by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER VIII.
THE MANOR OF MEZLEAN.
The manor of Mezlean, located at a considerable distance from the burgof the same name, lies about half a league from the druid stones ofKarnak, which rise on the border of the ocean in long and wide avenuesof gigantic pillars.
About a month had elapsed since the burning of the Castle of Plouernel.It was night. Bertha's nurse, old Marion, was mechanically spinning ather wheel in the spacious lower hall of the manor that was so longuninhabited, and the antique furniture of which dated from the reign ofHenry IV. Near Marion, on a table, stood a copper lamp with three jets.
"It is going on three weeks that old Du Buisson, mademoiselle's equerry,has been on the road, and he is not yet back," mused Marion uneasily toherself. "Can he have met with some accident? If not, I wonder what newshe will bring from down there! One hears nothing here at Mezlean of whatgoes on in Brittany. A company of soldiers marched into the burg thismorning. They can have found there only women, children and old men,besides some few other people who took no part in the revolt." Andshuddering at the thought, Marion added: "Oh, what a night, what a nightwas that on which the peasants attacked the castle! I thought my poorBertha's last hour had sounded when I saw them invade our apartment,arms in hand! But not at all. 'You are our _good demoiselle_, as good asyour brother is wicked,' said they to Bertha. 'You have nothing to fear,demoiselle. But leave the place; take along everything you want. Weordered your domestics to hitch up a carriage. They are waiting foryou.' And mademoiselle took a little portrait of her mother, a casketcontaining some money and jewelry, and a manuscript written by ColonelPlouernel. I hurriedly packed up a few bundles, and we left the castle.Alas! They were at that moment hanging Monseigneur the Count, Monsieurthe Abbot, and the sergeant. 'Mercy! Mercy for my brother!' cried mypoor Bertha piteously, falling upon her knees on the staircase, from thetop of which she saw Monseigneur the Count, pale and bleeding,struggling against the vassals who were dragging him to the gibbet! Itwas too late! Mademoiselle's voice was not heard by the peasants in thetumult. We finally arrived here with a coachman and a lackey. Old DuBuisson escorted us on horseback, riding beside the door of thecarriage. Mademoiselle sent the men back with generous expressions ofher gratitude, keeping only Du Buisson and myself in her service,besides the porter and his wife. I trembled when I saw my poor Bertharelapse after so many shocks, into a serious illness. But thanks to God,I was mistaken. For a few days she had a high fever as the consequenceof her despair at the horrible death of her brother. But slowly sherecovered her health. I must admit that, since her last great illness atVersailles, she never has been better--she is now more beautiful andfresher than I have ever seen her. She seems calm and happy. All thatshould set me at ease. And yet--sad presentiments assail my heart. I cannot overcome them."
At this point Marion broke off abruptly, listened toward the hall doorand said:
"I hear steps. Who can it be that is coming in at this hour?"
The door opened, and Du Buisson entered.
"God be blessed! At last you are back, Du Buisson! Well, what news doyou bring?"
"Bad news, my dear Marion. Bad news from everywhere!"
"Good God! Then Monsieur Nominoe Lebrenn, the poor young man--?"
"He must have fared like so many others. I found it impossible todiscover any traces of either him or his father. Whether he is dead oralive, I can not tell."
"Oh, my poor Bertha! My poor Bertha! How much is she to be pitied!"
"Fortunately mademoiselle is a brave woman. Moreover, she entertainedbut slight hopes of my succeeding in the mission that she charged mewith. I did my best. How is mademoiselle's health?"
"Excellent, my dear Du Buisson!"
"Heaven be praised!"
"Every day mademoiselle takes a long walk along the seashore in thedirection of the stones of Karnak. She seems to have taken a liking forthe spot. When she returns home she takes up the manuscript of ColonelPlouernel, and starts to read. Especially in the evening, she remainsfor hours at a stretch in a revery, contemplating the sky. She looks sadevery time the stars are veiled by the clouds."
"She must have been impatient to see me back?"
"Yes. As far as I could judge from a few words that she dropped to me,she is awaiting your return to take some kind of action. What it may beI do not know."
"Perhaps she contemplates leaving France for a while, and travelingabroad."
"I do believe she is thinking of a voyage. More than once didmademoiselle say to me we were here only transiently."
"At any rate, the important point is that she is much less melancholy,and her health is good--not so?"
