CHAPTER XI.
"My good sir," said Edward Langdale, addressing the chief of the guard,whom he found conversing with two troopers whom he had not beforeseen,--"my good sir, I think it will be necessary for me to change mymode of travelling. I have just recovered from a severe illness, and amstill weak. So much riding on horseback fatigues me, as you may see bymy long sleep this day; and I would be glad if I could procure a coach.You can guard us as well, or better then than if we continue as we havebegun. Why are you smiling?"
The last words had a slight tone of irritation in them; for Edward hadremarked a previous smile with which the man had brought Lucette intohis chamber, and he had arrived at that point on the road to love whereone feels vexed at the very thought of any reflection upon asweetheart's name or character.
But the soldier answered, civilly, "I was thinking, sir, that if youcan, being sick and weak, keep such a tight hold as you did last nightupon Guillaume Bheel's wrist, what sort of a grip you must take whenyou are well and strong. But, as to a carrosse, there is none in thevillage, and we shall have to send to Aligre, or Marans, as it issometimes called, to get one; and Aligre is three leagues off. However,we can very well stop the night if you please."
"Well, have the kindness to send for one," said the youth: "there is apiece of gold for the messenger, and I will pay the owner well. Let itbe here early,--by daybreak, if possible; for I am anxious to arrive atNantes soon, as I shall certainly be liberated from this sort ofcaptivity there."
It were vain to deny that the arrival of Lucette, while it relieved hismind considerably in one respect, embarrassed it considerably inanother. Lucette was safe; but could he answer that she would continueso? What was he to do with her? What would become of her at Nantes if hewere imprisoned there, or perhaps executed? All these questions he putto himself; and they were difficult to answer. Still, to treat thematter commercially, when he put down on the one side of the account allthe difficulties and dangers, and on the other the happiness of knowingshe was safe, and the delight of having her with him, he could not forthe life of him think the balance was against him. But then it wasevident that poor Lucette's disguise had not the effect of a disguise atall, and Edward was as thoughtful of her reputation as a prude. Oh,sweet delicacy of early youth, how soon thou art rubbed off in thegrating commerce of the world! I fear me that it rarely happens--withmen, at least--that the soft bloom remains on the plum a day after it isseparated from the parent tree. Yet it was so with Edward still; for hehad hitherto had to deal with the harder, not the softer, things oflife; and his nascent love for Lucette rendered the feeling still morefine and sensitive. Sequiter Deum, however, could only be his motto; forat present he had no power over his own fate.
With these thoughts and feelings he returned to the door of the roomwhere he had slept so long, and knocked for admission, which was givenat once.
"She is getting quite well now," said the good landlady, "but you willhave to stay here to-night, for she is too tired to go farther."
Edward explained that he had sent for a coach, which could not arrivetill the following morning, and, sitting down beside Lucette, began toconverse with her in English, while the landlady continued at the tablelistening to the strange language, and apparently trying if she couldmake any thing of it. In that tongue Lucette, whose sweet lips hadregained their color and her beautiful eyes their sparkle, told him allthat had happened to her since he had left her,--how, with anxiety andfear, she had remained in her place of concealment hour after hour tillnear the dawn of day,--how good Jacques Beaupre had tried to console andcomfort her in vain, till at length suspense became unendurable, and shehad determined to go forth and try to pass the royalist linesherself,--how Jacques had remonstrated,--how she had persisted, and howshe had not gone three hundred yards before she was challenged, stopped,and taken to the little house occupied by Monsieur de Lude, whocommanded in that quarter. Her companion, she said, had disappeared atthe very moment of her own arrest, and she did not know what had becomeof him. Monsieur de Lude, however, was an elderly man and verycourteous, who asked her a number of questions.
"And what, in Heaven's name, did you tell him, dear Lucette?" askedEdward.
"Not much," replied the sweet girl. "I determined at once that I wouldspeak no French; and, as he could speak no English, he gained nothingfrom me. At length he put pen and paper before me, and made signs to meto write down who and what I was. I then wrote that I was your page, whohad remained behind you, being frightened, but who, repenting of mycowardice, had come on, thinking to overtake you. The old gentleman sentfor some of his officers who knew a little English; and between themthey made out what I had written."
