bedrooms--bright and spotless, and simply furnished--were perfumed -with the breath of the forest coming through the always open windows; -the hangings were of chintz, flower-sprinkled, and light in tone. If May -herself had chosen to build and furnish a little house to live in, she -could not have improved on the Pavilion of Saluce, furnished as it was -by a Parisian upholsterer at the direction of a Parisian boulevardier. - -I had breakfasted in the kitchen--there was nothing to be done, the -place was in perfect order--and, telling Fauchard's daughter (Madame -Ancelot) that I would return that afternoon with a lady who would take -up her abode at the Pavilion for an indefinite time, I returned to -Paris, dropping Joubert in the Rue St. Honoré, and telling the coachman -to take me to the Rue du Petit Thouars. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -"O YOUTH, WHAT A STAR THOU ART!" - - -In the Rue du Petit Thouars I sent the carriage home. The horses had -done over forty miles. I would take Eloise down to Etiolles by rail, or -we would hire a carriage. It did not matter in the least; it was only -twelve o'clock, and we had the whole day before us. - -It would be hard for the worldly minded to understand my happiness as I -walked down the Rue du Petit Thouars towards the street where she lived. -I had found something to love and cherish, but I was not in the least in -love with Eloise after the fashion of what men call love. You must -remember that ever since my earliest childhood I had been very much -alone in the world. Drilled and dragooned by old Joubert, and treated -kindly enough by my father, I had missed, without knowing it, the love -of a mother or a sister. Little Eloise had been the only girl-child with -whom I had ever played; and, though our acquaintance had been short -enough, that fact had made her influence upon me doubly potent. I had -found her again. She was now a woman, but, for me, she was still the -child of the gardens of Lichtenberg. And the strange psychological fact -remains that, though I had loved the beautiful Countess Feliciani with -my childish heart, loved her almost as a man loves a woman, not a bit -of that sort of love had I for Eloise, who was the Countess's facsimile. -The very fact of the extraordinary likeness would have been sufficient -to annul passion. - -Perhaps it was because I had seen the Countess suddenly turned old and -grey, sitting in that wretched room in the Hôtel de Mayence, the ruin of -herself, a parable on the vanity of beauty and earthly things. - -I do not know. I only can say that my love for Eloise was as pure as the -love of a brother for a sister; and that my heart as I came along the -sunlit Rue du Petit Thouars, rejoiced exceedingly and was glad. - -I turned down the dingy little Rue Soufflot, and there, at the door, -going into the dingy old house where she lived, poised like a white -butterfly on the step, was Eloise. - -"Eloise!" I cried, and she turned. - -My hat flew off to salute her, as she stood there in the full afternoon -sunshine like a little bit of the vanished May morning trapped and held -in some wizard's filmy net. - -"Toto!" cried Eloise, in a voice of glad surprise. And, as our hands -met, I heard from one of the lower windows of the house a metallic -laugh. - -Glancing at the window, I saw the face of the grenadier of the night -before, the one who had worn a cock's feather in his hat--Changarnier -the student--who, according to the bonbon girl, was so jealous of my -new-found friend. - -He had a cap with a tassel on his head, a long pipe between his lips, -his linen was not over-clean. A typical student of the Latin Quarter, -confrère of Schaunard and Gustave Colline, he laughed again, showing his -yellow teeth. I looked at him, and he did not laugh thrice. - -"Come," I said, taking the hand of Eloise, whose brightness had suddenly -dimmed, as though the sound from the house had cast a spell upon it. -"Come." And I led her towards the Rue du Petit Thouars. - -She came hesitatingly, downcast, as if fearful of being followed; and I -felt like a knight leading some lady of old-time from the den of the -wizard who had held her long years in bondage. - -In the Rue du Petit Thouars she seemed to breathe more freely. - -"I had forgotten Changarnier," said she, in a broken voice. "How -horrible of him to laugh at us!" - -"Beast!" said I, fury rising up in my heart at the fate that had -compelled her to such a life and such surroundings. - -"Ah, but," sighed Eloise, "he can be kind, too--it is his way." - -"Well, let us forget him," I replied. "Eloise, you are mine now. You -will be just the same as you were long ago. Do you remember, when we -were all together at Lichtenberg, and the King that morning put his hand -on your head? You remember when we met him in the corridor, and the Graf -von Bismarck? You were holding his hand when I saw you first, and he was -talking to my father and General Hahn and Major von der Goltz. Then you -saw me----" - -"Ah, yes!" cried Eloise, her dismal fit vanishing; "and you made such a -funny little bow. And--do you remember my dress?" - -"Oui, mademoiselle." - -"Oui, mademoiselle! Oh, how stupid you are!" cried she, catching up the -old refrain from years ago. She laughed deliciously. Childhood had -caught us back, or, rather, had flung back the world from around us, for -we were still children in heart and soul. - -"And now," said I, "what are you to do for clothes?" - -"For clothes?" - -"You are not going back to that place; you are never going near it -again. You must buy everything you want. I have plenty of money, and it -is yours. See!" And I pulled out a handful of gold. - -"O ciel!" sighed Eloise. "How delightful! But, Toto----" - -"No 'buts.' What is the use of money if you do not spend it? I have a -little house for you, all prepared, in the country. Oh, wait till you -see it--wait till you see it. We will take the train, but you must buy -yourself what you want first, and I can only give you an hour. Will an -hour be enough?" - -She would have kissed me, I believe, there and then, only that we were -now in the Boul' Miche. Her butterfly mind was entirely fascinated by -the idea of new clothes and the country. The dress she was in, of some -white material, though old enough perhaps, was new-washed and speckless, -and graceful as a woman's dress of that day could be. Her hat, in my -eyes, was daintier far than any hat I had seen in my life. Women, no -doubt, could have picked holes in her poor attire, but no man. Just as -she was that day I always see her now, beyond the fashions and the -years, a figure garbed in the old, old fashion of spring, sweet as the -perfume of lilac-branches and the songs of birds. At the Maison Dorée, -152 Boulevard St. Michel, within the space of an hour, and for the -modest sum of a hundred francs or so, she bought--I do not know what; -but the purchases filled four huge cardboard boxes covered with golden -bees--the true luggage of a butterfly. When they were packed in and -about a cabriolet I proposed food. - -"I am too happy to eat," said Eloise; so, at the fruiterer's a little -way down, I bought oranges and a great bunch of Bordighera violets, and -we started. - -It was late afternoon when we reached the little station at Evry. Ah, -what a delightful journey that was, and what an extraordinary one! Happy -as lovers, yet without a thought of love; good comrades, irresponsible -as birds, laughing at everything and nothing; eating our oranges, and -criticising the folk at the stations we passed. - -"Listen!" said Eloise, as we stood on the platform of Evry and the train -drew off into the sunlit distance. I listened. The wind was blowing in -the trees by the station; from some field beyond the poplar trees came -the faint and far-off bleating of lambs; behind and beyond these sweet -yet trivial sounds lay the great silence of the country; the silence -that encompasses the leagues of growing wheat, the pasture lands all -gemmed with buttercups and cowslips, the blue, song-less rivers and the -green, whispering rushes; the silence of spring, which is made up of a -million voices unheard but guessed, and presided over by the skylark -hanging in the sparkling blue, a star of song. - -Men, I think, never knew the true beauty of the country till the -railway, like a grimy magician, enabled them to stand at some little -wayside station and, with the sounds of the city still ringing in their -ears, to listen to the voices of the trees and the birds. - -I sent a porter to the inn for a fly; and when it arrived, and the -luggage was packed on and about it, we started. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -A POLITICAL RECEPTION - - -"It is like a cage," said Eloise, "with all the birds outside." - -We were sitting in the little room of the Pavilion that served as -dining-room and drawing-room combined; the windows were open, the sun -had set, and the birds in the wood were going to bed. Liquid calls from -the depths of the trees, chatterings in the near branches, and -occasional sounds like the flirting of a fan came with the warm breeze -that stirred the chintz curtains and the curls of Eloise's golden hair -as she sat on the broad window-seat, her busy hands in her lap, like -white butterflies come to rest, listening, listening, with eyes fixed on -the gently waving branches, listening, and entranced by the voices of -the birds. - -Through the conversation of the blackbird and the thrush came what the -sparrows had to say, and the "tweet-tweet" of the swallows under the -eaves. - -All a summer's day, if you listened at the Pavilion, you could hear the -wood-dove's mournful recitative, "Don't _cry_ so, Susie--don't _cry_ so, -Susie--don't _cry_ so, Susie--_don't_," at intervals, now near, now far. - -The wood-doves had ceased their monotonous advice, and now the swallows -took flight for the pyramids of dreamland, and Silence took the little, -chattering sparrows in her apron, and then the greater birds. Branch by -branch she robbed, reaching here, reaching there, till at last one alone -was left, a thrush on some topmost bough, where the light of day still -lingered. Then she found him, too; and you could hear the wind drawing -over the forest, and the trees folding their hands in sleep. - -Then, from away where the dark pools were, came the "jug-jug-jug" of a -nightingale asking the time of her mate, and the liquid, thrilling -reply: "Too early." Then silence, and the whisper of ten thousand trees -saying "Hush!--let us sleep." - -"Would monsieur like the lamp?" - -It was Fauchard's daughter, lamp in hand, at the door. Her rough-hewn -peasant's face lit by the upcast light, was turned towards us with a -pleasant expression. I suppose we were both so young and so innocent in -appearance that she could not look sourly upon us, though our -proceedings must have seemed irregular enough to her honest mind. She -looked upon us, doubtless, as lovers. We were good to look upon, though -I say it, who am now old. We were young; and everything, it seems to me -in these later days, is forgivable to youth. - -"Oh, youth, what a star thou art!" - - * * * * * - -Then I rose and took my hat from the table near by. - -"But you are not going?" said Eloise, one white hand seizing my -coat-sleeve, and a tremble of surprise in her voice. - -"But I must," replied I. "I must get back to Paris. I will come -to-morrow morning. Madame Ancelot here will look after you. There are -books. You will be happy, and I will come back in the morning, and we -will have a long day in the forest. We will take our luncheon in a -basket, and have a picnic." - -"Ah, well!" sighed Eloise, looking timidly from me to Madame Ancelot, -who, having placed the lamp on the table, stood, with all a peasant's -horror of fresh air in the house, waiting to shut the windows, "if you -_must_ go---- But you will come back?" - -"To-morrow; and you will look after her, Madame Ancelot, will you not?" - -"Mais oui," said the good woman with a smile and as if she were talking -to two children. "Mademoiselle need not be afraid; there are no robbers -here; nothing more dangerous than the rabbits and the birds; and if -there were, why, Ancelot has his gun." - -Eloise tripped over to the woman and gave her a kiss; then, glancing -back at me, she laughed and ran out into the tiny hall to get her hat. - -"I will go with you as far as--a little way," she said, as she tied the -strings of her hat, craning up on her toe-tips to see herself in a high -mirror on the wall. - -On the drawbridge she hung for a moment, peeping over at the still water -of the moat, in which the stars were beginning to cast reflections. - -"How dark, and still, and secret it looks!" murmured she. "Toto, has it -ever drowned anyone?" - -"Why do you ask?" replied I to the question that I myself had put to -Joubert years ago. - -"I don't know," said Eloise, "but it looks as if it had." - -Ah, the evil moat! The water lilies blossomed there in summer; all the -length of a summer's day the darting dragon-flies cast their blue-gauze -reflections upon the water; Amy Féraud and Francine Volnay might cast -their laughter and cigarette-ends for ever on its surface, leaning over -the bridge-rail and seeing nothing. It was left for the heart of a child -to question its secret and divine its treason. - -The path from the Pavilion cut through the trees and opened on the -carriage-drive to the château. When we reached the drive, Eloise, -terrified by the dark and the unaccustomed trees, was afraid to return -alone. So I had to go back with her to the drawbridge. - -"To-morrow!" said she. - -"To-morrow!" replied I. - -She gave me a moist kiss--just as children give; then, as if that was -not enough, she flung her arms around my neck, squeezed me, and then ran -across the drawbridge, laughing. - -"Good-night!" I cried; and "Good-night!" followed me through the trees -as I ran, for, even running most of the way, I had scarcely time to -catch the last train at Evry. - -It was late when I reached Paris; and as I drove through the blazing -streets I felt as though I had taken a deep breath of some intoxicating -air. The vision of Eloise in her new home pursued me. I felt as though I -had taken a child from the jaws of a dragon. I had done a good act, and -God repaid me, for Eloise had brought me a gift far better than pearls. -She had brought me all that old freshness of long ago; she had brought -me fresh in her hands the flowers of childhood; she had given me back -the warmth of heart, the clearness of sight, the joy in little things, -the joy without cause, which the war of sex and the world robs from a -man. - -A breath from my earliest youth--that was Eloise. - -At the Place Vendôme, the servant whom I had commissioned to find out -Franzius' address handed me a paper on which he had written it. It was -in the Rue Dijon, Boulevard Montparnasse. - -I put the paper in my pocket, ran upstairs, and, hearing voices and -laughter through the partly opened door of the great salon on the first -floor, I burst into the room. - -Great Heavens! - -The child who gets into a shower bath, and, not knowing, pulls the -string, could not receive a greater shock than I. - -The room was filled with gentlemen in correct evening attire. It was, in -fact, one of what my guardian was pleased to call his "political -receptions." - -I was dressed in a morning frock-coat, the dust of Etiolles was on my -boots, my hair was in disorder, my face flushed. If I had entered -rolling-drunk, in evening clothes, I would not have committed so great a -crime against the convenances. - -And it was too late to back out, simply because my impetuosity had -carried me into the room too far. - -My guardian gazed at the spectacle before him, but not by as much as -the lifting of an eyebrow did that fine old gentleman betray his -discomfiture. - -He turned from the Spanish ambassador, to whom he was talking, came -forward and took my hand; inquired, in a voice raised slightly so as to -be distinct, about my _journey_; apologised for not having informed me -that it was one of his political evenings, and introduced me to the Duc -de Cadore. - -Then--and this was his punishment--he totally ignored me for the -remainder of the evening. - -I cannot remember what the Duc de Cadore said to me, or I to him; but we -talked, and I ate ices which I could not taste. I would have frankly -beaten a retreat, now that I had made my entry and faced the fire, but -for a young man who, engaged in a conversation with two of the attachés -of the Austrian Embassy, looked in my direction every now and then. It -was my evil genius, the Comte de Coigny. - -The same who, as a boy in the garden of the Hôtel de Moray, had told me -of the ruin of the Felicianis. I had not come across him since he left -the Bourdaloue College. He was now, it seems, an attaché of the -Emperor's, and he was just the same as of old, though bigger. A stout -young man, with a stolid, insolent face; and I guessed, by his -side-glances, that his conversation with the Austrians was about me, and -that I was being discussed critically and sarcastically. - -God! how I hated that young man at that moment; and how I longed to -cross the room, and, flinging the convenances to the winds, smack him -in the face! But that pleasure was to be reserved for another hand than -mine. - -When the unhappy political reception was over, and the last of the -guests departed, I sought my guardian in the smoking-room, to make my -apologies. - -"My dear sir," said my guardian, with a little, kindly laugh that took -the stiffness from the formality of his address and turned it into a -little joke, "on my heart, I did not perceive what you were attired in. -A host is oblivious of all things but the face and the hand of his -guest. Were the Duc de Bassano or M. le Duc de Cadore to turn up at a -reception of mine attired as a rag-picker, I would only be conscious -that I was receiving the Duc de Cadore or the Duc de Bassano. They would -be for me themselves, _however their fellow-guests might sneer_! - -"And how have we enjoyed ourselves in Paris?" asked the kindly old -gentleman, turning from the subject of dress, and lighting a fresh -cigar. - -"Oh, very well," I said. "And, by the way, I have met an old -acquaintance." - -"Ah!" - -"Mademoiselle Feliciani, a daughter of Count Feliciani." - -"Count Feliciani, the--er--defaulter?" - -"I don't know what he may have done," said I, "but I met them years ago, -at the Schloss Lichtenberg. Then they were entirely ruined. I met -Mademoiselle Feliciani last night in a most curious way; and she has -been living in great poverty. In fact, I"--and here I blushed, I -believe--"I have taken her under my protection." - -Protection! Oh, hideous word, uttered in the simplicity of youth! -Beautiful word, that men have debased--men who would debase the angels, -could they with their foul hands touch those immaculate wings. - -"I hope, sir, you don't object?" - -"Object!" - -"I have given her the Pavilion to live in," continued I, encouraged by -my guardian's smile of frank approval. "The only thing that grieves me -is," I went on, "that her mother is dead, and that I cannot offer her my -protection, too." - -My guardian opened his eyes at this; and I blundering along, blushing, -surprised into one of those charming confidences of youth which youth so -rarely betrays, told him of the beauty of the Countess Feliciani, and of -how much I had admired her as a child, and how I had visited her and -seen her, prematurely aged, ruined, the gold of her beautiful hair -turned to snow, her face lined with the wrinkles of age; and then it -was, I think, that M. le Vicomte began to perceive that my relationship -with Eloise was other than what he had imagined. - -"A pure love!" I can imagine him saying to himself. "Why, mon Dieu! that -might lead to marriage--marriage with a Feliciani--an outcast, a beggar! -We must arrange all this; it is a question of diplomacy." - -But by no sign did he betray these thoughts. He listened to the woes of -the Felicianis, the picture of sympathetic benevolence; and, when I had -finished, he said: "Ah, poor things!" And then, after a moment's -reverie, as though he were recalling the love affairs of his own youth: -"It is sad. Tell me, are you very much enamoured of this Mademoiselle -Feliciani?" - -"Good heavens!" I said. "No. I care for her only--only--that is to say, -I only care for herself." - -A confused statement apparently, yet an unconscious and profound -criticism on Love. - -The Vicomte raised his eyebrows. He was I think, frankly puzzled. He saw -my meaning--that I cared for Eloise as a child or a sister. His profound -experience of life had never, perhaps, brought a similar case to the bar -of his reason; his profound knowledge of men and women told him of the -danger of the thing. - -"How has Mademoiselle Feliciani been living since the death of her -mother?" asked he. - -"She has been a model at Cardillac's studio," I replied. - -"Indeed? Poor girl! And now, may I ask, what do you propose to do with -this protégée of yours?" - -"I? Just give her a home and what money she requires." - -"In fact," said the Vicomte, "you, a young man of nineteen, are going to -adopt a beautiful young girl of the same age, or younger, out of pure -charity, give her a house to live in, pay her expenses----" - -"Yes," I replied. "God has given me money; and I thank God that He has -given me the means of rescuing the sweetest and the purest woman living -from a life that could lead her nowhere but to the morgue. Monsieur, -what is the matter?" - -The Vicomte was crimson, and making movements with his hands as though -to wave away a gauzy veil. At least, that was the impression the -outspread fingers gave me. - -Then he laughed out aloud, the first time I had ever heard him laugh so. - -"Forgive me," he said. "I am not, indeed, laughing at you. I am amused -at no thing or person: it is the imbroglio. What you have told me is -interesting, and I take it as a profound secret. Say nothing of it to -anyone; for if it were known----" - -"Yes?" - -"Why, the whole of Paris would be laughing!" - -I arose, very much affronted and huffed. And I was a fool, for what my -guardian said was perfectly correct. The situation to a French mind was -as amusing as a Palais Royal farce. But I knew little of the world, and, -as I say, I arose very much affronted and huffed. - -"Good-night, sir." - -My guardian rose up and bowed kindly and courteously, but with the -faintest film of ice veiling his manner. - -"Good-night." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -FÊTE CHAMPÊTRE - - -"Good-morning." - -"Ah! there you are. Toto--see!" - -Eloise, without a hat, working in the little garden of the Pavilion, -held up a huge spade for my inspection. The moat divided us, and I had -my foot on the drawbridge, preparing to cross. - -Up at six, I had come to Evry by an early train, and walked from the -station. It was now after ten, and great was the beauty of the morning. - -"I have dug up quite a lot," said Eloise. "Look!--all that. Madame -Ancelot says I will make a gardener by and by--by and by--by and by," -she sang, tossing the spade amidst some weeds; and then, hanging on my -arm, she drew me into the house. - -A perfume of violets filled the sitting-room. The place was changed. The -subtle hand of a woman had rearranged the chairs, looped back the -curtains and arranged them in folds of grace, peopled with violets empty -bowls, wrought wonders with a touch. - -On the sofa lay a heap of white material, which she swept away. - -"That will be a dress to-morrow or the next day," said Eloise. "You will -laugh when you see it, it will be so beautiful. And I have packed a -basket for our picnic. Wait!" She ran from the room, and I waited. - -Looking back, now, one of my pleasantest recollections is how she took -my money, took the new life I had given her, thanking me indeed, full of -gratitude, but as a thing quite natural and between friends. If we had -wandered out of the gardens of Lichtenberg together, children, hand in -hand, and passed straight through the years as one passes through a -moment of time, to find ourselves at Etiolles still hand in hand, our -relationship--as regards money affairs--could not have been less -unstrained. I had bonbons; she had none; I shared with her. Nothing -could be more natural. - -She returned with the basket packed, and her hat, which she put on -before the mirror. Then we started on our picnic in the woods, I -carrying the basket. - -"What part of the woods are you going to?" inquired Madame Ancelot as we -crossed the drawbridge. - -"The grand pool," replied I, "if it is still there, and I can find it." - -Then, a footstep, and the world of the woods surrounded us, its silence -and its music. - -The place was full of leaping lights and liquid shadows. Here, where the -trees were not so dense, the sunlight came through the waving branches -in dazzling, quivering shafts; twilit alleys led the eye to open spaces, -golden glimmers, and the misty white of the hawthorn trees. - -The place was a treasure-house of beauty, and we trampled the violets -under foot. - -"Run!" cried Eloise. - -I chased her, lost her, found her again. I forgot my lameness, I forgot -my guardian, the convenances, and the fact that I was come to man's -estate and carrying a heavy basket. The trees echoed with our laughter, -till, tired out, panting, flushed, with her hat flung back and held to -her neck only by the ribbon, Eloise sat down on a little carpet of -violets and folded her hands in her lap. - -"Listen!" said she, casting her eyes up to the trembling leaves above. - -A squirrel, clinging to the bark of a tree near by, watched us with his -bright eyes. - -"Chuck, chuck." A bird on a branch overhead broke the silence, and, with -a flutter of his wings, was gone. And now from far away, like the voice -of Summer herself, filled with unutterable drowsiness and laziness and -content, came the wood-dove's song to the mysterious Susie: - -"Don't _cry_ so, Susie--don't _cry_ so, Susie--don't _cry_ so, Susie. -_Don't!_" - -"And listen!" said Eloise, when the wood-dove's song had been wiped away -by silence and replaced by a "tap, tap, tap," far off, reiterated and -decided, curiously contrasting with the less businesslike sounds of the -wood. - -"That's a woodpecker," I said. "Isn't he going it? And listen! That's a -jay." - -Then the whole wood sang to the breeze that had suddenly freshened, the -light flashed and danced through the dancing leaves, the trees for a -moment seemed to shake off the indolence of summer, and the forest of -Sénart spoke--spoke from its cavernous bosom, where the pine-trees -spread the hollow ground, from the pools where the bulrushes whispered, -from the beech-glades and the nut-groves. The oaks, old as the time of -Charles IX., the willows of yesterday, the elms all a-drone with bees, -and the poplars paling to the trumpet-call of the wind, all joined their -voices in one divine chorus: - -"I am the forest of Sénart, old as the history of France, yet young as -the last green leaf that April has pinned to my robe. Rejoice with me, -for the skies are blue again, the hawthorn blooms, the birds have found -their nests, the old, old world is young once more. For it is May." - -"It is May; it is May!" came the carol of the birds, freshening to life -with the dying wind. - -Then we went on our road, Eloise with her hands filled with freshly -gathered violets. - -I thought I knew the forest and the direction to take for the great -pool; but we had not gone far when our path branched, and for my life I -could not tell which to take. - -The path to the left being the most alluring, we took it; and lo! before -we had gone very far, recollection woke up. This narrow path, twisting, -turning, sometimes half obscured by the luxuriance of the undergrowth, -was the path I had taken years ago--the path leading by the -old-forgotten gravel-pit into which I had fallen, maiming myself for -life; the path along which I had followed the mysterious child so like -little Carl. - -Perhaps it was the old recollection, but the path for me had a sinister -appearance; something that was not good hung about it. Unconsciously I -quickened my steps. I was walking in front; and as we passed the spot -where I had seen the child standing and looking back at me from amidst -the bushes, Eloise laid her hand on my arm, as if for closer -companionship. - -"I do not like it here," said she. "And I saw something--something -moving in those bushes." - -"Never mind," I replied; "we will soon reach the open." - -When we did, and when we found ourselves in a broad drive which I -remembered, and which led to the place I wanted, the sweat was thick on -my brow; and I determined that, go back how we might, I would never -enter that path again. It had for me the charm and yet the horror that -we only find associated in dreamland. - -"There was a child amidst the bushes," said Eloise. "I just saw its -head; and--I don't know why--it frightened me, and----" - -"Don't," said I. "I believe that place is haunted. Let us forget it." - -The grand pool at last broke before us through the trees--a great space -of sapphire-coloured water, where the herons had their home, and the -dragon-flies. - -It was past noon. We were hungry, so we sat down on a grassy bank by the -water, opened the basket, and, spreading the food on the grass between -us, fell to. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -LA PEROUSE - - -We had finished our meal--simple enough, goodness knows. Our drink had -been milk carried in one of those clear glass bottles used for vin de -Grave, and the bottle lay on the grass beside us, an innocent witness of -our temperance. We had finished, I say, and we were watching a moorhen -with her convoy of chicks paddling on the deep-blue surface of the pond, -when voices from amidst the trees drew our attention; and two stout men -in undress livery, bearing a basket between them, came from beneath the -shade of the elms, and straight towards us. After the men, and led by -Madame Ancelot's little boy, came a party of ladies and gentlemen, -amidst whom I recognised my guardian. The old gentleman, as though May -had touched him with her magic wand, had discarded his ordinary sober -attire, and was dressed in a suit of some light-coloured material, very -elegant, and harmonising strangely well with the exquisite toilets of -his companions. He wore a flower in his buttonhole, and he was walking -beside a girl whom I recognised at once as Amy Féraud. The two other -women I did not then know; but one of them, dark and beautiful, I -afterwards discovered to be the famous model La Perouse. The two men who -made up the party were peers of France; and if Beelzebub himself had -suddenly broken from the trees I could not have been more disturbed than -by this eruption of Paris into our innocent paradise. - -In a flash I saw the whole thing. This was some move of my guardian's. I -had told Madame Ancelot that we would be by the grand pool, and Madame -Ancelot's boy had led them. - -But M. le Vicomte was much too astute an old gentleman for subterfuge, -whatever his plan might be. - -"Welcome!" he cried, when we were within speaking distance. "I have been -searching for you. Ah, what a day! We have just come down from Paris on -M. le Comte de ----'s drag. My ward, M. Patrique Mahon; M. le Comte de -----." - -I bowed stiffly as he introduced me to the men. - -"And mademoiselle?" asked the old gentleman, raising his hat and -standing uncovered before Eloise. - -But I had no need to introduce my companion. La Perouse (oh, what a -voice she had! Hard, metallic, shallow, low)--La Perouse, with a little -shriek of recognition, cried out: "Marie! Why, it is Marie!" - -Then she kissed her, and I could have struck her on the beautiful mouth, -whose voice was a voice of brass, for innocence told me she was bad, and -part of Eloise's wretched past. - -Ah, me! If an eclipse had come over the sun, the beauty of the day could -not have been more spoilt, the loveliness of spring more ruined. - -The stout servant-men, with the dexterity of conjurers, unpacked the -great basket, spread a wide cloth, and, in a trice, a luncheon was -spread out to which the Emperor himself might have sat down. - -There was no resisting M. le Vicomte. We had to sit down with the rest, -and make a pretence to eat. - -But Eloise refused wine, as did I. - -"Ma foi!" said La Perouse. "What airs! Good champagne, too. Come, -taste." - -"Mademoiselle prefers water," I put in; and then, unwisely: "She is not -accustomed to wine." - -La Perouse stared at me, champagne-glass in hand, and then broke out -laughing. She was about to say something, but checked herself, and -turned to the chicken on her plate. - -But La Perouse, as the champagne worked in her wits, returned to the -subject of Eloise's abstinence. - -In that dull brain was moving a resentment which the vulgar mind had not -the power to repress. - -"What! not drink champagne?" said the fool for the twentieth time. "Ah, -well! It was different in the days of Changarnier. How is he, by the -way, the brave Changarnier?" - -I rose to my feet; and Eloise, as if moved by the same impulse, rose -also. - -"Mademoiselle," said I, as I offered Eloise my arm, "does not drink -champagne. It is a matter of taste with her. Did she do so, however, I -am very well assured that the evil spirit in it would never prompt her -to talk and act like a fool!" - -There was dead silence, as, with Eloise on my arm, I walked towards the -trees. Then I heard the shrill laughter of the women; but I did not -heed, for Eloise was weeping. - -"Come," I said; "forget them." - -"It is not they," replied Eloise. "I do not care about _them_." - -I knew quite well what she meant. It was the Past. - -Do not for a moment confuse that word "past" with conscience. Whatever -sin might have been committed by the world against Eloise Feliciani, -she, at heart, was sinless. No; it was just the Past, a blur of miasma -from Paris, a breath of winter. - -"Come," I said; "forget it! All that is a bad dream that you have -dreamt; all those people, those women, those men, are not real: they are -things in a nightmare; they have no souls, and when they die they go -nowhere--they are just ugly pictures that God wipes off a slate. This is -the real thing: these trees, these birds; and they are yours for ever. I -give you them; they are the best gift that money can buy." - -I wiped her eyes with my handkerchief. She smiled through her tears; and -we pursued our way to the Pavilion, followed by the rustle of the wind -in the leaves, and the song of the wood-doves--lazy, languorous, -soothing--filled with the warmth and the softness of summer. - -When I returned to Paris that night I sought for my guardian, and found -him in the smoking-room. - -Angry though I was with the trick he had played me, his manner was so -bland and kind that I was at a loss how to begin. - -He it was, indeed, who began by complimenting the beauty of Eloise, her -grace and her modesty. - -In fact, he had so much to say for her that I could not get in a word. - -"All the same," finished he, "I do not quite see the future of this -business. You offer Mademoiselle Feliciani a home, you provide for her, -your intentions are absolutely honourable, yet you do not love her. That -is all very well, mind you. It is somewhat strange in the eyes of the -world, but I understand the position. You are a man of heart and honour, -and she is, so to speak, an old friend; but what is to be the end of -it?" - -"I don't know," replied I. - -"Just so. She is not a child. It is the nature of a woman to love, to -enter into life. Picking daisies in the woods of Sénart may fill a -summer morning, but not a woman's life. I am not entirely destitute of -the gift of appreciation, the poetry of things is not yet dead for me, -and I can see, my dear Patrique, the poetry of two young people, each -half a child, playing at childhood. But the garment of a child, -beautiful in itself, becomes ridiculous when you dress a man in it. -Impossible, in fact. In fact," finished the old gentleman, suddenly -dropping metaphor and using his stabbing spear, "you are getting -yourself into a position that you cannot escape from with honour; for -even if you wish you cannot marry this girl, for the simple reason that -Paris would not receive her as your wife." - -"I do not wish to marry Mademoiselle Feliciani," replied I, "nor does -she dream of marrying me. I found her in wretchedness; I rescued her. I -loved her as a friend. Have men and women no hearts but that they must -sneer at what is natural and good? What is the barrier that divides a -man from a woman so that comradeship seems impossible between them, -simplicity, and all good feeling, including Christian charity?" - -"Sex," replied M. le Vicomte de Chatellan. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -FRANZIUS MEETS ELOISE - - -Next day, when I returned to the Pavilion of Saluce, I took a companion -with me--Franzius. - -I called early at his wretched lodging in the Rue Dijon; the sound of -his violin led me upstairs, and I found him, seated on the side of his -bed, playing, his soul in Germany or dreamland. - -A day in the country, away from Paris, the houses, the streets! If I had -offered him a day in paradise the simple soul could not have expressed -more delight. - -"Well," I said, "it is nine o'clock. We will just have time to catch the -train at Evry. Get ready and come on." - -He took his hat from a shelf, placed it on his head, put his violin -under his arm, and declared himself ready. - -"But surely you are not taking your violin?" - -"My violin--but why not?" - -"Going into the country!" - -"But why not? Ah, my friend, it never leaves me; without it I am not I. -It is myself, my soul, my heart. Ach!" - -"Come on--come on!" I said, laughing and pushing him and his violin -before me. "Take anything you like, so long as you are happy. That's -right--mind the stairs. Don't you lock your door when you go out?" - -"There is nothing to steal," replied Franzius simply. - -In the street I hailed a fiacre and bundled the violinist in, -protesting. The mad extravagance of the business shocked him. He had -never been in a fiacre before; even omnibuses were luxuries to this son -of St. Cecilia, who had tramped the continent of Europe on foot. Yet he -wanted to pay when we reached the station; and the return ticket I -bought for him pained his sense of independence so much that I took the -fare from him. Then he was happy--happy as a child; and I do not know -what the other passengers thought of the young beau, elegantly dressed, -seated beside the shabby violinist, both happy, laughing, and in the -highest of spirits; the violinist, unconsciously, now and then plucking -pizzicato notes from the strings of his instrument, caressing it as a -man caresses the woman he loves. - -We walked from Evry to Etiolles under the bright May morning, under the -sparkling blue, along the delightful white dusty roads, the larks -singing lustily, and the wind blowing the vanishing hawthorn-blossoms -upon the dust like snow. - -Then, at the drawbridge over the moat, Eloise was waiting for us, and we -followed her into the Pavilion, Franzius with his hat crushed to his -heart, bowing, the violin under his arm forgotten, his whole simple soul -worshipping, very evidently, the beautiful and gracious goddess who had -received us. - -Ah, that was the day of Franzius's life! We had déjeûner in the little -garden, under the chestnut-tree alight with a thousand clusters of pink -blossom. He forgot his shyness completely, and told us stories of his -wanderings, unconsciously dominating the conversation and leading us -hundreds of miles away from Etiolles to the forests of the Roth Alps and -the Hartz. The great forests of the Vosges, so soon to resound to the -drums of war and the tramping of armies, spread their perfumed shade -around us as we listened. Castle Nidek, whose ruined walls still echo to -the ghostly hunting-horn of Sebalt Kraft; the Rhine and its storeyed -hills; the white roads of Germany; Pirmasens and the Swan Inn, with its -rose-decked porch; mountain rivers, leaping waterfalls, skies -turquoise-blue against the black-green armies of the high mountain -pines--all spread before us, lay around us, domed us in as he talked the -morning into afternoon, and the afternoon half away. - -What a gift of description was his; and how we listened as children may -have listened to the story of the wanderings of Ulysses! Then, to forge -his simple chains more completely--to give the last touch to his -magic--he played to us. - -Gipsy dances! And you could hear, as the smoke of the camp-fires blew -across the figures of the dancers, the feet of the women and the men who -had wandered all day keeping time on the turf to the tune--a tune wild -as the cry of the mountain kestrel, filled with all sorts of wandering -undertones, heart-snatching subtleties. - -Czardas and folk-airs he played, and the wonderful spinning-song of -Oberthal, in which you can hear, through the drone of the wheel and the -flying flax, the history of the poor. Just a thread of song told by the -thread of flax--the flax that forms the swaddling-clothes, the bridal -linen, and the shroud of man. And lastly a tune of his own, more -beautiful than any of the others. - -"But why don't you write music?" I said, when we were seated in the -railway-train on our way back to Paris. "You are a greater musician than -any of those men who are famous and rich." - -"My friend," said Franzius, "I am the second violin at La Closerie de -Lilas." - -It was the first time I had heard him speak at all bitterly, and I said -no more. I did not approach the subject again, but that did not prevent -me from making plans. - -I would rescue this nightingale from its cage in a beer-garden and put -it back in the woods; but the thing would require great tact and -infinite discretion. - -"Have you any music written out--you know what I mean, written out on -paper--that I could show to a friend?" I asked him, as we parted at the -station. - -"I have several 'Lieder,'" replied Franzius. "Very small--just, as you -might say, snatches." - -"If I send a man for them to-morrow morning, will you give them to him? -I will take the greatest care of them." - -"But they are so small!" - -"Never mind--never mind! I have influence, and may get them published." - -He promised. And I saw the light of a new hope in his face as he -departed through the gaslit streets on foot--this child of the forest -and the dawn, to whom God had given wings, and to whom the world had -given a cage! - -I went to the Opera that night. It was "Don Giovanni"; and as I sat with -all the splendour of the Second Empire around me, tier upon tier of -beauty and magnificence drawn like gorgeous summer night-moths around -the flame of Mozart's genius, the vision of Franzius wandering through -the gaslit streets, with his violin under his arm, passed and repassed -before me. - -He seemed so far from this; his music, before this triumphant burst of -song, so like the voice of a cicala, faint and thin, and of no account. - -Yet, when I went to bed, the tune that pursued me from the day was the -haunting spinning-song of Oberthal--the song so simple and full of fate, -the song of the flax, caught and interpreted by the humming strings, -telling the story of the cradle, the marriage-bed, and the grave! - -I did not go to Etiolles next day, for I had business that detained me -in Paris; but I went the day following, and Eloise received me, pouting. - -"Ah well, wait!" said I, as I followed her into the Pavilion. "Wait till -I tell you what I have been doing, and then you won't scold me for -leaving you alone." - -"Tell, then!" said Eloise, putting a bunch of violets in my coat, and -pressing them flat with her little hand. - -"I will tell you," said I, kissing the little violet-perfumed hand. And -sitting down, I told her of how I had asked Franzius to let me have his -music. - -"He sent me the three songs yesterday morning," I went on. "I cannot -read music, though I love it; but that did not matter. I had my plan. I -ordered the Vicomte's best carriage to the door, and drove to the Opera -House, where I inquired of the doorkeeper the address of the best -music-publisher in Paris. Flandrin, of the Rue St. Honoré, it seems, is -the best, so I drove there. - -"It was a big shop. Flandrin sells pianos as well as songs. He is a big -man, with a big, white, fat face with an expression like this." I puffed -out my cheeks and opened my eyes wide to show Eloise what Flandrin was -like. She laughed; and I went on: "He was very civil. He had seen me -drive up to his door in a carriage and pair, and I suppose he thought I -had come to buy a piano. When he heard my real business his manner -changed. He said he was sick of musical geniuses; he would not even look -at poor Franzius's 'Lieder.' 'Take them to Barthelmy,' he said. 'He -lives in the Passage de l'Opera; he publishes for those sort of people, -and he is going bankrupt next week, so another genius won't do him any -harm.' 'I haven't time to go to Barthelmy,' I replied. 'Besides, I don't -want you to buy these things. I want to buy them.' - -"'Well, my dear sir,' said Flandrin, 'if you want to buy them, why don't -you buy them?' - -"'Just for this reason,' I replied. 'M. Franzius, who wrote these -things, is not a shopman who sells pianos; he is a poet. He would be -offended if I offered him money for his productions, for he would know -that I did it for charity's sake. I want you to buy these things from -him. I will give you the money to do so, and, by way of commission, I -will buy a piano from you. My only condition is that you come with me -now in my carriage and see M. Franzius, and pay him the money yourself. -Of course, you will have to publish the things, too; but I will give you -the money to do that as well. Here are a thousand francs, which you are -to give M. Franzius. Send one of your pianos round to No. 14, Place -Vendôme, M. le Vicomte de Chatellan's. And now, if you are ready, we -will start.' - -"He came like a lamb. The purchase of the piano had put him into a very -good humour. He seemed to look upon the thing as a practical joke; and -the idea of paying an unknown musician a thousand francs for three -pieces of music seemed to tickle him immensely, for he kept repeating -the sum over and chuckling to himself the whole way to the Rue Dijon. - -"Franzius was in bed and asleep when we got there. I led Flandrin right -up to the attic; and you may imagine Franzius's feelings when he woke up -and found us in his room--the best music-publisher in Paris standing at -the foot of his bed waiting to offer him a thousand francs for his -'Lieder'! A thousand francs down! Oh, there is nothing like money! It -was just as if I had opened a window in his life and let in spring. I -saw him grow younger under my eyes as he sat up in bed unconscious of -everything but the great idea that luck had come at last and some hand -had opened the door of his cage. Even old Flandrin was a bit moved, I -think. Ah, well! I bundled Flandrin off when the business was done, and -then I made Franzius write a note to the Closerie de Lilas people, -telling them that at the end of the week he was leaving there, and then -I told him my plan. You know old Fauchard, the forest-keeper's cottage? -It's only half a mile from here; it's right in the forest. Well, he has -a room to spare, and he will put Franzius up for twelve francs a week. -He will be free to write his music----" - -"Ah, Toto," cried Eloise, who had been trying to in a word for the last -two minutes, "how good of you!" - -"Good of me! Why, I have only done what pleased myself! It's a debt. The -man saved my life--but no matter about that. Get your hat and come with -me, and we will go to Fauchard's and make arrangements about the room." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE TURRET ROOM - - -Fauchard, the ranger's, cottage lay at the meeting of two drives; all -the trees here were pines, and the air was filled with their balsam. - -It was, even in 1869, an old-fashioned cottage, set back in a clearing -amidst the trees. The tall pines seemed to have stepped back to give it -room, and were eternally blowing their compliments to it. Ah, they were -fine fellows to live amongst, those pine-trees, true noblemen of the -forest, erect as grenadiers, spruce, perfumed; and the blue sky looked -never so beautiful as when seen over their tops. - -The cottage had an old wooden gallery under the upper windows, and an -outside staircase gone to decay; the porch was covered with rambler -roses; on the apex of the red-tiled roof pigeons white as pearls sat in -strings, fluttering now to the ground, and now circling in the blue -above the trees like a ring of smoke. - -It was a place wherein to taste the beauty of summer to the very dregs. -Dawn, coming down the pine-set drive, touching the branches with her -fingers and setting the woods a-shiver, peeped into Fauchard's cottage -as she never peeped into the Tuileries. Noon sat with folded hands -before the rose-strewn porch, singing to herself a song which mortals -heard in the croonings of the pigeons. Dusk set glow-worms, like little -lamps, amidst the roses of the porch. - -When we arrived, Fauchard was out, but his wife was in and received us. -Madame Fauchard was over seventy; a woman as clean and bright as a new -pin, active as a cat; a woman who had brought twelve children into the -world, yet had worked all her life as hard as a man. - -Oh, yes! she would be very glad to take a lodger, if he would be -satisfied with their simple place. She showed us over the little house. -It smelt sweet as lavender, and the spare room was so close to the trees -that the pine-branches almost brushed the window. - -"It will be lovely for him," said Eloise, when, having settled about -terms with Fauchard's wife, we were taking our way back to the Pavilion. -"But will he find it dull when he is not writing his music?" - -"If he does," said I, "he can come over to the Pavilion and see you. -Then he will love Etiolles, where he will, no doubt, find friends; and -he has the woods, and Fauchard will take him out with him. Oh, no; he -will not find it dull." - -"Toto," said Eloise, as though suddenly remembering something, just as -we reached the drawbridge. - -"Yes." - -"You remember the day before yesterday you said you would show me over -the château the next time you came. Let us go over it now." - -"Very well," I replied. "Wait for me here, and I will get the key." - -The Château de Saluce had not been lived in for years--ever since my -mother's death, in fact. But it had been well cared for. Fires had been -lit every fortnight or so to air the rooms during the autumn and winter; -every room had been left in exactly the same state it was in at my -mother's death, and the gardens had been tended and looked after as -though the family were in residence. - -"When you marry," said my guardian, "it will make a very nice present -for your wife. Let it! Good God, Patrique, are we shopkeepers?" - -"Here's the key," said I, coming back to Eloise, who had waited for me -at the angle of the drawbridge. She was standing with her elbow on the -drawbridge rail, and her eyes fixed on the water. She seemed paler than -when I had left her; and when I touched her arm she drew her gaze away -from the water lingeringly, as if fascinated by something she had seen -there. - -"Toto," said Eloise, "are there fish in the moat?" - -"I never hear of any. Why?" - -"I saw something white and flat," said Eloise, "deep down. I first -thought it was a flat-fish, then it looked like a ball of mist in the -water deep down, and then it looked like a--a face." - -"A face!" said I, laughing, and looking over the bridge-rail and down -into the water. - -"I know it was only fancy," said Eloise. "Perhaps I went asleep for a -second and dreamed it. It felt like a dream, and I felt just as a person -feels wakened up from sleep when you touched me on the arm just now. It -was a man's face, pale, and--and---- Ah, well, it was perhaps only my -imagination!" - -She shivered, and took my arm; and I led her along a by-path that took -us to the carriage drive and the front door of the château. - -The great hall, with its oak gallery and ceiling painted by Boucher, -echoed our footsteps and our voices. - -This echo was the defect of the hall, as I have often heard my father -say. The builder of the place had, by some mischance, imprisoned an -echo. She was there, and nothing would dislodge her--everything had been -tried. Architects from Paris had been consulted--even the great Violette -Le Duc himself--without avail. She was there like a ghost, and nothing -would drive her out. Whether she was hiding in the gallery or the coigns -of the ceiling, who can say? But one thing was certain: her voice -changed. It was sometimes louder, sometimes lower, sometimes harsher, -sometimes sweeter; a change caused, I believe, by atmospheric influence. -But superstition takes no account of atmospheric influence or natural -causes. Superstition said that the echo was the voice of Marianne de -Saluce, a girl famed for her beautiful voice, who, like Antonina in the -Violon de Cremone, had died singing, under tragic circumstances, one -winter day here in the hall of the château, in the late years of the -reign of his sun-like Majesty Louis XIV. - -"The blood flowing from her mouth had mixed with her song," said the old -chronicle; and this, with the fact that she was wild, wayward, and bad, -gave superstition groundwork for a conceit not without charm. - -"Marianne!" cried Eloise, when I had told her this tale; and -"Marianna--Marianne!" the ghostly voice replied. - -Eloise laughed, and Marianne laughed in reply all along the gallery, as -though she were running from room to room; and, to my mind, made -fanciful by the recollection of the old legend, it seemed that there was -something sinister and sneering in the laughter of Marianne. - -Then I called out myself, making my voice as deep as possible; and the -answer was so horrible as to make us both start. For it was as though a -woman, leaning over the gallery and imitating my man's voice, were -mocking me. - -I have never heard anything more hobgoblin, if I may use the expression. - -"Ugh!" said Eloise. "Don't speak to her any more. Speak in whispers; -don't give her the satisfaction of answering. Toto, are those men in -armour your ancestors?" - -"They are the shells of old Saluces," I replied. "Eloise, do you -remember the man in armour in the tower of Lichtenberg--the one who -struck the bell?" - -"Don't speak of him," said Eloise; "at least, here. The place is ghostly -enough. Shall we go upstairs?" - -We went up the broad staircase, peeped into the sitting-rooms and -boudoirs of the first floor, and then up another flight of stairs to the -floor of the bedrooms. - -"See the funny little staircase?" said Eloise, when we had looked into -the bedrooms, ghostly and deserted. She was pointing to a narrow -staircase leading from the corridor we were in. - -"Let's see where it goes," said I, for it was years since I had -explored this part of the château. "It looks ugly and wicked enough to -lead to a Bluebeard's chamber." - -But it did not. It led to a turret room, with four windows looking -north, south, east, and west. A charming little room, with a painted -ceiling, on which cupids disported themselves with doves. - -Faded rose-coloured couches were placed at each window; on a table in -the centre lay some old books, dust on their covers. The view was -superb. - -One window showed the forest, another the Seine winding blue through the -country of spring, another the country of fields and gardens, vineyards, -and far white roads. - -The smoke of Etiolles made a wreath above the poplar-trees. - -We sat down on a couch by the window overlooking Etiolles. We were so -close together that I could feel the warmth of her arm against mine, and -her hand hanging loose beside her was so close to mine that I took it -without thinking. The picture outside, the picture of Nature and the -wind-blown trees over which the larks were carolling and the small white -clouds drifting, contrasted strangely with the room we were in and the -silence of the great empty house. The little hand lying in mine suddenly -curled its little finger around my thumb. - -"Eloise!" I said. - -She turned her head, her breath, sweet and warm, met my face. Then I -kissed her, not as a brother but as a lover. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -REMORSE - - -And I did not love her at all. Nor did she love me. It was just as -though the great tide of Nature had seized us, innocently floating, and -flung us together, drifted us together for a little while, and then let -us part; for we never referred to the matter again after that day. - -But a cloud had arisen on my horizon, a cloud no larger than Eloise's -hand. - -I installed Franzius at Fauchard's cottage. - -He brought his luggage with him, done up in a brown-paper parcel, under -his right arm; under his left he carried his violin. I will never forget -him that afternoon as he stepped from the train at Evry station, where -Eloise and I were waiting to receive him. Such a Bohemian, bringing the -very pavement of Paris with him, the music of Mirlitons, the gaslight of -the Rue Coquenard, and the sawdust of La Closerie de Lilas. - -Unhappy man! Paris had marked him for her own. Heaven itself could never -entirely remove from his exterior the stains and the scorching, the -lines around his eyes drawn during the early hours in dancing hall and -café, the bruised look that poverty, hunger, and cold impress upon the -servants who wait upon the Muses--the lower servants, whose place is -the courtyard! But the stains and the scorching had not reached his -soul; like Shadrach he had passed through the burning fiery furnace and -come out a living man. - -Besides his luggage and his violin he was carrying some rolls of -music-paper. - -We walked to the Pavilion, and from there through the woods to -Fauchard's cottage. The bees were working in the little garden, and the -pearl-white pigeons were drawn up in parade order on the roof as if to -receive us. Never seemed so loud the shouting and laughter of the birds, -never so beautiful the rambler roses round the porch! The humble things -of Nature seemed to have put themselves en fête to welcome back their -own. - -I did not go to Etiolles for some days after this. A new era of my life -had begun. - -And now it was that the truth of the Vicomte's philosophy was borne in -upon me: - -"You are getting yourself into a position from which you cannot escape -with honour. You cannot marry Mademoiselle Feliciani, for Paris would -not receive her as your wife." - -What was I to do with her? Of course, a man of the world would have -answered the question promptly; but I was not a man of the world. And -the summer went on; and I was taken about to balls and fêtes by my -guardian, and as I was young, not bad-looking, and wealthy, I was well -received. - -The summer went on, the cuckoos hoarsened in the forest of Sénart, the -splendour of Nature deepened, the corn in the fields at Evry was tall -and yellow, the grapes in the vineyards full-globed, and the -dragon-flies had attained the zenith of their magnificence, and all day -mirrored themselves in the moat of the Pavilion. Franzius, lost in his -music and in the paradise in which he found himself, had got back years -of his youth. His genius, clipped and held back, had suddenly burst into -bloom. He was projecting and carrying out a great work--an opera founded -on an old German legend. Carvalho had inspected some of the scores, and -had become enthusiastic. All was well with Franzius, but not with -Eloise. As the summer went on she seemed to droop. - -At first I thought it was only my fancy, but by the end of July I was -certain. - -Franzius was a frequent visitor at the Pavilion. When he was there with -us she seemed bright and gay, but when we found ourselves alone she grew -abstracted and sad. Her cheeks had lost colour, and Madame Ancelot -declared that she did not eat. The meaning of all this was plain--at -least, I thought so. She cared for me. - -This thought, which would have given a lover joy, filled me with deep -sadness. I had offered and given the girl my protection, Heaven knows, -from the highest motives. And now behold the imbroglio! If she cared for -me, it was my duty to marry her and give her a future. If I married her, -society would not receive her as my wife. I had, in fact, in trying to -make her future happy, gone a long way towards ruining my own. Heaven -knows, if I had loved her, little I would have cared for society; but -the mischief and the misery of the thing was just that--I did not love -her. - -I felt a repulsion towards her whenever the idea of love came into my -mind, with her image. It was as if a man, who, tasting a fruit in a -sudden fit of hunger and finding it nauseous and insipid, were suddenly -condemned to eat of that fruit for ever after, and none other. - -And I had the whole of life before me, and I would be tied to a woman -all through life--to a woman I did not love! And the worst part of the -whole business was the fact that I could get out of the whole thing as -easily as a man steps out of a cab--as easily as a man crushes a flower. -And that was what bound me. - -To stay in the affair, to be made party to my own social ruin, was the -most difficult business on earth. - -Days of argument I spent with myself. The two terrible logicians that -live in every man's brain fought it out; there was no escaping from the -conclusion: "If you have made this girl love you, you must ask her to be -your wife, for under the guise of a brother's friendship you have -treated her just as any of these Boulevard sots and fools would have -treated her. Oh, don't talk of Nature and sudden impulse--that is just -the argument they would use! You did this thing unpremeditatedly, we -will admit. Well, you have your whole life to meditate over the -reparation and to make it. Faults of this description are ugly toys made -by the devil, and they have to be paid for with either your happiness -or your soul. Of course, you can treat her as your mistress; and she, -poor child, tossed already about and bruised by the waves of chance, -would be content. But would you? Would you be content to thrust still -deeper in the mud of life this creature that fate has thrown on your -hands? The powers of darkness have surely conspired against this -unfortunate being. She, a daughter of the Felicianis, has been dragged -in the mire of Paris. Would you be on the side of darkness too?" - -That was what my heart said against all the arguments of my head. And so -it remained. - -"To-morrow," said I, "I will go to Etiolles, and I will ask Eloise to be -my wife." - -That afternoon, walking in the Rue de Rivoli, I saw Franzius--Franzius, -whom I imagined to be at Fauchard's cottage, green leagues away from -Paris! He was walking rapidly. I had to run to catch him up; and when he -turned his face I saw that he was in trouble. He was without his violin. - -"Why, Franzius," I cried, "what are you doing here, and what ails you? -Have you lost your violin?" - -"Oh, my friend!" said Franzius. "What ails me? I am in trouble. No, I -have not lost my violin, I have forgotten it--it has ceased to be, for -me. Ah, yes, there is no more music in life! The birds have ceased -singing, the blue sky has gone--Germany calls me back." - -"Good heavens!" I said. "What's the matter? You haven't left Etiolles -for good, have you?" - -"Oh, no! I am going back for a few days. I came to Paris to-day to seek -relief--to hear the streets--to forget----" - -"To forget what? Come, tell me what has happened." - -"Not now," said Franzius. "I cannot tell you now. To-morrow I will call -on you at your house in the Place Vendôme. Then I will tell you." - -That was all I could get from him; and off he went, having first wrung -both my hands, the tears running down his face so that the passers-by -turned to look and wonder at him. - -"Come early to-morrow," I called out after him as he went. Then I -pursued my way home to the Place Vendôme, wondering at the meaning of -what I had seen and troubled at heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -THE OLD COAT - - -Next morning I sent Joubert to my guardian's apartments with a message -craving an interview. - -It was nine o'clock, and the old gentleman received me in his -dressing-room and in his dressing-gown. Beril had just shaved him, and -he was examining his rubicund, jovial face in a hand-mirror. The place -smelt of Parma violets and shaving-soap. It was like the dressing-room -of a duchess, so elaborate were the fittings and so complex the manicure -instruments and toilet arrangements set out on the dressing-table. - -"Leave me, Beril," said the old gentleman, when he had made a little bow -to my reflection in the big mirror facing him. Then, taking up a tooth -instrument--for, like M. Chateaubriand, he kept on his toilet-table a -set of dental instruments with which he doctored his own pearly -teeth--he motioned me to take a seat and proceed. - -"I have come this morning, monsieur, to place my position before you and -to tell you of a serious step in life which I have decided to take." - -"Yes?" replied the Vicomte, tenderly tapping with the little steel -instrument on a front tooth, as though he were questioning it as to its -health. - -"You told me once that I was getting myself into a difficult position. -Well, as a matter of fact----" - -"You have?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -Then I told him everything. - -When I had finished, the old gentleman put away the tooth instrument, -folded his dressing-gown more closely round him, and examined -contemplatively his hands, of which he was very proud. - -"The only thing that would have surprised me," said he at last, "would -have been if all this had not occurred. Well, now, let us make the best -of it. We will assure her future, and she will forget." - -"Monsieur, I am this morning about to offer Mademoiselle Feliciani my -hand in marriage." - -My guardian, who had been attending to his left-hand little finger with -an ivory polisher, turned in his chair and looked at me. He saw I was in -earnest. The blow was severe, yet his power of restraint was so great -that his face did not alter. - -Only the hand which held the ivory manicure instrument trembled -slightly. - -"You have decided on this step?" - -"Absolutely, monsieur." - -"You know, of course, it will mean your social ruin, and, as you do not -love the girl, the ruin of your happiness?" - -"I am aware of all that, monsieur--bitterly." - -My guardian sighed, rubbed his chin softly, and, for a moment, seemed -plunged in a profound reverie. - -"I am growing old," said he. "I have no children. I looked upon you -almost as a child of mine. I made plans for your future, a magnificent -future; I took pleasure to introduce you to my friends, in seeing you -well dressed. With the Emperor at your right hand you would have made a -very great figure in society, monsieur. Ah, yes, you might have been -what you would! And now, in a moment, this has all vanished. Excuse me -if I complain. Of course, as you are not of full age I could compel you -not to take this step. I could, as a matter of fact, sequestrate you; -but I know your spirit, and I am not a believer in brute force. Well, -well, what can I say? You come and tell me this thing--your suicide -would sadden me less than this marriage which will be your social death. -You are a man, and it is not for me to treat you as though you were a -child. Think once again on the matter, and then---- Why, then act as -your will directs." - -He rang the bell for Beril to complete his toilet, and I left the room -smitten to the heart. His unaffected sadness, his kindness, his -straightforwardness would have moved me from my course if anything -mortal could have done so. - -Yet I left the room with my determination unshaken. - -I was coming down the stairs when a footman accosted me on the first -landing. - -"A person has called to see you, monsieur, and I have shown him into the -library." - -I turned to the library, opened the door, and found myself engulfed in -the arms of Franzius. - -"Mind the violin, mind the violin!" I cried, for he was carrying it, and -I felt the bridge snapping against my chest. Then I held him at arm's -length. - -He was radiant, laughing like a boy. He had come from Etiolles, all the -way on foot, and all the joy that had been bottled up in him during the -twenty-four miles' tramp had burst loose. - -"And now," I said, laughing, too, from the infection of his gaiety, -"what is it?" - -"Oh, my friend," said Franzius, "she loves me!" - -"Good heavens! Who?" - -But you might just as well have questioned the Sud Express going full -speed. - -"Yesterday you saw me--I was in despair. I had not understood aright. -She had not understood me. She thought I cared for nothing but my music; -she did not know that my music was herself--that her soul had entered -into me, that she was me----" - -"But stay!" I cried, recalling to mind all the women at Etiolles, from -Madame Fauchard to Elise, the station-master's pretty daughter; -recalling to my mind all but the right one. "But, stay!" - -"That she was me, that my music was her--that every strand of her golden -hair, every motion of her lips, every----" - -Ah, then it began to dawn on me! - -"Franzius," I cried, suddenly seizing him by the shoulders, "Franzius, -is it Mademoiselle Eloise?" - -"They call her that," replied the stricken one, "but for me she is my -soul." - -Then I embraced Franzius. It was the first time in my life that I had -"embraced" a man French fashion. He and his old violin I took in my -arms, nearly crushing them. Fool! fool! Double fool that I was not to -have seen it before! Her sadness when I was with her, the way she -lighted up when he was near! And I had fancied that she was in love with -me! - -There was a grain of cynical bitterness in that recollection, but so -small a grain that it was swallowed up, perished for ever, in the honest -joy that filled my heart. - -I had done the right thing, I had prepared to sacrifice myself, and this -was my reward. - -Then the recollection of the old man upstairs came to me, and, bidding -Franzius to wait for me, I ran from the room. I saw a servant on the -stairs and called to him to bring wine and cigars to the gentleman in -the library; then, two steps at a time, up I went to the dressing-room. - -I knocked and opened the door without waiting for a reply. Beril was -tying my guardian's cravat. I took him by the shoulders and marched him -out of the room. - -"Saved!" cried I to the astonished Vicomte as I stood with my back to -the door and he stood opposite me, his striped satin cravat hanging -loose and his hand half reaching for the bell. - -Then I told him all, and he saw that I was not mad. - -"Is he downstairs, this Monsieur Franzius?" asked my guardian when I had -finished my tale and he had finished congratulating me. - -"Yes." - -"I would like to see him. Ask him to déjeûner." - -"He's rather---- I mean, you know, he's a Bohemian; does not bother much -about dress and that sort of thing--so you must not expect to see a -Boulevardier." - -"My dear sir," said the old man with delightful gaiety, "if one is in a -burning building, does one trouble about the colour of the fire escape -that saves one from destruction, or if it has been new painted? Ask him -to déjeûner though he came dressed as a red Indian!" - -Franzius, when I found him in the library, would not touch the wine or -cigars I had ordered up; he was in a frame of mind far above such -earthly things. I made him sit down, and, taking a seat opposite to him, -listened while he told me the whole affair. - -He declared that the idea of love for Eloise had never come to him of -itself; he was far too humble to worship her, except as one worships the -sun. It was his music that said to him: "She loves you, and you love -her. Listen to me: Am I not beautiful? I am the child of your soul and -hers; divine love has brought you together so that you might create me. -I will exist for ever, for I am the child of two immortal souls." - -"Then, my friend," said Franzius, "I knew what love was--it is the birth -of music in the heart, it is the music itself, the little birds try to -tell us this. I had loved her without knowing from the first day; and -when knowledge came to me I was still dumb; dumb as a miser who speaks -not of his gold; till yesterday, when I told her all. She cried out and -ran from me, and hid herself in the house, and I thought she was -offended. I thought she did not love me, I thought the music had lied to -me, and that there was no God, that the flowers were fiends in disguise, -the sun a goblin. I came to Paris, I walked here and there, I met you, -my distress was great. Then I returned to Etiolles. It was evening, -towards sunset, and, coming through the wood near the Pavilion, I saw -her. - -"She had taken her seat on the root of an old tree; her basket of -needlework was by her side, and in her lap was an old coat; she had made -me bring it to the Pavilion some days before, saying she would mend it. -I thought she had forgotten it, but now it was in her lap; her needle -was in her hand, and she had just finished mending a rent in the sleeve. -Then she held it up as if to see were there any more to be done; -then--she kissed it." - -"So that----" - -"Ah, my friend, all is right with me now. I have come home to the home -that has been waiting for me all these weary years. Often when I have -looked back at my wanderings I have said to myself, Why? It all seemed -so useless and leading nowhere--such a zig-zag road here and there -across Europe on foot, poor as ever when the year was done. _But now I -see that every footstep of that journey was a footstep nearer to her_, -and I praise God." - -He ceased, and I bowed my head. The holy spirit of Love seemed present -in that room, and I dared not break the sacred silence with words. - -It was broken by the opening of the door, and the cheery voice of M. le -Vicomte bidding me introduce him to my friend. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -IN THE SUNK GARDEN - - -I shall never forget that déjeûner, and the kindness of my guardian to -poor Franzius. The tall footmen who served us may have wondered at this -very unaccustomed guest; but had the Emperor been sitting in Franzius' -place M. le Vicomte could not have laid himself out more to please. And -from no hidden motive. Franzius was his guest, he had invited him to -déjeûner, he saw the Bohemian was ill at ease in his strange -surroundings, and with exquisite delicacy only attainable by a man of -good birth, trained in all the subtleties of life, he set himself the -task of setting his guest at ease. - -When the meal was over we went into the smoking-room; and then, and only -then, did M. le Vicomte refer to the question of Eloise in a few -well-chosen words. - -Then he dismissed us as though we were schoolboys; and I took the -musician off to see my apartments. - -Now, I am Irish, or at least three parts Irish, and I suppose that -accounts for some eccentricities in my conduct of affairs. I am sure -that it accounts for the fact that my joy up to this had carried me -along so irresistibly and so pleasantly that I had not once looked back. - -It was when I opened the door of my sitting-room that memory, or -perhaps conscience, woke up to deal my happiness a blow. - -The man beside me knew nothing of Eloise's past. Or did he? - -Never, I thought, as I looked at him. His happiness is new-born, it has -been stained by no cloud. She has told him nothing. - -I sat down and watched him as he roamed about the room, examining the -works of art, the pictures, and the hundred-and-one things, pretty or -quaint; costly toys for the grown-up. - -I sat and watched him. - -An overmastering impulse came upon me to go at once to Etiolles, see -Eloise, and speak to her alone, if possible. - -"Come," I said, "let us go down to the Pavilion. I want a breath of -country air. Paris is smothering me. Shall we start?" - -He went to the library to fetch his violin, and we left the house. - -We took the train. It was a glorious September day; they were carting -the corn at Evry; and the country, warm and mellow from the long, hot -summer, was covered by the faintest haze, a gauze of heat that paled the -horizon, making a diaphanous film from which the sky rose in a dome of -perfect blue. - -The little gardens by the way were filled with autumn flowers--stocks -and hollyhocks and Michaelmas daisies--simple and old-fashioned flowers, -great bouquets with which God fills the hands of the poor, more -beautiful than all the treasures of Parma and Bordighera. - -A child of six, a son of one of the railway porters, bound also for -Etiolles on a message, tramped with us. Franzius carried him on his -shoulder part of the way, and bought him sweets at the village shop. - -Eloise was not at the Pavilion. Madame Ancelot said she had taken her -sewing and was in the sun-garden of the Château, and there we sought for -her. This garden, small and protected from the east wind by a palisaded -screen, was the prettiest place imaginable. It was at the back of the -Château, and steps from it led up to the rose-garden. It had in its -centre a square marble pond from which a Triton blew thin jets of water -for ever at the sky. - -Eloise was seated on a small grassy bank; her workbasket was beside her; -and she was engaged in some needlework which she held in her lap. - -She made a pretty picture against the hollyhocks which lined the bank; -and prettier still she looked when, hearing our footsteps, she cast her -work aside and ran to meet us. - -With a swift glance at Franzius, she ran straight to me and took both my -hands in hers. - -"He has told you?" said she, looking up full and straight into my face, -full and straight with perfect candour and firm eyes more liquid and -beautiful than the blue of heaven washed by the early dawn. - -"He has told me," I replied, holding her hands in mine. - -All the sadness and pain that my past relationship with her had caused -me was now banished, for I could read in her eyes, or, blind that I was, -I thought I could read in her eyes, that the past was for her not in the -new world in which she found herself. - -We sat down on the little grassy bank, and talked things over, the three -of us. Three people who had found a treasure could not have been more -happily jubilant as we talked of the future. - -"And you know," said I, "you will never want money. Franzius will be -rich with his music; and even should he never care to write again, I -have a large sum of money in trust for you. Oh, don't ask who gave it in -trust for you both! It is there." - -We talked till the dusk fell and star after star came out. - -So dark was it when I left that a tiny point of light in Eloise's hair -made me hold her head close to look. It was a glow-worm that had fallen -from the bending hollyhocks. - -It seemed to me like a little star that God had placed there as a -portent of fortune and happiness. - -When I got back to Paris my guardian was out. - -I went to my rooms to think things over. My thoughts had received a new -orientation. I remembered my delight that morning on finding myself -free--free of all that heaven! - -Ah, if I could only have loved her as Franzius did! - -What, then, was this thing called Love, which I had never known, the -thing which I had never guessed till to-day, till this evening, there in -the sunk garden of Saluce, in the dusk so filled with the sound of -unseen wings and the music of an unknown tongue? - -Some drawing things were on the table. - -I have always been a fair artist, and sketching has been one of my few -amusements. - -Almost mechanically I took a pencil, and tried to sketch the face of -Eloise Feliciani. - -But it was not the face of Eloise Feliciani that appeared on the paper. -I gazed on it, when it was finished, in troubled amazement. It was the -face of a woman--yet it was also the portrait of a child. Ah, yes; -beyond any doubt of memory it was the face of Margaret von Lichtenberg, -the old portrait in the gallery of Schloss Lichtenberg! Yet it was the -face, also, of little Carl! - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -THE MARRIAGE OF ELOISE - - -"We will give them a good send-off," said my guardian, as, some days -later, we discussed the matter of Eloise's wedding. "Let them be married -at Etiolles; have the village en fête. I will settle for it all." - -The proposition seemed good; nowhere could one find a more suitable spot -for such a wedding than the little church of Etiolles; yet it met with -opposition. - -Franzius was not a man to forget his friends. He had many in the Latin -Quarter, and he was a peasant born, with a peasant's instincts. Birth, -marriage, and death, those three supreme events in the life of man, are -more insistent in their ceremonial amidst the poor than the rich. To -Franzius it would have been a strange thing to marry without inviting to -the ceremony the people who were his friends; and the journey to -Etiolles would be too far for some of these. - -Then, it was impossible for the marriage to be solemnised in a church, -for the simple reason that he was a Lutheran and Eloise had been born a -Catholic. So it was arranged to take place on the 1st of October at the -Mairie of the quarter which includes the Rue Dijon. - -It was to be quite a simple affair, a wedding such as takes place every -day amongst the bourgeoisie, with the additional lustre that the -presence of the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan would lend to the -proceedings. - -It was a lovely day. It had rained during the night, but the morning -broke nearly cloudless, and there was that feeling of spring in the air, -that freshness which comes sometimes in autumn like the reminiscence of -May. - -Franzius had slept the night at the Place Vendôme; and I must say, -dressed in a brand-new suit of clothes and with a flower in his -buttonhole, he never looked worse in his life. Dressed in his old -clothes, with his violin under his arm, he was picturesque, but now he -looked like a tailor out for a holiday, and I told him so, to keep up -his spirits, as we breakfasted hurriedly and without appetite, but with -a good deal of gaiety. - -Eloise was to come from Saluce in one of the Vicomte's carriages, and he -was to accompany her to the Mairie, where we were to wait for them. Noon -was the hour of the ceremony; and when we arrived at the Mairie the -place was crowded: four other couples, it seemed, were to be united that -day, and we were third on the list. - -The people whom Franzius had invited were there already: not many, -scarcely a dozen, and mostly men, musicians with long hair and German -accents; his landlady of the Rue Dijon and her daughter, a cripple -dressed for the occasion in a newly starched white frock and blue sash; -and a young lady of the sempstress type, pale-faced and modest, and -seeming dazed with the grandeur of the officials in their chains and all -the paraphernalia of the law. - -For a moment a pang went to my heart to think that a daughter of the -Felicianis was to be married here amidst these folks like one of them. -But it soon passed. The Archbishop of Paris, the choir of Notre Dame, -the congregated aristocracy of France, could not have added one whit to -the beauty of the marriage or to its sanctity. - -I had dreaded that in the fulness of his heart and his simplicity -Franzius might have invited undesirable guests. The vision of -Changarnier appearing like an evil beast had horrified me. But my fears -were set at rest. Leave the simple-hearted alone, and they rarely make -mistakes. Franzius' guests, humble though they might be, were of the -aristocracy of the poor, good, kind-hearted, and honest people. - -At ten minutes to noon the Vicomte arrived, with Eloise on his arm. How -charming she looked, in that simple, old-fashioned wedding-gown which -she had made for herself! And how charming the Vicomte was, insisting on -being introduced to everyone, chatting, laughing, immeasurably above -everyone else, yet suffusing the wedding-party with his own grace and -greatness so that everyone felt elevated instead of dwarfed! - -And I never have been able to determine in my mind whether it was -natural goodness, or just gentility polished to its keenest edge, that -made this old libertine so lovable. - -After the ceremony carriages conveyed the wedding-party to the Café -Royale in the Boulevard St. Michel. - -The Vicomte had, through Beril, made all arrangements; and in a room -flower-decked, and filled with the sunlight and sounds of the boulevard, -we sat down to déjeûner. - -Scarcely had we begun than the waiters announced two gentlemen, at the -same time handing the Vicomte de Chatellan two cards. "Show them up," -said my guardian, "and lay two more covers." - -It was the great Carvalho, who, hearing indirectly from my guardian of -the marriage, had come, bringing with him the director of the Opera. - -You may be sure we made room for them. And what a good omen it -seemed--better than a flight of white doves--these two well-fed, -prosperous, commonplace individuals, who held the music of France in -their hands, and the laurel-wreaths! - -They did not stay long, just long enough to pay their compliments and -drink success to the bride and bridegroom. - -Just before departing, Carvalho whispered to me: "His opera is accepted. -He will hear officially to-morrow. It will be produced in April, or, at -latest, May." - - - - -PART III - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -THE BALL - - -"By the way," said my guardian, "how are you off for money?" - -We were driving back from the station, having seen the newly married -couple off on their honeymoon. - -"Oh, pretty well," I replied. "Why do you ask?" - -He did not seem to hear my reply, but sat gazing out of the -carriage-window at the streets we were passing through, and the people, -gazing at them contemplatively and from Olympian heights, after the -fashion of a god gazing upon beetles. - -When we reached the Place Vendôme, he drew me into the library. - -"I have been on the point of speaking to you several times lately about -money," said he. "Not about personal expenses, but about the bulk of -your fortune. It is invested in French securities. Clement, our lawyer, -has the number and names of them. They are all good securities, paying -good dividends; they are the securities in which I myself have invested -my money. Well, I am selling out----" - -"I beg your pardon, sir?" - -"Selling out--realising. I am collecting my money, marshalling my -francs, and marching them out of France into England. I propose to do -the same with yours." - -"But," said I, "is that safe, to have all our money in a foreign -country? Suppose that there should be war?" - -The Vicomte laughed. - -"You have said the words. Suppose there should be war? France would be -smashed like a ball of glass--ouf. Do you think I am blind? At the -Tuileries, at the Quai d'Orsay, they speak of M. le Vicomte de Chatellan -as a very nice man, perhaps, but out of date--out of date; at the War -Minister's it is the same--out of date. Meanwhile, I know the machine. I -have counted the batteries of artillery and the regiments of the line on -paper, and I have counted them in the field, and contrasted the -difference. Not that I care a halfpenny for the things in themselves, -but they are the protectors of my money; and as such I look after them. -I have reviewed the personality of the people at the Tuileries--not that -I care a halfpenny for their psychological details, but they are the -stewards of my money; and I examine their physiognomies and their lives -to see if they are worthy of trust. I look at society--not that I care a -halfpenny for the morals of society, but because the health of society -is essential to the health of the State. Now, what do I see? I speak not -from any moral standpoint, but just as a man speaks who is anxious about -the safety of his money. What do I see? Widespread corruption; -peculators hiding peculators--from the man who hides the rotten army -contract at the Ministry of War to the man who hides the rottenness of -the fodder in the barrack-stable. Widespread corruption; Ministers the -servants of vice, each duller than Jocrisse; marshals as wooden and as -useless as their bâtons; skeleton regiments, batteries without cannon, -cannon without horses; no esprit; an army of gamins with -cigarette-stained fingers and guns in their hands." - -The old gentleman, who for seventeen years or so had been in a state of -chronic irritation with the Second Empire and its makers, paused in his -peregrinations up and down the room, and snapped his fingers. I sat -listening in astonishment, for to me, who only saw the varnish and the -glitter, France seemed triumphant amongst the nations as the Athena of -the Parthenon amongst statues; and the French Army, from the Cent Gardes -at the Tuileries to the drummer-boy of the last line regiment, the _ne -plus ultra_ of efficacy, splendour, and strength. - -He went on: - -"Tell me: when you see a house in disorder, bills unpaid, the servants -liars and rogues, inefficient and useless, dust swept under the beds, -and nothing clean about the place except perhaps the windows and the -door-handle: whom do you accuse but the master and the mistress? A -nation is a house, and France is a nation. I say no more. I have been a -guest at the Tuileries; and it is not for me, who have partaken of their -hospitality, to speak against the rulers of France. But I will not allow -them to play ducks and drakes with my money. In short, my friend, in my -opinion my money is no longer safe in France, and I am going to move it -to a place of safety. I have been uneasy for some time, but of late I -am not uneasy--I am frightened. _I smell disaster._" - -He did. - -Now, in October, 1869, from evidence in my possession, the fate of -France was already definitely fixed. Bismarck had decided on war. He had -not the slightest enmity toward France, nothing but contempt for her and -for the wretched marionettes playing at Royalty in the Tuileries. He was -assisting at the birth of the great German Empire, that giant who in a -short twelve months was to leap living and armed from the womb of Time. -The destruction of France was the surgical operation necessary for the -birth--that was all. In October, 1869, the last rivets of the giant's -armour were being welded. - -My guardian knew nothing of this; yet that extraordinary man had already -scented the coming ruin, guessing from the corruption around him the -birds of prey beyond the frontier. - -"Thank you!" said he, when I had given him permission to deal with my -fortunes as his judgment dictated. "And now you have just time to dress -for dinner. Remember, you are to accompany me to-night to the ball at -the Marquis d'Harmonville's." - -I went off to my own rooms not overjoyed. Society functions never -appealed to me, and balls were my detestation, for then my lameness was -brought into evidence. Condemned not to dance, it was bitter to see -other young people enjoying themselves, and to have to stand by and -watch them, pretending to oneself not to care. My lameness, though I -have dwelt little upon it, was the bane of my life. I fancied that -everyone noticed it, and either pitied me or ridiculed me. It was a -bitter thing, tainting all my early manhood; it made me avoid young -people, and people of the opposite sex. I have seen girls looking at me, -and have put their regard down to ridicule or pity--fool that I was! - -Joubert put out my evening clothes. Joubert of late had grown more testy -than ever, and more domineering. He spent his life in incessant warfare -with Beril, the factotum of my guardian; and the extra acidity that he -could not vent on Beril he served up to me. But it was the business of -Eloise and Franzius (that lot, as he called them) which he had now, to -use a vulgar expression, in his nose. - -"Not those boots," said I, as he took a pair of patent-leather boots -from their resting-place. "Dancing shoes!" - -"Dancing shoes!" said Joubert, putting the boots back. "Ah, yes; I -forgot that monsieur was a dancer." - -"You forgot no such thing, for you know very well I do not dance, but -one does not go to a ball in patent-leather boots. You like to fling my -lameness in my face. You are turning into vinegar these times. I will -pension you, and send you off to the country to live, if M. le Vicomte -does not do what he has threatened to do." - -"And what may that be?" asked the old fellow, with the impudent air of a -naughty child. - -"He says he'll put you and Beril in a sack and drop you in the Seine, -if he has any more trouble with the pair of you--always fighting like a -couple of old cats." - -"Old, indeed!" replied Joubert. "Ma foi! it well becomes a young man -like the Vicomte to think of age! And did I make you lame? More likely -it was a curse from one of that lot----" - -"Here!" I said, "give me the hair-brushes, and leave 'that lot,' as you -call them alone." - -I wondered to myself what Joubert would have said had he known the real -cause of my lameness, but I had never spoken to anyone of the child, so -like little Carl, the mysterious child who had lured me through the -bushes into the hidden gravel-pit. If I had, what ammunition it would -have given him against "that lot," as he was pleased to call anyone who -had been present at the Schloss Lichtenberg that September nine years -ago! - -I dined tête-à-tête with my guardian, then we played a game of écarté; -and at ten o'clock, the carriage being at the door, we departed for the -Marquis d'Harmonville's in the Avenue Malakoff. - -It was a very big affair; the Avenue Malakoff was lined with carriages; -and we, wedged between the carriage of the Countess de Pourtalès and -that of the Russian Ambassador, had time on our hands, during which the -Vicomte, irritated by the loss of five louis at écarté and the slowness -of the queue, continued his strictures on the social life of Paris and -the condition of France. - -We passed up the stairs, between a double bank of flowers; and despite -the condition of the social life of Paris and the state of France, the -scene was very lovely. - -The great ballroom--with its scheme of white and gold, its crystal -candelabra and its extraordinarily beautiful ceiling, in which, as in a -snowstorm, the ice spirits whirled in a fantastic dance--might have been -the ballroom in the palace of the Ice Queen but for the warmth, the -banks of white camellias, and the music of M. Strauss's band. - -Following my usual custom, I cast round for someone whom I could bore -with my conversation, a fellow-wall-flower; and it was not long before I -lit on M. de Présensé, a friend of my guardian, one of those old -gentlemen who go everywhere, know everything, talk to everybody, and -from whom everyone tries to escape. Delighted to obtain a willing -listener, M. de Présensé, who did not dance, drew me into a corner and -pointed out the notabilities. We had mounted to a kind of balcony, and -presently, when M. de Présensé was engaged in conversation with a lady -of his acquaintance, I stood alone and looked down on the assembled -guests. - -Recalling them now, and recalling the Vicomte's strictures, it seems -strange enough that amidst the guests were most of those who, fatuously -playing into Bismarck's hands, brought war and the destruction of war on -France; all, nearly, of the undertakers of the Second Empire's funeral -were there. The Duc d'Agenor de Gramont; Benedetti, who happened to be -in Paris at that time; Marshal Leboeuf, that ruinous fool the clap of -whose portfolio cast on the council table at Saint-Cloud was answered -by the mobilisation of the German Army; Vareigne, the Palace Prefect of -the Tuileries; and, to complete the collection, Baron Jérome David, -destined to be the first recipient of the news of Sedan. - -I was looking on and listening, amused and interested by old M. de -Présensé's descriptions, that were not destitute of barbs and points, -when through the crowd in my direction, walking beside my old enemy the -Comte de Coigny, came a young man. - -A young man, pale, very handsome, with an air of distinction which -marked him at once as a person above other people, a distinction which, -starlike, reduced the surrounding crowd to the level of wax lights and -the function of D'Harmonville to a bourgeois rout. He was dressed in -simple evening attire, without jewellery or adornment of any -description, except an order set in brilliants, a point of sparkling -light which gave the last touch to a picture worthy of the brush of -Vandyck or Velasquez. - -"Quick!" I said, plucking old M. Présensé by the sleeve. "That young man -with the Comte de Coigny: who is he?" - -"That!--ma foi--he is Baron Carl von Lichtenberg, the new attaché at the -Prussian Embassy. Oh, yes; he is the sensation of the moment in Paris. -The women rave about him----" - -But I did not hear what more the old man may have said, for at that -moment Von Lichtenberg, as they called him, looking in my direction, -caught my eye and halted dead, with his hand on De Coigny's arm. - -He seemed stricken with paralysis; the words he had just been saying to -his companion withered on his lips; we stared at each other for ten -seconds; then De Coigny, glancing in my direction, broke the spell, and, -pulling old Présensé by the arm, I retired precipitately through an -alcove which led to the cardroom. - -I was terrified, shocked. Terrified as an animal which suddenly finds -itself trapped in a gin; shocked as a man who sees a ghost. - -All the nameless excitement and soul-terror that had filled me for a -moment as a child when Gretel, in the gallery of the Schloss, had held -the light to the portrait of Margaret von Lichtenberg, were mine now -again, for the face I had just seen was hers. The Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg was little Carl. - -I said "Good-evening," to M. Présensé, escaped through the cardroom -door, got my hat and coat from the attendants, and found myself in the -street. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -TRYING TO ESCAPE FROM FATE - - -I walked fast as one who would try to escape from his fate. - -I _could_ not but see the cards being dealt by some mysterious hand; I -could not but remember that Von Lichtenberg, a nobleman, a man of -honour, the friend of his King, and presumably sane, had three times -attempted my assassination when I was a child, to shield little Carl -from some terrible evil at my hands; and look, to-night, whom had I met? - -Then, Franzius, entering my life as he had done, and Eloise, like the -people on the stage who are seen in the first act of the drama, to -reappear in the last act, helping to form the tragic tableau on which -the curtain falls. - -But the terror and repulsion in my mind rose not from these things; it -came like a breath from afar; it came like a breath from the unknown, -from the time remote in the past when lived Margaret von Lichtenberg, -the woman murdered by Philippe de Saluce. - -I walked hurriedly, not caring whither I went; the sounds and lights of -Paris surrounded me, but my spirit was not there. It was in the gardens -of Lichtenberg, walking with Eloise and little Carl; it was in the -picture-gallery, gazing at the portrait of the dead-and-gone Margaret, -beneath which was the little portrait of Philippe de Saluce, so horribly -like myself; it was in the windy bell-tower where the Man in Armour -stood with his iron hammer before the iron bell; I saw again the duel in -the forest, and Von Lichtenberg lying in the arms of General Hahn, and I -heard again the slobbering of the torches, the wind in the pine-trees, -and the far-off barking of the fox in the wood. - -Ah, yes; all that might have something to do with me, but beyond all -that I refused my fate. I refused to believe that the dead Margaret had -a hold upon me--the last of the Mahons, who was also the last of the -Saluces; the horrible whispered suggestion: "Are _you_ Philippe de -Saluce returned? Were _you_ once in that old time the murderer of -Margaret? And is she--is she little Carl?" This I refused; that I would -not listen to; this I abhorred, as a whisper from the devil, as a -blasphemy against God's goodness and against life. - -"I have never done harm to any man!" - -"Or woman?" queried the whisperer, whose voice seemed my own voice, just -as in that story of Edgar Poe's the voice of William Wilson found an -echo in his double. - -"Or woman? Ah, yes--Eloise--a moment of passion----" - -"A moment of passion murdered Margaret de Saluce." - -"But God is good; He does not create to torture; He does not bring the -dead back to confront them with their crimes." - -"Know you that there is a God?" replied the whisperer. "And not a Fate -working inexorably and by law?" - -"Cease!" I replied, "Let there be a Fate. I am a living man with a will. -No dead fate working by law shall drag me against my will, or move me to -another purpose than my own. I will not--I will not!" - -This mental dialogue had brought me a long way. I was called to my -senses by a bright light illuminating what seemed a river of blood -stretching across the pavement. - -It was a red carpet, and the great house from whose door it was laid -down was the Prussian Embassy. - -A carriage, flanked by a squadron of Cent Gardes, was at the pavement, -and a man was leaving the Embassy. - -It was Napoleon, who had been dining privately with the Prussian -Ambassador. He was in evening dress, covered by a dark overcoat; his -hat-brim was over his eyes, and he held a cigarette between his lips. -When Napoleon wore his hat in this fashion, with the brim covering his -eyes like a penthouse, the whole figure of the man became sinister and -full of fate. - -I would sooner a flock of black birds had crossed my path than that -mysterious figure in the broad-brimmed, tall hat, beneath which in the -darkness the profile showed vaguely, yet distinctly, like the profile on -some time-battered coin of Imperial Rome, some coin on which the -Imperial face alone remains asking the dweller in a new age: Who is -this? - -I watched him getting into his carriage and the carriage driving away, -surrounded by the glittering sabres of the Cent Gardes; then I returned -home. - -This, it will be remembered, was the night of the 1st of October. - - * * * * * - -On the 4th of October, three days after, I was sitting at my club, -reading a newspaper, when the Comte de Brissac proposed a game of -écarté. - -I take cards seriously; the gain or loss of money is nothing to me -beside the gain or loss of the game. That is why, perhaps, I am often -successful. - -There were several other players in the room, and a good many loungers -looking on at the games, several around our table, of whom I did not -take the slightest notice, so immersed was I in the play. - -I lost. Never had I such bad luck. The cards declared themselves against -me; some evil influence was at work. At the end of half an hour, during -a pause in the game, and after having lost a good sum of money to De -Brissac, I looked up, and for the first time noticed the people around -us. Right opposite to me, standing behind De Brissac, and looking me -full in the face, was Baron Carl von Lichtenberg. - -The surprising thing was that I was not surprised. My unconscious self -seemed to have recognised the fact that he was there all the time, -whilst the conscious self was sublimely indifferent to everything but -the cards. - -Then I did just what I would have done had a cry of "Fire" been -raised--cast my cards on the table, and left the room, walking -hurriedly, but not so hurriedly as to express what the old Marquis -d'Ampreville once described as ungentlemanly alarm. - -Now, Lichtenberg was not a member of the Mirlitons; and as I was a -pretty regular frequenter of the place during certain hours of the day, -and as he had taken his place at the card-table at which I was playing, -the suggestion became almost a certainty that he had come there to meet -me. - -"I am a living man with a will. No dead Fate working by law shall drag -me against my will or move me to another purpose than my own." I had -said that on the night of the 1st of October. Well, there was something -more than a dead Fate here, a thing working by law. There was the will -of Von Lichtenberg; and as I walked down the Boulevard des Italiens, -away from the club, the gin seemed to have closed more tightly around -me. - -It is unpleasant to feel not that you are going to meet your fate, but -that your fate is coming to meet you; to swim from a danger, yet find -the tide slowly and remorselessly driving you towards it. - -Now, what was this danger I dreaded? Impossible to say; but I felt -surely in my soul that far more destructive to my happiness and my life -than Vogel, or the fantastic old woman who lived in the wood and made -whistles of glass, silver, and gold for children to play upon, was this -man Carl von Lichtenberg. That, just as Eloise had brought me the -flowers of childhood perfumed and dew-wet in her hands, Carl von -Lichtenberg was bringing me flowers from an unknown land, flowers -scentless as immortelles, sorrowful as death. - -Why should I, young and happy, and rich, with all the joy of life in me, -with a clear conscience and a healthy mind: why should I be troubled by -the tragic and the fateful? As day by day men turn the pages of their -life-story, men ask of God this question, receiving only the Author's -reply: "Read on." - -The next day I had the extra knowledge that not only was Von -Lichtenberg's will against me, but the tattle of fools. - -The affair at the Mirlitons had been talked about. The loungers about -the card-table had seen me look up, stare at the Baron, fling my cards -down, and leave the room. - -I had, it seemed, put a public affront on him. - -My guardian told me of the talk. - -"Paris is a whispering gallery," said the old gentleman, "filled with -fools. They put the thing down to the fact of the duel between your -father and Baron Imhoff. The whole thing is unfortunate; the relations -of the Saluces and the Lichtenbergs have always been unfortunate; yet -the two families have had an attraction for each other, to judge by the -intermarriages. Still, this young Baron Carl seems quite a nice person, -a nobleman of the old type, a man of distinction and presence----" - -"You have met him?" - -"I was introduced at D'Harmonville's ball. Yes; quite a nobleman of the -old school; and it seems a pity that you should bear him any grudge on -account of the unfortunate fact that Baron Imhoff----" - -"I don't. I don't hold him responsible for the fact that Baron Imhoff -killed my father. I have no grudge against him." - -"I am glad to hear that," said the Vicomte; and two days later he -invited Von Lichtenberg to dinner with me! - -I did not come to that dinner. I was a living man with a will of my own. -(How that phrase haunts me like satiric laughter!) I would pursue my own -course; and no dead Fate would drag me against my will, or move me to -another purpose except my own. - -I dined at the Café de Paris with a friend, and as I was coming away -whom should I meet but my old enemy the Comte de Coigny! - -This gentleman was flushed with wine; he was descending the stairs with -two ladies, and when he saw me he started. We had not spoken for years, -yet he came forward to introduce himself. - -When we had exchanged a few platitudes, he turned to the matter that was -evidently the motive-power of his civility. - -"I am surprised to see you here to-night," said he, "for my friend M. le -Baron von Lichtenberg told me he was to dine with you." - -"He told you wrong." - -"Ah! just so. I thought there was some mistake; he would scarcely be -dining with you after the affair at the Mirlitons." - -"M. de Coigny," I replied, "I know of nothing that gives you the -warrant to introduce yourself into my private affairs. I dine where I -choose, do what I please; and should anyone question my actions they do -so at their own peril." - -Then I turned on my heel and left the café with my friend. - -"Another man would send you his seconds in reply to that," said my -friend. - -"And why not De Coigny?" - -"Oh, he is a coward. But he is also a bad man. Be on your guard, for he -will try to do you an evil turn." - -I laughed, and told him of the occurrence when, years ago, I had made De -Coigny's nose to bleed in the gardens of the Hôtel de Morny. - -"All the same," replied he, "be on your guard." - -Next day I had a very unpleasant interview with my guardian. I had not -only insulted Von Lichtenberg, it seems, but I had also hit the -convenances a foul blow. Hit them below the belt, in fact. - -"Ah, yes," said the old gentleman, "I try to do the best for you, and -see your return! In my own house, too! And to receive the message that -you were dining out only an hour before he was expected, giving me no -time to make excuses!" - -"What did he say?" I asked. - -"Say!" burst out M. le Vicomte. "He said nothing. Ah, if I had been in -his place! But, no. He only looked sad and depressed. Had he been a girl -instead of a man, a girl in love with you, monsieur, he could not have -taken the matter with more quietness or with more sad restraint. Say! -Ah, yes, I will tell you what he said, what we said. I will give you -the dialogue: - -"'I had hoped to meet someone else.' That was what he said. - -"And I: 'Alas! monsieur, Fate has ordained us to a solitude à deux.' - -"I did not mention your name, monsieur, for in mentioning your name I -would have mentioned a person who had disgraced me." - -"Very well," said I. "I will disgrace you no longer. I will leave Paris -to-morrow, and go to Nice." - -This determination I carried out next day. - -Now, under the tragic cloak of the story, under all these evasions of -mine and this pursuit of Von Lichtenberg, there lay a lovely comedy, of -which I, one of the chief actors, was utterly ignorant of the motive and -the extraordinary dénouement. But this, if you have not guessed it, you -will see presently. - -I went to Nice. I had never been South before; I had never seen the -white, white roads, the black shadows, the green olives, the leaping -palms; I had never seen the oranges glowing like dim golden lamps amidst -the glossy green leaves; and it seemed to me that I had never seen the -blue of sky or the blue of sea before I entered that Paradise. - -It is all changed now. The Avenue de la Gare from a road in heaven has -become a street in a town; vulgarity and wealth have done their work; -and to-day you may buy a diamond necklace of M. Marx, where, in 1869, -under a plane-tree, sat the old woman who sold peeled oranges for a sou -a dozen. - -I spent the winter at Nice, finding plenty of amusement and friends, -and cutting myself off completely from Paris, communicating only with my -guardian and with Franzius and his wife, who were living at the -Pavilion. - -The 4th of April was the date for the production of his opera, "Undine." -It was based on De la Motte Fouquet's lovely tale; and its success, as -far as I could learn from Carvalho, was assured, for one can say of -certain artistic productions, just as one can say of sunlight or pure -gold: "This is assured. Let the tastes or the fashions alter, this will -always be reckoned at its full value, a treasure indestructible." - -I had fixed to return to Paris on the 30th of March, but I came back -sooner; for on the 15th of March, driving on the Promenade des Anglais, -I passed a carriage in which were seated the Comte de Coigny and the -Baron Carl von Lichtenberg. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -THE OVERTURE TO "UNDINE" - - -It was the morning of the day of "Undine's" production. I had ridden -over to the Pavilion from Paris to breakfast with Franzius and Eloise. - -The rehearsal had almost wrecked Franzius, but he was all right now; the -ship was built; only the launching remained. As to Eloise, in six months -she had altered subtly yet marvellously. I had last seen her a girl in -her bridal dress; she was now a woman, for in six months she had aged -years, without gaining a wrinkle or losing a trace of the beauty of -youth. Love had ripened her; her every movement was marked by that -self-contained grace which comes from maturity of mind; the wild beauty -of spring had vanished, giving place to the full beauty of summer--the -grace of Demeter gazing upon the fields of immortal wheat. - -It was the wish of both my guardian and myself that Franzius and Eloise -should inhabit the Pavilion as much as they chose. We had offered the -place to them, indeed, as a wedding gift, but the permission to live -there was all they would take. - -This morning we breakfasted with the windows open. The swallows had not -come back, yet the wind that puffed the chintz curtains was warm as the -wind of May. Its sound amidst the trees was like the sound of April -walking in the woods. - -We came out and walked to the cottage of old Fauchard, whose wife was -ill. Eloise had made her some soup, and she carried it in one of those -tins the workmen use for their food. - -The birds were calling to each other from tree to tree; clumps of -violets were showing their blue amidst the brown of last autumn's fallen -leaves, and the forest, half fledged, was breathing in the delicious -breeze, sighing and shivering under the kiss of April. - -It was no poetic fancy that presence which we felt around us, that call -to which every fibre of my being responded. It was very real, and -reaching far. The swallows were listening to it away at Luxor and -Carnac; it touched the sun-baked Pyramids and the reeds of the Mareotid -lakes, that call from the green fields of France; fields that in a few -short months were to be ploughed by the cannon and watered with blood -and tears. - -We came to Paris in the afternoon, and, leaving Eloise with the Vicomte -at the Place Vendôme, I accompanied Franzius to the Opera House, where -he had some business to transact. - -The last rehearsal had taken place the day before, and the huge building -seemed very grim, empty and deserted as it was. - -"Franzius," I said, as we stood looking at the empty orchestra, "do you -remember that night in the Schloss Lichtenberg when you and Marx and the -rest of your band played in the great hall, and a child in his -nightshirt peeped at you from the gallery?" - -"My friend," replied Franzius, "do I remember? Ach Gott! but for that -night I would never have met you, I would never have met Eloise, I would -be now second violin at the Closerie de Lilas, a man without love and -without a future. It is to you I owe all." - -"Not a bit. It is to chance. And if it comes to that, it is to you I owe -all. But for you I would have been killed that night in my sleep. You -remember the hunting-song that held me--you gave me the words of it last -autumn. I wish some time you would write out the music for me." - -Franzius smiled; then, as if speaking with an effort: "It was to have -been a surprise. I have written out the music of it for you; it is in -the score of the opera; it forms part of the overture." - -I have never felt more excited than I felt that night. Despite the -assurance of Carvalho, I felt that the fate of my friend was hanging in -the balance; and I am sure I felt far more nervous than he, for he -seemed quite calm and certain of success. - -We dined early, and he departed before us, for he was to conduct. - -We arrived before the house was half filled, and took our places in M. -le Vicomte's box, which was situated in the first tier. Then the -flood-gates of the world where all the inhabitants are wealthy slowly -opened; box after box became a galaxy of stars; diamonds, ribbons, and -orders reflected the brilliant light which flooded the house, fans -fluttered like gorgeous butterflies, and the house, no longer half -deserted, became a scene of splendour filled with the perfume of -flowers, the intoxication of brilliancy; and my heart leapt to think of -Franzius as I had met him that night in the Boul' Miche, going along in -his old threadbare coat, with his violin under his arm, poor, -unfriended, and unknown, and to think of him now, like a magician, -compelling the wealth and beauty of Europe to his will! - -Ah, yes! there is something in genius after all, something in it, if it -is not trampled to death by fools before it has time to expand its -wings. - -The Empress was unable to attend, but the Emperor was there; and in the -box with him were the Duc de Gramont and the Duc de Bassano. The -Faubourg St. Germain was there, and the Chaussée d'Antin, old nobility -and new, at daggers drawn, yet brought under the same roof by Art. - -There was an electrical feeling in the place, a something I could not -describe, till the Vicomte de Chatellan gave it a name. - -"Success is in the air!" said he; then it seemed to me that I could hear -her wings, that glorious goddess more beautiful than the Athena of the -Parthenon. - -And now from the orchestra came the complaint of the violin-strings, -proclaiming their readiness, and the deep, gasping grunts of the -'cellos, saying as plainly as 'cellos could speak: "Begin! begin!" And -there was Franzius, in correct evening attire (how different from the -long coat of the Schloss Lichtenberg!), and I was swept right back to -the gallery overlooking the hall; and it seemed to me that I was -standing once more in my nightshirt, looking down at the guests, at -General Hahn, and my father, and the Countess Feliciani; at Major von -der Goltz, at the jägers crowding to the doorway, and then--three taps -of the conductor's magic bâton; and with the first bars of the overture, -Spring, who had been walking all day in the forest of Sènart, Spring -herself entered the Opera House; the rush of the wind over leagues of -blowing trees swept Paris and the glittering ceiling away; and the -jewels and decorations, the Faubourg St. Germain and the Chaussée -d'Antin, became trash under the blue of immortal skies. - -"All things bright and all things fair," sang the music, flowing and -beautiful, gemmed with star-like points of song. The skylark called from -the seventh heaven, and the wind and the rivers, the echoes of the -hills, the shepherd's song and the bells of sheep, the dim blue violets -and dancing daffodils made answer, heaven echoing earth, earth heaven, -till, deepening and changing, as a landscape stained with cloud shadows, -the music became overcast as if by the shadow of that tragic figure Man. -Man, for whom Spring is everything, and for whom Spring cares not at -all. Man, who gives a soul to Nature as her mortal lover gave a soul to -Undine; Man, who pursues a shadow for ever, even as the mysterious -hunters in the hunting-song pursued the shadow stag. - - - "Hound and horn give voice and tongue, - Fill the woods with music gay; - Let your echoes sweet be flung - To the Brocken far away." - - -Yes; there it was, the song that seemed woven in the texture of my life; -and as I sat, holding Eloise's hand and listening, it seemed to me that -the overture of "Undine" was in some way connected with the story of my -life, so gay and joyous in the opening bars, deepening now and shadowed -by Fate. - -There it was, the horn and the echoes of the horn leading the shadowy -dogs and the ghostly huntsmen--where? In pursuit of a shadow. Whither? - -That was the last mysterious message of the overture, in whose last -bars, sublime and peaceful, lay spread the mysterious country where all -hunting ceases, recalling from the loveliest of poems that country where -Orion, the hunter of the shadowy stag, possessed of Merope, dwells with -her in a remote and dense grove of cedars for ever and happily, whilst -the tamed shadow-stag drinks for ever at the stream. - - - "The shadow of a stag stoops to the stream. - Swift rolling toward the cataract, and drinks deeply. - Throughout the day unceasingly it drinks, - And when the sun hath vanished utterly, - Arm over arm the cedars spread their shade - Above that shadowy stag whose antlers still - Hang o'er the stream." - - -When the curtain fell on the first act of "Undine," the opera was -already a success. - -"Ah, yes," said M. le Vicomte, "that is music. Beside it, the drumming -and trumpeting of Wagner sound like the noise of a village fair." Then, -turning to Eloise: "My congratulations." Then he left the box, to talk -to friends and take his share in the incipient triumph. - -It was really a triumph for him. He had boasted at the clubs of the new -musician he had discovered; and it was a supreme satisfaction to him -that his diamond had not turned out to be a piece of glass. - -"Eloise," said I, "it's a success already; and if I had written ten -thousand operas of my own, and they had all been successful on the same -night, I would not feel the pleasure I feel now. Dear old Franzius----" - -As if the name had called for an answer, a light knock came to the door -of the box. The door opened, and Baron Carl von Lichtenberg stood before -me. M. le Duc de Choiseul and the Marquis de Mérode, two well-known -boulevardiers, stood behind him. - -"Monsieur," said Von Lichtenberg, advancing towards me, "I have sought -you in many places without avail since the incident which occurred at -the Mirlitons, on the 1st of October last. I sought you to pay you this -compliment." And he flicked me on the shoulder with the white glove -which he had drawn from his hand. - -I bowed, and he withdrew. - -That was all. A deadly insult, very nicely wrapped up, lay in "this -compliment"--and he had struck me. - -Ah, well! it was to be. Although I was a living man with a will of my -own, it seemed that my will could not prevent my meeting Von -Lichtenberg; and, to point the matter, the challenge would have to come -from me. I could not escape. Heaven knows I have a sufficiency of animal -courage, yet for a moment the thought came to me of leaving Paris and -ignoring the insult, sacrificing honour and name rather than submit to -the unknown destination towards which Fate was driving me. Some instinct -told me that this duel would have consequences far beyond what I could -imagine; that it was a turning-point in my life, having passed which my -fate would be irremediably fixed. - -Only for a moment came the suicidal thought of flight, to be immediately -dismissed. Let come what might, it was not my fault. I would send my -seconds to Von Lichtenberg in the morning. Then I turned to Eloise, and -found her leaning against the side of the box, pale, and seemingly in a -fainting state. - -"I am all right," she murmured, "but, oh, Toto, it was his face!" - -"His face?" - -"His face I saw deep down in the water of the moat, drowned, and with -the weeds floating across it." - -I remembered that day when, leaning on the drawbridge rail, and looking -down into the moat water, she had seen what seemed a face. - -"Eloise," I said, taking her hands in mine, "come to yourself. The -second act is about to begin. Do not let other people see you pale like -this. What matters it? He and I have an account to settle: what matters -it? You have Franzius to think of. Listen to me. Do you know who he is? -He is Baron Carl von Lichtenberg--he was little Carl. Do you remember -the gardens of Lichtenberg and the drum, and how we marched away into -the forest----" - -And before Eloise could answer, the Vicomte returned, and the curtain -rose on the forest of the lovely land where Undine met her lover. - -The opera was a great success. Not since the marvellous first night of -"The Barber of Seville" had Paris shown such enthusiasm. But the -pleasure was dimmed for me, and I saw everything at a distance. - -During the interval between the second and third acts, I sent a message -to De Brissac and another friend who were in the house, to meet me at -the Place Vendôme that night; and towards one in the morning we met in -my apartments, and I gave them their commission. - -Then I went to bed and to sleep, with the music of "Undine" ringing in -my ears, and in my heart the knowledge of Franzius' triumph, and the -knowledge that I had helped him to it. - -At eleven o'clock next morning De Brissac was announced. - -Von Lichtenberg had accepted my challenge, with an extraordinary -proviso: the duel was not to take place till that day three months. - -"He will fight you to-day if you press the point," said De Brissac, "but -he asked me to lay before you the fact that he will require three months -in which to arrange his affairs, which are partly political. He added," -continued De Brissac grimly, "that, as you have evaded him for three -months and more, you cannot in courtesy refuse him this favour." - -"I accept. So he added that--another insult!" - -"He is a strange person," said De Brissac, "though in all outward -respects a perfect nobleman. He is a strange person, and I do not care -for him. In my eyes this is a forced business--une mauvaise querelle." - -"There have been several duels to the death between our houses," replied -I. "Well, let it be so. On the 5th of July we shall meet." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - -PREPARING FOR THE DUEL - - -On the afternoon of the same day upon which I sent him my seconds, Baron -Carl von Lichtenberg left Paris. So quietly had the whole affair been -transacted at the Opera that not till noon the following day did my -guardian hear of it. - -He was rather pleased at first. In those days a young man could not have -been said to make his début till he had proved his courage. Besides, my -supposed insult to the Baron had been much talked about; and the affair -between us, to use the Vicomte's expression, was like an abscess that -required opening. - -But when he heard of the three months' condition he was less pleased. - -"Why three months?" said he. "In Heaven's name, are not forty-eight -hours enough for any man in which to put his house in order! What -business can he possibly be about which requires three months to attend -to? I don't like the look of this," he finished. "The Lichtenbergs are a -mad race. But as you have accepted the condition you must abide by it." - -How widely the old gentleman would have opened his eyes had he known -then the reason why Baron Carl von Lichtenberg required three months in -which to put his house in order before the duel! But he knew as little -as I of the mysterious event towards which I was being driven--I, a -living man, with a will of my own. - -I had fully made up my mind that death lay before me. Swords were the -weapons chosen by Von Lichtenberg, and I was an expert swordsman, but my -sword would never pierce Carl von Lichtenberg. Of that I was determined. - -The old fatality which had attended the relationship of the Lichtenbergs -and the Saluces was coming to a head. Yes; I was condemned to fight, but -Fate could not condemn me to kill. - -If this Baron Carl von Lichtenberg were in reality little Carl, then Von -Lichtenberg had foreseen the duel; it was with this in view that he had -attempted my assassination. "Peace, Von Lichtenberg," said I to myself. -"No harm will come to your child through me, unless he flings himself on -my sword. Even then I would let the weapon drop from my hand." And I -said this not from special goodwill to the living or the dead, but just -because I refused to be the instrument of Fate. - -I preferred to be the victim, and for this I was prepared; nay, I felt -almost certain that I should remain on the ground; and all through that -summer the thought filled me with a vague melancholy, a mist that made -the landscape of life more beautiful, its distances and its beauties -more grand, its trivialities more futile. - -Only when we come near the end do we see life as it is, and things in -their just proportions. I had seen the splendour of society, the pomp of -Royalty, and that thing men call the glory of the world. Did I regret -to leave all this? It never even entered into my consideration. It was -nothing to me. Nothing beside the passionate appeal of summer, the cry -of life that came from all things bright and all things fair; from the -roses of Saluce, from the trees of the forest, and the birds I loved. - -Ah! that glorious summer! Etiolles was a fire of roses, and the deep, -dark heart of the forest a furnace of life. The bees in the limes and -the wind in the beech-trees, the chirrup and buzz of a million happy -insects, filled the air with a ferment of sound, whilst in the open -spaces the pools lay blue as turquoises under the vast blue dome of -summer. - -I spent most of my time with Franzius and Eloise. We would take our food -with us, and spend long days exploring the forest, which, like some -mysterious house, had ever some new room to be discovered, some passage -which was not there yesterday, some window opened by fairies during the -night, and giving upon a new and magic prospect. - -They knew nothing of my impending encounter, nothing of the mystery that -surrounded me. Happy in their love, they did not guess my sadness, and -I, though their happiness filled me with pleasure, could not in the -least grasp it. Never having loved, I could not see the paradise which -surrounded them. - -The blindest people on earth are the people who have never loved, the -people who have not yet lived. - -But I could not see the paradise that surrounded them; and so the summer -passed on, and June drew near July. - -Every few days I would go to Paris, moved by an unrest for which I -could not account. - -One day--it was the 26th of June--I had just reached the Place Vendôme, -when Beril informed me that my guardian wished to see me. - -I found the old gentleman in his dressing-gown, sorting and arranging -papers. - -"I am leaving Paris," said M. le Vicomte, "for my estates in Auvergne, -where I have to put some things in order. From there I am starting on a -visit to England." - -"To England! Why?" - -"My doctor has ordered me rosbif," replied the old gentleman. Then, -rising, he opened the door of the room suddenly, and looked out. - -"Beril has the habit of applying his ear to keyholes," he explained. -"No, my dear Patrique; it is not the state of my health that is moving -me to this journey, but the state of France. You know the story of the -rats and the sinking ship?