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diff --git a/839-h/839-h.htm b/839-h/839-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6ea23ac --- /dev/null +++ b/839-h/839-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15402 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of New Arabian Nights, by Robert Louis Stevenson</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +.GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of New Arabian Nights, by Robert Louis Stevenson</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: New Arabian Nights</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Robert Louis Stevenson</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 4, 1997 [eBook #839]<br /> +[Most recently updated: August 24, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Price</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS ***</div> + +<h1>NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS</h1> + +<p class="center"> + +<span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br/> +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="GutSmall">LONDON</span><br/> +CHATTO & WINDUS<br/> +<span class="GutSmall">1920</span> +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p class="center"> +<i>Printed at</i> <span class="smcap">The Ballantyne Press</span><br/> +<span class="smcap">Spottiswoode</span>, <span class="smcap">Ballantyne</span> +& <span class="smcap">Co. Ltd</span>.<br/> +<i>Colchester</i>, <i>London & Eton</i>, <i>England</i> +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="GutSmall">TO</span> +</p> + +<p class="center"> +<b><i>Robert Allan Mowbray Stevenson</i></b> +</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="GutSmall">IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF THEIR YOUTH</span><br/> +<span class="GutSmall">AND THEIR ALREADY OLD AFFECTION</span> +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01"><b>THE SUICIDE CLUB:</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">Story of the Young Man with the Cream Tarts</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">Story of the Physician and the Saratoga Trunk</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">The Adventure of the Hansom Cabs</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05"><b>THE RAJAH’S DIAMOND:</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">Story of the Bandbox</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">Story of the Young Man in Holy Orders</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">Story of the House with the Green Blinds</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">The Adventure of Prince Florizel and a Detective</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10"><b>THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS:</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER I. Tells how I Camped in Graden Sea-wood, and beheld a Light in the Pavilion</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER II. Tells of the Nocturnal Landing from the Yacht</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER III. Tells how I became acquainted with my Wife</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER IV. Tells in what a startling manner I learned that I was not alone in Graden Sea-wood</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER V. Tells of an Interview between Northmour, Clara, and Myself</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER VI. Tells of my Introduction to the Tall Man</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER VII. Tells how a Word was Cried through the Pavilion Window</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER VIII. Tells the Last of the Tall Man</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER IX. Tells how Northmour carried out his Threat</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20"><b>A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT</b></a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21"><b>THE SIRE DE MALÉTROIT’S DOOR</b></a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22"><b>PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR</b></a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>THE SUICIDE CLUB</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap02"></a>STORY OF THE YOUNG MAN WITH THE CREAM TARTS</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">During</span> his residence in London, the accomplished +Prince Florizel of Bohemia gained the affection of all classes by the seduction +of his manner and by a well-considered generosity. He was a remarkable man even +by what was known of him; and that was but a small part of what he actually +did. Although of a placid temper in ordinary circumstances, and accustomed to +take the world with as much philosophy as any ploughman, the Prince of Bohemia +was not without a taste for ways of life more adventurous and eccentric than +that to which he was destined by his birth. Now and then, when he fell into a +low humour, when there was no laughable play to witness in any of the London +theatres, and when the season of the year was unsuitable to those field sports +in which he excelled all competitors, he would summon his confidant and Master +of the Horse, Colonel Geraldine, and bid him prepare himself against an evening +ramble. The Master of the Horse was a young officer of a brave and even +temerarious disposition. He greeted the news with delight, and hastened to make +ready. Long practice and a varied acquaintance of life had given him a singular +facility in disguise; he could adapt not only his face and bearing, but his +voice and almost his thoughts, to those of any rank, character, or nation; and +in this way he diverted attention from the Prince, and sometimes gained +admission for the pair into strange societies. The civil authorities were never +taken into the secret of these adventures; the imperturbable courage of the one +and the ready invention and chivalrous devotion of the other had brought them +through a score of dangerous passes; and they grew in confidence as time went +on. +</p> + +<p> +One evening in March they were driven by a sharp fall of sleet into an Oyster +Bar in the immediate neighbourhood of Leicester Square. Colonel Geraldine was +dressed and painted to represent a person connected with the Press in reduced +circumstances; while the Prince had, as usual, travestied his appearance by the +addition of false whiskers and a pair of large adhesive eyebrows. These lent +him a shaggy and weather-beaten air, which, for one of his urbanity, formed the +most impenetrable disguise. Thus equipped, the commander and his satellite +sipped their brandy and soda in security. +</p> + +<p> +The bar was full of guests, male and female; but though more than one of these +offered to fall into talk with our adventurers, none of them promised to grow +interesting upon a nearer acquaintance. There was nothing present but the lees +of London and the commonplace of disrespectability; and the Prince had already +fallen to yawning, and was beginning to grow weary of the whole excursion, when +the swing doors were pushed violently open, and a young man, followed by a +couple of commissionaires, entered the bar. Each of the commissionaires carried +a large dish of cream tarts under a cover, which they at once removed; and the +young man made the round of the company, and pressed these confections upon +every one’s acceptance with an exaggerated courtesy. Sometimes his offer +was laughingly accepted; sometimes it was firmly, or even harshly, rejected. In +these latter cases the new-comer always ate the tart himself, with some more or +less humorous commentary. +</p> + +<p> +At last he accosted Prince Florizel. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said he, with a profound obeisance, proffering the tart at +the same time between his thumb and forefinger, “will you so far honour +an entire stranger? I can answer for the quality of the pastry, having eaten +two dozen and three of them myself since five o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am in the habit,” replied the Prince, “of looking not so +much to the nature of a gift as to the spirit in which it is offered.” +</p> + +<p> +“The spirit, sir,” returned the young man, with another bow, +“is one of mockery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mockery?” repeated Florizel. “And whom do you propose to +mock?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not here to expound my philosophy,” replied the other, +“but to distribute these cream tarts. If I mention that I heartily +include myself in the ridicule of the transaction, I hope you will consider +honour satisfied and condescend. If not, you will constrain me to eat my +twenty-eighth, and I own to being weary of the exercise.” +</p> + +<p> +“You touch me,” said the Prince, “and I have all the will in +the world to rescue you from this dilemma, but upon one condition. If my friend +and I eat your cakes—for which we have neither of us any natural +inclination—we shall expect you to join us at supper by way of +recompense.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man seemed to reflect. +</p> + +<p> +“I have still several dozen upon hand,” he said at last; “and +that will make it necessary for me to visit several more bars before my great +affair is concluded. This will take some time; and if you are +hungry—” +</p> + +<p> +The Prince interrupted him with a polite gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“My friend and I will accompany you,” he said; “for we have +already a deep interest in your very agreeable mode of passing an evening. And +now that the preliminaries of peace are settled, allow me to sign the treaty +for both.” +</p> + +<p> +And the Prince swallowed the tart with the best grace imaginable. +</p> + +<p> +“It is delicious,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“I perceive you are a connoisseur,” replied the young man. +</p> + +<p> +Colonel Geraldine likewise did honour to the pastry; and every one in that bar +having now either accepted or refused his delicacies, the young man with the +cream tarts led the way to another and similar establishment. The two +commissionaires, who seemed to have grown accustomed to their absurd +employment, followed immediately after; and the Prince and the Colonel brought +up the rear, arm in arm, and smiling to each other as they went. In this order +the company visited two other taverns, where scenes were enacted of a like +nature to that already described—some refusing, some accepting, the +favours of this vagabond hospitality, and the young man himself eating each +rejected tart. +</p> + +<p> +On leaving the third saloon the young man counted his store. There were but +nine remaining, three in one tray and six in the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said he, addressing himself to his two new followers, +“I am unwilling to delay your supper. I am positively sure you must be +hungry. I feel that I owe you a special consideration. And on this great day +for me, when I am closing a career of folly by my most conspicuously silly +action, I wish to behave handsomely to all who give me countenance. Gentlemen, +you shall wait no longer. Although my constitution is shattered by previous +excesses, at the risk of my life I liquidate the suspensory condition.” +</p> + +<p> +With these words he crushed the nine remaining tarts into his mouth, and +swallowed them at a single movement each. Then, turning to the commissionaires, +he gave them a couple of sovereigns. +</p> + +<p> +“I have to thank you,” said be, “for your extraordinary +patience.” +</p> + +<p> +And he dismissed them with a bow apiece. For some seconds he stood looking at +the purse from which he had just paid his assistants, then, with a laugh, he +tossed it into the middle of the street, and signified his readiness for +supper. +</p> + +<p> +In a small French restaurant in Soho, which had enjoyed an exaggerated +reputation for some little while, but had already begun to be forgotten, and in +a private room up two pair of stairs, the three companions made a very elegant +supper, and drank three or four bottles of champagne, talking the while upon +indifferent subjects. The young man was fluent and gay, but he laughed louder +than was natural in a person of polite breeding; his hands trembled violently, +and his voice took sudden and surprising inflections, which seemed to be +independent of his will. The dessert had been cleared away, and all three had +lighted their cigars, when the Prince addressed him in these words:— +</p> + +<p> +“You will, I am sure, pardon my curiosity. What I have seen of you has +greatly pleased but even more puzzled me. And though I should be loth to seem +indiscreet, I must tell you that my friend and I are persons very well worthy +to be entrusted with a secret. We have many of our own, which we are +continually revealing to improper ears. And if, as I suppose, your story is a +silly one, you need have no delicacy with us, who are two of the silliest men +in England. My name is Godall, Theophilus Godall; my friend is Major Alfred +Hammersmith—or at least, such is the name by which he chooses to be +known. We pass our lives entirely in the search for extravagant adventures; and +there is no extravagance with which we are not capable of sympathy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I like you, Mr. Godall,” returned the young man; “you +inspire me with a natural confidence; and I have not the slightest objection to +your friend the Major, whom I take to be a nobleman in masquerade. At least, I +am sure he is no soldier.” +</p> + +<p> +The Colonel smiled at this compliment to the perfection of his art; and the +young man went on in a more animated manner. +</p> + +<p> +“There is every reason why I should not tell you my story. Perhaps that +is just the reason why I am going to do so. At least, you seem so well prepared +to hear a tale of silliness that I cannot find it in my heart to disappoint +you. My name, in spite of your example, I shall keep to myself. My age is not +essential to the narrative. I am descended from my ancestors by ordinary +generation, and from them I inherited the very eligible human tenement which I +still occupy and a fortune of three hundred pounds a year. I suppose they also +handed on to me a hare-brain humour, which it has been my chief delight to +indulge. I received a good education. I can play the violin nearly well enough +to earn money in the orchestra of a penny gaff, but not quite. The same remark +applies to the flute and the French horn. I learned enough of whist to lose +about a hundred a year at that scientific game. My acquaintance with French was +sufficient to enable me to squander money in Paris with almost the same +facility as in London. In short, I am a person full of manly accomplishments. I +have had every sort of adventure, including a duel about nothing. Only two +months ago I met a young lady exactly suited to my taste in mind and body; I +found my heart melt; I saw that I had come upon my fate at last, and was in the +way to fall in love. But when I came to reckon up what remained to me of my +capital, I found it amounted to something less than four hundred pounds! I ask +you fairly—can a man who respects himself fall in love on four hundred +pounds? I concluded, certainly not; left the presence of my charmer, and +slightly accelerating my usual rate of expenditure, came this morning to my +last eighty pounds. This I divided into two equal parts; forty I reserved for a +particular purpose; the remaining forty I was to dissipate before the night. I +have passed a very entertaining day, and played many farces besides that of the +cream tarts which procured me the advantage of your acquaintance; for I was +determined, as I told you, to bring a foolish career to a still more foolish +conclusion; and when you saw me throw my purse into the street, the forty +pounds were at an end. Now you know me as well as I know myself: a fool, but +consistent in his folly; and, as I will ask you to believe, neither a whimperer +nor a coward.” +</p> + +<p> +From the whole tone of the young man’s statement it was plain that he +harboured very bitter and contemptuous thoughts about himself. His auditors +were led to imagine that his love affair was nearer his heart than he admitted, +and that he had a design on his own life. The farce of the cream tarts began to +have very much the air of a tragedy in disguise. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, is this not odd,” broke out Geraldine, giving a look to +Prince Florizel, “that we three fellows should have met by the merest +accident in so large a wilderness as London, and should be so nearly in the +same condition?” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” cried the young man. “Are you, too, ruined? Is this +supper a folly like my cream tarts? Has the devil brought three of his own +together for a last carouse?” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil, depend upon it, can sometimes do a very gentlemanly +thing,” returned Prince Florizel; “and I am so much touched by this +coincidence, that, although we are not entirely in the same case, I am going to +put an end to the disparity. Let your heroic treatment of the last cream tarts +be my example.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, the Prince drew out his purse and took from it a small bundle of +bank-notes. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, I was a week or so behind you, but I mean to catch you up and +come neck and neck into the winning-post,” he continued. +“This,” laying one of the notes upon the table, “will suffice +for the bill. As for the rest—” +</p> + +<p> +He tossed them into the fire, and they went up the chimney in a single blaze. +</p> + +<p> +The young man tried to catch his arm, but as the table was between them his +interference came too late. +</p> + +<p> +“Unhappy man,” he cried, “you should not have burned them +all! You should have kept forty pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forty pounds!” repeated the Prince. “Why, in heaven’s +name, forty pounds?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not eighty?” cried the Colonel; “for to my certain +knowledge there must have been a hundred in the bundle.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was only forty pounds he needed,” said the young man gloomily. +“But without them there is no admission. The rule is strict. Forty pounds +for each. Accursed life, where a man cannot even die without money!” +</p> + +<p> +The Prince and the Colonel exchanged glances. “Explain yourself,” +said the latter. “I have still a pocket-book tolerably well lined, and I +need not say how readily I should share my wealth with Godall. But I must know +to what end: you must certainly tell us what you mean.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man seemed to awaken; he looked uneasily from one to the other, and +his face flushed deeply. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not fooling me?” he asked. “You are indeed ruined +men like me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, I am for my part,” replied the Colonel. +</p> + +<p> +“And for mine,” said the Prince, “I have given you proof. Who +but a ruined man would throw his notes into the fire? The action speaks for +itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“A ruined man—yes,” returned the other suspiciously, +“or else a millionaire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Enough, sir,” said the Prince; “I have said so, and I am not +accustomed to have my word remain in doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ruined?” said the young man. “Are you ruined, like me? Are +you, after a life of indulgence, come to such a pass that you can only indulge +yourself in one thing more? Are you”—he kept lowering his voice as +he went on—“are you going to give yourselves that last indulgence? +Are you going to avoid the consequences of your folly by the one infallible and +easy path? Are you going to give the slip to the sheriff’s officers of +conscience by the one open door?” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he broke off and attempted to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is your health!” he cried, emptying his glass, “and +good night to you, my merry ruined men.” +</p> + +<p> +Colonel Geraldine caught him by the arm as he was about to rise. +</p> + +<p> +“You lack confidence in us,” he said, “and you are wrong. To +all your questions I make answer in the affirmative. But I am not so timid, and +can speak the Queen’s English plainly. We too, like yourself, have had +enough of life, and are determined to die. Sooner or later, alone or together, +we meant to seek out death and beard him where he lies ready. Since we have met +you, and your case is more pressing, let it be to-night—and at +once—and, if you will, all three together. Such a penniless trio,” +he cried, “should go arm in arm into the halls of Pluto, and give each +other some countenance among the shades!” +</p> + +<p> +Geraldine had hit exactly on the manners and intonations that became the part +he was playing. The Prince himself was disturbed, and looked over at his +confidant with a shade of doubt. As for the young man, the flush came back +darkly into his cheek, and his eyes threw out a spark of light. +</p> + +<p> +“You are the men for me!” he cried, with an almost terrible gaiety. +“Shake hands upon the bargain!” (his hand was cold and wet). +“You little know in what a company you will begin the march! You little +know in what a happy moment for yourselves you partook of my cream tarts! I am +only a unit, but I am a unit in an army. I know Death’s private door. I +am one of his familiars, and can show you into eternity without ceremony and +yet without scandal.” +</p> + +<p> +They called upon him eagerly to explain his meaning. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you muster eighty pounds between you?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +Geraldine ostentatiously consulted his pocket-book, and replied in the +affirmative. +</p> + +<p> +“Fortunate beings!” cried the young man. “Forty pounds is the +entry money of the Suicide Club.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Suicide Club,” said the Prince, “why, what the devil is +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” said the young man; “this is the age of +conveniences, and I have to tell you of the last perfection of the sort. We +have affairs in different places; and hence railways were invented. Railways +separated us infallibly from our friends; and so telegraphs were made that we +might communicate speedier at great distances. Even in hotels we have lifts to +spare us a climb of some hundred steps. Now, we know that life is only a stage +to play the fool upon as long as the part amuses us. There was one more +convenience lacking to modern comfort; a decent, easy way to quit that stage; +the back stairs to liberty; or, as I said this moment, Death’s private +door. This, my two fellow-rebels, is supplied by the Suicide Club. Do not +suppose that you and I are alone, or even exceptional in the highly reasonable +desire that we profess. A large number of our fellowmen, who have grown +heartily sick of the performance in which they are expected to join daily and +all their lives long, are only kept from flight by one or two considerations. +Some have families who would be shocked, or even blamed, if the matter became +public; others have a weakness at heart and recoil from the circumstances of +death. That is, to some extent, my own experience. I cannot put a pistol to my +head and draw the trigger; for something stronger than myself withholds the +act; and although I loathe life, I have not strength enough in my body to take +hold of death and be done with it. For such as I, and for all who desire to be +out of the coil without posthumous scandal, the Suicide Club has been +inaugurated. How this has been managed, what is its history, or what may be its +ramifications in other lands, I am myself uninformed; and what I know of its +constitution, I am not at liberty to communicate to you. To this extent, +however, I am at your service. If you are truly tired of life, I will introduce +you to-night to a meeting; and if not to-night, at least some time within the +week, you will be easily relieved of your existences. It is now (consulting his +watch) eleven; by half-past, at latest, we must leave this place; so that you +have half-an-hour before you to consider my proposal. It is more serious than a +cream tart,” he added, with a smile; “and I suspect more +palatable.” +</p> + +<p> +“More serious, certainly,” returned Colonel Geraldine; “and +as it is so much more so, will you allow me five minutes’ speech in +private with my friend, Mr. Godall?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is only fair,” answered the young man. “If you will +permit, I will retire.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will be very obliging,” said the Colonel. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the two were alone—“What,” said Prince Florizel, +“is the use of this confabulation, Geraldine? I see you are flurried, +whereas my mind is very tranquilly made up. I will see the end of this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness,” said the Colonel, turning pale; “let me ask +you to consider the importance of your life, not only to your friends, but to +the public interest. ‘If not to-night,’ said this madman; but +supposing that to-night some irreparable disaster were to overtake your +Highness’s person, what, let me ask you, what would be my despair, and +what the concern and disaster of a great nation?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will see the end of this,” repeated the Prince in his most +deliberate tones; “and have the kindness, Colonel Geraldine, to remember +and respect your word of honour as a gentleman. Under no circumstances, +recollect, nor without my special authority, are you to betray the incognito +under which I choose to go abroad. These were my commands, which I now +reiterate. And now,” he added, “let me ask you to call for the +bill.” +</p> + +<p> +Colonel Geraldine bowed in submission; but he had a very white face as he +summoned the young man of the cream tarts, and issued his directions to the +waiter. The Prince preserved his undisturbed demeanour, and described a Palais +Royal farce to the young suicide with great humour and gusto. He avoided the +Colonel’s appealing looks without ostentation, and selected another +cheroot with more than usual care. Indeed, he was now the only man of the party +who kept any command over his nerves. +</p> + +<p> +The bill was discharged, the Prince giving the whole change of the note to the +astonished waiter; and the three drove off in a four-wheeler. They were not +long upon the way before the cab stopped at the entrance to a rather dark +court. Here all descended. +</p> + +<p> +After Geraldine had paid the fare, the young man turned, and addressed Prince +Florizel as follows:— +</p> + +<p> +“It is still time, Mr. Godall, to make good your escape into thraldom. +And for you too, Major Hammersmith. Reflect well before you take another step; +and if your hearts say no—here are the cross-roads.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lead on, sir,” said the Prince. “I am not the man to go back +from a thing once said.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your coolness does me good,” replied their guide. “I have +never seen any one so unmoved at this conjuncture; and yet you are not the +first whom I have escorted to this door. More than one of my friends has +preceded me, where I knew I must shortly follow. But this is of no interest to +you. Wait me here for only a few moments; I shall return as soon as I have +arranged the preliminaries of your introduction.” +</p> + +<p> +And with that the young man, waving his hand to his companions, turned into the +court, entered a doorway and disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Of all our follies,” said Colonel Geraldine in a low voice, +“this is the wildest and most dangerous.” +</p> + +<p> +“I perfectly believe so,” returned the Prince. +</p> + +<p> +“We have still,” pursued the Colonel, “a moment to ourselves. +Let me beseech your Highness to profit by the opportunity and retire. The +consequences of this step are so dark, and may be so grave, that I feel myself +justified in pushing a little farther than usual the liberty which your +Highness is so condescending as to allow me in private.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I to understand that Colonel Geraldine is afraid?” asked his +Highness, taking his cheroot from his lips, and looking keenly into the +other’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“My fear is certainly not personal,” replied the other proudly; +“of that your Highness may rest well assured.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had supposed as much,” returned the Prince, with undisturbed +good humour; “but I was unwilling to remind you of the difference in our +stations. No more—no more,” he added, seeing Geraldine about to +apologise, “you stand excused.” +</p> + +<p> +And he smoked placidly, leaning against a railing, until the young man +returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he asked, “has our reception been arranged?” +</p> + +<p> +“Follow me,” was the reply. “The President will see you in +the cabinet. And let me warn you to be frank in your answers. I have stood your +guarantee; but the club requires a searching inquiry before admission; for the +indiscretion of a single member would lead to the dispersion of the whole +society for ever.” +</p> + +<p> +The Prince and Geraldine put their heads together for a moment. “Bear me +out in this,” said the one; and “bear me out in that,” said +the other; and by boldly taking up the characters of men with whom both were +acquainted, they had come to an agreement in a twinkling, and were ready to +follow their guide into the President’s cabinet. +</p> + +<p> +There were no formidable obstacles to pass. The outer door stood open; the door +of the cabinet was ajar; and there, in a small but very high apartment, the +young man left them once more. +</p> + +<p> +“He will be here immediately,” he said, with a nod, as he +disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Voices were audible in the cabinet through the folding doors which formed one +end; and now and then the noise of a champagne cork, followed by a burst of +laughter, intervened among the sounds of conversation. A single tall window +looked out upon the river and the embankment; and by the disposition of the +lights they judged themselves not far from Charing Cross station. The furniture +was scanty, and the coverings worn to the thread; and there was nothing movable +except a hand-bell in the centre of a round table, and the hats and coats of a +considerable party hung round the wall on pegs. +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of a den is this?” said Geraldine. +</p> + +<p> +“That is what I have come to see,” replied the Prince. “If +they keep live devils on the premises, the thing may grow amusing.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then the folding door was opened no more than was necessary for the +passage of a human body; and there entered at the same moment a louder buzz of +talk, and the redoubtable President of the Suicide Club. The President was a +man of fifty or upwards; large and rambling in his gait, with shaggy side +whiskers, a bald top to his head, and a veiled grey eye, which now and then +emitted a twinkle. His mouth, which embraced a large cigar, he kept continually +screwing round and round and from side to side, as he looked sagaciously and +coldly at the strangers. He was dressed in light tweeds, with his neck very +open in a striped shirt collar; and carried a minute book under one arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening,” said he, after he had closed the door behind him. +“I am told you wish to speak with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have a desire, sir, to join the Suicide Club,” replied the +Colonel. +</p> + +<p> +The President rolled his cigar about in his mouth. “What is that?” +he said abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me,” returned the Colonel, “but I believe you are the +person best qualified to give us information on that point.” +</p> + +<p> +“I?” cried the President. “A Suicide Club? Come, come! this +is a frolic for All Fools’ Day. I can make allowances for gentlemen who +get merry in their liquor; but let there be an end to this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Call your Club what you will,” said the Colonel, “you have +some company behind these doors, and we insist on joining it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” returned the President curtly, “you have made a +mistake. This is a private house, and you must leave it instantly.” +</p> + +<p> +The Prince had remained quietly in his seat throughout this little colloquy; +but now, when the Colonel looked over to him, as much as to say, “Take +your answer and come away, for God’s sake!” he drew his cheroot +from his mouth, and spoke— +</p> + +<p> +“I have come here,” said he, “upon the invitation of a friend +of yours. He has doubtless informed you of my intention in thus intruding on +your party. Let me remind you that a person in my circumstances has exceedingly +little to bind him, and is not at all likely to tolerate much rudeness. I am a +very quiet man, as a usual thing; but, my dear sir, you are either going to +oblige me in the little matter of which you are aware, or you shall very +bitterly repent that you ever admitted me to your ante-chamber.” +</p> + +<p> +The President laughed aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the way to speak,” said he. “You are a man who is a +man. You know the way to my heart, and can do what you like with me. Will +you,” he continued, addressing Geraldine, “will you step aside for +a few minutes? I shall finish first with your companion, and some of the +club’s formalities require to be fulfilled in private.” +</p> + +<p> +With these words he opened the door of a small closet, into which he shut the +Colonel. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe in you,” he said to Florizel, as soon as they were +alone; “but are you sure of your friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so sure as I am of myself, though he has more cogent reasons,” +answered Florizel, “but sure enough to bring him here without alarm. He +has had enough to cure the most tenacious man of life. He was cashiered the +other day for cheating at cards.” +</p> + +<p> +“A good reason, I daresay,” replied the President; “at least, +we have another in the same case, and I feel sure of him. Have you also been in +the Service, may I ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have,” was the reply; “but I was too lazy, I left it +early.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is your reason for being tired of life?” pursued the +President. +</p> + +<p> +“The same, as near as I can make out,” answered the Prince; +“unadulterated laziness.” +</p> + +<p> +The President started. “D—n it,” said he, “you must +have something better than that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no more money,” added Florizel. “That is also a +vexation, without doubt. It brings my sense of idleness to an acute +point.” +</p> + +<p> +The President rolled his cigar round in his mouth for some seconds, directing +his gaze straight into the eyes of this unusual neophyte; but the Prince +supported his scrutiny with unabashed good temper. +</p> + +<p> +“If I had not a deal of experience,” said the President at last, +“I should turn you off. But I know the world; and this much any way, that +the most frivolous excuses for a suicide are often the toughest to stand by. +And when I downright like a man, as I do you, sir, I would rather strain the +regulation than deny him.” +</p> + +<p> +The Prince and the Colonel, one after the other, were subjected to a long and +particular interrogatory: the Prince alone; but Geraldine in the presence of +the Prince, so that the President might observe the countenance of the one +while the other was being warmly cross-examined. The result was satisfactory; +and the President, after having booked a few details of each case, produced a +form of oath to be accepted. Nothing could be conceived more passive than the +obedience promised, or more stringent than the terms by which the juror bound +himself. The man who forfeited a pledge so awful could scarcely have a rag of +honour or any of the consolations of religion left to him. Florizel signed the +document, but not without a shudder; the Colonel followed his example with an +air of great depression. Then the President received the entry money; and +without more ado, introduced the two friends into the smoking-room of the +Suicide Club. +</p> + +<p> +The smoking-room of the Suicide Club was the same height as the cabinet into +which it opened, but much larger, and papered from top to bottom with an +imitation of oak wainscot. A large and cheerful fire and a number of gas-jets +illuminated the company. The Prince and his follower made the number up to +eighteen. Most of the party were smoking, and drinking champagne; a feverish +hilarity reigned, with sudden and rather ghastly pauses. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this a full meeting?” asked the Prince. +</p> + +<p> +“Middling,” said the President. “By the way,” he added, +“if you have any money, it is usual to offer some champagne. It keeps up +a good spirit, and is one of my own little perquisites.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hammersmith,” said Florizel, “I may leave the champagne to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +And with that he turned away and began to go round among the guests. Accustomed +to play the host in the highest circles, he charmed and dominated all whom he +approached; there was something at once winning and authoritative in his +address; and his extraordinary coolness gave him yet another distinction in +this half maniacal society. As he went from one to another he kept both his +eyes and ears open, and soon began to gain a general idea of the people among +whom he found himself. As in all other places of resort, one type predominated: +people in the prime of youth, with every show of intelligence and sensibility +in their appearance, but with little promise of strength or the quality that +makes success. Few were much above thirty, and not a few were still in their +teens. They stood, leaning on tables and shifting on their feet; sometimes they +smoked extraordinarily fast, and sometimes they let their cigars go out; some +talked well, but the conversation of others was plainly the result of nervous +tension, and was equally without wit or purport. As each new bottle of +champagne was opened, there was a manifest improvement in gaiety. Only two were +seated—one in a chair in the recess of the window, with his head hanging +and his hands plunged deep into his trouser pockets, pale, visibly moist with +perspiration, saying never a word, a very wreck of soul and body; the other sat +on the divan close by the chimney, and attracted notice by a trenchant +dissimilarity from all the rest. He was probably upwards of forty, but he +looked fully ten years older; and Florizel thought he had never seen a man more +naturally hideous, nor one more ravaged by disease and ruinous excitements. He +was no more than skin and bone, was partly paralysed, and wore spectacles of +such unusual power, that his eyes appeared through the glasses greatly +magnified and distorted in shape. Except the Prince and the President, he was +the only person in the room who preserved the composure of ordinary life. +</p> + +<p> +There was little decency among the members of the club. Some boasted of the +disgraceful actions, the consequences of which had reduced them to seek refuge +in death; and the others listened without disapproval. There was a tacit +understanding against moral judgments; and whoever passed the club doors +enjoyed already some of the immunities of the tomb. They drank to each +other’s memories, and to those of notable suicides in the past. They +compared and developed their different views of death—some declaring that +it was no more than blackness and cessation; others full of a hope that that +very night they should be scaling the stars and commencing with the mighty +dead. +</p> + +<p> +“To the eternal memory of Baron Trenck, the type of suicides!” +cried one. “He went out of a small cell into a smaller, that he might +come forth again to freedom.” +</p> + +<p> +“For my part,” said a second, “I wish no more than a bandage +for my eyes and cotton for my ears. Only they have no cotton thick enough in +this world.” +</p> + +<p> +A third was for reading the mysteries of life in a future state; and a fourth +professed that he would never have joined the club, if he had not been induced +to believe in Mr. Darwin. +</p> + +<p> +“I could not bear,” said this remarkable suicide, “to be +descended from an ape.” +</p> + +<p> +Altogether, the Prince was disappointed by the bearing and conversation of the +members. +</p> + +<p> +“It does not seem to me,” he thought, “a matter for so much +disturbance. If a man has made up his mind to kill himself, let him do it, in +God’s name, like a gentleman. This flutter and big talk is out of +place.” +</p> + +<p> +In the meanwhile Colonel Geraldine was a prey to the blackest apprehensions; +the club and its rules were still a mystery, and he looked round the room for +some one who should be able to set his mind at rest. In this survey his eye +lighted on the paralytic person with the strong spectacles; and seeing him so +exceedingly tranquil, he besought the President, who was going in and out of +the room under a pressure of business, to present him to the gentleman on the +divan. +</p> + +<p> +The functionary explained the needlessness of all such formalities within the +club, but nevertheless presented Mr. Hammersmith to Mr. Malthus. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Malthus looked at the Colonel curiously, and then requested him to take a +seat upon his right. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a new-comer,” he said, “and wish information? You +have come to the proper source. It is two years since I first visited this +charming club.” +</p> + +<p> +The Colonel breathed again. If Mr. Malthus had frequented the place for two +years there could be little danger for the Prince in a single evening. But +Geraldine was none the less astonished, and began to suspect a mystification. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried he, “two years! I thought—but indeed I +see I have been made the subject of a pleasantry.” +</p> + +<p> +“By no means,” replied Mr. Malthus mildly. “My case is +peculiar. I am not, properly speaking, a suicide at all; but, as it were, an +honorary member. I rarely visit the club twice in two months. My infirmity and +the kindness of the President have procured me these little immunities, for +which besides I pay at an advanced rate. Even as it is my luck has been +extraordinary.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid,” said the Colonel, “that I must ask you to be +more explicit. You must remember that I am still most imperfectly acquainted +with the rules of the club.” +</p> + +<p> +“An ordinary member who comes here in search of death like +yourself,” replied the paralytic, “returns every evening until +fortune favours him. He can even, if he is penniless, get board and lodging +from the President: very fair, I believe, and clean, although, of course, not +luxurious; that could hardly be, considering the exiguity (if I may so express +myself) of the subscription. And then the President’s company is a +delicacy in itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” cried Geraldine, “he had not greatly prepossessed +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Mr. Malthus, “you do not know the man: the +drollest fellow! What stories! What cynicism! He knows life to admiration and, +between ourselves, is probably the most corrupt rogue in Christendom.” +</p> + +<p> +“And he also,” asked the Colonel, “is a permanency—like +yourself, if I may say so without offence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, he is a permanency in a very different sense from me,” +replied Mr. Malthus. “I have been graciously spared, but I must go at +last. Now he never plays. He shuffles and deals for the club, and makes the +necessary arrangements. That man, my dear Mr. Hammersmith, is the very soul of +ingenuity. For three years he has pursued in London his useful and, I think I +may add, his artistic calling; and not so much as a whisper of suspicion has +been once aroused. I believe him myself to be inspired. You doubtless remember +the celebrated case, six months ago, of the gentleman who was accidentally +poisoned in a chemists shop? That was one of the least rich, one of the least +racy, of his notions; but then, how simple! and how safe!” +</p> + +<p> +“You astound me,” said the Colonel. “Was that unfortunate +gentleman one of the—” He was about to say “victims”; +but bethinking himself in time, he substituted—“members of the +club?” +</p> + +<p> +In the same flash of thought, it occurred to him that Mr. Malthus himself had +not at all spoken in the tone of one who is in love with death; and he added +hurriedly: +</p> + +<p> +“But I perceive I am still in the dark. You speak of shuffling and +dealing; pray for what end? And since you seem rather unwilling to die than +otherwise, I must own that I cannot conceive what brings you here at +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“You say truly that you are in the dark,” replied Mr. Malthus with +more animation. “Why, my dear sir, this club is the temple of +intoxication. If my enfeebled health could support the excitement more often, +you may depend upon it I should be more often here. It requires all the sense +of duty engendered by a long habit of ill-health and careful regimen, to keep +me from excess in this, which is, I may say, my last dissipation. I have tried +them all, sir,” he went on, laying his hand on Geraldine’s arm, +“all without exception, and I declare to you, upon my honour, there is +not one of them that has not been grossly and untruthfully overrated. People +trifle with love. Now, I deny that love is a strong passion. Fear is the strong +passion; it is with fear that you must trifle, if you wish to taste the +intensest joys of living. Envy me—envy me, sir,” he added with a +chuckle, “I am a coward!” +</p> + +<p> +Geraldine could scarcely repress a movement of repulsion for this deplorable +wretch; but he commanded himself with an effort, and continued his inquiries. +</p> + +<p> +“How, sir,” he asked, “is the excitement so artfully +prolonged? and where is there any element of uncertainty?” +</p> + +<p> +“I must tell you how the victim for every evening is selected,” +returned Mr. Malthus; “and not only the victim, but another member, who +is to be the instrument in the club’s hands, and death’s high +priest for that occasion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” said the Colonel, “do they then kill each +other?” +</p> + +<p> +“The trouble of suicide is removed in that way,” returned Malthus +with a nod. +</p> + +<p> +“Merciful heavens!” ejaculated the Colonel, “and may +you—may I—may the—my friend I mean—may any of us be +pitched upon this evening as the slayer of another man’s body and +immortal spirit? Can such things be possible among men born of women? Oh! +infamy of infamies!” +</p> + +<p> +He was about to rise in his horror, when he caught the Prince’s eye. It +was fixed upon him from across the room with a frowning and angry stare. And in +a moment Geraldine recovered his composure. +</p> + +<p> +“After all,” he added, “why not? And since you say the game +is interesting, <i>vogue la galère</i>—I follow the club!” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Malthus had keenly enjoyed the Colonel’s amazement and disgust. He +had the vanity of wickedness; and it pleased him to see another man give way to +a generous movement, while he felt himself, in his entire corruption, superior +to such emotions. +</p> + +<p> +“You now, after your first moment of surprise,” said he, “are +in a position to appreciate the delights of our society. You can see how it +combines the excitement of a gaming-table, a duel, and a Roman amphitheatre. +The Pagans did well enough; I cordially admire the refinement of their minds; +but it has been reserved for a Christian country to attain this extreme, this +quintessence, this absolute of poignancy. You will understand how vapid are all +amusements to a man who has acquired a taste for this one. The game we +play,” he continued, “is one of extreme simplicity. A full +pack—but I perceive you are about to see the thing in progress. Will you +lend me the help of your arm? I am unfortunately paralysed.” +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, just as Mr. Malthus was beginning his description, another pair of +folding-doors was thrown open, and the whole club began to pass, not without +some hurry, into the adjoining room. It was similar in every respect to the one +from which it was entered, but somewhat differently furnished. The centre was +occupied by a long green table, at which the President sat shuffling a pack of +cards with great particularity. Even with the stick and the Colonel’s +arm, Mr. Malthus walked with so much difficulty that every one was seated +before this pair and the Prince, who had waited for them, entered the +apartment; and, in consequence, the three took seats close together at the +lower end of the board. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a pack of fifty-two,” whispered Mr. Malthus. “Watch +for the ace of spades, which is the sign of death, and the ace of clubs, which +designates the official of the night. Happy, happy young men!” he added. +“You have good eyes, and can follow the game. Alas! I cannot tell an ace +from a deuce across the table.” +</p> + +<p> +And he proceeded to equip himself with a second pair of spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +“I must at least watch the faces,” he explained. +</p> + +<p> +The Colonel rapidly informed his friend of all that he had learned from the +honorary member, and of the horrible alternative that lay before them. The +Prince was conscious of a deadly chill and a contraction about his heart; he +swallowed with difficulty, and looked from side to side like a man in a maze. +</p> + +<p> +“One bold stroke,” whispered the Colonel, “and we may still +escape.” +</p> + +<p> +But the suggestion recalled the Prince’s spirits. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” said be. “Let me see that you can play like a +gentleman for any stake, however serious.” +</p> + +<p> +And he looked about him, once more to all appearance at his ease, although his +heart beat thickly, and he was conscious of an unpleasant heat in his bosom. +The members were all very quiet and intent; every one was pale, but none so +pale as Mr. Malthus. His eyes protruded; his head kept nodding involuntarily +upon his spine; his hands found their way, one after the other, to his mouth, +where they made clutches at his tremulous and ashen lips. It was plain that the +honorary member enjoyed his membership on very startling terms. +</p> + +<p> +“Attention, gentlemen!” said the President. +</p> + +<p> +And he began slowly dealing the cards about the table in the reverse direction, +pausing until each man had shown his card. Nearly every one hesitated; and +sometimes you would see a player’s fingers stumble more than once before +he could turn over the momentous slip of pasteboard. As the Prince’s turn +drew nearer, he was conscious of a growing and almost suffocating excitement; +but he had somewhat of the gambler’s nature, and recognised almost with +astonishment, that there was a degree of pleasure in his sensations. The nine +of clubs fell to his lot; the three of spades was dealt to Geraldine; and the +queen of hearts to Mr. Malthus, who was unable to suppress a sob of relief. The +young man of the cream tarts almost immediately afterwards turned over the ace +of clubs, and remained frozen with horror, the card still resting on his +finger; he had not come there to kill, but to be killed; and the Prince in his +generous sympathy with his position almost forgot the peril that still hung +over himself and his friend. +</p> + +<p> +The deal was coming round again, and still Death’s card had not come out. +The players held their respiration, and only breathed by gasps. The Prince +received another club; Geraldine had a diamond; but when Mr. Malthus turned up +his card a horrible noise, like that of something breaking, issued from his +mouth; and he rose from his seat and sat down again, with no sign of his +paralysis. It was the ace of spades. The honorary member had trifled once too +often with his terrors. +</p> + +<p> +Conversation broke out again almost at once. The players relaxed their rigid +attitudes, and began to rise from the table and stroll back by twos and threes +into the smoking-room. The President stretched his arms and yawned, like a man +who has finished his day’s work. But Mr. Malthus sat in his place, with +his head in his hands, and his hands upon the table, drunk and +motionless—a thing stricken down. +</p> + +<p> +The Prince and Geraldine made their escape at once. In the cold night air their +horror of what they had witnessed was redoubled. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” cried the Prince, “to be bound by an oath in such a +matter! to allow this wholesale trade in murder to be continued with profit and +impunity! If I but dared to forfeit my pledge!” +</p> + +<p> +“That is impossible for your Highness,” replied the Colonel, +“whose honour is the honour of Bohemia. But I dare, and may with +propriety, forfeit mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Geraldine,” said the Prince, “if your honour suffers in any +of the adventures into which you follow me, not only will I never pardon you, +but—what I believe will much more sensibly affect you—I should +never forgive myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I receive your Highness’s commands,” replied the Colonel. +“Shall we go from this accursed spot?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the Prince. “Call a cab in Heaven’s name, +and let me try to forget in slumber the memory of this night’s +disgrace.” +</p> + +<p> +But it was notable that he carefully read the name of the court before he left +it. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, as soon as the Prince was stirring, Colonel Geraldine brought +him a daily newspaper, with the following paragraph marked:— +</p> + +<p> +“<span class="smcap">Melancholy Accident</span>.—This morning, +about two o’clock, Mr. Bartholomew Malthus, of 16 Chepstow Place, +Westbourne Grove, on his way home from a party at a friend’s house, fell +over the upper parapet in Trafalgar Square, fracturing his skull and breaking a +leg and an arm. Death was instantaneous. Mr. Malthus, accompanied by a friend, +was engaged in looking for a cab at the time of the unfortunate occurrence. As +Mr. Malthus was paralytic, it is thought that his fall may have been occasioned +by another seizure. The unhappy gentleman was well known in the most +respectable circles, and his loss will be widely and deeply deplored.” +</p> + +<p> +“If ever a soul went straight to Hell,” said Geraldine solemnly, +“it was that paralytic man’s.” +</p> + +<p> +The Prince buried his face in his hands, and remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +“I am almost rejoiced,” continued the Colonel, “to know that +he is dead. But for our young man of the cream tarts I confess my heart +bleeds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Geraldine,” said the Prince, raising his face, “that unhappy +lad was last night as innocent as you and I; and this morning the guilt of +blood is on his soul. When I think of the President, my heart grows sick within +me. I do not know how it shall be done, but I shall have that scoundrel at my +mercy as there is a God in heaven. What an experience, what a lesson, was that +game of cards!” +</p> + +<p> +“One,” said the Colonel, “never to be repeated.” +</p> + +<p> +The Prince remained so long without replying, that Geraldine grew alarmed. +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot mean to return,” he said. “You have suffered too +much and seen too much horror already. The duties of your high position forbid +the repetition of the hazard.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is much in what you say,” replied Prince Florizel, +“and I am not altogether pleased with my own determination. Alas! in the +clothes of the greatest potentate, what is there but a man? I never felt my +weakness more acutely than now, Geraldine, but it is stronger than I. Can I +cease to interest myself in the fortunes of the unhappy young man who supped +with us some hours ago? Can I leave the President to follow his nefarious +career unwatched? Can I begin an adventure so entrancing, and not follow it to +an end? No, Geraldine: you ask of the Prince more than the man is able to +perform. To-night, once more, we take our places at the table of the Suicide +Club.” +</p> + +<p> +Colonel Geraldine fell upon his knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Will your Highness take my life?” he cried. “It is +his—his freely; but do not, O do not! let him ask me to countenance so +terrible a risk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Colonel Geraldine,” replied the Prince, with some haughtiness of +manner, “your life is absolutely your own. I only looked for obedience; +and when that is unwillingly rendered, I shall look for that no longer. I add +one word: your importunity in this affair has been sufficient.” +</p> + +<p> +The Master of the Horse regained his feet at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness,” he said, “may I be excused in my attendance +this afternoon? I dare not, as an honourable man, venture a second time into +that fatal house until I have perfectly ordered my affairs. Your Highness shall +meet, I promise him, with no more opposition from the most devoted and grateful +of his servants.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Geraldine,” returned Prince Florizel, “I always +regret when you oblige me to remember my rank. Dispose of your day as you think +fit, but be here before eleven in the same disguise.” +</p> + +<p> +The club, on this second evening, was not so fully attended; and when Geraldine +and the Prince arrived, there were not above half-a-dozen persons in the +smoking-room. His Highness took the President aside and congratulated him +warmly on the demise of Mr. Malthus. +</p> + +<p> +“I like,” he said, “to meet with capacity, and certainly find +much of it in you. Your profession is of a very delicate nature, but I see you +are well qualified to conduct it with success and secrecy.” +</p> + +<p> +The President was somewhat affected by these compliments from one of his +Highness’s superior bearing. He acknowledged them almost with humility. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Malthy!” he added, “I shall hardly know the club +without him. The most of my patrons are boys, sir, and poetical boys, who are +not much company for me. Not but what Malthy had some poetry, too; but it was +of a kind that I could understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can readily imagine you should find yourself in sympathy with Mr. +Malthus,” returned the Prince. “He struck me as a man of a very +original disposition.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man of the cream tarts was in the room, but painfully depressed and +silent. His late companions sought in vain to lead him into conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“How bitterly I wish,” he cried, “that I had never brought +you to this infamous abode! Begone, while you are clean-handed. If you could +have heard the old man scream as he fell, and the noise of his bones upon the +pavement! Wish me, if you have any kindness to so fallen a being—wish the +ace of spades for me to-night!” +</p> + +<p> +A few more members dropped in as the evening went on, but the club did not +muster more than the devil’s dozen when they took their places at the +table. The Prince was again conscious of a certain joy in his alarms; but he +was astonished to see Geraldine so much more self-possessed than on the night +before. +</p> + +<p> +“It is extraordinary,” thought the Prince, “that a will, made +or unmade, should so greatly influence a young man’s spirit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Attention, gentlemen!” said the President, and he began to deal. +</p> + +<p> +Three times the cards went all round the table, and neither of the marked cards +had yet fallen from his hand. The excitement as he began the fourth +distribution was overwhelming. There were just cards enough to go once more +entirely round. The Prince, who sat second from the dealer’s left, would +receive, in the reverse mode of dealing practised at the club, the second last +card. The third player turned up a black ace—it was the ace of clubs. The +next received a diamond, the next a heart, and so on; but the ace of spades was +still undelivered. At last, Geraldine, who sat upon the Prince’s left, +turned his card; it was an ace, but the ace of hearts. +</p> + +<p> +When Prince Florizel saw his fate upon the table in front of him, his heart +stood still. He was a brave man, but the sweat poured off his face. There were +exactly fifty chances out of a hundred that he was doomed. He reversed the +card; it was the ace of spades. A loud roaring filled his brain, and the table +swam before his eyes. He heard the player on his right break into a fit of +laughter that sounded between mirth and disappointment; he saw the company +rapidly dispersing, but his mind was full of other thoughts. He recognised how +foolish, how criminal, had been his conduct. In perfect health, in the prime of +his years, the heir to a throne, he had gambled away his future and that of a +brave and loyal country. “God,” he cried, “God forgive +me!” And with that, the confusion of his senses passed away, and he +regained his self-possession in a moment. +</p> + +<p> +To his surprise Geraldine had disappeared. There was no one in the card-room +but his destined butcher consulting with the President, and the young man of +the cream tarts, who slipped up to the Prince, and whispered in his ear:— +</p> + +<p> +“I would give a million, if I had it, for your luck.” +</p> + +<p> +His Highness could not help reflecting, as the young man departed, that he +would have sold his opportunity for a much more moderate sum. +</p> + +<p> +The whispered conference now came to an end. The holder of the ace of clubs +left the room with a look of intelligence, and the President, approaching the +unfortunate Prince, proffered him his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I am pleased to have met you, sir,” said he, “and pleased to +have been in a position to do you this trifling service. At least, you cannot +complain of delay. On the second evening—what a stroke of luck!” +</p> + +<p> +The Prince endeavoured in vain to articulate something in response, but his +mouth was dry and his tongue seemed paralysed. +</p> + +<p> +“You feel a little sickish?” asked the President, with some show of +solicitude. “Most gentlemen do. Will you take a little brandy?” +</p> + +<p> +The Prince signified in the affirmative, and the other immediately filled some +of the spirit into a tumbler. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old Malthy!” ejaculated the President, as the Prince drained +the glass. “He drank near upon a pint, and little enough good it seemed +to do him!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am more amenable to treatment,” said the Prince, a good deal +revived. “I am my own man again at once, as you perceive. And so, let me +ask you, what are my directions?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will proceed along the Strand in the direction of the City, and on +the left-hand pavement, until you meet the gentleman who has just left the +room. He will continue your instructions, and him you will have the kindness to +obey; the authority of the club is vested in his person for the night. And +now,” added the President, “I wish you a pleasant walk.” +</p> + +<p> +Florizel acknowledged the salutation rather awkwardly, and took his leave. He +passed through the smoking-room, where the bulk of the players were still +consuming champagne, some of which he had himself ordered and paid for; and he +was surprised to find himself cursing them in his heart. He put on his hat and +greatcoat in the cabinet, and selected his umbrella from a corner. The +familiarity of these acts, and the thought that he was about them for the last +time, betrayed him into a fit of laughter which sounded unpleasantly in his own +ears. He conceived a reluctance to leave the cabinet, and turned instead to the +window. The sight of the lamps and the darkness recalled him to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, I must be a man,” he thought, “and tear myself +away.” +</p> + +<p> +At the corner of Box Court three men fell upon Prince Florizel and he was +unceremoniously thrust into a carriage, which at once drove rapidly away. There +was already an occupant. +</p> + +<p> +“Will your Highness pardon my zeal?” said a well known voice. +</p> + +<p> +The Prince threw himself upon the Colonel’s neck in a passion of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“How can I ever thank you?” he cried. “And how was this +effected?” +</p> + +<p> +Although he had been willing to march upon his doom, he was overjoyed to yield +to friendly violence, and return once more to life and hope. +</p> + +<p> +“You can thank me effectually enough,” replied the Colonel, +“by avoiding all such dangers in the future. And as for your second +question, all has been managed by the simplest means. I arranged this afternoon +with a celebrated detective. Secrecy has been promised and paid for. Your own +servants have been principally engaged in the affair. The house in Box Court +has been surrounded since nightfall, and this, which is one of your own +carriages, has been awaiting you for nearly an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the miserable creature who was to have slain me—what of +him?” inquired the Prince. +</p> + +<p> +“He was pinioned as he left the club,” replied the Colonel, +“and now awaits your sentence at the Palace, where he will soon be joined +by his accomplices.” +</p> + +<p> +“Geraldine,” said the Prince, “you have saved me against my +explicit orders, and you have done well. I owe you not only my life, but a +lesson; and I should be unworthy of my rank if I did not show myself grateful +to my teacher. Let it be yours to choose the manner.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause, during which the carriage continued to speed through the +streets, and the two men were each buried in his own reflections. The silence +was broken by Colonel Geraldine. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness,” said he, “has by this time a considerable +body of prisoners. There is at least one criminal among the number to whom +justice should be dealt. Our oath forbids us all recourse to law; and +discretion would forbid it equally if the oath were loosened. May I inquire +your Highness’s intention?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is decided,” answered Florizel; “the President must fall +in duel. It only remains to choose his adversary.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness has permitted me to name my own recompense,” said +the Colonel. “Will he permit me to ask the appointment of my brother? It +is an honourable post, but I dare assure your Highness that the lad will acquit +himself with credit.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ask me an ungracious favour,” said the Prince, “but I +must refuse you nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +The Colonel kissed his hand with the greatest affection; and at that moment the +carriage rolled under the archway of the Prince’s splendid residence. +</p> + +<p> +An hour after, Florizel in his official robes, and covered with all the orders +of Bohemia, received the members of the Suicide Club. +</p> + +<p> +“Foolish and wicked men,” said he, “as many of you as have +been driven into this strait by the lack of fortune shall receive employment +and remuneration from my officers. Those who suffer under a sense of guilt must +have recourse to a higher and more generous Potentate than I. I feel pity for +all of you, deeper than you can imagine; to-morrow you shall tell me your +stories; and as you answer more frankly, I shall be the more able to remedy +your misfortunes. As for you,” he added, turning to the President, +“I should only offend a person of your parts by any offer of assistance; +but I have instead a piece of diversion to propose to you. Here,” laying +his hand on the shoulder of Colonel Geraldine’s young brother, “is +an officer of mine who desires to make a little tour upon the Continent; and I +ask you, as a favour, to accompany him on this excursion. Do you,” he +went on, changing his tone, “do you shoot well with the pistol? Because +you may have need of that accomplishment. When two men go travelling together, +it is best to be prepared for all. Let me add that, if by any chance you should +lose young Mr. Geraldine upon the way, I shall always have another member of my +household to place at your disposal; and I am known, Mr. President, to have +long eyesight, and as long an arm.” +</p> + +<p> +With these words, said with much sternness, the Prince concluded his address. +Next morning the members of the club were suitably provided for by his +munificence, and the President set forth upon his travels, under the +supervision of Mr. Geraldine, and a pair of faithful and adroit lackeys, well +trained in the Prince’s household. Not content with this, discreet agents +were put in possession of the house in Box Court, and all letters or visitors +for the Suicide Club or its officials were to be examined by Prince Florizel in +person. +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p> +<i>Here</i> (says my Arabian author) <i>ends</i> <span class="smcap">The Story +of the Young Man with the Cream Tarts</span>, <i>who is now a comfortable +householder in Wigmore Street</i>, <i>Cavendish Square</i>. <i>The number</i>, +<i>for obvious reasons</i>, <i>I suppress</i>. <i>Those who care to pursue the +adventures of Prince Florizel and the President of the Suicide Club</i>, <i>may +read the</i> <span class="smcap">History of the Physician and the Saratoga +Trunk</span>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap03"></a>STORY OF THE PHYSICIAN AND THE SARATOGA TRUNK</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Mr. Silas Q. Scuddamore</span> was a young American of a +simple and harmless disposition, which was the more to his credit as he came +from New England—a quarter of the New World not precisely famous for +those qualities. Although he was exceedingly rich, he kept a note of all his +expenses in a little paper pocket-book; and he had chosen to study the +attractions of Paris from the seventh story of what is called a furnished +hotel, in the Latin Quarter. There was a great deal of habit in his +penuriousness; and his virtue, which was very remarkable among his associates, +was principally founded upon diffidence and youth. +</p> + +<p> +The next room to his was inhabited by a lady, very attractive in her air and +very elegant in toilette, whom, on his first arrival, he had taken for a +Countess. In course of time he had learned that she was known by the name of +Madame Zéphyrine, and that whatever station she occupied in life it was not +that of a person of title. Madame Zéphyrine, probably in the hope of enchanting +the young American, used to flaunt by him on the stairs with a civil +inclination, a word of course, and a knock-down look out of her black eyes, and +disappear in a rustle of silk, and with the revelation of an admirable foot and +ankle. But these advances, so far from encouraging Mr. Scuddamore, plunged him +into the depths of depression and bashfulness. She had come to him several +times for a light, or to apologise for the imaginary depredations of her +poodle; but his mouth was closed in the presence of so superior a being, his +French promptly left him, and he could only stare and stammer until she was +gone. The slenderness of their intercourse did not prevent him from throwing +out insinuations of a very glorious order when he was safely alone with a few +males. +</p> + +<p> +The room on the other side of the American’s—for there were three +rooms on a floor in the hotel—was tenanted by an old English physician of +rather doubtful reputation. Dr. Noel, for that was his name, had been forced to +leave London, where he enjoyed a large and increasing practice; and it was +hinted that the police had been the instigators of this change of scene. At +least he, who had made something of a figure in earlier life, now dwelt in the +Latin Quarter in great simplicity and solitude, and devoted much of his time to +study. Mr. Scuddamore had made his acquaintance, and the pair would now and +then dine together frugally in a restaurant across the street. +</p> + +<p> +Silas Q. Scuddamore had many little vices of the more respectable order, and +was not restrained by delicacy from indulging them in many rather doubtful +ways. Chief among his foibles stood curiosity. He was a born gossip; and life, +and especially those parts of it in which he had no experience, interested him +to the degree of passion. He was a pert, invincible questioner, pushing his +inquiries with equal pertinacity and indiscretion; he had been observed, when +he took a letter to the post, to weigh it in his hand, to turn it over and +over, and to study the address with care; and when he found a flaw in the +partition between his room and Madame Zéphyrine’s, instead of filling it +up, he enlarged and improved the opening, and made use of it as a spy-hole on +his neighbour’s affairs. +</p> + +<p> +One day, in the end of March, his curiosity growing as it was indulged, he +enlarged the hole a little further, so that he might command another corner of +the room. That evening, when he went as usual to inspect Madame +Zéphyrine’s movements, he was astonished to find the aperture obscured in +an odd manner on the other side, and still more abashed when the obstacle was +suddenly withdrawn and a titter of laughter reached his ears. Some of the +plaster had evidently betrayed the secret of his spy-hole, and his neighbour +had been returning the compliment in kind. Mr. Scuddamore was moved to a very +acute feeling of annoyance; he condemned Madame Zéphyrine unmercifully; he even +blamed himself; but when he found, next day, that she had taken no means to +baulk him of his favourite pastime, he continued to profit by her carelessness, +and gratify his idle curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +That next day Madame Zéphyrine received a long visit from a tall, loosely-built +man of fifty or upwards, whom Silas had not hitherto seen. His tweed suit and +coloured shirt, no less than his shaggy side-whiskers, identified him as a +Britisher, and his dull grey eye affected Silas with a sense of cold. He kept +screwing his mouth from side to side and round and round during the whole +colloquy, which was carried on in whispers. More than once it seemed to the +young New Englander as if their gestures indicated his own apartment; but the +only thing definite he could gather by the most scrupulous attention was this +remark made by the Englishman in a somewhat higher key, as if in answer to some +reluctance or opposition. +</p> + +<p> +“I have studied his taste to a nicety, and I tell you again and again you +are the only woman of the sort that I can lay my hands on.” +</p> + +<p> +In answer to this, Madame Zéphyrine sighed, and appeared by a gesture to resign +herself, like one yielding to unqualified authority. +</p> + +<p> +That afternoon the observatory was finally blinded, a wardrobe having been +drawn in front of it upon the other side; and while Silas was still lamenting +over this misfortune, which he attributed to the Britisher’s malign +suggestion, the concierge brought him up a letter in a female handwriting. It +was conceived in French of no very rigorous orthography, bore no signature, and +in the most encouraging terms invited the young American to be present in a +certain part of the Bullier Ball at eleven o’clock that night. Curiosity +and timidity fought a long battle in his heart; sometimes he was all virtue, +sometimes all fire and daring; and the result of it was that, long before ten, +Mr. Silas Q. Scuddamore presented himself in unimpeachable attire at the door +of the Bullier Ball Rooms, and paid his entry money with a sense of reckless +devilry that was not without its charm. +</p> + +<p> +It was Carnival time, and the Ball was very full and noisy. The lights and the +crowd at first rather abashed our young adventurer, and then, mounting to his +brain with a sort of intoxication, put him in possession of more than his own +share of manhood. He felt ready to face the devil, and strutted in the ballroom +with the swagger of a cavalier. While he was thus parading, he became aware of +Madame Zéphyrine and her Britisher in conference behind a pillar. The cat-like +spirit of eaves-dropping overcame him at once. He stole nearer and nearer on +the couple from behind, until he was within earshot. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the man,” the Britisher was saying; +“there—with the long blond hair—speaking to a girl in +green.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas identified a very handsome young fellow of small stature, who was plainly +the object of this designation. +</p> + +<p> +“It is well,” said Madame Zéphyrine. “I shall do my utmost. +But, remember, the best of us may fail in such a matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tut!” returned her companion; “I answer for the result. Have +I not chosen you from thirty? Go; but be wary of the Prince. I cannot think +what cursed accident has brought him here to-night. As if there were not a +dozen balls in Paris better worth his notice than this riot of students and +counter-jumpers! See him where he sits, more like a reigning Emperor at home +than a Prince upon his holidays!” +</p> + +<p> +Silas was again lucky. He observed a person of rather a full build, strikingly +handsome, and of a very stately and courteous demeanour, seated at table with +another handsome young man, several years his junior, who addressed him with +conspicuous deference. The name of Prince struck gratefully on Silas’s +Republican hearing, and the aspect of the person to whom that name was applied +exercised its usual charm upon his mind. He left Madame Zéphyrine and her +Englishman to take care of each other, and threading his way through the +assembly, approached the table which the Prince and his confidant had honoured +with their choice. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you, Geraldine,” the former was saying, “the action +is madness. Yourself (I am glad to remember it) chose your brother for this +perilous service, and you are bound in duty to have a guard upon his conduct. +He has consented to delay so many days in Paris; that was already an +imprudence, considering the character of the man he has to deal with; but now, +when he is within eight-and-forty hours of his departure, when he is within two +or three days of the decisive trial, I ask you, is this a place for him to +spend his time? He should be in a gallery at practice; he should be sleeping +long hours and taking moderate exercise on foot; he should be on a rigorous +diet, without white wines or brandy. Does the dog imagine we are all playing +comedy? The thing is deadly earnest, Geraldine.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know the lad too well to interfere,” replied Colonel Geraldine, +“and well enough not to be alarmed. He is more cautious than you fancy, +and of an indomitable spirit. If it had been a woman I should not say so much, +but I trust the President to him and the two valets without an instant’s +apprehension.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am gratified to hear you say so,” replied the Prince; “but +my mind is not at rest. These servants are well-trained spies, and already has +not this miscreant succeeded three times in eluding their observation and +spending several hours on end in private, and most likely dangerous, affairs? +An amateur might have lost him by accident, but if Rudolph and Jérome were +thrown off the scent, it must have been done on purpose, and by a man who had a +cogent reason and exceptional resources.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe the question is now one between my brother and myself,” +replied Geraldine, with a shade of offence in his tone. +</p> + +<p> +“I permit it to be so, Colonel Geraldine,” returned Prince +Florizel. “Perhaps, for that very reason, you should be all the more +ready to accept my counsels. But enough. That girl in yellow dances +well.” +</p> + +<p> +And the talk veered into the ordinary topics of a Paris ballroom in the +Carnival. +</p> + +<p> +Silas remembered where he was, and that the hour was already near at hand when +he ought to be upon the scene of his assignation. The more he reflected the +less he liked the prospect, and as at that moment an eddy in the crowd began to +draw him in the direction of the door, he suffered it to carry him away without +resistance. The eddy stranded him in a corner under the gallery, where his ear +was immediately struck with the voice of Madame Zéphyrine. She was speaking in +French with the young man of the blond locks who had been pointed out by the +strange Britisher not half-an-hour before. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a character at stake,” she said, “or I would put no +other condition than my heart recommends. But you have only to say so much to +the porter, and he will let you go by without a word.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why this talk of debt?” objected her companion. +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens!” said she, “do you think I do not understand my own +hotel?” +</p> + +<p> +And she went by, clinging affectionately to her companion’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +This put Silas in mind of his billet. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten minutes hence,” thought he, “and I may be walking with +as beautiful a woman as that, and even better dressed—perhaps a real +lady, possibly a woman or title.” +</p> + +<p> +And then he remembered the spelling, and was a little downcast. +</p> + +<p> +“But it may have been written by her maid,” he imagined. +</p> + +<p> +The clock was only a few minutes from the hour, and this immediate proximity +set his heart beating at a curious and rather disagreeable speed. He reflected +with relief that he was in no way bound to put in an appearance. Virtue and +cowardice were together, and he made once more for the door, but this time of +his own accord, and battling against the stream of people which was now moving +in a contrary direction. Perhaps this prolonged resistance wearied him, or +perhaps he was in that frame of mind when merely to continue in the same +determination for a certain number of minutes produces a reaction and a +different purpose. Certainly, at least, he wheeled about for a third time, and +did not stop until he had found a place of concealment within a few yards of +the appointed place. +</p> + +<p> +Here he went through an agony of spirit, in which he several times prayed to +God for help, for Silas had been devoutly educated. He had now not the least +inclination for the meeting; nothing kept him from flight but a silly fear lest +he should be thought unmanly; but this was so powerful that it kept head +against all other motives; and although it could not decide him to advance, +prevented him from definitely running away. At last the clock indicated ten +minutes past the hour. Young Scuddamore’s spirit began to rise; he peered +round the corner and saw no one at the place of meeting; doubtless his unknown +correspondent had wearied and gone away. He became as bold as he had formerly +been timid. It seemed to him that if he came at all to the appointment, however +late, he was clear from the charge of cowardice. Nay, now he began to suspect a +hoax, and actually complimented himself on his shrewdness in having suspected +and outmanoeuvred his mystifiers. So very idle a thing is a boy’s mind! +</p> + +<p> +Armed with these reflections, he advanced boldly from his corner; but he had +not taken above a couple of steps before a hand was laid upon his arm. He +turned and beheld a lady cast in a very large mould and with somewhat stately +features, but bearing no mark of severity in her looks. +</p> + +<p> +“I see that you are a very self-confident lady-killer,” said she; +“for you make yourself expected. But I was determined to meet you. When a +woman has once so far forgotten herself as to make the first advance, she has +long ago left behind her all considerations of petty pride.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas was overwhelmed by the size and attractions of his correspondent and the +suddenness with which she had fallen upon him. But she soon set him at his +ease. She was very towardly and lenient in her behaviour; she led him on to +make pleasantries, and then applauded him to the echo; and in a very short +time, between blandishments and a liberal exhibition of warm brandy, she had +not only induced him to fancy himself in love, but to declare his passion with +the greatest vehemence. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” she said; “I do not know whether I ought not to +deplore this moment, great as is the pleasure you give me by your words. +Hitherto I was alone to suffer; now, poor boy, there will be two. I am not my +own mistress. I dare not ask you to visit me at my own house, for I am watched +by jealous eyes. Let me see,” she added; “I am older than you, +although so much weaker; and while I trust in your courage and determination, I +must employ my own knowledge of the world for our mutual benefit. Where do you +live?” +</p> + +<p> +He told her that he lodged in a furnished hotel, and named the street and +number. +</p> + +<p> +She seemed to reflect for some minutes, with an effort of mind. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” she said at last. “You will be faithful and +obedient, will you not?” +</p> + +<p> +Silas assured her eagerly of his fidelity. +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow night, then,” she continued, with an encouraging smile, +“you must remain at home all the evening; and if any friends should visit +you, dismiss them at once on any pretext that most readily presents itself. +Your door is probably shut by ten?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“By eleven,” answered Silas. +</p> + +<p> +“At a quarter past eleven,” pursued the lady, “leave the +house. Merely cry for the door to be opened, and be sure you fall into no talk +with the porter, as that might ruin everything. Go straight to the corner where +the Luxembourg Gardens join the Boulevard; there you will find me waiting you. +I trust you to follow my advice from point to point: and remember, if you fail +me in only one particular, you will bring the sharpest trouble on a woman whose +only fault is to have seen and loved you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot see the use of all these instructions,” said Silas. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you are already beginning to treat me as a master,” she +cried, tapping him with her fan upon the arm. “Patience, patience! that +should come in time. A woman loves to be obeyed at first, although afterwards +she finds her pleasure in obeying. Do as I ask you, for Heaven’s sake, or +I will answer for nothing. Indeed, now I think of it,” she added, with +the manner of one who has just seen further into a difficulty, “I find a +better plan of keeping importunate visitors away. Tell the porter to admit no +one for you, except a person who may come that night to claim a debt; and speak +with some feeling, as though you feared the interview, so that he may take your +words in earnest.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you may trust me to protect myself against intruders,” he +said, not without a little pique. +</p> + +<p> +“That is how I should prefer the thing arranged,” she answered +coldly. “I know you men; you think nothing of a woman’s +reputation.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas blushed and somewhat hung his head; for the scheme he had in view had +involved a little vain-glorying before his acquaintances. +</p> + +<p> +“Above all,” she added, “do not speak to the porter as you +come out.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why?” said he. “Of all your instructions, that seems to +me the least important.” +</p> + +<p> +“You at first doubted the wisdom of some of the others, which you now see +to be very necessary,” she replied. “Believe me, this also has its +uses; in time you will see them; and what am I to think of your affection, if +you refuse me such trifles at our first interview?” +</p> + +<p> +Silas confounded himself in explanations and apologies; in the middle of these +she looked up at the clock and clapped her hands together with a suppressed +scream. +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens!” she cried, “is it so late? I have not an instant +to lose. Alas, we poor women, what slaves we are! What have I not risked for +you already?” +</p> + +<p> +And after repeating her directions, which she artfully combined with caresses +and the most abandoned looks, she bade him farewell and disappeared among the +crowd. +</p> + +<p> +The whole of the next day Silas was filled with a sense of great importance; he +was now sure she was a countess; and when evening came he minutely obeyed her +orders and was at the corner of the Luxembourg Gardens by the hour appointed. +No one was there. He waited nearly half-an-hour, looking in the face of every +one who passed or loitered near the spot; he even visited the neighbouring +corners of the Boulevard and made a complete circuit of the garden railings; +but there was no beautiful countess to throw herself into his arms. At last, +and most reluctantly, he began to retrace his steps towards his hotel. On the +way he remembered the words he had heard pass between Madame Zéphyrine and the +blond young man, and they gave him an indefinite uneasiness. +</p> + +<p> +“It appears,” he reflected, “that every one has to tell lies +to our porter.” +</p> + +<p> +He rang the bell, the door opened before him, and the porter in his bed-clothes +came to offer him a light. +</p> + +<p> +“Has he gone?” inquired the porter. +</p> + +<p> +“He? Whom do you mean?” asked Silas, somewhat sharply, for he was +irritated by his disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not notice him go out,” continued the porter, “but I +trust you paid him. We do not care, in this house, to have lodgers who cannot +meet their liabilities.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil do you mean?” demanded Silas rudely. “I +cannot understand a word of this farrago.” +</p> + +<p> +“The short blond young man who came for his debt,” returned the +other. “Him it is I mean. Who else should it be, when I had your orders +to admit no one else?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, good God, of course he never came,” retorted Silas. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe what I believe,” returned the porter, putting his tongue +into his cheek with a most roguish air. +</p> + +<p> +“You are an insolent scoundrel,” cried Silas, and, feeling that he +had made a ridiculous exhibition of asperity, and at the same time bewildered +by a dozen alarms, he turned and began to run upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not want a light then?” cried the porter. +</p> + +<p> +But Silas only hurried the faster, and did not pause until he had reached the +seventh landing and stood in front of his own door. There he waited a moment to +recover his breath, assailed by the worst forebodings and almost dreading to +enter the room. +</p> + +<p> +When at last he did so he was relieved to find it dark, and to all appearance, +untenanted. He drew a long breath. Here he was, home again in safety, and this +should be his last folly as certainly as it had been his first. The matches +stood on a little table by the bed, and he began to grope his way in that +direction. As he moved, his apprehensions grew upon him once more, and he was +pleased, when his foot encountered an obstacle, to find it nothing more +alarming than a chair. At last he touched curtains. From the position of the +window, which was faintly visible, he knew he must be at the foot of the bed, +and had only to feel his way along it in order to reach the table in question. +</p> + +<p> +He lowered his hand, but what it touched was not simply a counterpane—it +was a counterpane with something underneath it like the outline of a human leg. +Silas withdrew his arm and stood a moment petrified. +</p> + +<p> +“What, what,” he thought, “can this betoken?” +</p> + +<p> +He listened intently, but there was no sound of breathing. Once more, with a +great effort, he reached out the end of his finger to the spot he had already +touched; but this time he leaped back half a yard, and stood shivering and +fixed with terror. There was something in his bed. What it was he knew not, but +there was something there. +</p> + +<p> +It was some seconds before he could move. Then, guided by an instinct, he fell +straight upon the matches, and keeping his back towards the bed lighted a +candle. As soon as the flame had kindled, he turned slowly round and looked for +what he feared to see. Sure enough, there was the worst of his imaginations +realised. The coverlid was drawn carefully up over the pillow, but it moulded +the outline of a human body lying motionless; and when he dashed forward and +flung aside the sheets, he beheld the blond young man whom he had seen in the +Bullier Ball the night before, his eyes open and without speculation, his face +swollen and blackened, and a thin stream of blood trickling from his nostrils. +</p> + +<p> +Silas uttered a long, tremulous wail, dropped the candle, and fell on his knees +beside the bed. +</p> + +<p> +Silas was awakened from the stupor into which his terrible discovery had +plunged him by a prolonged but discreet tapping at the door. It took him some +seconds to remember his position; and when he hastened to prevent anyone from +entering it was already too late. Dr. Noel, in a tall night-cap, carrying a +lamp which lighted up his long white countenance, sidling in his gait, and +peering and cocking his head like some sort of bird, pushed the door slowly +open, and advanced into the middle of the room. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I heard a cry,” began the Doctor, “and fearing you +might be unwell I did not hesitate to offer this intrusion.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas, with a flushed face and a fearful beating heart, kept between the Doctor +and the bed; but he found no voice to answer. +</p> + +<p> +“You are in the dark,” pursued the Doctor; “and yet you have +not even begun to prepare for rest. You will not easily persuade me against my +own eyesight; and your face declares most eloquently that you require either a +friend or a physician—which is it to be? Let me feel your pulse, for that +is often a just reporter of the heart.” +</p> + +<p> +He advanced to Silas, who still retreated before him backwards, and sought to +take him by the wrist; but the strain on the young American’s nerves had +become too great for endurance. He avoided the Doctor with a febrile movement, +and, throwing himself upon the floor, burst into a flood of weeping. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as Dr. Noel perceived the dead man in the bed his face darkened; and +hurrying back to the door which he had left ajar, he hastily closed and +double-locked it. +</p> + +<p> +“Up!” he cried, addressing Silas in strident tones; “this is +no time for weeping. What have you done? How came this body in your room? Speak +freely to one who may be helpful. Do you imagine I would ruin you? Do you think +this piece of dead flesh on your pillow can alter in any degree the sympathy +with which you have inspired me? Credulous youth, the horror with which blind +and unjust law regards an action never attaches to the doer in the eyes of +those who love him; and if I saw the friend of my heart return to me out of +seas of blood he would be in no way changed in my affection. Raise +yourself,” he said; “good and ill are a chimera; there is nought in +life except destiny, and however you may be circumstanced there is one at your +side who will help you to the last.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus encouraged, Silas gathered himself together, and in a broken voice, and +helped out by the Doctor’s interrogations, contrived at last to put him +in possession of the facts. But the conversation between the Prince and +Geraldine he altogether omitted, as he had understood little of its purport, +and had no idea that it was in any way related to his own misadventure. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” cried Dr. Noel, “I am much abused, or you have fallen +innocently into the most dangerous hands in Europe. Poor boy, what a pit has +been dug for your simplicity! into what a deadly peril have your unwary feet +been conducted! This man,” he said, “this Englishman, whom you +twice saw, and whom I suspect to be the soul of the contrivance, can you +describe him? Was he young or old? tall or short?” +</p> + +<p> +But Silas, who, for all his curiosity, had not a seeing eye in his head, was +able to supply nothing but meagre generalities, which it was impossible to +recognise. +</p> + +<p> +“I would have it a piece of education in all schools!” cried the +Doctor angrily. “Where is the use of eyesight and articulate speech if a +man cannot observe and recollect the features of his enemy? I, who know all the +gangs of Europe, might have identified him, and gained new weapons for your +defence. Cultivate this art in future, my poor boy; you may find it of +momentous service.” +</p> + +<p> +“The future!” repeated Silas. “What future is there left for +me except the gallows?” +</p> + +<p> +“Youth is but a cowardly season,” returned the Doctor; “and a +man’s own troubles look blacker than they are. I am old, and yet I never +despair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can I tell such a story to the police?” demanded Silas. +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly not,” replied the Doctor. “From what I see already +of the machination in which you have been involved, your case is desperate upon +that side; and for the narrow eye of the authorities you are infallibly the +guilty person. And remember that we only know a portion of the plot; and the +same infamous contrivers have doubtless arranged many other circumstances which +would be elicited by a police inquiry, and help to fix the guilt more certainly +upon your innocence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am then lost, indeed!” cried Silas. +</p> + +<p> +“I have not said so,” answered Dr. Noel “for I am a cautious +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“But look at this!” objected Silas, pointing to the body. +“Here is this object in my bed; not to be explained, not to be disposed +of, not to be regarded without horror.” +</p> + +<p> +“Horror?” replied the Doctor. “No. When this sort of clock +has run down, it is no more to me than an ingenious piece of mechanism, to be +investigated with the bistoury. When blood is once cold and stagnant, it is no +longer human blood; when flesh is once dead, it is no longer that flesh which +we desire in our lovers and respect in our friends. The grace, the attraction, +the terror, have all gone from it with the animating spirit. Accustom yourself +to look upon it with composure; for if my scheme is practicable you will have +to live some days in constant proximity to that which now so greatly horrifies +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your scheme?” cried Silas. “What is that? Tell me speedily, +Doctor; for I have scarcely courage enough to continue to exist.” +</p> + +<p> +Without replying, Doctor Noel turned towards the bed, and proceeded to examine +the corpse. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite dead,” he murmured. “Yes, as I had supposed, the +pockets empty. Yes, and the name cut off the shirt. Their work has been done +thoroughly and well. Fortunately, he is of small stature.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas followed these words with an extreme anxiety. At last the Doctor, his +autopsy completed, took a chair and addressed the young American with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Since I came into your room,” said he, “although my ears and +my tongue have been so busy, I have not suffered my eyes to remain idle. I +noted a little while ago that you have there, in the corner, one of those +monstrous constructions which your fellow-countrymen carry with them into all +quarters of the globe—in a word, a Saratoga trunk. Until this moment I +have never been able to conceive the utility of these erections; but then I +began to have a glimmer. Whether it was for convenience in the slave trade, or +to obviate the results of too ready an employment of the bowie-knife, I cannot +bring myself to decide. But one thing I see plainly—the object of such a +box is to contain a human body. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely,” cried Silas, “surely this is not a time for +jesting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Although I may express myself with some degree of pleasantry,” +replied the Doctor, “the purport of my words is entirely serious. And the +first thing we have to do, my young friend, is to empty your coffer of all that +it contains.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas, obeying the authority of Doctor Noel, put himself at his disposition. +The Saratoga trunk was soon gutted of its contents, which made a considerable +litter on the floor; and then—Silas taking the heels and the Doctor +supporting the shoulders—the body of the murdered man was carried from +the bed, and, after some difficulty, doubled up and inserted whole into the +empty box. With an effort on the part of both, the lid was forced down upon +this unusual baggage, and the trunk was locked and corded by the Doctor’s +own hand, while Silas disposed of what had been taken out between the closet +and a chest of drawers. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said the Doctor, “the first step has been taken on the +way to your deliverance. To-morrow, or rather to-day, it must be your task to +allay the suspicions of your porter, paying him all that you owe; while you may +trust me to make the arrangements necessary to a safe conclusion. Meantime, +follow me to my room, where I shall give you a safe and powerful opiate; for, +whatever you do, you must have rest.” +</p> + +<p> +The next day was the longest in Silas’s memory; it seemed as if it would +never be done. He denied himself to his friends, and sat in a corner with his +eyes fixed upon the Saratoga trunk in dismal contemplation. His own former +indiscretions were now returned upon him in kind; for the observatory had been +once more opened, and he was conscious of an almost continual study from Madame +Zéphyrine’s apartment. So distressing did this become, that he was at +last obliged to block up the spy-hole from his own side; and when he was thus +secured from observation he spent a considerable portion of his time in +contrite tears and prayer. +</p> + +<p> +Late in the evening Dr. Noel entered the room carrying in his hand a pair of +sealed envelopes without address, one somewhat bulky, and the other so slim as +to seem without enclosure. +</p> + +<p> +“Silas,” he said, seating himself at the table, “the time has +now come for me to explain my plan for your salvation. To-morrow morning, at an +early hour, Prince Florizel of Bohemia returns to London, after having diverted +himself for a few days with the Parisian Carnival. It was my fortune, a good +while ago, to do Colonel Geraldine, his Master of the Horse, one of those +services, so common in my profession, which are never forgotten upon either +side. I have no need to explain to you the nature of the obligation under which +he was laid; suffice it to say that I knew him ready to serve me in any +practicable manner. Now, it was necessary for you to gain London with your +trunk unopened. To this the Custom House seemed to oppose a fatal difficulty; +but I bethought me that the baggage of so considerable a person as the Prince, +is, as a matter of courtesy, passed without examination by the officers of +Custom. I applied to Colonel Geraldine, and succeeded in obtaining a favourable +answer. To-morrow, if you go before six to the hotel where the Prince lodges, +your baggage will be passed over as a part of his, and you yourself will make +the journey as a member of his suite.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me, as you speak, that I have already seen both the Prince +and Colonel Geraldine; I even overheard some of their conversation the other +evening at the Bullier Ball.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is probable enough; for the Prince loves to mix with all +societies,” replied the Doctor. “Once arrived in London,” he +pursued, “your task is nearly ended. In this more bulky envelope I have +given you a letter which I dare not address; but in the other you will find the +designation of the house to which you must carry it along with your box, which +will there be taken from you and not trouble you any more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” said Silas, “I have every wish to believe you; but +how is it possible? You open up to me a bright prospect, but, I ask you, is my +mind capable of receiving so unlikely a solution? Be more generous, and let me +further understand your meaning.” +</p> + +<p> +The Doctor seemed painfully impressed. +</p> + +<p> +“Boy,” he answered, “you do not know how hard a thing you ask +of me. But be it so. I am now inured to humiliation; and it would be strange if +I refused you this, after having granted you so much. Know, then, that although +I now make so quiet an appearance—frugal, solitary, addicted to +study—when I was younger, my name was once a rallying-cry among the most +astute and dangerous spirits of London; and while I was outwardly an object for +respect and consideration, my true power resided in the most secret, terrible, +and criminal relations. It is to one of the persons who then obeyed me that I +now address myself to deliver you from your burden. They were men of many +different nations and dexterities, all bound together by a formidable oath, and +working to the same purposes; the trade of the association was in murder; and I +who speak to you, innocent as I appear, was the chieftain of this redoubtable +crew.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” cried Silas. “A murderer? And one with whom murder +was a trade? Can I take your hand? Ought I so much as to accept your services? +Dark and criminal old man, would you make an accomplice of my youth and my +distress?” +</p> + +<p> +The Doctor bitterly laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You are difficult to please, Mr. Scuddamore,” said he; “but +I now offer you your choice of company between the murdered man and the +murderer. If your conscience is too nice to accept my aid, say so, and I will +immediately leave you. Thenceforward you can deal with your trunk and its +belongings as best suits your upright conscience.” +</p> + +<p> +“I own myself wrong,” replied Silas. “I should have +remembered how generously you offered to shield me, even before I had convinced +you of my innocence, and I continue to listen to your counsels with +gratitude.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is well,” returned the Doctor; “and I perceive you are +beginning to learn some of the lessons of experience.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the same time,” resumed the New-Englander, “as you +confess yourself accustomed to this tragical business, and the people to whom +you recommend me are your own former associates and friends, could you not +yourself undertake the transport of the box, and rid me at once of its detested +presence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my word,” replied the Doctor, “I admire you cordially. +If you do not think I have already meddled sufficiently in your concerns, +believe me, from my heart I think the contrary. Take or leave my services as I +offer them; and trouble me with no more words of gratitude, for I value your +consideration even more lightly than I do your intellect. A time will come, if +you should be spared to see a number of years in health of mind, when you will +think differently of all this, and blush for your to-night’s +behaviour.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, the Doctor arose from his chair, repeated his directions briefly and +clearly, and departed from the room without permitting Silas any time to +answer. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning Silas presented himself at the hotel, where he was politely +received by Colonel Geraldine, and relieved, from that moment, of all immediate +alarm about his trunk and its grisly contents. The journey passed over without +much incident, although the young man was horrified to overhear the sailors and +railway porters complaining among themselves about the unusual weight of the +Prince’s baggage. Silas travelled in a carriage with the valets, for +Prince Florizel chose to be alone with his Master of the Horse. On board the +steamer, however, Silas attracted his Highness’s attention by the +melancholy of his air and attitude as he stood gazing at the pile of baggage; +for he was still full of disquietude about the future. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a young man,” observed the Prince, “who must have +some cause for sorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“That,” replied Geraldine, “is the American for whom I +obtained permission to travel with your suite.” +</p> + +<p> +“You remind me that I have been remiss in courtesy,” said Prince +Florizel, and advancing to Silas, he addressed him with the most exquisite +condescension in these words:—“I was charmed, young sir, to be able +to gratify the desire you made known to me through Colonel Geraldine. Remember, +if you please, that I shall be glad at any future time to lay you under a more +serious obligation.” +</p> + +<p> +And he then put some questions as to the political condition of America, which +Silas answered with sense and propriety. +</p> + +<p> +“You are still a young man,” said the Prince; “but I observe +you to be very serious for your years. Perhaps you allow your attention to be +too much occupied with grave studies. But, perhaps, on the other hand, I am +myself indiscreet and touch upon a painful subject.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have certainly cause to be the most miserable of men,” said +Silas; “never has a more innocent person been more dismally +abused.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not ask you for your confidence,” returned Prince Florizel. +“But do not forget that Colonel Geraldine’s recommendation is an +unfailing passport; and that I am not only willing, but possibly more able than +many others, to do you a service.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas was delighted with the amiability of this great personage; but his mind +soon returned upon its gloomy preoccupations; for not even the favour of a +Prince to a Republican can discharge a brooding spirit of its cares. +</p> + +<p> +The train arrived at Charing Cross, where the officers of the Revenue respected +the baggage of Prince Florizel in the usual manner. The most elegant equipages +were in waiting; and Silas was driven, along with the rest, to the +Prince’s residence. There Colonel Geraldine sought him out, and expressed +himself pleased to have been of any service to a friend of the +physician’s, for whom he professed a great consideration. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope,” he added, “that you will find none of your +porcelain injured. Special orders were given along the line to deal tenderly +with the Prince’s effects.” +</p> + +<p> +And then, directing the servants to place one of the carriages at the young +gentleman’s disposal, and at once to charge the Saratoga trunk upon the +dickey, the Colonel shook hands and excused himself on account of his +occupations in the princely household. +</p> + +<p> +Silas now broke the seal of the envelope containing the address, and directed +the stately footman to drive him to Box Court, opening off the Strand. It +seemed as if the place were not at all unknown to the man, for he looked +startled and begged a repetition of the order. It was with a heart full of +alarms, that Silas mounted into the luxurious vehicle, and was driven to his +destination. The entrance to Box Court was too narrow for the passage of a +coach; it was a mere footway between railings, with a post at either end. On +one of these posts was seated a man, who at once jumped down and exchanged a +friendly sign with the driver, while the footman opened the door and inquired +of Silas whether he should take down the Saratoga trunk, and to what number it +should be carried. +</p> + +<p> +“If you please,” said Silas. “To number three.” +</p> + +<p> +The footman and the man who had been sitting on the post, even with the aid of +Silas himself, had hard work to carry in the trunk; and before it was deposited +at the door of the house in question, the young American was horrified to find +a score of loiterers looking on. But he knocked with as good a countenance as +he could muster up, and presented the other envelope to him who opened. +</p> + +<p> +“He is not at home,” said he, “but if you will leave your +letter and return to-morrow early, I shall be able to inform you whether and +when he can receive your visit. Would you like to leave your box?” he +added. +</p> + +<p> +“Dearly,” cried Silas; and the next moment he repented his +precipitation, and declared, with equal emphasis, that he would rather carry +the box along with him to the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +The crowd jeered at his indecision and followed him to the carriage with +insulting remarks; and Silas, covered with shame and terror, implored the +servants to conduct him to some quiet and comfortable house of entertainment in +the immediate neighbourhood. +</p> + +<p> +The Prince’s equipage deposited Silas at the Craven Hotel in Craven +Street, and immediately drove away, leaving him alone with the servants of the +inn. The only vacant room, it appeared, was a little den up four pairs of +stairs, and looking towards the back. To this hermitage, with infinite trouble +and complaint, a pair of stout porters carried the Saratoga trunk. It is +needless to mention that Silas kept closely at their heels throughout the +ascent, and had his heart in his mouth at every corner. A single false step, he +reflected, and the box might go over the banisters and land its fatal contents, +plainly discovered, on the pavement of the hall. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived in the room, he sat down on the edge of his bed to recover from the +agony that he had just endured; but he had hardly taken his position when he +was recalled to a sense of his peril by the action of the boots, who had knelt +beside the trunk, and was proceeding officiously to undo its elaborate +fastenings. +</p> + +<p> +“Let it be!” cried Silas. “I shall want nothing from it while +I stay here.” +</p> + +<p> +“You might have let it lie in the hall, then,” growled the man; +“a thing as big and heavy as a church. What you have inside I cannot +fancy. If it is all money, you are a richer man than me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Money?” repeated Silas, in a sudden perturbation. “What do +you mean by money? I have no money, and you are speaking like a fool.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, captain,” retorted the boots with a wink. +“There’s nobody will touch your lordship’s money. I’m +as safe as the bank,” he added; “but as the box is heavy, I +shouldn’t mind drinking something to your lordship’s health.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas pressed two Napoleons upon his acceptance, apologising, at the same time, +for being obliged to trouble him with foreign money, and pleading his recent +arrival for excuse. And the man, grumbling with even greater fervour, and +looking contemptuously from the money in his hand to the Saratoga trunk and +back again from the one to the other, at last consented to withdraw. +</p> + +<p> +For nearly two days the dead body had been packed into Silas’s box; and +as soon as he was alone the unfortunate New-Englander nosed all the cracks and +openings with the most passionate attention. But the weather was cool, and the +trunk still managed to contain his shocking secret. +</p> + +<p> +He took a chair beside it, and buried his face in his hands, and his mind in +the most profound reflection. If he were not speedily relieved, no question but +he must be speedily discovered. Alone in a strange city, without friends or +accomplices, if the Doctor’s introduction failed him, he was indubitably +a lost New-Englander. He reflected pathetically over his ambitious designs for +the future; he should not now become the hero and spokesman of his native place +of Bangor, Maine; he should not, as he had fondly anticipated, move on from +office to office, from honour to honour; he might as well divest himself at +once of all hope of being acclaimed President of the United States, and leaving +behind him a statue, in the worst possible style of art, to adorn the Capitol +at Washington. Here he was, chained to a dead Englishman doubled up inside a +Saratoga trunk; whom he must get rid of, or perish from the rolls of national +glory! +</p> + +<p> +I should be afraid to chronicle the language employed by this young man to the +Doctor, to the murdered man, to Madame Zéphyrine, to the boots of the hotel, to +the Prince’s servants, and, in a word, to all who had been ever so +remotely connected with his horrible misfortune. +</p> + +<p> +He slunk down to dinner about seven at night; but the yellow coffee-room +appalled him, the eyes of the other diners seemed to rest on his with +suspicion, and his mind remained upstairs with the Saratoga trunk. When the +waiter came to offer him cheese, his nerves were already so much on edge that +he leaped half-way out of his chair and upset the remainder of a pint of ale +upon the table-cloth. +</p> + +<p> +The fellow offered to show him to the smoking-room when he had done; and +although he would have much preferred to return at once to his perilous +treasure, he had not the courage to refuse, and was shown downstairs to the +black, gas-lit cellar, which formed, and possibly still forms, the divan of the +Craven Hotel. +</p> + +<p> +Two very sad betting men were playing billiards, attended by a moist, +consumptive marker; and for the moment Silas imagined that these were the only +occupants of the apartment. But at the next glance his eye fell upon a person +smoking in the farthest corner, with lowered eyes and a most respectable and +modest aspect. He knew at once that he had seen the face before; and, in spite +of the entire change of clothes, recognised the man whom he had found seated on +a post at the entrance to Box Court, and who had helped him to carry the trunk +to and from the carriage. The New-Englander simply turned and ran, nor did he +pause until he had locked and bolted himself into his bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +There, all night long, a prey to the most terrible imaginations, he watched +beside the fatal boxful of dead flesh. The suggestion of the boots that his +trunk was full of gold inspired him with all manner of new terrors, if he so +much as dared to close an eye; and the presence in the smoking-room, and under +an obvious disguise, of the loiterer from Box Court convinced him that he was +once more the centre of obscure machinations. +</p> + +<p> +Midnight had sounded some time, when, impelled by uneasy suspicions, Silas +opened his bedroom door and peered into the passage. It was dimly illuminated +by a single jet of gas; and some distance off he perceived a man sleeping on +the floor in the costume of an hotel under-servant. Silas drew near the man on +tiptoe. He lay partly on his back, partly on his side, and his right forearm +concealed his face from recognition. Suddenly, while the American was still +bending over him, the sleeper removed his arm and opened his eyes, and Silas +found himself once more face to face with the loiterer of Box Court. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night, sir,” said the man, pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +But Silas was too profoundly moved to find an answer, and regained his room in +silence. +</p> + +<p> +Towards morning, worn out by apprehension, he fell asleep on his chair, with +his head forward on the trunk. In spite of so constrained an attitude and such +a grisly pillow, his slumber was sound and prolonged, and he was only awakened +at a late hour and by a sharp tapping at the door. +</p> + +<p> +He hurried to open, and found the boots without. +</p> + +<p> +“You are the gentleman who called yesterday at Box Court?” he +asked. +</p> + +<p> +Silas, with a quaver, admitted that he had done so. +</p> + +<p> +“Then this note is for you,” added the servant, proffering a sealed +envelope. +</p> + +<p> +Silas tore it open, and found inside the words: “Twelve +o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +He was punctual to the hour; the trunk was carried before him by several stout +servants; and he was himself ushered into a room, where a man sat warming +himself before the fire with his back towards the door. The sound of so many +persons entering and leaving, and the scraping of the trunk as it was deposited +upon the bare boards, were alike unable to attract the notice of the occupant; +and Silas stood waiting, in an agony of fear, until he should deign to +recognise his presence. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps five minutes had elapsed before the man turned leisurely about, and +disclosed the features of Prince Florizel of Bohemia. +</p> + +<p> +“So, sir,” he said, with great severity, “this is the manner +in which you abuse my politeness. You join yourselves to persons of condition, +I perceive, for no other purpose than to escape the consequences of your +crimes; and I can readily understand your embarrassment when I addressed myself +to you yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” cried Silas, “I am innocent of everything except +misfortune.” +</p> + +<p> +And in a hurried voice, and with the greatest ingenuousness, he recounted to +the Prince the whole history of his calamity. +</p> + +<p> +“I see I have been mistaken,” said his Highness, when he had heard +him to an end. “You are no other than a victim, and since I am not to +punish you may be sure I shall do my utmost to help. And now,” he +continued, “to business. Open your box at once, and let me see what it +contains.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas changed colour. +</p> + +<p> +“I almost fear to look upon it,” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” replied the Prince, “have you not looked at it +already? This is a form of sentimentality to be resisted. The sight of a sick +man, whom we can still help, should appeal more directly to the feelings than +that of a dead man who is equally beyond help or harm, love or hatred. Nerve +yourself, Mr. Scuddamore,” and then, seeing that Silas still hesitated, +“I do not desire to give another name to my request,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +The young American awoke as if out of a dream, and with a shiver of repugnance +addressed himself to loose the straps and open the lock of the Saratoga trunk. +The Prince stood by, watching with a composed countenance and his hands behind +his back. The body was quite stiff, and it cost Silas a great effort, both +moral and physical, to dislodge it from its position, and discover the face. +</p> + +<p> +Prince Florizel started back with an exclamation of painful surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” he cried, “you little know, Mr. Scuddamore, what a +cruel gift you have brought me. This is a young man of my own suite, the +brother of my trusted friend; and it was upon matters of my own service that he +has thus perished at the hands of violent and treacherous men. Poor +Geraldine,” he went on, as if to himself, “in what words am I to +tell you of your brother’s fate? How can I excuse myself in your eyes, or +in the eyes of God, for the presumptuous schemes that led him to this bloody +and unnatural death? Ah, Florizel! Florizel! when will you learn the discretion +that suits mortal life, and be no longer dazzled with the image of power at +your disposal? Power!” he cried; “who is more powerless? I look +upon this young man whom I have sacrificed, Mr. Scuddamore, and feel how small +a thing it is to be a Prince.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas was moved at the sight of his emotion. He tried to murmur some +consolatory words, and burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +The Prince, touched by his obvious intention, came up to him and took him by +the hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Command yourself,” said he. “We have both much to learn, and +we shall both be better men for to-day’s meeting.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas thanked him in silence with an affectionate look. +</p> + +<p> +“Write me the address of Doctor Noel on this piece of paper,” +continued the Prince, leading him towards the table; “and let me +recommend you, when you are again in Paris, to avoid the society of that +dangerous man. He has acted in this matter on a generous inspiration; that I +must believe; had he been privy to young Geraldine’s death he would never +have despatched the body to the care of the actual criminal.” +</p> + +<p> +“The actual criminal!” repeated Silas in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Even so,” returned the Prince. “This letter, which the +disposition of Almighty Providence has so strangely delivered into my hands, +was addressed to no less a person than the criminal himself, the infamous +President of the Suicide Club. Seek to pry no further in these perilous +affairs, but content yourself with your own miraculous escape, and leave this +house at once. I have pressing affairs, and must arrange at once about this +poor clay, which was so lately a gallant and handsome youth.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas took a grateful and submissive leave of Prince Florizel, but he lingered +in Box Court until he saw him depart in a splendid carriage on a visit to +Colonel Henderson of the police. Republican as he was, the young American took +off his hat with almost a sentiment of devotion to the retreating carriage. And +the same night he started by rail on his return to Paris. +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p> +<i>Here</i> (observes my Arabian author) <i>is the end of</i> <span +class="smcap">The History of the Physician and the Saratoga Trunk</span>. +<i>Omitting some reflections on the power of Providence</i>, <i>highly +pertinent in the original</i>, <i>but little suited to our occiddental +taste</i>, <i>I shall only add that Mr. Scuddamore has already begun to mount +the ladder of political fame</i>, <i>and by last advices was the Sheriff of his +native town</i>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap04"></a>THE ADVENTURE OF THE HANSOM CABS</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Lieutenant Brackenbury Rich</span> had greatly +distinguished himself in one of the lesser Indian hill wars. He it was who took +the chieftain prisoner with his own hand; his gallantry was universally +applauded; and when he came home, prostrated by an ugly sabre cut and a +protracted jungle fever, society was prepared to welcome the Lieutenant as a +celebrity of minor lustre. But his was a character remarkable for unaffected +modesty; adventure was dear to his heart, but he cared little for adulation; +and he waited at foreign watering-places and in Algiers until the fame of his +exploits had run through its nine days’ vitality and begun to be +forgotten. He arrived in London at last, in the early season, with as little +observation as he could desire; and as he was an orphan and had none but +distant relatives who lived in the provinces, it was almost as a foreigner that +he installed himself in the capital of the country for which he had shed his +blood. +</p> + +<p> +On the day following his arrival he dined alone at a military club. He shook +hands with a few old comrades, and received their warm congratulations; but as +one and all had some engagement for the evening, he found himself left entirely +to his own resources. He was in dress, for he had entertained the notion of +visiting a theatre. But the great city was new to him; he had gone from a +provincial school to a military college, and thence direct to the Eastern +Empire; and he promised himself a variety of delights in this world for +exploration. Swinging his cane, he took his way westward. It was a mild +evening, already dark, and now and then threatening rain. The succession of +faces in the lamplight stirred the Lieutenant’s imagination; and it +seemed to him as if he could walk for ever in that stimulating city atmosphere +and surrounded by the mystery of four million private lives. He glanced at the +houses, and marvelled what was passing behind those warmly-lighted windows; he +looked into face after face, and saw them each intent upon some unknown +interest, criminal or kindly. +</p> + +<p> +“They talk of war,” he thought, “but this is the great +battlefield of mankind.” +</p> + +<p> +And then he began to wonder that he should walk so long in this complicated +scene, and not chance upon so much as the shadow of an adventure for himself. +</p> + +<p> +“All in good time,” he reflected. “I am still a stranger, and +perhaps wear a strange air. But I must be drawn into the eddy before +long.” +</p> + +<p> +The night was already well advanced when a plump of cold rain fell suddenly out +of the darkness. Brackenbury paused under some trees, and as he did so he +caught sight of a hansom cabman making him a sign that he was disengaged. The +circumstance fell in so happily to the occasion that he at once raised his cane +in answer, and had soon ensconced himself in the London gondola. +</p> + +<p> +“Where to, sir?” asked the driver. +</p> + +<p> +“Where you please,” said Brackenbury. +</p> + +<p> +And immediately, at a pace of surprising swiftness, the hansom drove off +through the rain into a maze of villas. One villa was so like another, each +with its front garden, and there was so little to distinguish the deserted +lamp-lit streets and crescents through which the flying hansom took its way, +that Brackenbury soon lost all idea of direction. +</p> + +<p> +He would have been tempted to believe that the cabman was amusing himself by +driving him round and round and in and out about a small quarter, but there was +something business-like in the speed which convinced him of the contrary. The +man had an object in view, he was hastening towards a definite end; and +Brackenbury was at once astonished at the fellow’s skill in picking a way +through such a labyrinth, and a little concerned to imagine what was the +occasion of his hurry. He had heard tales of strangers falling ill in London. +Did the driver belong to some bloody and treacherous association? and was he +himself being whirled to a murderous death? +</p> + +<p> +The thought had scarcely presented itself, when the cab swung sharply round a +corner and pulled up before the garden gate of a villa in a long and wide road. +The house was brilliantly lighted up. Another hansom had just driven away, and +Brackenbury could see a gentleman being admitted at the front door and received +by several liveried servants. He was surprised that the cabman should have +stopped so immediately in front of a house where a reception was being held; +but he did not doubt it was the result of accident, and sat placidly smoking +where he was, until he heard the trap thrown open over his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are, sir,” said the driver. +</p> + +<p> +“Here!” repeated Brackenbury. “Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“You told me to take you where I pleased, sir,” returned the man +with a chuckle, “and here we are.” +</p> + +<p> +It struck Brackenbury that the voice was wonderfully smooth and courteous for a +man in so inferior a position; he remembered the speed at which he had been +driven; and now it occurred to him that the hansom was more luxuriously +appointed than the common run of public conveyances. +</p> + +<p> +“I must ask you to explain,” said he. “Do you mean to turn me +out into the rain? My good man, I suspect the choice is mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“The choice is certainly yours,” replied the driver; “but +when I tell you all, I believe I know how a gentleman of your figure will +decide. There is a gentlemen’s party in this house. I do not know whether +the master be a stranger to London and without acquaintances of his own; or +whether he is a man of odd notions. But certainly I was hired to kidnap single +gentlemen in evening dress, as many as I pleased, but military officers by +preference. You have simply to go in and say that Mr. Morris invited +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you Mr. Morris?” inquired the Lieutenant. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no,” replied the cabman. “Mr. Morris is the person of +the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not a common way of collecting guests,” said Brackenbury: +“but an eccentric man might very well indulge the whim without any +intention to offend. And suppose that I refuse Mr. Morris’s +invitation,” he went on, “what then?” +</p> + +<p> +“My orders are to drive you back where I took you from,” replied +the man, “and set out to look for others up to midnight. Those who have +no fancy for such an adventure, Mr. Morris said, were not the guests for +him.” +</p> + +<p> +These words decided the Lieutenant on the spot. +</p> + +<p> +“After all,” he reflected, as he descended from the hansom, +“I have not had long to wait for my adventure.” +</p> + +<p> +He had hardly found footing on the side-walk, and was still feeling in his +pocket for the fare, when the cab swung about and drove off by the way it came +at the former break-neck velocity. Brackenbury shouted after the man, who paid +no heed, and continued to drive away; but the sound of his voice was overheard +in the house, the door was again thrown open, emitting a flood of light upon +the garden, and a servant ran down to meet him holding an umbrella. +</p> + +<p> +“The cabman has been paid,” observed the servant in a very civil +tone; and he proceeded to escort Brackenbury along the path and up the steps. +In the hall several other attendants relieved him of his hat, cane, and +paletot, gave him a ticket with a number in return, and politely hurried him up +a stair adorned with tropical flowers, to the door of an apartment on the first +storey. Here a grave butler inquired his name, and announcing “Lieutenant +Brackenbury Rich,” ushered him into the drawing-room of the house. +</p> + +<p> +A young man, slender and singularly handsome, came forward and greeted him with +an air at once courtly and affectionate. Hundreds of candles, of the finest +wax, lit up a room that was perfumed, like the staircase, with a profusion of +rare and beautiful flowering shrubs. A side-table was loaded with tempting +viands. Several servants went to and fro with fruits and goblets of champagne. +The company was perhaps sixteen in number, all men, few beyond the prime of +life, and with hardly an exception, of a dashing and capable exterior. They +were divided into two groups, one about a roulette board, and the other +surrounding a table at which one of their number held a bank of baccarat. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” thought Brackenbury, “I am in a private gambling +saloon, and the cabman was a tout.” +</p> + +<p> +His eye had embraced the details, and his mind formed the conclusion, while his +host was still holding him by the hand; and to him his looks returned from this +rapid survey. At a second view Mr. Morris surprised him still more than on the +first. The easy elegance of his manners, the distinction, amiability, and +courage that appeared upon his features, fitted very ill with the +Lieutenant’s preconceptions on the subject of the proprietor of a hell; +and the tone of his conversation seemed to mark him out for a man of position +and merit. Brackenbury found he had an instinctive liking for his entertainer; +and though he chid himself for the weakness, he was unable to resist a sort of +friendly attraction for Mr. Morris’s person and character. +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard of you, Lieutenant Rich,” said Mr. Morris, lowering +his tone; “and believe me I am gratified to make your acquaintance. Your +looks accord with the reputation that has preceded you from India. And if you +will forget for a while the irregularity of your presentation in my house, I +shall feel it not only an honour, but a genuine pleasure besides. A man who +makes a mouthful of barbarian cavaliers,” he added with a laugh, +“should not be appalled by a breach of etiquette, however serious.” +</p> + +<p> +And he led him towards the sideboard and pressed him to partake of some +refreshment. +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my word,” the Lieutenant reflected, “this is one of the +pleasantest fellows and, I do not doubt, one of the most agreeable societies in +London.” +</p> + +<p> +He partook of some champagne, which he found excellent; and observing that many +of the company were already smoking, he lit one of his own Manillas, and +strolled up to the roulette board, where he sometimes made a stake and +sometimes looked on smilingly on the fortune of others. It was while he was +thus idling that he became aware of a sharp scrutiny to which the whole of the +guests were subjected. Mr. Morris went here and there, ostensibly busied on +hospitable concerns; but he had ever a shrewd glance at disposal; not a man of +the party escaped his sudden, searching looks; he took stock of the bearing of +heavy losers, he valued the amount of the stakes, he paused behind couples who +were deep in conversation; and, in a word, there was hardly a characteristic of +any one present but he seemed to catch and make a note of it. Brackenbury began +to wonder if this were indeed a gambling hell: it had so much the air of a +private inquisition. He followed Mr. Morris in all his movements; and although +the man had a ready smile, he seemed to perceive, as it were under a mask, a +haggard, careworn, and preoccupied spirit. The fellows around him laughed and +made their game; but Brackenbury had lost interest in the guests. +</p> + +<p> +“This Morris,” thought he, “is no idler in the room. Some +deep purpose inspires him; let it be mine to fathom it.” +</p> + +<p> +Now and then Mr. Morris would call one of his visitors aside; and after a brief +colloquy in an ante-room, he would return alone, and the visitors in question +reappeared no more. After a certain number of repetitions, this performance +excited Brackenbury’s curiosity to a high degree. He determined to be at +the bottom of this minor mystery at once; and strolling into the ante-room, +found a deep window recess concealed by curtains of the fashionable green. Here +he hurriedly ensconced himself; nor had he to wait long before the sound of +steps and voices drew near him from the principal apartment. Peering through +the division, he saw Mr. Morris escorting a fat and ruddy personage, with +somewhat the look of a commercial traveller, whom Brackenbury had already +remarked for his coarse laugh and under-bred behaviour at the table. The pair +halted immediately before the window, so that Brackenbury lost not a word of +the following discourse:— +</p> + +<p> +“I beg you a thousand pardons!” began Mr. Morris, with the most +conciliatory manner; “and, if I appear rude, I am sure you will readily +forgive me. In a place so great as London accidents must continually happen; +and the best that we can hope is to remedy them with as small delay as +possible. I will not deny that I fear you have made a mistake and honoured my +poor house by inadvertence; for, to speak openly, I cannot at all remember your +appearance. Let me put the question without unnecessary +circumlocution—between gentlemen of honour a word will +suffice—Under whose roof do you suppose yourself to be?” +</p> + +<p> +“That of Mr. Morris,” replied the other, with a prodigious display +of confusion, which had been visibly growing upon him throughout the last few +words. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. John or Mr. James Morris?” inquired the host. +</p> + +<p> +“I really cannot tell you,” returned the unfortunate guest. +“I am not personally acquainted with the gentleman, any more than I am +with yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said Mr. Morris. “There is another person of the +same name farther down the street; and I have no doubt the policeman will be +able to supply you with his number. Believe me, I felicitate myself on the +misunderstanding which has procured me the pleasure of your company for so +long; and let me express a hope that we may meet again upon a more regular +footing. Meantime, I would not for the world detain you longer from your +friends. John,” he added, raising his voice, “will you see that +this gentleman finds his great-coat?” +</p> + +<p> +And with the most agreeable air Mr. Morris escorted his visitor as far as the +ante-room door, where he left him under conduct of the butler. As he passed the +window, on his return to the drawing-room, Brackenbury could hear him utter a +profound sigh, as though his mind was loaded with a great anxiety, and his +nerves already fatigued with the task on which he was engaged. +</p> + +<p> +For perhaps an hour the hansoms kept arriving with such frequency, that Mr. +Morris had to receive a new guest for every old one that he sent away, and the +company preserved its number undiminished. But towards the end of that time the +arrivals grew few and far between, and at length ceased entirely, while the +process of elimination was continued with unimpaired activity. The drawing-room +began to look empty: the baccarat was discontinued for lack of a banker; more +than one person said good-night of his own accord, and was suffered to depart +without expostulation; and in the meanwhile Mr. Morris redoubled in agreeable +attentions to those who stayed behind. He went from group to group and from +person to person with looks of the readiest sympathy and the most pertinent and +pleasing talk; he was not so much like a host as like a hostess, and there was +a feminine coquetry and condescension in his manner which charmed the hearts of +all. +</p> + +<p> +As the guests grew thinner, Lieutenant Rich strolled for a moment out of the +drawing-room into the hall in quest of fresher air. But he had no sooner passed +the threshold of the ante-chamber than he was brought to a dead halt by a +discovery of the most surprising nature. The flowering shrubs had disappeared +from the staircase; three large furniture waggons stood before the garden gate; +the servants were busy dismantling the house upon all sides; and some of them +had already donned their great-coats and were preparing to depart. It was like +the end of a country ball, where everything has been supplied by contract. +Brackenbury had indeed some matter for reflection. First, the guests, who were +no real guests after all, had been dismissed; and now the servants, who could +hardly be genuine servants, were actively dispersing. +</p> + +<p> +‘“Was the whole establishment a sham?” he asked himself. +“The mushroom of a single night which should disappear before +morning?” +</p> + +<p> +Watching a favourable opportunity, Brackenbury dashed upstairs to the highest +regions of the house. It was as he had expected. He ran from room to room, and +saw not a stick of furniture nor so much as a picture on the walls. Although +the house had been painted and papered, it was not only uninhabited at present, +but plainly had never been inhabited at all. The young officer remembered with +astonishment its specious, settled, and hospitable air on his arrival. It was +only at a prodigious cost that the imposture could have been carried out upon +so great a scale. +</p> + +<p> +Who, then, was Mr. Morris? What was his intention in thus playing the +householder for a single night in the remote west of London? And why did he +collect his visitors at hazard from the streets? +</p> + +<p> +Brackenbury remembered that he had already delayed too long, and hastened to +join the company. Many had left during his absence; and counting the Lieutenant +and his host, there were not more than five persons in the +drawing-room—recently so thronged. Mr. Morris greeted him, as he +re-entered the apartment, with a smile, and immediately rose to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“It is now time, gentlemen,” said he, “to explain my purpose +in decoying you from your amusements. I trust you did not find the evening hang +very dully on your hands; but my object, I will confess it, was not to +entertain your leisure, but to help myself in an unfortunate necessity. You are +all gentlemen,” he continued, “your appearance does you that much +justice, and I ask for no better security. Hence, I speak it without +concealment, I ask you to render me a dangerous and delicate service; dangerous +because you may run the hazard of your lives, and delicate because I must ask +an absolute discretion upon all that you shall see or hear. From an utter +stranger the request is almost comically extravagant; I am well aware of this; +and I would add at once, if there be any one present who has heard enough, if +there be one among the party who recoils from a dangerous confidence and a +piece of Quixotic devotion to he knows not whom—here is my hand ready, +and I shall wish him good-night and God-speed with all the sincerity in the +world.” +</p> + +<p> +A very tall, black man, with a heavy stoop, immediately responded to this +appeal. +</p> + +<p> +“I commend your frankness, Sir,” said he; “and, for my part, +I go. I make no reflections; but I cannot deny that you fill me with suspicious +thoughts. I go myself, as I say; and perhaps you will think I have no right to +add words to my example.” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary,” replied Mr. Morris, “I am obliged to you +for all you say. It would be impossible to exaggerate the gravity of my +proposal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, gentlemen, what do you say?” said the tall man, addressing +the others. “We have had our evening’s frolic; shall we all go +homeward peaceably in a body? You will think well of my suggestion in the +morning, when you see the sun again in innocence and safety.” +</p> + +<p> +The speaker pronounced the last words with an intonation which added to their +force; and his face wore a singular expression, full of gravity and +significance. Another of the company rose hastily, and, with some appearance of +alarm, prepared to take his leave. There were only two who held their ground, +Brackenbury and an old red-nosed cavalry Major; but these two preserved a +nonchalant demeanour, and, beyond a look of intelligence which they rapidly +exchanged, appeared entirely foreign to the discussion that had just been +terminated. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Morris conducted the deserters as far as the door, which he closed upon +their heels; then he turned round, disclosing a countenance of mingled relief +and animation, and addressed the two officers as follows. +</p> + +<p> +“I have chosen my men like Joshua in the Bible,” said Mr. Morris, +“and I now believe I have the pick of London. Your appearance pleased my +hansom cabmen; then it delighted me; I have watched your behaviour in a strange +company, and under the most unusual circumstances: I have studied how you +played and how you bore your losses; lastly, I have put you to the test of a +staggering announcement, and you received it like an invitation to dinner. It +is not for nothing,” he cried, “that I have been for years the +companion and the pupil of the bravest and wisest potentate in Europe.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the affair of Bunderchang,” observed the Major, “I asked +for twelve volunteers, and every trooper in the ranks replied to my appeal. But +a gaming party is not the same thing as a regiment under fire. You may be +pleased, I suppose, to have found two, and two who will not fail you at a push. +As for the pair who ran away, I count them among the most pitiful hounds I ever +met with. Lieutenant Rich,” he added, addressing Brackenbury, “I +have heard much of you of late; and I cannot doubt but you have also heard of +me. I am Major O’Rooke.” +</p> + +<p> +And the veteran tendered his hand, which was red and tremulous, to the young +Lieutenant. +</p> + +<p> +“Who has not?” answered Brackenbury. +</p> + +<p> +“When this little matter is settled,” said Mr. Morris, “you +will think I have sufficiently rewarded you; for I could offer neither a more +valuable service than to make him acquainted with the other.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said Major O’Rooke, “is it a duel?” +</p> + +<p> +“A duel after a fashion,” replied Mr. Morris, “a duel with +unknown and dangerous enemies, and, as I gravely fear, a duel to the death. I +must ask you,” he continued, “to call me Morris no longer; call me, +if you please, Hammersmith; my real name, as well as that of another person to +whom I hope to present you before long, you will gratify me by not asking and +not seeking to discover for yourselves. Three days ago the person of whom I +speak disappeared suddenly from home; and, until this morning, I received no +hint of his situation. You will fancy my alarm when I tell you that he is +engaged upon a work of private justice. Bound by an unhappy oath, too lightly +sworn, he finds it necessary, without the help of law, to rid the earth of an +insidious and bloody villain. Already two of our friends, and one of them my +own born brother, have perished in the enterprise. He himself, or I am much +deceived, is taken in the same fatal toils. But at least he still lives and +still hopes, as this billet sufficiently proves.” +</p> + +<p> +And the speaker, no other than Colonel Geraldine, proffered a letter, thus +conceived:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“<span class="smcap">Major Hammersmith</span>,—On Wednesday, at 3 +<span class="GutSmall">A.M.</span>, you will be admitted by the small door to +the gardens of Rochester House, Regent’s Park, by a man who is entirely +in my interest. I must request you not to fail me by a second. Pray bring my +case of swords, and, if you can find them, one or two gentlemen of conduct and +discretion to whom my person is unknown. My name must not be used in this +affair. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +T. <span class="smcap">Godall</span>.” +</p> + +<p> +“From his wisdom alone, if he had no other title,” pursued Colonel +Geraldine, when the others had each satisfied his curiosity, “my friend +is a man whose directions should implicitly be followed. I need not tell you, +therefore, that I have not so much as visited the neighbourhood of Rochester +House; and that I am still as wholly in the dark as either of yourselves as to +the nature of my friend’s dilemma. I betook myself, as soon as I had +received this order, to a furnishing contractor, and, in a few hours, the house +in which we now are had assumed its late air of festival. My scheme was at +least original; and I am far from regretting an action which has procured me +the services of Major O’Rooke and Lieutenant Brackenbury Rich. But the +servants in the street will have a strange awakening. The house which this +evening was full of lights and visitors they will find uninhabited and for sale +to-morrow morning. Thus even the most serious concerns,” added the +Colonel, “have a merry side.” +</p> + +<p> +“And let us add a merry ending,” said Brackenbury. +</p> + +<p> +The Colonel consulted his watch. +</p> + +<p> +“It is now hard on two,” he said. “We have an hour before us, +and a swift cab is at the door. Tell me if I may count upon your help.” +</p> + +<p> +“During a long life,” replied Major O’Rooke, “I never +took back my hand from anything, nor so much as hedged a bet.” +</p> + +<p> +Brackenbury signified his readiness in the most becoming terms; and after they +had drunk a glass or two of wine, the Colonel gave each of them a loaded +revolver, and the three mounted into the cab and drove off for the address in +question. +</p> + +<p> +Rochester House was a magnificent residence on the banks of the canal. The +large extent of the garden isolated it in an unusual degree from the annoyances +of neighbourhood. It seemed the <i>parc aux cerfs</i> of some great nobleman or +millionaire. As far as could be seen from the street, there was not a glimmer +of light in any of the numerous windows of the mansion; and the place had a +look of neglect, as though the master had been long from home. +</p> + +<p> +The cab was discharged, and the three gentlemen were not long in discovering +the small door, which was a sort of postern in a lane between two garden walls. +It still wanted ten or fifteen minutes of the appointed time; the rain fell +heavily, and the adventurers sheltered themselves below some pendant ivy, and +spoke in low tones of the approaching trial. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Geraldine raised his finger to command silence, and all three bent +their hearing to the utmost. Through the continuous noise of the rain, the +steps and voices of two men became audible from the other side of the wall; +and, as they drew nearer, Brackenbury, whose sense of hearing was remarkably +acute, could even distinguish some fragments of their talk. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the grave dug?” asked one. +</p> + +<p> +“It is,” replied the other; “behind the laurel hedge. When +the job is done, we can cover it with a pile of stakes.” +</p> + +<p> +The first speaker laughed, and the sound of his merriment was shocking to the +listeners on the other side. +</p> + +<p> +“In an hour from now,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +And by the sound of the steps it was obvious that the pair had separated, and +were proceeding in contrary directions. +</p> + +<p> +Almost immediately after the postern door was cautiously opened, a white face +was protruded into the lane, and a hand was seen beckoning to the watchers. In +dead silence the three passed the door, which was immediately locked behind +them, and followed their guide through several garden alleys to the kitchen +entrance of the house. A single candle burned in the great paved kitchen, which +was destitute of the customary furniture; and as the party proceeded to ascend +from thence by a flight of winding stairs, a prodigious noise of rats testified +still more plainly to the dilapidation of the house. +</p> + +<p> +Their conductor preceded them, carrying the candle. He was a lean man, much +bent, but still agile; and he turned from time to time and admonished silence +and caution by his gestures. Colonel Geraldine followed on his heels, the case +of swords under one arm, and a pistol ready in the other. Brackenbury’s +heart beat thickly. He perceived that they were still in time; but he judged +from the alacrity of the old man that the hour of action must be near at hand; +and the circumstances of this adventure were so obscure and menacing, the place +seemed so well chosen for the darkest acts, that an older man than Brackenbury +might have been pardoned a measure of emotion as he closed the procession up +the winding stair. +</p> + +<p> +At the top the guide threw open a door and ushered the three officers before +him into a small apartment, lighted by a smoky lamp and the glow of a modest +fire. At the chimney corner sat a man in the early prime of life, and of a +stout but courtly and commanding appearance. His attitude and expression were +those of the most unmoved composure; he was smoking a cheroot with much +enjoyment and deliberation, and on a table by his elbow stood a long glass of +some effervescing beverage which diffused an agreeable odour through the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Welcome,” said he, extending his hand to Colonel Geraldine. +“I knew I might count on your exactitude.” +</p> + +<p> +“On my devotion,” replied the Colonel, with a bow. +</p> + +<p> +“Present me to your friends,” continued the first; and, when that +ceremony had been performed, “I wish, gentlemen,” he added, with +the most exquisite affability, “that I could offer you a more cheerful +programme; it is ungracious to inaugurate an acquaintance upon serious affairs; +but the compulsion of events is stronger than the obligations of +good-fellowship. I hope and believe you will be able to forgive me this +unpleasant evening; and for men of your stamp it will be enough to know that +you are conferring a considerable favour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness,” said the Major, “must pardon my bluntness. I +am unable to hide what I know. For some time back I have suspected Major +Hammersmith, but Mr. Godall is unmistakable. To seek two men in London +unacquainted with Prince Florizel of Bohemia was to ask too much at +Fortune’s hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Prince Florizel!” cried Brackenbury in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +And he gazed with the deepest interest on the features of the celebrated +personage before him. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not lament the loss of my incognito,” remarked the Prince, +“for it enables me to thank you with the more authority. You would have +done as much for Mr. Godall, I feel sure, as for the Prince of Bohemia; but the +latter can perhaps do more for you. The gain is mine,” he added, with a +courteous gesture. +</p> + +<p> +And the next moment he was conversing with the two officers about the Indian +army and the native troops, a subject on which, as on all others, he had a +remarkable fund of information and the soundest views. +</p> + +<p> +There was something so striking in this man’s attitude at a moment of +deadly peril that Brackenbury was overcome with respectful admiration; nor was +he less sensible to the charm of his conversation or the surprising amenity of +his address. Every gesture, every intonation, was not only noble in itself, but +seemed to ennoble the fortunate mortal for whom it was intended; and +Brackenbury confessed to himself with enthusiasm that this was a sovereign for +whom a brave man might thankfully lay down his life. +</p> + +<p> +Many minutes had thus passed, when the person who had introduced them into the +house, and who had sat ever since in a corner, and with his watch in his hand, +arose and whispered a word into the Prince’s ear. +</p> + +<p> +“It is well, Dr. Noel,” replied Florizel, aloud; and then +addressing the others, “You will excuse me, gentlemen,” he added, +“if I have to leave you in the dark. The moment now approaches.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Noel extinguished the lamp. A faint, grey light, premonitory of the dawn, +illuminated the window, but was not sufficient to illuminate the room; and when +the Prince rose to his feet, it was impossible to distinguish his features or +to make a guess at the nature of the emotion which obviously affected him as he +spoke. He moved towards the door, and placed himself at one side of it in an +attitude of the wariest attention. +</p> + +<p> +“You will have the kindness,” he said, “to maintain the +strictest silence, and to conceal yourselves in the densest of the +shadow.” +</p> + +<p> +The three officers and the physician hastened to obey, and for nearly ten +minutes the only sound in Rochester House was occasioned by the excursions of +the rats behind the woodwork. At the end of that period, a loud creak of a +hinge broke in with surprising distinctness on the silence; and shortly after, +the watchers could distinguish a slow and cautious tread approaching up the +kitchen stair. At every second step the intruder seemed to pause and lend an +ear, and during these intervals, which seemed of an incalculable duration, a +profound disquiet possessed the spirit of the listeners. Dr. Noel, accustomed +as he was to dangerous emotions, suffered an almost pitiful physical +prostration; his breath whistled in his lungs, his teeth grated one upon +another, and his joints cracked aloud as he nervously shifted his position. +</p> + +<p> +At last a hand was laid upon the door, and the bolt shot back with a slight +report. There followed another pause, during which Brackenbury could see the +Prince draw himself together noiselessly as if for some unusual exertion. Then +the door opened, letting in a little more of the light of the morning; and the +figure of a man appeared upon the threshold and stood motionless. He was tall, +and carried a knife in his hand. Even in the twilight they could see his upper +teeth bare and glistening, for his mouth was open like that of a hound about to +leap. The man had evidently been over the head in water but a minute or two +before; and even while he stood there the drops kept falling from his wet +clothes and pattered on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +The next moment he crossed the threshold. There was a leap, a stifled cry, an +instantaneous struggle; and before Colonel Geraldine could spring to his aid, +the Prince held the man disarmed and helpless, by the shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Noel,” he said, “you will be so good as to re-light the +lamp.” +</p> + +<p> +And relinquishing the charge of his prisoner to Geraldine and Brackenbury, he +crossed the room and set his back against the chimney-piece. As soon as the +lamp had kindled, the party beheld an unaccustomed sternness on the +Prince’s features. It was no longer Florizel, the careless gentleman; it +was the Prince of Bohemia, justly incensed and full of deadly purpose, who now +raised his head and addressed the captive President of the Suicide Club. +</p> + +<p> +“President,” he said, “you have laid your last snare, and +your own feet are taken in it. The day is beginning; it is your last morning. +You have just swum the Regent’s Canal; it is your last bathe in this +world. Your old accomplice, Dr. Noel, so far from betraying me, has delivered +you into my hands for judgment. And the grave you had dug for me this afternoon +shall serve, in God’s almighty providence, to hide your own just doom +from the curiosity of mankind. Kneel and pray, sir, if you have a mind that +way; for your time is short, and God is weary of your iniquities.” +</p> + +<p> +The President made no answer either by word or sign; but continued to hang his +head and gaze sullenly on the floor, as though he were conscious of the +Prince’s prolonged and unsparing regard. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” continued Florizel, resuming the ordinary tone of his +conversation, “this is a fellow who has long eluded me, but whom, thanks +to Dr. Noel, I now have tightly by the heels. To tell the story of his misdeeds +would occupy more time than we can now afford; but if the canal had contained +nothing but the blood of his victims, I believe the wretch would have been no +drier than you see him. Even in an affair of this sort I desire to preserve the +forms of honour. But I make you the judges, gentlemen—this is more an +execution than a duel and to give the rogue his choice of weapons would be to +push too far a point of etiquette. I cannot afford to lose my life in such a +business,” he continued, unlocking the case of swords; “and as a +pistol-bullet travels so often on the wings of chance, and skill and courage +may fall by the most trembling marksman, I have decided, and I feel sure you +will approve my determination, to put this question to the touch of +swords.” +</p> + +<p> +When Brackenbury and Major O’Rooke, to whom these remarks were +particularly addressed, had each intimated his approval, “Quick, +sir,” added Prince Florizel to the President, “choose a blade and +do not keep me waiting; I have an impatience to be done with you for +ever.” +</p> + +<p> +For the first time since he was captured and disarmed the President raised his +head, and it was plain that he began instantly to pluck up courage. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it to be stand up?” he asked eagerly, “and between you +and me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean so far to honour you,” replied the Prince. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come!” cried the President. “With a fair field, who +knows how things may happen? I must add that I consider it handsome behaviour +on your Highness’s part; and if the worst comes to the worst I shall die +by one of the most gallant gentlemen in Europe.” +</p> + +<p> +And the President, liberated by those who had detained him, stepped up to the +table and began, with minute attention, to select a sword. He was highly +elated, and seemed to feel no doubt that he should issue victorious from the +contest. The spectators grew alarmed in the face of so entire a confidence, and +adjured Prince Florizel to reconsider his intention. +</p> + +<p> +“It is but a farce,” he answered; “and I think I can promise +you, gentlemen, that it will not be long a-playing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness will be careful not to over-reach,” said Colonel +Geraldine. +</p> + +<p> +“Geraldine,” returned the Prince, “did you ever know me fail +in a debt of honour? I owe you this man’s death, and you shall have +it.” +</p> + +<p> +The President at last satisfied himself with one of the rapiers, and signified +his readiness by a gesture that was not devoid of a rude nobility. The nearness +of peril, and the sense of courage, even to this obnoxious villain, lent an air +of manhood and a certain grace. +</p> + +<p> +The Prince helped himself at random to a sword. +</p> + +<p> +“Colonel Geraldine and Doctor Noel,” he said, “will have the +goodness to await me in this room. I wish no personal friend of mine to be +involved in this transaction. Major O’Rooke, you are a man of some years +and a settled reputation—let me recommend the President to your good +graces. Lieutenant Rich will be so good as lend me his attentions: a young man +cannot have too much experience in such affairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness,” replied Brackenbury, “it is an honour I +shall prize extremely.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is well,” returned Prince Florizel; “I shall hope to +stand your friend in more important circumstances.” +</p> + +<p> +And so saying he led the way out of the apartment and down the kitchen stairs. +</p> + +<p> +The two men who were thus left alone threw open the window and leaned out, +straining every sense to catch an indication of the tragical events that were +about to follow. The rain was now over; day had almost come, and the birds were +piping in the shrubbery and on the forest trees of the garden. The Prince and +his companions were visible for a moment as they followed an alley between two +flowering thickets; but at the first corner a clump of foliage intervened, and +they were again concealed from view. This was all that the Colonel and the +Physician had an opportunity to see, and the garden was so vast, and the place +of combat evidently so remote from the house, that not even the noise of +sword-play reached their ears. +</p> + +<p> +“He has taken him towards the grave,” said Dr. Noel, with a +shudder. +</p> + +<p> +“God,” cried the Colonel, “God defend the right!” +</p> + +<p> +And they awaited the event in silence, the Doctor shaking with fear, the +Colonel in an agony of sweat. Many minutes must have elapsed, the day was +sensibly broader, and the birds were singing more heartily in the garden before +a sound of returning footsteps recalled their glances towards the door. It was +the Prince and the two Indian officers who entered. God had defended the right. +</p> + +<p> +“I am ashamed of my emotion,” said Prince Florizel; “I feel +it is a weakness unworthy of my station, but the continued existence of that +hound of hell had begun to prey upon me like a disease, and his death has more +refreshed me than a night of slumber. Look, Geraldine,” he continued, +throwing his sword upon the floor, “there is the blood of the man who +killed your brother. It should be a welcome sight. And yet,” he added, +“see how strangely we men are made! my revenge is not yet five minutes +old, and already I am beginning to ask myself if even revenge be attainable on +this precarious stage of life. The ill he did, who can undo it? The career in +which he amassed a huge fortune (for the house itself in which we stand +belonged to him)—that career is now a part of the destiny of mankind for +ever; and I might weary myself making thrusts in carte until the crack of +judgment, and Geraldine’s brother would be none the less dead, and a +thousand other innocent persons would be none the less dishonoured and +debauched! The existence of a man is so small a thing to take, so mighty a +thing to employ! Alas!” he cried, “is there anything in life so +disenchanting as attainment?” +</p> + +<p> +“God’s justice has been done,” replied the Doctor. “So +much I behold. The lesson, your Highness, has been a cruel one for me; and I +await my own turn with deadly apprehension.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was I saying?” cried the Prince. “I have punished, and +here is the man beside us who can help me to undo. Ah, Dr. Noel! you and I have +before us many a day of hard and honourable toil; and perhaps, before we have +none, you may have more than redeemed your early errors.” +</p> + +<p> +“And in the meantime,” said the Doctor, “let me go and bury +my oldest friend.” +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p> +(<i>And this</i>, observes the erudite Arabian, <i>is the fortunate conclusion +of the tale</i>. <i>The Prince</i>, <i>it is superfluous to mention</i>, +<i>forgot none of those who served him in this great exploit</i>; <i>and to +this day his authority and influence help them forward in their public +career</i>, <i>while his condescending friendship adds a charm to their private +life</i>. <i>To collect</i>, continues my author, <i>all the strange events in +which this Prince has played the part of Providence were to fill the habitable +globe with books</i>. <i>But the stories which relate to the fortunes of</i> +<span class="smcap">The Rajah’s Diamond</span> <i>are of too entertaining +a description</i>, says he, <i>to be omitted</i>. <i>Following prudently in the +footsteps of this Oriental</i>, <i>we shall now begin the series to which he +refers with the</i> <span class="smcap">Story of the Bandbox</span>.) +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>THE RAJAH’S DIAMOND</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap06"></a>STORY OF THE BANDBOX</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Up</span> to the age of sixteen, at a private school and +afterwards at one of those great institutions for which England is justly +famous, Mr. Harry Hartley had received the ordinary education of a gentleman. +At that period, he manifested a remarkable distaste for study; and his only +surviving parent being both weak and ignorant, he was permitted thenceforward +to spend his time in the attainment of petty and purely elegant +accomplishments. Two years later, he was left an orphan and almost a beggar. +For all active and industrious pursuits, Harry was unfitted alike by nature and +training. He could sing romantic ditties, and accompany himself with discretion +on the piano; he was a graceful although a timid cavalier; he had a pronounced +taste for chess; and nature had sent him into the world with one of the most +engaging exteriors that can well be fancied. Blond and pink, with dove’s +eyes and a gentle smile, he had an air of agreeable tenderness and melancholy, +and the most submissive and caressing manners. But when all is said, he was not +the man to lead armaments of war, or direct the councils of a State. +</p> + +<p> +A fortunate chance and some influence obtained for Harry, at the time of his +bereavement, the position of private secretary to Major-General Sir Thomas +Vandeleur, C.B. Sir Thomas was a man of sixty, loud-spoken, boisterous, and +domineering. For some reason, some service the nature of which had been often +whispered and repeatedly denied, the Rajah of Kashgar had presented this +officer with the sixth known diamond of the world. The gift transformed General +Vandeleur from a poor into a wealthy man, from an obscure and unpopular soldier +into one of the lions of London society; the possessor of the Rajah’s +Diamond was welcome in the most exclusive circles; and he had found a lady, +young, beautiful, and well-born, who was willing to call the diamond hers even +at the price of marriage with Sir Thomas Vandeleur. It was commonly said at the +time that, as like draws to like, one jewel had attracted another; certainly +Lady Vandeleur was not only a gem of the finest water in her own person, but +she showed herself to the world in a very costly setting; and she was +considered by many respectable authorities, as one among the three or four best +dressed women in England. +</p> + +<p> +Harry’s duty as secretary was not particularly onerous; but he had a +dislike for all prolonged work; it gave him pain to ink his fingers; and the +charms of Lady Vandeleur and her toilettes drew him often from the library to +the boudoir. He had the prettiest ways among women, could talk fashions with +enjoyment, and was never more happy than when criticising a shade of ribbon, or +running on an errand to the milliner’s. In short, Sir Thomas’s +correspondence fell into pitiful arrears, and my Lady had another lady’s +maid. +</p> + +<p> +At last the General, who was one of the least patient of military commanders, +arose from his place in a violent access of passion, and indicated to his +secretary that he had no further need for his services, with one of those +explanatory gestures which are most rarely employed between gentlemen. The door +being unfortunately open, Mr. Hartley fell downstairs head foremost. +</p> + +<p> +He arose somewhat hurt and very deeply aggrieved. The life in the +General’s house precisely suited him; he moved, on a more or less +doubtful footing, in very genteel company, he did little, he ate of the best, +and he had a lukewarm satisfaction in the presence of Lady Vandeleur, which, in +his own heart, he dubbed by a more emphatic name. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately after he had been outraged by the military foot, he hurried to the +boudoir and recounted his sorrows. +</p> + +<p> +“You know very well, my dear Harry,” replied Lady Vandeleur, for +she called him by name like a child or a domestic servant, “that you +never by any chance do what the General tells you. No more do I, you may say. +But that is different. A woman can earn her pardon for a good year of +disobedience by a single adroit submission; and, besides, no one is married to +his private secretary. I shall be sorry to lose you; but since you cannot stay +longer in a house where you have been insulted, I shall wish you good-bye, and +I promise you to make the General smart for his behaviour.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry’s countenance fell; tears came into his eyes, and he gazed on Lady +Vandeleur with a tender reproach. +</p> + +<p> +“My Lady,” said he, “what is an insult? I should think little +indeed of any one who could not forgive them by the score. But to leave +one’s friends; to tear up the bonds of affection—” +</p> + +<p> +He was unable to continue, for his emotion choked him, and he began to weep. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Vandeleur looked at him with a curious expression. “This little +fool,” she thought, “imagines himself to be in love with me. Why +should he not become my servant instead of the General’s? He is +good-natured, obliging, and understands dress; and besides it will keep him out +of mischief. He is positively too pretty to be unattached.” That night +she talked over the General, who was already somewhat ashamed of his vivacity; +and Harry was transferred to the feminine department, where his life was little +short of heavenly. He was always dressed with uncommon nicety, wore delicate +flowers in his button-hole, and could entertain a visitor with tact and +pleasantry. He took a pride in servility to a beautiful woman; received Lady +Vandeleur’s commands as so many marks of favour; and was pleased to +exhibit himself before other men, who derided and despised him, in his +character of male lady’s-maid and man milliner. Nor could he think enough +of his existence from a moral point of view. Wickedness seemed to him an +essentially male attribute, and to pass one’s days with a delicate woman, +and principally occupied about trimmings, was to inhabit an enchanted isle +among the storms of life. +</p> + +<p> +One fine morning he came into the drawing-room and began to arrange some music +on the top of the piano. Lady Vandeleur, at the other end of the apartment, was +speaking somewhat eagerly with her brother, Charlie Pendragon, an elderly young +man, much broken with dissipation, and very lame of one foot. The private +secretary, to whose entrance they paid no regard, could not avoid overhearing a +part of their conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“To-day or never,” said the lady. “Once and for all, it shall +be done to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“To-day, if it must be,” replied the brother, with a sigh. +“But it is a false step, a ruinous step, Clara; and we shall live to +repent it dismally.” +</p> + +<p> +Lady Vandeleur looked her brother steadily and somewhat strangely in the face. +</p> + +<p> +“You forget,” she said; “the man must die at last.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my word, Clara,” said Pendragon, “I believe you are the +most heartless rascal in England.” +</p> + +<p> +“You men,” she returned, “are so coarsely built, that you can +never appreciate a shade of meaning. You are yourselves rapacious, violent, +immodest, careless of distinction; and yet the least thought for the future +shocks you in a woman. I have no patience with such stuff. You would despise in +a common banker the imbecility that you expect to find in us.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very likely right,” replied her brother; “you were +always cleverer than I. And, anyway, you know my motto: The family before +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Charlie,” she returned, taking his hand in hers, “I +know your motto better than you know it yourself. ‘And Clara before the +family!’ Is not that the second part of it? Indeed, you are the best of +brothers, and I love you dearly.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Pendragon got up, looking a little confused by these family endearments. +</p> + +<p> +“I had better not be seen,” said he. “I understand my part to +a miracle, and I’ll keep an eye on the Tame Cat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do,” she replied. “He is an abject creature, and might ruin +all.” +</p> + +<p> +She kissed the tips of her fingers to him daintily; and the brother withdrew by +the boudoir and the back stair. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry,” said Lady Vandeleur, turning towards the secretary as soon +as they were alone, “I have a commission for you this morning. But you +shall take a cab; I cannot have my secretary freckled.” +</p> + +<p> +She spoke the last words with emphasis and a look of half-motherly pride that +caused great contentment to poor Harry; and he professed himself charmed to +find an opportunity of serving her. +</p> + +<p> +“It is another of our great secrets,” she went on archly, +“and no one must know of it but my secretary and me. Sir Thomas would +make the saddest disturbance; and if you only knew how weary I am of these +scenes! Oh, Harry, Harry, can you explain to me what makes you men so violent +and unjust? But, indeed, I know you cannot; you are the only man in the world +who knows nothing of these shameful passions; you are so good, Harry, and so +kind; you, at least, can be a woman’s friend; and, do you know? I think +you make the others more ugly by comparison.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is you,” said Harry gallantly, “who are so kind to me. +You treat me like—” +</p> + +<p> +“Like a mother,” interposed Lady Vandeleur; “I try to be a +mother to you. Or, at least,” she corrected herself with a smile, +“almost a mother. I am afraid I am too young to be your mother really. +Let us say a friend—a dear friend.” +</p> + +<p> +She paused long enough to let her words take effect in Harry’s +sentimental quarters, but not long enough to allow him a reply. +</p> + +<p> +“But all this is beside our purpose,” she resumed. “You will +find a bandbox in the left-hand side of the oak wardrobe; it is underneath the +pink slip that I wore on Wednesday with my Mechlin. You will take it +immediately to this address,” and she gave him a paper, “but do +not, on any account, let it out of your hands until you have received a receipt +written by myself. Do you understand? Answer, if you please—answer! This +is extremely important, and I must ask you to pay some attention.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry pacified her by repeating her instructions perfectly; and she was just +going to tell him more when General Vandeleur flung into the apartment, scarlet +with anger, and holding a long and elaborate milliner’s bill in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you look at this, madam?” cried he. “Will you have the +goodness to look at this document? I know well enough you married me for my +money, and I hope I can make as great allowances as any other man in the +service; but, as sure as God made me, I mean to put a period to this +disreputable prodigality.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Hartley,” said Lady Vandeleur, “I think you understand +what you have to do. May I ask you to see to it at once?” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop,” said the General, addressing Harry, “one word before +you go.” And then, turning again to Lady Vandeleur, “What is this +precious fellow’s errand?” he demanded. “I trust him no +further than I do yourself, let me tell you. If he had as much as the rudiments +of honesty, he would scorn to stay in this house; and what he does for his +wages is a mystery to all the world. What is his errand, madam? and why are you +hurrying him away?” +</p> + +<p> +“I supposed you had something to say to me in private,” replied the +lady. +</p> + +<p> +“You spoke about an errand,” insisted the General. “Do not +attempt to deceive me in my present state of temper. You certainly spoke about +an errand.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you insist on making your servants privy to our humiliating +dissensions,” replied Lady Vandeleur, “perhaps I had better ask Mr. +Hartley to sit down. No?” she continued; “then you may go, Mr. +Hartley. I trust you may remember all that you have heard in this room; it may +be useful to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry at once made his escape from the drawing-room; and as he ran upstairs he +could hear the General’s voice upraised in declamation, and the thin +tones of Lady Vandeleur planting icy repartees at every opening. How cordially +he admired the wife! How skilfully she could evade an awkward question! with +what secure effrontery she repeated her instructions under the very guns of the +enemy! and on the other hand, how he detested the husband! +</p> + +<p> +There had been nothing unfamiliar in the morning’s events, for he was +continually in the habit of serving Lady Vandeleur on secret missions, +principally connected with millinery. There was a skeleton in the house, as he +well knew. The bottomless extravagance and the unknown liabilities of the wife +had long since swallowed her own fortune, and threatened day by day to engulph +that of the husband. Once or twice in every year exposure and ruin seemed +imminent, and Harry kept trotting round to all sorts of furnishers’ +shops, telling small fibs, and paying small advances on the gross amount, until +another term was tided over, and the lady and her faithful secretary breathed +again. For Harry, in a double capacity, was heart and soul upon that side of +the war: not only did he adore Lady Vandeleur and fear and dislike her husband, +but he naturally sympathised with the love of finery, and his own single +extravagance was at the tailor’s. +</p> + +<p> +He found the bandbox where it had been described, arranged his toilette with +care, and left the house. The sun shone brightly; the distance he had to travel +was considerable, and he remembered with dismay that the General’s sudden +irruption had prevented Lady Vandeleur from giving him money for a cab. On this +sultry day there was every chance that his complexion would suffer severely; +and to walk through so much of London with a bandbox on his arm was a +humiliation almost insupportable to a youth of his character. He paused, and +took counsel with himself. The Vandeleurs lived in Eaton Place; his destination +was near Notting Hill; plainly, he might cross the Park by keeping well in the +open and avoiding populous alleys; and he thanked his stars when he reflected +that it was still comparatively early in the day. +</p> + +<p> +Anxious to be rid of his incubus, he walked somewhat faster than his ordinary, +and he was already some way through Kensington Gardens when, in a solitary spot +among trees, he found himself confronted by the General. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, Sir Thomas,” observed Harry, politely falling +on one side; for the other stood directly in his path. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going, sir?” asked the General. +</p> + +<p> +“I am taking a little walk among the trees,” replied the lad. +</p> + +<p> +The General struck the bandbox with his cane. +</p> + +<p> +“With that thing?” he cried; “you lie, sir, and you know you +lie!” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, Sir Thomas,” returned Harry, “I am not accustomed to +be questioned in so high a key.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not understand your position,” said the General. “You +are my servant, and a servant of whom I have conceived the most serious +suspicions. How do I know but that your box is full of teaspoons?” +</p> + +<p> +“It contains a silk hat belonging to a friend,” said Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” replied General Vandeleur. “Then I want to see +your friend’s silk hat. I have,” he added grimly, “a singular +curiosity for hats; and I believe you know me to be somewhat positive.” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, Sir Thomas, I am exceedingly grieved,” Harry +apologised; “but indeed this is a private affair.” +</p> + +<p> +The General caught him roughly by the shoulder with one hand, while he raised +his cane in the most menacing manner with the other. Harry gave himself up for +lost; but at the same moment Heaven vouchsafed him an unexpected defender in +the person of Charlie Pendragon, who now strode forward from behind the trees. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, General, hold your hand,” said he, “this is +neither courteous nor manly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aha!” cried the General, wheeling round upon his new antagonist, +“Mr. Pendragon! And do you suppose, Mr. Pendragon, that because I have +had the misfortune to marry your sister, I shall suffer myself to be dogged and +thwarted by a discredited and bankrupt libertine like you? My acquaintance with +Lady Vandeleur, sir, has taken away all my appetite for the other members of +her family.” +</p> + +<p> +“And do you fancy, General Vandeleur,” retorted Charlie, +“that because my sister has had the misfortune to marry you, she there +and then forfeited her rights and privileges as a lady? I own, sir, that by +that action she did as much as anybody could to derogate from her position; but +to me she is still a Pendragon. I make it my business to protect her from +ungentlemanly outrage, and if you were ten times her husband I would not permit +her liberty to be restrained, nor her private messengers to be violently +arrested.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is that, Mr. Hartley?” interrogated the General. “Mr. +Pendragon is of my opinion, it appears. He too suspects that Lady Vandeleur has +something to do with your friend’s silk hat.” +</p> + +<p> +Charlie saw that he had committed an unpardonable blunder, which he hastened to +repair. +</p> + +<p> +“How, sir?” he cried; “I suspect, do you say? I suspect +nothing. Only where I find strength abused and a man brutalising his inferiors, +I take the liberty to interfere.” +</p> + +<p> +As he said these words he made a sign to Harry, which the latter was too dull +or too much troubled to understand. +</p> + +<p> +“In what way am I to construe your attitude, sir?” demanded +Vandeleur. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, sir, as you please,” returned Pendragon. +</p> + +<p> +The General once more raised his cane, and made a cut for Charlie’s head; +but the latter, lame foot and all, evaded the blow with his umbrella, ran in, +and immediately closed with his formidable adversary. +</p> + +<p> +“Run, Harry, run!” he cried; “run, you dolt!” +</p> + +<p> +Harry stood petrified for a moment, watching the two men sway together in this +fierce embrace; then he turned and took to his heels. When he cast a glance +over his shoulder he saw the General prostrate under Charlie’s knee, but +still making desperate efforts to reverse the situation; and the Gardens seemed +to have filled with people, who were running from all directions towards the +scene of fight. This spectacle lent the secretary wings; and he did not relax +his pace until he had gained the Bayswater road, and plunged at random into an +unfrequented by-street. +</p> + +<p> +To see two gentlemen of his acquaintance thus brutally mauling each other was +deeply shocking to Harry. He desired to forget the sight; he desired, above +all, to put as great a distance as possible between himself and General +Vandeleur; and in his eagerness for this he forgot everything about his +destination, and hurried before him headlong and trembling. When he remembered +that Lady Vandeleur was the wife of one and the sister of the other of these +gladiators, his heart was touched with sympathy for a woman so distressingly +misplaced in life. Even his own situation in the General’s household +looked hardly so pleasing as usual in the light of these violent transactions. +</p> + +<p> +He had walked some little distance, busied with these meditations, before a +slight collision with another passenger reminded him of the bandbox on his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens!” cried he, “where was my head? and whither have I +wandered?” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon he consulted the envelope which Lady Vandeleur had given him. The +address was there, but without a name. Harry was simply directed to ask for +“the gentleman who expected a parcel from Lady Vandeleur,” and if +he were not at home to await his return. The gentleman, added the note, should +present a receipt in the handwriting of the lady herself. All this seemed +mightily mysterious, and Harry was above all astonished at the omission of the +name and the formality of the receipt. He had thought little of this last when +he heard it dropped in conversation; but reading it in cold blood, and taking +it in connection with the other strange particulars, he became convinced that +he was engaged in perilous affairs. For half a moment he had a doubt of Lady +Vandeleur herself; for he found these obscure proceedings somewhat unworthy of +so high a lady, and became more critical when her secrets were preserved +against himself. But her empire over his spirit was too complete, he dismissed +his suspicions, and blamed himself roundly for having so much as entertained +them. +</p> + +<p> +In one thing, however, his duty and interest, his generosity and his terrors, +coincided—to get rid of the bandbox with the greatest possible despatch. +</p> + +<p> +He accosted the first policeman and courteously inquired his way. It turned out +that he was already not far from his destination, and a walk of a few minutes +brought him to a small house in a lane, freshly painted, and kept with the most +scrupulous attention. The knocker and bell-pull were highly polished; flowering +pot-herbs garnished the sills of the different windows; and curtains of some +rich material concealed the interior from the eyes of curious passengers. The +place had an air of repose and secrecy; and Harry was so far caught with this +spirit that he knocked with more than usual discretion, and was more than +usually careful to remove all impurity from his boots. +</p> + +<p> +A servant-maid of some personal attractions immediately opened the door, and +seemed to regard the secretary with no unkind eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the parcel from Lady Vandeleur,” said Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” replied the maid, with a nod. “But the gentleman is +from home. Will you leave it with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot,” answered Harry. “I am directed not to part with +it but upon a certain condition, and I must ask you, I am afraid, to let me +wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said she, “I suppose I may let you wait. I am lonely +enough, I can tell you, and you do not look as though you would eat a girl. But +be sure and do not ask the gentleman’s name, for that I am not to tell +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you say so?” cried Harry. “Why, how strange! But indeed +for some time back I walk among surprises. One question I think I may surely +ask without indiscretion: Is he the master of this house?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is a lodger, and not eight days old at that,” returned the +maid. “And now a question for a question: Do you know lady +Vandeleur?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am her private secretary,” replied Harry with a glow of modest +pride. +</p> + +<p> +“She is pretty, is she not?” pursued the servant. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, beautiful!” cried Harry; “wonderfully lovely, and not +less good and kind!” +</p> + +<p> +“You look kind enough yourself,” she retorted; “and I wager +you are worth a dozen Lady Vandeleurs.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry was properly scandalised. +</p> + +<p> +“I!” he cried. “I am only a secretary!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean that for me?” said the girl. “Because I am only +a housemaid, if you please.” And then, relenting at the sight of +Harry’s obvious confusion, “I know you mean nothing of the +sort,” she added; “and I like your looks; but I think nothing of +your Lady Vandeleur. Oh, these mistresses!” she cried. “To send out +a real gentleman like you—with a bandbox—in broad day!” +</p> + +<p> +During this talk they had remained in their original positions—she on the +doorstep, he on the side-walk, bareheaded for the sake of coolness, and with +the bandbox on his arm. But upon this last speech Harry, who was unable to +support such point-blank compliments to his appearance, nor the encouraging +look with which they were accompanied, began to change his attitude, and glance +from left to right in perturbation. In so doing he turned his face towards the +lower end of the lane, and there, to his indescribable dismay, his eyes +encountered those of General Vandeleur. The General, in a prodigious fluster of +heat, hurry, and indignation, had been scouring the streets in chase of his +brother-in-law; but so soon as he caught a glimpse of the delinquent secretary, +his purpose changed, his anger flowed into a new channel, and he turned on his +heel and came tearing up the lane with truculent gestures and vociferations. +</p> + +<p> +Harry made but one bolt of it into the house, driving the maid before him; and +the door was slammed in his pursuer’s countenance. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there a bar? Will it lock?” asked Harry, while a salvo on the +knocker made the house echo from wall to wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what is wrong with you?” asked the maid. “Is it this +old gentleman?” +</p> + +<p> +“If he gets hold of me,” whispered Harry, “I am as good as +dead. He has been pursuing me all day, carries a sword-stick, and is an Indian +military officer.” +</p> + +<p> +“These are fine manners,” cried the maid. “And what, if you +please, may be his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the General, my master,” answered Harry. “He is after +this bandbox.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did not I tell you?” cried the maid in triumph. “I told you +I thought worse than nothing of your Lady Vandeleur; and if you had an eye in +your head you might see what she is for yourself. An ungrateful minx, I will be +bound for that!” +</p> + +<p> +The General renewed his attack upon the knocker, and his passion growing with +delay, began to kick and beat upon the panels of the door. +</p> + +<p> +“It is lucky,” observed the girl, “that I am alone in the +house; your General may hammer until he is weary, and there is none to open for +him. Follow me!” +</p> + +<p> +So saying she led Harry into the kitchen, where she made him sit down, and +stood by him herself in an affectionate attitude, with a hand upon his +shoulder. The din at the door, so far from abating, continued to increase in +volume, and at each blow the unhappy secretary was shaken to the heart. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your name?” asked the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry Hartley,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Mine,” she went on, “is Prudence. Do you like it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very much,” said Harry. “But hear for a moment how the +General beats upon the door. He will certainly break it in, and then, in +heaven’s name, what have I to look for but death?” +</p> + +<p> +“You put yourself very much about with no occasion,” answered +Prudence. “Let your General knock, he will do no more than blister his +hands. Do you think I would keep you here if I were not sure to save you? Oh, +no, I am a good friend to those that please me! and we have a back door upon +another lane. But,” she added, checking him, for he had got upon his feet +immediately on this welcome news, “but I will not show where it is unless +you kiss me. Will you, Harry?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I will,” he cried, remembering his gallantry, “not for +your back door, but because you are good and pretty.” +</p> + +<p> +And he administered two or three cordial salutes, which were returned to him in +kind. +</p> + +<p> +Then Prudence led him to the back gate, and put her hand upon the key. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you come and see me?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I will indeed,” said Harry. “Do not I owe you my +life?” +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” she added, opening the door, “run as hard as you +can, for I shall let in the General.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry scarcely required this advice; fear had him by the forelock; and he +addressed himself diligently to flight. A few steps, and he believed he would +escape from his trials, and return to Lady Vandeleur in honour and safety. But +these few steps had not been taken before he heard a man’s voice hailing +him by name with many execrations, and, looking over his shoulder, he beheld +Charlie Pendragon waving him with both arms to return. The shock of this new +incident was so sudden and profound, and Harry was already worked into so high +a state of nervous tension, that he could think of nothing better than to +accelerate his pace, and continue running. He should certainly have remembered +the scene in Kensington Gardens; he should certainly have concluded that, where +the General was his enemy, Charlie Pendragon could be no other than a friend. +But such was the fever and perturbation of his mind that he was struck by none +of these considerations, and only continued to run the faster up the lane. +</p> + +<p> +Charlie, by the sound of his voice and the vile terms that he hurled after the +secretary, was obviously beside himself with rage. He, too, ran his very best; +but, try as he might, the physical advantages were not upon his side, and his +outcries and the fall of his lame foot on the macadam began to fall farther and +farther into the wake. +</p> + +<p> +Harry’s hopes began once more to arise. The lane was both steep and +narrow, but it was exceedingly solitary, bordered on either hand by garden +walls, overhung with foliage; and, for as far as the fugitive could see in +front of him, there was neither a creature moving nor an open door. Providence, +weary of persecution, was now offering him an open field for his escape. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! as he came abreast of a garden door under a tuft of chestnuts, it was +suddenly drawn back, and he could see inside, upon a garden path, the figure of +a butcher’s boy with his tray upon his arm. He had hardly recognised the +fact before he was some steps beyond upon the other side. But the fellow had +had time to observe him; he was evidently much surprised to see a gentleman go +by at so unusual a pace; and he came out into the lane and began to call after +Harry with shouts of ironical encouragement. +</p> + +<p> +His appearance gave a new idea to Charlie Pendragon, who, although he was now +sadly out of breath, once more upraised his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, thief!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +And immediately the butcher’s boy had taken up the cry and joined in the +pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +This was a bitter moment for the hunted secretary. It is true that his terror +enabled him once more to improve his pace, and gain with every step on his +pursuers; but he was well aware that he was near the end of his resources, and +should he meet any one coming the other way, his predicament in the narrow lane +would be desperate indeed. +</p> + +<p> +“I must find a place of concealment,” he thought, “and that +within the next few seconds, or all is over with me in this world.” +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had the thought crossed his mind than the lane took a sudden turning; +and he found himself hidden from his enemies. There are circumstances in which +even the least energetic of mankind learn to behave with vigour and decision; +and the most cautious forget their prudence and embrace foolhardy resolutions. +This was one of those occasions for Harry Hartley; and those who knew him best +would have been the most astonished at the lad’s audacity. He stopped +dead, flung the bandbox over a garden wall, and leaping upward with incredible +agility and seizing the copestone with his hands, he tumbled headlong after it +into the garden. +</p> + +<p> +He came to himself a moment afterwards, seated in a border of small rosebushes. +His hands and knees were cut and bleeding, for the wall had been protected +against such an escalade by a liberal provision of old bottles; and he was +conscious of a general dislocation and a painful swimming in the head. Facing +him across the garden, which was in admirable order, and set with flowers of +the most delicious perfume, he beheld the back of a house. It was of +considerable extent, and plainly habitable; but, in odd contrast to the +grounds, it was crazy, ill-kept, and of a mean appearance. On all other sides +the circuit of the garden wall appeared unbroken. +</p> + +<p> +He took in these features of the scene with mechanical glances, but his mind +was still unable to piece together or draw a rational conclusion from what he +saw. And when he heard footsteps advancing on the gravel, although he turned +his eyes in that direction, it was with no thought either for defence or +flight. +</p> + +<p> +The new-comer was a large, coarse, and very sordid personage, in gardening +clothes, and with a watering-pot in his left hand. One less confused would have +been affected with some alarm at the sight of this man’s huge proportions +and black and lowering eyes. But Harry was too gravely shaken by his fall to be +so much as terrified; and if he was unable to divert his glances from the +gardener, he remained absolutely passive, and suffered him to draw near, to +take him by the shoulder, and to plant him roughly on his feet, without a +motion of resistance. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment the two stared into each other’s eyes, Harry fascinated, the +man filled with wrath and a cruel, sneering humour. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” he demanded at last. “Who are you to come +flying over my wall and break my <i>Gloire de Dijons</i>! What is your +name?” he added, shaking him; “and what may be your business +here?” +</p> + +<p> +Harry could not as much as proffer a word in explanation. +</p> + +<p> +But just at that moment Pendragon and the butcher’s boy went clumping +past, and the sound of their feet and their hoarse cries echoed loudly in the +narrow lane. The gardener had received his answer; and he looked down into +Harry’s face with an obnoxious smile. +</p> + +<p> +“A thief!” he said. “Upon my word, and a very good thing you +must make of it; for I see you dressed like a gentleman from top to toe. Are +you not ashamed to go about the world in such a trim, with honest folk, I dare +say, glad to buy your cast-off finery second hand? Speak up, you dog,” +the man went on; “you can understand English, I suppose; and I mean to +have a bit of talk with you before I march you to the station.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, sir,” said Harry, “this is all a dreadful +misconception; and if you will go with me to Sir Thomas Vandeleur’s in +Eaton Place, I can promise that all will be made plain. The most upright +person, as I now perceive, can be led into suspicious positions.” +</p> + +<p> +“My little man,” replied the gardener, “I will go with you no +farther than the station-house in the next street. The inspector, no doubt, +will be glad to take a stroll with you as far as Eaton Place, and have a bit of +afternoon tea with your great acquaintances. Or would you prefer to go direct +to the Home Secretary? Sir Thomas Vandeleur, indeed! Perhaps you think I +don’t know a gentleman when I see one, from a common run-the-hedge like +you? Clothes or no clothes, I can read you like a book. Here is a shirt that +maybe cost as much as my Sunday hat; and that coat, I take it, has never seen +the inside of Rag-fair, and then your boots—” +</p> + +<p> +The man, whose eyes had fallen upon the ground, stopped short in his insulting +commentary, and remained for a moment looking intently upon something at his +feet. When he spoke his voice was strangely altered. +</p> + +<p> +“What, in God’s name,” said he, “is all this?” +</p> + +<p> +Harry, following the direction of the man’s eyes, beheld a spectacle that +struck him dumb with terror and amazement. In his fall he had descended +vertically upon the bandbox and burst it open from end to end; thence a great +treasure of diamonds had poured forth, and now lay abroad, part trodden in the +soil, part scattered on the surface in regal and glittering profusion. There +was a magnificent coronet which he had often admired on Lady Vandeleur; there +were rings and brooches, ear-drops and bracelets, and even unset brilliants +rolling here and there among the rosebushes like drops of morning dew. A +princely fortune lay between the two men upon the ground—a fortune in the +most inviting, solid, and durable form, capable of being carried in an apron, +beautiful in itself, and scattering the sunlight in a million rainbow flashes. +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” said Harry, “I am lost!” +</p> + +<p> +His mind raced backwards into the past with the incalculable velocity of +thought, and he began to comprehend his day’s adventures, to conceive +them as a whole, and to recognise the sad imbroglio in which his own character +and fortunes had become involved. He looked round him as if for help, but he +was alone in the garden, with his scattered diamonds and his redoubtable +interlocutor; and when he gave ear, there was no sound but the rustle of the +leaves and the hurried pulsation of his heart. It was little wonder if the +young man felt himself deserted by his spirits, and with a broken voice +repeated his last ejaculation—“I am lost!” +</p> + +<p> +The gardener peered in all directions with an air of guilt; but there was no +face at any of the windows, and he seemed to breathe again. +</p> + +<p> +“Pick up a heart,” he said, “you fool! The worst of it is +done. Why could you not say at first there was enough for two? Two?” he +repeated, “aye, and for two hundred! But come away from here, where we +may be observed; and, for the love of wisdom, straighten out your hat and brush +your clothes. You could not travel two steps the figure of fun you look just +now.” +</p> + +<p> +While Harry mechanically adopted these suggestions, the gardener, getting upon +his knees, hastily drew together the scattered jewels and returned them to the +bandbox. The touch of these costly crystals sent a shiver of emotion through +the man’s stalwart frame; his face was transfigured, and his eyes shone +with concupiscence; indeed it seemed as if he luxuriously prolonged his +occupation, and dallied with every diamond that he handled. At last, however, +it was done; and, concealing the bandbox in his smock, the gardener beckoned to +Harry and preceded him in the direction of the house. +</p> + +<p> +Near the door they were met by a young man evidently in holy orders, dark and +strikingly handsome, with a look of mingled weakness and resolution, and very +neatly attired after the manner of his caste. The gardener was plainly annoyed +by this encounter; but he put as good a face upon it as he could, and accosted +the clergyman with an obsequious and smiling air. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is a fine afternoon, Mr. Rolles,” said he: “a fine +afternoon, as sure as God made it! And here is a young friend of mine who had a +fancy to look at my roses. I took the liberty to bring him in, for I thought +none of the lodgers would object.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speaking for myself,” replied the Reverend Mr. Rolles, “I do +not; nor do I fancy any of the rest of us would be more difficult upon so small +a matter. The garden is your own, Mr. Raeburn; we must none of us forget that; +and because you give us liberty to walk there we should be indeed ungracious if +we so far presumed upon your politeness as to interfere with the convenience of +your friends. But, on second thoughts,” he added, “I believe that +this gentleman and I have met before. Mr. Hartley, I think. I regret to observe +that you have had a fall.” +</p> + +<p> +And he offered his hand. +</p> + +<p> +A sort of maiden dignity and a desire to delay as long as possible the +necessity for explanation moved Harry to refuse this chance of help, and to +deny his own identity. He chose the tender mercies of the gardener, who was at +least unknown to him, rather than the curiosity and perhaps the doubts of an +acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear there is some mistake,” said he. “My name is +Thomlinson and I am a friend of Mr. Raeburn’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” said Mr. Rolles. “The likeness is amazing.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Raeburn, who had been upon thorns throughout this colloquy, now felt it +high time to bring it to a period. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you a pleasant saunter, sir,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +And with that he dragged Harry after him into the house, and then into a +chamber on the garden. His first care was to draw down the blind, for Mr. +Rolles still remained where they had left him, in an attitude of perplexity and +thought. Then he emptied the broken bandbox on the table, and stood before the +treasure, thus fully displayed, with an expression of rapturous greed, and +rubbing his hands upon his thighs. For Harry, the sight of the man’s face +under the influence of this base emotion, added another pang to those he was +already suffering. It seemed incredible that, from his life of pure and +delicate trifling, he should be plunged in a breath among sordid and criminal +relations. He could reproach his conscience with no sinful act; and yet he was +now suffering the punishment of sin in its most acute and cruel forms—the +dread of punishment, the suspicions of the good, and the companionship and +contamination of vile and brutal natures. He felt he could lay his life down +with gladness to escape from the room and the society of Mr. Raeburn. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said the latter, after he had separated the jewels into +two nearly equal parts, and drawn one of them nearer to himself; “and +now,” said he, “everything in this world has to be paid for, and +some things sweetly. You must know, Mr. Hartley, if such be your name, that I +am a man of a very easy temper, and good nature has been my stumbling-block +from first to last. I could pocket the whole of these pretty pebbles, if I +chose, and I should like to see you dare to say a word; but I think I must have +taken a liking to you; for I declare I have not the heart to shave you so +close. So, do you see, in pure kind feeling, I propose that we divide; and +these,” indicating the two heaps, “are the proportions that seem to +me just and friendly. Do you see any objection, Mr. Hartley, may I ask? I am +not the man to stick upon a brooch.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sir,” cried Harry, “what you propose to me is +impossible. The jewels are not mine, and I cannot share what is +another’s, no matter with whom, nor in what proportions.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are not yours, are they not?” returned Raeburn. “And +you could not share them with anybody, couldn’t you? Well now, that is +what I call a pity; for here am I obliged to take you to the station. The +police—think of that,” he continued; “think of the disgrace +for your respectable parents; think,” he went on, taking Harry by the +wrist; “think of the Colonies and the Day of Judgment.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot help it,” wailed Harry. “It is not my fault. You +will not come with me to Eaton Place?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied the man, “I will not, that is certain. And I +mean to divide these playthings with you here.” +</p> + +<p> +And so saying he applied a sudden and severe torsion to the lad’s wrist. +</p> + +<p> +Harry could not suppress a scream, and the perspiration burst forth upon his +face. Perhaps pain and terror quickened his intelligence, but certainly at that +moment the whole business flashed across him in another light; and he saw that +there was nothing for it but to accede to the ruffian’s proposal, and +trust to find the house and force him to disgorge, under more favourable +circumstances, and when he himself was clear from all suspicion. +</p> + +<p> +“I agree,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a lamb,” sneered the gardener. “I thought you would +recognise your interests at last. This bandbox,” he continued, “I +shall burn with my rubbish; it is a thing that curious folk might recognise; +and as for you, scrape up your gaieties and put them in your pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry proceeded to obey, Raeburn watching him, and every now and again his +greed rekindled by some bright scintillation, abstracting another jewel from +the secretary’s share, and adding it to his own. +</p> + +<p> +When this was finished, both proceeded to the front door, which Raeburn +cautiously opened to observe the street. This was apparently clear of +passengers; for he suddenly seized Harry by the nape of the neck, and holding +his face downward so that he could see nothing but the roadway and the +doorsteps of the houses, pushed him violently before him down one street and up +another for the space of perhaps a minute and a half. Harry had counted three +corners before the bully relaxed his grasp, and crying, “Now be off with +you!” sent the lad flying head foremost with a well-directed and athletic +kick. +</p> + +<p> +When Harry gathered himself up, half-stunned and bleeding freely at the nose, +Mr. Raeburn had entirely disappeared. For the first time, anger and pain so +completely overcame the lad’s spirits that he burst into a fit of tears +and remained sobbing in the middle of the road. +</p> + +<p> +After he had thus somewhat assuaged his emotion, he began to look about him and +read the names of the streets at whose intersection he had been deserted by the +gardener. He was still in an unfrequented portion of West London, among villas +and large gardens; but he could see some persons at a window who had evidently +witnessed his misfortune; and almost immediately after a servant came running +from the house and offered him a glass of water. At the same time, a dirty +rogue, who had been slouching somewhere in the neighbourhood, drew near him +from the other side. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor fellow,” said the maid, “how vilely you have been +handled, to be sure! Why, your knees are all cut, and your clothes ruined! Do +you know the wretch who used you so?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I do!” cried Harry, who was somewhat refreshed by the water; +“and shall run him home in spite of his precautions. He shall pay dearly +for this day’s work, I promise you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had better come into the house and have yourself washed and +brushed,” continued the maid. “My mistress will make you welcome, +never fear. And see, I will pick up your hat. Why, love of mercy!” she +screamed, “if you have not dropped diamonds all over the street!” +</p> + +<p> +Such was the case; a good half of what remained to him after the depredations +of Mr. Raeburn, had been shaken out of his pockets by the summersault and once +more lay glittering on the ground. He blessed his fortune that the maid had +been so quick of eye; “there is nothing so bad but it might be +worse,” thought he; and the recovery of these few seemed to him almost as +great an affair as the loss of all the rest. But, alas! as he stooped to pick +up his treasures, the loiterer made a rapid onslaught, overset both Harry and +the maid with a movement of his arms, swept up a double handful of the +diamonds, and made off along the street with an amazing swiftness. +</p> + +<p> +Harry, as soon as he could get upon his feet, gave chase to the miscreant with +many cries, but the latter was too fleet of foot, and probably too well +acquainted with the locality; for turn where the pursuer would he could find no +traces of the fugitive. +</p> + +<p> +In the deepest despondency, Harry revisited the scene of his mishap, where the +maid, who was still waiting, very honestly returned him his hat and the +remainder of the fallen diamonds. Harry thanked her from his heart, and being +now in no humour for economy, made his way to the nearest cab-stand and set off +for Eaton Place by coach. +</p> + +<p> +The house, on his arrival, seemed in some confusion, as if a catastrophe had +happened in the family; and the servants clustered together in the hall, and +were unable, or perhaps not altogether anxious, to suppress their merriment at +the tatterdemalion figure of the secretary. He passed them with as good an air +of dignity as he could assume, and made directly for the boudoir. When he +opened the door an astonishing and even menacing spectacle presented itself to +his eyes; for he beheld the General and his wife and, of all people, Charlie +Pendragon, closeted together and speaking with earnestness and gravity on some +important subject. Harry saw at once that there was little left for him to +explain—plenary confession had plainly been made to the General of the +intended fraud upon his pocket, and the unfortunate miscarriage of the scheme; +and they had all made common cause against a common danger. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank Heaven!” cried Lady Vandeleur, “here he is! The +bandbox, Harry—the bandbox!” +</p> + +<p> +But Harry stood before them silent and downcast. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak!” she cried. “Speak! Where is the bandbox?” +</p> + +<p> +And the men, with threatening gestures, repeated the demand. +</p> + +<p> +Harry drew a handful of jewels from his pocket. He was very white. +</p> + +<p> +“This is all that remains,” said he. “I declare before Heaven +it was through no fault of mine; and if you will have patience, although some +are lost, I am afraid, for ever, others, I am sure, may be still +recovered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” cried Lady Vandeleur, “all our diamonds are gone, and +I owe ninety thousand pounds for dress!” +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” said the General, “you might have paved the gutter +with your own trash; you might have made debts to fifty times the sum you +mention; you might have robbed me of my mother’s coronet and ring; and +Nature might have still so far prevailed that I could have forgiven you at +last. But, madam, you have taken the Rajah’s Diamond—the Eye of +Light, as the Orientals poetically termed it—the Pride of Kashgar! You +have taken from me the Rajah’s Diamond,” he cried, raising his +hands, “and all, madam, all is at an end between us!” +</p> + +<p> +“Believe me, General Vandeleur,” she replied, “that is one of +the most agreeable speeches that ever I heard from your lips; and since we are +to be ruined, I could almost welcome the change, if it delivers me from you. +You have told me often enough that I married you for your money; let me tell +you now that I always bitterly repented the bargain; and if you were still +marriageable, and had a diamond bigger than your head, I should counsel even my +maid against a union so uninviting and disastrous. As for you, Mr. +Hartley,” she continued, turning on the secretary, “you have +sufficiently exhibited your valuable qualities in this house; we are now +persuaded that you equally lack manhood, sense, and self-respect; and I can see +only one course open for you—to withdraw instanter, and, if possible, +return no more. For your wages you may rank as a creditor in my late +husband’s bankruptcy.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry had scarcely comprehended this insulting address before the General was +down upon him with another. +</p> + +<p> +“And in the meantime,” said that personage, “follow me before +the nearest Inspector of Police. You may impose upon a simple-minded soldier, +sir, but the eye of the law will read your disreputable secret. If I must spend +my old age in poverty through your underhand intriguing with my wife, I mean at +least that you shall not remain unpunished for your pains; and God, sir, will +deny me a very considerable satisfaction if you do not pick oakum from now +until your dying day.” +</p> + +<p> +With that, the General dragged Harry from the apartment, and hurried him +downstairs and along the street to the police-station of the district. +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p> +<i>Here</i> (says my Arabian author) <i>ended this deplorable business of the +bandbox</i>. <i>But to the unfortunate Secretary the whole affair was the +beginning of a new and manlier life</i>. <i>The police were easily persuaded of +his innocence</i>; <i>and</i>, <i>after he had given what help he could in the +subsequent investigations</i>, <i>he was even complemented by one of the chiefs +of the detective department on the probity and simplicity of his behaviour</i>. +<i>Several persons interested themselves in one so unfortunate</i>; <i>and soon +after he inherited a sum of money from a maiden aunt in Worcestershire</i>. +<i>With this he married Prudence</i>, <i>and set sail for Bendigo</i>, <i>or +according to another account</i>, <i>for Trincomalee</i>, <i>exceedingly +content</i>, <i>and will the best of prospects</i>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap07"></a>STORY OF THE YOUNG MAN IN HOLY ORDERS</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">The</span> Reverend Mr. Simon Rolles had distinguished +himself in the Moral Sciences, and was more than usually proficient in the +study of Divinity. His essay “On the Christian Doctrine of the Social +Obligations” obtained for him, at the moment of its production, a certain +celebrity in the University of Oxford; and it was understood in clerical and +learned circles that young Mr. Rolles had in contemplation a considerable +work—a folio, it was said—on the authority of the Fathers of the +Church. These attainments, these ambitious designs, however, were far from +helping him to any preferment; and he was still in quest of his first curacy +when a chance ramble in that part of London, the peaceful and rich aspect of +the garden, a desire for solitude and study, and the cheapness of the lodging, +led him to take up his abode with Mr. Raeburn, the nurseryman of Stockdove +Lane. +</p> + +<p> +It was his habit every afternoon, after he had worked seven or eight hours on +St. Ambrose or St. Chrysostom, to walk for a while in meditation among the +roses. And this was usually one of the most productive moments of his day. But +even a sincere appetite for thought, and the excitement of grave problems +awaiting solution, are not always sufficient to preserve the mind of the +philosopher against the petty shocks and contacts of the world. And when Mr. +Rolles found General Vandeleur’s secretary, ragged and bleeding, in the +company of his landlord; when he saw both change colour and seek to avoid his +questions; and, above all, when the former denied his own identity with the +most unmoved assurance, he speedily forgot the Saints and Fathers in the vulgar +interest of curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot be mistaken,” thought he. “That is Mr. Hartley +beyond a doubt. How comes he in such a pickle? why does he deny his name? and +what can be his business with that black-looking ruffian, my landlord?” +</p> + +<p> +As he was thus reflecting, another peculiar circumstance attracted his +attention. The face of Mr. Raeburn appeared at a low window next the door; and, +as chance directed, his eyes met those of Mr. Rolles. The nurseryman seemed +disconcerted, and even alarmed; and immediately after the blind of the +apartment was pulled sharply down. +</p> + +<p> +“This may all be very well,” reflected Mr. Rolles; “it may be +all excellently well; but I confess freely that I do not think so. Suspicious, +underhand, untruthful, fearful of observation—I believe upon my +soul,” he thought, “the pair are plotting some disgraceful +action.” +</p> + +<p> +The detective that there is in all of us awoke and became clamant in the bosom +of Mr. Rolles; and with a brisk, eager step, that bore no resemblance to his +usual gait, he proceeded to make the circuit of the garden. When he came to the +scene of Harry’s escalade, his eye was at once arrested by a broken +rosebush and marks of trampling on the mould. He looked up, and saw scratches +on the brick, and a rag of trouser floating from a broken bottle. This, then, +was the mode of entrance chosen by Mr. Raeburn’s particular friend! It +was thus that General Vandeleur’s secretary came to admire a +flower-garden! The young clergyman whistled softly to himself as he stooped to +examine the ground. He could make out where Harry had landed from his perilous +leap; he recognised the flat foot of Mr. Raeburn where it had sunk deeply in +the soil as he pulled up the Secretary by the collar; nay, on a closer +inspection, he seemed to distinguish the marks of groping fingers, as though +something had been spilt abroad and eagerly collected. +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my word,” he thought, “the thing grows vastly +interesting.” +</p> + +<p> +And just then he caught sight of something almost entirely buried in the earth. +In an instant he had disinterred a dainty morocco case, ornamented and clasped +in gilt. It had been trodden heavily underfoot, and thus escaped the hurried +search of Mr. Raeburn. Mr. Rolles opened the case, and drew a long breath of +almost horrified astonishment; for there lay before him, in a cradle of green +velvet, a diamond of prodigious magnitude and of the finest water. It was of +the bigness of a duck’s egg; beautifully shaped, and without a flaw; and +as the sun shone upon it, it gave forth a lustre like that of electricity, and +seemed to burn in his hand with a thousand internal fires. +</p> + +<p> +He knew little of precious stones; but the Rajah’s Diamond was a wonder +that explained itself; a village child, if he found it, would run screaming for +the nearest cottage; and a savage would prostrate himself in adoration before +so imposing a fetish. The beauty of the stone flattered the young +clergyman’s eyes; the thought of its incalculable value overpowered his +intellect. He knew that what he held in his hand was worth more than many +years’ purchase of an archiepiscopal see; that it would build cathedrals +more stately than Ely or Cologne; that he who possessed it was set free for +ever from the primal curse, and might follow his own inclinations without +concern or hurry, without let or hindrance. And as he suddenly turned it, the +rays leaped forth again with renewed brilliancy, and seemed to pierce his very +heart. +</p> + +<p> +Decisive actions are often taken in a moment and without any conscious +deliverance from the rational parts of man. So it was now with Mr. Rolles. He +glanced hurriedly round; beheld, like Mr. Raeburn before him, nothing but the +sunlit flower-garden, the tall tree-tops, and the house with blinded windows; +and in a trice he had shut the case, thrust it into his pocket, and was +hastening to his study with the speed of guilt. +</p> + +<p> +The Reverend Simon Rolles had stolen the Rajah’s Diamond. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the afternoon the police arrived with Harry Hartley. The nurseryman, +who was beside himself with terror, readily discovered his hoard; and the +jewels were identified and inventoried in the presence of the Secretary. As for +Mr. Rolles, he showed himself in a most obliging temper, communicated what he +knew with freedom, and professed regret that he could do no more to help the +officers in their duty. +</p> + +<p> +“Still,” he added, “I suppose your business is nearly at an +end.” +</p> + +<p> +“By no means,” replied the man from Scotland Yard; and he narrated +the second robbery of which Harry had been the immediate victim, and gave the +young clergyman a description of the more important jewels that were still not +found, dilating particularly on the Rajah’s Diamond. +</p> + +<p> +“It must be worth a fortune,” observed Mr. Rolles. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten fortunes—twenty fortunes,” cried the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“The more it is worth,” remarked Simon shrewdly, “the more +difficult it must be to sell. Such a thing has a physiognomy not to be +disguised, and I should fancy a man might as easily negotiate St. Paul’s +Cathedral.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, truly!” said the officer; “but if the thief be a man of +any intelligence, he will cut it into three or four, and there will be still +enough to make him rich.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said the clergyman. “You cannot imagine how much +your conversation interests me.” +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon the functionary admitted that they knew many strange things in his +profession, and immediately after took his leave. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Rolles regained his apartment. It seemed smaller and barer than usual; the +materials for his great work had never presented so little interest; and he +looked upon his library with the eye of scorn. He took down, volume by volume, +several Fathers of the Church, and glanced them through; but they contained +nothing to his purpose. +</p> + +<p> +“These old gentlemen,” thought he, “are no doubt very +valuable writers, but they seem to me conspicuously ignorant of life. Here am +I, with learning enough to be a Bishop, and I positively do not know how to +dispose of a stolen diamond. I glean a hint from a common policeman, and, with +all my folios, I cannot so much as put it into execution. This inspires me with +very low ideas of University training.” +</p> + +<p> +Herewith he kicked over his book-shelf and, putting on his hat, hastened from +the house to the club of which he was a member. In such a place of mundane +resort he hoped to find some man of good counsel and a shrewd experience in +life. In the reading-room he saw many of the country clergy and an Archdeacon; +there were three journalists and a writer upon the Higher Metaphysic, playing +pool; and at dinner only the raff of ordinary club frequenters showed their +commonplace and obliterated countenances. None of these, thought Mr. Rolles, +would know more on dangerous topics than he knew himself; none of them were fit +to give him guidance in his present strait. At length in the smoking-room, up +many weary stairs, he hit upon a gentleman of somewhat portly build and dressed +with conspicuous plainness. He was smoking a cigar and reading the +<i>Fortnightly Review</i>; his face was singularly free from all sign of +preoccupation or fatigue; and there was something in his air which seemed to +invite confidence and to expect submission. The more the young clergyman +scrutinised his features, the more he was convinced that he had fallen on one +capable of giving pertinent advice. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said he, “you will excuse my abruptness; but I judge +you from your appearance to be pre-eminently a man of the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have indeed considerable claims to that distinction,” replied +the stranger, laying aside his magazine with a look of mingled amusement and +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I, sir,” continued the Curate, “am a recluse, a student, a +creature of ink-bottles and patristic folios. A recent event has brought my +folly vividly before my eyes, and I desire to instruct myself in life. By +life,” he added, “I do not mean Thackeray’s novels; but the +crimes and secret possibilities of our society, and the principles of wise +conduct among exceptional events. I am a patient reader; can the thing be +learnt in books?” +</p> + +<p> +“You put me in a difficulty,” said the stranger. “I confess I +have no great notion of the use of books, except to amuse a railway journey; +although, I believe, there are some very exact treatises on astronomy, the use +of the globes, agriculture, and the art of making paper flowers. Upon the less +apparent provinces of life I fear you will find nothing truthful. Yet +stay,” he added, “have you read Gaboriau?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Rolles admitted he had never even heard the name. +</p> + +<p> +“You may gather some notions from Gaboriau,” resumed the stranger. +“He is at least suggestive; and as he is an author much studied by Prince +Bismarck, you will, at the worst, lose your time in good society.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said the Curate, “I am infinitely obliged by your +politeness.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have already more than repaid me,” returned the other. +</p> + +<p> +“How?” inquired Simon. +</p> + +<p> +“By the novelty of your request,” replied the gentleman; and with a +polite gesture, as though to ask permission, he resumed the study of the +<i>Fortnightly Review</i>. +</p> + +<p> +On his way home Mr. Rolles purchased a work on precious stones and several of +Gaboriau’s novels. These last he eagerly skimmed until an advanced hour +in the morning; but although they introduced him to many new ideas, he could +nowhere discover what to do with a stolen diamond. He was annoyed, moreover, to +find the information scattered amongst romantic story-telling, instead of +soberly set forth after the manner of a manual; and he concluded that, even if +the writer had thought much upon these subjects, he was totally lacking in +educational method. For the character and attainments of Lecoq, however, he was +unable to contain his admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“He was truly a great creature,” ruminated Mr. Rolles. “He +knew the world as I know Paley’s Evidences. There was nothing that he +could not carry to a termination with his own hand, and against the largest +odds. Heavens!” he broke out suddenly, “is not this the lesson? +Must I not learn to cut diamonds for myself?” +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to him as if he had sailed at once out of his perplexities; he +remembered that he knew a jeweller, one B. Macculloch, in Edinburgh, who would +be glad to put him in the way of the necessary training; a few months, perhaps +a few years, of sordid toil, and he would be sufficiently expert to divide and +sufficiently cunning to dispose with advantage of the Rajah’s Diamond. +That done, he might return to pursue his researches at leisure, a wealthy and +luxurious student, envied and respected by all. Golden visions attended him +through his slumber, and he awoke refreshed and light-hearted with the morning +sun. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Raeburn’s house was on that day to be closed by the police, and this +afforded a pretext for his departure. He cheerfully prepared his baggage, +transported it to King’s Cross, where he left it in the cloak-room, and +returned to the club to while away the afternoon and dine. +</p> + +<p> +“If you dine here to-day, Rolles,” observed an acquaintance, +“you may see two of the most remarkable men in England—Prince +Florizel of Bohemia, and old Jack Vandeleur.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard of the Prince,” replied Mr. Rolles; “and +General Vandeleur I have even met in society.” +</p> + +<p> +“General Vandeleur is an ass!” returned the other. “This is +his brother John, the biggest adventurer, the best judge of precious stones, +and one of the most acute diplomatists in Europe. Have you never heard of his +duel with the Duc de Val d’Orge? of his exploits and atrocities when he +was Dictator of Paraguay? of his dexterity in recovering Sir Samuel +Levi’s jewellery? nor of his services in the Indian Mutiny—services +by which the Government profited, but which the Government dared not recognise? +You make me wonder what we mean by fame, or even by infamy; for Jack Vandeleur +has prodigious claims to both. Run downstairs,” he continued, “take +a table near them, and keep your ears open. You will hear some strange talk, or +I am much misled.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how shall I know them?” inquired the clergyman. +</p> + +<p> +“Know them!” cried his friend; “why, the Prince is the finest +gentleman in Europe, the only living creature who looks like a king; and as for +Jack Vandeleur, if you can imagine Ulysses at seventy years of age, and with a +sabre-cut across his face, you have the man before you! Know them, indeed! Why, +you could pick either of them out of a Derby day!” +</p> + +<p> +Rolles eagerly hurried to the dining-room. It was as his friend had asserted; +it was impossible to mistake the pair in question. Old John Vandeleur was of a +remarkable force of body, and obviously broken to the most difficult exercises. +He had neither the carriage of a swordsman, nor of a sailor, nor yet of one +much inured to the saddle; but something made up of all these, and the result +and expression of many different habits and dexterities. His features were bold +and aquiline; his expression arrogant and predatory; his whole appearance that +of a swift, violent, unscrupulous man of action; and his copious white hair and +the deep sabre-cut that traversed his nose and temple added a note of savagery +to a head already remarkable and menacing in itself. +</p> + +<p> +In his companion, the Prince of Bohemia, Mr. Rolles was astonished to recognise +the gentleman who had recommended him the study of Gaboriau. Doubtless Prince +Florizel, who rarely visited the club, of which, as of most others, he was an +honorary member, had been waiting for John Vandeleur when Simon accosted him on +the previous evening. +</p> + +<p> +The other diners had modestly retired into the angles of the room, and left the +distinguished pair in a certain isolation, but the young clergyman was +unrestrained by any sentiment of awe, and, marching boldly up, took his place +at the nearest table. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation was, indeed, new to the student’s ears. The ex-Dictator +of Paraguay stated many extraordinary experiences in different quarters of the +world; and the Prince supplied a commentary which, to a man of thought, was +even more interesting than the events themselves. Two forms of experience were +thus brought together and laid before the young clergyman; and he did not know +which to admire the most—the desperate actor or the skilled expert in +life; the man who spoke boldly of his own deeds and perils, or the man who +seemed, like a god, to know all things and to have suffered nothing. The manner +of each aptly fitted with his part in the discourse. The Dictator indulged in +brutalities alike of speech and gesture; his hand opened and shut and fell +roughly on the table; and his voice was loud and heavy. The Prince, on the +other hand, seemed the very type of urbane docility and quiet; the least +movement, the least inflection, had with him a weightier significance than all +the shouts and pantomime of his companion; and if ever, as must frequently have +been the case, he described some experience personal to himself, it was so +aptly dissimulated as to pass unnoticed with the rest. +</p> + +<p> +At length the talk wandered on to the late robberies and the Rajah’s +Diamond. +</p> + +<p> +“That diamond would be better in the sea,” observed Prince +Florizel. +</p> + +<p> +“As a Vandeleur,” replied the Dictator, “your Highness may +imagine my dissent.” +</p> + +<p> +“I speak on grounds of public policy,” pursued the Prince. +“Jewels so valuable should be reserved for the collection of a Prince or +the treasury of a great nation. To hand them about among the common sort of men +is to set a price on Virtue’s head; and if the Rajah of Kashgar—a +Prince, I understand, of great enlightenment—desired vengeance upon the +men of Europe, he could hardly have gone more efficaciously about his purpose +than by sending us this apple of discord. There is no honesty too robust for +such a trial. I myself, who have many duties and many privileges of my +own—I myself, Mr. Vandeleur, could scarce handle the intoxicating crystal +and be safe. As for you, who are a diamond hunter by taste and profession, I do +not believe there is a crime in the calendar you would not perpetrate—I +do not believe you have a friend in the world whom you would not eagerly +betray—I do not know if you have a family, but if you have I declare you +would sacrifice your children—and all this for what? Not to be richer, +nor to have more comforts or more respect, but simply to call this diamond +yours for a year or two until you die, and now and again to open a safe and +look at it as one looks at a picture.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is true,” replied Vandeleur. “I have hunted most things, +from men and women down to mosquitos; I have dived for coral; I have followed +both whales and tigers; and a diamond is the tallest quarry of the lot. It has +beauty and worth; it alone can properly reward the ardours of the chase. At +this moment, as your Highness may fancy, I am upon the trail; I have a sure +knack, a wide experience; I know every stone of price in my brother’s +collection as a shepherd knows his sheep; and I wish I may die if I do not +recover them every one!” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Thomas Vandeleur will have great cause to thank you,” said the +Prince. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not so sure,” returned the Dictator, with a laugh. “One +of the Vandeleurs will. Thomas or John—Peter or Paul—we are all +apostles.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not catch your observation,” said the Prince with some +disgust. +</p> + +<p> +And at the same moment the waiter informed Mr. Vandeleur that his cab was at +the door. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Rolles glanced at the clock, and saw that he also must be moving; and the +coincidence struck him sharply and unpleasantly, for he desired to see no more +of the diamond hunter. +</p> + +<p> +Much study having somewhat shaken the young man’s nerves, he was in the +habit of travelling in the most luxurious manner; and for the present journey +he had taken a sofa in the sleeping carriage. +</p> + +<p> +“You will be very comfortable,” said the guard; “there is no +one in your compartment, and only one old gentleman in the other end.” +</p> + +<p> +It was close upon the hour, and the tickets were being examined, when Mr. +Rolles beheld this other fellow-passenger ushered by several porters into his +place; certainly, there was not another man in the world whom he would not have +preferred—for it was old John Vandeleur, the ex-Dictator. +</p> + +<p> +The sleeping carriages on the Great Northern line were divided into three +compartments—one at each end for travellers, and one in the centre fitted +with the conveniences of a lavatory. A door running in grooves separated each +of the others from the lavatory; but as there were neither bolts nor locks, the +whole suite was practically common ground. +</p> + +<p> +When Mr. Rolles had studied his position, he perceived himself without defence. +If the Dictator chose to pay him a visit in the course of the night, he could +do no less than receive it; he had no means of fortification, and lay open to +attack as if he had been lying in the fields. This situation caused him some +agony of mind. He recalled with alarm the boastful statements of his +fellow-traveller across the dining-table, and the professions of immorality +which he had heard him offering to the disgusted Prince. Some persons, he +remembered to have read, are endowed with a singular quickness of perception +for the neighbourhood of precious metals; through walls and even at +considerable distances they are said to divine the presence of gold. Might it +not be the same with diamonds? he wondered; and if so, who was more likely to +enjoy this transcendental sense than the person who gloried in the appellation +of the Diamond Hunter? From such a man he recognised that he had everything to +fear, and longed eagerly for the arrival of the day. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime he neglected no precaution, concealed his diamond in the most +internal pocket of a system of great-coats, and devoutly recommended himself to +the care of Providence. +</p> + +<p> +The train pursued its usual even and rapid course; and nearly half the journey +had been accomplished before slumber began to triumph over uneasiness in the +breast of Mr. Rolles. For some time he resisted its influence; but it grew upon +him more and more, and a little before York he was fain to stretch himself upon +one of the couches and suffer his eyes to close; and almost at the same instant +consciousness deserted the young clergyman. His last thought was of his +terrifying neighbour. +</p> + +<p> +When he awoke it was still pitch dark, except for the flicker of the veiled +lamp; and the continual roaring and oscillation testified to the unrelaxed +velocity of the train. He sat upright in a panic, for he had been tormented by +the most uneasy dreams; it was some seconds before he recovered his +self-command; and even after he had resumed a recumbent attitude sleep +continued to flee him, and he lay awake with his brain in a state of violent +agitation, and his eyes fixed upon the lavatory door. He pulled his clerical +felt hat over his brow still farther to shield him from the light; and he +adopted the usual expedients, such as counting a thousand or banishing thought, +by which experienced invalids are accustomed to woo the approach of sleep. In +the case of Mr. Rolles they proved one and all vain; he was harassed by a dozen +different anxieties—the old man in the other end of the carriage haunted +him in the most alarming shapes; and in whatever attitude he chose to lie the +diamond in his pocket occasioned him a sensible physical distress. It burned, +it was too large, it bruised his ribs; and there were infinitesimal fractions +of a second in which he had half a mind to throw it from the window. +</p> + +<p> +While he was thus lying, a strange incident took place. +</p> + +<p> +The sliding-door into the lavatory stirred a little, and then a little more, +and was finally drawn back for the space of about twenty inches. The lamp in +the lavatory was unshaded, and in the lighted aperture thus disclosed, Mr. +Rolles could see the head of Mr. Vandeleur in an attitude of deep attention. He +was conscious that the gaze of the Dictator rested intently on his own face; +and the instinct of self-preservation moved him to hold his breath, to refrain +from the least movement, and keeping his eyes lowered, to watch his visitor +from underneath the lashes. After about a moment, the head was withdrawn and +the door of the lavatory replaced. +</p> + +<p> +The Dictator had not come to attack, but to observe; his action was not that of +a man threatening another, but that of a man who was himself threatened; if Mr. +Rolles was afraid of him, it appeared that he, in his turn, was not quite easy +on the score of Mr. Rolles. He had come, it would seem, to make sure that his +only fellow-traveller was asleep; and, when satisfied on that point, he had at +once withdrawn. +</p> + +<p> +The clergyman leaped to his feet. The extreme of terror had given place to a +reaction of foolhardy daring. He reflected that the rattle of the flying train +concealed all other sounds, and determined, come what might, to return the +visit he had just received. Divesting himself of his cloak, which might have +interfered with the freedom of his action, he entered the lavatory and paused +to listen. As he had expected, there was nothing to be heard above the roar of +the train’s progress; and laying his hand on the door at the farther +side, he proceeded cautiously to draw it back for about six inches. Then he +stopped, and could not contain an ejaculation of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +John Vandeleur wore a fur travelling cap with lappets to protect his ears; and +this may have combined with the sound of the express to keep him in ignorance +of what was going forward. It is certain, at least, that he did not raise his +head, but continued without interruption to pursue his strange employment. +Between his feet stood an open hat-box; in one hand he held the sleeve of his +sealskin great-coat; in the other a formidable knife, with which he had just +slit up the lining of the sleeve. Mr. Rolles had read of persons carrying money +in a belt; and as he had no acquaintance with any but cricket-belts, he had +never been able rightly to conceive how this was managed. But here was a +stranger thing before his eyes; for John Vandeleur, it appeared, carried +diamonds in the lining of his sleeve; and even as the young clergyman gazed, he +could see one glittering brilliant drop after another into the hat-box. +</p> + +<p> +He stood riveted to the spot, following this unusual business with his eyes. +The diamonds were, for the most part, small, and not easily distinguishable +either in shape or fire. Suddenly the Dictator appeared to find a difficulty; +he employed both hands and stooped over his task; but it was not until after +considerable manoeuvring that he extricated a large tiara of diamonds from the +lining, and held it up for some seconds’ examination before he placed it +with the others in the hat-box. The tiara was a ray of light to Mr. Rolles; he +immediately recognised it for a part of the treasure stolen from Harry Hartley +by the loiterer. There was no room for mistake; it was exactly as the detective +had described it; there were the ruby stars, with a great emerald in the +centre; there were the interlacing crescents; and there were the pear-shaped +pendants, each a single stone, which gave a special value to Lady +Vandeleur’s tiara. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Rolles was hugely relieved. The Dictator was as deeply in the affair as he +was; neither could tell tales upon the other. In the first glow of happiness, +the clergyman suffered a deep sigh to escape him; and as his bosom had become +choked and his throat dry during his previous suspense, the sigh was followed +by a cough. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Vandeleur looked up; his face contracted with the blackest and most deadly +passion; his eyes opened widely, and his under jaw dropped in an astonishment +that was upon the brink of fury. By an instinctive movement he had covered the +hat-box with the coat. For half a minute the two men stared upon each other in +silence. It was not a long interval, but it sufficed for Mr. Rolles; he was one +of those who think swiftly on dangerous occasions; he decided on a course of +action of a singularly daring nature; and although he felt he was setting his +life upon the hazard, he was the first to break silence. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +The Dictator shivered slightly, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want here?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I take a particular interest in diamonds,” replied Mr. Rolles, +with an air of perfect self-possession. “Two connoisseurs should be +acquainted. I have here a trifle of my own which may perhaps serve for an +introduction.” +</p> + +<p> +And so saying, he quietly took the case from his pocket, showed the +Rajah’s Diamond to the Dictator for an instant, and replaced it in +security. +</p> + +<p> +“It was once your brother’s,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +John Vandeleur continued to regard him with a look of almost painful amazement; +but he neither spoke nor moved. +</p> + +<p> +“I was pleased to observe,” resumed the young man, “that we +have gems from the same collection.” +</p> + +<p> +The Dictator’s surprise overpowered him. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” he said; “I begin to perceive that I am +growing old! I am positively not prepared for little incidents like this. But +set my mind at rest upon one point: do my eyes deceive me, or are you indeed a +parson?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am in holy orders,” answered Mr. Rolles. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” cried the other, “as long as I live I will never hear +another word against the cloth!” +</p> + +<p> +“You flatter me,” said Mr. Rolles. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me,” replied Vandeleur; “pardon me, young man. You +are no coward, but it still remains to be seen whether you are not the worst of +fools. Perhaps,” he continued, leaning back upon his seat, “perhaps +you would oblige me with a few particulars. I must suppose you had some object +in the stupefying impudence of your proceedings, and I confess I have a +curiosity to know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is very simple,” replied the clergyman; “it proceeds from +my great inexperience of life.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be glad to be persuaded,” answered Vandeleur. +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon Mr. Rolles told him the whole story of his connection with the +Rajah’s Diamond, from the time he found it in Raeburn’s garden to +the time when he left London in the Flying Scotchman. He added a brief sketch +of his feelings and thoughts during the journey, and concluded in these +words:— +</p> + +<p> +“When I recognised the tiara I knew we were in the same attitude towards +Society, and this inspired me with a hope, which I trust you will say was not +ill-founded, that you might become in some sense my partner in the difficulties +and, of course, the profits of my situation. To one of your special knowledge +and obviously great experience the negotiation of the diamond would give but +little trouble, while to me it was a matter of impossibility. On the other +part, I judged that I might lose nearly as much by cutting the diamond, and +that not improbably with an unskilful hand, as might enable me to pay you with +proper generosity for your assistance. The subject was a delicate one to +broach; and perhaps I fell short in delicacy. But I must ask you to remember +that for me the situation was a new one, and I was entirely unacquainted with +the etiquette in use. I believe without vanity that I could have married or +baptized you in a very acceptable manner; but every man has his own aptitudes, +and this sort of bargain was not among the list of my accomplishments.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not wish to flatter you,” replied Vandeleur; “but upon +my word, you have an unusual disposition for a life of crime. You have more +accomplishments than you imagine; and though I have encountered a number of +rogues in different quarters of the world, I never met with one so unblushing +as yourself. Cheer up, Mr. Rolles, you are in the right profession at last! As +for helping you, you may command me as you will. I have only a day’s +business in Edinburgh on a little matter for my brother; and once that is +concluded, I return to Paris, where I usually reside. If you please, you may +accompany me thither. And before the end of a month I believe I shall have +brought your little business to a satisfactory conclusion.” +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p> +(<i>At this point</i>, <i>contrary to all the canons of his art</i>, <i>our +Arabian author breaks off the</i> <span class="smcap">Story of the Young Man in +Holy Orders</span>. <i>I regret and condemn such practices</i>; <i>but I must +follow my original</i>, <i>and refer the reader for the conclusion of Mr. +Rolles’ adventures to the next number of the cycle</i>, <i>the</i> <span +class="smcap">Story of the House with the Green Blinds</span>.) +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap08"></a>STORY OF THE HOUSE WITH THE GREEN BLINDS</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Francis Scrymgeour</span>, a clerk in the Bank of Scotland +at Edinburgh, had attained the age of twenty-five in a sphere of quiet, +creditable, and domestic life. His mother died while he was young; but his +father, a man of sense and probity, had given him an excellent education at +school, and brought him up at home to orderly and frugal habits. Francis, who +was of a docile and affectionate disposition, profited by these advantages with +zeal, and devoted himself heart and soul to his employment. A walk upon +Saturday afternoon, an occasional dinner with members of his family, and a +yearly tour of a fortnight in the Highlands or even on the continent of Europe, +were his principal distractions, and, he grew rapidly in favour with his +superiors, and enjoyed already a salary of nearly two hundred pounds a year, +with the prospect of an ultimate advance to almost double that amount. Few +young men were more contented, few more willing and laborious than Francis +Scrymgeour. Sometimes at night, when he had read the daily paper, he would play +upon the flute to amuse his father, for whose qualities he entertained a great +respect. +</p> + +<p> +One day he received a note from a well-known firm of Writers to the Signet, +requesting the favour of an immediate interview with him. The letter was marked +“Private and Confidential,” and had been addressed to him at the +bank, instead of at home—two unusual circumstances which made him obey +the summons with the more alacrity. The senior member of the firm, a man of +much austerity of manner, made him gravely welcome, requested him to take a +seat, and proceeded to explain the matter in hand in the picked expressions of +a veteran man of business. A person, who must remain nameless, but of whom the +lawyer had every reason to think well—a man, in short, of some station in +the country—desired to make Francis an annual allowance of five hundred +pounds. The capital was to be placed under the control of the lawyer’s +firm and two trustees who must also remain anonymous. There were conditions +annexed to this liberality, but he was of opinion that his new client would +find nothing either excessive or dishonourable in the terms; and he repeated +these two words with emphasis, as though he desired to commit himself to +nothing more. +</p> + +<p> +Francis asked their nature. +</p> + +<p> +“The conditions,” said the Writer to the Signet, “are, as I +have twice remarked, neither dishonourable nor excessive. At the same time I +cannot conceal from you that they are most unusual. Indeed, the whole case is +very much out of our way; and I should certainly have refused it had it not +been for the reputation of the gentleman who entrusted it to my care, and, let +me add, Mr. Scrymgeour, the interest I have been led to take in yourself by +many complimentary and, I have no doubt, well-deserved reports.” +</p> + +<p> +Francis entreated him to be more specific. +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot picture my uneasiness as to these conditions,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“They are two,” replied the lawyer, “only two; and the sum, +as you will remember, is five hundred a-year—and unburdened, I forgot to +add, unburdened.” +</p> + +<p> +And the lawyer raised his eyebrows at him with solemn gusto. +</p> + +<p> +“The first,” he resumed, “is of remarkable simplicity. You +must be in Paris by the afternoon of Sunday, the 15th; there you will find, at +the box-office of the Comédie Française, a ticket for admission taken in +your name and waiting you. You are requested to sit out the whole performance +in the seat provided, and that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should certainly have preferred a week-day,” replied Francis. +“ But, after all, once in a way—” +</p> + +<p> +“And in Paris, my dear sir,” added the lawyer soothingly. “I +believe I am something of a precisian myself, but upon such a consideration, +and in Paris, I should not hesitate an instant.” +</p> + +<p> +And the pair laughed pleasantly together. +</p> + +<p> +“The other is of more importance,” continued the Writer to the +Signet. “It regards your marriage. My client, taking a deep interest in +your welfare, desires to advise you absolutely in the choice of a wife. +Absolutely, you understand,” he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us be more explicit, if you please,” returned Francis. +“Am I to marry any one, maid or widow, black or white, whom this +invisible person chooses to propose?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was to assure you that suitability of age and position should be a +principle with your benefactor,” replied the lawyer. “As to race, I +confess the difficulty had not occurred to me, and I failed to inquire; but if +you like I will make a note of it at once, and advise you on the earliest +opportunity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Francis, “it remains to be seen whether this +whole affair is not a most unworthy fraud. The circumstances are +inexplicable—I had almost said incredible; and until I see a little more +daylight, and some plausible motive, I confess I should be very sorry to put a +hand to the transaction. I appeal to you in this difficulty for information. I +must learn what is at the bottom of it all. If you do not know, cannot guess, +or are not at liberty to tell me, I shall take my hat and go back to my bank as +came.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know,” answered the lawyer, “but I have an +excellent guess. Your father, and no one else, is at the root of this +apparently unnatural business.” +</p> + +<p> +“My father!” cried Francis, in extreme disdain. “Worthy man, +I know every thought of his mind, every penny of his fortune!” +</p> + +<p> +“You misinterpret my words,” said the lawyer. “I do not refer +to Mr. Scrymgeour, senior; for he is not your father. When he and his wife came +to Edinburgh, you were already nearly one year old, and you had not yet been +three months in their care. The secret has been well kept; but such is the +fact. Your father is unknown, and I say again that I believe him to be the +original of the offers I am charged at present to transmit to you.” +</p> + +<p> +It would be impossible to exaggerate the astonishment of Francis Scrymgeour at +this unexpected information. He pled this confusion to the lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said he, “after a piece of news so startling, you must +grant me some hours for thought. You shall know this evening what conclusion I +have reached.” +</p> + +<p> +The lawyer commended his prudence; and Francis, excusing himself upon some +pretext at the bank, took a long walk into the country, and fully considered +the different steps and aspects of the case. A pleasant sense of his own +importance rendered him the more deliberate: but the issue was from the first +not doubtful. His whole carnal man leaned irresistibly towards the five hundred +a year, and the strange conditions with which it was burdened; he discovered in +his heart an invincible repugnance to the name of Scrymgeour, which he had +never hitherto disliked; he began to despise the narrow and unromantic +interests of his former life; and when once his mind was fairly made up, he +walked with a new feeling of strength and freedom, and nourished himself with +the gayest anticipations. +</p> + +<p> +He said but a word to the lawyer, and immediately received a cheque for two +quarters’ arrears; for the allowance was ante-dated from the first of +January. With this in his pocket, he walked home. The flat in Scotland Street +looked mean in his eyes; his nostrils, for the first time, rebelled against the +odour of broth; and he observed little defects of manner in his adoptive father +which filled him with surprise and almost with disgust. The next day, he +determined, should see him on his way to Paris. +</p> + +<p> +In that city, where he arrived long before the appointed date, he put up at a +modest hotel frequented by English and Italians, and devoted himself to +improvement in the French tongue; for this purpose he had a master twice a +week, entered into conversation with loiterers in the Champs Elysées, and +nightly frequented the theatre. He had his whole toilette fashionably renewed; +and was shaved and had his hair dressed every morning by a barber in a +neighbouring street. This gave him something of a foreign air, and seemed to +wipe off the reproach of his past years. +</p> + +<p> +At length, on the Saturday afternoon, he betook himself to the box-office of +the theatre in the Rue Richelieu. No sooner had he mentioned his name than the +clerk produced the order in an envelope of which the address was scarcely dry. +</p> + +<p> +“It has been taken this moment,” said the clerk. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” said Francis. “May I ask what the gentleman was +like?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your friend is easy to describe,” replied the official. “He +is old and strong and beautiful, with white hair and a sabre-cut across his +face. You cannot fail to recognise so marked a person.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed,” returned Francis; “and I thank you for your +politeness.” +</p> + +<p> +“He cannot yet be far distant,” added the clerk. “If you make +haste you might still overtake him.” +</p> + +<p> +Francis did not wait to be twice told; he ran precipitately from the theatre +into the middle of the street and looked in all directions. More than one +white-haired man was within sight; but though he overtook each of them in +succession, all wanted the sabre-cut. For nearly half-an-hour he tried one +street after another in the neighbourhood, until at length, recognising the +folly of continued search, he started on a walk to compose his agitated +feelings; for this proximity of an encounter with him to whom he could not +doubt he owed the day had profoundly moved the young man. +</p> + +<p> +It chanced that his way lay up the Rue Drouot and thence up the Rue des +Martyrs; and chance, in this case, served him better than all the forethought +in the world. For on the outer boulevard he saw two men in earnest colloquy +upon a seat. One was dark, young, and handsome, secularly dressed, but with an +indelible clerical stamp; the other answered in every particular to the +description given him by the clerk. Francis felt his heart beat high in his +bosom; he knew he was now about to hear the voice of his father; and making a +wide circuit, he noiselessly took his place behind the couple in question, who +were too much interested in their talk to observe much else. As Francis had +expected, the conversation was conducted in the English language. +</p> + +<p> +“Your suspicions begin to annoy me, Rolles,” said the older man. +“I tell you I am doing my utmost; a man cannot lay his hand on millions +in a moment. Have I not taken you up, a mere stranger, out of pure good-will? +Are you not living largely on my bounty?” +</p> + +<p> +“On your advances, Mr. Vandeleur,” corrected the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Advances, if you choose; and interest instead of goodwill, if you prefer +it,” returned Vandeleur angrily. “I am not here to pick +expressions. Business is business; and your business, let me remind you, is too +muddy for such airs. Trust me, or leave me alone and find some one else; but +let us have an end, for God’s sake, of your jeremiads.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am beginning to learn the world,” replied the other, “and +I see that you have every reason to play me false, and not one to deal +honestly. I am not here to pick expressions either; you wish the diamond for +yourself; you know you do—you dare not deny it. Have you not already +forged my name, and searched my lodging in my absence? I understand the cause +of your delays; you are lying in wait; you are the diamond hunter, forsooth; +and sooner or later, by fair means or foul, you’ll lay your hands upon +it. I tell you, it must stop; push me much further and I promise you a +surprise.” +</p> + +<p> +“It does not become you to use threats,” returned Vandeleur. +“Two can play at that. My brother is here in Paris; the police are on the +alert; and if you persist in wearying me with your caterwauling, I will arrange +a little astonishment for you, Mr. Rolles. But mine shall be once and for all. +Do you understand, or would you prefer me to tell it you in Hebrew? There is an +end to all things, and you have come to the end of my patience. Tuesday, at +seven; not a day, not an hour sooner, not the least part of a second, if it +were to save your life. And if you do not choose to wait, you may go to the +bottomless pit for me, and welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +And so saying, the Dictator arose from the bench, and marched off in the +direction of Montmartre, shaking his head and swinging his cane with a most +furious air; while his companion remained where he was, in an attitude of great +dejection. +</p> + +<p> +Francis was at the pitch of surprise and horror; his sentiments had been +shocked to the last degree; the hopeful tenderness with which he had taken his +place upon the bench was transformed into repulsion and despair; old Mr. +Scrymgeour, he reflected, was a far more kindly and creditable parent than this +dangerous and violent intriguer; but he retained his presence of mind, and +suffered not a moment to elapse before he was on the trail of the Dictator. +</p> + +<p> +That gentleman’s fury carried him forward at a brisk pace, and he was so +completely occupied in his angry thoughts that he never so much as cast a look +behind him till he reached his own door. +</p> + +<p> +His house stood high up in the Rue Lepic, commanding a view of all Paris and +enjoying the pure air of the heights. It was two storeys high, with green +blinds and shutters; and all the windows looking on the street were +hermetically closed. Tops of trees showed over the high garden wall, and the +wall was protected by <i>chevaux-de-frise</i>. The Dictator paused a moment +while he searched his pocket for a key; and then, opening a gate, disappeared +within the enclosure. +</p> + +<p> +Francis looked about him; the neighbourhood was very lonely, the house isolated +in its garden. It seemed as if his observation must here come to an abrupt end. +A second glance, however, showed him a tall house next door presenting a gable +to the garden, and in this gable a single window. He passed to the front and +saw a ticket offering unfurnished lodgings by the month; and, on inquiry, the +room which commanded the Dictator’s garden proved to be one of those to +let. Francis did not hesitate a moment; he took the room, paid an advance upon +the rent, and returned to his hotel to seek his baggage. +</p> + +<p> +The old man with the sabre-cut might or might not be his father; he might or he +might not be upon the true scent; but he was certainly on the edge of an +exciting mystery, and he promised himself that he would not relax his +observation until he had got to the bottom of the secret. +</p> + +<p> +From the window of his new apartment Francis Scrymgeour commanded a complete +view into the garden of the house with the green blinds. Immediately below him +a very comely chestnut with wide boughs sheltered a pair of rustic tables where +people might dine in the height of summer. On all sides save one a dense +vegetation concealed the soil; but there, between the tables and the house, he +saw a patch of gravel walk leading from the verandah to the garden-gate. +Studying the place from between the boards of the Venetian shutters, which he +durst not open for fear of attracting attention, Francis observed but little to +indicate the manners of the inhabitants, and that little argued no more than a +close reserve and a taste for solitude. The garden was conventual, the house +had the air of a prison. The green blinds were all drawn down upon the outside; +the door into the verandah was closed; the garden, as far as he could see it, +was left entirely to itself in the evening sunshine. A modest curl of smoke +from a single chimney alone testified to the presence of living people. +</p> + +<p> +In order that he might not be entirely idle, and to give a certain colour to +his way of life, Francis had purchased Euclid’s Geometry in French, which +he set himself to copy and translate on the top of his portmanteau and seated +on the floor against the wall; for he was equally without chair or table. From +time to time he would rise and cast a glance into the enclosure of the house +with the green blinds; but the windows remained obstinately closed and the +garden empty. +</p> + +<p> +Only late in the evening did anything occur to reward his continued attention. +Between nine and ten the sharp tinkle of a bell aroused him from a fit of +dozing; and he sprang to his observatory in time to hear an important noise of +locks being opened and bars removed, and to see Mr. Vandeleur, carrying a +lantern and clothed in a flowing robe of black velvet with a skull-cap to +match, issue from under the verandah and proceed leisurely towards the garden +gate. The sound of bolts and bars was then repeated; and a moment after Francis +perceived the Dictator escorting into the house, in the mobile light of the +lantern, an individual of the lowest and most despicable appearance. +</p> + +<p> +Half-an-hour afterwards the visitor was reconducted to the street; and Mr. +Vandeleur, setting his light upon one of the rustic tables, finished a cigar +with great deliberation under the foliage of the chestnut. Francis, peering +through a clear space among the leaves, was able to follow his gestures as he +threw away the ash or enjoyed a copious inhalation; and beheld a cloud upon the +old man’s brow and a forcible action of the lips, which testified to some +deep and probably painful train of thought. The cigar was already almost at an +end, when the voice of a young girl was heard suddenly crying the hour from the +interior of the house. +</p> + +<p> +“In a moment,” replied John Vandeleur. +</p> + +<p> +And, with that, he threw away the stump and, taking up the lantern, sailed away +under the verandah for the night. As soon as the door was closed, absolute +darkness fell upon the house; Francis might try his eyesight as much as he +pleased, he could not detect so much as a single chink of light below a blind; +and he concluded, with great good sense, that the bed-chambers were all upon +the other side. +</p> + +<p> +Early the next morning (for he was early awake after an uncomfortable night +upon the floor), he saw cause to adopt a different explanation. The blinds +rose, one after another, by means of a spring in the interior, and disclosed +steel shutters such as we see on the front of shops; these in their turn were +rolled up by a similar contrivance; and for the space of about an hour, the +chambers were left open to the morning air. At the end of that time Mr. +Vandeleur, with his own hand, once more closed the shutters and replaced the +blinds from within. +</p> + +<p> +While Francis was still marvelling at these precautions, the door opened and a +young girl came forth to look about her in the garden. It was not two minutes +before she re-entered the house, but even in that short time he saw enough to +convince him that she possessed the most unusual attractions. His curiosity was +not only highly excited by this incident, but his spirits were improved to a +still more notable degree. The alarming manners and more than equivocal life of +his father ceased from that moment to prey upon his mind; from that moment he +embraced his new family with ardour; and whether the young lady should prove +his sister or his wife, he felt convinced she was an angel in disguise. So much +was this the case that he was seized with a sudden horror when he reflected how +little he really knew, and how possible it was that he had followed the wrong +person when he followed Mr. Vandeleur. +</p> + +<p> +The porter, whom he consulted, could afford him little information; but, such +as it was, it had a mysterious and questionable sound. The person next door was +an English gentleman of extraordinary wealth, and proportionately eccentric in +his tastes and habits. He possessed great collections, which he kept in the +house beside him; and it was to protect these that he had fitted the place with +steel shutters, elaborate fastenings, and <i>chevaux-de-frise</i> along the +garden wall. He lived much alone, in spite of some strange visitors with whom, +it seemed, he had business to transact; and there was no one else in the house, +except Mademoiselle and an old woman servant. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Mademoiselle his daughter?” inquired Francis. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” replied the porter. “Mademoiselle is the +daughter of the house; and strange it is to see how she is made to work. For +all his riches, it is she who goes to market; and every day in the week you may +see her going by with a basket on her arm.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the collections?” asked the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said the man, “they are immensely valuable. More I +cannot tell you. Since M. de Vandeleur’s arrival no one in the quarter +has so much as passed the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose not,” returned Francis, “you must surely have some +notion what these famous galleries contain. Is it pictures, silks, statues, +jewels, or what?” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith, sir,” said the fellow with a shrug, “it might be +carrots, and still I could not tell you. How should I know? The house is kept +like a garrison, as you perceive.” +</p> + +<p> +And then as Francis was returning disappointed to his room, the porter called +him back. +</p> + +<p> +“I have just remembered, sir,” said he. “M. de Vandeleur has +been in all parts of the world, and I once heard the old woman declare that he +had brought many diamonds back with him. If that be the truth, there must be a +fine show behind those shutters.” +</p> + +<p> +By an early hour on Sunday Francis was in his place at the theatre. The seat +which had been taken for him was only two or three numbers from the left-hand +side, and directly opposite one of the lower boxes. As the seat had been +specially chosen there was doubtless something to be learned from its position; +and he judged by an instinct that the box upon his right was, in some way or +other, to be connected with the drama in which he ignorantly played a part. +Indeed, it was so situated that its occupants could safely observe him from +beginning to end of the piece, if they were so minded; while, profiting by the +depth, they could screen themselves sufficiently well from any +counter-examination on his side. He promised himself not to leave it for a +moment out of sight; and whilst he scanned the rest of the theatre, or made a +show of attending to the business of the stage, he always kept a corner of an +eye upon the empty box. +</p> + +<p> +The second act had been some time in progress, and was even drawing towards a +close, when the door opened and two persons entered and ensconced themselves in +the darkest of the shade. Francis could hardly control his emotion. It was Mr. +Vandeleur and his daughter. The blood came and went in his arteries and veins +with stunning activity; his ears sang; his head turned. He dared not look lest +he should awake suspicion; his play-bill, which he kept reading from end to end +and over and over again, turned from white to red before his eyes; and when he +cast a glance upon the stage, it seemed incalculably far away, and he found the +voices and gestures of the actors to the last degree impertinent and absurd. +</p> + +<p> +From time to time he risked a momentary look in the direction which principally +interested him; and once at least he felt certain that his eyes encountered +those of the young girl. A shock passed over his body, and he saw all the +colours of the rainbow. What would he not have given to overhear what passed +between the Vandeleurs? What would he not have given for the courage to take up +his opera-glass and steadily inspect their attitude and expression? There, for +aught he knew, his whole life was being decided—and he not able to +interfere, not able even to follow the debate, but condemned to sit and suffer +where he was, in impotent anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +At last the act came to an end. The curtain fell, and the people around him +began to leave their places, for the interval. It was only natural that he +should follow their example; and if he did so, it was not only natural but +necessary that he should pass immediately in front of the box in question. +Summoning all his courage, but keeping his eyes lowered, Francis drew near the +spot. His progress was slow, for the old gentleman before him moved with +incredible deliberation, wheezing as he went. What was he to do? Should he +address the Vandeleurs by name as he went by? Should he take the flower from +his button-hole and throw it into the box? Should he raise his face and direct +one long and affectionate look upon the lady who was either his sister or his +betrothed? As he found himself thus struggling among so many alternatives, he +had a vision of his old equable existence in the bank, and was assailed by a +thought of regret for the past. +</p> + +<p> +By this time he had arrived directly opposite the box; and although he was +still undetermined what to do or whether to do anything, he turned his head and +lifted his eyes. No sooner had he done so than he uttered a cry of +disappointment and remained rooted to the spot. The box was empty. During his +slow advance Mr. Vandeleur and his daughter had quietly slipped away. +</p> + +<p> +A polite person in his rear reminded him that he was stopping the path; and he +moved on again with mechanical footsteps, and suffered the crowd to carry him +unresisting out of the theatre. Once in the street, the pressure ceasing, he +came to a halt, and the cool night air speedily restored him to the possession +of his faculties. He was surprised to find that his head ached violently, and +that he remembered not one word of the two acts which he had witnessed. As the +excitement wore away, it was succeeded by an overweening appetite for sleep, +and he hailed a cab and drove to his lodging in a state of extreme exhaustion +and some disgust of life. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning he lay in wait for Miss Vandeleur on her road to market, and by +eight o’clock beheld her stepping down a lane. She was simply, and even +poorly, attired; but in the carriage of her head and body there was something +flexible and noble that would have lent distinction to the meanest toilette. +Even her basket, so aptly did she carry it, became her like an ornament. It +seemed to Francis, as he slipped into a doorway, that the sunshine followed and +the shadows fled before her as she walked; and he was conscious, for the first +time, of a bird singing in a cage above the lane. +</p> + +<p> +He suffered her to pass the doorway, and then, coming forth once more, +addressed her by name from behind. “Miss Vandeleur,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +She turned and, when she saw who he was, became deadly pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me,” he continued; “Heaven knows I had no will to +startle you; and, indeed, there should be nothing startling in the presence of +one who wishes you so well as I do. And, believe me, I am acting rather from +necessity than choice. We have many things in common, and I am sadly in the +dark. There is much that I should be doing, and my hands are tied. I do not +know even what to feel, nor who are my friends and enemies.” +</p> + +<p> +She found her voice with an effort. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know who you are,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes! Miss Vandeleur, you do,” returned Francis “better +than I do myself. Indeed, it is on that, above all, that I seek light. Tell me +what you know,” he pleaded. “Tell me who I am, who you are, and how +our destinies are intermixed. Give me a little help with my life, Miss +Vandeleur—only a word or two to guide me, only the name of my father, if +you will—and I shall be grateful and content.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not attempt to deceive you,” she replied. “I know who +you are, but I am not at liberty to say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, at least, that you have forgiven my presumption, and I shall +wait with all the patience I have,” he said. “If I am not to know, +I must do without. It is cruel, but I can bear more upon a push. Only do not +add to my troubles the thought that I have made an enemy of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You did only what was natural,” she said, “and I have +nothing to forgive you. Farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it to be <i>farewell</i>?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, that I do not know myself,” she answered. “Farewell for +the present, if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +And with these words she was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Francis returned to his lodging in a state of considerable commotion of mind. +He made the most trifling progress with his Euclid for that forenoon, and was +more often at the window than at his improvised writing-table. But beyond +seeing the return of Miss Vandeleur, and the meeting between her and her +father, who was smoking a Trichinopoli cigar in the verandah, there was nothing +notable in the neighbourhood of the house with the green blinds before the time +of the mid-day meal. The young man hastily allayed his appetite in a +neighbouring restaurant, and returned with the speed of unallayed curiosity to +the house in the Rue Lepic. A mounted servant was leading a saddle-horse to and +fro before the garden wall; and the porter of Francis’s lodging was +smoking a pipe against the door-post, absorbed in contemplation of the livery +and the steeds. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” he cried to the young man, “what fine cattle! what an +elegant costume! They belong to the brother of M. de Vandeleur, who is now +within upon a visit. He is a great man, a general, in your country; and you +doubtless know him well by reputation.” +</p> + +<p> +“I confess,” returned Francis, “that I have never heard of +General Vandeleur before. We have many officers of that grade, and my pursuits +have been exclusively civil.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is he,” replied the porter, “who lost the great diamond +of the Indies. Of that at least you must have read often in the papers.” +</p> + +<p> +As soon as Francis could disengage himself from the porter he ran upstairs and +hurried to the window. Immediately below the clear space in the chestnut +leaves, the two gentlemen were seated in conversation over a cigar. The +General, a red, military-looking man, offered some traces of a family +resemblance to his brother; he had something of the same features, something, +although very little, of the same free and powerful carriage; but he was older, +smaller, and more common in air; his likeness was that of a caricature, and he +seemed altogether a poor and debile being by the side of the Dictator. +</p> + +<p> +They spoke in tones so low, leaning over the table with every appearance of +interest, that Francis could catch no more than a word or two on an occasion. +For as little as he heard, he was convinced that the conversation turned upon +himself and his own career; several times the name of Scrymgeour reached his +ear, for it was easy to distinguish, and still more frequently he fancied he +could distinguish the name Francis. +</p> + +<p> +At length the General, as if in a hot anger, broke forth into several violent +exclamations. +</p> + +<p> +“Francis Vandeleur!” he cried, accentuating the last word. +“Francis Vandeleur, I tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +The Dictator made a movement of his whole body, half affirmative, half +contemptuous, but his answer was inaudible to the young man. +</p> + +<p> +Was he the Francis Vandeleur in question? he wondered. Were they discussing the +name under which he was to be married? Or was the whole affair a dream and a +delusion of his own conceit and self-absorption? +</p> + +<p> +After another interval of inaudible talk, dissension seemed again to arise +between the couple underneath the chestnut, and again the General raised his +voice angrily so as to be audible to Francis. +</p> + +<p> +“My wife?” he cried. “I have done with my wife for good. I +will not hear her name. I am sick of her very name.” +</p> + +<p> +And he swore aloud and beat the table with his fist. +</p> + +<p> +The Dictator appeared, by his gestures, to pacify him after a paternal fashion; +and a little after he conducted him to the garden-gate. The pair shook hands +affectionately enough; but as soon as the door had closed behind his visitor, +John Vandeleur fell into a fit of laughter which sounded unkindly and even +devilish in the ears of Francis Scrymgeour. +</p> + +<p> +So another day had passed, and little more learnt. But the young man remembered +that the morrow was Tuesday, and promised himself some curious discoveries; all +might be well, or all might be ill; he was sure, at least, to glean some +curious information, and, perhaps, by good luck, get at the heart of the +mystery which surrounded his father and his family. +</p> + +<p> +As the hour of the dinner drew near many preparations were made in the garden +of the house with the green blinds. That table which was partly visible to +Francis through the chestnut leaves was destined to serve as a sideboard, and +carried relays of plates and the materials for salad: the other, which was +almost entirely concealed, had been set apart for the diners, and Francis could +catch glimpses of white cloth and silver plate. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Rolles arrived, punctual to the minute; he looked like a man upon his +guard, and spoke low and sparingly. The Dictator, on the other hand, appeared +to enjoy an unusual flow of spirits; his laugh, which was youthful and pleasant +to hear, sounded frequently from the garden; by the modulation and the changes +of his voice it was obvious that he told many droll stories and imitated the +accents of a variety of different nations; and before he and the young +clergyman had finished their vermouth all feeling of distrust was at an end, +and they were talking together like a pair of school companions. +</p> + +<p> +At length Miss Vandeleur made her appearance, carrying the soup-tureen. Mr. +Rolles ran to offer her assistance which she laughingly refused; and there was +an interchange of pleasantries among the trio which seemed to have reference to +this primitive manner of waiting by one of the company. +</p> + +<p> +“One is more at one’s ease,” Mr. Vandeleur was heard to +declare. +</p> + +<p> +Next moment they were all three in their places, and Francis could see as +little as he could hear of what passed. But the dinner seemed to go merrily; +there was a perpetual babble of voices and sound of knives and forks below the +chestnut; and Francis, who had no more than a roll to gnaw, was affected with +envy by the comfort and deliberation of the meal. The party lingered over one +dish after another, and then over a delicate dessert, with a bottle of old wine +carefully uncorked by the hand of the Dictator himself. As it began to grow +dark a lamp was set upon the table and a couple of candles on the sideboard; +for the night was perfectly pure, starry, and windless. Light overflowed +besides from the door and window in the verandah, so that the garden was fairly +illuminated and the leaves twinkled in the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +For perhaps the tenth time Miss Vandeleur entered the house; and on this +occasion she returned with the coffee-tray, which she placed upon the +sideboard. At the same moment her father rose from his seat. +</p> + +<p> +“The coffee is my province,” Francis heard him say. +</p> + +<p> +And next moment he saw his supposed father standing by the sideboard in the +light of the candles. +</p> + +<p> +Talking over his shoulder all the while, Mr. Vandeleur poured out two cups of +the brown stimulant, and then, by a rapid act of prestidigitation, emptied the +contents of a tiny phial into the smaller of the two. The thing was so swiftly +done that even Francis, who looked straight into his face, had hardly time to +perceive the movement before it was completed. And next instant, and still +laughing, Mr. Vandeleur had turned again towards the table with a cup in either +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Ere we have done with this,” said he, “we may expect our +famous Hebrew.” +</p> + +<p> +It would be impossible to depict the confusion and distress of Francis +Scrymgeour. He saw foul play going forward before his eyes, and he felt bound +to interfere, but knew not how. It might be a mere pleasantry, and then how +should he look if he were to offer an unnecessary warning? Or again, if it were +serious, the criminal might be his own father, and then how should he not +lament if he were to bring ruin on the author of his days? For the first time +he became conscious of his own position as a spy. To wait inactive at such a +juncture and with such a conflict of sentiments in his bosom was to suffer the +most acute torture; he clung to the bars of the shutters, his heart beat fast +and with irregularity, and he felt a strong sweat break forth upon his body. +</p> + +<p> +Several minutes passed. +</p> + +<p> +He seemed to perceive the conversation die away and grow less and less in +vivacity and volume; but still no sign of any alarming or even notable event. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the ring of a glass breaking was followed by a faint and dull sound, +as of a person who should have fallen forward with his head upon the table. At +the same moment a piercing scream rose from the garden. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you done?” cried Miss Vandeleur. “He is +dead!” +</p> + +<p> +The Dictator replied in a violent whisper, so strong and sibilant that every +word was audible to the watcher at the window. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” said Mr. Vandeleur; “the man is as well as I am. +Take him by the heels whilst I carry him by the shoulders.” +</p> + +<p> +Francis heard Miss Vandeleur break forth into a passion of tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear what I say?” resumed the Dictator, in the same tones. +“Or do you wish to quarrel with me? I give you your choice, Miss +Vandeleur.” +</p> + +<p> +There was another pause, and the Dictator spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“Take that man by the heels,” he said. “I must have him +brought into the house. If I were a little younger, I could help myself against +the world. But now that years and dangers are upon me and my hands are +weakened, I must turn to you for aid.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a crime,” replied the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I am your father,” said Mr. Vandeleur. +</p> + +<p> +This appeal seemed to produce its effect. A scuffling noise followed upon the +gravel, a chair was overset, and then Francis saw the father and daughter +stagger across the walk and disappear under the verandah, bearing the inanimate +body of Mr. Rolles embraced about the knees and shoulders. The young clergyman +was limp and pallid, and his head rolled upon his shoulders at every step. +</p> + +<p> +Was he alive or dead? Francis, in spite of the Dictator’s declaration, +inclined to the latter view. A great crime had been committed; a great calamity +had fallen upon the inhabitants of the house with the green blinds. To his +surprise, Francis found all horror for the deed swallowed up in sorrow for a +girl and an old man whom he judged to be in the height of peril. A tide of +generous feeling swept into his heart; he, too, would help his father against +man and mankind, against fate and justice; and casting open the shutters he +closed his eyes and threw himself with out-stretched arms into the foliage of +the chestnut. +</p> + +<p> +Branch after branch slipped from his grasp or broke under his weight; then he +caught a stalwart bough under his armpit, and hung suspended for a second; and +then he let himself drop and fell heavily against the table. A cry of alarm +from the house warned him that his entrance had not been effected unobserved. +He recovered himself with a stagger, and in three bounds crossed the +intervening space and stood before the door in the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +In a small apartment, carpeted with matting and surrounded by glazed cabinets +full of rare and costly curios, Mr. Vandeleur was stooping over the body of Mr. +Rolles. He raised himself as Francis entered, and there was an instantaneous +passage of hands. It was the business of a second; as fast as an eye can wink +the thing was done; the young man had not the time to be sure, but it seemed to +him as if the Dictator had taken something from the curate’s breast, +looked at it for the least fraction of time as it lay in his hand, and then +suddenly and swiftly passed it to his daughter. +</p> + +<p> +All this was over while Francis had still one foot upon the threshold, and the +other raised in air. The next instant he was on his knees to Mr. Vandeleur. +</p> + +<p> +“Father!” he cried. “Let me too help you. I will do what you +wish and ask no questions; I will obey you with my life; treat me as a son, and +you will find I have a son’s devotion.” +</p> + +<p> +A deplorable explosion of oaths was the Dictator’s first reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Son and father?” he cried. “Father and son? What d—d +unnatural comedy is all this? How do you come in my garden? What do you want? +And who, in God’s name, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +Francis, with a stunned and shamefaced aspect, got upon his feet again, and +stood in silence. +</p> + +<p> +Then a light seemed to break upon Mr. Vandeleur, and he laughed aloud +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” cried he. “It is the Scrymgeour. Very well, Mr. +Scrymgeour. Let me tell you in a few words how you stand. You have entered my +private residence by force, or perhaps by fraud, but certainly with no +encouragement from me; and you come at a moment of some annoyance, a guest +having fainted at my table, to besiege me with your protestations. You are no +son of mine. You are my brother’s bastard by a fishwife, if you want to +know. I regard you with an indifference closely bordering on aversion; and from +what I now see of your conduct, I judge your mind to be exactly suitable to +your exterior. I recommend you these mortifying reflections for your leisure; +and, in the meantime, let me beseech you to rid us of your presence. If I were +not occupied,” added the Dictator, with a terrifying oath, “I +should give you the unholiest drubbing ere you went!” +</p> + +<p> +Francis listened in profound humiliation. He would have fled had it been +possible; but as he had no means of leaving the residence into which he had so +unfortunately penetrated, he could do no more than stand foolishly where he +was. +</p> + +<p> +It was Miss Vandeleur who broke the silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” she said, “you speak in anger. Mr. Scrymgeour may +have been mistaken, but he meant well and kindly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you for speaking,” returned the Dictator. “You remind +me of some other observations which I hold it a point of honour to make to Mr. +Scrymgeour. My brother,” he continued, addressing the young man, +“has been foolish enough to give you an allowance; he was foolish enough +and presumptuous enough to propose a match between you and this young lady. You +were exhibited to her two nights ago; and I rejoice to tell you that she +rejected the idea with disgust. Let me add that I have considerable influence +with your father; and it shall not be my fault if you are not beggared of your +allowance and sent back to your scrivening ere the week be out.” +</p> + +<p> +The tones of the old man’s voice were, if possible, more wounding than +his language; Francis felt himself exposed to the most cruel, blighting, and +unbearable contempt; his head turned, and he covered his face with his hands, +uttering at the same time a tearless sob of agony. But Miss Vandeleur once +again interfered in his behalf. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Scrymgeour,” she said, speaking in clear and even tones, +“you must not be concerned at my father’s harsh expressions. I felt +no disgust for you; on the contrary, I asked an opportunity to make your better +acquaintance. As for what has passed to-night, believe me it has filled my mind +with both pity and esteem.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then Mr. Rolles made a convulsive movement with his arm, which convinced +Francis that he was only drugged, and was beginning to throw off the influence +of the opiate. Mr. Vandeleur stooped over him and examined his face for an +instant. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come!” cried he, raising his head. “Let there be an +end of this. And since you are so pleased with his conduct, Miss Vandeleur, +take a candle and show the bastard out.” +</p> + +<p> +The young lady hastened to obey. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Francis, as soon as he was alone with her in the +garden. “I thank you from my soul. This has been the bitterest evening of +my life, but it will have always one pleasant recollection.” +</p> + +<p> +“I spoke as I felt,” she replied, “and in justice to you. It +made my heart sorry that you should be so unkindly used.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time they had reached the garden gate; and Miss Vandeleur, having set +the candle on the ground, was already unfastening the bolts. +</p> + +<p> +“One word more,” said Francis. “This is not for the last +time—I shall see you again, shall I not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” she answered. “You have heard my father. What can I +do but obey?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me at least that it is not with your consent,” returned +Francis; “tell me that you have no wish to see the last of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” replied she, “I have none. You seem to me both +brave and honest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Francis, “give me a keepsake.” +</p> + +<p> +She paused for a moment, with her hand upon the key; for the various bars and +bolts were all undone, and there was nothing left but to open the lock. +</p> + +<p> +“If I agree,” she said, “will you promise to do as I tell you +from point to point?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you ask?” replied Francis. “I would do so willingly on +your bare word.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned the key and threw open the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Be it so,” said she. “You do not know what you ask, but be +it so. Whatever you hear,” she continued, “whatever happens, do not +return to this house; hurry fast until you reach the lighted and populous +quarters of the city; even there be upon your guard. You are in a greater +danger than you fancy. Promise me you will not so much as look at my keepsake +until you are in a place of safety.” +</p> + +<p> +“I promise,” replied Francis. +</p> + +<p> +She put something loosely wrapped in a handkerchief into the young man’s +hand; and at the same time, with more strength than he could have anticipated, +she pushed him into the street. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, run!” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +He heard the door close behind him, and the noise of the bolts being replaced. +</p> + +<p> +“My faith,” said he, “since I have promised!” +</p> + +<p> +And he took to his heels down the lane that leads into the Rue Ravignan. +</p> + +<p> +He was not fifty paces from the house with the green blinds when the most +diabolical outcry suddenly arose out of the stillness of the night. +Mechanically he stood still; another passenger followed his example; in the +neighbouring floors he saw people crowding to the windows; a conflagration +could not have produced more disturbance in this empty quarter. And yet it +seemed to be all the work of a single man, roaring between grief and rage, like +a lioness robbed of her whelps; and Francis was surprised and alarmed to hear +his own name shouted with English imprecations to the wind. +</p> + +<p> +His first movement was to return to the house; his second, as he remembered +Miss Vandeleur’s advice, to continue his flight with greater expedition +than before; and he was in the act of turning to put his thought in action, +when the Dictator, bareheaded, bawling aloud, his white hair blowing about his +head, shot past him like a ball out of the cannon’s mouth, and went +careering down the street. +</p> + +<p> +“That was a close shave,” thought Francis to himself. “What +he wants with me, and why he should be so disturbed, I cannot think; but he is +plainly not good company for the moment, and I cannot do better than follow +Miss Vandeleur’s advice.