CHAPTER XXVI.
Edward Langdale rode on from place to place, sometimes quickly,sometimes slowly, as the condition of the roads and the nature of thecountry required; and, strangely enough for a journey in those days,neither accident nor adventure befell him. One thing excited hiscuriosity and suspicion, however. At Trapes, where he passed the firstnight after leaving the house of Madame de Chevreuse, when he hadfinished his supper and was just retiring to rest, he caught for amoment, on the somewhat darksome stairs, one glance of a face he thoughthe had seen before. He could not identify it, indeed, for it was lost assoon as seen; but it instantly carried his mind back to his adventurewith the two Savoyards, and he felt almost sure that face belonged toone of them. But neither of the two strangers appeared the next morning;and Pierrot and Jacques both assured him that their horses were not inthe stable.
There are faces that haunt us both in night and daydreams; and Edwardwas almost led to believe that one of these spectres of the imaginationhad taken possession of him; for twice or three times before he reachedGray that face again crossed him for a moment, and always when no oneelse was present who could confirm or remove his suspicions.
Those were not pleasant days to live in; and it is a very difficultthing for any one born in and accustomed to the bad comfortable moderndays to realize those _good old times_. Espionage was then a greatscience, an honorable profession, practised by great dignitaries and menof high degree. Words brought men's heads to the block, and thoughtsoften conducted to a prison. There was no need of overt acts: intentionswere quite sufficient; and friends and foes were so continually changingplaces that no one could tell that the thoughts uttered in theconfidence of familiar intercourse would not be brought forward a fewdays or weeks later to lead one to the dungeon and the rack. Yet it iswonderful, unaccountable, how freely and daringly men spoke theirmind,--how the grave condemnation, the witty lampoon, or the hideouslibel, was disseminated without ceremony. Men laughed and had theirheads chopped off,--and would have laughed still if they could have beenfixed on again, I do believe; for nothing seemed a warning or arestraint.
Edward, however, born in a country where neither the reign of the Tudornor of the Stuart had been able to crush out the spirit of liberty,loved not to be watched; and there is always something more alarming inthe indefinite than the definite danger. He could not divine what wasthe object of the two strangers, if, indeed, they had any object, inthus persisting in following him. The cardinal had lacked no opportunityof detaining him at Nantes, or of arresting him on his journey, if hehad thought fit; and yet he could not clear his mind from suspicion tillhe reached Franche Comte and found himself beyond the power of theFrench minister.
It may be necessary to remind the reader that Franche Comte was notannexed to France till the year 1668; and at the time of which I nowwrite the important town of Gray was a fortified place, consisting ofthe city on the high ground strongly walled, and a suburb on the bank ofthe Saone, defended merely by a small battery. For a long period oftroublous times, so frequent had been the visits of French exiles toLorraine, Burgundy, and Franche Comte, that safe-conducts or passportsfrom one country to another were very generally dispensed with in thecountry and in open towns; but in fortresses some trouble wasexperienced; and it is probable that the directions which the Duchessede Chevreuse had given Edward Langdale to stop in the faubourg wereintended to guard against his detention. The inn which she had named tohim was good, however,--perhaps better than that in the upper town; andthe appointed two days of Edward's stay passed dully but notunpleasantly. The horses were refreshed and the two men none the worsefor the repose. For Edward himself, too, perhaps two days of thoughtwere beneficial. Every man, in the toil and tumult and hurry of theworld, requires some moment to pause and consider his position, todecide upon his future course, to apply the lesson of past errors, totake breath as it were amidst the bustle of existence. Edward was like astout swimmer who had been suddenly plunged into a torrent, and waslikely to be carried away by the flood which for the last three monthshad been whirling confusedly round him; and those two days at Gray werelike a little island of dry ground where he could rest and scan his wayto the opposite bank, avoiding the rocks and eddies which might impedeor destroy him. It is a quaint old proverb, but a true one, that "a manwho does not look clearly before him will often have to look sadlybehind him;" and happy is he who has both the will and the time to doso.
Those two days then with Edward passed in almost uninterrupted thought;but at last the night of the second day came, and yet neither messagenor letter had arrived. Supper had been eaten, and the horses had beenordered for daybreak on the following morning to proceed to Turin, when,toward nine o'clock, the landlord brought in a scrap of writing, askingEdward if that was intended for him. It was addressed inEnglish,--"Master Edward Langdale,"--and underneath was written, "Joinme at Chambery or Aix. I shall be there from the twenty-ninth till thefirst."