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, call me a rat." - -He went on sorting his papers. - -"Now," he continued, "here is a list of the shares in which I have -invested your money. All good, solid English securities. Take it. Our -lawyer has all the bonds and scrip. I am taking them with me to England. -My address will be Long's Hotel, in Bond Street, London. What do you -propose to do? Follow me there, or remain in France?" - -"First of all," I replied, "why are you going like this? Nothing is -threatening France----" - -"Oho!" said my guardian. "And where have you been studying politics? -Down amongst the rabbits at Saluce?" - -"I read the papers." - -"Just so, and I read the times. I have been reading them for fifty-seven -years. But that is not all. Patrique, do you know that we have a -mysterious friend, who interests himself in our affairs?" - -"I was unaware of the fact." - -"Well, the fact remains. Now, what I am going to tell you is very -secret. I cannot even give you the name of our informant, as I am -pledged to an oath of secrecy. But the news has come to me through the -German Foreign Office. News has come to me that France is in vital -danger." He rose, trembling with excitement. "News has come to me that a -thunderbolt is going to fall on France, not from heaven, but from -there--from there! from there!" He almost shouted the words, pointing -with a shaking finger in a direction which I took to indicate Germany. - -I have never seen anything more dramatic than the Vicomte's gesture--the -shaking hand, the intense expression, the fire in his old eyes, as he -stood with one hand grasping the dressing-gown about him, as a Roman -might have grasped his toga, the other pointing to the visionary enemy. - -Then he sank back in his chair. - -"Well," I said, "if danger is threatening France, I remain." - -"That is as you please," replied he. "I go." - -"But why go so soon? Surely you might wait till events are more -assured?" - -"Yes," replied he, "and then they would say I had run away. As it is, I -do not run away. I simply depart before the event." - -"But morally----" - -"There are no morals in politics." - -The terrible old man was certainly right in that. - -I now see what he foresaw. Not only was France not fit for war, but -Paris was not fit to meet defeat. He foresaw it all, the Commune, houses -torn to pieces, the Column Vendôme lying on the ground, the muffled -drums, the firing-parties, the trenches filled with dead. He foresaw it -all, yet made one great mistake. He imagined the whole of France to be -as rotten as Paris. But then he was a boulevardier, and for him Paris -was France. - -"Well," I said, "I am not a politician, so the morals of politics do not -affect me. France has been my mother: if she is threatened by calamity, -I will remain with her. I have eaten her bread; my father and my -grandfather fought in her wars; every penny I possess comes to me from -her; and were I to leave her now I would feel dishonoured. Besides, I -have business to attend to. You remember the appointment I have to meet -on the 5th of July." - -I really believe the old gentleman had quite forgotten about the duel. - -"Ah!" said he. "Lichtenberg." And he struck his knee with his fist. Then -he got up and paced the room in deep thought. Then, turning to me, he -smiled. - -"Yes," he said, "I had forgotten. This affair will keep you in Paris; -but when it is over, please to remember my advice and my address in -England." - -"When it is over," replied I, "I may be dead." - -"Oh, no," said the Vicomte; "you will not be dead. At least"--and here -he smiled again--"not in my opinion." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV - -A LESSON WITH THE FOILS - - -He departed for Auvergne next day, he and Beril, and a pile of luggage. -A number of people saw him off from the station, including myself. - -They did not see a rat leaving a sinking ship: they saw a jovial old -gentleman, with a cigar in his mouth, entering a first-class carriage, a -nobleman departing to visit his estates. He was to be back in a month, -so he said; and the last I saw of him was a jovial red face, and a hand -waving a copy of the "Charivari" to the little crowd of friends he had -left on the platform. - -There was a touch of humour in that; and I could not help laughing, as I -turned home, at this man, so great in some ways, so little in others, so -kind, so heartless, so bad, so good; and such a perfect "shuffler." He -was by nature, above all things, an escaper from difficulties. I could -not help remembering how he had shuffled out of the painful duty of -breaking the news of my father's death to me; how he had shuffled out of -the responsibility of my education and bringing up; a hundred other -instances occurred to me, leading up to this last business of shuffling -out of France at the first scent of disaster. I am nearly sure that had -he been with the army he would have found some means of shuffling it -out of the trap at Sedan; at all events, I am perfectly certain he would -have escaped himself. - -What perplexed me was the problem as to how he had obtained his news -from the German Foreign Office. Little as I knew of the methods of the -Chancelleries of Europe, a fool would understand that such vital, such -awful information could not escape from the innermost sanctum of the -Berlin Chancellerie--that is to say, if it were real. I was thrown back -on the hypothesis that it was false--a canard let escape purposefully, -one of Bismarck's wild ducks that were always stringing in flight across -Europe, set free by that marvellous man, the only man of his age, or any -other, perhaps, who could bring his country in touch with war for some -political reason, and then fend her off unhurt. - -I returned to the Place Vendôme, where I found Joubert in a despondent -mood. The departure of Beril had taken from him one of his interests in -life. He had come to look upon his daily fight with Beril as an -accompaniment to the digestion of his daily bread. The two old fellows -had grown almost like man and wife, as far as nagging goes; they had -hurled boots at each other, squabbled perpetually, vilified each other, -and once had come to blows. Now that the separation had occurred, the -great blank caused by it appeared in Joubert's face. - -Joubert had many good qualities; among others, he was a born and perfect -swordsman. When quite young, and stationed in Paris, he had put in a -good deal of his spare time at Carduso's School of Arms, then situated -near the Chinese Baths. He made a little money this way, instructing -young bloods in the art of self-defence; and he had learnt many tricks -from Carduso, that magician of whom it has been said that he was born -with a rapier in his hand. I owed a good deal of my own proficiency with -the sword to Joubert, who, even when I was a child, had shown me the -difference of carte and tierce with my little cane. - -To-day an idea struck me. - -"Joubert," said I. - -"Monsieur!" replied Joubert. - -"Attention." - -"Ah, oui, attention," grumbled Joubert, going on with his business, -which happened to be the brushing of a coat. "I'm attending to the moths -that have got in your overcoat." - -"Leave them alone, and see here." I took a pair of foils from the wall, -and presented one of them by the hilt. - -"Catch hold. I want a lesson." - -"There you go, there you go!" said Joubert, putting the foil under his -arm, and finishing the coat. "Always when I am busy, and monsieur's -clothes----" - -"Never mind monsieur's clothes," I replied. "I want a lesson. See here: -do you remember telling me a trick of Carduso's----" - -"A hundred. Which one?" - -"A trick of pinking a man in a certain place in the arm, where the big -nerve runs, so that his arm is paralysed, and he can't go on fighting." - -"Mais oui," said the old fellow, bending the rapier with the button on -the tip of his boot. - -"Well, show me it." - -"Aha!" said Joubert, his eyes lighting up, "la monsieur going to fight?" - -"Yes; it has come to that, Joubert. It seems that a man cannot live -quietly in this Paris of yours without fighting for his life like some -beast in an African forest. But I don't want to kill my man--only to put -him out of action." - -"And why not kill him?" asked Joubert. "Mordieu, what is the use of -fighting, else? Why take a sword in your hand if you only want to pay -him compliments?" - -"Never mind. I don't want to kill him." - -"And who is the gentleman whom you desire to scratch?" - -"I will tell you that the morning of the affair, the 5th of July. We -meet in the Bois de Boulogne. I will let you drive me, and you will see -the business." - -"Good!" said Joubert. "If one cannot watch lions fighting, let us then -watch cats. Attention!" - -Joubert was a bit over seventy, but he had the dexterity and almost the -quickness of a young man. The spot to be reached is just over the bone -half way down the arm. A nerve--I think they call it the musculo -spiral--winds round the bone here. If you can pierce it, you entirely -demoralise your opponent. Just as a bullet-wound in the hand reduces a -strong man into the condition of a hysterical woman, so does a touch -here. - -The button of Joubert's foil sent a tingle down my arm, proclaiming that -the spot had been reached. - -Then I returned the compliment. - -We practised for half an hour, and again on the next day. - -And day followed day, till the 4th of July broke over Paris, cloudless -and perfect. - -I was up early, and at ten o'clock I called upon De Brissac at his -rooms, the Rue Helder. - -"Ah!" said he, "I'm glad to see you." - -"How so?" replied I, for his manner indicated something more than an -ordinary greeting. - -"Well, as a matter of fact," replied he, "I heard last night--in fact, -it was generally spoken of on the Boulevards--that you had arranged the -matter amicably with the Baron von Lichtenberg." - -"That I had arranged the matter?" - -"People say you have apologised to him." - -"I apologise? Why, my dear sir, it was he who insulted me! He struck me -on the shoulder with his glove. How, then, could I apologise?" - -"Not for that, but for the occurrence at the Mirlitons. So it is a -canard?" - -"The wildest." - -"Ah, I thought so. And I think I know who set it flying--De Coigny." - -"I would not be surprised; he is an old enemy of mine." - -"I am certain of it," said De Brissac, "For M. de Champfleury, who is -acting with me also as your second, told me that the report came to a -friend of his from the mouth of M. de Coigny." - -"De Brissac," I said, "bring with you another friend--someone not -indisposed to De Coigny--to-morrow." - -"Why?" - -"M. de Coigny----" Then I stopped, for the determination I had come to -was of such a nature that I thought it best to leave the declaration of -it till we were on the ground. - -"Why?" asked again De Brissac. - -"Oh, just as a spectator. It will be worth his while, for, if I mistake -not, there will be something worth seeing to-morrow morning at seven -o'clock in the Avenue of the Minimes, just by the pond, for that is, I -believe, our place of meeting." - -De Brissac bowed. - -"I will bring a friend," said he. - -Little did I think of the surprising thing that friend would see; and -little did De Brissac dream that the duel in which he was to take part -would be noticeable above all other duels in the history of duelling -even unto this day. - -"Till to-morrow, at seven, then," said I. - -"Till to-morrow," replied De Brissac. - -Then I took my departure. - -The Vicomte, before starting on his visit to Auvergne, had cleared his -money and his property out of Paris as far as possible, but he had left -the hotel in the Place Vendôme "all standing," as the sailors say. To -have removed his furniture, his horses, and his equipages would have -been to declare his hand; and if by any chance the storm had not burst -and France had emerged from her difficulties, the man who had taken -shelter, or, in plainer words, taken flight, would have found a very -curious welcome on his return to the beloved Boulevards. He had foresees -everything, even the chance of success, and he had prepared for -everything, always with his mind's eye on failure. - -So I had a stable full of horses at my disposal, and a house full of -servants; all the bills were paid; there was unlimited credit, and I had -ten thousand francs in my pocketbook, which he had left with me in case -of eventualities. - -I returned from De Brissac's to the Place Vendôme, ordered out a britzka -and a pair of swift horses, and told the coachman to take me to -Etiolles. - -I wished to shake hands with Franzius and kiss Eloise again. I had also -determined to tell them of what was to happen on the morrow. - -We passed through Bercy, and retook the same road I had taken that -morning in May when I had gone down to make arrangements for Eloise's -reception at the Pavilion. It was the same road, but dressed now in the -glory of summer. - -Heavens! when I think of that road, so peaceful, the houses wearing such -a contented look, the flowers in the garden, the little children playing -on the doorsteps; that road so soon to resound to the tramp of the -German hordes, and the drums of war, the rolling of artillery and -baggage-wagons--when I think of that scene of peace and what followed! - -And now it is all so far away, so many summers have re-dressed that road -again; and what of it all remains? Only an old story with which Father -Maboeuf bores the drinkers at the Grape Inn, of Champrosay; a tale -which old men in Germany tell the grandchildren; a song or two. Scarcely -that. - -When I reached the Pavilion, Franzius and Eloise were not there. Madame -Ancelot said they had taken money and food with them, and "gone off." -They often did this, sometimes for a couple of days: the gipsy that was -in Franzius' feet required a change. This strange pair, who were now -more than ever like lovers, would "go off," spend days in the open, and -stop at village inns at night. Franzius had infected his companion with -the love of freedom. He was now famous. Another man in his position -would have been at Biarritz or Trouville, basking in the social sun, but -the only sun desired by Franzius was the sun of heaven. He refused to be -lionised. A Bohemian to the ends of his fingers, a gipsy to the soles of -his boots, brown as a berry with the sun and open air, carrying his -violin under his arm: had you met him on a country road, you would never -have suspected him to be Franzius, the composer of "Undine," who, had he -chosen, could, with a few sweeps of his bow on a concert platform, have -gained two thousand francs on a summer's afternoon. - -"They did not say when they would be back?" - -"No," replied Madame Ancelot; "but they won't be back to-day, or maybe -to-morrow: they took a ham with them." - -"Ah!" - -"And a chicken. It was in a basket that madame carried. They went a way -through the woods, but that leads everywhere; and one can't say whether -they passed last night at Champrosay or at some cottage. For myself, I -believe they sometimes sleep in the woods, and don't trouble about -houses at all." - -To sleep in God's open air seemed the last act of madness to Madame -Ancelot, who, a peasant born and bred, was accustomed, by experience and -from tradition, to sleep in a bedroom almost hermetically sealed. - -I had myself suspected the Franzius' of sleeping on occasion in barns -and hayricks, but I said nothing. - -I was depressed at not finding the two people I loved most on earth, for -it was now quite beyond chance that I would meet them before to-morrow -morning; and after to-morrow morning---- Ah, well--after to-morrow -morning---- - -I left the Pavilion and walked into the château gardens. These gardens, -beloved by Eloise, kept our house in the Place Vendôme supplied with -flowers. They were very old. M. de Sartines and M. de Maupeon had walked -here amidst the roses, discussing State intrigues; the full skirts of -the Duchesse de Gramont had swept that lawn; and on that stone seat, -under the great fig-trees' cave-like shelter, the Princesse de Guemenée -had sat amidst brocaded cushions, and there had received the news of the -Duc de Choiseul's disgrace; and far beyond that went the history of -these walks, these lawns, these fountains playing in the sun; these old, -old walls, warmed by the suns of two hundred summers; rich red walls, -moss-lined, to which the peach-trees still clung as they had clung when -La Vallière was still a girl, when La Fontaine was still a man, and -Monsieur Fouquet held his court at Vaux. - -No poet has written such lovely things as Time had written here in -those three lovely books--the rose garden, the sunk garden, and the -Dutch garden of Saluce; books whose leaves in summer were ever being -turned over by the idle fingers of the wind. Years of desolation had -completed their charm, just as years of death the charm of some vanished -poet's works. - -Peopled with ghosts and flowers, voices of fountains and voices of -birds, walking there alone on a summer's day one would scarcely have -dared to call out, lest some silvery voice made answer, or some white -hand from amidst the rose-bushes, some hand once whiter than the white -rose, some voice once sweeter than the voices of the birds. - -"And Marianne de l'Orme, how is she--the Austrian, and she whom they -call the Flower of Light? Diane de Christeuil, Colombe de -Gaillefontaine, Aloise de Gondalaurier, sweet-named ghosts: where are -ye?" - -"Who knows?" would reply the breeze in the rose-bushes. "They are here, -they are here," the birds in the trees. - -Here had walked, in times long past, the ladies of the house of Saluce. -This family, from which I drew half my being, had for me a charm and -mystery beyond expression. I was a Mahon, all my traditions were Irish; -yet I was linked with this family, of whom all were dead, this family -whose stately history went back into the remote past. - -I had never seen my mother; I had never seen a living Saluce; they were -all vanished. Nothing remained but their pictures and their names, yet -I had come from them in part. They were my ancestors, and my likeness -had walked the earth, in the form of Philippe de Saluce, over two -hundred years before I was born; and my likeness in the form of Philippe -de Saluce had---- We know what he had done. - -The doors of the château were open, and some workmen were busy in the -hall, repairing the oakwork. They were talking and laughing, and their -voices had set the echo chattering in the gallery above. - -Marianne seemed mocking them; and as I gave them good-day and examined -their work her voice seemed mocking mine. - -Then I left the men, and came upstairs to look at the place once again. -I passed from corridor to corridor, and at last found the turret-room -whither I had come that day with Eloise. - -It was just the same, everything in exactly the same place, even to the -books on the table. I examined them: some were quite modern, drawings by -Gavarni and De Musset's poems; some were more antique. - -Amongst them was a work in gilded boards, the history of the Saluce -family, written by one Armand de Saluce, in the year 1820, and dedicated -rather fulsomely to the then head of the house. - -He was some poor relation evidently, Armand, and his language was very -flowery; and from his little book one might have imagined the Saluces a -family of saints and lambs. - -I turned the pages this way and that, till I found what he had to say -about Philippe. - -Philippe de Saluce, according to Armand, had died in consequence of an -unfortunate love-affair. - -It did not say he had drowned his fiancée--that he was a murderer. - -With the book in my hand I fell asleep, lulled by the drowsy warmth of -the room, and the softness of the cushions of the window-seat. - -When I awoke the light had changed, and, looking at my watch, I found it -to be nearly six o'clock. - -I rose, put the book on the table, and came downstairs. - -The workmen had gone, and they had locked the door! - -Not for a few moments did my position realise itself to me. - -Every door I knew to be barred and locked; every window was also barred -on the ground floor, except those that were too narrow for a man's entry -or exit. No one would come till the morning. Madame Ancelot would think -I had returned to Paris by train, and send the carriage back. I was -trapped in the château of Saluce; and at seven o'clock to-morrow I had -to meet Von Lichtenberg, or be dishonoured for life! - -A nice situation, truly! - -I laughed out loud from pure rage and vexation, and the echo above -returned my laughter mockingly. - -In my despair I tried all the doors, uselessly; they were solid as the -doors of the Bastille. - -Then I remembered a window that was not barred--the stained-glass window -of the banqueting-room. It was fifteen feet from the ground, but had it -been more I would have risked it. - -I went to the banqueting-room, and stood before the window, my only way -to freedom and honour. It was a lovely creation of stained glass. The -arms of the Saluces and the arms of the noble families with whom they -were connected stood there, the Lichtenbergs amidst the rest. The -evening light, shining through the stained glass, repeated the colours -vaguely upon the polished parquet of the floor. The light, shining -through the tender colours of the glass, brought with it an indefinable -sadness. To break this thing would be like striking the dead, -dishonouring the past. An act of vandalism beyond name. - -This window was more than a window: it was a barrier between me and my -fate. The arms of the Lichtenbergs, the Saluces, the Montmorencies, had -drawn themselves up before me; it was as if they would stand between me -and the encounter of the morrow, but only as a menace. They could offer -no real opposition to my physical acts; they could only say, "Take -warning!" - -Then, with the brutality of your kind-hearted man, who, condemned to -kill an animal, and loathing the business, strikes fiercely and blindly, -causing more destruction than necessary, I seized a heavy bronze bar -from the fireplace and attacked the window. The blows echoed from the -roof--smash! smash!--and the chattering of falling glass came from the -garden-walk outside; the leadwork which had held the glass fragments -together bulged out, and had to be broken out by incessant blows, which -brought down shower after shower of glass fragments from that part of -the window which lay above the line of my attack; and lo! when I had -once entered on the business, all remorse fled, and a fury for -destruction rose in my heart that I had never felt before, nor had I -even suspected my own capacity for the feeling. So, perhaps, Philippe de -Saluce felt when he destroyed his lover in a sudden accession of fury. I -do not know, but I know that from behind some veil in my mind a new man -stepped out, as Monsieur Hyde stepped from the soul of Monsieur Jekyll, -and that I smashed and smashed for the pure pleasure, and from the -vicious lust of destruction. - -Condemned to act by Fate, I revenged myself after the fashion of a -tiger. Then, tearing a brocaded curtain down from its attachments, I -spread it over the glass-splintered edge of the sill, crawled over it, -lowered myself, dropped, and was free. - -As I stood on the garden-path, looking up at the ruin I had -accomplished, I heard footsteps. - -The workmen were returning. - -"Ah, mon Dieu, monsieur!" cried the chief ouvrier, "we had forgotten -you. Not till five minutes ago did Jacques remember that monsieur had -not left the house when we bolted the door and came away; so we -returned, running all the way from Etiolles." - -So my destruction of the window had been in vain, it would seem! Not so; -for, just as at a first debauch the demon of drunkenness enters a man's -heart, so at this orgie of destruction did the demon of destruction -enter mine. - -"Joubert," said I that night, as I went to bed, "you have everything -ready for to-morrow?" - -"All is ready," replied Joubert. - -"You will call me at half-past five." - -"Yes, monsieur. And your promise?" - -"My promise?" - -"To tell me with whom you are going to fight?" - -"Ah, yes! Well, I have two affairs on to-morrow morning. I am going to -scratch Baron Carl von Lichtenberg on the arm, and I am going to drive -my sword through M. de Coigny's heart." - -"Von Lichtenberg!" cried Joubert. "You are going to fight with a -Lichtenberg, one of that accursed lot!" - -"I am going to fight with M. de Coigny. We have been enemies for years; -he has mixed himself in this affair; he has offered himself up as a -sacrifice----" - -"Mon Dieu!" cried the old fellow, drawing back, "is it you that are -speaking, or the devil?" - -I was sitting up in bed; and in a mirror across the room I saw the wan -reflection of my own face, and started at the expression of wrath and -black hatred portrayed there. - -I had hated De Coigny for years, but not till now did I know my own -capacity for hate. Thus we go through life for years not knowing, till -some day some hand draws the curtain back, holds up the mirror, reveals -the other man, the Monsieur Hyde who has hidden himself at birth in the -heart of Monsieur Jekyll. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - -THE DUEL - - -"Half-past five!" - -Joubert was standing by the window, my bath-towels over his arm. He had -drawn up the blind, and the light of early morning filled the room. I -could have cursed Joubert, for he had awakened me from a most lovely -dream. - -In a full blaze of sunlight I had been walking in the gardens of -Lichtenberg with Eloise; we were children again, and little Carl was -marching before us, beating his drum. Past the fountains, past the -Running Man carved in stone, we went, then into the shade of the forest, -led by little Carl towards some great but indefinable happiness. - -"Where are they?" I murmured, half unconscious that I was speaking, and -rubbing my eyes as if to bring back the happy vision. - -"Who?" asked Joubert. - -I did not answer him. Who, indeed? Those children for ever vanished. - -I dressed rapidly, and breakfasted. I felt both nervous and excited, -exactly as I had felt on the night of the production of "Undine." - -Then I sat down to write a line to Franzius and Eloise. - -I had divided my property, in case of my death, leaving half to my -guardian and half to Eloise. The will was with our lawyer, and I said so -in a postscript to my note. When I had finished, Joubert appeared. - -"The carriage is at the door." - -I sealed the letter, and handed it to him. - -"In case of accidents," said I, "post this." - -Joubert saluted, and put it in his pocket without glancing at the -superscription. - -Joubert was grave. He had never saluted me before, except in a spirit of -half mockery--the way one would salute a child. - -I had been a child in his eyes until now, but now I was evidently a man, -his master; and nothing seemed, up to this, to have divided me so -sharply from my childhood and my past as this suddenly begotten change -in Joubert's manner; and as I stepped from the hall-door on to the -pavement I felt that I was stepping for the first time into the world of -manhood; that all had been play with me till now, and that now, this -morning, the grim business of life had begun. - -Joubert got on the box beside the coachman, and we started. - -The early sun was bright on the trees and houses of the Champs Elysées; -the trees of the Bois de Boulogne were waving in the early morning -breeze; all was bright and all was fair; and it seemed a pity--a -thousand pities--to have to die a morning like this, to shut one's eyes -for ever, and never more see the sun. - -As we drew near our destination, I felt exactly as I often had felt in -childhood when at the door of the dentist's: a strong desire to return -home, coupled with a strong repugnance to face what had to be done. - -The avenue of the Minimes has vanished. It was a lovely place, -tree-sheltered and leading by a pond where the green rushes whispered -beneath silvery willows, making a picture after the heart of Puvis de -Chavannes. It opened out of a broad drive, and was a favourite spot for -the settlement of affairs of honour. - -"We are first," cried Joubert, turning his head. - -I stood up. Yes; there was no other carriage; in fact, we were ten -minutes before our time--a great mistake, for a ten minutes' wait in an -affair of this description is one of the most unsettling things possible -for the nerves of a man. We drew up near the entrance to the Avenue des -Minimes, and, getting out, I paced up and down, for the early morning -was chilly, though it gave promise of a glorious day. - -Ah! here they came--at least, some of them. A carriage rapidly driven -was coming along the drive. There were three gentlemen in it, my -seconds, De Brissac and M. de Champfleury, and a tall personage who -turned out to be Colonel Savernac, the extra friend whom I had asked De -Brissac to bring. - -We had scarcely exchanged greetings when another carriage arrived, -containing De Coigny and Baron Struve--who were the seconds of the Baron -Carl von Lichtenberg--and Dr. Pons, the surgeon. - -The seconds of either party bowed one to the other. - -De Brissac took out his watch. - -"What time do you make it, M. de Coigny?" - -"Five minutes to the hour," replied De Coigny. - -"Ah! I make it the hour. My watch is set by the Observatory clock. -Still, perhaps it may have gone wrong. Make it, then, five minutes to -the hour. And hi! there! Move on those carriages. We are as noticeable -as the front of the Opera House; and should a mounted gendarme come this -way there will be trouble." - -"Monsieur," said Joubert, jumping down as the carriages moved off, "you -promised." - -"Yes," said I, half to Joubert, half to De Brissac. "I promised. You may -remain as a spectator--at a distance." - -"A servant!" said De Coigny. - -"No, Monsieur de Coigny," I replied; "a faithful friend, and a soldier -of Napoleon." - -De Coigny turned on his heel, and began talking to Dr. Pons, who stood -with a mahogany case under his arm. - -"Notice," I said to De Brissac. "De Coigny has turned his back upon me; -but within an hour's time, if I do not fall by the sword of Von -Lichtenberg, I will require him to turn his face to me." - -"You are going to----" - -"Kill him," I replied. - -De Brissac shrugged his shoulders, and looked again at his watch. - -"I make it five minutes past the hour, M. de Coigny." - -De Coigny looked at his watch and nodded. - -"By the way," I heard Champfleury say to one of my adversary's seconds, -"has anyone seen anything of M. le Baron Carl von Lichtenberg during the -last three months?" - -"I have not," replied the gentleman addressed, "nor have I met anyone -who has. The Prussian Embassy people do not know anything of his -whereabouts: he has had leave of absence." - -"Rest assured," said De Coigny, "he will arrive. He is not a coward." - -"All the same, he is late," said De Brissac. - -I looked at my watch. It was now ten minutes past seven, an inexcusable -delay on Von Lichtenberg's part, unless, indeed, some accident had -occurred. - -Five more minutes slowly passed; the sun had now completely freed -himself from the mists of the Bois; the light struck down the path; it -struck the mahogany instrument-case under the arm of Dr. Pons, and the -hilts of the rapiers which De Brissac was carrying concealed in the -folds of a long, fawn-coloured overcoat. - -"At twenty minutes past," said De Brissac, "I shall declare the duel -postponed. I shall take my principal home and I shall demand an -explanation, M. de Coigny." - -Scarcely had he spoken than Dr. Pons, who had been looking along the -drive in the direction of the Champs Elysées, cried: "Here he comes." - -A closed carriage, drawn by two magnificent Orloff horses, had entered -the broad drive and was advancing at full speed. I do not know how the -weird impression came to me, but the closed carriage drawn by the black -Russian horses suggested to me a funeral-carriage; and before it, as it -came, the sunlight seemed to wither from the drive. - -A few paces from us the coachman literally brought the horses on their -haunches, the door of the carriage opened, and a lady stepped out. - -A girl of about eighteen, an apparition so exquisite, so full of grace, -so bright, so unexpected, that the men around me, used to beauty, -world-worn and cynical as they were, said no word, and remained -motionless as statues, whilst I clung to the arm of De Brissac. - -For the girl was Margaret von Lichtenberg--Margaret von Lichtenberg, -little Carl, Baron Carl, all these apotheosised! And as I looked, a -voice--Eloise's childish voice, heard long years ago--again murmured in -my ear: - -"Little Carl is a girl." - -Then I knew that it was she--the woman so mysteriously bound up in my -life; and as a man drowning remembers his whole past, in a flash of -thought I remembered all: Von Lichtenberg's mad attempt to assassinate -me, his dying words; the apparition of little Carl that had lured me -into the gravelpit and lamed me for life; Baron Carl von Lichtenberg and -his pursuit of me; my fight against Fate; my own words: "I will not--I -will not! I am a living man with a will of my own; no dead Fate shall -lead me or drive me." But I had never thought of this. I had played -against Fate, and now I felt dimly that I had lost. I had not suspected -this card which the dealer had slipped up his sleeve, and which now -appeared to confound me, this lovely being, whose voice I now heard -addressing De Coigny: - -"I have come on behalf of Baron Carl von Lichtenberg. There is no longer -a Baron Carl von Lichtenberg. He is dead." - -"Listen," whispered De Brissac, clutching my arm. "This is very strange! -I would swear it was the Baron Carl himself speaking. And she is like -him. It must, then, be his sister." - -"On his behalf," she went on, "I apologise to M. Patrick Mahon; and I am -commissioned by him, M. de Coigny, in return for all the lies and evil -words you have spoken about M. Mahon, to give you this." And she struck -De Coigny on the face lightly with her gloved hand. - -Then I woke up, and I felt the blood surge to my face as I stepped -forward. She turned to me, with her lips half parted in a glad smile; -our eyes met. God! in that moment how my whole being leapt alive! -Bursting and rending its husk, my imprisoned spirit broke free, as a -dragon-fly breaks free touched by the sun's magic wand. I heard myself -speak; I was speaking coldly and distinctly, addressing De Coigny, and -yet all my soul was addressing her in delirious unspoken words. - -"M. de Coigny," said the voice which came from my lips, "we are, I -believe, old enemies. I have forgotten all that, but the Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg's quarrels are now mine; and if your craven heart will allow -you to hold a sword, I beg to take his place." - -What then followed is like a dream in my mind. I heard the seconds -consulting. I heard Dr. Pons' voice speaking in a tone of relief: "So -then we are to have some music after all!" I held two warm hands in -mine, and I heard myself saying: "Yes, yes, you will stay here. I shall -not be long. Oh, no; I shall not be killed! I will return. To be killed -would be too absurd _now_. Wait for me." - -Then, leaning on De Brissac's arm, I was walking down the Avenue des -Minimes, and now, sword in hand, I was fronting De Coigny. - - * * * * * - -He was backgrounded by the willows, all silvering to the breeze, and his -hateful face filled me with a fury that rose in my throat and which I -had to gulp down. He was the only thing that stood between me and the -heaven that had just been revealed to me; he was there with a sword in -his hand, as if to bar me out and cut me off for ever from it. He was -everything I hated, and the power of hate had suddenly risen gigantic in -my breast, shouting for his blood. - -Then we fought, and I found myself commanding myself, just as a drunken -man commands himself to stand straight and be cool. Sometimes I saw his -face, and sometimes I saw it not, yet ever I knew that I held him with -my eye as a fowler holds a bird in his hand. - -Had anyone been wandering by the pool of the Minimes, he might have -fancied that he heard the cry of a seagull--a single, melancholy cry; -for it is crying thus that a man's soul escapes when he is stricken -through the heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - -MARGARET - - -"He is dead," said Dr. Pons. - -I looked at the rapier in my hand. There were a few contracting spots on -it. - -Then De Brissac held my coat for me. - -"His foot slipped, or you would not have got him like that," I heard him -say. - -"Oh, it is unpleasant enough, but the thing is perfectly in order. You -need have no fear. Yes, yes; I will lead you to her. You will be at the -Place Vendôme, I suppose? There will be an inquiry, and all that." - -And then I found myself holding again the two warm hands. I was not -thinking of De Coigny. I was in a dream. I stepped into a carriage that -was before me. I heard De Brissac close the door, and say to the -coachman "Paris." Then I felt a girl's arm round my neck. - -"Toto," said a voice, "do you remember the white rabbit with the green -eyes?" - -The killing of De Coigny had blinded me, maddened me, and drawn from -some distant past into full birth all sorts of strange and hitherto -unknown attributes of myself. - -It was as though Philippe de Saluce, slowly struggling into new birth -during the last forty-eight hours, had, with the slaying of my -adversary, suddenly become full born. - -It was necessary for me to kill, it seems, before he could find speech -and thought, and stand fully reincarnated. - -"Oh, far beyond that--far beyond that!" I murmured, not knowing fully -what I said or what I meant, knowing only that mysterious doors had been -flung open, and that through them a spirit had rushed, filling me and -embracing through me the woman at my side. - -"I know," she said. And for a moment spoke no more. - -In those two words she told all. It was as though she had said: "I know -all. You are Philippe and I am Margaret. All is forgiven between us. Let -us forget. What matters that old crime of long ago? We are reborn, we -are young again, and the world is fair." - -"Let us forget," I murmured, as if in answer to these words which, -though unspoken by her lips, were heard by my spirit. - -"I have forgotten," she replied. "I never remembered--or only in part. -Let us talk of that time----" - -"When we were children?" - -"Yes. Do you remember----" - -"Do I remember! Where is Gretel?" - -"She is dead. I must tell you all; but we are nearing Paris. Cannot we -go anywhere--some place where we can talk and be alone?" - -"Yes." I remembered that Franzius and Eloise were away, and that we -could go to the Pavilion. I drew the check-string, and told the driver -to take the road to Etiolles. - -As I drew back into the carriage her hand slipped over my shoulder, and -her arm round my neck again. - - * * * * * - -"You know," she said, "that time when you left I nearly forgot you. I -would have forgotten you entirely but for Gretel, who always kept making -me remember, telling me to beware of you, till you became my nightmare. -After the death of my father, Gretel took entire charge of me. I did not -know that I was a girl: I never thought of the thing. I was dressed as a -boy, I had tutors, the jägers took me hunting. Yes; you were my -nightmare. I used to dream that you were running after me through the -woods to kill me. All that was at night; but once--one afternoon, I fell -asleep, and you nearly did kill me. It was only a dream, you know." - -"Tell me about it." - -"I was walking through a wood, and you were following to kill me, and I -hid behind some bushes. But you saw me, and came after me, and I heard -you falling into a pit. I looked into the pit, and you were lying there. -Then I awoke." - -"Go on--go on! Tell me about yourself. Don't say any more about that." - -"Ah, yes, myself! Well, I grew up. Gretel died three years ago; and when -she was dying she told me I was a girl. She told me all, and gave me the -choice of going through life as what I am now, or as a man." - -"And you?" - -"Chose to be a man." She laughed deliciously, and under her breath. -"These things"--and she plucked at her dress--"feel strange on me even -now. Oh, yes, I chose to be a man. Who would not, if the choice were -given them? And no one knew. The Baron Carl von Lichtenberg was quite a -great person. He was admired by all the ladies. He was so ornamental -that he was sent as attaché to the Embassy at Paris. Yes; and he went to -the ball at the Marquis d'Harmonville's----" - -"Ah, that night!" I muttered. "It was the beginning----" - -"Of your tribulations," she laughed softly, and went on: "When I saw you -I was nearly as startled as you were yourself. I had all my life -determined that I would avoid you; but that night--ah! that night----" - -"Well?" - -"I don't know. I could not sleep. I cursed my man's clothes; and I would -have given all I possessed to speak to you dressed as I am now. Then I -sought you, and you avoided me. You insulted me, monsieur, at the -Mirlitons." - -"Ah! why--why did you not declare yourself then?" I muttered, speaking -into the warmth of her delicious neck. "Think what we have lost--a whole -year nearly of life and love!" - -"Why, indeed! Just, I suppose, because I was a woman, filled with a -woman's caprice; and the masquerade amused me, and I had my duties to -perform--and how you evaded me! I was invited to meet you at -dinner----" - -"And I dined at the Café de Paris with a fool." - -"Just so. And you ran away to Nice. Then the idea came to me--ah, yes, -it was a fine idea!--I will _make_ him meet me. And I slapped you on the -shoulder with a glove." - -"Yes; when I was seated in the box at the opera with a lady." - -"Yes. Who was the lady? I was too excited to see anyone but you." - -"She was----" Then I paused. And then I said--why, I can never -tell--"She was a friend of my guardian." - -"Next morning I received your challenge. How I laughed to myself!" - -"But tell me one thing. Why did you stipulate for a delay of three -months before the duel?" - -She laughed again. - -"Shall I tell you?" - -"Yes." - -"Because I wanted time--to--to----" - -"Yes?" - -"To let my hair grow. Do you like it?" She drew a long pin from her hat, -removed her hat, and showed her perfect head and the coils of -night-black hair. - -"Oh! Do I like it?" - -"Well--kiss it." - - * * * * * - -"We must never part again." - -"We need never," said she. "I am yours. I am not existent in the world. -The Baron Carl von Lichtenberg is dead: he died when I put on these -things. There is no one to trouble us!" - -"Look!" I said. "This is Etiolles." - - * * * * * - -I had as completely forgotten Franzius and Eloise as though they had -never existed. Madame Ancelot seemed strange; and the Pavilion a place -which I recognised, but which had no part in my new life. - -Sitting opposite to my companion at table--for we had a déjeûner under -the big chestnut-tree--I could contemplate her at my leisure. Surely God -had never created a more lovely and perfect woman. Eyelashes long and -black, up curved, and tipped with brown; violet-grey eyes. Ah, yes; I do -not care to think of them now. I only care to remember that voice and -smile, that ineffable expression, all that told of the existence of the -beautiful spirit that Time might never touch nor Death destroy. - -From the forest came the wood-doves' song to the immortal and -ever-weeping Susie. We could hear the birds in the château gardens, and -a bell from some village church ringing the Angelus--faint, far away, -robbed of its harshness by the vast and sunlit silence. She seemed the -soul of all that music, all that silence, all that sweetness; and she -was mine, entirely and for ever. We were beyond convention and law, as -were Adam and Eve. - -"And you know," said she, as if reading my thoughts, "I am nobody--I -have not even a name. Yesterday I was Baron Carl von Lichtenberg, with -great estates. Now, who am I? And my great estates----" She opened a -purse, in which lay a few louis. "Here they are." - -I laughed, and put the little purse into my pocket. - -"Tell me," I said; "where were you when you were coming out of your -chrysalis? When you were changing--all these three months?" - -"I--I was at Tours. The Baron von Lichtenberg received three months' -foreign leave, and went to Tours. Oh, the complications! And the -dressmakers! I did not even know at first how to wear these things. Do -they fit me?" - -"Do they fit you!" - -I rose, and we crossed the drawbridge. As she passed over it, she paused -and gazed at the water. - -"How cool it looks! How dark and deep! Do you remember the pool at -Lichtenberg?" - -"And how I pushed you in. Do you remember the little drum?" - -"And the child with the golden hair--Eloise. She called you Toto. I have -always called you Toto since, M. Patrick Mahon." - -"Call me it still," I said. "I love anything that reminds me of my -past--of our past. Come, let us go into the woods, as we went that day." - -She laughed at the recollection of the little Pomeranian grenadier. - -"We were children then," said she. - -I looked at her. In the shadow of the trees, in the broad drive where we -stood, she might have been a ghost from that time when La Vallière was -a girl, when La Fontaine was a man, and Monsieur Fouquet held his court -at Vaux. - -Though of the fashion of the day, her dress had that grace which the -wearer alone can give; and, as I looked at her, the forest sighed deeply -from its cool, green heart, the boughs tossed, showering lights upon us, -and the laughter of the birds followed the wind. - -"We were children then," said I, "but we are not children now." I took -both her hands, and held her soul to mine for a moment in a kiss that -has not ended yet. - - * * * * * - -Where the beech-glades give place to the tall pines--the fragrant pines, -whose song sounds for ever like the sea on a distant strand--we sat down -on a bank, which in spring would be mist-blue with violets. - -"I have never kissed anyone before. Have you?" she asked. - -"No one." - -"Never loved anyone?" She rested her hands on my shoulders, and looked -into my eyes. - -"Never." - -"For," said she, "if you had----" - -"Yes?" - -"I don't know. Sometimes I do not know my own thoughts. Sometimes I act -and do things that seem strange to me afterwards. I made you meet me -this morning out of caprice. I teased you, following you as I did to -Nice, dressed as I was, from caprice. That is not me. There is something -wicked and wayward in me that I cannot understand. Had it not been for -me you would not have killed that man this morning." - -I had not thought of De Coigny till now; and the remembrance of him -lying there dead in the arms of Dr. Pons came like a gloomy stain across -my mind. But it soon passed. - -"We would have fought in any case," said I, "inevitably." - -She sighed, as if relieved. - -"He was a bad man," she said. "He deserved to die for the things he said -about you to me. It was partly on that account that I arranged all that -this morning, so that I might insult him before those men; but I never -thought it would end as it did." - -"Do you know," said I, "when I killed him it was as if the blood which I -shed had baptised me into a new life! My full love for you only awoke -then. It was as if some spirit out of the past that had loved you for -ages had suddenly been born completely." - -"Don't!" she said. "I hate to think of that. Let the past be gone for -ever. You are yourself, alive and warm. You are my sun, my life, the air -I breathe. You have been kept for me untouched. Oh, how I love you! - -"Listen!" she said, freeing her lips from mine, and casting her -beautiful eyes upwards. "No; it is not the wind. Ah! listen! listen!" - -From the trees came a sound that was not the voice of the birds. Far -away it seemed now, and now near. It was the spinning-song of Oberthal, -that tune, thin as a thread of flax, rising, falling, poignant as Fate, -and filled with the story of man--his swaddling-clothes, his -marriage-bed, and his shroud. - -There, amidst the trees, coming from nowhere, diffused by the echoes of -the wood--for a wood is a living echo--heard just then, the song of -Oberthal seemed the voice of Fate herself. - -I knew quite well what had happened. Franzius had returned. Madame -Ancelot had told him that I was in the wood. Wishing, no doubt, to find -me, he had sent the tune to look for me--the old tune that he knew I -liked so well. - -It was then only that my past relationship with Eloise rose before me. - -I had said nothing about it; I had even refrained from mentioning her -name. I had done this from no ulterior motive. I was not ashamed that -the woman I loved should know about Eloise. Had I not brought her to the -Pavilion when it was quite possible that Eloise might have returned? Up -to this my mind had been so filled with new things, so filled with -happiness and extraordinary love, that all things earthly were for me -not. - -"It is a friend of mine, I think," said I. "A violinist. He stays at the -Pavilion. And now I want to tell you something." - -"Yes?" - -It had seemed so easy, yet now it seemed very difficult. - -"I told you I had never cared for another woman." - -"Yes." - -"Listen! The tune has ceased. Well, there has been only one woman in my -life till I met you. You remember little Eloise at Lichtenberg, she who -called me Toto?" - -"Yes." She had placed her hand to her heart, as though she felt a pain -there. - -"Well, I met her again in Paris. She had grown up. She was very poor, -and I gave her the Pavilion to live in. She is living there now." - -"Now!" - -"Yes," said I, laughing. "And, see, there she is. Wait for me." - -Franzius and Eloise had just appeared from the wood away down the drive. -It was fortunate that Franzius was with her, for now I could bring them -both up and introduce them. Their love for one another and their -happiness was so evident that it would be an explanation in itself. - -I ran towards them. - -Eloise was radiant; Franzius as brown as a berry. - -"Eloise!" I cried, as I kissed her and wrung both her hands, "do you -remember little Carl? Do you remember saying to me: 'Toto, little Carl -is a girl'? She is here; she is waiting to meet you. Come." - -"Where?" asked Eloise. - -I turned, laughing, to point out the figure of my companion. The drive -was empty. The songs of the birds, the shadows of the trees, the golden -swathes of light, were there, but of Margaret von Lichtenberg there was -no trace. - -"She has hidden herself amidst the trees," I cried. "Come." - -But there was no trace of her amidst the trees. - -"Margaret!" - -I was frightened at my own voice, at its ghostliness, and the echo of -the sweet name that came back from the wood. - -A wreath of morning mist could not have vanished more completely. - -I am sure that just then the Franzius' must have thought me mad. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII - -THE DRUMS OF WAR - - -Oh, caprice of a woman! To leave me like that in a moment of anger and -jealousy, never to wait an explanation; to let fall what might be the -curtain of eternal separation with a touch of her hand; to step away -from me and vanish into that vast, vague, cruel land we call the world! - -And I had held her so close to me! She was so entirely mine, the -happiest dream that ever mortal dreamt, the most mysterious and -beautiful. - -She had taken the carriage which we left at the inn at Etiolles, and -returned to Paris. That we discovered; but beyond that there was no word -or sign to lead me. - -I only knew that she was in Paris. Even of that I was not quite sure, -for she may have used Paris only as a stage on her journey into the -unknown. - -But to Paris I came. I could not stay at Etiolles, even on the chance of -her returning. I must go where she had gone. And I swore in my madness -to find her, even though I searched Paris from the heights of Montmartre -to the depths of the Seine. - -And then, when I got to Paris, I found my hands idle and useless. I did -not know, even, what name she had gone under during her metamorphosis. -She who had no name--this ghost from the past! - -At times I found myself wondering whether it was all a dream, an -illusion of the brain. Whether I was mad. But actuality brought me to -reason on this point. I had to answer the inquiries following the death -of De Coigny. I had to appear before an examining magistrate, I and my -seconds. - -Felix Rebouton was the magistrate in question, the same who, if my -memory serves me, conducted the inquiry on the death of Victor Noir. - -He was a thin, tall man, in spectacles, a lawyer, not a man; a -procès-verbal in a tightly buttoned frock-coat. - -And I had to face this individual, who seemed less an individual than a -roll of parchment, and, with my heart breaking and my thoughts -elsewhere, answer questions relative to my relations with De Coigny. - -"We have always hated each other, since boyhood. He lied about me, and I -killed him," was my answer. - -"This lady who arrived on the scene of the duel, and with whom you -departed; where is she?" - -"Ah, if you could tell me that," I replied, "I would give you every -penny of my fortune." - -"Her name?" - -"She has no name." - -"No name!" - -"She is a ghost." - -The man of parchment scratched his head and made a note, looked sideways -through his spectacles at his clerk and at De Brissac and the other -seconds who were in the room. - -He thought I was mad. And he was not far wrong. - -The inquiry was suspended for three weeks, and I was free to return to -my misery and the streets of Paris. - -I lived now in the streets. They were my only hope. From early morning -till night I haunted the boulevards. Franzius had orders to telegraph to -my club and to the Place Vendôme should any news reach the Pavilion, and -the club porter grew weary of the inquiry: "Any telegram for me?" - -Men began to avoid me as they do the stricken, the leprous, and the mad. -I must have seemed mad, indeed, for ever wandering hither and thither, -searching the crowded streets with eager eyes, scarcely answering if -spoken to, careless and untidy in my dress, a phantom of myself. Like -Poe's man of the crowd, I drifted about Paris, ever in the thick of the -throng, seeking the most populous streets. - -Impossible to tell in what quarter of the city caprice might have cast -her, I sought her in all. Montmartre and La Villette, the Quartier Latin -and the great boulevards: I dreaded only one thing--night. - -Night, when my search must cease; night and the pitiless gas-lamps, the -terrible gas-lamps. Then it was that light, the angel that all day had -helped my search, became a devil, contracting itself, and spreading into -a million heartless points to show me the darkness. Then it was that the -stars burning in the clear sky above the city became part of my sorrow. - -All things bright and all things fair were leagued against me, in that -they fed the flame of my suffering; and the happiness and gaiety of -others became the last insult of the world. - -Then it was that Joubert showed himself in his true form. Not one word -did he ever say to me, though my conduct, my manners, my disordered -dress, must have given him food for the deepest speculation and -disquiet. He would put out my clothes and attend to my wants, speak to -me about ordinary topics, never heed my silence or my harsh replies. You -see, he was an old soldier; he had seen men stricken so often that he -knew the language and the signs of real grief and real suffering. - -I lost count of the days, and from opium alone could I get any sleep. -Absorbed in my grief, I took no heed of the events around me. I remember -distinctly in cafés and at my club hearing men talking of the -Hohenzollerns and the succession to the Spanish throne. Men talking -vehemently about a subject which was to me as uninteresting and as -unintelligible as algebra to a child. But I could feel the ferment and -unrest around me. - -On the 15th of July, at ten o'clock in the morning, I was passing across -the Place de la Concorde, when a roar like the sound of a great and -distant sea broke on the summer air. It came from the direction of the -Rue St. Honoré. People were running across the Place de la Concorde, and -pouring from the Rue de Rivoli and from the bridges. The Champs Elysées -behind me had become alive with people; cabmen were standing up on the -driving-seats of their carriages, waving their hats and shouting; -windows of houses were alive and white with fluttering handkerchiefs; -and now, again and again, came the storm of sound, unlike anything I had -ever heard before, unlike anything I will ever hear again; wave after -wave, storm after storm, and through it all the drums of a marching -regiment. - -The Ninety-first Regiment of the Line were marching down the Rue St. -Honoré, bayonets fixed, haversacks filled, drums beating, and colours -fluttering. Paris was marching with them. And then through the storm -came the cry uttered by a thousand throats: "À Berlin! À Berlin!" - -"What is it?" I asked of a passer-by. - -"War has been declared with Prussia!" - -"With Prussia?" - -"Bismarck----" I did not hear what else he had to say, deafened and -dazed by the roar that now surrounded me. - -"À Berlin! À Berlin!" - -War had been declared with Prussia. Oh, fatality! - -Bismarck! At the name the gardens of Lichtenberg unrolled before me. I -saw them stretching to the edges of the pine forests. I heard the rattle -of little Carl's drum as he marched before us, the sound that had echoed -through the years, to be amplified and converted into this. - -War! Red war! And then, curiously, as I stood gazing and listening to -the storm that was gathering to wreck the last of my hope, I saw -something which I had forgotten for years, and which now came before me -as a vivid picture: a great hand with a seal ring on the little finger, -holding and half caressing the tiny hand of a child. The hand of -Bismarck holding the hand of Eloise, as I saw it that day long ago in -the hall of Schloss Lichtenberg. The iron hand which was to crush the -armies of France and fling Napoleon from his throne. - -I elbowed my way through the crush towards the Place Vendôme. My own -affairs were dwarfed, for the moment, by the magnitude of the event and -the furnace roar of the rejoicing city. Jubilant and ferocious, lustful -and bloodthirsty, triumphant as the blare of a trumpet, terrible as the -voice of a tiger, the gusts of sound swept the heavens. It was the voice -of the Second Empire, not the voice of a people; it was cruelty, lust, -and organised vice crying aloud to God for blood. - -God heard it, and made swift answer. - -I arrived at the Place Vendôme to find a surprise awaiting me. - -Franzius and Eloise were there. They had brought luggage with them, -which was in the hall. The servant who opened the door for me told me -they were in the library, and I ran there to meet them. - -"Toto," cried Eloise; then, holding me at a little distance and staring -at me as though I were a ghost: "What has happened to you?" - -I caught a reflection of myself in the mirror above the fireplace, and -for the first time I recognised the change in myself. Haggard, white, -and drawn, my face was no longer the face of a young man. - -"Never mind me," I replied. "Why have you left Etiolles? Have you any -news?" - -"My friend," said Franzius, answering for her, "there is no news--only -news of war." - -"Ah, yes," I said. "War. But tell me why you have left Etiolles?" - -"I am a Prussian," replied Franzius; "and we are returning." - -"Returning?" - -"To my own country." - -"You are leaving me?" - -There was silence for a moment, and Eloise began to weep. - -"Toto, can't you see?" - -"Ah, yes," I said; "I can see--everything is going from me. Don't cry, -Eloise; I can see. Franzius, forgive me. I forgot. I did not know what -war meant till now." - -Up to this I had seen war through the stories told in books. I had seen -war on the canvases in the Luxembourg and the Louvre. But up till now, -standing there in the library before Franzius, with his overcoat on his -arm, and Eloise weeping, I had not seen war. - -Oh, yes; it is very grand: the long lines of infantry going into action, -the clouds of cavalry, the roar of the cannon, and the drums beating the -charge! - -But that is not war. War is voiceless. - -Yesterday we were at peace. To-day we are at war. Something has entered -into every heart and into every home; a million tiny fingers are busy -snapping a million bonds of union. Blow trumpets and beat drums how you -please, you cannot chase away the silence which has entered into the -hearts of men, or the foreboding that tells us the great curse has come -again. - -"It is not even that we must go," said Franzius, "but that we must go at -once. We are not going; we are driven forth. My friend, we will meet -again, when it is over." - -"When it is over," I said mechanically. - -They had received their passports, and they told me of their plans. -Franzius was beyond the age of military service. They would go to -Frankfort, where he had some relations. He had plenty of money with -which to live quietly till "it was over" and the world could hear music -again. - -I ordered a carriage to the door, and accompanied them to the station, -through streets packed and crowded as if by some fête. - -The station was thronged, and the train for the frontier was on the -point of starting when we arrived. I have never seen such a crowd -before. Families and their belongings, small tradesmen, Germans who had -been prospering yesterday and who to-day, ruined and hopeless, were -being driven forth back to their own country to starve. The buffet had -been stripped of food; and when I thought of the long journey before my -friends and the chances of the road, my heart misgave me, till Eloise -showed me a basket that had been packed for them by Madame Ancelot. - -Just as the train was starting, I jostled against a vendor of oranges -who still had a few unsold. I bought them and gave them to Eloise. - -I could not help remembering the day we had gone down first to Evry, she -and I, and the oranges I had bought for her in the Boulevard St. Michel. -That day, in spring! - -"Good-bye! Good-bye!" - -Eloise had squeezed herself through the window beside Franzius; the -train moved away; the people who were leaving said a last good-bye to -the people they had left, to friends who had cared for them till war -came as a separation, to brother Germans who were bound to depart by the -next train. I never heard so mournful a sound as that when the great -train drew away for its journey into for ever, leaving me alone on the -platform. - -I came back on foot. It was a long way; and as I passed the crowded -cafés, the crowds of excited and fever-stricken people, it seemed to me -that I was in a city whose inhabitants had at one stroke gone mad. - -I found myself, for the first time in many days, able to note the things -around me, and to take some interest in them. The great upheaval had -shaken me in part away from my own especial preoccupation, the grief of -the parting with Eloise and Franzius had obscured in part that other -grief which had pursued me. - -The great city had been stirred to its uttermost depths, as the great -sea is sometimes stirred by a submarine explosion. Dregs came to the -surface and floated as scum; and I saw people that day in the streets -that I had never seen before: terrible people, cast up from the purlieus -and the slums, dog-men and beast-women, such as insulted the light of -heaven during the Terror; faces that might have served Retzsch for his -picture of the fiend, or Calot for his fantastic devil-drawings. -Collette la Charonne, Mathurine Giroron, Elizabeth Trouvain, the capon -and the franc-mitou from the past, elbowed the bully of the barrier and -the fishwife from the Halles of the present. - -At the word "War" Mathias Hungadi Spiculi rose from his long sleep, just -as he had risen at the word "Revolution." All the elements of the -Commune were there that day, shouting France to war, and ready to dance -on her ruins. - -Even the bourgeoisie, the placid people, the café loungers, were -changed. The tiger-cat which lies at the heart of the Latin races, the -animal that spits, and snarls, and howls, was unchained at last; and the -joyful ferocity of the women was a thing to see and to remember. It was -the uprising of the pampered beast, the beast that had sunned itself for -years in prosperity. Long ages of insult might have condoned what I saw -that day, but the circumstances never. - -Bands of women arm-in-arm, students, waving the tricolour, cabs and -carriages crowded with people driving nowhere, anywhere, so that they -could find a new place to shout in, girls with men's hats on their -heads, men with women's bonnets--it was Mabille, into which the beasts -of the Jardin des Plantes had broken; La Closerie des Lilas on an -infinite scale, roofed with sky. - -And, beyond the Vosges, at his desk, quite unmoved, with a cigar in his -mouth and a folio in his hand, was sitting Bismarck, secure in -everything, possessed of everything, from the Erbswurst for the Prussian -cooking-pot to the guns that were to batter down Paris. - -I have said little about my social life in Paris, but I have indicated, -I think, that my guardian and I were friends of the Emperor's; and I -mention it as a strange fact, and a fact that casts volumes of light on -his character, that now, in my desolation, deserted by my guardian, -deserted by Franzius and Eloise, deserted by everyone I loved, the image -of Napoleon arose before me as a person I would like to speak to. You -know just what I mean. There is generally amongst one's friends some -person, some homely individual, some good man or good woman, to whom we -go when in affliction for a word of consolation, or even just to feel -their presence. We look in and see them, even though we may say nothing -of our troubles. Moved by this instinct, I resolved to look in and see -the Emperor. To get near the Tuileries was a difficult business, and -even to pass the Cent Gardes at the gate, but once inside, things were -easier. - -The Emperor had come to Paris from the Council at Saint Cloud, held the -night before. I do not know whether the Empress accompanied him or not, -but he was in the palace, and the great hall was thronged. - -The excitement of the streets was here, too, though in a more subdued -form. Men were talking and laughing; everyone felt, or seemed to feel, -that some great good fortune was impending. As a matter of fact, the -war seemed to promise a "move up" all round. Honour to France, showers -of gold and decorations from those painted skies which Hope rears so -pleasantly above fools, and, above all, change. - -Most of these men were money-changers at heart; corrupt, vicious, ready -to devour, true children of the Second Empire, descendants of the clique -of rogues which manipulated the coup d'état, sent Hugo to exile, and -flung France into the net spread by parasites, financiers, and corrupt -politicians. France with her foot on the neck of Germany seemed to -promise fabulous things to these. They had much, and they wanted more. -They craved for change--and they got it. - -Amidst the crowd, which included some of the greatest names in France, -it seemed hopeless for me to seek an audience. But I knew the place. I -saw the Palace Prefect, Baron Vareigne. He had just shaken himself free -from half a dozen men, and was making off down a corridor when I tacked -myself on to him. - -"See him? Impossible! For a moment?--just to pay your respects? Oh, -well, only for a moment, then. You will be a change from the others. He -just said to me: 'For Heaven's sake, let in no more generals!'" - -And, with a click of a door-handle, there he was before me, seated in -full uniform, which did not seem to fit him, the eternal cigarette -smouldering between his lips, just the same old gentleman who had -received my guardian and me so courteously that day; just the same -useless, shuffling manner, the nasal voice, the half-closed eyes, -crafty yet kindly--rising to meet me with a little, subdued laugh, half -cynical, as though thanking God I were not another general. He bade me -be seated, and told me he was not in a hurry, but being hurried, and -looked over some papers that Vareigne handed him, and said: "Yes, yes," -and flicked some cigarette-ash off his trousers. He talked to me for a -few minutes, asking after the Vicomte de Chatellan, and then dismissed -me, pushing me out of the cabinet with a kindly hand on my shoulder, and -a kindly wish to see me again--après. - -This was the true Napoleon, the man kind to all, the injudicious man who -made those unfortunate children half drunk at the children's party at -Biarritz, the man who loved his little son so well, the man who would -put a fistful of gold in a poor man's pocket, just because it was a poor -man's pocket: I say, this was the true Napoleon. For what shall you -measure a man by, when all is said and done, if not by his heart? Ah! -how I would have loved that man if he had been my father! - -When I left the Tuileries I remembered the fact that I had not eaten -since morning. I went to a café and dined after a fashion. I returned -home late; and as I entered the hall the servant who took my hat, said: -"A lady called an hour ago to see monsieur." - -"A lady to see me?" - -"Yes, monsieur. I told her that you had gone to Etiolles, to the -Pavilion of Saluce, and she ordered her coachman to drive there." - -I remember, now, that when I started to see Franzius and Eloise off at -the station I had said to the servant that I might go to Saluce, and if -I did not return I would be there. - -"What was she like?" - -"Madame was quite young, tall, dark, and--very beautiful." - -"Good God!" I said. "_Why_ did I not return an hour sooner! Quick! Send -me Joubert!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX - -NIGHT - - -Joubert found me in the dining-room. - -"Joubert," I shouted, "the swiftest horses--quick!--and a carriage to -take me to Etiolles! You will drive me." - -Joubert glanced at me and left the room like a flash. - -I walked up and down. She had been here an hour ago--here an hour -ago--and I had been walking the streets unconscious of the fact! The war -which had threatened to destroy my last hope had brought her, perhaps, -to my door, and I had been dining at a café! I had come slowly home -through the streets, and she was here waiting for me! Was she leaving -France? Was Etiolles but a stage on the journey? And if she found that I -was not there, what would she do? Would she return, or--go on? - -I sprang to the bell and rang it violently. - -"The horses! The horses!" I cried. "God in heaven! are they never -coming?" - -"The horses are at the door, monsieur." - -I rushed out, seized my hat, which the man handed me; he opened the -door, and there stood a closed carriage; two powerful greys were -harnessed to it, and Joubert was on the box. - -"Joubert," I said, "drive as you never have driven before. My life is in -your hands!" Then we started. - -And now, as if called up by nightmare, the crowd in the streets, which -I had forgotten, impeded our progress. The Rue St. Honoré was like a -fair. As, sitting in the carriage, that was compelled to go at a walking -pace, I looked out of the window at the senseless illuminations, the -brutal or foolish faces, I could have welcomed at once a German army -that would have swept a clear path for me. - -We passed the gates of Paris without hindrance, and then down a long -street lined with houses. It was after ten o'clock now, but these -houses, in which dwelt poor folk, were ablaze from basement to garret. - -The good news of the war had spread itself here; the great national -rejoicing had found an echo even in this street, where men slept sound -as a rule, as men sleep who have passed the day labouring in a factory. - -The horses had now settled into a swinging trot. Half a dozen times I -lowered the window to urge Joubert, but I refrained. There was still -twenty miles before us. If one of our horses broke down, it was highly -improbable that we could get another. - -The houses broke up, and became replaced by trees; market-gardens lay on -either side of the way. Looking back, I could see Paris. Not the city, -but the furnace glare that its gas-lit streets and cafés cast on the -sky. We passed forts, huge black shadows marked in the darkness by the -glitter of a sentry's bayonet or the swinging lantern of a patrol. We -passed down the long street of Charenton, and then the wheels of the -carriage rumbled on the bridge that crosses the river, and we were in -the true country, with great spaces of gloom marking the fields, and -marked here and there with the dim, patient light of a farmhouse window -or the firefly dance of a shepherd's lantern. - -Up till now I had watched intently the passing objects: the houses, -stray people, and lights; but now there was nothing to watch but dim -shapes and vague shadows. Up to this I had controlled thought, forcing -myself to wait without thinking for the event, but now, alone in the -midst of night, with nothing to tell of the surrounding world but the -rumble of the carriage wheels and the beat of the horse-hoofs on the -road, thought assumed dominance, and would not be driven away. Nay, it -returned with a suggestion that froze my heart. - -"If she has gone to the Pavilion, she will leave her carriage in the -Avenue and go there on foot--she will cross the drawbridge. Ah, yes; the -drawbridge! Well, suppose that the drawbridge is up! God in heaven! will -she see it?" - -It froze my heart. - -What time would Madame Ancelot retire, and would she raise the -drawbridge? - -I knew very well that the drawbridge was always raised, last thing at -night: the tramp-infested forest made this necessary. And I knew very -well that Madame Ancelot was in the habit of retiring at nine o'clock. -Still, to-night was a night in a thousand. Old Fauchard had, without -doubt, dropped into the Pavilion to talk about the great news of the -war. - -I put my head out of the window. - -"Quicker, Joubert!" - -"Oui, oui," came his voice, followed by the sound of the whip. The night -air struck me in the face like a cold hand; and, looking back, I could -still see the light of Paris reflected from the sky, paler now and more -contracted in the vast and gloomy circle of night. - -It was cloudy over Paris, but the clouds were breaking, and the piercing -light of a star, here and there, shone through the rents. The moon was -rising, too, and her light touched the clouds. - -Ah! this must be Villeneuve St. Georges, this long street to which the -trees and hedgerows have given place. - -I know the road to Etiolles well, but to-night it all seemed changed. - -We passed hamlets and villages, and now at last we were nearing -Etiolles. I could tell it by the big houses on either side of the road, -houses with walled-in gardens and grass lawns, where young ladies played -croquet in the long summer afternoons, so that a person on the road -could hear the click of the balls and the laughter of the players. The -moon had fully risen now, casting her light on the houses, the walls, -the vineyards rolling towards the river, the trees and shrubs. - -Suddenly, as though an adamantine door had been flung across the road -barring our way the carriage stopped; one of the horses had fallen as if -felled by an axe. The pole was broken. Joubert was on his knees by the -head of the fallen horse, dark blood was streaming from its nostrils in -the vague moonlight that was now touching the white road. - -Inexorable Fate. - -We were two miles from the château gates, but across the fields and -through the forest of Senart there away straight as the crow dies to the -Pavilion. - -I do not remember leaving Joubert; suddenly the fields were around me -and I was running. My mind driven to madness had matched itself against -fate. "I will conquer you," it cried. "No dead fate shall oppose my -living will. Let the past be gone. I have sinned, but I have suffered. -If she is dead I will fling myself after her and seize her soul in my -arms forever." - -"You are mine--living or dead, you are mine." - -I must have shouted the words as I ran for I heard the words ringing in -my ears. Then fell on me as I ran Delirium, or was it the past. - -I was in the forest now, the vague light was filled with shapes. A form -sprang at me, it was Von Lichtenberg. I struck at it and passed on. - -The iron man of the bell tower struck at me with his hammer, I seized -him and he turned to mist. - -And now a form was running beside me trying to hold me back, it was -Gretel, she tripped me up with her foot. I fell, she vanished and her -foot turned to the root of a tree. And the tree turned to Vogel. - -He passed me as I ran outstripping him, and from the darkness before me -now broke a form, it was little Carl. - -We were in the forest of Lichtenberg, the lake before us. I cried to him -to stop. For only answer came the splash of the water, the cry of a -child--the gasping of a person drowning in the dark. - -Death lay in the water. I plunged to meet him and seized a struggling -form. - -But the form was not the form of Death, but the form of a woman living -and sweet. - -A moment later and I would have missed by all eternity the love that had -been waiting for me since the beginning of Time. - -Fate is strong, but the will of man is stronger. - - - - -CHAPTER XL - -THE SPIRIT OF EARTH - - -All that winter from the passing of the investing army to the time when -the siege guns began to shake earth and sky with their ceaseless roar -and from then to the spring, we remained at the Pavilion, Joubert and I, -unhindered, almost unvisited by the enemy. The Château drew them off. We -had left the doors open to prevent them from being broken in; perhaps it -was for this reason that so little mischief was done by the troops that -quartered themselves there. - -The coincidence of Winter and War, the leafless trees, the eternal -roaring of Paris like a tiger at bay, the darkness and death in my -heart, all these are in my life away back there, forming a picture or -rather a dark mirror, reflecting the forms of Despair, Apathy and Ruin, -just as the dark water of the moat reflects the fern fronds of the bank -and the dark green plumage of those pine-trees. - -Nothing could ever come right in the world again. The gloomy skies, -shaken winter long by the cannon said that, and the woods, leafless and -sad and sombre, where the squirrels and the hundred other wood creatures -seemed banished for ever with the birds. So the winter passed, till one -day--I had not been in the woods for a week--one day, following a path -near the round pond I came across a troop of ghosts; violets growing -right before me on the path side; and to the left amidst the trees, -gem-like blue, and dim amidst the brown last autumn leaves--violets. Led -by a few days' warmth a million violets had invaded the old forest, -grouped themselves amidst the trees and along the paths, heedless of -Death or the Prussians. - -Even as I looked a breath of wind bent the tree branches like a warm -hand, showing a patch of blue sky above and casting a ray of sunshine on -the blue flowers below. The Drums of War, the trampling of armies at -grip with one another, proclamations, treaties, the pageantry of -victory, the sorrows of defeat, all in a moment were banished before -that touch of spring and the vision of these lovely and immortal -flowers. - -Since then I have seen them growing amidst the ruins of Mycenae, in -Vallombrosa, at the tomb of Virgil; poets, lovers, warriors, and kings, -wherever sun may light or spring may touch their tombs, call to us again -through the blue violets of spring, but never have these flowers of God -brought the past to man so freshly, so strangely or with such poignancy -as they brought it to me there, growing absolutely in the footsteps of -Ruin, yet unruined and with not a dewdrop brushed from their leaves. - -Ah, yes, there are times when the commonest man becomes a poet, as on -that day when dreaming of the death of a woman and the dragon of war, I -found spring hiding in the forest of Sénart just like some enchanting -ghost of long ago, half-child, half-woman, and answering to my unspoken -question, "War, Death, I have not seen them--I do not know whom you -mean; they passed, mayhap, when I was asleep. Monsieur, do you not -admire my violets?" - -The sublime and heavenly cynicism of that artless question, the question -itself, these combined to form the germs of a philosophy which has clung -to me since then, a philosophy which, combined with love, has slain in -me the remains of what was once Philippe de Saluce. - -Then day by day and week by week the forest, the fields, the hills, -became slowly overspread with the quiet, assured and triumphant beauty -of spring. Just as long ago, I fancied that I could hear the forest -awakening from sleep, so now I fancied I could hear the world awakening -from war and night. Communards might fight in Paris, kings and captains -assemble at Versailles, Alsace might go or Alsace might remain, what was -all that toy and trumpery business to the great business of Life, to the -preparation of the blossom, the building of the butterflies in the -aerial shipyards, the letting slip of the dragon-fly on his dazzling -voyage? What a hubbub they were making in the Courts of Europe as Von -der Tann's army, the King of Saxony's army, all those other triumphant -armies turned from Paris with bugles blowing, drums beating, and colours -flying, laden with tumbrils of gold and the spoils of war! - -"France will never arise again!" said the drums and the bugles, "never -again," echoed Europe. "Ah, wait," said spring. - -Behind the veils of sunshine and April rain, heedless of Von der Tann's -drums or the Saxon bugles, or the vanquished men or the vanquished -treasure; viewless and unvanquished, the Spirit of Earth was preparing -the future for a new and more beautiful France. Each bee passing from -blossom to blossom that spring was labouring for the greater France of -the future, each acorn forming in its cup, each wheat grain sprouting in -the dark, each grape globing in the vineyards of the Côte d'Or; each and -all were labouring for the motherland, to fill again her granaries and -her treasure house. Folly had brought her under the knee of Force; -drained of blood, half dying, wholly vanquished; in tears, in madness, -in despair, she lay forsaken by all the Olympians but Demeter. - -Had I but known, those first violets in the forest of Sénart held in -their beauty all the future splendour and beauty of the New France. - -In my life I have seen many a wonderful thing, but my memory carries -with it nothing more miraculous than those flowers of promise seen as I -saw them in the forest of Despair. - - - - -ENVOI - - -I am writing these lines in the rose garden of Saluce, ghostly, even on -this warm June day, with the memories and the pictures and the perfumes -of the past. How good summer is to the old! And how much kinder even -than summer is love. - -Down the garden path towards me is coming the form of a woman. Once long -ago with the romantic extravagance of youth I pictured this garden, -haunted by the forms of lovely women long dead; but not one of those -forms was as romantic as this living woman, coming towards me between -the bushes of the amber and crimson roses. - -How slowly she walks, and, see, she stops now and hesitates--ah, now, -she has seen me, and she smiles. Age has not touched her sight, yet she -is blind--for she is the only person in the world who cannot see that my -hands are tremulous and that my hair is grey. - - - - -+-------------------------------------------------+ -|Transcriber's note: | -| | -|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. | -| | -+-------------------------------------------------+ - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRUMS OF WAR*** - - -******* This file should be named 55148-8.txt or 55148-8.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/5/1/4/55148 - - -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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De Vere (Henry De -Vere) Stacpoole</h1> -<p>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 <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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.</p> -<p>Title: The Drums of War</p> -<p>Author: H. De Vere (Henry De Vere) Stacpoole</p> -<p>Release Date: July 18, 2017 [eBook #55148]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRUMS OF WAR***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4>E-text prepared by Roger Frank, Martin Pettit,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - the Google Books Library Project<br /> - (<a href="https://books.google.com">https://books.google.com</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - the Google Books Library Project. See - <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=zJgnAAAAMAAJ&hl=en"> - https://books.google.com/books?id=zJgnAAAAMAAJ&hl=en</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class="center"><a name="cover.jpg" id="cover.jpg"></a><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<h1>THE<br />DRUMS OF WAR</h1> - -<p class="bold space-above"><i>BY</i></p> - -<p class="bold2">H. DE VERE STACPOOLE</p> - -<p class="bold"><span class="smcap">Author of "The Blue Lagoon," "Garryowen,"<br /> -"The Pools of Silence," etc.</span></p> - -<p class="bold space-above">NEW YORK<br />DUFFIELD & COMPANY<br />1910</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="center">Copyright, 1910, by<br />DUFFIELD & COMPANY</p> - -<p class="center space-above">THE PREMIER PRESS<br />NEW YORK</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td colspan="3" class="center">PART I</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="left"><span class="smaller">CHAPTER</span></td> - <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>I.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Road to Frankfort</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>II.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Von Lichtenberg</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>III.</td> - <td class="left"> "<span class="smcap">I Have Been Here Before</span>"</td> - <td><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IV.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Eloise</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>V.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">I See Myself, Not Knowing</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VI.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Little Carl</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Man in Armour</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VIII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Hunting-Song</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IX.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Fairy Tale</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>X.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Death of Vogel</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XI.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Duel in the Woods</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">We Return Home</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">I Fall into Disgrace</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIV.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Ruined Ones</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XV.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Pavilion of Saluce</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVI.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Vicomte</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3" class="center"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3" class="center">PART II</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">A Déjeûner at the Café de Paris</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVIII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">My First Night in Paris</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIX.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">My First Night in Paris</span> (<i>Continued</i>)</td> - <td><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XX.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">When it is May</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXI.</td> - <td class="left"> "<span class="smcap">O Youth, What a Star Thou Art!</span>"</td> - <td><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">A Political Reception</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Fête Champêtre</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIV.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">La Perouse</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXV.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Franzius Meets Eloise</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVI.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Turret Room</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Remorse</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVIII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Old Coat</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIX.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">In the Sunk Garden</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXX.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Marriage of Eloise</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3" class="center"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="3" class="center">PART III</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXI.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Ball</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Trying to Escape from Fate</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXIII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Overture to "Undine"</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXIV.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Preparing for the Duel</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXV.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">A Lesson with the Foils</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_238">238</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXVI.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Duel</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXVII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Margaret</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXVIII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Drums of War</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXIX.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Night</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XL.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Spirit of Earth</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XLI.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Envoi</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p class="bold2">THE DRUMS OF WAR</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">The Drums of War</p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER I</span> <span class="smaller">THE ROAD TO FRANKFORT</span></h2> - -<p>We had been travelling since morning, three of us—my father, General -Count Mahon, myself, and Joubert—to say nothing of Marengo the -boarhound which followed our carriage. The great old family -travelling-carriage, packed with luggage, wine, and cigars, and drawn by -two stout horses, had been making the dust of Germany fly over the -hedgeless German fields since dawn. It was noon now, and hot. I remember -still the exact feel and smell of the blazing blue cushions as I pressed -my childish cheek against them and felt how hot they were, and the -unfailing pleasure and wonder with which the apple and plum trees -bordering the road filled my soul. Apple trees and plum trees bordering -the road, laden with fruit and unprotected, the snub-nosed German -children we passed on the wayside, seemed to my mind happier than the -inhabitants of Golconda, living in a country like that.</p> - -<p>It was the first of September, 1860. I was only nine then, but I did not -complain of the heat or the dust, or the cramp that inhabited, like a -crab, the old-time travelling-carriage, seizing you now in the back, now -in the leg, now in the spirit. For one thing, I was to be a soldier, -like my father, and wear white moustaches<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> and smoke cigars, and carry a -sword; for another thing, we had been travelling a month, and I was -inured to the business, and, for another thing, I was a Mahon.</p> - -<p>The man beside me, buttoned in a blue frock-coat, adorned with the -ribbon of the Legion of Honour, stout, rubicund of face, opulent, and -magnificent-looking, was, with the exception of my small self, the last -representative of the Mahons of Tullaghmore.</p> - -<p>Napoleon had drawn the Mahons from Ireland to France just as a magnet -attracts steel-filings. My grandfather had seen the burning of Moscow, -and had ridden in the charge of Millhaud's cuirassiers on that fatal -Sunday men call Waterloo Day; and my father, the man beside me in the -blue frock-coat, had adorned the French army with the help of his -splendid personality, his sword, and a few francs a day, till his -marriage with Marie Marquise de Saluce, a woman of marvellous beauty, -great wealth, and the inheritor of the Château de Saluce, which is near -Etiolles, but a few miles from Paris.</p> - -<p>It was a love-match pure and simple—one of those fairyland marriages -arranged by love—and she died when I was born.</p> - -<p>My father would have shot himself only for Joubert—Joubert, corporal in -the 121st of the Line, a personage with an angry, withered, sunburnt -face, eyes and moustache like the eyes and moustache of a wrathful cat, -the heart of a child, and the figure and perfume of a ramrod.</p> - -<p>The sense of smell plays a large part in the lives<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> of children, and -conjures up visions with a tremendous potency, lost as the child -deteriorates into a man.</p> - -<p>Joubert smelt of gunpowder. Probably it was only the Caporal which he -smoked, but to my mind it was the true smell of the Grand Army.</p> - -<p>Sitting on Joubert's knee and listening to tales of battle, and sniffing -him at the same time, I could see the Mamelukes charging, backgrounded -by the Pyramids; I could hear the thunder of Marengo, the roar of the -cannons, and the drums of war leading the Grand Army over the highways -of Europe.</p> - -<p>Echoes from the time before I was born.</p> - -<p>What a splendid nurse for a child an old soldier makes if he is of the -right sort! Joubert was my nurse and my picture-book.</p> - -<p>A drummer of fifteen, he had beaten the charge for the "Growlers" at -Waterloo, when the 121st of the Line, shoal upon shoal of bayonets, had -stormed La Haye Sainte. He had received a bullet in the shoulder during -that same charge; he had killed an Englishman; but all that seemed -little compared with the fact that—<span class="smcap">he had seen Napoleon</span>!</p> - -<p>Joubert was driving us.</p> - -<p>We were bound for the Schloss Lichtenberg, not far from Homburg, on a -visit to Baron Carl Lichtenberg, a relation of my mother. Of course, we -could have travelled by more rapid means of transport, but it suited the -humour of my father to travel just as he did in his own carriage, driven -by his own man, with all his luggage about him, after the fashion of a -nobleman of the year 1810.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p>We had stopped at Carlsruhe, we had stopped at Mayence, we had stopped -here and there. How that journey lies like a living and lovely picture -in my mind! Time has blown away the dust. I do not feel the fatigue now. -The vast blue sky of a continental summer, the poplar trees, the fields, -the storks' nests, the old-time inns, Carlsruhe and its military bands, -Mayence and its drums and marching soldiers, the vivid blue of the -Rhine, and the courtyards and pleasaunces of the lordly houses we -stopped at, lie before me, a picture made poetical by distance, a -picture which stands as the beginning of my life and the beginning of -this story of war and love.</p> - -<p>Joubert was driving us.</p> - -<p>"Joubert," cried my father, "we are near Frankfort now. Remember, the -Hôtel des Hollandaise."</p> - -<p>Joubert, who had been speechless for miles, flung up his elbows just as -a duck flings up her wings, he gave the horses a cut with the whip, and -then he burst out:</p> - -<p>"Frankfort. Ah, yes! Frankfort. Do you think I can't smell it? I can -smell a German town a league away, just as I can see a German woman a -league away, by the size of her feet. Ah, mon Dieu! Come up, Cæsare; -come up, Polastron. My God! Frankfort!"</p> - -<p>At a hotel, before strangers, in any public place, it was always "Oui, -mon Général," "Oui, monsieur"; but alone, with no one to listen, Joubert -talked to the General just as the General talked to Joubert. An -extraordinary and solid friendship cemented the relationship of master -and man ever since that terrible day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> in the library of the Château de -Saluce, when Joubert had torn the pistol from the hand of his master, -flung it through the glass of the great window, and, turning from a paid -servant into a man tremendous and heroic, had wrestled with him as the -angel wrestled with Jacob.</p> - -<p>We passed through the suburbs of the town, and then through the Ghetto. -You never can imagine how much colour is in dirt till you see the Jews' -quarter of Frankfort—how much poetry, and also, how much perfume!</p> - -<p>Joubert, who could not speak a word of the Hogs' language—as he was -pleased to style the language of Germany—drove on, piercing the narrow -streets to the heart of the town, and in the Kaisserstrasse he drew up. -The General inquired the way of a policeman, and in five minutes or less -we were before the doors of the Hôtel des Hollandaise.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER II</span> <span class="smaller">VON LICHTENBERG</span></h2> - -<p>The Hôtel des Hollandaise was situated, I believe, in the -Wilhelmstrasse, an old-fashioned inn with a courtyard. It has long -vanished, giving place to a more modern building.</p> - -<p>Nowadays, when the Continent is inundated with travellers, when you are -received at a great hotel with about as much consideration as a pauper -is received at a workhouse, it is hard to imagine the old conditions of -travel.</p> - -<p>Weigand, the proprietor of the Hôtel des Hollandaise, received us in -person, backed by half a dozen waiters, all happy and smiling. They had -the art of seeming to have known us for years; the luggage was removed -as tenderly as though it were packed with Sèvres, and, led by the host, -we were conducted to our rooms, a suite on the first floor.</p> - -<p>When Marie Antoinette came to France, at the first halting-place beyond -the frontier she slept in a room whose tapestry represented the Massacre -of the Innocents.</p> - -<p>Our sitting-room in the Hôtel des Hollandaise, a large room, had upon -its walls the Siege of Troy, not in tapestry, but wall-paper. On this -day, when the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> seeds of my future life were sown, it was a coincidence, -strange enough, this villainous wall-decoration, with its tale of war, -ruin, and love.</p> - -<p>Whilst my father was writing letters, I, active and inquisitive as a -terrier, explored the suite, examined the town from the balcony of the -sitting-room, and, finding the prospect unexciting, proceeded to the -examination of the hotel.</p> - -<p>A balcony surrounded the large central courtyard, where people were -seated at tables, some smoking, some drinking beer from tall mugs with -lids to them. Waiters passed to and fro; it was delightful to watch, -delightful to speculate and weave romances about the unromantical -drinkers—Jews, travellers, and traders; foreign to my eyes as the -denizens of a bazaar in Samarcand.</p> - -<p>Now casting my eyes up, and led by the spirit that makes children see -what is not intended for them, I saw, at a door in the gallery opposite -to me, Joubert, who had just been superintending the stabling of the -horses. He was coming on to the gallery from the staircase. A fat, ugly, -German maidservant was passing him, and he—just as another person would -say "Good-day!"—slipped his arm round her waist and kissed her, made a -grimace, and passed on round the gallery towards me.</p> - -<p>"Why do you kiss them if you say their feet are so large, Joubert?" I -asked, recalling his strictures on German females.</p> - -<p>"Ma foi!" replied Joubert—"one does not kiss their feet."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p><p>He leaned with me over the balcony watching the scene below.</p> - -<p>The hatred of Germans which filled the breast of Joubert was a hatred -based on the firm foundation of Blücher. Joubert did not hate the -English. This "cur of a Blücher," who turned up on Waterloo Day to reap -the harvest of other men's work, gave him all the food for hatred he -required.</p> - -<p>"Joubert," said I, "do you see that man with the big stomach and -watchchain sitting there—the one with a cigar?"</p> - -<p>"Mais, oui!" replied Joubert. "I know him well."</p> - -<p>"What is he, Joubert?"</p> - -<p>"He? His name is Bambabouff; he lives just beyond there, in a street to -the right as you go out, and he sells sausages. And see you, beside -him—yes, he, that German rat—with the ring on his first finger. His -name is Squintz, he sells Bambabouff the dogs and cats of which he makes -his sausages. Ah, yes; if German sausages could bark and mew, you could -not hear yourself speak in Frankfort. And he—look you over -there!—sitting at the table behind Bambabouff, with the mug of beer to -his lips, he is Monsieur Saurkraut."</p> - -<p>"And what does he do, Joubert?"</p> - -<p>Before Joubert could answer, a man entered the hall, a dark man, just -off the road, to judge by his travelling costume, and with a face the -picture of which is stamped on my mind, an impression never to be -removed.</p> - -<p>"Ah, ha!" said Joubert. "Here comes the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>Marquis de Carabas. Hats -off—hats off, gentlemen, to the Marquis de Carabas!"</p> - -<p>Now, Bambabouff did look exactly like a person who might have made a -fortune out of sausages, for Joubert had the art of hitting a person -off, caricaturing him in a few words. Squintz's personality was -humorously in keeping with his supposed business in life. And the -new-comer—well, "the Marquis de Carabas" was his portrait in four -words. Tall, stately, a nobleman a league off; handsome enough, with a -dark, saturnine face, and a piercing eye that seemed at times to -contemplate things far beyond the world we live in. The face of a -mystic.</p> - -<p>Weigand, washing his hands with invisible soap, accompanied this -gentleman, half walking beside him, half leading the way. They had -reached the centre of the hall when the stranger looked up and saw my -small face and Joubert's cat-like physiognomy regarding him over the -balustrade of the gallery.</p> - -<p>He started, stopped dead, and stared at me. Had he seen a ghost he could -not have come to a sharper pause, or have expressed more astonishment -without speech.</p> - -<p>Then, with a word to the landlord, who also looked up, he passed on, and -we lost sight of him under the gallery.</p> - -<p>"Ma foi!" said Joubert. "The Marquis de Carabas seems to know us, then."</p> - -<p>"Joubert," said I, "that man knows me, and I'm-m-m——" "Afraid" was the -word, but I did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> say it, for I was a Mahon, with the family -traditions to keep up.</p> - -<p>"Know you?" cried Joubert, becoming serious. "Why, where did you ever -see him before?"</p> - -<p>"Nowhere."</p> - -<p>Before Joubert could speak again Weigand appeared on the gallery.</p> - -<p>"His Excellency the Baron Carl von Lichtenberg, to see his Excellency -Count Mahon!" cried Weigand. "The Baron, hearing of his Excellency's -arrival, has driven over from the Schloss Lichtenberg to present his -respects in person. The Baron waits in the salon his Excellency's -convenience."</p> - -<p>Joubert took the card which Weigand presented, went to our sitting-room -door, knocked, and entered.</p> - -<p>I heard my father's voice. "Aha, the Baron! He must have got my letter -from Mayence. Show him up."</p> - -<p>Then I knew that the Marquis de Carabas was our relation Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg, the man at whose house we were to stop. A momentary and -inexplicable terror filled my soul, and was banished, giving place to a -deep curiosity.</p> - -<p>Then I heard steps on the gallery, and the Baron, led by the innkeeper, -made his appearance, and, without looking in my direction, entered the -sitting-room where my father was.</p> - -<p>I heard their greeting, then the door was shut.</p> - -<p>Waiters came up with wine. I leaned on the railing, wondering what my -father and the stranger were conversing about, and watching the people -in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>courtyard below. Bambabouff and his supposed partner had entered -into an argument that seemed to threaten blows, and I had almost -forgotten the Baron and my fear of him, watching the proceedings below, -when the sitting-room door opened and my father cried: "Patrick!"</p> - -<p>He beckoned me into the room. A haze of cigar-smoke hung in the air, and -by the table, on which stood glasses and decanters, sat Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg, leaning sideways in his chair, his legs crossed, his arms -folded, his dark countenance somewhat drooped, as though he were in -meditation.</p> - -<p>"This is Patrick," said my father. "Patrick, this is our relation and -friend the Baron Carl von Lichtenberg."</p> - -<p>I had been taught to salute my elders and superiors in the military -style; my dress was the uniform of the French school-boy. I brought my -feet together, and, stiff as a ramrod, made the salute. The Baron, with -a half-laugh, returned it, sitting straight up in his chair to do so.</p> - -<p>Having returned my salute, and spoken a few words, the Baron resumed his -conversation with my father; and I, with the apparent heedlessness of -childhood, played with Marengo, our boarhound, on the hearthrug before -the big fireplace.</p> - -<p>I say the apparent heedlessness of childhood. There are few things so -deep as the subterfuge of a child. Whilst playing with the dog and -pulling his ears, I was listening intently; not a word of the -conversation was missed by me. They were talking mostly about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> the -Emperor of the French, a close friend of my father's. He was just then -at Biarritz, with the Empress; and the conversation, which included the -names of De Morny and half a dozen others, would have been interesting, -no doubt, to a diplomat. As I listened, I could tell that the Baron was -sustaining the conversation, despite the fact that his thoughts were -fixed elsewhere. I could tell that his thoughts were fixed on me; that -he was watching me intently, yet furtively, and I knew in some -mysterious manner that this man feared me.</p> - -<p>Feared me, a child of nine!</p> - -<p>I read it partly in his expression, partly in his furtive manner. He had -seemed to dismiss me from his mind after our introduction; yet no man -ever watched another with more furtive and brooding attention than the -Baron Carl von Lichtenberg as he sat watching me.</p> - -<p>"Well," said the Baron, rising to go, "to-morrow, we will expect you in -the afternoon. Till then, farewell."</p> - -<p>He saluted me as he left the room in the same forced, half-jocular -manner with which he had returned my salute when I entered.</p> - -<p>Then he was gone, and I was playing again with Marengo on the hearthrug, -and my father, cigar in mouth, had returned to the letters he had been -engaged on when the Baron was announced.</p> - -<p>"Joubert," said I, as he tucked me up in my bed that night, "I wish we -were home again. Joubert, I don't like the Marquis de Carabas."</p> - -<p>Joubert grunted. His opinion of the Marquis was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> the same as mine, -evidently, but be was too much of a nursery despot to admit the fact. -"Attention!" cried he, holding the candle-stick in one hand, and the -finger and thumb of the other ready to extinguish the light. -"Attention!" cried Joubert, as though he were addressing a company of -the "Growlers." "One!" I nestled down in bed. "Two!" I shut my eyes. -"Three!" he snuffed out the candle.</p> - -<p>That was the formula every night ere I marched off for dreamland with my -knapsack on my back, a soldier to the last buttons on my gaiters.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER III</span> <span class="smaller">"I HAVE BEEN HERE BEFORE."</span></h2> - -<p>I was awakened by the sound of a band, and the tramp, tramp, tramp of a -regiment of soldiers—solid, rhythmical and earthshaking as the -footsteps of the Statue of the Commander.</p> - -<p>A regiment of infantry was passing in the street below.</p> - -<p>At Carlsruhe, at Mayence, I had heard the same sounds, and even my -childish mind could recognise the perfect drill, the perfect discipline, -the solidarity of these legions of the German army.</p> - -<p>The sun was shining in through the window which Joubert had just flung -open; the band was playing, the soldiers marching, life was gay.</p> - -<p>"Attention!" cried Joubert, turning from the window. "One!" up I sat. -"Two!" out went a leg. "Three!" I was standing on the floor saluting.</p> - -<p>I declare, if anyone had put his ear to the door of my bedroom when I -was dressing, or rather, being dressed, in the morning, they might have -sworn that a company of soldiers were drilling.</p> - -<p>Mixed with the slashing of water and the gasps of a child being bathed -came Joubert's military commands; the putting on of my small trousers -was accompanied by shrill directions taken from the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>drill-book, and the -full-dress inspection would have satisfied the fastidious soul of -Maréchal Niel.</p> - -<p>After breakfast the carriage was brought to the door, the baggage -stowed, and, Joubert, taking the directions from my father, we started -for the Schloss Lichtenberg as the clocks of Frankfort were striking -eleven.</p> - -<p>No warmer or more beautiful autumn morning ever cast its light on -Germany. By permission of the German Foreign Office, we had a complete -set of road-maps, with our route laid down in red ink, each numbered, -and each to be returned to the German Embassy in Paris on the conclusion -of our tour.</p> - -<p>We did not hurry—time was our own; we stopped sometimes at posthouses, -with porches vine-overgrown, where I had plums, Joubert had beer, and my -father chatted to the country people, who crowded round our carriage, -and the stout innkeepers who served us.</p> - -<p>The Taunus Mountains, blue in the warm haze of distance, beautiful with -the magic of their pine forests, lay before us. At two o'clock we passed -up the steep, cobble-paved main street of Homburg—a smaller Homburg -then—and at three we had left the tiny village of Emsdorff and its -schloss behind us.</p> - -<p>We were in a different country here, the mountains were very close, and -the road threaded the edges of the great forest. I knew the Forest of -Sênart, which lies quite close to the Château de Saluce, but the Forest -of Sênart was tame as a flower-garden compared with this. The air was -filled with the perfume and the singing and sighing of the great pine -trees, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> carriage went almost without sound over the carpet of -pine-needles, and once, in the deepest part, where all was green gloom -and dancing points of light, my father called a halt and we sat for a -moment to listen.</p> - -<p>You could hear the leagues of silence, and then, like the rustling of a -lady's skirt, came the wind sighing across the tree-tops and loudening -to the patter of falling fir-cones, and dying away again and leaving the -silence to herself. The bark of a fox, the far-off cry of a jay, -instantly peopled the place for my childish mind with the people of -Grimm and Hoffmann, Father Barbel, the beasts that talked, and the -robbers of the forest, more mysterious and fascinating than gnomes.</p> - -<p>"Listen!" said my father. Mournful, faint, and far away came the notes -of a horn.</p> - -<p>"They are hunting in the forest," said my father; and, at the words, I -could see in the gloom of the tree-caverns the phantom of the flying -game pursued by the phantom of the ghostly huntsman, bugle to lips and -cheeks puffed out, a picture in the fantastic tapestry that children -weave from the colours and the sounds of life.</p> - -<p>Then we drove on.</p> - -<p>It was long past four, and I was drowsy with the fresh air, half drugged -with the odour of the pine trees, when we reached the gates of the park -surrounding the schloss.</p> - -<p>They were opened for us by a jäger, an old man in a green uniform, who -saluted as we passed. Joubert whipping up the horses, we passed along -the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> great avenue of elm trees. The park, under the late afternoon sun, -lay swathed in light, beautiful and so spacious that the far-off deer -browsing in the sunshine seemed the denizens of their natural home.</p> - -<p>I was not drowsy now, I was sitting erect by my father, my heart was -filled with the wildest exaltation—mystery and enchantment surrounded -me. I could have cried aloud with the wonder of it all; for I had been -here before.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IV</span> <span class="smaller">ELOISE</span></h2> - -<p>"You have been here before?" Who does not know that mysterious greeting -with which, when we turn the corner of some road, the prospect meets us?</p> - -<p>Only a few years ago Charcot assured me that this strange sensation of -the mind is a result of inequality in the rhythm of thought, a -mechanical accident affecting one side of the brain. I accepted his -explanation with a smile.</p> - -<p>Seated now by my father as we dashed along the broad avenue, my heart -was on fire. I knew that at the turning just before us, the turning -where the avenue bent upon itself, the house would burst upon us in full -view. Unable to contain myself, scarce knowing what I did, I jumped on -the front seat, and, standing, holding on to Joubert's coat, I waited.</p> - -<p>The carriage turned the corner of the drive, the house broke into view, -and my dream vanished.</p> - -<p>It was like being recalled to consciousness from some happy vision by a -blow in the face.</p> - -<p>I could not in the least tell what sort of house it was that I expected -to see, but I could tell that the house before me was not—it.</p> - -<p>Vast and grey and formal, the Schloss Lichtenberg stood back-grounded by -waving pine-trees; above it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> coiling to the wind, the flag of Prussia, -proclaiming that the king was a guest, floated in the evening sunshine. -Before the huge porch, trampling the gravel, the horses of a hunting -party were reined in; the hunters were dismounting. They had been -hawking; and on the gloved wrists of the green-coated jägers the hooded -falcons shook their little bells.</p> - -<p>"The King is here!" said my father, when he saw the flag.</p> - -<p>The horses of the hunters were being led away, and most of the party had -disappeared into the house when we drew up before the door.</p> - -<p>Only two people stood to greet us on the steps, Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg and a man—a great man, with a dominating face, and hooded -eyes that never wavered, never lowered, eyes direct, far-seeing, and -fearless as the eyes of an eagle.</p> - -<p>I was in a terrible fright. Those words, "The King is here," had thrown -me in consternation. Though my father was a close friend of Napoleon, I -had never been brought into contact, as yet, with that enigmatical -person. I knew nothing of courts; and the idea that I was to sleep under -the same roof as the King of Prussia, and be spoken to by him, perhaps, -filled my imaginative mind with such a panic that I quite forgot my -ghostly dread of Baron von Lichtenberg.</p> - -<p>I thought the big man with the strange eyes was the King. He was not the -King. He was Bismarck.</p> - -<p>Bismarck! Good heavens! How little we know of a man till we have seen -him in his everyday mood! Bismarck slapped my father on the back—he had -all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> the good-humour and boisterous manner of a great schoolboy—as he -accompanied us up the steps. He had met my father several times before, -and liked him, as everyone liked him. And in the vast hall of the -schloss, hung with trophies of the battle and the chase, I stood by, -forgotten, whilst my father, in the midst of a group of gentlemen, stood -talking to the boisterous great man, whose hard voice and tremendous -personality dominated the scene.</p> - -<p>I have said that Bismarck's voice was hard. It was, but it was not a -mean or commonplace voice; it was as full of force as the man, and you -never forgot it, once you heard it.</p> - -<p>A large party of guests were at the schloss; and I, standing alone, felt -very much alone indeed—shy, and filled with fear of the King. I was -standing like this, when from the door of a great room opening upon the -hall came a little figure skipping.</p> - -<p>Gay as a beam of sunshine, she came into the vast and gloomy hall. She -wore a blue scarf, white dress, frilled pantalettes, and shoes with -crossed straps over her tiny insteps.</p> - -<p>She glanced at me as she passed, making straight for Bismarck, whose -coat she plucked at.</p> - -<p>"Another time—another time!" growled he, letting drop a hand for the -sunbeam to play with whilst he continued his conversation with the -others. But I noticed that, despite his hardness and seeming -indifference, the big hand, with the seal-ring on the little finger, -caressed the child's hand; but she wanted more than this. Swinging -around, still clasping his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> hand, but pouting, and with a finger to her -lips, her eyes rested on me.</p> - -<p>I had forgotten the King now; a flood of bashfulness overwhelmed me, -and, as I stood there holding my képi in one hand, I, mesmerised by the -figure in pantalettes before me, made a stiff little bow. Dropping -Bismarck's hand, she made a little curtsey, and came skipping to me -across the shining floor.</p> - -<p>"And you, too, are a soldier?" said she, speaking in French. "Bon jour, -M. l'Officier!"</p> - -<p>"Bon jour, mademoiselle!"</p> - -<p>"My name is Eloise," said the apparition of light. "Do you like my -dress?"</p> - -<p>"Oui, mademoiselle!"</p> - -<p>She pursed her lips. "Oui, mademoiselle? Oh, how dull you are! Now, if I -wert thou, and thou wert I, know you what I would have said?"</p> - -<p>"Non, mademoiselle."</p> - -<p>"Non, mademoiselle! Oh, how droll you are. I would have said: -'Mademoiselle, your toilet is ravishing!' Now say it."</p> - -<p>"Mademoiselle, your toilet is ravishing."</p> - -<p>She laughed with pleasure at having made me repeat the words. Despite -her conversation, she had no touch of the old-fashioned, or the pert, or -the objectionable about her. Brimming over with life, pure from its -source, fresh as a daisy, sparkling as a dewdrop, sweetness was written -upon her brow, across that ineffable mark of purity with which God -stamps His future angels.</p> - -<p>"And your name?" said she.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>"Patrick," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Pawthrick," said she, trying to put her small mouth round the word. "I -cannot say it. I will call you Toto. Come with me," leading me by the -sleeve, "and I will introduce you to my mother. She is here"—drawing -towards the door of the room from whence she had come—"in here. Do you -know why I call you Toto?"</p> - -<p>"Non, mademoiselle."</p> - -<p>"He was my rabbit, and he died," said Eloise, as we entered a great -salon where several ladies were seated conversing.</p> - -<p>Toward one of these ladies, more beautiful in my eyes than the dawn, -Eloise led me.</p> - -<p>"Maman," said she, "this is Toto."</p> - -<p>The Countess Feliciani, for that was the name of the mother of Eloise, -smiled upon us. I dare say we made a quaint and pretty enough pair. She -was perhaps, thirty—the Countess Feliciana, a woman of Genoa, blue-eyed -and golden-haired, and beautiful—Ah! when a blonde is beautiful, her -beauty transcends the beauty of all brunettes.</p> - -<p>I bowed, she spoke to me, I stammered. She put my awkwardness down to -bashfulness, no doubt, but it was not bashfulness. I was in love with -the Countess Feliciani, stricken to the heart at first sight.</p> - -<p>The love of a child of nine for a beautiful woman of thirty! How absurd -it seems, but how real, and what a mystery! I swear that the love I had -for that woman, love that haunted me for a long, long time, was equal in -strength to the love of a full-grown man,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> with this difference: that it -was immaterial, and, as far as my conscience tells me, utterly divorced -from earthly passion.</p> - -<p>"Now go and play," said the Countess. And Eloise led me away, I knew not whither.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER V</span> <span class="smaller">I SEE MYSELF, NOT KNOWING</span></h2> - -<p>But to the mind of a child the moment is everything. Had I been a man, -my inamorata would have driven me to solitude and cigars. Being what I -was, supper pushed her image to one side for the moment. Such a supper! -Served specially for the pair of us in a little room, once, I suppose, -some lady's boudoir, for the walls were hung with blue silk, and the -ceiling was painted with flowers and cupids.</p> - -<p>"Where is Carl?" asked Eloise of the German woman who served us.</p> - -<p>"Carl has been naughty," replied she. "Carl must remain in his room till -the Baron forgives him."</p> - -<p>This woman, by name Gretel, was tall, angular, and hard of face. I did -not care for her; and I noticed that she watched me from the corners of -her eyes, somewhat in the same manner that the Baron had watched me as I -played on the hearthrug with Marengo in the hotel at Frankfort.</p> - -<p>"Who is Carl?" said I.</p> - -<p>"Carl von Lichtenberg?" replied Eloise. "Why, he is the Baron's son. He -is eight, and he tore my frock this morning right up here." She shifted -in her chair, and plucked up the hem of her tiny skirt to show me the -place. "But it was not for that Carl has been put in prison, for I never -told, did I, Gretel?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>Gretel grunted.</p> - -<p>"Come," said she, "if you have finished supper you can have half an -hour's play before bed."</p> - -<p>She took the lamp in her hand, and led us from the room down a corridor; -then, opening one side of a tall, double door, she led us into an -immense picture-gallery.</p> - -<p>Portraits of dead-and-gone Lichtenbergs stared at us from the walls. Men -in armour, knights dressed for the chase, ladies whose beauty or -ugliness wore the veil of the centuries.</p> - -<p>"Why, this is the picture-gallery!" cried Eloise.</p> - -<p>"It is the shortest way to the playroom," grimly replied Gretel, as she -stalked before us with the light.</p> - -<p>We followed her, walking hand-in-hand, as the babes in the wood walked -in that grim story, to which the pity of the robins is the sequel.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Gretel halted. She stood lamp in hand before a picture.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Toto!" cried Eloise.</p> - -<p>I had seized her arm, I suppose roughly in my agitation, for the picture -before which Gretel had halted filled me with a sensation I can scarcely -describe. Terror!—yes, it was terror, but something else as well. The -feeling I had experienced in the carriage, the feeling—"I have been -here before"—held my heart.</p> - -<p>It was the picture of a girl in the garb of many, oh, many years ago; -yet I knew her; and out of the past, far out of the past, came that -mysterious terror that filled my soul.</p> - -<p>But for a moment this lasted, and then faded away,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> and things became -commonplace once more; and Gretel was Gretel, the picture a picture, and -in my hand lay the warm and charming hand of Eloise, which I had taken -again.</p> - -<p>"That is the picture of Margaret von Lichtenberg," said Gretel, looking -at me as she spoke.</p> - -<p>"How like she is to little Carl!" murmured Eloise. "Gretel, how like she -is to little Carl!"</p> - -<p>"And this," said Gretel, holding the lamp to a small canvas under the -large one, "is a picture of an ancestor of yours, little boy, Philippe -de Saluce. He loved her, but it was many years ago. Eloise, come closer; -see, who is this little picture like?"</p> - -<p>"Why, it is Toto!" cried Eloise, clapping her hands. "Toto, look!"</p> - -<p>I looked. It was the picture of a boy, a picture of the Marquis Philippe -de Saluce, taken when he was quite young.</p> - -<p>I looked, but the thing made little impression upon me. Few people can -recognise their likeness in another.</p> - -<p>"Come," said Gretel, and she led us on to the playroom.</p> - -<p>Now, here let me give you the dark and gloomy fact that Philippe de -Saluce had cruelly killed Margaret von Lichtenberg in a fit of madness -and rage. He had drowned her in the lake which lies in the woods of -Schloss Lichtenberg, one dark and sad day of December, in the year of -our Lord 1611. He had slain himself, too, "body and soul," said the old -chronicles.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> 'Alas, what man can slay his soul or save it from the -punishment of its crimes!</p> - -<p>The playroom was full of toys, evidently Carl's, and we played till -bedtime, Eloise and I. Then I was marched off to the door of my bedroom, -where Joubert was waiting for me.</p> - -<p>A pretty chambermaid scuttled away at my approach. I will say for -Joubert that, judging from my childish recollections, this cat-whiskered -old fire-eater had an attraction for ladies of his own class quite -incommensurate with his age and personal charms.</p> - -<p>My bedroom was a little room opening off my father's.</p> - -<p>When Joubert had tucked me up I fell asleep, and must have slept several -hours, when I was awakened by the sound of voices.</p> - -<p>Joubert was assisting my father to undress. They were talking.</p> - -<p>No man, I think, ever saw Count Mahon drunk. I have seen him myself -consume two bottles of port without turning a hair. They built men -differently in those days. But he was the soul of good-fellowship; and -how much he and Bismarck had consumed together that night the butler of -Schloss Lichtenberg alone knew.</p> - -<p>"Joubert," said my father, "this relation of mine, Baron Lichtenberg, of -the Schloss Lichtenberg, in the province of What-do-you-call-it—put my -coat on that chair—strikes me as being a German, and, more than -that—mark you, Joubert, madness lies in the eyes of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> a man. I say -nothing, but I am glad the blood of the Lichtenbergs does not run in the -veins of the Mahons." Then, just before he fell asleep, and I could hear -Joubert giving the bedclothes a tuck at his back: "Ireland for ever!" -said my father. Yet he was a Frenchman, a Commander of the Legion of -Honour, a soldier of the Emperor. <span class="smcap">In vino veritas!</span></p> - -<p>Then I fell asleep, and scarcely had sleep touched me than I entered -dreamland. I was in the pine forest, standing just where the carriage -had stopped and where the sound of the distant horn had come to us from -the depths of the trees. I was lost, and someone was calling to me. It -was very dark.</p> - -<p>In this tragic dream, the terror and mystery of which even still haunts -me, I could see nothing save the outlines of the trees dimly visible; -and I followed the voice through the increasing gloom till at last the -darkness complete and absolute ringed me round like an iron band, and I -knew that the trees had ceased to be, and before me lay water.</p> - -<p>A gasping and bubbling sound came from the invisible water, and I knew -that it was the sound of a person drowning.</p> - -<p>Drowning in the dark.</p> - -<p>Then I awoke, and there were people in the room.</p> - -<p>The room was lit by a nightlight dimly burning in a little dish. I, -still possessed by the terror of the dream, lay very quiet. From the -next room came the deep and stertorous breathing of my father. The -people in my room, as though knowing him to be under the influence of -drugs or wine, seemed quite <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>oblivious of his presence so close to them. -Baron Lichtenberg was standing by the foot of my bed; beside him stood -the woman Gretel. They were gazing upon me and talking about me, and I -was chill with terror.</p> - -<p>Peeping under my lids, I could see them, but in the dim light they could -not tell that I was awake as they gazed at me and talked in a -half-whisper.</p> - -<p>"It is horrible," said the man, "but it was prophesied. Look at him. Can -you doubt?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the woman; "it is he, as surely as she is Margaret."</p> - -<p>"And you say he recognised her picture?"</p> - -<p>"Surely," replied the woman, "by his face, which I watched narrowly."