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he turned to retrace his steps, thinking to double and descend by +the Rue Lepic itself while his pursuer should continue to follow after him on +the other line of street. The plan was ill-devised: as a matter of fact, he +should have taken his seat in the nearest café, and waited there until the +first heat of the pursuit was over. But besides that Francis had no experience +and little natural aptitude for the small war of private life, he was so +unconscious of any evil on his part, that he saw nothing to fear beyond a +disagreeable interview. And to disagreeable interviews he felt he had already +served his apprenticeship that evening; nor could he suppose that Miss +Vandeleur had left anything unsaid. Indeed, the young man was sore both in body +and mind—the one was all bruised, the other was full of smarting arrows; +and he owned to himself that Mr. Vandeleur was master of a very deadly tongue. +</p> + +<p> +The thought of his bruises reminded him that he had not only come without a +hat, but that his clothes had considerably suffered in his descent through the +chestnut. At the first magazine he purchased a cheap wideawake, and had the +disorder of his toilet summarily repaired. The keepsake, still rolled in the +handkerchief, he thrust in the meanwhile into his trousers pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Not many steps beyond the shop he was conscious of a sudden shock, a hand upon +his throat, an infuriated face close to his own, and an open mouth bawling +curses in his ear. The Dictator, having found no trace of his quarry, was +returning by the other way. Francis was a stalwart young fellow; but he was no +match for his adversary whether in strength or skill; and after a few +ineffectual struggles he resigned himself entirely to his captor. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want with me?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“We will talk of that at home,” returned the Dictator grimly. +</p> + +<p> +And he continued to march the young man up hill in the direction of the house +with the green blinds. +</p> + +<p> +But Francis, although he no longer struggled, was only waiting an opportunity +to make a bold push for freedom. With a sudden jerk he left the collar of his +coat in the hands of Mr. Vandeleur, and once more made off at his best speed in +the direction of the Boulevards. +</p> + +<p> +The tables were now turned. If the Dictator was the stronger, Francis, in the +top of his youth, was the more fleet of foot, and he had soon effected his +escape among the crowds. Relieved for a moment, but with a growing sentiment of +alarm and wonder in his mind, he walked briskly until he debouched upon the +Place de l’Opéra, lit up like day with electric lamps. +</p> + +<p> +“This, at least,” thought he, “should satisfy Miss +Vandeleur.” +</p> + +<p> +And turning to his right along the Boulevards, he entered the Café Américain +and ordered some beer. It was both late and early for the majority of the +frequenters of the establishment. Only two or three persons, all men, were +dotted here and there at separate tables in the hall; and Francis was too much +occupied by his own thoughts to observe their presence. +</p> + +<p> +He drew the handkerchief from his pocket. The object wrapped in it proved to be +a morocco case, clasped and ornamented in gilt, which opened by means of a +spring, and disclosed to the horrified young man a diamond of monstrous bigness +and extraordinary brilliancy. The circumstance was so inexplicable, the value +of the stone was plainly so enormous, that Francis sat staring into the open +casket without movement, without conscious thought, like a man stricken +suddenly with idiocy. +</p> + +<p> +A hand was laid upon his shoulder, lightly but firmly, and a quiet voice, which +yet had in it the ring of command, uttered these words in his ear— +</p> + +<p> +“Close the casket, and compose your face.” +</p> + +<p> +Looking up, he beheld a man, still young, of an urbane and tranquil presence, +and dressed with rich simplicity. This personage had risen from a neighbouring +table, and, bringing his glass with him, had taken a seat beside Francis. +</p> + +<p> +“Close the casket,” repeated the stranger, “and put it +quietly back into your pocket, where I feel persuaded it should never have +been. Try, if you please, to throw off your bewildered air, and act as though I +were one of your acquaintances whom you had met by chance. So! Touch glasses +with me. That is better. I fear, sir, you must be an amateur.” +</p> + +<p> +And the stranger pronounced these last words with a smile of peculiar meaning, +leaned back in his seat and enjoyed a deep inhalation of tobacco. +</p> + +<p> +“For God’s sake,” said Francis, “tell me who you are +and what this means? Why I should obey your most unusual suggestions I am sure +I know not; but the truth is, I have fallen this evening into so many +perplexing adventures, and all I meet conduct themselves so strangely, that I +think I must either have gone mad or wandered into another planet. Your face +inspires me with confidence; you seem wise, good, and experienced; tell me, for +heaven’s sake, why you accost me in so odd a fashion?” +</p> + +<p> +“All in due time,” replied the stranger. “But I have the +first hand, and you must begin by telling me how the Rajah’s Diamond is +in your possession.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Rajah’s Diamond!” echoed Francis. +</p> + +<p> +“I would not speak so loud, if I were you,” returned the other. +“But most certainly you have the Rajah’s Diamond in your pocket. I +have seen and handled it a score of times in Sir Thomas Vandeleur’s +collection.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Thomas Vandeleur! The General! My father!” cried Francis. +</p> + +<p> +“Your father?” repeated the stranger. “I was not aware the +General had any family.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am illegitimate, sir,” replied Francis, with a flush. +</p> + +<p> +The other bowed with gravity. It was a respectful bow, as of a man silently +apologising to his equal; and Francis felt relieved and comforted, he scarce +knew why. The society of this person did him good; he seemed to touch firm +ground; a strong feeling of respect grew up in his bosom, and mechanically he +removed his wideawake as though in the presence of a superior. +</p> + +<p> +“I perceive,” said the stranger, “that your adventures have +not all been peaceful. Your collar is torn, your face is scratched, you have a +cut upon your temple; you will, perhaps, pardon my curiosity when I ask you to +explain how you came by these injuries, and how you happen to have stolen +property to an enormous value in your pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must differ from you!” returned Francis hotly. “I possess +no stolen property. And if you refer to the diamond, it was given to me not an +hour ago by Miss Vandeleur in the Rue Lepic.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Miss Vandeleur of the Rue Lepic!” repeated the other. +“You interest me more than you suppose. Pray continue.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens!” cried Francis. +</p> + +<p> +His memory had made a sudden bound. He had seen Mr. Vandeleur take an article +from the breast of his drugged visitor, and that article, he was now persuaded, +was a morocco case. +</p> + +<p> +“You have a light?” inquired the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” replied Francis. “I know not who you are, but I +believe you to be worthy of confidence and helpful; I find myself in strange +waters; I must have counsel and support, and since you invite me I shall tell +you all.” +</p> + +<p> +And he briefly recounted his experiences since the day when he was summoned +from the bank by his lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +“Yours is indeed a remarkable history,” said the stranger, after +the young man had made an end of his narrative; “and your position is +full of difficulty and peril. Many would counsel you to seek out your father, +and give the diamond to him; but I have other views. Waiter!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +The waiter drew near. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you ask the manager to speak with me a moment?” said he; and +Francis observed once more, both in his tone and manner, the evidence of a +habit of command. +</p> + +<p> +The waiter withdrew, and returned in a moment with manager, who bowed with +obsequious respect. +</p> + +<p> +“What,” said he, “can I do to serve you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have the goodness,” replied the stranger, indicating Francis, +“to tell this gentleman my name.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have the honour, sir,” said the functionary, addressing young +Scrymgeour, “to occupy the same table with His Highness Prince Florizel +of Bohemia.” +</p> + +<p> +Francis rose with precipitation, and made a grateful reverence to the Prince, +who bade him resume his seat. +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you,” said Florizel, once more addressing the functionary; +“I am sorry to have deranged you for so small a matter.” +</p> + +<p> +And he dismissed him with a movement of his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” added the Prince, turning to Francis, “give me the +diamond.” +</p> + +<p> +Without a word the casket was handed over. +</p> + +<p> +“You have done right,” said Florizel, “your sentiments have +properly inspired you, and you will live to be grateful for the misfortunes of +to-night. A man, Mr. Scrymgeour, may fall into a thousand perplexities, but if +his heart be upright and his intelligence unclouded, he will issue from them +all without dishonour. Let your mind be at rest; your affairs are in my hand; +and with the aid of heaven I am strong enough to bring them to a good end. +Follow me, if you please, to my carriage.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying the Prince arose and, having left a piece of gold for the waiter, +conducted the young man from the café and along the Boulevard to where an +unpretentious brougham and a couple of servants out of livery awaited his +arrival. +</p> + +<p> +“This carriage,” said he, “is at your disposal; collect your +baggage as rapidly as you can make it convenient, and my servants will conduct +you to a villa in the neighbourhood of Paris where you can wait in some degree +of comfort until I have had time to arrange your situation. You will find there +a pleasant garden, a library of good authors, a cook, a cellar, and some good +cigars, which I recommend to your attention. Jérome,” he added, turning +to one of the servants, “you have heard what I say; I leave Mr. +Scrymgeour in your charge; you will, I know, be careful of my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +Francis uttered some broken phrases of gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +“It will be time enough to thank me,” said the Prince, “when +you are acknowledged by your father and married to Miss Vandeleur.” +</p> + +<p> +And with that the Prince turned away and strolled leisurely in the direction of +Montmartre. He hailed the first passing cab, gave an address, and a quarter of +an hour afterwards, having discharged the driver some distance lower, he was +knocking at Mr. Vandeleur’s garden gate. +</p> + +<p> +It was opened with singular precautions by the Dictator in person. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“You must pardon me this late visit, Mr. Vandeleur,” replied the +Prince. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness is always welcome,” returned Mr. Vandeleur, stepping +back. +</p> + +<p> +The Prince profited by the open space, and without waiting for his host walked +right into the house and opened the door of the <i>salon</i>. Two people were +seated there; one was Miss Vandeleur, who bore the marks of weeping about her +eyes, and was still shaken from time to time by a sob; in the other the Prince +recognised the young man who had consulted him on literary matters about a +month before, in a club smoking-room. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, Miss Vandeleur,” said Florizel; “you look +fatigued. Mr. Rolles, I believe? I hope you have profited by the study of +Gaboriau, Mr. Rolles.” +</p> + +<p> +But the young clergyman’s temper was too much embittered for speech; and +he contented himself with bowing stiffly, and continued to gnaw his lip. +</p> + +<p> +“To what good wind,” said Mr. Vandeleur, following his guest, +“am I to attribute the honour of your Highness’s presence?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am come on business,” returned the Prince; “on business +with you; as soon as that is settled I shall request Mr. Rolles to accompany me +for a walk. Mr. Rolles,” he added with severity, “let me remind you +that I have not yet sat down.” +</p> + +<p> +The clergyman sprang to his feet with an apology; whereupon the Prince took an +armchair beside the table, handed his hat to Mr. Vandeleur, his cane to Mr. +Rolles, and, leaving them standing and thus menially employed upon his service, +spoke as follows:— +</p> + +<p> +“I have come here, as I said, upon business; but, had I come looking for +pleasure, I could not have been more displeased with my reception nor more +dissatisfied with my company. You, sir,” addressing Mr. Rolles, +“you have treated your superior in station with discourtesy; you, +Vandeleur, receive me with a smile, but you know right well that your hands are +not yet cleansed from misconduct. I do not desire to be interrupted, +sir,” he added imperiously; “I am here to speak, and not to listen; +and I have to ask you to hear me with respect, and to obey punctiliously. At +the earliest possible date your daughter shall be married at the Embassy to my +friend, Francis Scrymgeour, your brother’s acknowledged son. You will +oblige me by offering not less than ten thousand pounds dowry. For yourself, I +will indicate to you in writing a mission of some importance in Siam which I +destine to your care. And now, sir, you will answer me in two words whether or +not you agree to these conditions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness will pardon me,” said Mr. Vandeleur, “and +permit me, with all respect, to submit to him two queries?” +</p> + +<p> +“The permission is granted,” replied the Prince. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness,” resumed the Dictator, “has called Mr. +Scrymgeour his friend. Believe me, had I known he was thus honoured, I should +have treated him with proportional respect.” +</p> + +<p> +“You interrogate adroitly,” said the Prince; “but it will not +serve your turn. You have my commands; if I had never seen that gentleman +before to-night, it would not render them less absolute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness interprets my meaning with his usual subtlety,” +returned Vandeleur. “Once more: I have, unfortunately, put the police +upon the track of Mr. Scrymgeour on a charge of theft; am I to withdraw or to +uphold the accusation?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will please yourself,” replied Florizel. “The question +is one between your conscience and the laws of this land. Give me my hat; and +you, Mr. Rolles, give me my cane and follow me. Miss Vandeleur, I wish you good +evening. I judge,” he added to Vandeleur, “that your silence means +unqualified assent.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I can do no better,” replied the old man, “I shall +submit; but I warn you openly it shall not be without a struggle.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are old,” said the Prince; “but years are disgraceful to +the wicked. Your age is more unwise than the youth of others. Do not provoke +me, or you may find me harder than you dream. This is the first time that I +have fallen across your path in anger; take care that it be the last.” +</p> + +<p> +With these words, motioning the clergyman to follow, Florizel left the +apartment and directed his steps towards the garden gate; and the Dictator, +following with a candle, gave them light, and once more undid the elaborate +fastenings with which he sought to protect himself from intrusion. +</p> + +<p> +“Your daughter is no longer present,” said the Prince, turning on +the threshold. “Let me tell you that I understand your threats; and you +have only to lift your hand to bring upon yourself sudden and irremediable +ruin.” +</p> + +<p> +The Dictator made no reply; but as the Prince turned his back upon him in the +lamplight he made a gesture full of menace and insane fury; and the next +moment, slipping round a corner, he was running at full speed for the nearest +cab-stand. +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p> +(<i>Here</i>, says my Arabian, <i>the thread of events is finally diverted +from</i> <span class="smcap">The House with the Green Blinds</span>. <i>One +more adventure</i>, he adds, <i>and we have done with</i> <span +class="smcap">The Rajah’s Diamond</span>. <i>That last link in the chain +is known among the inhabitants of Bagdad by the name of</i> <span +class="smcap">The Adventure of Prince Florizel and a Detective</span>.) +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap09"></a>THE ADVENTURE OF PRINCE FLORIZEL AND A DETECTIVE</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Prince Florizel</span> walked with Mr. Rolles to the door +of a small hotel where the latter resided. They spoke much together, and the +clergyman was more than once affected to tears by the mingled severity and +tenderness of Florizel’s reproaches. +</p> + +<p> +“I have made ruin of my life,” he said at last. “Help me; +tell me what I am to do; I have, alas! neither the virtues of a priest nor the +dexterity of a rogue.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now that you are humbled,” said the Prince, “I command no +longer; the repentant have to do with God and not with princes. But if you will +let me advise you, go to Australia as a colonist, seek menial labour in the +open air, and try to forget that you have ever been a clergyman, or that you +ever set eyes on that accursed stone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Accurst indeed!” replied Mr. Rolles. “Where is it now? What +further hurt is it not working for mankind?” +</p> + +<p> +“It will do no more evil,” returned the Prince. “It is here +in my pocket. And this,” he added kindly, “will show that I place +some faith in your penitence, young as it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suffer me to touch your hand,” pleaded Mr. Rolles. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Prince Florizel, “not yet.” +</p> + +<p> +The tone in which he uttered these last words was eloquent in the ears of the +young clergyman; and for some minutes after the Prince had turned away he stood +on the threshold following with his eyes the retreating figure and invoking the +blessing of heaven upon a man so excellent in counsel. +</p> + +<p> +For several hours the Prince walked alone in unfrequented streets. His mind was +full of concern; what to do with the diamond, whether to return it to its +owner, whom he judged unworthy of this rare possession, or to take some +sweeping and courageous measure and put it out of the reach of all mankind at +once and for ever, was a problem too grave to be decided in a moment. The +manner in which it had come into his hands appeared manifestly providential; +and as he took out the jewel and looked at it under the street lamps, its size +and surprising brilliancy inclined him more and more to think of it as of an +unmixed and dangerous evil for the world. +</p> + +<p> +“God help me!” he thought; “if I look at it much oftener, I +shall begin to grow covetous myself.” +</p> + +<p> +At last, though still uncertain in his mind, he turned his steps towards the +small but elegant mansion on the river-side which had belonged for centuries to +his royal family. The arms of Bohemia are deeply graved over the door and upon +the tall chimneys; passengers have a look into a green court set with the most +costly flowers, and a stork, the only one in Paris, perches on the gable all +day long and keeps a crowd before the house. Grave servants are seen passing to +and fro within; and from time to time the great gate is thrown open and a +carriage rolls below the arch. For many reasons this residence was especially +dear to the heart of Prince Florizel; he never drew near to it without enjoying +that sentiment of home-coming so rare in the lives of the great; and on the +present evening he beheld its tall roof and mildly illuminated windows with +unfeigned relief and satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +As he was approaching the postern door by which he always entered when alone, a +man stepped forth from the shadow and presented himself with an obeisance in +the Prince’s path. +</p> + +<p> +“I have the honour of addressing Prince Florizel of Bohemia?” said +he. +</p> + +<p> +“Such is my title,” replied the Prince. “What do you want +with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am,” said the man, “a detective, and I have to present +your Highness with this billet from the Prefect of Police.” +</p> + +<p> +The Prince took the letter and glanced it through by the light of the street +lamp. It was highly apologetic, but requested him to follow the bearer to the +Prefecture without delay. +</p> + +<p> +“In short,” said Florizel, “I am arrested.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness,” replied the officer, “nothing, I am certain, +could be further from the intention of the Prefect. You will observe that he +has not granted a warrant. It is mere formality, or call it, if you prefer, an +obligation that your Highness lays on the authorities.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the same time,” asked the Prince, “if I were to refuse to +follow you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not conceal from your Highness that a considerable discretion has +been granted me,” replied the detective with a bow. +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my word,” cried Florizel, “your effrontery astounds me! +Yourself, as an agent, I must pardon; but your superiors shall dearly smart for +their misconduct. What, have you any idea, is the cause of this impolitic and +unconstitutional act? You will observe that I have as yet neither refused nor +consented, and much may depend on your prompt and ingenuous answer. Let me +remind you, officer, that this is an affair of some gravity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness,” said the detective humbly, “General +Vandeleur and his brother have had the incredible presumption to accuse you of +theft. The famous diamond, they declare, is in your hands. A word from you in +denial will most amply satisfy the Prefect; nay, I go farther: if your Highness +would so far honour a subaltern as to declare his ignorance of the matter even +to myself, I should ask permission to retire upon the spot.” +</p> + +<p> +Florizel, up to the last moment, had regarded his adventure in the light of a +trifle, only serious upon international considerations. At the name of +Vandeleur the horrible truth broke upon him in a moment; he was not only +arrested, but he was guilty. This was not only an annoying incident—it +was a peril to his honour. What was he to say? What was he to do? The +Rajah’s Diamond was indeed an accursed stone; and it seemed as if he were +to be the last victim to its influence. +</p> + +<p> +One thing was certain. He could not give the required assurance to the +detective. He must gain time. +</p> + +<p> +His hesitation had not lasted a second. +</p> + +<p> +“Be it so,” said he, “let us walk together to the +Prefecture.” +</p> + +<p> +The man once more bowed, and proceeded to follow Florizel at a respectful +distance in the rear. +</p> + +<p> +“Approach,” said the Prince. “I am in a humour to talk, and, +if I mistake not, now I look at you again, this is not the first time that we +have met.” +</p> + +<p> +“I count it an honour,” replied the officer, “that your +Highness should recollect my face. It is eight years since I had the pleasure +of an interview.” +</p> + +<p> +“To remember faces,” returned Florizel, “is as much a part of +my profession as it is of yours. Indeed, rightly looked upon, a Prince and a +detective serve in the same corps. We are both combatants against crime; only +mine is the more lucrative and yours the more dangerous rank, and there is a +sense in which both may be made equally honourable to a good man. I had rather, +strange as you may think it, be a detective of character and parts than a weak +and ignoble sovereign.” +</p> + +<p> +The officer was overwhelmed. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness returns good for evil,” said he. “To an act of +presumption he replies by the most amiable condescension.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know,” replied Florizel, “that I am not seeking +to corrupt you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven preserve me from the temptation!” cried the detective. +</p> + +<p> +“I applaud your answer,” returned the Prince. “It is that of +a wise and honest man. The world is a great place and stocked with wealth and +beauty, and there is no limit to the rewards that may be offered. Such an one +who would refuse a million of money may sell his honour for an empire or the +love of a woman; and I myself, who speak to you, have seen occasions so +tempting, provocations so irresistible to the strength of human virtue, that I +have been glad to tread in your steps and recommend myself to the grace of God. +It is thus, thanks to that modest and becoming habit alone,” he added, +“that you and I can walk this town together with untarnished +hearts.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had always heard that you were brave,” replied the officer, +“but I was not aware that you were wise and pious. You speak the truth, +and you speak it with an accent that moves me to the heart. This world is +indeed a place of trial.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are now,” said Florizel, “in the middle of the bridge. +Lean your elbows on the parapet and look over. As the water rushing below, so +the passions and complications of life carry away the honesty of weak men. Let +me tell you a story.” +</p> + +<p> +“I receive your Highness’s commands,” replied the man. +</p> + +<p> +And, imitating the Prince, he leaned against the parapet, and disposed himself +to listen. The city was already sunk in slumber; had it not been for the +infinity of lights and the outline of buildings on the starry sky, they might +have been alone beside some country river. +</p> + +<p> +“An officer,” began Prince Florizel, “a man of courage and +conduct, who had already risen by merit to an eminent rank, and won not only +admiration but respect, visited, in an unfortunate hour for his peace of mind, +the collections of an Indian Prince. Here he beheld a diamond so extraordinary +for size and beauty that from that instant he had only one desire in life: +honour, reputation, friendship, the love of country, he was ready to sacrifice +all for this lump of sparkling crystal. For three years he served this +semi-barbarian potentate as Jacob served Laban; he falsified frontiers, he +connived at murders, he unjustly condemned and executed a brother-officer who +had the misfortune to displease the Rajah by some honest freedoms; lastly, at a +time of great danger to his native land, he betrayed a body of his +fellow-soldiers, and suffered them to be defeated and massacred by thousands. +In the end, he had amassed a magnificent fortune, and brought home with him the +coveted diamond. +</p> + +<p> +“Years passed,” continued the Prince, “and at length the +diamond is accidentally lost. It falls into the hands of a simple and laborious +youth, a student, a minister of God, just entering on a career of usefulness +and even distinction. Upon him also the spell is cast; he deserts everything, +his holy calling, his studies, and flees with the gem into a foreign country. +The officer has a brother, an astute, daring, unscrupulous man, who learns the +clergyman’s secret. What does he do? Tell his brother, inform the police? +No; upon this man also the Satanic charm has fallen; he must have the stone for +himself. At the risk of murder, he drugs the young priest and seizes the prey. +And now, by an accident which is not important to my moral, the jewel passes +out of his custody into that of another, who, terrified at what he sees, gives +it into the keeping of a man in high station and above reproach. +</p> + +<p> +“The officer’s name is Thomas Vandeleur,” continued Florizel. +“The stone is called the Rajah’s Diamond. And”—suddenly +opening his hand—“you behold it here before your eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +The officer started back with a cry. +</p> + +<p> +“We have spoken of corruption,” said the Prince. “To me this +nugget of bright crystal is as loathsome as though it were crawling with the +worms of death; it is as shocking as though it were compacted out of innocent +blood. I see it here in my hand, and I know it is shining with hell-fire. I +have told you but a hundredth part of its story; what passed in former ages, to +what crimes and treacheries it incited men of yore, the imagination trembles to +conceive; for years and years it has faithfully served the powers of hell; +enough, I say, of blood, enough of disgrace, enough of broken lives and +friendships; all things come to an end, the evil like the good; pestilence as +well as beautiful music; and as for this diamond, God forgive me if I do wrong, +but its empire ends to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +The Prince made a sudden movement with his hand, and the jewel, describing an +arc of light, dived with a splash into the flowing river. +</p> + +<p> +“Amen,” said Florizel with gravity. “I have slain a +cockatrice!” +</p> + +<p> +“God pardon me!” cried the detective. “What have you done? I +am a ruined man.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” returned the Prince with a smile, “that many +well-to-do people in this city might envy you your ruin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! your Highness!” said the officer, “and you corrupt me +after all?” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems there was no help for it,” replied Florizel. “And +now let us go forward to the Prefecture.” +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p> +Not long after, the marriage of Francis Scrymgeour and Miss Vandeleur was +celebrated in great privacy; and the Prince acted on that occasion as +groomsman. The two Vandeleurs surprised some rumour of what had happened to the +diamond; and their vast diving operations on the River Seine are the wonder and +amusement of the idle. It is true that through some miscalculation they have +chosen the wrong branch of the river. As for the Prince, that sublime person, +having now served his turn, may go, along with the <i>Arabian Author</i>, +topsy-turvy into space. But if the reader insists on more specific information, +I am happy to say that a recent revolution hurled him from the throne of +Bohemia, in consequence of his continued absence and edifying neglect of public +business; and that his Highness now keeps a cigar store in Rupert Street, much +frequented by other foreign refugees. I go there from time to time to smoke and +have a chat, and find him as great a creature as in the days of his prosperity; +he has an Olympian air behind the counter; and although a sedentary life is +beginning to tell upon his waistcoat, he is probably, take him for all in all, +the handsomest tobacconist in London. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER I<br/> +TELLS HOW I CAMPED IN GRADEN SEA-WOOD, AND BEHELD A LIGHT IN THE PAVILION</h3> + +<p> +I <span class="smcap">was</span> a great solitary when I was young. I made it +my pride to keep aloof and suffice for my own entertainment; and I may say that +I had neither friends nor acquaintances until I met that friend who became my +wife and the mother of my children. With one man only was I on private terms; +this was R. Northmour, Esquire, of Graden Easter, in Scotland. We had met at +college; and though there was not much liking between us, nor even much +intimacy, we were so nearly of a humour that we could associate with ease to +both. Misanthropes, we believed ourselves to be; but I have thought since that +we were only sulky fellows. It was scarcely a companionship, but a coexistence +in unsociability. Northmour’s exceptional violence of temper made it no +easy affair for him to keep the peace with any one but me; and as he respected +my silent ways, and let me come and go as I pleased, I could tolerate his +presence without concern. I think we called each other friends. +</p> + +<p> +When Northmour took his degree and I decided to leave the university without +one, he invited me on a long visit to Graden Easter; and it was thus that I +first became acquainted with the scene of my adventures. The mansion-house of +Graden stood in a bleak stretch of country some three miles from the shore of +the German Ocean. It was as large as a barrack; and as it had been built of a +soft stone, liable to consume in the eager air of the seaside, it was damp and +draughty within and half ruinous without. It was impossible for two young men +to lodge with comfort in such a dwelling. But there stood in the northern part +of the estate, in a wilderness of links and blowing sand-hills, and between a +plantation and the sea, a small Pavilion or Belvidere, of modern design, which +was exactly suited to our wants; and in this hermitage, speaking little, +reading much, and rarely associating except at meals, Northmour and I spent +four tempestuous winter months. I might have stayed longer; but one March night +there sprang up between us a dispute, which rendered my departure necessary. +Northmour spoke hotly, I remember, and I suppose I must have made some tart +rejoinder. He leaped from his chair and grappled me; I had to fight, without +exaggeration, for my life; and it was only with a great effort that I mastered +him, for he was near as strong in body as myself, and seemed filled with the +devil. The next morning, we met on our usual terms; but I judged it more +delicate to withdraw; nor did he attempt to dissuade me. +</p> + +<p> +It was nine years before I revisited the neighbourhood. I travelled at that +time with a tilt cart, a tent, and a cooking-stove, tramping all day beside the +waggon, and at night, whenever it was possible, gipsying in a cove of the +hills, or by the side of a wood. I believe I visited in this manner most of the +wild and desolate regions both in England and Scotland; and, as I had neither +friends nor relations, I was troubled with no correspondence, and had nothing +in the nature of headquarters, unless it was the office of my solicitors, from +whom I drew my income twice a year. It was a life in which I delighted; and I +fully thought to have grown old upon the march, and at last died in a ditch. +</p> + +<p> +It was my whole business to find desolate corners, where I could camp without +the fear of interruption; and hence, being in another part of the same shire, I +bethought me suddenly of the Pavilion on the Links. No thoroughfare passed +within three miles of it. The nearest town, and that was but a fisher village, +was at a distance of six or seven. For ten miles of length, and from a depth +varying from three miles to half a mile, this belt of barren country lay along +the sea. The beach, which was the natural approach, was full of quicksands. +Indeed I may say there is hardly a better place of concealment in the United +Kingdom. I determined to pass a week in the Sea-Wood of Graden Easter, and +making a long stage, reached it about sundown on a wild September day. +</p> + +<p> +The country, I have said, was mixed sand-hill and links; <i>links</i> being a +Scottish name for sand which has ceased drifting and become more or less +solidly covered with turf. The Pavilion stood on an even space; a little behind +it, the wood began in a hedge of elders huddled together by the wind; in front, +a few tumbled sand-hills stood between it and the sea. An outcropping of rock +had formed a bastion for the sand, so that there was here a promontory in the +coast-line between two shallow bays; and just beyond the tides, the rock again +cropped out and formed an islet of small dimensions but strikingly designed. +The quicksands were of great extent at low water, and had an infamous +reputation in the country. Close in shore, between the islet and the +promontory, it was said they would swallow a man in four minutes and a half; +but there may have been little ground for this precision. The district was +alive with rabbits, and haunted by gulls which made a continual piping about +the pavilion. On summer days the outlook was bright and even gladsome; but at +sundown in September, with a high wind, and a heavy surf rolling in close along +the links, the place told of nothing but dead mariners and sea disaster. A ship +beating to windward on the horizon, and a huge truncheon of wreck half buried +in the sands at my feet, completed the innuendo of the scene. +</p> + +<p> +The pavilion—it had been built by the last proprietor, Northmour’s +uncle, a silly and prodigal virtuoso—presented little signs of age. It +was two storeys in height, Italian in design, surrounded by a patch of garden +in which nothing had prospered but a few coarse flowers; and looked, with its +shuttered windows, not like a house that had been deserted, but like one that +had never been tenanted by man. Northmour was plainly from home; whether, as +usual, sulking in the cabin of his yacht, or in one of his fitful and +extravagant appearances in the world of society, I had, of course, no means of +guessing. The place had an air of solitude that daunted even a solitary like +myself; the wind cried in the chimneys with a strange and wailing note; and it +was with a sense of escape, as if I were going indoors, that I turned away and, +driving my cart before me, entered the skirts of the wood. +</p> + +<p> +The Sea-Wood of Graden had been planted to shelter the cultivated fields +behind, and check the encroachments of the blowing sand. As you advanced into +it from coastward, elders were succeeded by other hardy shrubs; but the timber +was all stunted and bushy; it led a life of conflict; the trees were accustomed +to swing there all night long in fierce winter tempests; and even in early +spring, the leaves were already flying, and autumn was beginning, in this +exposed plantation. Inland the ground rose into a little hill, which, along +with the islet, served as a sailing mark for seamen. When the hill was open of +the islet to the north, vessels must bear well to the eastward to clear Graden +Ness and the Graden Bullers. In the lower ground, a streamlet ran among the +trees, and, being dammed with dead leaves and clay of its own carrying, spread +out every here and there, and lay in stagnant pools. One or two ruined cottages +were dotted about the wood; and, according to Northmour, these were +ecclesiastical foundations, and in their time had sheltered pious hermits. +</p> + +<p> +I found a den, or small hollow, where there was a spring of pure water; and +there, clearing away the brambles, I pitched the tent, and made a fire to cook +my supper. My horse I picketed farther in the wood where there was a patch of +sward. The banks of the den not only concealed the light of my fire, but +sheltered me from the wind, which was cold as well as high. +</p> + +<p> +The life I was leading made me both hardy and frugal. I never drank but water, +and rarely ate anything more costly than oatmeal; and I required so little +sleep, that, although I rose with the peep of day, I would often lie long awake +in the dark or starry watches of the night. Thus in Graden Sea-Wood, although I +fell thankfully asleep by eight in the evening I was awake again before eleven +with a full possession of my faculties, and no sense of drowsiness or fatigue. +I rose and sat by the fire, watching the trees and clouds tumultuously tossing +and fleeing overhead, and hearkening to the wind and the rollers along the +shore; till at length, growing weary of inaction, I quitted the den, and +strolled towards the borders of the wood. A young moon, buried in mist, gave a +faint illumination to my steps; and the light grew brighter as I walked forth +into the links. At the same moment, the wind, smelling salt of the open ocean +and carrying particles of sand, struck me with its full force, so that I had to +bow my head. +</p> + +<p> +When I raised it again to look about me, I was aware of a light in the +pavilion. It was not stationary; but passed from one window to another, as +though some one were reviewing the different apartments with a lamp or candle. +</p> + +<p> +I watched it for some seconds in great surprise. When I had arrived in the +afternoon the house had been plainly deserted; now it was as plainly occupied. +It was my first idea that a gang of thieves might have broken in and be now +ransacking Northmour’s cupboards, which were many and not ill supplied. +But what should bring thieves to Graden Easter? And, again, all the shutters +had been thrown open, and it would have been more in the character of such +gentry to close them. I dismissed the notion, and fell back upon another. +Northmour himself must have arrived, and was now airing and inspecting the +pavilion. +</p> + +<p> +I have said that there was no real affection between this man and me; but, had +I loved him like a brother, I was then so much more in love with solitude that +I should none the less have shunned his company. As it was, I turned and ran +for it; and it was with genuine satisfaction that I found myself safely back +beside the fire. I had escaped an acquaintance; I should have one more night in +comfort. In the morning, I might either slip away before Northmour was abroad, +or pay him as short a visit as I chose. +</p> + +<p> +But when morning came, I thought the situation so diverting that I forgot my +shyness. Northmour was at my mercy; I arranged a good practical jest, though I +knew well that my neighbour was not the man to jest with in security; and, +chuckling beforehand over its success, took my place among the elders at the +edge of the wood, whence I could command the door of the pavilion. The shutters +were all once more closed, which I remember thinking odd; and the house, with +its white walls and green venetians, looked spruce and habitable in the morning +light. Hour after hour passed, and still no sign of Northmour. I knew him for a +sluggard in the morning; but, as it drew on towards noon, I lost my patience. +To say the truth, I had promised myself to break my fast in the pavilion, and +hunger began to prick me sharply. It was a pity to let the opportunity go by +without some cause for mirth; but the grosser appetite prevailed, and I +relinquished my jest with regret, and sallied from the wood. +</p> + +<p> +The appearance of the house affected me, as I drew near, with disquietude. It +seemed unchanged since last evening; and I had expected it, I scarce knew why, +to wear some external signs of habitation. But no: the windows were all closely +shuttered, the chimneys breathed no smoke, and the front door itself was +closely padlocked. Northmour, therefore, had entered by the back; this was the +natural and, indeed, the necessary conclusion; and you may judge of my surprise +when, on turning the house, I found the back door similarly secured. +</p> + +<p> +My mind at once reverted to the original theory of thieves; and I blamed myself +sharply for my last night’s inaction. I examined all the windows on the +lower storey, but none of them had been tampered with; I tried the padlocks, +but they were both secure. It thus became a problem how the thieves, if thieves +they were, had managed to enter the house. They must have got, I reasoned, upon +the roof of the outhouse where Northmour used to keep his photographic battery; +and from thence, either by the window of the study or that of my old bedroom, +completed their burglarious entry. +</p> + +<p> +I followed what I supposed was their example; and, getting on the roof, tried +the shutters of each room. Both were secure; but I was not to be beaten; and, +with a little force, one of them flew open, grazing, as it did so, the back of +my hand. I remember, I put the wound to my mouth, and stood for perhaps half a +minute licking it like a dog, and mechanically gazing behind me over the waste +links and the sea; and, in that space of time, my eye made note of a large +schooner yacht some miles to the north-east. Then I threw up the window and +climbed in. +</p> + +<p> +I went over the house, and nothing can express my mystification. There was no +sign of disorder, but, on the contrary, the rooms were unusually clean and +pleasant. I found fires laid, ready for lighting; three bedrooms prepared with +a luxury quite foreign to Northmour’s habits, and with water in the ewers +and the beds turned down; a table set for three in the dining-room; and an +ample supply of cold meats, game, and vegetables on the pantry shelves. There +were guests expected, that was plain; but why guests, when Northmour hated +society? And, above all, why was the house thus stealthily prepared at dead of +night? and why were the shutters closed and the doors padlocked? +</p> + +<p> +I effaced all traces of my visit, and came forth from the window feeling +sobered and concerned. +</p> + +<p> +The schooner yacht was still in the same place; and it flashed for a moment +through my mind that this might be the <i>Red Earl</i> bringing the owner of +the pavilion and his guests. But the vessel’s head was set the other way. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER II<br/> +TELLS OF THE NOCTURNAL LANDING FROM THE YACHT</h3> + +<p> +I <span class="smcap">returned</span> to the den to cook myself a meal, of +which I stood in great need, as well as to care for my horse, whom I had +somewhat neglected in the morning. From time to time I went down to the edge of +the wood; but there was no change in the pavilion, and not a human creature was +seen all day upon the links. The schooner in the offing was the one touch of +life within my range of vision. She, apparently with no set object, stood off +and on or lay to, hour after hour; but as the evening deepened, she drew +steadily nearer. I became more convinced that she carried Northmour and his +friends, and that they would probably come ashore after dark; not only because +that was of a piece with the secrecy of the preparations, but because the tide +would not have flowed sufficiently before eleven to cover Graden Floe and the +other sea quags that fortified the shore against invaders. +</p> + +<p> +All day the wind had been going down, and the sea along with it; but there was +a return towards sunset of the heavy weather of the day before. The night set +in pitch dark. The wind came off the sea in squalls, like the firing of a +battery of cannon; now and then there was a flaw of rain, and the surf rolled +heavier with the rising tide. I was down at my observatory among the elders, +when a light was run up to the masthead of the schooner, and showed she was +closer in than when I had last seen her by the dying daylight. I concluded that +this must be a signal to Northmour’s associates on shore; and, stepping +forth into the links, looked around me for something in response. +</p> + +<p> +A small footpath ran along the margin of the wood, and formed the most direct +communication between the pavilion and the mansion-house; and, as I cast my +eyes to that side, I saw a spark of light, not a quarter of a mile away, and +rapidly approaching. From its uneven course it appeared to be the light of a +lantern carried by a person who followed the windings of the path, and was +often staggered and taken aback by the more violent squalls. I concealed myself +once more among the elders, and waited eagerly for the new-comer’s +advance. It proved to be a woman; and, as she passed within half a rod of my +ambush, I was able to recognise the features. The deaf and silent old dame, who +had nursed Northmour in his childhood, was his associate in this underhand +affair. +</p> + +<p> +I followed her at a little distance, taking advantage of the innumerable +heights and hollows, concealed by the darkness, and favoured not only by the +nurse’s deafness, but by the uproar of the wind and surf. She entered the +pavilion, and, going at once to the upper storey, opened and set a light in one +of the windows that looked towards the sea. Immediately afterwards the light at +the schooner’s masthead was run down and extinguished. Its purpose had +been attained, and those on board were sure that they were expected. The old +woman resumed her preparations; although the other shutters remained closed, I +could see a glimmer going to and fro about the house; and a gush of sparks from +one chimney after another soon told me that the fires were being kindled. +</p> + +<p> +Northmour and his guests, I was now persuaded, would come ashore as soon as +there was water on the floe. It was a wild night for boat service; and I felt +some alarm mingle with my curiosity as I reflected on the danger of the +landing. My old acquaintance, it was true, was the most eccentric of men; but +the present eccentricity was both disquieting and lugubrious to consider. A +variety of feelings thus led me towards the beach, where I lay flat on my face +in a hollow within six feet of the track that led to the pavilion. Thence, I +should have the satisfaction of recognising the arrivals, and, if they should +prove to be acquaintances, greeting them as soon as they had landed. +</p> + +<p> +Some time before eleven, while the tide was still dangerously low, a +boat’s lantern appeared close in shore; and, my attention being thus +awakened, I could perceive another still far to seaward, violently tossed, and +sometimes hidden by the billows. The weather, which was getting dirtier as the +night went on, and the perilous situation of the yacht upon a lee shore, had +probably driven them to attempt a landing at the earliest possible moment. +</p> + +<p> +A little afterwards, four yachtsmen carrying a very heavy chest, and guided by +a fifth with a lantern, passed close in front of me as I lay, and were admitted +to the pavilion by the nurse. They returned to the beach, and passed me a +second time with another chest, larger but apparently not so heavy as the +first. A third time they made the transit; and on this occasion one of the +yachtsmen carried a leather portmanteau, and the others a lady’s trunk +and carriage bag. My curiosity was sharply excited. If a woman were among the +guests of Northmour, it would show a change in his habits and an apostasy from +his pet theories of life, well calculated to fill me with surprise. When he and +I dwelt there together, the pavilion had been a temple of misogyny. And now, +one of the detested sex was to be installed under its roof. I remembered one or +two particulars, a few notes of daintiness and almost of coquetry which had +struck me the day before as I surveyed the preparations in the house; their +purpose was now clear, and I thought myself dull not to have perceived it from +the first. +</p> + +<p> +While I was thus reflecting, a second lantern drew near me from the beach. It +was carried by a yachtsman whom I had not yet seen, and who was conducting two +other persons to the pavilion. These two persons were unquestionably the guests +for whom the house was made ready; and, straining eye and ear, I set myself to +watch them as they passed. One was an unusually tall man, in a travelling hat +slouched over his eyes, and a highland cape closely buttoned and turned up so +as to conceal his face. You could make out no more of him than that he was, as +I have said, unusually tall, and walked feebly with a heavy stoop. By his side, +and either clinging to him or giving him support—I could not make out +which—was a young, tall, and slender figure of a woman. She was extremely +pale; but in the light of the lantern her face was so marred by strong and +changing shadows, that she might equally well have been as ugly as sin or as +beautiful as I afterwards found her to be. +</p> + +<p> +When they were just abreast of me, the girl made some remark which was drowned +by the noise of the wind. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” said her companion; and there was something in the tone +with which the word was uttered that thrilled and rather shook my spirits. It +seemed to breathe from a bosom labouring under the deadliest terror; I have +never heard another syllable so expressive; and I still hear it again when I am +feverish at night, and my mind runs upon old times. The man turned towards the +girl as he spoke; I had a glimpse of much red beard and a nose which seemed to +have been broken in youth; and his light eyes seemed shining in his face with +some strong and unpleasant emotion. +</p> + +<p> +But these two passed on and were admitted in their turn to the pavilion. +</p> + +<p> +One by one, or in groups, the seamen returned to the beach. The wind brought me +the sound of a rough voice crying, “Shove off!” Then, after a +pause, another lantern drew near. It was Northmour alone. +</p> + +<p> +My wife and I, a man and a woman, have often agreed to wonder how a person +could be, at the same time, so handsome and so repulsive as Northmour. He had +the appearance of a finished gentleman; his face bore every mark of +intelligence and courage; but you had only to look at him, even in his most +amiable moment, to see that he had the temper of a slaver captain. I never knew +a character that was both explosive and revengeful to the same degree; he +combined the vivacity of the south with the sustained and deadly hatreds of the +north; and both traits were plainly written on his face, which was a sort of +danger signal. In person he was tall, strong, and active; his hair and +complexion very dark; his features handsomely designed, but spoiled by a +menacing expression. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment he was somewhat paler than by nature; he wore a heavy frown; and +his lips worked, and he looked sharply round him as he walked, like a man +besieged with apprehensions. And yet I thought he had a look of triumph +underlying all, as though he had already done much, and was near the end of an +achievement. +</p> + +<p> +Partly from a scruple of delicacy—which I dare say came too +late—partly from the pleasure of startling an acquaintance, I desired to +make my presence known to him without delay. +</p> + +<p> +I got suddenly to my feet, and stepped forward. “Northmour!” said +I. +</p> + +<p> +I have never had so shocking a surprise in all my days. He leaped on me without +a word; something shone in his hand; and he struck for my heart with a dagger. +At the same moment I knocked him head over heels. Whether it was my quickness, +or his own uncertainty, I know not; but the blade only grazed my shoulder, +while the hilt and his fist struck me violently on the mouth. +</p> + +<p> +I fled, but not far. I had often and often observed the capabilities of the +sand-hills for protracted ambush or stealthy advances and retreats; and, not +ten yards from the scene of the scuffle, plumped down again upon the grass. The +lantern had fallen and gone out. But what was my astonishment to see Northmour +slip at a bound into the pavilion, and hear him bar the door behind him with a +clang of iron! +</p> + +<p> +He had not pursued me. He had run away. Northmour, whom I knew for the most +implacable and daring of men, had run away! I could scarce believe my reason; +and yet in this strange business, where all was incredible, there was nothing +to make a work about in an incredibility more or less. For why was the pavilion +secretly prepared? Why had Northmour landed with his guests at dead of night, +in half a gale of wind, and with the floe scarce covered? Why had he sought to +kill me? Had he not recognised my voice? I wondered. And, above all, how had he +come to have a dagger ready in his hand? A dagger, or even a sharp knife, +seemed out of keeping with the age in which we lived; and a gentleman landing +from his yacht on the shore of his own estate, even although it was at night +and with some mysterious circumstances, does not usually, as a matter of fact, +walk thus prepared for deadly onslaught. The more I reflected, the further I +felt at sea. I recapitulated the elements of mystery, counting them on my +fingers: the pavilion secretly prepared for guests; the guests landed at the +risk of their lives and to the imminent peril of the yacht; the guests, or at +least one of them, in undisguised and seemingly causeless terror; Northmour +with a naked weapon; Northmour stabbing his most intimate acquaintance at a +word; last, and not least strange, Northmour fleeing from the man whom he had +sought to murder, and barricading himself, like a hunted creature, behind the +door of the pavilion. Here were at least six separate causes for extreme +surprise; each part and parcel with the others, and forming all together one +consistent story. I felt almost ashamed to believe my own senses. +</p> + +<p> +As I thus stood, transfixed with wonder, I began to grow painfully conscious of +the injuries I had received in the scuffle; skulked round among the sand-hills; +and, by a devious path, regained the shelter of the wood. On the way, the old +nurse passed again within several yards of me, still carrying her lantern, on +the return journey to the mansion-house of Graden. This made a seventh +suspicious feature in the case—Northmour and his guests, it appeared, +were to cook and do the cleaning for themselves, while the old woman continued +to inhabit the big empty barrack among the policies. There must surely be great +cause for secrecy, when so many inconveniences were confronted to preserve it. +</p> + +<p> +So thinking, I made my way to the den. For greater security, I trod out the +embers of the fire, and lit my lantern to examine the wound upon my shoulder. +It was a trifling hurt, although it bled somewhat freely, and I dressed it as +well as I could (for its position made it difficult to reach) with some rag and +cold water from the spring. While I was thus busied, I mentally declared war +against Northmour and his mystery. I am not an angry man by nature, and I +believe there was more curiosity than resentment in my heart. But war I +certainly declared; and, by way of preparation, I got out my revolver, and, +having drawn the charges, cleaned and reloaded it with scrupulous care. Next I +became preoccupied about my horse. It might break loose, or fall to neighing, +and so betray my camp in the Sea-Wood. I determined to rid myself of its +neighbourhood; and long before dawn I was leading it over the links in the +direction of the fisher village. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER III<br/> +TELLS HOW I BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH MY WIFE</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">For</span> two days I skulked round the pavilion, profiting +by the uneven surface of the links. I became an adept in the necessary tactics. +These low hillocks and shallow dells, running one into another, became a kind +of cloak of darkness for my enthralling, but perhaps dishonourable, pursuit. +Yet, in spite of this advantage, I could learn but little of Northmour or his +guests. +</p> + +<p> +Fresh provisions were brought under cover of darkness by the old woman from the +mansion-house. Northmour, and the young lady, sometimes together, but more +often singly, would walk for an hour or two at a time on the beach beside the +quicksand. I could not but conclude that this promenade was chosen with an eye +to secrecy; for the spot was open only to the seaward. But it suited me not +less excellently; the highest and most accidented of the sand-hills immediately +adjoined; and from these, lying flat in a hollow, I could overlook Northmour or +the young lady as they walked. +</p> + +<p> +The tall man seemed to have disappeared. Not only did he never cross the +threshold, but he never so much as showed face at a window; or, at least, not +so far as I could see; for I dared not creep forward beyond a certain distance +in the day, since the upper floor commanded the bottoms of the links; and at +night, when I could venture farther, the lower windows were barricaded as if to +stand a siege. Sometimes I thought the tall man must be confined to bed, for I +remembered the feebleness of his gait; and sometimes I thought he must have +gone clear away, and that Northmour and the young lady remained alone together +in the pavilion. The idea, even then, displeased me. +</p> + +<p> +Whether or not this pair were man and wife, I had seen abundant reason to doubt +the friendliness of their relation. Although I could hear nothing of what they +said, and rarely so much as glean a decided expression on the face of either, +there was a distance, almost a stiffness, in their bearing which showed them to +be either unfamiliar or at enmity. The girl walked faster when she was with +Northmour than when she was alone; and I conceived that any inclination between +a man and a woman would rather delay than accelerate the step. Moreover, she +kept a good yard free of him, and trailed her umbrella, as if it were a +barrier, on the side between them. Northmour kept sidling closer; and, as the +girl retired from his advance, their course lay at a sort of diagonal across +the beach, and would have landed them in the surf had it been long enough +continued. But, when this was imminent, the girl would unostentatiously change +sides and put Northmour between her and the sea. I watched these manœuvres, for +my part, with high enjoyment and approval, and chuckled to myself at every +move. +</p> + +<p> +On the morning of the third day, she walked alone for some time, and I +perceived, to my great concern, that she was more than once in tears. You will +see that my heart was already interested more than I supposed. She had a firm +yet airy motion of the body, and carried her head with unimaginable grace; +every step was a thing to look at, and she seemed in my eyes to breathe +sweetness and distinction. +</p> + +<p> +The day was so agreeable, being calm and sunshiny, with a tranquil sea, and yet +with a healthful piquancy and vigour in the air, that, contrary to custom, she +was tempted forth a second time to walk. On this occasion she was accompanied +by Northmour, and they had been but a short while on the beach, when I saw him +take forcible possession of her hand. She struggled, and uttered a cry that was +almost a scream. I sprang to my feet, unmindful of my strange position; but, +ere I had taken a step, I saw Northmour bareheaded and bowing very low, as if +to apologise; and dropped again at once into my ambush. A few words were +interchanged; and then, with another bow, he left the beach to return to the +pavilion. He passed not far from me, and I could see him, flushed and lowering, +and cutting savagely with his cane among the grass. It was not without +satisfaction that I recognised my own handiwork in a great cut under his right +eye, and a considerable discolouration round the socket. +</p> + +<p> +For some time the girl remained where he had left her, looking out past the +islet and over the bright sea. Then with a start, as one who throws off +preoccupation and puts energy again upon its mettle, she broke into a rapid and +decisive walk. She also was much incensed by what had passed. She had forgotten +where she was. And I beheld her walk straight into the borders of the quicksand +where it is most abrupt and dangerous. Two or three steps farther and her life +would have been in serious jeopardy, when I slid down the face of the +sand-hill, which is there precipitous, and, running half-way forward, called to +her to stop. +</p> + +<p> +She did so, and turned round. There was not a tremor of fear in her behaviour, +and she marched directly up to me like a queen. I was barefoot, and clad like a +common sailor, save for an Egyptian scarf round my waist; and she probably took +me at first for some one from the fisher village, straying after bait. As for +her, when I thus saw her face to face, her eyes set steadily and imperiously +upon mine, I was filled with admiration and astonishment, and thought her even +more beautiful than I had looked to find her. Nor could I think enough of one +who, acting with so much boldness, yet preserved a maidenly air that was both +quaint and engaging; for my wife kept an old-fashioned precision of manner +through all her admirable life—an excellent thing in woman, since it sets +another value on her sweet familiarities. +</p> + +<p> +“What does this mean?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You were walking,” I told her, “directly into Graden +Floe.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not belong to these parts,” she said again. “You +speak like an educated man.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I have right to that name,” said I, “although in +this disguise.” +</p> + +<p> +But her woman’s eye had already detected the sash. “Oh!” she +said; “your sash betrays you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have said the word <i>betray</i>,” I resumed. “May I ask +you not to betray me? I was obliged to disclose myself in your interest; but if +Northmour learned my presence it might be worse than disagreeable for +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know,” she asked, “to whom you are speaking?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to Mr. Northmour’s wife?” I asked, by way of answer. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. All this while she was studying my face with an +embarrassing intentness. Then she broke out— +</p> + +<p> +“You have an honest face. Be honest like your face, sir, and tell me what +you want and what you are afraid of. Do you think I could hurt you? I believe +you have far more power to injure me! And yet you do not look unkind. What do +you mean—you, a gentleman—by skulking like a spy about this +desolate place? Tell me,” she said, “who is it you hate?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hate no one,” I answered; “and I fear no one face to face. +My name is Cassilis—Frank Cassilis. I lead the life of a vagabond for my +own good pleasure. I am one of Northmour’s oldest friends; and three +nights ago, when I addressed him on these links, he stabbed me in the shoulder +with a knife.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was you!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Why he did so,” I continued, disregarding the interruption, +“is more than I can guess, and more than I care to know. I have not many +friends, nor am I very susceptible to friendship; but no man shall drive me +from a place by terror. I had camped in Graden Sea-Wood ere he came; I camp in +it still. If you think I mean harm to you or yours, madam, the remedy is in +your hand. Tell him that my camp is in the Hemlock Den, and to-night he can +stab me in safety while I sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +With this I doffed my cap to her, and scrambled up once more among the +sand-hills. I do not know why, but I felt a prodigious sense of injustice, and +felt like a hero and a martyr; while, as a matter of fact, I had not a word to +say in my defence, nor so much as one plausible reason to offer for my conduct. +I had stayed at Graden out of a curiosity natural enough, but undignified; and +though there was another motive growing in along with the first, it was not one +which, at that period, I could have properly explained to the lady of my heart. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, that night, I thought of no one else; and, though her whole conduct +and position seemed suspicious, I could not find it in my heart to entertain a +doubt of her integrity. I could have staked my life that she was clear of +blame, and, though all was dark at the present, that the explanation of the +mystery would show her part in these events to be both right and needful. It +was true, let me cudgel my imagination as I pleased, that I could invent no +theory of her relations to Northmour; but I felt none the less sure of my +conclusion because it was founded on instinct in place of reason, and, as I may +say, went to sleep that night with the thought of her under my pillow. +</p> + +<p> +Next day she came out about the same hour alone, and, as soon as the sand-hills +concealed her from the pavilion, drew nearer to the edge, and called me by name +in guarded tones. I was astonished to observe that she was deadly pale, and +seemingly under the influence of strong emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Cassilis!” she cried; “Mr. Cassilis!” +</p> + +<p> +I appeared at once, and leaped down upon the beach. A remarkable air of relief +overspread her countenance as soon as she saw me. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she cried, with a hoarse sound, like one whose bosom has been +lightened of a weight. And then, “Thank God you are still safe!” +she added; “I knew, if you were, you would be here.” (Was not this +strange? So swiftly and wisely does Nature prepare our hearts for these great +life-long intimacies, that both my wife and I had been given a presentiment on +this the second day of our acquaintance. I had even then hoped that she would +seek me; she had felt sure that she would find me.) “Do not,” she +went, on swiftly, “do not stay in this place. Promise me that you will +sleep no longer in that wood. You do not know how I suffer; all last night I +could not sleep for thinking of your peril.” +</p> + +<p> +“Peril?” I repeated. “Peril from whom? From Northmour?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so,” she said. “Did you think I would tell him after +what you said?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not from Northmour?” I repeated. “Then how? From whom? I see +none to be afraid of.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must not ask me,” was her reply, “for I am not free to +tell you. Only believe me, and go hence—believe me, and go away quickly, +quickly, for your life!” +</p> + +<p> +An appeal to his alarm is never a good plan to rid oneself of a spirited young +man. My obstinacy was but increased by what she said, and I made it a point of +honour to remain. And her solicitude for my safety still more confirmed me in +the resolve. +</p> + +<p> +“You must not think me inquisitive, madam,” I replied; “but, +if Graden is so dangerous a place, you yourself perhaps remain here at some +risk.” +</p> + +<p> +She only looked at me reproachfully. +</p> + +<p> +“You and your father—” I resumed; but she interrupted me +almost with a gasp. +</p> + +<p> +“My father! How do you know that?” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw you together when you landed,” was my answer; and I do not +know why, but it seemed satisfactory to both of us, as indeed it was the truth. +“But,” I continued, “you need have no fear from me. I see you +have some reason to be secret, and, you may believe me, your secret is as safe +with me as if I were in Graden Floe. I have scarce spoken to any one for years; +my horse is my only companion, and even he, poor beast, is not beside me. You +see, then, you may count on me for silence. So tell me the truth, my dear young +lady, are you not in danger?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Northmour says you are an honourable man,” she returned, +“and I believe it when I see you. I will tell you so much; you are right; +we are in dreadful, dreadful danger, and you share it by remaining where you +are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said I; “you have heard of me from Northmour? And he +gives me a good character?” +</p> + +<p> +“I asked him about you last night,” was her reply. “I +pretended,” she hesitated, “I pretended to have met you long ago, +and spoken to you of him. It was not true; but I could not help myself without +betraying you, and you had put me in a difficulty. He praised you +highly.” +</p> + +<p> +“And—you may permit me one question—does this danger come +from Northmour?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“From Mr. Northmour?” she cried. “Oh no; he stays with us to +share it.” +</p> + +<p> +“While you propose that I should run away?” I said. “You do +not rate me very high.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should you stay?” she asked. “You are no friend of +ours.” +</p> + +<p> +I know not what came over me, for I had not been conscious of a similar +weakness since I was a child, but I was so mortified by this retort that my +eyes pricked and filled with tears, as I continued to gaze upon her face. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” she said, in a changed voice; “I did not mean the +words unkindly.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was I who offended,” I said; and I held out my hand with a look +of appeal that somehow touched her, for she gave me hers at once, and even +eagerly. I held it for awhile in mine, and gazed into her eyes. It was she who +first tore her hand away, and, forgetting all about her request and the promise +she had sought to extort, ran at the top of her speed, and without turning, +till she was out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +And then I knew that I loved her, and thought in my glad heart that +she—she herself—was not indifferent to my suit. Many a time she has +denied it in after days, but it was with a smiling and not a serious denial. +For my part, I am sure our hands would not have lain so closely in each other +if she had not begun to melt to me already. And, when all is said, it is no +great contention, since, by her own avowal, she began to love me on the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +And yet on the morrow very little took place. She came and called me down as on +the day before, upbraided me for lingering at Graden, and, when she found I was +still obdurate, began to ask me more particularly as to my arrival. I told her +by what series of accidents I had come to witness their disembarkation, and how +I had determined to remain, partly from the interest which had been wakened in +me by Northmour’s guests, and partly because of his own murderous attack. +As to the former, I fear I was disingenuous, and led her to regard herself as +having been an attraction to me from the first moment that I saw her on the +links. It relieves my heart to make this confession even now, when my wife is +with God, and already knows all things, and the honesty of my purpose even in +this; for while she lived, although it often pricked my conscience, I had never +the hardihood to undeceive her. Even a little secret, in such a married life as +ours, is like the rose-leaf which kept the Princess from her sleep. +</p> + +<p> +From this the talk branched into other subjects, and I told her much about my +lonely and wandering existence; she, for her part, giving ear, and saying +little. Although we spoke very naturally, and latterly on topics that might +seem indifferent, we were both sweetly agitated. Too soon it was time for her +to go; and we separated, as if by mutual consent, without shaking hands, for +both knew that, between us, it was no idle ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +The next, and that was the fourth day of our acquaintance, we met in the same +spot, but early in the morning, with much familiarity and yet much timidity on +either side. When she had once more spoken about my danger—and that, I +understood, was her excuse for coming—I, who had prepared a great deal of +talk during the night, began to tell her how highly I valued her kind interest, +and how no one had ever cared to hear about my life, nor had I ever cared to +relate it, before yesterday. Suddenly she interrupted me, saying with +vehemence— +</p> + +<p> +“And yet, if you knew who I was, you would not so much as speak to +me!” +</p> + +<p> +I told her such a thought was madness, and, little as we had met, I counted her +already a dear friend; but my protestations seemed only to make her more +desperate. +</p> + +<p> +“My father is in hiding!” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” I said, forgetting for the first time to add +“young lady,” “what do I care? If he were in hiding twenty +times over, would it make one thought of change in you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, but the cause!” she cried, “the cause! It +is—” she faltered for a second—“it is disgraceful to +us!