No name was signed, but the writing was Lord Montagu's; and thelandlord, on being questioned, said the paper had been given to him by acourier from Arnay le Duc going to Vesoul, who had gone on his way assoon as he had left it.
Now, Edward's knowledge of geography was considerable, and, as far asFrance and England were concerned, minute; but he had at Gray gotsomewhat out of his latitude, and the landlord had to be consulted asto the road to Aix and Chambery. The good man was learned upon thesubject, however, knew every inch of the road, he said, and could findhis way in the dark. It was true, he added, that it was rather a wildway, and carriages could hardly go one-half the distance; but, as thegentleman had horses, it would be easily managed. He must first gostraight to Dole, then from Dole to Lons-le-Saulnier, fromLons-le-Saulnier to Bourg or Nantua, and thence to the Pont du Sault.After that, he said, came Bellay and Aix and Chambery; but there thetraveller would have to ask every step of his way. It was a five days'journey, he remarked, and, ride as hard as you would, it would take fourand a half.
Edward did ride hard, and the first part of the way was overcome in amuch shorter space of time than the good host had anticipated; nor wasit till the party had passed Bourg that any thing like difficultiesoccurred. It is as pleasant a ride in fine weather as any one can take,for the roads are now good and the scenery exceedingly picturesquewithout being fatiguingly grand; but neither Edward nor ourselves haveany time to pause upon the beauties of nature. The roads, however, werethen in a very different condition from that which they now display;and, indeed, the wonder-working eighteenth and nineteenth centuries havedone more for few countries than for the districts lying between theJura and the Rhone and Saone.
On the twenty-seventh of July, Edward Langdale and his party were withinone short day's journey of Aix, and the early morning when they set outwas fresh and beautiful. The hot summer sun was shaded by the rocks andforests, and the air was cooled by the mountain-breeze. As he wasearlier than the first of the days named by Lord Montagu, the youngtraveller suffered his horses to proceed leisurely. But in this he madea mistake. Man always wants more money and time than he calculates upon;and nobody can tell what the want of an hour or a guinea may bringabout.
As every one knows, the country which Edward had now to traverse is aland of rocks and mountains, of rivers and lakes. Not three miles can bepassed without encountering some stream or torrent hurrying down tojoin the great Rhone; and at every mile, as the road then went, was somesteep ascent or descent, flanked with rugged cliffs, sometimes coveredwith dark forests, sometimes naked and gray, with immense masses ofstone impending over the traveller's head without the root of a singletree to bind them to the crag, while high up in front the Mont du Chatwas seen from time to time rearing its rugged front and seeming to closethe pass. About one o'clock, over the edges of the hills some heavyclouds were seen rising, knotty and dull, and of a deep lead-color,except where the sun tipped their edges with an ochrey yellow. The windwas from the northeast, and the clouds were coming from the south. Butthey did not heed the breeze, which soon began to fai
l before them.
"Let us ride faster," said Edward: "the road is good here." And on hewent, keeping his eye on the heavy masses, but fearing no greaterinconvenience than a wetting. He had never travelled in Savoy before.However, by quick trotting he saved himself and his followers for abouttwo hours; but by the end of that time the sun was hidden and greatdrops began to fall. Then came the thunder echoing through the hills,and then a complete deluge. Every thing turned gray, and the old castleswhich strew that part of the country could hardly be distinguished fromthe rocks on which they stood.
Two more hours were passed by the travellers under an overhanging shelfof rock, which afforded some shelter, not only to themselves, but alsoto their horses. But at the end of that time the rain had had the effectof loosening some parts of the cliff, and several large masses of stonebegan to fall, giving them warning to retreat as soon as possible.
The thunder was now more distant and the flashes of lightning fartherapart; but the rain continued to fall, not so heavily, but in a dull,incessant pour. There was nothing to be done but to ride on, and, eventhen, but slow progress could be made; for the roads were cut up in aterrible manner, the smaller streams were swollen so as to be well nighimpassable, and here and there the way was nearly blocked up by piles ofrock and gravel. Night was rapidly coming on; no human habitation wasin sight except a scattered old tower here and there, and that in ruins.