</p> - -<p>Now, the face of the man seen in the dim light was the face of Baron -Carl von Lichtenberg with the veil removed, the veil which every man -wears whilst playing his part in the social comedy. The face that was -looking down at me was both merciless and mad. Child though I was, I -dimly felt that this man was at enmity with me, and that he not only -feared me, but hated me.</p> - -<p>"And now," said the woman in the same half-whisper, "what is to do? Will -you bring them together?"</p> - -<p>"To-morrow," said the Baron.</p> - -<p>During this conversation, which had lasted some minutes, the Baron had -never once taken his eyes from my face. I could support it no longer. I -opened my eyes, tossed my arms, and, like a pair of evil spectres, my -visitors vanished from the room.</p> - -<p>Now that I was free of their presence, my terror became tinged with -curiosity. Who was Margaret?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> Who was the person they referred to as -being me? <i>The other person?</i></p> - -<p>In those questions lay the mystery and tragedy of my life. I was to have -the answer to them terribly soon.</p> - -<p>I listened to the turret clock striking the hours. This clock was of -very antique make. The figure of a man in armour, larger than life, -struck a ponderous bell with a mallet. You could see him in the turret, -and my father had pointed him out to me as we drove up to the house.</p> - -<p>As I listened, I pictured him standing there alone. A figure from -another age and a far-distant time.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VI</span> <span class="smaller">LITTLE CARL</span></h2> - -<p>I was awakened by the note of a horn blown by some ranger in the forest. -The sun was shining in through the window, night had vanished with all -its dreams and fears, and Joubert was at the door.</p> - -<p>Joubert, unsuccessful, perhaps, in one of his multifarious love-affairs, -was grumpy; and when I tried to explain about the nocturnal visitors he -wouldn't listen. He knew my imaginative powers, and put my story down to -them; and, as for me, attracted by the events of the moment as all -children are, I had nearly forgotten the whole matter by breakfast-time.</p> - -<p>I was led down by Joubert and given into the charge of Gretel. Breakfast -was laid for Eloise and me in the same boudoir where we had supped the -night before, but lo, and behold! when we reached the room another child -was there as well as Eloise.</p> - -<p>A boy of my own age. A charming little figure dressed in the uniform of -a Pomeranian grenadier.</p> - -<p>"This is Carl!" cried Eloise, pulling the little grenadier forward by -the hand. "This is Toto, Carl. I forgot his other name. No matter. I am -hungry. Gretel, I pray you let us have breakfast."</p> - -<p>Carl was dark; and he met me without smiling, and took my hand without -grasping it properly, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> looked at me, not directly, but in a veiled -manner curious in a child so young.</p> - -<p>Carl repelled me, and yet attracted me. When I contrast his face with -the portrait in the picture-gallery of the schloss, I can see now, with -the eye of memory, the awful likeness between him and the dead and gone -Margaret von Lichtenberg, just as I can see the likeness between myself -and Philippe de Saluce.</p> - -<p>The "family likeness"—that mysterious fact in life before which science -is dumb—never was more manifest; but what made the thing more curious, -more deeply involved in mystery, was the fact that under the same roof, -hundreds of years after the old tragedy of long ago, the facsimiles of -the two actors should meet as children fresh to the world.</p> - -<p>As for me this morning, I saw nothing in Carl von Lichtenberg but a -little boy of my own age, somewhat fantastically dressed. The -half-terror, the extraordinary sensation that the picture of Margaret -von Lichtenberg had called up in my mind the night before, had expended -itself and vanished, leaving me incapable of further psychic perception. -Everything was commonplace again as the bread-and-butter that Gretel was -cutting for us at the side-table.</p> - -<p>The schloss was so vast, so solidly constructed, that no sound came to -us from the other guests.</p> - -<p>After breakfast, when we were running down a corridor making for the -garden, and led by Eloise, a gentleman stopped us, and spoke a few words -of greeting, and passed on.</p> - -<p>"That was the King," said Eloise. "He is <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>leaving to-morrow—he and Graf -von Bismarck. We, too, are leaving the day after."</p> - -<p>"You, too?" I cried, my childish heart recalling the lovely Countess -Feliciani, who had been clean forgotten for twelve hours or more.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Eloise. "And there's mamma. Come along. See, she is with -those ladies by the fountain."</p> - -<p>We had broken into the garden, a wonderful and beautiful garden, with -shaven lawns and clipped yew-trees, terraces, dim vistas cypress-roofed, -and, far away down one of these alleys a sight to fascinate the heart of -any child, the figure of a great stone man running. He was dressed in -green lichen, lent him by the years; he held a spear in his hand, and he -seemed in the act of hurling it at the game he was pursuing there beyond -the cypress-trees at the edge of the singing pines.</p> - -<p>For the garden became the forest without wall or barrier, except the -shadow cast by the trees; and you could walk from the sunlight and the -sound of the fountains into the dryad-haunted twilight and the old -quaint world of the woods.</p> - -<p>The Countess kissed Eloise; then she bent to kiss me, and I—I turned my -face away—a crimson face—and felt like a fool.</p> - -<p>Someone laughed—a gentleman who was standing by. The Countess laughed; -and then, to my extreme relief, someone came to my rescue.</p> - -<p>It was little Carl. He had run into the house for his drum, and now he -was coming along the path solemnly beating it, with Eloise for a -faithful camp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> follower. I joined her; and away down the garden we went, -hand in hand, marching in time to the rattle of the little drum.</p> - -<p>Eloise snatched flowers from the flower-beds as we passed them, and -pelted the drummer with them as he marched before us; and so we went, a -gallant company, through the garden, past the running man, and under the -forest trees, the echoes and the bluejays answering to the drum.</p> - -<p>My father, the Countess Feliciani, our host, and a number of ladies and -gentlemen were in the garden. They laughed as we marched away; and when -the shadow of the trees took us they forgot us, I suppose, and the -pretty picture we must have made.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>Scarcely twenty minutes could have elapsed when screams from the wood -drew their startled attention, and out from the trees came Carl, -dripping with water, without his drum, running, and screaming as he ran.</p> - -<p>After him ran Eloise and I.</p> - -<p>"He tried to drown me in the lake in the wood!" screamed Carl, clasping -the knees of his father, who had run to meet him, and looking back at -me. "He tried to drown me; he did it before—he did it before! Save me -from him, father, father! Father! Father!"</p> - -<p>Baron Lichtenberg's face, as he clasped the child, was turned on me. He -was white as little Carl, and I shall never forget his expression.</p> - -<p>"Did you try to drown my child?" he said. And he spoke as though he were -speaking to a man.</p> - -<p>Before I could reply Eloise struck in:</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, Carl, how can you say such things? I saw it all. No, monsieur. -They had a little quarrel as to who should play with the drum, and Toto -pushed him, and he fell into the water. Was it not so, Carl?"</p> - -<p>But Carl was incapable of answering. Screaming like a girl in hysterics -he clung to the Baron, who had taken him in his arms.</p> - -<p>"Now, then," said my father, who had come up. "What is this? What is the -meaning of this, sir? Come, speak! Did you dare to——"</p> - -<p>"Father," I said, "I pushed him, but I did not mean to hurt him—truly I -did not."</p> - -<p>"Do not blame him," said Von Lichtenberg, turning to the house with Carl -in his arms. "It is Fate. Children do these things without knowing it. -Do not punish him."</p> - -<p>The hypocrisy of those last four words! Lost to my father, whose simple -mind could not read the tones of a man's voice or guess what hatred can -be hidden in honey.</p> - -<p>"All the same," said my father, as the Baron departed, "the child is -half drowned. You have disgraced yourself. Off with you to Joubert, and -place yourself under arrest."</p> - -<p>I saluted.</p> - -<p>"Bread and water," said my father; "and for three days."</p> - -<p>I saluted again, and marched off to the house dejectedly enough.</p> - -<p>As I went, little footsteps sounded behind me, and Eloise ran up. "You -must not mind Carl, Toto,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> said she. "He cannot help crying. Listen, -and I will tell you a secret. I heard mamma telling it to father; they -thought I was asleep. Little Carl is a girl! Monsieur le Baron has -brought her up as a boy to avoid something evil that has been -prophesied—so mother said. What is 'prophesied,' Toto?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," I replied, my head too full of the dismal prospect of -arrest and bread and water to trouble much about anything else. Then -religiously I went to Joubert who formally placed me under arrest.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VII</span> <span class="smaller">THE MAN IN ARMOUR</span></h2> - -<p>Next day happened a thing which even still recurs to me in nightmare.</p> - -<p>When I came down to breakfast, released from arrest by special -intervention of the Baron, Carl was not there. Gretel said he had caught -a cold from his wetting, and was confined to his room.</p> - -<p>Late in the afternoon Eloise and I were in the great library. We had -watched the King depart, the Graf von Bismarck, cigar in mouth, -accompanying him. Carriage after carriage, containing guests, had driven -away; and Eloise and I were pressing our noses against the panes of the -window looking at the park, and speculating on Carl and the condition of -his cold, when the door opened, and Gretel looked in.</p> - -<p>"Oh, there you are, children!" cried Gretel. "Well, and what are you -doing with yourselves?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing," yawned Eloise, turning from the window. "We have played all -our games, haven't we, Toto?"</p> - -<p>"Well you are sure to be getting into mischief if you are left to -yourselves," said the woman. "Come with me, and I will show you a fine -game. It is now a quarter to five. We will go up to the turret and see -the Man in Armour strike the hour."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p><p>"Hurrah!" cried I, and Eloise skipped. It was the desire of both our -hearts to see the mysterious Man in Armour close, and watch him strike -the bell.</p> - -<p>"Fetch your hats, then, for it is windy in the tower," said Gretel. And -off we went to fetch them.</p> - -<p>She led us through a door off the corridor, and up circular stone stairs -that seemed to have no end, till we reached the room where the machinery -was placed that drove the clock and struck the bell.</p> - -<p>A ladder from here led us to the topmost chamber, where the iron man -with the iron hammer stood before the iron bell.</p> - -<p>This chamber was open to the four winds, and gave a splendid view of the -mountains and the forest, and the lands lying towards Friedrichsdorff -and beyond.</p> - -<p>But little cared I for the scenery. I was examining the Man in Armour. -He was taller than a real man, and his head was one huge mass of iron -cast in the form of a morion. Clauss of Innsbruck had made him, and he -struck me with a creepy sensation that was half fear. He stood with his -huge hammer half raised; and the knowledge that at the hour he would -wheel on his pivot and hit the bell vested him with an uncanny -suggestion of life, even though one knew he was dead and made of iron.</p> - -<p>"He will not strike for ten minutes," said Gretel. "Gott! how cold it is -here, and how windy! Come, let us play a game of blind-man's buff to -keep ourselves warm."</p> - -<p>My small handkerchief was brought into <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>requisition, and Gretel blinded -me, pinning the handkerchief to my képi. "And now," said Gretel, "I will -bind Eloise, and you can try to catch me."</p> - -<p>Then we played.</p> - -<p>If you had been standing below you might have heard our laughter. I had -just missed Eloise, when I was myself seized from behind by the waist, -and Gretel's voice cried: "Now I've caught you!"</p> - -<p>Even as she spoke a deep rumbling came from the machinery-room below. -"Now I've caught you. Now I've caught you!" cried Gretel's voice, that -seemed choking with laughter.</p> - -<p>Something like a mighty bird swept past my forehead, tearing the képi -from my head and the handkerchief from my eyes, and flinging me on the -floor with the wind of its passage.</p> - -<p>BOOM!</p> - -<p>The great hammer of the Man in Armour had struck its first stroke, and -with a thunderous, heart-shattering sound. The great hammer had passed -my head so close that another half inch would have meant death.</p> - -<p>BOOM!</p> - -<p>I lay paralysed, looking up at the iron figure swinging to its work. He -had nearly killed me, and I knew it. Again the hammer flew towards the -bell.</p> - -<p>BOOM!</p> - -<p>The tower rocked, and the sound roared through the openings, and the -joints of the iron figure groaned and the arms upflew once more.</p> - -<p>BOOM!</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p><p>And once again, urged by the might of the hammer-man, tremendous, -apocalyptic, and sinister the voice of the great bell burst over the -woods.</p> - -<p>BOOM!</p> - -<p>The woodmen in the forests of the Taunus corded their bundles and -prepared for home, for five o'clock had struck from the Schloss -Lichtenberg.</p> - -<p>At the first stroke, Eloise had sat down on the floor, screaming with -fright at the noise. She was sitting there still, with her eyes -bandaged, when the sound died away.</p> - -<p>"What an escape!" cried Gretel, who was white and shaking. "Little boy, -had I not plucked you away, the hammer would have killed you! It would -have killed you had it not been for me!"</p> - -<p>But in my heart I knew better than that.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>That night I told Joubert of the thing. He said Gretel was a fool.</p> - -<p>"Joubert," I said, "I am afraid of this house, and I am afraid of -Gretel; and I want to say my prayers again, please, for I was not -thinking when I said them just now."</p> - -<p>I said them again; and Heaven knows I needed them more than any prince -trapped in the ogre's castle of a fairy tale.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE HUNTING-SONG</span></h2> - -<p>Scarcely had Joubert left me than a faint sound, stealing from below, -made me sit up in bed.</p> - -<p>The sound of violins tuning up.</p> - -<p>Ever since I could perceive the difference between musical sounds, music -has fascinated me, thrilled me, filled me with hauntings. Music can make -me drunk, music can make me everything but bad; but it is not in the -province of music to do that.</p> - -<p>A band of wandering musicians had come to the schloss, and were -preparing to entertain the guests in the great hall.</p> - -<p>Our rooms were quite close to the gallery surrounding the hall. I could -hear the complaint of the violin-strings protesting their readiness, and -the deep, gasping grunts of the 'cello saying as plainly as a 'cello -could speak, "Begin."</p> - -<p>Then the music struck up.</p> - -<p>A gay, dashing tune, vivid as a spring landscape with the daffodils -dancing in the wind; the high tremulous notes of a piccolo hovering over -the music of the strings as a skylark hovers in the air.</p> - -<p>It was more than mortal child could stand, to hear all that and not to -be there.</p> - -<p>I hopped out of bed, and made for the door. I had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> opened it, when the -thought came to me that Joubert might come back to the room, as he -sometimes did, to see if I were asleep; so I ran to the bed and propped -the pillow under the bedclothes. I often slept with the clothes over my -head, and the room was so dark that the protuberance of the pillow gave -quite a striking representation of a small boy curled up in slumber.</p> - -<p>Then I came down the passage to the gallery overlooking the hall. Down -below the place was brilliantly lit.</p> - -<p>The musicians—four men in long coats, with long hair, and two of them -bearded—were opposite to me.</p> - -<p>Seated about were the guests: my father, the Countess Feliciani, Count -Feliciani, Major von der Goltz, General Hahn, and another gentleman -whose name I did not know. Baron von Lichtenberg was not there.</p> - -<p>A servant was handing coffee, and the guests were chatting in two little -groups, and seemed quite oblivious of the music that was ravishing my -simple heart.</p> - -<p>The spring song ceased, the daffodils danced no longer in the wind, the -skylark dropped from the sky, and the musicians fell chatting one to the -other in an undertone whilst they tuned up again. The one most directly -facing me—a man quite young, with oh, such a good, kind, sweet -face!—glanced up as he was raising his violin and caught sight of me in -my little nightshirt away up in the gallery peeping down at him and his -brethren. He evidently knew at once that I was one of the children of -the schloss, a truant from bed, and that my portion would be smacks if I -were discovered; for, though a momentary smile lit his face,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> he made no -sign or attempt to point me out to his fellows.</p> - -<p>They broke into a hunting tune. I could tell, from the lilt of the -music, it was the chase that was speaking in the inarticulate language -of the strings. The piccolo had discarded his instrument for a horn; I -could hear the yapping of the dogs, and the pack bursting into full cry; -the horn, and the echoes of the horn from the rocks and woods, the -halalli. Gay, ghostly, beautiful, the music swept me along with it, the -very guests below forgot their chatter; I could see them keeping time -with their feet. Enchantment had seized upon the old schloss, the -green-coated jägers crowded, as if by permission, to the passage -entrance, and their harsh voices took up the song which now broke from -the lips of the magicians in the long coats to the accompaniment of the -violins and the hunting-horn, a song the words of which were not -translated for me till long, long afterwards:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>Hound and horn give voice and tongue,</div> -<div class="i1">Fill the woods with echoes gay;</div> -<div>Let your music sweet be flung</div> -<div class="i1">To the Brocken far away.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>Jägers with the horns ye wind,</div> -<div class="i1">Hounds whose tongues the chase shall bay;</div> -<div>Let your voice the echoes find</div> -<div class="i1">Of the Brocken old and grey.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>Hark! amidst the bracken green</div> -<div class="i1">Bells the buck whose vigil keeps</div> -<div>Danger from the hind unseen,</div> -<div class="i1">Danger from the fawn that sleeps.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>Hears he us, yet heeds us not,</div> -<div class="i1">Dreams he that we are the wind;</div> -<div>Phantoms we of hounds forgot,</div> -<div class="i1">Ghosts of huntmen long since blind.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>Dreams we are the forest's breath</div> -<div class="i1">Waking to the touch of day;</div> -<div>Recks not 'tis the horn of Death</div> -<div class="i1">Dying in the distance grey.</div> -<div>Hound and horn give voice and tongue——</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And through it all the horn, now clear and ringing, now caught and dying -in the echoes of the forest, now lost in the echoes of the Brocken, the -wild notes flying before the phantom of the flying stag; ever the horn -threading the gushing music of the violins, the voices of the musicians, -and the chorus of the jägers.</p> - -<p>More music came after this, but nothing so beautiful; and as the -musicians put their instruments away, and prepared to go, I nodded to -the happy-faced one who had spied me. He smiled, and I trotted back to -bed. I had been there listening in the gallery for a full hour, and I -was cold as ice, but no one had seen me, or only the violin-player who -had the face of a good angel.</p> - -<p>I shut the door cautiously, and crept back to bed. But there was -something on the bed, something on the protuberance caused by my pillow. -It was the handle of a knife. The blade of the knife was plunged into -the mound of the bedclothes just where my head would have been.</p> - -<p>It was Joubert's knife—his "couteau de chasse," a thing he was -immensely proud of, a thing as keen as a razor.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p><p>That was just like one of Joubert's tricks. He had come in, found my -device, and left this, as much as to say, "You'll see what you'll get in -the morning."</p> - -<p>I plucked the knife out and put it on the floor. Then I crawled into -bed.</p> - -<p>As I lay thinking of the music, my restless fingers kept digging into -holes in the sheet. Half a dozen holes, or rather slits, there were. One -might have thought that the hunting-knife of Joubert had been furiously -plunged again and again into the heap of bedclothes before being left -sticking there. But I did not think of this: the knife was Joubert's. -Besides, my head was alive with those dreams that stand at the door of -sleep to welcome the innocent in.</p> - -<p>The forms of the weather-beaten musicians, sent like good angels from -God to charm me and hold me with their music; the happy, innocent, and -friendly face of the one who had smiled at me, and the hunting-song:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>Hark! amidst the bracken green</div> -<div class="i1">Bells the buck whose vigil keeps</div> -<div>Danger from the hind unseen,</div> -<div class="i1">Danger from the fawn that sleeps.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Then I, like a fawn, fell asleep, ignorant of Fate as the fawn, and of -the extreme wickedness of the heart of man.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IX</span> <span class="smaller">THE FAIRY TALE</span></h2> - -<p>"Levez-vous! Levez-vous! Levez-vous! Ta-ra-ra! Pom, pom! Hi! God's -teeth, my knife! What does it here?"</p> - -<p>Joubert could sound the réveille with his mouth almost as well as a -trumpeter, and he was grand at imitating the big drum.</p> - -<p>Up I shot in bed, rubbing my eyes.</p> - -<p>"Your what?"</p> - -<p>"My knife. Ha! I've caught you. Cutting your sticks and carving your -name with my couteau de chasse! You have been to my bedroom. Don't -answer me! You have been to my bedroom, and taken it from the pocket of -my coat. A pretty thing!"</p> - -<p>Joubert's temper all yesterday had been savage; his infernal amours were -not prospering, it seems. In fact, as I afterwards learned from his own -lips, a scullion, resenting his addresses, had called him an old French -dog without teeth.</p> - -<p>"It was sticking in my pillow when I came to bed!" cried I, indignant at -the accusation.</p> - -<p>"Your pillow, when you came to bed!" Joubert seized me, ran me across -the room by my shoulders to a large mirror, pointed to the reflection of -my shrinking form, and yelled:</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p><p>"Do you see that?"</p> - -<p>"Mais, oui."</p> - -<p>"Then you see a liar."</p> - -<p>"But, Joubert——"</p> - -<p>"Not a word!"</p> - -<p>"But I want to <i>tell</i> you——"</p> - -<p>"Not a word!"</p> - -<p>That was always Joubert's way—"Not a word."</p> - -<p>"But I want to <i>tell</i> you!"</p> - -<p>"Not a word!" And he jabbed the sponge in my mouth, for I was standing -by this time in the bath.</p> - -<p>I never could tell whether Joubert was joking or in earnest, so I said -no more; but it was none the less irritating to be called a liar by -Joubert, whose lies about battle, murder, and sudden death were -palpable, and sometimes cynically self-confessed.</p> - -<p>Little Carl did not appear at breakfast, and Eloise was very despondent, -not about Carl, but about going away. She would not touch jam, and she -made use sometimes, in a secretive manner, of a handkerchief, small -enough, goodness knows, yet chiefly composed of lace.</p> - -<p>"It is not the going away," said Eloise; "it is the parting from friends -that makes going away so sad."</p> - -<p>She was a terribly sentimental child by fits and starts, falling into -sentiment and falling out of it again with the facility of a newly -dislocated limb from its socket.</p> - -<p>Next moment I was chasing her down the corridor, both of us making the -corridor echoes ring with our laughter. At the end, just by the glass -door leading<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> to the garden, down she plumped in a corner and put her -little pinafore over her head.</p> - -<p>I believe she wanted, or expected, me to pull the pinafore away and kiss -her, but I didn't. I just pulled her up by the arm, and we both bundled -out into the garden, and in a moment she had forgotten kissing amidst -the flowers, plucking the asters and the Michaelmas daisies, and chasing -the butterflies that were still plentiful in the late summer of that -year.</p> - -<p>We passed the fountains, and stopped to admire the running man. His -face, worn away by time and weather, still had a ferocious expression. -One wondered what he was chasing with the spear that seemed for ever on -the point of leaving his hand.</p> - -<p>"Toto," said Eloise, "yesterday when we took the drum with us, we forgot -to bring little Carl's sticks: we left them by the pond."</p> - -<p>"So we did," said I.</p> - -<p>"Let's go and fetch them," said Eloise.</p> - -<p>"Come on," I replied.</p> - -<p>We took the forest path leading to the lake.</p> - -<p>It was like plunging into a well of twilight.</p> - -<p>These trees that surrounded us were no tame trees of a pleasaunce: they -were the outposts of the immortal forest, a thing as living and -mysterious as the sea. Their twilight was but the fringe of a robe, -extending for hundreds and hundreds of square leagues.</p> - -<p>I am a lover of the forest. The forest, and the sea, and the blue sky of -God are all that are left to remind us of the youth of the world and the -poetry of it, and the old German forests retain most of that lost charm.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p><p>They are haunted. The forests of the volcanic Eiffel, the Hartz, the -Taunus, still hold the ghost of Pan. I have been afraid in them.</p> - -<p>By the lake fringed with ferns, Eloise fell into another sentimental and -despairing fit. We were sitting on the lake edge, and I was playing with -the recovered drumsticks.</p> - -<p>"Ay di mi!" wept Eloise. "When you are gone! I mean when I am gone—when -we are departed——"</p> - -<p>"Courage!" said I.</p> - -<p>"It is the going away," sniffed Eloise, carefully arranging her little -skirt around her.</p> - -<p>"I know," I said, rattling the sticks; "but it will be soon over."</p> - -<p>Unhappy child! I believe she had fallen really in love with me, -unconscious of the fact that if I cared for any woman in the world it -was for the lovely Countess Feliciani, her mother, and that I had no -eyes at all for a thing of my own age in frilled pantalettes, no matter -how pretty she might be.</p> - -<p>Before Eloise could reply to my unintentionally brutal remark, a figure -came out from amidst the trees and towards us. It was one of the jägers. -A man past middle age, bent and warped like a tree that has stood the -tempest for years.</p> - -<p>This man's name was Vogel, and good cause I have to remember that name.</p> - -<p>"Aha!" said he. "The children! Fräulein Eloise, Gretel is seeking for -you in the house."</p> - -<p>We rose.</p> - -<p>"Come," said Eloise. And I was turning to go with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> her, but Vogel, who -held a stick in one hand and a small penknife in the other, said to me -as he whittled at the stick:</p> - -<p>"See you, have you ever made a whistle?"</p> - -<p>"No," I replied, interested, despite the man's German accent and his -face, which was not attractive, for his cheeks were sucked in as though -he were perpetually drawing at a pipe, and his nose, too small for his -face, was hooked. I have never seen a nose so exactly like the beak of a -screech-owl.</p> - -<p>Vogel, without a word, sat down and began cutting away at the whistle.</p> - -<p>"Are you not coming?" said little Eloise.</p> - -<p>"In a minute," I replied, looking over Vogel's shoulder at his -handiwork.</p> - -<p>"Then stay," she pouted. And away she ran.</p> - -<p>I looked on at Vogel and his work, one foot preparing to go, the other -foot holding me.</p> - -<p>"There is an old woman who lives in the wood," said Vogel, as he cut at -the stick, "and she makes whistles."</p> - -<p>"Does she?" I replied.</p> - -<p>"She does," said Vogel. "She makes them of silver, and of glass, and of -gold, and when you blow on them they go——"</p> - -<p>A strange warbling sound filled the wood. It was Vogel showing how the -whistles of the old woman sounded when you blew into them.</p> - -<p>He had put a bird-call—the thing foresters use for snaring -birds—between his lips. He removed it again with a laugh, and went on -with his work.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>"She lives in a house made of gingerbread," went on the fowler. "And -know you what the panes of her windows are made of?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Sugar, clear as your eye. And guess you what the door is made of?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Marzipan. Ah! that is a good house to live in," said Vogel. And I -mentally concurred.</p> - -<p>"She keeps white mice, and rabbits with green eyes."</p> - -<p>"Green eyes?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; and she gave little Carl a rabbit for himself last time I took him -to see her. There." He handed the whistle, which was finished, up to me -over his shoulder, and I blew on it and found it good.</p> - -<p>"Would you like to have a rabbit like that?" asked Vogel, filling his -pipe and lighting it.</p> - -<p>"I would."</p> - -<p>"Well, you can have one. I will get one for you to-morrow, or to-day, if -you like to come with me to see the old woman who makes the whistles. -Will you come?"</p> - -<p>"What time?" said I, hesitating.</p> - -<p>"Now," said Vogel.</p> - -<p>My answer was cut short by a sound from behind—the clinking of a -bucket—and Joubert and a stout servant-maid appeared from the path -leading to the lake. They were coming to gather water-plants for some -household decoration.</p> - -<p>Joubert was gallantly carrying the bucket.</p> - -<p>Vogel sprang to his feet.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p><p>"I must go," said he. "It was my joke. I am the old woman who makes the -whistles."</p> - -<p>Off he went.</p> - -<p>I have often thought since that much weariness, much sorrow to me, and -much plotting and planning to the Great Writer of love-stories. Who -lives above, might have been saved if I had gone that day with Vogel to -see "the old woman who makes the whistles."</p> - -<p>"What was Skull-face saying to you?" asked Joubert.</p> - -<p>"He made me this," said I, showing him the pithed stick.</p> - -<p>The Felicianis departed at three o'clock. Eloise, with her cheeks -flushed, was laughing with excitement: she seemed quite to have -forgotten her grief. Four horses drew their carriage. They were bound -for Homburg, where they would pass the night before going on to -Frankfort.</p> - -<p>I remember, as the carriage drove off. Countess Feliciani looked back -and smiled at us—at my father, myself, Von Lichtenberg, Major von der -Goltz, and General Hahn, all grouped on the steps. God! had she known -the happenings to follow, how that smile would have withered on her -lips!</p> - -<p>Carl was still invisible, and the great schloss, now that Eloise was -gone, seemed strangely empty to me. It is wonderful how much space a -child can fill with its presence. Eloise's happy little form had -diffused itself, spreading happiness and innocence far and wide, and -dispelling I know not what evil things. If a rose can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> fill a room with -its perfume, who knows how far may reach the perfume of an innocent and -beautiful soul!</p> - -<p>At six o'clock I was in the library; a box of tin soldiers, which my -father had bought for me at Carlsruhe, stood open on the table, and the -armies were opposed.</p> - -<p>I was not too old to play with soldiers like these, for there were -shoals of them: officers, and drummers, and gunners, cannon, -flags—everything. As a matter of fact, Major von der Goltz had been -playing with me, too, and I'll swear he took just as much interest in -them as I.</p> - -<p>He had gone now, and I was tired of the soldiers. I turned my attention -to the books. I was walking along by the shelves, examining the backs of -the volumes and trying to imagine what the German titles could mean, -when suddenly, from amidst the books, I heard a child's voice.</p> - -<p>The child seemed singing and talking to itself, and the sound seemed to -come from the volumes on the shelves. It was strange to hear it coming -from amidst the books like that, as though some volume of fairy tales -had suddenly become vocal, and Hänsel, playing by the witch-woman's -door, had found a voice.</p> - -<p>Then I noticed that the books before me were not real books, but -imitation.</p> - -<p>In the centre of one of these imitation book-racks there was a little -brass knob. I pressed it, and the wall gave, disclosing a passage. The -book-backs were but the covering of a narrow door.</p> - -<p>This passage, suddenly disclosed, fascinated me.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p>It was dimly lit from above, and ended in a door of muffed glass. About -half way down on the floor stood a toy horse—a dappled-grey horse with -a broom-like tail and a well-worn saddle—evidently left there by some -child, and forgotten.</p> - -<p>I could hear the child's voice now distinctly. He or she was singing, -singing in a monotonous fashion, just as a child sings when quite alone.</p> - -<p>I came down the passage to the door. The muffing of the door had been -scratched. There was a spyhole, evidently made by a child, for it was -just on a level with my own eye, and there was a word scratched on the -paint of the muffing which, though I had to read it backwards, I made -out to be—</p> - -<p class="center">CARL.</p> - -<p>I peeped through the hole. It disclosed a room, evidently a nursery, -plainly but pleasantly furnished. On the window-seat, looking out and -drumming an accompaniment on the glass to the tune he was singing, knelt -Carl.</p> - -<p>I looked for the handle of the door, found it, turned it, opened the -door, without knocking, and entered the room.</p> - -<p>The child at the window turned, and, when he saw me, flung up his arms -with a gesture of terror and glanced round wildly, as if for somewhere -to hide. It cut me to the heart; it frightened me, too—this terror of -the child for me. I remembered Eloise's words: "Little Carl is a girl."</p> - -<p>"Gretel! Gretel! Gretel!" cried the child as I ran<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> forward, took him in -my arms, and kissed him on the forehead.</p> - -<p>Whether he had expected me to hit him or not I don't know; but at this -treatment he ceased his cries, and, pushing me away from him, looked at -me dubiously.</p> - -<p>"I won't hurt you, little Carl!" And at the words a whole ocean of -tenderness welled up in my heart for the trembling and lonely little -figure in the soldier's dress, this Pomeranian grenadier, timorous as a -rabbit. I must, in this heart of mine, have some good; for, boy as I -was, with all the fighting instincts of the Mahons in my blood, I felt -no boyish ridicule for this creature that a blow would make cry, but all -the tenderness of a nurse, or a person who holds a live and trembling -bird in his hand.</p> - -<p>"I won't hurt you. I didn't <i>mean</i> to knock you in the pond."</p> - -<p>"But you did," said Carl, still dubious.</p> - -<p>"I know, and I'm sorry. See here, Carl, I'll give you my dog."</p> - -<p>"Your big dog?" asked Carl, for he had seen Marengo bounding about the -lawn.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said I, knowing full well that the promise was about equivalent -to the promise of the moon.</p> - -<p>The little hand fell into mine.</p> - -<p>"Gretel," said Carl, now in a confidential tone, "told me you would kill -me if I played with you, or went near you, or if I looked at you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, how wicked!" I cried. "<i>I</i> kill you!" And I clasped the little form -more tightly.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p><p>"I know," said Carl.</p> - -<p>He was a personage of few words, and those two words told me quite -plainly that he believed me and had confidence in me.</p> - -<p>"It's not you," he said, after a pause. "She said you didn't want to do -it, but you'd have to do it; for you were a bad man once, and you'd have -to do it over again," said Carl. "What you'd done before, for someone -had said so. I don't know who they were." He had got the tale so mixed -up that I could scarcely follow his meaning. "When will you give me the -dog?" he finished, irrelevantly enough.</p> - -<p>"I'll give you him—I'll give you him to-morrow," I said, "if father -will let me. But he's sure to, if I ask him."</p> - -<p>Scarcely had I finished speaking than the door opened and Gretel -appeared.</p> - -<p>She stood for a moment when she saw us together, as though the sight had -turned her into stone.</p> - -<p>Then she came towards us.</p> - -<p>"How did you get here?" said she to me.</p> - -<p>"Through that door," I answered her.</p> - -<p>She took me by the hand and led me away. As she did so, something closed -round my neck, and something touched me on the cheek.</p> - -<p>It was Carl, who had put his arms round my neck and kissed me.</p> - -<p>Ah, little Carl, little Carl! Little we knew how next we should meet, or -the manner of that meeting!</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER X</span> <span class="smaller">THE DEATH OF VOGEL</span></h2> - -<p>"Joubert, what is father doing?"</p> - -<p>"He is playing cards down below with the gentlemen."</p> - -<p>I was undressing to go to bed that same night, and Joubert was -expediting my movements, anxious, most likely, to go downstairs and -drink with the house-steward.</p> - -<p>"Joubert, I wish he were here."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know; but I am frightened."</p> - -<p>"Of what?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>Joubert blew out the light and left the room, and I lay looking at the -shadows the furniture made on the wall by the dim glimmer of the -nightlight.</p> - -<p>The door leading to my father's room was open. This did not give me any -comfort—rather the reverse; for the next room was in darkness, and I -could not help imagining faces peeping at me from the darkness.</p> - -<p>When frightened at night like this, I generally told myself fairy tales -to keep away the terrors.</p> - -<p>I tried this to-night with a bad result, for the attempt instantly -brought up Vogel and the old woman who lived in the wood.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p><p>Now, there was something in this fairy tale that my heart knew to be -evil and malign. What this something was I could not tell, but it was -there, and the story did not bring me any peace.</p> - -<p>The clock in the turret struck ten, and I saw vividly the Man in Armour -up there alone in the dark, wheeling to his work.</p> - -<p>There was something terrific in this iron man. A live tiger was a thing -to me less fearful. Not for worlds would I have gone up alone to watch -him at his work, even at a safe distance. The fact that the hammer had -nearly killed me did not contribute much to this fear. I knew that was -not his fault. I was terrified by Him.</p> - -<p>Then I fell thinking of my promise to little Carl to give him Marengo, -and, thinking of this, I fell asleep.</p> - -<p>At least, I closed my eyes and entered a world of vague shapes. And then -I entered a wood. The cottage of the old woman who made the whistles was -before me. It had a window on either side of the door, and in one window -there were jars of sugar-sticks.</p> - -<p>I knocked at the door. It flew open, and there stood Vogel, the jäger -with the hooked nose. He smilingly beckoned me in. I entered, and, hey -presto! his smile vanished with the closing of the door, and I was on a -bed, and he was smothering me with a pillow. And then I awoke, and I was -in bed and I was being smothered by a pillow.</p> - -<p>Oh, horror! Oh, the horror of that waking! Someone was lying upon me; a -pillow was over my face, crushing it! I shrieked, and my shriek did not -go an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> inch beyond my mouth. My nose was crushed flat; my mouth, opening -to scream, could not close again. The pillow bulged in, and then, flung -away like a feather by the wind, went the form that was crushing me and -the pillow that was smothering me; and shriek upon shriek—the most -horrid, the most unearthly, the most soul-sickening—shriek after shriek -tore the air; and, jumping upon my feet, standing on the bed with arms -outspread, I gazed on the sight before me, adding my thin voice to the -outcries that were piercing the schloss from cellar to turret.</p> - -<p>On the floor, lit for my view by the halfpenny nightlight calmly burning -in its little dish, Marengo and a man were at war—and the victory was -with Marengo. The great dog had got the man by the back of the neck. The -man, face down, was drumming on the floor with his fists and feet, just -as you see an angry child in a fit of passion.</p> - -<p>The dog was dumb, and making mighty efforts to turn the man on his face. -He lifted him, he shifted him, he dragged him hither and thither. The -man, screaming, knew what the dog wanted, and clung to the floor.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the dog sprang away, and, like a flash of lightning, sprang -back. He had got the throat-hold, and a deep gobbling, worrying sound -was the end of the man and his hunting for ever.</p> - -<p>For the man was Vogel. I saw that, and then I saw nothing more.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XI</span> <span class="smaller">THE DUEL IN THE WOOD</span></h2> - -<p>When I regained consciousness I was in my father's room, lying on the -bed. Joubert was sitting on the bed beside me.</p> - -<p>"Joubert," said I, "where is he?"</p> - -<p>"Who?"</p> - -<p>"Vogel."</p> - -<p>"God knows!" said Joubert. "Here, drink this."</p> - -<p>It was brandy, and it nearly took my breath away, but it gave me life.</p> - -<p>"Now," said Joubert, putting the glass on the table by the bed and -taking my small trousers in his hand, "put these on."</p> - -<p>"Why am I to dress, Joubert?"</p> - -<p>"We are going away. Ah, fine doings there have been! And who knows the -end of it all?"</p> - -<p>As he helped me to dress, he told me of what had occurred. The gentlemen -below had been playing cards when the shrieks of Vogel had sundered the -cardplayers like the sword of death.</p> - -<p>Rushing upstairs, they had found Marengo guarding the dead body of -Vogel, and me standing on the bed screaming. When my father caught me in -his arms, I told all. Of Vogel's attempt to smother me, of the knife I -had found in my pillow, and of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>occurrence in the bell-tower. It -must have been my subconscious intelligence speaking, for I remember -nothing of it; but it was enough.</p> - -<p>"Then," said Joubert, "the General, with you tucked under his left arm, -turned on the Baron. 'What is this?' said he. 'Assassination in the -Schloss Lichtenberg!'"</p> - -<p>"'Liar!' cried the Baron. And before the word was well from his mouth, -crack! the General had hit him open-fisted in the face, and the mark -sprang up as if the General had hit him red-handed. Mordieu! I never saw -a neater blow given, or one so taken, for the Baron never blinked. He -just nodded his head, as if to say, 'Yes.' Then he put his arm in Count -Hahn's, and the General turned to Major von der Goltz, and, taking him -by the arm, followed the others. Then word came to pack up and have you -ready, for we are leaving the schloss this night. Now then, vite!"</p> - -<p>"But, Joubert, I remember nothing of all that."</p> - -<p>"All what?"</p> - -<p>"Telling my father of Vogel and the bell."</p> - -<p>"Well, whether you remember it or not, there it is."</p> - -<p>"And the knife—— Joubert, did you not, you yourself, stick the knife -in the pillow?"</p> - -<p>"I!" said Joubert. "When would you catch me playing such fool's tricks -as that?"</p> - -<p>"Joubert."</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"I think I know why they wanted to kill me."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because they thought I would kill little Carl."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p><p>Joubert grunted.</p> - -<p>"Here," said he, "hold up your foot till I lace that boot."</p> - -<p>Scarcely had he done so before General Hahn appeared at the door.</p> - -<p>"Dress the child, pack, and be ready to leave the schloss at once!" he -cried to Joubert. "The horses are being got ready."</p> - -<p>"I have my orders," replied Joubert.</p> - -<p>He grumbled and talked to himself, and swore, as he got the rest of my -clothes on, for I was quite unable to help myself. And then, when I was -ready, he gave me a great, smacking kiss that nearly took my breath -away, and his hand was shaky, and I had never seen it shake before, and -he had never kissed me before in his life. Then he left me sitting on -the bed, and I heard him in the next room, where the dead man was, -packing my things.</p> - -<p>In the midst of all this, the castle clock struck eleven.</p> - -<p>And now from below came the trampling of horses, and the crash of wheels -on gravel, and the harsh German voices of the servants. Doors banged, -and a man came up, flung our door open, and cried: "Ready!" And Joubert, -with a portmanteau on his shoulder, led me along by the hand down the -corridor, the servant following with the rest of our luggage.</p> - -<p>Down in the hall, which was brilliantly lit, Major von der Goltz and my -father stood talking together in one corner, and Von Lichtenberg and -General Hahn stood by the great fireplace, their hands behind them,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> -neither of them speaking, and both with their eyes on the floor as if in -profound thought. And I noticed that the great red mark on the Baron's -cheek was still there, just as if a blood-stained hand had struck him.</p> - -<p>When they saw us coming, with Marengo following us, Von Lichtenberg and -the General took their hats from a table close by and walked towards the -door, which was opened for them by a servant.</p> - -<p>General Hahn held under his arm a bundle done up in a cloak, and from it -protruded two sword-hilts.</p> - -<p>My father, taking my hand and followed by Major von der Goltz, came -after the Baron.</p> - -<p>It was a clear and windy night; flying clouds were passing over the -moon. Two carriages were drawn up at the door, and a dozen men with -torches blazing and blowing in the wind gave light whilst our luggage -was put in.</p> - -<p>The first carriage was our own, the second a carriage belonging to the -schloss.</p> - -<p>Joubert put our luggage in and mounted on the box; then my father, -bowing to Major von der Goltz, held the door open; the Major, with a -slight bow to my father, got in; we followed, the carriage started, -running torchmen leading us and following behind.</p> - -<p>"Are we truly going away, father?" I asked nestling close to him and -holding his hand.</p> - -<p>"Yes, my child; we are going away."</p> - -<p>"Why are those men with torches running with us?"</p> - -<p>"You will see—you will see. Major von der Goltz,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> I hope those words I -have just said to you will not be forgotten in the event——"</p> - -<p>"They shall be remembered," said the Major.</p> - -<p>Up to this all the company at the schloss had been hail-fellow-well-met -one with the other. My father had addressed Von der Goltz as Franz, and -the Major had been just as familiar in his manner, but all this was now -changed. The two men were as stiff and formal as though they had never -met before, one facing the other, bolt upright, and with heads somewhat -averted, as I could see by the dancing torchlight; and in my childish -heart I wondered at this.</p> - -<p>As we slowed up to pass the great gates of the avenue, I heard the -wheels of the other carriage coming behind, and as we made the turning, -I saw it, with the light of the torches glinting on the headpieces of -the horses, and behind the carriage the plumes of the pine-trees showed -against the moon, and they looked like the plumes of a hearse.</p> - -<p>The estate of Von Lichtenberg stretched for a mile and more beyond the -gates; and it seems that it is not etiquette to kill a man on his own -estate, no more than it is etiquette to strike a man in his own house.</p> - -<p>We took the forest road. Mixed with the sound of hoofs and wheels, I -could hear the footsteps of the running torchmen: the flickering light -shot in between the tree-boles, disturbing the wood creatures, and, as -we went, all of a sudden, the jägers running with us broke out in a -chorus of what seemed lamentation mixed with curses.</p> - -<p>Von der Goltz sprang up on the seat and looked ahead.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><p>"A white hare is running before us," said he. "That is bad for Count -Carl von Lichtenberg."</p> - -<p>My father bowed slightly, as if to a half-heard remark.</p> - -<p>A white hare, it seems, was the sign of death in the house of -Lichtenberg.</p> - -<p>Turning a bend in the road, the carriage drew up.</p> - -<p>We waited for a moment till the sound behind told us that the second -carriage had also stopped. Then we alighted.</p> - -<p>"Joubert," said my father, handing him a packet, "you will stay here -with the dog. Open this packet should anything befall me. Patrick, you -will come with me."</p> - -<p>"Dieu vous garde!" said Joubert. And, following the others, we entered -the forest.</p> - -<p>I felt sick and faint with fear, and the light of the dancing -torch-flames made me reel. I held tight to my father's hand, and I -remember thinking how big and strong and warm it was. What was about to -happen I could not guess, but I knew that the shadow of death was with -us, and the chill of him in my heart.</p> - -<p>We had not gone more than two hundred yards when we came to a clearing -amidst the trees—a breezy, open space, that the moon lit over the -waving pine-tops. Here the jägers divided themselves into two lines, -five yards or so apart, and stood motionless as soldiers on parade. -Baron von Lichtenberg with his arms folded, stood with his back to us, -looking at the clouds running across the face of the moon; and the two -army officers, drawing aside, began to undo the swords from the bundle.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p><p>"Patrick," said my father, leading me under the shade of the trees, "I -struck my kinsman in his own house to-night. The only excuse I can make -for that action is to kill him, so let this be a lesson to you the -length of your life." He stopped, stooped, hugged me in his arms, and -then strode out into the torchlight, and took his sword from Von der -Goltz.</p> - -<p>It was a curious little speech, or would have been from anyone but an -Irishman. But I was not thinking of it. I was mesmerised by the sight -before me.</p> - -<p>When the two men took their swords they returned them to the seconds. -The swords were then bent to prove the steel, and measured, and then -returned to the principals.</p> - -<p>Then the jägers moved together almost shoulder to shoulder, and in the -space between the two lines of torches the duellists took their stand. -There was dead silence for a moment.</p> - -<p>I could hear the wind in the pines, and the guttering and slobbering of -the flambeaux, and a fox barking, away somewhere in the forest.</p> - -<p>Then came General Hahn's voice, and, instant upon it, the quarrelling of -the rapiers.</p> - -<p>The antagonists were perfect swordsmen; the rapiers were now invisible, -now like jets of light as the torchlight shot along them. Over the music -of the steel, the wind in the pine-trees said "Hush!" and the barking of -the fox still came from the far distance.</p> - -<p>At first you might have thought these two gentlemen were at play, till -the fury subdued by science broke loose at last, and the rings and -flashes of light<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> and the clash of the steel spoke the language of the -thing and the meaning of it.</p> - -<p>It was a duel to the death; and I, looking on, my soul on fire, agony in -my heart, my hands thrust deep in the pockets of my caped overcoat, -counted the bits of biscuit-crumbs in those same pockets, and made tiny -balls from the fluff, and noted with deep and particular attention the -extent of a hole in one of the linings. The interior of my -overcoat-pockets marked itself upon my memory as sharply and insistently -as the scene before me—such a strange thing is mind.</p> - -<p>Yet I knew that, if Von Lichtenberg was the conqueror, my father would -die, and I would be left to the mercy of Von Lichtenberg.</p> - -<p>Yet, despite all my fears, oh, that heroic moment! The concentrated fury -of the fight beneath the singing pines, lit by the blazing torches! -Then, in a flash, it was over. Von Lichtenberg's sword flew from his -hand; his arms flung out as though he were crucified on the air; and -then, just as though he were a man of wax before a fiery furnace, he -fell together horribly, and became a heap on the ground.</p> - -<p>The hammer of Thor could not have felled him more effectually than the -rapier that had passed through his armpit like a ribbon of light.</p> - -<p>I ran to my father, and clung to him.</p> - -<p>General Hahn, on one knee, was supporting Von Lichtenberg in his arms. -The Baron's face was clay-coloured, his head drooped forward, and his -jaw hung loose.</p> - -<p>Hahn, with his knee in the armpit to suppress the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> terrible bleeding, -called for a knife to rip the sleeve; and as they were doing it the -stricken man came to and yawned.</p> - -<p>He yawned just as a man yawns who is deadly tired and half roused from -sleep, and he tossed his arms just in the same way. He seemed to care -about nothing, his weariness was so great.</p> - -<p>And then, just as a man speaks who is half roused and wants to drop -asleep again:</p> - -<p>"Hahn."</p> - -<p>"I am here."</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes! I leave the child to your care and Gretel——"</p> - -<p>"Yes"</p> - -<p>"She is to be brought up just as I have done. Should she love him, the -old tragedy will come again. She must never know love——" Then he -yawned, and yawned, rousing slightly as they cut his sleeve to pieces in -an attempt to reach the wound. He didn't seem to care. He spoke only -once again: "Hahn!"</p> - -<p>"I am listening."</p> - -<p>The wind in the pine-trees, and the fox in the wood and the slobbering -of the torches filled the silence.</p> - -<p>"I am listening."</p> - -<p>"He is dead," said Von der Goltz.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XII</span> <span class="smaller">WE RETURN HOME</span></h2> - -<p>We left the forest, my father leaning on the arm of his second. One man -with a torch preceded us, and lit us as we got into the carriage.</p> - -<p>"A strange end to our visit. Major von der Goltz," said my father.</p> - -<p>The Major bowed.</p> - -<p>"I shall remain at the Hôtel des Hollandaise in Frankfort for three -days."</p> - -<p>The Major bowed.</p> - -<p>"Joubert!" said my father. And the carriage drove off; and, looking -back, I saw Major von der Goltz and the jäger with the torch vanishing -amidst the trees.</p> - -<p>We passed through Homburg at four o'clock, and at six of a seraphic -morning spired Frankfort rose before us like a city in a fairy tale, so -beautiful, so vague, so ethereal one could not believe it a city of this -sordid earth.</p> - -<p>We stayed three days at the Hôtel des Hollandaise. Major von der Goltz -called, and General Hahn. A paper was drawn up, I believe, signed by the -seconds and my father, and by the chief jäger. It was done as a matter -of formality, for the duel was perfectly in order.</p> - -<p>Then we started on our return home; and one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>evening, towards the end of -September, we entered Paris and drew up at our house in the Avenue -Champs Elysées.</p> - -<p>Though the Emperor and Empress were still away on their southern tour, -the streets were gay—at least to my eyes. Oh, that Paris of the Second -Empire—that lost city whose gaiety surrounds the beginning of my life, -jewelled with gas-lamps or glittering in the sunlight! Whatever may have -been its faults, its wickedness, its falsity, it knew at least the -vitality and the charm of youth. Men knew how to laugh in those days, -when the echoes of the Boulevard de Gand still were heard in the -Boulevard des Italiens, when Carvalho was Director of the Opéra Comique, -and Moray President of the Council.</p> - -<p>"At last!" said my father, as we turned in at the gates and drew up at -the doorway.</p> - -<p>He had been depressed on the return journey—a depression caused, I -believe, not in the least by the fact that he had slain his kinsman. The -trouble at his heart was the blow. For a guest to strike his host in his -own house was a breach of etiquette and good manners unpardonable in his -eyes. Yet he had committed that crime.</p> - -<p>However, with our entry into Paris this depression seemed to lift.</p> - -<p>The major-domo came down the steps, and with his own august hands opened -the door for us, and let down the steps, and gave us welcome with a real -and human smile on his magnificent white, fat, stolid face—the face of -a perfect servant, expressionless as a cheese<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>, which would doubtless -remain just the same were he, constrained by stress of circumstances, to -open the door of the drawing-room and announce: "The Last Trumpet has -sounded, sir."</p> - -<p>In the great hall, softly lit and flower-scented, the footmen in their -green-and-white livery stood in two gorgeous rows to give us welcome; -and Jacko, the macaw, four foot from the crest of his wicked head to the -tip of his tail-feathers, dressed also in the green-and-white livery of -the house, screamed his sentiments on the matter. My father had a word -for everyone. It was always just so. This grand seigneur, who had made -his way to fortune less with his sword than with his brilliant -personality, would speak to the meanest servant familiarly, jocularly, -yet never would he meet with disrespect. There was that about him which -inspired fear as well as love, and he was served as few other men are -served. Witness our return that night to a house as well in order as -though we had come back from a trip to Compiègne instead of a two -months' journey to a foreign country.</p> - -<p>He dismissed the servants with a word, and, with his hat on the back of -his head, stood at the table where his letters were set out, tearing -them open and flinging the unimportant ones on the floor.</p> - -<p>Whilst he was so engaged, a ring came to the door, and the footman who -answered it brought him a letter sealed with a great red seal, which he -tore open and read.</p> - -<p>"Aha!" muttered he. "De Morny wants to see me to-morrow. Wonder how he -knew that I was back?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> But De Moray knows everything. Is the servant -waiting, François?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir; the servant has gone."</p> - -<p>"Very well," said my father. Then to me: "Come now; get your supper, and -off to bed. François!"</p> - -<p>I was led off grumbling.</p> - -<p>Joubert tucked me into bed; and as I lay listening to the -carriage-wheels from the Champs Elysées bearing people home from -supper-party and theatre, the journey, the Schloss Lichtenberg, the -mysterious pine-forest, the drums and tramping soldiers of Carlsruhe and -Mayence, the blue Rhine—all rose before me as a picture. It was the -First Act of my life, an Act tragic enough; and, as the curtain of sleep -fell upon it, the glimmer of the jägers' torches still struggled through -that veil, with the sound of the swords, the murmur of the wind in the -pine-trees, and the far-off barking of the fox in the wood.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIII</span> <span class="smaller">I FALL INTO DISGRACE</span></h2> - -<p>I was dreaming of the Countess Feliciani. She had changed all of a -sudden, by the alchemy of dreamland, into little Carl. We were running -together down the forest path in the woods of Lichtenberg, and the Stone -Man was pursuing us, when a violent pull on my right leg awakened me, -and Joubert and a burst of sunshine replaced dreamland and its shadows.</p> - -<p>It was one of Joubert's pleasant ways of awakening a child from his -sleep, to catch him by the foot and nearly haul him out of bed.</p> - -<p>Oh, the agony of having to get up, straight, without any preliminary -stretching and yawning; to get up with that dead, blank tiredness of -childhood hanging on one like a cloak—and get into a cold bath!</p> - -<p>It was martial law with a vengeance. But there was no use in grumbling.</p> - -<p>"Come, lazybones," said Joubert; "rouse yourself. Gone eight; and you -are to go with the General at ten."</p> - -<p>"Where to?" said I, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.</p> - -<p>"Ma foi! where to? Why, on a visit to M. le Duc de Morny."</p> - -<p>"Oui."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>I was in the bath now, and soapsuds checked my questions. Joubert used -to wash me just as if I were a dog on the mornings that soapsuds were -the order of the day—that is to say, only twice a week, every Wednesday -and Saturday; for this old soldier was as full of fixed opinions as any -nurse, and he believed that too much soap took the oil out of the skin -and made children weak. You may be sure I did not combat his theory.</p> - -<p>"Your best coat," said Joubert, as he took the article from the drawer, -"and your best manners, if you please; for M. le Duc de Morny is the -first gentleman in Paris, now that the Emperor is away. Now you are -dressed, and—remember!"</p> - -<p>You may be sure I was in a flutter, for the Duc de Morny was a personage -I had never seen, and he loomed large even on my small horizon. From my -childhood's recollections I believe that the Duc had far more dominance -and power than poor old Louis Napoleon, whose craft lay chiefly in his -face.</p> - -<p>At a quarter to ten my father, in full general's uniform, very gorgeous, -wearing his medals and the cross, appeared in the hall, where I was -waiting for him. A closed carriage was at the door. We got in and -started.</p> - -<p>The Hôtel de Morny was situated on the Quai d'Orsay. It was a huge -building, with gardens running right down to the river. It was next to -the Spanish Embassy, and had two entrances, one by the river, the other -opening from the Rue de Lille.</p> - -<p>We passed down the Rue de Lille, and then turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> in at the gates, and -by a short roadway to the great courtyard.</p> - -<p>Other carriages were there—quite a number of them. Our carriage drew up -at the steps, and we alighted.</p> - -<p>As we left the chilly morning, and passed through the swing-glass doors -held open for us by a powdered footman, it was like entering a -greenhouse, so warm was the air, and so perfumed with flowers.</p> - -<p>The Duc was far too astute a man to merge his personality in Government -apartments. The Hôtel de Morny was his palace. There he held his court, -receiving people in his bed-chamber after the fashion of a king.</p> - -<p>The salon was filled with people—all men, with one exception.</p> - -<p>We were expected, it seems; for the usher led us straight through the -throng towards the tall double oak door that gave entrance to the Duc's -room.</p> - -<p>"Stay here, Patrick," said my father, and he indicated a chair close to -the door. Then he vanished into the sanctum of the Minister, and I was -left alone to contemplate the people around me.</p> - -<p>They were arranged in little groups, talking together; fat men and thin -men, several priests, stout gentlemen with the red rosette of the Legion -of Honour in their buttonholes, sun-dried gentlemen from Provence with -fiery eyes and enormous moustaches, all talking, most of them -gesticulating, and each awaiting his audience with the Minister.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, through this crowd, which divided before her as the Red Sea -divided before Pharaoh, straight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> towards me came the only female -occupant of the room, an old lady at least seventy years of age, yet -dressed like a girl of sixteen. She was so evidently making for me that -I rose to meet her; and, before I could resent the outrage, a lace frill -tickled my chin, a perfume of stephanotis half smothered me, and a pair -of thin lips smacked against my cheek.</p> - -<p>She had kissed me. Scarlet to the eyes, conscious that I was observed by -all, not knowing exactly what I did, I did a very unmannerly -thing—wiped my cheek with the back of my hand as if to wipe the kiss -away.</p> - -<p>"I knew you at once," said the old lady, who was none other than the -Countess Wagner de Pons, reader to the Empress. "You are the dear -General's little boy, of whom I have heard so much—le petit Patrique. -And you have bean away, and you have just returned. Mon Dieu! the -likeness is most speaking. Now, look you, Patrique, over there on that -fauteuil. That is the little Comte de Coigny, whom I have brought this -morning to make his bow to M. le Duc de Morny. Come with me, and I will -introduce you to him. He is of the haute noblesse, a child of the -highest understanding, trè propre."</p> - -<p>I glanced at the little Comte de Coigny. He was a tallow-faced, -heavy-looking individual, bigger than me, and older. He might have been -eleven. He was dressed like a little man, kid gloves and all; and he was -looking at me with a dull and sinister expression that spoke neither of -a high understanding nor a good heart.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p><p>Before I could move towards him, led by the Countess Wagner de Pons, -the door of De Morny's room opened, and my father's voice said: -"Patrick."</p> - -<p>Leaving the old lady, I came.</p> - -<p>I found myself in a huge room, with long windows giving a view of the -garden and the river. It was, in fact, a salon set out with fauteuils -and couches. A bed in one corner, raised on a low platform, struck me by -its incongruity. How anyone could choose to sleep in such a vast and -gorgeous salon astonished my childish mind. But I had little time to -think of these things, for the man standing with his back to the -fireplace absorbed all my attention.</p> - -<p>He was above the middle height, with a bald, dome-like forehead, a -strong face, and wearing a moustache and imperial. He was dressed like -any other gentleman, but there was that about him—a self-contained -vigour, a calmness of manner, and a grace—that stamped him at once on -the memory as a person never to be forgotten.</p> - -<p>"This is my little son," said my father. I saluted, and the great man -bowed.</p> - -<p>Then I was questioned about the affair at Lichtenberg, for it seems the -matter had made more than a stir at the Prussian Court. Questions were -being asked; and there was that eruption of evil talk, that dicrotic -rebound of excitement, which, after every social tragedy, is sure to -follow the first wave.</p> - -<p>"And now," said my father, when I had finished my evidence, "run off and -play till I am ready for you."</p> - -<p>Play! With whom did he expect me to play? With<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> the fat Deputies, the -opulent bankers, the sun-dried gentlemen from the south who thronged the -ante-chamber?</p> - -<p>The Countess Wagner de Pons answered the question. This old lady, whose -eccentricity and love of gossip had made her wait with her charge in the -ante-room, instead of having her name announced to the Duchess de Morny, -as any other lady of rank would have done, was deep in conversation with -a tall, dignified gentleman, deep in scandal, no doubt; for, when she -saw me she got rid of me at once by introducing me to the little Comte -de Coigny. "And now," said she, as if echoing my father's words, "run -off and play, both of you, in the garden."</p> - -<p>A footman in the blue-and-gold livery of the Duke led us down an iron -staircase to the gravelled walk upon which the lower windows opened, and -left us there.</p> - -<p>Play! There was less play in the stiff and starched little Comte de -Coigny, that child of the haute noblesse, très propre, than in the -elephant of the Jardin des Plantes, or any of the fat Deputies in M. de -Morny's ante-room. But there was much more dignity, of a heavy sort.</p> - -<p>We took the path towards the river.</p> - -<p>"And you," said he, breaking the silence as we walked along. "Where have -you come from?"</p> - -<p>"Germany," I replied.</p> - -<p>"I thought so," said he.</p> - -<p>He was a schoolboy of the Bourdaloue College, but all the planing and -polishing of the Jesuit fathers had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> not improved his manners, it seems. -The tone of his reply was an insult in itself, and I took it as such, -and held my tongue and waited.</p> - -<p>We walked right down to the balustrade overlooking the Seine. De Coigny -mounted, sat on the balustrade, whistled, and as he sat kicking his -heels he cast his eyes up and down me from crown to toe.</p> - -<p>I stood before him with the seeming humility of the younger child; but -my blood was boiling, and my knuckles itched at the sight of his flabby, -pasty face.</p> - -<p>Some trees sheltered us from the house, and my gentleman from the -Bourdaloue College took a box of Spanish cigaritos from his pocket and a -matchbox adorned with the picture of a ballet-girl.</p> - -<p>He put a cigarito between his thick lips, lit it, blew a puff of smoke, -and held out the box to me to have one. Fired with the manliness of the -affair I put out my hand, and received, instead of a cigarito, a rap on -the knuckles with his cane.</p> - -<p>"That's to teach you not to smoke," said Mentor. "How old are you?"</p> - -<p>"Nine," replied I. The blow hurt; but I put my hand in my pockets, and I -think neither my voice nor my face betrayed my feelings.</p> - -<p>"Nine. And what part of Germany do you come from?"</p> - -<p>"I was last staying at the Castle of Lichtenberg."</p> - -<p>"Aha!" said the gentleman on the balustrade. "And who, may I ask, did we -entertain at our Castle of Lichtenberg?"</p> - -<p>"King William of Prussia," I replied out of my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> childish vanity, "the -Count Feliciani, the great banker and——"</p> - -<p>"Mr. What's-your-name," said my tormentor, "you are a liar. The Count -Feliciani, the great banker as you call him, is in prison——"</p> - -<p>"How! What?" I cried.</p> - -<p>"Oh," said he, with the air of an old Boulevardier, "it is all over -Paris. Caught embezzling State funds; arrested at the railway station. A -nice acquaintance, truly, to boast of!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Eloise!" I cried, my whole heart going out to the unhappy family; -for, though I did not know what embezzling funds meant, prison was plain -enough to my understanding.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Eloise!" mimicked the other, throwing his cigarette-end away, -slipping down from the balustrade, and adjusting his waistcoat -preparatory to returning to the house. "Oh, Eloise! Come on, cochon. I -have an appointment with M. le Duc de Morny."</p> - -<p>"Allons!" And again he hit me with the cane, this time over the right -shoulder.</p> - -<p>I struck him first in the wind, a foul blow, which I have never yet -regretted; and, as he doubled up, I struck him again, by good fortune, -just at the root of the nose.</p> - -<p>The effect was magical, and I stood in consternation looking at my -handiwork, for instantly his two eyes became black and his nose streamed -gore.</p> - -<p>He lay for a moment where he had fallen; then he scrambled on all fours, -got on his feet, and running, streaming blood, and bellowing at the same -time, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>without his dandy cane, without his cigarette-box, which he had -left on the balustrade, he made for the house, this enfant très propre, -and of the highest intelligence; a nice figure, indeed, for presentation -to the Duc de Morny!</p> - -<p>It was a veritable débâcle. He knew how to run, that child of the haute -noblesse; and, when I arrived in the ante-room, he was already roaring -his tale out into the Countess Wagner de Pons' brocaded skirts, for he -was clinging to her like a child of five, whilst the fat Deputies, the -Jew bankers, and other illuminati stood round in a circle, excited as -schoolboys. A nice scene, truly, to take place in a Minister of State's -salon.</p> - -<p>"He struck me in the stomach, he struck me on the head, he kicked me!" -roared the little Comte de Coigny. "Keep him away! Keep him away! Here -he is! Here he is!"</p> - -<p>The Countess de Pons screamed. A row of long-drawn faces turned on me, -and the bankers and Deputies, the priests, and the Southern delegates -made a hedge to protect the stricken one, and cooshed at me as if I were -a cat. Cries of "Ah! polisson! Mauvais enfant! Regardez! Regardez!" -filled the room, till the hubbub suddenly ceased at a stern voice that -said "Patrick!"</p> - -<p>It was my father, whose interview with De Morny was over. He stood at -the open door, and I saw the Duke, who had peeped out, and whose quick -intelligence had taken in the whole affair in a flash, vanishing with a -smile on his face.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIV</span> <span class="smaller">THE RUINED ONES</span></h2> - -<p>"Go home!" said my father, putting me into the carriage. "I will return -on foot. You have disgraced yourself; you have disgraced me. Hand -yourself over to Joubert. You are to be a prisoner under lock and key -until I devise some punishment to meet your case." Then, to the -coachman: "Home, Lubin!" He clapped the door on me, and I was driven -off, with his speech ringing in my ears, a speech which I believe was -meant as much for the gallery as for me. This was my first encounter -with the Comte de Coigny, and I believe I had the worst of it. But I was -not thinking of De Coigny—I was thinking of little Eloise, of the -Countess whose beauty haunted me, and of the Count, that noble-looking -gentleman, now in prison.</p> - -<p>Eloise had told me that their house in Paris was situated in the -Faubourg St. Germain, and, as we turned out of the Rue de Lille, an -inspiration came to me. I pulled the check-string, the carriage stopped, -and I put my head out of the window.</p> - -<p>"Lubin!"</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"Drive me to the Faubourg St. Germain."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p><p>"Likely, indeed! and lose my place. Ma foi!—Faubourg St. Germain!"</p> - -<p>"Lubin! I have a napoleon in my pocket, and I'll give it you if——"</p> - -<p>But the carriage drove on.</p> - -<p>I sank back on the cushions, but I was not defeated yet. There was a -block of traffic in the Rue de Trône. I put my hand out, opened the door -on the left side, and the next moment I was standing upon the pavement, -and the heavy old carriage was driving on, with the door swinging open.</p> - -<p>Then I ran, ran till I was out of breath, and in a broad street full of -shops.</p> - -<p>A barrel-organ was playing in the sunshine; a herd of she-asses were -trotting along, followed by an Auvergnat in sabots, and a cabriolet -plying for hire was approaching on the opposite side of the way.</p> - -<p>I hailed the driver, and told him to take me to the Faubourg St. -Germain.</p> - -<p>"Where to in the Faubourg St. Germain?" asked the man.</p> - -<p>"I want to go to the Count Feliciani's," I replied.</p> - -<p>"The Hôtel Feliciani?"</p> - -<p>"Yes"</p> - -<p>"Get in." He drove off. He knew the Hôtel Feliciani, did this driver. -All Paris was ringing with the disgrace of the man who, from his throne -in the kingdom of finance, had fallen to the gutter, involving a -thousand others in his ruin. But I knew nothing of this; and from the -man's unconcerned manner I began to hope that De Coigny had told me a -lie.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p><p>The cabriolet drove in through the gates of a huge hôtel in the -Faubourg St. Germain. The courtyard was crowded with people—and such -people! Jews, porters, female furniture dealers with heavy earrings, -silken skirts, and ungloved, unwashed hands—all the sharks that ruin -attracts; and in the portico, on the steps, on the very gravel of the -drive, furniture, crystal chandeliers, tables, mirrors, lying like the -débris left by the wave of misfortune.</p> - -<p>It was as if one were looking at a lee shore the morning after the wreck -of some palatial ship: cabin-furniture, stores, the sailor's sea-chest -and the passengers' baggage, tossed up on the sands in horrible -incongruity, and speaking louder than a thousand trumpets of the fury of -the storm.</p> - -<p>There was a sale in progress at the Hôtel Feliciani. I knew nothing of -sales, I knew nothing of finance, speculation, or commercial ruin, but I -knew that what I saw was disaster.</p> - -<p>Getting out of the cabriolet, and telling the driver to wait for me, I -went up the steps and mixed with the throng in the hall. I wanted to -find the Felicianis, and some instinct told me they were not here; also, -that it was useless to ask any of these people their whereabouts. I -looked about me for someone in authority; and, as I looked, a voice from -the large salon adjoining the hall came:</p> - -<p>"Thirty thousand francs! Thirty thousand francs! Any advance on thirty -thousand francs? Gone!" Then followed the blow of a little hammer.</p> - -<p>They were selling the pictures. I turned to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> doorway of the great -salon and squeezed my way in. The place was filled with people—all -Paris was there. Men who had shaken the Count Feliciani by the hand, -women who had kissed the Countess on the cheek, men and women of the -highest nobility, of the greatest intelligence—très propre, to use the -words of the old fool in De Morny's ante-chamber—were here, battening -on the sight, and trying to snatch bargains from the ruin of their -one-time friends. The Felicianis, as I afterwards learned, all but -beggared, had been cast adrift, mother and daughter, by society; cast -out like lepers from the pure precincts of the Court circle and the -buckramed salons of the Royalist clique.</p> - -<p>M. Hamard, the auctioneer, on his estrade, before his desk, a man in -steel spectacles, the living image of the late unlamented Procurator of -the Holy Synod, was clearing his throat before offering the next lot, a -Gerard Dow, eighteen inches by twelve.</p> - -<p>As the bidding leaped up by a thousand francs at a time, I edged my way -through the throng closer and closer to the auctioneer, treading on -dainty toes, wedging myself in between whispering acquaintances, -regardless of grumbles and muttered imprecations, till I was right -beside the estrade and within plucking distance of the auctioneer's -coat.</p> - -<p>"Sixty-five thousand francs!" cried M. Hamard. "This priceless Gerard -Dow—sixty-five thousand francs. Any advance on sixty-five thousand -francs? Gone! Well, what is it, little boy?"</p> - -<p>"Please," said I, "can you tell me where I can find the Countess -Feliciani?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p><p>A dead silence took the room, for my nervousness had made me speak -louder than I intended. People looked at one another; an awkward silence -it must have been following the voice of the enfant terrible flinging -the name of the woman they had cast out and deserted into the face of -these worldlings who had come to examine her effects and snatch bargains -from her ruin.</p> - -<p>M. Hamard, aghast, stared down at me through his spectacles.</p> - -<p>"You—— Who are you?" said he.</p> - -<p>"I am her friend. My name is Patrick Mahon. My father is General Count -Mahon, and I wish to see the Countess Feliciani."</p> - -<p>M. Hamard seized a pen from the desk, scribbled some words on a piece of -paper, and handed it to me.</p> - -<p>"Go," he said. "That is the address. You are interrupting the sale."</p> - -<p>Then, with the paper in my hand, I came back through the crush without -difficulty, for the crowd made a lane for me down which I walked, paper -in hand, a child of nine, the last and only friend of the once great and -powerful Felicianis.</p> - -<p>I read the address on the piece of paper to the driver of the cabriolet.</p> - -<p>"Ma foi!" said he, "but that is a long way from here."</p> - -<p>"Drive me there," said I.</p> - -<p>"Yes; that is all very well, but how about my fare?"</p> - -<p>I showed him my napoleon, got into the vehicle, and we drove off.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p><p>It was indeed a long way from there. We retook the route by which we -had come, we drove through the broad streets, through the great -boulevards, and then we plunged into a quarter of the city where the -streets were shrunken and mean, where the people were in keeping with -the streets, and the light of the bright September day seemed dull as -the light of December.</p> - -<p>At the Hôtel de Mayence in the Rue Ancelot we drew up. It was a -respectable, third-rate hotel. A black cat was crouched in the doorway, -watching the street with imperturbable yellow eyes, and a waiter with a -stained serviette in his hand made his appearance at the sound of the -vehicle drawing up.</p> - -<p>Yes; Madame Feliciani was in: he would go up and see whether she could -receive visitors. I waited, trying to make friends with the sphinx-like -cat; then I was shown upstairs, and into a shabby sitting-room -overlooking the street.</p> - -<p>By the window, stitching at a child's small garment, sat an old lady -with snow-white hair. It was the Countess Feliciani.</p> - -<p>It was as if I had seen by some horrible enchantment a woman of -thirty-five, happy and beautiful, surrounded by the wealth and luxury of -life, suddenly withered, touched by the wand of some malevolent fairy -and transformed into a woman old and poor.</p> - -<p>It was my first lesson in the realities of life, this fairy tale, which, -for hidden terror, put Vogel's story of the old woman who made the -whistles completely in the shade.</p> - -<p>Next moment I was at her knee, blubbering, with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>my nose rubbing the -bombazine of her black skirt—for she was in mourning—and next moment -little Eloise was in her room, looking just the same as ever, and I was -being comforted as if all the misfortune were mine; and Madame -Feliciani, for so she chose to be styled, was smiling for the first -time, I am sure, since the disaster. A late déjeûner was brought in, and -I was given a place at the table. It is all misty and strange in my -mind. A few things of absolute unimportance stand out—the coat of the -waiter, shiny at the elbows; the hotel dog that came in for scraps; the -knives and forks, worn and second-rate—but of what we said to each -other I remember nothing.</p> - -<p>"And you will come and see us?" said I as I took my departure.</p> - -<p>"Some day," replied the Countess, with a smile, the significance of -which I now understand, as I understand the horrible mockery of my -innocent invitation.</p> - -<p>Eloise ran down to see me off; and the last I saw of her was a small -figure standing at the door of the hotel, and holding in its arms the -black cat with the imperturbable yellow eyes.</p> - -<p>When we arrived at the Champs Elysées I was so frightened with my doings -that I gave the driver the whole napoleon without waiting for change, -and then I went to meet my doom like a man, and confessed the whole -business to my father.</p> - -<p>The sentence was expulsion from Paris to the pavilion in the grounds of -the Château de Saluce, whither, accordingly, I was transported next day -with Joubert for a gaoler.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XV</span> <span class="smaller">THE PAVILION OF SALUCE</span></h2> - -<p>Since my mother's death, my father had not lived in the château. He was -too grand to let it, so it was placed in the hands of a caretaker. It -was a gloomy house, dating from 1572, but the pavilion was the -pleasantest place in the world. It was situated in the woods of the -château, woods adjoining the forest of Sénart. It had six rooms, and was -surrounded by a deep moat. A drawbridge gave access to it; and by -touching a lever the drawbridge would rise; and you were as completely -isolated from the world as though you were surrounded by a wall of iron.</p> - -<p>The water in the moat, fed by some unknown source, was very dark and -still and deep, reflecting with photographic perfection the treetops of -the wood and the fern-fronds of the bank. The water never varied in -height, and, a strange thing, was rarely, even in the severest weather, -covered with ice. It had a gloomy and secret look.</p> - -<p>"Joubert," I remember saying once, as I looked over the rail of the -drawbridge at the reflections on the oily surface below, "has it ever -drowned a man?"</p> - -<p>"Which?" asked Joubert.</p> - -<p>"The water."</p> - -<p>That was the feeling with which it inspired me, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> I never lingered on -the bridge when I was alone. And I was often alone now, for Joubert, -having extracted my parole d'honneur to be of good behaviour and not get -into mischief or bolt back to Paris, spent most of his time at the -château, where the caretaker had a pretty daughter, or at the cabaret at -Etiolles, Lisette, the old woman who did our cooking and made our beds, -being deputed deputy-gaoler.</p> - -<p>The weather had the feeling of early spring, though in the forest, half -stricken by autumn, the leaves were falling—falling to every touch of -the wind. Where the forest of Sénart began, and the woods of the château -ended, the frontier was marked by a thin line of wire easy for a child -to slip under. Then one felt free, free as the cock pheasant whose -corkscrew-sounding voice echoed from the liquid twilight of the drives, -free as the wind in the tree tops. The great pine forest of Lichtenberg -had a voice. You would hear the wind rising and passing over its leagues -of perfumed branches, and dying away, and rising and dying away—ever -the same voice filling and deserting the same vast silence. But here, in -the forest of Sénart, the tongue of the beech spoke a different language -to that of the fir and the larch. There were open spaces, swathes of -sunshine, forest pools like lost sapphires, where the bulrushes painted -their forms on the water-surface, blue with the reflection of the autumn -sky.</p> - -<p>These woods, whose echoes had once answered to the hunting-horn of Le -Roi Soleil, were haunted, but not by the ghost of Pan. Rousseau had once -botanised in them, and M. de Jussien, in his coat of ribbed Indian<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> -satin, his lilac silk vest, and white silk stockings of extraordinary -fineness, had here filled his herbal with the vicris hieracioides and -the cerastium aquaticum so dear to his herboristic heart. Pompadour had -wandered where the rabbits played now; and the glades, shot through with -sunlight and draped in the muslin of the morning mist, were the -backgrounds beloved of Fragonnard for his wreaths of flying drapery, his -fêtes champêtres, and his sylvan scenes.</p> - -<p>The forest keepers all wore a state uniform. Fanchard, the one who lived -nearest to us, an old soldier and a crony of Joubert's, would take me -with him whilst he set his traps; and there were gypsies that haunted -the clearings, real children of Egypt these, lineal descendants of -Hennequin Dandèche and Clopin Trouillefou.</p> - -<p>On the evening of our sixth day at the pavilion, a visitor arrived. It -was my father. He had left his carriage in the road at the gates of the -château, and had come to the pavilion on foot.</p> - -<p>I was at supper when he arrived. He ordered another plate, and a bottle -of wine; he was gay, excited, his eyes were brilliant, and he seemed -quite to have forgotten my escapades in Paris, for he never referred to -them. He had only come for an hour, to see how I was getting on, so he -said; but he stayed three, for after supper he called Joubert, and they -both went out into the night.</p> - -<p>These two old soldiers must have had something very important to say to -one another, for they were gone an hour or more. When they returned, my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> -father beckoned me to him and kissed me, and bade me good-night; then, -as if something had suddenly occurred to him, he said to Joubert: -"Patrick can come down to the road and see me off. Come, both of you, -and bring a lantern."</p> - -<p>Joubert lit a lantern. The night was black as black velvet, and the -lantern only showed Joubert's legging-clad legs as he marched before us -down the gravel of the drive.</p> - -<p>The carriage was standing in the road. My father kissed me, got in, and -drove away.</p> - -<p>Just as the vehicle moved off, he looked out of the window, and the -light of the lantern which Joubert was holding up struck his face. What -a reckless, daring, jolly face it was, that face I was destined never to -see again!</p> - -<p>"What did father want to say to you, Joubert?" I asked as we returned to -the pavilion.</p> - -<p>"What did he want to say?" cried Joubert, whose temper seemed sharper -than usual. "Why, that the price of cabbages has gone up. What else -would he have to say to me at this hour of the night? Mordieu! If I -could be there!"</p> - -<p>"Where, Joubert?"</p> - -<p>But Joubert did not reply.</p> - -<p>Next morning the fine weather still held, and I was up at dawn. It was -no trouble to get up early when one lived in the pavilion. The birds -wakened one; and, then, the forest!</p> - -<p>In the very early morning, the forest, like the sea, is full of tender -lights. Shadows and trees are equally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> unsubstantial, the rides are -wreathed in vague mists, the last star has not quite faded from the sky, -and the voice of the thrush comes from the glens as in the story of -Vitigab, crying: "Deep—down deep—there somewhere in the darkness I see -a ray of light." The hollow tapping of the woodpecker comes from the -beech glades, whilst the rabbits shake the dew from their fur, and the -rustle of the stoat comes from the ferns; a nut falls, and, looking up, -you see against the sky, where the treetops are waving in the palest -sapphire air, the squirrel, the sweetest of all wood things.</p> - -<p>You observe one another and he is gone, and the wind draws up from -leagues away like the rustling of a silken skirt, till, suddenly, the -whole forest draws breath. You can hear it waking from its slumber just -as at dusk you can hear it falling to sleep; for the forest is a living -thing, a thing that breathes and speaks and has its dreams.</p> - -<p>I was out early this morning, for I was going to breakfast with -Fauchard. I passed the glades where the rabbits were sporting, chasing -each other in circles smoothly and for all the world like toy rabbits on -wheels and driven by clockwork. I passed the pools where the bulrushes -stood up out of the mist, and nothing spoke of water save the splash of -the frog, or the ripple of the water-rat swimming.</p> - -<p>Fauchard was waiting for me. We had breakfast—a simple enough repast, -consisting of coffee, biscuits, and cheese—and then we started off to -visit the traps and see what they had caught.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p><p>When Fauchard had collected his harvest of stoats and moles, killed two -snakes, and shot a marauding cat, it was late morning; the sun was well -over the treetops, and it was time for me to return home.</p> - -<p>"Take that path," said the ranger. "Turn neither to the right nor left, -and it will lead you straight as an omnibus to the pavilion."</p> - -<p>I bade him good morning, and, taking the path indicated, I set off. It -was not a drive; in fact, it was so narrow in parts that the hawthorn -bushes growing in this part of the wood nearly met; the fern in places -nearly blocked the way. It was warm, and very silent.</p> - -<p>When I paused now and then to listen, I could hear nothing except the -buzzing of wasps and flies. The ground in places was boggy, the path, it -seemed to me, had not been used for years. Stories of murderers and -goblins occurred to my mind and made me press on all the faster.</p> - -<p>I had turned past a clump of alders when before me I caught a glimpse of -someone going in the same direction as myself—a boy of my own age, to -judge from his height, but I could not see what he was dressed in, or -whether he was a gypsy or a woodranger's child, for he was always just -ahead of my sight at the turnings, glimpsed for a moment and then gone. -I halloed to him to stop, for his company would have been very -acceptable in that lonely place, but he made no reply. I ran, and -pausing out of breath, I heard his footsteps running, too; then they -ceased, as though he were waiting for me. It was like a game of -hide-and-seek, and I laughed.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p><p>I walked softly and as quickly as I could, hoping to surprise him. -Then, at the next turning, I saw him. He was amidst the bushes on the -right; his head just peeped over the tops of them, and—he was a child -of about my own age, and extraordinarily like little Carl.</p> - -<p>Filled with astonishment, not thinking what I did, I ran through the -bushes towards him, calling his name.</p> - -<p>Then I remember nothing more.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVI</span> <span class="smaller">THE VICOMTE</span></h2> - -<p>I had fallen into a disused gravel-pit, treacherously hidden by the -bushes, so they told me afterwards. When I recovered from my stunned -condition, my cries for help had attracted the attention of Fauchard's -eldest son, who, fortunately, had been passing. I do not remember -calling for help; I remember nothing distinctly till I found myself on -my bed, and old Dr. Perichaud of Etiolles bending over me. Then I became -keenly alive to my position, for my right thigh was broken in two -places, and the doctor was setting it. When the thing was over, the -doctor retired with Joubert to the next room, and there they talked. -When will people learn that the sick have ears to hear with, and a sense -of hearing doubly acute?</p> - -<p>This conversation came to my ears. The speakers spoke in a muted voice, -it is true, but this only made the matter worse.</p> - -<p>"You have sent for the General, you say?"</p> - -<p>"Oui, monsieur. A man on horseback has started to fetch him. He will be -here in an hour, unless——"</p> - -<p>"Unless?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur does not know. The General has an affair of honour on hand. -This morning, in the Bois de Boulogne, he was to meet Baron Imhoff."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>"Aha!" said Perichaud, with appreciation. He was an old army surgeon, -who had tasted smoke, and seen men carved with other things than -scalpels. He was also a gossip, as most old army men are. "Aha! And what -was the cause of the affair? Do you know?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, mon Dieu!" said Joubert, "it was all that cursed business at the -Schloss Lichtenberg, of which everyone is speaking. Baron Imhoff was -cousin"—mark the "was"—"of the Baron von Lichtenberg, Baron Imhoff -picked a quarrel at the Grand Club yesterday with the General. That's -all. It is a bad affair."</p> - -<p>"And the Lichtenberg affair—the cause of all this?" said Perichaud.</p> - -<p>"Ah, that beats the Moscow campaign," said Joubert, "for blackness and -treachery. Mark you: this is between ourselves. You will never breathe a -word of it to anyone?"</p> - -<p>"No, no; not a word!"</p> - -<p>"Well, the Baron Carl von Lichtenberg was mad."</p> - -<p>"Mad?"</p> - -<p>"Mad. What else can you call a man who brings his little daughter up as -a boy?"</p> - -<p>"A boy?"</p> - -<p>"It is true. He fancied she was some old dead-and-gone Lichtenberg -returned, and that she was doomed to be killed by the child in there -with the broken leg, whom he thought was some old dead-and-gone Saluce -returned. Then— Listen to me; and I trust monsieur's honour never to -let these words go further. He, or at least one of his damned jägers, -tried to smother the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> child. The night before, they tried to stab -him—as he lay asleep in bed—with my couteau de chasse, and would have -done it only the Blessed Virgin interposed."</p> - -<p>"Great Heaven!" said the old doctor.</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes," said Joubert; "that's the story. I saw it all with my own -eyes, or I wouldn't believe my own tongue with my own ears. And now -monsieur, what do you think of him?"</p> - -<p>"Of him?" said Perichaud.</p> - -<p>"Of the child. Is there danger?"</p> - -<p>"Not a bit; but he'll be lame for life."</p> - -<p>"Lame for life!"</p> - -<p>"The femur is broken in two places, and splintered. The right leg will -be two inches shorter than the left. All the surgeons in Paris could not -do him any good."</p> - -<p>"Then he will be useless for the army!" said Joubert. And I could hear -the catching of his breath.</p> - -<p>"He will never see service," replied Perichaud.</p> - -<p>A loud smash of crockery came as a reply to the doctor's pronouncement. -It was Joubert kicking a great Japanese jar on to the floor.</p> - -<p>As for me, I had heard the death-sentence of my hopes. I would never -wear a sword or lead a company into action. I would be a thing with a -lame leg—a cripple. Fortunately, an opiate which the doctor had given -me began to take effect. It did not make me sleepy, but it dulled my -thoughts—some of them; others it made more bright. I lay listening to -the doctor departing, and watching the red sunset<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> which was dyeing -Etiolles, and the woods, and the walls of my bedroom.</p> - -<p>Then Joubert's words came into my head about Lichtenberg, and the duel -the General had fought that morning with Baron Imhoff. I did not feel in -the least uneasy about my father, and I was picturing the duel in the -woods of Lichtenberg, when a sound through the open window came to my -ears.</p> - -<p>It was a carriage rapidly driving up the distant avenue to the château.</p> - -<p>It was my father, I felt sure. A long time passed, and then I heard -steps on the drawbridge; voices sounded from below. Then came a step on -the stairs; my door opened, and a gentleman stood framed in the doorway.</p> - -<p>I shall never forget my first sight of the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan, -my father's cousin on the Saluces' side, and my future guardian.</p> - -<p>I had never seen him before. He was not, indeed, a sight to come often -in a child's way, this flower of the boulevards, seventy if a day, -scented, exquisite, with a large impassive, evenly coloured red face, -the face of a Roman consul, in which were set the blue eyes of a -good-tempered child.</p> - -<p>This great gentleman, who left the pavements of Paris only once a year -for a three weeks' visit to his estates in Auvergne, had travelled -express from Paris to tell a child that its father was lying dead, shot -through the heart by the Baron Imhoff. And this is how he did it: He -made a kindly little bow to me, and indicated Joubert to place a chair -by the bedside.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>"And how are we this evening?" asked he, taking my wrist as a physician -might have done to feel my pulse.</p> - -<p>I did not know who he was. I had vague suspicions that he was another -doctor. Never for a moment did I dream he was the bearer of evil -tidings. I said I was better—that old reply of the sick child—and he -talked on various subjects: the airiness of the room, the beauty of the -woods, and so forth. Then, to Joubert: "Distinctly feverish. Must not be -disturbed to-night. Ah, yes, in the morning; that will be different. And -no more tumbling into gravel pits," finished this astute old gentleman -as he glanced back at me before leaving the room.</p> - -<p>Then the opiate closed its lid on me, and I did not even hear the -departure of the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan, my future guardian, who -shuffled out of the unpleasant business of grieving my heart on the same -evening that he shuffled into my life, he and his grand, queer, quaint, -and sometimes despicable personality, perfumed with vervain and the -cigars of the Café de Paris.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> - -<h2>PART II</h2> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVII</span> <span class="smaller">A DÉJEÛNER AT THE CAFÉ DE PARIS</span></h2> - -<p>The death of my father cast me into an entirely new life. Anyone less -fitting than the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan to be the guardian of a -child of nine it would be hard to imagine at first sight. But my father -was no fool.</p> - -<p>This gorgeous old night-moth of the Second Empire, this frequenter of -Tortoni's and the Café de Paris—always hard up, with an income of two -hundred thousand francs a year—was a man of rigid honour in his way.</p> - -<p>Left sole and irresponsible guardian of me and my money, he shuffled out -of his difficulties and bothers by placing the latter in the funds and -the former in the Bourdaloue College—that same college of the Jesuit -fathers where the Comte de Coigny was receiving his education.</p> - -<p>Here nine years of my life were spent—nine dull but not unhappy years. -Lame and unfit for the army, completely cut off from the only profession -fit for a gentleman—to use the Vicomte's expression—I saw the others -go off to join the Military College, and I would not have felt it so -bitterly had not De Coigny been amongst them. He was my natural enemy. -All the time we spent together at the Bourdaloue, we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> scarcely spoke a -word one to the other. Speechless enmity: there can scarcely be a worse -condition between boys or men.</p> - -<p>Once a month or so the Vicomte came to see me. Joubert came often. He -was installed as caretaker in the Château de Saluce, and he would bring -me presents of game and plovers' eggs, huge Jaronel pears from the -orchard, and cakes baked by Fauchard's wife.</p> - -<p>During the first few months at the college, I had got leave from the -Father Superior to visit the Felicianis. A young priest accompanied me. -But the Felicianis were not at the Hôtel de Mayence; no one knew -anything about them; the hotel itself had changed hands after the -fashion of these small hotels, the short chapters of whose histories -have for heading "Bankruptcy."</p> - -<p>Then I forgot.</p> - -<p>Little by little the beautiful Countess and the sprightly Eloise faded -from my mind. Never entirely, but they passed to the region of ghosts, -the limbo of things half remembered.</p> - -<p>I was not a diligent student. Good for nothing much except drawing. I -was an artist born, I believe, and had the artistic temperament, which -takes a delight in all things brilliant and beautiful, and tuneful and -grand, and holds in abhorrence all things dull and most things useful. -Smuggled novels and the poems of De Musset were the literature of my -heart. D'Artagnan and Bussey were my heroes, and Esmeralda, that -brilliant and gemlike creation, was my mistress.</p> - -<p>Life is a love-story, a story that Nature alone can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> teach you to read. -And what are the poets and the great writers of prose but Nature's -priests, who repeat her litanies? Yet love-stories were banned at the -Bourdaloue, and Dumas was accounted a child of Satan. Which statement is -a preface to the comedy of my eighteenth birthday, or, in other words, -the twelfth of May, 1869.</p> - -<p>I was to leave school on that day. The Vicomte de Chatellan was to -entertain me at déjeûner. I was to have rooms at his house in the Place -Vendôme; I was, in fact, to burst my sheath and become a dragon-fly. I -was to have an allowance of four hundred a year, to teach me, as the -Vicomte said, the value of money. Joubert was to be unearthed from the -Château de Saluce, and constituted my valet. Blacquerie, the Viscount's -tailor, and Champardy, his bootmaker, had already called and taken the -measurements for my new wardrobe. I can tell you I was elated; and no -debutante ever looked forward more eagerly to the day of her debut than -I to the twelfth of May.</p> - -<p>At ten o'clock the Vicomte called for me. He was received in the salon -by the Principal and two of the Fathers. They liked me, these men, and I -liked them; and though I had imbibed Jesuitism as little as a rock -imbibes the sea-water in which it is immersed, I respected Père -Hyacinthe, and I loved, without any reserve, Father Ambrose, a -bull-necked Arlesian, who, incapable of hurting a fly in practice, burnt -heretics in theory, for ever, and for ever, and for ever in hell.</p> - -<p>As we got into the Vicomte's carriage, this same Father Ambrose came -running out, and, just as we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> drove off, popped into my hand a little -green-covered book on the seven deadly sins.</p> - -<p>"What's that?" asked the Vicomte, as I turned the leaves.</p> - -<p>I showed it to him. "Pshaw!" said he, and flung it out of the window.</p> - -<p>"All that stuff you have learned," said this worthy man, "is excellent -for children; but when we become men we put away childish things, as M. -de Voltaire or some other scoundrel of a philosopher, I think it was, -once remarked. Mark you, I say nothing against religion. Religion is a -most excellent institution; but in the world, my dear Patrique, we are -brought face to face with men. Religion is a fixed institution; and the -nones, or complines, whatever you call it that they say to-day, were -what they said two hundred years ago. But men are very shifty, and, as a -matter of fact, damned rogues. It is very easy to be a saint in the -College Bourdaloue; but it is very difficult to be a gentleman in the -Boulevard des Italiens, especially in this bourgeois age" (he was a -Royalist, with one foot in the Tuileries and the other in the Faubourg -St. Germain), "when we have a what-do-you-call-it as President of the -Council and a thingumbob on the throne of France."</p> - -<p>So he went on as he sat, erect as a man of thirty, gazing at the passing -streets with those blue tranquil eyes of a child, out of which youth -still looked; and turning to me the pro-consular profile of which he was -secretly so proud, and which was the thing, I believe, up to which this -strange old gentleman lived.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p><p>To live up to your profile is not a bad rule of life, if you have a -face like that possessed by the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan.</p> - -<p>When we drew up at the Place Vendôme, I put my hand to open the door, -and received my first lesson in the convenances from the Vicomte, who -laid his gloved hand on my arm without a word. The footman opened the -door, and the grand old gentleman descended. M. le Vicomte did not get -out of a carriage—he descended. And with what a grace! He waited -courteously for me on the pavement; and then, with a little wave of his -clouded cane, shepherded me into the house.</p> - -<p>At the door, Beril, the Vicomte's personal servant, a man older than his -master, received us; and Joubert was in the hall with my luggage.</p> - -<p>"And now," said the Vicomte, when I had been shown my suite of rooms, -and very sumptuous they were, "déjeûner."</p> - -<p>We got into the carriage which was waiting, the footman closed the door, -and we started for the Café de Paris.</p> - -<p>Fourteen people were invited to the repast, besides myself. It took -place in the Amber Room overlooking the Boulevard; and six of the guests -were ladies. Very great ladies—duchesses, in my simple eyes. Had I -known more of breakfast-parties and the world, I might have wondered at -the disposition of the guests; for the Duc d'Harmonville, an old -gentleman with a white imperial and the exact expression of a -billy-goat, sat between two of the duchesses; and the rest of the female -illuminati sat, three of them altogether in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> one cluster, and the sixth -at the right of my guardian.</p> - -<p>There was Pélisson of the "Moniteur," the only Press man present; -Carvalho of the Opéra Comique; the Duc de Cadore; Prince Metternich, -with his long Dundreary whiskers now lightly streaked with grey; and, as -for the rest, I did not catch their names, and I have all but forgotten -their faces.</p> - -<p>One thing especially struck me in the male guests. With the exception of -Pélisson and Prince Metternich, their manner and their voices recalled -something or somebody to my mind, yet what thing or person I could not -remember, till Memory suddenly chalked on the vacant space before her:</p> - -<p>De Morny.</p> - -<p>The languid air, the half-lisp, the attentive inattention of manner, all -were here, the very voice.</p> - -<p>What a triumph! De Morny had been dead and buried nearly four years, yet -his reflection still lingered on the faces of these apes; his voice had -been silent since the orations and muffled drums of that dramatic -funeral, which outvied in splendour the funeral of Germanicus, and which -I had witnessed in company with Père Hyacinthe and the pupils of the -Bourdaloue; yet his voice still was heard in the supper-rooms of Paris, -discussing the length of ballet-girls' skirts and the scandals of -Plon-Plon.</p> - -<p>With the fish the conversation became more general, and with the iced -champagne—served from jeroboams that took two waiters to lift—decency -and the ghost of De Morny rose to take their departure.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p><p>It was strange to me, a water-drinker, and therefore an observer of the -others, to see these men forgetting themselves, to see languid faces -become flushed, to hear soft voices become harsh, tongues become ribald; -to watch brutal lines asserting themselves in countenances unveiled by -alcohol. And it was surpassingly funny to see the evanescence of the De -Morny air.</p> - -<p>At the head of the table, a tint more ruddy than usual, sat my guardian, -enjoying it all.</p> - -<p>We had all, like the lunatic guests at the dinner-party of Dr. Tar and -Professor Feather, sat down to table apparently staid and respectable -people, and by degrees, just as lunacy set off the Doctor's guests -crowing like cocks and braying like asses, the spirit of the Second -Empire in its last and rottenest stages invaded the Amber Room of the -Café de Paris. Furious discussions, fumes of spilt wines, wreaths of -cigar and cigarette smoke, the cracked and cruel laughter of women, -filled the air.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>And in the midst of it all sat my guardian, in his element, enjoying the -enjoyment of his guests, paternal, and with those childish blue eyes -through which youth looked so frankly, and that voice, so courtly and -well modulated, infecting the others with I know not what. I only know -that from him seemed to emanate the diablerie of the party. Sober as -myself, self-contained and courtly, he seemed like the negative pole of -some diabolical battery, of which the others were the positive.</p> - -<p>In the midst of the smoke and chatter he rose, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> with a glass of -champagne between two fingers, as a lady holds a lily, he proposed my -health and my success in the world of Paris; and I rose and said -something—foolish, no doubt, but it did not matter, for Amy Féraud, of -the Théâtre Montparnasse, whilst she pelted Prince Metternich with -bonbons, lost her balance, fell smash on her back, pulling the -tablecloth with her, and in the confusion I sat down.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later, arm-in-arm with my guardian, I was taking a -digestion walk down the Boulevard des Italiens. The old gentleman was -pleased, very pleased, for it seems I had conducted myself in a modest -and becoming manner, and the few words I had said had been well said; -and you might have thought that he was discussing a children's party as -he strolled by my side, saluting every person of distinction that he -met, and being saluted in return.</p> - -<p>I really believe that this man was as innocent at heart as any child, -yet he was an old roué, a duellist, a gambler, all that a bad man could -be. Yet, though always hard up, he had jealously guarded my patrimony, -which he could have plundered if he had chosen with impunity. His -charity was boundless if you tapped it; and though he spoke of women in -a light way, <i>I never heard him speak a bad word of any man</i>. And he -loved animals, stopping to stroke a cat in the Rue de Rivoli, and -pausing, as he led me across to the Tuileries, to admire the sparrows -taking their dust-baths in the Royal precincts.</p> - -<p>"Where are we going?" I asked, with a sudden apprehension.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p><p>"It is your eighteenth birthday," replied the Vicomte. And, still with -his arm in mine, he led me past the Cent-Gardes, up the steps, and into -the hall of the Palace.</p> - -<p>One might have thought that the Palace of the Tuileries belonged to the -Vicomte de Chatellan, so perfectly at home did he seem. That he was a -well-known and respected visitor was evident from the manner of the -ushers. I was left in an anteroom, whilst the old gentleman, led by the -usher, disappeared for a moment; then he came back, and, motioning me to -follow him, he led the way into a room, where, at a desk-table, with a -cigarette between his lips and a pen in his hand, sat Napoleon.</p> - -<p>He threw the pen down and rose to greet us.</p> - -<p>How wrinkled he looked! And how different, seen close and familiarly, -from what he appeared in his carriage, amidst a cloud of dust, a glitter -of sabres, and surrounded by his guards and gentlemen!</p> - -<p>Quite an unfearful person; old, and rather shuffling, easy-going, and -putting you at your ease, rather dreamy, and speaking with a slightly -nasal voice, rolling an armchair for you to sit in with his own august -hands, offering cigarettes with a little shake of the box to loosen them -and make your acceptance of one more easy, searching for a matchbox -amidst the papers on the desk: a true gentleman, though an unfortunate -Emperor.</p> - -<p>Though I was eighteen, I was still very much of a child, and that is -perhaps why I felt an affection for the old gentleman at almost first -sight. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>remembered my father perfectly well; and, with a shade of -sadness and wreathed in his cigarette smoke, he fell into a little -reverie. We talked—he, my guardian, and I. My lameness was explained -and commiserated, and, when our audience was ended and M. Ollivier was -announced as waiting, he pushed us out of his cabinet, holding our hands -affectionately, patting my shoulder, and all with such a grace and -goodness of heart as to make me for ever his admirer and friend.</p> - -<p>Ah, that was a good man lost in an Emperor!</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVIII</span> <span class="smaller">MY FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS</span></h2> - -<p>"I am due to dine at the Duc de Bassano's," said my guardian as I parted -with him outside the Tuileries. "So, if we do not see one another till -to-morrow morning, au revoir. You have plenty of money in your pocket, -Paris is before you, you are young: amuse yourself."</p> - -<p>Then the old gentleman marched off, and left me standing on the -pavement.</p> - -<p>I could not help recalling my father's words in the room of the Duc de -Morny, years ago, when he dismissed me:</p> - -<p>"Go and play."</p> - -<p>I had five hundred francs in my pocket, I possessed rooms in the Place -Vendôme, a princely fortune lay at my back, I had a guardian, everything -that a guardian ought to be from a young man's point of view, I had just -shaken hands with the Emperor, I had the entrée of the very best of -society in France, yet I doubt if you could have found a more forlorn -creature than myself if you had searched the whole of Paris.</p> - -<p>I did not know where to go or what to do, so I went back to the Place -Vendôme, superintended the unpacking of my things, looked at my new -clothes, and at seven o'clock, called by the lovely evening, I went out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> -again, proposing to myself to dine somewhere and see life.</p> - -<p>Over the western sky, brilliant and liquid as a topaz, hung the evening -star. Paris was preparing for the festival of the night, wrapping -herself in the dark gauze of shadows and spangling herself with lights. -I hung on the Pont des Arts, looking at the dark lilac of the Seine, -looking at the drifting barges, listening to the sounds of the city.</p> - -<p>Then I walked on.</p> - -<p>Oh, there is no doubt that we are led in this world when we seem to -lead, and that when we take a direction that brings us to fate it is not -by our own volition. This I was soon to prove.</p> - -<p>I walked on—walked in the blindness of reverie—and opened my eyes to -find myself in a new world.</p> - -<p>A broad boulevard, a blaze of lights, cafés thronged to the pavement, -the music of barrel-organs, laughter, and a crowd.</p> - -<p>Such a crowd! Men with long hair, gentlemen in pegtop trousers, wearing -smoking-caps with tassels, smoking long pipes; men in rags, hawkers -yelling their wares, blind men tapping their way with their sticks, deaf -men blowing penny whistles, grisettes, gamins, poets, painters, gnomes -from the Rue du Truand, goblins from Montmartre, Thénard and Claquesons, -Fleur de Marie and Mimi Pinson, Bouchardy and Bruyon; skull-like faces, -ghost-like faces, faces like roses, paint, satin, squalor, beauty; and -all drifting as if blown by the wind of the summer night, drifting under -the stars, here in shadow, here in the blaze of the roaring cafés,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> -drifting, drifting, in a double current from and towards the voiceless -and gas-spangled Seine.</p> - -<p>Not in the bazaars of Bagdad, or on the Bardo of Tunis, could you see so -fantastic a sight as the Boulevard St. Michel in the year 1869.</p> - -<p>It fascinated me, and, mixing with the crowd, I drifted half the length -of the boulevard, till suddenly I was brought up as if by the blast of a -trumpet in my face. By the pavement a man had placed a little carpet, -six inches square; on this carpet, lit by the light of a bullseye -lantern, two tiny dolls, manipulated by an invisible thread, were -wrestling and tumbling, to the edification of a small crowd of -interested onlookers. One of these—a man with a violin under his arm, a -man with a round, fresh-coloured childish face—I knew at sight. He had -not altered in nine years. He was the good angel, the violinist of that -troupe of wandering musicians, whose music had held me in the gallery of -the Schloss Lichtenberg.</p> - -<p>I laughed to myself with pleasure as I watched him watching the dolls, -all his simple soul absorbed in the sight, his violin under his arm, and -a hand in the pocket of his shabby coat, feeling for a coin to pay for -the entertainment.</p> - -<p>He did not know me in the least. How could he connect the child in its -nightgown, looking down from the gallery of the castle, with the young -dandy who was raising his hat to him in the Boulevard St. Michel?</p> - -<p>"Excuse me, monsieur," said I, "but I believe I have the pleasure of -your acquaintance, though we have never spoken one word to each other."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p><p>He smiled dubiously and plucked nervously at a violin-string, evidently -ransacking memories of beer-gardens and café-chantants to find my face.</p> - -<p>"You will not remember me," I went on, "but I remember you. Over nine -years ago, it was, in Germany, in the Schloss Lichtenberg. You remember -the Hunting-Song, the horn——"</p> - -<p>"Ach Gott!" he cried, slapping himself on the forehead. "The child in -the gallery, the one in white——"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said I; "that was me. You see, I don't forget my friends."</p> - -<p>He was too astounded to say anything for a moment; the wretched -difference our clothes made in us confused his simple mind.</p> - -<p>Then he wiped his hand with fingers outspread across his broad face. It -was just as if he had wiped away his amazement like a veil, exposing the -beneficent smile that was his true expression.</p> - -<p>"Wunderschön!" said he.</p> - -<p>"Wunderschön indeed," replied I, laughing. "But I have much more to tell -you. Come, let us walk down the Boulevard together, if you have a moment -to spare. You saved my life that night—you and those friends of -yours—and I must tell you about it."</p> - -<p>I knew this man quite well, though I had never spoken to him before. A -really good man is the friend of all the world; you speak to him, and -you know him as though you had known him all your life, for the soul and -essence of his goodness is simplicity, and instinct tells you he has no -dark corners in his soul. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> his greatness he does not dream of dark -corners in yours, and so at a word you become friends.</p> - -<p>I told him my story, and then he told me his.</p> - -<p>He had belonged to a band of wandering musicians, long since dispersed; -and on that eventful day in September, nine years ago, he and the rest -of the band had been playing at Homburg. They had done badly; and, after -a long day's tramp, making for Friedrichsdorff, they saw before them, -just at sunset, the towers of Lichtenberg in the distance.</p> - -<p>He, Franzius, pointed them out to the others, and proposed that they -should try their luck there, but Marx, the leader of the band, demurred. -A coin was tossed, and the answer of Fate was "Go," so they went.</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes," said Franzius, as he finished. "And well it was we did so. -And the child who was with you in the gallery—the little boy—how is -he?"</p> - -<p>"What child?" said I.</p> - -<p>"He in the gallery standing beside you, dressed as a soldier, with -cross-belt like the grenadiers of Pomerania."</p> - -<p>A cold hand seemed laid on my heart, for no child had been with me in -the gallery on that night; and the description given by Franzius was the -description of little Carl.</p> - -<p>"Franzius," said I, stopping and facing him, "there was no one in the -gallery but myself. Of that I am positive."</p> - -<p>There we stood facing each other in the glare of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> café, with the roar -of the Boul' Miche around us, each equally astonished.</p> - -<p>Then Franzius laughed at the absurdity of the notion that he was wrong.</p> - -<p>"With these two eyes I saw him," said he. "And, more: once, when you -made a movement as if to go, he plucked you by the sleeve of your little -nightshirt—so—"—and he plucked my coat—"as if to hold you back, to -keep you there listening to the music."</p> - -<p>"He did that?"</p> - -<p>"Mais oui."</p> - -<p>"Ah, well," I said, with a laugh that was rather forced, "I suppose I -was so taken up with the music that I did not see him. Let us walk on."</p> - -<p>We walked on. I was perturbed. This, and the occurrence that day when I -had seen little Carl in the forest of Sénart, my father's death and all -that had gone before, made me feel that there was something working in -my life that I but dimly understood.</p> - -<p>For the first time, fully, Von Lichtenberg's mad attempt at my -destruction rose before me, and demanded an explanation on another basis -than that of madness. He had brought up his daughter as a boy, for it -had been prophesied that she would be slain as a girl—slain by a -Saluce; and I was the last descendant of that family. Then the picture -of Margaret von Lichtenberg rose before me, and its likeness to little -Carl, and the fact of my own likeness to Philippe de Saluce, who had -murdered Margaret so many years ago; and it was just then, walking down -the Boulevard St. Michel, amidst the crush and turmoil, jostled by -students<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> and grisettes, beggars and thieves, that the question came -before me: "Can the dead return? Has Margaret von Lichtenberg come back -to this sad old world again as little Carl? Am I Philippe de Saluce?" -And then like a pang through my heart came the recollection, the <i>fact</i>, -that I had recognised the park of Lichtenberg as a thing I had seen once -before. I had not recognised the Schloss, but even that fact was an -indirect confirmation of my fantastic idea, for the Schloss had been -rebuilt in 1703, and the murder of Margaret had occurred many years -before that.</p> - -<p>All these questions and ideas assailing my mind at once brought terror -to my heart for a moment. Only for a moment. "Well?" said I to myself, -"suppose this is true, what then? What is the world around me, dull and -commonplace and sordid, even under its gold and glitter? I have seen the -highest pleasures that life can give men in exchange for gold to-day in -the Amber Salon of the Café de Paris. I have seen an Emperor who has -attained his ambition, and the futility and weariness of it all in his -face. I have lost and left behind the only country where dreams are real -and life worth living—childhood. I love the past; and should it come to -me and surround me with its romance, should some mysterious fate call it -up to me, should the end be tragedy even, then welcome, for one can only -die; and what care I about death if I am given one draught from the -water of romance in this arid desert of commonplace things which they -call the world?"</p> - -<p>I walked beside Franzius intoxicated: the woods of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> Lichtenberg were -around me, the winds of some far-distant day were rocking the trees. -Romance had touched me with her wand. I heard the Hunting-Song, the -horn, the cries of the jägers; and now I was in the gallery of the -Schloss, the sound of the violins was in my ears, the music that was -holding me from death, the ghostly child was plucking at my sleeve. Ah, -God! whoever has tasted the waters of romance like that will never want -wine again.</p> - -<p>And then the wand was withdrawn, and I was walking in the Boulevard St. -Michel with Franzius.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIX</span> <span class="smaller">MY FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS (<i>continued</i>)</span></h2> - -<p>He was holding out his hand timidly, as if to bid me good-bye.</p> - -<p>"Oh, but," said I, "we must not part so soon. Can you not come and have -some dinner with me? What are you doing?"</p> - -<p>He looked at a big clock over a café on the opposite side of the way, -and sighed. It pointed to a quarter to nine. He was due at La Closerie -de Lilas at ten; he was a member of the band; there was a students' -fancy-dress ball that night, and he evidently hated the business, though -he said no word of complaint. Poor Franzius! Simple soul, poet and -peasant, child of a woodcutter in Hartz, condemned to live by the gift -that God had given him, just as one might imagine some child condemned -to live by the sale of some lovely toy, the present of an Emperor—what -a fate his was, forever surrounded by the flare of gas, the clatter of -beer-mugs, and the fœtid life of music-hall and café-chantant!</p> - -<p>"Come," I said. And, taking him by the arm, I led him into the nearest -café.