Les Quarante-cinq. English

by Alexandre Dumas

  CHAPTER LXIX.

  FLIGHT.

  Henri, without losing time in reasoning with Diana, carried her out ofthe house, and wished to place her before him on his horse; but she,with a movement of invincible repugnance, glided from his arms, and wasreceived by Remy, who placed her on her own horse.

  "Ah, madame!" cried Henri, "how little you understand my heart. It wasnot, believe me, for the pleasure of holding you in my arms, or pressingyou to my heart, although for that favor I would sacrifice my life, butthat we ought to fly as quickly as the birds, and look at them, how theyfly!"

  Indeed, in the scarcely dawning light were seen large numbers of curlewsand pigeons, traversing the air with a quick and frightened flight,which, in the night, usually abandoned to the silent bat, looked strangeto the eye, and sounded sinister to the ear.

  Diana did not reply, but rode on without turning her head. Her horse,however, as well as that of Remy, was fatigued with their long journey,and Henri, as he turned back each moment, saw that they could not keepup with him.

  "See, madame!" said he, "how my horse outstrips yours, and yet I amholding him in with all my strength; for Heaven's sake, madame, whilethere is yet time, if you will not ride with me, take my horse and leaveme yours."

  "No, thank you, monsieur," replied she, in her usual calm voice.

  "But, madame," cried Henri, in despair, "the water gains on us; do youhear! do you hear?"

  Indeed, a horrible crashing was now heard; it was the dyke of aneighboring village giving way, to swell the inundation. Boards andprops had given way, a double row of stakes broke with a noise likethunder, and the water, rushing over the ruins, began to invade an oakwood, of which they saw the tops trembling, and heard the branchescracking as though a flight of demons were passing under the leaves.

  The uprooted trees knocking against the stakes, the wood of ruinedhouses floating on the waters, the distant neighings and cries of horsesand men carried away by the inundation, formed a concert of sounds sostrange and gloomy that the terror which agitated Henri began to seizealso upon Diana. She spurred her horse, and he, as if he understood thedanger, redoubled his efforts. But the water gained on them, and beforeten minutes it was evident that it would reach them. Every instant Henriturned and cried, "Quicker, madame! for pity's sake; the water comes;here it is!"

  It came, indeed, foaming and turbulent, carrying away like a feather thehouse in which they had taken shelter; and majestic, immense, rollinglike a serpent, it arrived like a wall behind the horses of Remy andDiana. Henri uttered a cry of terror, and turned on the water, as thoughhe would have fought it.

  "You see you are lost!" screamed he. "Come, madame, perhaps there isstill time; come with me."

  "No, monsieur," said she.

  "In a minute it will be too late; look!" cried he.

  Diana turned; the water was within fifty feet of her.

  "Let my fate be accomplished," said she; "you, monsieur, fly."

  Remy's horse, exhausted, fell, and could not rise again, despite theefforts of his rider.

  "Save her in spite of herself," cried Remy.

  And at the same moment, as he disengaged himself from the stirrups, thewater passed over the head of the faithful servant. His mistress, atthis sight, uttered a terrible cry, and tried to jump off her horse toperish with him. But Henri, seeing her intention, seized her round thewaist, and placing her before him, set off like an arrow.

  "Remy! Remy!" cried she, extending her arms. A cry was the only answer.Remy had come up to the surface, and, with the indomitable hope whichaccompanies the dying man to the last, was swimming, sustained by abeam. By his side came his horse, beating the water desperately with hisfeet, while the water gained on Diana's horse, and some twenty feet infront Henri and Diana flew on the third horse, which was half mad withterror.

  Remy scarcely regretted life, since he hoped that his loved mistresswould be saved.

  "Adieu, madame!" cried he. "I go first to him who waits for us, to tellhim that you live for--"

  He could not finish; a mountain of water rolled over his head.

  "Remy! Remy!" cried the lady, "I wish to die with you. I will! monsieur,I will go to him; in the name of God, I will!"

  She pronounced these words with so much energy and angry authority, thatthe young man unfolded his arms and let her slip to the ground, saying--

  "Well, madame, we will all three die here together; it is a joy I hadnot hoped for."

  As he said these words he stopped his horse, and the water reached themalmost immediately; but, by a last effort of love, the young man kepthold of Diana's arm as she stood on the ground. The flood rolled overthem. It was a sublime spectacle to see the sang-froid of the young man,whose entire bust was raised above the water, while he sustained Dianawith one arm, and with the other guided the last efforts of his expiringhorse.

  There was a moment of terrible struggle, during which the lady, upheldby Henri, kept her head above water, while with his left hand he keptoff the floating wood and the corpses which would have struck againstthem.

  One of the bodies floating past sighed out, "Adieu, madame!"

  "Heavens!" cried Henri, "it is Remy!" And without calculating the dangerof the additional weight, he seized him by his sleeve, drew him up, andenabled him to breath freely. But the exhausted horse now sank in thewater to its neck, then to its eyes, and finally disappeared altogether.

  "We must die," murmured Henri. "Madame, my life and soul belonged toyou."