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER IV<br/> +TELLS IN WHAT A STARTLING MANNER I LEARNED THAT I WAS NOT ALONE IN GRADEN +SEA-WOOD</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">This</span> was my wife’s story, as I drew it from +her among tears and sobs. Her name was Clara Huddlestone: it sounded very +beautiful in my ears; but not so beautiful as that other name of Clara +Cassilis, which she wore during the longer and, I thank God, the happier +portion of her life. Her father, Bernard Huddlestone, had been a private banker +in a very large way of business. Many years before, his affairs becoming +disordered, he had been led to try dangerous, and at last criminal, expedients +to retrieve himself from ruin. All was in vain; he became more and more cruelly +involved, and found his honour lost at the same moment with his fortune. About +this period, Northmour had been courting his daughter with great assiduity, +though with small encouragement; and to him, knowing him thus disposed in his +favour, Bernard Huddlestone turned for help in his extremity. It was not merely +ruin and dishonour, nor merely a legal condemnation, that the unhappy man had +brought upon his head. It seems he could have gone to prison with a light +heart. What he feared, what kept him awake at night or recalled him from +slumber into frenzy, was some secret, sudden, and unlawful attempt upon his +life. Hence, he desired to bury his existence and escape to one of the islands +in the South Pacific, and it was in Northmour’s yacht, the <i>Red +Earl</i>, that he designed to go. The yacht picked them up clandestinely upon +the coast of Wales, and had once more deposited them at Graden, till she could +be refitted and provisioned for the longer voyage. Nor could Clara doubt that +her hand had been stipulated as the price of passage. For, although Northmour +was neither unkind nor even discourteous, he had shown himself in several +instances somewhat overbold in speech and manner. +</p> + +<p> +I listened, I need not say, with fixed attention, and put many questions as to +the more mysterious part. It was in vain. She had no clear idea of what the +blow was, nor of how it was expected to fall. Her father’s alarm was +unfeigned and physically prostrating, and he had thought more than once of +making an unconditional surrender to the police. But the scheme was finally +abandoned, for he was convinced that not even the strength of our English +prisons could shelter him from his pursuers. He had had many affairs with +Italy, and with Italians resident in London, in the later years of his +business; and these last, as Clara fancied, were somehow connected with the +doom that threatened him. He had shown great terror at the presence of an +Italian seaman on board the <i>Red Earl</i>, and had bitterly and repeatedly +accused Northmour in consequence. The latter had protested that Beppo (that was +the seaman’s name) was a capital fellow, and could be trusted to the +death; but Mr. Huddlestone had continued ever since to declare that all was +lost, that it was only a question of days, and that Beppo would be the ruin of +him yet. +</p> + +<p> +I regarded the whole story as the hallucination of a mind shaken by calamity. +He had suffered heavy loss by his Italian transactions; and hence the sight of +an Italian was hateful to him, and the principal part in his nightmare would +naturally enough be played by one of that nation. +</p> + +<p> +“What your father wants,” I said, “is a good doctor and some +calming medicine.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Mr. Northmour?” objected your mother. “He is untroubled +by losses, and yet he shares in this terror.” +</p> + +<p> +I could not help laughing at what I considered her simplicity. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” said I, “you have told me yourself what reward he +has to look for. All is fair in love, you must remember; and if Northmour +foments your father’s terrors, it is not at all because he is afraid of +any Italian man, but simply because he is infatuated with a charming English +woman.” +</p> + +<p> +She reminded me of his attack upon myself on the night of the disembarkation, +and this I was unable to explain. In short, and from one thing to another, it +was agreed between us, that I should set out at once for the fisher village, +Graden Wester, as it was called, look up all the newspapers I could find, and +see for myself if there seemed any basis of fact for these continued alarms. +The next morning, at the same hour and place, I was to make my report to Clara. +She said no more on that occasion about my departure; nor, indeed, did she make +it a secret that she clung to the thought of my proximity as something helpful +and pleasant; and, for my part, I could not have left her, if she had gone upon +her knees to ask it. +</p> + +<p> +I reached Graden Wester before ten in the forenoon; for in those days I was an +excellent pedestrian, and the distance, as I think I have said, was little over +seven miles; fine walking all the way upon the springy turf. The village is one +of the bleakest on that coast, which is saying much: there is a church in a +hollow; a miserable haven in the rocks, where many boats have been lost as they +returned from fishing; two or three score of stone houses arranged along the +beach and in two streets, one leading from the harbour, and another striking +out from it at right angles; and, at the corner of these two, a very dark and +cheerless tavern, by way of principal hotel. +</p> + +<p> +I had dressed myself somewhat more suitably to my station in life, and at once +called upon the minister in his little manse beside the graveyard. He knew me, +although it was more than nine years since we had met; and when I told him that +I had been long upon a walking tour, and was behind with the news, readily lent +me an armful of newspapers, dating from a month back to the day before. With +these I sought the tavern, and, ordering some breakfast, sat down to study the +“Huddlestone Failure.” +</p> + +<p> +It had been, it appeared, a very flagrant case. Thousands of persons were +reduced to poverty; and one in particular had blown out his brains as soon as +payment was suspended. It was strange to myself that, while I read these +details, I continued rather to sympathise with Mr. Huddlestone than with his +victims; so complete already was the empire of my love for my wife. A price was +naturally set upon the banker’s head; and, as the case was inexcusable +and the public indignation thoroughly aroused, the unusual figure of £750 +was offered for his capture. He was reported to have large sums of money in his +possession. One day, he had been heard of in Spain; the next, there was sure +intelligence that he was still lurking between Manchester and Liverpool, or +along the border of Wales; and the day after, a telegram would announce his +arrival in Cuba or Yucatan. But in all this there was no word of an Italian, +nor any sign of mystery. +</p> + +<p> +In the very last paper, however, there was one item not so clear. The +accountants who were charged to verify the failure had, it seemed, come upon +the traces of a very large number of thousands, which figured for some time in +the transactions of the house of Huddlestone; but which came from nowhere, and +disappeared in the same mysterious fashion. It was only once referred to by +name, and then under the initials “X. X.”; but it had plainly been +floated for the first time into the business at a period of great depression +some six years ago. The name of a distinguished Royal personage had been +mentioned by rumour in connection with this sum. “The cowardly +desperado”—such, I remember, was the editorial expression—was +supposed to have escaped with a large part of this mysterious fund still in his +possession. +</p> + +<p> +I was still brooding over the fact, and trying to torture it into some +connection with Mr. Huddlestone’s danger, when a man entered the tavern +and asked for some bread and cheese with a decided foreign accent. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Siete Italiano</i>?” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Sì</i>, <i>signor</i>,” was his reply. +</p> + +<p> +I said it was unusually far north to find one of his compatriots; at which he +shrugged his shoulders, and replied that a man would go anywhere to find work. +What work he could hope to find at Graden Wester, I was totally unable to +conceive; and the incident struck so unpleasantly upon my mind, that I asked +the landlord, while he was counting me some change, whether he had ever before +seen an Italian in the village. He said he had once seen some Norwegians, who +had been shipwrecked on the other side of Graden Ness and rescued by the +lifeboat from Cauldhaven. +</p> + +<p> +“No!” said I; “but an Italian, like the man who has just had +bread and cheese.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” cried he, “yon black-avised fellow wi’ the +teeth? Was he an I-talian? Weel, yon’s the first that ever I saw, +an’ I dare say he’s like to be the last.” +</p> + +<p> +Even as he was speaking, I raised my eyes, and, casting a glance into the +street, beheld three men in earnest conversation together, and not thirty yards +away. One of them was my recent companion in the tavern parlour; the other two, +by their handsome, sallow features and soft hats, should evidently belong to +the same race. A crowd of village children stood around them, gesticulating and +talking gibberish in imitation. The trio looked singularly foreign to the bleak +dirty street in which they were standing, and the dark grey heaven that +overspread them; and I confess my incredulity received at that moment a shock +from which it never recovered. I might reason with myself as I pleased, but I +could not argue down the effect of what I had seen, and I began to share in the +Italian terror. +</p> + +<p> +It was already drawing towards the close of the day before I had returned the +newspapers at the manse, and got well forward on to the links on my way home. I +shall never forget that walk. It grew very cold and boisterous; the wind sang +in the short grass about my feet; thin rain showers came running on the gusts; +and an immense mountain range of clouds began to arise out of the bosom of the +sea. It would be hard to imagine a more dismal evening; and whether it was from +these external influences, or because my nerves were already affected by what I +had heard and seen, my thoughts were as gloomy as the weather. +</p> + +<p> +The upper windows of the pavilion commanded a considerable spread of links in +the direction of Graden Wester. To avoid observation, it was necessary to hug +the beach until I had gained cover from the higher sand-hills on the little +headland, when I might strike across, through the hollows, for the margin of +the wood. The sun was about setting; the tide was low, and all the quicksands +uncovered; and I was moving along, lost in unpleasant thought, when I was +suddenly thunderstruck to perceive the prints of human feet. They ran parallel +to my own course, but low down upon the beach instead of along the border of +the turf; and, when I examined them, I saw at once, by the size and coarseness +of the impression, that it was a stranger to me and to those in the pavilion +who had recently passed that way. Not only so; but from the recklessness of the +course which he had followed, steering near to the most formidable portions of +the sand, he was as evidently a stranger to the country and to the ill-repute +of Graden beach. +</p> + +<p> +Step by step I followed the prints; until, a quarter of a mile farther, I +beheld them die away into the south-eastern boundary of Graden Floe. There, +whoever he was, the miserable man had perished. One or two gulls, who had, +perhaps, seen him disappear, wheeled over his sepulchre with their usual +melancholy piping. The sun had broken through the clouds by a last effort, and +coloured the wide level of quicksands with a dusky purple. I stood for some +time gazing at the spot, chilled and disheartened by my own reflections, and +with a strong and commanding consciousness of death. I remember wondering how +long the tragedy had taken, and whether his screams had been audible at the +pavilion. And then, making a strong resolution, I was about to tear myself +away, when a gust fiercer than usual fell upon this quarter of the beach, and I +saw now, whirling high in air, now skimming lightly across the surface of the +sands, a soft, black, felt hat, somewhat conical in shape, such as I had +remarked already on the heads of the Italians. +</p> + +<p> +I believe, but I am not sure, that I uttered a cry. The wind was driving the +hat shoreward, and I ran round the border of the floe to be ready against its +arrival. The gust fell, dropping the hat for a while upon the quicksand, and +then, once more freshening, landed it a few yards from where I stood. I seized +it with the interest you may imagine. It had seen some service; indeed, it was +rustier than either of those I had seen that day upon the street. The lining +was red, stamped with the name of the maker, which I have forgotten, and that +of the place of manufacture, <i>Venedig</i>. This (it is not yet forgotten) was +the name given by the Austrians to the beautiful city of Venice, then, and for +long after, a part of their dominions. +</p> + +<p> +The shock was complete. I saw imaginary Italians upon every side; and for the +first, and, I may say, for the last time in my experience, became overpowered +by what is called a panic terror. I knew nothing, that is, to be afraid of, and +yet I admit that I was heartily afraid; and it was with a sensible reluctance +that I returned to my exposed and solitary camp in the Sea-Wood. +</p> + +<p> +There I ate some cold porridge which had been left over from the night before, +for I was disinclined to make a fire; and, feeling strengthened and reassured, +dismissed all these fanciful terrors from my mind, and lay down to sleep with +composure. +</p> + +<p> +How long I may have slept it is impossible for me to guess; but I was awakened +at last by a sudden, blinding flash of light into my face. It woke me like a +blow. In an instant I was upon my knees. But the light had gone as suddenly as +it came. The darkness was intense. And, as it was blowing great guns from the +sea and pouring with rain, the noises of the storm effectually concealed all +others. +</p> + +<p> +It was, I dare say, half a minute before I regained my self-possession. But for +two circumstances, I should have thought I had been awakened by some new and +vivid form of nightmare. First, the flap of my tent, which I had shut carefully +when I retired, was now unfastened; and, second, I could still perceive, with a +sharpness that excluded any theory of hallucination, the smell of hot metal and +of burning oil. The conclusion was obvious. I had been wakened by some one +flashing a bull’s-eye lantern in my face. It had been but a flash, and +away. He had seen my face, and then gone. I asked myself the object of so +strange a proceeding, and the answer came pat. The man, whoever he was, had +thought to recognise me, and he had not. There was yet another question +unresolved; and to this, I may say, I feared to give an answer; if he had +recognised me, what would he have done? +</p> + +<p> +My fears were immediately diverted from myself, for I saw that I had been +visited in a mistake; and I became persuaded that some dreadful danger +threatened the pavilion. It required some nerve to issue forth into the black +and intricate thicket which surrounded and overhung the den; but I groped my +way to the links, drenched with rain, beaten upon and deafened by the gusts, +and fearing at every step to lay my hand upon some lurking adversary. The +darkness was so complete that I might have been surrounded by an army and yet +none the wiser, and the uproar of the gale so loud that my hearing was as +useless as my sight. +</p> + +<p> +For the rest of that night, which seemed interminably long, I patrolled the +vicinity of the pavilion, without seeing a living creature or hearing any noise +but the concert of the wind, the sea, and the rain. A light in the upper story +filtered through a cranny of the shutter, and kept me company till the approach +of dawn. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER V<br/> +TELLS OF AN INTERVIEW BETWEEN NORTHMOUR, CLARA, AND MYSELF</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">With</span> the first peep of day, I retired from the open +to my old lair among the sand-hills, there to await the coming of my wife. The +morning was grey, wild, and melancholy; the wind moderated before sunrise, and +then went about, and blew in puffs from the shore; the sea began to go down, +but the rain still fell without mercy. Over all the wilderness of links there +was not a creature to be seen. Yet I felt sure the neighbourhood was alive with +skulking foes. The light that had been so suddenly and surprisingly flashed +upon my face as I lay sleeping, and the hat that had been blown ashore by the +wind from over Graden Floe, were two speaking signals of the peril that +environed Clara and the party in the pavilion. +</p> + +<p> +It was, perhaps, half-past seven, or nearer eight, before I saw the door open, +and that dear figure come towards me in the rain. I was waiting for her on the +beach before she had crossed the sand-hills. +</p> + +<p> +“I have had such trouble to come!” she cried. “They did not +wish me to go walking in the rain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Clara,” I said, “you are not frightened!” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said she, with a simplicity that filled my heart with +confidence. For my wife was the bravest as well as the best of women; in my +experience, I have not found the two go always together, but with her they did; +and she combined the extreme of fortitude with the most endearing and beautiful +virtues. +</p> + +<p> +I told her what had happened; and, though her cheek grew visibly paler, she +retained perfect control over her senses. +</p> + +<p> +“You see now that I am safe,” said I, in conclusion. “They do +not mean to harm me; for, had they chosen, I was a dead man last night.” +</p> + +<p> +She laid her hand upon my arm. +</p> + +<p> +“And I had no presentiment!” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +Her accent thrilled me with delight. I put my arm about her, and strained her +to my side; and, before either of us was aware, her hands were on my shoulders +and my lips upon her mouth. Yet up to that moment no word of love had passed +between us. To this day I remember the touch of her cheek, which was wet and +cold with the rain; and many a time since, when she has been washing her face, +I have kissed it again for the sake of that morning on the beach. Now that she +is taken from me, and I finish my pilgrimage alone, I recall our old +lovingkindnesses and the deep honesty and affection which united us, and my +present loss seems but a trifle in comparison. +</p> + +<p> +We may have thus stood for some seconds—for time passes quickly with +lovers—before we were startled by a peal of laughter close at hand. It +was not natural mirth, but seemed to be affected in order to conceal an angrier +feeling. We both turned, though I still kept my left arm about Clara’s +waist; nor did she seek to withdraw herself; and there, a few paces off upon +the beach, stood Northmour, his head lowered, his hands behind his back, his +nostrils white with passion. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Cassilis!” he said, as I disclosed my face. +</p> + +<p> +“That same,” said I; for I was not at all put about. +</p> + +<p> +“And so, Miss Huddlestone,” he continued slowly but savagely, +“this is how you keep your faith to your father and to me? This is the +value you set upon your father’s life? And you are so infatuated with +this young gentleman that you must brave ruin, and decency, and common human +caution—” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Huddlestone—” I was beginning to interrupt him, when +he, in his turn, cut in brutally— +</p> + +<p> +“You hold your tongue,” said he; “I am speaking to that +girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“That girl, as you call her, is my wife,” said I; and my wife only +leaned a little nearer, so that I knew she had affirmed my words. +</p> + +<p> +“Your what?” he cried. “You lie!” +</p> + +<p> +“Northmour,” I said, “we all know you have a bad temper, and +I am the last man to be irritated by words. For all that, I propose that you +speak lower, for I am convinced that we are not alone.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked round him, and it was plain my remark had in some degree sobered his +passion. “What do you mean?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +I only said one word: “Italians.” +</p> + +<p> +He swore a round oath, and looked at us, from one to the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Cassilis knows all that I know,” said my wife. +</p> + +<p> +“What I want to know,” he broke out, “is where the devil Mr. +Cassilis comes from, and what the devil Mr. Cassilis is doing here. You say you +are married; that I do not believe. If you were, Graden Floe would soon divorce +you; four minutes and a half, Cassilis. I keep my private cemetery for my +friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“It took somewhat longer,” said I, “for that Italian.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me for a moment half daunted, and then, almost civilly, asked me +to tell my story. “You have too much the advantage of me, +Cassilis,” he added. I complied of course; and he listened, with several +ejaculations, while I told him how I had come to Graden: that it was I whom he +had tried to murder on the night of landing; and what I had subsequently seen +and heard of the Italians. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said he, when I had done, “it is here at last; there +is no mistake about that. And what, may I ask, do you propose to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“I propose to stay with you and lend a hand,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a brave man,” he returned, with a peculiar intonation. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not afraid,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“And so,” he continued, “I am to understand that you two are +married? And you stand up to it before my face, Miss Huddlestone?” +</p> + +<p> +“We are not yet married,” said Clara; “but we shall be as +soon as we can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo!” cried Northmour. “And the bargain? D—n it, +you’re not a fool, young woman; I may call a spade a spade with you. How +about the bargain? You know as well as I do what your father’s life +depends upon. I have only to put my hands under my coat-tails and walk away, +and his throat would he cut before the evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Mr. Northmour,” returned Clara, with great spirit; “but +that is what you will never do. You made a bargain that was unworthy of a +gentleman; but you are a gentleman for all that, and you will never desert a +man whom you have begun to help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aha!” said he. “You think I will give my yacht for nothing? +You think I will risk my life and liberty for love of the old gentleman; and +then, I suppose, be best man at the wedding, to wind up? Well,” he added, +with an odd smile, “perhaps you are not altogether wrong. But ask +Cassilis here. <i>He</i> knows me. Am I a man to trust? Am I safe and +scrupulous? Am I kind?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know you talk a great deal, and sometimes, I think, very +foolishly,” replied Clara, “but I know you are a gentleman, and I +am not the least afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her with a peculiar approval and admiration; then, turning to me, +“Do you think I would give her up without a struggle, Frank?” said +he. “I tell you plainly, you look out. The next time we come to +blows—” +</p> + +<p> +“Will make the third,” I interrupted, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, true; so it will,” he said. “I had forgotten. Well, the +third time’s lucky.” +</p> + +<p> +“The third time, you mean, you will have the crew of the <i>Red Earl</i> +to help,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear him?” he asked, turning to my wife. +</p> + +<p> +“I hear two men speaking like cowards,” said she. “I should +despise myself either to think or speak like that. And neither of you believe +one word that you are saying, which makes it the more wicked and silly.” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a trump!” cried Northmour. “But she’s not +yet Mrs. Cassilis. I say no more. The present is not for me.” Then my +wife surprised me. +</p> + +<p> +“I leave you here,” she said suddenly. “My father has been +too long alone. But remember this: you are to be friends, for you are both good +friends to me.” +</p> + +<p> +She has since told me her reason for this step. As long as she remained, she +declares that we two would have continued to quarrel; and I suppose that she +was right, for when she was gone we fell at once into a sort of +confidentiality. +</p> + +<p> +Northmour stared after her as she went away over the sand-hill +</p> + +<p> +“She is the only woman in the world!” he exclaimed with an oath. +“Look at her action.” +</p> + +<p> +I, for my part, leaped at this opportunity for a little further light. +</p> + +<p> +“See here, Northmour,” said I; “we are all in a tight place, +are we not?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you, my boy,” he answered, looking me in the eyes, and +with great emphasis. “We have all hell upon us, that’s the truth. +You may believe me or not, but I’m afraid of my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me one thing,” said I. “What are they after, these +Italians? What do they want with Mr. Huddlestone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know?” he cried. “The black old scamp had<i> +carbonaro</i> funds on a deposit—two hundred and eighty thousand; and of +course he gambled it away on stocks. There was to have been a revolution in the +Tridentino, or Parma; but the revolution is off, and the whole wasp’s +nest is after Huddlestone. We shall all be lucky if we can save our +skins.” +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>carbonari</i>!” I exclaimed; “God help him +indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“Amen!” said Northmour. “And now, look here: I have said that +we are in a fix; and, frankly, I shall be glad of your help. If I can’t +save Huddlestone, I want at least to save the girl. Come and stay in the +pavilion; and, there’s my hand on it, I shall act as your friend until +the old man is either clear or dead. But,” he added, “once that is +settled, you become my rival once again, and I warn you—mind +yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Done!” said I; and we shook hands. +</p> + +<p> +“And now let us go directly to the fort,” said Northmour; and he +began to lead the way through the rain. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER VI<br/> +TELLS OF MY INTRODUCTION TO THE TALL MAN</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">We</span> were admitted to the pavilion by Clara, and I was +surprised by the completeness and security of the defences. A barricade of +great strength, and yet easy to displace, supported the door against Any +violence from without; and the shutters of the dining-room, into which I was +led directly, and which was feebly illuminated by a lamp, were even more +elaborately fortified. The panels were strengthened by bars and cross-bars; and +these, in their turn, were kept in position by a system of braces and struts, +some abutting on the floor, some on the roof, and others, in fine, against the +opposite wall of the apartment. It was at once a solid and well-designed piece +of carpentry; and I did not seek to conceal my admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“I am the engineer,” said Northmour. “You remember the planks +in the garden? Behold them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not know you had so many talents,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you armed?” he continued, pointing to an array of guns and +pistols, all in admirable order, which stood in line against the wall or were +displayed upon the sideboard. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” I returned; “I have gone armed since our last +encounter. But, to tell you the truth, I have had nothing to eat since early +yesterday evening.” +</p> + +<p> +Northmour produced some cold meat, to which I eagerly set myself, and a bottle +of good Burgundy, by which, wet as I was, I did not scruple to profit. I have +always been an extreme temperance man on principle; but it is useless to push +principle to excess, and on this occasion I believe that I finished +three-quarters of the bottle. As I ate, I still continued to admire the +preparations for defence. +</p> + +<p> +“We could stand a siege,” I said at length. +</p> + +<p> +“Ye-es,” drawled Northmour; “a very little one, per-haps. It +is not so much the strength of the pavilion I misdoubt; it is the doubled anger +that kills me. If we get to shooting, wild as the country is some one is sure +to hear it, and then—why then it’s the same thing, only different, +as they say: caged by law, or killed by <i>carbonari</i>. There’s the +choice. It is a devilish bad thing to have the law against you in this world, +and so I tell the old gentleman upstairs. He is quite of my way of +thinking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speaking of that,” said I, “what kind of person is +he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he!” cried the other; “he’s a rancid fellow, as +far as he goes. I should like to have his neck wrung to-morrow by all the +devils in Italy. I am not in this affair for him. You take me? I made a bargain +for Missy’s hand, and I mean to have it too.” +</p> + +<p> +“That by the way,” said I. “I understand. But how will Mr. +Huddlestone take my intrusion?” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave that to Clara,” returned Northmour. +</p> + +<p> +I could have struck him in the face for this coarse familiarity; but I +respected the truce, as, I am bound to say, did Northmour, and so long as the +danger continued not a cloud arose in our relation. I bear him this testimony +with the most unfeigned satisfaction; nor am I without pride when I look back +upon my own behaviour. For surely no two men were ever left in a position so +invidious and irritating. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as I had done eating, we proceeded to inspect the lower floor. Window +by window we tried the different supports, now and then making an +inconsiderable change; and the strokes of the hammer sounded with startling +loudness through the house. I proposed, I remember, to make loop-holes; but he +told me they were already made in the windows of the upper story. It was an +anxious business this inspection, and left me down-hearted. There were two +doors and five windows to protect, and, counting Clara, only four of us to +defend them against an unknown number of foes. I communicated my doubts to +Northmour, who assured me, with unmoved composure, that he entirely shared +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Before morning,” said he, “we shall all be butchered and +buried in Graden Floe. For me, that is written.” +</p> + +<p> +I could not help shuddering at the mention of the quicksand, but reminded +Northmour that our enemies had spared me in the wood. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not flatter yourself,” said he. “Then you were not in the +same boat with the old gentleman; now you are. It’s the floe for all of +us, mark my words.” +</p> + +<p> +I trembled for Clara; and just then her dear voice was heard calling us to come +upstairs. Northmour showed me the way, and, when he had reached the landing, +knocked at the door of what used to be called <i>My Uncle’s Bedroom</i>, +as the founder of the pavilion had designed it especially for himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, Northmour; come in, dear Mr. Cassilis,” said a voice from +within. +</p> + +<p> +Pushing open the door, Northmour admitted me before him into the apartment. As +I came in I could see the daughter slipping out by the side door into the +study, which had been prepared as her bedroom. In the bed, which was drawn back +against the wall, instead of standing, as I had last seen it, boldly across the +window, sat Bernard Huddlestone, the defaulting banker. Little as I had seen of +him by the shifting light of the lantern on the links, I had no difficulty in +recognising him for the same. He had a long and sallow countenance, surrounded +by a long red beard and side whiskers. His broken nose and high cheekbones gave +him somewhat the air of a Kalmuck, and his light eyes shone with the excitement +of a high fever. He wore a skull-cap of black silk; a huge Bible lay open +before him on the bed, with a pair of gold spectacles in the place, and a pile +of other books lay on the stand by his side. The green curtains lent a +cadaverous shade to his cheek; and, as he sat propped on pillows, his great +stature was painfully hunched, and his head protruded till it overhung his +knees. I believe if he had not died otherwise, he must have fallen a victim to +consumption in the course of but a very few weeks. +</p> + +<p> +He held out to me a hand, long, thin, and disagreeably hairy. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, come in, Mr. Cassilis,” said he. “Another +protector—ahem!—another protector. Always welcome as a friend of my +daughter’s, Mr. Cassilis. How they have rallied about me, my +daughter’s friends! May God in heaven bless and reward them for +it!” +</p> + +<p> +I gave him my hand, of course, because I could not help it; but the sympathy I +had been prepared to feel for Clara’s father was immediately soured by +his appearance, and the wheedling, unreal tones in which he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Cassilis is a good man,” said Northmour; “worth ten.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I hear,” cried Mr. Huddlestone eagerly “so my girl tells +me. Ah, Mr. Cassilis, my sin has found me out, you see! I am very low, very +low; but I hope equally penitent. We must all come to the throne of grace at +last, Mr. Cassilis. For my part, I come late indeed; but with unfeigned +humility, I trust.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fiddle-de-dee!” said Northmour roughly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, dear Northmour!” cried the banker. “You must not say +that; you must not try to shake me. You forget, my dear, good boy, you forget I +may be called this very night before my Maker.” +</p> + +<p> +His excitement was pitiful to behold; and I felt myself grow indignant with +Northmour, whose infidel opinions I well knew, and heartily derided, as he +continued to taunt the poor sinner out of his humour of repentance. +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh, my dear Huddlestone!” said he. “You do yourself +injustice. You are a man of the world inside and out, and were up to all kinds +of mischief before I was born. Your conscience is tanned like South American +leather—only you forgot to tan your liver, and that, if you will believe +me, is the seat of the annoyance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rogue, rogue! bad boy!” said Mr. Huddlestone, shaking his finger. +“I am no precisian, if you come to that; I always hated a precisian; but +I never lost hold of something better through it all. I have been a bad boy, +Mr. Cassilis; I do not seek to deny that; but it was after my wife’s +death, and you know, with a widower, it’s a different thing: +sinful—I won’t say no; but there is a gradation, we shall hope. And +talking of that—Hark!” he broke out suddenly, his hand raised, his +fingers spread, his face racked with interest and terror. “Only the rain, +bless God!” he added, after a pause, and with indescribable relief. +</p> + +<p> +For some seconds he lay back among the pillows like a man near to fainting; +then he gathered himself together, and, in somewhat tremulous tones, began once +more to thank me for the share I was prepared to take in his defence. +</p> + +<p> +“One question, sir,” said I, when he had paused. “Is it true +that you have money with you?” +</p> + +<p> +He seemed annoyed by the question, but admitted with reluctance that he had a +little. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I continued, “it is their money they are after, is it +not? Why not give it up to them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” replied he, shaking his head, “I have tried that +already, Mr. Cassilis; and alas that it should be so! but it is blood they +want.” +</p> + +<p> +“Huddlestone, that’s a little less than fair,” said +Northmour. “You should mention that what you offered them was upwards of +two hundred thousand short. The deficit is worth a reference; it is for what +they call a cool sum, Frank. Then, you see, the fellows reason in their clear +Italian way; and it seems to them, as indeed it seems to me, that they may just +as well have both while they’re about it—money and blood together, +by George, and no more trouble for the extra pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it in the pavilion?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“It is; and I wish it were in the bottom of the sea instead,” said +Northmour; and then suddenly—“What are you making faces at me +for?” he cried to Mr. Huddlestone, on whom I had unconsciously turned my +back. “Do you think Cassilis would sell you?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Huddlestone protested that nothing had been further from his mind. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a good thing,” retorted Northmour in his ugliest manner. +“You might end by wearying us. What were you going to say?” he +added, turning to me. +</p> + +<p> +“I was going to propose an occupation for the afternoon,” said I. +“Let us carry that money out, piece by piece, and lay it down before the +pavilion door. If the <i>carbonari</i> come, why, it’s theirs at any +rate.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” cried Mr. Huddlestone; “it does not, it cannot +belong to them! It should be distributed <i>pro rata</i> among all my +creditors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, Huddlestone,” said Northmour, “none of +that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but my daughter,” moaned the wretched man. +</p> + +<p> +“Your daughter will do well enough. Here are two suitors, Cassilis and I, +neither of us beggars, between whom she has to choose. And as for yourself, to +make an end of arguments, you have no right to a farthing, and, unless +I’m much mistaken, you are going to die.” +</p> + +<p> +It was certainly very cruelly said; but Mr. Huddlestone was a man who attracted +little sympathy; and, although I saw him wince and shudder, I mentally endorsed +the rebuke; nay, I added a contribution of my own. +</p> + +<p> +“Northmour and I,” I said, “are willing enough to help you to +save your life, but not to escape with stolen property.” +</p> + +<p> +He struggled for a while with himself, as though he were on the point of giving +way to anger, but prudence had the best of the controversy. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear boys,” he said, “do with me or my money what you +will. I leave all in your hands. Let me compose myself.” +</p> + +<p> +And so we left him, gladly enough I am sure. The last that I saw, he had once +more taken up his great Bible, and with tremulous hands was adjusting his +spectacles to read. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER VII<br/> +TELLS HOW A WORD WAS CRIED THROUGH THE PAVILION WINDOW</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">The</span> recollection of that afternoon will always be +graven on my mind. Northmour and I were persuaded that an attack was imminent; +and if it had been in our power to alter in any way the order of events, that +power would have been used to precipitate rather than delay the critical +moment. The worst was to be anticipated; yet we could conceive no extremity so +miserable as the suspense we were now suffering. I have never been an eager, +though always a great, reader; but I never knew books so insipid as those which +I took up and cast aside that afternoon in the pavilion. Even talk became +impossible, as the hours went on. One or other was always listening for some +sound, or peering from an upstairs window over the links. And yet not a sign +indicated the presence of our foes. +</p> + +<p> +We debated over and over again my proposal with regard to the money; and had we +been in complete possession of our faculties, I am sure we should have +condemned it as unwise; but we were flustered with alarm, grasped at a straw, +and determined, although it was as much as advertising Mr. Huddlestone’s +presence in the pavilion, to carry my proposal into effect. +</p> + +<p> +The sum was part in specie, part in bank paper, and part in circular notes +payable to the name of James Gregory. We took it out, counted it, enclosed it +once more in a despatch-box belonging to Northmour, and prepared a letter in +Italian which he tied to the handle. It was signed by both of us under oath, +and declared that this was all the money which had escaped the failure of the +house of Huddlestone. This was, perhaps, the maddest action ever perpetrated by +two persons professing to be sane. Had the despatch-box fallen into other hands +than those for which it was intended, we stood criminally convicted on our own +written testimony; but, as I have said, we were neither of us in a condition to +judge soberly, and had a thirst for action that drove us to do something, right +or wrong, rather than endure the agony of waiting. Moreover, as we were both +convinced that the hollows of the links were alive with hidden spies upon our +movements, we hoped that our appearance with the box might lead to a parley, +and, perhaps, a compromise. +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly three when we issued from the pavilion. The rain had taken off; +the sun shone quite cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +I have never seen the gulls fly so close about the house or approach so +fearlessly to human beings. On the very doorstep one flapped heavily past our +heads, and uttered its wild cry in my very ear. +</p> + +<p> +“There is an omen for you,” said Northmour, who like all +freethinkers was much under the influence of superstition. “They think we +are already dead.” +</p> + +<p> +I made some light rejoinder, but it was with half my heart; for the +circumstance had impressed me. +</p> + +<p> +A yard or two before the gate, on a patch of smooth turf, we set down the +despatch-box; and Northmour waved a white handkerchief over his head. Nothing +replied. We raised our voices, and cried aloud in Italian that we were there as +ambassadors to arrange the quarrel; but the stillness remained unbroken save by +the sea-gulls and the surf. I had a weight at my heart when we desisted; and I +saw that even Northmour was unusually pale. He looked over his shoulder +nervously, as though he feared that some one had crept between him and the +pavilion door. +</p> + +<p> +“By God,” he said in a whisper, “this is too much for +me!” +</p> + +<p> +I replied in the same key: “Suppose there should be none, after +all!” +</p> + +<p> +“Look there,” he returned, nodding with his head, as though he had +been afraid to point. +</p> + +<p> +I glanced in the direction indicated; and there, from the northern quarter of +the Sea-Wood, beheld a thin column of smoke rising steadily against the now +cloudless sky. +</p> + +<p> +“Northmour,” I said (we still continued to talk in whispers), +“it is not possible to endure this suspense. I prefer death fifty times +over. Stay you here to watch the pavilion; I will go forward and make sure, if +I have to walk right into their camp.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked once again all round him with puckered eyes, and then nodded +assentingly to my proposal. +</p> + +<p> +My heart beat like a sledge-hammer as I set out walking rapidly in the +direction of the smoke; and, though up to that moment I had felt chill and +shivering, I was suddenly conscious of a glow of heat over all my body. The +ground in this direction was very uneven; a hundred men might have lain hidden +in as many square yards about my path. But I had not practised the business in +vain, chose such routes as cut at the very root of concealment, and, by keeping +along the most convenient ridges, commanded several hollows at a time. It was +not long before I was rewarded for my caution. Coming suddenly on to a mound +somewhat more elevated than the surrounding hummocks, I saw, not thirty yards +away, a man bent almost double, and running as fast as his attitude permitted, +along the bottom of a gully. I had dislodged one of the spies from his ambush. +As soon as I sighted him, I called loudly both in English and Italian; and he, +seeing concealment was no longer possible, straightened himself out, leaped +from the gully, and made off as straight as an arrow for the borders of the +wood. +</p> + +<p> +It was none of my business to pursue; I had learned what I wanted—that we +were beleaguered and watched in the pavilion; and I returned at once, and +walking as nearly as possible in my old footsteps, to where Northmour awaited +me beside the despatch-box. He was even paler than when I had left him, and his +voice shook a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Could you see what he was like?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He kept his back turned,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us get into the house, Frank. I don’t think I’m a +coward, but I can stand no more of this,” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +All was still and sunshiny about the pavilion as we turned to re-enter it; even +the gulls had flown in a wider circuit, and were seen flickering along the +beach and sand-hills; and this loneliness terrified me more than a regiment +under arms. It was not until the door was barricaded that I could draw a full +inspiration and relieve the weight that lay upon my bosom. Northmour and I +exchanged a steady glance; and I suppose each made his own reflections on the +white and startled aspect of the other. +</p> + +<p> +“You were right,” I said. “All is over. Shake hands, old man, +for the last time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied he, “I will shake hands; for, as sure as I am +here, I bear no malice. But, remember, if, by some impossible accident, we +should give the slip to these blackguards, I’ll take the upper hand of +you by fair or foul.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said I, “you weary me!” +</p> + +<p> +He seemed hurt, and walked away in silence to the foot of the stairs, where he +paused. +</p> + +<p> +“You do not understand,” said he. “I am not a swindler, and I +guard myself; that is all. It may weary you or not, Mr. Cassilis, I do not care +a rush; I speak for my own satisfaction, and not for your amusement. You had +better go upstairs and court the girl; for my part, I stay here.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I stay with you,” I returned. “Do you think I would +steal a march, even with your permission?” +</p> + +<p> +“Frank,” he said, smiling, “it’s a pity you are an ass, +for you have the makings of a man. I think I must be <i>fey</i> to-day; you +cannot irritate me even when you try. Do you know,” he continued softly, +“I think we are the two most miserable men in England, you and I? we have +got on to thirty without wife or child, or so much as a shop to look +after—poor, pitiful, lost devils, both! And now we clash about a girl! As +if there were not several millions in the United Kingdom! Ah, Frank, Frank, the +one who loses this throw, be it you or me, he has my pity! It were better for +him—how does the Bible say?—that a millstone were hanged about his +neck and he were cast into the depth of the sea. Let us take a drink,” he +concluded suddenly, but without any levity of tone. +</p> + +<p> +I was touched by his words, and consented. He sat down on the table in the +dining-room, and held up the glass of sherry to his eye. +</p> + +<p> +“If you beat me, Frank,” he said, “I shall take to drink. +What will you do, if it goes the other way?” +</p> + +<p> +“God knows,” I returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said he, “here is a toast in the meantime: +‘<i>Italia irredenta</i>!’” +</p> + +<p> +The remainder of the day was passed in the same dreadful tedium and suspense. I +laid the table for dinner, while Northmour and Clara prepared the meal together +in the kitchen. I could hear their talk as I went to and fro, and was surprised +to find it ran all the time upon myself. Northmour again bracketed us together, +and rallied Clara on a choice of husbands; but he continued to speak of me with +some feeling, and uttered nothing to my prejudice unless he included himself in +the condemnation. This awakened a sense of gratitude in my heart, which +combined with the immediateness of our peril to fill my eyes with tears. After +all, I thought—and perhaps the thought was laughably vain—we were +here three very noble human beings to perish in defence of a thieving banker. +</p> + +<p> +Before we sat down to table, I looked forth from an upstairs window. The day +was beginning to decline; the links were utterly deserted; the despatch-box +still lay untouched where we had left it hours before. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Huddlestone, in a long yellow dressing-gown, took one end of the table, +Clara the other; while Northmour and I faced each other from the sides. The +lamp was brightly trimmed; the wine was good; the viands, although mostly cold, +excellent of their sort. We seemed to have agreed tacitly; all reference to the +impending catastrophe was carefully avoided; and, considering our tragic +circumstances, we made a merrier party than could have been expected. From time +to time, it is true, Northmour or I would rise from table and make a round of +the defences; and, on each of these occasions, Mr. Huddlestone was recalled to +a sense of his tragic predicament, glanced up with ghastly eyes, and bore for +an instant on his countenance the stamp of terror. But he hastened to empty his +glass, wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, and joined again in the +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +I was astonished at the wit and information he displayed. Mr. +Huddlestone’s was certainly no ordinary character; he had read and +observed for himself; his gifts were sound; and, though I could never have +learned to love the man, I began to understand his success in business, and the +great respect in which he had been held before his failure. He had, above all, +the talent of society; and though I never heard him speak but on this one and +most unfavourable occasion, I set him down among the most brilliant +conversationalists I ever met. +</p> + +<p> +He was relating with great gusto, and seemingly no feeling of shame, the +manœuvres of a scoundrelly commission merchant whom he had known and studied in +his youth, and we were all listening with an odd mixture of mirth and +embarrassment when our little party was brought abruptly to an end in the most +startling manner. +</p> + +<p> +A noise like that of a wet finger on the window-pane interrupted Mr. +Huddlestone’s tale; and in an instant we were all four as white as paper, +and sat tongue-tied and motionless round the table. +</p> + +<p> +“A snail,” I said at last; for I had heard that these animals make +a noise somewhat similar in character. +</p> + +<p> +“Snail be d—d!” said Northmour. “Hush!” +</p> + +<p> +The same sound was repeated twice at regular intervals; and then a formidable +voice shouted through the shutters the Italian word +“<i>Traditore</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Huddlestone threw his head in the air; his eyelids quivered; next moment he +fell insensible below the table. Northmour and I had each run to the armoury +and seized a gun. Clara was on her feet with her hand at her throat. +</p> + +<p> +So we stood waiting, for we thought the hour of attack was certainly come; but +second passed after second, and all but the surf remained silent in the +neighbourhood of the pavilion. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick,” said Northmour; “upstairs with him before they +come.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br/> +TELLS THE LAST OF THE TALL MAN</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Somehow</span> or other, by hook and crook, and between the +three of us, we got Bernard Huddlestone bundled upstairs and laid upon the bed +in <i>My Uncle’s Room</i>. During the whole process, which was rough +enough, he gave no sign of consciousness, and he remained, as we had thrown +him, without changing the position of a finger. His daughter opened his shirt +and began to wet his head and bosom; while Northmour and I ran to the window. +The weather continued clear; the moon, which was now about full, had risen and +shed a very clear light upon the links; yet, strain our eyes as we might, we +could distinguish nothing moving. A few dark spots, more or less, on the uneven +expanse were not to be identified; they might be crouching men, they might be +shadows; it was impossible to be sure. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God,” said Northmour, “Aggie is not coming +to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Aggie was the name of the old nurse; he had not thought of her till now; but +that he should think of her at all, was a trait that surprised me in the man. +</p> + +<p> +We were again reduced to waiting. Northmour went to the fireplace and spread +his hands before the red embers, as if he were cold. I followed him +mechanically with my eyes, and in so doing turned my back upon the window. At +that moment a very faint report was audible from without, and a ball shivered a +pane of glass, and buried itself in the shutter two inches from my head. I +heard Clara scream; and though I whipped instantly out of range and into a +corner, she was there, so to speak, before me, beseeching to know if I were +hurt. I felt that I could stand to be shot at every day and all day long, with +such marks of solicitude for a reward; and I continued to reassure her, with +the tenderest caresses and in complete forgetfulness of our situation, till the +voice of Northmour recalled me to myself. +</p> + +<p> +“An air-gun,” he said. “They wish to make no noise.” +</p> + +<p> +I put Clara aside, and looked at him. He was standing with his back to the fire +and his hands clasped behind him; and I knew by the black look on his face, +that passion was boiling within. I had seen just such a look before he attacked +me, that March night, in the adjoining chamber; and, though I could make every +allowance for his anger, I confess I trembled for the consequences. He gazed +straight before him; but he could see us with the tail of his eye, and his +temper kept rising like a gale of wind. With regular battle awaiting us +outside, this prospect of an internecine strife within the walls began to daunt +me. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, as I was thus closely watching his expression and prepared against +the worst, I saw a change, a flash, a look of relief, upon his face. He took up +the lamp which stood beside him on the table, and turned to us with an air of +some excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“There is one point that we must know,” said he. “Are they +going to butcher the lot of us, or only Huddlestone? Did they take you for him, +or fire at you for your own <i>beaux yeux</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“They took me for him, for certain,” I replied. “I am near as +tall, and my head is fair.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to make sure,” returned Northmour; and he stepped up to +the window, holding the lamp above his head, and stood there, quietly +affronting death, for half a minute. +</p> + +<p> +Clara sought to rush forward and pull him from the place of danger; but I had +the pardonable selfishness to hold her back by force. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Northmour, turning coolly from the window; +“it’s only Huddlestone they want.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Northmour!” cried Clara; but found no more to add; the +temerity she had just witnessed seeming beyond the reach of words. +</p> + +<p> +He, on his part, looked at me, cocking his head, with a fire of triumph in his +eyes; and I understood at once that he had thus hazarded his life, merely to +attract Clara’s notice, and depose me from my position as the hero of the +hour. He snapped his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“The fire is only beginning,” said he. “When they warm up to +their work, they won’t be so particular.” +</p> + +<p> +A voice was now heard hailing us from the entrance. From the window we could +see the figure of a man in the moonlight; he stood motionless, his face +uplifted to ours, and a rag of something white on his extended arm; and as we +looked right down upon him, though he was a good many yards distant on the +links, we could see the moonlight glitter on his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He opened his lips again, and spoke for some minutes on end, in a key so loud +that he might have been heard in every corner of the pavilion, and as far away +as the borders of the wood. It was the same voice that had already shouted +“<i>Traditore</i>!” through the shutters of the dining-room; this +time it made a complete and clear statement. If the traitor +“Oddlestone” were given up, all others should be spared; if not, no +one should escape to tell the tale. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Huddlestone, what do you say to that?” asked Northmour, +turning to the bed. +</p> + +<p> +Up to that moment the banker had given no sign of life, and I, at least, had +supposed him to be still lying in a faint; but he replied at once, and in such +tones as I have never heard elsewhere, save from a delirious patient, adjured +and besought us not to desert him. It was the most hideous and abject +performance that my imagination can conceive. +</p> + +<p> +“Enough,” cried Northmour; and then he threw open the window, +leaned out into the night, and in a tone of exultation, and with a total +forgetfulness of what was due to the presence of a lady, poured out upon the +ambassador a string of the most abominable raillery both in English and +Italian, and bade him be gone where he had come from. I believe that nothing so +delighted Northmour at that moment as the thought that we must all infallibly +perish before the night was out. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the Italian put his flag of truce into his pocket, and disappeared, at +a leisurely pace, among the sand-hills. +</p> + +<p> +“They make honourable war,” said Northmour. “They are all +gentlemen and soldiers. For the credit of the thing, I wish we could change +sides—you and I, Frank, and you too, Missy, my darling—and leave +that being on the bed to some one else. Tut! Don’t look shocked! We are +all going post to what they call eternity, and may as well be above-board while +there’s time. As far as I’m concerned, if I could first strangle +Huddlestone and then get Clara in my arms, I could die with some pride and +satisfaction. And as it is, by God, I’ll have a kiss!” +</p> + +<p> +Before I could do anything to interfere, he had rudely embraced and repeatedly +kissed the resisting girl. Next moment I had pulled him away with fury, and +flung him heavily against the wall. He laughed loud and long, and I feared his +wits had given way under the strain; for even in the best of days he had been a +sparing and a quiet laugher. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Frank,” said he, when his mirth was somewhat appeased, +“it’s your turn. Here’s my hand. Good-bye; farewell!” +Then, seeing me stand rigid and indignant, and holding Clara to my +side—“Man!” he broke out, “are you angry? Did you think +we were going to die with all the airs and graces of society? I took a kiss; +I’m glad I had it; and now you can take another if you like, and square +accounts.” +</p> + +<p> +I turned from him with a feeling of contempt which I did not seek to dissemble. +</p> + +<p> +“As you please,” said he. “You’ve been a prig in life; +a prig you’ll die.” +</p> + +<p> +And with that he sat down in a chair, a rifle over his knee, and amused himself +with snapping the lock; but I could see that his ebullition of light spirits +(the only one I ever knew him to display) had already come to an end, and was +succeeded by a sullen, scowling humour. +</p> + +<p> +All this time our assailants might have been entering the house, and we been +none the wiser; we had in truth almost forgotten the danger that so imminently +overhung our days. But just then Mr. Huddlestone uttered a cry, and leaped from +the bed. +</p> + +<p> +I asked him what was wrong. +</p> + +<p> +“Fire!” he cried. “They have set the house on fire!” +</p> + +<p> +Northmour was on his feet in an instant, and he and I ran through the door of +communication with the study. The room was illuminated by a red and angry +light. Almost at the moment of our entrance, a tower of flame arose in front of +the window, and, with a tingling report, a pane fell inwards on the carpet. +They had set fire to the lean-to outhouse, where Northmour used to nurse his +negatives. +</p> + +<p> +“Hot work,” said Northmour. “Let us try in your old +room.” +</p> + +<p> +We ran thither in a breath, threw up the casement, and looked forth. Along the +whole back wall of the pavilion piles of fuel had been arranged and kindled; +and it is probable they had been drenched with mineral oil, for, in spite of +the morning’s rain, they all burned bravely. The fire had taken a firm +hold already on the outhouse, which blazed higher and higher every moment; the +back door was in the centre of a red-hot bonfire; the eaves we could see, as we +looked upward, were already smouldering, for the roof overhung, and was +supported by considerable beams of wood. At the same time, hot, pungent, and +choking volumes of smoke began to fill the house. There was not a human being +to be seen to right or left. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well!” said Northmour, “here’s the end, thank +God.” +</p> + +<p> +And we returned to <i>My Uncle’s Room</i>. Mr. Huddlestone was putting on +his boots, still violently trembling, but with an air of determination such as +I had not hitherto observed. Clara stood close by him, with her cloak in both +hands ready to throw about her shoulders, and a strange look in her eyes, as if +she were half hopeful, half doubtful of her father. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, boys and girls,” said Northmour, “how about a sally? +The oven is heating; it is not good to stay here and be baked; and, for my +part, I want to come to my hands with them, and be done.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing else left,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +And both Clara and Mr. Huddlestone, though with a very different intonation, +added, “Nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +As we went downstairs the heat was excessive, and the roaring of the fire +filled our ears; and we had scarce reached the passage before the stairs window +fell in, a branch of flame shot brandishing through the aperture, and the +interior of the pavilion became lit up with that dreadful and fluctuating +glare. At the same moment we heard the fall of something heavy and inelastic in +the upper story. The whole pavilion, it was plain, had gone alight like a box +of matches, and now not only flamed sky-high to land and sea, but threatened +with every moment to crumble and fall in about our ears. +</p> + +<p> +Northmour and I cocked our revolvers. Mr. Huddlestone, who had already refused +a firearm, put us behind him with a manner of command. +</p> + +<p> +“Let Clara open the door,” said he. “So, if they fire a +volley, she will be protected. And in the meantime stand behind me. I am the +scapegoat; my sins have found me out.” +</p> + +<p> +I heard him, as I stood breathless by his shoulder, with my pistol ready, +pattering off prayers in a tremulous, rapid whisper; and I confess, horrid as +the thought may seem, I despised him for thinking of supplications in a moment +so critical and thrilling. In the meantime, Clara, who was dead white but still +possessed her faculties, had displaced the barricade from the front door. +Another moment, and she had pulled it open. Firelight and moonlight illuminated +the links with confused and changeful lustre, and far away against the sky we +could see a long trail of glowing smoke. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Huddlestone, filled for the moment with a strength greater than his own, +struck Northmour and myself a back-hander in the chest; and while we were thus +for the moment incapacitated from action, lifting his arms above his head like +one about to dive, he ran straight forward out of the pavilion. +</p> + +<p> +“Here am I!” he cried—“Huddlestone! Kill me, and spare +the others!” +</p> + +<p> +His sudden appearance daunted, I suppose, our hidden enemies; for Northmour and +I had time to recover, to seize Clara between us, one by each arm, and to rush +forth to his assistance, ere anything further had taken place. But scarce had +we passed the threshold when there came near a dozen reports and flashes from +every direction among the hollows of the links. Mr. Huddlestone staggered, +uttered a weird and freezing cry, threw up his arms over his head, and fell +backward on the turf. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Traditore</i>! <i>Traditore</i>!” cried the invisible avengers. +</p> + +<p> +And just then, a part of the roof of the pavilion fell in, so rapid was the +progress of the fire. A loud, vague, and horrible noise accompanied the +collapse, and a vast volume of flame went soaring up to heaven. It must have +been visible at that moment from twenty miles out at sea, from the shore at +Graden Wester, and far inland from the peak of Graystiel, the most eastern +summit of the Caulder Hills. Bernard Huddlestone, although God knows what were +his obsequies, had a fine pyre at the moment of his death. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER IX<br/> +TELLS HOW NORTHMOUR CARRIED OUT HIS THREAT</h3> + +<p> +I <span class="smcap">should</span> have the greatest difficulty to tell you +what followed next after this tragic circumstance. It is all to me, as I look +back upon it, mixed, strenuous, and ineffectual, like the struggles of a +sleeper in a nightmare. Clara, I remember, uttered a broken sigh and would have +fallen forward to earth, had not Northmour and I supported her insensible body. +I do not think we were attacked; I do not remember even to have seen an +assailant; and I believe we deserted Mr. Huddlestone without a glance. I only +remember running like a man in a panic, now carrying Clara altogether in my own +arms, now sharing her weight with Northmour, now scuffling confusedly for the +possession of that dear burden. Why we should have made for my camp in the +Hemlock Den, or how we reached it, are points lost for ever to my recollection. +The first moment at which I became definitely sure, Clara had been suffered to +fall against the outside of my little tent, Northmour and I were tumbling +together on the ground, and he, with contained ferocity, was striking for my +head with the butt of his revolver. He had already twice wounded me on the +scalp; and it is to the consequent loss of blood that I am tempted to attribute +the sudden clearness of my mind. +</p> + +<p> +I caught him by the wrist. +</p> + +<p> +“Northmour,” I remember saying, “you can kill me afterwards. +Let us first attend to Clara.” +</p> + +<p> +He was at that moment uppermost. Scarcely had the words passed my lips, when he +had leaped to his feet and ran towards the tent; and the next moment, he was +straining Clara to his heart and covering her unconscious hands and face with +his caresses. +</p> + +<p> +“Shame!” I cried. “Shame to you, Northmour!” +</p> + +<p> +And, giddy though I still was, I struck him repeatedly upon the head and +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +He relinquished his grasp, and faced me in the broken moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +“I had you under, and I let you go,” said he; “and now you +strike me! Coward!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are the coward,” I retorted. “Did she wish your kisses +while she was still sensible of what she wanted? Not she! And now she may be +dying; and you waste this precious time, and abuse her helplessness. Stand +aside, and let me help her.” +</p> + +<p> +He confronted me for a moment, white and menacing; then suddenly he stepped +aside. +</p> + +<p> +“Help her then,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +I threw myself on my knees beside her, and loosened, as well as I was able, her +dress and corset; but while I was thus engaged, a grasp descended on my +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep your hands off her,” said Northmour fiercely. “Do you +think I have no blood in my veins?” +</p> + +<p> +“Northmour,” I cried, “if you will neither help her yourself, +nor let me do so, do you know that I shall have to kill you?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is better!” he cried. “Let her die also, where’s +the harm? Step aside from that girl! and stand up to fight” +</p> + +<p> +“You will observe,” said I, half rising, “that I have not +kissed her yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare you to,” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +I do not know what possessed me; it was one of the things I am most ashamed of +in my life, though, as my wife used to say, I knew that my kisses would be +always welcome were she dead or living; down I fell again upon my knees, parted +the hair from her forehead, and, with the dearest respect, laid my lips for a +moment on that cold brow. It was such a caress as a father might have given; it +was such a one as was not unbecoming from a man soon to die to a woman already +dead. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said I, “I am at your service, Mr. +Northmour.” +</p> + +<p> +But I saw, to my surprise, that he had turned his back upon me. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said he, “I do. If you wish to fight, I am ready. If +not, go on and save Clara. All is one to me.” +</p> + +<p> +I did not wait to be twice bidden; but, stooping again over Clara, continued my +efforts to revive her. She still lay white and lifeless; I began to fear that +her sweet spirit had indeed fled beyond recall, and horror and a sense of utter +desolation seized upon my heart. I called her by name with the most endearing +inflections; I chafed and beat her hands; now I laid her head low, now +supported it against my knee; but all seemed to be in vain, and the lids still +lay heavy on her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Northmour,” I said, “there is my hat. For God’s sake +bring some water from the spring.” +</p> + +<p> +Almost in a moment he was by my side with the water. “I have brought it +in my own,” he said. “You do not grudge me the privilege?” +</p> + +<p> +“Northmour,” I was beginning to say, as I laved her head and +breast; but he interrupted me savagely. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you hush up!” he said. “The best thing you can do is to +say nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +I had certainly no desire to talk, my mind being swallowed up in concern for my +dear love and her condition; so I continued in silence to do my best towards +her recovery, and, when the hat was empty, returned it to him, with one +word—“More.” He had, perhaps, gone several times upon this +errand, when Clara reopened her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said he, “since she is better, you can spare me, can +you not? I wish you a good night, Mr. Cassilis.” +</p> + +<p> +And with that he was gone among the thicket. I made a fire, for I had now no +fear of the Italians, who had even spared all the little possessions left in my +encampment; and, broken as she was by the excitement and the hideous +catastrophe of the evening, I managed, in one way or another—by +persuasion, encouragement, warmth, and such simple remedies as I could lay my +hand on—to bring her back to some composure of mind and strength of body. +</p> + +<p> +Day had already come, when a sharp “Hist!” sounded from the +thicket. I started from the ground; but the voice of Northmour was heard +adding, in the most tranquil tones: “Come here, Cassilis, and alone; I +want to show you something.” +</p> + +<p> +I consulted Clara with my eyes, and, receiving her tacit permission, left her +alone, and clambered out of the den. At some distance of I saw Northmour +leaning against an elder; and, as soon as he perceived me, he began walking +seaward. I had almost overtaken him as he reached the outskirts of the wood. +</p> + +<p> +“Look,” said he, pausing. +</p> + +<p> +A couple of steps more brought me out of the foliage. The light of the morning +lay cold and clear over that well-known scene. The pavilion was but a blackened +wreck; the roof had fallen in, one of the gables had fallen out; and, far and +near, the face of the links was cicatrised with little patches of burnt furze. +Thick smoke still went straight upwards in the windless air of the morning, and +a great pile of ardent cinders filled the bare walls of the house, like coals +in an open grate. Close by the islet a schooner yacht lay to, and a well-manned +boat was pulling vigorously for the shore. +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>Red Earl</i>!” I cried. “The <i>Red Earl</i> twelve +hours too late!” +</p> + +<p> +“Feel in your pocket, Frank. Are you armed?” asked Northmour. +</p> + +<p> +I obeyed him, and I think I must have become deadly pale. My revolver had been +taken from me. +</p> + +<p> +“You see I have you in my power,” he continued. “I disarmed +you last night while you were nursing Clara; but this +morning—here—take your pistol. No thanks!” he cried, holding +up his hand. “I do not like them; that is the only way you can annoy me +now.” +</p> + +<p> +He began to walk forward across the links to meet the boat, and I followed a +step or two behind. In front of the pavilion I paused to see where Mr. +Huddlestone had fallen; but there was no sign of him, nor so much as a trace of +blood. +</p> + +<p> +“Graden Floe,” said Northmour. +</p> + +<p> +He continued to advance till we had come to the head of the beach. +</p> + +<p> +“No farther, please,” said he. “Would you like to take her to +Graden House?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” replied I; “I shall try to get her to the +minister’s at Graden Wester.” +</p> + +<p> +The prow of the boat here grated on the beach, and a sailor jumped ashore with +a line in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute, lads!” cried Northmour; and then lower and to my +private ear: “You had better say nothing of all this to her,” he +added. +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary!” I broke out, “she shall know everything +that I can tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not understand,” he returned, with an air of great dignity. +“It will be nothing to her; she expects it of me. Good-bye!” he +added, with a nod. +</p> + +<p> +I offered him my hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me,” said he. “It’s small, I know; but I +can’t push things quite so far as that. I don’t wish any +sentimental business, to sit by your hearth a white-haired wanderer, and all +that. Quite the contrary: I hope to God I shall never again clap eyes on either +one of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, God bless you, Northmour!” I said heartily. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” he returned. +</p> + +<p> +He walked down the beach; and the man who was ashore gave him an arm on board, +and then shoved off and leaped into the bows himself. Northmour took the +tiller; the boat rose to the waves, and the oars between the thole-pins sounded +crisp and measured in the morning air. +</p> + +<p> +They were not yet half-way to the <i>Red Earl</i>, and I was still watching +their progress, when the sun rose out of the sea. +</p> + +<p> +One word more, and my story is done. Years after, Northmour was killed fighting +under the colours of Garibaldi for the liberation of the Tyrol. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT<br/> +A STORY OF FRANCIS VILLON</h2> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">It</span> was late in November 1456. The snow fell over +Paris with rigorous, relentless persistence; sometimes the wind made a sally +and scattered it in flying vortices; sometimes there was a lull, and flake +after flake descended out of the black night air, silent, circuitous, +interminable. To poor people, looking up under moist eyebrows, it seemed a +wonder where it all came from. Master Francis Villon had propounded an +alternative that afternoon, at a tavern window: was it only Pagan Jupiter +plucking geese upon Olympus? or were the holy angels moulting? He was only a +poor Master of Arts, he went on; and as the question somewhat touched upon +divinity, he durst not venture to conclude. A silly old priest from Montargis, +who was among the company, treated the young rascal to a bottle of wine in +honour of the jest and the grimaces with which it was accompanied, and swore on +his own white beard that he had been just such another irreverent dog when he +was Villon’s age. +</p> + +<p> +The air was raw and pointed, but not far below freezing; and the flakes were +large, damp, and adhesive. The whole city was sheeted up. An army might have +marched from end to end and not a footfall given the alarm. If there were any +belated birds in heaven, they saw the island like a large white patch, and the +bridges like slim white spars, on the black ground of the river. High up +overhead the snow settled among the tracery of the cathedral towers. Many a +niche was drifted full; many a statue wore a long white bonnet on its grotesque +or sainted head. The gargoyles had been transformed into great false noses, +drooping towards the point. The crockets were like upright pillows swollen on +one side. In the intervals of the wind, there was a dull sound of dripping +about the precincts of the church. +</p> + +<p> +The cemetery of St. John had taken its own share of the snow. All the graves +were decently covered; tall white housetops stood around in grave array; worthy +burghers were long ago in bed, benightcapped like their domiciles; there was no +light in all the neighbourhood but a little peep from a lamp that hung swinging +in the church choir, and tossed the shadows to and fro in time to its +oscillations. The clock was hard on ten when the patrol went by with halberds +and a lantern, beating their hands; and they saw nothing suspicious about the +cemetery of St. John. +</p> + +<p> +Yet there was a small house, backed up against the cemetery wall, which was +still awake, and awake to evil purpose, in that snoring district. There was not +much to betray it from without; only a stream of warm vapour from the +chimney-top, a patch where the snow melted on the roof, and a few +half-obliterated footprints at the door. But within, behind the shuttered +windows, Master Francis Villon the poet, and some of the thievish crew with +whom he consorted, were keeping the night alive and passing round the bottle. +</p> + +<p> +A great pile of living embers diffused a strong and ruddy glow from the arched +chimney. Before this straddled Dom Nicolas, the Picardy monk, with his skirts +picked up and his fat legs bared to the comfortable warmth. His dilated shadow +cut the room in half; and the firelight only escaped on either side of his +broad person, and in a little pool between his outspread feet. His face had the +beery, bruised appearance of the continual drinker’s; it was covered with +a network of congested veins, purple in ordinary circumstances, but now pale +violet, for even with his back to the fire the cold pinched him on the other +side. His cowl had half fallen back, and made a strange excrescence on either +side of his bull neck. So he straddled, grumbling, and cut the room in half +with the shadow of his portly frame. +</p> + +<p> +On the right, Villon and Guy Tabary were huddled together over a scrap of +parchment; Villon making a ballade which he was to call the “Ballade of +Roast Fish,” and Tabary spluttering admiration at his shoulder. The poet +was a rag of a man, dark, little, and lean, with hollow cheeks and thin black +locks. He carried his four-and-twenty years with feverish animation. Greed had +made folds about his eyes, evil smiles had puckered his mouth. The wolf and pig +struggled together in his face. It was an eloquent, sharp, ugly, earthly +countenance. His hands were small and prehensile, with fingers knotted like a +cord; and they were continually flickering in front of him in violent and +expressive pantomime. As for Tabary, a broad, complacent, admiring imbecility +breathed from his squash nose and slobbering lips: he had become a thief, just +as he might have become the most decent of burgesses, by the imperious chance +that rules the lives of human geese and human donkeys. +</p> + +<p> +At the monk’s other hand, Montigny and Thevenin Pensete played a game of +chance. About the first there clung some flavour of good birth and training, as +about a fallen angel; something long, lithe, and courtly in the person; +something aquiline and darkling in the face. Thevenin, poor soul, was in great +feather: he had done a good stroke of knavery that afternoon in the Faubourg +St. Jacques, and all night he had been gaining from Montigny. A flat smile +illuminated his face; his bald head shone rosily in a garland of red curls; his +little protuberant stomach shook with silent chucklings as he swept in his +gains. +</p> + +<p> +“Doubles or quits?” said Thevenin. Montigny nodded grimly. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Some may prefer to dine in state</i>,” wrote Villon, +“<i>On bread and cheese on silver plate</i>. Or—or—help me +out, Guido!” +</p> + +<p> +Tabary giggled. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Or parsley on a golden dish</i>,” scribbled the poet. +</p> + +<p> +The wind was freshening without; it drove the snow before it, and sometimes +raised its voice in a victorious whoop, and made sepulchral grumblings in the +chimney. The cold was growing sharper as the night went on. Villon, protruding +his lips, imitated the gust with something between a whistle and a groan. It +was an eerie, uncomfortable talent of the poet’s, much detested by the +Picardy monk. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you hear it rattle in the gibbet?” said Villon. +“They are all dancing the devil’s jig on nothing, up there. You may +dance, my gallants, you’ll be none the warmer! Whew! what a gust! Down +went somebody just now! A medlar the fewer on the three-legged +medlar-tree!—I say, Dom Nicolas, it’ll be cold to-night on the St. +Denis Road?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Dom Nicolas winked both his big eyes, and seemed to choke upon his Adam’s +apple. Montfaucon, the great grisly Paris gibbet, stood hard by the St. Denis +Road, and the pleasantry touched him on the raw. As for Tabary, he laughed +immoderately over the medlars; he had never heard anything more light-hearted; +and he held his sides and crowed. Villon fetched him a fillip on the nose, +which turned his mirth into an attack of coughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, stop that row,” said Villon, “and think of rhymes to +‘fish’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubles or quits,” said Montigny doggedly. +</p> + +<p> +“With all my heart,” quoth Thevenin. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any more in that bottle?” asked the monk. +</p> + +<p> +“Open another,” said Villon. “How do you ever hope to fill +that big hogshead, your body, with little things like bottles? And how do you +expect to get to heaven? How many angels, do you fancy, can be spared to carry +up a single monk from Picardy? Or do you think yourself another Elias—and +they’ll send the coach for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Hominibus impossibile</i>,” replied the monk, as he filled his +glass. +</p> + +<p> +Tabary was in ecstasies. +</p> + +<p> +Villon filliped his nose again. +</p> + +<p> +“Laugh at my jokes, if you like,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“It was very good,” objected Tabary. +</p> + +<p> +Villon made a face at him. “Think of rhymes to ‘fish’,” +he said. “What have you to do with Latin? You’ll wish you knew none +of it at the great assizes, when the devil calls for Guido Tabary, +clericus—the devil with the hump-back and red-hot finger-nails. Talking +of the devil,” he added in a whisper, “look at Montigny!” +</p> + +<p> +All three peered covertly at the gamester. He did not seem to be enjoying his +luck. His mouth was a little to a side; one nostril nearly shut, and the other +much inflated. The black dog was on his back, as people say, in terrifying +nursery metaphor; and he breathed hard under the gruesome burden. +</p> + +<p> +“He looks as if he could knife him,” whispered Tabary, with round +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The monk shuddered, and turned his face and spread his open hands to the red +embers. It was the cold that thus affected Dom Nicolas, and not any excess of +moral sensibility. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now,” said Villon—“about this ballade. How does +it run so far?” And beating time with his hand, he read it aloud to +Tabary. +</p> + +<p> +They were interrupted at the fourth rhyme by a brief and fatal movement among +the gamesters. The round was completed, and Thevenin was just opening his mouth +to claim another victory, when Montigny leaped up, swift as an adder, and +stabbed him to the heart. The blow took effect before he had time to utter a +cry, before he had time to move. A tremor or two convulsed his frame; his hands +opened and shut, his heels rattled on the floor; then his head rolled backward +over one shoulder with the eyes wide open; and Thevenin Pensete’s spirit +had returned to Him who made it. +</p> + +<p> +Everyone sprang to his feet; but the business was over in two twos. The four +living fellows looked at each other in rather a ghastly fashion; the dead man +contemplating a corner of the roof with a singular and ugly leer. +</p> + +<p> +“My God!” said Tabary; and he began to pray in Latin. +</p> + +<p> +Villon broke out into hysterical laughter. He came a step forward and ducked a +ridiculous bow at Thevenin, and laughed still louder. Then he sat down +suddenly, all of a heap, upon a stool, and continued laughing bitterly as +though he would shake himself to pieces. +</p> + +<p> +Montigny recovered his composure first. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s see what he has about him,” he remarked; and he picked +the dead man’s pockets with a practised hand, and divided the money into +four equal portions on the table. “There’s for you,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The monk received his share with a deep sigh, and a single stealthy glance at +the dead Thevenin, who was beginning to sink into himself and topple sideways +of the chair. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re all in for it,” cried Villon, swallowing his mirth. +“It’s a hanging job for every man jack of us that’s +here—not to speak of those who aren’t.” He made a shocking +gesture in the air with his raised right hand, and put out his tongue and threw +his head on one side, so as to counterfeit the appearance of one who has been +hanged. Then he pocketed his share of the spoil, and executed a shuffle with +his feet as if to restore the circulation. +</p> + +<p> +Tabary was the last to help himself; he made a dash at the money, and retired +to the other end of the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +Montigny stuck Thevenin upright in the chair, and drew out the dagger, which +was followed by a jet of blood. +</p> + +<p> +“You fellows had better be moving,” he said, as he wiped the blade +on his victim’s doublet. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we had,” returned Villon with a gulp. “Damn his fat +head!” he broke out. “It sticks in my throat like phlegm. What +right has a man to have red hair when he is dead?” And he fell all of a +heap again upon the stool, and fairly covered his face with his hands. +</p> + +<p> +Montigny and Dom Nicolas laughed aloud, even Tabary feebly chiming in. +</p> + +<p> +“Cry baby,” said the monk. +</p> + +<p> +“I always said he was a woman,” added Montigny with a sneer. +“Sit up, can’t you?” he went on, giving another shake to the +murdered body. “Tread out that fire, Nick!” +</p> + +<p> +But Nick was better employed; he was quietly taking Villon’s purse, as +the poet sat, limp and trembling, on the stool where he had been making a +ballade not three minutes before. Montigny and Tabary dumbly demanded a share +of the booty, which the monk silently promised as he passed the little bag into +the bosom of his gown. In many ways an artistic nature unfits a man for +practical existence. +</p> + +<p> +No sooner had the theft been accomplished than Villon shook himself, jumped to +his feet, and began helping to scatter and extinguish the embers. Meanwhile +Montigny opened the door and cautiously peered into the street. The coast was +clear; there was no meddlesome patrol in sight. Still it was judged wiser to +slip out severally; and as Villon was himself in a hurry to escape from the +neighbourhood of the dead Thevenin, and the rest were in a still greater hurry +to get rid of him before he should discover the loss of his money, he was the +first by general consent to issue forth into the street. +</p> + +<p> +The wind had triumphed and swept all the clouds from heaven. Only a few +vapours, as thin as moonlight, fleeting rapidly across the stars. It was bitter +cold; and by a common optical effect, things seemed almost more definite than +in the broadest daylight. The sleeping city was absolutely still: a company of +white hoods, a field full of little Alps, below the twinkling stars. Villon +cursed his fortune. Would it were still snowing! Now, wherever he went, he left +an indelible trail behind him on the glittering streets; wherever he went he +was still tethered to the house by the cemetery of St. John; wherever he went +he must weave, with his own plodding feet, the rope that bound him to the crime +and would bind him to the gallows. The leer of the dead man came back to him +with a new significance. He snapped his fingers as if to pluck up his own +spirits, and choosing a street at random, stepped boldly forward in the snow. +</p> + +<p> +Two things preoccupied him as he went: the aspect of the gallows at Montfaucon +in this bright windy phase of the night’s existence, for one; and for +another, the look of the dead man with his bald head and garland of red curls. +Both struck cold upon his heart, and he kept quickening his pace as if he could +escape from unpleasant thoughts by mere fleetness of foot. Sometimes he looked +back over his shoulder with a sudden nervous jerk; but he was the only moving +thing in the white streets, except when the wind swooped round a corner and +threw up the snow, which was beginning to freeze, in spouts of glittering dust. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he saw, a long way before him, a black clump and a couple of lanterns. +The clump was in motion, and the lanterns swung as though carried by men +walking. It was a patrol. And though it was merely crossing his line of march, +he judged it wiser to get out of eyeshot as speedily as he could. He was not in +the humour to be challenged, and he was conscious of making a very conspicuous +mark upon the snow. Just on his left hand there stood a great hotel, with some +turrets and a large porch before the door; it was half-ruinous, he remembered, +and had long stood empty; and so he made three steps of it and jumped into the +shelter of the porch. It was pretty dark inside, after the glimmer of the snowy +streets, and he was groping forward with outspread hands, when he stumbled over +some substance which offered an indescribable mixture of resistances, hard and +soft, firm and loose. His heart gave a leap, and he sprang two steps back and +stared dreadfully at the obstacle. Then he gave a little laugh of relief. It +was only a woman, and she dead. He knelt beside her to make sure upon this +latter point. She was freezing cold, and rigid like a stick. A little ragged +finery fluttered in the wind about her hair, and her cheeks had been heavily +rouged that same afternoon. Her pockets were quite empty; but in her stocking, +underneath the garter, Villon found two of the small coins that went by the +name of whites. It was little enough; but it was always something; and the poet +was moved with a deep sense of pathos that she should have died before she had +spent her money. That seemed to him a dark and pitiable mystery; and he looked +from the coins in his hand to the dead woman, and back again to the coins, +shaking his head over the riddle of man’s life. Henry V. of England, +dying at Vincennes just after he had conquered France, and this poor jade cut +off by a cold draught in a great man’s doorway, before she had time to +spend her couple of whites—it seemed a cruel way to carry on the world. +Two whites would have taken such a little while to squander; and yet it would +have been one more good taste in the mouth, one more smack of the lips, before +the devil got the soul, and the body was left to birds and vermin. He would +like to use all his tallow before the light was blown out and the lantern +broken. +</p> + +<p> +While these thoughts were passing through his mind, he was feeling, half +mechanically, for his purse. Suddenly his heart stopped beating; a feeling of +cold scales passed up the back of his legs, and a cold blow seemed to fall upon +his scalp. He stood petrified for a moment; then he felt again with one +feverish movement; and then his loss burst upon him, and he was covered at once +with perspiration. To spendthrifts money is so living and actual—it is +such a thin veil between them and their pleasures! There is only one limit to +their fortune—that of time; and a spendthrift with only a few crowns is +the Emperor of Rome until they are spent. For such a person to lose his money +is to suffer the most shocking reverse, and fall from heaven to hell, from all +to nothing, in a breath. And all the more if he has put his head in the halter +for it; if he may be hanged to-morrow for that same purse, so dearly earned, so +foolishly departed! Villon stood and cursed; he threw the two whites into the +street; he shook his fist at heaven; he stamped, and was not horrified to find +himself trampling the poor corpse. Then he began rapidly to retrace his steps +towards the house beside the cemetery. He had forgotten all fear of the patrol, +which was long gone by at any rate, and had no idea but that of his lost purse. +It was in vain that he looked right and left upon the snow: nothing was to be +seen. He had not dropped it in the streets. Had it fallen in the house? He +would have liked dearly to go in and see; but the idea of the grisly occupant +unmanned him. And he saw besides, as he drew near, that their efforts to put +out the fire had been unsuccessful; on the contrary, it had broken into a +blaze, and a changeful light played in the chinks of door and window, and +revived his terror for the authorities and Paris gibbet. +</p> + +<p> +He returned to the hotel with the porch, and groped about upon the snow for the +money he had thrown away in his childish passion. But he could only find one +white; the other had probably struck sideways and sunk deeply in. With a single +white in his pocket, all his projects for a rousing night in some wild tavern +vanished utterly away. And it was not only pleasure that fled laughing from his +grasp; positive discomfort, positive pain, attacked him as he stood ruefully +before the porch. His perspiration had dried upon him; and though the wind had +now fallen, a binding frost was setting in stronger with every hour, and be +felt benumbed and sick at heart. What was to be done? Late as was the hour, +improbable as was success, he would try the house of his adopted father, the +chaplain of St. Benoît. +</p> + +<p> +He ran there all the way, and knocked timidly. There was no answer. He knocked +again and again, taking heart with every stroke; and at last steps were heard +approaching from within. A barred wicket fell open in the iron-studded door, +and emitted a gush of yellow light. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold up your face to the wicket,” said the chaplain from within. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s only me,” whimpered Villon. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s only you, is it?” returned the chaplain; and he +cursed him with foul unpriestly oaths for disturbing him at such an hour, and +bade him be off to hell, where he came from. +</p> + +<p> +“My hands are blue to the wrist,” pleaded Villon; “my feet +are dead and full of twinges; my nose aches with the sharp air; the cold lies +at my heart. I may be dead before morning. Only this once, father, and before +God I will never ask again!” +</p> + +<p> +“You should have come earlier,” said the ecclesiastic coolly. +“Young men require a lesson now and then.” He shut the wicket and +retired deliberately into the interior of the house. +</p> + +<p> +Villon was beside himself; he beat upon the door with his hands and feet, and +shouted hoarsely after the chaplain. +</p> + +<p> +“Wormy old fox!” he cried. “If I had my hand under your +twist, I would send you flying headlong into the bottomless pit.” +</p> + +<p> +A door shut in the interior, faintly audible to the poet down long passages. He +passed his hand over his mouth with an oath. And then the humour of the +situation struck him, and he laughed and looked lightly up to heaven, where the +stars seemed to be winking over his discomfiture. +</p> + +<p> +What was to be done? It looked very like a night in the frosty streets. The +idea of the dead woman popped into his imagination, and gave him a hearty +fright; what had happened to her in the early night might very well happen to +him before morning. And he so young! and with such immense possibilities of +disorderly amusement before him! He felt quite pathetic over the notion of his +own fate, as if it had been some one else’s, and made a little +imaginative vignette of the scene in the morning when they should find his +body. +</p> + +<p> +He passed all his chances under review, turning the white between his thumb and +forefinger. Unfortunately he was on bad terms with some old friends who would +once have taken pity on him in such a plight. He had lampooned them in verses, +he had beaten and cheated them; and yet now, when he was in so close a pinch, +he thought there was at least one who might perhaps relent. It was a chance. It +was worth trying at least, and he would go and see. +</p> + +<p> +On the way, two little accidents happened to him which coloured his musings in +a very different manner. For, first, he fell in with the track of a patrol, and +walked in it for some hundred yards, although it lay out of his direction. And +this spirited him up; at least he had confused his trail; for he was still +possessed with the idea of people tracking him all about Paris over the snow, +and collaring him next morning before he was awake. The other matter affected +him very differently. He passed a street corner, where, not so long before, a +woman and her child had been devoured by wolves. This was just the kind of +weather, he reflected, when wolves might take it into their heads to enter +Paris again; and a lone man in these deserted streets would run the chance of +something worse than a mere scare. He stopped and looked upon the place with an +unpleasant interest—it was a centre where several lanes intersected each +other; and he looked down them all one after another, and held his breath to +listen, lest he should detect some galloping black things on the snow or hear +the sound of howling between him and the river. He remembered his mother +telling him the story and pointing out the spot, while he was yet a child. His +mother! If he only knew where she lived, he might make sure at least of +shelter. He determined he would inquire upon the morrow; nay, he would go and +see her too, poor old girl! So thinking, he arrived at his +destination—his last hope for the night. +</p> + +<p> +The house was quite dark, like its neighbours; and yet after a few taps, he +heard a movement overhead, a door opening, and a cautious voice asking who was +there. The poet named himself in a loud whisper, and waited, not without some +trepidation, the result. Nor had he to wait long. A window was suddenly opened, +and a pailful of slops splashed down upon the doorstep. Villon had not been +unprepared for something of the sort, and had put himself as much in shelter as +the nature of the porch admitted; but for all that, he was deplorably drenched +below the waist. His hose began to freeze almost at once. Death from cold and +exposure stared him in the face; he remembered he was of phthisical tendency, +and began coughing tentatively. But the gravity of the danger steadied his +nerves. He stopped a few hundred yards from the door where he had been so +rudely used, and reflected with his finger to his nose. He could only see one +way of getting a lodging, and that was to take it. He had noticed a house not +far away, which looked as if it might be easily broken into, and thither he +betook himself promptly, entertaining himself on the way with the idea of a +room still hot, with a table still loaded with the remains of supper, where he +might pass the rest of the black hours, and whence he should issue, on the +morrow, with an armful of valuable plate. He even considered on what viands and +what wines he should prefer; and as he was calling the roll of his favourite +dainties, roast fish presented itself to his mind with an odd mixture of +amusement and horror. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall never finish that ballade,” he thought to himself; and +then, with another shudder at the recollection, “Oh, damn his fat +head!” he repeated fervently, and spat upon the snow. +</p> + +<p> +The house in question looked dark at first sight; but as Villon made a +preliminary inspection in search of the handiest point of attack, a little +twinkle of light caught his eye from behind a curtained window. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” he thought. “People awake! Some student or some +saint, confound the crew! Can’t they get drunk and lie in bed snoring +like their neighbours? What’s the good of curfew, and poor devils of +bell-ringers jumping at a rope’s end in bell-towers? What’s the use +of day, if people sit up all night? The gripes to them!” He grinned as he +saw where his logic was leading him. “Every man to his business, after +all,” added he, “and if they’re awake, by the Lord, I may +come by a supper honestly for this once, and cheat the devil.” +</p> + +<p> +He went boldly to the door and knocked with an assured hand. On both previous +occasions, he had knocked timidly and with some dread of attracting notice; but +now when he had just discarded the thought of a burglarious entry, knocking at +a door seemed a mighty simple and innocent proceeding. The sound of his blows +echoed through the house with thin, phantasmal reverberations, as though it +were quite empty; but these had scarcely died away before a measured tread drew +near, a couple of bolts were withdrawn, and one wing was opened broadly, as +though no guile or fear of guile were known to those within. A tall figure of a +man, muscular and spare, but a little bent, confronted Villon. The head was +massive in bulk, but finely sculptured; the nose blunt at the bottom, but +refining upward to where it joined a pair of strong and honest eyebrows; the +mouth and eyes surrounded with delicate markings, and the whole face based upon +a thick white beard, boldly and squarely trimmed. Seen as it was by the light +of a flickering hand-lamp, it looked perhaps nobler than it had a right to do; +but it was a fine face, honourable rather than intelligent, strong, simple, and +righteous. +</p> + +<p> +“You knock late, sir,” said the old man in resonant, courteous +tones. +</p> + +<p> +Villon cringed, and brought up many servile words of apology; at a crisis of +this sort, the beggar was uppermost in him, and the man of genius hid his head +with confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“You are cold,” repeated the old man, “and hungry? Well, step +in.” And he ordered him into the house with a noble enough gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“Some great seigneur,” thought Villon, as his host, setting down +the lamp on the flagged pavement of the entry, shot the bolts once more into +their places. +</p> + +<p> +“You will pardon me if I go in front,” he said, when this was done; +and he preceded the poet upstairs into a large apartment, warmed with a pan of +charcoal and lit by a great lamp hanging from the roof. It was very bare of +furniture: only some gold plate on a sideboard; some folios; and a stand of +armour between the windows. Some smart tapestry hung upon the walls, +representing the crucifixion of our Lord in one piece, and in another a scene +of shepherds and shepherdesses by a running stream. Over the chimney was a +shield of arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you seat yourself,” said the old man, “and forgive me +if I leave you? I am alone in my house to-night, and if you are to eat I must +forage for you myself.” +</p> + +<p> +No sooner was his host gone than Villon leaped from the chair on which he had +just seated himself, and began examining the room, with the stealth and passion +of a cat. He weighed the gold flagons in his hand, opened all the folios, and +investigated the arms upon the shield, and the stuff with which the seats were +lined. He raised the window curtains, and saw that the windows were set with +rich stained glass in figures, so far as he could see, of martial import. Then +he stood in the middle of the room, drew a long breath, and retaining it with +puffed cheeks, looked round and round him, turning on his heels, as if to +impress every feature of the apartment on his memory. +</p> + +<p> +“Seven pieces of plate,” he said. “If there had been ten, I +would have risked it. A fine house, and a fine old master, so help me all the +saints!” +</p> + +<p> +And just then, hearing the old man’s tread returning along the corridor, +he stole back to his chair, and began humbly toasting his wet legs before the +charcoal pan. +</p> + +<p> +His entertainer had a plate of meat in one hand and a jug of wine in the other. +He set down the plate upon the table, motioning Villon to draw in his chair, +and going to the sideboard, brought back two goblets, which he filled. +</p> + +<p> +“I drink to your better fortune,” he said, gravely touching +Villon’s cup with his own. +</p> + +<p> +“To our better acquaintance,” said the poet, growing bold. A mere +man of the people would have been awed by the courtesy of the old seigneur, but +Villon was hardened in that matter; he had made mirth for great lords before +now, and found them as black rascals as himself. And so he devoted himself to +the viands with a ravenous gusto, while the old man, leaning backward, watched +him with steady, curious eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You have blood on your shoulder, my man,” he said. Montigny must +have laid his wet right hand upon him as he left the house. He cursed Montigny +in his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“It was none of my shedding,” he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +“I had not supposed so,” returned his host quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“A brawl?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, something of that sort,” Villon admitted with a quaver. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps a fellow murdered?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, not murdered,” said the poet, more and more confused. +“It was all fair play—murdered by accident. I had no hand in it, +God strike me dead!” he added fervently. +</p> + +<p> +“One rogue the fewer, I dare say,” observed the master of the +house. +</p> + +<p> +“You may dare to say that,” agreed Villon, infinitely relieved. +“As big a rogue as there is between here and Jerusalem. He turned up his +toes like a lamb. But it was a nasty thing to look at. I dare say you’ve +seen dead men in your time, my lord?” he added, glancing at the armour. +</p> + +<p> +“Many,” said the old man. “I have followed the wars, as you +imagine.” +</p> + +<p> +Villon laid down his knife and fork, which he had just taken up again. +</p> + +<p> +“Were any of them bald?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, and with hair as white as mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I should mind the white so much,” said Villon. +“His was red.” And he had a return of his shuddering and tendency +to laughter, which he drowned with a great draught of wine. “I’m a +little put out when I think of it,” he went on. “I knew +him—damn him! And then the cold gives a man fancies—or the fancies +give a man cold, I don’t know which.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any money?” asked the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“I have one white,” returned the poet, laughing. “I got it +out of a dead jade’s stocking in a porch. She was as dead as Cæsar, poor +wench, and as cold as a church, with bits of ribbon sticking in her hair. This +is a hard world in winter for wolves and wenches and poor rogues like +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I,” said the old man, “am Enguerrand de la Feuillée, +seigneur de Brisetout, bailly du Patatrac. Who and what may you be?” +</p> + +<p> +Villon rose and made a suitable reverence. “I am called Francis +Villon,” he said, “a poor Master of Arts of this university. I know +some Latin, and a deal of vice. I can make chansons, ballades, lais, virelais, +and roundels, and I am very fond of wine. I was born in a garret, and I shall +not improbably die upon the gallows. I may add, my lord, that from this night +forward I am your lordship’s very obsequious servant to command.” +</p> + +<p> +“No servant of mine,” said the knight; “my guest for this +evening, and no more.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very grateful guest,” said Villon politely; and he drank in dumb +show to his entertainer. +</p> + +<p> +“You are shrewd,” began the old man, tapping his forehead, +“very shrewd; you have learning; you are a clerk; and yet you take a +small piece of money off a dead woman in the street. Is it not a kind of +theft?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a kind of theft much practised in the wars, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“The wars are the field of honour,” returned the old man proudly. +“There a man plays his life upon the cast; he fights in the name of his +lord the king, his Lord God, and all their lordships the holy saints and +angels.” +</p> + +<p> +“Put it,” said Villon, “that I were really a thief, should I +not play my life also, and against heavier odds?” +</p> + +<p> +“For gain, but not for honour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gain?” repeated Villon with a shrug. “Gain! The poor fellow +wants supper, and takes it. So does the soldier in a campaign. Why, what are +all these requisitions we hear so much about? If they are not gain to those who +take them, they are loss enough to the others. The men-at-arms drink by a good +fire, while the burgher bites his nails to buy them wine and wood. I have seen +a good many ploughmen swinging on trees about the country, ay, I have seen +thirty on one elm, and a very poor figure they made; and when I asked some one +how all these came to be hanged, I was told it was because they could not +scrape together enough crowns to satisfy the men-at-arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“These things are a necessity of war, which the low-born must endure with +constancy. It is true that some captains drive over hard; there are spirits in +every rank not easily moved by pity; and indeed many follow arms who are no +better than brigands.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” said the poet, “you cannot separate the soldier +from the brigand; and what is a thief but an isolated brigand with circumspect +manners? I steal a couple of mutton chops, without so much as disturbing +people’s sleep; the farmer grumbles a bit, but sups none the less +wholesomely on what remains. You come up blowing gloriously on a trumpet, take +away the whole sheep, and beat the farmer pitifully into the bargain. I have no +trumpet; I am only Tom, Dick, or Harry; I am a rogue and a dog, and +hanging’s too good for me—with all my heart; but just you ask the +farmer which of us he prefers, just find out which of us he lies awake to curse +on cold nights.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look at us two,” said his lordship. “I am old, strong, and +honoured. If I were turned from my house to-morrow, hundreds would be proud to +shelter me. Poor people would go out and pass the night in the streets with +their children, if I merely hinted that I wished to be alone. And I find you +up, wandering homeless, and picking farthings off dead women by the wayside! I +fear no man and nothing; I have seen you tremble and lose countenance at a +word. I wait God’s summons contentedly in my own house, or, if it please +the king to call me out again, upon the field of battle. You look for the +gallows; a rough, swift death, without hope or honour. Is there no difference +between these two?” +</p> + +<p> +“As far as to the moon,” Villon acquiesced. “But if I had +been born lord of Brisetout, and you had been the poor scholar Francis, would +the difference have been any the less? Should not I have been warming my knees +at this charcoal pan, and would not you have been groping for farthings in the +snow? Should not I have been the soldier, and you the thief?” +</p> + +<p> +“A thief!” cried the old man. “I a thief! If you understood +your words, you would repent them.” +</p> + +<p> +Villon turned out his hands with a gesture of inimitable impudence. “If +your lordship had done me the honour to follow my argument!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I do you too much honour in submitting to your presence,” said the +knight. “Learn to curb your tongue when you speak with old and honourable +men, or some one hastier than I may reprove you in a sharper fashion.” +And he rose and paced the lower end of the apartment, struggling with anger and +antipathy. Villon surreptitiously refilled his cup, and settled himself more +comfortably in the chair, crossing his knees and leaning his head upon one hand +and the elbow against the back of the chair. He was now replete and warm; and +he was in nowise frightened for his host, having gauged him as justly as was +possible between two such different characters. The night was far spent, and in +a very comfortable fashion after all; and he felt morally certain of a safe +departure on the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me one thing,” said the old man, pausing in his walk. +“Are you really a thief?” +</p> + +<p> +“I claim the sacred rights of hospitality,” returned the poet. +“My lord, I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very young,” the knight continued. +</p> + +<p> +“I should never have been so old,” replied Villon, showing his +fingers, “if I had not helped myself with these ten talents. They have +been my nursing mothers and my nursing fathers.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may still repent and change.” +</p> + +<p> +“I repent daily,” said the poet. “There are few people more +given to repentance than poor Francis. As for change, let somebody change my +circumstances. A man must continue to eat, if it were only that he may continue +to repent.” +</p> + +<p> +“The change must begin in the heart,” returned the old man +solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear lord,” answered Villon, “do you really fancy that I +steal for pleasure? I hate stealing, like any other piece of work or of danger. +My teeth chatter when I see a gallows. But I must eat, I must drink, I must mix +in society of some sort. What the devil! Man is not a solitary +animal—<i>Cui Deus fæminam tradit</i>. Make me king’s +pantler—make me abbot of St. Denis; make me bailly of the Patatrac; and +then I shall be changed indeed. But as long as you leave me the poor scholar +Francis Villon, without a farthing, why, of course, I remain the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“The grace of God is all-powerful.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should be a heretic to question it,” said Francis. “It has +made you lord of Brisetout and bailly of the Patatrac; it has given me nothing +but the quick wits under my hat and these ten toes upon my hands. May I help +myself to wine? I thank you respectfully. By God’s grace, you have a very +superior vintage.” +</p> + +<p> +The lord of Brisetout walked to and fro with his hands behind his back. Perhaps +he was not yet quite settled in his mind about the parallel between thieves and +soldiers; perhaps Villon had interested him by some cross-thread of sympathy; +perhaps his wits were simply muddled by so much unfamiliar reasoning; but +whatever the cause, he somehow yearned to convert the young man to a better way +of thinking, and could not make up his mind to drive him forth again into the +street. +</p> + +<p> +“There is something more than I can understand in this,” he said at +length. “Your mouth is full of subtleties, and the devil has led you very +far astray; but the devil is only a very weak spirit before God’s truth, +and all his subtleties vanish at a word of true honour, like darkness at +morning. Listen to me once more. I learned long ago that a gentleman should +live chivalrously and lovingly to God, and the king, and his lady; and though I +have seen many strange things done, I have still striven to command my ways +upon that rule. It is not only written in all noble histories, but in every +man’s heart, if he will take care to read. You speak of food and wine, +and I know very well that hunger is a difficult trial to endure; but you do not +speak of other wants; you say nothing of honour, of faith to God and other men, +of courtesy, of love without reproach. It may be that I am not very +wise—and yet I think I am—but you seem to me like one who has lost +his way and made a great error in life. You are attending to the little wants, +and you have totally forgotten the great and only real ones, like a man who +should be doctoring a toothache on the Judgment Day. For such things as honour +and love and faith are not only nobler than food and drink, but indeed I think +that we desire them more, and suffer more sharply for their absence. I speak to +you as I think you will most easily understand me. Are you not, while careful +to fill your belly, disregarding another appetite in your heart, which spoils +the pleasure of your life and keeps you continually wretched?” +</p> + +<p> +Villon was sensibly nettled under all this sermonising. “You think I have +no sense of honour!” he cried. “I’m poor enough, God knows! +It’s hard to see rich people with their gloves, and you blowing in your +hands. An empty belly is a bitter thing, although you speak so lightly of it. +If you had had as many as I, perhaps you would change your tune. Any way +I’m a thief—make the most of that—but I’m not a devil +from hell, God strike me dead. I would have you to know I’ve an honour of +my own, as good as yours, though I don’t prate about it all day long, as +if it was a God’s miracle to have any. It seems quite natural to me; I +keep it in its box till it’s wanted. Why now, look you here, how long +have I been in this room with you? Did you not tell me you were alone in the +house? Look at your gold plate! You’re strong, if you like, but +you’re old and unarmed, and I have my knife. What did I want but a jerk +of the elbow and here would have been you with the cold steel in your bowels, +and there would have been me, linking in the streets, with an armful of gold +cups! Did you suppose I hadn’t wit enough to see that? And I scorned the +action. There are your damned goblets, as safe as in a church; there are you, +with your heart ticking as good as new; and here am I, ready to go out again as +poor as I came in, with my one white that you threw in my teeth! And you think +I have no sense of honour—God strike me dead!” +</p> + +<p> +The old man stretched out his right arm. “I will tell you what you +are,” he said. “You are a rogue, my man, an impudent and a +black-hearted rogue and vagabond. I have passed an hour with you. Oh! believe +me, I feel myself disgraced! And you have eaten and drunk at my table. But now +I am sick at your presence; the day has come, and the night-bird should be off +to his roost. Will you go before, or after?” +</p> + +<p> +“Which you please,” returned the poet, rising. “I believe you +to be strictly honourable.” He thoughtfully emptied his cup. “I +wish I could add you were intelligent,” he went on, knocking on his head +with his knuckles. “Age, age! the brains stiff and rheumatic.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man preceded him from a point of self-respect; Villon followed, +whistling, with his thumbs in his girdle. +</p> + +<p> +“God pity you,” said the lord of Brisetout at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, papa,” returned Villon with a yawn. “Many thanks +for the cold mutton.” +</p> + +<p> +The door closed behind him. The dawn was breaking over the white roofs. A +chill, uncomfortable morning ushered in the day. Villon stood and heartily +stretched himself in the middle of the road. +</p> + +<p> +“A very dull old gentleman,” he thought. “I wonder what his +goblets may be worth.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>THE SIRE DE MALÉTROIT’S DOOR</h2> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Denis de Beaulieu</span> was not yet two-and-twenty, but he +counted himself a grown man, and a very accomplished cavalier into the bargain. +Lads were early formed in that rough, warfaring epoch; and when one has been in +a pitched battle and a dozen raids, has killed one’s man in an honourable +fashion, and knows a thing or two of strategy and mankind, a certain swagger in +the gait is surely to be pardoned. He had put up his horse with due care, and +supped with due deliberation; and then, in a very agreeable frame of mind, went +out to pay a visit in the grey of the evening. It was not a very wise +proceeding on the young man’s part. He would have done better to remain +beside the fire or go decently to bed. For the town was full of the troops of +Burgundy and England under a mixed command; and though Denis was there on +safe-conduct, his safe-conduct was like to serve him little on a chance +encounter. +</p> + +<p> +It was September 1429; the weather had fallen sharp; a flighty piping wind, +laden with showers, beat about the township; and the dead leaves ran riot along +the streets. Here and there a window was already lighted up; and the noise of +men-at-arms making merry over supper within, came forth in fits and was +swallowed up and carried away by the wind. The night fell swiftly; the flag of +England, fluttering on the spire-top, grew ever fainter and fainter against the +flying clouds—a black speck like a swallow in the tumultuous, leaden +chaos of the sky. As the night fell the wind rose, and began to hoot under +archways and roar amid the tree-tops in the valley below the town. +</p> + +<p> +Denis de Beaulieu walked fast and was soon knocking at his friend’s door; +but though he promised himself to stay only a little while and make an early +return, his welcome was so pleasant, and he found so much to delay him, that it +was already long past midnight before he said good-bye upon the threshold. The +wind had fallen again in the meanwhile; the night was as black as the grave; +not a star, nor a glimmer of moonshine, slipped through the canopy of cloud. +Denis was ill-acquainted with the intricate lanes of Chateau Landon; even by +daylight he had found some trouble in picking his way; and in this absolute +darkness he soon lost it altogether. He was certain of one thing only—to +keep mounting the hill; for his friend’s house lay at the lower end, or +tail, of Chateau Landon, while the inn was up at the head, under the great +church spire. With this clue to go upon he stumbled and groped forward, now +breathing more freely in open places where there was a good slice of sky +overhead, now feeling along the wall in stifling closes. It is an eerie and +mysterious position to be thus submerged in opaque blackness in an almost +unknown town. The silence is terrifying in its possibilities. The touch of cold +window bars to the exploring hand startles the man like the touch of a toad; +the inequalities of the pavement shake his heart into his mouth; a piece of +denser darkness threatens an ambuscade or a chasm in the pathway; and where the +air is brighter, the houses put on strange and bewildering appearances, as if +to lead him farther from his way. For Denis, who had to regain his inn without +attracting notice, there was real danger as well as mere discomfort in the +walk; and he went warily and boldly at once, and at every corner paused to make +an observation. +</p> + +<p> +He had been for some time threading a lane so narrow that he could touch a wall +with either hand, when it began to open out and go sharply downward. Plainly +this lay no longer in the direction of his inn; but the hope of a little more +light tempted him forward to reconnoitre. The lane ended in a terrace with a +bartizan wall, which gave an out-look between high houses, as out of an +embrasure, into the valley lying dark and formless several hundred feet below. +Denis looked down, and could discern a few tree-tops waving and a single speck +of brightness where the river ran across a weir. The weather was clearing up, +and the sky had lightened, so as to show the outline of the heavier clouds and +the dark margin of the hills. By the uncertain glimmer, the house on his left +hand should be a place of some pretensions; it was surmounted by several +pinnacles and turret-tops; the round stern of a chapel, with a fringe of flying +buttresses, projected boldly from the main block; and the door was sheltered +under a deep porch carved with figures and overhung by two long gargoyles. The +windows of the chapel gleamed through their intricate tracery with a light as +of many tapers, and threw out the buttresses and the peaked roof in a more +intense blackness against the sky. It was plainly the hotel of some great +family of the neighbourhood; and as it reminded Denis of a town house of his +own at Bourges, he stood for some time gazing up at it and mentally gauging the +skill of the architects and the consideration of the two families. +</p> + +<p> +There seemed to be no issue to the terrace but the lane by which he had reached +it; he could only retrace his steps, but he had gained some notion of his +whereabouts, and hoped by this means to hit the main thoroughfare and speedily +regain the inn. He was reckoning without that chapter of accidents which was to +make this night memorable above all others in his career; for he had not gone +back above a hundred yards before he saw a light coming to meet him, and heard +loud voices speaking together in the echoing narrows of the lane. It was a +party of men-at-arms going the night round with torches. Denis assured himself +that they had all been making free with the wine-bowl, and were in no mood to +be particular about safe-conducts or the niceties of chivalrous war. It was as +like as not that they would kill him like a dog and leave him where he fell. +The situation was inspiriting but nervous. Their own torches would conceal him +from sight, he reflected; and he hoped that they would drown the noise of his +footsteps with their own empty voices. If he were but fleet and silent, he +might evade their notice altogether. +</p> + +<p> +Unfortunately, as he turned to beat a retreat, his foot rolled upon a pebble; +he fell against the wall with an ejaculation, and his sword rang loudly on the +stones. Two or three voices demanded who went there—some in French, some +in English; but Denis made no reply, and ran the faster down the lane. Once +upon the terrace, he paused to look back. They still kept calling after him, +and just then began to double the pace in pursuit, with a considerable clank of +armour, and great tossing of the torchlight to and fro in the narrow jaws of +the passage. +</p> + +<p> +Denis cast a look around and darted into the porch. There he might escape +observation, or—if that were too much to expect—was in a capital +posture whether for parley or defence. So thinking, he drew his sword and tried +to set his back against the door. To his surprise, it yielded behind his +weight; and though he turned in a moment, continued to swing back on oiled and +noiseless hinges, until it stood wide open on a black interior. When things +fall out opportunely for the person concerned, he is not apt to be critical +about the how or why, his own immediate personal convenience seeming a +sufficient reason for the strangest oddities and resolutions in our sublunary +things; and so Denis, without a moment’s hesitation, stepped within and +partly closed the door behind him to conceal his place of refuge. Nothing was +further from his thoughts than to close it altogether; but for some +inexplicable reason—perhaps by a spring or a weight—the ponderous +mass of oak whipped itself out of his fingers and clanked to, with a formidable +rumble and a noise like the falling of an automatic bar. +</p> + +<p> +The round, at that very moment, debouched upon the terrace and proceeded to +summon him with shouts and curses. He heard them ferreting in the dark corners; +the stock of a lance even rattled along the outer surface of the door behind +which he stood; but these gentlemen were in too high a humour to be long +delayed, and soon made off down a corkscrew pathway which had escaped +Denis’s observation, and passed out of sight and hearing along the +battlements of the town. +</p> + +<p> +Denis breathed again. He gave them a few minutes’ grace for fear of +accidents, and then groped about for some means of opening the door and +slipping forth again. The inner surface was quite smooth, not a handle, not a +moulding, not a projection of any sort. He got his finger-nails round the edges +and pulled, but the mass was immovable. He shook it, it was as firm as a rock. +Denis de Beaulieu frowned and gave vent to a little noiseless whistle. What +ailed the door? he wondered. Why was it open? How came it to shut so easily and +so effectually after him? There was something obscure and underhand about all +this, that was little to the young man’s fancy. It looked like a snare; +and yet who could suppose a snare in such a quiet by-street and in a house of +so prosperous and even noble an exterior? And yet—snare or no snare, +intentionally or unintentionally—here he was, prettily trapped; and for +the life of him he could see no way out of it again. The darkness began to +weigh upon him. He gave ear; all was silent without, but within and close by he +seemed to catch a faint sighing, a faint sobbing rustle, a little stealthy +creak—as though many persons were at his side, holding themselves quite +still, and governing even their respiration with the extreme of slyness. The +idea went to his vitals with a shock, and he faced about suddenly as if to +defend his life. Then, for the first time, he became aware of a light about the +level of his eyes and at some distance in the interior of the house—a +vertical thread of light, widening towards the bottom, such as might escape +between two wings of arras over a doorway. To see anything was a relief to +Denis; it was like a piece of solid ground to a man labouring in a morass; his +mind seized upon it with avidity; and he stood staring at it and trying to +piece together some logical conception of his surroundings. Plainly there was a +flight of steps ascending from his own level to that of this illuminated +doorway; and indeed he thought he could make out another thread of light, as +fine as a needle and as faint as phosphorescence, which might very well be +reflected along the polished wood of a handrail. Since he had begun to suspect +that he was not alone, his heart had continued to beat with smothering +violence, and an intolerable desire for action of any sort had possessed itself +of his spirit. He was in deadly peril, he believed. What could be more natural +than to mount the staircase, lift the curtain, and confront his difficulty at +once? At least he would be dealing with something tangible; at least he would +be no longer in the dark. He stepped slowly forward with outstretched hands, +until his foot struck the bottom step; then he rapidly scaled the stairs, stood +for a moment to compose his expression, lifted the arras and went in. +</p> + +<p> +He found himself in a large apartment of polished stone. There were three +doors; one on each of three sides; all similarly curtained with tapestry. The +fourth side was occupied by two large windows and a great stone chimney-piece, +carved with the arms of the Malétroits. Denis recognised the bearings, and was +gratified to find himself in such good hands. The room was strongly +illuminated; but it contained little furniture except a heavy table and a chair +or two, the hearth was innocent of fire, and the pavement was but sparsely +strewn with rushes clearly many days old. +</p> + +<p> +On a high chair beside the chimney, and directly facing Denis as he entered, +sat a little old gentleman in a fur tippet. He sat with his legs crossed and +his hands folded, and a cup of spiced wine stood by his elbow on a bracket on +the wall. His countenance had a strongly masculine cast; not properly human, +but such as we see in the bull, the goat, or the domestic boar; something +equivocal and wheedling, something greedy, brutal, and dangerous. The upper lip +was inordinately full, as though swollen by a blow or a toothache; and the +smile, the peaked eyebrows, and the small, strong eyes were quaintly and almost +comically evil in expression. Beautiful white hair hung straight all round his +head, like a saint’s, and fell in a single curl upon the tippet. His +beard and moustache were the pink of venerable sweetness. Age, probably in +consequence of inordinate precautions, had left no mark upon his hands; and the +Malétroit hand was famous. It would be difficult to imagine anything at once so +fleshy and so delicate in design; the taper, sensual fingers were like those of +one of Leonardo’s women; the fork of the thumb made a dimpled +protuberance when closed; the nails were perfectly shaped, and of a dead, +surprising whiteness. It rendered his aspect tenfold more redoubtable, that a +man with hands like these should keep them devoutly folded in his lap like a +virgin martyr—that a man with so intense and startling an expression of +face should sit patiently on his seat and contemplate people with an unwinking +stare, like a god, or a god’s statue. His quiescence seemed ironical and +treacherous, it fitted so poorly with his looks. +</p> + +<p> +Such was Alain, Sire de Malétroit. +</p> + +<p> +Denis and he looked silently at each other for a second or two. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray step in,” said the Sire de Malétroit. “I have been +expecting you all the evening.” +</p> + +<p> +He had not risen, but he accompanied his words with a smile and a slight but +courteous inclination of the head. Partly from the smile, partly from the +strange musical murmur with which the Sire prefaced his observation, Denis felt +a strong shudder of disgust go through his marrow. And what with disgust and +honest confusion of mind, he could scarcely get words together in reply. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear,” he said, “that this is a double accident. I am not +the person you suppose me. It seems you were looking for a visit; but for my +part, nothing was further from my thoughts—nothing could be more contrary +to my wishes—than this intrusion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well,” replied the old gentleman indulgently, “here +you are, which is the main point. Seat yourself, my friend, and put yourself +entirely at your ease. We shall arrange our little affairs presently.” +</p> + +<p> +Denis perceived that the matter was still complicated with some misconception, +and he hastened to continue his explanations. +</p> + +<p> +“Your door . . . ” he began. +</p> + +<p> +“About my door?” asked the other, raising his peaked eyebrows. +“A little piece of ingenuity.” And he shrugged his shoulders. +“A hospitable fancy! By your own account, you were not desirous of making +my acquaintance. We old people look for such reluctance now and then; and when +it touches our honour, we cast about until we find some way of overcoming it. +You arrive uninvited, but believe me, very welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +“You persist in error, sir,” said Denis. “There can be no +question between you and me. I am a stranger in this countryside. My name is +Denis, damoiseau de Beaulieu. If you see me in your house, it is +only—” +</p> + +<p> +“My young friend,” interrupted the other, “you will permit me +to have my own ideas on that subject. They probably differ from yours at the +present moment,” he added with a leer, “but time will show which of +us is in the right.” +</p> + +<p> +Denis was convinced he had to do with a lunatic. He seated himself with a +shrug, content to wait the upshot; and a pause ensued, during which he thought +he could distinguish a hurried gabbling as of prayer from behind the arras +immediately opposite him. Sometimes there seemed to be but one person engaged, +sometimes two; and the vehemence of the voice, low as it was, seemed to +indicate either great haste or an agony of spirit. It occurred to him that this +piece of tapestry covered the entrance to the chapel he had noticed from +without. +</p> + +<p> +The old gentleman meanwhile surveyed Denis from head to foot with a smile, and +from time to time emitted little noises like a bird or a mouse, which seemed to +indicate a high degree of satisfaction. This state of matters became rapidly +insupportable; and Denis, to put an end to it, remarked politely that the wind +had gone down. +</p> + +<p> +The old gentleman fell into a fit of silent laughter, so prolonged and violent +that he became quite red in the face. Denis got upon his feet at once, and put +on his hat with a flourish. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” he said, “if you are in your wits, you have affronted +me grossly. If you are out of them, I flatter myself I can find better +employment for my brains than to talk with lunatics. My conscience is clear; +you have made a fool of me from the first moment; you have refused to hear my +explanations; and now there is no power under God will make me stay here any +longer; and if I cannot make my way out in a more decent fashion, I will hack +your door in pieces with my sword.” +</p> + +<p> +The Sire de Malétroit raised his right hand and wagged it at Denis with the +fore and little fingers extended. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear nephew,” he said, “sit down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nephew!” retorted Denis, “you lie in your throat;” and +he snapped his fingers in his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down, you rogue!” cried the old gentleman, in a sudden, harsh +voice, like the barking of a dog. “Do you fancy,” he went on, +“that when I had made my little contrivance for the door I had stopped +short with that? If you prefer to be bound hand and foot till your bones ache, +rise and try to go away. If you choose to remain a free young buck, agreeably +conversing with an old gentleman—why, sit where you are in peace, and God +be with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean I am a prisoner?” demanded Denis. +</p> + +<p> +“I state the facts,” replied the other. “I would rather leave +the conclusion to yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Denis sat down again. Externally he managed to keep pretty calm; but within, he +was now boiling with anger, now chilled with apprehension. He no longer felt +convinced that he was dealing with a madman. And if the old gentleman was sane, +what, in God’s name, had he to look for? What absurd or tragical +adventure had befallen him? What countenance was he to assume? +</p> + +<p> +While he was thus unpleasantly reflecting, the arras that overhung the chapel +door was raised, and a tall priest in his robes came forth and, giving a long, +keen stare at Denis, said something in an undertone to Sire de Malétroit. +</p> + +<p> +“She is in a better frame of spirit?” asked the latter. +</p> + +<p> +“She is more resigned, messire,” replied the priest. +</p> + +<p> +“Now the Lord help her, she is hard to please!” sneered the old +gentleman. “A likely stripling—not ill-born—and of her own +choosing, too? Why, what more would the jade have?” +</p> + +<p> +“The situation is not usual for a young damsel,” said the other, +“and somewhat trying to her blushes.” +</p> + +<p> +“She should have thought of that before she began the dance. It was none +of my choosing, God knows that: but since she is in it, by our Lady, she shall +carry it to the end.” And then addressing Denis, “Monsieur de +Beaulieu,” he asked, “may I present you to my niece? She has been +waiting your arrival, I may say, with even greater impatience than +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Denis had resigned himself with a good grace—all he desired was to know +the worst of it as speedily as possible; so he rose at once, and bowed in +acquiescence. The Sire de Malétroit followed his example and limped, with the +assistance of the chaplain’s arm, towards the chapel door. The priest +pulled aside the arras, and all three entered. The building had considerable +architectural pretensions. A light groining sprang from six stout columns, and +hung down in two rich pendants from the centre of the vault. The place +terminated behind the altar in a round end, embossed and honeycombed with a +superfluity of ornament in relief, and pierced by many little windows shaped +like stars, trefoils, or wheels. These windows were imperfectly glazed, so that +the night air circulated freely in the chapel. The tapers, of which there must +have been half a hundred burning on the altar, were unmercifully blown about; +and the light went through many different phases of brilliancy and +semi-eclipse. On the steps in front of the altar knelt a young girl richly +attired as a bride. A chill settled over Denis as he observed her costume; he +fought with desperate energy against the conclusion that was being thrust upon +his mind; it could not—it should not—be as he feared. +</p> + +<p> +“Blanche,” said the Sire, in his most flute-like tones, “I +have brought a friend to see you, my little girl; turn round and give him your +pretty hand. It is good to be devout; but it is necessary to be polite, my +niece.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl rose to her feet and turned towards the new comers. She moved all of a +piece; and shame and exhaustion were expressed in every line of her fresh young +body; and she held her head down and kept her eyes upon the pavement, as she +came slowly forward. In the course of her advance, her eyes fell upon Denis de +Beaulieu’s feet—feet of which he was justly vain, be it remarked, +and wore in the most elegant accoutrement even while travelling. She +paused—started, as if his yellow boots had conveyed some shocking +meaning—and glanced suddenly up into the wearer’s countenance. +Their eyes met; shame gave place to horror and terror in her looks; the blood +left her lips; with a piercing scream she covered her face with her hands and +sank upon the chapel floor. +</p> + +<p> +“That is not the man!” she cried. “My uncle, that in not the +man!” +</p> + +<p> +The Sire de Malétroit chirped agreeably. “Of course not,” he said; +“I expected as much. It was so unfortunate you could not remember his +name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” she cried, “indeed, I have never seen this person +till this moment—I have never so much as set eyes upon him—I never +wish to see him again. Sir,” she said, turning to Denis, “if you +are a gentleman, you will bear me out. Have I ever seen you—have you ever +seen me—before this accursed hour?” +</p> + +<p> +“To speak for myself, I have never had that pleasure,” answered the +young man. “This is the first time, messire, that I have met with your +engaging niece.” +</p> + +<p> +The old gentleman shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“I am distressed to hear it,” he said. “But it is never too +late to begin. I had little more acquaintance with my own late lady ere I +married her; which proves,” he added with a grimace, “that these +impromptu marriages may often produce an excellent understanding in the +long-run. As the bridegroom is to have a voice in the matter, I will give him +two hours to make up for lost time before we proceed with the ceremony.” +And he turned towards the door, followed by the clergyman. +</p> + +<p> +The girl was on her feet in a moment. “My uncle, you cannot be in +earnest,” she said. “I declare before God I will stab myself rather +than be forced on that young man. The heart rises at it; God forbids such +marriages; you dishonour your white hair. Oh, my uncle, pity me! There is not a +woman in all the world but would prefer death to such a nuptial. Is it +possible,” she added, faltering—“is it possible that you do +not believe me—that you still think this”—and she pointed at +Denis with a tremor of anger and contempt—“that you still think +<i>this</i> to be the man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Frankly,” said the old gentleman, pausing on the threshold, +“I do. But let me explain to you once for all, Blanche de Malétroit, my +way of thinking about this affair. When you took it into your head to dishonour +my family and the name that I have borne, in peace and war, for more than +three-score years, you forfeited, not only the right to question my designs, +but that of looking me in the face. If your father had been alive, he would +have spat on you and turned you out of doors. His was the hand of iron. You may +bless your God you have only to deal with the hand of velvet, mademoiselle. It +was my duty to get you married without delay. Out of pure goodwill, I have +tried to find your own gallant for you. And I believe I have succeeded. But +before God and all the holy angels, Blanche de Malétroit, if I have not, I care +not one jack-straw. So let me recommend you to be polite to our young friend; +for upon my word, your next groom may be less appetising.” +</p> + +<p> +And with that he went out, with the chaplain at his heels; and the arras fell +behind the pair. +</p> + +<p> +The girl turned upon Denis with flashing eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“And what, sir,” she demanded, “may be the meaning of all +this?” +</p> + +<p> +“God knows,” returned Denis gloomily. “I am a prisoner in +this house, which seems full of mad people. More I know not; and nothing do I +understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“And pray how came you here?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +He told her as briefly as he could. “For the rest,” he added, +“perhaps you will follow my example, and tell me the answer to all these +riddles, and what, in God’s name, is like to be the end of it.” +</p> + +<p> +She stood silent for a little, and he could see her lips tremble and her +tearless eyes burn with a feverish lustre. Then she pressed her forehead in +both hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, how my head aches!” she said wearily—“to say +nothing of my poor heart! But it is due to you to know my story, unmaidenly as +it must seem. I am called Blanche de Malétroit; I have been without father or +mother for—oh! for as long as I can recollect, and indeed I have been +most unhappy all my life. Three months ago a young captain began to stand near +me every day in church. I could see that I pleased him; I am much to blame, but +I was so glad that any one should love me; and when he passed me a letter, I +took it home with me and read it with great pleasure. Since that time he has +written many. He was so anxious to speak with me, poor fellow! and kept asking +me to leave the door open some evening that we might have two words upon the +stair. For he knew how much my uncle trusted me.” She gave something like +a sob at that, and it was a moment before she could go on. “My uncle is a +hard man, but he is very shrewd,” she said at last. “He has +performed many feats in war, and was a great person at court, and much trusted +by Queen Isabeau in old days. How he came to suspect me I cannot tell; but it +is hard to keep anything from his knowledge; and this morning, as we came from +mass, he took my hand in his, forced it open, and read my little billet, +walking by my side all the while. When he had finished, he gave it back to me +with great politeness. It contained another request to have the door left open; +and this has been the ruin of us all. My uncle kept me strictly in my room +until evening, and then ordered me to dress myself as you see me—a hard +mockery for a young girl, do you not think so? I suppose, when he could not +prevail with me to tell him the young captain’s name, he must have laid a +trap for him: into which, alas! you have fallen in the anger of God. I looked +for much confusion; for how could I tell whether he was willing to take me for +his wife on these sharp terms? He might have been trifling with me from the +first; or I might have made myself too cheap in his eyes. But truly I had not +looked for such a shameful punishment as this! I could not think that God would +let a girl be so disgraced before a young man. And now I have told you all; and +I can scarcely hope that you will not despise me.” +</p> + +<p> +Denis made her a respectful inclination. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” he said, “you have honoured me by your confidence. +It remains for me to prove that I am not unworthy of the honour. Is Messire de +Malétroit at hand?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe he is writing in the salle without,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“May I lead you thither, madam?” asked Denis, offering his hand +with his most courtly bearing. +</p> + +<p> +She accepted it; and the pair passed out of the chapel, Blanche in a very +drooping and shamefast condition, but Denis strutting and ruffling in the +consciousness of a mission, and the boyish certainty of accomplishing it with +honour. +</p> + +<p> +The Sire de Malétroit rose to meet them with an ironical obeisance. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Denis, with the grandest possible air, “I believe +I am to have some say in the matter of this marriage; and let me tell you at +once, I will be no party to forcing the inclination of this young lady. Had it +been freely offered to me, I should have been proud to accept her hand, for I +perceive she is as good as she is beautiful; but as things are, I have now the +honour, messire, of refusing.” +</p> + +<p> +Blanche looked at him with gratitude in her eyes; but the old gentleman only +smiled and smiled, until his smile grew positively sickening to Denis. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid,” he said, “Monsieur de Beaulieu, that you do +not perfectly understand the choice I have to offer you. Follow me, I beseech +you, to this window.” And he led the way to one of the large windows +which stood open on the night. “You observe,” he went on, +“there is an iron ring in the upper masonry, and reeved through that, a +very efficacious rope. Now, mark my words; if you should find your +disinclination to my niece’s person insurmountable, I shall have you +hanged out of this window before sunrise. I shall only proceed to such an +extremity with the greatest regret, you may believe me. For it is not at all +your death that I desire, but my niece’s establishment in life. At the +same time, it must come to that if you prove obstinate. Your family, Monsieur +de Beaulieu, is very well in its way; but if you sprang from Charlemagne, you +should not refuse the hand of a Malétroit with impunity—not if she had +been as common as the Paris road—not if she were as hideous as the +gargoyle over my door. Neither my niece nor you, nor my own private feelings, +move me at all in this matter. The honour of my house has been compromised; I +believe you to be the guilty person; at least you are now in the secret; and +you can hardly wonder if I request you to wipe out the stain. If you will not, +your blood be on your own head! It will be no great satisfaction to me to have +your interesting relics kicking their heels in the breeze below my windows; but +half a loaf is better than no bread, and if I cannot cure the dishonour, I +shall at least stop the scandal.