</p> - -<p>You could dine here sumptuously for 1 franc 50, wine included. We found -a vacant table; and as we waited for our soup the heart in me was -touched at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> way the world and the years had treated this friend who -was part of the romance of my life; for the pitiless gaslight showed up -all—the coat so old and frayed, yet still, somehow, respectable; the -face showing lines that ought never to have been there. I hugged myself -at the thought of my money, and what I could do for him. But in this I -reckoned without Franzius.</p> - -<p>He was hungry, and he enjoyed his dinner frankly, and like a child. He -had the whole bottle of wine to himself. He had not had such a dinner -for a long time, and he said so. Then I gave him the best cigar the café -could supply, a black affair that smelt like burning rags, and we -wandered out of the café, he, at least in outward appearance, the -happiest man in Paris.</p> - -<p>"And the Closerie de Lilas?" said I, when we were on the pavement.</p> - -<p>"Ah, oui!" sighed Franzius, coming back from the paradise of digestion. -"It is true that I should be getting there, and we must say good-bye."</p> - -<p>"You said it was a fancy-dress ball?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"I'd have gone with you only for that."</p> - -<p>"But you will do as you are!" cried he, his face lighting up with -pleasure at the thought of bringing me along with him. "Ma foi! it is -not altogether fancy-dress, for Messieurs les Étudiants have not always -the money to spend on dress. People go as they like."</p> - -<p>"Very well," I replied. "Allons!" And we started.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>When we reached our destination people were arriving fast, and there -was a good deal of noise. A Japanese lantern was going in, and a cabinet -was being put out by two grave-faced gendarmes. The cabinet was -shouting, laughing, and protesting; at least, the head was that was -stuck out of the top of it, and belonged presumably to the two legs that -appeared below. It was very funny and fantastic, the gravity of the -officers of the law contrasting so quaintly with the business they were -about. Inside the big saloon all was light and colour and laughter, the -band was tuning up, and Franzius rushed to the orchestra, promising to -see me before I went.</p> - -<p>I leaned against the wall and looked around me.</p> - -<p>What a scene! Monkeys, goats, cabbages, pierrots, pierrettes, men in -everyday clothes, girls in dominoes—and very little else—and then, -boom, boom! the band broke into a waltz, and set the whole fantastic -scene whirling. A girl, dressed as a bonbon, danced up to me, nearly -kicked me in the face, and danced off again, seizing a carrot by the -waist and whirling around with him. Too lame to join in the revelry, I -watched, leaning against the wall and feeling horribly alone amidst all -this gaiety.</p> - -<p>I was standing like this when a fresh eruption of guests burst into the -room—two men and three girls, all friends evidently, and linked -together arm-in-arm.</p> - -<p>It was well I had the wall behind me to lean against, for one of the -girls, a lovely blonde, dressed as a shepherdess, was the Countess -Feliciani!</p> - -<p>The woman I had lost my heart to as a child, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> woman I had seen -touched by premature old age in the little sitting-room of the Hôtel de -Mayence, the same woman rejuvenated, and turned by some magic wand into -a girl of eighteen, laughing and joyous.</p> - -<p>I gazed at this prodigy; and the prodigy, who had unlinked herself from -her companions, was now whirling before me in the waltz, in the arms of -a grenadier with a cock's feather stuck in his hat, and totally -unconscious of the commotion she had raised in my breast.</p> - -<p>"You aren't dancing?"</p> - -<p>"No," I said. "I'm lame."</p> - -<p>She looked at me to see if I were serious or not; then she made a -grimace, and linked her arm in mine. It was the bonbon girl. The dance -was over, and the carrot had vanished to the bar, without, it seems, -offering her refreshment. She had beady, black eyes, a low forehead, and -rather thick lips.</p> - -<p>"That's bad," said she, "to be lame. Let us take a stroll." And she led -me towards the bar.</p> - -<p>How many times I led that damsel, or rather was led by her towards the -bar during the evening, I can't tell. After every dance she came to me -and commiserated me on my lameness. She was not in great request, it -seems, as a partner, dancing with anybody she could seize upon, and -coming to me, as to a drinking fountain, to allay her thirst. I did not -care. I scarcely heeded. All my mind was absorbed by the girl, the -marvellous girl with the golden hair, who was the Countess Feliciani -reborn.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p><p>"Do you know her name?" I asked the bonbon on one of our strolls in -search of refreshment.</p> - -<p>"Whose? Oh, that doll with the yellow hair? Know her name? Why, the -whole quarter knows her name. Marie—what's this it is? She's a model at -Cardillac's. A brandy for me, with some ice in it. Hurry up! There's the -band beginning again."</p> - -<p>The ball had now become infected by the element of riot. Scarcely had -the music struck up than it ceased. Shrill screams, shouts, and sounds -of scuffling came from the saloon, and, leaving the bonbon, who seemed -quite unconcerned, to finish her brandy, I ran out and nearly into the -arms of two gendarmes, who were making for the centre of the floor, -where the carrot and the grenadier with the cock's feather were engaged -in mortal combat. A ring of shouting spectators surrounded the -combatants, and amidst them stood the shepherdess, weeping.</p> - -<p>She had been dancing with the grenadier, it seems, when they had -cannoned against the carrot and his partner. Hence the blows. Scarcely -had the gendarmes seized upon the combatants than someone struck a -chandelier. The crash and the shower of glass were like a signal. -Shouts, shrieks, the crowing of cocks, the blowing of horns seized from -the orchestra, the smash of glass, the crash of benches overthrown, -filled the air.</p> - -<p>The lights went out; someone hit me a blow on the head that made me see -a thousand stars; and then I was in the street, with someone on my arm, -someone I had seized and rescued; and the great white moon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> of May was -lighting us, and the street, and the entry to the Closerie de Lilas, -that beer-garden that the police had now seized upon and bottled. We had -only just escaped in time. More and more gendarmes were hurrying up; and -speechless, like deer who scent the hunters on the tracks, we ran, our -shadows running before us, as if leading the way.</p> - -<p>"We are safe here," I said, glad to pull up, for my lameness did not -lend grace to my running. "We are safe here. Those gendarmes are so busy -with the others, they have no time to run after us."</p> - -<p>She had been crying when I pulled her out of the turmoil. She was -laughing now.</p> - -<p>"Oh, mon Dieu!" said she. "That Changarnier! Never will I dance with him -again."</p> - -<p>"Who is Changarnier?" I asked, looking at the lock of golden hair that -had fallen loose on her shoulder, and which the moonlight was silvering, -just as sorrow had silvered the hair of the once beautiful Countess -Feliciani.</p> - -<p>"He is a beast!" replied she. "Is my dress torn?" She held out her dress -by a finger and thumb on either side, and rotated before me solemnly in -the moonlight, so that I might examine it back and front.</p> - -<p>"No," I said; "it is not torn, but you have lost your crook."</p> - -<p>"Yes," replied the shepherdess; "but I have found my sheep. Oh, I saw -you looking at me. You followed me with your eyes the whole evening. You -made Changarnier furious; he said you were an aristocrat. Who are you, -M. l'Aristocrat?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>"And you?"</p> - -<p>"I am a shepherdess. And you?"</p> - -<p>"I am an aristocrat."</p> - -<p>She laughed, put her arm in mine, and we walked, the great moon casting -our shadows before us.</p> - -<p>"If we go this way," said she, "we can get something to eat. This is the -Rue Petit Thouars. Are you hungry?"</p> - -<p>"Are you?"</p> - -<p>"Famished. Have you any money?"</p> - -<p>"Lots."</p> - -<p>"Good. Ah, yes; I saw you watching me. And, do you know, my friend, I -have seen you before, or someone like you—and you look so friendly. -Indeed, I would have spoken to you but for Changarnier. He is so -jealous! You are lame?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am lame."</p> - -<p>"Then," said she, "I can never have met you before, for I have never -known a lame man. But here we are."</p> - -<p>She led the way into a small café. The place was crowded enough, but we -managed to get a seat. The people at the supper were mostly the remnants -of the fancy-dress ball that had escaped from the police.</p> - -<p>I ordered everything that the place could supply, and I watched her as -she ate.</p> - -<p>She was very beautiful; quite the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, -with the exception of the Countess Feliciani.</p> - -<p>"You are not drinking. Why, you are not eating! What is the matter with -you, M. l'Aristocrat?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p><p>"I am in love," replied I.</p> - -<p>She laughed.</p> - -<p>A Red Indian, who was supping at the next table with a grizzly bear who -had taken his head off to eat more conveniently, spoke to her -occasionally over his shoulder, giving details of their escape; and I -was glad enough when the bill was presented, and we wandered out again -into the street.</p> - -<p>The supper had put her in the highest spirits. She laughed at our -fantastic shadows as we walked arm-in-arm down the silent Rue Petit -Thouars. She chatted, not noticing my silence: told me of Cardillac's -studio, and the "rapins," and the rules, and the life, and what her -dress cost. "Thirty-five francs the material alone, for I made it -myself. Do you admire it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Oh, how dull you are! Yes! You ought to have said: 'Mademoiselle, your -toilet is charming.' Now, repeat it after me."</p> - -<p>"Mademoiselle, your toilet is charming."</p> - -<p>"Good heavens! If a hearse could speak, it would speak like that. You -are not gay. Never mind; you are all the nicer. Ah!" And she fell into a -sentimental and despondent fit, drawing closer to me, so that our -shadows made one.</p> - -<p>Then, at a door in a side street, down which we had turned, she stopped, -and drew a key from her pocket.</p> - -<p>"I must see you again," I said. "It is absolutely necessary. When can I -see you, and where?"</p> - -<p>The door was open now. She drew me close to her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> as if to whisper -something, but she whispered nothing. Our lips had met in the darkness.</p> - -<p>Then I was in the hall; the door was closed, and, following her, I was -led up a steep staircase, past a landing, up another staircase to a -door. She opened the door, and the moonlight struck us in the face. The -great moon was framed in the lattice window, and against its face the -fronds of a plant growing on the sill in a flower pot were silhouetted. -The bare, poorly furnished room was filled with light, pure as driven -snow.</p> - -<p>She shut the door, with a little laugh, and I took her in my arms.</p> - -<p>"Eloise!" I said.</p> - -<p>She pushed me away, and stared at me with the laugh withered on her -lips. Never shall I forget her face.</p> - -<p>"Have you forgotten Toto?"</p> - -<p>"Toto! Who—where——" Recollections were rushing upon her, but she did -not yet understand. She seemed straining to catch some distant voice.</p> - -<p>"The Castle of Lichtenberg, the pine forests, little Carl. I tried to -find you, but you were gone—years ago. I was only a child, and I could -not find you. But I have found you now!"</p> - -<p>She was clinging to me, sobbing wildly; and I made her sit down on the -side of the little bed. Then I sat by her, holding her whilst the sobs -seemed to tear her to pieces.</p> - -<p>"I knew you," she said at last. "I knew you, but I did not -recollect—little Toto! How could I tell?"</p> - -<p>Ah, yes, how could she tell? Through the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>miserable veils that lay -between her and that happy time, the past seemed vague to her as a dream -of earliest childhood.</p> - -<p>Then, bit by bit, with her head on my shoulder, the miserable tale -unfolded itself. The Countess Feliciani had died when Eloise was -fifteen. They were in the greatest poverty, living in the Rue St. -Lazare. It was the old, old, wicked, weary story that makes us doubt at -times the existence of a God.</p> - -<p>A model at Cardillac's and this wretched room. That was the story.</p> - -<p>We had entered that room a man and woman, the woman with a laugh on her -lips. We sat on the side of the bed together—two children. Children -just as we were that day sitting by the pond in the woods of -Lichtenberg, with little Carl and his drum.</p> - -<p>For Eloise had never grown up. The thing she was then in heart and -spirit she was now.</p> - -<p>Then, as the moon drew away slowly, and the room grew darker, we talked: -and I can fancy how the evil ones who are for ever about us covered -their faces and cowered as they listened and watched.</p> - -<p>"And little Carl?" asked Eloise. "Where is he?"</p> - -<p>The question, spoken in the semi-darkness, caused a shiver to run -through me.</p> - -<p>"Who knows?" I said. "Or what he is doing? Eloise, I am half afraid. I -met a man to-night, a musician; he saw me at the Schloss that time which -seems so long ago. He spoke about Carl, and then I came with him to the -ball. Only for him, I would not have met you, and it all seems like -fate. Let us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> talk of ourselves. You can't stay here in this house: you -must leave it to-morrow. I will arrange everything. I am rich. Think of -it!"</p> - -<p>She laughed and clung closer to me. Despite her bitter experiences, she -had no more real knowledge of the world than myself. Money was a thing -to amuse oneself with—a thing very hard to obtain.</p> - -<p>"You will leave this place and live in the country. You will never go to -Cardillac's again. Think, Eloise; it is May! You never see the country -here in Paris. The hawthorn is out, and the woods at Etiolles are more -beautiful than the forest was at Lichtenberg. Why, you are crying!"</p> - -<p>"I am crying because I am happy," said she, whispering the words against -my shoulder.</p> - -<p>Then I left her.</p> - -<p>I cannot tell you my feelings. I cannot put them into words. It was as -if I had seen Moloch face to face, seen the brazen monster in the Square -of Carthage, seen the officiating priests and the little veiled children -seized by the brazen arms and plunged in the burning stomach.</p> - -<p>I had seen that day Eloise Feliciani, the living child, and Amy Feraud, -the cinder remnants of a child consumed; and God in His mercy had given -me power to seize Eloise from the monster, scorched, indeed, but living.</p> - -<p>I found the Boulevard St. Michel almost deserted now, and took my way -along it to the Seine.</p> - -<p>"What are you to do with her?"</p> - -<p>That is the question I would have asked myself had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> I been a man of the -world. But I knew nothing of the world or the convenances. I was not in -love with her. Had I met her for the first time that night it might have -been different; but for me she was just the child of Lichtenberg, the -little figure I had last seen standing at the door of the Hôtel de -Mayence, holding in her arms the black cat with the amber eyes.</p> - -<p>What was I to do with her? I had already made up my mind. I would put -her to live in the Pavilion of Saluce. I had not a real friend in the -world except old Joubert, or a thing to love. I would be no longer -lonely. What good times we would have!</p> - -<p>I leaned over the parapet of the Pont des Arts, looking at the river, -all lilac in the dawn, thinking of the woods at Saluce, and watching -myself in fancy wandering there with Eloise.</p> - -<p>Then I returned to the Place Vendôme. It was very late, or, rather, very -early; and before our house a carriage was drawn up, and from it M. le -Vicomte Armand de Chatellan was being assisted.</p> - -<p>He had only just returned from the Duc de Bassano's, and he was very -tipsy. He was an object lesson to vulgar tipplers. Severe and stately, -assisted by Beril on one side and the footman on the other, the grand -old aristocrat marched towards the door he could not see.</p> - -<p>I watched the pro-consular silhouette vanish. One could almost hear the -murmur of the togaed crowd and the "Consul Romanus" of the lictors.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XX</span> <span class="smaller">WHEN IT IS MAY</span></h2> - -<p>The meeting with Eloise so disturbed my mind that I had quite forgotten -one thing—Franzius. I had promised to see him after the ball—an -impossible promise to fulfil considering the way the affair ended.</p> - -<p>When I awoke at six of this bright May morning, which was the herald of -a new chapter of my life, Franzius and his old fiddle, one under the arm -of the other, entered my mind directly the door of consciousness was -opened by Joubert's knock at the door of my room.</p> - -<p>I had told him to waken me at six. So, though I had fallen asleep -directly my head touched the pillow, I had slept only two hours when the -summons came to get up.</p> - -<p>But I did not care. I was as fresh as a lark. Youth, good health, the -absence of any earthly trouble, and the spirit of May, which peeped with -the sun into the courtyard of the Hôtel de Chatellan, made life a thing -worth waking up to.</p> - -<p>But it was different with Joubert. He was yawning, and as sulky as any -old servant could possibly be, as he put out my clothes and drew up the -blind.</p> - -<p>"Joubert," said I, sitting up in bed, "do you remember, nine years ago, -when we were staying at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> Schloss Lichtenberg, a little girl in a -white dress and a blue scarf, and white pantalettes with frills to -them?"</p> - -<p>"Mordieu!" grumbled Joubert, putting out my razors. "Do I remember? -Well, what about her?"</p> - -<p>"I met her last night."</p> - -<p>Joubert, who, with a towel over his arm, was just on the point of going -into the bathroom adjoining, wheeled round.</p> - -<p>"Met her! And where?"</p> - -<p>"At a students' ball." Then I told him the whole business; told him of -the ruin of the Felicianis, of the death of the Countess, of Eloise's -forlorn position, and of the plans I had half made for her future; to -all of which he listened without enthusiasm. "But that is not all," said -I. And told him of my meeting with Franzius, the wandering musician -whose music had held me in the gallery of the Schloss, whilst the -assassin had been at work plunging his dagger into the pillow of my bed.</p> - -<p>"You met him, and he brought you to the place where you met her," said -Joubert when I had finished. "Mark me, something evil will come of this. -Mon Dieu! the Lichtenbergs have not done with us yet. On the night -before the General fought with Baron Imhoff he came to the Pavilion—you -remember that night? He took me outside in the dark—you remember he -took me out? And what said he? Ah, he said a lot. He said: 'Joubert, -even if I fall to-morrow the Lichtenbergs will not have done with us. -Fate, like an old damned mole'—those were his words—'has been working -underground in the families of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> Saluces and Lichtenbergs for three -hundred years and more. She's showing her nose, and what will be the end -of it the Virgin in heaven only can tell. If I fall, Joubert,' said he, -'I trust you to keep my boy apart from that child of Von Lichtenberg's -they call Carl. Keep him apart from anyone who has ever had anything to -do with the Lichtenbergs.' And look you," continued Joubert, "the first -night you have liberty to go and amuse yourself, what happens? You meet -two of the lot that were at the Schloss: one leads you to the other, and -now you are going to set the girl up in the Pavilion. Think you I would -mind if you filled the Pavilion with your girls, filled the chateau, -stuffed the moat with them? Not I, but there you are: wagon-loads, army -corps of girls to choose from, and you strike the one of all others—— -Peste! and what's the use of my talking? You were ever the same, -self-willed, just the same as when you were a child you would have your -box of tin soldiers beside you in the carriage instead of packed safely -in the baggage—just the same!" And so forth and so on, flinging my -childish vagaries in my teeth just as a mother or an old nurse might -have done.</p> - -<p>"All right, Joubert," said I, dressing; "there is no use in arguing with -you. I am going to offer the Pavilion as a home to Mademoiselle -Feliciani. That is settled. No evil can come to me for helping the -unfortunate."</p> - -<p>"Yes; that's what those sort of people call themselves," grumbled -Joubert. "Good name, too, for her."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p><p>"So," I finished, "order a carriage to the door as quick as it can be -got, and come with me to Etiolles, for I want to get the Pavilion in -order."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur's orders as to the carriage shall be attended to," said the -old man with fine sarcasm, considering that he had turned "Monsieur" -over his knee and spanked him with a slipper often enough in the past. -"But as for me, I will not go; no, I will not go!"</p> - -<p>He vanished into the bathroom to prepare my bath.</p> - -<p>When I was dressed I ordered Potirin, the concierge, to send a man to -the Closerie de Lilas, and, if the place was still standing after the -riots of last night, to obtain Franzius' address. Then, when the front -door was opened for me, I found the carriage waiting, and on the box, -beside the coachman—Joubert!</p> - -<p>I smiled as I got in, and we started.</p> - -<p>It was an open carriage; and in the superb May morning Paris lay white -and almost silent; the Rue St. Honoré was deserted, and a weak wind, -warm and lilac perfumed, blew from the west under a sky of palest -sapphire. We passed Bercy, we passed through Charenton and Villeneuve -St. George's, the poplars whitening to the west wind, the villages -wakening, the cocks crowing, and the sun flooding all the holiday-world -of May with tender tints. The white houses, the vineyards, the -greenswards embanking the sparkling Seine: how beautiful they were, and -how good life was! How good life was that morning in May, effaced now by -so many weary years, effaced from time but not from my recollection -where it lies vivid as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> then, with the Seine sparkling, and the wind -blowing the poplar-trees that have never lost a leaf!</p> - -<p>The road took us by the skirt of the forest ringing with the laughter -and the chatter of the birds.</p> - -<p>Old Fauchard's married daughter was in charge of the Pavilion. I had not -seen the place for a long time; it had been redecorated by order of my -guardian, and the old gentleman used it occasionally for -luncheon-parties; a charming rural retreat where the Amy Férauds and -Francine Volnays of the Théâtre Montparnasse enjoyed themselves, -plucking bulrushes from the ponds in the forest, and chasing with shrill -laughter the echoes of the Pompadour-haunted groves.</p> - -<p>The little dining-room had a painted ceiling—a flock of doves circling -in a blue sky. The kitchen was red tiled, and clean as a Dutch dairy. -The bedrooms—bright and spotless, and simply furnished—were perfumed -with the breath of the forest coming through the always open windows; -the hangings were of chintz, flower-sprinkled, and light in tone. If May -herself had chosen to build and furnish a little house to live in, she -could not have improved on the Pavilion of Saluce, furnished as it was -by a Parisian upholsterer at the direction of a Parisian boulevardier.</p> - -<p>I had breakfasted in the kitchen—there was nothing to be done, the -place was in perfect order—and, telling Fauchard's daughter (Madame -Ancelot) that I would return that afternoon with a lady who would take -up her abode at the Pavilion for an indefinite time, I returned to -Paris, dropping Joubert in the Rue St. Honoré, and telling the coachman -to take me to the Rue du Petit Thouars.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXI</span> <span class="smaller">"O YOUTH, WHAT A STAR THOU ART!"</span></h2> - -<p>In the Rue du Petit Thouars I sent the carriage home. The horses had -done over forty miles. I would take Eloise down to Etiolles by rail, or -we would hire a carriage. It did not matter in the least; it was only -twelve o'clock, and we had the whole day before us.</p> - -<p>It would be hard for the worldly minded to understand my happiness as I -walked down the Rue du Petit Thouars towards the street where she lived. -I had found something to love and cherish, but I was not in the least in -love with Eloise after the fashion of what men call love. You must -remember that ever since my earliest childhood I had been very much -alone in the world. Drilled and dragooned by old Joubert, and treated -kindly enough by my father, I had missed, without knowing it, the love -of a mother or a sister. Little Eloise had been the only girl-child with -whom I had ever played; and, though our acquaintance had been short -enough, that fact had made her influence upon me doubly potent. I had -found her again. She was now a woman, but, for me, she was still the -child of the gardens of Lichtenberg. And the strange psychological fact -remains that, though I had loved the beautiful Countess Feliciani with -my childish heart, loved her almost as a man loves a woman, not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> a bit -of that sort of love had I for Eloise, who was the Countess's facsimile. -The very fact of the extraordinary likeness would have been sufficient -to annul passion.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was because I had seen the Countess suddenly turned old and -grey, sitting in that wretched room in the Hôtel de Mayence, the ruin of -herself, a parable on the vanity of beauty and earthly things.</p> - -<p>I do not know. I only can say that my love for Eloise was as pure as the -love of a brother for a sister; and that my heart as I came along the -sunlit Rue du Petit Thouars, rejoiced exceedingly and was glad.</p> - -<p>I turned down the dingy little Rue Soufflot, and there, at the door, -going into the dingy old house where she lived, poised like a white -butterfly on the step, was Eloise.</p> - -<p>"Eloise!" I cried, and she turned.</p> - -<p>My hat flew off to salute her, as she stood there in the full afternoon -sunshine like a little bit of the vanished May morning trapped and held -in some wizard's filmy net.</p> - -<p>"Toto!" cried Eloise, in a voice of glad surprise. And, as our hands -met, I heard from one of the lower windows of the house a metallic -laugh.</p> - -<p>Glancing at the window, I saw the face of the grenadier of the night -before, the one who had worn a cock's feather in his hat—Changarnier -the student—who, according to the bonbon girl, was so jealous of my -new-found friend.</p> - -<p>He had a cap with a tassel on his head, a long pipe between his lips, -his linen was not over-clean. A <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>typical student of the Latin Quarter, -confrère of Schaunard and Gustave Colline, he laughed again, showing his -yellow teeth. I looked at him, and he did not laugh thrice.</p> - -<p>"Come," I said, taking the hand of Eloise, whose brightness had suddenly -dimmed, as though the sound from the house had cast a spell upon it. -"Come." And I led her towards the Rue du Petit Thouars.</p> - -<p>She came hesitatingly, downcast, as if fearful of being followed; and I -felt like a knight leading some lady of old-time from the den of the -wizard who had held her long years in bondage.</p> - -<p>In the Rue du Petit Thouars she seemed to breathe more freely.</p> - -<p>"I had forgotten Changarnier," said she, in a broken voice. "How -horrible of him to laugh at us!"</p> - -<p>"Beast!" said I, fury rising up in my heart at the fate that had -compelled her to such a life and such surroundings.</p> - -<p>"Ah, but," sighed Eloise, "he can be kind, too—it is his way."</p> - -<p>"Well, let us forget him," I replied. "Eloise, you are mine now. You -will be just the same as you were long ago. Do you remember, when we -were all together at Lichtenberg, and the King that morning put his hand -on your head? You remember when we met him in the corridor, and the Graf -von Bismarck? You were holding his hand when I saw you first, and he was -talking to my father and General Hahn and Major von der Goltz. Then you -saw me——"</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes!" cried Eloise, her dismal fit vanishing;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> "and you made such a -funny little bow. And—do you remember my dress?"</p> - -<p>"Oui, mademoiselle."</p> - -<p>"Oui, mademoiselle! Oh, how stupid you are!" cried she, catching up the -old refrain from years ago. She laughed deliciously. Childhood had -caught us back, or, rather, had flung back the world from around us, for -we were still children in heart and soul.</p> - -<p>"And now," said I, "what are you to do for clothes?"</p> - -<p>"For clothes?"</p> - -<p>"You are not going back to that place; you are never going near it -again. You must buy everything you want. I have plenty of money, and it -is yours. See!" And I pulled out a handful of gold.</p> - -<p>"O ciel!" sighed Eloise. "How delightful! But, Toto——"</p> - -<p>"No 'buts.' What is the use of money if you do not spend it? I have a -little house for you, all prepared, in the country. Oh, wait till you -see it—wait till you see it. We will take the train, but you must buy -yourself what you want first, and I can only give you an hour. Will an -hour be enough?"</p> - -<p>She would have kissed me, I believe, there and then, only that we were -now in the Boul' Miche. Her butterfly mind was entirely fascinated by -the idea of new clothes and the country. The dress she was in, of some -white material, though old enough perhaps, was new-washed and speckless, -and graceful as a woman's dress of that day could be. Her hat, in my -eyes, was daintier far than any hat I had seen in my life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> Women, no -doubt, could have picked holes in her poor attire, but no man. Just as -she was that day I always see her now, beyond the fashions and the -years, a figure garbed in the old, old fashion of spring, sweet as the -perfume of lilac-branches and the songs of birds. At the Maison Dorée, -152 Boulevard St. Michel, within the space of an hour, and for the -modest sum of a hundred francs or so, she bought—I do not know what; -but the purchases filled four huge cardboard boxes covered with golden -bees—the true luggage of a butterfly. When they were packed in and -about a cabriolet I proposed food.</p> - -<p>"I am too happy to eat," said Eloise; so, at the fruiterer's a little -way down, I bought oranges and a great bunch of Bordighera violets, and -we started.</p> - -<p>It was late afternoon when we reached the little station at Evry. Ah, -what a delightful journey that was, and what an extraordinary one! Happy -as lovers, yet without a thought of love; good comrades, irresponsible -as birds, laughing at everything and nothing; eating our oranges, and -criticising the folk at the stations we passed.</p> - -<p>"Listen!" said Eloise, as we stood on the platform of Evry and the train -drew off into the sunlit distance. I listened. The wind was blowing in -the trees by the station; from some field beyond the poplar trees came -the faint and far-off bleating of lambs; behind and beyond these sweet -yet trivial sounds lay the great silence of the country; the silence -that encompasses the leagues of growing wheat, the pasture lands all -gemmed with buttercups and cowslips, the blue, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>song-less rivers and the -green, whispering rushes; the silence of spring, which is made up of a -million voices unheard but guessed, and presided over by the skylark -hanging in the sparkling blue, a star of song.</p> - -<p>Men, I think, never knew the true beauty of the country till the -railway, like a grimy magician, enabled them to stand at some little -wayside station and, with the sounds of the city still ringing in their -ears, to listen to the voices of the trees and the birds.</p> - -<p>I sent a porter to the inn for a fly; and when it arrived, and the -luggage was packed on and about it, we started.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXII</span> <span class="smaller">A POLITICAL RECEPTION</span></h2> - -<p>"It is like a cage," said Eloise, "with all the birds outside."</p> - -<p>We were sitting in the little room of the Pavilion that served as -dining-room and drawing-room combined; the windows were open, the sun -had set, and the birds in the wood were going to bed. Liquid calls from -the depths of the trees, chatterings in the near branches, and -occasional sounds like the flirting of a fan came with the warm breeze -that stirred the chintz curtains and the curls of Eloise's golden hair -as she sat on the broad window-seat, her busy hands in her lap, like -white butterflies come to rest, listening, listening, with eyes fixed on -the gently waving branches, listening, and entranced by the voices of -the birds.</p> - -<p>Through the conversation of the blackbird and the thrush came what the -sparrows had to say, and the "tweet-tweet" of the swallows under the -eaves.</p> - -<p>All a summer's day, if you listened at the Pavilion, you could hear the -wood-dove's mournful recitative, "Don't <i>cry</i> so, Susie—don't <i>cry</i> so, -Susie—don't <i>cry</i> so, Susie—<i>don't</i>," at intervals, now near, now far.</p> - -<p>The wood-doves had ceased their monotonous advice, and now the swallows -took flight for the pyramids<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> of dreamland, and Silence took the little, -chattering sparrows in her apron, and then the greater birds. Branch by -branch she robbed, reaching here, reaching there, till at last one alone -was left, a thrush on some topmost bough, where the light of day still -lingered. Then she found him, too; and you could hear the wind drawing -over the forest, and the trees folding their hands in sleep.</p> - -<p>Then, from away where the dark pools were, came the "jug-jug-jug" of a -nightingale asking the time of her mate, and the liquid, thrilling -reply: "Too early." Then silence, and the whisper of ten thousand trees -saying "Hush!—let us sleep."</p> - -<p>"Would monsieur like the lamp?"</p> - -<p>It was Fauchard's daughter, lamp in hand, at the door. Her rough-hewn -peasant's face lit by the upcast light, was turned towards us with a -pleasant expression. I suppose we were both so young and so innocent in -appearance that she could not look sourly upon us, though our -proceedings must have seemed irregular enough to her honest mind. She -looked upon us, doubtless, as lovers. We were good to look upon, though -I say it, who am now old. We were young; and everything, it seems to me -in these later days, is forgivable to youth.</p> - -<p>"Oh, youth, what a star thou art!"</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>Then I rose and took my hat from the table near by.</p> - -<p>"But you are not going?" said Eloise, one white hand seizing my -coat-sleeve, and a tremble of surprise in her voice.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p><p>"But I must," replied I. "I must get back to Paris. I will come -to-morrow morning. Madame Ancelot here will look after you. There are -books. You will be happy, and I will come back in the morning, and we -will have a long day in the forest. We will take our luncheon in a -basket, and have a picnic."</p> - -<p>"Ah, well!" sighed Eloise, looking timidly from me to Madame Ancelot, -who, having placed the lamp on the table, stood, with all a peasant's -horror of fresh air in the house, waiting to shut the windows, "if you -<i>must</i> go—— But you will come back?"</p> - -<p>"To-morrow; and you will look after her, Madame Ancelot, will you not?"</p> - -<p>"Mais oui," said the good woman with a smile and as if she were talking -to two children. "Mademoiselle need not be afraid; there are no robbers -here; nothing more dangerous than the rabbits and the birds; and if -there were, why, Ancelot has his gun."</p> - -<p>Eloise tripped over to the woman and gave her a kiss; then, glancing -back at me, she laughed and ran out into the tiny hall to get her hat.</p> - -<p>"I will go with you as far as—a little way," she said, as she tied the -strings of her hat, craning up on her toe-tips to see herself in a high -mirror on the wall.</p> - -<p>On the drawbridge she hung for a moment, peeping over at the still water -of the moat, in which the stars were beginning to cast reflections.</p> - -<p>"How dark, and still, and secret it looks!" murmured she. "Toto, has it -ever drowned anyone?"</p> - -<p>"Why do you ask?" replied I to the question that I myself had put to -Joubert years ago.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p><p>"I don't know," said Eloise, "but it looks as if it had."</p> - -<p>Ah, the evil moat! The water lilies blossomed there in summer; all the -length of a summer's day the darting dragon-flies cast their blue-gauze -reflections upon the water; Amy Féraud and Francine Volnay might cast -their laughter and cigarette-ends for ever on its surface, leaning over -the bridge-rail and seeing nothing. It was left for the heart of a child -to question its secret and divine its treason.</p> - -<p>The path from the Pavilion cut through the trees and opened on the -carriage-drive to the château. When we reached the drive, Eloise, -terrified by the dark and the unaccustomed trees, was afraid to return -alone. So I had to go back with her to the drawbridge.</p> - -<p>"To-morrow!" said she.</p> - -<p>"To-morrow!" replied I.</p> - -<p>She gave me a moist kiss—just as children give; then, as if that was -not enough, she flung her arms around my neck, squeezed me, and then ran -across the drawbridge, laughing.</p> - -<p>"Good-night!" I cried; and "Good-night!" followed me through the trees -as I ran, for, even running most of the way, I had scarcely time to -catch the last train at Evry.</p> - -<p>It was late when I reached Paris; and as I drove through the blazing -streets I felt as though I had taken a deep breath of some intoxicating -air. The vision of Eloise in her new home pursued me. I felt as though I -had taken a child from the jaws of a dragon. I had done a good act, and -God repaid me,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> for Eloise had brought me a gift far better than pearls. -She had brought me all that old freshness of long ago; she had brought -me fresh in her hands the flowers of childhood; she had given me back -the warmth of heart, the clearness of sight, the joy in little things, -the joy without cause, which the war of sex and the world robs from a -man.</p> - -<p>A breath from my earliest youth—that was Eloise.</p> - -<p>At the Place Vendôme, the servant whom I had commissioned to find out -Franzius' address handed me a paper on which he had written it. It was -in the Rue Dijon, Boulevard Montparnasse.</p> - -<p>I put the paper in my pocket, ran upstairs, and, hearing voices and -laughter through the partly opened door of the great salon on the first -floor, I burst into the room.</p> - -<p>Great Heavens!</p> - -<p>The child who gets into a shower bath, and, not knowing, pulls the -string, could not receive a greater shock than I.</p> - -<p>The room was filled with gentlemen in correct evening attire. It was, in -fact, one of what my guardian was pleased to call his "political -receptions."</p> - -<p>I was dressed in a morning frock-coat, the dust of Etiolles was on my -boots, my hair was in disorder, my face flushed. If I had entered -rolling-drunk, in evening clothes, I would not have committed so great a -crime against the convenances.</p> - -<p>And it was too late to back out, simply because my impetuosity had -carried me into the room too far.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><p>My guardian gazed at the spectacle before him, but not by as much as -the lifting of an eyebrow did that fine old gentleman betray his -discomfiture.</p> - -<p>He turned from the Spanish ambassador, to whom he was talking, came -forward and took my hand; inquired, in a voice raised slightly so as to -be distinct, about my <i>journey</i>; apologised for not having informed me -that it was one of his political evenings, and introduced me to the Duc -de Cadore.</p> - -<p>Then—and this was his punishment—he totally ignored me for the -remainder of the evening.</p> - -<p>I cannot remember what the Duc de Cadore said to me, or I to him; but we -talked, and I ate ices which I could not taste. I would have frankly -beaten a retreat, now that I had made my entry and faced the fire, but -for a young man who, engaged in a conversation with two of the attachés -of the Austrian Embassy, looked in my direction every now and then. It -was my evil genius, the Comte de Coigny.</p> - -<p>The same who, as a boy in the garden of the Hôtel de Moray, had told me -of the ruin of the Felicianis. I had not come across him since he left -the Bourdaloue College. He was now, it seems, an attaché of the -Emperor's, and he was just the same as of old, though bigger. A stout -young man, with a stolid, insolent face; and I guessed, by his -side-glances, that his conversation with the Austrians was about me, and -that I was being discussed critically and sarcastically.</p> - -<p>God! how I hated that young man at that moment; and how I longed to -cross the room, and, flinging the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> convenances to the winds, smack him -in the face! But that pleasure was to be reserved for another hand than -mine.</p> - -<p>When the unhappy political reception was over, and the last of the -guests departed, I sought my guardian in the smoking-room, to make my -apologies.</p> - -<p>"My dear sir," said my guardian, with a little, kindly laugh that took -the stiffness from the formality of his address and turned it into a -little joke, "on my heart, I did not perceive what you were attired in. -A host is oblivious of all things but the face and the hand of his -guest. Were the Duc de Bassano or M. le Duc de Cadore to turn up at a -reception of mine attired as a rag-picker, I would only be conscious -that I was receiving the Duc de Cadore or the Duc de Bassano. They would -be for me themselves, <i>however their fellow-guests might sneer</i>!</p> - -<p>"And how have we enjoyed ourselves in Paris?" asked the kindly old -gentleman, turning from the subject of dress, and lighting a fresh -cigar.</p> - -<p>"Oh, very well," I said. "And, by the way, I have met an old -acquaintance."</p> - -<p>"Ah!"</p> - -<p>"Mademoiselle Feliciani, a daughter of Count Feliciani."</p> - -<p>"Count Feliciani, the—er—defaulter?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know what he may have done," said I, "but I met them years ago, -at the Schloss Lichtenberg. Then they were entirely ruined. I met -Mademoiselle Feliciani last night in a most curious way; and she has -been living in great poverty. In fact,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> I"—and here I blushed, I -believe—"I have taken her under my protection."</p> - -<p>Protection! Oh, hideous word, uttered in the simplicity of youth! -Beautiful word, that men have debased—men who would debase the angels, -could they with their foul hands touch those immaculate wings.</p> - -<p>"I hope, sir, you don't object?"</p> - -<p>"Object!"</p> - -<p>"I have given her the Pavilion to live in," continued I, encouraged by -my guardian's smile of frank approval. "The only thing that grieves me -is," I went on, "that her mother is dead, and that I cannot offer her my -protection, too."</p> - -<p>My guardian opened his eyes at this; and I blundering along, blushing, -surprised into one of those charming confidences of youth which youth so -rarely betrays, told him of the beauty of the Countess Feliciani, and of -how much I had admired her as a child, and how I had visited her and -seen her, prematurely aged, ruined, the gold of her beautiful hair -turned to snow, her face lined with the wrinkles of age; and then it -was, I think, that M. le Vicomte began to perceive that my relationship -with Eloise was other than what he had imagined.</p> - -<p>"A pure love!" I can imagine him saying to himself. "Why, mon Dieu! that -might lead to marriage—marriage with a Feliciani—an outcast, a beggar! -We must arrange all this; it is a question of diplomacy."</p> - -<p>But by no sign did he betray these thoughts. He listened to the woes of -the Felicianis, the picture of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> sympathetic benevolence; and, when I had -finished, he said: "Ah, poor things!" And then, after a moment's -reverie, as though he were recalling the love affairs of his own youth: -"It is sad. Tell me, are you very much enamoured of this Mademoiselle -Feliciani?"</p> - -<p>"Good heavens!" I said. "No. I care for her only—only—that is to say, -I only care for herself."</p> - -<p>A confused statement apparently, yet an unconscious and profound -criticism on Love.</p> - -<p>The Vicomte raised his eyebrows. He was I think, frankly puzzled. He saw -my meaning—that I cared for Eloise as a child or a sister. His profound -experience of life had never, perhaps, brought a similar case to the bar -of his reason; his profound knowledge of men and women told him of the -danger of the thing.</p> - -<p>"How has Mademoiselle Feliciani been living since the death of her -mother?" asked he.</p> - -<p>"She has been a model at Cardillac's studio," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Indeed? Poor girl! And now, may I ask, what do you propose to do with -this protégée of yours?"</p> - -<p>"I? Just give her a home and what money she requires."</p> - -<p>"In fact," said the Vicomte, "you, a young man of nineteen, are going to -adopt a beautiful young girl of the same age, or younger, out of pure -charity, give her a house to live in, pay her expenses——"</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied. "God has given me money; and I thank God that He has -given me the means of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>rescuing the sweetest and the purest woman living -from a life that could lead her nowhere but to the morgue. Monsieur, -what is the matter?"</p> - -<p>The Vicomte was crimson, and making movements with his hands as though -to wave away a gauzy veil. At least, that was the impression the -outspread fingers gave me.</p> - -<p>Then he laughed out aloud, the first time I had ever heard him laugh so.</p> - -<p>"Forgive me," he said. "I am not, indeed, laughing at you. I am amused -at no thing or person: it is the imbroglio. What you have told me is -interesting, and I take it as a profound secret. Say nothing of it to -anyone; for if it were known——"</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"Why, the whole of Paris would be laughing!"</p> - -<p>I arose, very much affronted and huffed. And I was a fool, for what my -guardian said was perfectly correct. The situation to a French mind was -as amusing as a Palais Royal farce. But I knew little of the world, and, -as I say, I arose very much affronted and huffed.</p> - -<p>"Good-night, sir."</p> - -<p>My guardian rose up and bowed kindly and courteously, but with the -faintest film of ice veiling his manner.</p> - -<p>"Good-night."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIII</span> <span class="smaller">FÊTE CHAMPÊTRE</span></h2> - -<p>"Good-morning."</p> - -<p>"Ah! there you are. Toto—see!"</p> - -<p>Eloise, without a hat, working in the little garden of the Pavilion, -held up a huge spade for my inspection. The moat divided us, and I had -my foot on the drawbridge, preparing to cross.</p> - -<p>Up at six, I had come to Evry by an early train, and walked from the -station. It was now after ten, and great was the beauty of the morning.</p> - -<p>"I have dug up quite a lot," said Eloise. "Look!—all that. Madame -Ancelot says I will make a gardener by and by—by and by—by and by," -she sang, tossing the spade amidst some weeds; and then, hanging on my -arm, she drew me into the house.</p> - -<p>A perfume of violets filled the sitting-room. The place was changed. The -subtle hand of a woman had rearranged the chairs, looped back the -curtains and arranged them in folds of grace, peopled with violets empty -bowls, wrought wonders with a touch.</p> - -<p>On the sofa lay a heap of white material, which she swept away.</p> - -<p>"That will be a dress to-morrow or the next day," said Eloise. "You will -laugh when you see it, it will be so beautiful. And I have packed a -basket for our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> picnic. Wait!" She ran from the room, and I waited.</p> - -<p>Looking back, now, one of my pleasantest recollections is how she took -my money, took the new life I had given her, thanking me indeed, full of -gratitude, but as a thing quite natural and between friends. If we had -wandered out of the gardens of Lichtenberg together, children, hand in -hand, and passed straight through the years as one passes through a -moment of time, to find ourselves at Etiolles still hand in hand, our -relationship—as regards money affairs—could not have been less -unstrained. I had bonbons; she had none; I shared with her. Nothing -could be more natural.</p> - -<p>She returned with the basket packed, and her hat, which she put on -before the mirror. Then we started on our picnic in the woods, I -carrying the basket.</p> - -<p>"What part of the woods are you going to?" inquired Madame Ancelot as we -crossed the drawbridge.</p> - -<p>"The grand pool," replied I, "if it is still there, and I can find it."</p> - -<p>Then, a footstep, and the world of the woods surrounded us, its silence -and its music.</p> - -<p>The place was full of leaping lights and liquid shadows. Here, where the -trees were not so dense, the sunlight came through the waving branches -in dazzling, quivering shafts; twilit alleys led the eye to open spaces, -golden glimmers, and the misty white of the hawthorn trees.</p> - -<p>The place was a treasure-house of beauty, and we trampled the violets -under foot.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p><p>"Run!" cried Eloise.</p> - -<p>I chased her, lost her, found her again. I forgot my lameness, I forgot -my guardian, the convenances, and the fact that I was come to man's -estate and carrying a heavy basket. The trees echoed with our laughter, -till, tired out, panting, flushed, with her hat flung back and held to -her neck only by the ribbon, Eloise sat down on a little carpet of -violets and folded her hands in her lap.</p> - -<p>"Listen!" said she, casting her eyes up to the trembling leaves above.</p> - -<p>A squirrel, clinging to the bark of a tree near by, watched us with his -bright eyes.</p> - -<p>"Chuck, chuck." A bird on a branch overhead broke the silence, and, with -a flutter of his wings, was gone. And now from far away, like the voice -of Summer herself, filled with unutterable drowsiness and laziness and -content, came the wood-dove's song to the mysterious Susie:</p> - -<p>"Don't <i>cry</i> so, Susie—don't <i>cry</i> so, Susie—don't <i>cry</i> so, Susie. -<i>Don't!</i>"</p> - -<p>"And listen!" said Eloise, when the wood-dove's song had been wiped away -by silence and replaced by a "tap, tap, tap," far off, reiterated and -decided, curiously contrasting with the less businesslike sounds of the -wood.</p> - -<p>"That's a woodpecker," I said. "Isn't he going it? And listen! That's a jay."</p> - -<p>Then the whole wood sang to the breeze that had suddenly freshened, the -light flashed and danced through the dancing leaves, the trees for a -moment seemed to shake off the indolence of summer, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> forest of -Sénart spoke—spoke from its cavernous bosom, where the pine-trees -spread the hollow ground, from the pools where the bulrushes whispered, -from the beech-glades and the nut-groves. The oaks, old as the time of -Charles IX., the willows of yesterday, the elms all a-drone with bees, -and the poplars paling to the trumpet-call of the wind, all joined their -voices in one divine chorus:</p> - -<p>"I am the forest of Sénart, old as the history of France, yet young as -the last green leaf that April has pinned to my robe. Rejoice with me, -for the skies are blue again, the hawthorn blooms, the birds have found -their nests, the old, old world is young once more. For it is May."</p> - -<p>"It is May; it is May!" came the carol of the birds, freshening to life -with the dying wind.</p> - -<p>Then we went on our road, Eloise with her hands filled with freshly -gathered violets.</p> - -<p>I thought I knew the forest and the direction to take for the great -pool; but we had not gone far when our path branched, and for my life I -could not tell which to take.</p> - -<p>The path to the left being the most alluring, we took it; and lo! before -we had gone very far, recollection woke up. This narrow path, twisting, -turning, sometimes half obscured by the luxuriance of the undergrowth, -was the path I had taken years ago—the path leading by the -old-forgotten gravel-pit into which I had fallen, maiming myself for -life; the path along which I had followed the mysterious child so like -little Carl.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was the old recollection, but the path for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> me had a sinister -appearance; something that was not good hung about it. Unconsciously I -quickened my steps. I was walking in front; and as we passed the spot -where I had seen the child standing and looking back at me from amidst -the bushes, Eloise laid her hand on my arm, as if for closer -companionship.</p> - -<p>"I do not like it here," said she. "And I saw something—something -moving in those bushes."</p> - -<p>"Never mind," I replied; "we will soon reach the open."</p> - -<p>When we did, and when we found ourselves in a broad drive which I -remembered, and which led to the place I wanted, the sweat was thick on -my brow; and I determined that, go back how we might, I would never -enter that path again. It had for me the charm and yet the horror that -we only find associated in dreamland.</p> - -<p>"There was a child amidst the bushes," said Eloise. "I just saw its -head; and—I don't know why—it frightened me, and——"</p> - -<p>"Don't," said I. "I believe that place is haunted. Let us forget it."</p> - -<p>The grand pool at last broke before us through the trees—a great space -of sapphire-coloured water, where the herons had their home, and the -dragon-flies.</p> - -<p>It was past noon. We were hungry, so we sat down on a grassy bank by the -water, opened the basket, and, spreading the food on the grass between -us, fell to.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIV</span> <span class="smaller">LA PEROUSE</span></h2> - -<p>We had finished our meal—simple enough, goodness knows. Our drink had -been milk carried in one of those clear glass bottles used for vin de -Grave, and the bottle lay on the grass beside us, an innocent witness of -our temperance. We had finished, I say, and we were watching a moorhen -with her convoy of chicks paddling on the deep-blue surface of the pond, -when voices from amidst the trees drew our attention; and two stout men -in undress livery, bearing a basket between them, came from beneath the -shade of the elms, and straight towards us. After the men, and led by -Madame Ancelot's little boy, came a party of ladies and gentlemen, -amidst whom I recognised my guardian. The old gentleman, as though May -had touched him with her magic wand, had discarded his ordinary sober -attire, and was dressed in a suit of some light-coloured material, very -elegant, and harmonising strangely well with the exquisite toilets of -his companions. He wore a flower in his buttonhole, and he was walking -beside a girl whom I recognised at once as Amy Féraud. The two other -women I did not then know; but one of them, dark and beautiful, I -afterwards discovered to be the famous model La Perouse. The two men who -made up the party were peers of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> France; and if Beelzebub himself had -suddenly broken from the trees I could not have been more disturbed than -by this eruption of Paris into our innocent paradise.</p> - -<p>In a flash I saw the whole thing. This was some move of my guardian's. I -had told Madame Ancelot that we would be by the grand pool, and Madame -Ancelot's boy had led them.</p> - -<p>But M. le Vicomte was much too astute an old gentleman for subterfuge, -whatever his plan might be.</p> - -<p>"Welcome!" he cried, when we were within speaking distance. "I have been -searching for you. Ah, what a day! We have just come down from Paris on -M. le Comte de ——'s drag. My ward, M. Patrique Mahon; M. le Comte de -——."</p> - -<p>I bowed stiffly as he introduced me to the men.</p> - -<p>"And mademoiselle?" asked the old gentleman, raising his hat and -standing uncovered before Eloise.</p> - -<p>But I had no need to introduce my companion. La Perouse (oh, what a -voice she had! Hard, metallic, shallow, low)—La Perouse, with a little -shriek of recognition, cried out: "Marie! Why, it is Marie!"</p> - -<p>Then she kissed her, and I could have struck her on the beautiful mouth, -whose voice was a voice of brass, for innocence told me she was bad, and -part of Eloise's wretched past.</p> - -<p>Ah, me! If an eclipse had come over the sun, the beauty of the day could -not have been more spoilt, the loveliness of spring more ruined.</p> - -<p>The stout servant-men, with the dexterity of conjurers, unpacked the -great basket, spread a wide cloth,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> and, in a trice, a luncheon was -spread out to which the Emperor himself might have sat down.</p> - -<p>There was no resisting M. le Vicomte. We had to sit down with the rest, -and make a pretence to eat.</p> - -<p>But Eloise refused wine, as did I.</p> - -<p>"Ma foi!" said La Perouse. "What airs! Good champagne, too. Come, -taste."</p> - -<p>"Mademoiselle prefers water," I put in; and then, unwisely: "She is not -accustomed to wine."</p> - -<p>La Perouse stared at me, champagne-glass in hand, and then broke out -laughing. She was about to say something, but checked herself, and -turned to the chicken on her plate.</p> - -<p>But La Perouse, as the champagne worked in her wits, returned to the -subject of Eloise's abstinence.</p> - -<p>In that dull brain was moving a resentment which the vulgar mind had not -the power to repress.</p> - -<p>"What! not drink champagne?" said the fool for the twentieth time. "Ah, -well! It was different in the days of Changarnier. How is he, by the -way, the brave Changarnier?"</p> - -<p>I rose to my feet; and Eloise, as if moved by the same impulse, rose -also.</p> - -<p>"Mademoiselle," said I, as I offered Eloise my arm, "does not drink -champagne. It is a matter of taste with her. Did she do so, however, I -am very well assured that the evil spirit in it would never prompt her -to talk and act like a fool!"</p> - -<p>There was dead silence, as, with Eloise on my arm, I walked towards the -trees. Then I heard the shrill<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> laughter of the women; but I did not -heed, for Eloise was weeping.</p> - -<p>"Come," I said; "forget them."</p> - -<p>"It is not they," replied Eloise. "I do not care about <i>them</i>."</p> - -<p>I knew quite well what she meant. It was the Past.</p> - -<p>Do not for a moment confuse that word "past" with conscience. Whatever -sin might have been committed by the world against Eloise Feliciani, -she, at heart, was sinless. No; it was just the Past, a blur of miasma -from Paris, a breath of winter.</p> - -<p>"Come," I said; "forget it! All that is a bad dream that you have -dreamt; all those people, those women, those men, are not real: they are -things in a nightmare; they have no souls, and when they die they go -nowhere—they are just ugly pictures that God wipes off a slate. This is -the real thing: these trees, these birds; and they are yours for ever. I -give you them; they are the best gift that money can buy."</p> - -<p>I wiped her eyes with my handkerchief. She smiled through her tears; and -we pursued our way to the Pavilion, followed by the rustle of the wind -in the leaves, and the song of the wood-doves—lazy, languorous, -soothing—filled with the warmth and the softness of summer.</p> - -<p>When I returned to Paris that night I sought for my guardian, and found -him in the smoking-room.</p> - -<p>Angry though I was with the trick he had played me, his manner was so -bland and kind that I was at a loss how to begin.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p><p>He it was, indeed, who began by complimenting the beauty of Eloise, her -grace and her modesty.</p> - -<p>In fact, he had so much to say for her that I could not get in a word.</p> - -<p>"All the same," finished he, "I do not quite see the future of this -business. You offer Mademoiselle Feliciani a home, you provide for her, -your intentions are absolutely honourable, yet you do not love her. That -is all very well, mind you. It is somewhat strange in the eyes of the -world, but I understand the position. You are a man of heart and honour, -and she is, so to speak, an old friend; but what is to be the end of -it?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," replied I.</p> - -<p>"Just so. She is not a child. It is the nature of a woman to love, to -enter into life. Picking daisies in the woods of Sénart may fill a -summer morning, but not a woman's life. I am not entirely destitute of -the gift of appreciation, the poetry of things is not yet dead for me, -and I can see, my dear Patrique, the poetry of two young people, each -half a child, playing at childhood. But the garment of a child, -beautiful in itself, becomes ridiculous when you dress a man in it. -Impossible, in fact. In fact," finished the old gentleman, suddenly -dropping metaphor and using his stabbing spear, "you are getting -yourself into a position that you cannot escape from with honour; for -even if you wish you cannot marry this girl, for the simple reason that -Paris would not receive her as your wife."</p> - -<p>"I do not wish to marry Mademoiselle Feliciani," replied I, "nor does -she dream of marrying me. I found her in wretchedness; I rescued her. I -loved her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> as a friend. Have men and women no hearts but that they must -sneer at what is natural and good? What is the barrier that divides a -man from a woman so that comradeship seems impossible between them, -simplicity, and all good feeling, including Christian charity?"</p> - -<p>"Sex," replied M. le Vicomte de Chatellan.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXV</span> <span class="smaller">FRANZIUS MEETS ELOISE</span></h2> - -<p>Next day, when I returned to the Pavilion of Saluce, I took a companion -with me—Franzius.</p> - -<p>I called early at his wretched lodging in the Rue Dijon; the sound of -his violin led me upstairs, and I found him, seated on the side of his -bed, playing, his soul in Germany or dreamland.</p> - -<p>A day in the country, away from Paris, the houses, the streets! If I had -offered him a day in paradise the simple soul could not have expressed -more delight.</p> - -<p>"Well," I said, "it is nine o'clock. We will just have time to catch the -train at Evry. Get ready and come on."</p> - -<p>He took his hat from a shelf, placed it on his head, put his violin -under his arm, and declared himself ready.</p> - -<p>"But surely you are not taking your violin?"</p> - -<p>"My violin—but why not?"</p> - -<p>"Going into the country!"</p> - -<p>"But why not? Ah, my friend, it never leaves me; without it I am not I. -It is myself, my soul, my heart. Ach!"</p> - -<p>"Come on—come on!" I said, laughing and pushing him and his violin -before me. "Take anything you like, so long as you are happy. That's -right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>—mind the stairs. Don't you lock your door when you go out?"</p> - -<p>"There is nothing to steal," replied Franzius simply.</p> - -<p>In the street I hailed a fiacre and bundled the violinist in, -protesting. The mad extravagance of the business shocked him. He had -never been in a fiacre before; even omnibuses were luxuries to this son -of St. Cecilia, who had tramped the continent of Europe on foot. Yet he -wanted to pay when we reached the station; and the return ticket I -bought for him pained his sense of independence so much that I took the -fare from him. Then he was happy—happy as a child; and I do not know -what the other passengers thought of the young beau, elegantly dressed, -seated beside the shabby violinist, both happy, laughing, and in the -highest of spirits; the violinist, unconsciously, now and then plucking -pizzicato notes from the strings of his instrument, caressing it as a -man caresses the woman he loves.</p> - -<p>We walked from Evry to Etiolles under the bright May morning, under the -sparkling blue, along the delightful white dusty roads, the larks -singing lustily, and the wind blowing the vanishing hawthorn-blossoms -upon the dust like snow.</p> - -<p>Then, at the drawbridge over the moat, Eloise was waiting for us, and we -followed her into the Pavilion, Franzius with his hat crushed to his -heart, bowing, the violin under his arm forgotten, his whole simple soul -worshipping, very evidently, the beautiful and gracious goddess who had -received us.</p> - -<p>Ah, that was the day of Franzius's life! We had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> déjeûner in the little -garden, under the chestnut-tree alight with a thousand clusters of pink -blossom. He forgot his shyness completely, and told us stories of his -wanderings, unconsciously dominating the conversation and leading us -hundreds of miles away from Etiolles to the forests of the Roth Alps and -the Hartz. The great forests of the Vosges, so soon to resound to the -drums of war and the tramping of armies, spread their perfumed shade -around us as we listened. Castle Nidek, whose ruined walls still echo to -the ghostly hunting-horn of Sebalt Kraft; the Rhine and its storeyed -hills; the white roads of Germany; Pirmasens and the Swan Inn, with its -rose-decked porch; mountain rivers, leaping waterfalls, skies -turquoise-blue against the black-green armies of the high mountain -pines—all spread before us, lay around us, domed us in as he talked the -morning into afternoon, and the afternoon half away.</p> - -<p>What a gift of description was his; and how we listened as children may -have listened to the story of the wanderings of Ulysses! Then, to forge -his simple chains more completely—to give the last touch to his -magic—he played to us.</p> - -<p>Gipsy dances! And you could hear, as the smoke of the camp-fires blew -across the figures of the dancers, the feet of the women and the men who -had wandered all day keeping time on the turf to the tune—a tune wild -as the cry of the mountain kestrel, filled with all sorts of wandering -undertones, heart-snatching subtleties.</p> - -<p>Czardas and folk-airs he played, and the wonderful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> spinning-song of -Oberthal, in which you can hear, through the drone of the wheel and the -flying flax, the history of the poor. Just a thread of song told by the -thread of flax—the flax that forms the swaddling-clothes, the bridal -linen, and the shroud of man. And lastly a tune of his own, more -beautiful than any of the others.</p> - -<p>"But why don't you write music?" I said, when we were seated in the -railway-train on our way back to Paris. "You are a greater musician than -any of those men who are famous and rich."</p> - -<p>"My friend," said Franzius, "I am the second violin at La Closerie de -Lilas."</p> - -<p>It was the first time I had heard him speak at all bitterly, and I said -no more. I did not approach the subject again, but that did not prevent -me from making plans.</p> - -<p>I would rescue this nightingale from its cage in a beer-garden and put -it back in the woods; but the thing would require great tact and -infinite discretion.</p> - -<p>"Have you any music written out—you know what I mean, written out on -paper—that I could show to a friend?" I asked him, as we parted at the -station.</p> - -<p>"I have several 'Lieder,'" replied Franzius. "Very small—just, as you -might say, snatches."</p> - -<p>"If I send a man for them to-morrow morning, will you give them to him? -I will take the greatest care of them."</p> - -<p>"But they are so small!"</p> - -<p>"Never mind—never mind! I have influence, and may get them published."</p> - -<p>He promised. And I saw the light of a new hope in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> his face as he -departed through the gaslit streets on foot—this child of the forest -and the dawn, to whom God had given wings, and to whom the world had -given a cage!</p> - -<p>I went to the Opera that night. It was "Don Giovanni"; and as I sat with -all the splendour of the Second Empire around me, tier upon tier of -beauty and magnificence drawn like gorgeous summer night-moths around -the flame of Mozart's genius, the vision of Franzius wandering through -the gaslit streets, with his violin under his arm, passed and repassed -before me.</p> - -<p>He seemed so far from this; his music, before this triumphant burst of -song, so like the voice of a cicala, faint and thin, and of no account.</p> - -<p>Yet, when I went to bed, the tune that pursued me from the day was the -haunting spinning-song of Oberthal—the song so simple and full of fate, -the song of the flax, caught and interpreted by the humming strings, -telling the story of the cradle, the marriage-bed, and the grave!</p> - -<p>I did not go to Etiolles next day, for I had business that detained me -in Paris; but I went the day following, and Eloise received me, pouting.</p> - -<p>"Ah well, wait!" said I, as I followed her into the Pavilion. "Wait till -I tell you what I have been doing, and then you won't scold me for -leaving you alone."</p> - -<p>"Tell, then!" said Eloise, putting a bunch of violets in my coat, and -pressing them flat with her little hand.</p> - -<p>"I will tell you," said I, kissing the little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>violet-perfumed hand. And -sitting down, I told her of how I had asked Franzius to let me have his -music.</p> - -<p>"He sent me the three songs yesterday morning," I went on. "I cannot -read music, though I love it; but that did not matter. I had my plan. I -ordered the Vicomte's best carriage to the door, and drove to the Opera -House, where I inquired of the doorkeeper the address of the best -music-publisher in Paris. Flandrin, of the Rue St. Honoré, it seems, is -the best, so I drove there.</p> - -<p>"It was a big shop. Flandrin sells pianos as well as songs. He is a big -man, with a big, white, fat face with an expression like this." I puffed -out my cheeks and opened my eyes wide to show Eloise what Flandrin was -like. She laughed; and I went on: "He was very civil. He had seen me -drive up to his door in a carriage and pair, and I suppose he thought I -had come to buy a piano. When he heard my real business his manner -changed. He said he was sick of musical geniuses; he would not even look -at poor Franzius's 'Lieder.' 'Take them to Barthelmy,' he said. 'He -lives in the Passage de l'Opera; he publishes for those sort of people, -and he is going bankrupt next week, so another genius won't do him any -harm.' 'I haven't time to go to Barthelmy,' I replied. 'Besides, I don't -want you to buy these things. I want to buy them.'</p> - -<p>"'Well, my dear sir,' said Flandrin, 'if you want to buy them, why don't -you buy them?'</p> - -<p>"'Just for this reason,' I replied. 'M. Franzius, who wrote these -things, is not a shopman who sells pianos; he is a poet. He would be -offended if I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>offered him money for his productions, for he would know -that I did it for charity's sake. I want you to buy these things from -him. I will give you the money to do so, and, by way of commission, I -will buy a piano from you. My only condition is that you come with me -now in my carriage and see M. Franzius, and pay him the money yourself. -Of course, you will have to publish the things, too; but I will give you -the money to do that as well. Here are a thousand francs, which you are -to give M. Franzius. Send one of your pianos round to No. 14, Place -Vendôme, M. le Vicomte de Chatellan's. And now, if you are ready, we -will start.'</p> - -<p>"He came like a lamb. The purchase of the piano had put him into a very -good humour. He seemed to look upon the thing as a practical joke; and -the idea of paying an unknown musician a thousand francs for three -pieces of music seemed to tickle him immensely, for he kept repeating -the sum over and chuckling to himself the whole way to the Rue Dijon.</p> - -<p>"Franzius was in bed and asleep when we got there. I led Flandrin right -up to the attic; and you may imagine Franzius's feelings when he woke up -and found us in his room—the best music-publisher in Paris standing at -the foot of his bed waiting to offer him a thousand francs for his -'Lieder'! A thousand francs down! Oh, there is nothing like money! It -was just as if I had opened a window in his life and let in spring. I -saw him grow younger under my eyes as he sat up in bed unconscious of -everything but the great idea that luck had come at last and some hand -had opened the door of his cage. Even old Flandrin was a bit moved,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> I -think. Ah, well! I bundled Flandrin off when the business was done, and -then I made Franzius write a note to the Closerie de Lilas people, -telling them that at the end of the week he was leaving there, and then -I told him my plan. You know old Fauchard, the forest-keeper's cottage? -It's only half a mile from here; it's right in the forest. Well, he has -a room to spare, and he will put Franzius up for twelve francs a week. -He will be free to write his music——"</p> - -<p>"Ah, Toto," cried Eloise, who had been trying to in a word for the last -two minutes, "how good of you!"</p> - -<p>"Good of me! Why, I have only done what pleased myself! It's a debt. The -man saved my life—but no matter about that. Get your hat and come with -me, and we will go to Fauchard's and make arrangements about the room."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVI</span> <span class="smaller">THE TURRET ROOM</span></h2> - -<p>Fauchard, the ranger's, cottage lay at the meeting of two drives; all -the trees here were pines, and the air was filled with their balsam.</p> - -<p>It was, even in 1869, an old-fashioned cottage, set back in a clearing -amidst the trees. The tall pines seemed to have stepped back to give it -room, and were eternally blowing their compliments to it. Ah, they were -fine fellows to live amongst, those pine-trees, true noblemen of the -forest, erect as grenadiers, spruce, perfumed; and the blue sky looked -never so beautiful as when seen over their tops.</p> - -<p>The cottage had an old wooden gallery under the upper windows, and an -outside staircase gone to decay; the porch was covered with rambler -roses; on the apex of the red-tiled roof pigeons white as pearls sat in -strings, fluttering now to the ground, and now circling in the blue -above the trees like a ring of smoke.</p> - -<p>It was a place wherein to taste the beauty of summer to the very dregs. -Dawn, coming down the pine-set drive, touching the branches with her -fingers and setting the woods a-shiver, peeped into Fauchard's cottage -as she never peeped into the Tuileries. Noon sat with folded hands -before the rose-strewn porch, singing to herself a song which mortals -heard in the croonings<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> of the pigeons. Dusk set glow-worms, like little -lamps, amidst the roses of the porch.</p> - -<p>When we arrived, Fauchard was out, but his wife was in and received us. -Madame Fauchard was over seventy; a woman as clean and bright as a new -pin, active as a cat; a woman who had brought twelve children into the -world, yet had worked all her life as hard as a man.</p> - -<p>Oh, yes! she would be very glad to take a lodger, if he would be -satisfied with their simple place. She showed us over the little house. -It smelt sweet as lavender, and the spare room was so close to the trees -that the pine-branches almost brushed the window.</p> - -<p>"It will be lovely for him," said Eloise, when, having settled about -terms with Fauchard's wife, we were taking our way back to the Pavilion. -"But will he find it dull when he is not writing his music?"</p> - -<p>"If he does," said I, "he can come over to the Pavilion and see you. -Then he will love Etiolles, where he will, no doubt, find friends; and -he has the woods, and Fauchard will take him out with him. Oh, no; he -will not find it dull."</p> - -<p>"Toto," said Eloise, as though suddenly remembering something, just as -we reached the drawbridge.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"You remember the day before yesterday you said you would show me over -the château the next time you came. Let us go over it now."</p> - -<p>"Very well," I replied. "Wait for me here, and I will get the key."</p> - -<p>The Château de Saluce had not been lived in for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> years—ever since my -mother's death, in fact. But it had been well cared for. Fires had been -lit every fortnight or so to air the rooms during the autumn and winter; -every room had been left in exactly the same state it was in at my -mother's death, and the gardens had been tended and looked after as -though the family were in residence.</p> - -<p>"When you marry," said my guardian, "it will make a very nice present -for your wife. Let it! Good God, Patrique, are we shopkeepers?"</p> - -<p>"Here's the key," said I, coming back to Eloise, who had waited for me -at the angle of the drawbridge. She was standing with her elbow on the -drawbridge rail, and her eyes fixed on the water. She seemed paler than -when I had left her; and when I touched her arm she drew her gaze away -from the water lingeringly, as if fascinated by something she had seen -there.</p> - -<p>"Toto," said Eloise, "are there fish in the moat?"</p> - -<p>"I never hear of any. Why?"</p> - -<p>"I saw something white and flat," said Eloise, "deep down. I first -thought it was a flat-fish, then it looked like a ball of mist in the -water deep down, and then it looked like a—a face."</p> - -<p>"A face!" said I, laughing, and looking over the bridge-rail and down -into the water.</p> - -<p>"I know it was only fancy," said Eloise. "Perhaps I went asleep for a -second and dreamed it. It felt like a dream, and I felt just as a person -feels wakened up from sleep when you touched me on the arm just now. It -was a man's face, pale, and—and—— Ah, well, it was perhaps only my -imagination!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>She shivered, and took my arm; and I led her along a by-path that took -us to the carriage drive and the front door of the château.</p> - -<p>The great hall, with its oak gallery and ceiling painted by Boucher, -echoed our footsteps and our voices.</p> - -<p>This echo was the defect of the hall, as I have often heard my father -say. The builder of the place had, by some mischance, imprisoned an -echo. She was there, and nothing would dislodge her—everything had been -tried. Architects from Paris had been consulted—even the great Violette -Le Duc himself—without avail. She was there like a ghost, and nothing -would drive her out. Whether she was hiding in the gallery or the coigns -of the ceiling, who can say? But one thing was certain: her voice -changed. It was sometimes louder, sometimes lower, sometimes harsher, -sometimes sweeter; a change caused, I believe, by atmospheric influence. -But superstition takes no account of atmospheric influence or natural -causes. Superstition said that the echo was the voice of Marianne de -Saluce, a girl famed for her beautiful voice, who, like Antonina in the -Violon de Cremone, had died singing, under tragic circumstances, one -winter day here in the hall of the château, in the late years of the -reign of his sun-like Majesty Louis XIV.</p> - -<p>"The blood flowing from her mouth had mixed with her song," said the old -chronicle; and this, with the fact that she was wild, wayward, and bad, -gave superstition groundwork for a conceit not without charm.</p> - -<p>"Marianne!" cried Eloise, when I had told her this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> tale; and -"Marianna—Marianne!" the ghostly voice replied.</p> - -<p>Eloise laughed, and Marianne laughed in reply all along the gallery, as -though she were running from room to room; and, to my mind, made -fanciful by the recollection of the old legend, it seemed that there was -something sinister and sneering in the laughter of Marianne.</p> - -<p>Then I called out myself, making my voice as deep as possible; and the -answer was so horrible as to make us both start. For it was as though a -woman, leaning over the gallery and imitating my man's voice, were -mocking me.</p> - -<p>I have never heard anything more hobgoblin, if I may use the expression.</p> - -<p>"Ugh!" said Eloise. "Don't speak to her any more. Speak in whispers; -don't give her the satisfaction of answering. Toto, are those men in -armour your ancestors?"</p> - -<p>"They are the shells of old Saluces," I replied. "Eloise, do you -remember the man in armour in the tower of Lichtenberg—the one who -struck the bell?"</p> - -<p>"Don't speak of him," said Eloise; "at least, here. The place is ghostly -enough. Shall we go upstairs?"</p> - -<p>We went up the broad staircase, peeped into the sitting-rooms and -boudoirs of the first floor, and then up another flight of stairs to the -floor of the bedrooms.</p> - -<p>"See the funny little staircase?" said Eloise, when we had looked into -the bedrooms, ghostly and deserted. She was pointing to a narrow -staircase leading from the corridor we were in.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p><p>"Let's see where it goes," said I, for it was years since I had -explored this part of the château. "It looks ugly and wicked enough to -lead to a Bluebeard's chamber."</p> - -<p>But it did not. It led to a turret room, with four windows looking -north, south, east, and west. A charming little room, with a painted -ceiling, on which cupids disported themselves with doves.</p> - -<p>Faded rose-coloured couches were placed at each window; on a table in -the centre lay some old books, dust on their covers. The view was -superb.</p> - -<p>One window showed the forest, another the Seine winding blue through the -country of spring, another the country of fields and gardens, vineyards, -and far white roads.</p> - -<p>The smoke of Etiolles made a wreath above the poplar-trees.</p> - -<p>We sat down on a couch by the window overlooking Etiolles. We were so -close together that I could feel the warmth of her arm against mine, and -her hand hanging loose beside her was so close to mine that I took it -without thinking. The picture outside, the picture of Nature and the -wind-blown trees over which the larks were carolling and the small white -clouds drifting, contrasted strangely with the room we were in and the -silence of the great empty house. The little hand lying in mine suddenly -curled its little finger around my thumb.</p> - -<p>"Eloise!" I said.</p> - -<p>She turned her head, her breath, sweet and warm, met my face. Then I -kissed her, not as a brother but as a lover.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVII</span> <span class="smaller">REMORSE</span></h2> - -<p>And I did not love her at all. Nor did she love me. It was just as -though the great tide of Nature had seized us, innocently floating, and -flung us together, drifted us together for a little while, and then let -us part; for we never referred to the matter again after that day.</p> - -<p>But a cloud had arisen on my horizon, a cloud no larger than Eloise's -hand.</p> - -<p>I installed Franzius at Fauchard's cottage.</p> - -<p>He brought his luggage with him, done up in a brown-paper parcel, under -his right arm; under his left he carried his violin. I will never forget -him that afternoon as he stepped from the train at Evry station, where -Eloise and I were waiting to receive him. Such a Bohemian, bringing the -very pavement of Paris with him, the music of Mirlitons, the gaslight of -the Rue Coquenard, and the sawdust of La Closerie de Lilas.</p> - -<p>Unhappy man! Paris had marked him for her own. Heaven itself could never -entirely remove from his exterior the stains and the scorching, the -lines around his eyes drawn during the early hours in dancing hall and -café, the bruised look that poverty, hunger, and cold impress upon the -servants who wait upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> Muses—the lower servants, whose place is -the courtyard! But the stains and the scorching had not reached his -soul; like Shadrach he had passed through the burning fiery furnace and -come out a living man.</p> - -<p>Besides his luggage and his violin he was carrying some rolls of -music-paper.</p> - -<p>We walked to the Pavilion, and from there through the woods to -Fauchard's cottage. The bees were working in the little garden, and the -pearl-white pigeons were drawn up in parade order on the roof as if to -receive us. Never seemed so loud the shouting and laughter of the birds, -never so beautiful the rambler roses round the porch! The humble things -of Nature seemed to have put themselves en fête to welcome back their -own.</p> - -<p>I did not go to Etiolles for some days after this. A new era of my life -had begun.</p> - -<p>And now it was that the truth of the Vicomte's philosophy was borne in -upon me:</p> - -<p>"You are getting yourself into a position from which you cannot escape -with honour. You cannot marry Mademoiselle Feliciani, for Paris would -not receive her as your wife."</p> - -<p>What was I to do with her? Of course, a man of the world would have -answered the question promptly; but I was not a man of the world. And -the summer went on; and I was taken about to balls and fêtes by my -guardian, and as I was young, not bad-looking, and wealthy, I was well -received.</p> - -<p>The summer went on, the cuckoos hoarsened in the forest of Sénart, the -splendour of Nature deepened, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> corn in the fields at Evry was tall -and yellow, the grapes in the vineyards full-globed, and the -dragon-flies had attained the zenith of their magnificence, and all day -mirrored themselves in the moat of the Pavilion. Franzius, lost in his -music and in the paradise in which he found himself, had got back years -of his youth. His genius, clipped and held back, had suddenly burst into -bloom. He was projecting and carrying out a great work—an opera founded -on an old German legend. Carvalho had inspected some of the scores, and -had become enthusiastic. All was well with Franzius, but not with -Eloise. As the summer went on she seemed to droop.</p> - -<p>At first I thought it was only my fancy, but by the end of July I was -certain.</p> - -<p>Franzius was a frequent visitor at the Pavilion. When he was there with -us she seemed bright and gay, but when we found ourselves alone she grew -abstracted and sad. Her cheeks had lost colour, and Madame Ancelot -declared that she did not eat. The meaning of all this was plain—at -least, I thought so. She cared for me.</p> - -<p>This thought, which would have given a lover joy, filled me with deep -sadness. I had offered and given the girl my protection, Heaven knows, -from the highest motives. And now behold the imbroglio! If she cared for -me, it was my duty to marry her and give her a future. If I married her, -society would not receive her as my wife. I had, in fact, in trying to -make her future happy, gone a long way towards ruining my own. Heaven -knows, if I had loved her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> little I would have cared for society; but -the mischief and the misery of the thing was just that—I did not love -her.</p> - -<p>I felt a repulsion towards her whenever the idea of love came into my -mind, with her image. It was as if a man, who, tasting a fruit in a -sudden fit of hunger and finding it nauseous and insipid, were suddenly -condemned to eat of that fruit for ever after, and none other.</p> - -<p>And I had the whole of life before me, and I would be tied to a woman -all through life—to a woman I did not love! And the worst part of the -whole business was the fact that I could get out of the whole thing as -easily as a man steps out of a cab—as easily as a man crushes a flower. -And that was what bound me.</p> - -<p>To stay in the affair, to be made party to my own social ruin, was the -most difficult business on earth.</p> - -<p>Days of argument I spent with myself. The two terrible logicians that -live in every man's brain fought it out; there was no escaping from the -conclusion: "If you have made this girl love you, you must ask her to be -your wife, for under the guise of a brother's friendship you have -treated her just as any of these Boulevard sots and fools would have -treated her. Oh, don't talk of Nature and sudden impulse—that is just -the argument they would use! You did this thing unpremeditatedly, we -will admit. Well, you have your whole life to meditate over the -reparation and to make it. Faults of this description are ugly toys made -by the devil, and they have to be paid for with either<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> your happiness -or your soul. Of course, you can treat her as your mistress; and she, -poor child, tossed already about and bruised by the waves of chance, -would be content. But would you? Would you be content to thrust still -deeper in the mud of life this creature that fate has thrown on your -hands? The powers of darkness have surely conspired against this -unfortunate being. She, a daughter of the Felicianis, has been dragged -in the mire of Paris. Would you be on the side of darkness too?"</p> - -<p>That was what my heart said against all the arguments of my head. And so -it remained.</p> - -<p>"To-morrow," said I, "I will go to Etiolles, and I will ask Eloise to be -my wife."</p> - -<p>That afternoon, walking in the Rue de Rivoli, I saw Franzius—Franzius, -whom I imagined to be at Fauchard's cottage, green leagues away from -Paris! He was walking rapidly. I had to run to catch him up; and when he -turned his face I saw that he was in trouble. He was without his violin.</p> - -<p>"Why, Franzius," I cried, "what are you doing here, and what ails you? -Have you lost your violin?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, my friend!" said Franzius. "What ails me? I am in trouble. No, I -have not lost my violin, I have forgotten it—it has ceased to be, for -me. Ah, yes, there is no more music in life! The birds have ceased -singing, the blue sky has gone—Germany calls me back."</p> - -<p>"Good heavens!" I said. "What's the matter? You haven't left Etiolles -for good, have you?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, no! I am going back for a few days. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> came to Paris to-day to seek -relief—to hear the streets—to forget——"</p> - -<p>"To forget what? Come, tell me what has happened."</p> - -<p>"Not now," said Franzius. "I cannot tell you now. To-morrow I will call -on you at your house in the Place Vendôme. Then I will tell you."</p> - -<p>That was all I could get from him; and off he went, having first wrung -both my hands, the tears running down his face so that the passers-by -turned to look and wonder at him.</p> - -<p>"Come early to-morrow," I called out after him as he went. Then I -pursued my way home to the Place Vendôme, wondering at the meaning of -what I had seen and troubled at heart.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE OLD COAT</span></h2> - -<p>Next morning I sent Joubert to my guardian's apartments with a message -craving an interview.</p> - -<p>It was nine o'clock, and the old gentleman received me in his -dressing-room and in his dressing-gown. Beril had just shaved him, and -he was examining his rubicund, jovial face in a hand-mirror. The place -smelt of Parma violets and shaving-soap. It was like the dressing-room -of a duchess, so elaborate were the fittings and so complex the manicure -instruments and toilet arrangements set out on the dressing-table.</p> - -<p>"Leave me, Beril," said the old gentleman, when he had made a little bow -to my reflection in the big mirror facing him. Then, taking up a tooth -instrument—for, like M. Chateaubriand, he kept on his toilet-table a -set of dental instruments with which he doctored his own pearly -teeth—he motioned me to take a seat and proceed.</p> - -<p>"I have come this morning, monsieur, to place my position before you and -to tell you of a serious step in life which I have decided to take."</p> - -<p>"Yes?" replied the Vicomte, tenderly tapping with the little steel -instrument on a front tooth, as though he were questioning it as to its -health.</p> - -<p>"You told me once that I was getting myself into a difficult position. -Well, as a matter of fact——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><p>"You have?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> - -<p>Then I told him everything.</p> - -<p>When I had finished, the old gentleman put away the tooth instrument, -folded his dressing-gown more closely round him, and examined -contemplatively his hands, of which he was very proud.</p> - -<p>"The only thing that would have surprised me," said he at last, "would -have been if all this had not occurred. Well, now, let us make the best -of it. We will assure her future, and she will forget."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, I am this morning about to offer Mademoiselle Feliciani my -hand in marriage."</p> - -<p>My guardian, who had been attending to his left-hand little finger with -an ivory polisher, turned in his chair and looked at me. He saw I was in -earnest. The blow was severe, yet his power of restraint was so great -that his face did not alter.</p> - -<p>Only the hand which held the ivory manicure instrument trembled -slightly.</p> - -<p>"You have decided on this step?"</p> - -<p>"Absolutely, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"You know, of course, it will mean your social ruin, and, as you do not -love the girl, the ruin of your happiness?"</p> - -<p>"I am aware of all that, monsieur—bitterly."</p> - -<p>My guardian sighed, rubbed his chin softly, and, for a moment, seemed -plunged in a profound reverie.</p> - -<p>"I am growing old," said he. "I have no children. I looked upon you -almost as a child of mine. I made plans for your future, a magnificent -future; I took pleasure to introduce you to my friends, in seeing you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> -well dressed. With the Emperor at your right hand you would have made a -very great figure in society, monsieur. Ah, yes, you might have been -what you would! And now, in a moment, this has all vanished. Excuse me -if I complain. Of course, as you are not of full age I could compel you -not to take this step. I could, as a matter of fact, sequestrate you; -but I know your spirit, and I am not a believer in brute force. Well, -well, what can I say? You come and tell me this thing—your suicide -would sadden me less than this marriage which will be your social death. -You are a man, and it is not for me to treat you as though you were a -child. Think once again on the matter, and then—— Why, then act as -your will directs."</p> - -<p>He rang the bell for Beril to complete his toilet, and I left the room -smitten to the heart. His unaffected sadness, his kindness, his -straightforwardness would have moved me from my course if anything -mortal could have done so.</p> - -<p>Yet I left the room with my determination unshaken.</p> - -<p>I was coming down the stairs when a footman accosted me on the first -landing.</p> - -<p>"A person has called to see you, monsieur, and I have shown him into the -library."</p> - -<p>I turned to the library, opened the door, and found myself engulfed in -the arms of Franzius.</p> - -<p>"Mind the violin, mind the violin!" I cried, for he was carrying it, and -I felt the bridge snapping against my chest. Then I held him at arm's -length.</p> - -<p>He was radiant, laughing like a boy. He had come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> from Etiolles, all the -way on foot, and all the joy that had been bottled up in him during the -twenty-four miles' tramp had burst loose.</p> - -<p>"And now," I said, laughing, too, from the infection of his gaiety, -"what is it?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, my friend," said Franzius, "she loves me!"</p> - -<p>"Good heavens! Who?"</p> - -<p>But you might just as well have questioned the Sud Express going full -speed.</p> - -<p>"Yesterday you saw me—I was in despair. I had not understood aright. -She had not understood me. She thought I cared for nothing but my music; -she did not know that my music was herself—that her soul had entered -into me, that she was me——"</p> - -<p>"But stay!" I cried, recalling to mind all the women at Etiolles, from -Madame Fauchard to Elise, the station-master's pretty daughter; -recalling to my mind all but the right one. "But, stay!"</p> - -<p>"That she was me, that my music was her—that every strand of her golden -hair, every motion of her lips, every——"</p> - -<p>Ah, then it began to dawn on me!</p> - -<p>"Franzius," I cried, suddenly seizing him by the shoulders, "Franzius, -is it Mademoiselle Eloise?"</p> - -<p>"They call her that," replied the stricken one, "but for me she is my -soul."</p> - -<p>Then I embraced Franzius. It was the first time in my life that I had -"embraced" a man French fashion. He and his old violin I took in my -arms, nearly crushing them. Fool! fool! Double fool that I was not to -have seen it before! Her sadness when I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> with her, the way she -lighted up when he was near! And I had fancied that she was in love with -me!</p> - -<p>There was a grain of cynical bitterness in that recollection, but so -small a grain that it was swallowed up, perished for ever, in the honest -joy that filled my heart.</p> - -<p>I had done the right thing, I had prepared to sacrifice myself, and this -was my reward.</p> - -<p>Then the recollection of the old man upstairs came to me, and, bidding -Franzius to wait for me, I ran from the room. I saw a servant on the -stairs and called to him to bring wine and cigars to the gentleman in -the library; then, two steps at a time, up I went to the dressing-room.</p> - -<p>I knocked and opened the door without waiting for a reply. Beril was -tying my guardian's cravat. I took him by the shoulders and marched him -out of the room.</p> - -<p>"Saved!" cried I to the astonished Vicomte as I stood with my back to -the door and he stood opposite me, his striped satin cravat hanging -loose and his hand half reaching for the bell.</p> - -<p>Then I told him all, and he saw that I was not mad.</p> - -<p>"Is he downstairs, this Monsieur Franzius?" asked my guardian when I had -finished my tale and he had finished congratulating me.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"I would like to see him. Ask him to déjeûner."</p> - -<p>"He's rather—— I mean, you know, he's a Bohemian; does not bother much -about dress and that sort of thing—so you must not expect to see a -Boulevardier."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p><p>"My dear sir," said the old man with delightful gaiety, "if one is in a -burning building, does one trouble about the colour of the fire escape -that saves one from destruction, or if it has been new painted? Ask him -to déjeûner though he came dressed as a red Indian!"</p> - -<p>Franzius, when I found him in the library, would not touch the wine or -cigars I had ordered up; he was in a frame of mind far above such -earthly things. I made him sit down, and, taking a seat opposite to him, -listened while he told me the whole affair.</p> - -<p>He declared that the idea of love for Eloise had never come to him of -itself; he was far too humble to worship her, except as one worships the -sun. It was his music that said to him: "She loves you, and you love -her. Listen to me: Am I not beautiful? I am the child of your soul and -hers; divine love has brought you together so that you might create me. -I will exist for ever, for I am the child of two immortal souls."</p> - -<p>"Then, my friend," said Franzius, "I knew what love was—it is the birth -of music in the heart, it is the music itself, the little birds try to -tell us this. I had loved her without knowing from the first day; and -when knowledge came to me I was still dumb; dumb as a miser who speaks -not of his gold; till yesterday, when I told her all. She cried out and -ran from me, and hid herself in the house, and I thought she was -offended. I thought she did not love me, I thought the music had lied to -me, and that there was no God, that the flowers were fiends in disguise, -the sun a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> goblin. I came to Paris, I walked here and there, I met you, -my distress was great. Then I returned to Etiolles. It was evening, -towards sunset, and, coming through the wood near the Pavilion, I saw her.</p> - -<p>"She had taken her seat on the root of an old tree; her basket of -needlework was by her side, and in her lap was an old coat; she had made -me bring it to the Pavilion some days before, saying she would mend it. -I thought she had forgotten it, but now it was in her lap; her needle -was in her hand, and she had just finished mending a rent in the sleeve. -Then she held it up as if to see were there any more to be done; -then—she kissed it."</p> - -<p>"So that——"</p> - -<p>"Ah, my friend, all is right with me now. I have come home to the home -that has been waiting for me all these weary years. Often when I have -looked back at my wanderings I have said to myself, Why? It all seemed -so useless and leading nowhere—such a zig-zag road here and there -across Europe on foot, poor as ever when the year was done. <i>But now I -see that every footstep of that journey was a footstep nearer to her</i>, -and I praise God."</p> - -<p>He ceased, and I bowed my head. The holy spirit of Love seemed present -in that room, and I dared not break the sacred silence with words.</p> - -<p>It was broken by the opening of the door, and the cheery voice of M. le -Vicomte bidding me introduce him to my friend.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIX</span> <span class="smaller">IN THE SUNK GARDEN</span></h2> - -<p>I shall never forget that déjeûner, and the kindness of my guardian to -poor Franzius. The tall footmen who served us may have wondered at this -very unaccustomed guest; but had the Emperor been sitting in Franzius' -place M. le Vicomte could not have laid himself out more to please. And -from no hidden motive. Franzius was his guest, he had invited him to -déjeûner, he saw the Bohemian was ill at ease in his strange -surroundings, and with exquisite delicacy only attainable by a man of -good birth, trained in all the subtleties of life, he set himself the -task of setting his guest at ease.</p> - -<p>When the meal was over we went into the smoking-room; and then, and only -then, did M. le Vicomte refer to the question of Eloise in a few -well-chosen words.</p> - -<p>Then he dismissed us as though we were schoolboys; and I took the -musician off to see my apartments.</p> - -<p>Now, I am Irish, or at least three parts Irish, and I suppose that -accounts for some eccentricities in my conduct of affairs. I am sure -that it accounts for the fact that my joy up to this had carried me -along so irresistibly and so pleasantly that I had not once looked back.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p><p>It was when I opened the door of my sitting-room that memory, or -perhaps conscience, woke up to deal my happiness a blow.</p> - -<p>The man beside me knew nothing of Eloise's past. Or did he?</p> - -<p>Never, I thought, as I looked at him. His happiness is new-born, it has -been stained by no cloud. She has told him nothing.</p> - -<p>I sat down and watched him as he roamed about the room, examining the -works of art, the pictures, and the hundred-and-one things, pretty or -quaint; costly toys for the grown-up.</p> - -<p>I sat and watched him.</p> - -<p>An overmastering impulse came upon me to go at once to Etiolles, see -Eloise, and speak to her alone, if possible.</p> - -<p>"Come," I said, "let us go down to the Pavilion. I want a breath of -country air. Paris is smothering me. Shall we start?"</p> - -<p>He went to the library to fetch his violin, and we left the house.</p> - -<p>We took the train. It was a glorious September day; they were carting -the corn at Evry; and the country, warm and mellow from the long, hot -summer, was covered by the faintest haze, a gauze of heat that paled the -horizon, making a diaphanous film from which the sky rose in a dome of -perfect blue.</p> - -<p>The little gardens by the way were filled with autumn flowers—stocks -and hollyhocks and Michaelmas daisies—simple and old-fashioned flowers, -great bouquets with which God fills the hands of the poor,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> more -beautiful than all the treasures of Parma and Bordighera.</p> - -<p>A child of six, a son of one of the railway porters, bound also for -Etiolles on a message, tramped with us. Franzius carried him on his -shoulder part of the way, and bought him sweets at the village shop.</p> - -<p>Eloise was not at the Pavilion. Madame Ancelot said she had taken her -sewing and was in the sun-garden of the Château, and there we sought for -her. This garden, small and protected from the east wind by a palisaded -screen, was the prettiest place imaginable. It was at the back of the -Château, and steps from it led up to the rose-garden. It had in its -centre a square marble pond from which a Triton blew thin jets of water -for ever at the sky.</p> - -<p>Eloise was seated on a small grassy bank; her workbasket was beside her; -and she was engaged in some needlework which she held in her lap.</p> - -<p>She made a pretty picture against the hollyhocks which lined the bank; -and prettier still she looked when, hearing our footsteps, she cast her -work aside and ran to meet us.</p> - -<p>With a swift glance at Franzius, she ran straight to me and took both my -hands in hers.</p> - -<p>"He has told you?" said she, looking up full and straight into my face, -full and straight with perfect candour and firm eyes more liquid and -beautiful than the blue of heaven washed by the early dawn.</p> - -<p>"He has told me," I replied, holding her hands in mine.</p> - -<p>All the sadness and pain that my past relationship<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> with her had caused -me was now banished, for I could read in her eyes, or, blind that I was, -I thought I could read in her eyes, that the past was for her not in the -new world in which she found herself.</p> - -<p>We sat down on the little grassy bank, and talked things over, the three -of us. Three people who had found a treasure could not have been more -happily jubilant as we talked of the future.</p> - -<p>"And you know," said I, "you will never want money. Franzius will be -rich with his music; and even should he never care to write again, I -have a large sum of money in trust for you. Oh, don't ask who gave it in -trust for you both! It is there."</p> - -<p>We talked till the dusk fell and star after star came out.</p> - -<p>So dark was it when I left that a tiny point of light in Eloise's hair -made me hold her head close to look. It was a glow-worm that had fallen -from the bending hollyhocks.</p> - -<p>It seemed to me like a little star that God had placed there as a -portent of fortune and happiness.</p> - -<p>When I got back to Paris my guardian was out.</p> - -<p>I went to my rooms to think things over. My thoughts had received a new -orientation. I remembered my delight that morning on finding myself -free—free of all that heaven!</p> - -<p>Ah, if I could only have loved her as Franzius did!</p> - -<p>What, then, was this thing called Love, which I had never known, the -thing which I had never guessed till to-day, till this evening, there in -the sunk garden of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> Saluce, in the dusk so filled with the sound of -unseen wings and the music of an unknown tongue?</p> - -<p>Some drawing things were on the table.</p> - -<p>I have always been a fair artist, and sketching has been one of my few -amusements.</p> - -<p>Almost mechanically I took a pencil, and tried to sketch the face of -Eloise Feliciani.</p> - -<p>But it was not the face of Eloise Feliciani that appeared on the paper. -I gazed on it, when it was finished, in troubled amazement. It was the -face of a woman—yet it was also the portrait of a child. Ah, yes; -beyond any doubt of memory it was the face of Margaret von Lichtenberg, -the old portrait in the gallery of Schloss Lichtenberg! Yet it was the -face, also, of little Carl!</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXX</span> <span class="smaller">THE MARRIAGE OF ELOISE</span></h2> - -<p>"We will give them a good send-off," said my guardian, as, some days -later, we discussed the matter of Eloise's wedding. "Let them be married -at Etiolles; have the village en fête. I will settle for it all."</p> - -<p>The proposition seemed good; nowhere could one find a more suitable spot -for such a wedding than the little church of Etiolles; yet it met with -opposition.</p> - -<p>Franzius was not a man to forget his friends. He had many in the Latin -Quarter, and he was a peasant born, with a peasant's instincts. Birth, -marriage, and death, those three supreme events in the life of man, are -more insistent in their ceremonial amidst the poor than the rich. To -Franzius it would have been a strange thing to marry without inviting to -the ceremony the people who were his friends; and the journey to -Etiolles would be too far for some of these.</p> - -<p>Then, it was impossible for the marriage to be solemnised in a church, -for the simple reason that he was a Lutheran and Eloise had been born a -Catholic. So it was arranged to take place on the 1st of October at the -Mairie of the quarter which includes the Rue Dijon.</p> - -<p>It was to be quite a simple affair, a wedding such as takes place every -day amongst the bourgeoisie, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> the additional lustre that the -presence of the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan would lend to the -proceedings.</p> - -<p>It was a lovely day. It had rained during the night, but the morning -broke nearly cloudless, and there was that feeling of spring in the air, -that freshness which comes sometimes in autumn like the reminiscence of -May.</p> - -<p>Franzius had slept the night at the Place Vendôme; and I must say, -dressed in a brand-new suit of clothes and with a flower in his -buttonhole, he never looked worse in his life. Dressed in his old -clothes, with his violin under his arm, he was picturesque, but now he -looked like a tailor out for a holiday, and I told him so, to keep up -his spirits, as we breakfasted hurriedly and without appetite, but with -a good deal of gaiety.</p> - -<p>Eloise was to come from Saluce in one of the Vicomte's carriages, and he -was to accompany her to the Mairie, where we were to wait for them. Noon -was the hour of the ceremony; and when we arrived at the Mairie the -place was crowded: four other couples, it seemed, were to be united that -day, and we were third on the list.</p> - -<p>The people whom Franzius had invited were there already: not many, -scarcely a dozen, and mostly men, musicians with long hair and German -accents; his landlady of the Rue Dijon and her daughter, a cripple -dressed for the occasion in a newly starched white frock and blue sash; -and a young lady of the sempstress type, pale-faced and modest, and -seeming dazed with the grandeur of the officials in their chains and all -the paraphernalia of the law.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p><p>For a moment a pang went to my heart to think that a daughter of the -Felicianis was to be married here amidst these folks like one of them. -But it soon passed. The Archbishop of Paris, the choir of Notre Dame, -the congregated aristocracy of France, could not have added one whit to -the beauty of the marriage or to its sanctity.</p> - -<p>I had dreaded that in the fulness of his heart and his simplicity -Franzius might have invited undesirable guests. The vision of -Changarnier appearing like an evil beast had horrified me. But my fears -were set at rest. Leave the simple-hearted alone, and they rarely make -mistakes. Franzius' guests, humble though they might be, were of the -aristocracy of the poor, good, kind-hearted, and honest people.</p> - -<p>At ten minutes to noon the Vicomte arrived, with Eloise on his arm. How -charming she looked, in that simple, old-fashioned wedding-gown which -she had made for herself! And how charming the Vicomte was, insisting on -being introduced to everyone, chatting, laughing, immeasurably above -everyone else, yet suffusing the wedding-party with his own grace and -greatness so that everyone felt elevated instead of dwarfed!</p> - -<p>And I never have been able to determine in my mind whether it was -natural goodness, or just gentility polished to its keenest edge, that -made this old libertine so lovable.</p> - -<p>After the ceremony carriages conveyed the wedding-party to the Café -Royale in the Boulevard St. Michel.</p> - -<p>The Vicomte had, through Beril, made all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>arrangements; and in a room -flower-decked, and filled with the sunlight and sounds of the boulevard, -we sat down to déjeûner.</p> - -<p>Scarcely had we begun than the waiters announced two gentlemen, at the -same time handing the Vicomte de Chatellan two cards. "Show them up," -said my guardian, "and lay two more covers."</p> - -<p>It was the great Carvalho, who, hearing indirectly from my guardian of -the marriage, had come, bringing with him the director of the Opera.</p> - -<p>You may be sure we made room for them. And what a good omen it -seemed—better than a flight of white doves—these two well-fed, -prosperous, commonplace individuals, who held the music of France in -their hands, and the laurel-wreaths!</p> - -<p>They did not stay long, just long enough to pay their compliments and -drink success to the bride and bridegroom.</p> - -<p>Just before departing, Carvalho whispered to me: "His opera is accepted. -He will hear officially to-morrow. It will be produced in April, or, at -latest, May."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> - -<h2>PART III</h2> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXI</span> <span class="smaller">THE BALL</span></h2> - -<p>"By the way," said my guardian, "how are you off for money?"</p> - -<p>We were driving back from the station, having seen the newly married -couple off on their honeymoon.</p> - -<p>"Oh, pretty well," I replied. "Why do you ask?"</p> - -<p>He did not seem to hear my reply, but sat gazing out of the -carriage-window at the streets we were passing through, and the people, -gazing at them contemplatively and from Olympian heights, after the -fashion of a god gazing upon beetles.</p> - -<p>When we reached the Place Vendôme, he drew me into the library.</p> - -<p>"I have been on the point of speaking to you several times lately about -money," said he. "Not about personal expenses, but about the bulk of -your fortune. It is invested in French securities. Clement, our lawyer, -has the number and names of them. They are all good securities, paying -good dividends; they are the securities in which I myself have invested -my money. Well, I am selling out——"</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Selling out—realising. I am collecting my money, marshalling my -francs, and marching them out of France into England. I propose to do -the same with yours."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p><p>"But," said I, "is that safe, to have all our money in a foreign -country? Suppose that there should be war?"</p> - -<p>The Vicomte laughed.</p> - -<p>"You have said the words. Suppose there should be war? France would be -smashed like a ball of glass—ouf. Do you think I am blind? At the -Tuileries, at the Quai d'Orsay, they speak of M. le Vicomte de Chatellan -as a very nice man, perhaps, but out of date—out of date; at the War -Minister's it is the same—out of date. Meanwhile, I know the machine. I -have counted the batteries of artillery and the regiments of the line on -paper, and I have counted them in the field, and contrasted the -difference. Not that I care a halfpenny for the things in themselves, -but they are the protectors of my money; and as such I look after them. -I have reviewed the personality of the people at the Tuileries—not that -I care a halfpenny for their psychological details, but they are the -stewards of my money; and I examine their physiognomies and their lives -to see if they are worthy of trust. I look at society—not that I care a -halfpenny for the morals of society, but because the health of society -is essential to the health of the State. Now, what do I see? I speak not -from any moral standpoint, but just as a man speaks who is anxious about -the safety of his money. What do I see? Widespread corruption; -peculators hiding peculators—from the man who hides the rotten army -contract at the Ministry of War to the man who hides the rottenness of -the fodder in the barrack-stable. Widespread <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>corruption; Ministers the -servants of vice, each duller than Jocrisse; marshals as wooden and as -useless as their bâtons; skeleton regiments, batteries without cannon, -cannon without horses; no esprit; an army of gamins with -cigarette-stained fingers and guns in their hands."</p> - -<p>The old gentleman, who for seventeen years or so had been in a state of -chronic irritation with the Second Empire and its makers, paused in his -peregrinations up and down the room, and snapped his fingers. I sat -listening in astonishment, for to me, who only saw the varnish and the -glitter, France seemed triumphant amongst the nations as the Athena of -the Parthenon amongst statues; and the French Army, from the Cent Gardes -at the Tuileries to the drummer-boy of the last line regiment, the <i>ne -plus ultra</i> of efficacy, splendour, and strength.</p> - -<p>He went on:</p> - -<p>"Tell me: when you see a house in disorder, bills unpaid, the servants -liars and rogues, inefficient and useless, dust swept under the beds, -and nothing clean about the place except perhaps the windows and the -door-handle: whom do you accuse but the master and the mistress? A -nation is a house, and France is a nation. I say no more. I have been a -guest at the Tuileries; and it is not for me, who have partaken of their -hospitality, to speak against the rulers of France. But I will not allow -them to play ducks and drakes with my money. In short, my friend, in my -opinion my money is no longer safe in France, and I am going to move it -to a place of safety. I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> been uneasy for some time, but of late I -am not uneasy—I am frightened. <i>I smell disaster.</i>"</p> - -<p>He did.</p> - -<p>Now, in October, 1869, from evidence in my possession, the fate of -France was already definitely fixed. Bismarck had decided on war. He had -not the slightest enmity toward France, nothing but contempt for her and -for the wretched marionettes playing at Royalty in the Tuileries. He was -assisting at the birth of the great German Empire, that giant who in a -short twelve months was to leap living and armed from the womb of Time. -The destruction of France was the surgical operation necessary for the -birth—that was all. In October, 1869, the last rivets of the giant's -armour were being welded.</p> - -<p>My guardian knew nothing of this; yet that extraordinary man had already -scented the coming ruin, guessing from the corruption around him the -birds of prey beyond the frontier.</p> - -<p>"Thank you!" said he, when I had given him permission to deal with my -fortunes as his judgment dictated. "And now you have just time to dress -for dinner. Remember, you are to accompany me to-night to the ball at -the Marquis d'Harmonville's."</p> - -<p>I went off to my own rooms not overjoyed. Society functions never -appealed to me, and balls were my detestation, for then my lameness was -brought into evidence. Condemned not to dance, it was bitter to see -other young people enjoying themselves, and to have to stand by and -watch them, pretending to oneself not to care. My lameness, though I -have dwelt <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>little upon it, was the bane of my life. I fancied that -everyone noticed it, and either pitied me or ridiculed me. It was a -bitter thing, tainting all my early manhood; it made me avoid young -people, and people of the opposite sex. I have seen girls looking at me, -and have put their regard down to ridicule or pity—fool that I was!</p> - -<p>Joubert put out my evening clothes. Joubert of late had grown more testy -than ever, and more domineering. He spent his life in incessant warfare -with Beril, the factotum of my guardian; and the extra acidity that he -could not vent on Beril he served up to me. But it was the business of -Eloise and Franzius (that lot, as he called them) which he had now, to -use a vulgar expression, in his nose.</p> - -<p>"Not those boots," said I, as he took a pair of patent-leather boots -from their resting-place. "Dancing shoes!"</p> - -<p>"Dancing shoes!" said Joubert, putting the boots back. "Ah, yes; I -forgot that monsieur was a dancer."</p> - -<p>"You forgot no such thing, for you know very well I do not dance, but -one does not go to a ball in patent-leather boots. You like to fling my -lameness in my face. You are turning into vinegar these times. I will -pension you, and send you off to the country to live, if M. le Vicomte -does not do what he has threatened to do."</p> - -<p>"And what may that be?" asked the old fellow, with the impudent air of a -naughty child.</p> - -<p>"He says he'll put you and Beril in a sack and drop<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> you in the Seine, -if he has any more trouble with the pair of you—always fighting like a -couple of old cats."</p> - -<p>"Old, indeed!" replied Joubert. "Ma foi! it well becomes a young man -like the Vicomte to think of age! And did I make you lame? More likely -it was a curse from one of that lot——"</p> - -<p>"Here!" I said, "give me the hair-brushes, and leave 'that lot,' as you -call them alone."</p> - -<p>I wondered to myself what Joubert would have said had he known the real -cause of my lameness, but I had never spoken to anyone of the child, so -like little Carl, the mysterious child who had lured me through the -bushes into the hidden gravel-pit. If I had, what ammunition it would -have given him against "that lot," as he was pleased to call anyone who -had been present at the Schloss Lichtenberg that September nine years -ago!</p> - -<p>I dined tête-à-tête with my guardian, then we played a game of écarté; -and at ten o'clock, the carriage being at the door, we departed for the -Marquis d'Harmonville's in the Avenue Malakoff.</p> - -<p>It was a very big affair; the Avenue Malakoff was lined with carriages; -and we, wedged between the carriage of the Countess de Pourtalès and -that of the Russian Ambassador, had time on our hands, during which the -Vicomte, irritated by the loss of five louis at écarté and the slowness -of the queue, continued his strictures on the social life of Paris and -the condition of France.</p> - -<p>We passed up the stairs, between a double bank of flowers; and despite -the condition of the social life of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> Paris and the state of France, the -scene was very lovely.</p> - -<p>The great ballroom—with its scheme of white and gold, its crystal -candelabra and its extraordinarily beautiful ceiling, in which, as in a -snowstorm, the ice spirits whirled in a fantastic dance—might have been -the ballroom in the palace of the Ice Queen but for the warmth, the -banks of white camellias, and the music of M. Strauss's band.</p> - -<p>Following my usual custom, I cast round for someone whom I could bore -with my conversation, a fellow-wall-flower; and it was not long before I -lit on M. de Présensé, a friend of my guardian, one of those old -gentlemen who go everywhere, know everything, talk to everybody, and -from whom everyone tries to escape. Delighted to obtain a willing -listener, M. de Présensé, who did not dance, drew me into a corner and -pointed out the notabilities. We had mounted to a kind of balcony, and -presently, when M. de Présensé was engaged in conversation with a lady -of his acquaintance, I stood alone and looked down on the assembled -guests.</p> - -<p>Recalling them now, and recalling the Vicomte's strictures, it seems -strange enough that amidst the guests were most of those who, fatuously -playing into Bismarck's hands, brought war and the destruction of war on -France; all, nearly, of the undertakers of the Second Empire's funeral -were there. The Duc d'Agenor de Gramont; Benedetti, who happened to be -in Paris at that time; Marshal Lebœuf, that ruinous fool the clap of -whose portfolio cast on the council<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> table at Saint-Cloud was answered -by the mobilisation of the German Army; Vareigne, the Palace Prefect of -the Tuileries; and, to complete the collection, Baron Jérome David, -destined to be the first recipient of the news of Sedan.</p> - -<p>I was looking on and listening, amused and interested by old M. de -Présensé's descriptions, that were not destitute of barbs and points, -when through the crowd in my direction, walking beside my old enemy the -Comte de Coigny, came a young man.</p> - -<p>A young man, pale, very handsome, with an air of distinction which -marked him at once as a person above other people, a distinction which, -starlike, reduced the surrounding crowd to the level of wax lights and -the function of D'Harmonville to a bourgeois rout. He was dressed in -simple evening attire, without jewellery or adornment of any -description, except an order set in brilliants, a point of sparkling -light which gave the last touch to a picture worthy of the brush of -Vandyck or Velasquez.</p> - -<p>"Quick!" I said, plucking old M. Présensé by the sleeve. "That young man -with the Comte de Coigny: who is he?"</p> - -<p>"That!—ma foi—he is Baron Carl von Lichtenberg, the new attaché at the -Prussian Embassy. Oh, yes; he is the sensation of the moment in Paris. -The women rave about him——"</p> - -<p>But I did not hear what more the old man may have said, for at that -moment Von Lichtenberg, as they called him, looking in my direction, -caught my eye and halted dead, with his hand on De Coigny's arm.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p><p>He seemed stricken with paralysis; the words he had just been saying to -his companion withered on his lips; we stared at each other for ten -seconds; then De Coigny, glancing in my direction, broke the spell, and, -pulling old Présensé by the arm, I retired precipitately through an -alcove which led to the cardroom.</p> - -<p>I was terrified, shocked. Terrified as an animal which suddenly finds -itself trapped in a gin; shocked as a man who sees a ghost.</p> - -<p>All the nameless excitement and soul-terror that had filled me for a -moment as a child when Gretel, in the gallery of the Schloss, had held -the light to the portrait of Margaret von Lichtenberg, were mine now -again, for the face I had just seen was hers. The Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg was little Carl.</p> - -<p>I said "Good-evening," to M. Présensé, escaped through the cardroom -door, got my hat and coat from the attendants, and found myself in the street.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXII</span> <span class="smaller">TRYING TO ESCAPE FROM FATE</span></h2> - -<p>I walked fast as one who would try to escape from his fate.</p> - -<p>I <i>could</i> not but see the cards being dealt by some mysterious hand; I -could not but remember that Von Lichtenberg, a nobleman, a man of -honour, the friend of his King, and presumably sane, had three times -attempted my assassination when I was a child, to shield little Carl -from some terrible evil at my hands; and look, to-night, whom had I met?</p> - -<p>Then, Franzius, entering my life as he had done, and Eloise, like the -people on the stage who are seen in the first act of the drama, to -reappear in the last act, helping to form the tragic tableau on which -the curtain falls.</p> - -<p>But the terror and repulsion in my mind rose not from these things; it -came like a breath from afar; it came like a breath from the unknown, -from the time remote in the past when lived Margaret von Lichtenberg, -the woman murdered by Philippe de Saluce.