"Yes, her sadness seems to have vanished, and her health is excellent.And yet, Du Buisson, I often feel greatly alarmed about mademoiselle; itseems to me some misfortune is approaching--sad thoughts assail me dayand night."
"What can be the cause of these presentiments of evil?"
"I hardly dare tell you. You would take me for a fool--you would laughat me, I fear."
"Nothing that concerns our young mademoiselle can cause me to indulgein levity, Marion. Speak out, I pray you."
"Well, shortly after your departure, my poor Bertha, who was barely overher fever, still seemed quite sad. One day mademoiselle was speaking tome with her usual kindness of heart about my family in Vannes, and sheasked me whether none of my relatives needed any financial assistance. Ianswered her that my brother, a small trader, found in his businessenough to meet the personal wants of himself, his wife and children;and, in the hope of amusing mademoiselle, I added that my brother and Iexpected from one moment to another a windfall of incalculable value.Mademoiselle very soberly asked me what I meant. I answered that one ofour cousins, an old man almost dotish, was, as so many others have beendoing of late years, _blowing_ in order to find the 'powder ofprojection'--"[7]
"What, Marion! Did this _blowing_ fad penetrate to the very heart ofBrittany? Are there here also people who indulge in such vagaries?"
"Unfortunately so. The cousin whom I refer to is one of those fools. Heinherited a little patrimony, and sank it all in alembics and chemicalretorts. All the while, the old fellow is ever more convinced that he ison the track of that famous powder with the help of which everything,just everything, can be changed into gold. I was retailing this nonsenseto mademoiselle in the hope of amusing her, when I perceived that shesuddenly grew quite serious, and said to me there was more truth thanpeople generally thought for in the wisdom of the alchemists; that shewas curious to pay a visit to the blower; and she wound up saying thatwe would go the very next day to Vannes."
"So, then, mademoiselle took the nonsense seriously! That issurprising--but it does not justify your alarm."
"I also was very much surprised, I must confess; and my surpriseincreased greatly when, just before stepping into the carriage to go toVannes, I saw mademoiselle open her casket, take out some gold andprecious stones, and put them into a little satchel that she carried. Wearrived at the suburbs of Vannes. The carriage stopped before anisolated house in which the dotish fellow lives. I found him surroundedby his furnaces, and announced to him the visit of mademoiselle. Shewent in, told me to wait for her outside, and she remained quite longalone with him. Does not that yet strike you as singular?"
"Go to, Marion! You are trying to hint at magic. To be suremademoiselle's visit to the old fool is singular. But that does notindicate magic."
"I am coming to the point. I was waiting for mademoiselle in thenecromancer's vestibule when suddenly he came out looking wild, ran outto the nearest house, and speedily returned carrying--a big black cat!"
"Oh! Oh! I begin to see! The black cat is the cabalistic animal _parexcellence_! And what became of the black cat?"
"I do not know--but what is quite certain is that about an hour latermademoiselle came out of the blower's den beaming with happiness andjoy. Her feet did not seem to touch the ground. In short, theexpression on her face had changed to the point that I asked myself, andoften as
k myself still, whether that man may not have resorted to somewitchcraft that could so suddenly metamorphose my poor Bertha. I mustalso tell you that she did not bring back to Mezlean the gold pieces andprecious stones which she took from her casket. Whether it is that,knowing from me that the old man is penniless, she meant to help him, orwhether it is that she was made to pay through the nose for somecharm--I do not know. But, no. She is too sensible to be duped by suchjuggler's tricks."
"My poor Marion, all the black cats in the world will not make mebelieve in sorcery. But I am struck by the change that you say came overmademoiselle's spirits after her visit to the blower, especially if thechange has been permanent, as you claim it is."
"And so it is. Since that day, mademoiselle has never looked sad, norcare-worn, as formerly. She seems to await your return impatiently inorder to take a decision connected with some voyage. Finally, when shespeaks to me of her deceased mother, Madam the Countess, and she does soquite often--that is another matter that perplexes and alarms me a gooddeal--mademoiselle occasionally expresses herself in language thatimplies she expects to meet her soon. On such occasions the eyes of mypoor Bertha become so brilliant that I cannot face their light; her faceradiates celestial beauty; she looks transfigured, as I said to youbefore, and--"
Marion broke suddenly off and said to the old equerry:
"Hush! Here is mademoiselle."