"Did you write my own name, dear girl?" asked Edward, with some anxiety.
"Nay," replied Lucette, "I wrote the name you told us was in yourpass,--Sir Peter Apsley,--and I described you as well as I could. Then,to my great joy, I heard Monsieur de Lude say to the officers, 'I amafraid we have made a mistake in stopping him. That was clearly thecardinal's safe-conduct; and we must send the page after him. Richelieudislikes too much as well as too little zeal; and, on my life, it islikely we shall be scolded for not having properly reverenced hissignature.' I do think, dear Edward, I could have persuaded him to letus all go on our way, if I had dared to speak French to him; but, afterhaving pretended not to understand a word, I was afraid."
Now, good casuists have clearly shown two things,--that it is perfectlyjustifiable to deceive on some occasions, and that we had better not doit on any. The present is a good elucidation. If ever a girl wasjustified in feigning, Lucette was so; but still she got nothing by it,except a long ride in the way she did not want to go, and she lost allthe advantages of her little innocent trick by the very trick itself. Soit seems to me, at least,--although there may be people who differ withme on the subject, and, if so, I beg to state that I will not enter withthem into a further discussion of the subject, at least on paper.
One advantage, however, which neither Edward nor Lucette then knew, butwhich had accrued from her interview with Monsieur de Lude, was this:the officers had let the men understand that they were all very doubtfulas to whether they had done right or wrong in ignoring the name ofRichelieu--then becoming very terrible--written at the bottom of thesafe-conduct, and that therefore the young gentleman and his suite wereto be treated with the utmost respect and consideration. The soldierswho had escorted Lucette had communicated this to those who had guardedEdward Langdale, and the intelligence was not without a great effectupon men who knew that those who present themselves with agreeableintelligence find a good reception and often a reward, whereas those whocome upon a blundering errand get kicks for their only recompense.
To return to my story, however. I will not dwell upon the passing ofthat night. As far as Edward and Lucette were concerned, it passed asproperly and as decently as possible; and, if any one suspects thecontrary, it is the fault of his own imagination. The next morning,though not exactly at daybreak, the coach--or carrosse, as the peoplecalled it--arrived from Marans, and all was soon ready for departure.Edward and his pretty page took their seats within. Pierrot, mounted,led one horse beside the carriage; one of the guards led another, andthe whole cortege set out for Nantes at a brisk pace of three miles anhour, or thereabouts. There are other countries in the world where onecan still go at the same pace; but, as Nantes was about ninety milesdistant, it was very evident three days must be consumed in the journey.Now, it was very pleasant to Edward Langdale to sit side by side withLucette, especially when, by way of emphasis to any thing of particularimportance he was saying, he took her soft little hand in his; indeed,it often rested there quite tranquilly for full ten minutes; and, as hehad no inclination to arrive at Nantes at all, he certainly did nothurry the horses. Youth has the power of removing evil days,--ofmultiplying the intervening hours; and the first part of the journey wasvery sweet to both, although the gloomy-looking Nemesis of Nantes wasstill before them. But, after Sevigne was passed, and Marans, whe
re theyonly stopped to water the horses, the two young people began to thinkseriously--somewhat sadly--of the future, and to consider whether itwould not be both prudent and possible to escape. Now, this change ofthoughts and purposes probably took place from the simple fact of bothbeing refreshed and reinvigorated by repose; but, certainly, thingsbegan to seem quite practicable to Edward, and even very feasible, whichhad before seemed impossible, or highly perilous. The country now becamefertile in windmills, country-houses, and canals, and Edward proposed toget out and ride a little. Lucette gazed at him timidly with a"do-not-leave-me" look; but he explained to her that he was going tosound the leader of their escort, and she made no opposition. He wassoon mounted, and rode forward with the good Bertinois, saying, in agay tone, "I am not going to run away."
The man made no reply till they were out of ear-shot of the rest; butthen he answered, "If you did, monsieur, I should not try to stop you;but others might."
There was so much gained. "Perhaps the others may be out of the way atsome place upon the road," said Edward, "and I dare say we might slipaway easily without being noticed."
He looked keenly in the man's face as he spoke; but the soldier did notmove a muscle.
"Perhaps such a thing might be done," said the man, after pausing for amoment or two. "We were not told to watch you very closely; and duringone of the nights it would not be very difficult; but of course you donot intend to try."