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe there are other ways of settling such imbroglios among +gentlemen,” said Denis. “You wear a sword, and I hear you have used +it with distinction.” +</p> + +<p> +The Sire de Malétroit made a signal to the chaplain, who crossed the room with +long silent strides and raised the arras over the third of the three doors. It +was only a moment before he let it fall again; but Denis had time to see a +dusky passage full of armed men. +</p> + +<p> +“When I was a little younger, I should have been delighted to honour you, +Monsieur de Beaulieu,” said Sire Alain; “but I am now too old. +Faithful retainers are the sinews of age, and I must employ the strength I +have. This is one of the hardest things to swallow as a man grows up in years; +but with a little patience, even this becomes habitual. You and the lady seem +to prefer the salle for what remains of your two hours; and as I have no desire +to cross your preference, I shall resign it to your use with all the pleasure +in the world. No haste!” he added, holding up his hand, as he saw a +dangerous look come into Denis de Beaulieu’s face. “If your mind +revolts against hanging, it will be time enough two hours hence to throw +yourself out of the window or upon the pikes of my retainers. Two hours of life +are always two hours. A great many things may turn up in even as little a while +as that. And, besides, if I understand her appearance, my niece has still +something to say to you. You will not disfigure your last hours by a want of +politeness to a lady?” +</p> + +<p> +Denis looked at Blanche, and she made him an imploring gesture. +</p> + +<p> +It is likely that the old gentleman was hugely pleased at this symptom of an +understanding; for he smiled on both, and added sweetly: “If you will +give me your word of honour, Monsieur de Beaulieu, to await my return at the +end of the two hours before attempting anything desperate, I shall withdraw my +retainers, and let you speak in greater privacy with mademoiselle.” +</p> + +<p> +Denis again glanced at the girl, who seemed to beseech him to agree. +</p> + +<p> +“I give you my word of honour,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Messire de Malétroit bowed, and proceeded to limp about the apartment, clearing +his throat the while with that odd musical chirp which had already grown so +irritating in the ears of Denis de Beaulieu. He first possessed himself of some +papers which lay upon the table; then he went to the mouth of the passage and +appeared to give an order to the men behind the arras; and lastly he hobbled +out through the door by which Denis had come in, turning upon the threshold to +address a last smiling bow to the young couple, and followed by the chaplain +with a hand-lamp. +</p> + +<p> +No sooner were they alone than Blanche advanced towards Denis with her hands +extended. Her face was flushed and excited, and her eyes shone with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall not die!” she cried, “you shall marry me after +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“You seem to think, madam,” replied Denis, “that I stand much +in fear of death.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, no,” she said, “I see you are no poltroon. It is for +my own sake—I could not bear to have you slain for such a scruple.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid,” returned Denis, “that you underrate the +difficulty, madam. What you may be too generous to refuse, I may be too proud +to accept. In a moment of noble feeling towards me, you forgot what you perhaps +owe to others.” +</p> + +<p> +He had the decency to keep his eyes upon the floor as he said this, and after +he had finished, so as not to spy upon her confusion. She stood silent for a +moment, then walked suddenly away, and falling on her uncle’s chair, +fairly burst out sobbing. Denis was in the acme of embarrassment. He looked +round, as if to seek for inspiration, and seeing a stool, plumped down upon it +for something to do. There he sat, playing with the guard of his rapier, and +wishing himself dead a thousand times over, and buried in the nastiest +kitchen-heap in France. His eyes wandered round the apartment, but found +nothing to arrest them. There were such wide spaces between the furniture, the +light fell so baldly and cheerlessly over all, the dark outside air looked in +so coldly through the windows, that he thought he had never seen a church so +vast, nor a tomb so melancholy. The regular sobs of Blanche de Malétroit +measured out the time like the ticking of a clock. He read the device upon the +shield over and over again, until his eyes became obscured; he stared into +shadowy corners until he imagined they were swarming with horrible animals; and +every now and again he awoke with a start, to remember that his last two hours +were running, and death was on the march. +</p> + +<p> +Oftener and oftener, as the time went on, did his glance settle on the girl +herself. Her face was bowed forward and covered with her hands, and she was +shaken at intervals by the convulsive hiccup of grief. Even thus she was not an +unpleasant object to dwell upon, so plump and yet so fine, with a warm brown +skin, and the most beautiful hair, Denis thought, in the whole world of +womankind. Her hands were like her uncle’s; but they were more in place +at the end of her young arms, and looked infinitely soft and caressing. He +remembered how her blue eyes had shone upon him, full of anger, pity, and +innocence. And the more he dwelt on her perfections, the uglier death looked, +and the more deeply was he smitten with penitence at her continued tears. Now +he felt that no man could have the courage to leave a world which contained so +beautiful a creature; and now he would have given forty minutes of his last +hour to have unsaid his cruel speech. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a hoarse and ragged peal of cockcrow rose to their ears from the dark +valley below the windows. And this shattering noise in the silence of all +around was like a light in a dark place, and shook them both out of their +reflections. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, can I do nothing to help you?” she said, looking up. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” replied Denis, with a fine irrelevancy, “if I have +said anything to wound you, believe me, it was for your own sake and not for +mine.” +</p> + +<p> +She thanked him with a tearful look. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel your position cruelly,” he went on. “The world has +been bitter hard on you. Your uncle is a disgrace to mankind. Believe me, +madam, there is no young gentleman in all France but would be glad of my +opportunity, to die in doing you a momentary service.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know already that you can be very brave and generous,” she +answered. “What I <i>want</i> to know is whether I can serve +you—now or afterwards,” she added, with a quaver. +</p> + +<p> +“Most certainly,” he answered with a smile. “Let me sit +beside you as if I were a friend, instead of a foolish intruder; try to forget +how awkwardly we are placed to one another; make my last moments go pleasantly; +and you will do me the chief service possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very gallant,” she added, with a yet deeper sadness . . . +“very gallant . . . and it somehow pains me. But draw nearer, if you +please; and if you find anything to say to me, you will at least make certain +of a very friendly listener. Ah! Monsieur de Beaulieu,” she broke +forth—“ah! Monsieur de Beaulieu, how can I look you in the +face?” And she fell to weeping again with a renewed effusion. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” said Denis, taking her hand in both of his, “reflect +on the little time I have before me, and the great bitterness into which I am +cast by the sight of your distress. Spare me, in my last moments, the spectacle +of what I cannot cure even with the sacrifice of my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very selfish,” answered Blanche. “I will be braver, +Monsieur de Beaulieu, for your sake. But think if I can do you no kindness in +the future—if you have no friends to whom I could carry your adieux. +Charge me as heavily as you can; every burden will lighten, by so little, the +invaluable gratitude I owe you. Put it in my power to do something more for you +than weep.” +</p> + +<p> +“My mother is married again, and has a young family to care for. My +brother Guichard will inherit my fiefs; and if I am not in error, that will +content him amply for my death. Life is a little vapour that passeth away, as +we are told by those in holy orders. When a man is in a fair way and sees all +life open in front of him, he seems to himself to make a very important figure +in the world. His horse whinnies to him; the trumpets blow and the girls look +out of window as he rides into town before his company; he receives many +assurances of trust and regard—sometimes by express in a +letter—sometimes face to face, with persons of great consequence falling +on his neck. It is not wonderful if his head is turned for a time. But once he +is dead, were he as brave as Hercules or as wise as Solomon, he is soon +forgotten. It is not ten years since my father fell, with many other knights +around him, in a very fierce encounter, and I do not think that any one of +them, nor so much as the name of the fight, is now remembered. No, no, madam, +the nearer you come to it, you see that death is a dark and dusty corner, where +a man gets into his tomb and has the door shut after him till the judgment day. +I have few friends just now, and once I am dead I shall have none.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Monsieur de Beaulieu!” she exclaimed, “you forget +Blanche de Malétroit.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have a sweet nature, madam, and you are pleased to estimate a little +service far beyond its worth.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not that,” she answered. “You mistake me if you think +I am so easily touched by my own concerns. I say so, because you are the +noblest man I have ever met; because I recognise in you a spirit that would +have made even a common person famous in the land.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet here I die in a mouse-trap—with no more noise about it +than my own squeaking,” answered he. +</p> + +<p> +A look of pain crossed her face, and she was silent for a little while. Then a +fight came into her eyes, and with a smile she spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot have my champion think meanly of himself. Any one who gives his +life for another will be met in Paradise by all the heralds and angels of the +Lord God. And you have no such cause to hang your head. For . . . Pray, do you +think me beautiful?” she asked, with a deep flush. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, madam, I do,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad of that,” she answered heartily. “Do you think +there are many men in France who have been asked in marriage by a beautiful +maiden—with her own lips—and who have refused her to her face? I +know you men would half despise such a triumph; but believe me, we women know +more of what is precious in love. There is nothing that should set a person +higher in his own esteem; and we women would prize nothing more dearly.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very good,” he said; “but you cannot make me forget +that I was asked in pity and not for love.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not so sure of that,” she replied, holding down her head. +“Hear me to an end, Monsieur de Beaulieu. I know how you must despise me; +I feel you are right to do so; I am too poor a creature to occupy one thought +of your mind, although, alas! you must die for me this morning. But when I +asked you to marry me, indeed, and indeed, it was because I respected and +admired you, and loved you with my whole soul, from the very moment that you +took my part against my uncle. If you had seen yourself, and how noble you +looked, you would pity rather than despise me. And now,” she went on, +hurriedly checking him with her hand, “although I have laid aside all +reserve and told you so much, remember that I know your sentiments towards me +already. I would not, believe me, being nobly born, weary you with +importunities into consent. I too have a pride of my own: and I declare before +the holy mother of God, if you should now go back from your word already given, +I would no more marry you than I would marry my uncle’s groom.” +</p> + +<p> +Denis smiled a little bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a small love,” he said, “that shies at a little +pride.” +</p> + +<p> +She made no answer, although she probably had her own thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“Come hither to the window,” he said, with a sigh. “Here is +the dawn.” +</p> + +<p> +And indeed the dawn was already beginning. The hollow of the sky was full of +essential daylight, colourless and clean; and the valley underneath was flooded +with a grey reflection. A few thin vapours clung in the coves of the forest or +lay along the winding course of the river. The scene disengaged a surprising +effect of stillness, which was hardly interrupted when the cocks began once +more to crow among the steadings. Perhaps the same fellow who had made so +horrid a clangour in the darkness not half-an-hour before, now sent up the +merriest cheer to greet the coming day. A little wind went bustling and eddying +among the tree-tops underneath the windows. And still the daylight kept +flooding insensibly out of the east, which was soon to grow incandescent and +cast up that red-hot cannon-ball, the rising sun. +</p> + +<p> +Denis looked out over all this with a bit of a shiver. He had taken her hand, +and retained it in his almost unconsciously. +</p> + +<p> +“Has the day begun already?” she said; and then, illogically +enough: “the night has been so long! Alas, what shall we say to my uncle +when he returns?” +</p> + +<p> +“What you will,” said Denis, and he pressed her fingers in his. +</p> + +<p> +She was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Blanche,” he said, with a swift, uncertain, passionate utterance, +“you have seen whether I fear death. You must know well enough that I +would as gladly leap out of that window into the empty air as lay a finger on +you without your free and full consent. But if you care for me at all do not +let me lose my life in a misapprehension; for I love you better than the whole +world; and though I will die for you blithely, it would be like all the joys of +Paradise to live on and spend my life in your service.” +</p> + +<p> +As he stopped speaking, a bell began to ring loudly in the interior of the +house; and a clatter of armour in the corridor showed that the retainers were +returning to their post, and the two hours were at an end. +</p> + +<p> +“After all that you have heard?” she whispered, leaning towards him +with her lips and eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard nothing,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“The captain’s name was Florimond de Champdivers,” she said +in his ear. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not hear it,” he answered, taking her supple body in his +arms and covering her wet face with kisses. +</p> + +<p> +A melodious chirping was audible behind, followed by a beautiful chuckle, and +the voice of Messire de Malétroit wished his new nephew a good morning. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Monsieur Léon Berthelini</span> had a great care of his +appearance, and sedulously suited his deportment to the costume of the hour. He +affected something Spanish in his air, and something of the bandit, with a +flavour of Rembrandt at home. In person he was decidedly small and inclined to +be stout; his face was the picture of good humour; his dark eyes, which were +very expressive, told of a kind heart, a brisk, merry nature, and the most +indefatigable spirits. If he had worn the clothes of the period you would have +set him down for a hitherto undiscovered hybrid between the barber, the +innkeeper, and the affable dispensing chemist. But in the outrageous bravery of +velvet jacket and flapped hat, with trousers that were more accurately +described as fleshings, a white handkerchief cavalierly knotted at his neck, a +shock of Olympian curls upon his brow, and his feet shod through all weathers +in the slenderest of Molière shoes—you had but to look at him and you +knew you were in the presence of a Great Creature. When he wore an overcoat he +scorned to pass the sleeves; a single button held it round his shoulders; it +was tossed backwards after the manner of a cloak, and carried with the gait and +presence of an Almaviva. I am of opinion that M. Berthelini was nearing forty. +But he had a boy’s heart, gloried in his finery, and walked through life +like a child in a perpetual dramatic performance. If he were not Almaviva after +all, it was not for lack of making believe. And he enjoyed the artist’s +compensation. If he were not really Almaviva, he was sometimes just as happy as +though he were. +</p> + +<p> +I have seen him, at moments when he has fancied himself alone with his Maker, +adopt so gay and chivalrous a bearing, and represent his own part with so much +warmth and conscience, that the illusion became catching, and I believed +implicitly in the Great Creature’s pose. +</p> + +<p> +But, alas! life cannot be entirely conducted on these principles; man cannot +live by Almavivery alone; and the Great Creature, having failed upon several +theatres, was obliged to step down every evening from his heights, and sing +from half-a-dozen to a dozen comic songs, twang a guitar, keep a country +audience in good humour, and preside finally over the mysteries of a tombola. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Berthelini, who was art and part with him in these undignified labours, +had perhaps a higher position in the scale of beings, and enjoyed a natural +dignity of her own. But her heart was not any more rightly placed, for that +would have been impossible; and she had acquired a little air of melancholy, +attractive enough in its way, but not good to see like the wholesome, +sky-scraping, boyish spirits of her lord. +</p> + +<p> +He, indeed, swam like a kite on a fair wind, high above earthly troubles. +Detonations of temper were not unfrequent in the zones he travelled; but sulky +fogs and tearful depressions were there alike unknown. A well-delivered blow +upon a table, or a noble attitude, imitated from Mélingne or Frederic, relieved +his irritation like a vengeance. Though the heaven had fallen, if he had played +his part with propriety, Berthelini had been content! And the man’s +atmosphere, if not his example, reacted on his wife; for the couple doated on +each other, and although you would have thought they walked in different +worlds, yet continued to walk hand in hand. +</p> + +<p> +It chanced one day that Monsieur and Madame Berthelini descended with two boxes +and a guitar in a fat case at the station of the little town of +Castel-le-Gâchis, and the omnibus carried them with their effects to the Hotel +of the Black Head. This was a dismal, conventual building in a narrow street, +capable of standing siege when once the gates were shut, and smelling strangely +in the interior of straw and chocolate and old feminine apparel. Berthelini +paused upon the threshold with a painful premonition. In some former state, it +seemed to him, he had visited a hostelry that smelt not otherwise, and been ill +received. +</p> + +<p> +The landlord, a tragic person in a large felt hat, rose from a business table +under the key-rack, and came forward, removing his hat with both hands as he +did so. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I salute you. May I inquire what is your charge for artists?” +inquired Berthelini, with a courtesy at once splendid and insinuating. +</p> + +<p> +“For artists?” said the landlord. His countenance fell and the +smile of welcome disappeared. “Oh, artists!” he added brutally; +“four francs a day.” And he turned his back upon these +inconsiderable customers. +</p> + +<p> +A commercial traveller is received, he also, upon a reduction—yet is he +welcome, yet can he command the fatted calf; but an artist, had he the manners +of an Almaviva, were he dressed like Solomon in all his glory, is received like +a dog and served like a timid lady travelling alone. +</p> + +<p> +Accustomed as he was to the rubs of his profession, Berthelini was unpleasantly +affected by the landlord’s manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Elvira,” said he to his wife, “mark my words: +Castel-le-Gâchis is a tragic folly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait till we see what we take,” replied Elvira. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall take nothing,” returned Berthelini; “we shall feed +upon insults. I have an eye, Elvira: I have a spirit of divination; and this +place is accursed. The landlord has been discourteous, the Commissary will be +brutal, the audience will be sordid and uproarious, and you will take a cold +upon your throat. We have been besotted enough to come; the die is +cast—it will be a second Sédan.” +</p> + +<p> +Sédan was a town hateful to the Berthelinis, not only from patriotism (for they +were French, and answered after the flesh to the somewhat homely name of +Duval), but because it had been the scene of their most sad reverses. In that +place they had lain three weeks in pawn for their hotel bill, and had it not +been for a surprising stroke of fortune they might have been lying there in +pawn until this day. To mention the name of Sédan was for the Berthelinis to +dip the brush in earthquake and eclipse. Count Almaviva slouched his hat with a +gesture expressive of despair, and even Elvira felt as if ill-fortune had been +personally invoked. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us ask for breakfast,” said she, with a woman’s tact. +</p> + +<p> +The Commissary of Police of Castel-le-Gâchis was a large red Commissary, +pimpled, and subject to a strong cutaneous transpiration. I have repeated the +name of his office because he was so very much more a Commissary than a man. +The spirit of his dignity had entered into him. He carried his corporation as +if it were something official. Whenever he insulted a common citizen it seemed +to him as if he were adroitly flattering the Government by a side wind; in +default of dignity he was brutal from an overweening sense of duty. His office +was a den, whence passers-by could hear rude accents laying down, not the law, +but the good pleasure of the Commissary. +</p> + +<p> +Six several times in the course of the day did M. Berthelini hurry thither in +quest of the requisite permission for his evening’s entertainment; six +several times he found the official was abroad. Léon Berthelini began to grow +quite a familiar figure in the streets of Castel-le-Gâchis; he became a local +celebrity, and was pointed out as “the man who was looking for the +Commissary.” Idle children attached themselves to his footsteps, and +trotted after him back and forward between the hotel and the office. Léon might +try as he liked; he might roll cigarettes, he might straddle, he might cock his +hat at a dozen different jaunty inclinations—the part of Almaviva was, +under the circumstances, difficult to play. +</p> + +<p> +As he passed the market-place upon the seventh excursion the Commissary was +pointed out to him, where he stood, with his waistcoat unbuttoned and his hands +behind his back, to superintend the sale and measurement of butter. Berthelini +threaded his way through the market stalls and baskets, and accosted the +dignitary with a bow which was a triumph of the histrionic art. +</p> + +<p> +“I have the honour,” he asked, “of meeting M. le +Commissaire?” +</p> + +<p> +The Commissary was affected by the nobility of his address. He excelled Léon in +the depth if not in the airy grace of his salutation. +</p> + +<p> +“The honour,” said he, “is mine!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am,” continued the strolling-player, “I am, sir, an +artist, and I have permitted myself to interrupt you on an affair of business. +To-night I give a trifling musical entertainment at the Café of the Triumphs of +the Plough—permit me to offer you this little programme—and I have +come to ask you for the necessary authorisation.” +</p> + +<p> +At the word “artist,” the Commissary had replaced his hat with the +air of a person who, having condescended too far, should suddenly remember the +duties of his rank. +</p> + +<p> +“Go, go,” said he, “I am busy—I am measuring +butter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heathen Jew!” thought Léon. “Permit me, sir,” he +resumed aloud. “I have gone six times already—” +</p> + +<p> +“Put up your bills if you choose,” interrupted the Commissary. +“In an hour or so I will examine your papers at the office. But now go; I +am busy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Measuring butter!” thought Berthelini. “Oh, France, and it +is for this that we made ’93!” +</p> + +<p> +The preparations were soon made; the bills posted, programmes laid on the +dinner-table of every hotel in the town, and a stage erected at one end of the +Café of the Triumphs of the Plough; but when Léon returned to the office, the +Commissary was once more abroad. +</p> + +<p> +“He is like Madame Benoîton,” thought Léon, “Fichu +Commissaire!” +</p> + +<p> +And just then he met the man face to face. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, sir,” said he, “are my papers. Will you be pleased to +verify?” +</p> + +<p> +But the Commissary was now intent upon dinner. +</p> + +<p> +“No use,” he replied, “no use; I am busy; I am quite +satisfied. Give your entertainment.” +</p> + +<p> +And he hurried on. +</p> + +<p> +“Fichu Commissaire!” thought Léon. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<p> +The audience was pretty large; and the proprietor of the café made a good thing +of it in beer. But the Berthelinis exerted themselves in vain. +</p> + +<p> +Léon was radiant in velveteen; he had a rakish way of smoking a cigarette +between his songs that was worth money in itself; he underlined his comic +points, so that the dullest numskull in Castel-le-Gâchis had a notion when to +laugh; and he handled his guitar in a manner worthy of himself. Indeed his play +with that instrument was as good as a whole romantic drama; it was so dashing, +so florid, and so cavalier. +</p> + +<p> +Elvira, on the other hand, sang her patriotic and romantic songs with more than +usual expression; her voice had charm and plangency; and as Léon looked at her, +in her low-bodied maroon dress, with her arms bare to the shoulder, and a red +flower set provocatively in her corset, he repeated to himself for the many +hundredth time that she was one of the loveliest creatures in the world of +women. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! when she went round with the tambourine, the golden youth of +Castel-le-Gâchis turned from her coldly. Here and there a single halfpenny was +forthcoming; the net result of a collection never exceeded half a franc; and +the Maire himself, after seven different applications, had contributed exactly +twopence. A certain chill began to settle upon the artists themselves; it +seemed as if they were singing to slugs; Apollo himself might have lost heart +with such an audience. The Berthelinis struggled against the impression; they +put their back into their work, they sang loud and louder, the guitar twanged +like a living thing; and at last Léon arose in his might, and burst with +inimitable conviction into his great song, “Y a des honnêtes gens +partout!” Never had he given more proof of his artistic mastery; it was +his intimate, indefeasible conviction that Castel-le-Gâchis formed an exception +to the law he was now lyrically proclaiming, and was peopled exclusively by +thieves and bullies; and yet, as I say, he flung it down like a challenge, he +trolled it forth like an article of faith; and his face so beamed the while +that you would have thought he must make converts of the benches. +</p> + +<p> +He was at the top of his register, with his head thrown back and his mouth +open, when the door was thrown violently open, and a pair of new comers marched +noisily into the café. It was the Commissary, followed by the Garde Champêtre. +</p> + +<p> +The undaunted Berthelini still continued to proclaim, “Y a des honnêtes +gens partout!” But now the sentiment produced an audible titter among the +audience. Berthelini wondered why; he did not know the antecedents of the Garde +Champêtre; he had never heard of a little story about postage stamps. But the +public knew all about the postage stamps and enjoyed the coincidence hugely. +</p> + +<p> +The Commissary planted himself upon a vacant chair with somewhat the air of +Cromwell visiting the Rump, and spoke in occasional whispers to the Garde +Champêtre, who remained respectfully standing at his back. The eyes of both +were directed upon Berthelini, who persisted in his statement. +</p> + +<p> +“Y a des honnêtes gens partout,” he was just chanting for the +twentieth time; when up got the Commissary upon his feet and waved brutally to +the singer with his cane. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it me you want?” inquired Léon, stopping in his song. +</p> + +<p> +“It is you,” replied the potentate. +</p> + +<p> +“Fichu Commissaire!” thought Léon, and he descended from the stage +and made his way to the functionary. +</p> + +<p> +“How does it happen, sir,” said the Commissary, swelling in person, +“that I find you mountebanking in a public café without my +permission?” +</p> + +<p> +“Without?” cried the indignant Léon. “Permit me to remind +you—” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, sir!” said the Commissary, “I desire no +explanations.” +</p> + +<p> +“I care nothing about what you desire,” returned the singer. +“I choose to give them, and I will not be gagged. I am an artist, sir, a +distinction that you cannot comprehend. I received your permission and stand +here upon the strength of it; interfere with me who dare.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have not got my signature, I tell you,” cried the Commissary. +“Show me my signature! Where is my signature?” +</p> + +<p> +That was just the question; where was his signature? Léon recognised that he +was in a hole; but his spirit rose with the occasion, and he blustered nobly, +tossing back his curls. The Commissary played up to him in the character of +tyrant; and as the one leaned farther forward, the other leaned farther +back—majesty confronting fury. The audience had transferred their +attention to this new performance, and listened with that silent gravity common +to all Frenchmen in the neighbourhood of the Police. Elvira had sat down, she +was used to these distractions, and it was rather melancholy than fear that now +oppressed her. +</p> + +<p> +“Another word,” cried the Commissary, “and I arrest +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Arrest me?” shouted Léon. “I defy you!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am the Commissary of Police,” said the official. +</p> + +<p> +Léon commanded his feelings, and replied, with great delicacy of +innuendo— +</p> + +<p> +“So it would appear.” +</p> + +<p> +The point was too refined for Castel-le-Gâchis; it did not raise a smile; and +as for the Commissary, he simply bade the singer follow him to his office, and +directed his proud footsteps towards the door. There was nothing for it but to +obey. Léon did so with a proper pantomime of indifference, but it was a leek to +eat, and there was no denying it. +</p> + +<p> +The Maire had slipped out and was already waiting at the Commissary’s +door. Now the Maire, in France, is the refuge of the oppressed. He stands +between his people and the boisterous rigours of the Police. He can sometimes +understand what is said to him; he is not always puffed up beyond measure by +his dignity. ’Tis a thing worth the knowledge of travellers. When all +seems over, and a man has made up his mind to injustice, he has still, like the +heroes of romance, a little bugle at his belt whereon to blow; and the Maire, a +comfortable <i>deus ex machinâ</i>, may still descend to deliver him from the +minions of the law. The Maire of Castel-le-Gâchis, although inaccessible to the +charms of music as retailed by the Berthelinis, had no hesitation whatever as +to the rights of the matter. He instantly fell foul of the Commissary in very +high terms, and the Commissary, pricked by this humiliation, accepted battle on +the point of fact. The argument lasted some little while with varying success, +until at length victory inclined so plainly to the Commissary’s side that +the Maire was fain to reassert himself by an exercise of authority. He had been +out-argued, but he was still the Maire. And so, turning from his interlocutor, +he briefly but kindly recommended Léon to get back instanter to his concert. +</p> + +<p> +“It is already growing late,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +Léon did not wait to be told twice. He returned to the Café of the Triumphs of +the Plough with all expedition. Alas! the audience had melted away during his +absence; Elvira was sitting in a very disconsolate attitude on the guitar-box; +she had watched the company dispersing by twos and threes, and the prolonged +spectacle had somewhat overwhelmed her spirits. Each man, she reflected, +retired with a certain proportion of her earnings in his pocket, and she saw +to-night’s board and to-morrow’s railway expenses, and finally even +to-morrow’s dinner, walk one after another out of the café door and +disappear into the night. +</p> + +<p> +“What was it?” she asked languidly. But Léon did not answer. He was +looking round him on the scene of defeat. Scarce a score of listeners remained, +and these of the least promising sort. The minute hand of the clock was already +climbing upward towards eleven. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a lost battle,” said he, and then taking up the +money-box he turned it out. “Three francs seventy-five!” he cried, +“as against four of board and six of railway fares; and no time for the +tombola! Elvira, this is Waterloo.” And he sat down and passed both hands +desperately among his curls. “O Fichu Commissaire!” he cried, +“Fichu Commissaire!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us get the things together and be off,” returned Elvira. +“We might try another song, but there is not six halfpence in the +room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Six halfpence?” cried Léon, “six hundred thousand devils! +There is not a human creature in the town—nothing but pigs and dogs and +commissaires! Pray heaven, we get safe to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t imagine things!” exclaimed Elvira, with a shudder. +</p> + +<p> +And with that they set to work on their preparations. The tobacco-jar, the +cigarette-holder, the three papers of shirt-studs, which were to have been the +prices of the tombola had the tombola come off, were made into a bundle with +the music; the guitar was stowed into the fat guitar-case; and Elvira having +thrown a thin shawl about her neck and shoulders, the pair issued from the café +and set off for the Black Head. +</p> + +<p> +As they crossed the market-place the church bell rang out eleven. It was a +dark, mild night, and there was no one in the streets. +</p> + +<p> +“It is all very fine,” said Léon; “but I have a presentiment. +The night is not yet done.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">The</span> “Black Head” presented not a single +chink of light upon the street, and the carriage gate was closed. +</p> + +<p> +“This is unprecedented,” observed Léon. “An inn closed by +five minutes after eleven! And there were several commercial travellers in the +café up to a late hour. Elvira, my heart misgives me. Let us ring the +bell.” +</p> + +<p> +The bell had a potent note; and being swung under the arch it filled the house +from top to bottom with surly, clanging reverberations. The sound accentuated +the conventual appearance of the building; a wintry sentiment, a thought of +prayer and mortification, took hold upon Elvira’s mind; and, as for Léon, +he seemed to be reading the stage directions for a lugubrious fifth act. +</p> + +<p> +“This is your fault,” said Elvira: “this is what comes of +fancying things!” +</p> + +<p> +Again Léon pulled the bell-rope; again the solemn tocsin awoke the echoes of +the inn; and ere they had died away, a light glimmered in the carriage +entrance, and a powerful voice was heard upraised and tremulous with wrath. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s all this?” cried the tragic host through the spars of +the gate. “Hard upon twelve, and you come clamouring like Prussians at +the door of a respectable hotel? Oh!” he cried, “I know you now! +Common singers! People in trouble with the police! And you present yourselves +at midnight like lords and ladies? Be off with you!” +</p> + +<p> +“You will permit me to remind you,” replied Léon, in thrilling +tones, “that I am a guest in your house, that I am properly inscribed, +and that I have deposited baggage to the value of four hundred francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot get in at this hour,” returned the man. “This is +no thieves’ tavern, for mohocks and night rakes and +organ-grinders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Brute!” cried Elvira, for the organ-grinders touched her home. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I demand my baggage,” said Léon, with unabated dignity. +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing of your baggage,” replied the landlord. +</p> + +<p> +“You detain my baggage? You dare to detain my baggage?” cried the +singer. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” returned the landlord. “It is dark—I +cannot recognise you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then—you detain my baggage,” concluded Léon. +“You shall smart for this. I will weary out your life with persecutions; +I will drag you from court to court; if there is justice to be had in France, +it shall be rendered between you and me. And I will make you a by-word—I +will put you in a song—a scurrilous song—an indecent song—a +popular song—which the boys shall sing to you in the street, and come and +howl through these spars at midnight!” +</p> + +<p> +He had gone on raising his voice at every phrase, for all the while the +landlord was very placidly retiring; and now, when the last glimmer of light +had vanished from the arch, and the last footstep died away in the interior, +Léon turned to his wife with a heroic countenance. +</p> + +<p> +“Elvira,” said he, “I have now a duty in life. I shall +destroy that man as Eugène Sue destroyed the concierge. Let us come at once to +the Gendarmerie and begin our vengeance.” +</p> + +<p> +He picked up the guitar-case, which had been propped against the wall, and they +set forth through the silent and ill-lighted town with burning hearts. +</p> + +<p> +The Gendarmerie was concealed beside the telegraph office at the bottom of a +vast court, which was partly laid out in gardens; and here all the shepherds of +the public lay locked in grateful sleep. It took a deal of knocking to waken +one; and he, when he came at last to the door, could find no other remark but +that “it was none of his business.” Léon reasoned with him, +threatened him, besought him; “here,” he said, “was Madame +Berthelini in evening dress—a delicate woman—in an interesting +condition”—the last was thrown in, I fancy, for effect; and to all +this the man-at-arms made the same answer: +</p> + +<p> +“It is none of my business,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said Léon, “then we shall go to the +Commissary.” Thither they went; the office was closed and dark; but the +house was close by, and Léon was soon swinging the bell like a madman. The +Commissary’s wife appeared at a window. She was a thread-paper creature, +and informed them that the Commissary had not yet come home. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he at the Maire’s?” demanded Léon. +</p> + +<p> +She thought that was not unlikely. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the Maire’s house?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +And she gave him some rather vague information on that point. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay you here, Elvira,” said Léon, “lest I should miss him +by the way. If, when I return, I find you here no longer, I shall follow at +once to the Black Head.” +</p> + +<p> +And he set out to find the Maire’s. It took him some ten minutes +wandering among blind lanes, and when he arrived it was already half-an-hour +past midnight. A long white garden wall overhung by some thick chestnuts, a +door with a letter-box, and an iron bell-pull, that was all that could be seen +of the Maire’s domicile. Léon took the bell-pull in both hands, and +danced furiously upon the side-walk. The bell itself was just upon the other +side of the wall, it responded to his activity, and scattered an alarming +clangour far and wide into the night. +</p> + +<p> +A window was thrown open in a house across the street, and a voice inquired the +cause of this untimely uproar. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish the Maire,” said Léon. +</p> + +<p> +“He has been in bed this hour,” returned the voice. +</p> + +<p> +“He must get up again,” retorted Léon, and he was for tackling the +bell-pull once more. +</p> + +<p> +“You will never make him hear,” responded the voice. “The +garden is of great extent, the house is at the farther end, and both the Maire +and his housekeeper are deaf.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aha!” said Léon, pausing. “The Maire is deaf, is he? That +explains.” And he thought of the evening’s concert with a momentary +feeling of relief. “Ah!” he continued, “and so the Maire is +deaf, and the garden vast, and the house at the far end?” +</p> + +<p> +“And you might ring all night,” added the voice, “and be none +the better for it. You would only keep me awake.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, neighbour,” replied the singer. “You shall +sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +And he made off again at his best pace for the Commissary’s. Elvira was +still walking to and fro before the door. +</p> + +<p> +“He has not come?” asked Léon. +</p> + +<p> +“Not he,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” returned Léon. “I am sure our man’s inside. Let +me see the guitar-case. I shall lay this siege in form, Elvira; I am angry; I +am indignant; I am truculently inclined; but I thank my Maker I have still a +sense of fun. The unjust judge shall be importuned in a serenade, Elvira. Set +him up—and set him up.” +</p> + +<p> +He had the case opened by this time, struck a few chords, and fell into an +attitude which was irresistibly Spanish. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” he continued, “feel your voice. Are you ready? Follow +me!” +</p> + +<p> +The guitar twanged, and the two voices upraised, in harmony and with a +startling loudness, the chorus of a song of old Béranger’s:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Commissaire! Commissaire!<br/> +Colin bat sa ménagère.” +</p> + +<p> +The stones of Castel-le-Gâchis thrilled at this audacious innovation. Hitherto +had the night been sacred to repose and nightcaps; and now what was this? +Window after window was opened; matches scratched, and candles began to +flicker; swollen sleepy faces peered forth into the starlight. There were the +two figures before the Commissary’s house, each bolt upright, with head +thrown back and eyes interrogating the starry heavens; the guitar wailed, +shouted, and reverberated like half an orchestra; and the voices, with a crisp +and spirited delivery, hurled the appropriate burden at the Commissary’s +window. All the echoes repeated the functionary’s name. It was more like +an entr’acte in a farce of Molière’s than a passage of real life in +Castel-le-Gâchis. +</p> + +<p> +The Commissary, if he was not the first, was not the last of the neighbours to +yield to the influence of music, and furiously throw open the window of his +bedroom. He was beside himself with rage. He leaned far over the window-sill, +raving and gesticulating; the tassel of his white night-cap danced like a thing +of life: he opened his mouth to dimensions hitherto unprecedented, and yet his +voice, instead of escaping from it in a roar, came forth shrill and choked and +tottering. A little more serenading, and it was clear he would be better +acquainted with the apoplexy. +</p> + +<p> +I scorn to reproduce his language; he touched upon too many serious topics by +the way for a quiet story-teller. Although he was known for a man who was +prompt with his tongue, and had a power of strong expression at command, he +excelled himself so remarkably this night that one maiden lady, who had got out +of bed like the rest to hear the serenade, was obliged to shut her window at +the second clause. Even what she had heard disquieted her conscience; and next +day she said she scarcely reckoned as a maiden lady any longer. +</p> + +<p> +Léon tried to explain his predicament, but he received nothing but threats of +arrest by way of answer. +</p> + +<p> +“If I come down to you!” cried the Commissary. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” said Léon, “do!” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not!” cried the Commissary. +</p> + +<p> +“You dare not!” answered Léon. +</p> + +<p> +At that the Commissary closed his window. +</p> + +<p> +“All is over,” said the singer. “The serenade was perhaps +ill-judged. These boors have no sense of humour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us get away from here,” said Elvira, with a shiver. “All +these people looking—it is so rude and so brutal.” And then giving +way once more to passion—“Brutes!” she cried aloud to the +candle-lit spectators—“brutes! brutes! brutes!” +</p> + +<p> +“Sauve qui peut,” said Léon. “You have done it now!” +</p> + +<p> +And taking the guitar in one hand and the case in the other, he led the way +with something too precipitate to be merely called precipitation from the scene +of this absurd adventure. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">To</span> the west of Castel-le-Gâchis four rows of +venerable lime-trees formed, in this starry night, a twilit avenue with two +side aisles of pitch darkness. Here and there stone benches were disposed +between the trunks. There was not a breath of wind; a heavy atmosphere of +perfume hung about the alleys; and every leaf stood stock-still upon its twig. +Hither, after vainly knocking at an inn or two, the Berthelinis came at length +to pass the night. After an amiable contention, Léon insisted on giving his +coat to Elvira, and they sat down together on the first bench in silence. Léon +made a cigarette, which he smoked to an end, looking up into the trees, and, +beyond them, at the constellations, of which he tried vainly to recall the +names. The silence was broken by the church bell; it rang the four quarters on +a light and tinkling measure; then followed a single deep stroke that died +slowly away with a thrill; and stillness resumed its empire. +</p> + +<p> +“One,” said Léon. “Four hours till daylight. It is warm; it +is starry; I have matches and tobacco. Do not let us exaggerate, +Elvira—the experience is positively charming. I feel a glow within me; I +am born again. This is the poetry of life. Think of Cooper’s novels, my +dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Léon,” she said fiercely, “how can you talk such wicked, +infamous nonsense? To pass all night out-of-doors—it is like a nightmare! +We shall die.” +</p> + +<p> +“You suffer yourself to be led away,” he replied soothingly. +“It is not unpleasant here; only you brood. Come, now, let us repeat a +scene. Shall we try Alceste and Célimène? No? Or a passage from the ‘Two +Orphans’? Come, now, it will occupy your mind; I will play up to you as I +never have played before; I feel art moving in my bones.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue,” she cried, “or you will drive me mad! +Will nothing solemnise you—not even this hideous situation?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, hideous!” objected Léon. “Hideous is not the word. Why, +where would you be? ‘Dites, la jeune belle, où voulez-vous +aller?’” he carolled. “Well, now,” he went on, opening +the guitar-case, “there’s another idea for you—sing. Sing +‘Dites, la jeune belle!’ It will compose your spirits, Elvira, I am +sure.” +</p> + +<p> +And without waiting an answer he began to strum the symphony. The first chords +awoke a young man who was lying asleep upon a neighbouring bench. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” cried the young man, “who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Under which king, Bezonian?” declaimed the artist. “Speak or +die!” +</p> + +<p> +Or if it was not exactly that, it was something to much the same purpose from a +French tragedy. +</p> + +<p> +The young man drew near in the twilight. He was a tall, powerful, gentlemanly +fellow, with a somewhat puffy face, dressed in a grey tweed suit, with a +deer-stalker hat of the same material; and as he now came forward he carried a +knapsack slung upon one arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you camping out here too?” he asked, with a strong English +accent. “I’m not sorry for company.” +</p> + +<p> +Léon explained their misadventure; and the other told them that he was a +Cambridge undergraduate on a walking tour, that he had run short of money, +could no longer pay for his night’s lodging, had already been camping out +for two nights, and feared he should require to continue the same manœuvre for +at least two nights more. +</p> + +<p> +“Luckily, it’s jolly weather,” he concluded. +</p> + +<p> +“You hear that, Elvira,” said Léon. “Madame +Berthelini,” he went on, “is ridiculously affected by this trifling +occurrence. For my part, I find it romantic and far from uncomfortable; or at +least,” he added, shifting on the stone bench, “not quite so +uncomfortable as might have been expected. But pray be seated.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” returned the undergraduate, sitting down, “it’s +rather nice than otherwise when once you’re used to it; only it’s +devilish difficult to get washed. I like the fresh air and these stars and +things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aha!” said Léon, “Monsieur is an artist.” +</p> + +<p> +“An artist?” returned the other, with a blank stare. “Not if +I know it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me,” said the actor. “What you said this moment about +the orbs of heaven—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nonsense!” cried the Englishman. “A fellow may admire +the stars and be anything he likes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have an artist’s nature, however, Mr.—I beg your pardon; +may I, without indiscretion, inquire your name?” asked Léon. +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Stubbs,” replied the Englishman. +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you,” returned Léon. “Mine is Berthelini—Léon +Berthelini, ex-artist of the theatres of Montrouge, Belleville, and Montmartre. +Humble as you see me, I have created with applause more than one important +<i>rôle</i>. The Press were unanimous in praise of my Howling Devil of the +Mountains, in the piece of the same name. Madame, whom I now present to you, is +herself an artist, and I must not omit to state, a better artist than her +husband. She also is a creator; she created nearly twenty successful songs at +one of the principal Parisian music-halls. But, to continue, I was saying you +had an artist’s nature, Monsieur Stubbs, and you must permit me to be a +judge in such a question. I trust you will not falsify your instincts; let me +beseech you to follow the career of an artist.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” returned Stubbs, with a chuckle. “I’m +going to be a banker.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Léon, “do not say so. Not that. A man with such a +nature as yours should not derogate so far. What are a few privations here and +there, so long as you are working for a high and noble goal?” +</p> + +<p> +“This fellow’s mad,” thought Stubbs; “but the +woman’s rather pretty, and he’s not bad fun himself, if you come to +that.” What he said was different. “I thought you said you were an +actor?” +</p> + +<p> +“I certainly did so,” replied Léon. “I am one, or, alas! I +was.” +</p> + +<p> +“And so you want me to be an actor, do you?” continued the +undergraduate. “Why, man, I could never so much as learn the stuff; my +memory’s like a sieve; and as for acting, I’ve no more idea than a +cat.” +</p> + +<p> +“The stage is not the only course,” said Léon. “Be a +sculptor, be a dancer, be a poet or a novelist; follow your heart, in short, +and do some thorough work before you die.” +</p> + +<p> +“And do you call all these things <i>art</i>?” inquired Stubbs. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, certainly!” returned Léon. “Are they not all +branches?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I didn’t know,” replied the Englishman. “I thought +an artist meant a fellow who painted.” +</p> + +<p> +The singer stared at him in some surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the difference of language,” he said at last. “This +Tower of Babel, when shall we have paid for it? If I could speak English you +would follow me more readily.” +</p> + +<p> +“Between you and me, I don’t believe I should,” replied the +other. “You seem to have thought a devil of a lot about this business. +For my part, I admire the stars, and like to have them shining—it’s +so cheery—but hang me if I had an idea it had anything to do with art! +It’s not in my line, you see. I’m not intellectual; I have no end +of trouble to scrape through my exams., I can tell you! But I’m not a bad +sort at bottom,” he added, seeing his interlocutor looked distressed even +in the dim starshine, “and I rather like the play, and music, and +guitars, and things.” +</p> + +<p> +Léon had a perception that the understanding was incomplete. He changed the +subject. +</p> + +<p> +“And so you travel on foot?” he continued. “How romantic! How +courageous! And how are you pleased with my land? How does the scenery affect +you among these wild hills of ours?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the fact is,” began Stubbs—he was about to say that he +didn’t care for scenery, which was not at all true, being, on the +contrary, only an athletic undergraduate pretension; but he had begun to +suspect that Berthelini liked a different sort of meat, and substituted +something else—“The fact is, I think it jolly. They told me it was +no good up here; even the guide-book said so; but I don’t know what they +meant. I think it is deuced pretty—upon my word, I do.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, in the most unexpected manner, Elvira burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +“My voice!” she cried. “Léon, if I stay here longer I shall +lose my voice!” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall not stay another moment,” cried the actor. “If I +have to beat in a door, if I have to burn the town, I shall find you +shelter.” +</p> + +<p> +With that he replaced the guitar, and comforting her with some caresses, drew +her arm through his. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Stubbs,” said he, taking of his hat, “the reception +I offer you is rather problematical; but let me beseech you to give us the +pleasure of your society. You are a little embarrassed for the moment; you +must, indeed, permit me to advance what may be necessary. I ask it as a favour; +we must not part so soon after having met so strangely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come, you know,” said Stubbs, “I can’t let a +fellow like you—” And there he paused, feeling somehow or other on +a wrong tack. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not wish to employ menaces,” continued Léon, with a smile; +“but if you refuse, indeed I shall not take it kindly.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite see my way out of it,” thought the +undergraduate; and then, after a pause, he said, aloud and ungraciously enough, +“All right. I—I’m very much obliged, of course.” And he +proceeded to follow them, thinking in his heart, “But it’s bad +form, all the same, to force an obligation on a fellow.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Léon</span> strode ahead as if he knew exactly where he was +going; the sobs of Madame were still faintly audible, and no one uttered a +word. A dog barked furiously in a courtyard as they went by; then the church +clock struck two, and many domestic clocks followed or preceded it in piping +tones. And just then Berthelini spied a light. It burned in a small house on +the outskirts of the town, and thither the party now directed their steps. +</p> + +<p> +“It is always a chance,” said Léon. +</p> + +<p> +The house in question stood back from the street behind an open space, part +garden, part turnip-field; and several outhouses stood forward from either wing +at right angles to the front. One of these had recently undergone some change. +An enormous window, looking towards the north, had been effected in the wall +and roof, and Léon began to hope it was a studio. +</p> + +<p> +“If it’s only a painter,” he said with a chuckle, “ten +to one we get as good a welcome as we want.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought painters were principally poor,” said Stubbs. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried Léon, “you do not know the world as I do. The +poorer the better for us!” +</p> + +<p> +And the trio advanced into the turnip-field. +</p> + +<p> +The light was in the ground floor; as one window was brightly illuminated and +two others more faintly, it might be supposed that there was a single lamp in +one corner of a large apartment; and a certain tremulousness and temporary +dwindling showed that a live fire contributed to the effect. The sound of a +voice now became audible; and the trespassers paused to listen. It was pitched +in a high, angry key, but had still a good, full, and masculine note in it. The +utterance was voluble, too voluble even to be quite distinct; a stream of +words, rising and falling, with ever and again a phrase thrown out by itself, +as if the speaker reckoned on its virtue. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly another voice joined in. This time it was a woman’s; and if the +man were angry, the woman was incensed to the degree of fury. There was that +absolutely blank composure known to suffering males; that colourless unnatural +speech which shows a spirit accurately balanced between homicide and hysterics; +the tone in which the best of women sometimes utter words worse than death to +those most dear to them. If Abstract Bones-and-Sepulchre were to be endowed +with the gift of speech, thus, and not otherwise, would it discourse. Léon was +a brave man, and I fear he was somewhat sceptically given (he had been educated +in a Papistical country), but the habit of childhood prevailed, and he crossed +himself devoutly. He had met several women in his career. It was obvious that +his instinct had not deceived him, for the male voice broke forth instantly in +a towering passion. +</p> + +<p> +The undergraduate, who had not understood the significance of the woman’s +contribution, pricked up his ears at the change upon the man. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s going to be a free fight,” he opined. +</p> + +<p> +There was another retort from the woman, still calm but a little higher. +</p> + +<p> +“Hysterics?” asked Léon of his wife. “Is that the stage +direction?” +</p> + +<p> +“How should I know?” returned Elvira, somewhat tartly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, woman, woman!” said Léon, beginning to open the guitar-case. +“It is one of the burdens of my life, Monsieur Stubbs; they support each +other; they always pretend there is no system; they say it’s nature. Even +Madame Berthelini, who is a dramatic artist!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are heartless, Léon,” said Elvira; “that woman is in +trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the man, my angel?” inquired Berthelini, passing the ribbon of +his guitar. “And the man, <i>m’amour</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is a man,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“You hear that?” said Léon to Stubbs. “It is not too late for +you. Mark the intonation. And now,” he continued, “what are we to +give them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to sing?” asked Stubbs. +</p> + +<p> +“I am a troubadour,” replied Léon. “I claim a welcome by and +for my art. If I were a banker could I do as much?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you wouldn’t need, you know,” answered the +undergraduate. +</p> + +<p> +“Egad,” said Léon, “but that’s true. Elvira, that is +true.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course it is,” she replied. “Did you not know it?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” answered Léon impressively, “I know nothing but +what is agreeable. Even my knowledge of life is a work of art superiorly +composed. But what are we to give them? It should be something +appropriate.” +</p> + +<p> +Visions of “Let dogs delight” passed through the +undergraduate’s mind; but it occurred to him that the poetry was English +and that he did not know the air. Hence he contributed no suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +“Something about our houselessness,” said Elvira. +</p> + +<p> +“I have it,” cried Léon. And he broke forth into a song of Pierre +Dupont’s:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Savez-vous où gite,<br/> +Mai, ce joli mois?” +</p> + +<p> +Elvira joined in; so did Stubbs, with a good ear and voice, but an imperfect +acquaintance with the music. Léon and the guitar were equal to the situation. +The actor dispensed his throat-notes with prodigality and enthusiasm; and, as +he looked up to heaven in his heroic way, tossing the black ringlets, it seemed +to him that the very stars contributed a dumb applause to his efforts, and the +universe lent him its silence for a chorus. That is one of the best features of +the heavenly bodies, that they belong to everybody in particular; and a man +like Léon, a chronic Endymion who managed to get along without encouragement, +is always the world’s centre for himself. +</p> + +<p> +He alone—and it is to be noted, he was the worst singer of the +three—took the music seriously to heart, and judged the serenade from a +high artistic point of view. Elvira, on the other hand, was preoccupied about +their reception; and, as for Stubbs, he considered the whole affair in the +light of a broad joke. +</p> + +<p> +“Know you the lair of May, the lovely month?” went the three voices +in the turnip-field. +</p> + +<p> +The inhabitants were plainly fluttered; the light moved to and fro, +strengthening in one window, paling in another; and then the door was thrown +open, and a man in a blouse appeared on the threshold carrying a lamp. He was a +powerful young fellow, with bewildered hair and beard, wearing his neck open; +his blouse was stained with oil-colours in a harlequinesque disorder; and there +was something rural in the droop and bagginess of his belted trousers. +</p> + +<p> +From immediately behind him, and indeed over his shoulder, a woman’s face +looked out into the darkness; it was pale and a little weary, although still +young; it wore a dwindling, disappearing prettiness, soon to be quite gone, and +the expression was both gentle and sour, and reminded one faintly of the taste +of certain drugs. For all that, it was not a face to dislike; when the +prettiness had vanished, it seemed as if a certain pale beauty might step in to +take its place; and as both the mildness and the asperity were characters of +youth, it might be hoped that, with years, both would merge into a constant, +brave, and not unkindly temper. +</p> + +<p> +“What is all this?” cried the man. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Léon</span> had his hat in his hand at once. He came +forward with his customary grace; it was a moment which would have earned him a +round of cheering on the stage. Elvira and Stubbs advanced behind him, like a +couple of Admetus’s sheep following the god Apollo. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Léon, “the hour is unpardonably late, and our +little serenade has the air of an impertinence. Believe me, sir, it is an +appeal. Monsieur is an artist, I perceive. We are here three artists benighted +and without shelter, one a woman—a delicate woman—in evening +dress—in an interesting situation. This will not fail to touch the +woman’s heart of Madame, whom I perceive indistinctly behind Monsieur her +husband, and whose face speaks eloquently of a well-regulated mind. Ah! +Monsieur, Madame—one generous movement, and you make three people happy! +Two or three hours beside your fire—I ask it of Monsieur in the name of +Art—I ask it of Madame by the sanctity of womanhood.” +</p> + +<p> +The two, as by a tacit consent, drew back from the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” said the man. +</p> + +<p> +“Entrez, Madame,” said the woman. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened directly upon the kitchen of the house, which was to all +appearance the only sitting-room. The furniture was both plain and scanty; but +there were one or two landscapes on the wall handsomely framed, as if they had +already visited the committee-rooms of an exhibition and been thence extruded. +Léon walked up to the pictures and represented the part of a connoisseur before +each in turn, with his usual dramatic insight and force. The master of the +house, as if irresistibly attracted, followed him from canvas to canvas with +the lamp. Elvira was led directly to the fire, where she proceeded to warm +herself, while Stubbs stood in the middle of the floor and followed the +proceedings of Léon with mild astonishment in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You should see them by daylight,” said the artist. +</p> + +<p> +“I promise myself that pleasure,” said Léon. “You possess, +sir, if you will permit me an observation, the art of composition to a +T.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very good,” returned the other. “But should you not +draw nearer to the fire?” +</p> + +<p> +“With all my heart,” said Léon. +</p> + +<p> +And the whole party was soon gathered at the table over a hasty and not an +elegant cold supper, washed down with the least of small wines. Nobody liked +the meal, but nobody complained; they put a good face upon it, one and all, and +made a great clattering of knives and forks. To see Léon eating a single cold +sausage was to see a triumph; by the time he had done he had got through as +much pantomime as would have sufficed for a baron of beef, and he had the +relaxed expression of the over-eaten. +</p> + +<p> +As Elvira had naturally taken a place by the side of Léon, and Stubbs as +naturally, although I believe unconsciously, by the side of Elvira, the host +and hostess were left together. Yet it was to be noted that they never +addressed a word to each other, nor so much as suffered their eyes to meet. The +interrupted skirmish still survived in ill-feeling; and the instant the guests +departed it would break forth again as bitterly as ever. The talk wandered from +this to that subject—for with one accord the party had declared it was +too late to go to bed; but those two never relaxed towards each other; Goneril +and Regan in a sisterly tiff were not more bent on enmity. +</p> + +<p> +It chanced that Elvira was so much tired by all the little excitements of the +night, that for once she laid aside her company manners, which were both easy +and correct, and in the most natural manner in the world leaned her head on +Léon’s shoulder. At the same time, fatigue suggesting tenderness, she +locked the fingers of her right hand into those of her husband’s left; +and, half closing her eyes, dozed off into a golden borderland between sleep +and waking. But all the time she was not aware of what was passing, and saw the +painter’s wife studying her with looks between contempt and envy. +</p> + +<p> +It occurred to Léon that his constitution demanded the use of some tobacco; and +he undid his fingers from Elvira’s in order to roll a cigarette. It was +gently done, and he took care that his indulgence should in no other way +disturb his wife’s position. But it seemed to catch the eye of the +painter’s wife with a special significancy. She looked straight before +her for an instant, and then, with a swift and stealthy movement, took hold of +her husband’s hand below the table. Alas! she might have spared herself +the dexterity. For the poor fellow was so overcome by this caress that he +stopped with his mouth open in the middle of a word, and by the expression of +his face plainly declared to all the company that his thoughts had been +diverted into softer channels. +</p> + +<p> +If it had not been rather amiable, it would have been absurdly droll. His wife +at once withdrew her touch; but it was plain she had to exert some force. +Thereupon the young man coloured and looked for a moment beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +Léon and Elvira both observed the byplay, and a shock passed from one to the +other; for they were inveterate match-makers, especially between those who were +already married. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” said Léon suddenly. “I see no use in +pretending. Before we came in here we heard sounds indicating—if I may so +express myself—an imperfect harmony.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir—” began the man. +</p> + +<p> +But the woman was beforehand. +</p> + +<p> +“It is quite true,” she said. “I see no cause to be ashamed. +If my husband is mad I shall at least do my utmost to prevent the consequences. +Picture to yourself, Monsieur and Madame,” she went on, for she passed +Stubbs over, “that this wretched person—a dauber, an incompetent, +not fit to be a sign-painter—receives this morning an admirable offer +from an uncle—an uncle of my own, my mother’s brother, and tenderly +beloved—of a clerkship with nearly a hundred and fifty pounds a year, and +that he—picture to yourself!—he refuses it! Why? For the sake of +Art, he says. Look at his art, I say—look at it! Is it fit to be seen? +Ask him—is it fit to be sold? And it is for this, Monsieur and Madame, +that he condemns me to the most deplorable existence, without luxuries, without +comforts, in a vile suburb of a country town. O non!” she cried, +“non—je ne me tairai pas—c’est plus fort que moi! I +take these gentlemen and this lady for judges—is this kind? is it decent? +is it manly? Do I not deserve better at his hands after having married him +and”—(a visible hitch)—“done everything in the world to +please him.” +</p> + +<p> +I doubt if there were ever a more embarrassed company at a table; every one +looked like a fool; and the husband like the biggest. +</p> + +<p> +“The art of Monsieur, however,” said Elvira, breaking the silence, +“is not wanting in distinction.” +</p> + +<p> +“It has this distinction,” said the wife, “that nobody will +buy it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should have supposed a clerkship—” began Stubbs. +</p> + +<p> +“Art is Art,” swept in Léon. “I salute Art. It is the +beautiful, the divine; it is the spirit of the world, and the pride of life. +But—” And the actor paused. +</p> + +<p> +“A clerkship—” began Stubbs. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you what it is,” said the painter. “I am an +artist, and as this gentleman says, Art is this and the other; but of course, +if my wife is going to make my life a piece of perdition all day long, I prefer +to go and drown myself out of hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go!” said his wife. “I should like to see you!” +</p> + +<p> +“I was going to say,” resumed Stubbs, “that a fellow may be a +clerk and paint almost as much as he likes. I know a fellow in a bank who makes +capital water-colour sketches; he even sold one for seven-and-six.” +</p> + +<p> +To both the women this seemed a plank of safety; each hopefully interrogated +the countenance of her lord; even Elvira, an artist herself!—but indeed +there must be something permanently mercantile in the female nature. The two +men exchanged a glance; it was tragic; not otherwise might two philosophers +salute, as at the end of a laborious life each recognised that he was still a +mystery to his disciples. +</p> + +<p> +Léon arose. +</p> + +<p> +“Art is Art,” he repeated sadly. “It is not water-colour +sketches, nor practising on a piano. It is a life to be lived.” +</p> + +<p> +“And in the meantime people starve!” observed the woman of the +house. “If that’s a life, it is not one for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you what,” burst forth Léon; “you, Madame, +go into another room and talk it over with my wife; and I’ll stay here +and talk it over with your husband. It may come to nothing, but let’s +try.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very willing,” replied the young woman; and she proceeded to +light a candle. “This way if you please.” And she led Elvira +upstairs into a bedroom. “The fact is,” said she, sitting down, +“that my husband cannot paint.” +</p> + +<p> +“No more can mine act,” replied Elvira. +</p> + +<p> +“I should have thought he could,” returned the other; “he +seems clever.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is so, and the best of men besides,” said Elvira; “but he +cannot act.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least he is not a sheer humbug like mine; he can at least +sing.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mistake Léon,” returned his wife warmly. “He does not +even pretend to sing; he has too fine a taste; he does so for a living. And, +believe me, neither of the men are humbugs. They are people with a +mission—which they cannot carry out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Humbug or not,” replied the other, “you came very near +passing the night in the fields; and, for my part, I live in terror of +starvation. I should think it was a man’s mission to think twice about +his wife. But it appears not. Nothing is their mission but to play the fool. +Oh!” she broke out, “is it not something dreary to think of that +man of mine? If he could only do it, who would care? But no—not +he—no more than I can!” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any children?” asked Elvira. +</p> + +<p> +“No; but then I may.” +</p> + +<p> +“Children change so much,” said Elvira, with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +And just then from the room below there flew up a sudden snapping chord on the +guitar; one followed after another; then the voice of Léon joined in; and there +was an air being played and sung that stopped the speech of the two women. The +wife of the painter stood like a person transfixed; Elvira, looking into her +eyes, could see all manner of beautiful memories and kind thoughts that were +passing in and out of her soul with every note; it was a piece of her youth +that went before her; a green French plain, the smell of apple-flowers, the far +and shining ringlets of a river, and the words and presence of love. +</p> + +<p> +“Léon has hit the nail,” thought Elvira to herself. “I wonder +how.” +</p> + +<p> +The how was plain enough. Léon had asked the painter if there were no air +connected with courtship and pleasant times; and having learnt what he wished, +and allowed an interval to pass, he had soared forth into +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“O mon amante,<br/> +O mon désir,<br/> +Sachons cueillir<br/> +L’heure charmante!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, Madame,” said the painter’s wife, “your +husband sings admirably well.” +</p> + +<p> +“He sings that with some feeling,” replied Elvira, critically, +although she was a little moved herself, for the song cut both ways in the +upper chamber; “but it is as an actor and not as a musician.” +</p> + +<p> +“Life is very sad,” said the other; “it so wastes away under +one’s fingers.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not found it so,” replied Elvira. “I think the good +parts of it last and grow greater every day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Frankly, how would you advise me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Frankly, I would let my husband do what he wished. He is obviously a +very loving painter; you have not yet tried him as a clerk. And you +know—if it were only as the possible father of your children—it is +as well to keep him at his best.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is an excellent fellow,” said the wife. +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p> +They kept it up till sunrise with music and all manner of good fellowship; and +at sunrise, while the sky was still temperate and clear, they separated on the +threshold with a thousand excellent wishes for each other’s welfare. +Castel-le-Gâchis was beginning to send up its smoke against the golden East; +and the church bell was ringing six. +</p> + +<p> +“My guitar is a familiar spirit,” said Léon, as he and Elvira took +the nearest way towards the inn, “it resuscitated a Commissary, created +an English tourist, and reconciled a man and wife.” +</p> + +<p> +Stubbs, on his part, went off into the morning with reflections of his own. +</p> + +<p> +“They are all mad,” thought he, “all mad—but +wonderfully decent.” +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="GutSmall">THE END</span> +</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p class="center"> +Printed by <span class="smcap">Spottiswoode</span>, <span +class="smcap">Ballantyne & Co. Ltd</span>.<br/> +Colchester, London & Eton, England +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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