</p> - -<p>I walked hurriedly, not caring whither I went; the sounds and lights of -Paris surrounded me, but my spirit was not there. It was in the gardens -of Lichtenberg, walking with Eloise and little Carl; it was in the -picture-gallery, gazing at the portrait of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> dead-and-gone Margaret, -beneath which was the little portrait of Philippe de Saluce, so horribly -like myself; it was in the windy bell-tower where the Man in Armour -stood with his iron hammer before the iron bell; I saw again the duel in -the forest, and Von Lichtenberg lying in the arms of General Hahn, and I -heard again the slobbering of the torches, the wind in the pine-trees, -and the far-off barking of the fox in the wood.</p> - -<p>Ah, yes; all that might have something to do with me, but beyond all -that I refused my fate. I refused to believe that the dead Margaret had -a hold upon me—the last of the Mahons, who was also the last of the -Saluces; the horrible whispered suggestion: "Are <i>you</i> Philippe de -Saluce returned? Were <i>you</i> once in that old time the murderer of -Margaret? And is she—is she little Carl?" This I refused; that I would -not listen to; this I abhorred, as a whisper from the devil, as a -blasphemy against God's goodness and against life.</p> - -<p>"I have never done harm to any man!"</p> - -<p>"Or woman?" queried the whisperer, whose voice seemed my own voice, just -as in that story of Edgar Poe's the voice of William Wilson found an -echo in his double.</p> - -<p>"Or woman? Ah, yes—Eloise—a moment of passion——"</p> - -<p>"A moment of passion murdered Margaret de Saluce."</p> - -<p>"But God is good; He does not create to torture; He does not bring the -dead back to confront them with their crimes."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p><p>"Know you that there is a God?" replied the whisperer. "And not a Fate -working inexorably and by law?"</p> - -<p>"Cease!" I replied, "Let there be a Fate. I am a living man with a will. -No dead fate working by law shall drag me against my will, or move me to -another purpose than my own. I will not—I will not!"</p> - -<p>This mental dialogue had brought me a long way. I was called to my -senses by a bright light illuminating what seemed a river of blood -stretching across the pavement.</p> - -<p>It was a red carpet, and the great house from whose door it was laid -down was the Prussian Embassy.</p> - -<p>A carriage, flanked by a squadron of Cent Gardes, was at the pavement, -and a man was leaving the Embassy.</p> - -<p>It was Napoleon, who had been dining privately with the Prussian -Ambassador. He was in evening dress, covered by a dark overcoat; his -hat-brim was over his eyes, and he held a cigarette between his lips. -When Napoleon wore his hat in this fashion, with the brim covering his -eyes like a penthouse, the whole figure of the man became sinister and -full of fate.</p> - -<p>I would sooner a flock of black birds had crossed my path than that -mysterious figure in the broad-brimmed, tall hat, beneath which in the -darkness the profile showed vaguely, yet distinctly, like the profile on -some time-battered coin of Imperial Rome, some coin on which the -Imperial face alone remains asking the dweller in a new age: Who is -this?</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p><p>I watched him getting into his carriage and the carriage driving away, -surrounded by the glittering sabres of the Cent Gardes; then I returned -home.</p> - -<p>This, it will be remembered, was the night of the 1st of October.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>On the 4th of October, three days after, I was sitting at my club, -reading a newspaper, when the Comte de Brissac proposed a game of -écarté.</p> - -<p>I take cards seriously; the gain or loss of money is nothing to me -beside the gain or loss of the game. That is why, perhaps, I am often -successful.</p> - -<p>There were several other players in the room, and a good many loungers -looking on at the games, several around our table, of whom I did not -take the slightest notice, so immersed was I in the play.</p> - -<p>I lost. Never had I such bad luck. The cards declared themselves against -me; some evil influence was at work. At the end of half an hour, during -a pause in the game, and after having lost a good sum of money to De -Brissac, I looked up, and for the first time noticed the people around -us. Right opposite to me, standing behind De Brissac, and looking me -full in the face, was Baron Carl von Lichtenberg.</p> - -<p>The surprising thing was that I was not surprised. My unconscious self -seemed to have recognised the fact that he was there all the time, -whilst the conscious self was sublimely indifferent to everything but -the cards.</p> - -<p>Then I did just what I would have done had a cry of "Fire" been -raised—cast my cards on the table,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> and left the room, walking -hurriedly, but not so hurriedly as to express what the old Marquis -d'Ampreville once described as ungentlemanly alarm.</p> - -<p>Now, Lichtenberg was not a member of the Mirlitons; and as I was a -pretty regular frequenter of the place during certain hours of the day, -and as he had taken his place at the card-table at which I was playing, -the suggestion became almost a certainty that he had come there to meet -me.</p> - -<p>"I am a living man with a will. No dead Fate working by law shall drag -me against my will or move me to another purpose than my own." I had -said that on the night of the 1st of October. Well, there was something -more than a dead Fate here, a thing working by law. There was the will -of Von Lichtenberg; and as I walked down the Boulevard des Italiens, -away from the club, the gin seemed to have closed more tightly around -me.</p> - -<p>It is unpleasant to feel not that you are going to meet your fate, but -that your fate is coming to meet you; to swim from a danger, yet find -the tide slowly and remorselessly driving you towards it.</p> - -<p>Now, what was this danger I dreaded? Impossible to say; but I felt -surely in my soul that far more destructive to my happiness and my life -than Vogel, or the fantastic old woman who lived in the wood and made -whistles of glass, silver, and gold for children to play upon, was this -man Carl von Lichtenberg. That, just as Eloise had brought me the -flowers of childhood perfumed and dew-wet in her hands, Carl von -Lichtenberg was bringing me flowers from an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>unknown land, flowers -scentless as immortelles, sorrowful as death.</p> - -<p>Why should I, young and happy, and rich, with all the joy of life in me, -with a clear conscience and a healthy mind: why should I be troubled by -the tragic and the fateful? As day by day men turn the pages of their -life-story, men ask of God this question, receiving only the Author's -reply: "Read on."</p> - -<p>The next day I had the extra knowledge that not only was Von -Lichtenberg's will against me, but the tattle of fools.</p> - -<p>The affair at the Mirlitons had been talked about. The loungers about -the card-table had seen me look up, stare at the Baron, fling my cards -down, and leave the room.</p> - -<p>I had, it seemed, put a public affront on him.</p> - -<p>My guardian told me of the talk.</p> - -<p>"Paris is a whispering gallery," said the old gentleman, "filled with -fools. They put the thing down to the fact of the duel between your -father and Baron Imhoff. The whole thing is unfortunate; the relations -of the Saluces and the Lichtenbergs have always been unfortunate; yet -the two families have had an attraction for each other, to judge by the -intermarriages. Still, this young Baron Carl seems quite a nice person, -a nobleman of the old type, a man of distinction and presence——"</p> - -<p>"You have met him?"</p> - -<p>"I was introduced at D'Harmonville's ball. Yes; quite a nobleman of the -old school; and it seems a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> pity that you should bear him any grudge on -account of the unfortunate fact that Baron Imhoff——"</p> - -<p>"I don't. I don't hold him responsible for the fact that Baron Imhoff -killed my father. I have no grudge against him."</p> - -<p>"I am glad to hear that," said the Vicomte; and two days later he -invited Von Lichtenberg to dinner with me!</p> - -<p>I did not come to that dinner. I was a living man with a will of my own. -(How that phrase haunts me like satiric laughter!) I would pursue my own -course; and no dead Fate would drag me against my will, or move me to -another purpose except my own.</p> - -<p>I dined at the Café de Paris with a friend, and as I was coming away -whom should I meet but my old enemy the Comte de Coigny!</p> - -<p>This gentleman was flushed with wine; he was descending the stairs with -two ladies, and when he saw me he started. We had not spoken for years, -yet he came forward to introduce himself.</p> - -<p>When we had exchanged a few platitudes, he turned to the matter that was -evidently the motive-power of his civility.</p> - -<p>"I am surprised to see you here to-night," said he, "for my friend M. le -Baron von Lichtenberg told me he was to dine with you."</p> - -<p>"He told you wrong."</p> - -<p>"Ah! just so. I thought there was some mistake; he would scarcely be -dining with you after the affair at the Mirlitons."</p> - -<p>"M. de Coigny," I replied, "I know of nothing that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> gives you the -warrant to introduce yourself into my private affairs. I dine where I -choose, do what I please; and should anyone question my actions they do -so at their own peril."</p> - -<p>Then I turned on my heel and left the café with my friend.</p> - -<p>"Another man would send you his seconds in reply to that," said my -friend.</p> - -<p>"And why not De Coigny?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, he is a coward. But he is also a bad man. Be on your guard, for he -will try to do you an evil turn."</p> - -<p>I laughed, and told him of the occurrence when, years ago, I had made De -Coigny's nose to bleed in the gardens of the Hôtel de Morny.</p> - -<p>"All the same," replied he, "be on your guard."</p> - -<p>Next day I had a very unpleasant interview with my guardian. I had not -only insulted Von Lichtenberg, it seems, but I had also hit the -convenances a foul blow. Hit them below the belt, in fact.</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes," said the old gentleman, "I try to do the best for you, and -see your return! In my own house, too! And to receive the message that -you were dining out only an hour before he was expected, giving me no -time to make excuses!"</p> - -<p>"What did he say?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Say!" burst out M. le Vicomte. "He said nothing. Ah, if I had been in -his place! But, no. He only looked sad and depressed. Had he been a girl -instead of a man, a girl in love with you, monsieur, he could not have -taken the matter with more quietness or with more sad restraint. Say! -Ah, yes, I will tell you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> what he said, what we said. I will give you -the dialogue:</p> - -<p>"'I had hoped to meet someone else.' That was what he said.</p> - -<p>"And I: 'Alas! monsieur, Fate has ordained us to a solitude à deux.'</p> - -<p>"I did not mention your name, monsieur, for in mentioning your name I -would have mentioned a person who had disgraced me."</p> - -<p>"Very well," said I. "I will disgrace you no longer. I will leave Paris -to-morrow, and go to Nice."</p> - -<p>This determination I carried out next day.</p> - -<p>Now, under the tragic cloak of the story, under all these evasions of -mine and this pursuit of Von Lichtenberg, there lay a lovely comedy, of -which I, one of the chief actors, was utterly ignorant of the motive and -the extraordinary dénouement. But this, if you have not guessed it, you -will see presently.</p> - -<p>I went to Nice. I had never been South before; I had never seen the -white, white roads, the black shadows, the green olives, the leaping -palms; I had never seen the oranges glowing like dim golden lamps amidst -the glossy green leaves; and it seemed to me that I had never seen the -blue of sky or the blue of sea before I entered that Paradise.</p> - -<p>It is all changed now. The Avenue de la Gare from a road in heaven has -become a street in a town; vulgarity and wealth have done their work; -and to-day you may buy a diamond necklace of M. Marx, where, in 1869, -under a plane-tree, sat the old woman who sold peeled oranges for a sou -a dozen.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p><p>I spent the winter at Nice, finding plenty of amusement and friends, -and cutting myself off completely from Paris, communicating only with my -guardian and with Franzius and his wife, who were living at the -Pavilion.</p> - -<p>The 4th of April was the date for the production of his opera, "Undine." -It was based on De la Motte Fouquet's lovely tale; and its success, as -far as I could learn from Carvalho, was assured, for one can say of -certain artistic productions, just as one can say of sunlight or pure -gold: "This is assured. Let the tastes or the fashions alter, this will -always be reckoned at its full value, a treasure indestructible."</p> - -<p>I had fixed to return to Paris on the 30th of March, but I came back -sooner; for on the 15th of March, driving on the Promenade des Anglais, -I passed a carriage in which were seated the Comte de Coigny and the -Baron Carl von Lichtenberg.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE OVERTURE TO "UNDINE"</span></h2> - -<p>It was the morning of the day of "Undine's" production. I had ridden -over to the Pavilion from Paris to breakfast with Franzius and Eloise.</p> - -<p>The rehearsal had almost wrecked Franzius, but he was all right now; the -ship was built; only the launching remained. As to Eloise, in six months -she had altered subtly yet marvellously. I had last seen her a girl in -her bridal dress; she was now a woman, for in six months she had aged -years, without gaining a wrinkle or losing a trace of the beauty of -youth. Love had ripened her; her every movement was marked by that -self-contained grace which comes from maturity of mind; the wild beauty -of spring had vanished, giving place to the full beauty of summer—the -grace of Demeter gazing upon the fields of immortal wheat.</p> - -<p>It was the wish of both my guardian and myself that Franzius and Eloise -should inhabit the Pavilion as much as they chose. We had offered the -place to them, indeed, as a wedding gift, but the permission to live -there was all they would take.</p> - -<p>This morning we breakfasted with the windows open. The swallows had not -come back, yet the wind that puffed the chintz curtains was warm as the -wind of May. Its sound amidst the trees was like the sound of April -walking in the woods.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p><p>We came out and walked to the cottage of old Fauchard, whose wife was -ill. Eloise had made her some soup, and she carried it in one of those -tins the workmen use for their food.</p> - -<p>The birds were calling to each other from tree to tree; clumps of -violets were showing their blue amidst the brown of last autumn's fallen -leaves, and the forest, half fledged, was breathing in the delicious -breeze, sighing and shivering under the kiss of April.</p> - -<p>It was no poetic fancy that presence which we felt around us, that call -to which every fibre of my being responded. It was very real, and -reaching far. The swallows were listening to it away at Luxor and -Carnac; it touched the sun-baked Pyramids and the reeds of the Mareotid -lakes, that call from the green fields of France; fields that in a few -short months were to be ploughed by the cannon and watered with blood -and tears.</p> - -<p>We came to Paris in the afternoon, and, leaving Eloise with the Vicomte -at the Place Vendôme, I accompanied Franzius to the Opera House, where -he had some business to transact.</p> - -<p>The last rehearsal had taken place the day before, and the huge building -seemed very grim, empty and deserted as it was.</p> - -<p>"Franzius," I said, as we stood looking at the empty orchestra, "do you -remember that night in the Schloss Lichtenberg when you and Marx and the -rest of your band played in the great hall, and a child in his -nightshirt peeped at you from the gallery?"</p> - -<p>"My friend," replied Franzius, "do I remember?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> Ach Gott! but for that -night I would never have met you, I would never have met Eloise, I would -be now second violin at the Closerie de Lilas, a man without love and -without a future. It is to you I owe all."</p> - -<p>"Not a bit. It is to chance. And if it comes to that, it is to you I owe -all. But for you I would have been killed that night in my sleep. You -remember the hunting-song that held me—you gave me the words of it last -autumn. I wish some time you would write out the music for me."</p> - -<p>Franzius smiled; then, as if speaking with an effort: "It was to have -been a surprise. I have written out the music of it for you; it is in -the score of the opera; it forms part of the overture."</p> - -<p>I have never felt more excited than I felt that night. Despite the -assurance of Carvalho, I felt that the fate of my friend was hanging in -the balance; and I am sure I felt far more nervous than he, for he -seemed quite calm and certain of success.</p> - -<p>We dined early, and he departed before us, for he was to conduct.</p> - -<p>We arrived before the house was half filled, and took our places in M. -le Vicomte's box, which was situated in the first tier. Then the -flood-gates of the world where all the inhabitants are wealthy slowly -opened; box after box became a galaxy of stars; diamonds, ribbons, and -orders reflected the brilliant light which flooded the house, fans -fluttered like gorgeous butterflies, and the house, no longer half -deserted, became a scene of splendour filled with the perfume of -flowers, the intoxication of brilliancy; and my heart leapt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> to think of -Franzius as I had met him that night in the Boul' Miche, going along in -his old threadbare coat, with his violin under his arm, poor, -unfriended, and unknown, and to think of him now, like a magician, -compelling the wealth and beauty of Europe to his will!</p> - -<p>Ah, yes! there is something in genius after all, something in it, if it -is not trampled to death by fools before it has time to expand its -wings.</p> - -<p>The Empress was unable to attend, but the Emperor was there; and in the -box with him were the Duc de Gramont and the Duc de Bassano. The -Faubourg St. Germain was there, and the Chaussée d'Antin, old nobility -and new, at daggers drawn, yet brought under the same roof by Art.</p> - -<p>There was an electrical feeling in the place, a something I could not -describe, till the Vicomte de Chatellan gave it a name.</p> - -<p>"Success is in the air!" said he; then it seemed to me that I could hear -her wings, that glorious goddess more beautiful than the Athena of the -Parthenon.</p> - -<p>And now from the orchestra came the complaint of the violin-strings, -proclaiming their readiness, and the deep, gasping grunts of the -'cellos, saying as plainly as 'cellos could speak: "Begin! begin!" And -there was Franzius, in correct evening attire (how different from the -long coat of the Schloss Lichtenberg!), and I was swept right back to -the gallery overlooking the hall; and it seemed to me that I was -standing once more in my nightshirt, looking down at the guests, at -General Hahn, and my father, and the Countess <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>Feliciani; at Major von -der Goltz, at the jägers crowding to the doorway, and then—three taps -of the conductor's magic bâton; and with the first bars of the overture, -Spring, who had been walking all day in the forest of Sènart, Spring -herself entered the Opera House; the rush of the wind over leagues of -blowing trees swept Paris and the glittering ceiling away; and the -jewels and decorations, the Faubourg St. Germain and the Chaussée -d'Antin, became trash under the blue of immortal skies.</p> - -<p>"All things bright and all things fair," sang the music, flowing and -beautiful, gemmed with star-like points of song. The skylark called from -the seventh heaven, and the wind and the rivers, the echoes of the -hills, the shepherd's song and the bells of sheep, the dim blue violets -and dancing daffodils made answer, heaven echoing earth, earth heaven, -till, deepening and changing, as a landscape stained with cloud shadows, -the music became overcast as if by the shadow of that tragic figure Man. -Man, for whom Spring is everything, and for whom Spring cares not at -all. Man, who gives a soul to Nature as her mortal lover gave a soul to -Undine; Man, who pursues a shadow for ever, even as the mysterious -hunters in the hunting-song pursued the shadow stag.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Hound and horn give voice and tongue,</div> -<div class="i1">Fill the woods with music gay;</div> -<div>Let your echoes sweet be flung</div> -<div class="i1">To the Brocken far away."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Yes; there it was, the song that seemed woven in the texture of my life; -and as I sat, holding Eloise's hand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> and listening, it seemed to me that -the overture of "Undine" was in some way connected with the story of my -life, so gay and joyous in the opening bars, deepening now and shadowed -by Fate.</p> - -<p>There it was, the horn and the echoes of the horn leading the shadowy -dogs and the ghostly huntsmen—where? In pursuit of a shadow. Whither?</p> - -<p>That was the last mysterious message of the overture, in whose last -bars, sublime and peaceful, lay spread the mysterious country where all -hunting ceases, recalling from the loveliest of poems that country where -Orion, the hunter of the shadowy stag, possessed of Merope, dwells with -her in a remote and dense grove of cedars for ever and happily, whilst -the tamed shadow-stag drinks for ever at the stream.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The shadow of a stag stoops to the stream.</div> -<div>Swift rolling toward the cataract, and drinks deeply.</div> -<div>Throughout the day unceasingly it drinks,</div> -<div>And when the sun hath vanished utterly,</div> -<div>Arm over arm the cedars spread their shade</div> -<div>Above that shadowy stag whose antlers still</div> -<div>Hang o'er the stream."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>When the curtain fell on the first act of "Undine," the opera was -already a success.</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes," said M. le Vicomte, "that is music. Beside it, the drumming -and trumpeting of Wagner sound like the noise of a village fair." Then, -turning to Eloise: "My congratulations." Then he left the box, to talk -to friends and take his share in the incipient triumph.</p> - -<p>It was really a triumph for him. He had boasted at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> the clubs of the new -musician he had discovered; and it was a supreme satisfaction to him -that his diamond had not turned out to be a piece of glass.</p> - -<p>"Eloise," said I, "it's a success already; and if I had written ten -thousand operas of my own, and they had all been successful on the same -night, I would not feel the pleasure I feel now. Dear old Franzius——"</p> - -<p>As if the name had called for an answer, a light knock came to the door -of the box. The door opened, and Baron Carl von Lichtenberg stood before -me. M. le Duc de Choiseul and the Marquis de Mérode, two well-known -boulevardiers, stood behind him.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," said Von Lichtenberg, advancing towards me, "I have sought -you in many places without avail since the incident which occurred at -the Mirlitons, on the 1st of October last. I sought you to pay you this -compliment." And he flicked me on the shoulder with the white glove -which he had drawn from his hand.</p> - -<p>I bowed, and he withdrew.</p> - -<p>That was all. A deadly insult, very nicely wrapped up, lay in "this -compliment"—and he had struck me.</p> - -<p>Ah, well! it was to be. Although I was a living man with a will of my -own, it seemed that my will could not prevent my meeting Von -Lichtenberg; and, to point the matter, the challenge would have to come -from me. I could not escape. Heaven knows I have a sufficiency of animal -courage, yet for a moment the thought came to me of leaving Paris and -ignoring the insult, sacrificing honour and name rather than submit to -the unknown destination towards which Fate was driving me. Some instinct -told me that this duel would have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>consequences far beyond what I could -imagine; that it was a turning-point in my life, having passed which my -fate would be irremediably fixed.</p> - -<p>Only for a moment came the suicidal thought of flight, to be immediately -dismissed. Let come what might, it was not my fault. I would send my -seconds to Von Lichtenberg in the morning. Then I turned to Eloise, and -found her leaning against the side of the box, pale, and seemingly in a -fainting state.</p> - -<p>"I am all right," she murmured, "but, oh, Toto, it was his face!"</p> - -<p>"His face?"</p> - -<p>"His face I saw deep down in the water of the moat, drowned, and with -the weeds floating across it."</p> - -<p>I remembered that day when, leaning on the drawbridge rail, and looking -down into the moat water, she had seen what seemed a face.</p> - -<p>"Eloise," I said, taking her hands in mine, "come to yourself. The -second act is about to begin. Do not let other people see you pale like -this. What matters it? He and I have an account to settle: what matters -it? You have Franzius to think of. Listen to me. Do you know who he is? -He is Baron Carl von Lichtenberg—he was little Carl. Do you remember -the gardens of Lichtenberg and the drum, and how we marched away into -the forest——"</p> - -<p>And before Eloise could answer, the Vicomte returned, and the curtain -rose on the forest of the lovely land where Undine met her lover.</p> - -<p>The opera was a great success. Not since the marvellous first night of -"The Barber of Seville" had Paris shown such enthusiasm. But the -pleasure was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> dimmed for me, and I saw everything at a distance.</p> - -<p>During the interval between the second and third acts, I sent a message -to De Brissac and another friend who were in the house, to meet me at -the Place Vendôme that night; and towards one in the morning we met in -my apartments, and I gave them their commission.</p> - -<p>Then I went to bed and to sleep, with the music of "Undine" ringing in -my ears, and in my heart the knowledge of Franzius' triumph, and the -knowledge that I had helped him to it.</p> - -<p>At eleven o'clock next morning De Brissac was announced.</p> - -<p>Von Lichtenberg had accepted my challenge, with an extraordinary -proviso: the duel was not to take place till that day three months.</p> - -<p>"He will fight you to-day if you press the point," said De Brissac, "but -he asked me to lay before you the fact that he will require three months -in which to arrange his affairs, which are partly political. He added," -continued De Brissac grimly, "that, as you have evaded him for three -months and more, you cannot in courtesy refuse him this favour."</p> - -<p>"I accept. So he added that—another insult!"</p> - -<p>"He is a strange person," said De Brissac, "though in all outward -respects a perfect nobleman. He is a strange person, and I do not care -for him. In my eyes this is a forced business—une mauvaise querelle."</p> - -<p>"There have been several duels to the death between our houses," replied -I. "Well, let it be so. On the 5th of July we shall meet."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXIV</span> <span class="smaller">PREPARING FOR THE DUEL</span></h2> - -<p>On the afternoon of the same day upon which I sent him my seconds, Baron -Carl von Lichtenberg left Paris. So quietly had the whole affair been -transacted at the Opera that not till noon the following day did my -guardian hear of it.</p> - -<p>He was rather pleased at first. In those days a young man could not have -been said to make his début till he had proved his courage. Besides, my -supposed insult to the Baron had been much talked about; and the affair -between us, to use the Vicomte's expression, was like an abscess that -required opening.</p> - -<p>But when he heard of the three months' condition he was less pleased.</p> - -<p>"Why three months?" said he. "In Heaven's name, are not forty-eight -hours enough for any man in which to put his house in order! What -business can he possibly be about which requires three months to attend -to? I don't like the look of this," he finished. "The Lichtenbergs are a -mad race. But as you have accepted the condition you must abide by it."</p> - -<p>How widely the old gentleman would have opened his eyes had he known -then the reason why Baron Carl von Lichtenberg required three months in -which to put his house in order before the duel! But he knew as little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> -as I of the mysterious event towards which I was being driven—I, a -living man, with a will of my own.</p> - -<p>I had fully made up my mind that death lay before me. Swords were the -weapons chosen by Von Lichtenberg, and I was an expert swordsman, but my -sword would never pierce Carl von Lichtenberg. Of that I was determined.</p> - -<p>The old fatality which had attended the relationship of the Lichtenbergs -and the Saluces was coming to a head. Yes; I was condemned to fight, but -Fate could not condemn me to kill.</p> - -<p>If this Baron Carl von Lichtenberg were in reality little Carl, then Von -Lichtenberg had foreseen the duel; it was with this in view that he had -attempted my assassination. "Peace, Von Lichtenberg," said I to myself. -"No harm will come to your child through me, unless he flings himself on -my sword. Even then I would let the weapon drop from my hand." And I -said this not from special goodwill to the living or the dead, but just -because I refused to be the instrument of Fate.</p> - -<p>I preferred to be the victim, and for this I was prepared; nay, I felt -almost certain that I should remain on the ground; and all through that -summer the thought filled me with a vague melancholy, a mist that made -the landscape of life more beautiful, its distances and its beauties -more grand, its trivialities more futile.</p> - -<p>Only when we come near the end do we see life as it is, and things in -their just proportions. I had seen the splendour of society, the pomp of -Royalty, and that thing men call the glory of the world. Did I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>regret -to leave all this? It never even entered into my consideration. It was -nothing to me. Nothing beside the passionate appeal of summer, the cry -of life that came from all things bright and all things fair; from the -roses of Saluce, from the trees of the forest, and the birds I loved.</p> - -<p>Ah! that glorious summer! Etiolles was a fire of roses, and the deep, -dark heart of the forest a furnace of life. The bees in the limes and -the wind in the beech-trees, the chirrup and buzz of a million happy -insects, filled the air with a ferment of sound, whilst in the open -spaces the pools lay blue as turquoises under the vast blue dome of -summer.</p> - -<p>I spent most of my time with Franzius and Eloise. We would take our food -with us, and spend long days exploring the forest, which, like some -mysterious house, had ever some new room to be discovered, some passage -which was not there yesterday, some window opened by fairies during the -night, and giving upon a new and magic prospect.</p> - -<p>They knew nothing of my impending encounter, nothing of the mystery that -surrounded me. Happy in their love, they did not guess my sadness, and -I, though their happiness filled me with pleasure, could not in the -least grasp it. Never having loved, I could not see the paradise which -surrounded them.</p> - -<p>The blindest people on earth are the people who have never loved, the -people who have not yet lived.</p> - -<p>But I could not see the paradise that surrounded them; and so the summer -passed on, and June drew near July.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p><p>Every few days I would go to Paris, moved by an unrest for which I -could not account.</p> - -<p>One day—it was the 26th of June—I had just reached the Place Vendôme, -when Beril informed me that my guardian wished to see me.</p> - -<p>I found the old gentleman in his dressing-gown, sorting and arranging -papers.</p> - -<p>"I am leaving Paris," said M. le Vicomte, "for my estates in Auvergne, -where I have to put some things in order. From there I am starting on a -visit to England."</p> - -<p>"To England! Why?"</p> - -<p>"My doctor has ordered me rosbif," replied the old gentleman. Then, -rising, he opened the door of the room suddenly, and looked out.</p> - -<p>"Beril has the habit of applying his ear to keyholes," he explained. -"No, my dear Patrique; it is not the state of my health that is moving -me to this journey, but the state of France. You know the story of the -rats and the sinking ship?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, call me a rat."</p> - -<p>He went on sorting his papers.</p> - -<p>"Now," he continued, "here is a list of the shares in which I have -invested your money. All good, solid English securities. Take it. Our -lawyer has all the bonds and scrip. I am taking them with me to England. -My address will be Long's Hotel, in Bond Street, London. What do you -propose to do? Follow me there, or remain in France?"</p> - -<p>"First of all," I replied, "why are you going like this? Nothing is -threatening France——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p><p>"Oho!" said my guardian. "And where have you been studying politics? -Down amongst the rabbits at Saluce?"</p> - -<p>"I read the papers."</p> - -<p>"Just so, and I read the times. I have been reading them for fifty-seven -years. But that is not all. Patrique, do you know that we have a -mysterious friend, who interests himself in our affairs?"</p> - -<p>"I was unaware of the fact."</p> - -<p>"Well, the fact remains. Now, what I am going to tell you is very -secret. I cannot even give you the name of our informant, as I am -pledged to an oath of secrecy. But the news has come to me through the -German Foreign Office. News has come to me that France is in vital -danger." He rose, trembling with excitement. "News has come to me that a -thunderbolt is going to fall on France, not from heaven, but from -there—from there! from there!" He almost shouted the words, pointing -with a shaking finger in a direction which I took to indicate Germany.</p> - -<p>I have never seen anything more dramatic than the Vicomte's gesture—the -shaking hand, the intense expression, the fire in his old eyes, as he -stood with one hand grasping the dressing-gown about him, as a Roman -might have grasped his toga, the other pointing to the visionary enemy.</p> - -<p>Then he sank back in his chair.</p> - -<p>"Well," I said, "if danger is threatening France, I remain."</p> - -<p>"That is as you please," replied he. "I go."</p> - -<p>"But why go so soon? Surely you might wait till events are more -assured?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>"Yes," replied he, "and then they would say I had run away. As it is, I -do not run away. I simply depart before the event."</p> - -<p>"But morally——"</p> - -<p>"There are no morals in politics."</p> - -<p>The terrible old man was certainly right in that.</p> - -<p>I now see what he foresaw. Not only was France not fit for war, but -Paris was not fit to meet defeat. He foresaw it all, the Commune, houses -torn to pieces, the Column Vendôme lying on the ground, the muffled -drums, the firing-parties, the trenches filled with dead. He foresaw it -all, yet made one great mistake. He imagined the whole of France to be -as rotten as Paris. But then he was a boulevardier, and for him Paris -was France.</p> - -<p>"Well," I said, "I am not a politician, so the morals of politics do not -affect me. France has been my mother: if she is threatened by calamity, -I will remain with her. I have eaten her bread; my father and my -grandfather fought in her wars; every penny I possess comes to me from -her; and were I to leave her now I would feel dishonoured. Besides, I -have business to attend to. You remember the appointment I have to meet -on the 5th of July."</p> - -<p>I really believe the old gentleman had quite forgotten about the duel.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said he. "Lichtenberg." And he struck his knee with his fist. Then -he got up and paced the room in deep thought. Then, turning to me, he -smiled.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he said, "I had forgotten. This affair will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> keep you in Paris; -but when it is over, please to remember my advice and my address in -England."</p> - -<p>"When it is over," replied I, "I may be dead."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no," said the Vicomte; "you will not be dead. At least"—and here -he smiled again—"not in my opinion."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXV</span> <span class="smaller">A LESSON WITH THE FOILS</span></h2> - -<p>He departed for Auvergne next day, he and Beril, and a pile of luggage. -A number of people saw him off from the station, including myself.</p> - -<p>They did not see a rat leaving a sinking ship: they saw a jovial old -gentleman, with a cigar in his mouth, entering a first-class carriage, a -nobleman departing to visit his estates. He was to be back in a month, -so he said; and the last I saw of him was a jovial red face, and a hand -waving a copy of the "Charivari" to the little crowd of friends he had -left on the platform.</p> - -<p>There was a touch of humour in that; and I could not help laughing, as I -turned home, at this man, so great in some ways, so little in others, so -kind, so heartless, so bad, so good; and such a perfect "shuffler." He -was by nature, above all things, an escaper from difficulties. I could -not help remembering how he had shuffled out of the painful duty of -breaking the news of my father's death to me; how he had shuffled out of -the responsibility of my education and bringing up; a hundred other -instances occurred to me, leading up to this last business of shuffling -out of France at the first scent of disaster. I am nearly sure that had -he been with the army he would have found some means<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> of shuffling it -out of the trap at Sedan; at all events, I am perfectly certain he would -have escaped himself.</p> - -<p>What perplexed me was the problem as to how he had obtained his news -from the German Foreign Office. Little as I knew of the methods of the -Chancelleries of Europe, a fool would understand that such vital, such -awful information could not escape from the innermost sanctum of the -Berlin Chancellerie—that is to say, if it were real. I was thrown back -on the hypothesis that it was false—a canard let escape purposefully, -one of Bismarck's wild ducks that were always stringing in flight across -Europe, set free by that marvellous man, the only man of his age, or any -other, perhaps, who could bring his country in touch with war for some -political reason, and then fend her off unhurt.</p> - -<p>I returned to the Place Vendôme, where I found Joubert in a despondent -mood. The departure of Beril had taken from him one of his interests in -life. He had come to look upon his daily fight with Beril as an -accompaniment to the digestion of his daily bread. The two old fellows -had grown almost like man and wife, as far as nagging goes; they had -hurled boots at each other, squabbled perpetually, vilified each other, -and once had come to blows. Now that the separation had occurred, the -great blank caused by it appeared in Joubert's face.</p> - -<p>Joubert had many good qualities; among others, he was a born and perfect -swordsman. When quite young, and stationed in Paris, he had put in a -good deal of his spare time at Carduso's School of Arms, then situated -near the Chinese Baths. He made a little money<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> this way, instructing -young bloods in the art of self-defence; and he had learnt many tricks -from Carduso, that magician of whom it has been said that he was born -with a rapier in his hand. I owed a good deal of my own proficiency with -the sword to Joubert, who, even when I was a child, had shown me the -difference of carte and tierce with my little cane.</p> - -<p>To-day an idea struck me.</p> - -<p>"Joubert," said I.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur!" replied Joubert.</p> - -<p>"Attention."</p> - -<p>"Ah, oui, attention," grumbled Joubert, going on with his business, -which happened to be the brushing of a coat. "I'm attending to the moths -that have got in your overcoat."</p> - -<p>"Leave them alone, and see here." I took a pair of foils from the wall, -and presented one of them by the hilt.</p> - -<p>"Catch hold. I want a lesson."</p> - -<p>"There you go, there you go!" said Joubert, putting the foil under his -arm, and finishing the coat. "Always when I am busy, and monsieur's -clothes——"</p> - -<p>"Never mind monsieur's clothes," I replied. "I want a lesson. See here: -do you remember telling me a trick of Carduso's——"</p> - -<p>"A hundred. Which one?"</p> - -<p>"A trick of pinking a man in a certain place in the arm, where the big -nerve runs, so that his arm is paralysed, and he can't go on fighting."</p> - -<p>"Mais oui," said the old fellow, bending the rapier with the button on -the tip of his boot.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p><p>"Well, show me it."</p> - -<p>"Aha!" said Joubert, his eyes lighting up, "la monsieur going to fight?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; it has come to that, Joubert. It seems that a man cannot live -quietly in this Paris of yours without fighting for his life like some -beast in an African forest. But I don't want to kill my man—only to put -him out of action."</p> - -<p>"And why not kill him?" asked Joubert. "Mordieu, what is the use of -fighting, else? Why take a sword in your hand if you only want to pay -him compliments?"</p> - -<p>"Never mind. I don't want to kill him."</p> - -<p>"And who is the gentleman whom you desire to scratch?"</p> - -<p>"I will tell you that the morning of the affair, the 5th of July. We -meet in the Bois de Boulogne. I will let you drive me, and you will see -the business."</p> - -<p>"Good!" said Joubert. "If one cannot watch lions fighting, let us then -watch cats. Attention!"</p> - -<p>Joubert was a bit over seventy, but he had the dexterity and almost the -quickness of a young man. The spot to be reached is just over the bone -half way down the arm. A nerve—I think they call it the musculo -spiral—winds round the bone here. If you can pierce it, you entirely -demoralise your opponent. Just as a bullet-wound in the hand reduces a -strong man into the condition of a hysterical woman, so does a touch -here.</p> - -<p>The button of Joubert's foil sent a tingle down my arm, proclaiming that -the spot had been reached.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p><p>Then I returned the compliment.</p> - -<p>We practised for half an hour, and again on the next day.</p> - -<p>And day followed day, till the 4th of July broke over Paris, cloudless -and perfect.</p> - -<p>I was up early, and at ten o'clock I called upon De Brissac at his -rooms, the Rue Helder.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said he, "I'm glad to see you."</p> - -<p>"How so?" replied I, for his manner indicated something more than an -ordinary greeting.</p> - -<p>"Well, as a matter of fact," replied he, "I heard last night—in fact, -it was generally spoken of on the Boulevards—that you had arranged the -matter amicably with the Baron von Lichtenberg."</p> - -<p>"That I had arranged the matter?"</p> - -<p>"People say you have apologised to him."</p> - -<p>"I apologise? Why, my dear sir, it was he who insulted me! He struck me -on the shoulder with his glove. How, then, could I apologise?"</p> - -<p>"Not for that, but for the occurrence at the Mirlitons. So it is a -canard?"</p> - -<p>"The wildest."</p> - -<p>"Ah, I thought so. And I think I know who set it flying—De Coigny."</p> - -<p>"I would not be surprised; he is an old enemy of mine."</p> - -<p>"I am certain of it," said De Brissac, "For M. de Champfleury, who is -acting with me also as your second, told me that the report came to a -friend of his from the mouth of M. de Coigny."</p> - -<p>"De Brissac," I said, "bring with you another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> friend—someone not -indisposed to De Coigny—to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"M. de Coigny——" Then I stopped, for the determination I had come to -was of such a nature that I thought it best to leave the declaration of -it till we were on the ground.</p> - -<p>"Why?" asked again De Brissac.</p> - -<p>"Oh, just as a spectator. It will be worth his while, for, if I mistake -not, there will be something worth seeing to-morrow morning at seven -o'clock in the Avenue of the Minimes, just by the pond, for that is, I -believe, our place of meeting."</p> - -<p>De Brissac bowed.</p> - -<p>"I will bring a friend," said he.</p> - -<p>Little did I think of the surprising thing that friend would see; and -little did De Brissac dream that the duel in which he was to take part -would be noticeable above all other duels in the history of duelling -even unto this day.</p> - -<p>"Till to-morrow, at seven, then," said I.</p> - -<p>"Till to-morrow," replied De Brissac.</p> - -<p>Then I took my departure.</p> - -<p>The Vicomte, before starting on his visit to Auvergne, had cleared his -money and his property out of Paris as far as possible, but he had left -the hotel in the Place Vendôme "all standing," as the sailors say. To -have removed his furniture, his horses, and his equipages would have -been to declare his hand; and if by any chance the storm had not burst -and France had emerged from her difficulties, the man who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> taken -shelter, or, in plainer words, taken flight, would have found a very -curious welcome on his return to the beloved Boulevards. He had foresees -everything, even the chance of success, and he had prepared for -everything, always with his mind's eye on failure.</p> - -<p>So I had a stable full of horses at my disposal, and a house full of -servants; all the bills were paid; there was unlimited credit, and I had -ten thousand francs in my pocketbook, which he had left with me in case -of eventualities.</p> - -<p>I returned from De Brissac's to the Place Vendôme, ordered out a britzka -and a pair of swift horses, and told the coachman to take me to -Etiolles.</p> - -<p>I wished to shake hands with Franzius and kiss Eloise again. I had also -determined to tell them of what was to happen on the morrow.</p> - -<p>We passed through Bercy, and retook the same road I had taken that -morning in May when I had gone down to make arrangements for Eloise's -reception at the Pavilion. It was the same road, but dressed now in the -glory of summer.</p> - -<p>Heavens! when I think of that road, so peaceful, the houses wearing such -a contented look, the flowers in the garden, the little children playing -on the doorsteps; that road so soon to resound to the tramp of the -German hordes, and the drums of war, the rolling of artillery and -baggage-wagons—when I think of that scene of peace and what followed!</p> - -<p>And now it is all so far away, so many summers have re-dressed that road -again; and what of it all remains? Only an old story with which Father -Mabœuf bores the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> drinkers at the Grape Inn, of Champrosay; a tale -which old men in Germany tell the grandchildren; a song or two. Scarcely -that.</p> - -<p>When I reached the Pavilion, Franzius and Eloise were not there. Madame -Ancelot said they had taken money and food with them, and "gone off." -They often did this, sometimes for a couple of days: the gipsy that was -in Franzius' feet required a change. This strange pair, who were now -more than ever like lovers, would "go off," spend days in the open, and -stop at village inns at night. Franzius had infected his companion with -the love of freedom. He was now famous. Another man in his position -would have been at Biarritz or Trouville, basking in the social sun, but -the only sun desired by Franzius was the sun of heaven. He refused to be -lionised. A Bohemian to the ends of his fingers, a gipsy to the soles of -his boots, brown as a berry with the sun and open air, carrying his -violin under his arm: had you met him on a country road, you would never -have suspected him to be Franzius, the composer of "Undine," who, had he -chosen, could, with a few sweeps of his bow on a concert platform, have -gained two thousand francs on a summer's afternoon.</p> - -<p>"They did not say when they would be back?"</p> - -<p>"No," replied Madame Ancelot; "but they won't be back to-day, or maybe -to-morrow: they took a ham with them."</p> - -<p>"Ah!"</p> - -<p>"And a chicken. It was in a basket that madame carried. They went a way -through the woods, but that leads everywhere; and one can't say whether -they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> passed last night at Champrosay or at some cottage. For myself, I -believe they sometimes sleep in the woods, and don't trouble about -houses at all."</p> - -<p>To sleep in God's open air seemed the last act of madness to Madame -Ancelot, who, a peasant born and bred, was accustomed, by experience and -from tradition, to sleep in a bedroom almost hermetically sealed.</p> - -<p>I had myself suspected the Franzius' of sleeping on occasion in barns -and hayricks, but I said nothing.</p> - -<p>I was depressed at not finding the two people I loved most on earth, for -it was now quite beyond chance that I would meet them before to-morrow -morning; and after to-morrow morning—— Ah, well—after to-morrow -morning——</p> - -<p>I left the Pavilion and walked into the château gardens. These gardens, -beloved by Eloise, kept our house in the Place Vendôme supplied with -flowers. They were very old. M. de Sartines and M. de Maupeon had walked -here amidst the roses, discussing State intrigues; the full skirts of -the Duchesse de Gramont had swept that lawn; and on that stone seat, -under the great fig-trees' cave-like shelter, the Princesse de Guemenée -had sat amidst brocaded cushions, and there had received the news of the -Duc de Choiseul's disgrace; and far beyond that went the history of -these walks, these lawns, these fountains playing in the sun; these old, -old walls, warmed by the suns of two hundred summers; rich red walls, -moss-lined, to which the peach-trees still clung as they had clung when -La Vallière was still a girl, when La Fontaine was still a man, and -Monsieur Fouquet held his court at Vaux.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p><p>No poet has written such lovely things as Time had written here in -those three lovely books—the rose garden, the sunk garden, and the -Dutch garden of Saluce; books whose leaves in summer were ever being -turned over by the idle fingers of the wind. Years of desolation had -completed their charm, just as years of death the charm of some vanished -poet's works.</p> - -<p>Peopled with ghosts and flowers, voices of fountains and voices of -birds, walking there alone on a summer's day one would scarcely have -dared to call out, lest some silvery voice made answer, or some white -hand from amidst the rose-bushes, some hand once whiter than the white -rose, some voice once sweeter than the voices of the birds.</p> - -<p>"And Marianne de l'Orme, how is she—the Austrian, and she whom they -call the Flower of Light? Diane de Christeuil, Colombe de -Gaillefontaine, Aloise de Gondalaurier, sweet-named ghosts: where are ye?"</p> - -<p>"Who knows?" would reply the breeze in the rose-bushes. "They are here, -they are here," the birds in the trees.</p> - -<p>Here had walked, in times long past, the ladies of the house of Saluce. -This family, from which I drew half my being, had for me a charm and -mystery beyond expression. I was a Mahon, all my traditions were Irish; -yet I was linked with this family, of whom all were dead, this family -whose stately history went back into the remote past.</p> - -<p>I had never seen my mother; I had never seen a living Saluce; they were -all vanished. Nothing remained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> but their pictures and their names, yet -I had come from them in part. They were my ancestors, and my likeness -had walked the earth, in the form of Philippe de Saluce, over two -hundred years before I was born; and my likeness in the form of Philippe -de Saluce had—— We know what he had done.</p> - -<p>The doors of the château were open, and some workmen were busy in the -hall, repairing the oakwork. They were talking and laughing, and their -voices had set the echo chattering in the gallery above.</p> - -<p>Marianne seemed mocking them; and as I gave them good-day and examined -their work her voice seemed mocking mine.</p> - -<p>Then I left the men, and came upstairs to look at the place once again. -I passed from corridor to corridor, and at last found the turret-room -whither I had come that day with Eloise.</p> - -<p>It was just the same, everything in exactly the same place, even to the -books on the table. I examined them: some were quite modern, drawings by -Gavarni and De Musset's poems; some were more antique.</p> - -<p>Amongst them was a work in gilded boards, the history of the Saluce -family, written by one Armand de Saluce, in the year 1820, and dedicated -rather fulsomely to the then head of the house.</p> - -<p>He was some poor relation evidently, Armand, and his language was very -flowery; and from his little book one might have imagined the Saluces a -family of saints and lambs.</p> - -<p>I turned the pages this way and that, till I found what he had to say -about Philippe.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p><p>Philippe de Saluce, according to Armand, had died in consequence of an -unfortunate love-affair.</p> - -<p>It did not say he had drowned his fiancée—that he was a murderer.</p> - -<p>With the book in my hand I fell asleep, lulled by the drowsy warmth of -the room, and the softness of the cushions of the window-seat.</p> - -<p>When I awoke the light had changed, and, looking at my watch, I found it -to be nearly six o'clock.</p> - -<p>I rose, put the book on the table, and came downstairs.</p> - -<p>The workmen had gone, and they had locked the door!</p> - -<p>Not for a few moments did my position realise itself to me.</p> - -<p>Every door I knew to be barred and locked; every window was also barred -on the ground floor, except those that were too narrow for a man's entry -or exit. No one would come till the morning. Madame Ancelot would think -I had returned to Paris by train, and send the carriage back. I was -trapped in the château of Saluce; and at seven o'clock to-morrow I had -to meet Von Lichtenberg, or be dishonoured for life!</p> - -<p>A nice situation, truly!</p> - -<p>I laughed out loud from pure rage and vexation, and the echo above -returned my laughter mockingly.</p> - -<p>In my despair I tried all the doors, uselessly; they were solid as the -doors of the Bastille.</p> - -<p>Then I remembered a window that was not barred—the stained-glass window -of the banqueting-room. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> was fifteen feet from the ground, but had it -been more I would have risked it.</p> - -<p>I went to the banqueting-room, and stood before the window, my only way -to freedom and honour. It was a lovely creation of stained glass. The -arms of the Saluces and the arms of the noble families with whom they -were connected stood there, the Lichtenbergs amidst the rest. The -evening light, shining through the stained glass, repeated the colours -vaguely upon the polished parquet of the floor. The light, shining -through the tender colours of the glass, brought with it an indefinable -sadness. To break this thing would be like striking the dead, -dishonouring the past. An act of vandalism beyond name.</p> - -<p>This window was more than a window: it was a barrier between me and my -fate. The arms of the Lichtenbergs, the Saluces, the Montmorencies, had -drawn themselves up before me; it was as if they would stand between me -and the encounter of the morrow, but only as a menace. They could offer -no real opposition to my physical acts; they could only say, "Take -warning!"</p> - -<p>Then, with the brutality of your kind-hearted man, who, condemned to -kill an animal, and loathing the business, strikes fiercely and blindly, -causing more destruction than necessary, I seized a heavy bronze bar -from the fireplace and attacked the window. The blows echoed from the -roof—smash! smash!—and the chattering of falling glass came from the -garden-walk outside; the leadwork which had held the glass fragments -together bulged out, and had to be broken out by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>incessant blows, which -brought down shower after shower of glass fragments from that part of -the window which lay above the line of my attack; and lo! when I had -once entered on the business, all remorse fled, and a fury for -destruction rose in my heart that I had never felt before, nor had I -even suspected my own capacity for the feeling. So, perhaps, Philippe de -Saluce felt when he destroyed his lover in a sudden accession of fury. I -do not know, but I know that from behind some veil in my mind a new man -stepped out, as Monsieur Hyde stepped from the soul of Monsieur Jekyll, -and that I smashed and smashed for the pure pleasure, and from the -vicious lust of destruction.</p> - -<p>Condemned to act by Fate, I revenged myself after the fashion of a -tiger. Then, tearing a brocaded curtain down from its attachments, I -spread it over the glass-splintered edge of the sill, crawled over it, -lowered myself, dropped, and was free.</p> - -<p>As I stood on the garden-path, looking up at the ruin I had -accomplished, I heard footsteps.</p> - -<p>The workmen were returning.</p> - -<p>"Ah, mon Dieu, monsieur!" cried the chief ouvrier, "we had forgotten -you. Not till five minutes ago did Jacques remember that monsieur had -not left the house when we bolted the door and came away; so we -returned, running all the way from Etiolles."</p> - -<p>So my destruction of the window had been in vain, it would seem! Not so; -for, just as at a first debauch the demon of drunkenness enters a man's -heart, so at this orgie of destruction did the demon of destruction -enter mine.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p><p>"Joubert," said I that night, as I went to bed, "you have everything -ready for to-morrow?"</p> - -<p>"All is ready," replied Joubert.</p> - -<p>"You will call me at half-past five."</p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur. And your promise?"</p> - -<p>"My promise?"</p> - -<p>"To tell me with whom you are going to fight?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes! Well, I have two affairs on to-morrow morning. I am going to -scratch Baron Carl von Lichtenberg on the arm, and I am going to drive -my sword through M. de Coigny's heart."</p> - -<p>"Von Lichtenberg!" cried Joubert. "You are going to fight with a -Lichtenberg, one of that accursed lot!"</p> - -<p>"I am going to fight with M. de Coigny. We have been enemies for years; -he has mixed himself in this affair; he has offered himself up as a -sacrifice——"</p> - -<p>"Mon Dieu!" cried the old fellow, drawing back, "is it you that are -speaking, or the devil?"</p> - -<p>I was sitting up in bed; and in a mirror across the room I saw the wan -reflection of my own face, and started at the expression of wrath and -black hatred portrayed there.</p> - -<p>I had hated De Coigny for years, but not till now did I know my own -capacity for hate. Thus we go through life for years not knowing, till -some day some hand draws the curtain back, holds up the mirror, reveals -the other man, the Monsieur Hyde who has hidden himself at birth in the -heart of Monsieur Jekyll.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXVI</span> <span class="smaller">THE DUEL</span></h2> - -<p>"Half-past five!"</p> - -<p>Joubert was standing by the window, my bath-towels over his arm. He had -drawn up the blind, and the light of early morning filled the room. I -could have cursed Joubert, for he had awakened me from a most lovely -dream.</p> - -<p>In a full blaze of sunlight I had been walking in the gardens of -Lichtenberg with Eloise; we were children again, and little Carl was -marching before us, beating his drum. Past the fountains, past the -Running Man carved in stone, we went, then into the shade of the forest, -led by little Carl towards some great but indefinable happiness.</p> - -<p>"Where are they?" I murmured, half unconscious that I was speaking, and -rubbing my eyes as if to bring back the happy vision.</p> - -<p>"Who?" asked Joubert.</p> - -<p>I did not answer him. Who, indeed? Those children for ever vanished.</p> - -<p>I dressed rapidly, and breakfasted. I felt both nervous and excited, -exactly as I had felt on the night of the production of "Undine."</p> - -<p>Then I sat down to write a line to Franzius and Eloise.</p> - -<p>I had divided my property, in case of my death,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> leaving half to my -guardian and half to Eloise. The will was with our lawyer, and I said so -in a postscript to my note. When I had finished, Joubert appeared.</p> - -<p>"The carriage is at the door."</p> - -<p>I sealed the letter, and handed it to him.</p> - -<p>"In case of accidents," said I, "post this."</p> - -<p>Joubert saluted, and put it in his pocket without glancing at the -superscription.</p> - -<p>Joubert was grave. He had never saluted me before, except in a spirit of -half mockery—the way one would salute a child.</p> - -<p>I had been a child in his eyes until now, but now I was evidently a man, -his master; and nothing seemed, up to this, to have divided me so -sharply from my childhood and my past as this suddenly begotten change -in Joubert's manner; and as I stepped from the hall-door on to the -pavement I felt that I was stepping for the first time into the world of -manhood; that all had been play with me till now, and that now, this -morning, the grim business of life had begun.</p> - -<p>Joubert got on the box beside the coachman, and we started.</p> - -<p>The early sun was bright on the trees and houses of the Champs Elysées; -the trees of the Bois de Boulogne were waving in the early morning -breeze; all was bright and all was fair; and it seemed a pity—a -thousand pities—to have to die a morning like this, to shut one's eyes -for ever, and never more see the sun.</p> - -<p>As we drew near our destination, I felt exactly as I often had felt in -childhood when at the door of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> dentist's: a strong desire to return -home, coupled with a strong repugnance to face what had to be done.</p> - -<p>The avenue of the Minimes has vanished. It was a lovely place, -tree-sheltered and leading by a pond where the green rushes whispered -beneath silvery willows, making a picture after the heart of Puvis de -Chavannes. It opened out of a broad drive, and was a favourite spot for -the settlement of affairs of honour.</p> - -<p>"We are first," cried Joubert, turning his head.</p> - -<p>I stood up. Yes; there was no other carriage; in fact, we were ten -minutes before our time—a great mistake, for a ten minutes' wait in an -affair of this description is one of the most unsettling things possible -for the nerves of a man. We drew up near the entrance to the Avenue des -Minimes, and, getting out, I paced up and down, for the early morning -was chilly, though it gave promise of a glorious day.</p> - -<p>Ah! here they came—at least, some of them. A carriage rapidly driven -was coming along the drive. There were three gentlemen in it, my -seconds, De Brissac and M. de Champfleury, and a tall personage who -turned out to be Colonel Savernac, the extra friend whom I had asked De -Brissac to bring.</p> - -<p>We had scarcely exchanged greetings when another carriage arrived, -containing De Coigny and Baron Struve—who were the seconds of the Baron -Carl von Lichtenberg—and Dr. Pons, the surgeon.</p> - -<p>The seconds of either party bowed one to the other.</p> - -<p>De Brissac took out his watch.</p> - -<p>"What time do you make it, M. de Coigny?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p><p>"Five minutes to the hour," replied De Coigny.</p> - -<p>"Ah! I make it the hour. My watch is set by the Observatory clock. -Still, perhaps it may have gone wrong. Make it, then, five minutes to -the hour. And hi! there! Move on those carriages. We are as noticeable -as the front of the Opera House; and should a mounted gendarme come this -way there will be trouble."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," said Joubert, jumping down as the carriages moved off, "you -promised."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said I, half to Joubert, half to De Brissac. "I promised. You may -remain as a spectator—at a distance."</p> - -<p>"A servant!" said De Coigny.</p> - -<p>"No, Monsieur de Coigny," I replied; "a faithful friend, and a soldier -of Napoleon."</p> - -<p>De Coigny turned on his heel, and began talking to Dr. Pons, who stood -with a mahogany case under his arm.</p> - -<p>"Notice," I said to De Brissac. "De Coigny has turned his back upon me; -but within an hour's time, if I do not fall by the sword of Von -Lichtenberg, I will require him to turn his face to me."</p> - -<p>"You are going to——"</p> - -<p>"Kill him," I replied.</p> - -<p>De Brissac shrugged his shoulders, and looked again at his watch.</p> - -<p>"I make it five minutes past the hour, M. de Coigny."</p> - -<p>De Coigny looked at his watch and nodded.</p> - -<p>"By the way," I heard Champfleury say to one of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> my adversary's seconds, -"has anyone seen anything of M. le Baron Carl von Lichtenberg during the -last three months?"</p> - -<p>"I have not," replied the gentleman addressed, "nor have I met anyone -who has. The Prussian Embassy people do not know anything of his -whereabouts: he has had leave of absence."</p> - -<p>"Rest assured," said De Coigny, "he will arrive. He is not a coward."</p> - -<p>"All the same, he is late," said De Brissac.</p> - -<p>I looked at my watch. It was now ten minutes past seven, an inexcusable -delay on Von Lichtenberg's part, unless, indeed, some accident had -occurred.</p> - -<p>Five more minutes slowly passed; the sun had now completely freed -himself from the mists of the Bois; the light struck down the path; it -struck the mahogany instrument-case under the arm of Dr. Pons, and the -hilts of the rapiers which De Brissac was carrying concealed in the -folds of a long, fawn-coloured overcoat.</p> - -<p>"At twenty minutes past," said De Brissac, "I shall declare the duel -postponed. I shall take my principal home and I shall demand an -explanation, M. de Coigny."</p> - -<p>Scarcely had he spoken than Dr. Pons, who had been looking along the -drive in the direction of the Champs Elysées, cried: "Here he comes."</p> - -<p>A closed carriage, drawn by two magnificent Orloff horses, had entered -the broad drive and was advancing at full speed. I do not know how the -weird impression came to me, but the closed carriage drawn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> by the black -Russian horses suggested to me a funeral-carriage; and before it, as it -came, the sunlight seemed to wither from the drive.</p> - -<p>A few paces from us the coachman literally brought the horses on their -haunches, the door of the carriage opened, and a lady stepped out.</p> - -<p>A girl of about eighteen, an apparition so exquisite, so full of grace, -so bright, so unexpected, that the men around me, used to beauty, -world-worn and cynical as they were, said no word, and remained -motionless as statues, whilst I clung to the arm of De Brissac.</p> - -<p>For the girl was Margaret von Lichtenberg—Margaret von Lichtenberg, -little Carl, Baron Carl, all these apotheosised! And as I looked, a -voice—Eloise's childish voice, heard long years ago—again murmured in -my ear:</p> - -<p>"Little Carl is a girl."</p> - -<p>Then I knew that it was she—the woman so mysteriously bound up in my -life; and as a man drowning remembers his whole past, in a flash of -thought I remembered all: Von Lichtenberg's mad attempt to assassinate -me, his dying words; the apparition of little Carl that had lured me -into the gravelpit and lamed me for life; Baron Carl von Lichtenberg and -his pursuit of me; my fight against Fate; my own words: "I will not—I -will not! I am a living man with a will of my own; no dead Fate shall -lead me or drive me." But I had never thought of this. I had played -against Fate, and now I felt dimly that I had lost. I had not suspected -this card which the dealer had slipped up his sleeve, and which now -appeared to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>confound me, this lovely being, whose voice I now heard -addressing De Coigny:</p> - -<p>"I have come on behalf of Baron Carl von Lichtenberg. There is no longer -a Baron Carl von Lichtenberg. He is dead."</p> - -<p>"Listen," whispered De Brissac, clutching my arm. "This is very strange! -I would swear it was the Baron Carl himself speaking. And she is like -him. It must, then, be his sister."</p> - -<p>"On his behalf," she went on, "I apologise to M. Patrick Mahon; and I am -commissioned by him, M. de Coigny, in return for all the lies and evil -words you have spoken about M. Mahon, to give you this." And she struck -De Coigny on the face lightly with her gloved hand.</p> - -<p>Then I woke up, and I felt the blood surge to my face as I stepped -forward. She turned to me, with her lips half parted in a glad smile; -our eyes met. God! in that moment how my whole being leapt alive! -Bursting and rending its husk, my imprisoned spirit broke free, as a -dragon-fly breaks free touched by the sun's magic wand. I heard myself -speak; I was speaking coldly and distinctly, addressing De Coigny, and -yet all my soul was addressing her in delirious unspoken words.</p> - -<p>"M. de Coigny," said the voice which came from my lips, "we are, I -believe, old enemies. I have forgotten all that, but the Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg's quarrels are now mine; and if your craven heart will allow -you to hold a sword, I beg to take his place."</p> - -<p>What then followed is like a dream in my mind. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> heard the seconds -consulting. I heard Dr. Pons' voice speaking in a tone of relief: "So -then we are to have some music after all!" I held two warm hands in -mine, and I heard myself saying: "Yes, yes, you will stay here. I shall -not be long. Oh, no; I shall not be killed! I will return. To be killed -would be too absurd <i>now</i>. Wait for me."</p> - -<p>Then, leaning on De Brissac's arm, I was walking down the Avenue des -Minimes, and now, sword in hand, I was fronting De Coigny.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>He was backgrounded by the willows, all silvering to the breeze, and his -hateful face filled me with a fury that rose in my throat and which I -had to gulp down. He was the only thing that stood between me and the -heaven that had just been revealed to me; he was there with a sword in -his hand, as if to bar me out and cut me off for ever from it. He was -everything I hated, and the power of hate had suddenly risen gigantic in -my breast, shouting for his blood.</p> - -<p>Then we fought, and I found myself commanding myself, just as a drunken -man commands himself to stand straight and be cool. Sometimes I saw his -face, and sometimes I saw it not, yet ever I knew that I held him with -my eye as a fowler holds a bird in his hand.</p> - -<p>Had anyone been wandering by the pool of the Minimes, he might have -fancied that he heard the cry of a seagull—a single, melancholy cry; -for it is crying thus that a man's soul escapes when he is stricken -through the heart.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXVII</span> <span class="smaller">MARGARET</span></h2> - -<p>"He is dead," said Dr. Pons.</p> - -<p>I looked at the rapier in my hand. There were a few contracting spots on -it.</p> - -<p>Then De Brissac held my coat for me.</p> - -<p>"His foot slipped, or you would not have got him like that," I heard him -say.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it is unpleasant enough, but the thing is perfectly in order. You -need have no fear. Yes, yes; I will lead you to her. You will be at the -Place Vendôme, I suppose? There will be an inquiry, and all that."</p> - -<p>And then I found myself holding again the two warm hands. I was not -thinking of De Coigny. I was in a dream. I stepped into a carriage that -was before me. I heard De Brissac close the door, and say to the -coachman "Paris." Then I felt a girl's arm round my neck.</p> - -<p>"Toto," said a voice, "do you remember the white rabbit with the green -eyes?"</p> - -<p>The killing of De Coigny had blinded me, maddened me, and drawn from -some distant past into full birth all sorts of strange and hitherto -unknown attributes of myself.</p> - -<p>It was as though Philippe de Saluce, slowly struggling into new birth -during the last forty-eight hours,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> had, with the slaying of my -adversary, suddenly become full born.</p> - -<p>It was necessary for me to kill, it seems, before he could find speech -and thought, and stand fully reincarnated.</p> - -<p>"Oh, far beyond that—far beyond that!" I murmured, not knowing fully -what I said or what I meant, knowing only that mysterious doors had been -flung open, and that through them a spirit had rushed, filling me and -embracing through me the woman at my side.</p> - -<p>"I know," she said. And for a moment spoke no more.</p> - -<p>In those two words she told all. It was as though she had said: "I know -all. You are Philippe and I am Margaret. All is forgiven between us. Let -us forget. What matters that old crime of long ago? We are reborn, we -are young again, and the world is fair."</p> - -<p>"Let us forget," I murmured, as if in answer to these words which, -though unspoken by her lips, were heard by my spirit.</p> - -<p>"I have forgotten," she replied. "I never remembered—or only in part. -Let us talk of that time——"</p> - -<p>"When we were children?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Do you remember——"</p> - -<p>"Do I remember! Where is Gretel?"</p> - -<p>"She is dead. I must tell you all; but we are nearing Paris. Cannot we -go anywhere—some place where we can talk and be alone?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." I remembered that Franzius and Eloise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> were away, and that we -could go to the Pavilion. I drew the check-string, and told the driver -to take the road to Etiolles.</p> - -<p>As I drew back into the carriage her hand slipped over my shoulder, and -her arm round my neck again.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>"You know," she said, "that time when you left I nearly forgot you. I -would have forgotten you entirely but for Gretel, who always kept making -me remember, telling me to beware of you, till you became my nightmare. -After the death of my father, Gretel took entire charge of me. I did not -know that I was a girl: I never thought of the thing. I was dressed as a -boy, I had tutors, the jägers took me hunting. Yes; you were my -nightmare. I used to dream that you were running after me through the -woods to kill me. All that was at night; but once—one afternoon, I fell -asleep, and you nearly did kill me. It was only a dream, you know."</p> - -<p>"Tell me about it."</p> - -<p>"I was walking through a wood, and you were following to kill me, and I -hid behind some bushes. But you saw me, and came after me, and I heard -you falling into a pit. I looked into the pit, and you were lying there. -Then I awoke."</p> - -<p>"Go on—go on! Tell me about yourself. Don't say any more about that."</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes, myself! Well, I grew up. Gretel died three years ago; and when -she was dying she told me I was a girl. She told me all, and gave me the -choice of going through life as what I am now, or as a man."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p><p>"And you?"</p> - -<p>"Chose to be a man." She laughed deliciously, and under her breath. -"These things"—and she plucked at her dress—"feel strange on me even -now. Oh, yes, I chose to be a man. Who would not, if the choice were -given them? And no one knew. The Baron Carl von Lichtenberg was quite a -great person. He was admired by all the ladies. He was so ornamental -that he was sent as attaché to the Embassy at Paris. Yes; and he went to -the ball at the Marquis d'Harmonville's——"</p> - -<p>"Ah, that night!" I muttered. "It was the beginning——"</p> - -<p>"Of your tribulations," she laughed softly, and went on: "When I saw you -I was nearly as startled as you were yourself. I had all my life -determined that I would avoid you; but that night—ah! that night——"</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I could not sleep. I cursed my man's clothes; and I would -have given all I possessed to speak to you dressed as I am now. Then I -sought you, and you avoided me. You insulted me, monsieur, at the -Mirlitons."</p> - -<p>"Ah! why—why did you not declare yourself then?" I muttered, speaking -into the warmth of her delicious neck. "Think what we have lost—a whole -year nearly of life and love!"</p> - -<p>"Why, indeed! Just, I suppose, because I was a woman, filled with a -woman's caprice; and the masquerade amused me, and I had my duties to -perform<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>—and how you evaded me! I was invited to meet you at -dinner——"</p> - -<p>"And I dined at the Café de Paris with a fool."</p> - -<p>"Just so. And you ran away to Nice. Then the idea came to me—ah, yes, -it was a fine idea!—I will <i>make</i> him meet me. And I slapped you on the -shoulder with a glove."</p> - -<p>"Yes; when I was seated in the box at the opera with a lady."</p> - -<p>"Yes. Who was the lady? I was too excited to see anyone but you."</p> - -<p>"She was——" Then I paused. And then I said—why, I can never -tell—"She was a friend of my guardian."</p> - -<p>"Next morning I received your challenge. How I laughed to myself!"</p> - -<p>"But tell me one thing. Why did you stipulate for a delay of three -months before the duel?"</p> - -<p>She laughed again.</p> - -<p>"Shall I tell you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Because I wanted time—to—to——"</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"To let my hair grow. Do you like it?" She drew a long pin from her hat, -removed her hat, and showed her perfect head and the coils of -night-black hair.</p> - -<p>"Oh! Do I like it?"</p> - -<p>"Well—kiss it."</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>"We must never part again."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p><p>"We need never," said she. "I am yours. I am not existent in the world. -The Baron Carl von Lichtenberg is dead: he died when I put on these -things. There is no one to trouble us!"</p> - -<p>"Look!" I said. "This is Etiolles."</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>I had as completely forgotten Franzius and Eloise as though they had -never existed. Madame Ancelot seemed strange; and the Pavilion a place -which I recognised, but which had no part in my new life.</p> - -<p>Sitting opposite to my companion at table—for we had a déjeûner under -the big chestnut-tree—I could contemplate her at my leisure. Surely God -had never created a more lovely and perfect woman. Eyelashes long and -black, up curved, and tipped with brown; violet-grey eyes. Ah, yes; I do -not care to think of them now. I only care to remember that voice and -smile, that ineffable expression, all that told of the existence of the -beautiful spirit that Time might never touch nor Death destroy.</p> - -<p>From the forest came the wood-doves' song to the immortal and -ever-weeping Susie. We could hear the birds in the château gardens, and -a bell from some village church ringing the Angelus—faint, far away, -robbed of its harshness by the vast and sunlit silence. She seemed the -soul of all that music, all that silence, all that sweetness; and she -was mine, entirely and for ever. We were beyond convention and law, as -were Adam and Eve.</p> - -<p>"And you know," said she, as if reading my thoughts, "I am nobody—I -have not even a name.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> Yesterday I was Baron Carl von Lichtenberg, with -great estates. Now, who am I? And my great estates——" She opened a -purse, in which lay a few louis. "Here they are."</p> - -<p>I laughed, and put the little purse into my pocket.</p> - -<p>"Tell me," I said; "where were you when you were coming out of your -chrysalis? When you were changing—all these three months?"</p> - -<p>"I—I was at Tours. The Baron von Lichtenberg received three months' -foreign leave, and went to Tours. Oh, the complications! And the -dressmakers! I did not even know at first how to wear these things. Do -they fit me?"</p> - -<p>"Do they fit you!"</p> - -<p>I rose, and we crossed the drawbridge. As she passed over it, she paused -and gazed at the water.</p> - -<p>"How cool it looks! How dark and deep! Do you remember the pool at -Lichtenberg?"</p> - -<p>"And how I pushed you in. Do you remember the little drum?"</p> - -<p>"And the child with the golden hair—Eloise. She called you Toto. I have -always called you Toto since, M. Patrick Mahon."</p> - -<p>"Call me it still," I said. "I love anything that reminds me of my -past—of our past. Come, let us go into the woods, as we went that day."</p> - -<p>She laughed at the recollection of the little Pomeranian grenadier.</p> - -<p>"We were children then," said she.</p> - -<p>I looked at her. In the shadow of the trees, in the broad drive where we -stood, she might have been a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> ghost from that time when La Vallière was -a girl, when La Fontaine was a man, and Monsieur Fouquet held his court -at Vaux.</p> - -<p>Though of the fashion of the day, her dress had that grace which the -wearer alone can give; and, as I looked at her, the forest sighed deeply -from its cool, green heart, the boughs tossed, showering lights upon us, -and the laughter of the birds followed the wind.</p> - -<p>"We were children then," said I, "but we are not children now." I took -both her hands, and held her soul to mine for a moment in a kiss that -has not ended yet.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>Where the beech-glades give place to the tall pines—the fragrant pines, -whose song sounds for ever like the sea on a distant strand—we sat down -on a bank, which in spring would be mist-blue with violets.</p> - -<p>"I have never kissed anyone before. Have you?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"No one."</p> - -<p>"Never loved anyone?" She rested her hands on my shoulders, and looked -into my eyes.</p> - -<p>"Never."</p> - -<p>"For," said she, "if you had——"</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. Sometimes I do not know my own thoughts. Sometimes I act -and do things that seem strange to me afterwards. I made you meet me -this morning out of caprice. I teased you, following you as I did to -Nice, dressed as I was, from caprice. That is not me. There is something -wicked and wayward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> in me that I cannot understand. Had it not been for -me you would not have killed that man this morning."</p> - -<p>I had not thought of De Coigny till now; and the remembrance of him -lying there dead in the arms of Dr. Pons came like a gloomy stain across -my mind. But it soon passed.</p> - -<p>"We would have fought in any case," said I, "inevitably."</p> - -<p>She sighed, as if relieved.</p> - -<p>"He was a bad man," she said. "He deserved to die for the things he said -about you to me. It was partly on that account that I arranged all that -this morning, so that I might insult him before those men; but I never -thought it would end as it did."</p> - -<p>"Do you know," said I, "when I killed him it was as if the blood which I -shed had baptised me into a new life! My full love for you only awoke -then. It was as if some spirit out of the past that had loved you for -ages had suddenly been born completely."</p> - -<p>"Don't!" she said. "I hate to think of that. Let the past be gone for -ever. You are yourself, alive and warm. You are my sun, my life, the air -I breathe. You have been kept for me untouched. Oh, how I love you!</p> - -<p>"Listen!" she said, freeing her lips from mine, and casting her -beautiful eyes upwards. "No; it is not the wind. Ah! listen! listen!"</p> - -<p>From the trees came a sound that was not the voice of the birds. Far -away it seemed now, and now near. It was the spinning-song of Oberthal, -that tune, thin as a thread of flax, rising, falling, poignant as Fate,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> -and filled with the story of man—his swaddling-clothes, his -marriage-bed, and his shroud.</p> - -<p>There, amidst the trees, coming from nowhere, diffused by the echoes of -the wood—for a wood is a living echo—heard just then, the song of -Oberthal seemed the voice of Fate herself.</p> - -<p>I knew quite well what had happened. Franzius had returned. Madame -Ancelot had told him that I was in the wood. Wishing, no doubt, to find -me, he had sent the tune to look for me—the old tune that he knew I -liked so well.</p> - -<p>It was then only that my past relationship with Eloise rose before me.</p> - -<p>I had said nothing about it; I had even refrained from mentioning her -name. I had done this from no ulterior motive. I was not ashamed that -the woman I loved should know about Eloise. Had I not brought her to the -Pavilion when it was quite possible that Eloise might have returned? Up -to this my mind had been so filled with new things, so filled with -happiness and extraordinary love, that all things earthly were for me -not.</p> - -<p>"It is a friend of mine, I think," said I. "A violinist. He stays at the -Pavilion. And now I want to tell you something."</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>It had seemed so easy, yet now it seemed very difficult.</p> - -<p>"I told you I had never cared for another woman."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Listen! The tune has ceased. Well, there has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> been only one woman in my -life till I met you. You remember little Eloise at Lichtenberg, she who -called me Toto?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." She had placed her hand to her heart, as though she felt a pain -there.</p> - -<p>"Well, I met her again in Paris. She had grown up. She was very poor, -and I gave her the Pavilion to live in. She is living there now."</p> - -<p>"Now!"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said I, laughing. "And, see, there she is. Wait for me."</p> - -<p>Franzius and Eloise had just appeared from the wood away down the drive. -It was fortunate that Franzius was with her, for now I could bring them -both up and introduce them. Their love for one another and their -happiness was so evident that it would be an explanation in itself.</p> - -<p>I ran towards them.</p> - -<p>Eloise was radiant; Franzius as brown as a berry.</p> - -<p>"Eloise!" I cried, as I kissed her and wrung both her hands, "do you -remember little Carl? Do you remember saying to me: 'Toto, little Carl -is a girl'? She is here; she is waiting to meet you. Come."</p> - -<p>"Where?" asked Eloise.</p> - -<p>I turned, laughing, to point out the figure of my companion. The drive -was empty. The songs of the birds, the shadows of the trees, the golden -swathes of light, were there, but of Margaret von Lichtenberg there was -no trace.</p> - -<p>"She has hidden herself amidst the trees," I cried. "Come."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p><p>But there was no trace of her amidst the trees.</p> - -<p>"Margaret!"</p> - -<p>I was frightened at my own voice, at its ghostliness, and the echo of -the sweet name that came back from the wood.</p> - -<p>A wreath of morning mist could not have vanished more completely.</p> - -<p>I am sure that just then the Franzius' must have thought me mad.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXVIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE DRUMS OF WAR</span></h2> - -<p>Oh, caprice of a woman! To leave me like that in a moment of anger and -jealousy, never to wait an explanation; to let fall what might be the -curtain of eternal separation with a touch of her hand; to step away -from me and vanish into that vast, vague, cruel land we call the world!</p> - -<p>And I had held her so close to me! She was so entirely mine, the -happiest dream that ever mortal dreamt, the most mysterious and -beautiful.</p> - -<p>She had taken the carriage which we left at the inn at Etiolles, and -returned to Paris. That we discovered; but beyond that there was no word -or sign to lead me.</p> - -<p>I only knew that she was in Paris. Even of that I was not quite sure, -for she may have used Paris only as a stage on her journey into the -unknown.</p> - -<p>But to Paris I came. I could not stay at Etiolles, even on the chance of -her returning. I must go where she had gone. And I swore in my madness -to find her, even though I searched Paris from the heights of Montmartre -to the depths of the Seine.</p> - -<p>And then, when I got to Paris, I found my hands idle and useless. I did -not know, even, what name she had gone under during her metamorphosis. -She who had no name—this ghost from the past!</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p><p>At times I found myself wondering whether it was all a dream, an -illusion of the brain. Whether I was mad. But actuality brought me to -reason on this point. I had to answer the inquiries following the death -of De Coigny. I had to appear before an examining magistrate, I and my -seconds.</p> - -<p>Felix Rebouton was the magistrate in question, the same who, if my -memory serves me, conducted the inquiry on the death of Victor Noir.</p> - -<p>He was a thin, tall man, in spectacles, a lawyer, not a man; a -procès-verbal in a tightly buttoned frock-coat.</p> - -<p>And I had to face this individual, who seemed less an individual than a -roll of parchment, and, with my heart breaking and my thoughts -elsewhere, answer questions relative to my relations with De Coigny.</p> - -<p>"We have always hated each other, since boyhood. He lied about me, and I -killed him," was my answer.</p> - -<p>"This lady who arrived on the scene of the duel, and with whom you -departed; where is she?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, if you could tell me that," I replied, "I would give you every -penny of my fortune."</p> - -<p>"Her name?"</p> - -<p>"She has no name."</p> - -<p>"No name!"</p> - -<p>"She is a ghost."</p> - -<p>The man of parchment scratched his head and made a note, looked sideways -through his spectacles at his clerk and at De Brissac and the other -seconds who were in the room.</p> - -<p>He thought I was mad. And he was not far wrong.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p><p>The inquiry was suspended for three weeks, and I was free to return to -my misery and the streets of Paris.</p> - -<p>I lived now in the streets. They were my only hope. From early morning -till night I haunted the boulevards. Franzius had orders to telegraph to -my club and to the Place Vendôme should any news reach the Pavilion, and -the club porter grew weary of the inquiry: "Any telegram for me?"</p> - -<p>Men began to avoid me as they do the stricken, the leprous, and the mad. -I must have seemed mad, indeed, for ever wandering hither and thither, -searching the crowded streets with eager eyes, scarcely answering if -spoken to, careless and untidy in my dress, a phantom of myself. Like -Poe's man of the crowd, I drifted about Paris, ever in the thick of the -throng, seeking the most populous streets.</p> - -<p>Impossible to tell in what quarter of the city caprice might have cast -her, I sought her in all. Montmartre and La Villette, the Quartier Latin -and the great boulevards: I dreaded only one thing—night.</p> - -<p>Night, when my search must cease; night and the pitiless gas-lamps, the -terrible gas-lamps. Then it was that light, the angel that all day had -helped my search, became a devil, contracting itself, and spreading into -a million heartless points to show me the darkness. Then it was that the -stars burning in the clear sky above the city became part of my sorrow.</p> - -<p>All things bright and all things fair were leagued against me, in that -they fed the flame of my suffering;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> and the happiness and gaiety of -others became the last insult of the world.</p> - -<p>Then it was that Joubert showed himself in his true form. Not one word -did he ever say to me, though my conduct, my manners, my disordered -dress, must have given him food for the deepest speculation and -disquiet. He would put out my clothes and attend to my wants, speak to -me about ordinary topics, never heed my silence or my harsh replies. You -see, he was an old soldier; he had seen men stricken so often that he -knew the language and the signs of real grief and real suffering.</p> - -<p>I lost count of the days, and from opium alone could I get any sleep. -Absorbed in my grief, I took no heed of the events around me. I remember -distinctly in cafés and at my club hearing men talking of the -Hohenzollerns and the succession to the Spanish throne. Men talking -vehemently about a subject which was to me as uninteresting and as -unintelligible as algebra to a child. But I could feel the ferment and -unrest around me.</p> - -<p>On the 15th of July, at ten o'clock in the morning, I was passing across -the Place de la Concorde, when a roar like the sound of a great and -distant sea broke on the summer air. It came from the direction of the -Rue St. Honoré. People were running across the Place de la Concorde, and -pouring from the Rue de Rivoli and from the bridges. The Champs Elysées -behind me had become alive with people; cabmen were standing up on the -driving-seats of their carriages, waving their hats and shouting; -windows of houses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> were alive and white with fluttering handkerchiefs; -and now, again and again, came the storm of sound, unlike anything I had -ever heard before, unlike anything I will ever hear again; wave after -wave, storm after storm, and through it all the drums of a marching -regiment.</p> - -<p>The Ninety-first Regiment of the Line were marching down the Rue St. -Honoré, bayonets fixed, haversacks filled, drums beating, and colours -fluttering. Paris was marching with them. And then through the storm -came the cry uttered by a thousand throats: "À Berlin! À Berlin!"</p> - -<p>"What is it?" I asked of a passer-by.</p> - -<p>"War has been declared with Prussia!"</p> - -<p>"With Prussia?"</p> - -<p>"Bismarck——" I did not hear what else he had to say, deafened and -dazed by the roar that now surrounded me.</p> - -<p>"À Berlin! À Berlin!"</p> - -<p>War had been declared with Prussia. Oh, fatality!</p> - -<p>Bismarck! At the name the gardens of Lichtenberg unrolled before me. I -saw them stretching to the edges of the pine forests. I heard the rattle -of little Carl's drum as he marched before us, the sound that had echoed -through the years, to be amplified and converted into this.</p> - -<p>War! Red war! And then, curiously, as I stood gazing and listening to -the storm that was gathering to wreck the last of my hope, I saw -something which I had forgotten for years, and which now came before me -as a vivid picture: a great hand with a seal ring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> on the little finger, -holding and half caressing the tiny hand of a child. The hand of -Bismarck holding the hand of Eloise, as I saw it that day long ago in -the hall of Schloss Lichtenberg. The iron hand which was to crush the -armies of France and fling Napoleon from his throne.</p> - -<p>I elbowed my way through the crush towards the Place Vendôme. My own -affairs were dwarfed, for the moment, by the magnitude of the event and -the furnace roar of the rejoicing city. Jubilant and ferocious, lustful -and bloodthirsty, triumphant as the blare of a trumpet, terrible as the -voice of a tiger, the gusts of sound swept the heavens. It was the voice -of the Second Empire, not the voice of a people; it was cruelty, lust, -and organised vice crying aloud to God for blood.</p> - -<p>God heard it, and made swift answer.</p> - -<p>I arrived at the Place Vendôme to find a surprise awaiting me.</p> - -<p>Franzius and Eloise were there. They had brought luggage with them, -which was in the hall. The servant who opened the door for me told me -they were in the library, and I ran there to meet them.</p> - -<p>"Toto," cried Eloise; then, holding me at a little distance and staring -at me as though I were a ghost: "What has happened to you?"</p> - -<p>I caught a reflection of myself in the mirror above the fireplace, and -for the first time I recognised the change in myself. Haggard, white, -and drawn, my face was no longer the face of a young man.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p><p>"Never mind me," I replied. "Why have you left Etiolles? Have you any -news?"</p> - -<p>"My friend," said Franzius, answering for her, "there is no news—only -news of war."</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes," I said. "War. But tell me why you have left Etiolles?"</p> - -<p>"I am a Prussian," replied Franzius; "and we are returning."</p> - -<p>"Returning?"</p> - -<p>"To my own country."</p> - -<p>"You are leaving me?"</p> - -<p>There was silence for a moment, and Eloise began to weep.</p> - -<p>"Toto, can't you see?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes," I said; "I can see—everything is going from me. Don't cry, -Eloise; I can see. Franzius, forgive me. I forgot. I did not know what -war meant till now."</p> - -<p>Up to this I had seen war through the stories told in books. I had seen -war on the canvases in the Luxembourg and the Louvre. But up till now, -standing there in the library before Franzius, with his overcoat on his -arm, and Eloise weeping, I had not seen war.</p> - -<p>Oh, yes; it is very grand: the long lines of infantry going into action, -the clouds of cavalry, the roar of the cannon, and the drums beating the -charge!</p> - -<p>But that is not war. War is voiceless.</p> - -<p>Yesterday we were at peace. To-day we are at war. Something has entered -into every heart and into every home; a million tiny fingers are busy -snapping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> a million bonds of union. Blow trumpets and beat drums how you -please, you cannot chase away the silence which has entered into the -hearts of men, or the foreboding that tells us the great curse has come -again.</p> - -<p>"It is not even that we must go," said Franzius, "but that we must go at -once. We are not going; we are driven forth. My friend, we will meet -again, when it is over."</p> - -<p>"When it is over," I said mechanically.</p> - -<p>They had received their passports, and they told me of their plans. -Franzius was beyond the age of military service. They would go to -Frankfort, where he had some relations. He had plenty of money with -which to live quietly till "it was over" and the world could hear music -again.</p> - -<p>I ordered a carriage to the door, and accompanied them to the station, -through streets packed and crowded as if by some fête.</p> - -<p>The station was thronged, and the train for the frontier was on the -point of starting when we arrived. I have never seen such a crowd -before. Families and their belongings, small tradesmen, Germans who had -been prospering yesterday and who to-day, ruined and hopeless, were -being driven forth back to their own country to starve. The buffet had -been stripped of food; and when I thought of the long journey before my -friends and the chances of the road, my heart misgave me, till Eloise -showed me a basket that had been packed for them by Madame Ancelot.</p> - -<p>Just as the train was starting, I jostled against a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> vendor of oranges -who still had a few unsold. I bought them and gave them to Eloise.</p> - -<p>I could not help remembering the day we had gone down first to Evry, she -and I, and the oranges I had bought for her in the Boulevard St. Michel. -That day, in spring!</p> - -<p>"Good-bye! Good-bye!"</p> - -<p>Eloise had squeezed herself through the window beside Franzius; the -train moved away; the people who were leaving said a last good-bye to -the people they had left, to friends who had cared for them till war -came as a separation, to brother Germans who were bound to depart by the -next train. I never heard so mournful a sound as that when the great -train drew away for its journey into for ever, leaving me alone on the -platform.</p> - -<p>I came back on foot. It was a long way; and as I passed the crowded -cafés, the crowds of excited and fever-stricken people, it seemed to me -that I was in a city whose inhabitants had at one stroke gone mad.</p> - -<p>I found myself, for the first time in many days, able to note the things -around me, and to take some interest in them. The great upheaval had -shaken me in part away from my own especial preoccupation, the grief of -the parting with Eloise and Franzius had obscured in part that other -grief which had pursued me.</p> - -<p>The great city had been stirred to its uttermost depths, as the great -sea is sometimes stirred by a submarine explosion. Dregs came to the -surface and floated as scum; and I saw people that day in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> streets -that I had never seen before: terrible people, cast up from the purlieus -and the slums, dog-men and beast-women, such as insulted the light of -heaven during the Terror; faces that might have served Retzsch for his -picture of the fiend, or Calot for his fantastic devil-drawings. -Collette la Charonne, Mathurine Giroron, Elizabeth Trouvain, the capon -and the franc-mitou from the past, elbowed the bully of the barrier and -the fishwife from the Halles of the present.</p> - -<p>At the word "War" Mathias Hungadi Spiculi rose from his long sleep, just -as he had risen at the word "Revolution." All the elements of the -Commune were there that day, shouting France to war, and ready to dance -on her ruins.</p> - -<p>Even the bourgeoisie, the placid people, the café loungers, were -changed. The tiger-cat which lies at the heart of the Latin races, the -animal that spits, and snarls, and howls, was unchained at last; and the -joyful ferocity of the women was a thing to see and to remember. It was -the uprising of the pampered beast, the beast that had sunned itself for -years in prosperity. Long ages of insult might have condoned what I saw -that day, but the circumstances never.</p> - -<p>Bands of women arm-in-arm, students, waving the tricolour, cabs and -carriages crowded with people driving nowhere, anywhere, so that they -could find a new place to shout in, girls with men's hats on their -heads, men with women's bonnets—it was Mabille, into which the beasts -of the Jardin des Plantes had broken; La Closerie des Lilas on an -infinite scale, roofed with sky.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p><p>And, beyond the Vosges, at his desk, quite unmoved, with a cigar in his -mouth and a folio in his hand, was sitting Bismarck, secure in -everything, possessed of everything, from the Erbswurst for the Prussian -cooking-pot to the guns that were to batter down Paris.</p> - -<p>I have said little about my social life in Paris, but I have indicated, -I think, that my guardian and I were friends of the Emperor's; and I -mention it as a strange fact, and a fact that casts volumes of light on -his character, that now, in my desolation, deserted by my guardian, -deserted by Franzius and Eloise, deserted by everyone I loved, the image -of Napoleon arose before me as a person I would like to speak to. You -know just what I mean. There is generally amongst one's friends some -person, some homely individual, some good man or good woman, to whom we -go when in affliction for a word of consolation, or even just to feel -their presence. We look in and see them, even though we may say nothing -of our troubles. Moved by this instinct, I resolved to look in and see -the Emperor. To get near the Tuileries was a difficult business, and -even to pass the Cent Gardes at the gate, but once inside, things were -easier.</p> - -<p>The Emperor had come to Paris from the Council at Saint Cloud, held the -night before. I do not know whether the Empress accompanied him or not, -but he was in the palace, and the great hall was thronged.</p> - -<p>The excitement of the streets was here, too, though in a more subdued -form. Men were talking and laughing; everyone felt, or seemed to feel, -that some great good fortune was impending. As a matter of fact,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> the -war seemed to promise a "move up" all round. Honour to France, showers -of gold and decorations from those painted skies which Hope rears so -pleasantly above fools, and, above all, change.</p> - -<p>Most of these men were money-changers at heart; corrupt, vicious, ready -to devour, true children of the Second Empire, descendants of the clique -of rogues which manipulated the coup d'état, sent Hugo to exile, and -flung France into the net spread by parasites, financiers, and corrupt -politicians. France with her foot on the neck of Germany seemed to -promise fabulous things to these. They had much, and they wanted more. -They craved for change—and they got it.</p> - -<p>Amidst the crowd, which included some of the greatest names in France, -it seemed hopeless for me to seek an audience. But I knew the place. I -saw the Palace Prefect, Baron Vareigne. He had just shaken himself free -from half a dozen men, and was making off down a corridor when I tacked -myself on to him.</p> - -<p>"See him? Impossible! For a moment?—just to pay your respects? Oh, -well, only for a moment, then. You will be a change from the others. He -just said to me: 'For Heaven's sake, let in no more generals!'"</p> - -<p>And, with a click of a door-handle, there he was before me, seated in -full uniform, which did not seem to fit him, the eternal cigarette -smouldering between his lips, just the same old gentleman who had -received my guardian and me so courteously that day; just the same -useless, shuffling manner, the nasal voice, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> half-closed eyes, -crafty yet kindly—rising to meet me with a little, subdued laugh, half -cynical, as though thanking God I were not another general. He bade me -be seated, and told me he was not in a hurry, but being hurried, and -looked over some papers that Vareigne handed him, and said: "Yes, yes," -and flicked some cigarette-ash off his trousers. He talked to me for a -few minutes, asking after the Vicomte de Chatellan, and then dismissed -me, pushing me out of the cabinet with a kindly hand on my shoulder, and -a kindly wish to see me again—après.</p> - -<p>This was the true Napoleon, the man kind to all, the injudicious man who -made those unfortunate children half drunk at the children's party at -Biarritz, the man who loved his little son so well, the man who would -put a fistful of gold in a poor man's pocket, just because it was a poor -man's pocket: I say, this was the true Napoleon. For what shall you -measure a man by, when all is said and done, if not by his heart? Ah! -how I would have loved that man if he had been my father!</p> - -<p>When I left the Tuileries I remembered the fact that I had not eaten -since morning. I went to a café and dined after a fashion. I returned -home late; and as I entered the hall the servant who took my hat, said: -"A lady called an hour ago to see monsieur."</p> - -<p>"A lady to see me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur. I told her that you had gone to Etiolles, to the -Pavilion of Saluce, and she ordered her coachman to drive there."</p> - -<p>I remember, now, that when I started to see <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>Franzius and Eloise off at -the station I had said to the servant that I might go to Saluce, and if -I did not return I would be there.</p> - -<p>"What was she like?"</p> - -<p>"Madame was quite young, tall, dark, and—very beautiful."</p> - -<p>"Good God!" I said. "<i>Why</i> did I not return an hour sooner! Quick! Send -me Joubert!"</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXIX</span> <span class="smaller">NIGHT</span></h2> - -<p>Joubert found me in the dining-room.</p> - -<p>"Joubert," I shouted, "the swiftest horses—quick!—and a carriage to -take me to Etiolles! You will drive me."</p> - -<p>Joubert glanced at me and left the room like a flash.</p> - -<p>I walked up and down. She had been here an hour ago—here an hour -ago—and I had been walking the streets unconscious of the fact! The war -which had threatened to destroy my last hope had brought her, perhaps, -to my door, and I had been dining at a café! I had come slowly home -through the streets, and she was here waiting for me! Was she leaving -France? Was Etiolles but a stage on the journey? And if she found that I -was not there, what would she do? Would she return, or—go on?</p> - -<p>I sprang to the bell and rang it violently.</p> - -<p>"The horses! The horses!" I cried. "God in heaven! are they never -coming?"</p> - -<p>"The horses are at the door, monsieur."</p> - -<p>I rushed out, seized my hat, which the man handed me; he opened the -door, and there stood a closed carriage; two powerful greys were -harnessed to it, and Joubert was on the box.</p> - -<p>"Joubert," I said, "drive as you never have driven before. My life is in -your hands!" Then we started.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p><p>And now, as if called up by nightmare, the crowd in the streets, which -I had forgotten, impeded our progress. The Rue St. Honoré was like a -fair. As, sitting in the carriage, that was compelled to go at a walking -pace, I looked out of the window at the senseless illuminations, the -brutal or foolish faces, I could have welcomed at once a German army -that would have swept a clear path for me.</p> - -<p>We passed the gates of Paris without hindrance, and then down a long -street lined with houses. It was after ten o'clock now, but these -houses, in which dwelt poor folk, were ablaze from basement to garret.</p> - -<p>The good news of the war had spread itself here; the great national -rejoicing had found an echo even in this street, where men slept sound -as a rule, as men sleep who have passed the day labouring in a factory.</p> - -<p>The horses had now settled into a swinging trot. Half a dozen times I -lowered the window to urge Joubert, but I refrained. There was still -twenty miles before us. If one of our horses broke down, it was highly -improbable that we could get another.</p> - -<p>The houses broke up, and became replaced by trees; market-gardens lay on -either side of the way. Looking back, I could see Paris. Not the city, -but the furnace glare that its gas-lit streets and cafés cast on the -sky. We passed forts, huge black shadows marked in the darkness by the -glitter of a sentry's bayonet or the swinging lantern of a patrol. We -passed down the long street of Charenton, and then the wheels of the -carriage rumbled on the bridge that crosses the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> river, and we were in -the true country, with great spaces of gloom marking the fields, and -marked here and there with the dim, patient light of a farmhouse window -or the firefly dance of a shepherd's lantern.</p> - -<p>Up till now I had watched intently the passing objects: the houses, -stray people, and lights; but now there was nothing to watch but dim -shapes and vague shadows. Up to this I had controlled thought, forcing -myself to wait without thinking for the event, but now, alone in the -midst of night, with nothing to tell of the surrounding world but the -rumble of the carriage wheels and the beat of the horse-hoofs on the -road, thought assumed dominance, and would not be driven away. Nay, it -returned with a suggestion that froze my heart.</p> - -<p>"If she has gone to the Pavilion, she will leave her carriage in the -Avenue and go there on foot—she will cross the drawbridge. Ah, yes; the -drawbridge! Well, suppose that the drawbridge is up! God in heaven! will -she see it?"</p> - -<p>It froze my heart.</p> - -<p>What time would Madame Ancelot retire, and would she raise the -drawbridge?</p> - -<p>I knew very well that the drawbridge was always raised, last thing at -night: the tramp-infested forest made this necessary. And I knew very -well that Madame Ancelot was in the habit of retiring at nine o'clock. -Still, to-night was a night in a thousand. Old Fauchard had, without -doubt, dropped into the Pavilion to talk about the great news of the -war.</p> - -<p>I put my head out of the window.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p><p>"Quicker, Joubert!"</p> - -<p>"Oui, oui," came his voice, followed by the sound of the whip. The night -air struck me in the face like a cold hand; and, looking back, I could -still see the light of Paris reflected from the sky, paler now and more -contracted in the vast and gloomy circle of night.</p> - -<p>It was cloudy over Paris, but the clouds were breaking, and the piercing -light of a star, here and there, shone through the rents. The moon was -rising, too, and her light touched the clouds.</p> - -<p>Ah! this must be Villeneuve St. Georges, this long street to which the -trees and hedgerows have given place.</p> - -<p>I know the road to Etiolles well, but to-night it all seemed changed.</p> - -<p>We passed hamlets and villages, and now at last we were nearing -Etiolles. I could tell it by the big houses on either side of the road, -houses with walled-in gardens and grass lawns, where young ladies played -croquet in the long summer afternoons, so that a person on the road -could hear the click of the balls and the laughter of the players. The -moon had fully risen now, casting her light on the houses, the walls, -the vineyards rolling towards the river, the trees and shrubs.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, as though an adamantine door had been flung across the road -barring our way the carriage stopped; one of the horses had fallen as if -felled by an axe. The pole was broken. Joubert was on his knees by the -head of the fallen horse, dark blood was streaming from its nostrils in -the vague moonlight that was now touching the white road.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p><p>Inexorable Fate.</p> - -<p>We were two miles from the château gates, but across the fields and -through the forest of Senart there away straight as the crow dies to the -Pavilion.</p> - -<p>I do not remember leaving Joubert; suddenly the fields were around me -and I was running. My mind driven to madness had matched itself against -fate. "I will conquer you," it cried. "No dead fate shall oppose my -living will. Let the past be gone. I have sinned, but I have suffered. -If she is dead I will fling myself after her and seize her soul in my -arms forever."</p> - -<p>"You are mine—living or dead, you are mine."</p> - -<p>I must have shouted the words as I ran for I heard the words ringing in -my ears. Then fell on me as I ran Delirium, or was it the past.</p> - -<p>I was in the forest now, the vague light was filled with shapes. A form -sprang at me, it was Von Lichtenberg. I struck at it and passed on.</p> - -<p>The iron man of the bell tower struck at me with his hammer, I seized -him and he turned to mist.</p> - -<p>And now a form was running beside me trying to hold me back, it was -Gretel, she tripped me up with her foot. I fell, she vanished and her -foot turned to the root of a tree. And the tree turned to Vogel.</p> - -<p>He passed me as I ran outstripping him, and from the darkness before me -now broke a form, it was little Carl.</p> - -<p>We were in the forest of Lichtenberg, the lake before us. I cried to him -to stop. For only answer came the splash of the water, the cry of a -child—the gasping of a person drowning in the dark.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p><p>Death lay in the water. I plunged to meet him and seized a struggling -form.</p> - -<p>But the form was not the form of Death, but the form of a woman living -and sweet.</p> - -<p>A moment later and I would have missed by all eternity the love that had -been waiting for me since the beginning of Time.</p> - -<p>Fate is strong, but the will of man is stronger.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XL</span> <span class="smaller">THE SPIRIT OF EARTH</span></h2> - -<p>All that winter from the passing of the investing army to the time when -the siege guns began to shake earth and sky with their ceaseless roar -and from then to the spring, we remained at the Pavilion, Joubert and I, -unhindered, almost unvisited by the enemy. The Château drew them off. We -had left the doors open to prevent them from being broken in; perhaps it -was for this reason that so little mischief was done by the troops that -quartered themselves there.</p> - -<p>The coincidence of Winter and War, the leafless trees, the eternal -roaring of Paris like a tiger at bay, the darkness and death in my -heart, all these are in my life away back there, forming a picture or -rather a dark mirror, reflecting the forms of Despair, Apathy and Ruin, -just as the dark water of the moat reflects the fern fronds of the bank -and the dark green plumage of those pine-trees.</p> - -<p>Nothing could ever come right in the world again. The gloomy skies, -shaken winter long by the cannon said that, and the woods, leafless and -sad and sombre, where the squirrels and the hundred other wood creatures -seemed banished for ever with the birds. So the winter passed, till one -day—I had not been in the woods for a week—one day, following a path -near the round pond I came across a troop of ghosts; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>violets growing -right before me on the path side; and to the left amidst the trees, -gem-like blue, and dim amidst the brown last autumn leaves—violets. Led -by a few days' warmth a million violets had invaded the old forest, -grouped themselves amidst the trees and along the paths, heedless of -Death or the Prussians.</p> - -<p>Even as I looked a breath of wind bent the tree branches like a warm -hand, showing a patch of blue sky above and casting a ray of sunshine on -the blue flowers below. The Drums of War, the trampling of armies at -grip with one another, proclamations, treaties, the pageantry of -victory, the sorrows of defeat, all in a moment were banished before -that touch of spring and the vision of these lovely and immortal -flowers.</p> - -<p>Since then I have seen them growing amidst the ruins of Mycenae, in -Vallombrosa, at the tomb of Virgil; poets, lovers, warriors, and kings, -wherever sun may light or spring may touch their tombs, call to us again -through the blue violets of spring, but never have these flowers of God -brought the past to man so freshly, so strangely or with such poignancy -as they brought it to me there, growing absolutely in the footsteps of -Ruin, yet unruined and with not a dewdrop brushed from their leaves.</p> - -<p>Ah, yes, there are times when the commonest man becomes a poet, as on -that day when dreaming of the death of a woman and the dragon of war, I -found spring hiding in the forest of Sénart just like some enchanting -ghost of long ago, half-child, half-woman,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> and answering to my unspoken -question, "War, Death, I have not seen them—I do not know whom you -mean; they passed, mayhap, when I was asleep. Monsieur, do you not -admire my violets?"</p> - -<p>The sublime and heavenly cynicism of that artless question, the question -itself, these combined to form the germs of a philosophy which has clung -to me since then, a philosophy which, combined with love, has slain in -me the remains of what was once Philippe de Saluce.</p> - -<p>Then day by day and week by week the forest, the fields, the hills, -became slowly overspread with the quiet, assured and triumphant beauty -of spring. Just as long ago, I fancied that I could hear the forest -awakening from sleep, so now I fancied I could hear the world awakening -from war and night. Communards might fight in Paris, kings and captains -assemble at Versailles, Alsace might go or Alsace might remain, what was -all that toy and trumpery business to the great business of Life, to the -preparation of the blossom, the building of the butterflies in the -aerial shipyards, the letting slip of the dragon-fly on his dazzling -voyage? What a hubbub they were making in the Courts of Europe as Von -der Tann's army, the King of Saxony's army, all those other triumphant -armies turned from Paris with bugles blowing, drums beating, and colours -flying, laden with tumbrils of gold and the spoils of war!</p> - -<p>"France will never arise again!" said the drums and the bugles, "never -again," echoed Europe. "Ah, wait," said spring.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p><p>Behind the veils of sunshine and April rain, heedless of Von der Tann's -drums or the Saxon bugles, or the vanquished men or the vanquished -treasure; viewless and unvanquished, the Spirit of Earth was preparing -the future for a new and more beautiful France. Each bee passing from -blossom to blossom that spring was labouring for the greater France of -the future, each acorn forming in its cup, each wheat grain sprouting in -the dark, each grape globing in the vineyards of the Côte d'Or; each and -all were labouring for the motherland, to fill again her granaries and -her treasure house. Folly had brought her under the knee of Force; -drained of blood, half dying, wholly vanquished; in tears, in madness, -in despair, she lay forsaken by all the Olympians but Demeter.</p> - -<p>Had I but known, those first violets in the forest of Sénart held in -their beauty all the future splendour and beauty of the New France.</p> - -<p>In my life I have seen many a wonderful thing, but my memory carries -with it nothing more miraculous than those flowers of promise seen as I -saw them in the forest of Despair.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> - -<h2>ENVOI</h2> - -<p>I am writing these lines in the rose garden of Saluce, ghostly, even on -this warm June day, with the memories and the pictures and the perfumes -of the past. How good summer is to the old! And how much kinder even -than summer is love.</p> - -<p>Down the garden path towards me is coming the form of a woman. Once long -ago with the romantic extravagance of youth I pictured this garden, -haunted by the forms of lovely women long dead; but not one of those -forms was as romantic as this living woman, coming towards me between -the bushes of the amber and crimson roses.</p> - -<p>How slowly she walks, and, see, she stops now and hesitates—ah, now, -she has seen me, and she smiles. Age has not touched her sight, yet she -is blind—for she is the only person in the world who cannot see that my -hands are tremulous and that my hair is grey.</p> - -<p> </p> -<hr /> -<p> </p> - -<div class = "mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:<br /><br /> -Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.<br /></p></div> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRUMS OF WAR***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 55148-h.htm or 55148-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/5/1/4/55148">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/4/55148</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -</body> -</html> - diff --git a/old/55148-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/55148-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6b989ef..0000000 --- a/old/55148-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/55148.txt b/old/55148.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 13f2f17..0000000 --- a/old/55148.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9286 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Drums of War, by H. De Vere (Henry De -Vere) Stacpoole - - -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: The Drums of War - - -Author: H. De Vere (Henry De Vere) Stacpoole - - - -Release Date: July 18, 2017 [eBook #55148] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRUMS OF WAR*** - - -E-text prepared by Roger Frank, Martin Pettit, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made -available by the Google Books Library Project (https://books.google.com) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - the Google Books Library Project. See - https://books.google.com/books?id=zJgnAAAAMAAJ&hl=en - - - - - -THE DRUMS OF WAR - -by - -H. DE VERE STACPOOLE - -Author of "The Blue Lagoon," "Garryowen," -"The Pools of Silence," etc. - - - - - - -[Illustration: Logo] - -New York -Duffield & Company -1910 - -Copyright, 1910, by -Duffield & Company - -The Premier Press -New York - - - - -CONTENTS - - -PART I - -CHAPTER PAGE - I. THE ROAD TO FRANKFORT 1 - - II. VON LICHTENBERG 6 - - III. "I HAVE BEEN HERE BEFORE" 14 - - IV. ELOISE 18 - - V. I SEE MYSELF, NOT KNOWING 24 - - VI. LITTLE CARL 31 - - VII. THE MAN IN ARMOUR 37 - - VIII. THE HUNTING-SONG 41 - - IX. THE FAIRY TALE 46 - - X. THE DEATH OF VOGEL 57 - - XI. THE DUEL IN THE WOODS 60 - - XII. WE RETURN HOME 69 - - XIII. I FALL INTO DISGRACE 73 - - XIV. THE RUINED ONES 82 - - XV. THE PAVILION OF SALUCE 89 - - XVI. THE VICOMTE 96 - - -PART II - - XVII. A DEJEUNER AT THE CAFE DE PARIS 103 - - XVIII. MY FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS 113 - - XIX. MY FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS (_Continued_) 121 - - XX. WHEN IT IS MAY 133 - - XXI. "O YOUTH, WHAT A STAR THOU ART!" 138 - - XXII. A POLITICAL RECEPTION 144 - - XXIII. FETE CHAMPETRE 154 - - XXIV. LA PEROUSE 159 - - XXV. FRANZIUS MEETS ELOISE 165 - - XXVI. THE TURRET ROOM 173 - - XXVII. REMORSE 179 - - XXVIII. THE OLD COAT 185 - - XXIX. IN THE SUNK GARDEN 192 - - XXX. THE MARRIAGE OF ELOISE 197 - - -PART III - - XXXI. THE BALL 203 - - XXXII. TRYING TO ESCAPE FROM FATE 212 - - XXXIII. THE OVERTURE TO "UNDINE" 222 - - XXXIV. PREPARING FOR THE DUEL 231 - - XXXV. A LESSON WITH THE FOILS 238 - - XXXVI. THE DUEL 253 - - XXXVII. MARGARET 261 - -XXXVIII. THE DRUMS OF WAR 273 - - XXXIX. NIGHT 287 - - XL. THE SPIRIT OF EARTH 293 - - XLI. ENVOI 297 - - - - -The Drums of War - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE ROAD TO FRANKFORT - - -We had been travelling since morning, three of us--my father, General -Count Mahon, myself, and Joubert--to say nothing of Marengo the -boarhound which followed our carriage. The great old family -travelling-carriage, packed with luggage, wine, and cigars, and drawn by -two stout horses, had been making the dust of Germany fly over the -hedgeless German fields since dawn. It was noon now, and hot. I remember -still the exact feel and smell of the blazing blue cushions as I pressed -my childish cheek against them and felt how hot they were, and the -unfailing pleasure and wonder with which the apple and plum trees -bordering the road filled my soul. Apple trees and plum trees bordering -the road, laden with fruit and unprotected, the snub-nosed German -children we passed on the wayside, seemed to my mind happier than the -inhabitants of Golconda, living in a country like that. - -It was the first of September, 1860. I was only nine then, but I did not -complain of the heat or the dust, or the cramp that inhabited, like a -crab, the old-time travelling-carriage, seizing you now in the back, now -in the leg, now in the spirit. For one thing, I was to be a soldier, -like my father, and wear white moustaches and smoke cigars, and carry a -sword; for another thing, we had been travelling a month, and I was -inured to the business, and, for another thing, I was a Mahon. - -The man beside me, buttoned in a blue frock-coat, adorned with the -ribbon of the Legion of Honour, stout, rubicund of face, opulent, and -magnificent-looking, was, with the exception of my small self, the last -representative of the Mahons of Tullaghmore. - -Napoleon had drawn the Mahons from Ireland to France just as a magnet -attracts steel-filings. My grandfather had seen the burning of Moscow, -and had ridden in the charge of Millhaud's cuirassiers on that fatal -Sunday men call Waterloo Day; and my father, the man beside me in the -blue frock-coat, had adorned the French army with the help of his -splendid personality, his sword, and a few francs a day, till his -marriage with Marie Marquise de Saluce, a woman of marvellous beauty, -great wealth, and the inheritor of the Chateau de Saluce, which is near -Etiolles, but a few miles from Paris. - -It was a love-match pure and simple--one of those fairyland marriages -arranged by love--and she died when I was born. - -My father would have shot himself only for Joubert--Joubert, corporal in -the 121st of the Line, a personage with an angry, withered, sunburnt -face, eyes and moustache like the eyes and moustache of a wrathful cat, -the heart of a child, and the figure and perfume of a ramrod. - -The sense of smell plays a large part in the lives of children, and -conjures up visions with a tremendous potency, lost as the child -deteriorates into a man. - -Joubert smelt of gunpowder. Probably it was only the Caporal which he -smoked, but to my mind it was the true smell of the Grand Army. - -Sitting on Joubert's knee and listening to tales of battle, and sniffing -him at the same time, I could see the Mamelukes charging, backgrounded -by the Pyramids; I could hear the thunder of Marengo, the roar of the -cannons, and the drums of war leading the Grand Army over the highways -of Europe. - -Echoes from the time before I was born. - -What a splendid nurse for a child an old soldier makes if he is of the -right sort! Joubert was my nurse and my picture-book. - -A drummer of fifteen, he had beaten the charge for the "Growlers" at -Waterloo, when the 121st of the Line, shoal upon shoal of bayonets, had -stormed La Haye Sainte. He had received a bullet in the shoulder during -that same charge; he had killed an Englishman; but all that seemed -little compared with the fact that--HE HAD SEEN NAPOLEON! - -Joubert was driving us. - -We were bound for the Schloss Lichtenberg, not far from Homburg, on a -visit to Baron Carl Lichtenberg, a relation of my mother. Of course, we -could have travelled by more rapid means of transport, but it suited the -humour of my father to travel just as he did in his own carriage, driven -by his own man, with all his luggage about him, after the fashion of a -nobleman of the year 1810. - -We had stopped at Carlsruhe, we had stopped at Mayence, we had stopped -here and there. How that journey lies like a living and lovely picture -in my mind! Time has blown away the dust. I do not feel the fatigue now. -The vast blue sky of a continental summer, the poplar trees, the fields, -the storks' nests, the old-time inns, Carlsruhe and its military bands, -Mayence and its drums and marching soldiers, the vivid blue of the -Rhine, and the courtyards and pleasaunces of the lordly houses we -stopped at, lie before me, a picture made poetical by distance, a -picture which stands as the beginning of my life and the beginning of -this story of war and love. - -Joubert was driving us. - -"Joubert," cried my father, "we are near Frankfort now. Remember, the -Hotel des Hollandaise." - -Joubert, who had been speechless for miles, flung up his elbows just as -a duck flings up her wings, he gave the horses a cut with the whip, and -then he burst out: - -"Frankfort. Ah, yes! Frankfort. Do you think I can't smell it? I can -smell a German town a league away, just as I can see a German woman a -league away, by the size of her feet. Ah, mon Dieu! Come up, Caesare; -come up, Polastron. My God! Frankfort!" - -At a hotel, before strangers, in any public place, it was always "Oui, -mon General," "Oui, monsieur"; but alone, with no one to listen, Joubert -talked to the General just as the General talked to Joubert. An -extraordinary and solid friendship cemented the relationship of master -and man ever since that terrible day in the library of the Chateau de -Saluce, when Joubert had torn the pistol from the hand of his master, -flung it through the glass of the great window, and, turning from a paid -servant into a man tremendous and heroic, had wrestled with him as the -angel wrestled with Jacob. - -We passed through the suburbs of the town, and then through the Ghetto. -You never can imagine how much colour is in dirt till you see the Jews' -quarter of Frankfort--how much poetry, and also, how much perfume! - -Joubert, who could not speak a word of the Hogs' language--as he was -pleased to style the language of Germany--drove on, piercing the narrow -streets to the heart of the town, and in the Kaisserstrasse he drew up. -The General inquired the way of a policeman, and in five minutes or less -we were before the doors of the Hotel des Hollandaise. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -VON LICHTENBERG - - -The Hotel des Hollandaise was situated, I believe, in the -Wilhelmstrasse, an old-fashioned inn with a courtyard. It has long -vanished, giving place to a more modern building. - -Nowadays, when the Continent is inundated with travellers, when you are -received at a great hotel with about as much consideration as a pauper -is received at a workhouse, it is hard to imagine the old conditions of -travel. - -Weigand, the proprietor of the Hotel des Hollandaise, received us in -person, backed by half a dozen waiters, all happy and smiling. They had -the art of seeming to have known us for years; the luggage was removed -as tenderly as though it were packed with Sevres, and, led by the host, -we were conducted to our rooms, a suite on the first floor. - -When Marie Antoinette came to France, at the first halting-place beyond -the frontier she slept in a room whose tapestry represented the Massacre -of the Innocents. - -Our sitting-room in the Hotel des Hollandaise, a large room, had upon -its walls the Siege of Troy, not in tapestry, but wall-paper. On this -day, when the seeds of my future life were sown, it was a coincidence, -strange enough, this villainous wall-decoration, with its tale of war, -ruin, and love. - -Whilst my father was writing letters, I, active and inquisitive as a -terrier, explored the suite, examined the town from the balcony of the -sitting-room, and, finding the prospect unexciting, proceeded to the -examination of the hotel. - -A balcony surrounded the large central courtyard, where people were -seated at tables, some smoking, some drinking beer from tall mugs with -lids to them. Waiters passed to and fro; it was delightful to watch, -delightful to speculate and weave romances about the unromantical -drinkers--Jews, travellers, and traders; foreign to my eyes as the -denizens of a bazaar in Samarcand. - -Now casting my eyes up, and led by the spirit that makes children see -what is not intended for them, I saw, at a door in the gallery opposite -to me, Joubert, who had just been superintending the stabling of the -horses. He was coming on to the gallery from the staircase. A fat, ugly, -German maidservant was passing him, and he--just as another person would -say "Good-day!"--slipped his arm round her waist and kissed her, made a -grimace, and passed on round the gallery towards me. - -"Why do you kiss them if you say their feet are so large, Joubert?" I -asked, recalling his strictures on German females. - -"Ma foi!" replied Joubert--"one does not kiss their feet." - -He leaned with me over the balcony watching the scene below. - -The hatred of Germans which filled the breast of Joubert was a hatred -based on the firm foundation of Bluecher. Joubert did not hate the -English. This "cur of a Bluecher," who turned up on Waterloo Day to reap -the harvest of other men's work, gave him all the food for hatred he -required. - -"Joubert," said I, "do you see that man with the big stomach and -watchchain sitting there--the one with a cigar?" - -"Mais, oui!" replied Joubert. "I know him well." - -"What is he, Joubert?" - -"He? His name is Bambabouff; he lives just beyond there, in a street to -the right as you go out, and he sells sausages. And see you, beside -him--yes, he, that German rat--with the ring on his first finger. His -name is Squintz, he sells Bambabouff the dogs and cats of which he makes -his sausages. Ah, yes; if German sausages could bark and mew, you could -not hear yourself speak in Frankfort. And he--look you over -there!--sitting at the table behind Bambabouff, with the mug of beer to -his lips, he is Monsieur Saurkraut." - -"And what does he do, Joubert?" - -Before Joubert could answer, a man entered the hall, a dark man, just -off the road, to judge by his travelling costume, and with a face the -picture of which is stamped on my mind, an impression never to be -removed. - -"Ah, ha!" said Joubert. "Here comes the Marquis de Carabas. Hats -off--hats off, gentlemen, to the Marquis de Carabas!" - -Now, Bambabouff did look exactly like a person who might have made a -fortune out of sausages, for Joubert had the art of hitting a person -off, caricaturing him in a few words. Squintz's personality was -humorously in keeping with his supposed business in life. And the -new-comer--well, "the Marquis de Carabas" was his portrait in four -words. Tall, stately, a nobleman a league off; handsome enough, with a -dark, saturnine face, and a piercing eye that seemed at times to -contemplate things far beyond the world we live in. The face of a -mystic. - -Weigand, washing his hands with invisible soap, accompanied this -gentleman, half walking beside him, half leading the way. They had -reached the centre of the hall when the stranger looked up and saw my -small face and Joubert's cat-like physiognomy regarding him over the -balustrade of the gallery. - -He started, stopped dead, and stared at me. Had he seen a ghost he could -not have come to a sharper pause, or have expressed more astonishment -without speech. - -Then, with a word to the landlord, who also looked up, he passed on, and -we lost sight of him under the gallery. - -"Ma foi!" said Joubert. "The Marquis de Carabas seems to know us, then." - -"Joubert," said I, "that man knows me, and I'm-m-m----" "Afraid" was the -word, but I did not say it, for I was a Mahon, with the family -traditions to keep up. - -"Know you?" cried Joubert, becoming serious. "Why, where did you ever -see him before?" - -"Nowhere." - -Before Joubert could speak again Weigand appeared on the gallery. - -"His Excellency the Baron Carl von Lichtenberg, to see his Excellency -Count Mahon!" cried Weigand. "The Baron, hearing of his Excellency's -arrival, has driven over from the Schloss Lichtenberg to present his -respects in person. The Baron waits in the salon his Excellency's -convenience." - -Joubert took the card which Weigand presented, went to our sitting-room -door, knocked, and entered. - -I heard my father's voice. "Aha, the Baron! He must have got my letter -from Mayence. Show him up." - -Then I knew that the Marquis de Carabas was our relation Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg, the man at whose house we were to stop. A momentary and -inexplicable terror filled my soul, and was banished, giving place to a -deep curiosity. - -Then I heard steps on the gallery, and the Baron, led by the innkeeper, -made his appearance, and, without looking in my direction, entered the -sitting-room where my father was. - -I heard their greeting, then the door was shut. - -Waiters came up with wine. I leaned on the railing, wondering what my -father and the stranger were conversing about, and watching the people -in the courtyard below. Bambabouff and his supposed partner had entered -into an argument that seemed to threaten blows, and I had almost -forgotten the Baron and my fear of him, watching the proceedings below, -when the sitting-room door opened and my father cried: "Patrick!" - -He beckoned me into the room. A haze of cigar-smoke hung in the air, and -by the table, on which stood glasses and decanters, sat Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg, leaning sideways in his chair, his legs crossed, his arms -folded, his dark countenance somewhat drooped, as though he were in -meditation. - -"This is Patrick," said my father. "Patrick, this is our relation and -friend the Baron Carl von Lichtenberg." - -I had been taught to salute my elders and superiors in the military -style; my dress was the uniform of the French school-boy. I brought my -feet together, and, stiff as a ramrod, made the salute. The Baron, with -a half-laugh, returned it, sitting straight up in his chair to do so. - -Having returned my salute, and spoken a few words, the Baron resumed his -conversation with my father; and I, with the apparent heedlessness of -childhood, played with Marengo, our boarhound, on the hearthrug before -the big fireplace. - -I say the apparent heedlessness of childhood. There are few things so -deep as the subterfuge of a child. Whilst playing with the dog and -pulling his ears, I was listening intently; not a word of the -conversation was missed by me. They were talking mostly about the -Emperor of the French, a close friend of my father's. He was just then -at Biarritz, with the Empress; and the conversation, which included the -names of De Morny and half a dozen others, would have been interesting, -no doubt, to a diplomat. As I listened, I could tell that the Baron was -sustaining the conversation, despite the fact that his thoughts were -fixed elsewhere. I could tell that his thoughts were fixed on me; that -he was watching me intently, yet furtively, and I knew in some -mysterious manner that this man feared me. - -Feared me, a child of nine! - -I read it partly in his expression, partly in his furtive manner. He had -seemed to dismiss me from his mind after our introduction; yet no man -ever watched another with more furtive and brooding attention than the -Baron Carl von Lichtenberg as he sat watching me. - -"Well," said the Baron, rising to go, "to-morrow, we will expect you in -the afternoon. Till then, farewell." - -He saluted me as he left the room in the same forced, half-jocular -manner with which he had returned my salute when I entered. - -Then he was gone, and I was playing again with Marengo on the hearthrug, -and my father, cigar in mouth, had returned to the letters he had been -engaged on when the Baron was announced. - -"Joubert," said I, as he tucked me up in my bed that night, "I wish we -were home again. Joubert, I don't like the Marquis de Carabas." - -Joubert grunted. His opinion of the Marquis was the same as mine, -evidently, but be was too much of a nursery despot to admit the fact. -"Attention!" cried he, holding the candle-stick in one hand, and the -finger and thumb of the other ready to extinguish the light. -"Attention!" cried Joubert, as though he were addressing a company of -the "Growlers." "One!" I nestled down in bed. "Two!" I shut my eyes. -"Three!" he snuffed out the candle. - -That was the formula every night ere I marched off for dreamland with my -knapsack on my back, a soldier to the last buttons on my gaiters. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -"I HAVE BEEN HERE BEFORE." - - -I was awakened by the sound of a band, and the tramp, tramp, tramp of a -regiment of soldiers--solid, rhythmical and earthshaking as the -footsteps of the Statue of the Commander. - -A regiment of infantry was passing in the street below. - -At Carlsruhe, at Mayence, I had heard the same sounds, and even my -childish mind could recognise the perfect drill, the perfect discipline, -the solidarity of these legions of the German army. - -The sun was shining in through the window which Joubert had just flung -open; the band was playing, the soldiers marching, life was gay. - -"Attention!" cried Joubert, turning from the window. "One!" up I sat. -"Two!" out went a leg. "Three!" I was standing on the floor saluting. - -I declare, if anyone had put his ear to the door of my bedroom when I -was dressing, or rather, being dressed, in the morning, they might have -sworn that a company of soldiers were drilling. - -Mixed with the slashing of water and the gasps of a child being bathed -came Joubert's military commands; the putting on of my small trousers -was accompanied by shrill directions taken from the drill-book, and the -full-dress inspection would have satisfied the fastidious soul of -Marechal Niel. - -After breakfast the carriage was brought to the door, the baggage -stowed, and, Joubert, taking the directions from my father, we started -for the Schloss Lichtenberg as the clocks of Frankfort were striking -eleven. - -No warmer or more beautiful autumn morning ever cast its light on -Germany. By permission of the German Foreign Office, we had a complete -set of road-maps, with our route laid down in red ink, each numbered, -and each to be returned to the German Embassy in Paris on the conclusion -of our tour. - -We did not hurry--time was our own; we stopped sometimes at posthouses, -with porches vine-overgrown, where I had plums, Joubert had beer, and my -father chatted to the country people, who crowded round our carriage, -and the stout innkeepers who served us. - -The Taunus Mountains, blue in the warm haze of distance, beautiful with -the magic of their pine forests, lay before us. At two o'clock we passed -up the steep, cobble-paved main street of Homburg--a smaller Homburg -then--and at three we had left the tiny village of Emsdorff and its -schloss behind us. - -We were in a different country here, the mountains were very close, and -the road threaded the edges of the great forest. I knew the Forest of -Senart, which lies quite close to the Chateau de Saluce, but the Forest -of Senart was tame as a flower-garden compared with this. The air was -filled with the perfume and the singing and sighing of the great pine -trees, the carriage went almost without sound over the carpet of -pine-needles, and once, in the deepest part, where all was green gloom -and dancing points of light, my father called a halt and we sat for a -moment to listen. - -You could hear the leagues of silence, and then, like the rustling of a -lady's skirt, came the wind sighing across the tree-tops and loudening -to the patter of falling fir-cones, and dying away again and leaving the -silence to herself. The bark of a fox, the far-off cry of a jay, -instantly peopled the place for my childish mind with the people of -Grimm and Hoffmann, Father Barbel, the beasts that talked, and the -robbers of the forest, more mysterious and fascinating than gnomes. - -"Listen!" said my father. Mournful, faint, and far away came the notes -of a horn. - -"They are hunting in the forest," said my father; and, at the words, I -could see in the gloom of the tree-caverns the phantom of the flying -game pursued by the phantom of the ghostly huntsman, bugle to lips and -cheeks puffed out, a picture in the fantastic tapestry that children -weave from the colours and the sounds of life. - -Then we drove on. - -It was long past four, and I was drowsy with the fresh air, half drugged -with the odour of the pine trees, when we reached the gates of the park -surrounding the schloss. - -They were opened for us by a jaeger, an old man in a green uniform, who -saluted as we passed. Joubert whipping up the horses, we passed along -the great avenue of elm trees. The park, under the late afternoon sun, -lay swathed in light, beautiful and so spacious that the far-off deer -browsing in the sunshine seemed the denizens of their natural home. - -I was not drowsy now, I was sitting erect by my father, my heart was -filled with the wildest exaltation--mystery and enchantment surrounded -me. I could have cried aloud with the wonder of it all; for I had been -here before. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -ELOISE - - -"You have been here before?" Who does not know that mysterious greeting -with which, when we turn the corner of some road, the prospect meets us? - -Only a few years ago Charcot assured me that this strange sensation of -the mind is a result of inequality in the rhythm of thought, a -mechanical accident affecting one side of the brain. I accepted his -explanation with a smile. - -Seated now by my father as we dashed along the broad avenue, my heart -was on fire. I knew that at the turning just before us, the turning -where the avenue bent upon itself, the house would burst upon us in full -view. Unable to contain myself, scarce knowing what I did, I jumped on -the front seat, and, standing, holding on to Joubert's coat, I waited. - -The carriage turned the corner of the drive, the house broke into view, -and my dream vanished. - -It was like being recalled to consciousness from some happy vision by a -blow in the face. - -I could not in the least tell what sort of house it was that I expected -to see, but I could tell that the house before me was not--it. - -Vast and grey and formal, the Schloss Lichtenberg stood back-grounded by -waving pine-trees; above it, coiling to the wind, the flag of Prussia, -proclaiming that the king was a guest, floated in the evening sunshine. -Before the huge porch, trampling the gravel, the horses of a hunting -party were reined in; the hunters were dismounting. They had been -hawking; and on the gloved wrists of the green-coated jaegers the hooded -falcons shook their little bells. - -"The King is here!" said my father, when he saw the flag. - -The horses of the hunters were being led away, and most of the party had -disappeared into the house when we drew up before the door. - -Only two people stood to greet us on the steps, Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg and a man--a great man, with a dominating face, and hooded -eyes that never wavered, never lowered, eyes direct, far-seeing, and -fearless as the eyes of an eagle. - -I was in a terrible fright. Those words, "The King is here," had thrown -me in consternation. Though my father was a close friend of Napoleon, I -had never been brought into contact, as yet, with that enigmatical -person. I knew nothing of courts; and the idea that I was to sleep under -the same roof as the King of Prussia, and be spoken to by him, perhaps, -filled my imaginative mind with such a panic that I quite forgot my -ghostly dread of Baron von Lichtenberg. - -I thought the big man with the strange eyes was the King. He was not the -King. He was Bismarck. - -Bismarck! Good heavens! How little we know of a man till we have seen -him in his everyday mood! Bismarck slapped my father on the back--he had -all the good-humour and boisterous manner of a great schoolboy--as he -accompanied us up the steps. He had met my father several times before, -and liked him, as everyone liked him. And in the vast hall of the -schloss, hung with trophies of the battle and the chase, I stood by, -forgotten, whilst my father, in the midst of a group of gentlemen, stood -talking to the boisterous great man, whose hard voice and tremendous -personality dominated the scene. - -I have said that Bismarck's voice was hard. It was, but it was not a -mean or commonplace voice; it was as full of force as the man, and you -never forgot it, once you heard it. - -A large party of guests were at the schloss; and I, standing alone, felt -very much alone indeed--shy, and filled with fear of the King. I was -standing like this, when from the door of a great room opening upon the -hall came a little figure skipping. - -Gay as a beam of sunshine, she came into the vast and gloomy hall. She -wore a blue scarf, white dress, frilled pantalettes, and shoes with -crossed straps over her tiny insteps. - -She glanced at me as she passed, making straight for Bismarck, whose -coat she plucked at. - -"Another time--another time!" growled he, letting drop a hand for the -sunbeam to play with whilst he continued his conversation with the -others. But I noticed that, despite his hardness and seeming -indifference, the big hand, with the seal-ring on the little finger, -caressed the child's hand; but she wanted more than this. Swinging -around, still clasping his hand, but pouting, and with a finger to her -lips, her eyes rested on me. - -I had forgotten the King now; a flood of bashfulness overwhelmed me, -and, as I stood there holding my kepi in one hand, I, mesmerised by the -figure in pantalettes before me, made a stiff little bow. Dropping -Bismarck's hand, she made a little curtsey, and came skipping to me -across the shining floor. - -"And you, too, are a soldier?" said she, speaking in French. "Bon jour, -M. l'Officier!" - -"Bon jour, mademoiselle!" - -"My name is Eloise," said the apparition of light. "Do you like my -dress?" - -"Oui, mademoiselle!" - -She pursed her lips. "Oui, mademoiselle? Oh, how dull you are! Now, if I -wert thou, and thou wert I, know you what I would have said?" - -"Non, mademoiselle." - -"Non, mademoiselle! Oh, how droll you are. I would have said: -'Mademoiselle, your toilet is ravishing!' Now say it." - -"Mademoiselle, your toilet is ravishing." - -She laughed with pleasure at having made me repeat the words. Despite -her conversation, she had no touch of the old-fashioned, or the pert, or -the objectionable about her. Brimming over with life, pure from its -source, fresh as a daisy, sparkling as a dewdrop, sweetness was written -upon her brow, across that ineffable mark of purity with which God -stamps His future angels. - -"And your name?" said she. - -"Patrick," I replied. - -"Pawthrick," said she, trying to put her small mouth round the word. "I -cannot say it. I will call you Toto. Come with me," leading me by the -sleeve, "and I will introduce you to my mother. She is here"--drawing -towards the door of the room from whence she had come--"in here. Do you -know why I call you Toto?" - -"Non, mademoiselle." - -"He was my rabbit, and he died," said Eloise, as we entered a great -salon where several ladies were seated conversing. - -Toward one of these ladies, more beautiful in my eyes than the dawn, -Eloise led me. - -"Maman," said she, "this is Toto." - -The Countess Feliciani, for that was the name of the mother of Eloise, -smiled upon us. I dare say we made a quaint and pretty enough pair. She -was perhaps, thirty--the Countess Feliciana, a woman of Genoa, blue-eyed -and golden-haired, and beautiful--Ah! when a blonde is beautiful, her -beauty transcends the beauty of all brunettes. - -I bowed, she spoke to me, I stammered. She put my awkwardness down to -bashfulness, no doubt, but it was not bashfulness. I was in love with -the Countess Feliciani, stricken to the heart at first sight. - -The love of a child of nine for a beautiful woman of thirty! How absurd -it seems, but how real, and what a mystery! I swear that the love I had -for that woman, love that haunted me for a long, long time, was equal in -strength to the love of a full-grown man, with this difference: that it -was immaterial, and, as far as my conscience tells me, utterly divorced -from earthly passion. - -"Now go and play," said the Countess. And Eloise led me away, I knew not -whither. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -I SEE MYSELF, NOT KNOWING - - -But to the mind of a child the moment is everything. Had I been a man, -my inamorata would have driven me to solitude and cigars. Being what I -was, supper pushed her image to one side for the moment. Such a supper! -Served specially for the pair of us in a little room, once, I suppose, -some lady's boudoir, for the walls were hung with blue silk, and the -ceiling was painted with flowers and cupids. - -"Where is Carl?" asked Eloise of the German woman who served us. - -"Carl has been naughty," replied she. "Carl must remain in his room till -the Baron forgives him." - -This woman, by name Gretel, was tall, angular, and hard of face. I did -not care for her; and I noticed that she watched me from the corners of -her eyes, somewhat in the same manner that the Baron had watched me as I -played on the hearthrug with Marengo in the hotel at Frankfort. - -"Who is Carl?" said I. - -"Carl von Lichtenberg?" replied Eloise. "Why, he is the Baron's son. He -is eight, and he tore my frock this morning right up here." She shifted -in her chair, and plucked up the hem of her tiny skirt to show me the -place. "But it was not for that Carl has been put in prison, for I never -told, did I, Gretel?" - -Gretel grunted. - -"Come," said she, "if you have finished supper you can have half an -hour's play before bed." - -She took the lamp in her hand, and led us from the room down a corridor; -then, opening one side of a tall, double door, she led us into an -immense picture-gallery. - -Portraits of dead-and-gone Lichtenbergs stared at us from the walls. Men -in armour, knights dressed for the chase, ladies whose beauty or -ugliness wore the veil of the centuries. - -"Why, this is the picture-gallery!" cried Eloise. - -"It is the shortest way to the playroom," grimly replied Gretel, as she -stalked before us with the light. - -We followed her, walking hand-in-hand, as the babes in the wood walked -in that grim story, to which the pity of the robins is the sequel. - -Suddenly Gretel halted. She stood lamp in hand before a picture. - -"Ah, Toto!" cried Eloise. - -I had seized her arm, I suppose roughly in my agitation, for the picture -before which Gretel had halted filled me with a sensation I can scarcely -describe. Terror!--yes, it was terror, but something else as well. The -feeling I had experienced in the carriage, the feeling--"I have been -here before"--held my heart. - -It was the picture of a girl in the garb of many, oh, many years ago; -yet I knew her; and out of the past, far out of the past, came that -mysterious terror that filled my soul. - -But for a moment this lasted, and then faded away, and things became -commonplace once more; and Gretel was Gretel, the picture a picture, and -in my hand lay the warm and charming hand of Eloise, which I had taken -again. - -"That is the picture of Margaret von Lichtenberg," said Gretel, looking -at me as she spoke. - -"How like she is to little Carl!" murmured Eloise. "Gretel, how like she -is to little Carl!" - -"And this," said Gretel, holding the lamp to a small canvas under the -large one, "is a picture of an ancestor of yours, little boy, Philippe -de Saluce. He loved her, but it was many years ago. Eloise, come closer; -see, who is this little picture like?" - -"Why, it is Toto!" cried Eloise, clapping her hands. "Toto, look!" - -I looked. It was the picture of a boy, a picture of the Marquis Philippe -de Saluce, taken when he was quite young. - -I looked, but the thing made little impression upon me. Few people can -recognise their likeness in another. - -"Come," said Gretel, and she led us on to the playroom. - -Now, here let me give you the dark and gloomy fact that Philippe de -Saluce had cruelly killed Margaret von Lichtenberg in a fit of madness -and rage. He had drowned her in the lake which lies in the woods of -Schloss Lichtenberg, one dark and sad day of December, in the year of -our Lord 1611. He had slain himself, too, "body and soul," said the old -chronicles. 'Alas, what man can slay his soul or save it from the -punishment of its crimes! - -The playroom was full of toys, evidently Carl's, and we played till -bedtime, Eloise and I. Then I was marched off to the door of my bedroom, -where Joubert was waiting for me. - -A pretty chambermaid scuttled away at my approach. I will say for -Joubert that, judging from my childish recollections, this cat-whiskered -old fire-eater had an attraction for ladies of his own class quite -incommensurate with his age and personal charms. - -My bedroom was a little room opening off my father's. - -When Joubert had tucked me up I fell asleep, and must have slept several -hours, when I was awakened by the sound of voices. - -Joubert was assisting my father to undress. They were talking. - -No man, I think, ever saw Count Mahon drunk. I have seen him myself -consume two bottles of port without turning a hair. They built men -differently in those days. But he was the soul of good-fellowship; and -how much he and Bismarck had consumed together that night the butler of -Schloss Lichtenberg alone knew. - -"Joubert," said my father, "this relation of mine, Baron Lichtenberg, of -the Schloss Lichtenberg, in the province of What-do-you-call-it--put my -coat on that chair--strikes me as being a German, and, more than -that--mark you, Joubert, madness lies in the eyes of a man. I say -nothing, but I am glad the blood of the Lichtenbergs does not run in the -veins of the Mahons." Then, just before he fell asleep, and I could hear -Joubert giving the bedclothes a tuck at his back: "Ireland for ever!" -said my father. Yet he was a Frenchman, a Commander of the Legion of -Honour, a soldier of the Emperor. IN VINO VERITAS! - -Then I fell asleep, and scarcely had sleep touched me than I entered -dreamland. I was in the pine forest, standing just where the carriage -had stopped and where the sound of the distant horn had come to us from -the depths of the trees. I was lost, and someone was calling to me. It -was very dark. - -In this tragic dream, the terror and mystery of which even still haunts -me, I could see nothing save the outlines of the trees dimly visible; -and I followed the voice through the increasing gloom till at last the -darkness complete and absolute ringed me round like an iron band, and I -knew that the trees had ceased to be, and before me lay water. - -A gasping and bubbling sound came from the invisible water, and I knew -that it was the sound of a person drowning. - -Drowning in the dark. - -Then I awoke, and there were people in the room. - -The room was lit by a nightlight dimly burning in a little dish. I, -still possessed by the terror of the dream, lay very quiet. From the -next room came the deep and stertorous breathing of my father. The -people in my room, as though knowing him to be under the influence of -drugs or wine, seemed quite oblivious of his presence so close to them. -Baron Lichtenberg was standing by the foot of my bed; beside him stood -the woman Gretel. They were gazing upon me and talking about me, and I -was chill with terror. - -Peeping under my lids, I could see them, but in the dim light they could -not tell that I was awake as they gazed at me and talked in a -half-whisper. - -"It is horrible," said the man, "but it was prophesied. Look at him. Can -you doubt?" - -"Yes," said the woman; "it is he, as surely as she is Margaret." - -"And you say he recognised her picture?" - -"Surely," replied the woman, "by his face, which I watched narrowly." - -Now, the face of the man seen in the dim light was the face of Baron -Carl von Lichtenberg with the veil removed, the veil which every man -wears whilst playing his part in the social comedy. The face that was -looking down at me was both merciless and mad. Child though I was, I -dimly felt that this man was at enmity with me, and that he not only -feared me, but hated me. - -"And now," said the woman in the same half-whisper, "what is to do? Will -you bring them together?" - -"To-morrow," said the Baron. - -During this conversation, which had lasted some minutes, the Baron had -never once taken his eyes from my face. I could support it no longer. I -opened my eyes, tossed my arms, and, like a pair of evil spectres, my -visitors vanished from the room. - -Now that I was free of their presence, my terror became tinged with -curiosity. Who was Margaret? Who was the person they referred to as -being me? _The other person?_ - -In those questions lay the mystery and tragedy of my life. I was to have -the answer to them terribly soon. - -I listened to the turret clock striking the hours. This clock was of -very antique make. The figure of a man in armour, larger than life, -struck a ponderous bell with a mallet. You could see him in the turret, -and my father had pointed him out to me as we drove up to the house. - -As I listened, I pictured him standing there alone. A figure from -another age and a far-distant time. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -LITTLE CARL - - -I was awakened by the note of a horn blown by some ranger in the forest. -The sun was shining in through the window, night had vanished with all -its dreams and fears, and Joubert was at the door. - -Joubert, unsuccessful, perhaps, in one of his multifarious love-affairs, -was grumpy; and when I tried to explain about the nocturnal visitors he -wouldn't listen. He knew my imaginative powers, and put my story down to -them; and, as for me, attracted by the events of the moment as all -children are, I had nearly forgotten the whole matter by breakfast-time. - -I was led down by Joubert and given into the charge of Gretel. Breakfast -was laid for Eloise and me in the same boudoir where we had supped the -night before, but lo, and behold! when we reached the room another child -was there as well as Eloise. - -A boy of my own age. A charming little figure dressed in the uniform of -a Pomeranian grenadier. - -"This is Carl!" cried Eloise, pulling the little grenadier forward by -the hand. "This is Toto, Carl. I forgot his other name. No matter. I am -hungry. Gretel, I pray you let us have breakfast." - -Carl was dark; and he met me without smiling, and took my hand without -grasping it properly, and looked at me, not directly, but in a veiled -manner curious in a child so young. - -Carl repelled me, and yet attracted me. When I contrast his face with -the portrait in the picture-gallery of the schloss, I can see now, with -the eye of memory, the awful likeness between him and the dead and gone -Margaret von Lichtenberg, just as I can see the likeness between myself -and Philippe de Saluce. - -The "family likeness"--that mysterious fact in life before which science -is dumb--never was more manifest; but what made the thing more curious, -more deeply involved in mystery, was the fact that under the same roof, -hundreds of years after the old tragedy of long ago, the facsimiles of -the two actors should meet as children fresh to the world. - -As for me this morning, I saw nothing in Carl von Lichtenberg but a -little boy of my own age, somewhat fantastically dressed. The -half-terror, the extraordinary sensation that the picture of Margaret -von Lichtenberg had called up in my mind the night before, had expended -itself and vanished, leaving me incapable of further psychic perception. -Everything was commonplace again as the bread-and-butter that Gretel was -cutting for us at the side-table. - -The schloss was so vast, so solidly constructed, that no sound came to -us from the other guests. - -After breakfast, when we were running down a corridor making for the -garden, and led by Eloise, a gentleman stopped us, and spoke a few words -of greeting, and passed on. - -"That was the King," said Eloise. "He is leaving to-morrow--he and Graf -von Bismarck. We, too, are leaving the day after." - -"You, too?" I cried, my childish heart recalling the lovely Countess -Feliciani, who had been clean forgotten for twelve hours or more. - -"Yes," said Eloise. "And there's mamma. Come along. See, she is with -those ladies by the fountain." - -We had broken into the garden, a wonderful and beautiful garden, with -shaven lawns and clipped yew-trees, terraces, dim vistas cypress-roofed, -and, far away down one of these alleys a sight to fascinate the heart of -any child, the figure of a great stone man running. He was dressed in -green lichen, lent him by the years; he held a spear in his hand, and he -seemed in the act of hurling it at the game he was pursuing there beyond -the cypress-trees at the edge of the singing pines. - -For the garden became the forest without wall or barrier, except the -shadow cast by the trees; and you could walk from the sunlight and the -sound of the fountains into the dryad-haunted twilight and the old -quaint world of the woods. - -The Countess kissed Eloise; then she bent to kiss me, and I--I turned my -face away--a crimson face--and felt like a fool. - -Someone laughed--a gentleman who was standing by. The Countess laughed; -and then, to my extreme relief, someone came to my rescue. - -It was little Carl. He had run into the house for his drum, and now he -was coming along the path solemnly beating it, with Eloise for a -faithful camp follower. I joined her; and away down the garden we went, -hand in hand, marching in time to the rattle of the little drum. - -Eloise snatched flowers from the flower-beds as we passed them, and -pelted the drummer with them as he marched before us; and so we went, a -gallant company, through the garden, past the running man, and under the -forest trees, the echoes and the bluejays answering to the drum. - -My father, the Countess Feliciani, our host, and a number of ladies and -gentlemen were in the garden. They laughed as we marched away; and when -the shadow of the trees took us they forgot us, I suppose, and the -pretty picture we must have made. - - * * * * * - -Scarcely twenty minutes could have elapsed when screams from the wood -drew their startled attention, and out from the trees came Carl, -dripping with water, without his drum, running, and screaming as he ran. - -After him ran Eloise and I. - -"He tried to drown me in the lake in the wood!" screamed Carl, clasping -the knees of his father, who had run to meet him, and looking back at -me. "He tried to drown me; he did it before--he did it before! Save me -from him, father, father! Father! Father!" - -Baron Lichtenberg's face, as he clasped the child, was turned on me. He -was white as little Carl, and I shall never forget his expression. - -"Did you try to drown my child?" he said. And he spoke as though he were -speaking to a man. - -Before I could reply Eloise struck in: - -"Oh, Carl, how can you say such things? I saw it all. No, monsieur. -They had a little quarrel as to who should play with the drum, and Toto -pushed him, and he fell into the water. Was it not so, Carl?" - -But Carl was incapable of answering. Screaming like a girl in hysterics -he clung to the Baron, who had taken him in his arms. - -"Now, then," said my father, who had come up. "What is this? What is the -meaning of this, sir? Come, speak! Did you dare to----" - -"Father," I said, "I pushed him, but I did not mean to hurt him--truly I -did not." - -"Do not blame him," said Von Lichtenberg, turning to the house with Carl -in his arms. "It is Fate. Children do these things without knowing it. -Do not punish him." - -The hypocrisy of those last four words! Lost to my father, whose simple -mind could not read the tones of a man's voice or guess what hatred can -be hidden in honey. - -"All the same," said my father, as the Baron departed, "the child is -half drowned. You have disgraced yourself. Off with you to Joubert, and -place yourself under arrest." - -I saluted. - -"Bread and water," said my father; "and for three days." - -I saluted again, and marched off to the house dejectedly enough. - -As I went, little footsteps sounded behind me, and Eloise ran up. "You -must not mind Carl, Toto," said she. "He cannot help crying. Listen, -and I will tell you a secret. I heard mamma telling it to father; they -thought I was asleep. Little Carl is a girl! Monsieur le Baron has -brought her up as a boy to avoid something evil that has been -prophesied--so mother said. What is 'prophesied,' Toto?" - -"I don't know," I replied, my head too full of the dismal prospect of -arrest and bread and water to trouble much about anything else. Then -religiously I went to Joubert who formally placed me under arrest. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE MAN IN ARMOUR - - -Next day happened a thing which even still recurs to me in nightmare. - -When I came down to breakfast, released from arrest by special -intervention of the Baron, Carl was not there. Gretel said he had caught -a cold from his wetting, and was confined to his room. - -Late in the afternoon Eloise and I were in the great library. We had -watched the King depart, the Graf von Bismarck, cigar in mouth, -accompanying him. Carriage after carriage, containing guests, had driven -away; and Eloise and I were pressing our noses against the panes of the -window looking at the park, and speculating on Carl and the condition of -his cold, when the door opened, and Gretel looked in. - -"Oh, there you are, children!" cried Gretel. "Well, and what are you -doing with yourselves?" - -"Nothing," yawned Eloise, turning from the window. "We have played all -our games, haven't we, Toto?" - -"Well you are sure to be getting into mischief if you are left to -yourselves," said the woman. "Come with me, and I will show you a fine -game. It is now a quarter to five. We will go up to the turret and see -the Man in Armour strike the hour." - -"Hurrah!" cried I, and Eloise skipped. It was the desire of both our -hearts to see the mysterious Man in Armour close, and watch him strike -the bell. - -"Fetch your hats, then, for it is windy in the tower," said Gretel. And -off we went to fetch them. - -She led us through a door off the corridor, and up circular stone stairs -that seemed to have no end, till we reached the room where the machinery -was placed that drove the clock and struck the bell. - -A ladder from here led us to the topmost chamber, where the iron man -with the iron hammer stood before the iron bell. - -This chamber was open to the four winds, and gave a splendid view of the -mountains and the forest, and the lands lying towards Friedrichsdorff -and beyond. - -But little cared I for the scenery. I was examining the Man in Armour. -He was taller than a real man, and his head was one huge mass of iron -cast in the form of a morion. Clauss of Innsbruck had made him, and he -struck me with a creepy sensation that was half fear. He stood with his -huge hammer half raised; and the knowledge that at the hour he would -wheel on his pivot and hit the bell vested him with an uncanny -suggestion of life, even though one knew he was dead and made of iron. - -"He will not strike for ten minutes," said Gretel. "Gott! how cold it is -here, and how windy! Come, let us play a game of blind-man's buff to -keep ourselves warm." - -My small handkerchief was brought into requisition, and Gretel blinded -me, pinning the handkerchief to my kepi. "And now," said Gretel, "I will -bind Eloise, and you can try to catch me." - -Then we played. - -If you had been standing below you might have heard our laughter. I had -just missed Eloise, when I was myself seized from behind by the waist, -and Gretel's voice cried: "Now I've caught you!" - -Even as she spoke a deep rumbling came from the machinery-room below. -"Now I've caught you. Now I've caught you!" cried Gretel's voice, that -seemed choking with laughter. - -Something like a mighty bird swept past my forehead, tearing the kepi -from my head and the handkerchief from my eyes, and flinging me on the -floor with the wind of its passage. - -BOOM! - -The great hammer of the Man in Armour had struck its first stroke, and -with a thunderous, heart-shattering sound. The great hammer had passed -my head so close that another half inch would have meant death. - -BOOM! - -I lay paralysed, looking up at the iron figure swinging to its work. He -had nearly killed me, and I knew it. Again the hammer flew towards the -bell. - -BOOM! - -The tower rocked, and the sound roared through the openings, and the -joints of the iron figure groaned and the arms upflew once more. - -BOOM! - -And once again, urged by the might of the hammer-man, tremendous, -apocalyptic, and sinister the voice of the great bell burst over the -woods. - -BOOM! - -The woodmen in the forests of the Taunus corded their bundles and -prepared for home, for five o'clock had struck from the Schloss -Lichtenberg. - -At the first stroke, Eloise had sat down on the floor, screaming with -fright at the noise. She was sitting there still, with her eyes -bandaged, when the sound died away. - -"What an escape!" cried Gretel, who was white and shaking. "Little boy, -had I not plucked you away, the hammer would have killed you! It would -have killed you had it not been for me!" - -But in my heart I knew better than that. - - * * * * * - -That night I told Joubert of the thing. He said Gretel was a fool. - -"Joubert," I said, "I am afraid of this house, and I am afraid of -Gretel; and I want to say my prayers again, please, for I was not -thinking when I said them just now." - -I said them again; and Heaven knows I needed them more than any prince -trapped in the ogre's castle of a fairy tale. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE HUNTING-SONG - - -Scarcely had Joubert left me than a faint sound, stealing from below, -made me sit up in bed. - -The sound of violins tuning up. - -Ever since I could perceive the difference between musical sounds, music -has fascinated me, thrilled me, filled me with hauntings. Music can make -me drunk, music can make me everything but bad; but it is not in the -province of music to do that. - -A band of wandering musicians had come to the schloss, and were -preparing to entertain the guests in the great hall. - -Our rooms were quite close to the gallery surrounding the hall. I could -hear the complaint of the violin-strings protesting their readiness, and -the deep, gasping grunts of the 'cello saying as plainly as a 'cello -could speak, "Begin." - -Then the music struck up. - -A gay, dashing tune, vivid as a spring landscape with the daffodils -dancing in the wind; the high tremulous notes of a piccolo hovering over -the music of the strings as a skylark hovers in the air. - -It was more than mortal child could stand, to hear all that and not to -be there. - -I hopped out of bed, and made for the door. I had opened it, when the -thought came to me that Joubert might come back to the room, as he -sometimes did, to see if I were asleep; so I ran to the bed and propped -the pillow under the bedclothes. I often slept with the clothes over my -head, and the room was so dark that the protuberance of the pillow gave -quite a striking representation of a small boy curled up in slumber. - -Then I came down the passage to the gallery overlooking the hall. Down -below the place was brilliantly lit. - -The musicians--four men in long coats, with long hair, and two of them -bearded--were opposite to me. - -Seated about were the guests: my father, the Countess Feliciani, Count -Feliciani, Major von der Goltz, General Hahn, and another gentleman -whose name I did not know. Baron von Lichtenberg was not there. - -A servant was handing coffee, and the guests were chatting in two little -groups, and seemed quite oblivious of the music that was ravishing my -simple heart. - -The spring song ceased, the daffodils danced no longer in the wind, the -skylark dropped from the sky, and the musicians fell chatting one to the -other in an undertone whilst they tuned up again. The one most directly -facing me--a man quite young, with oh, such a good, kind, sweet -face!--glanced up as he was raising his violin and caught sight of me in -my little nightshirt away up in the gallery peeping down at him and his -brethren. He evidently knew at once that I was one of the children of -the schloss, a truant from bed, and that my portion would be smacks if I -were discovered; for, though a momentary smile lit his face, he made no -sign or attempt to point me out to his fellows. - -They broke into a hunting tune. I could tell, from the lilt of the -music, it was the chase that was speaking in the inarticulate language -of the strings. The piccolo had discarded his instrument for a horn; I -could hear the yapping of the dogs, and the pack bursting into full cry; -the horn, and the echoes of the horn from the rocks and woods, the -halalli. Gay, ghostly, beautiful, the music swept me along with it, the -very guests below forgot their chatter; I could see them keeping time -with their feet. Enchantment had seized upon the old schloss, the -green-coated jaegers crowded, as if by permission, to the passage -entrance, and their harsh voices took up the song which now broke from -the lips of the magicians in the long coats to the accompaniment of the -violins and the hunting-horn, a song the words of which were not -translated for me till long, long afterwards: - - - Hound and horn give voice and tongue, - Fill the woods with echoes gay; - Let your music sweet be flung - To the Brocken far away. - - Jaegers with the horns ye wind, - Hounds whose tongues the chase shall bay; - Let your voice the echoes find - Of the Brocken old and grey. - - Hark! amidst the bracken green - Bells the buck whose vigil keeps - Danger from the hind unseen, - Danger from the fawn that sleeps. - - Hears he us, yet heeds us not, - Dreams he that we are the wind; - Phantoms we of hounds forgot, - Ghosts of huntmen long since blind. - - Dreams we are the forest's breath - Waking to the touch of day; - Recks not 'tis the horn of Death - Dying in the distance grey. - Hound and horn give voice and tongue---- - - -And through it all the horn, now clear and ringing, now caught and dying -in the echoes of the forest, now lost in the echoes of the Brocken, the -wild notes flying before the phantom of the flying stag; ever the horn -threading the gushing music of the violins, the voices of the musicians, -and the chorus of the jaegers. - -More music came after this, but nothing so beautiful; and as the -musicians put their instruments away, and prepared to go, I nodded to -the happy-faced one who had spied me. He smiled, and I trotted back to -bed. I had been there listening in the gallery for a full hour, and I -was cold as ice, but no one had seen me, or only the violin-player who -had the face of a good angel. - -I shut the door cautiously, and crept back to bed. But there was -something on the bed, something on the protuberance caused by my pillow. -It was the handle of a knife. The blade of the knife was plunged into -the mound of the bedclothes just where my head would have been. - -It was Joubert's knife--his "couteau de chasse," a thing he was -immensely proud of, a thing as keen as a razor. - -That was just like one of Joubert's tricks. He had come in, found my -device, and left this, as much as to say, "You'll see what you'll get in -the morning." - -I plucked the knife out and put it on the floor. Then I crawled into -bed. - -As I lay thinking of the music, my restless fingers kept digging into -holes in the sheet. Half a dozen holes, or rather slits, there were. One -might have thought that the hunting-knife of Joubert had been furiously -plunged again and again into the heap of bedclothes before being left -sticking there. But I did not think of this: the knife was Joubert's. -Besides, my head was alive with those dreams that stand at the door of -sleep to welcome the innocent in. - -The forms of the weather-beaten musicians, sent like good angels from -God to charm me and hold me with their music; the happy, innocent, and -friendly face of the one who had smiled at me, and the hunting-song: - - - Hark! amidst the bracken green - Bells the buck whose vigil keeps - Danger from the hind unseen, - Danger from the fawn that sleeps. - - -Then I, like a fawn, fell asleep, ignorant of Fate as the fawn, and of -the extreme wickedness of the heart of man. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE FAIRY TALE - - -"Levez-vous! Levez-vous! Levez-vous! Ta-ra-ra! Pom, pom! Hi! God's -teeth, my knife! What does it here?" - -Joubert could sound the reveille with his mouth almost as well as a -trumpeter, and he was grand at imitating the big drum. - -Up I shot in bed, rubbing my eyes. - -"Your what?" - -"My knife. Ha! I've caught you. Cutting your sticks and carving your -name with my couteau de chasse! You have been to my bedroom. Don't -answer me! You have been to my bedroom, and taken it from the pocket of -my coat. A pretty thing!" - -Joubert's temper all yesterday had been savage; his infernal amours were -not prospering, it seems. In fact, as I afterwards learned from his own -lips, a scullion, resenting his addresses, had called him an old French -dog without teeth. - -"It was sticking in my pillow when I came to bed!" cried I, indignant at -the accusation. - -"Your pillow, when you came to bed!" Joubert seized me, ran me across -the room by my shoulders to a large mirror, pointed to the reflection of -my shrinking form, and yelled: - -"Do you see that?" - -"Mais, oui." - -"Then you see a liar." - -"But, Joubert----" - -"Not a word!" - -"But I want to _tell_ you----" - -"Not a word!" - -That was always Joubert's way--"Not a word." - -"But I want to _tell_ you!" - -"Not a word!" And he jabbed the sponge in my mouth, for I was standing -by this time in the bath. - -I never could tell whether Joubert was joking or in earnest, so I said -no more; but it was none the less irritating to be called a liar by -Joubert, whose lies about battle, murder, and sudden death were -palpable, and sometimes cynically self-confessed. - -Little Carl did not appear at breakfast, and Eloise was very despondent, -not about Carl, but about going away. She would not touch jam, and she -made use sometimes, in a secretive manner, of a handkerchief, small -enough, goodness knows, yet chiefly composed of lace. - -"It is not the going away," said Eloise; "it is the parting from friends -that makes going away so sad." - -She was a terribly sentimental child by fits and starts, falling into -sentiment and falling out of it again with the facility of a newly -dislocated limb from its socket. - -Next moment I was chasing her down the corridor, both of us making the -corridor echoes ring with our laughter. At the end, just by the glass -door leading to the garden, down she plumped in a corner and put her -little pinafore over her head. - -I believe she wanted, or expected, me to pull the pinafore away and kiss -her, but I didn't. I just pulled her up by the arm, and we both bundled -out into the garden, and in a moment she had forgotten kissing amidst -the flowers, plucking the asters and the Michaelmas daisies, and chasing -the butterflies that were still plentiful in the late summer of that -year. - -We passed the fountains, and stopped to admire the running man. His -face, worn away by time and weather, still had a ferocious expression. -One wondered what he was chasing with the spear that seemed for ever on -the point of leaving his hand. - -"Toto," said Eloise, "yesterday when we took the drum with us, we forgot -to bring little Carl's sticks: we left them by the pond." - -"So we did," said I. - -"Let's go and fetch them," said Eloise. - -"Come on," I replied. - -We took the forest path leading to the lake. - -It was like plunging into a well of twilight. - -These trees that surrounded us were no tame trees of a pleasaunce: they -were the outposts of the immortal forest, a thing as living and -mysterious as the sea. Their twilight was but the fringe of a robe, -extending for hundreds and hundreds of square leagues. - -I am a lover of the forest. The forest, and the sea, and the blue sky of -God are all that are left to remind us of the youth of the world and the -poetry of it, and the old German forests retain most of that lost charm. - -They are haunted. The forests of the volcanic Eiffel, the Hartz, the -Taunus, still hold the ghost of Pan. I have been afraid in them. - -By the lake fringed with ferns, Eloise fell into another sentimental and -despairing fit. We were sitting on the lake edge, and I was playing with -the recovered drumsticks. - -"Ay di mi!" wept Eloise. "When you are gone! I mean when I am gone--when -we are departed----" - -"Courage!" said I. - -"It is the going away," sniffed Eloise, carefully arranging her little -skirt around her. - -"I know," I said, rattling the sticks; "but it will be soon over." - -Unhappy child! I believe she had fallen really in love with me, -unconscious of the fact that if I cared for any woman in the world it -was for the lovely Countess Feliciani, her mother, and that I had no -eyes at all for a thing of my own age in frilled pantalettes, no matter -how pretty she might be. - -Before Eloise could reply to my unintentionally brutal remark, a figure -came out from amidst the trees and towards us. It was one of the jaegers. -A man past middle age, bent and warped like a tree that has stood the -tempest for years. - -This man's name was Vogel, and good cause I have to remember that name. - -"Aha!" said he. "The children! Fraeulein Eloise, Gretel is seeking for -you in the house." - -We rose. - -"Come," said Eloise. And I was turning to go with her, but Vogel, who -held a stick in one hand and a small penknife in the other, said to me -as he whittled at the stick: - -"See you, have you ever made a whistle?" - -"No," I replied, interested, despite the man's German accent and his -face, which was not attractive, for his cheeks were sucked in as though -he were perpetually drawing at a pipe, and his nose, too small for his -face, was hooked. I have never seen a nose so exactly like the beak of a -screech-owl. - -Vogel, without a word, sat down and began cutting away at the whistle. - -"Are you not coming?" said little Eloise. - -"In a minute," I replied, looking over Vogel's shoulder at his -handiwork. - -"Then stay," she pouted. And away she ran. - -I looked on at Vogel and his work, one foot preparing to go, the other -foot holding me. - -"There is an old woman who lives in the wood," said Vogel, as he cut at -the stick, "and she makes whistles." - -"Does she?" I replied. - -"She does," said Vogel. "She makes them of silver, and of glass, and of -gold, and when you blow on them they go----" - -A strange warbling sound filled the wood. It was Vogel showing how the -whistles of the old woman sounded when you blew into them. - -He had put a bird-call--the thing foresters use for snaring -birds--between his lips. He removed it again with a laugh, and went on -with his work. - -"She lives in a house made of gingerbread," went on the fowler. "And -know you what the panes of her windows are made of?" - -"No." - -"Sugar, clear as your eye. And guess you what the door is made of?" - -"No." - -"Marzipan. Ah! that is a good house to live in," said Vogel. And I -mentally concurred. - -"She keeps white mice, and rabbits with green eyes." - -"Green eyes?" - -"Yes; and she gave little Carl a rabbit for himself last time I took him -to see her. There." He handed the whistle, which was finished, up to me -over his shoulder, and I blew on it and found it good. - -"Would you like to have a rabbit like that?" asked Vogel, filling his -pipe and lighting it. - -"I would." - -"Well, you can have one. I will get one for you to-morrow, or to-day, if -you like to come with me to see the old woman who makes the whistles. -Will you come?" - -"What time?" said I, hesitating. - -"Now," said Vogel. - -My answer was cut short by a sound from behind--the clinking of a -bucket--and Joubert and a stout servant-maid appeared from the path -leading to the lake. They were coming to gather water-plants for some -household decoration. - -Joubert was gallantly carrying the bucket. - -Vogel sprang to his feet. - -"I must go," said he. "It was my joke. I am the old woman who makes the -whistles." - -Off he went. - -I have often thought since that much weariness, much sorrow to me, and -much plotting and planning to the Great Writer of love-stories. Who -lives above, might have been saved if I had gone that day with Vogel to -see "the old woman who makes the whistles." - -"What was Skull-face saying to you?" asked Joubert. - -"He made me this," said I, showing him the pithed stick. - -The Felicianis departed at three o'clock. Eloise, with her cheeks -flushed, was laughing with excitement: she seemed quite to have -forgotten her grief. Four horses drew their carriage. They were bound -for Homburg, where they would pass the night before going on to -Frankfort. - -I remember, as the carriage drove off. Countess Feliciani looked back -and smiled at us--at my father, myself, Von Lichtenberg, Major von der -Goltz, and General Hahn, all grouped on the steps. God! had she known -the happenings to follow, how that smile would have withered on her -lips! - -Carl was still invisible, and the great schloss, now that Eloise was -gone, seemed strangely empty to me. It is wonderful how much space a -child can fill with its presence. Eloise's happy little form had -diffused itself, spreading happiness and innocence far and wide, and -dispelling I know not what evil things. If a rose can fill a room with -its perfume, who knows how far may reach the perfume of an innocent and -beautiful soul! - -At six o'clock I was in the library; a box of tin soldiers, which my -father had bought for me at Carlsruhe, stood open on the table, and the -armies were opposed. - -I was not too old to play with soldiers like these, for there were -shoals of them: officers, and drummers, and gunners, cannon, -flags--everything. As a matter of fact, Major von der Goltz had been -playing with me, too, and I'll swear he took just as much interest in -them as I. - -He had gone now, and I was tired of the soldiers. I turned my attention -to the books. I was walking along by the shelves, examining the backs of -the volumes and trying to imagine what the German titles could mean, -when suddenly, from amidst the books, I heard a child's voice. - -The child seemed singing and talking to itself, and the sound seemed to -come from the volumes on the shelves. It was strange to hear it coming -from amidst the books like that, as though some volume of fairy tales -had suddenly become vocal, and Haensel, playing by the witch-woman's -door, had found a voice. - -Then I noticed that the books before me were not real books, but -imitation. - -In the centre of one of these imitation book-racks there was a little -brass knob. I pressed it, and the wall gave, disclosing a passage. The -book-backs were but the covering of a narrow door. - -This passage, suddenly disclosed, fascinated me. - -It was dimly lit from above, and ended in a door of muffed glass. About -half way down on the floor stood a toy horse--a dappled-grey horse with -a broom-like tail and a well-worn saddle--evidently left there by some -child, and forgotten. - -I could hear the child's voice now distinctly. He or she was singing, -singing in a monotonous fashion, just as a child sings when quite alone. - -I came down the passage to the door. The muffing of the door had been -scratched. There was a spyhole, evidently made by a child, for it was -just on a level with my own eye, and there was a word scratched on the -paint of the muffing which, though I had to read it backwards, I made -out to be-- - - CARL. - -I peeped through the hole. It disclosed a room, evidently a nursery, -plainly but pleasantly furnished. On the window-seat, looking out and -drumming an accompaniment on the glass to the tune he was singing, knelt -Carl. - -I looked for the handle of the door, found it, turned it, opened the -door, without knocking, and entered the room. - -The child at the window turned, and, when he saw me, flung up his arms -with a gesture of terror and glanced round wildly, as if for somewhere -to hide. It cut me to the heart; it frightened me, too--this terror of -the child for me. I remembered Eloise's words: "Little Carl is a girl." - -"Gretel! Gretel! Gretel!" cried the child as I ran forward, took him in -my arms, and kissed him on the forehead. - -Whether he had expected me to hit him or not I don't know; but at this -treatment he ceased his cries, and, pushing me away from him, looked at -me dubiously. - -"I won't hurt you, little Carl!" And at the words a whole ocean of -tenderness welled up in my heart for the trembling and lonely little -figure in the soldier's dress, this Pomeranian grenadier, timorous as a -rabbit. I must, in this heart of mine, have some good; for, boy as I -was, with all the fighting instincts of the Mahons in my blood, I felt -no boyish ridicule for this creature that a blow would make cry, but all -the tenderness of a nurse, or a person who holds a live and trembling -bird in his hand. - -"I won't hurt you. I didn't _mean_ to knock you in the pond." - -"But you did," said Carl, still dubious. - -"I know, and I'm sorry. See here, Carl, I'll give you my dog." - -"Your big dog?" asked Carl, for he had seen Marengo bounding about the -lawn. - -"Yes," said I, knowing full well that the promise was about equivalent -to the promise of the moon. - -The little hand fell into mine. - -"Gretel," said Carl, now in a confidential tone, "told me you would kill -me if I played with you, or went near you, or if I looked at you." - -"Oh, how wicked!" I cried. "_I_ kill you!" And I clasped the little form -more tightly. - -"I know," said Carl. - -He was a personage of few words, and those two words told me quite -plainly that he believed me and had confidence in me. - -"It's not you," he said, after a pause. "She said you didn't want to do -it, but you'd have to do it; for you were a bad man once, and you'd have -to do it over again," said Carl. "What you'd done before, for someone -had said so. I don't know who they were." He had got the tale so mixed -up that I could scarcely follow his meaning. "When will you give me the -dog?" he finished, irrelevantly enough. - -"I'll give you him--I'll give you him to-morrow," I said, "if father -will let me. But he's sure to, if I ask him." - -Scarcely had I finished speaking than the door opened and Gretel -appeared. - -She stood for a moment when she saw us together, as though the sight had -turned her into stone. - -Then she came towards us. - -"How did you get here?" said she to me. - -"Through that door," I answered her. - -She took me by the hand and led me away. As she did so, something closed -round my neck, and something touched me on the cheek. - -It was Carl, who had put his arms round my neck and kissed me. - -Ah, little Carl, little Carl! Little we knew how next we should meet, or -the manner of that meeting! - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE DEATH OF VOGEL - - -"Joubert, what is father doing?" - -"He is playing cards down below with the gentlemen." - -I was undressing to go to bed that same night, and Joubert was -expediting my movements, anxious, most likely, to go downstairs and -drink with the house-steward. - -"Joubert, I wish he were here." - -"Why?" - -"I don't know; but I am frightened." - -"Of what?" - -"I don't know." - -Joubert blew out the light and left the room, and I lay looking at the -shadows the furniture made on the wall by the dim glimmer of the -nightlight. - -The door leading to my father's room was open. This did not give me any -comfort--rather the reverse; for the next room was in darkness, and I -could not help imagining faces peeping at me from the darkness. - -When frightened at night like this, I generally told myself fairy tales -to keep away the terrors. - -I tried this to-night with a bad result, for the attempt instantly -brought up Vogel and the old woman who lived in the wood. - -Now, there was something in this fairy tale that my heart knew to be -evil and malign. What this something was I could not tell, but it was -there, and the story did not bring me any peace. - -The clock in the turret struck ten, and I saw vividly the Man in Armour -up there alone in the dark, wheeling to his work. - -There was something terrific in this iron man. A live tiger was a thing -to me less fearful. Not for worlds would I have gone up alone to watch -him at his work, even at a safe distance. The fact that the hammer had -nearly killed me did not contribute much to this fear. I knew that was -not his fault. I was terrified by Him. - -Then I fell thinking of my promise to little Carl to give him Marengo, -and, thinking of this, I fell asleep. - -At least, I closed my eyes and entered a world of vague shapes. And then -I entered a wood. The cottage of the old woman who made the whistles was -before me. It had a window on either side of the door, and in one window -there were jars of sugar-sticks. - -I knocked at the door. It flew open, and there stood Vogel, the jaeger -with the hooked nose. He smilingly beckoned me in. I entered, and, hey -presto! his smile vanished with the closing of the door, and I was on a -bed, and he was smothering me with a pillow. And then I awoke, and I was -in bed and I was being smothered by a pillow. - -Oh, horror! Oh, the horror of that waking! Someone was lying upon me; a -pillow was over my face, crushing it! I shrieked, and my shriek did not -go an inch beyond my mouth. My nose was crushed flat; my mouth, opening -to scream, could not close again. The pillow bulged in, and then, flung -away like a feather by the wind, went the form that was crushing me and -the pillow that was smothering me; and shriek upon shriek--the most -horrid, the most unearthly, the most soul-sickening--shriek after shriek -tore the air; and, jumping upon my feet, standing on the bed with arms -outspread, I gazed on the sight before me, adding my thin voice to the -outcries that were piercing the schloss from cellar to turret. - -On the floor, lit for my view by the halfpenny nightlight calmly burning -in its little dish, Marengo and a man were at war--and the victory was -with Marengo. The great dog had got the man by the back of the neck. The -man, face down, was drumming on the floor with his fists and feet, just -as you see an angry child in a fit of passion. - -The dog was dumb, and making mighty efforts to turn the man on his face. -He lifted him, he shifted him, he dragged him hither and thither. The -man, screaming, knew what the dog wanted, and clung to the floor. - -Suddenly the dog sprang away, and, like a flash of lightning, sprang -back. He had got the throat-hold, and a deep gobbling, worrying sound -was the end of the man and his hunting for ever. - -For the man was Vogel. I saw that, and then I saw nothing more. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE DUEL IN THE WOOD - - -When I regained consciousness I was in my father's room, lying on the -bed. Joubert was sitting on the bed beside me. - -"Joubert," said I, "where is he?" - -"Who?" - -"Vogel." - -"God knows!" said Joubert. "Here, drink this." - -It was brandy, and it nearly took my breath away, but it gave me life. - -"Now," said Joubert, putting the glass on the table by the bed and -taking my small trousers in his hand, "put these on." - -"Why am I to dress, Joubert?" - -"We are going away. Ah, fine doings there have been! And who knows the -end of it all?" - -As he helped me to dress, he told me of what had occurred. The gentlemen -below had been playing cards when the shrieks of Vogel had sundered the -cardplayers like the sword of death. - -Rushing upstairs, they had found Marengo guarding the dead body of -Vogel, and me standing on the bed screaming. When my father caught me in -his arms, I told all. Of Vogel's attempt to smother me, of the knife I -had found in my pillow, and of the occurrence in the bell-tower. It -must have been my subconscious intelligence speaking, for I remember -nothing of it; but it was enough. - -"Then," said Joubert, "the General, with you tucked under his left arm, -turned on the Baron. 'What is this?' said he. 'Assassination in the -Schloss Lichtenberg!'" - -"'Liar!' cried the Baron. And before the word was well from his mouth, -crack! the General had hit him open-fisted in the face, and the mark -sprang up as if the General had hit him red-handed. Mordieu! I never saw -a neater blow given, or one so taken, for the Baron never blinked. He -just nodded his head, as if to say, 'Yes.' Then he put his arm in Count -Hahn's, and the General turned to Major von der Goltz, and, taking him -by the arm, followed the others. Then word came to pack up and have you -ready, for we are leaving the schloss this night. Now then, vite!" - -"But, Joubert, I remember nothing of all that." - -"All what?" - -"Telling my father of Vogel and the bell." - -"Well, whether you remember it or not, there it is." - -"And the knife---- Joubert, did you not, you yourself, stick the knife -in the pillow?" - -"I!" said Joubert. "When would you catch me playing such fool's tricks -as that?" - -"Joubert." - -"Yes?" - -"I think I know why they wanted to kill me." - -"Why?" - -"Because they thought I would kill little Carl." - -Joubert grunted. - -"Here," said he, "hold up your foot till I lace that boot." - -Scarcely had he done so before General Hahn appeared at the door. - -"Dress the child, pack, and be ready to leave the schloss at once!" he -cried to Joubert. "The horses are being got ready." - -"I have my orders," replied Joubert. - -He grumbled and talked to himself, and swore, as he got the rest of my -clothes on, for I was quite unable to help myself. And then, when I was -ready, he gave me a great, smacking kiss that nearly took my breath -away, and his hand was shaky, and I had never seen it shake before, and -he had never kissed me before in his life. Then he left me sitting on -the bed, and I heard him in the next room, where the dead man was, -packing my things. - -In the midst of all this, the castle clock struck eleven. - -And now from below came the trampling of horses, and the crash of wheels -on gravel, and the harsh German voices of the servants. Doors banged, -and a man came up, flung our door open, and cried: "Ready!" And Joubert, -with a portmanteau on his shoulder, led me along by the hand down the -corridor, the servant following with the rest of our luggage. - -Down in the hall, which was brilliantly lit, Major von der Goltz and my -father stood talking together in one corner, and Von Lichtenberg and -General Hahn stood by the great fireplace, their hands behind them, -neither of them speaking, and both with their eyes on the floor as if in -profound thought. And I noticed that the great red mark on the Baron's -cheek was still there, just as if a blood-stained hand had struck him. - -When they saw us coming, with Marengo following us, Von Lichtenberg and -the General took their hats from a table close by and walked towards the -door, which was opened for them by a servant. - -General Hahn held under his arm a bundle done up in a cloak, and from it -protruded two sword-hilts. - -My father, taking my hand and followed by Major von der Goltz, came -after the Baron. - -It was a clear and windy night; flying clouds were passing over the -moon. Two carriages were drawn up at the door, and a dozen men with -torches blazing and blowing in the wind gave light whilst our luggage -was put in. - -The first carriage was our own, the second a carriage belonging to the -schloss. - -Joubert put our luggage in and mounted on the box; then my father, -bowing to Major von der Goltz, held the door open; the Major, with a -slight bow to my father, got in; we followed, the carriage started, -running torchmen leading us and following behind. - -"Are we truly going away, father?" I asked nestling close to him and -holding his hand. - -"Yes, my child; we are going away." - -"Why are those men with torches running with us?" - -"You will see--you will see. Major von der Goltz, I hope those words I -have just said to you will not be forgotten in the event----" - -"They shall be remembered," said the Major. - -Up to this all the company at the schloss had been hail-fellow-well-met -one with the other. My father had addressed Von der Goltz as Franz, and -the Major had been just as familiar in his manner, but all this was now -changed. The two men were as stiff and formal as though they had never -met before, one facing the other, bolt upright, and with heads somewhat -averted, as I could see by the dancing torchlight; and in my childish -heart I wondered at this. - -As we slowed up to pass the great gates of the avenue, I heard the -wheels of the other carriage coming behind, and as we made the turning, -I saw it, with the light of the torches glinting on the headpieces of -the horses, and behind the carriage the plumes of the pine-trees showed -against the moon, and they looked like the plumes of a hearse. - -The estate of Von Lichtenberg stretched for a mile and more beyond the -gates; and it seems that it is not etiquette to kill a man on his own -estate, no more than it is etiquette to strike a man in his own house. - -We took the forest road. Mixed with the sound of hoofs and wheels, I -could hear the footsteps of the running torchmen: the flickering light -shot in between the tree-boles, disturbing the wood creatures, and, as -we went, all of a sudden, the jaegers running with us broke out in a -chorus of what seemed lamentation mixed with curses. - -Von der Goltz sprang up on the seat and looked ahead. - -"A white hare is running before us," said he. "That is bad for Count -Carl von Lichtenberg." - -My father bowed slightly, as if to a half-heard remark. - -A white hare, it seems, was the sign of death in the house of -Lichtenberg. - -Turning a bend in the road, the carriage drew up. - -We waited for a moment till the sound behind told us that the second -carriage had also stopped. Then we alighted. - -"Joubert," said my father, handing him a packet, "you will stay here -with the dog. Open this packet should anything befall me. Patrick, you -will come with me." - -"Dieu vous garde!" said Joubert. And, following the others, we entered -the forest. - -I felt sick and faint with fear, and the light of the dancing -torch-flames made me reel. I held tight to my father's hand, and I -remember thinking how big and strong and warm it was. What was about to -happen I could not guess, but I knew that the shadow of death was with -us, and the chill of him in my heart. - -We had not gone more than two hundred yards when we came to a clearing -amidst the trees--a breezy, open space, that the moon lit over the -waving pine-tops. Here the jaegers divided themselves into two lines, -five yards or so apart, and stood motionless as soldiers on parade. -Baron von Lichtenberg with his arms folded, stood with his back to us, -looking at the clouds running across the face of the moon; and the two -army officers, drawing aside, began to undo the swords from the bundle. - -"Patrick," said my father, leading me under the shade of the trees, "I -struck my kinsman in his own house to-night. The only excuse I can make -for that action is to kill him, so let this be a lesson to you the -length of your life." He stopped, stooped, hugged me in his arms, and -then strode out into the torchlight, and took his sword from Von der -Goltz. - -It was a curious little speech, or would have been from anyone but an -Irishman. But I was not thinking of it. I was mesmerised by the sight -before me. - -When the two men took their swords they returned them to the seconds. -The swords were then bent to prove the steel, and measured, and then -returned to the principals. - -Then the jaegers moved together almost shoulder to shoulder, and in the -space between the two lines of torches the duellists took their stand. -There was dead silence for a moment. - -I could hear the wind in the pines, and the guttering and slobbering of -the flambeaux, and a fox barking, away somewhere in the forest. - -Then came General Hahn's voice, and, instant upon it, the quarrelling of -the rapiers. - -The antagonists were perfect swordsmen; the rapiers were now invisible, -now like jets of light as the torchlight shot along them. Over the music -of the steel, the wind in the pine-trees said "Hush!" and the barking of -the fox still came from the far distance. - -At first you might have thought these two gentlemen were at play, till -the fury subdued by science broke loose at last, and the rings and -flashes of light and the clash of the steel spoke the language of the -thing and the meaning of it. - -It was a duel to the death; and I, looking on, my soul on fire, agony in -my heart, my hands thrust deep in the pockets of my caped overcoat, -counted the bits of biscuit-crumbs in those same pockets, and made tiny -balls from the fluff, and noted with deep and particular attention the -extent of a hole in one of the linings. The interior of my -overcoat-pockets marked itself upon my memory as sharply and insistently -as the scene before me--such a strange thing is mind. - -Yet I knew that, if Von Lichtenberg was the conqueror, my father would -die, and I would be left to the mercy of Von Lichtenberg. - -Yet, despite all my fears, oh, that heroic moment! The concentrated fury -of the fight beneath the singing pines, lit by the blazing torches! -Then, in a flash, it was over. Von Lichtenberg's sword flew from his -hand; his arms flung out as though he were crucified on the air; and -then, just as though he were a man of wax before a fiery furnace, he -fell together horribly, and became a heap on the ground. - -The hammer of Thor could not have felled him more effectually than the -rapier that had passed through his armpit like a ribbon of light. - -I ran to my father, and clung to him. - -General Hahn, on one knee, was supporting Von Lichtenberg in his arms. -The Baron's face was clay-coloured, his head drooped forward, and his -jaw hung loose. - -Hahn, with his knee in the armpit to suppress the terrible bleeding, -called for a knife to rip the sleeve; and as they were doing it the -stricken man came to and yawned. - -He yawned just as a man yawns who is deadly tired and half roused from -sleep, and he tossed his arms just in the same way. He seemed to care -about nothing, his weariness was so great. - -And then, just as a man speaks who is half roused and wants to drop -asleep again: - -"Hahn." - -"I am here." - -"Ah, yes! I leave the child to your care and Gretel----" - -"Yes" - -"She is to be brought up just as I have done. Should she love him, the -old tragedy will come again. She must never know love----" Then he -yawned, and yawned, rousing slightly as they cut his sleeve to pieces in -an attempt to reach the wound. He didn't seem to care. He spoke only -once again: "Hahn!" - -"I am listening." - -The wind in the pine-trees, and the fox in the wood and the slobbering -of the torches filled the silence. - -"I am listening." - -"He is dead," said Von der Goltz. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -WE RETURN HOME - - -We left the forest, my father leaning on the arm of his second. One man -with a torch preceded us, and lit us as we got into the carriage. - -"A strange end to our visit. Major von der Goltz," said my father. - -The Major bowed. - -"I shall remain at the Hotel des Hollandaise in Frankfort for three -days." - -The Major bowed. - -"Joubert!" said my father. And the carriage drove off; and, looking -back, I saw Major von der Goltz and the jaeger with the torch vanishing -amidst the trees. - -We passed through Homburg at four o'clock, and at six of a seraphic -morning spired Frankfort rose before us like a city in a fairy tale, so -beautiful, so vague, so ethereal one could not believe it a city of this -sordid earth. - -We stayed three days at the Hotel des Hollandaise. Major von der Goltz -called, and General Hahn. A paper was drawn up, I believe, signed by the -seconds and my father, and by the chief jaeger. It was done as a matter -of formality, for the duel was perfectly in order. - -Then we started on our return home; and one evening, towards the end of -September, we entered Paris and drew up at our house in the Avenue -Champs Elysees. - -Though the Emperor and Empress were still away on their southern tour, -the streets were gay--at least to my eyes. Oh, that Paris of the Second -Empire--that lost city whose gaiety surrounds the beginning of my life, -jewelled with gas-lamps or glittering in the sunlight! Whatever may have -been its faults, its wickedness, its falsity, it knew at least the -vitality and the charm of youth. Men knew how to laugh in those days, -when the echoes of the Boulevard de Gand still were heard in the -Boulevard des Italiens, when Carvalho was Director of the Opera Comique, -and Moray President of the Council. - -"At last!" said my father, as we turned in at the gates and drew up at -the doorway. - -He had been depressed on the return journey--a depression caused, I -believe, not in the least by the fact that he had slain his kinsman. The -trouble at his heart was the blow. For a guest to strike his host in his -own house was a breach of etiquette and good manners unpardonable in his -eyes. Yet he had committed that crime. - -However, with our entry into Paris this depression seemed to lift. - -The major-domo came down the steps, and with his own august hands opened -the door for us, and let down the steps, and gave us welcome with a real -and human smile on his magnificent white, fat, stolid face--the face of -a perfect servant, expressionless as a cheese, which would doubtless -remain just the same were he, constrained by stress of circumstances, to -open the door of the drawing-room and announce: "The Last Trumpet has -sounded, sir." - -In the great hall, softly lit and flower-scented, the footmen in their -green-and-white livery stood in two gorgeous rows to give us welcome; -and Jacko, the macaw, four foot from the crest of his wicked head to the -tip of his tail-feathers, dressed also in the green-and-white livery of -the house, screamed his sentiments on the matter. My father had a word -for everyone. It was always just so. This grand seigneur, who had made -his way to fortune less with his sword than with his brilliant -personality, would speak to the meanest servant familiarly, jocularly, -yet never would he meet with disrespect. There was that about him which -inspired fear as well as love, and he was served as few other men are -served. Witness our return that night to a house as well in order as -though we had come back from a trip to Compiegne instead of a two -months' journey to a foreign country. - -He dismissed the servants with a word, and, with his hat on the back of -his head, stood at the table where his letters were set out, tearing -them open and flinging the unimportant ones on the floor. - -Whilst he was so engaged, a ring came to the door, and the footman who -answered it brought him a letter sealed with a great red seal, which he -tore open and read. - -"Aha!" muttered he. "De Morny wants to see me to-morrow. Wonder how he -knew that I was back? But De Moray knows everything. Is the servant -waiting, Francois?" - -"No, sir; the servant has gone." - -"Very well," said my father. Then to me: "Come now; get your supper, and -off to bed. Francois!" - -I was led off grumbling. - -Joubert tucked me into bed; and as I lay listening to the -carriage-wheels from the Champs Elysees bearing people home from -supper-party and theatre, the journey, the Schloss Lichtenberg, the -mysterious pine-forest, the drums and tramping soldiers of Carlsruhe and -Mayence, the blue Rhine--all rose before me as a picture. It was the -First Act of my life, an Act tragic enough; and, as the curtain of sleep -fell upon it, the glimmer of the jaegers' torches still struggled through -that veil, with the sound of the swords, the murmur of the wind in the -pine-trees, and the far-off barking of the fox in the wood. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -I FALL INTO DISGRACE - - -I was dreaming of the Countess Feliciani. She had changed all of a -sudden, by the alchemy of dreamland, into little Carl. We were running -together down the forest path in the woods of Lichtenberg, and the Stone -Man was pursuing us, when a violent pull on my right leg awakened me, -and Joubert and a burst of sunshine replaced dreamland and its shadows. - -It was one of Joubert's pleasant ways of awakening a child from his -sleep, to catch him by the foot and nearly haul him out of bed. - -Oh, the agony of having to get up, straight, without any preliminary -stretching and yawning; to get up with that dead, blank tiredness of -childhood hanging on one like a cloak--and get into a cold bath! - -It was martial law with a vengeance. But there was no use in grumbling. - -"Come, lazybones," said Joubert; "rouse yourself. Gone eight; and you -are to go with the General at ten." - -"Where to?" said I, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. - -"Ma foi! where to? Why, on a visit to M. le Duc de Morny." - -"Oui." - -I was in the bath now, and soapsuds checked my questions. Joubert used -to wash me just as if I were a dog on the mornings that soapsuds were -the order of the day--that is to say, only twice a week, every Wednesday -and Saturday; for this old soldier was as full of fixed opinions as any -nurse, and he believed that too much soap took the oil out of the skin -and made children weak. You may be sure I did not combat his theory. - -"Your best coat," said Joubert, as he took the article from the drawer, -"and your best manners, if you please; for M. le Duc de Morny is the -first gentleman in Paris, now that the Emperor is away. Now you are -dressed, and--remember!" - -You may be sure I was in a flutter, for the Duc de Morny was a personage -I had never seen, and he loomed large even on my small horizon. From my -childhood's recollections I believe that the Duc had far more dominance -and power than poor old Louis Napoleon, whose craft lay chiefly in his -face. - -At a quarter to ten my father, in full general's uniform, very gorgeous, -wearing his medals and the cross, appeared in the hall, where I was -waiting for him. A closed carriage was at the door. We got in and -started. - -The Hotel de Morny was situated on the Quai d'Orsay. It was a huge -building, with gardens running right down to the river. It was next to -the Spanish Embassy, and had two entrances, one by the river, the other -opening from the Rue de Lille. - -We passed down the Rue de Lille, and then turned in at the gates, and -by a short roadway to the great courtyard. - -Other carriages were there--quite a number of them. Our carriage drew up -at the steps, and we alighted. - -As we left the chilly morning, and passed through the swing-glass doors -held open for us by a powdered footman, it was like entering a -greenhouse, so warm was the air, and so perfumed with flowers. - -The Duc was far too astute a man to merge his personality in Government -apartments. The Hotel de Morny was his palace. There he held his court, -receiving people in his bed-chamber after the fashion of a king. - -The salon was filled with people--all men, with one exception. - -We were expected, it seems; for the usher led us straight through the -throng towards the tall double oak door that gave entrance to the Duc's -room. - -"Stay here, Patrick," said my father, and he indicated a chair close to -the door. Then he vanished into the sanctum of the Minister, and I was -left alone to contemplate the people around me. - -They were arranged in little groups, talking together; fat men and thin -men, several priests, stout gentlemen with the red rosette of the Legion -of Honour in their buttonholes, sun-dried gentlemen from Provence with -fiery eyes and enormous moustaches, all talking, most of them -gesticulating, and each awaiting his audience with the Minister. - -Suddenly, through this crowd, which divided before her as the Red Sea -divided before Pharaoh, straight towards me came the only female -occupant of the room, an old lady at least seventy years of age, yet -dressed like a girl of sixteen. She was so evidently making for me that -I rose to meet her; and, before I could resent the outrage, a lace frill -tickled my chin, a perfume of stephanotis half smothered me, and a pair -of thin lips smacked against my cheek. - -She had kissed me. Scarlet to the eyes, conscious that I was observed by -all, not knowing exactly what I did, I did a very unmannerly -thing--wiped my cheek with the back of my hand as if to wipe the kiss -away. - -"I knew you at once," said the old lady, who was none other than the -Countess Wagner de Pons, reader to the Empress. "You are the dear -General's little boy, of whom I have heard so much--le petit Patrique. -And you have been away, and you have just returned. Mon Dieu! the -likeness is most speaking. Now, look you, Patrique, over there on that -fauteuil. That is the little Comte de Coigny, whom I have brought this -morning to make his bow to M. le Duc de Morny. Come with me, and I will -introduce you to him. He is of the haute noblesse, a child of the -highest understanding, tre propre." - -I glanced at the little Comte de Coigny. He was a tallow-faced, -heavy-looking individual, bigger than me, and older. He might have been -eleven. He was dressed like a little man, kid gloves and all; and he was -looking at me with a dull and sinister expression that spoke neither of -a high understanding nor a good heart. - -Before I could move towards him, led by the Countess Wagner de Pons, -the door of De Morny's room opened, and my father's voice said: -"Patrick." - -Leaving the old lady, I came. - -I found myself in a huge room, with long windows giving a view of the -garden and the river. It was, in fact, a salon set out with fauteuils -and couches. A bed in one corner, raised on a low platform, struck me by -its incongruity. How anyone could choose to sleep in such a vast and -gorgeous salon astonished my childish mind. But I had little time to -think of these things, for the man standing with his back to the -fireplace absorbed all my attention. - -He was above the middle height, with a bald, dome-like forehead, a -strong face, and wearing a moustache and imperial. He was dressed like -any other gentleman, but there was that about him--a self-contained -vigour, a calmness of manner, and a grace--that stamped him at once on -the memory as a person never to be forgotten. - -"This is my little son," said my father. I saluted, and the great man -bowed. - -Then I was questioned about the affair at Lichtenberg, for it seems the -matter had made more than a stir at the Prussian Court. Questions were -being asked; and there was that eruption of evil talk, that dicrotic -rebound of excitement, which, after every social tragedy, is sure to -follow the first wave. - -"And now," said my father, when I had finished my evidence, "run off and -play till I am ready for you." - -Play! With whom did he expect me to play? With the fat Deputies, the -opulent bankers, the sun-dried gentlemen from the south who thronged the -ante-chamber? - -The Countess Wagner de Pons answered the question. This old lady, whose -eccentricity and love of gossip had made her wait with her charge in the -ante-room, instead of having her name announced to the Duchess de Morny, -as any other lady of rank would have done, was deep in conversation with -a tall, dignified gentleman, deep in scandal, no doubt; for, when she -saw me she got rid of me at once by introducing me to the little Comte -de Coigny. "And now," said she, as if echoing my father's words, "run -off and play, both of you, in the garden." - -A footman in the blue-and-gold livery of the Duke led us down an iron -staircase to the gravelled walk upon which the lower windows opened, and -left us there. - -Play! There was less play in the stiff and starched little Comte de -Coigny, that child of the haute noblesse, tres propre, than in the -elephant of the Jardin des Plantes, or any of the fat Deputies in M. de -Morny's ante-room. But there was much more dignity, of a heavy sort. - -We took the path towards the river. - -"And you," said he, breaking the silence as we walked along. "Where have -you come from?" - -"Germany," I replied. - -"I thought so," said he. - -He was a schoolboy of the Bourdaloue College, but all the planing and -polishing of the Jesuit fathers had not improved his manners, it seems. -The tone of his reply was an insult in itself, and I took it as such, -and held my tongue and waited. - -We walked right down to the balustrade overlooking the Seine. De Coigny -mounted, sat on the balustrade, whistled, and as he sat kicking his -heels he cast his eyes up and down me from crown to toe. - -I stood before him with the seeming humility of the younger child; but -my blood was boiling, and my knuckles itched at the sight of his flabby, -pasty face. - -Some trees sheltered us from the house, and my gentleman from the -Bourdaloue College took a box of Spanish cigaritos from his pocket and a -matchbox adorned with the picture of a ballet-girl. - -He put a cigarito between his thick lips, lit it, blew a puff of smoke, -and held out the box to me to have one. Fired with the manliness of the -affair I put out my hand, and received, instead of a cigarito, a rap on -the knuckles with his cane. - -"That's to teach you not to smoke," said Mentor. "How old are you?" - -"Nine," replied I. The blow hurt; but I put my hand in my pockets, and I -think neither my voice nor my face betrayed my feelings. - -"Nine. And what part of Germany do you come from?" - -"I was last staying at the Castle of Lichtenberg." - -"Aha!" said the gentleman on the balustrade. "And who, may I ask, did we -entertain at our Castle of Lichtenberg?" - -"King William of Prussia," I replied out of my childish vanity, "the -Count Feliciani, the great banker and----" - -"Mr. What's-your-name," said my tormentor, "you are a liar. The Count -Feliciani, the great banker as you call him, is in prison----" - -"How! What?" I cried. - -"Oh," said he, with the air of an old Boulevardier, "it is all over -Paris. Caught embezzling State funds; arrested at the railway station. A -nice acquaintance, truly, to boast of!" - -"Oh, Eloise!" I cried, my whole heart going out to the unhappy family; -for, though I did not know what embezzling funds meant, prison was plain -enough to my understanding. - -"Oh, Eloise!" mimicked the other, throwing his cigarette-end away, -slipping down from the balustrade, and adjusting his waistcoat -preparatory to returning to the house. "Oh, Eloise! Come on, cochon. I -have an appointment with M. le Duc de Morny." - -"Allons!" And again he hit me with the cane, this time over the right -shoulder. - -I struck him first in the wind, a foul blow, which I have never yet -regretted; and, as he doubled up, I struck him again, by good fortune, -just at the root of the nose. - -The effect was magical, and I stood in consternation looking at my -handiwork, for instantly his two eyes became black and his nose streamed -gore. - -He lay for a moment where he had fallen; then he scrambled on all fours, -got on his feet, and running, streaming blood, and bellowing at the same -time, without his dandy cane, without his cigarette-box, which he had -left on the balustrade, he made for the house, this enfant tres propre, -and of the highest intelligence; a nice figure, indeed, for presentation -to the Duc de Morny! - -It was a veritable debacle. He knew how to run, that child of the haute -noblesse; and, when I arrived in the ante-room, he was already roaring -his tale out into the Countess Wagner de Pons' brocaded skirts, for he -was clinging to her like a child of five, whilst the fat Deputies, the -Jew bankers, and other illuminati stood round in a circle, excited as -schoolboys. A nice scene, truly, to take place in a Minister of State's -salon. - -"He struck me in the stomach, he struck me on the head, he kicked me!" -roared the little Comte de Coigny. "Keep him away! Keep him away! Here -he is! Here he is!" - -The Countess de Pons screamed. A row of long-drawn faces turned on me, -and the bankers and Deputies, the priests, and the Southern delegates -made a hedge to protect the stricken one, and cooshed at me as if I were -a cat. Cries of "Ah! polisson! Mauvais enfant! Regardez! Regardez!" -filled the room, till the hubbub suddenly ceased at a stern voice that -said "Patrick!" - -It was my father, whose interview with De Morny was over. He stood at -the open door, and I saw the Duke, who had peeped out, and whose quick -intelligence had taken in the whole affair in a flash, vanishing with a -smile on his face. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE RUINED ONES - - -"Go home!" said my father, putting me into the carriage. "I will return -on foot. You have disgraced yourself; you have disgraced me. Hand -yourself over to Joubert. You are to be a prisoner under lock and key -until I devise some punishment to meet your case." Then, to the -coachman: "Home, Lubin!" He clapped the door on me, and I was driven -off, with his speech ringing in my ears, a speech which I believe was -meant as much for the gallery as for me. This was my first encounter -with the Comte de Coigny, and I believe I had the worst of it. But I was -not thinking of De Coigny--I was thinking of little Eloise, of the -Countess whose beauty haunted me, and of the Count, that noble-looking -gentleman, now in prison. - -Eloise had told me that their house in Paris was situated in the -Faubourg St. Germain, and, as we turned out of the Rue de Lille, an -inspiration came to me. I pulled the check-string, the carriage stopped, -and I put my head out of the window. - -"Lubin!" - -"Well?" - -"Drive me to the Faubourg St. Germain." - -"Likely, indeed! and lose my place. Ma foi!--Faubourg St. Germain!" - -"Lubin! I have a napoleon in my pocket, and I'll give it you if----" - -But the carriage drove on. - -I sank back on the cushions, but I was not defeated yet. There was a -block of traffic in the Rue de Trone. I put my hand out, opened the door -on the left side, and the next moment I was standing upon the pavement, -and the heavy old carriage was driving on, with the door swinging open. - -Then I ran, ran till I was out of breath, and in a broad street full of -shops. - -A barrel-organ was playing in the sunshine; a herd of she-asses were -trotting along, followed by an Auvergnat in sabots, and a cabriolet -plying for hire was approaching on the opposite side of the way. - -I hailed the driver, and told him to take me to the Faubourg St. -Germain. - -"Where to in the Faubourg St. Germain?" asked the man. - -"I want to go to the Count Feliciani's," I replied. - -"The Hotel Feliciani?" - -"Yes" - -"Get in." He drove off. He knew the Hotel Feliciani, did this driver. -All Paris was ringing with the disgrace of the man who, from his throne -in the kingdom of finance, had fallen to the gutter, involving a -thousand others in his ruin. But I knew nothing of this; and from the -man's unconcerned manner I began to hope that De Coigny had told me a -lie. - -The cabriolet drove in through the gates of a huge hotel in the -Faubourg St. Germain. The courtyard was crowded with people--and such -people! Jews, porters, female furniture dealers with heavy earrings, -silken skirts, and ungloved, unwashed hands--all the sharks that ruin -attracts; and in the portico, on the steps, on the very gravel of the -drive, furniture, crystal chandeliers, tables, mirrors, lying like the -debris left by the wave of misfortune. - -It was as if one were looking at a lee shore the morning after the wreck -of some palatial ship: cabin-furniture, stores, the sailor's sea-chest -and the passengers' baggage, tossed up on the sands in horrible -incongruity, and speaking louder than a thousand trumpets of the fury of -the storm. - -There was a sale in progress at the Hotel Feliciani. I knew nothing of -sales, I knew nothing of finance, speculation, or commercial ruin, but I -knew that what I saw was disaster. - -Getting out of the cabriolet, and telling the driver to wait for me, I -went up the steps and mixed with the throng in the hall. I wanted to -find the Felicianis, and some instinct told me they were not here; also, -that it was useless to ask any of these people their whereabouts. I -looked about me for someone in authority; and, as I looked, a voice from -the large salon adjoining the hall came: - -"Thirty thousand francs! Thirty thousand francs! Any advance on thirty -thousand francs? Gone!" Then followed the blow of a little hammer. - -They were selling the pictures. I turned to the doorway of the great -salon and squeezed my way in. The place was filled with people--all -Paris was there. Men who had shaken the Count Feliciani by the hand, -women who had kissed the Countess on the cheek, men and women of the -highest nobility, of the greatest intelligence--tres propre, to use the -words of the old fool in De Morny's ante-chamber--were here, battening -on the sight, and trying to snatch bargains from the ruin of their -one-time friends. The Felicianis, as I afterwards learned, all but -beggared, had been cast adrift, mother and daughter, by society; cast -out like lepers from the pure precincts of the Court circle and the -buckramed salons of the Royalist clique. - -M. Hamard, the auctioneer, on his estrade, before his desk, a man in -steel spectacles, the living image of the late unlamented Procurator of -the Holy Synod, was clearing his throat before offering the next lot, a -Gerard Dow, eighteen inches by twelve. - -As the bidding leaped up by a thousand francs at a time, I edged my way -through the throng closer and closer to the auctioneer, treading on -dainty toes, wedging myself in between whispering acquaintances, -regardless of grumbles and muttered imprecations, till I was right -beside the estrade and within plucking distance of the auctioneer's -coat. - -"Sixty-five thousand francs!" cried M. Hamard. "This priceless Gerard -Dow--sixty-five thousand francs. Any advance on sixty-five thousand -francs? Gone! Well, what is it, little boy?" - -"Please," said I, "can you tell me where I can find the Countess -Feliciani?" - -A dead silence took the room, for my nervousness had made me speak -louder than I intended. People looked at one another; an awkward silence -it must have been following the voice of the enfant terrible flinging -the name of the woman they had cast out and deserted into the face of -these worldlings who had come to examine her effects and snatch bargains -from her ruin. - -M. Hamard, aghast, stared down at me through his spectacles. - -"You---- Who are you?" said he. - -"I am her friend. My name is Patrick Mahon. My father is General Count -Mahon, and I wish to see the Countess Feliciani." - -M. Hamard seized a pen from the desk, scribbled some words on a piece of -paper, and handed it to me. - -"Go," he said. "That is the address. You are interrupting the sale." - -Then, with the paper in my hand, I came back through the crush without -difficulty, for the crowd made a lane for me down which I walked, paper -in hand, a child of nine, the last and only friend of the once great and -powerful Felicianis. - -I read the address on the piece of paper to the driver of the cabriolet. - -"Ma foi!" said he, "but that is a long way from here." - -"Drive me there," said I. - -"Yes; that is all very well, but how about my fare?" - -I showed him my napoleon, got into the vehicle, and we drove off. - -It was indeed a long way from there. We retook the route by which we -had come, we drove through the broad streets, through the great -boulevards, and then we plunged into a quarter of the city where the -streets were shrunken and mean, where the people were in keeping with -the streets, and the light of the bright September day seemed dull as -the light of December. - -At the Hotel de Mayence in the Rue Ancelot we drew up. It was a -respectable, third-rate hotel. A black cat was crouched in the doorway, -watching the street with imperturbable yellow eyes, and a waiter with a -stained serviette in his hand made his appearance at the sound of the -vehicle drawing up. - -Yes; Madame Feliciani was in: he would go up and see whether she could -receive visitors. I waited, trying to make friends with the sphinx-like -cat; then I was shown upstairs, and into a shabby sitting-room -overlooking the street. - -By the window, stitching at a child's small garment, sat an old lady -with snow-white hair. It was the Countess Feliciani. - -It was as if I had seen by some horrible enchantment a woman of -thirty-five, happy and beautiful, surrounded by the wealth and luxury of -life, suddenly withered, touched by the wand of some malevolent fairy -and transformed into a woman old and poor. - -It was my first lesson in the realities of life, this fairy tale, which, -for hidden terror, put Vogel's story of the old woman who made the -whistles completely in the shade. - -Next moment I was at her knee, blubbering, with my nose rubbing the -bombazine of her black skirt--for she was in mourning--and next moment -little Eloise was in her room, looking just the same as ever, and I was -being comforted as if all the misfortune were mine; and Madame -Feliciani, for so she chose to be styled, was smiling for the first -time, I am sure, since the disaster. A late dejeuner was brought in, and -I was given a place at the table. It is all misty and strange in my -mind. A few things of absolute unimportance stand out--the coat of the -waiter, shiny at the elbows; the hotel dog that came in for scraps; the -knives and forks, worn and second-rate--but of what we said to each -other I remember nothing. - -"And you will come and see us?" said I as I took my departure. - -"Some day," replied the Countess, with a smile, the significance of -which I now understand, as I understand the horrible mockery of my -innocent invitation. - -Eloise ran down to see me off; and the last I saw of her was a small -figure standing at the door of the hotel, and holding in its arms the -black cat with the imperturbable yellow eyes. - -When we arrived at the Champs Elysees I was so frightened with my doings -that I gave the driver the whole napoleon without waiting for change, -and then I went to meet my doom like a man, and confessed the whole -business to my father. - -The sentence was expulsion from Paris to the pavilion in the grounds of -the Chateau de Saluce, whither, accordingly, I was transported next day -with Joubert for a gaoler. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE PAVILION OF SALUCE - - -Since my mother's death, my father had not lived in the chateau. He was -too grand to let it, so it was placed in the hands of a caretaker. It -was a gloomy house, dating from 1572, but the pavilion was the -pleasantest place in the world. It was situated in the woods of the -chateau, woods adjoining the forest of Senart. It had six rooms, and was -surrounded by a deep moat. A drawbridge gave access to it; and by -touching a lever the drawbridge would rise; and you were as completely -isolated from the world as though you were surrounded by a wall of iron. - -The water in the moat, fed by some unknown source, was very dark and -still and deep, reflecting with photographic perfection the treetops of -the wood and the fern-fronds of the bank. The water never varied in -height, and, a strange thing, was rarely, even in the severest weather, -covered with ice. It had a gloomy and secret look. - -"Joubert," I remember saying once, as I looked over the rail of the -drawbridge at the reflections on the oily surface below, "has it ever -drowned a man?" - -"Which?" asked Joubert. - -"The water." - -That was the feeling with which it inspired me, and I never lingered on -the bridge when I was alone. And I was often alone now, for Joubert, -having extracted my parole d'honneur to be of good behaviour and not get -into mischief or bolt back to Paris, spent most of his time at the -chateau, where the caretaker had a pretty daughter, or at the cabaret at -Etiolles, Lisette, the old woman who did our cooking and made our beds, -being deputed deputy-gaoler. - -The weather had the feeling of early spring, though in the forest, half -stricken by autumn, the leaves were falling--falling to every touch of -the wind. Where the forest of Senart began, and the woods of the chateau -ended, the frontier was marked by a thin line of wire easy for a child -to slip under. Then one felt free, free as the cock pheasant whose -corkscrew-sounding voice echoed from the liquid twilight of the drives, -free as the wind in the tree tops. The great pine forest of Lichtenberg -had a voice. You would hear the wind rising and passing over its leagues -of perfumed branches, and dying away, and rising and dying away--ever -the same voice filling and deserting the same vast silence. But here, in -the forest of Senart, the tongue of the beech spoke a different language -to that of the fir and the larch. There were open spaces, swathes of -sunshine, forest pools like lost sapphires, where the bulrushes painted -their forms on the water-surface, blue with the reflection of the autumn -sky. - -These woods, whose echoes had once answered to the hunting-horn of Le -Roi Soleil, were haunted, but not by the ghost of Pan. Rousseau had once -botanised in them, and M. de Jussien, in his coat of ribbed Indian -satin, his lilac silk vest, and white silk stockings of extraordinary -fineness, had here filled his herbal with the vicris hieracioides and -the cerastium aquaticum so dear to his herboristic heart. Pompadour had -wandered where the rabbits played now; and the glades, shot through with -sunlight and draped in the muslin of the morning mist, were the -backgrounds beloved of Fragonnard for his wreaths of flying drapery, his -fetes champetres, and his sylvan scenes. - -The forest keepers all wore a state uniform. Fanchard, the one who lived -nearest to us, an old soldier and a crony of Joubert's, would take me -with him whilst he set his traps; and there were gypsies that haunted -the clearings, real children of Egypt these, lineal descendants of -Hennequin Dandeche and Clopin Trouillefou. - -On the evening of our sixth day at the pavilion, a visitor arrived. It -was my father. He had left his carriage in the road at the gates of the -chateau, and had come to the pavilion on foot. - -I was at supper when he arrived. He ordered another plate, and a bottle -of wine; he was gay, excited, his eyes were brilliant, and he seemed -quite to have forgotten my escapades in Paris, for he never referred to -them. He had only come for an hour, to see how I was getting on, so he -said; but he stayed three, for after supper he called Joubert, and they -both went out into the night. - -These two old soldiers must have had something very important to say to -one another, for they were gone an hour or more. When they returned, my -father beckoned me to him and kissed me, and bade me good-night; then, -as if something had suddenly occurred to him, he said to Joubert: -"Patrick can come down to the road and see me off. Come, both of you, -and bring a lantern." - -Joubert lit a lantern. The night was black as black velvet, and the -lantern only showed Joubert's legging-clad legs as he marched before us -down the gravel of the drive. - -The carriage was standing in the road. My father kissed me, got in, and -drove away. - -Just as the vehicle moved off, he looked out of the window, and the -light of the lantern which Joubert was holding up struck his face. What -a reckless, daring, jolly face it was, that face I was destined never to -see again! - -"What did father want to say to you, Joubert?" I asked as we returned to -the pavilion. - -"What did he want to say?" cried Joubert, whose temper seemed sharper -than usual. "Why, that the price of cabbages has gone up. What else -would he have to say to me at this hour of the night? Mordieu! If I -could be there!" - -"Where, Joubert?" - -But Joubert did not reply. - -Next morning the fine weather still held, and I was up at dawn. It was -no trouble to get up early when one lived in the pavilion. The birds -wakened one; and, then, the forest! - -In the very early morning, the forest, like the sea, is full of tender -lights. Shadows and trees are equally unsubstantial, the rides are -wreathed in vague mists, the last star has not quite faded from the sky, -and the voice of the thrush comes from the glens as in the story of -Vitigab, crying: "Deep--down deep--there somewhere in the darkness I see -a ray of light." The hollow tapping of the woodpecker comes from the -beech glades, whilst the rabbits shake the dew from their fur, and the -rustle of the stoat comes from the ferns; a nut falls, and, looking up, -you see against the sky, where the treetops are waving in the palest -sapphire air, the squirrel, the sweetest of all wood things. - -You observe one another and he is gone, and the wind draws up from -leagues away like the rustling of a silken skirt, till, suddenly, the -whole forest draws breath. You can hear it waking from its slumber just -as at dusk you can hear it falling to sleep; for the forest is a living -thing, a thing that breathes and speaks and has its dreams. - -I was out early this morning, for I was going to breakfast with -Fauchard. I passed the glades where the rabbits were sporting, chasing -each other in circles smoothly and for all the world like toy rabbits on -wheels and driven by clockwork. I passed the pools where the bulrushes -stood up out of the mist, and nothing spoke of water save the splash of -the frog, or the ripple of the water-rat swimming. - -Fauchard was waiting for me. We had breakfast--a simple enough repast, -consisting of coffee, biscuits, and cheese--and then we started off to -visit the traps and see what they had caught. - -When Fauchard had collected his harvest of stoats and moles, killed two -snakes, and shot a marauding cat, it was late morning; the sun was well -over the treetops, and it was time for me to return home. - -"Take that path," said the ranger. "Turn neither to the right nor left, -and it will lead you straight as an omnibus to the pavilion." - -I bade him good morning, and, taking the path indicated, I set off. It -was not a drive; in fact, it was so narrow in parts that the hawthorn -bushes growing in this part of the wood nearly met; the fern in places -nearly blocked the way. It was warm, and very silent. - -When I paused now and then to listen, I could hear nothing except the -buzzing of wasps and flies. The ground in places was boggy, the path, it -seemed to me, had not been used for years. Stories of murderers and -goblins occurred to my mind and made me press on all the faster. - -I had turned past a clump of alders when before me I caught a glimpse of -someone going in the same direction as myself--a boy of my own age, to -judge from his height, but I could not see what he was dressed in, or -whether he was a gypsy or a woodranger's child, for he was always just -ahead of my sight at the turnings, glimpsed for a moment and then gone. -I halloed to him to stop, for his company would have been very -acceptable in that lonely place, but he made no reply. I ran, and -pausing out of breath, I heard his footsteps running, too; then they -ceased, as though he were waiting for me. It was like a game of -hide-and-seek, and I laughed. - -I walked softly and as quickly as I could, hoping to surprise him. -Then, at the next turning, I saw him. He was amidst the bushes on the -right; his head just peeped over the tops of them, and--he was a child -of about my own age, and extraordinarily like little Carl. - -Filled with astonishment, not thinking what I did, I ran through the -bushes towards him, calling his name. - -Then I remember nothing more. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE VICOMTE - - -I had fallen into a disused gravel-pit, treacherously hidden by the -bushes, so they told me afterwards. When I recovered from my stunned -condition, my cries for help had attracted the attention of Fauchard's -eldest son, who, fortunately, had been passing. I do not remember -calling for help; I remember nothing distinctly till I found myself on -my bed, and old Dr. Perichaud of Etiolles bending over me. Then I became -keenly alive to my position, for my right thigh was broken in two -places, and the doctor was setting it. When the thing was over, the -doctor retired with Joubert to the next room, and there they talked. -When will people learn that the sick have ears to hear with, and a sense -of hearing doubly acute? - -This conversation came to my ears. The speakers spoke in a muted voice, -it is true, but this only made the matter worse. - -"You have sent for the General, you say?" - -"Oui, monsieur. A man on horseback has started to fetch him. He will be -here in an hour, unless----" - -"Unless?" - -"Monsieur does not know. The General has an affair of honour on hand. -This morning, in the Bois de Boulogne, he was to meet Baron Imhoff." - -"Aha!" said Perichaud, with appreciation. He was an old army surgeon, -who had tasted smoke, and seen men carved with other things than -scalpels. He was also a gossip, as most old army men are. "Aha! And what -was the cause of the affair? Do you know?" - -"Oh, mon Dieu!" said Joubert, "it was all that cursed business at the -Schloss Lichtenberg, of which everyone is speaking. Baron Imhoff was -cousin"--mark the "was"--"of the Baron von Lichtenberg, Baron Imhoff -picked a quarrel at the Grand Club yesterday with the General. That's -all. It is a bad affair." - -"And the Lichtenberg affair--the cause of all this?" said Perichaud. - -"Ah, that beats the Moscow campaign," said Joubert, "for blackness and -treachery. Mark you: this is between ourselves. You will never breathe a -word of it to anyone?" - -"No, no; not a word!" - -"Well, the Baron Carl von Lichtenberg was mad." - -"Mad?" - -"Mad. What else can you call a man who brings his little daughter up as -a boy?" - -"A boy?" - -"It is true. He fancied she was some old dead-and-gone Lichtenberg -returned, and that she was doomed to be killed by the child in there -with the broken leg, whom he thought was some old dead-and-gone Saluce -returned. Then-- Listen to me; and I trust monsieur's honour never to -let these words go further. He, or at least one of his damned jaegers, -tried to smother the child. The night before, they tried to stab -him--as he lay asleep in bed--with my couteau de chasse, and would have -done it only the Blessed Virgin interposed." - -"Great Heaven!" said the old doctor. - -"Oh, yes," said Joubert; "that's the story. I saw it all with my own -eyes, or I wouldn't believe my own tongue with my own ears. And now -monsieur, what do you think of him?" - -"Of him?" said Perichaud. - -"Of the child. Is there danger?" - -"Not a bit; but he'll be lame for life." - -"Lame for life!" - -"The femur is broken in two places, and splintered. The right leg will -be two inches shorter than the left. All the surgeons in Paris could not -do him any good." - -"Then he will be useless for the army!" said Joubert. And I could hear -the catching of his breath. - -"He will never see service," replied Perichaud. - -A loud smash of crockery came as a reply to the doctor's pronouncement. -It was Joubert kicking a great Japanese jar on to the floor. - -As for me, I had heard the death-sentence of my hopes. I would never -wear a sword or lead a company into action. I would be a thing with a -lame leg--a cripple. Fortunately, an opiate which the doctor had given -me began to take effect. It did not make me sleepy, but it dulled my -thoughts--some of them; others it made more bright. I lay listening to -the doctor departing, and watching the red sunset which was dyeing -Etiolles, and the woods, and the walls of my bedroom. - -Then Joubert's words came into my head about Lichtenberg, and the duel -the General had fought that morning with Baron Imhoff. I did not feel in -the least uneasy about my father, and I was picturing the duel in the -woods of Lichtenberg, when a sound through the open window came to my -ears. - -It was a carriage rapidly driving up the distant avenue to the chateau. - -It was my father, I felt sure. A long time passed, and then I heard -steps on the drawbridge; voices sounded from below. Then came a step on -the stairs; my door opened, and a gentleman stood framed in the doorway. - -I shall never forget my first sight of the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan, -my father's cousin on the Saluces' side, and my future guardian. - -I had never seen him before. He was not, indeed, a sight to come often -in a child's way, this flower of the boulevards, seventy if a day, -scented, exquisite, with a large impassive, evenly coloured red face, -the face of a Roman consul, in which were set the blue eyes of a -good-tempered child. - -This great gentleman, who left the pavements of Paris only once a year -for a three weeks' visit to his estates in Auvergne, had travelled -express from Paris to tell a child that its father was lying dead, shot -through the heart by the Baron Imhoff. And this is how he did it: He -made a kindly little bow to me, and indicated Joubert to place a chair -by the bedside. - -"And how are we this evening?" asked he, taking my wrist as a physician -might have done to feel my pulse. - -I did not know who he was. I had vague suspicions that he was another -doctor. Never for a moment did I dream he was the bearer of evil -tidings. I said I was better--that old reply of the sick child--and he -talked on various subjects: the airiness of the room, the beauty of the -woods, and so forth. Then, to Joubert: "Distinctly feverish. Must not be -disturbed to-night. Ah, yes, in the morning; that will be different. And -no more tumbling into gravel pits," finished this astute old gentleman -as he glanced back at me before leaving the room. - -Then the opiate closed its lid on me, and I did not even hear the -departure of the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan, my future guardian, who -shuffled out of the unpleasant business of grieving my heart on the same -evening that he shuffled into my life, he and his grand, queer, quaint, -and sometimes despicable personality, perfumed with vervain and the -cigars of the Cafe de Paris. - - - - -PART II - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -A DEJEUNER AT THE CAFE DE PARIS - - -The death of my father cast me into an entirely new life. Anyone less -fitting than the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan to be the guardian of a -child of nine it would be hard to imagine at first sight. But my father -was no fool. - -This gorgeous old night-moth of the Second Empire, this frequenter of -Tortoni's and the Cafe de Paris--always hard up, with an income of two -hundred thousand francs a year--was a man of rigid honour in his way. - -Left sole and irresponsible guardian of me and my money, he shuffled out -of his difficulties and bothers by placing the latter in the funds and -the former in the Bourdaloue College--that same college of the Jesuit -fathers where the Comte de Coigny was receiving his education. - -Here nine years of my life were spent--nine dull but not unhappy years. -Lame and unfit for the army, completely cut off from the only profession -fit for a gentleman--to use the Vicomte's expression--I saw the others -go off to join the Military College, and I would not have felt it so -bitterly had not De Coigny been amongst them. He was my natural enemy. -All the time we spent together at the Bourdaloue, we scarcely spoke a -word one to the other. Speechless enmity: there can scarcely be a worse -condition between boys or men. - -Once a month or so the Vicomte came to see me. Joubert came often. He -was installed as caretaker in the Chateau de Saluce, and he would bring -me presents of game and plovers' eggs, huge Jaronel pears from the -orchard, and cakes baked by Fauchard's wife. - -During the first few months at the college, I had got leave from the -Father Superior to visit the Felicianis. A young priest accompanied me. -But the Felicianis were not at the Hotel de Mayence; no one knew -anything about them; the hotel itself had changed hands after the -fashion of these small hotels, the short chapters of whose histories -have for heading "Bankruptcy." - -Then I forgot. - -Little by little the beautiful Countess and the sprightly Eloise faded -from my mind. Never entirely, but they passed to the region of ghosts, -the limbo of things half remembered. - -I was not a diligent student. Good for nothing much except drawing. I -was an artist born, I believe, and had the artistic temperament, which -takes a delight in all things brilliant and beautiful, and tuneful and -grand, and holds in abhorrence all things dull and most things useful. -Smuggled novels and the poems of De Musset were the literature of my -heart. D'Artagnan and Bussey were my heroes, and Esmeralda, that -brilliant and gemlike creation, was my mistress. - -Life is a love-story, a story that Nature alone can teach you to read. -And what are the poets and the great writers of prose but Nature's -priests, who repeat her litanies? Yet love-stories were banned at the -Bourdaloue, and Dumas was accounted a child of Satan. Which statement is -a preface to the comedy of my eighteenth birthday, or, in other words, -the twelfth of May, 1869. - -I was to leave school on that day. The Vicomte de Chatellan was to -entertain me at dejeuner. I was to have rooms at his house in the Place -Vendome; I was, in fact, to burst my sheath and become a dragon-fly. I -was to have an allowance of four hundred a year, to teach me, as the -Vicomte said, the value of money. Joubert was to be unearthed from the -Chateau de Saluce, and constituted my valet. Blacquerie, the Viscount's -tailor, and Champardy, his bootmaker, had already called and taken the -measurements for my new wardrobe. I can tell you I was elated; and no -debutante ever looked forward more eagerly to the day of her debut than -I to the twelfth of May. - -At ten o'clock the Vicomte called for me. He was received in the salon -by the Principal and two of the Fathers. They liked me, these men, and I -liked them; and though I had imbibed Jesuitism as little as a rock -imbibes the sea-water in which it is immersed, I respected Pere -Hyacinthe, and I loved, without any reserve, Father Ambrose, a -bull-necked Arlesian, who, incapable of hurting a fly in practice, burnt -heretics in theory, for ever, and for ever, and for ever in hell. - -As we got into the Vicomte's carriage, this same Father Ambrose came -running out, and, just as we drove off, popped into my hand a little -green-covered book on the seven deadly sins. - -"What's that?" asked the Vicomte, as I turned the leaves. - -I showed it to him. "Pshaw!" said he, and flung it out of the window. - -"All that stuff you have learned," said this worthy man, "is excellent -for children; but when we become men we put away childish things, as M. -de Voltaire or some other scoundrel of a philosopher, I think it was, -once remarked. Mark you, I say nothing against religion. Religion is a -most excellent institution; but in the world, my dear Patrique, we are -brought face to face with men. Religion is a fixed institution; and the -nones, or complines, whatever you call it that they say to-day, were -what they said two hundred years ago. But men are very shifty, and, as a -matter of fact, damned rogues. It is very easy to be a saint in the -College Bourdaloue; but it is very difficult to be a gentleman in the -Boulevard des Italiens, especially in this bourgeois age" (he was a -Royalist, with one foot in the Tuileries and the other in the Faubourg -St. Germain), "when we have a what-do-you-call-it as President of the -Council and a thingumbob on the throne of France." - -So he went on as he sat, erect as a man of thirty, gazing at the passing -streets with those blue tranquil eyes of a child, out of which youth -still looked; and turning to me the pro-consular profile of which he was -secretly so proud, and which was the thing, I believe, up to which this -strange old gentleman lived. - -To live up to your profile is not a bad rule of life, if you have a -face like that possessed by the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan. - -When we drew up at the Place Vendome, I put my hand to open the door, -and received my first lesson in the convenances from the Vicomte, who -laid his gloved hand on my arm without a word. The footman opened the -door, and the grand old gentleman descended. M. le Vicomte did not get -out of a carriage--he descended. And with what a grace! He waited -courteously for me on the pavement; and then, with a little wave of his -clouded cane, shepherded me into the house. - -At the door, Beril, the Vicomte's personal servant, a man older than his -master, received us; and Joubert was in the hall with my luggage. - -"And now," said the Vicomte, when I had been shown my suite of rooms, -and very sumptuous they were, "dejeuner." - -We got into the carriage which was waiting, the footman closed the door, -and we started for the Cafe de Paris. - -Fourteen people were invited to the repast, besides myself. It took -place in the Amber Room overlooking the Boulevard; and six of the guests -were ladies. Very great ladies--duchesses, in my simple eyes. Had I -known more of breakfast-parties and the world, I might have wondered at -the disposition of the guests; for the Duc d'Harmonville, an old -gentleman with a white imperial and the exact expression of a -billy-goat, sat between two of the duchesses; and the rest of the female -illuminati sat, three of them altogether in one cluster, and the sixth -at the right of my guardian. - -There was Pelisson of the "Moniteur," the only Press man present; -Carvalho of the Opera Comique; the Duc de Cadore; Prince Metternich, -with his long Dundreary whiskers now lightly streaked with grey; and, as -for the rest, I did not catch their names, and I have all but forgotten -their faces. - -One thing especially struck me in the male guests. With the exception of -Pelisson and Prince Metternich, their manner and their voices recalled -something or somebody to my mind, yet what thing or person I could not -remember, till Memory suddenly chalked on the vacant space before her: - -De Morny. - -The languid air, the half-lisp, the attentive inattention of manner, all -were here, the very voice. - -What a triumph! De Morny had been dead and buried nearly four years, yet -his reflection still lingered on the faces of these apes; his voice had -been silent since the orations and muffled drums of that dramatic -funeral, which outvied in splendour the funeral of Germanicus, and which -I had witnessed in company with Pere Hyacinthe and the pupils of the -Bourdaloue; yet his voice still was heard in the supper-rooms of Paris, -discussing the length of ballet-girls' skirts and the scandals of -Plon-Plon. - -With the fish the conversation became more general, and with the iced -champagne--served from jeroboams that took two waiters to lift--decency -and the ghost of De Morny rose to take their departure. - -It was strange to me, a water-drinker, and therefore an observer of the -others, to see these men forgetting themselves, to see languid faces -become flushed, to hear soft voices become harsh, tongues become ribald; -to watch brutal lines asserting themselves in countenances unveiled by -alcohol. And it was surpassingly funny to see the evanescence of the De -Morny air. - -At the head of the table, a tint more ruddy than usual, sat my guardian, -enjoying it all. - -We had all, like the lunatic guests at the dinner-party of Dr. Tar and -Professor Feather, sat down to table apparently staid and respectable -people, and by degrees, just as lunacy set off the Doctor's guests -crowing like cocks and braying like asses, the spirit of the Second -Empire in its last and rottenest stages invaded the Amber Room of the -Cafe de Paris. Furious discussions, fumes of spilt wines, wreaths of -cigar and cigarette smoke, the cracked and cruel laughter of women, -filled the air. - - * * * * * - -And in the midst of it all sat my guardian, in his element, enjoying the -enjoyment of his guests, paternal, and with those childish blue eyes -through which youth looked so frankly, and that voice, so courtly and -well modulated, infecting the others with I know not what. I only know -that from him seemed to emanate the diablerie of the party. Sober as -myself, self-contained and courtly, he seemed like the negative pole of -some diabolical battery, of which the others were the positive. - -In the midst of the smoke and chatter he rose, and with a glass of -champagne between two fingers, as a lady holds a lily, he proposed my -health and my success in the world of Paris; and I rose and said -something--foolish, no doubt, but it did not matter, for Amy Feraud, of -the Theatre Montparnasse, whilst she pelted Prince Metternich with -bonbons, lost her balance, fell smash on her back, pulling the -tablecloth with her, and in the confusion I sat down. - -Half an hour later, arm-in-arm with my guardian, I was taking a -digestion walk down the Boulevard des Italiens. The old gentleman was -pleased, very pleased, for it seems I had conducted myself in a modest -and becoming manner, and the few words I had said had been well said; -and you might have thought that he was discussing a children's party as -he strolled by my side, saluting every person of distinction that he -met, and being saluted in return. - -I really believe that this man was as innocent at heart as any child, -yet he was an old roue, a duellist, a gambler, all that a bad man could -be. Yet, though always hard up, he had jealously guarded my patrimony, -which he could have plundered if he had chosen with impunity. His -charity was boundless if you tapped it; and though he spoke of women in -a light way, _I never heard him speak a bad word of any man_. And he -loved animals, stopping to stroke a cat in the Rue de Rivoli, and -pausing, as he led me across to the Tuileries, to admire the sparrows -taking their dust-baths in the Royal precincts. - -"Where are we going?" I asked, with a sudden apprehension. - -"It is your eighteenth birthday," replied the Vicomte. And, still with -his arm in mine, he led me past the Cent-Gardes, up the steps, and into -the hall of the Palace. - -One might have thought that the Palace of the Tuileries belonged to the -Vicomte de Chatellan, so perfectly at home did he seem. That he was a -well-known and respected visitor was evident from the manner of the -ushers. I was left in an anteroom, whilst the old gentleman, led by the -usher, disappeared for a moment; then he came back, and, motioning me to -follow him, he led the way into a room, where, at a desk-table, with a -cigarette between his lips and a pen in his hand, sat Napoleon. - -He threw the pen down and rose to greet us. - -How wrinkled he looked! And how different, seen close and familiarly, -from what he appeared in his carriage, amidst a cloud of dust, a glitter -of sabres, and surrounded by his guards and gentlemen! - -Quite an unfearful person; old, and rather shuffling, easy-going, and -putting you at your ease, rather dreamy, and speaking with a slightly -nasal voice, rolling an armchair for you to sit in with his own august -hands, offering cigarettes with a little shake of the box to loosen them -and make your acceptance of one more easy, searching for a matchbox -amidst the papers on the desk: a true gentleman, though an unfortunate -Emperor. - -Though I was eighteen, I was still very much of a child, and that is -perhaps why I felt an affection for the old gentleman at almost first -sight. He remembered my father perfectly well; and, with a shade of -sadness and wreathed in his cigarette smoke, he fell into a little -reverie. We talked--he, my guardian, and I. My lameness was explained -and commiserated, and, when our audience was ended and M. Ollivier was -announced as waiting, he pushed us out of his cabinet, holding our hands -affectionately, patting my shoulder, and all with such a grace and -goodness of heart as to make me for ever his admirer and friend. - -Ah, that was a good man lost in an Emperor! - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -MY FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS - - -"I am due to dine at the Duc de Bassano's," said my guardian as I parted -with him outside the Tuileries. "So, if we do not see one another till -to-morrow morning, au revoir. You have plenty of money in your pocket, -Paris is before you, you are young: amuse yourself." - -Then the old gentleman marched off, and left me standing on the -pavement. - -I could not help recalling my father's words in the room of the Duc de -Morny, years ago, when he dismissed me: - -"Go and play." - -I had five hundred francs in my pocket, I possessed rooms in the Place -Vendome, a princely fortune lay at my back, I had a guardian, everything -that a guardian ought to be from a young man's point of view, I had just -shaken hands with the Emperor, I had the entree of the very best of -society in France, yet I doubt if you could have found a more forlorn -creature than myself if you had searched the whole of Paris. - -I did not know where to go or what to do, so I went back to the Place -Vendome, superintended the unpacking of my things, looked at my new -clothes, and at seven o'clock, called by the lovely evening, I went out -again, proposing to myself to dine somewhere and see life. - -Over the western sky, brilliant and liquid as a topaz, hung the evening -star. Paris was preparing for the festival of the night, wrapping -herself in the dark gauze of shadows and spangling herself with lights. -I hung on the Pont des Arts, looking at the dark lilac of the Seine, -looking at the drifting barges, listening to the sounds of the city. - -Then I walked on. - -Oh, there is no doubt that we are led in this world when we seem to -lead, and that when we take a direction that brings us to fate it is not -by our own volition. This I was soon to prove. - -I walked on--walked in the blindness of reverie--and opened my eyes to -find myself in a new world. - -A broad boulevard, a blaze of lights, cafes thronged to the pavement, -the music of barrel-organs, laughter, and a crowd. - -Such a crowd! Men with long hair, gentlemen in pegtop trousers, wearing -smoking-caps with tassels, smoking long pipes; men in rags, hawkers -yelling their wares, blind men tapping their way with their sticks, deaf -men blowing penny whistles, grisettes, gamins, poets, painters, gnomes -from the Rue du Truand, goblins from Montmartre, Thenard and Claquesons, -Fleur de Marie and Mimi Pinson, Bouchardy and Bruyon; skull-like faces, -ghost-like faces, faces like roses, paint, satin, squalor, beauty; and -all drifting as if blown by the wind of the summer night, drifting under -the stars, here in shadow, here in the blaze of the roaring cafes, -drifting, drifting, in a double current from and towards the voiceless -and gas-spangled Seine. - -Not in the bazaars of Bagdad, or on the Bardo of Tunis, could you see so -fantastic a sight as the Boulevard St. Michel in the year 1869. - -It fascinated me, and, mixing with the crowd, I drifted half the length -of the boulevard, till suddenly I was brought up as if by the blast of a -trumpet in my face. By the pavement a man had placed a little carpet, -six inches square; on this carpet, lit by the light of a bullseye -lantern, two tiny dolls, manipulated by an invisible thread, were -wrestling and tumbling, to the edification of a small crowd of -interested onlookers. One of these--a man with a violin under his arm, a -man with a round, fresh-coloured childish face--I knew at sight. He had -not altered in nine years. He was the good angel, the violinist of that -troupe of wandering musicians, whose music had held me in the gallery of -the Schloss Lichtenberg. - -I laughed to myself with pleasure as I watched him watching the dolls, -all his simple soul absorbed in the sight, his violin under his arm, and -a hand in the pocket of his shabby coat, feeling for a coin to pay for -the entertainment. - -He did not know me in the least. How could he connect the child in its -nightgown, looking down from the gallery of the castle, with the young -dandy who was raising his hat to him in the Boulevard St. Michel? - -"Excuse me, monsieur," said I, "but I believe I have the pleasure of -your acquaintance, though we have never spoken one word to each other." - -He smiled dubiously and plucked nervously at a violin-string, evidently -ransacking memories of beer-gardens and cafe-chantants to find my face. - -"You will not remember me," I went on, "but I remember you. Over nine -years ago, it was, in Germany, in the Schloss Lichtenberg. You remember -the Hunting-Song, the horn----" - -"Ach Gott!" he cried, slapping himself on the forehead. "The child in -the gallery, the one in white----" - -"Yes," said I; "that was me. You see, I don't forget my friends." - -He was too astounded to say anything for a moment; the wretched -difference our clothes made in us confused his simple mind. - -Then he wiped his hand with fingers outspread across his broad face. It -was just as if he had wiped away his amazement like a veil, exposing the -beneficent smile that was his true expression. - -"Wunderschoen!" said he. - -"Wunderschoen indeed," replied I, laughing. "But I have much more to tell -you. Come, let us walk down the Boulevard together, if you have a moment -to spare. You saved my life that night--you and those friends of -yours--and I must tell you about it." - -I knew this man quite well, though I had never spoken to him before. A -really good man is the friend of all the world; you speak to him, and -you know him as though you had known him all your life, for the soul and -essence of his goodness is simplicity, and instinct tells you he has no -dark corners in his soul. In his greatness he does not dream of dark -corners in yours, and so at a word you become friends. - -I told him my story, and then he told me his. - -He had belonged to a band of wandering musicians, long since dispersed; -and on that eventful day in September, nine years ago, he and the rest -of the band had been playing at Homburg. They had done badly; and, after -a long day's tramp, making for Friedrichsdorff, they saw before them, -just at sunset, the towers of Lichtenberg in the distance. - -He, Franzius, pointed them out to the others, and proposed that they -should try their luck there, but Marx, the leader of the band, demurred. -A coin was tossed, and the answer of Fate was "Go," so they went. - -"Ah, yes," said Franzius, as he finished. "And well it was we did so. -And the child who was with you in the gallery--the little boy--how is -he?" - -"What child?" said I. - -"He in the gallery standing beside you, dressed as a soldier, with -cross-belt like the grenadiers of Pomerania." - -A cold hand seemed laid on my heart, for no child had been with me in -the gallery on that night; and the description given by Franzius was the -description of little Carl. - -"Franzius," said I, stopping and facing him, "there was no one in the -gallery but myself. Of that I am positive." - -There we stood facing each other in the glare of a cafe, with the roar -of the Boul' Miche around us, each equally astonished. - -Then Franzius laughed at the absurdity of the notion that he was wrong. - -"With these two eyes I saw him," said he. "And, more: once, when you -made a movement as if to go, he plucked you by the sleeve of your little -nightshirt--so--"--and he plucked my coat--"as if to hold you back, to -keep you there listening to the music." - -"He did that?" - -"Mais oui." - -"Ah, well," I said, with a laugh that was rather forced, "I suppose I -was so taken up with the music that I did not see him. Let us walk on." - -We walked on. I was perturbed. This, and the occurrence that day when I -had seen little Carl in the forest of Senart, my father's death and all -that had gone before, made me feel that there was something working in -my life that I but dimly understood. - -For the first time, fully, Von Lichtenberg's mad attempt at my -destruction rose before me, and demanded an explanation on another basis -than that of madness. He had brought up his daughter as a boy, for it -had been prophesied that she would be slain as a girl--slain by a -Saluce; and I was the last descendant of that family. Then the picture -of Margaret von Lichtenberg rose before me, and its likeness to little -Carl, and the fact of my own likeness to Philippe de Saluce, who had -murdered Margaret so many years ago; and it was just then, walking down -the Boulevard St. Michel, amidst the crush and turmoil, jostled by -students and grisettes, beggars and thieves, that the question came -before me: "Can the dead return? Has Margaret von Lichtenberg come back -to this sad old world again as little Carl? Am I Philippe de Saluce?" -And then like a pang through my heart came the recollection, the _fact_, -that I had recognised the park of Lichtenberg as a thing I had seen once -before. I had not recognised the Schloss, but even that fact was an -indirect confirmation of my fantastic idea, for the Schloss had been -rebuilt in 1703, and the murder of Margaret had occurred many years -before that. - -All these questions and ideas assailing my mind at once brought terror -to my heart for a moment. Only for a moment. "Well?" said I to myself, -"suppose this is true, what then? What is the world around me, dull and -commonplace and sordid, even under its gold and glitter? I have seen the -highest pleasures that life can give men in exchange for gold to-day in -the Amber Salon of the Cafe de Paris. I have seen an Emperor who has -attained his ambition, and the futility and weariness of it all in his -face. I have lost and left behind the only country where dreams are real -and life worth living--childhood. I love the past; and should it come to -me and surround me with its romance, should some mysterious fate call it -up to me, should the end be tragedy even, then welcome, for one can only -die; and what care I about death if I am given one draught from the -water of romance in this arid desert of commonplace things which they -call the world?" - -I walked beside Franzius intoxicated: the woods of Lichtenberg were -around me, the winds of some far-distant day were rocking the trees. -Romance had touched me with her wand. I heard the Hunting-Song, the -horn, the cries of the jaegers; and now I was in the gallery of the -Schloss, the sound of the violins was in my ears, the music that was -holding me from death, the ghostly child was plucking at my sleeve. Ah, -God! whoever has tasted the waters of romance like that will never want -wine again. - -And then the wand was withdrawn, and I was walking in the Boulevard St. -Michel with Franzius. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -MY FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS (_continued_) - - -He was holding out his hand timidly, as if to bid me good-bye. - -"Oh, but," said I, "we must not part so soon. Can you not come and have -some dinner with me? What are you doing?" - -He looked at a big clock over a cafe on the opposite side of the way, -and sighed. It pointed to a quarter to nine. He was due at La Closerie -de Lilas at ten; he was a member of the band; there was a students' -fancy-dress ball that night, and he evidently hated the business, though -he said no word of complaint. Poor Franzius! Simple soul, poet and -peasant, child of a woodcutter in Hartz, condemned to live by the gift -that God had given him, just as one might imagine some child condemned -to live by the sale of some lovely toy, the present of an Emperor--what -a fate his was, forever surrounded by the flare of gas, the clatter of -beer-mugs, and the foetid life of music-hall and cafe-chantant! - -"Come," I said. And, taking him by the arm, I led him into the nearest -cafe. - -You could dine here sumptuously for 1 franc 50, wine included. We found -a vacant table; and as we waited for our soup the heart in me was -touched at the way the world and the years had treated this friend who -was part of the romance of my life; for the pitiless gaslight showed up -all--the coat so old and frayed, yet still, somehow, respectable; the -face showing lines that ought never to have been there. I hugged myself -at the thought of my money, and what I could do for him. But in this I -reckoned without Franzius. - -He was hungry, and he enjoyed his dinner frankly, and like a child. He -had the whole bottle of wine to himself. He had not had such a dinner -for a long time, and he said so. Then I gave him the best cigar the cafe -could supply, a black affair that smelt like burning rags, and we -wandered out of the cafe, he, at least in outward appearance, the -happiest man in Paris. - -"And the Closerie de Lilas?" said I, when we were on the pavement. - -"Ah, oui!" sighed Franzius, coming back from the paradise of digestion. -"It is true that I should be getting there, and we must say good-bye." - -"You said it was a fancy-dress ball?" - -"Yes." - -"I'd have gone with you only for that." - -"But you will do as you are!" cried he, his face lighting up with -pleasure at the thought of bringing me along with him. "Ma foi! it is -not altogether fancy-dress, for Messieurs les Etudiants have not always -the money to spend on dress. People go as they like." - -"Very well," I replied. "Allons!" And we started. - -When we reached our destination people were arriving fast, and there -was a good deal of noise. A Japanese lantern was going in, and a cabinet -was being put out by two grave-faced gendarmes. The cabinet was -shouting, laughing, and protesting; at least, the head was that was -stuck out of the top of it, and belonged presumably to the two legs that -appeared below. It was very funny and fantastic, the gravity of the -officers of the law contrasting so quaintly with the business they were -about. Inside the big saloon all was light and colour and laughter, the -band was tuning up, and Franzius rushed to the orchestra, promising to -see me before I went. - -I leaned against the wall and looked around me. - -What a scene! Monkeys, goats, cabbages, pierrots, pierrettes, men in -everyday clothes, girls in dominoes--and very little else--and then, -boom, boom! the band broke into a waltz, and set the whole fantastic -scene whirling. A girl, dressed as a bonbon, danced up to me, nearly -kicked me in the face, and danced off again, seizing a carrot by the -waist and whirling around with him. Too lame to join in the revelry, I -watched, leaning against the wall and feeling horribly alone amidst all -this gaiety. - -I was standing like this when a fresh eruption of guests burst into the -room--two men and three girls, all friends evidently, and linked -together arm-in-arm. - -It was well I had the wall behind me to lean against, for one of the -girls, a lovely blonde, dressed as a shepherdess, was the Countess -Feliciani! - -The woman I had lost my heart to as a child, the woman I had seen -touched by premature old age in the little sitting-room of the Hotel de -Mayence, the same woman rejuvenated, and turned by some magic wand into -a girl of eighteen, laughing and joyous. - -I gazed at this prodigy; and the prodigy, who had unlinked herself from -her companions, was now whirling before me in the waltz, in the arms of -a grenadier with a cock's feather stuck in his hat, and totally -unconscious of the commotion she had raised in my breast. - -"You aren't dancing?" - -"No," I said. "I'm lame." - -She looked at me to see if I were serious or not; then she made a -grimace, and linked her arm in mine. It was the bonbon girl. The dance -was over, and the carrot had vanished to the bar, without, it seems, -offering her refreshment. She had beady, black eyes, a low forehead, and -rather thick lips. - -"That's bad," said she, "to be lame. Let us take a stroll." And she led -me towards the bar. - -How many times I led that damsel, or rather was led by her towards the -bar during the evening, I can't tell. After every dance she came to me -and commiserated me on my lameness. She was not in great request, it -seems, as a partner, dancing with anybody she could seize upon, and -coming to me, as to a drinking fountain, to allay her thirst. I did not -care. I scarcely heeded. All my mind was absorbed by the girl, the -marvellous girl with the golden hair, who was the Countess Feliciani -reborn. - -"Do you know her name?" I asked the bonbon on one of our strolls in -search of refreshment. - -"Whose? Oh, that doll with the yellow hair? Know her name? Why, the -whole quarter knows her name. Marie--what's this it is? She's a model at -Cardillac's. A brandy for me, with some ice in it. Hurry up! There's the -band beginning again." - -The ball had now become infected by the element of riot. Scarcely had -the music struck up than it ceased. Shrill screams, shouts, and sounds -of scuffling came from the saloon, and, leaving the bonbon, who seemed -quite unconcerned, to finish her brandy, I ran out and nearly into the -arms of two gendarmes, who were making for the centre of the floor, -where the carrot and the grenadier with the cock's feather were engaged -in mortal combat. A ring of shouting spectators surrounded the -combatants, and amidst them stood the shepherdess, weeping. - -She had been dancing with the grenadier, it seems, when they had -cannoned against the carrot and his partner. Hence the blows. Scarcely -had the gendarmes seized upon the combatants than someone struck a -chandelier. The crash and the shower of glass were like a signal. -Shouts, shrieks, the crowing of cocks, the blowing of horns seized from -the orchestra, the smash of glass, the crash of benches overthrown, -filled the air. - -The lights went out; someone hit me a blow on the head that made me see -a thousand stars; and then I was in the street, with someone on my arm, -someone I had seized and rescued; and the great white moon of May was -lighting us, and the street, and the entry to the Closerie de Lilas, -that beer-garden that the police had now seized upon and bottled. We had -only just escaped in time. More and more gendarmes were hurrying up; and -speechless, like deer who scent the hunters on the tracks, we ran, our -shadows running before us, as if leading the way. - -"We are safe here," I said, glad to pull up, for my lameness did not -lend grace to my running. "We are safe here. Those gendarmes are so busy -with the others, they have no time to run after us." - -She had been crying when I pulled her out of the turmoil. She was -laughing now. - -"Oh, mon Dieu!" said she. "That Changarnier! Never will I dance with him -again." - -"Who is Changarnier?" I asked, looking at the lock of golden hair that -had fallen loose on her shoulder, and which the moonlight was silvering, -just as sorrow had silvered the hair of the once beautiful Countess -Feliciani. - -"He is a beast!" replied she. "Is my dress torn?" She held out her dress -by a finger and thumb on either side, and rotated before me solemnly in -the moonlight, so that I might examine it back and front. - -"No," I said; "it is not torn, but you have lost your crook." - -"Yes," replied the shepherdess; "but I have found my sheep. Oh, I saw -you looking at me. You followed me with your eyes the whole evening. You -made Changarnier furious; he said you were an aristocrat. Who are you, -M. l'Aristocrat?" - -"And you?" - -"I am a shepherdess. And you?" - -"I am an aristocrat." - -She laughed, put her arm in mine, and we walked, the great moon casting -our shadows before us. - -"If we go this way," said she, "we can get something to eat. This is the -Rue Petit Thouars. Are you hungry?" - -"Are you?" - -"Famished. Have you any money?" - -"Lots." - -"Good. Ah, yes; I saw you watching me. And, do you know, my friend, I -have seen you before, or someone like you--and you look so friendly. -Indeed, I would have spoken to you but for Changarnier. He is so -jealous! You are lame?" - -"Yes, I am lame." - -"Then," said she, "I can never have met you before, for I have never -known a lame man. But here we are." - -She led the way into a small cafe. The place was crowded enough, but we -managed to get a seat. The people at the supper were mostly the remnants -of the fancy-dress ball that had escaped from the police. - -I ordered everything that the place could supply, and I watched her as -she ate. - -She was very beautiful; quite the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, -with the exception of the Countess Feliciani. - -"You are not drinking. Why, you are not eating! What is the matter with -you, M. l'Aristocrat?" - -"I am in love," replied I. - -She laughed. - -A Red Indian, who was supping at the next table with a grizzly bear who -had taken his head off to eat more conveniently, spoke to her -occasionally over his shoulder, giving details of their escape; and I -was glad enough when the bill was presented, and we wandered out again -into the street. - -The supper had put her in the highest spirits. She laughed at our -fantastic shadows as we walked arm-in-arm down the silent Rue Petit -Thouars. She chatted, not noticing my silence: told me of Cardillac's -studio, and the "rapins," and the rules, and the life, and what her -dress cost. "Thirty-five francs the material alone, for I made it -myself. Do you admire it?" - -"Yes." - -"Oh, how dull you are! Yes! You ought to have said: 'Mademoiselle, your -toilet is charming.' Now, repeat it after me." - -"Mademoiselle, your toilet is charming." - -"Good heavens! If a hearse could speak, it would speak like that. You -are not gay. Never mind; you are all the nicer. Ah!" And she fell into a -sentimental and despondent fit, drawing closer to me, so that our -shadows made one. - -Then, at a door in a side street, down which we had turned, she stopped, -and drew a key from her pocket. - -"I must see you again," I said. "It is absolutely necessary. When can I -see you, and where?" - -The door was open now. She drew me close to her, as if to whisper -something, but she whispered nothing. Our lips had met in the darkness. - -Then I was in the hall; the door was closed, and, following her, I was -led up a steep staircase, past a landing, up another staircase to a -door. She opened the door, and the moonlight struck us in the face. The -great moon was framed in the lattice window, and against its face the -fronds of a plant growing on the sill in a flower pot were silhouetted. -The bare, poorly furnished room was filled with light, pure as driven -snow. - -She shut the door, with a little laugh, and I took her in my arms. - -"Eloise!" I said. - -She pushed me away, and stared at me with the laugh withered on her -lips. Never shall I forget her face. - -"Have you forgotten Toto?" - -"Toto! Who--where----" Recollections were rushing upon her, but she did -not yet understand. She seemed straining to catch some distant voice. - -"The Castle of Lichtenberg, the pine forests, little Carl. I tried to -find you, but you were gone--years ago. I was only a child, and I could -not find you. But I have found you now!" - -She was clinging to me, sobbing wildly; and I made her sit down on the -side of the little bed. Then I sat by her, holding her whilst the sobs -seemed to tear her to pieces. - -"I knew you," she said at last. "I knew you, but I did not -recollect--little Toto! How could I tell?" - -Ah, yes, how could she tell? Through the miserable veils that lay -between her and that happy time, the past seemed vague to her as a dream -of earliest childhood. - -Then, bit by bit, with her head on my shoulder, the miserable tale -unfolded itself. The Countess Feliciani had died when Eloise was -fifteen. They were in the greatest poverty, living in the Rue St. -Lazare. It was the old, old, wicked, weary story that makes us doubt at -times the existence of a God. - -A model at Cardillac's and this wretched room. That was the story. - -We had entered that room a man and woman, the woman with a laugh on her -lips. We sat on the side of the bed together--two children. Children -just as we were that day sitting by the pond in the woods of -Lichtenberg, with little Carl and his drum. - -For Eloise had never grown up. The thing she was then in heart and -spirit she was now. - -Then, as the moon drew away slowly, and the room grew darker, we talked: -and I can fancy how the evil ones who are for ever about us covered -their faces and cowered as they listened and watched. - -"And little Carl?" asked Eloise. "Where is he?" - -The question, spoken in the semi-darkness, caused a shiver to run -through me. - -"Who knows?" I said. "Or what he is doing? Eloise, I am half afraid. I -met a man to-night, a musician; he saw me at the Schloss that time which -seems so long ago. He spoke about Carl, and then I came with him to the -ball. Only for him, I would not have met you, and it all seems like -fate. Let us talk of ourselves. You can't stay here in this house: you -must leave it to-morrow. I will arrange everything. I am rich. Think of -it!" - -She laughed and clung closer to me. Despite her bitter experiences, she -had no more real knowledge of the world than myself. Money was a thing -to amuse oneself with--a thing very hard to obtain. - -"You will leave this place and live in the country. You will never go to -Cardillac's again. Think, Eloise; it is May! You never see the country -here in Paris. The hawthorn is out, and the woods at Etiolles are more -beautiful than the forest was at Lichtenberg. Why, you are crying!" - -"I am crying because I am happy," said she, whispering the words against -my shoulder. - -Then I left her. - -I cannot tell you my feelings. I cannot put them into words. It was as -if I had seen Moloch face to face, seen the brazen monster in the Square -of Carthage, seen the officiating priests and the little veiled children -seized by the brazen arms and plunged in the burning stomach. - -I had seen that day Eloise Feliciani, the living child, and Amy Feraud, -the cinder remnants of a child consumed; and God in His mercy had given -me power to seize Eloise from the monster, scorched, indeed, but living. - -I found the Boulevard St. Michel almost deserted now, and took my way -along it to the Seine. - -"What are you to do with her?" - -That is the question I would have asked myself had I been a man of the -world. But I knew nothing of the world or the convenances. I was not in -love with her. Had I met her for the first time that night it might have -been different; but for me she was just the child of Lichtenberg, the -little figure I had last seen standing at the door of the Hotel de -Mayence, holding in her arms the black cat with the amber eyes. - -What was I to do with her? I had already made up my mind. I would put -her to live in the Pavilion of Saluce. I had not a real friend in the -world except old Joubert, or a thing to love. I would be no longer -lonely. What good times we would have! - -I leaned over the parapet of the Pont des Arts, looking at the river, -all lilac in the dawn, thinking of the woods at Saluce, and watching -myself in fancy wandering there with Eloise. - -Then I returned to the Place Vendome. It was very late, or, rather, very -early; and before our house a carriage was drawn up, and from it M. le -Vicomte Armand de Chatellan was being assisted. - -He had only just returned from the Duc de Bassano's, and he was very -tipsy. He was an object lesson to vulgar tipplers. Severe and stately, -assisted by Beril on one side and the footman on the other, the grand -old aristocrat marched towards the door he could not see. - -I watched the pro-consular silhouette vanish. One could almost hear the -murmur of the togaed crowd and the "Consul Romanus" of the lictors. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -WHEN IT IS MAY - - -The meeting with Eloise so disturbed my mind that I had quite forgotten -one thing--Franzius. I had promised to see him after the ball--an -impossible promise to fulfil considering the way the affair ended. - -When I awoke at six of this bright May morning, which was the herald of -a new chapter of my life, Franzius and his old fiddle, one under the arm -of the other, entered my mind directly the door of consciousness was -opened by Joubert's knock at the door of my room. - -I had told him to waken me at six. So, though I had fallen asleep -directly my head touched the pillow, I had slept only two hours when the -summons came to get up. - -But I did not care. I was as fresh as a lark. Youth, good health, the -absence of any earthly trouble, and the spirit of May, which peeped with -the sun into the courtyard of the Hotel de Chatellan, made life a thing -worth waking up to. - -But it was different with Joubert. He was yawning, and as sulky as any -old servant could possibly be, as he put out my clothes and drew up the -blind. - -"Joubert," said I, sitting up in bed, "do you remember, nine years ago, -when we were staying at the Schloss Lichtenberg, a little girl in a -white dress and a blue scarf, and white pantalettes with frills to -them?" - -"Mordieu!" grumbled Joubert, putting out my razors. "Do I remember? -Well, what about her?" - -"I met her last night." - -Joubert, who, with a towel over his arm, was just on the point of going -into the bathroom adjoining, wheeled round. - -"Met her! And where?" - -"At a students' ball." Then I told him the whole business; told him of -the ruin of the Felicianis, of the death of the Countess, of Eloise's -forlorn position, and of the plans I had half made for her future; to -all of which he listened without enthusiasm. "But that is not all," said -I. And told him of my meeting with Franzius, the wandering musician -whose music had held me in the gallery of the Schloss, whilst the -assassin had been at work plunging his dagger into the pillow of my bed. - -"You met him, and he brought you to the place where you met her," said -Joubert when I had finished. "Mark me, something evil will come of this. -Mon Dieu! the Lichtenbergs have not done with us yet. On the night -before the General fought with Baron Imhoff he came to the Pavilion--you -remember that night? He took me outside in the dark--you remember he -took me out? And what said he? Ah, he said a lot. He said: 'Joubert, -even if I fall to-morrow the Lichtenbergs will not have done with us. -Fate, like an old damned mole'--those were his words--'has been working -underground in the families of the Saluces and Lichtenbergs for three -hundred years and more. She's showing her nose, and what will be the end -of it the Virgin in heaven only can tell. If I fall, Joubert,' said he, -'I trust you to keep my boy apart from that child of Von Lichtenberg's -they call Carl. Keep him apart from anyone who has ever had anything to -do with the Lichtenbergs.' And look you," continued Joubert, "the first -night you have liberty to go and amuse yourself, what happens? You meet -two of the lot that were at the Schloss: one leads you to the other, and -now you are going to set the girl up in the Pavilion. Think you I would -mind if you filled the Pavilion with your girls, filled the chateau, -stuffed the moat with them? Not I, but there you are: wagon-loads, army -corps of girls to choose from, and you strike the one of all others---- -Peste! and what's the use of my talking? You were ever the same, -self-willed, just the same as when you were a child you would have your -box of tin soldiers beside you in the carriage instead of packed safely -in the baggage--just the same!" And so forth and so on, flinging my -childish vagaries in my teeth just as a mother or an old nurse might -have done. - -"All right, Joubert," said I, dressing; "there is no use in arguing with -you. I am going to offer the Pavilion as a home to Mademoiselle -Feliciani. That is settled. No evil can come to me for helping the -unfortunate." - -"Yes; that's what those sort of people call themselves," grumbled -Joubert. "Good name, too, for her." - -"So," I finished, "order a carriage to the door as quick as it can be -got, and come with me to Etiolles, for I want to get the Pavilion in -order." - -"Monsieur's orders as to the carriage shall be attended to," said the -old man with fine sarcasm, considering that he had turned "Monsieur" -over his knee and spanked him with a slipper often enough in the past. -"But as for me, I will not go; no, I will not go!" - -He vanished into the bathroom to prepare my bath. - -When I was dressed I ordered Potirin, the concierge, to send a man to -the Closerie de Lilas, and, if the place was still standing after the -riots of last night, to obtain Franzius' address. Then, when the front -door was opened for me, I found the carriage waiting, and on the box, -beside the coachman--Joubert! - -I smiled as I got in, and we started. - -It was an open carriage; and in the superb May morning Paris lay white -and almost silent; the Rue St. Honore was deserted, and a weak wind, -warm and lilac perfumed, blew from the west under a sky of palest -sapphire. We passed Bercy, we passed through Charenton and Villeneuve -St. George's, the poplars whitening to the west wind, the villages -wakening, the cocks crowing, and the sun flooding all the holiday-world -of May with tender tints. The white houses, the vineyards, the -greenswards embanking the sparkling Seine: how beautiful they were, and -how good life was! How good life was that morning in May, effaced now by -so many weary years, effaced from time but not from my recollection -where it lies vivid as then, with the Seine sparkling, and the wind -blowing the poplar-trees that have never lost a leaf! - -The road took us by the skirt of the forest ringing with the laughter -and the chatter of the birds. - -Old Fauchard's married daughter was in charge of the Pavilion. I -had not seen the place for a long time; it had been redecorated by -order of my guardian, and the old gentleman used it occasionally for -luncheon-parties; a charming rural retreat where the Amy Ferauds and -Francine Volnays of the Theatre Montparnasse enjoyed themselves, -plucking bulrushes from the ponds in the forest, and chasing with shrill -laughter the echoes of the Pompadour-haunted groves. - -The little dining-room had a painted ceiling--a flock of doves circling -in a blue sky. The kitchen was red tiled, and clean as a Dutch dairy. -The bedrooms--bright and spotless, and simply furnished--were perfumed -with the breath of the forest coming through the always open windows; -the hangings were of chintz, flower-sprinkled, and light in tone. If May -herself had chosen to build and furnish a little house to live in, she -could not have improved on the Pavilion of Saluce, furnished as it was -by a Parisian upholsterer at the direction of a Parisian boulevardier. - -I had breakfasted in the kitchen--there was nothing to be done, the -place was in perfect order--and, telling Fauchard's daughter (Madame -Ancelot) that I would return that afternoon with a lady who would take -up her abode at the Pavilion for an indefinite time, I returned to -Paris, dropping Joubert in the Rue St. Honore, and telling the coachman -to take me to the Rue du Petit Thouars. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -"O YOUTH, WHAT A STAR THOU ART!" - - -In the Rue du Petit Thouars I sent the carriage home. The horses had -done over forty miles. I would take Eloise down to Etiolles by rail, or -we would hire a carriage. It did not matter in the least; it was only -twelve o'clock, and we had the whole day before us. - -It would be hard for the worldly minded to understand my happiness as I -walked down the Rue du Petit Thouars towards the street where she lived. -I had found something to love and cherish, but I was not in the least in -love with Eloise after the fashion of what men call love. You must -remember that ever since my earliest childhood I had been very much -alone in the world. Drilled and dragooned by old Joubert, and treated -kindly enough by my father, I had missed, without knowing it, the love -of a mother or a sister. Little Eloise had been the only girl-child with -whom I had ever played; and, though our acquaintance had been short -enough, that fact had made her influence upon me doubly potent. I had -found her again. She was now a woman, but, for me, she was still the -child of the gardens of Lichtenberg. And the strange psychological fact -remains that, though I had loved the beautiful Countess Feliciani with -my childish heart, loved her almost as a man loves a woman, not a bit -of that sort of love had I for Eloise, who was the Countess's facsimile. -The very fact of the extraordinary likeness would have been sufficient -to annul passion. - -Perhaps it was because I had seen the Countess suddenly turned old and -grey, sitting in that wretched room in the Hotel de Mayence, the ruin of -herself, a parable on the vanity of beauty and earthly things. - -I do not know. I only can say that my love for Eloise was as pure as the -love of a brother for a sister; and that my heart as I came along the -sunlit Rue du Petit Thouars, rejoiced exceedingly and was glad. - -I turned down the dingy little Rue Soufflot, and there, at the door, -going into the dingy old house where she lived, poised like a white -butterfly on the step, was Eloise. - -"Eloise!" I cried, and she turned. - -My hat flew off to salute her, as she stood there in the full afternoon -sunshine like a little bit of the vanished May morning trapped and held -in some wizard's filmy net. - -"Toto!" cried Eloise, in a voice of glad surprise. And, as our hands -met, I heard from one of the lower windows of the house a metallic -laugh. - -Glancing at the window, I saw the face of the grenadier of the night -before, the one who had worn a cock's feather in his hat--Changarnier -the student--who, according to the bonbon girl, was so jealous of my -new-found friend. - -He had a cap with a tassel on his head, a long pipe between his lips, -his linen was not over-clean. A typical student of the Latin Quarter, -confrere of Schaunard and Gustave Colline, he laughed again, showing his -yellow teeth. I looked at him, and he did not laugh thrice. - -"Come," I said, taking the hand of Eloise, whose brightness had suddenly -dimmed, as though the sound from the house had cast a spell upon it. -"Come." And I led her towards the Rue du Petit Thouars. - -She came hesitatingly, downcast, as if fearful of being followed; and I -felt like a knight leading some lady of old-time from the den of the -wizard who had held her long years in bondage. - -In the Rue du Petit Thouars she seemed to breathe more freely. - -"I had forgotten Changarnier," said she, in a broken voice. "How -horrible of him to laugh at us!" - -"Beast!" said I, fury rising up in my heart at the fate that had -compelled her to such a life and such surroundings. - -"Ah, but," sighed Eloise, "he can be kind, too--it is his way." - -"Well, let us forget him," I replied. "Eloise, you are mine now. You -will be just the same as you were long ago. Do you remember, when we -were all together at Lichtenberg, and the King that morning put his hand -on your head? You remember when we met him in the corridor, and the Graf -von Bismarck? You were holding his hand when I saw you first, and he was -talking to my father and General Hahn and Major von der Goltz. Then you -saw me----" - -"Ah, yes!" cried Eloise, her dismal fit vanishing; "and you made such a -funny little bow. And--do you remember my dress?" - -"Oui, mademoiselle." - -"Oui, mademoiselle! Oh, how stupid you are!" cried she, catching up the -old refrain from years ago. She laughed deliciously. Childhood had -caught us back, or, rather, had flung back the world from around us, for -we were still children in heart and soul. - -"And now," said I, "what are you to do for clothes?" - -"For clothes?" - -"You are not going back to that place; you are never going near it -again. You must buy everything you want. I have plenty of money, and it -is yours. See!" And I pulled out a handful of gold. - -"O ciel!" sighed Eloise. "How delightful! But, Toto----" - -"No 'buts.' What is the use of money if you do not spend it? I have a -little house for you, all prepared, in the country. Oh, wait till you -see it--wait till you see it. We will take the train, but you must buy -yourself what you want first, and I can only give you an hour. Will an -hour be enough?" - -She would have kissed me, I believe, there and then, only that we were -now in the Boul' Miche. Her butterfly mind was entirely fascinated by -the idea of new clothes and the country. The dress she was in, of some -white material, though old enough perhaps, was new-washed and speckless, -and graceful as a woman's dress of that day could be. Her hat, in my -eyes, was daintier far than any hat I had seen in my life. Women, no -doubt, could have picked holes in her poor attire, but no man. Just as -she was that day I always see her now, beyond the fashions and the -years, a figure garbed in the old, old fashion of spring, sweet as the -perfume of lilac-branches and the songs of birds. At the Maison Doree, -152 Boulevard St. Michel, within the space of an hour, and for the -modest sum of a hundred francs or so, she bought--I do not know what; -but the purchases filled four huge cardboard boxes covered with golden -bees--the true luggage of a butterfly. When they were packed in and -about a cabriolet I proposed food. - -"I am too happy to eat," said Eloise; so, at the fruiterer's a little -way down, I bought oranges and a great bunch of Bordighera violets, and -we started. - -It was late afternoon when we reached the little station at Evry. Ah, -what a delightful journey that was, and what an extraordinary one! Happy -as lovers, yet without a thought of love; good comrades, irresponsible -as birds, laughing at everything and nothing; eating our oranges, and -criticising the folk at the stations we passed. - -"Listen!" said Eloise, as we stood on the platform of Evry and the train -drew off into the sunlit distance. I listened. The wind was blowing in -the trees by the station; from some field beyond the poplar trees came -the faint and far-off bleating of lambs; behind and beyond these sweet -yet trivial sounds lay the great silence of the country; the silence -that encompasses the leagues of growing wheat, the pasture lands all -gemmed with buttercups and cowslips, the blue, song-less rivers and the -green, whispering rushes; the silence of spring, which is made up of a -million voices unheard but guessed, and presided over by the skylark -hanging in the sparkling blue, a star of song. - -Men, I think, never knew the true beauty of the country till the -railway, like a grimy magician, enabled them to stand at some little -wayside station and, with the sounds of the city still ringing in their -ears, to listen to the voices of the trees and the birds. - -I sent a porter to the inn for a fly; and when it arrived, and the -luggage was packed on and about it, we started. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -A POLITICAL RECEPTION - - -"It is like a cage," said Eloise, "with all the birds outside." - -We were sitting in the little room of the Pavilion that served as -dining-room and drawing-room combined; the windows were open, the sun -had set, and the birds in the wood were going to bed. Liquid calls from -the depths of the trees, chatterings in the near branches, and -occasional sounds like the flirting of a fan came with the warm breeze -that stirred the chintz curtains and the curls of Eloise's golden hair -as she sat on the broad window-seat, her busy hands in her lap, like -white butterflies come to rest, listening, listening, with eyes fixed on -the gently waving branches, listening, and entranced by the voices of -the birds. - -Through the conversation of the blackbird and the thrush came what the -sparrows had to say, and the "tweet-tweet" of the swallows under the -eaves. - -All a summer's day, if you listened at the Pavilion, you could hear the -wood-dove's mournful recitative, "Don't _cry_ so, Susie--don't _cry_ so, -Susie--don't _cry_ so, Susie--_don't_," at intervals, now near, now far. - -The wood-doves had ceased their monotonous advice, and now the swallows -took flight for the pyramids of dreamland, and Silence took the little, -chattering sparrows in her apron, and then the greater birds. Branch by -branch she robbed, reaching here, reaching there, till at last one alone -was left, a thrush on some topmost bough, where the light of day still -lingered. Then she found him, too; and you could hear the wind drawing -over the forest, and the trees folding their hands in sleep. - -Then, from away where the dark pools were, came the "jug-jug-jug" of a -nightingale asking the time of her mate, and the liquid, thrilling -reply: "Too early." Then silence, and the whisper of ten thousand trees -saying "Hush!--let us sleep." - -"Would monsieur like the lamp?" - -It was Fauchard's daughter, lamp in hand, at the door. Her rough-hewn -peasant's face lit by the upcast light, was turned towards us with a -pleasant expression. I suppose we were both so young and so innocent in -appearance that she could not look sourly upon us, though our -proceedings must have seemed irregular enough to her honest mind. She -looked upon us, doubtless, as lovers. We were good to look upon, though -I say it, who am now old. We were young; and everything, it seems to me -in these later days, is forgivable to youth. - -"Oh, youth, what a star thou art!" - - * * * * * - -Then I rose and took my hat from the table near by. - -"But you are not going?" said Eloise, one white hand seizing my -coat-sleeve, and a tremble of surprise in her voice. - -"But I must," replied I. "I must get back to Paris. I will come -to-morrow morning. Madame Ancelot here will look after you. There are -books. You will be happy, and I will come back in the morning, and we -will have a long day in the forest. We will take our luncheon in a -basket, and have a picnic." - -"Ah, well!" sighed Eloise, looking timidly from me to Madame Ancelot, -who, having placed the lamp on the table, stood, with all a peasant's -horror of fresh air in the house, waiting to shut the windows, "if you -_must_ go---- But you will come back?" - -"To-morrow; and you will look after her, Madame Ancelot, will you not?" - -"Mais oui," said the good woman with a smile and as if she were talking -to two children. "Mademoiselle need not be afraid; there are no robbers -here; nothing more dangerous than the rabbits and the birds; and if -there were, why, Ancelot has his gun." - -Eloise tripped over to the woman and gave her a kiss; then, glancing -back at me, she laughed and ran out into the tiny hall to get her hat. - -"I will go with you as far as--a little way," she said, as she tied the -strings of her hat, craning up on her toe-tips to see herself in a high -mirror on the wall. - -On the drawbridge she hung for a moment, peeping over at the still water -of the moat, in which the stars were beginning to cast reflections. - -"How dark, and still, and secret it looks!" murmured she. "Toto, has it -ever drowned anyone?" - -"Why do you ask?" replied I to the question that I myself had put to -Joubert years ago. - -"I don't know," said Eloise, "but it looks as if it had." - -Ah, the evil moat! The water lilies blossomed there in summer; all the -length of a summer's day the darting dragon-flies cast their blue-gauze -reflections upon the water; Amy Feraud and Francine Volnay might cast -their laughter and cigarette-ends for ever on its surface, leaning over -the bridge-rail and seeing nothing. It was left for the heart of a child -to question its secret and divine its treason. - -The path from the Pavilion cut through the trees and opened on the -carriage-drive to the chateau. When we reached the drive, Eloise, -terrified by the dark and the unaccustomed trees, was afraid to return -alone. So I had to go back with her to the drawbridge. - -"To-morrow!" said she. - -"To-morrow!" replied I. - -She gave me a moist kiss--just as children give; then, as if that was -not enough, she flung her arms around my neck, squeezed me, and then ran -across the drawbridge, laughing. - -"Good-night!" I cried; and "Good-night!" followed me through the trees -as I ran, for, even running most of the way, I had scarcely time to -catch the last train at Evry. - -It was late when I reached Paris; and as I drove through the blazing -streets I felt as though I had taken a deep breath of some intoxicating -air. The vision of Eloise in her new home pursued me. I felt as though I -had taken a child from the jaws of a dragon. I had done a good act, and -God repaid me, for Eloise had brought me a gift far better than pearls. -She had brought me all that old freshness of long ago; she had brought -me fresh in her hands the flowers of childhood; she had given me back -the warmth of heart, the clearness of sight, the joy in little things, -the joy without cause, which the war of sex and the world robs from a -man. - -A breath from my earliest youth--that was Eloise. - -At the Place Vendome, the servant whom I had commissioned to find out -Franzius' address handed me a paper on which he had written it. It was -in the Rue Dijon, Boulevard Montparnasse. - -I put the paper in my pocket, ran upstairs, and, hearing voices and -laughter through the partly opened door of the great salon on the first -floor, I burst into the room. - -Great Heavens! - -The child who gets into a shower bath, and, not knowing, pulls the -string, could not receive a greater shock than I. - -The room was filled with gentlemen in correct evening attire. It was, in -fact, one of what my guardian was pleased to call his "political -receptions." - -I was dressed in a morning frock-coat, the dust of Etiolles was on my -boots, my hair was in disorder, my face flushed. If I had entered -rolling-drunk, in evening clothes, I would not have committed so great a -crime against the convenances. - -And it was too late to back out, simply because my impetuosity had -carried me into the room too far. - -My guardian gazed at the spectacle before him, but not by as much as -the lifting of an eyebrow did that fine old gentleman betray his -discomfiture. - -He turned from the Spanish ambassador, to whom he was talking, came -forward and took my hand; inquired, in a voice raised slightly so as to -be distinct, about my _journey_; apologised for not having informed me -that it was one of his political evenings, and introduced me to the Duc -de Cadore. - -Then--and this was his punishment--he totally ignored me for the -remainder of the evening. - -I cannot remember what the Duc de Cadore said to me, or I to him; but we -talked, and I ate ices which I could not taste. I would have frankly -beaten a retreat, now that I had made my entry and faced the fire, but -for a young man who, engaged in a conversation with two of the attaches -of the Austrian Embassy, looked in my direction every now and then. It -was my evil genius, the Comte de Coigny. - -The same who, as a boy in the garden of the Hotel de Moray, had told me -of the ruin of the Felicianis. I had not come across him since he left -the Bourdaloue College. He was now, it seems, an attache of the -Emperor's, and he was just the same as of old, though bigger. A stout -young man, with a stolid, insolent face; and I guessed, by his -side-glances, that his conversation with the Austrians was about me, and -that I was being discussed critically and sarcastically. - -God! how I hated that young man at that moment; and how I longed to -cross the room, and, flinging the convenances to the winds, smack him -in the face! But that pleasure was to be reserved for another hand than -mine. - -When the unhappy political reception was over, and the last of the -guests departed, I sought my guardian in the smoking-room, to make my -apologies. - -"My dear sir," said my guardian, with a little, kindly laugh that took -the stiffness from the formality of his address and turned it into a -little joke, "on my heart, I did not perceive what you were attired in. -A host is oblivious of all things but the face and the hand of his -guest. Were the Duc de Bassano or M. le Duc de Cadore to turn up at a -reception of mine attired as a rag-picker, I would only be conscious -that I was receiving the Duc de Cadore or the Duc de Bassano. They would -be for me themselves, _however their fellow-guests might sneer_! - -"And how have we enjoyed ourselves in Paris?" asked the kindly old -gentleman, turning from the subject of dress, and lighting a fresh -cigar. - -"Oh, very well," I said. "And, by the way, I have met an old -acquaintance." - -"Ah!" - -"Mademoiselle Feliciani, a daughter of Count Feliciani." - -"Count Feliciani, the--er--defaulter?" - -"I don't know what he may have done," said I, "but I met them years ago, -at the Schloss Lichtenberg. Then they were entirely ruined. I met -Mademoiselle Feliciani last night in a most curious way; and she has -been living in great poverty. In fact, I"--and here I blushed, I -believe--"I have taken her under my protection." - -Protection! Oh, hideous word, uttered in the simplicity of youth! -Beautiful word, that men have debased--men who would debase the angels, -could they with their foul hands touch those immaculate wings. - -"I hope, sir, you don't object?" - -"Object!" - -"I have given her the Pavilion to live in," continued I, encouraged by -my guardian's smile of frank approval. "The only thing that grieves me -is," I went on, "that her mother is dead, and that I cannot offer her my -protection, too." - -My guardian opened his eyes at this; and I blundering along, blushing, -surprised into one of those charming confidences of youth which youth so -rarely betrays, told him of the beauty of the Countess Feliciani, and of -how much I had admired her as a child, and how I had visited her and -seen her, prematurely aged, ruined, the gold of her beautiful hair -turned to snow, her face lined with the wrinkles of age; and then it -was, I think, that M. le Vicomte began to perceive that my relationship -with Eloise was other than what he had imagined. - -"A pure love!" I can imagine him saying to himself. "Why, mon Dieu! that -might lead to marriage--marriage with a Feliciani--an outcast, a beggar! -We must arrange all this; it is a question of diplomacy." - -But by no sign did he betray these thoughts. He listened to the woes of -the Felicianis, the picture of sympathetic benevolence; and, when I had -finished, he said: "Ah, poor things!" And then, after a moment's -reverie, as though he were recalling the love affairs of his own youth: -"It is sad. Tell me, are you very much enamoured of this Mademoiselle -Feliciani?" - -"Good heavens!" I said. "No. I care for her only--only--that is to say, -I only care for herself." - -A confused statement apparently, yet an unconscious and profound -criticism on Love. - -The Vicomte raised his eyebrows. He was I think, frankly puzzled. He saw -my meaning--that I cared for Eloise as a child or a sister. His profound -experience of life had never, perhaps, brought a similar case to the bar -of his reason; his profound knowledge of men and women told him of the -danger of the thing. - -"How has Mademoiselle Feliciani been living since the death of her -mother?" asked he. - -"She has been a model at Cardillac's studio," I replied. - -"Indeed? Poor girl! And now, may I ask, what do you propose to do with -this protegee of yours?" - -"I? Just give her a home and what money she requires." - -"In fact," said the Vicomte, "you, a young man of nineteen, are going to -adopt a beautiful young girl of the same age, or younger, out of pure -charity, give her a house to live in, pay her expenses----" - -"Yes," I replied. "God has given me money; and I thank God that He has -given me the means of rescuing the sweetest and the purest woman living -from a life that could lead her nowhere but to the morgue. Monsieur, -what is the matter?" - -The Vicomte was crimson, and making movements with his hands as though -to wave away a gauzy veil. At least, that was the impression the -outspread fingers gave me. - -Then he laughed out aloud, the first time I had ever heard him laugh so. - -"Forgive me," he said. "I am not, indeed, laughing at you. I am amused -at no thing or person: it is the imbroglio. What you have told me is -interesting, and I take it as a profound secret. Say nothing of it to -anyone; for if it were known----" - -"Yes?" - -"Why, the whole of Paris would be laughing!" - -I arose, very much affronted and huffed. And I was a fool, for what my -guardian said was perfectly correct. The situation to a French mind was -as amusing as a Palais Royal farce. But I knew little of the world, and, -as I say, I arose very much affronted and huffed. - -"Good-night, sir." - -My guardian rose up and bowed kindly and courteously, but with the -faintest film of ice veiling his manner. - -"Good-night." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -FETE CHAMPETRE - - -"Good-morning." - -"Ah! there you are. Toto--see!" - -Eloise, without a hat, working in the little garden of the Pavilion, -held up a huge spade for my inspection. The moat divided us, and I had -my foot on the drawbridge, preparing to cross. - -Up at six, I had come to Evry by an early train, and walked from the -station. It was now after ten, and great was the beauty of the morning. - -"I have dug up quite a lot," said Eloise. "Look!--all that. Madame -Ancelot says I will make a gardener by and by--by and by--by and by," -she sang, tossing the spade amidst some weeds; and then, hanging on my -arm, she drew me into the house. - -A perfume of violets filled the sitting-room. The place was changed. The -subtle hand of a woman had rearranged the chairs, looped back the -curtains and arranged them in folds of grace, peopled with violets empty -bowls, wrought wonders with a touch. - -On the sofa lay a heap of white material, which she swept away. - -"That will be a dress to-morrow or the next day," said Eloise. "You will -laugh when you see it, it will be so beautiful. And I have packed a -basket for our picnic. Wait!" She ran from the room, and I waited. - -Looking back, now, one of my pleasantest recollections is how she took -my money, took the new life I had given her, thanking me indeed, full of -gratitude, but as a thing quite natural and between friends. If we had -wandered out of the gardens of Lichtenberg together, children, hand in -hand, and passed straight through the years as one passes through a -moment of time, to find ourselves at Etiolles still hand in hand, our -relationship--as regards money affairs--could not have been less -unstrained. I had bonbons; she had none; I shared with her. Nothing -could be more natural. - -She returned with the basket packed, and her hat, which she put on -before the mirror. Then we started on our picnic in the woods, I -carrying the basket. - -"What part of the woods are you going to?" inquired Madame Ancelot as we -crossed the drawbridge. - -"The grand pool," replied I, "if it is still there, and I can find it." - -Then, a footstep, and the world of the woods surrounded us, its silence -and its music. - -The place was full of leaping lights and liquid shadows. Here, where the -trees were not so dense, the sunlight came through the waving branches -in dazzling, quivering shafts; twilit alleys led the eye to open spaces, -golden glimmers, and the misty white of the hawthorn trees. - -The place was a treasure-house of beauty, and we trampled the violets -under foot. - -"Run!" cried Eloise. - -I chased her, lost her, found her again. I forgot my lameness, I forgot -my guardian, the convenances, and the fact that I was come to man's -estate and carrying a heavy basket. The trees echoed with our laughter, -till, tired out, panting, flushed, with her hat flung back and held to -her neck only by the ribbon, Eloise sat down on a little carpet of -violets and folded her hands in her lap. - -"Listen!" said she, casting her eyes up to the trembling leaves above. - -A squirrel, clinging to the bark of a tree near by, watched us with his -bright eyes. - -"Chuck, chuck." A bird on a branch overhead broke the silence, and, with -a flutter of his wings, was gone. And now from far away, like the voice -of Summer herself, filled with unutterable drowsiness and laziness and -content, came the wood-dove's song to the mysterious Susie: - -"Don't _cry_ so, Susie--don't _cry_ so, Susie--don't _cry_ so, Susie. -_Don't!_" - -"And listen!" said Eloise, when the wood-dove's song had been wiped away -by silence and replaced by a "tap, tap, tap," far off, reiterated and -decided, curiously contrasting with the less businesslike sounds of the -wood. - -"That's a woodpecker," I said. "Isn't he going it? And listen! That's a -jay." - -Then the whole wood sang to the breeze that had suddenly freshened, the -light flashed and danced through the dancing leaves, the trees for a -moment seemed to shake off the indolence of summer, and the forest of -Senart spoke--spoke from its cavernous bosom, where the pine-trees -spread the hollow ground, from the pools where the bulrushes whispered, -from the beech-glades and the nut-groves. The oaks, old as the time of -Charles IX., the willows of yesterday, the elms all a-drone with bees, -and the poplars paling to the trumpet-call of the wind, all joined their -voices in one divine chorus: - -"I am the forest of Senart, old as the history of France, yet young as -the last green leaf that April has pinned to my robe. Rejoice with me, -for the skies are blue again, the hawthorn blooms, the birds have found -their nests, the old, old world is young once more. For it is May." - -"It is May; it is May!" came the carol of the birds, freshening to life -with the dying wind. - -Then we went on our road, Eloise with her hands filled with freshly -gathered violets. - -I thought I knew the forest and the direction to take for the great -pool; but we had not gone far when our path branched, and for my life I -could not tell which to take. - -The path to the left being the most alluring, we took it; and lo! before -we had gone very far, recollection woke up. This narrow path, twisting, -turning, sometimes half obscured by the luxuriance of the undergrowth, -was the path I had taken years ago--the path leading by the -old-forgotten gravel-pit into which I had fallen, maiming myself for -life; the path along which I had followed the mysterious child so like -little Carl. - -Perhaps it was the old recollection, but the path for me had a sinister -appearance; something that was not good hung about it. Unconsciously I -quickened my steps. I was walking in front; and as we passed the spot -where I had seen the child standing and looking back at me from amidst -the bushes, Eloise laid her hand on my arm, as if for closer -companionship. - -"I do not like it here," said she. "And I saw something--something -moving in those bushes." - -"Never mind," I replied; "we will soon reach the open." - -When we did, and when we found ourselves in a broad drive which I -remembered, and which led to the place I wanted, the sweat was thick on -my brow; and I determined that, go back how we might, I would never -enter that path again. It had for me the charm and yet the horror that -we only find associated in dreamland. - -"There was a child amidst the bushes," said Eloise. "I just saw its -head; and--I don't know why--it frightened me, and----" - -"Don't," said I. "I believe that place is haunted. Let us forget it." - -The grand pool at last broke before us through the trees--a great space -of sapphire-coloured water, where the herons had their home, and the -dragon-flies. - -It was past noon. We were hungry, so we sat down on a grassy bank by the -water, opened the basket, and, spreading the food on the grass between -us, fell to. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -LA PEROUSE - - -We had finished our meal--simple enough, goodness knows. Our drink had -been milk carried in one of those clear glass bottles used for vin de -Grave, and the bottle lay on the grass beside us, an innocent witness of -our temperance. We had finished, I say, and we were watching a moorhen -with her convoy of chicks paddling on the deep-blue surface of the pond, -when voices from amidst the trees drew our attention; and two stout men -in undress livery, bearing a basket between them, came from beneath the -shade of the elms, and straight towards us. After the men, and led by -Madame Ancelot's little boy, came a party of ladies and gentlemen, -amidst whom I recognised my guardian. The old gentleman, as though May -had touched him with her magic wand, had discarded his ordinary sober -attire, and was dressed in a suit of some light-coloured material, very -elegant, and harmonising strangely well with the exquisite toilets of -his companions. He wore a flower in his buttonhole, and he was walking -beside a girl whom I recognised at once as Amy Feraud. The two other -women I did not then know; but one of them, dark and beautiful, I -afterwards discovered to be the famous model La Perouse. The two men who -made up the party were peers of France; and if Beelzebub himself had -suddenly broken from the trees I could not have been more disturbed than -by this eruption of Paris into our innocent paradise. - -In a flash I saw the whole thing. This was some move of my guardian's. I -had told Madame Ancelot that we would be by the grand pool, and Madame -Ancelot's boy had led them. - -But M. le Vicomte was much too astute an old gentleman for subterfuge, -whatever his plan might be. - -"Welcome!" he cried, when we were within speaking distance. "I have been -searching for you. Ah, what a day! We have just come down from Paris on -M. le Comte de ----'s drag. My ward, M. Patrique Mahon; M. le Comte de -----." - -I bowed stiffly as he introduced me to the men. - -"And mademoiselle?" asked the old gentleman, raising his hat and -standing uncovered before Eloise. - -But I had no need to introduce my companion. La Perouse (oh, what a -voice she had! Hard, metallic, shallow, low)--La Perouse, with a little -shriek of recognition, cried out: "Marie! Why, it is Marie!" - -Then she kissed her, and I could have struck her on the beautiful mouth, -whose voice was a voice of brass, for innocence told me she was bad, and -part of Eloise's wretched past. - -Ah, me! If an eclipse had come over the sun, the beauty of the day could -not have been more spoilt, the loveliness of spring more ruined. - -The stout servant-men, with the dexterity of conjurers, unpacked the -great basket, spread a wide cloth, and, in a trice, a luncheon was -spread out to which the Emperor himself might have sat down. - -There was no resisting M. le Vicomte. We had to sit down with the rest, -and make a pretence to eat. - -But Eloise refused wine, as did I. - -"Ma foi!" said La Perouse. "What airs! Good champagne, too. Come, -taste." - -"Mademoiselle prefers water," I put in; and then, unwisely: "She is not -accustomed to wine." - -La Perouse stared at me, champagne-glass in hand, and then broke out -laughing. She was about to say something, but checked herself, and -turned to the chicken on her plate. - -But La Perouse, as the champagne worked in her wits, returned to the -subject of Eloise's abstinence. - -In that dull brain was moving a resentment which the vulgar mind had not -the power to repress. - -"What! not drink champagne?" said the fool for the twentieth time. "Ah, -well! It was different in the days of Changarnier. How is he, by the -way, the brave Changarnier?" - -I rose to my feet; and Eloise, as if moved by the same impulse, rose -also. - -"Mademoiselle," said I, as I offered Eloise my arm, "does not drink -champagne. It is a matter of taste with her. Did she do so, however, I -am very well assured that the evil spirit in it would never prompt her -to talk and act like a fool!" - -There was dead silence, as, with Eloise on my arm, I walked towards the -trees. Then I heard the shrill laughter of the women; but I did not -heed, for Eloise was weeping. - -"Come," I said; "forget them." - -"It is not they," replied Eloise. "I do not care about _them_." - -I knew quite well what she meant. It was the Past. - -Do not for a moment confuse that word "past" with conscience. Whatever -sin might have been committed by the world against Eloise Feliciani, -she, at heart, was sinless. No; it was just the Past, a blur of miasma -from Paris, a breath of winter. - -"Come," I said; "forget it! All that is a bad dream that you have -dreamt; all those people, those women, those men, are not real: they are -things in a nightmare; they have no souls, and when they die they go -nowhere--they are just ugly pictures that God wipes off a slate. This is -the real thing: these trees, these birds; and they are yours for ever. I -give you them; they are the best gift that money can buy." - -I wiped her eyes with my handkerchief. She smiled through her tears; and -we pursued our way to the Pavilion, followed by the rustle of the wind -in the leaves, and the song of the wood-doves--lazy, languorous, -soothing--filled with the warmth and the softness of summer. - -When I returned to Paris that night I sought for my guardian, and found -him in the smoking-room. - -Angry though I was with the trick he had played me, his manner was so -bland and kind that I was at a loss how to begin. - -He it was, indeed, who began by complimenting the beauty of Eloise, her -grace and her modesty. - -In fact, he had so much to say for her that I could not get in a word. - -"All the same," finished he, "I do not quite see the future of this -business. You offer Mademoiselle Feliciani a home, you provide for her, -your intentions are absolutely honourable, yet you do not love her. That -is all very well, mind you. It is somewhat strange in the eyes of the -world, but I understand the position. You are a man of heart and honour, -and she is, so to speak, an old friend; but what is to be the end of -it?" - -"I don't know," replied I. - -"Just so. She is not a child. It is the nature of a woman to love, to -enter into life. Picking daisies in the woods of Senart may fill a -summer morning, but not a woman's life. I am not entirely destitute of -the gift of appreciation, the poetry of things is not yet dead for me, -and I can see, my dear Patrique, the poetry of two young people, each -half a child, playing at childhood. But the garment of a child, -beautiful in itself, becomes ridiculous when you dress a man in it. -Impossible, in fact. In fact," finished the old gentleman, suddenly -dropping metaphor and using his stabbing spear, "you are getting -yourself into a position that you cannot escape from with honour; for -even if you wish you cannot marry this girl, for the simple reason that -Paris would not receive her as your wife." - -"I do not wish to marry Mademoiselle Feliciani," replied I, "nor does -she dream of marrying me. I found her in wretchedness; I rescued her. I -loved her as a friend. Have men and women no hearts but that they must -sneer at what is natural and good? What is the barrier that divides a -man from a woman so that comradeship seems impossible between them, -simplicity, and all good feeling, including Christian charity?" - -"Sex," replied M. le Vicomte de Chatellan. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -FRANZIUS MEETS ELOISE - - -Next day, when I returned to the Pavilion of Saluce, I took a companion -with me--Franzius. - -I called early at his wretched lodging in the Rue Dijon; the sound of -his violin led me upstairs, and I found him, seated on the side of his -bed, playing, his soul in Germany or dreamland. - -A day in the country, away from Paris, the houses, the streets! If I had -offered him a day in paradise the simple soul could not have expressed -more delight. - -"Well," I said, "it is nine o'clock. We will just have time to catch the -train at Evry. Get ready and come on." - -He took his hat from a shelf, placed it on his head, put his violin -under his arm, and declared himself ready. - -"But surely you are not taking your violin?" - -"My violin--but why not?" - -"Going into the country!" - -"But why not? Ah, my friend, it never leaves me; without it I am not I. -It is myself, my soul, my heart. Ach!" - -"Come on--come on!" I said, laughing and pushing him and his violin -before me. "Take anything you like, so long as you are happy. That's -right--mind the stairs. Don't you lock your door when you go out?" - -"There is nothing to steal," replied Franzius simply. - -In the street I hailed a fiacre and bundled the violinist in, -protesting. The mad extravagance of the business shocked him. He had -never been in a fiacre before; even omnibuses were luxuries to this son -of St. Cecilia, who had tramped the continent of Europe on foot. Yet he -wanted to pay when we reached the station; and the return ticket I -bought for him pained his sense of independence so much that I took the -fare from him. Then he was happy--happy as a child; and I do not know -what the other passengers thought of the young beau, elegantly dressed, -seated beside the shabby violinist, both happy, laughing, and in the -highest of spirits; the violinist, unconsciously, now and then plucking -pizzicato notes from the strings of his instrument, caressing it as a -man caresses the woman he loves. - -We walked from Evry to Etiolles under the bright May morning, under the -sparkling blue, along the delightful white dusty roads, the larks -singing lustily, and the wind blowing the vanishing hawthorn-blossoms -upon the dust like snow. - -Then, at the drawbridge over the moat, Eloise was waiting for us, and we -followed her into the Pavilion, Franzius with his hat crushed to his -heart, bowing, the violin under his arm forgotten, his whole simple soul -worshipping, very evidently, the beautiful and gracious goddess who had -received us. - -Ah, that was the day of Franzius's life! We had dejeuner in the little -garden, under the chestnut-tree alight with a thousand clusters of pink -blossom. He forgot his shyness completely, and told us stories of his -wanderings, unconsciously dominating the conversation and leading us -hundreds of miles away from Etiolles to the forests of the Roth Alps and -the Hartz. The great forests of the Vosges, so soon to resound to the -drums of war and the tramping of armies, spread their perfumed shade -around us as we listened. Castle Nidek, whose ruined walls still echo to -the ghostly hunting-horn of Sebalt Kraft; the Rhine and its storeyed -hills; the white roads of Germany; Pirmasens and the Swan Inn, with its -rose-decked porch; mountain rivers, leaping waterfalls, skies -turquoise-blue against the black-green armies of the high mountain -pines--all spread before us, lay around us, domed us in as he talked the -morning into afternoon, and the afternoon half away. - -What a gift of description was his; and how we listened as children may -have listened to the story of the wanderings of Ulysses! Then, to forge -his simple chains more completely--to give the last touch to his -magic--he played to us. - -Gipsy dances! And you could hear, as the smoke of the camp-fires blew -across the figures of the dancers, the feet of the women and the men who -had wandered all day keeping time on the turf to the tune--a tune wild -as the cry of the mountain kestrel, filled with all sorts of wandering -undertones, heart-snatching subtleties. - -Czardas and folk-airs he played, and the wonderful spinning-song of -Oberthal, in which you can hear, through the drone of the wheel and the -flying flax, the history of the poor. Just a thread of song told by the -thread of flax--the flax that forms the swaddling-clothes, the bridal -linen, and the shroud of man. And lastly a tune of his own, more -beautiful than any of the others. - -"But why don't you write music?" I said, when we were seated in the -railway-train on our way back to Paris. "You are a greater musician than -any of those men who are famous and rich." - -"My friend," said Franzius, "I am the second violin at La Closerie de -Lilas." - -It was the first time I had heard him speak at all bitterly, and I said -no more. I did not approach the subject again, but that did not prevent -me from making plans. - -I would rescue this nightingale from its cage in a beer-garden and put -it back in the woods; but the thing would require great tact and -infinite discretion. - -"Have you any music written out--you know what I mean, written out on -paper--that I could show to a friend?" I asked him, as we parted at the -station. - -"I have several 'Lieder,'" replied Franzius. "Very small--just, as you -might say, snatches." - -"If I send a man for them to-morrow morning, will you give them to him? -I will take the greatest care of them." - -"But they are so small!" - -"Never mind--never mind! I have influence, and may get them published." - -He promised. And I saw the light of a new hope in his face as he -departed through the gaslit streets on foot--this child of the forest -and the dawn, to whom God had given wings, and to whom the world had -given a cage! - -I went to the Opera that night. It was "Don Giovanni"; and as I sat with -all the splendour of the Second Empire around me, tier upon tier of -beauty and magnificence drawn like gorgeous summer night-moths around -the flame of Mozart's genius, the vision of Franzius wandering through -the gaslit streets, with his violin under his arm, passed and repassed -before me. - -He seemed so far from this; his music, before this triumphant burst of -song, so like the voice of a cicala, faint and thin, and of no account. - -Yet, when I went to bed, the tune that pursued me from the day was the -haunting spinning-song of Oberthal--the song so simple and full of fate, -the song of the flax, caught and interpreted by the humming strings, -telling the story of the cradle, the marriage-bed, and the grave! - -I did not go to Etiolles next day, for I had business that detained me -in Paris; but I went the day following, and Eloise received me, pouting. - -"Ah well, wait!" said I, as I followed her into the Pavilion. "Wait till -I tell you what I have been doing, and then you won't scold me for -leaving you alone." - -"Tell, then!" said Eloise, putting a bunch of violets in my coat, and -pressing them flat with her little hand. - -"I will tell you," said I, kissing the little violet-perfumed hand. And -sitting down, I told her of how I had asked Franzius to let me have his -music. - -"He sent me the three songs yesterday morning," I went on. "I cannot -read music, though I love it; but that did not matter. I had my plan. I -ordered the Vicomte's best carriage to the door, and drove to the Opera -House, where I inquired of the doorkeeper the address of the best -music-publisher in Paris. Flandrin, of the Rue St. Honore, it seems, is -the best, so I drove there. - -"It was a big shop. Flandrin sells pianos as well as songs. He is a big -man, with a big, white, fat face with an expression like this." I puffed -out my cheeks and opened my eyes wide to show Eloise what Flandrin was -like. She laughed; and I went on: "He was very civil. He had seen me -drive up to his door in a carriage and pair, and I suppose he thought I -had come to buy a piano. When he heard my real business his manner -changed. He said he was sick of musical geniuses; he would not even look -at poor Franzius's 'Lieder.' 'Take them to Barthelmy,' he said. 'He -lives in the Passage de l'Opera; he publishes for those sort of people, -and he is going bankrupt next week, so another genius won't do him any -harm.' 'I haven't time to go to Barthelmy,' I replied. 'Besides, I don't -want you to buy these things. I want to buy them.' - -"'Well, my dear sir,' said Flandrin, 'if you want to buy them, why don't -you buy them?' - -"'Just for this reason,' I replied. 'M. Franzius, who wrote these -things, is not a shopman who sells pianos; he is a poet. He would be -offended if I offered him money for his productions, for he would know -that I did it for charity's sake. I want you to buy these things from -him. I will give you the money to do so, and, by way of commission, I -will buy a piano from you. My only condition is that you come with me -now in my carriage and see M. Franzius, and pay him the money yourself. -Of course, you will have to publish the things, too; but I will give you -the money to do that as well. Here are a thousand francs, which you are -to give M. Franzius. Send one of your pianos round to No. 14, Place -Vendome, M. le Vicomte de Chatellan's. And now, if you are ready, we -will start.' - -"He came like a lamb. The purchase of the piano had put him into a very -good humour. He seemed to look upon the thing as a practical joke; and -the idea of paying an unknown musician a thousand francs for three -pieces of music seemed to tickle him immensely, for he kept repeating -the sum over and chuckling to himself the whole way to the Rue Dijon. - -"Franzius was in bed and asleep when we got there. I led Flandrin right -up to the attic; and you may imagine Franzius's feelings when he woke up -and found us in his room--the best music-publisher in Paris standing at -the foot of his bed waiting to offer him a thousand francs for his -'Lieder'! A thousand francs down! Oh, there is nothing like money! It -was just as if I had opened a window in his life and let in spring. I -saw him grow younger under my eyes as he sat up in bed unconscious of -everything but the great idea that luck had come at last and some hand -had opened the door of his cage. Even old Flandrin was a bit moved, I -think. Ah, well! I bundled Flandrin off when the business was done, and -then I made Franzius write a note to the Closerie de Lilas people, -telling them that at the end of the week he was leaving there, and then -I told him my plan. You know old Fauchard, the forest-keeper's cottage? -It's only half a mile from here; it's right in the forest. Well, he has -a room to spare, and he will put Franzius up for twelve francs a week. -He will be free to write his music----" - -"Ah, Toto," cried Eloise, who had been trying to in a word for the last -two minutes, "how good of you!" - -"Good of me! Why, I have only done what pleased myself! It's a debt. The -man saved my life--but no matter about that. Get your hat and come with -me, and we will go to Fauchard's and make arrangements about the room." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE TURRET ROOM - - -Fauchard, the ranger's, cottage lay at the meeting of two drives; all -the trees here were pines, and the air was filled with their balsam. - -It was, even in 1869, an old-fashioned cottage, set back in a clearing -amidst the trees. The tall pines seemed to have stepped back to give it -room, and were eternally blowing their compliments to it. Ah, they were -fine fellows to live amongst, those pine-trees, true noblemen of the -forest, erect as grenadiers, spruce, perfumed; and the blue sky looked -never so beautiful as when seen over their tops. - -The cottage had an old wooden gallery under the upper windows, and an -outside staircase gone to decay; the porch was covered with rambler -roses; on the apex of the red-tiled roof pigeons white as pearls sat in -strings, fluttering now to the ground, and now circling in the blue -above the trees like a ring of smoke. - -It was a place wherein to taste the beauty of summer to the very dregs. -Dawn, coming down the pine-set drive, touching the branches with her -fingers and setting the woods a-shiver, peeped into Fauchard's cottage -as she never peeped into the Tuileries. Noon sat with folded hands -before the rose-strewn porch, singing to herself a song which mortals -heard in the croonings of the pigeons. Dusk set glow-worms, like little -lamps, amidst the roses of the porch. - -When we arrived, Fauchard was out, but his wife was in and received us. -Madame Fauchard was over seventy; a woman as clean and bright as a new -pin, active as a cat; a woman who had brought twelve children into the -world, yet had worked all her life as hard as a man. - -Oh, yes! she would be very glad to take a lodger, if he would be -satisfied with their simple place. She showed us over the little house. -It smelt sweet as lavender, and the spare room was so close to the trees -that the pine-branches almost brushed the window. - -"It will be lovely for him," said Eloise, when, having settled about -terms with Fauchard's wife, we were taking our way back to the Pavilion. -"But will he find it dull when he is not writing his music?" - -"If he does," said I, "he can come over to the Pavilion and see you. -Then he will love Etiolles, where he will, no doubt, find friends; and -he has the woods, and Fauchard will take him out with him. Oh, no; he -will not find it dull." - -"Toto," said Eloise, as though suddenly remembering something, just as -we reached the drawbridge. - -"Yes." - -"You remember the day before yesterday you said you would show me over -the chateau the next time you came. Let us go over it now." - -"Very well," I replied. "Wait for me here, and I will get the key." - -The Chateau de Saluce had not been lived in for years--ever since my -mother's death, in fact. But it had been well cared for. Fires had been -lit every fortnight or so to air the rooms during the autumn and winter; -every room had been left in exactly the same state it was in at my -mother's death, and the gardens had been tended and looked after as -though the family were in residence. - -"When you marry," said my guardian, "it will make a very nice present -for your wife. Let it! Good God, Patrique, are we shopkeepers?" - -"Here's the key," said I, coming back to Eloise, who had waited for me -at the angle of the drawbridge. She was standing with her elbow on the -drawbridge rail, and her eyes fixed on the water. She seemed paler than -when I had left her; and when I touched her arm she drew her gaze away -from the water lingeringly, as if fascinated by something she had seen -there. - -"Toto," said Eloise, "are there fish in the moat?" - -"I never hear of any. Why?" - -"I saw something white and flat," said Eloise, "deep down. I first -thought it was a flat-fish, then it looked like a ball of mist in the -water deep down, and then it looked like a--a face." - -"A face!" said I, laughing, and looking over the bridge-rail and down -into the water. - -"I know it was only fancy," said Eloise. "Perhaps I went asleep for a -second and dreamed it. It felt like a dream, and I felt just as a person -feels wakened up from sleep when you touched me on the arm just now. It -was a man's face, pale, and--and---- Ah, well, it was perhaps only my -imagination!" - -She shivered, and took my arm; and I led her along a by-path that took -us to the carriage drive and the front door of the chateau. - -The great hall, with its oak gallery and ceiling painted by Boucher, -echoed our footsteps and our voices. - -This echo was the defect of the hall, as I have often heard my father -say. The builder of the place had, by some mischance, imprisoned an -echo. She was there, and nothing would dislodge her--everything had been -tried. Architects from Paris had been consulted--even the great Violette -Le Duc himself--without avail. She was there like a ghost, and nothing -would drive her out. Whether she was hiding in the gallery or the coigns -of the ceiling, who can say? But one thing was certain: her voice -changed. It was sometimes louder, sometimes lower, sometimes harsher, -sometimes sweeter; a change caused, I believe, by atmospheric influence. -But superstition takes no account of atmospheric influence or natural -causes. Superstition said that the echo was the voice of Marianne de -Saluce, a girl famed for her beautiful voice, who, like Antonina in the -Violon de Cremone, had died singing, under tragic circumstances, one -winter day here in the hall of the chateau, in the late years of the -reign of his sun-like Majesty Louis XIV. - -"The blood flowing from her mouth had mixed with her song," said the old -chronicle; and this, with the fact that she was wild, wayward, and bad, -gave superstition groundwork for a conceit not without charm. - -"Marianne!" cried Eloise, when I had told her this tale; and -"Marianna--Marianne!" the ghostly voice replied. - -Eloise laughed, and Marianne laughed in reply all along the gallery, as -though she were running from room to room; and, to my mind, made -fanciful by the recollection of the old legend, it seemed that there was -something sinister and sneering in the laughter of Marianne. - -Then I called out myself, making my voice as deep as possible; and the -answer was so horrible as to make us both start. For it was as though a -woman, leaning over the gallery and imitating my man's voice, were -mocking me. - -I have never heard anything more hobgoblin, if I may use the expression. - -"Ugh!" said Eloise. "Don't speak to her any more. Speak in whispers; -don't give her the satisfaction of answering. Toto, are those men in -armour your ancestors?" - -"They are the shells of old Saluces," I replied. "Eloise, do you -remember the man in armour in the tower of Lichtenberg--the one who -struck the bell?" - -"Don't speak of him," said Eloise; "at least, here. The place is ghostly -enough. Shall we go upstairs?" - -We went up the broad staircase, peeped into the sitting-rooms and -boudoirs of the first floor, and then up another flight of stairs to the -floor of the bedrooms. - -"See the funny little staircase?" said Eloise, when we had looked into -the bedrooms, ghostly and deserted. She was pointing to a narrow -staircase leading from the corridor we were in. - -"Let's see where it goes," said I, for it was years since I had -explored this part of the chateau. "It looks ugly and wicked enough to -lead to a Bluebeard's chamber." - -But it did not. It led to a turret room, with four windows looking -north, south, east, and west. A charming little room, with a painted -ceiling, on which cupids disported themselves with doves. - -Faded rose-coloured couches were placed at each window; on a table in -the centre lay some old books, dust on their covers. The view was -superb. - -One window showed the forest, another the Seine winding blue through the -country of spring, another the country of fields and gardens, vineyards, -and far white roads. - -The smoke of Etiolles made a wreath above the poplar-trees. - -We sat down on a couch by the window overlooking Etiolles. We were so -close together that I could feel the warmth of her arm against mine, and -her hand hanging loose beside her was so close to mine that I took it -without thinking. The picture outside, the picture of Nature and the -wind-blown trees over which the larks were carolling and the small white -clouds drifting, contrasted strangely with the room we were in and the -silence of the great empty house. The little hand lying in mine suddenly -curled its little finger around my thumb. - -"Eloise!" I said. - -She turned her head, her breath, sweet and warm, met my face. Then I -kissed her, not as a brother but as a lover. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -REMORSE - - -And I did not love her at all. Nor did she love me. It was just as -though the great tide of Nature had seized us, innocently floating, and -flung us together, drifted us together for a little while, and then let -us part; for we never referred to the matter again after that day. - -But a cloud had arisen on my horizon, a cloud no larger than Eloise's -hand. - -I installed Franzius at Fauchard's cottage. - -He brought his luggage with him, done up in a brown-paper parcel, under -his right arm; under his left he carried his violin. I will never forget -him that afternoon as he stepped from the train at Evry station, where -Eloise and I were waiting to receive him. Such a Bohemian, bringing the -very pavement of Paris with him, the music of Mirlitons, the gaslight of -the Rue Coquenard, and the sawdust of La Closerie de Lilas. - -Unhappy man! Paris had marked him for her own. Heaven itself could never -entirely remove from his exterior the stains and the scorching, the -lines around his eyes drawn during the early hours in dancing hall and -cafe, the bruised look that poverty, hunger, and cold impress upon the -servants who wait upon the Muses--the lower servants, whose place is -the courtyard! But the stains and the scorching had not reached his -soul; like Shadrach he had passed through the burning fiery furnace and -come out a living man. - -Besides his luggage and his violin he was carrying some rolls of -music-paper. - -We walked to the Pavilion, and from there through the woods to -Fauchard's cottage. The bees were working in the little garden, and the -pearl-white pigeons were drawn up in parade order on the roof as if to -receive us. Never seemed so loud the shouting and laughter of the birds, -never so beautiful the rambler roses round the porch! The humble things -of Nature seemed to have put themselves en fete to welcome back their -own. - -I did not go to Etiolles for some days after this. A new era of my life -had begun. - -And now it was that the truth of the Vicomte's philosophy was borne in -upon me: - -"You are getting yourself into a position from which you cannot escape -with honour. You cannot marry Mademoiselle Feliciani, for Paris would -not receive her as your wife." - -What was I to do with her? Of course, a man of the world would have -answered the question promptly; but I was not a man of the world. And -the summer went on; and I was taken about to balls and fetes by my -guardian, and as I was young, not bad-looking, and wealthy, I was well -received. - -The summer went on, the cuckoos hoarsened in the forest of Senart, the -splendour of Nature deepened, the corn in the fields at Evry was tall -and yellow, the grapes in the vineyards full-globed, and the -dragon-flies had attained the zenith of their magnificence, and all day -mirrored themselves in the moat of the Pavilion. Franzius, lost in his -music and in the paradise in which he found himself, had got back years -of his youth. His genius, clipped and held back, had suddenly burst into -bloom. He was projecting and carrying out a great work--an opera founded -on an old German legend. Carvalho had inspected some of the scores, and -had become enthusiastic. All was well with Franzius, but not with -Eloise. As the summer went on she seemed to droop. - -At first I thought it was only my fancy, but by the end of July I was -certain. - -Franzius was a frequent visitor at the Pavilion. When he was there with -us she seemed bright and gay, but when we found ourselves alone she grew -abstracted and sad. Her cheeks had lost colour, and Madame Ancelot -declared that she did not eat. The meaning of all this was plain--at -least, I thought so. She cared for me. - -This thought, which would have given a lover joy, filled me with deep -sadness. I had offered and given the girl my protection, Heaven knows, -from the highest motives. And now behold the imbroglio! If she cared for -me, it was my duty to marry her and give her a future. If I married her, -society would not receive her as my wife. I had, in fact, in trying to -make her future happy, gone a long way towards ruining my own. Heaven -knows, if I had loved her, little I would have cared for society; but -the mischief and the misery of the thing was just that--I did not love -her. - -I felt a repulsion towards her whenever the idea of love came into my -mind, with her image. It was as if a man, who, tasting a fruit in a -sudden fit of hunger and finding it nauseous and insipid, were suddenly -condemned to eat of that fruit for ever after, and none other. - -And I had the whole of life before me, and I would be tied to a woman -all through life--to a woman I did not love! And the worst part of the -whole business was the fact that I could get out of the whole thing as -easily as a man steps out of a cab--as easily as a man crushes a flower. -And that was what bound me. - -To stay in the affair, to be made party to my own social ruin, was the -most difficult business on earth. - -Days of argument I spent with myself. The two terrible logicians that -live in every man's brain fought it out; there was no escaping from the -conclusion: "If you have made this girl love you, you must ask her to be -your wife, for under the guise of a brother's friendship you have -treated her just as any of these Boulevard sots and fools would have -treated her. Oh, don't talk of Nature and sudden impulse--that is just -the argument they would use! You did this thing unpremeditatedly, we -will admit. Well, you have your whole life to meditate over the -reparation and to make it. Faults of this description are ugly toys made -by the devil, and they have to be paid for with either your happiness -or your soul. Of course, you can treat her as your mistress; and she, -poor child, tossed already about and bruised by the waves of chance, -would be content. But would you? Would you be content to thrust still -deeper in the mud of life this creature that fate has thrown on your -hands? The powers of darkness have surely conspired against this -unfortunate being. She, a daughter of the Felicianis, has been dragged -in the mire of Paris. Would you be on the side of darkness too?" - -That was what my heart said against all the arguments of my head. And so -it remained. - -"To-morrow," said I, "I will go to Etiolles, and I will ask Eloise to be -my wife." - -That afternoon, walking in the Rue de Rivoli, I saw Franzius--Franzius, -whom I imagined to be at Fauchard's cottage, green leagues away from -Paris! He was walking rapidly. I had to run to catch him up; and when he -turned his face I saw that he was in trouble. He was without his violin. - -"Why, Franzius," I cried, "what are you doing here, and what ails you? -Have you lost your violin?" - -"Oh, my friend!" said Franzius. "What ails me? I am in trouble. No, I -have not lost my violin, I have forgotten it--it has ceased to be, for -me. Ah, yes, there is no more music in life! The birds have ceased -singing, the blue sky has gone--Germany calls me back." - -"Good heavens!" I said. "What's the matter? You haven't left Etiolles -for good, have you?" - -"Oh, no! I am going back for a few days. I came to Paris to-day to seek -relief--to hear the streets--to forget----" - -"To forget what? Come, tell me what has happened." - -"Not now," said Franzius. "I cannot tell you now. To-morrow I will call -on you at your house in the Place Vendome. Then I will tell you." - -That was all I could get from him; and off he went, having first wrung -both my hands, the tears running down his face so that the passers-by -turned to look and wonder at him. - -"Come early to-morrow," I called out after him as he went. Then I -pursued my way home to the Place Vendome, wondering at the meaning of -what I had seen and troubled at heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -THE OLD COAT - - -Next morning I sent Joubert to my guardian's apartments with a message -craving an interview. - -It was nine o'clock, and the old gentleman received me in his -dressing-room and in his dressing-gown. Beril had just shaved him, and -he was examining his rubicund, jovial face in a hand-mirror. The place -smelt of Parma violets and shaving-soap. It was like the dressing-room -of a duchess, so elaborate were the fittings and so complex the manicure -instruments and toilet arrangements set out on the dressing-table. - -"Leave me, Beril," said the old gentleman, when he had made a little bow -to my reflection in the big mirror facing him. Then, taking up a tooth -instrument--for, like M. Chateaubriand, he kept on his toilet-table a -set of dental instruments with which he doctored his own pearly -teeth--he motioned me to take a seat and proceed. - -"I have come this morning, monsieur, to place my position before you and -to tell you of a serious step in life which I have decided to take." - -"Yes?" replied the Vicomte, tenderly tapping with the little steel -instrument on a front tooth, as though he were questioning it as to its -health. - -"You told me once that I was getting myself into a difficult position. -Well, as a matter of fact----" - -"You have?" - -"Yes, monsieur." - -Then I told him everything. - -When I had finished, the old gentleman put away the tooth instrument, -folded his dressing-gown more closely round him, and examined -contemplatively his hands, of which he was very proud. - -"The only thing that would have surprised me," said he at last, "would -have been if all this had not occurred. Well, now, let us make the best -of it. We will assure her future, and she will forget." - -"Monsieur, I am this morning about to offer Mademoiselle Feliciani my -hand in marriage." - -My guardian, who had been attending to his left-hand little finger with -an ivory polisher, turned in his chair and looked at me. He saw I was in -earnest. The blow was severe, yet his power of restraint was so great -that his face did not alter. - -Only the hand which held the ivory manicure instrument trembled -slightly. - -"You have decided on this step?" - -"Absolutely, monsieur." - -"You know, of course, it will mean your social ruin, and, as you do not -love the girl, the ruin of your happiness?" - -"I am aware of all that, monsieur--bitterly." - -My guardian sighed, rubbed his chin softly, and, for a moment, seemed -plunged in a profound reverie. - -"I am growing old," said he. "I have no children. I looked upon you -almost as a child of mine. I made plans for your future, a magnificent -future; I took pleasure to introduce you to my friends, in seeing you -well dressed. With the Emperor at your right hand you would have made a -very great figure in society, monsieur. Ah, yes, you might have been -what you would! And now, in a moment, this has all vanished. Excuse me -if I complain. Of course, as you are not of full age I could compel you -not to take this step. I could, as a matter of fact, sequestrate you; -but I know your spirit, and I am not a believer in brute force. Well, -well, what can I say? You come and tell me this thing--your suicide -would sadden me less than this marriage which will be your social death. -You are a man, and it is not for me to treat you as though you were a -child. Think once again on the matter, and then---- Why, then act as -your will directs." - -He rang the bell for Beril to complete his toilet, and I left the room -smitten to the heart. His unaffected sadness, his kindness, his -straightforwardness would have moved me from my course if anything -mortal could have done so. - -Yet I left the room with my determination unshaken. - -I was coming down the stairs when a footman accosted me on the first -landing. - -"A person has called to see you, monsieur, and I have shown him into the -library." - -I turned to the library, opened the door, and found myself engulfed in -the arms of Franzius. - -"Mind the violin, mind the violin!" I cried, for he was carrying it, and -I felt the bridge snapping against my chest. Then I held him at arm's -length. - -He was radiant, laughing like a boy. He had come from Etiolles, all the -way on foot, and all the joy that had been bottled up in him during the -twenty-four miles' tramp had burst loose. - -"And now," I said, laughing, too, from the infection of his gaiety, -"what is it?" - -"Oh, my friend," said Franzius, "she loves me!" - -"Good heavens! Who?" - -But you might just as well have questioned the Sud Express going full -speed. - -"Yesterday you saw me--I was in despair. I had not understood aright. -She had not understood me. She thought I cared for nothing but my music; -she did not know that my music was herself--that her soul had entered -into me, that she was me----" - -"But stay!" I cried, recalling to mind all the women at Etiolles, from -Madame Fauchard to Elise, the station-master's pretty daughter; -recalling to my mind all but the right one. "But, stay!" - -"That she was me, that my music was her--that every strand of her golden -hair, every motion of her lips, every----" - -Ah, then it began to dawn on me! - -"Franzius," I cried, suddenly seizing him by the shoulders, "Franzius, -is it Mademoiselle Eloise?" - -"They call her that," replied the stricken one, "but for me she is my -soul." - -Then I embraced Franzius. It was the first time in my life that I had -"embraced" a man French fashion. He and his old violin I took in my -arms, nearly crushing them. Fool! fool! Double fool that I was not to -have seen it before! Her sadness when I was with her, the way she -lighted up when he was near! And I had fancied that she was in love with -me! - -There was a grain of cynical bitterness in that recollection, but so -small a grain that it was swallowed up, perished for ever, in the honest -joy that filled my heart. - -I had done the right thing, I had prepared to sacrifice myself, and this -was my reward. - -Then the recollection of the old man upstairs came to me, and, bidding -Franzius to wait for me, I ran from the room. I saw a servant on the -stairs and called to him to bring wine and cigars to the gentleman in -the library; then, two steps at a time, up I went to the dressing-room. - -I knocked and opened the door without waiting for a reply. Beril was -tying my guardian's cravat. I took him by the shoulders and marched him -out of the room. - -"Saved!" cried I to the astonished Vicomte as I stood with my back to -the door and he stood opposite me, his striped satin cravat hanging -loose and his hand half reaching for the bell. - -Then I told him all, and he saw that I was not mad. - -"Is he downstairs, this Monsieur Franzius?" asked my guardian when I had -finished my tale and he had finished congratulating me. - -"Yes." - -"I would like to see him. Ask him to dejeuner." - -"He's rather---- I mean, you know, he's a Bohemian; does not bother much -about dress and that sort of thing--so you must not expect to see a -Boulevardier." - -"My dear sir," said the old man with delightful gaiety, "if one is in a -burning building, does one trouble about the colour of the fire escape -that saves one from destruction, or if it has been new painted? Ask him -to dejeuner though he came dressed as a red Indian!" - -Franzius, when I found him in the library, would not touch the wine or -cigars I had ordered up; he was in a frame of mind far above such -earthly things. I made him sit down, and, taking a seat opposite to him, -listened while he told me the whole affair. - -He declared that the idea of love for Eloise had never come to him of -itself; he was far too humble to worship her, except as one worships the -sun. It was his music that said to him: "She loves you, and you love -her. Listen to me: Am I not beautiful? I am the child of your soul and -hers; divine love has brought you together so that you might create me. -I will exist for ever, for I am the child of two immortal souls." - -"Then, my friend," said Franzius, "I knew what love was--it is the birth -of music in the heart, it is the music itself, the little birds try to -tell us this. I had loved her without knowing from the first day; and -when knowledge came to me I was still dumb; dumb as a miser who speaks -not of his gold; till yesterday, when I told her all. She cried out and -ran from me, and hid herself in the house, and I thought she was -offended. I thought she did not love me, I thought the music had lied to -me, and that there was no God, that the flowers were fiends in disguise, -the sun a goblin. I came to Paris, I walked here and there, I met you, -my distress was great. Then I returned to Etiolles. It was evening, -towards sunset, and, coming through the wood near the Pavilion, I saw -her. - -"She had taken her seat on the root of an old tree; her basket of -needlework was by her side, and in her lap was an old coat; she had made -me bring it to the Pavilion some days before, saying she would mend it. -I thought she had forgotten it, but now it was in her lap; her needle -was in her hand, and she had just finished mending a rent in the sleeve. -Then she held it up as if to see were there any more to be done; -then--she kissed it." - -"So that----" - -"Ah, my friend, all is right with me now. I have come home to the home -that has been waiting for me all these weary years. Often when I have -looked back at my wanderings I have said to myself, Why? It all seemed -so useless and leading nowhere--such a zig-zag road here and there -across Europe on foot, poor as ever when the year was done. _But now I -see that every footstep of that journey was a footstep nearer to her_, -and I praise God." - -He ceased, and I bowed my head. The holy spirit of Love seemed present -in that room, and I dared not break the sacred silence with words. - -It was broken by the opening of the door, and the cheery voice of M. le -Vicomte bidding me introduce him to my friend. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -IN THE SUNK GARDEN - - -I shall never forget that dejeuner, and the kindness of my guardian to -poor Franzius. The tall footmen who served us may have wondered at this -very unaccustomed guest; but had the Emperor been sitting in Franzius' -place M. le Vicomte could not have laid himself out more to please. And -from no hidden motive. Franzius was his guest, he had invited him to -dejeuner, he saw the Bohemian was ill at ease in his strange -surroundings, and with exquisite delicacy only attainable by a man of -good birth, trained in all the subtleties of life, he set himself the -task of setting his guest at ease. - -When the meal was over we went into the smoking-room; and then, and only -then, did M. le Vicomte refer to the question of Eloise in a few -well-chosen words. - -Then he dismissed us as though we were schoolboys; and I took the -musician off to see my apartments. - -Now, I am Irish, or at least three parts Irish, and I suppose that -accounts for some eccentricities in my conduct of affairs. I am sure -that it accounts for the fact that my joy up to this had carried me -along so irresistibly and so pleasantly that I had not once looked back. - -It was when I opened the door of my sitting-room that memory, or -perhaps conscience, woke up to deal my happiness a blow. - -The man beside me knew nothing of Eloise's past. Or did he? - -Never, I thought, as I looked at him. His happiness is new-born, it has -been stained by no cloud. She has told him nothing. - -I sat down and watched him as he roamed about the room, examining the -works of art, the pictures, and the hundred-and-one things, pretty or -quaint; costly toys for the grown-up. - -I sat and watched him. - -An overmastering impulse came upon me to go at once to Etiolles, see -Eloise, and speak to her alone, if possible. - -"Come," I said, "let us go down to the Pavilion. I want a breath of -country air. Paris is smothering me. Shall we start?" - -He went to the library to fetch his violin, and we left the house. - -We took the train. It was a glorious September day; they were carting -the corn at Evry; and the country, warm and mellow from the long, hot -summer, was covered by the faintest haze, a gauze of heat that paled the -horizon, making a diaphanous film from which the sky rose in a dome of -perfect blue. - -The little gardens by the way were filled with autumn flowers--stocks -and hollyhocks and Michaelmas daisies--simple and old-fashioned flowers, -great bouquets with which God fills the hands of the poor, more -beautiful than all the treasures of Parma and Bordighera. - -A child of six, a son of one of the railway porters, bound also for -Etiolles on a message, tramped with us. Franzius carried him on his -shoulder part of the way, and bought him sweets at the village shop. - -Eloise was not at the Pavilion. Madame Ancelot said she had taken her -sewing and was in the sun-garden of the Chateau, and there we sought for -her. This garden, small and protected from the east wind by a palisaded -screen, was the prettiest place imaginable. It was at the back of the -Chateau, and steps from it led up to the rose-garden. It had in its -centre a square marble pond from which a Triton blew thin jets of water -for ever at the sky. - -Eloise was seated on a small grassy bank; her workbasket was beside her; -and she was engaged in some needlework which she held in her lap. - -She made a pretty picture against the hollyhocks which lined the bank; -and prettier still she looked when, hearing our footsteps, she cast her -work aside and ran to meet us. - -With a swift glance at Franzius, she ran straight to me and took both my -hands in hers. - -"He has told you?" said she, looking up full and straight into my face, -full and straight with perfect candour and firm eyes more liquid and -beautiful than the blue of heaven washed by the early dawn. - -"He has told me," I replied, holding her hands in mine. - -All the sadness and pain that my past relationship with her had caused -me was now banished, for I could read in her eyes, or, blind that I was, -I thought I could read in her eyes, that the past was for her not in the -new world in which she found herself. - -We sat down on the little grassy bank, and talked things over, the three -of us. Three people who had found a treasure could not have been more -happily jubilant as we talked of the future. - -"And you know," said I, "you will never want money. Franzius will be -rich with his music; and even should he never care to write again, I -have a large sum of money in trust for you. Oh, don't ask who gave it in -trust for you both! It is there." - -We talked till the dusk fell and star after star came out. - -So dark was it when I left that a tiny point of light in Eloise's hair -made me hold her head close to look. It was a glow-worm that had fallen -from the bending hollyhocks. - -It seemed to me like a little star that God had placed there as a -portent of fortune and happiness. - -When I got back to Paris my guardian was out. - -I went to my rooms to think things over. My thoughts had received a new -orientation. I remembered my delight that morning on finding myself -free--free of all that heaven! - -Ah, if I could only have loved her as Franzius did! - -What, then, was this thing called Love, which I had never known, the -thing which I had never guessed till to-day, till this evening, there in -the sunk garden of Saluce, in the dusk so filled with the sound of -unseen wings and the music of an unknown tongue? - -Some drawing things were on the table. - -I have always been a fair artist, and sketching has been one of my few -amusements. - -Almost mechanically I took a pencil, and tried to sketch the face of -Eloise Feliciani. - -But it was not the face of Eloise Feliciani that appeared on the paper. -I gazed on it, when it was finished, in troubled amazement. It was the -face of a woman--yet it was also the portrait of a child. Ah, yes; -beyond any doubt of memory it was the face of Margaret von Lichtenberg, -the old portrait in the gallery of Schloss Lichtenberg! Yet it was the -face, also, of little Carl! - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -THE MARRIAGE OF ELOISE - - -"We will give them a good send-off," said my guardian, as, some days -later, we discussed the matter of Eloise's wedding. "Let them be married -at Etiolles; have the village en fete. I will settle for it all." - -The proposition seemed good; nowhere could one find a more suitable spot -for such a wedding than the little church of Etiolles; yet it met with -opposition. - -Franzius was not a man to forget his friends. He had many in the Latin -Quarter, and he was a peasant born, with a peasant's instincts. Birth, -marriage, and death, those three supreme events in the life of man, are -more insistent in their ceremonial amidst the poor than the rich. To -Franzius it would have been a strange thing to marry without inviting to -the ceremony the people who were his friends; and the journey to -Etiolles would be too far for some of these. - -Then, it was impossible for the marriage to be solemnised in a church, -for the simple reason that he was a Lutheran and Eloise had been born a -Catholic. So it was arranged to take place on the 1st of October at the -Mairie of the quarter which includes the Rue Dijon. - -It was to be quite a simple affair, a wedding such as takes place every -day amongst the bourgeoisie, with the additional lustre that the -presence of the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan would lend to the -proceedings. - -It was a lovely day. It had rained during the night, but the morning -broke nearly cloudless, and there was that feeling of spring in the air, -that freshness which comes sometimes in autumn like the reminiscence of -May. - -Franzius had slept the night at the Place Vendome; and I must say, -dressed in a brand-new suit of clothes and with a flower in his -buttonhole, he never looked worse in his life. Dressed in his old -clothes, with his violin under his arm, he was picturesque, but now he -looked like a tailor out for a holiday, and I told him so, to keep up -his spirits, as we breakfasted hurriedly and without appetite, but with -a good deal of gaiety. - -Eloise was to come from Saluce in one of the Vicomte's carriages, and he -was to accompany her to the Mairie, where we were to wait for them. Noon -was the hour of the ceremony; and when we arrived at the Mairie the -place was crowded: four other couples, it seemed, were to be united that -day, and we were third on the list. - -The people whom Franzius had invited were there already: not many, -scarcely a dozen, and mostly men, musicians with long hair and German -accents; his landlady of the Rue Dijon and her daughter, a cripple -dressed for the occasion in a newly starched white frock and blue sash; -and a young lady of the sempstress type, pale-faced and modest, and -seeming dazed with the grandeur of the officials in their chains and all -the paraphernalia of the law. - -For a moment a pang went to my heart to think that a daughter of the -Felicianis was to be married here amidst these folks like one of them. -But it soon passed. The Archbishop of Paris, the choir of Notre Dame, -the congregated aristocracy of France, could not have added one whit to -the beauty of the marriage or to its sanctity. - -I had dreaded that in the fulness of his heart and his simplicity -Franzius might have invited undesirable guests. The vision of -Changarnier appearing like an evil beast had horrified me. But my fears -were set at rest. Leave the simple-hearted alone, and they rarely make -mistakes. Franzius' guests, humble though they might be, were of the -aristocracy of the poor, good, kind-hearted, and honest people. - -At ten minutes to noon the Vicomte arrived, with Eloise on his arm. How -charming she looked, in that simple, old-fashioned wedding-gown which -she had made for herself! And how charming the Vicomte was, insisting on -being introduced to everyone, chatting, laughing, immeasurably above -everyone else, yet suffusing the wedding-party with his own grace and -greatness so that everyone felt elevated instead of dwarfed! - -And I never have been able to determine in my mind whether it was -natural goodness, or just gentility polished to its keenest edge, that -made this old libertine so lovable. - -After the ceremony carriages conveyed the wedding-party to the Cafe -Royale in the Boulevard St. Michel. - -The Vicomte had, through Beril, made all arrangements; and in a room -flower-decked, and filled with the sunlight and sounds of the boulevard, -we sat down to dejeuner. - -Scarcely had we begun than the waiters announced two gentlemen, at the -same time handing the Vicomte de Chatellan two cards. "Show them up," -said my guardian, "and lay two more covers." - -It was the great Carvalho, who, hearing indirectly from my guardian of -the marriage, had come, bringing with him the director of the Opera. - -You may be sure we made room for them. And what a good omen it -seemed--better than a flight of white doves--these two well-fed, -prosperous, commonplace individuals, who held the music of France in -their hands, and the laurel-wreaths! - -They did not stay long, just long enough to pay their compliments and -drink success to the bride and bridegroom. - -Just before departing, Carvalho whispered to me: "His opera is accepted. -He will hear officially to-morrow. It will be produced in April, or, at -latest, May." - - - - -PART III - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -THE BALL - - -"By the way," said my guardian, "how are you off for money?" - -We were driving back from the station, having seen the newly married -couple off on their honeymoon. - -"Oh, pretty well," I replied. "Why do you ask?" - -He did not seem to hear my reply, but sat gazing out of the -carriage-window at the streets we were passing through, and the people, -gazing at them contemplatively and from Olympian heights, after the -fashion of a god gazing upon beetles. - -When we reached the Place Vendome, he drew me into the library. - -"I have been on the point of speaking to you several times lately about -money," said he. "Not about personal expenses, but about the bulk of -your fortune. It is invested in French securities. Clement, our lawyer, -has the number and names of them. They are all good securities, paying -good dividends; they are the securities in which I myself have invested -my money. Well, I am selling out----" - -"I beg your pardon, sir?" - -"Selling out--realising. I am collecting my money, marshalling my -francs, and marching them out of France into England. I propose to do -the same with yours." - -"But," said I, "is that safe, to have all our money in a foreign -country? Suppose that there should be war?" - -The Vicomte laughed. - -"You have said the words. Suppose there should be war? France would be -smashed like a ball of glass--ouf. Do you think I am blind? At the -Tuileries, at the Quai d'Orsay, they speak of M. le Vicomte de Chatellan -as a very nice man, perhaps, but out of date--out of date; at the War -Minister's it is the same--out of date. Meanwhile, I know the machine. I -have counted the batteries of artillery and the regiments of the line on -paper, and I have counted them in the field, and contrasted the -difference. Not that I care a halfpenny for the things in themselves, -but they are the protectors of my money; and as such I look after them. -I have reviewed the personality of the people at the Tuileries--not that -I care a halfpenny for their psychological details, but they are the -stewards of my money; and I examine their physiognomies and their lives -to see if they are worthy of trust. I look at society--not that I care a -halfpenny for the morals of society, but because the health of society -is essential to the health of the State. Now, what do I see? I speak not -from any moral standpoint, but just as a man speaks who is anxious about -the safety of his money. What do I see? Widespread corruption; -peculators hiding peculators--from the man who hides the rotten army -contract at the Ministry of War to the man who hides the rottenness of -the fodder in the barrack-stable. Widespread corruption; Ministers the -servants of vice, each duller than Jocrisse; marshals as wooden and as -useless as their batons; skeleton regiments, batteries without cannon, -cannon without horses; no esprit; an army of gamins with -cigarette-stained fingers and guns in their hands." - -The old gentleman, who for seventeen years or so had been in a state of -chronic irritation with the Second Empire and its makers, paused in his -peregrinations up and down the room, and snapped his fingers. I sat -listening in astonishment, for to me, who only saw the varnish and the -glitter, France seemed triumphant amongst the nations as the Athena of -the Parthenon amongst statues; and the French Army, from the Cent Gardes -at the Tuileries to the drummer-boy of the last line regiment, the _ne -plus ultra_ of efficacy, splendour, and strength. - -He went on: - -"Tell me: when you see a house in disorder, bills unpaid, the servants -liars and rogues, inefficient and useless, dust swept under the beds, -and nothing clean about the place except perhaps the windows and the -door-handle: whom do you accuse but the master and the mistress? A -nation is a house, and France is a nation. I say no more. I have been a -guest at the Tuileries; and it is not for me, who have partaken of their -hospitality, to speak against the rulers of France. But I will not allow -them to play ducks and drakes with my money. In short, my friend, in my -opinion my money is no longer safe in France, and I am going to move it -to a place of safety. I have been uneasy for some time, but of late I -am not uneasy--I am frightened. _I smell disaster._" - -He did. - -Now, in October, 1869, from evidence in my possession, the fate of -France was already definitely fixed. Bismarck had decided on war. He had -not the slightest enmity toward France, nothing but contempt for her and -for the wretched marionettes playing at Royalty in the Tuileries. He was -assisting at the birth of the great German Empire, that giant who in a -short twelve months was to leap living and armed from the womb of Time. -The destruction of France was the surgical operation necessary for the -birth--that was all. In October, 1869, the last rivets of the giant's -armour were being welded. - -My guardian knew nothing of this; yet that extraordinary man had already -scented the coming ruin, guessing from the corruption around him the -birds of prey beyond the frontier. - -"Thank you!" said he, when I had given him permission to deal with my -fortunes as his judgment dictated. "And now you have just time to dress -for dinner. Remember, you are to accompany me to-night to the ball at -the Marquis d'Harmonville's." - -I went off to my own rooms not overjoyed. Society functions never -appealed to me, and balls were my detestation, for then my lameness was -brought into evidence. Condemned not to dance, it was bitter to see -other young people enjoying themselves, and to have to stand by and -watch them, pretending to oneself not to care. My lameness, though I -have dwelt little upon it, was the bane of my life. I fancied that -everyone noticed it, and either pitied me or ridiculed me. It was a -bitter thing, tainting all my early manhood; it made me avoid young -people, and people of the opposite sex. I have seen girls looking at me, -and have put their regard down to ridicule or pity--fool that I was! - -Joubert put out my evening clothes. Joubert of late had grown more testy -than ever, and more domineering. He spent his life in incessant warfare -with Beril, the factotum of my guardian; and the extra acidity that he -could not vent on Beril he served up to me. But it was the business of -Eloise and Franzius (that lot, as he called them) which he had now, to -use a vulgar expression, in his nose. - -"Not those boots," said I, as he took a pair of patent-leather boots -from their resting-place. "Dancing shoes!" - -"Dancing shoes!" said Joubert, putting the boots back. "Ah, yes; I -forgot that monsieur was a dancer." - -"You forgot no such thing, for you know very well I do not dance, but -one does not go to a ball in patent-leather boots. You like to fling my -lameness in my face. You are turning into vinegar these times. I will -pension you, and send you off to the country to live, if M. le Vicomte -does not do what he has threatened to do." - -"And what may that be?" asked the old fellow, with the impudent air of a -naughty child. - -"He says he'll put you and Beril in a sack and drop you in the Seine, -if he has any more trouble with the pair of you--always fighting like a -couple of old cats." - -"Old, indeed!" replied Joubert. "Ma foi! it well becomes a young man -like the Vicomte to think of age! And did I make you lame? More likely -it was a curse from one of that lot----" - -"Here!" I said, "give me the hair-brushes, and leave 'that lot,' as you -call them alone." - -I wondered to myself what Joubert would have said had he known the real -cause of my lameness, but I had never spoken to anyone of the child, so -like little Carl, the mysterious child who had lured me through the -bushes into the hidden gravel-pit. If I had, what ammunition it would -have given him against "that lot," as he was pleased to call anyone who -had been present at the Schloss Lichtenberg that September nine years -ago! - -I dined tete-a-tete with my guardian, then we played a game of ecarte; -and at ten o'clock, the carriage being at the door, we departed for the -Marquis d'Harmonville's in the Avenue Malakoff. - -It was a very big affair; the Avenue Malakoff was lined with carriages; -and we, wedged between the carriage of the Countess de Pourtales and -that of the Russian Ambassador, had time on our hands, during which the -Vicomte, irritated by the loss of five louis at ecarte and the slowness -of the queue, continued his strictures on the social life of Paris and -the condition of France. - -We passed up the stairs, between a double bank of flowers; and despite -the condition of the social life of Paris and the state of France, the -scene was very lovely. - -The great ballroom--with its scheme of white and gold, its crystal -candelabra and its extraordinarily beautiful ceiling, in which, as in a -snowstorm, the ice spirits whirled in a fantastic dance--might have been -the ballroom in the palace of the Ice Queen but for the warmth, the -banks of white camellias, and the music of M. Strauss's band. - -Following my usual custom, I cast round for someone whom I could bore -with my conversation, a fellow-wall-flower; and it was not long before I -lit on M. de Presense, a friend of my guardian, one of those old -gentlemen who go everywhere, know everything, talk to everybody, and -from whom everyone tries to escape. Delighted to obtain a willing -listener, M. de Presense, who did not dance, drew me into a corner and -pointed out the notabilities. We had mounted to a kind of balcony, and -presently, when M. de Presense was engaged in conversation with a lady -of his acquaintance, I stood alone and looked down on the assembled -guests. - -Recalling them now, and recalling the Vicomte's strictures, it seems -strange enough that amidst the guests were most of those who, fatuously -playing into Bismarck's hands, brought war and the destruction of war on -France; all, nearly, of the undertakers of the Second Empire's funeral -were there. The Duc d'Agenor de Gramont; Benedetti, who happened to be -in Paris at that time; Marshal Leboeuf, that ruinous fool the clap of -whose portfolio cast on the council table at Saint-Cloud was answered -by the mobilisation of the German Army; Vareigne, the Palace Prefect of -the Tuileries; and, to complete the collection, Baron Jerome David, -destined to be the first recipient of the news of Sedan. - -I was looking on and listening, amused and interested by old M. de -Presense's descriptions, that were not destitute of barbs and points, -when through the crowd in my direction, walking beside my old enemy the -Comte de Coigny, came a young man. - -A young man, pale, very handsome, with an air of distinction which -marked him at once as a person above other people, a distinction which, -starlike, reduced the surrounding crowd to the level of wax lights and -the function of D'Harmonville to a bourgeois rout. He was dressed in -simple evening attire, without jewellery or adornment of any -description, except an order set in brilliants, a point of sparkling -light which gave the last touch to a picture worthy of the brush of -Vandyck or Velasquez. - -"Quick!" I said, plucking old M. Presense by the sleeve. "That young man -with the Comte de Coigny: who is he?" - -"That!--ma foi--he is Baron Carl von Lichtenberg, the new attache at the -Prussian Embassy. Oh, yes; he is the sensation of the moment in Paris. -The women rave about him----" - -But I did not hear what more the old man may have said, for at that -moment Von Lichtenberg, as they called him, looking in my direction, -caught my eye and halted dead, with his hand on De Coigny's arm. - -He seemed stricken with paralysis; the words he had just been saying to -his companion withered on his lips; we stared at each other for ten -seconds; then De Coigny, glancing in my direction, broke the spell, and, -pulling old Presense by the arm, I retired precipitately through an -alcove which led to the cardroom. - -I was terrified, shocked. Terrified as an animal which suddenly finds -itself trapped in a gin; shocked as a man who sees a ghost. - -All the nameless excitement and soul-terror that had filled me for a -moment as a child when Gretel, in the gallery of the Schloss, had held -the light to the portrait of Margaret von Lichtenberg, were mine now -again, for the face I had just seen was hers. The Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg was little Carl. - -I said "Good-evening," to M. Presense, escaped through the cardroom -door, got my hat and coat from the attendants, and found myself in the -street. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -TRYING TO ESCAPE FROM FATE - - -I walked fast as one who would try to escape from his fate. - -I _could_ not but see the cards being dealt by some mysterious hand; I -could not but remember that Von Lichtenberg, a nobleman, a man of -honour, the friend of his King, and presumably sane, had three times -attempted my assassination when I was a child, to shield little Carl -from some terrible evil at my hands; and look, to-night, whom had I met? - -Then, Franzius, entering my life as he had done, and Eloise, like the -people on the stage who are seen in the first act of the drama, to -reappear in the last act, helping to form the tragic tableau on which -the curtain falls. - -But the terror and repulsion in my mind rose not from these things; it -came like a breath from afar; it came like a breath from the unknown, -from the time remote in the past when lived Margaret von Lichtenberg, -the woman murdered by Philippe de Saluce. - -I walked hurriedly, not caring whither I went; the sounds and lights of -Paris surrounded me, but my spirit was not there. It was in the gardens -of Lichtenberg, walking with Eloise and little Carl; it was in the -picture-gallery, gazing at the portrait of the dead-and-gone Margaret, -beneath which was the little portrait of Philippe de Saluce, so horribly -like myself; it was in the windy bell-tower where the Man in Armour -stood with his iron hammer before the iron bell; I saw again the duel in -the forest, and Von Lichtenberg lying in the arms of General Hahn, and I -heard again the slobbering of the torches, the wind in the pine-trees, -and the far-off barking of the fox in the wood. - -Ah, yes; all that might have something to do with me, but beyond all -that I refused my fate. I refused to believe that the dead Margaret had -a hold upon me--the last of the Mahons, who was also the last of the -Saluces; the horrible whispered suggestion: "Are _you_ Philippe de -Saluce returned? Were _you_ once in that old time the murderer of -Margaret? And is she--is she little Carl?" This I refused; that I would -not listen to; this I abhorred, as a whisper from the devil, as a -blasphemy against God's goodness and against life. - -"I have never done harm to any man!" - -"Or woman?" queried the whisperer, whose voice seemed my own voice, just -as in that story of Edgar Poe's the voice of William Wilson found an -echo in his double. - -"Or woman? Ah, yes--Eloise--a moment of passion----" - -"A moment of passion murdered Margaret de Saluce." - -"But God is good; He does not create to torture; He does not bring the -dead back to confront them with their crimes." - -"Know you that there is a God?" replied the whisperer. "And not a Fate -working inexorably and by law?" - -"Cease!" I replied, "Let there be a Fate. I am a living man with a will. -No dead fate working by law shall drag me against my will, or move me to -another purpose than my own. I will not--I will not!" - -This mental dialogue had brought me a long way. I was called to my -senses by a bright light illuminating what seemed a river of blood -stretching across the pavement. - -It was a red carpet, and the great house from whose door it was laid -down was the Prussian Embassy. - -A carriage, flanked by a squadron of Cent Gardes, was at the pavement, -and a man was leaving the Embassy. - -It was Napoleon, who had been dining privately with the Prussian -Ambassador. He was in evening dress, covered by a dark overcoat; his -hat-brim was over his eyes, and he held a cigarette between his lips. -When Napoleon wore his hat in this fashion, with the brim covering his -eyes like a penthouse, the whole figure of the man became sinister and -full of fate. - -I would sooner a flock of black birds had crossed my path than that -mysterious figure in the broad-brimmed, tall hat, beneath which in the -darkness the profile showed vaguely, yet distinctly, like the profile on -some time-battered coin of Imperial Rome, some coin on which the -Imperial face alone remains asking the dweller in a new age: Who is -this? - -I watched him getting into his carriage and the carriage driving away, -surrounded by the glittering sabres of the Cent Gardes; then I returned -home. - -This, it will be remembered, was the night of the 1st of October. - - * * * * * - -On the 4th of October, three days after, I was sitting at my club, -reading a newspaper, when the Comte de Brissac proposed a game of -ecarte. - -I take cards seriously; the gain or loss of money is nothing to me -beside the gain or loss of the game. That is why, perhaps, I am often -successful. - -There were several other players in the room, and a good many loungers -looking on at the games, several around our table, of whom I did not -take the slightest notice, so immersed was I in the play. - -I lost. Never had I such bad luck. The cards declared themselves against -me; some evil influence was at work. At the end of half an hour, during -a pause in the game, and after having lost a good sum of money to De -Brissac, I looked up, and for the first time noticed the people around -us. Right opposite to me, standing behind De Brissac, and looking me -full in the face, was Baron Carl von Lichtenberg. - -The surprising thing was that I was not surprised. My unconscious self -seemed to have recognised the fact that he was there all the time, -whilst the conscious self was sublimely indifferent to everything but -the cards. - -Then I did just what I would have done had a cry of "Fire" been -raised--cast my cards on the table, and left the room, walking -hurriedly, but not so hurriedly as to express what the old Marquis -d'Ampreville once described as ungentlemanly alarm. - -Now, Lichtenberg was not a member of the Mirlitons; and as I was a -pretty regular frequenter of the place during certain hours of the day, -and as he had taken his place at the card-table at which I was playing, -the suggestion became almost a certainty that he had come there to meet -me. - -"I am a living man with a will. No dead Fate working by law shall drag -me against my will or move me to another purpose than my own." I had -said that on the night of the 1st of October. Well, there was something -more than a dead Fate here, a thing working by law. There was the will -of Von Lichtenberg; and as I walked down the Boulevard des Italiens, -away from the club, the gin seemed to have closed more tightly around -me. - -It is unpleasant to feel not that you are going to meet your fate, but -that your fate is coming to meet you; to swim from a danger, yet find -the tide slowly and remorselessly driving you towards it. - -Now, what was this danger I dreaded? Impossible to say; but I felt -surely in my soul that far more destructive to my happiness and my life -than Vogel, or the fantastic old woman who lived in the wood and made -whistles of glass, silver, and gold for children to play upon, was this -man Carl von Lichtenberg. That, just as Eloise had brought me the -flowers of childhood perfumed and dew-wet in her hands, Carl von -Lichtenberg was bringing me flowers from an unknown land, flowers -scentless as immortelles, sorrowful as death. - -Why should I, young and happy, and rich, with all the joy of life in me, -with a clear conscience and a healthy mind: why should I be troubled by -the tragic and the fateful? As day by day men turn the pages of their -life-story, men ask of God this question, receiving only the Author's -reply: "Read on." - -The next day I had the extra knowledge that not only was Von -Lichtenberg's will against me, but the tattle of fools. - -The affair at the Mirlitons had been talked about. The loungers about -the card-table had seen me look up, stare at the Baron, fling my cards -down, and leave the room. - -I had, it seemed, put a public affront on him. - -My guardian told me of the talk. - -"Paris is a whispering gallery," said the old gentleman, "filled with -fools. They put the thing down to the fact of the duel between your -father and Baron Imhoff. The whole thing is unfortunate; the relations -of the Saluces and the Lichtenbergs have always been unfortunate; yet -the two families have had an attraction for each other, to judge by the -intermarriages. Still, this young Baron Carl seems quite a nice person, -a nobleman of the old type, a man of distinction and presence----" - -"You have met him?" - -"I was introduced at D'Harmonville's ball. Yes; quite a nobleman of the -old school; and it seems a pity that you should bear him any grudge on -account of the unfortunate fact that Baron Imhoff----" - -"I don't. I don't hold him responsible for the fact that Baron Imhoff -killed my father. I have no grudge against him." - -"I am glad to hear that," said the Vicomte; and two days later he -invited Von Lichtenberg to dinner with me! - -I did not come to that dinner. I was a living man with a will of my own. -(How that phrase haunts me like satiric laughter!) I would pursue my own -course; and no dead Fate would drag me against my will, or move me to -another purpose except my own. - -I dined at the Cafe de Paris with a friend, and as I was coming away -whom should I meet but my old enemy the Comte de Coigny! - -This gentleman was flushed with wine; he was descending the stairs with -two ladies, and when he saw me he started. We had not spoken for years, -yet he came forward to introduce himself. - -When we had exchanged a few platitudes, he turned to the matter that was -evidently the motive-power of his civility. - -"I am surprised to see you here to-night," said he, "for my friend M. le -Baron von Lichtenberg told me he was to dine with you." - -"He told you wrong." - -"Ah! just so. I thought there was some mistake; he would scarcely be -dining with you after the affair at the Mirlitons." - -"M. de Coigny," I replied, "I know of nothing that gives you the -warrant to introduce yourself into my private affairs. I dine where I -choose, do what I please; and should anyone question my actions they do -so at their own peril." - -Then I turned on my heel and left the cafe with my friend. - -"Another man would send you his seconds in reply to that," said my -friend. - -"And why not De Coigny?" - -"Oh, he is a coward. But he is also a bad man. Be on your guard, for he -will try to do you an evil turn." - -I laughed, and told him of the occurrence when, years ago, I had made De -Coigny's nose to bleed in the gardens of the Hotel de Morny. - -"All the same," replied he, "be on your guard." - -Next day I had a very unpleasant interview with my guardian. I had not -only insulted Von Lichtenberg, it seems, but I had also hit the -convenances a foul blow. Hit them below the belt, in fact. - -"Ah, yes," said the old gentleman, "I try to do the best for you, and -see your return! In my own house, too! And to receive the message that -you were dining out only an hour before he was expected, giving me no -time to make excuses!" - -"What did he say?" I asked. - -"Say!" burst out M. le Vicomte. "He said nothing. Ah, if I had been in -his place! But, no. He only looked sad and depressed. Had he been a girl -instead of a man, a girl in love with you, monsieur, he could not have -taken the matter with more quietness or with more sad restraint. Say! -Ah, yes, I will tell you what he said, what we said. I will give you -the dialogue: - -"'I had hoped to meet someone else.' That was what he said. - -"And I: 'Alas! monsieur, Fate has ordained us to a solitude a deux.' - -"I did not mention your name, monsieur, for in mentioning your name I -would have mentioned a person who had disgraced me." - -"Very well," said I. "I will disgrace you no longer. I will leave Paris -to-morrow, and go to Nice." - -This determination I carried out next day. - -Now, under the tragic cloak of the story, under all these evasions of -mine and this pursuit of Von Lichtenberg, there lay a lovely comedy, of -which I, one of the chief actors, was utterly ignorant of the motive and -the extraordinary denouement. But this, if you have not guessed it, you -will see presently. - -I went to Nice. I had never been South before; I had never seen the -white, white roads, the black shadows, the green olives, the leaping -palms; I had never seen the oranges glowing like dim golden lamps amidst -the glossy green leaves; and it seemed to me that I had never seen the -blue of sky or the blue of sea before I entered that Paradise. - -It is all changed now. The Avenue de la Gare from a road in heaven has -become a street in a town; vulgarity and wealth have done their work; -and to-day you may buy a diamond necklace of M. Marx, where, in 1869, -under a plane-tree, sat the old woman who sold peeled oranges for a sou -a dozen. - -I spent the winter at Nice, finding plenty of amusement and friends, -and cutting myself off completely from Paris, communicating only with my -guardian and with Franzius and his wife, who were living at the -Pavilion. - -The 4th of April was the date for the production of his opera, "Undine." -It was based on De la Motte Fouquet's lovely tale; and its success, as -far as I could learn from Carvalho, was assured, for one can say of -certain artistic productions, just as one can say of sunlight or pure -gold: "This is assured. Let the tastes or the fashions alter, this will -always be reckoned at its full value, a treasure indestructible." - -I had fixed to return to Paris on the 30th of March, but I came back -sooner; for on the 15th of March, driving on the Promenade des Anglais, -I passed a carriage in which were seated the Comte de Coigny and the -Baron Carl von Lichtenberg. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -THE OVERTURE TO "UNDINE" - - -It was the morning of the day of "Undine's" production. I had ridden -over to the Pavilion from Paris to breakfast with Franzius and Eloise. - -The rehearsal had almost wrecked Franzius, but he was all right now; the -ship was built; only the launching remained. As to Eloise, in six months -she had altered subtly yet marvellously. I had last seen her a girl in -her bridal dress; she was now a woman, for in six months she had aged -years, without gaining a wrinkle or losing a trace of the beauty of -youth. Love had ripened her; her every movement was marked by that -self-contained grace which comes from maturity of mind; the wild beauty -of spring had vanished, giving place to the full beauty of summer--the -grace of Demeter gazing upon the fields of immortal wheat. - -It was the wish of both my guardian and myself that Franzius and Eloise -should inhabit the Pavilion as much as they chose. We had offered the -place to them, indeed, as a wedding gift, but the permission to live -there was all they would take. - -This morning we breakfasted with the windows open. The swallows had not -come back, yet the wind that puffed the chintz curtains was warm as the -wind of May. Its sound amidst the trees was like the sound of April -walking in the woods. - -We came out and walked to the cottage of old Fauchard, whose wife was -ill. Eloise had made her some soup, and she carried it in one of those -tins the workmen use for their food. - -The birds were calling to each other from tree to tree; clumps of -violets were showing their blue amidst the brown of last autumn's fallen -leaves, and the forest, half fledged, was breathing in the delicious -breeze, sighing and shivering under the kiss of April. - -It was no poetic fancy that presence which we felt around us, that call -to which every fibre of my being responded. It was very real, and -reaching far. The swallows were listening to it away at Luxor and -Carnac; it touched the sun-baked Pyramids and the reeds of the Mareotid -lakes, that call from the green fields of France; fields that in a few -short months were to be ploughed by the cannon and watered with blood -and tears. - -We came to Paris in the afternoon, and, leaving Eloise with the Vicomte -at the Place Vendome, I accompanied Franzius to the Opera House, where -he had some business to transact. - -The last rehearsal had taken place the day before, and the huge building -seemed very grim, empty and deserted as it was. - -"Franzius," I said, as we stood looking at the empty orchestra, "do you -remember that night in the Schloss Lichtenberg when you and Marx and the -rest of your band played in the great hall, and a child in his -nightshirt peeped at you from the gallery?" - -"My friend," replied Franzius, "do I remember? Ach Gott! but for that -night I would never have met you, I would never have met Eloise, I would -be now second violin at the Closerie de Lilas, a man without love and -without a future. It is to you I owe all." - -"Not a bit. It is to chance. And if it comes to that, it is to you I owe -all. But for you I would have been killed that night in my sleep. You -remember the hunting-song that held me--you gave me the words of it last -autumn. I wish some time you would write out the music for me." - -Franzius smiled; then, as if speaking with an effort: "It was to have -been a surprise. I have written out the music of it for you; it is in -the score of the opera; it forms part of the overture." - -I have never felt more excited than I felt that night. Despite the -assurance of Carvalho, I felt that the fate of my friend was hanging in -the balance; and I am sure I felt far more nervous than he, for he -seemed quite calm and certain of success. - -We dined early, and he departed before us, for he was to conduct. - -We arrived before the house was half filled, and took our places in M. -le Vicomte's box, which was situated in the first tier. Then the -flood-gates of the world where all the inhabitants are wealthy slowly -opened; box after box became a galaxy of stars; diamonds, ribbons, and -orders reflected the brilliant light which flooded the house, fans -fluttered like gorgeous butterflies, and the house, no longer half -deserted, became a scene of splendour filled with the perfume of -flowers, the intoxication of brilliancy; and my heart leapt to think of -Franzius as I had met him that night in the Boul' Miche, going along in -his old threadbare coat, with his violin under his arm, poor, -unfriended, and unknown, and to think of him now, like a magician, -compelling the wealth and beauty of Europe to his will! - -Ah, yes! there is something in genius after all, something in it, if it -is not trampled to death by fools before it has time to expand its -wings. - -The Empress was unable to attend, but the Emperor was there; and in the -box with him were the Duc de Gramont and the Duc de Bassano. The -Faubourg St. Germain was there, and the Chaussee d'Antin, old nobility -and new, at daggers drawn, yet brought under the same roof by Art. - -There was an electrical feeling in the place, a something I could not -describe, till the Vicomte de Chatellan gave it a name. - -"Success is in the air!" said he; then it seemed to me that I could hear -her wings, that glorious goddess more beautiful than the Athena of the -Parthenon. - -And now from the orchestra came the complaint of the violin-strings, -proclaiming their readiness, and the deep, gasping grunts of the -'cellos, saying as plainly as 'cellos could speak: "Begin! begin!" And -there was Franzius, in correct evening attire (how different from the -long coat of the Schloss Lichtenberg!), and I was swept right back to -the gallery overlooking the hall; and it seemed to me that I was -standing once more in my nightshirt, looking down at the guests, at -General Hahn, and my father, and the Countess Feliciani; at Major von -der Goltz, at the jaegers crowding to the doorway, and then--three taps -of the conductor's magic baton; and with the first bars of the overture, -Spring, who had been walking all day in the forest of Senart, Spring -herself entered the Opera House; the rush of the wind over leagues of -blowing trees swept Paris and the glittering ceiling away; and the -jewels and decorations, the Faubourg St. Germain and the Chaussee -d'Antin, became trash under the blue of immortal skies. - -"All things bright and all things fair," sang the music, flowing and -beautiful, gemmed with star-like points of song. The skylark called from -the seventh heaven, and the wind and the rivers, the echoes of the -hills, the shepherd's song and the bells of sheep, the dim blue violets -and dancing daffodils made answer, heaven echoing earth, earth heaven, -till, deepening and changing, as a landscape stained with cloud shadows, -the music became overcast as if by the shadow of that tragic figure Man. -Man, for whom Spring is everything, and for whom Spring cares not at -all. Man, who gives a soul to Nature as her mortal lover gave a soul to -Undine; Man, who pursues a shadow for ever, even as the mysterious -hunters in the hunting-song pursued the shadow stag. - - - "Hound and horn give voice and tongue, - Fill the woods with music gay; - Let your echoes sweet be flung - To the Brocken far away." - - -Yes; there it was, the song that seemed woven in the texture of my life; -and as I sat, holding Eloise's hand and listening, it seemed to me that -the overture of "Undine" was in some way connected with the story of my -life, so gay and joyous in the opening bars, deepening now and shadowed -by Fate. - -There it was, the horn and the echoes of the horn leading the shadowy -dogs and the ghostly huntsmen--where? In pursuit of a shadow. Whither? - -That was the last mysterious message of the overture, in whose last -bars, sublime and peaceful, lay spread the mysterious country where all -hunting ceases, recalling from the loveliest of poems that country where -Orion, the hunter of the shadowy stag, possessed of Merope, dwells with -her in a remote and dense grove of cedars for ever and happily, whilst -the tamed shadow-stag drinks for ever at the stream. - - - "The shadow of a stag stoops to the stream. - Swift rolling toward the cataract, and drinks deeply. - Throughout the day unceasingly it drinks, - And when the sun hath vanished utterly, - Arm over arm the cedars spread their shade - Above that shadowy stag whose antlers still - Hang o'er the stream." - - -When the curtain fell on the first act of "Undine," the opera was -already a success. - -"Ah, yes," said M. le Vicomte, "that is music. Beside it, the drumming -and trumpeting of Wagner sound like the noise of a village fair." Then, -turning to Eloise: "My congratulations." Then he left the box, to talk -to friends and take his share in the incipient triumph. - -It was really a triumph for him. He had boasted at the clubs of the new -musician he had discovered; and it was a supreme satisfaction to him -that his diamond had not turned out to be a piece of glass. - -"Eloise," said I, "it's a success already; and if I had written ten -thousand operas of my own, and they had all been successful on the same -night, I would not feel the pleasure I feel now. Dear old Franzius----" - -As if the name had called for an answer, a light knock came to the door -of the box. The door opened, and Baron Carl von Lichtenberg stood before -me. M. le Duc de Choiseul and the Marquis de Merode, two well-known -boulevardiers, stood behind him. - -"Monsieur," said Von Lichtenberg, advancing towards me, "I have sought -you in many places without avail since the incident which occurred at -the Mirlitons, on the 1st of October last. I sought you to pay you this -compliment." And he flicked me on the shoulder with the white glove -which he had drawn from his hand. - -I bowed, and he withdrew. - -That was all. A deadly insult, very nicely wrapped up, lay in "this -compliment"--and he had struck me. - -Ah, well! it was to be. Although I was a living man with a will of my -own, it seemed that my will could not prevent my meeting Von -Lichtenberg; and, to point the matter, the challenge would have to come -from me. I could not escape. Heaven knows I have a sufficiency of animal -courage, yet for a moment the thought came to me of leaving Paris and -ignoring the insult, sacrificing honour and name rather than submit to -the unknown destination towards which Fate was driving me. Some instinct -told me that this duel would have consequences far beyond what I could -imagine; that it was a turning-point in my life, having passed which my -fate would be irremediably fixed. - -Only for a moment came the suicidal thought of flight, to be immediately -dismissed. Let come what might, it was not my fault. I would send my -seconds to Von Lichtenberg in the morning. Then I turned to Eloise, and -found her leaning against the side of the box, pale, and seemingly in a -fainting state. - -"I am all right," she murmured, "but, oh, Toto, it was his face!" - -"His face?" - -"His face I saw deep down in the water of the moat, drowned, and with -the weeds floating across it." - -I remembered that day when, leaning on the drawbridge rail, and looking -down into the moat water, she had seen what seemed a face. - -"Eloise," I said, taking her hands in mine, "come to yourself. The -second act is about to begin. Do not let other people see you pale like -this. What matters it? He and I have an account to settle: what matters -it? You have Franzius to think of. Listen to me. Do you know who he is? -He is Baron Carl von Lichtenberg--he was little Carl. Do you remember -the gardens of Lichtenberg and the drum, and how we marched away into -the forest----" - -And before Eloise could answer, the Vicomte returned, and the curtain -rose on the forest of the lovely land where Undine met her lover. - -The opera was a great success. Not since the marvellous first night of -"The Barber of Seville" had Paris shown such enthusiasm. But the -pleasure was dimmed for me, and I saw everything at a distance. - -During the interval between the second and third acts, I sent a message -to De Brissac and another friend who were in the house, to meet me at -the Place Vendome that night; and towards one in the morning we met in -my apartments, and I gave them their commission. - -Then I went to bed and to sleep, with the music of "Undine" ringing in -my ears, and in my heart the knowledge of Franzius' triumph, and the -knowledge that I had helped him to it. - -At eleven o'clock next morning De Brissac was announced. - -Von Lichtenberg had accepted my challenge, with an extraordinary -proviso: the duel was not to take place till that day three months. - -"He will fight you to-day if you press the point," said De Brissac, "but -he asked me to lay before you the fact that he will require three months -in which to arrange his affairs, which are partly political. He added," -continued De Brissac grimly, "that, as you have evaded him for three -months and more, you cannot in courtesy refuse him this favour." - -"I accept. So he added that--another insult!" - -"He is a strange person," said De Brissac, "though in all outward -respects a perfect nobleman. He is a strange person, and I do not care -for him. In my eyes this is a forced business--une mauvaise querelle." - -"There have been several duels to the death between our houses," replied -I. "Well, let it be so. On the 5th of July we shall meet." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - -PREPARING FOR THE DUEL - - -On the afternoon of the same day upon which I sent him my seconds, Baron -Carl von Lichtenberg left Paris. So quietly had the whole affair been -transacted at the Opera that not till noon the following day did my -guardian hear of it. - -He was rather pleased at first. In those days a young man could not have -been said to make his debut till he had proved his courage. Besides, my -supposed insult to the Baron had been much talked about; and the affair -between us, to use the Vicomte's expression, was like an abscess that -required opening. - -But when he heard of the three months' condition he was less pleased. - -"Why three months?" said he. "In Heaven's name, are not forty-eight -hours enough for any man in which to put his house in order! What -business can he possibly be about which requires three months to attend -to? I don't like the look of this," he finished. "The Lichtenbergs are a -mad race. But as you have accepted the condition you must abide by it." - -How widely the old gentleman would have opened his eyes had he known -then the reason why Baron Carl von Lichtenberg required three months in -which to put his house in order before the duel! But he knew as little -as I of the mysterious event towards which I was being driven--I, a -living man, with a will of my own. - -I had fully made up my mind that death lay before me. Swords were the -weapons chosen by Von Lichtenberg, and I was an expert swordsman, but my -sword would never pierce Carl von Lichtenberg. Of that I was determined. - -The old fatality which had attended the relationship of the Lichtenbergs -and the Saluces was coming to a head. Yes; I was condemned to fight, but -Fate could not condemn me to kill. - -If this Baron Carl von Lichtenberg were in reality little Carl, then Von -Lichtenberg had foreseen the duel; it was with this in view that he had -attempted my assassination. "Peace, Von Lichtenberg," said I to myself. -"No harm will come to your child through me, unless he flings himself on -my sword. Even then I would let the weapon drop from my hand." And I -said this not from special goodwill to the living or the dead, but just -because I refused to be the instrument of Fate. - -I preferred to be the victim, and for this I was prepared; nay, I felt -almost certain that I should remain on the ground; and all through that -summer the thought filled me with a vague melancholy, a mist that made -the landscape of life more beautiful, its distances and its beauties -more grand, its trivialities more futile. - -Only when we come near the end do we see life as it is, and things in -their just proportions. I had seen the splendour of society, the pomp of -Royalty, and that thing men call the glory of the world. Did I regret -to leave all this? It never even entered into my consideration. It was -nothing to me. Nothing beside the passionate appeal of summer, the cry -of life that came from all things bright and all things fair; from the -roses of Saluce, from the trees of the forest, and the birds I loved. - -Ah! that glorious summer! Etiolles was a fire of roses, and the deep, -dark heart of the forest a furnace of life. The bees in the limes and -the wind in the beech-trees, the chirrup and buzz of a million happy -insects, filled the air with a ferment of sound, whilst in the open -spaces the pools lay blue as turquoises under the vast blue dome of -summer. - -I spent most of my time with Franzius and Eloise. We would take our food -with us, and spend long days exploring the forest, which, like some -mysterious house, had ever some new room to be discovered, some passage -which was not there yesterday, some window opened by fairies during the -night, and giving upon a new and magic prospect. - -They knew nothing of my impending encounter, nothing of the mystery that -surrounded me. Happy in their love, they did not guess my sadness, and -I, though their happiness filled me with pleasure, could not in the -least grasp it. Never having loved, I could not see the paradise which -surrounded them. - -The blindest people on earth are the people who have never loved, the -people who have not yet lived. - -But I could not see the paradise that surrounded them; and so the summer -passed on, and June drew near July. - -Every few days I would go to Paris, moved by an unrest for which I -could not account. - -One day--it was the 26th of June--I had just reached the Place Vendome, -when Beril informed me that my guardian wished to see me. - -I found the old gentleman in his dressing-gown, sorting and arranging -papers. - -"I am leaving Paris," said M. le Vicomte, "for my estates in Auvergne, -where I have to put some things in order. From there I am starting on a -visit to England." - -"To England! Why?" - -"My doctor has ordered me rosbif," replied the old gentleman. Then, -rising, he opened the door of the room suddenly, and looked out. - -"Beril has the habit of applying his ear to keyholes," he explained. -"No, my dear Patrique; it is not the state of my health that is moving -me to this journey, but the state of France. You know the story of the -rats and the sinking ship?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, call me a rat." - -He went on sorting his papers. - -"Now," he continued, "here is a list of the shares in which I have -invested your money. All good, solid English securities. Take it. Our -lawyer has all the bonds and scrip. I am taking them with me to England. -My address will be Long's Hotel, in Bond Street, London. What do you -propose to do? Follow me there, or remain in France?" - -"First of all," I replied, "why are you going like this? Nothing is -threatening France----" - -"Oho!" said my guardian. "And where have you been studying politics? -Down amongst the rabbits at Saluce?" - -"I read the papers." - -"Just so, and I read the times. I have been reading them for fifty-seven -years. But that is not all. Patrique, do you know that we have a -mysterious friend, who interests himself in our affairs?" - -"I was unaware of the fact." - -"Well, the fact remains. Now, what I am going to tell you is very -secret. I cannot even give you the name of our informant, as I am -pledged to an oath of secrecy. But the news has come to me through the -German Foreign Office. News has come to me that France is in vital -danger." He rose, trembling with excitement. "News has come to me that a -thunderbolt is going to fall on France, not from heaven, but from -there--from there! from there!" He almost shouted the words, pointing -with a shaking finger in a direction which I took to indicate Germany. - -I have never seen anything more dramatic than the Vicomte's gesture--the -shaking hand, the intense expression, the fire in his old eyes, as he -stood with one hand grasping the dressing-gown about him, as a Roman -might have grasped his toga, the other pointing to the visionary enemy. - -Then he sank back in his chair. - -"Well," I said, "if danger is threatening France, I remain." - -"That is as you please," replied he. "I go." - -"But why go so soon? Surely you might wait till events are more -assured?" - -"Yes," replied he, "and then they would say I had run away. As it is, I -do not run away. I simply depart before the event." - -"But morally----" - -"There are no morals in politics." - -The terrible old man was certainly right in that. - -I now see what he foresaw. Not only was France not fit for war, but -Paris was not fit to meet defeat. He foresaw it all, the Commune, houses -torn to pieces, the Column Vendome lying on the ground, the muffled -drums, the firing-parties, the trenches filled with dead. He foresaw it -all, yet made one great mistake. He imagined the whole of France to be -as rotten as Paris. But then he was a boulevardier, and for him Paris -was France. - -"Well," I said, "I am not a politician, so the morals of politics do not -affect me. France has been my mother: if she is threatened by calamity, -I will remain with her. I have eaten her bread; my father and my -grandfather fought in her wars; every penny I possess comes to me from -her; and were I to leave her now I would feel dishonoured. Besides, I -have business to attend to. You remember the appointment I have to meet -on the 5th of July." - -I really believe the old gentleman had quite forgotten about the duel. - -"Ah!" said he. "Lichtenberg." And he struck his knee with his fist. Then -he got up and paced the room in deep thought. Then, turning to me, he -smiled. - -"Yes," he said, "I had forgotten. This affair will keep you in Paris; -but when it is over, please to remember my advice and my address in -England." - -"When it is over," replied I, "I may be dead." - -"Oh, no," said the Vicomte; "you will not be dead. At least"--and here -he smiled again--"not in my opinion." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV - -A LESSON WITH THE FOILS - - -He departed for Auvergne next day, he and Beril, and a pile of luggage. -A number of people saw him off from the station, including myself. - -They did not see a rat leaving a sinking ship: they saw a jovial old -gentleman, with a cigar in his mouth, entering a first-class carriage, a -nobleman departing to visit his estates. He was to be back in a month, -so he said; and the last I saw of him was a jovial red face, and a hand -waving a copy of the "Charivari" to the little crowd of friends he had -left on the platform. - -There was a touch of humour in that; and I could not help laughing, as I -turned home, at this man, so great in some ways, so little in others, so -kind, so heartless, so bad, so good; and such a perfect "shuffler." He -was by nature, above all things, an escaper from difficulties. I could -not help remembering how he had shuffled out of the painful duty of -breaking the news of my father's death to me; how he had shuffled out of -the responsibility of my education and bringing up; a hundred other -instances occurred to me, leading up to this last business of shuffling -out of France at the first scent of disaster. I am nearly sure that had -he been with the army he would have found some means of shuffling it -out of the trap at Sedan; at all events, I am perfectly certain he would -have escaped himself. - -What perplexed me was the problem as to how he had obtained his news -from the German Foreign Office. Little as I knew of the methods of the -Chancelleries of Europe, a fool would understand that such vital, such -awful information could not escape from the innermost sanctum of the -Berlin Chancellerie--that is to say, if it were real. I was thrown back -on the hypothesis that it was false--a canard let escape purposefully, -one of Bismarck's wild ducks that were always stringing in flight across -Europe, set free by that marvellous man, the only man of his age, or any -other, perhaps, who could bring his country in touch with war for some -political reason, and then fend her off unhurt. - -I returned to the Place Vendome, where I found Joubert in a despondent -mood. The departure of Beril had taken from him one of his interests in -life. He had come to look upon his daily fight with Beril as an -accompaniment to the digestion of his daily bread. The two old fellows -had grown almost like man and wife, as far as nagging goes; they had -hurled boots at each other, squabbled perpetually, vilified each other, -and once had come to blows. Now that the separation had occurred, the -great blank caused by it appeared in Joubert's face. - -Joubert had many good qualities; among others, he was a born and perfect -swordsman. When quite young, and stationed in Paris, he had put in a -good deal of his spare time at Carduso's School of Arms, then situated -near the Chinese Baths. He made a little money this way, instructing -young bloods in the art of self-defence; and he had learnt many tricks -from Carduso, that magician of whom it has been said that he was born -with a rapier in his hand. I owed a good deal of my own proficiency with -the sword to Joubert, who, even when I was a child, had shown me the -difference of carte and tierce with my little cane. - -To-day an idea struck me. - -"Joubert," said I. - -"Monsieur!" replied Joubert. - -"Attention." - -"Ah, oui, attention," grumbled Joubert, going on with his business, -which happened to be the brushing of a coat. "I'm attending to the moths -that have got in your overcoat." - -"Leave them alone, and see here." I took a pair of foils from the wall, -and presented one of them by the hilt. - -"Catch hold. I want a lesson." - -"There you go, there you go!" said Joubert, putting the foil under his -arm, and finishing the coat. "Always when I am busy, and monsieur's -clothes----" - -"Never mind monsieur's clothes," I replied. "I want a lesson. See here: -do you remember telling me a trick of Carduso's----" - -"A hundred. Which one?" - -"A trick of pinking a man in a certain place in the arm, where the big -nerve runs, so that his arm is paralysed, and he can't go on fighting." - -"Mais oui," said the old fellow, bending the rapier with the button on -the tip of his boot. - -"Well, show me it." - -"Aha!" said Joubert, his eyes lighting up, "la monsieur going to fight?" - -"Yes; it has come to that, Joubert. It seems that a man cannot live -quietly in this Paris of yours without fighting for his life like some -beast in an African forest. But I don't want to kill my man--only to put -him out of action." - -"And why not kill him?" asked Joubert. "Mordieu, what is the use of -fighting, else? Why take a sword in your hand if you only want to pay -him compliments?" - -"Never mind. I don't want to kill him." - -"And who is the gentleman whom you desire to scratch?" - -"I will tell you that the morning of the affair, the 5th of July. We -meet in the Bois de Boulogne. I will let you drive me, and you will see -the business." - -"Good!" said Joubert. "If one cannot watch lions fighting, let us then -watch cats. Attention!" - -Joubert was a bit over seventy, but he had the dexterity and almost the -quickness of a young man. The spot to be reached is just over the bone -half way down the arm. A nerve--I think they call it the musculo -spiral--winds round the bone here. If you can pierce it, you entirely -demoralise your opponent. Just as a bullet-wound in the hand reduces a -strong man into the condition of a hysterical woman, so does a touch -here. - -The button of Joubert's foil sent a tingle down my arm, proclaiming that -the spot had been reached. - -Then I returned the compliment. - -We practised for half an hour, and again on the next day. - -And day followed day, till the 4th of July broke over Paris, cloudless -and perfect. - -I was up early, and at ten o'clock I called upon De Brissac at his -rooms, the Rue Helder. - -"Ah!" said he, "I'm glad to see you." - -"How so?" replied I, for his manner indicated something more than an -ordinary greeting. - -"Well, as a matter of fact," replied he, "I heard last night--in fact, -it was generally spoken of on the Boulevards--that you had arranged the -matter amicably with the Baron von Lichtenberg." - -"That I had arranged the matter?" - -"People say you have apologised to him." - -"I apologise? Why, my dear sir, it was he who insulted me! He struck me -on the shoulder with his glove. How, then, could I apologise?" - -"Not for that, but for the occurrence at the Mirlitons. So it is a -canard?" - -"The wildest." - -"Ah, I thought so. And I think I know who set it flying--De Coigny." - -"I would not be surprised; he is an old enemy of mine." - -"I am certain of it," said De Brissac, "For M. de Champfleury, who is -acting with me also as your second, told me that the report came to a -friend of his from the mouth of M. de Coigny." - -"De Brissac," I said, "bring with you another friend--someone not -indisposed to De Coigny--to-morrow." - -"Why?" - -"M. de Coigny----" Then I stopped, for the determination I had come to -was of such a nature that I thought it best to leave the declaration of -it till we were on the ground. - -"Why?" asked again De Brissac. - -"Oh, just as a spectator. It will be worth his while, for, if I mistake -not, there will be something worth seeing to-morrow morning at seven -o'clock in the Avenue of the Minimes, just by the pond, for that is, I -believe, our place of meeting." - -De Brissac bowed. - -"I will bring a friend," said he. - -Little did I think of the surprising thing that friend would see; and -little did De Brissac dream that the duel in which he was to take part -would be noticeable above all other duels in the history of duelling -even unto this day. - -"Till to-morrow, at seven, then," said I. - -"Till to-morrow," replied De Brissac. - -Then I took my departure. - -The Vicomte, before starting on his visit to Auvergne, had cleared his -money and his property out of Paris as far as possible, but he had left -the hotel in the Place Vendome "all standing," as the sailors say. To -have removed his furniture, his horses, and his equipages would have -been to declare his hand; and if by any chance the storm had not burst -and France had emerged from her difficulties, the man who had taken -shelter, or, in plainer words, taken flight, would have found a very -curious welcome on his return to the beloved Boulevards. He had foresees -everything, even the chance of success, and he had prepared for -everything, always with his mind's eye on failure. - -So I had a stable full of horses at my disposal, and a house full of -servants; all the bills were paid; there was unlimited credit, and I had -ten thousand francs in my pocketbook, which he had left with me in case -of eventualities. - -I returned from De Brissac's to the Place Vendome, ordered out a britzka -and a pair of swift horses, and told the coachman to take me to -Etiolles. - -I wished to shake hands with Franzius and kiss Eloise again. I had also -determined to tell them of what was to happen on the morrow. - -We passed through Bercy, and retook the same road I had taken that -morning in May when I had gone down to make arrangements for Eloise's -reception at the Pavilion. It was the same road, but dressed now in the -glory of summer. - -Heavens! when I think of that road, so peaceful, the houses wearing such -a contented look, the flowers in the garden, the little children playing -on the doorsteps; that road so soon to resound to the tramp of the -German hordes, and the drums of war, the rolling of artillery and -baggage-wagons--when I think of that scene of peace and what followed! - -And now it is all so far away, so many summers have re-dressed that road -again; and what of it all remains? Only an old story with which Father -Maboeuf bores the drinkers at the Grape Inn, of Champrosay; a tale -which old men in Germany tell the grandchildren; a song or two. Scarcely -that. - -When I reached the Pavilion, Franzius and Eloise were not there. Madame -Ancelot said they had taken money and food with them, and "gone off." -They often did this, sometimes for a couple of days: the gipsy that was -in Franzius' feet required a change. This strange pair, who were now -more than ever like lovers, would "go off," spend days in the open, and -stop at village inns at night. Franzius had infected his companion with -the love of freedom. He was now famous. Another man in his position -would have been at Biarritz or Trouville, basking in the social sun, but -the only sun desired by Franzius was the sun of heaven. He refused to be -lionised. A Bohemian to the ends of his fingers, a gipsy to the soles of -his boots, brown as a berry with the sun and open air, carrying his -violin under his arm: had you met him on a country road, you would never -have suspected him to be Franzius, the composer of "Undine," who, had he -chosen, could, with a few sweeps of his bow on a concert platform, have -gained two thousand francs on a summer's afternoon. - -"They did not say when they would be back?" - -"No," replied Madame Ancelot; "but they won't be back to-day, or maybe -to-morrow: they took a ham with them." - -"Ah!" - -"And a chicken. It was in a basket that madame carried. They went a way -through the woods, but that leads everywhere; and one can't say whether -they passed last night at Champrosay or at some cottage. For myself, I -believe they sometimes sleep in the woods, and don't trouble about -houses at all." - -To sleep in God's open air seemed the last act of madness to Madame -Ancelot, who, a peasant born and bred, was accustomed, by experience and -from tradition, to sleep in a bedroom almost hermetically sealed. - -I had myself suspected the Franzius' of sleeping on occasion in barns -and hayricks, but I said nothing. - -I was depressed at not finding the two people I loved most on earth, for -it was now quite beyond chance that I would meet them before to-morrow -morning; and after to-morrow morning---- Ah, well--after to-morrow -morning---- - -I left the Pavilion and walked into the chateau gardens. These gardens, -beloved by Eloise, kept our house in the Place Vendome supplied with -flowers. They were very old. M. de Sartines and M. de Maupeon had walked -here amidst the roses, discussing State intrigues; the full skirts of -the Duchesse de Gramont had swept that lawn; and on that stone seat, -under the great fig-trees' cave-like shelter, the Princesse de Guemenee -had sat amidst brocaded cushions, and there had received the news of the -Duc de Choiseul's disgrace; and far beyond that went the history of -these walks, these lawns, these fountains playing in the sun; these old, -old walls, warmed by the suns of two hundred summers; rich red walls, -moss-lined, to which the peach-trees still clung as they had clung when -La Valliere was still a girl, when La Fontaine was still a man, and -Monsieur Fouquet held his court at Vaux. - -No poet has written such lovely things as Time had written here in -those three lovely books--the rose garden, the sunk garden, and the -Dutch garden of Saluce; books whose leaves in summer were ever being -turned over by the idle fingers of the wind. Years of desolation had -completed their charm, just as years of death the charm of some vanished -poet's works. - -Peopled with ghosts and flowers, voices of fountains and voices of -birds, walking there alone on a summer's day one would scarcely have -dared to call out, lest some silvery voice made answer, or some white -hand from amidst the rose-bushes, some hand once whiter than the white -rose, some voice once sweeter than the voices of the birds. - -"And Marianne de l'Orme, how is she--the Austrian, and she whom they -call the Flower of Light? Diane de Christeuil, Colombe de -Gaillefontaine, Aloise de Gondalaurier, sweet-named ghosts: where are -ye?" - -"Who knows?" would reply the breeze in the rose-bushes. "They are here, -they are here," the birds in the trees. - -Here had walked, in times long past, the ladies of the house of Saluce. -This family, from which I drew half my being, had for me a charm and -mystery beyond expression. I was a Mahon, all my traditions were Irish; -yet I was linked with this family, of whom all were dead, this family -whose stately history went back into the remote past. - -I had never seen my mother; I had never seen a living Saluce; they were -all vanished. Nothing remained but their pictures and their names, yet -I had come from them in part. They were my ancestors, and my likeness -had walked the earth, in the form of Philippe de Saluce, over two -hundred years before I was born; and my likeness in the form of Philippe -de Saluce had---- We know what he had done. - -The doors of the chateau were open, and some workmen were busy in the -hall, repairing the oakwork. They were talking and laughing, and their -voices had set the echo chattering in the gallery above. - -Marianne seemed mocking them; and as I gave them good-day and examined -their work her voice seemed mocking mine. - -Then I left the men, and came upstairs to look at the place once again. -I passed from corridor to corridor, and at last found the turret-room -whither I had come that day with Eloise. - -It was just the same, everything in exactly the same place, even to the -books on the table. I examined them: some were quite modern, drawings by -Gavarni and De Musset's poems; some were more antique. - -Amongst them was a work in gilded boards, the history of the Saluce -family, written by one Armand de Saluce, in the year 1820, and dedicated -rather fulsomely to the then head of the house. - -He was some poor relation evidently, Armand, and his language was very -flowery; and from his little book one might have imagined the Saluces a -family of saints and lambs. - -I turned the pages this way and that, till I found what he had to say -about Philippe. - -Philippe de Saluce, according to Armand, had died in consequence of an -unfortunate love-affair. - -It did not say he had drowned his fiancee--that he was a murderer. - -With the book in my hand I fell asleep, lulled by the drowsy warmth of -the room, and the softness of the cushions of the window-seat. - -When I awoke the light had changed, and, looking at my watch, I found it -to be nearly six o'clock. - -I rose, put the book on the table, and came downstairs. - -The workmen had gone, and they had locked the door! - -Not for a few moments did my position realise itself to me. - -Every door I knew to be barred and locked; every window was also barred -on the ground floor, except those that were too narrow for a man's entry -or exit. No one would come till the morning. Madame Ancelot would think -I had returned to Paris by train, and send the carriage back. I was -trapped in the chateau of Saluce; and at seven o'clock to-morrow I had -to meet Von Lichtenberg, or be dishonoured for life! - -A nice situation, truly! - -I laughed out loud from pure rage and vexation, and the echo above -returned my laughter mockingly. - -In my despair I tried all the doors, uselessly; they were solid as the -doors of the Bastille. - -Then I remembered a window that was not barred--the stained-glass window -of the banqueting-room. It was fifteen feet from the ground, but had it -been more I would have risked it. - -I went to the banqueting-room, and stood before the window, my only way -to freedom and honour. It was a lovely creation of stained glass. The -arms of the Saluces and the arms of the noble families with whom they -were connected stood there, the Lichtenbergs amidst the rest. The -evening light, shining through the stained glass, repeated the colours -vaguely upon the polished parquet of the floor. The light, shining -through the tender colours of the glass, brought with it an indefinable -sadness. To break this thing would be like striking the dead, -dishonouring the past. An act of vandalism beyond name. - -This window was more than a window: it was a barrier between me and my -fate. The arms of the Lichtenbergs, the Saluces, the Montmorencies, had -drawn themselves up before me; it was as if they would stand between me -and the encounter of the morrow, but only as a menace. They could offer -no real opposition to my physical acts; they could only say, "Take -warning!" - -Then, with the brutality of your kind-hearted man, who, condemned to -kill an animal, and loathing the business, strikes fiercely and blindly, -causing more destruction than necessary, I seized a heavy bronze bar -from the fireplace and attacked the window. The blows echoed from the -roof--smash! smash!--and the chattering of falling glass came from the -garden-walk outside; the leadwork which had held the glass fragments -together bulged out, and had to be broken out by incessant blows, which -brought down shower after shower of glass fragments from that part of -the window which lay above the line of my attack; and lo! when I had -once entered on the business, all remorse fled, and a fury for -destruction rose in my heart that I had never felt before, nor had I -even suspected my own capacity for the feeling. So, perhaps, Philippe de -Saluce felt when he destroyed his lover in a sudden accession of fury. I -do not know, but I know that from behind some veil in my mind a new man -stepped out, as Monsieur Hyde stepped from the soul of Monsieur Jekyll, -and that I smashed and smashed for the pure pleasure, and from the -vicious lust of destruction. - -Condemned to act by Fate, I revenged myself after the fashion of a -tiger. Then, tearing a brocaded curtain down from its attachments, I -spread it over the glass-splintered edge of the sill, crawled over it, -lowered myself, dropped, and was free. - -As I stood on the garden-path, looking up at the ruin I had -accomplished, I heard footsteps. - -The workmen were returning. - -"Ah, mon Dieu, monsieur!" cried the chief ouvrier, "we had forgotten -you. Not till five minutes ago did Jacques remember that monsieur had -not left the house when we bolted the door and came away; so we -returned, running all the way from Etiolles." - -So my destruction of the window had been in vain, it would seem! Not so; -for, just as at a first debauch the demon of drunkenness enters a man's -heart, so at this orgie of destruction did the demon of destruction -enter mine. - -"Joubert," said I that night, as I went to bed, "you have everything -ready for to-morrow?" - -"All is ready," replied Joubert. - -"You will call me at half-past five." - -"Yes, monsieur. And your promise?" - -"My promise?" - -"To tell me with whom you are going to fight?" - -"Ah, yes! Well, I have two affairs on to-morrow morning. I am going to -scratch Baron Carl von Lichtenberg on the arm, and I am going to drive -my sword through M. de Coigny's heart." - -"Von Lichtenberg!" cried Joubert. "You are going to fight with a -Lichtenberg, one of that accursed lot!" - -"I am going to fight with M. de Coigny. We have been enemies for years; -he has mixed himself in this affair; he has offered himself up as a -sacrifice----" - -"Mon Dieu!" cried the old fellow, drawing back, "is it you that are -speaking, or the devil?" - -I was sitting up in bed; and in a mirror across the room I saw the wan -reflection of my own face, and started at the expression of wrath and -black hatred portrayed there. - -I had hated De Coigny for years, but not till now did I know my own -capacity for hate. Thus we go through life for years not knowing, till -some day some hand draws the curtain back, holds up the mirror, reveals -the other man, the Monsieur Hyde who has hidden himself at birth in the -heart of Monsieur Jekyll. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - -THE DUEL - - -"Half-past five!" - -Joubert was standing by the window, my bath-towels over his arm. He had -drawn up the blind, and the light of early morning filled the room. I -could have cursed Joubert, for he had awakened me from a most lovely -dream. - -In a full blaze of sunlight I had been walking in the gardens of -Lichtenberg with Eloise; we were children again, and little Carl was -marching before us, beating his drum. Past the fountains, past the -Running Man carved in stone, we went, then into the shade of the forest, -led by little Carl towards some great but indefinable happiness. - -"Where are they?" I murmured, half unconscious that I was speaking, and -rubbing my eyes as if to bring back the happy vision. - -"Who?" asked Joubert. - -I did not answer him. Who, indeed? Those children for ever vanished. - -I dressed rapidly, and breakfasted. I felt both nervous and excited, -exactly as I had felt on the night of the production of "Undine." - -Then I sat down to write a line to Franzius and Eloise. - -I had divided my property, in case of my death, leaving half to my -guardian and half to Eloise. The will was with our lawyer, and I said so -in a postscript to my note. When I had finished, Joubert appeared. - -"The carriage is at the door." - -I sealed the letter, and handed it to him. - -"In case of accidents," said I, "post this." - -Joubert saluted, and put it in his pocket without glancing at the -superscription. - -Joubert was grave. He had never saluted me before, except in a spirit of -half mockery--the way one would salute a child. - -I had been a child in his eyes until now, but now I was evidently a man, -his master; and nothing seemed, up to this, to have divided me so -sharply from my childhood and my past as this suddenly begotten change -in Joubert's manner; and as I stepped from the hall-door on to the -pavement I felt that I was stepping for the first time into the world of -manhood; that all had been play with me till now, and that now, this -morning, the grim business of life had begun. - -Joubert got on the box beside the coachman, and we started. - -The early sun was bright on the trees and houses of the Champs Elysees; -the trees of the Bois de Boulogne were waving in the early morning -breeze; all was bright and all was fair; and it seemed a pity--a -thousand pities--to have to die a morning like this, to shut one's eyes -for ever, and never more see the sun. - -As we drew near our destination, I felt exactly as I often had felt in -childhood when at the door of the dentist's: a strong desire to return -home, coupled with a strong repugnance to face what had to be done. - -The avenue of the Minimes has vanished. It was a lovely place, -tree-sheltered and leading by a pond where the green rushes whispered -beneath silvery willows, making a picture after the heart of Puvis de -Chavannes. It opened out of a broad drive, and was a favourite spot for -the settlement of affairs of honour. - -"We are first," cried Joubert, turning his head. - -I stood up. Yes; there was no other carriage; in fact, we were ten -minutes before our time--a great mistake, for a ten minutes' wait in an -affair of this description is one of the most unsettling things possible -for the nerves of a man. We drew up near the entrance to the Avenue des -Minimes, and, getting out, I paced up and down, for the early morning -was chilly, though it gave promise of a glorious day. - -Ah! here they came--at least, some of them. A carriage rapidly driven -was coming along the drive. There were three gentlemen in it, my -seconds, De Brissac and M. de Champfleury, and a tall personage who -turned out to be Colonel Savernac, the extra friend whom I had asked De -Brissac to bring. - -We had scarcely exchanged greetings when another carriage arrived, -containing De Coigny and Baron Struve--who were the seconds of the Baron -Carl von Lichtenberg--and Dr. Pons, the surgeon. - -The seconds of either party bowed one to the other. - -De Brissac took out his watch. - -"What time do you make it, M. de Coigny?" - -"Five minutes to the hour," replied De Coigny. - -"Ah! I make it the hour. My watch is set by the Observatory clock. -Still, perhaps it may have gone wrong. Make it, then, five minutes to -the hour. And hi! there! Move on those carriages. We are as noticeable -as the front of the Opera House; and should a mounted gendarme come this -way there will be trouble." - -"Monsieur," said Joubert, jumping down as the carriages moved off, "you -promised." - -"Yes," said I, half to Joubert, half to De Brissac. "I promised. You may -remain as a spectator--at a distance." - -"A servant!" said De Coigny. - -"No, Monsieur de Coigny," I replied; "a faithful friend, and a soldier -of Napoleon." - -De Coigny turned on his heel, and began talking to Dr. Pons, who stood -with a mahogany case under his arm. - -"Notice," I said to De Brissac. "De Coigny has turned his back upon me; -but within an hour's time, if I do not fall by the sword of Von -Lichtenberg, I will require him to turn his face to me." - -"You are going to----" - -"Kill him," I replied. - -De Brissac shrugged his shoulders, and looked again at his watch. - -"I make it five minutes past the hour, M. de Coigny." - -De Coigny looked at his watch and nodded. - -"By the way," I heard Champfleury say to one of my adversary's seconds, -"has anyone seen anything of M. le Baron Carl von Lichtenberg during the -last three months?" - -"I have not," replied the gentleman addressed, "nor have I met anyone -who has. The Prussian Embassy people do not know anything of his -whereabouts: he has had leave of absence." - -"Rest assured," said De Coigny, "he will arrive. He is not a coward." - -"All the same, he is late," said De Brissac. - -I looked at my watch. It was now ten minutes past seven, an inexcusable -delay on Von Lichtenberg's part, unless, indeed, some accident had -occurred. - -Five more minutes slowly passed; the sun had now completely freed -himself from the mists of the Bois; the light struck down the path; it -struck the mahogany instrument-case under the arm of Dr. Pons, and the -hilts of the rapiers which De Brissac was carrying concealed in the -folds of a long, fawn-coloured overcoat. - -"At twenty minutes past," said De Brissac, "I shall declare the duel -postponed. I shall take my principal home and I shall demand an -explanation, M. de Coigny." - -Scarcely had he spoken than Dr. Pons, who had been looking along the -drive in the direction of the Champs Elysees, cried: "Here he comes." - -A closed carriage, drawn by two magnificent Orloff horses, had entered -the broad drive and was advancing at full speed. I do not know how the -weird impression came to me, but the closed carriage drawn by the black -Russian horses suggested to me a funeral-carriage; and before it, as it -came, the sunlight seemed to wither from the drive. - -A few paces from us the coachman literally brought the horses on their -haunches, the door of the carriage opened, and a lady stepped out. - -A girl of about eighteen, an apparition so exquisite, so full of grace, -so bright, so unexpected, that the men around me, used to beauty, -world-worn and cynical as they were, said no word, and remained -motionless as statues, whilst I clung to the arm of De Brissac. - -For the girl was Margaret von Lichtenberg--Margaret von Lichtenberg, -little Carl, Baron Carl, all these apotheosised! And as I looked, a -voice--Eloise's childish voice, heard long years ago--again murmured in -my ear: - -"Little Carl is a girl." - -Then I knew that it was she--the woman so mysteriously bound up in my -life; and as a man drowning remembers his whole past, in a flash of -thought I remembered all: Von Lichtenberg's mad attempt to assassinate -me, his dying words; the apparition of little Carl that had lured me -into the gravelpit and lamed me for life; Baron Carl von Lichtenberg and -his pursuit of me; my fight against Fate; my own words: "I will not--I -will not! I am a living man with a will of my own; no dead Fate shall -lead me or drive me." But I had never thought of this. I had played -against Fate, and now I felt dimly that I had lost. I had not suspected -this card which the dealer had slipped up his sleeve, and which now -appeared to confound me, this lovely being, whose voice I now heard -addressing De Coigny: - -"I have come on behalf of Baron Carl von Lichtenberg. There is no longer -a Baron Carl von Lichtenberg. He is dead." - -"Listen," whispered De Brissac, clutching my arm. "This is very strange! -I would swear it was the Baron Carl himself speaking. And she is like -him. It must, then, be his sister." - -"On his behalf," she went on, "I apologise to M. Patrick Mahon; and I am -commissioned by him, M. de Coigny, in return for all the lies and evil -words you have spoken about M. Mahon, to give you this." And she struck -De Coigny on the face lightly with her gloved hand. - -Then I woke up, and I felt the blood surge to my face as I stepped -forward. She turned to me, with her lips half parted in a glad smile; -our eyes met. God! in that moment how my whole being leapt alive! -Bursting and rending its husk, my imprisoned spirit broke free, as a -dragon-fly breaks free touched by the sun's magic wand. I heard myself -speak; I was speaking coldly and distinctly, addressing De Coigny, and -yet all my soul was addressing her in delirious unspoken words. - -"M. de Coigny," said the voice which came from my lips, "we are, I -believe, old enemies. I have forgotten all that, but the Baron Carl von -Lichtenberg's quarrels are now mine; and if your craven heart will allow -you to hold a sword, I beg to take his place." - -What then followed is like a dream in my mind. I heard the seconds -consulting. I heard Dr. Pons' voice speaking in a tone of relief: "So -then we are to have some music after all!" I held two warm hands in -mine, and I heard myself saying: "Yes, yes, you will stay here. I shall -not be long. Oh, no; I shall not be killed! I will return. To be killed -would be too absurd _now_. Wait for me." - -Then, leaning on De Brissac's arm, I was walking down the Avenue des -Minimes, and now, sword in hand, I was fronting De Coigny. - - * * * * * - -He was backgrounded by the willows, all silvering to the breeze, and his -hateful face filled me with a fury that rose in my throat and which I -had to gulp down. He was the only thing that stood between me and the -heaven that had just been revealed to me; he was there with a sword in -his hand, as if to bar me out and cut me off for ever from it. He was -everything I hated, and the power of hate had suddenly risen gigantic in -my breast, shouting for his blood. - -Then we fought, and I found myself commanding myself, just as a drunken -man commands himself to stand straight and be cool. Sometimes I saw his -face, and sometimes I saw it not, yet ever I knew that I held him with -my eye as a fowler holds a bird in his hand. - -Had anyone been wandering by the pool of the Minimes, he might have -fancied that he heard the cry of a seagull--a single, melancholy cry; -for it is crying thus that a man's soul escapes when he is stricken -through the heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - -MARGARET - - -"He is dead," said Dr. Pons. - -I looked at the rapier in my hand. There were a few contracting spots on -it. - -Then De Brissac held my coat for me. - -"His foot slipped, or you would not have got him like that," I heard him -say. - -"Oh, it is unpleasant enough, but the thing is perfectly in order. You -need have no fear. Yes, yes; I will lead you to her. You will be at the -Place Vendome, I suppose? There will be an inquiry, and all that." - -And then I found myself holding again the two warm hands. I was not -thinking of De Coigny. I was in a dream. I stepped into a carriage that -was before me. I heard De Brissac close the door, and say to the -coachman "Paris." Then I felt a girl's arm round my neck. - -"Toto," said a voice, "do you remember the white rabbit with the green -eyes?" - -The killing of De Coigny had blinded me, maddened me, and drawn from -some distant past into full birth all sorts of strange and hitherto -unknown attributes of myself. - -It was as though Philippe de Saluce, slowly struggling into new birth -during the last forty-eight hours, had, with the slaying of my -adversary, suddenly become full born. - -It was necessary for me to kill, it seems, before he could find speech -and thought, and stand fully reincarnated. - -"Oh, far beyond that--far beyond that!" I murmured, not knowing fully -what I said or what I meant, knowing only that mysterious doors had been -flung open, and that through them a spirit had rushed, filling me and -embracing through me the woman at my side. - -"I know," she said. And for a moment spoke no more. - -In those two words she told all. It was as though she had said: "I know -all. You are Philippe and I am Margaret. All is forgiven between us. Let -us forget. What matters that old crime of long ago? We are reborn, we -are young again, and the world is fair." - -"Let us forget," I murmured, as if in answer to these words which, -though unspoken by her lips, were heard by my spirit. - -"I have forgotten," she replied. "I never remembered--or only in part. -Let us talk of that time----" - -"When we were children?" - -"Yes. Do you remember----" - -"Do I remember! Where is Gretel?" - -"She is dead. I must tell you all; but we are nearing Paris. Cannot we -go anywhere--some place where we can talk and be alone?" - -"Yes." I remembered that Franzius and Eloise were away, and that we -could go to the Pavilion. I drew the check-string, and told the driver -to take the road to Etiolles. - -As I drew back into the carriage her hand slipped over my shoulder, and -her arm round my neck again. - - * * * * * - -"You know," she said, "that time when you left I nearly forgot you. I -would have forgotten you entirely but for Gretel, who always kept making -me remember, telling me to beware of you, till you became my nightmare. -After the death of my father, Gretel took entire charge of me. I did not -know that I was a girl: I never thought of the thing. I was dressed as a -boy, I had tutors, the jaegers took me hunting. Yes; you were my -nightmare. I used to dream that you were running after me through the -woods to kill me. All that was at night; but once--one afternoon, I fell -asleep, and you nearly did kill me. It was only a dream, you know." - -"Tell me about it." - -"I was walking through a wood, and you were following to kill me, and I -hid behind some bushes. But you saw me, and came after me, and I heard -you falling into a pit. I looked into the pit, and you were lying there. -Then I awoke." - -"Go on--go on! Tell me about yourself. Don't say any more about that." - -"Ah, yes, myself! Well, I grew up. Gretel died three years ago; and when -she was dying she told me I was a girl. She told me all, and gave me the -choice of going through life as what I am now, or as a man." - -"And you?" - -"Chose to be a man." She laughed deliciously, and under her breath. -"These things"--and she plucked at her dress--"feel strange on me even -now. Oh, yes, I chose to be a man. Who would not, if the choice were -given them? And no one knew. The Baron Carl von Lichtenberg was quite a -great person. He was admired by all the ladies. He was so ornamental -that he was sent as attache to the Embassy at Paris. Yes; and he went to -the ball at the Marquis d'Harmonville's----" - -"Ah, that night!" I muttered. "It was the beginning----" - -"Of your tribulations," she laughed softly, and went on: "When I saw you -I was nearly as startled as you were yourself. I had all my life -determined that I would avoid you; but that night--ah! that night----" - -"Well?" - -"I don't know. I could not sleep. I cursed my man's clothes; and I would -have given all I possessed to speak to you dressed as I am now. Then I -sought you, and you avoided me. You insulted me, monsieur, at the -Mirlitons." - -"Ah! why--why did you not declare yourself then?" I muttered, speaking -into the warmth of her delicious neck. "Think what we have lost--a whole -year nearly of life and love!" - -"Why, indeed! Just, I suppose, because I was a woman, filled with a -woman's caprice; and the masquerade amused me, and I had my duties to -perform--and how you evaded me! I was invited to meet you at -dinner----" - -"And I dined at the Cafe de Paris with a fool." - -"Just so. And you ran away to Nice. Then the idea came to me--ah, yes, -it was a fine idea!--I will _make_ him meet me. And I slapped you on the -shoulder with a glove." - -"Yes; when I was seated in the box at the opera with a lady." - -"Yes. Who was the lady? I was too excited to see anyone but you." - -"She was----" Then I paused. And then I said--why, I can never -tell--"She was a friend of my guardian." - -"Next morning I received your challenge. How I laughed to myself!" - -"But tell me one thing. Why did you stipulate for a delay of three -months before the duel?" - -She laughed again. - -"Shall I tell you?" - -"Yes." - -"Because I wanted time--to--to----" - -"Yes?" - -"To let my hair grow. Do you like it?" She drew a long pin from her hat, -removed her hat, and showed her perfect head and the coils of -night-black hair. - -"Oh! Do I like it?" - -"Well--kiss it." - - * * * * * - -"We must never part again." - -"We need never," said she. "I am yours. I am not existent in the world. -The Baron Carl von Lichtenberg is dead: he died when I put on these -things. There is no one to trouble us!" - -"Look!" I said. "This is Etiolles." - - * * * * * - -I had as completely forgotten Franzius and Eloise as though they had -never existed. Madame Ancelot seemed strange; and the Pavilion a place -which I recognised, but which had no part in my new life. - -Sitting opposite to my companion at table--for we had a dejeuner under -the big chestnut-tree--I could contemplate her at my leisure. Surely God -had never created a more lovely and perfect woman. Eyelashes long and -black, up curved, and tipped with brown; violet-grey eyes. Ah, yes; I do -not care to think of them now. I only care to remember that voice and -smile, that ineffable expression, all that told of the existence of the -beautiful spirit that Time might never touch nor Death destroy. - -From the forest came the wood-doves' song to the immortal and -ever-weeping Susie. We could hear the birds in the chateau gardens, and -a bell from some village church ringing the Angelus--faint, far away, -robbed of its harshness by the vast and sunlit silence. She seemed the -soul of all that music, all that silence, all that sweetness; and she -was mine, entirely and for ever. We were beyond convention and law, as -were Adam and Eve. - -"And you know," said she, as if reading my thoughts, "I am nobody--I -have not even a name. Yesterday I was Baron Carl von Lichtenberg, with -great estates. Now, who am I? And my great estates----" She opened a -purse, in which lay a few louis. "Here they are." - -I laughed, and put the little purse into my pocket. - -"Tell me," I said; "where were you when you were coming out of your -chrysalis? When you were changing--all these three months?" - -"I--I was at Tours. The Baron von Lichtenberg received three months' -foreign leave, and went to Tours. Oh, the complications! And the -dressmakers! I did not even know at first how to wear these things. Do -they fit me?" - -"Do they fit you!" - -I rose, and we crossed the drawbridge. As she passed over it, she paused -and gazed at the water. - -"How cool it looks! How dark and deep! Do you remember the pool at -Lichtenberg?" - -"And how I pushed you in. Do you remember the little drum?" - -"And the child with the golden hair--Eloise. She called you Toto. I have -always called you Toto since, M. Patrick Mahon." - -"Call me it still," I said. "I love anything that reminds me of my -past--of our past. Come, let us go into the woods, as we went that day." - -She laughed at the recollection of the little Pomeranian grenadier. - -"We were children then," said she. - -I looked at her. In the shadow of the trees, in the broad drive where we -stood, she might have been a ghost from that time when La Valliere was -a girl, when La Fontaine was a man, and Monsieur Fouquet held his court -at Vaux. - -Though of the fashion of the day, her dress had that grace which the -wearer alone can give; and, as I looked at her, the forest sighed deeply -from its cool, green heart, the boughs tossed, showering lights upon us, -and the laughter of the birds followed the wind. - -"We were children then," said I, "but we are not children now." I took -both her hands, and held her soul to mine for a moment in a kiss that -has not ended yet. - - * * * * * - -Where the beech-glades give place to the tall pines--the fragrant pines, -whose song sounds for ever like the sea on a distant strand--we sat down -on a bank, which in spring would be mist-blue with violets. - -"I have never kissed anyone before. Have you?" she asked. - -"No one." - -"Never loved anyone?" She rested her hands on my shoulders, and looked -into my eyes. - -"Never." - -"For," said she, "if you had----" - -"Yes?" - -"I don't know. Sometimes I do not know my own thoughts. Sometimes I act -and do things that seem strange to me afterwards. I made you meet me -this morning out of caprice. I teased you, following you as I did to -Nice, dressed as I was, from caprice. That is not me. There is something -wicked and wayward in me that I cannot understand. Had it not been for -me you would not have killed that man this morning." - -I had not thought of De Coigny till now; and the remembrance of him -lying there dead in the arms of Dr. Pons came like a gloomy stain across -my mind. But it soon passed. - -"We would have fought in any case," said I, "inevitably." - -She sighed, as if relieved. - -"He was a bad man," she said. "He deserved to die for the things he said -about you to me. It was partly on that account that I arranged all that -this morning, so that I might insult him before those men; but I never -thought it would end as it did." - -"Do you know," said I, "when I killed him it was as if the blood which I -shed had baptised me into a new life! My full love for you only awoke -then. It was as if some spirit out of the past that had loved you for -ages had suddenly been born completely." - -"Don't!" she said. "I hate to think of that. Let the past be gone for -ever. You are yourself, alive and warm. You are my sun, my life, the air -I breathe. You have been kept for me untouched. Oh, how I love you! - -"Listen!" she said, freeing her lips from mine, and casting her -beautiful eyes upwards. "No; it is not the wind. Ah! listen! listen!" - -From the trees came a sound that was not the voice of the birds. Far -away it seemed now, and now near. It was the spinning-song of Oberthal, -that tune, thin as a thread of flax, rising, falling, poignant as Fate, -and filled with the story of man--his swaddling-clothes, his -marriage-bed, and his shroud. - -There, amidst the trees, coming from nowhere, diffused by the echoes of -the wood--for a wood is a living echo--heard just then, the song of -Oberthal seemed the voice of Fate herself. - -I knew quite well what had happened. Franzius had returned. Madame -Ancelot had told him that I was in the wood. Wishing, no doubt, to find -me, he had sent the tune to look for me--the old tune that he knew I -liked so well. - -It was then only that my past relationship with Eloise rose before me. - -I had said nothing about it; I had even refrained from mentioning her -name. I had done this from no ulterior motive. I was not ashamed that -the woman I loved should know about Eloise. Had I not brought her to the -Pavilion when it was quite possible that Eloise might have returned? Up -to this my mind had been so filled with new things, so filled with -happiness and extraordinary love, that all things earthly were for me -not. - -"It is a friend of mine, I think," said I. "A violinist. He stays at the -Pavilion. And now I want to tell you something." - -"Yes?" - -It had seemed so easy, yet now it seemed very difficult. - -"I told you I had never cared for another woman." - -"Yes." - -"Listen! The tune has ceased. Well, there has been only one woman in my -life till I met you. You remember little Eloise at Lichtenberg, she who -called me Toto?" - -"Yes." She had placed her hand to her heart, as though she felt a pain -there. - -"Well, I met her again in Paris. She had grown up. She was very poor, -and I gave her the Pavilion to live in. She is living there now." - -"Now!" - -"Yes," said I, laughing. "And, see, there she is. Wait for me." - -Franzius and Eloise had just appeared from the wood away down the drive. -It was fortunate that Franzius was with her, for now I could bring them -both up and introduce them. Their love for one another and their -happiness was so evident that it would be an explanation in itself. - -I ran towards them. - -Eloise was radiant; Franzius as brown as a berry. - -"Eloise!" I cried, as I kissed her and wrung both her hands, "do you -remember little Carl? Do you remember saying to me: 'Toto, little Carl -is a girl'? She is here; she is waiting to meet you. Come." - -"Where?" asked Eloise. - -I turned, laughing, to point out the figure of my companion. The drive -was empty. The songs of the birds, the shadows of the trees, the golden -swathes of light, were there, but of Margaret von Lichtenberg there was -no trace. - -"She has hidden herself amidst the trees," I cried. "Come." - -But there was no trace of her amidst the trees. - -"Margaret!" - -I was frightened at my own voice, at its ghostliness, and the echo of -the sweet name that came back from the wood. - -A wreath of morning mist could not have vanished more completely. - -I am sure that just then the Franzius' must have thought me mad. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII - -THE DRUMS OF WAR - - -Oh, caprice of a woman! To leave me like that in a moment of anger and -jealousy, never to wait an explanation; to let fall what might be the -curtain of eternal separation with a touch of her hand; to step away -from me and vanish into that vast, vague, cruel land we call the world! - -And I had held her so close to me! She was so entirely mine, the -happiest dream that ever mortal dreamt, the most mysterious and -beautiful. - -She had taken the carriage which we left at the inn at Etiolles, and -returned to Paris. That we discovered; but beyond that there was no word -or sign to lead me. - -I only knew that she was in Paris. Even of that I was not quite sure, -for she may have used Paris only as a stage on her journey into the -unknown. - -But to Paris I came. I could not stay at Etiolles, even on the chance of -her returning. I must go where she had gone. And I swore in my madness -to find her, even though I searched Paris from the heights of Montmartre -to the depths of the Seine. - -And then, when I got to Paris, I found my hands idle and useless. I did -not know, even, what name she had gone under during her metamorphosis. -She who had no name--this ghost from the past! - -At times I found myself wondering whether it was all a dream, an -illusion of the brain. Whether I was mad. But actuality brought me to -reason on this point. I had to answer the inquiries following the death -of De Coigny. I had to appear before an examining magistrate, I and my -seconds. - -Felix Rebouton was the magistrate in question, the same who, if my -memory serves me, conducted the inquiry on the death of Victor Noir. - -He was a thin, tall man, in spectacles, a lawyer, not a man; a -proces-verbal in a tightly buttoned frock-coat. - -And I had to face this individual, who seemed less an individual than a -roll of parchment, and, with my heart breaking and my thoughts -elsewhere, answer questions relative to my relations with De Coigny. - -"We have always hated each other, since boyhood. He lied about me, and I -killed him," was my answer. - -"This lady who arrived on the scene of the duel, and with whom you -departed; where is she?" - -"Ah, if you could tell me that," I replied, "I would give you every -penny of my fortune." - -"Her name?" - -"She has no name." - -"No name!" - -"She is a ghost." - -The man of parchment scratched his head and made a note, looked sideways -through his spectacles at his clerk and at De Brissac and the other -seconds who were in the room. - -He thought I was mad. And he was not far wrong. - -The inquiry was suspended for three weeks, and I was free to return to -my misery and the streets of Paris. - -I lived now in the streets. They were my only hope. From early morning -till night I haunted the boulevards. Franzius had orders to telegraph to -my club and to the Place Vendome should any news reach the Pavilion, and -the club porter grew weary of the inquiry: "Any telegram for me?" - -Men began to avoid me as they do the stricken, the leprous, and the mad. -I must have seemed mad, indeed, for ever wandering hither and thither, -searching the crowded streets with eager eyes, scarcely answering if -spoken to, careless and untidy in my dress, a phantom of myself. Like -Poe's man of the crowd, I drifted about Paris, ever in the thick of the -throng, seeking the most populous streets. - -Impossible to tell in what quarter of the city caprice might have cast -her, I sought her in all. Montmartre and La Villette, the Quartier Latin -and the great boulevards: I dreaded only one thing--night. - -Night, when my search must cease; night and the pitiless gas-lamps, the -terrible gas-lamps. Then it was that light, the angel that all day had -helped my search, became a devil, contracting itself, and spreading into -a million heartless points to show me the darkness. Then it was that the -stars burning in the clear sky above the city became part of my sorrow. - -All things bright and all things fair were leagued against me, in that -they fed the flame of my suffering; and the happiness and gaiety of -others became the last insult of the world. - -Then it was that Joubert showed himself in his true form. Not one word -did he ever say to me, though my conduct, my manners, my disordered -dress, must have given him food for the deepest speculation and -disquiet. He would put out my clothes and attend to my wants, speak to -me about ordinary topics, never heed my silence or my harsh replies. You -see, he was an old soldier; he had seen men stricken so often that he -knew the language and the signs of real grief and real suffering. - -I lost count of the days, and from opium alone could I get any sleep. -Absorbed in my grief, I took no heed of the events around me. I remember -distinctly in cafes and at my club hearing men talking of the -Hohenzollerns and the succession to the Spanish throne. Men talking -vehemently about a subject which was to me as uninteresting and as -unintelligible as algebra to a child. But I could feel the ferment and -unrest around me. - -On the 15th of July, at ten o'clock in the morning, I was passing across -the Place de la Concorde, when a roar like the sound of a great and -distant sea broke on the summer air. It came from the direction of the -Rue St. Honore. People were running across the Place de la Concorde, and -pouring from the Rue de Rivoli and from the bridges. The Champs Elysees -behind me had become alive with people; cabmen were standing up on the -driving-seats of their carriages, waving their hats and shouting; -windows of houses were alive and white with fluttering handkerchiefs; -and now, again and again, came the storm of sound, unlike anything I had -ever heard before, unlike anything I will ever hear again; wave after -wave, storm after storm, and through it all the drums of a marching -regiment. - -The Ninety-first Regiment of the Line were marching down the Rue St. -Honore, bayonets fixed, haversacks filled, drums beating, and colours -fluttering. Paris was marching with them. And then through the storm -came the cry uttered by a thousand throats: "A Berlin! A Berlin!" - -"What is it?" I asked of a passer-by. - -"War has been declared with Prussia!" - -"With Prussia?" - -"Bismarck----" I did not hear what else he had to say, deafened and -dazed by the roar that now surrounded me. - -"A Berlin! A Berlin!" - -War had been declared with Prussia. Oh, fatality! - -Bismarck! At the name the gardens of Lichtenberg unrolled before me. I -saw them stretching to the edges of the pine forests. I heard the rattle -of little Carl's drum as he marched before us, the sound that had echoed -through the years, to be amplified and converted into this. - -War! Red war! And then, curiously, as I stood gazing and listening to -the storm that was gathering to wreck the last of my hope, I saw -something which I had forgotten for years, and which now came before me -as a vivid picture: a great hand with a seal ring on the little finger, -holding and half caressing the tiny hand of a child. The hand of -Bismarck holding the hand of Eloise, as I saw it that day long ago in -the hall of Schloss Lichtenberg. The iron hand which was to crush the -armies of France and fling Napoleon from his throne. - -I elbowed my way through the crush towards the Place Vendome. My own -affairs were dwarfed, for the moment, by the magnitude of the event and -the furnace roar of the rejoicing city. Jubilant and ferocious, lustful -and bloodthirsty, triumphant as the blare of a trumpet, terrible as the -voice of a tiger, the gusts of sound swept the heavens. It was the voice -of the Second Empire, not the voice of a people; it was cruelty, lust, -and organised vice crying aloud to God for blood. - -God heard it, and made swift answer. - -I arrived at the Place Vendome to find a surprise awaiting me. - -Franzius and Eloise were there. They had brought luggage with them, -which was in the hall. The servant who opened the door for me told me -they were in the library, and I ran there to meet them. - -"Toto," cried Eloise; then, holding me at a little distance and staring -at me as though I were a ghost: "What has happened to you?" - -I caught a reflection of myself in the mirror above the fireplace, and -for the first time I recognised the change in myself. Haggard, white, -and drawn, my face was no longer the face of a young man. - -"Never mind me," I replied. "Why have you left Etiolles? Have you any -news?" - -"My friend," said Franzius, answering for her, "there is no news--only -news of war." - -"Ah, yes," I said. "War. But tell me why you have left Etiolles?" - -"I am a Prussian," replied Franzius; "and we are returning." - -"Returning?" - -"To my own country." - -"You are leaving me?" - -There was silence for a moment, and Eloise began to weep. - -"Toto, can't you see?" - -"Ah, yes," I said; "I can see--everything is going from me. Don't cry, -Eloise; I can see. Franzius, forgive me. I forgot. I did not know what -war meant till now." - -Up to this I had seen war through the stories told in books. I had seen -war on the canvases in the Luxembourg and the Louvre. But up till now, -standing there in the library before Franzius, with his overcoat on his -arm, and Eloise weeping, I had not seen war. - -Oh, yes; it is very grand: the long lines of infantry going into action, -the clouds of cavalry, the roar of the cannon, and the drums beating the -charge! - -But that is not war. War is voiceless. - -Yesterday we were at peace. To-day we are at war. Something has entered -into every heart and into every home; a million tiny fingers are busy -snapping a million bonds of union. Blow trumpets and beat drums how you -please, you cannot chase away the silence which has entered into the -hearts of men, or the foreboding that tells us the great curse has come -again. - -"It is not even that we must go," said Franzius, "but that we must go at -once. We are not going; we are driven forth. My friend, we will meet -again, when it is over." - -"When it is over," I said mechanically. - -They had received their passports, and they told me of their plans. -Franzius was beyond the age of military service. They would go to -Frankfort, where he had some relations. He had plenty of money with -which to live quietly till "it was over" and the world could hear music -again. - -I ordered a carriage to the door, and accompanied them to the station, -through streets packed and crowded as if by some fete. - -The station was thronged, and the train for the frontier was on the -point of starting when we arrived. I have never seen such a crowd -before. Families and their belongings, small tradesmen, Germans who had -been prospering yesterday and who to-day, ruined and hopeless, were -being driven forth back to their own country to starve. The buffet had -been stripped of food; and when I thought of the long journey before my -friends and the chances of the road, my heart misgave me, till Eloise -showed me a basket that had been packed for them by Madame Ancelot. - -Just as the train was starting, I jostled against a vendor of oranges -who still had a few unsold. I bought them and gave them to Eloise. - -I could not help remembering the day we had gone down first to Evry, she -and I, and the oranges I had bought for her in the Boulevard St. Michel. -That day, in spring! - -"Good-bye! Good-bye!" - -Eloise had squeezed herself through the window beside Franzius; the -train moved away; the people who were leaving said a last good-bye to -the people they had left, to friends who had cared for them till war -came as a separation, to brother Germans who were bound to depart by the -next train. I never heard so mournful a sound as that when the great -train drew away for its journey into for ever, leaving me alone on the -platform. - -I came back on foot. It was a long way; and as I passed the crowded -cafes, the crowds of excited and fever-stricken people, it seemed to me -that I was in a city whose inhabitants had at one stroke gone mad. - -I found myself, for the first time in many days, able to note the things -around me, and to take some interest in them. The great upheaval had -shaken me in part away from my own especial preoccupation, the grief of -the parting with Eloise and Franzius had obscured in part that other -grief which had pursued me. - -The great city had been stirred to its uttermost depths, as the great -sea is sometimes stirred by a submarine explosion. Dregs came to the -surface and floated as scum; and I saw people that day in the streets -that I had never seen before: terrible people, cast up from the purlieus -and the slums, dog-men and beast-women, such as insulted the light of -heaven during the Terror; faces that might have served Retzsch for his -picture of the fiend, or Calot for his fantastic devil-drawings. -Collette la Charonne, Mathurine Giroron, Elizabeth Trouvain, the capon -and the franc-mitou from the past, elbowed the bully of the barrier and -the fishwife from the Halles of the present. - -At the word "War" Mathias Hungadi Spiculi rose from his long sleep, just -as he had risen at the word "Revolution." All the elements of the -Commune were there that day, shouting France to war, and ready to dance -on her ruins. - -Even the bourgeoisie, the placid people, the cafe loungers, were -changed. The tiger-cat which lies at the heart of the Latin races, the -animal that spits, and snarls, and howls, was unchained at last; and the -joyful ferocity of the women was a thing to see and to remember. It was -the uprising of the pampered beast, the beast that had sunned itself for -years in prosperity. Long ages of insult might have condoned what I saw -that day, but the circumstances never. - -Bands of women arm-in-arm, students, waving the tricolour, cabs and -carriages crowded with people driving nowhere, anywhere, so that they -could find a new place to shout in, girls with men's hats on their -heads, men with women's bonnets--it was Mabille, into which the beasts -of the Jardin des Plantes had broken; La Closerie des Lilas on an -infinite scale, roofed with sky. - -And, beyond the Vosges, at his desk, quite unmoved, with a cigar in his -mouth and a folio in his hand, was sitting Bismarck, secure in -everything, possessed of everything, from the Erbswurst for the Prussian -cooking-pot to the guns that were to batter down Paris. - -I have said little about my social life in Paris, but I have indicated, -I think, that my guardian and I were friends of the Emperor's; and I -mention it as a strange fact, and a fact that casts volumes of light on -his character, that now, in my desolation, deserted by my guardian, -deserted by Franzius and Eloise, deserted by everyone I loved, the image -of Napoleon arose before me as a person I would like to speak to. You -know just what I mean. There is generally amongst one's friends some -person, some homely individual, some good man or good woman, to whom we -go when in affliction for a word of consolation, or even just to feel -their presence. We look in and see them, even though we may say nothing -of our troubles. Moved by this instinct, I resolved to look in and see -the Emperor. To get near the Tuileries was a difficult business, and -even to pass the Cent Gardes at the gate, but once inside, things were -easier. - -The Emperor had come to Paris from the Council at Saint Cloud, held the -night before. I do not know whether the Empress accompanied him or not, -but he was in the palace, and the great hall was thronged. - -The excitement of the streets was here, too, though in a more subdued -form. Men were talking and laughing; everyone felt, or seemed to feel, -that some great good fortune was impending. As a matter of fact, the -war seemed to promise a "move up" all round. Honour to France, showers -of gold and decorations from those painted skies which Hope rears so -pleasantly above fools, and, above all, change. - -Most of these men were money-changers at heart; corrupt, vicious, ready -to devour, true children of the Second Empire, descendants of the clique -of rogues which manipulated the coup d'etat, sent Hugo to exile, and -flung France into the net spread by parasites, financiers, and corrupt -politicians. France with her foot on the neck of Germany seemed to -promise fabulous things to these. They had much, and they wanted more. -They craved for change--and they got it. - -Amidst the crowd, which included some of the greatest names in France, -it seemed hopeless for me to seek an audience. But I knew the place. I -saw the Palace Prefect, Baron Vareigne. He had just shaken himself free -from half a dozen men, and was making off down a corridor when I tacked -myself on to him. - -"See him? Impossible! For a moment?--just to pay your respects? Oh, -well, only for a moment, then. You will be a change from the others. He -just said to me: 'For Heaven's sake, let in no more generals!'" - -And, with a click of a door-handle, there he was before me, seated in -full uniform, which did not seem to fit him, the eternal cigarette -smouldering between his lips, just the same old gentleman who had -received my guardian and me so courteously that day; just the same -useless, shuffling manner, the nasal voice, the half-closed eyes, -crafty yet kindly--rising to meet me with a little, subdued laugh, half -cynical, as though thanking God I were not another general. He bade me -be seated, and told me he was not in a hurry, but being hurried, and -looked over some papers that Vareigne handed him, and said: "Yes, yes," -and flicked some cigarette-ash off his trousers. He talked to me for a -few minutes, asking after the Vicomte de Chatellan, and then dismissed -me, pushing me out of the cabinet with a kindly hand on my shoulder, and -a kindly wish to see me again--apres. - -This was the true Napoleon, the man kind to all, the injudicious man who -made those unfortunate children half drunk at the children's party at -Biarritz, the man who loved his little son so well, the man who would -put a fistful of gold in a poor man's pocket, just because it was a poor -man's pocket: I say, this was the true Napoleon. For what shall you -measure a man by, when all is said and done, if not by his heart? Ah! -how I would have loved that man if he had been my father! - -When I left the Tuileries I remembered the fact that I had not eaten -since morning. I went to a cafe and dined after a fashion. I returned -home late; and as I entered the hall the servant who took my hat, said: -"A lady called an hour ago to see monsieur." - -"A lady to see me?" - -"Yes, monsieur. I told her that you had gone to Etiolles, to the -Pavilion of Saluce, and she ordered her coachman to drive there." - -I remember, now, that when I started to see Franzius and Eloise off at -the station I had said to the servant that I might go to Saluce, and if -I did not return I would be there. - -"What was she like?" - -"Madame was quite young, tall, dark, and--very beautiful." - -"Good God!" I said. "_Why_ did I not return an hour sooner! Quick! Send -me Joubert!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX - -NIGHT - - -Joubert found me in the dining-room. - -"Joubert," I shouted, "the swiftest horses--quick!--and a carriage to -take me to Etiolles! You will drive me." - -Joubert glanced at me and left the room like a flash. - -I walked up and down. She had been here an hour ago--here an hour -ago--and I had been walking the streets unconscious of the fact! The war -which had threatened to destroy my last hope had brought her, perhaps, -to my door, and I had been dining at a cafe! I had come slowly home -through the streets, and she was here waiting for me! Was she leaving -France? Was Etiolles but a stage on the journey? And if she found that I -was not there, what would she do? Would she return, or--go on? - -I sprang to the bell and rang it violently. - -"The horses! The horses!" I cried. "God in heaven! are they never -coming?" - -"The horses are at the door, monsieur." - -I rushed out, seized my hat, which the man handed me; he opened the -door, and there stood a closed carriage; two powerful greys were -harnessed to it, and Joubert was on the box. - -"Joubert," I said, "drive as you never have driven before. My life is in -your hands!" Then we started. - -And now, as if called up by nightmare, the crowd in the streets, which -I had forgotten, impeded our progress. The Rue St. Honore was like a -fair. As, sitting in the carriage, that was compelled to go at a walking -pace, I looked out of the window at the senseless illuminations, the -brutal or foolish faces, I could have welcomed at once a German army -that would have swept a clear path for me. - -We passed the gates of Paris without hindrance, and then down a long -street lined with houses. It was after ten o'clock now, but these -houses, in which dwelt poor folk, were ablaze from basement to garret. - -The good news of the war had spread itself here; the great national -rejoicing had found an echo even in this street, where men slept sound -as a rule, as men sleep who have passed the day labouring in a factory. - -The horses had now settled into a swinging trot. Half a dozen times I -lowered the window to urge Joubert, but I refrained. There was still -twenty miles before us. If one of our horses broke down, it was highly -improbable that we could get another. - -The houses broke up, and became replaced by trees; market-gardens lay on -either side of the way. Looking back, I could see Paris. Not the city, -but the furnace glare that its gas-lit streets and cafes cast on the -sky. We passed forts, huge black shadows marked in the darkness by the -glitter of a sentry's bayonet or the swinging lantern of a patrol. We -passed down the long street of Charenton, and then the wheels of the -carriage rumbled on the bridge that crosses the river, and we were in -the true country, with great spaces of gloom marking the fields, and -marked here and there with the dim, patient light of a farmhouse window -or the firefly dance of a shepherd's lantern. - -Up till now I had watched intently the passing objects: the houses, -stray people, and lights; but now there was nothing to watch but dim -shapes and vague shadows. Up to this I had controlled thought, forcing -myself to wait without thinking for the event, but now, alone in the -midst of night, with nothing to tell of the surrounding world but the -rumble of the carriage wheels and the beat of the horse-hoofs on the -road, thought assumed dominance, and would not be driven away. Nay, it -returned with a suggestion that froze my heart. - -"If she has gone to the Pavilion, she will leave her carriage in the -Avenue and go there on foot--she will cross the drawbridge. Ah, yes; the -drawbridge! Well, suppose that the drawbridge is up! God in heaven! will -she see it?" - -It froze my heart. - -What time would Madame Ancelot retire, and would she raise the -drawbridge? - -I knew very well that the drawbridge was always raised, last thing at -night: the tramp-infested forest made this necessary. And I knew very -well that Madame Ancelot was in the habit of retiring at nine o'clock. -Still, to-night was a night in a thousand. Old Fauchard had, without -doubt, dropped into the Pavilion to talk about the great news of the -war. - -I put my head out of the window. - -"Quicker, Joubert!" - -"Oui, oui," came his voice, followed by the sound of the whip. The night -air struck me in the face like a cold hand; and, looking back, I could -still see the light of Paris reflected from the sky, paler now and more -contracted in the vast and gloomy circle of night. - -It was cloudy over Paris, but the clouds were breaking, and the piercing -light of a star, here and there, shone through the rents. The moon was -rising, too, and her light touched the clouds. - -Ah! this must be Villeneuve St. Georges, this long street to which the -trees and hedgerows have given place. - -I know the road to Etiolles well, but to-night it all seemed changed. - -We passed hamlets and villages, and now at last we were nearing -Etiolles. I could tell it by the big houses on either side of the road, -houses with walled-in gardens and grass lawns, where young ladies played -croquet in the long summer afternoons, so that a person on the road -could hear the click of the balls and the laughter of the players. The -moon had fully risen now, casting her light on the houses, the walls, -the vineyards rolling towards the river, the trees and shrubs. - -Suddenly, as though an adamantine door had been flung across the road -barring our way the carriage stopped; one of the horses had fallen as if -felled by an axe. The pole was broken. Joubert was on his knees by the -head of the fallen horse, dark blood was streaming from its nostrils in -the vague moonlight that was now touching the white road. - -Inexorable Fate. - -We were two miles from the chateau gates, but across the fields and -through the forest of Senart there away straight as the crow dies to the -Pavilion. - -I do not remember leaving Joubert; suddenly the fields were around me -and I was running. My mind driven to madness had matched itself against -fate. "I will conquer you," it cried. "No dead fate shall oppose my -living will. Let the past be gone. I have sinned, but I have suffered. -If she is dead I will fling myself after her and seize her soul in my -arms forever." - -"You are mine--living or dead, you are mine." - -I must have shouted the words as I ran for I heard the words ringing in -my ears. Then fell on me as I ran Delirium, or was it the past. - -I was in the forest now, the vague light was filled with shapes. A form -sprang at me, it was Von Lichtenberg. I struck at it and passed on. - -The iron man of the bell tower struck at me with his hammer, I seized -him and he turned to mist. - -And now a form was running beside me trying to hold me back, it was -Gretel, she tripped me up with her foot. I fell, she vanished and her -foot turned to the root of a tree. And the tree turned to Vogel. - -He passed me as I ran outstripping him, and from the darkness before me -now broke a form, it was little Carl. - -We were in the forest of Lichtenberg, the lake before us. I cried to him -to stop. For only answer came the splash of the water, the cry of a -child--the gasping of a person drowning in the dark. - -Death lay in the water. I plunged to meet him and seized a struggling -form. - -But the form was not the form of Death, but the form of a woman living -and sweet. - -A moment later and I would have missed by all eternity the love that had -been waiting for me since the beginning of Time. - -Fate is strong, but the will of man is stronger. - - - - -CHAPTER XL - -THE SPIRIT OF EARTH - - -All that winter from the passing of the investing army to the time when -the siege guns began to shake earth and sky with their ceaseless roar -and from then to the spring, we remained at the Pavilion, Joubert and I, -unhindered, almost unvisited by the enemy. The Chateau drew them off. We -had left the doors open to prevent them from being broken in; perhaps it -was for this reason that so little mischief was done by the troops that -quartered themselves there. - -The coincidence of Winter and War, the leafless trees, the eternal -roaring of Paris like a tiger at bay, the darkness and death in my -heart, all these are in my life away back there, forming a picture or -rather a dark mirror, reflecting the forms of Despair, Apathy and Ruin, -just as the dark water of the moat reflects the fern fronds of the bank -and the dark green plumage of those pine-trees. - -Nothing could ever come right in the world again. The gloomy skies, -shaken winter long by the cannon said that, and the woods, leafless and -sad and sombre, where the squirrels and the hundred other wood creatures -seemed banished for ever with the birds. So the winter passed, till one -day--I had not been in the woods for a week--one day, following a path -near the round pond I came across a troop of ghosts; violets growing -right before me on the path side; and to the left amidst the trees, -gem-like blue, and dim amidst the brown last autumn leaves--violets. Led -by a few days' warmth a million violets had invaded the old forest, -grouped themselves amidst the trees and along the paths, heedless of -Death or the Prussians. - -Even as I looked a breath of wind bent the tree branches like a warm -hand, showing a patch of blue sky above and casting a ray of sunshine on -the blue flowers below. The Drums of War, the trampling of armies at -grip with one another, proclamations, treaties, the pageantry of -victory, the sorrows of defeat, all in a moment were banished before -that touch of spring and the vision of these lovely and immortal -flowers. - -Since then I have seen them growing amidst the ruins of Mycenae, in -Vallombrosa, at the tomb of Virgil; poets, lovers, warriors, and kings, -wherever sun may light or spring may touch their tombs, call to us again -through the blue violets of spring, but never have these flowers of God -brought the past to man so freshly, so strangely or with such poignancy -as they brought it to me there, growing absolutely in the footsteps of -Ruin, yet unruined and with not a dewdrop brushed from their leaves. - -Ah, yes, there are times when the commonest man becomes a poet, as on -that day when dreaming of the death of a woman and the dragon of war, I -found spring hiding in the forest of Senart just like some enchanting -ghost of long ago, half-child, half-woman, and answering to my unspoken -question, "War, Death, I have not seen them--I do not know whom you -mean; they passed, mayhap, when I was asleep. Monsieur, do you not -admire my violets?" - -The sublime and heavenly cynicism of that artless question, the question -itself, these combined to form the germs of a philosophy which has clung -to me since then, a philosophy which, combined with love, has slain in -me the remains of what was once Philippe de Saluce. - -Then day by day and week by week the forest, the fields, the hills, -became slowly overspread with the quiet, assured and triumphant beauty -of spring. Just as long ago, I fancied that I could hear the forest -awakening from sleep, so now I fancied I could hear the world awakening -from war and night. Communards might fight in Paris, kings and captains -assemble at Versailles, Alsace might go or Alsace might remain, what was -all that toy and trumpery business to the great business of Life, to the -preparation of the blossom, the building of the butterflies in the -aerial shipyards, the letting slip of the dragon-fly on his dazzling -voyage? What a hubbub they were making in the Courts of Europe as Von -der Tann's army, the King of Saxony's army, all those other triumphant -armies turned from Paris with bugles blowing, drums beating, and colours -flying, laden with tumbrils of gold and the spoils of war! - -"France will never arise again!" said the drums and the bugles, "never -again," echoed Europe. "Ah, wait," said spring. - -Behind the veils of sunshine and April rain, heedless of Von der Tann's -drums or the Saxon bugles, or the vanquished men or the vanquished -treasure; viewless and unvanquished, the Spirit of Earth was preparing -the future for a new and more beautiful France. Each bee passing from -blossom to blossom that spring was labouring for the greater France of -the future, each acorn forming in its cup, each wheat grain sprouting in -the dark, each grape globing in the vineyards of the Cote d'Or; each and -all were labouring for the motherland, to fill again her granaries and -her treasure house. Folly had brought her under the knee of Force; -drained of blood, half dying, wholly vanquished; in tears, in madness, -in despair, she lay forsaken by all the Olympians but Demeter. - -Had I but known, those first violets in the forest of Senart held in -their beauty all the future splendour and beauty of the New France. - -In my life I have seen many a wonderful thing, but my memory carries -with it nothing more miraculous than those flowers of promise seen as I -saw them in the forest of Despair. - - - - -ENVOI - - -I am writing these lines in the rose garden of Saluce, ghostly, even on -this warm June day, with the memories and the pictures and the perfumes -of the past. How good summer is to the old! And how much kinder even -than summer is love. - -Down the garden path towards me is coming the form of a woman. Once long -ago with the romantic extravagance of youth I pictured this garden, -haunted by the forms of lovely women long dead; but not one of those -forms was as romantic as this living woman, coming towards me between -the bushes of the amber and crimson roses. - -How slowly she walks, and, see, she stops now and hesitates--ah, now, -she has seen me, and she smiles. Age has not touched her sight, yet she -is blind--for she is the only person in the world who cannot see that my -hands are tremulous and that my hair is grey. - - - - -+-------------------------------------------------+ -|Transcriber's note: | -| | -|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. | -| | -+-------------------------------------------------+ - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRUMS OF WAR*** - - -******* This file should be named 55148.txt or 55148.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/5/1/4/55148 - - -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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