"I am not very fond of going to Nantes," said Master Ned.
"Why?" asked the soldier, with an air of great simplicity.
"First, because it is out of my way," answered Edward; "secondly,because I have no clothes with me, and I should have to appear at thecourt; and thirdly, because probably before I get to Nantes my purse,which is not now very full, will probably be emptier by a thousandlivres."
The reason last assigned seemed to have some weight with the man: "It isbad to have an empty purse," he said. "But come, sir, these cannot beyour only reasons. I wish you would give one which might touch an honestman and a loyal servant of the king."
A bright thought struck Edward at that moment. He knew not whether theman was trying to entrap him into a confession of some sinister design,or whether in good faith he sought--as many a man will do--an excuse tohimself for acting as he wished. Now, it was evident that Lucette'sdisguise was of no avail,--that the soldier himself knew that she was nopage, and that the truth would be made manifest at Nantes. Riding closerto him, therefore, he said, in a low and confidential voice, "It is notfor myself I so much care; but cannot you comprehend that I have got onewith me whom I would not have discovered for the world?"
"Whew!" cried the soldier, with a long whistle: "I see! I see!" andthen, holding out his hand to Edward, he added, "Count upon me,monsieur; count upon me. I can manage the other men. But how happens itthat neither of you have any baggage? Sapristi! you must have come awayin a great hurry; and you are both very young."
"The baggage was left with my other servant, who stayed behind but wasto follow soon. I trust it is at Niort by this time."
A conversation of an hour's length ensued; in the course of which EdwardLangdale convinced himself that his companion was sincere in hisprofessions; and at the end of that time he returned to the carriage,carrying with him hope nearly touching joy.
The party were now entering, or had entered, upon a tract of countrysingular in its nature, its aspect, and its habits. It is called _Lesmarais_, (the marshes,) and, as it may perhaps have something to do withour story, it must have a very brief description. This might bedifficult to give, as I have never seen more than the extreme verge ofthe district; but, luckily, at my hand lies the account of one who knewit well, had passed long months there, and who lived much nearer thetimes of which I write. Thus he speaks:--"The inhabitant of the marshesis taller than the inhabitant of the plain: he is stouter; his limbs aremore massive; but he wants both health and agility. He is coarse,apathetic, and narrow in his views. A cabin of reeds, a little meadow,some cows, a boat,--which serves him for fishing, and often for stealingforage along the river-banks,--a gun to shoot wild fowl, are all hisfortune, and his only means of subsistence. Exposed continually at hisown fireside to all sorts of maladies, his constitution must be verystrong not to give way entirely. His food is barley-bread mixed withrye, abundance of vegetables, salt meat, and curds. His habitual drinkis the water of the canals and ditches,--a source of innumerablemaladies. The agricultural proprietors, or great farmers, known by thename of Cabiners, (_cabaniers,_) lead a very different life, and do notdeny themselves any of the comforts they can procure.
"The inhabitants of this picturesque abode appear, at first sight, themost wretched of mankind. Their cottages of brush and mud are coveredwith reeds. Unknown to the rest of the world, upon a tongue of land offrom twenty-five to thirty paces wide, they live in the depths ofinaccessible labyrinths, with their wives, their children, and theircattle. The silence of these swampy deserts, which is only broken by thecry of the water-fowl, the mysterious shadow spread over the canals bythe intertwined boughs above them, the paleness and miserable air of thepeople, that narrow border which seems to place an immense intervalbetween them and all mankind, the sombre hue of the landscape,--allinspire at the first glance a painful and melancholy feeling, which itis difficult to get rid of. But, on penetrating into the interior, thefreshness of these cradles, the meanderings of these water paths, theinnumerable varieties of birds one meets at every step and which onemeets nowhere but there, cause the first sensations to be followed by afeeling of peaceful retirement, which is not without its charm."
Such was the scene, or rather the country, upon which Edward and Lucetteentered just as the sun was within half an hour of setting, when everylittle ridge or hillock cast a long blue shadow upon the brown moor, andthe many intricate canals and little rivers acted as mirrors to theglories of the western sky, flashing back the last red rays, as ifrubies were dissolved in the calm waters. It was a fine country toescape in.
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