At length, just as the sun sank, a more formidable obstacle than everpresented itself. Where the road took a rapid descent between some highrocky ground on the right and the Rhone in flood upon the left, just atthe spot where one of the branches of the Guiers joins the larger river,an immense mass of rock, undermined by the torrent, had fallen acrossthe mouth of the stream, which, thus blocked up, had flooded the wholeroad. By the side of the water, gazing disconsolately at the rushing andwhirling current, was a group of men, some four in number. It was toodark for Edward to distinguish who they were at any distance, but whenhe came nearer he perceived his two old friends the Savoyardblacksmiths, and two laborers of the country, whom the fall of the rockand the consequent inundation had, it seemed, cut off from their owncottages on the other side.
"Ah! bon jour, bon jour, seigneur!" said one of the blacksmiths, who haddismounted, and was holding his horse by the bridle: "we came all alongthe road with you, after all, but we kept out of your way for fear ofyour pistols. Here is a pretty pass! We shall not get over to-night,these men say."
"Can we find no place of shelter this side?" asked Edward, whosesuspicion of the two men had been greatly abated by finding they hadquietly pursued their way to Savoy. The blacksmith shook his head.
"I saw an old castle about half a mile back," said the young Englishman:"it was not far up the mountain."
"All ruined! No roof," replied the other. "Ask them yourself."
But Edward could not make either of the peasants comprehend a word hesaid. "We must do something," he remarked. "It is growing darker everymoment, and it would give us some sort of covering, were it but under anold arch. Hark! there are horses coming on the other side. Those menwill be into the torrent if they do not mind." And, raising his voice,he shouted aloud to warn the horsemen, who were dashing on at furiouspace from the side of Aix.
The wind set the other way, and the roaring of the water was loud, sothat it is probable his shout was not heard, for the next moment therewas a plunge into the water and then a loud cry for help.
Edward sprang instantly from his horse and advanced to the very verge ofthe stream.
"For Heaven's sake, Master Ned, for Heaven's sake, do not try it!" criedPierrot, catching his arm.
"Here, take the horse," said Edward, sharply. "Let go my arm."
A flash of lightning came at that moment, faint, indeed, but sufficientto show him a horse carried away toward the Rhone, a horseman who hadpulled up just in time upon the other brink, and a man struggling in thewater and trying to hold by a smooth mass of fallen rock, just in themiddle of the torrent, about twelve yards from him. He paused not toconsider, but ran as far as he could up the water, dashed in, and swamwith all his strength toward the drowning man, whom he could justdistinguish. Borne down by the current, he drifted right to the rock,calling aloud, in French, "Do not touch me, and I will save you!"
Such warnings are usually vain. The man's first effort was to clutchhim; but Edward was prepared, and kept him off, catching him tightly bythe back of the neck. We have said that he was a good and practisedswimmer; but neither skill nor strength would probably have carried himacross that small space of twelve yards against that powerful current.But Jacques Beaupre caught sight of him, and exclaimed, "Here, Pierrot,catch my hand. Let us all be drowned in company." And, running in tillthe water reached his shoulders and almost carried him off his feet, hecontrived to grasp Edward's arm and pull him on till he could touchground.
The young lad was almost exhausted, for the man, of whom he had neverloosed his hold, had struggled to the last to grasp him, and the fewmoments since he had left the rock had been all one confused scene ofstrife amongst the dark and eddying waters.
"Here; let me take him, sir," said Jacques: "if ever a man's life wasnobly saved, it is his." And, throwing his brawny arms round thestranger, who struggled still, he carried him on to the road.
Edward paused for a moment, as soon as he could resist the stream, todraw breath, and then slowly joined the rest. They had laid the strangerdown on the bank, and for a moment or two he remained quite still,though his panting breath showed that his life was in no danger.
"Here, moosoo, take some of this," said one of the blacksmiths, pouringsome spirit out of a bottle into the stranger's mouth: "you owe thatyoung seigneur something; for if he had not been here you would havebeen out of Savoy by this time."
"I know it; I know it," said the rescued man, faintly. "Where is he?which is he?"
"Look! look!" cried Pierrot: "there is a light up there, in one, two,three windows. That must be in the old chateau which these fellows saidwas all in ruins. Let us go up. We shall none of us ever get dry here,it is raining so hard."
"Are you able, sir, to walk up to that castle?" asked Edward, speakingto the stranger, who had now raised himself upon his arm. "I fear yourpoor horse is lost beyond all hope."
"Let the fiery brute go," said the other, petulantly: "if he would haveobeyed the rein I should not have been in this plight. I will try toaccompany you in a moment. But what castle is that? It must be Groslie,I think."
He did not speak very good French; but, calling to one of the Savoyardpeasants, he addressed him in his own language, of which he seemed tohave a perfect command.
The good man instantly began to speak fast and gesticulate vehemently;and, translating as best he could the language of signs, Edwardconcluded that the Savoyard was trying to dissuade the gentleman fromgoing to the old chateau he had seen.
"What does he say?" asked the young Englishman: "he seems unwilling weshould go."
"Oh, he talks nonsense," answered the stranger: "he will have it thatthe place is haunted, and says that no one is ever seen there by day,but that those lights appear from time to time at night,--smugglers,more likely, or coiners; but we are too many for them to do us anyharm." As he spoke he raised himself slowly upon his feet and said tothe friendly blacksmith, "Give me some more of those strong waters, myfriend. I will pay you well for them."
The man readily supplied him, and he professed himself ready to proceed;but the two peasants could not be induced by any means to accompany therest. One of the blacksmiths, however, produced a lantern and candlefrom the packs which each carried behind his saddle, and the party setout, not without fresh remonstrances from the boors.
"If they be devils, we do not fear them," replied the stranger, and thenadded some directions which probably referred to the servant, who hadbeen able to stop his horse in time and remained on the other side ofthe torrent.
The peasants seemed to treat the stranger with much respect; but evenwhen, by the aid of a
flint and steel, the lantern was lighted, it wasimpossible for Edward to discern more of the other's person thansufficient to satisfy him that he was a man of distinguished appearance,tall and well formed though slight, and clothed as one of the higherclasses.
The ascent was somewhat laborious but not long, after they had oncediscovered the right road; and about twenty minutes brought the party toan old bridge and gate under a deep arch. By the faint light of thecandle, which was by this time wellnigh burned out, the place lookedfully as ruinous and desolate as the peasants had represented it to be.The rugged outlines of some of the towers showed that much of themasonry had fallen, and the key-stone of the arch and a large mass ofrubbish only left room for the horses to pass one at a time. Still,however, the light they had seen from below continued to stream fromthree windows in a great, dark, shapeless mass of buildings, and theapproach of the new-comers did not seem to have been discovered by thepersons within, if there were any.
"Stop a moment," said Edward, pausing under the arch. "As we do notknow what sort of persons we shall find within, it is well to beprepared. The priming of my pistols may be damp, though the holsters aremade as tight as possible." And, standing under the shelter of thewalls, he took the weapon from his saddle-bow, threw the powder out ofthe pans, and primed them anew. He then took the very useful precautionsof ascertaining that no water had entered the barrels and that the ballswere still in their places.
"Ay, he has got two lives there," said Pierrot, keeping close to hismaster; and then, fastening the horses to some chains which hung aboutthe bridge, the whole party advanced toward the building in which thelights were seen. A low and narrow door admitted them to the foot of asmall stone staircase, and, lighted by the blinking lantern, they beganto ascend. They had hardly gone half-way up--Edward with one pistol inhis belt and the other in his hand--when they heard a clear, merry pealof laughter; and, somewhat hurrying his pace, lest the little candleshould go out before they reached the object of their search, the youngEnglishman reached a little ante-room with a door on the opposite side,through the large key-hole of which a ray of light streamed out upon thefloor.
The door was thrown open without ceremony; but the scene which theinterior of the large hall or chamber presented was what none of theparty expected. Seated round a table, on which were the remains of anabundant meal, with plenty of wine, and sundry papers and maps, was aparty of gentlemen, richly dressed, with the exception of one whooccupied the top of the board and who was habited as an ecclesiastic. Agentleman on the abbe's right hand was in the very act of speaking withsome gesticulation when the door was flung open; but he instantlystopped. The party at the door stopped, also, in much surprise, and eachgroup gazed upon the other for a moment in silence.
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