  As he spoke, he felt Remy slip from him, and he no longer tried toretain him--it was useless. His only care was to sustain Diana above thewater, that she at least, might die the last, and that he might be ableto say to himself, in his last moments, that he had done his utmost tosave her. All at once, a joyful cry sounded at his side; he turned, andsaw Remy, who had found a boat, which had belonged to the little housewhere they had taken shelter, and which the water had carried away.Remy, who had regained his strength, thanks to Henri's assistance, hadseized it as it floated past. The oars were tied to it, and an iron hooklay in the bottom. He held out the hook to Henri, who seized it, anddrawing Diana with him, raised her over his shoulders, and passed her toRemy, and then climbed in himself. The first rays of the rising sunshowed them the plains inundated, and the boat swimming like an atom onthat ocean covered with wrecks. Toward the left rose a little hill,completely surrounded by water, looking like an island in the midst ofthe sea. Henri took the oars and rowed toward it, while Remy, with theboat-hook, occupied himself in keeping off the beams and wrecks whichmight have struck against them. Thanks to Henri's strength and Remy'sskill, they reached, or, rather, were thrown against, the hill. Remyjumped out, and, seizing the chain, drew the boat toward him; Diana,rising alone, followed him, and then Henri, who drew up the boat andseated himself a little way from them. They were saved from the mostmenacing danger, for the inundation, however strong, could never reachto the summit of the hill. Below them they could see that great angrywaste of waters, which seemed inferior in power only to God himself;and, by the increasing light, they perceived that it was covered withthe corpses of French soldiers.

  Remy had a wound in his shoulder, where a floating beam had struckagainst him; but Diana, thanks to Henri's protection, was free from allinjury, although she was cold and wet. At last they noticed in thehorizon, on the eastern side, something like fires burning on a heightwhich the water could not reach. As well as they could judge, they wereabout a league off. Remy advanced to the point of the hill, and saidthat he believed he saw a jetty advancing in a direct line toward thefires. But they could see nothing clearly, and knew not well where theywere, for though day was dawning, it came cloudily and full of fog; hadit been clear and under a pure sky, they might have seen the town ofMechlin, from which they were not more than two leagues distant.

  "Well, M. le Comte," said Remy, "what do you think of those fires?"

  "Those fires, which seem to you to announce a hospitable shelter, appearto me to be full of danger."
/>   "And why so?"

  "Remy," said Henri, lowering his voice, "look at these corpses; they areall French--there is not one Fleming; they announce to us a greatdisaster. The dykes have been broken to finish the destruction of theFrench army, if it has been conquered--to nullify the victory, if theyhave been victors. Those fires are as likely to have been lighted byenemies as by friends, and may be simply a ruse to draw fugitives todestruction."

  "Nevertheless, we cannot stay here; my mistress will die of cold andhunger."

  "You are right, Remy; remain here with madame, and I will go to thejetty, and return to you with news."

  "No, monsieur," said Diana, "you shall not expose yourself alone; wehave been saved together; we will live or die together. Remy, your arm.I am ready."

  Each word which she pronounced had so irresistible an accent ofauthority that no one thought of disputing it. Henri bowed, and walkedfirst.

  It was more calm; the jetty formed, with the hill, a kind of bay, wherethe water slept. All three got into the little boat, which was once morelaunched among the wrecks and floating bodies. A quarter of an hourafter, they touched the jetty. They tied the chain of the boat to atree, landed once more, walked along the jetty for nearly an hour, andthen arrived at a number of Flemish huts, among which, in a placeplanted with lime trees, were two or three hundred soldiers sittinground a fire, above whom floated the French flag. Suddenly a sentinel,placed about one hundred feet from the bivouac, cried, "Qui vive?"

  "France," replied Du Bouchage. Then, turning to Diana, he said, "Now,madame, you are saved. I recognize the standard of the gendarmes ofAunis, a corps in which I have many friends."

  At the cry of the sentinel and the answer of the comte several gendarmesran to meet the new comers, doubly welcome, in the midst of thisterrible disaster, as survivors and compatriots. Henri was soonrecognized; he was eagerly questioned, and recounted the miraculousmanner in which he and his companions had escaped death. Remy and Dianahad sat down silently in a corner; but Henri fetched them and made themcome to the fire, for both were still dripping with water.

  "Madame," said he, "you will be respected here as in your own house. Ihave taken the liberty of calling you one of my relations."

  And without waiting for the thanks of those whose lives he had saved, hewent away to rejoin the officers.

  The gendarmes of Aunis, of whom our fugitives were claiminghospitality, had retired in good order after the defeat and the sauvequi peut of the chiefs. Whereever there is similarity of position andsentiment, and the habit of living together, it is common to findunanimity in execution as well as in thought. It had been so that nightwith the gendarmes of Aunis; for seeing their chiefs abandon them, theyagreed together to draw their ranks closer, instead of breaking them.They therefore put their horses to the gallop, and, under the conduct ofone of the ensigns, whom they loved for his bravery and respected forhis birth, they took the road to Brussels.

  Like all the actors in this terrible scene, they saw the progress of theinundation, and were pursued by the furious waters; but by good luckfound in this spot a position strong both against men and water. Theinhabitants, knowing themselves in safety, had not quitted their homes,and had only sent off their women, children, and old men to Brussels;therefore the gendarmes met with resistance when they arrived; but deathhowled behind them, and they attacked like desperate men, triumphed overall obstacles, lost ten men, but established the others, and turned outthe Flemings.

  Such was the recital which Henri received from them.

  "And the rest of the army?" asked he.

  "Look," replied the ensign; "the corpses which pass each moment answeryour question."

  "But--my brother," said Henri, in a choking voice.

  "Alas! M. le Comte, we do not know. He fought like a lion, but hesurvived the battle; as to the inundation I cannot say."

  Henri shook his head sadly; then, after a minute's pause, said, "And theduke?"

  "Comte, the duke fled one of the first. He was mounted on a white horse,with no spot but a black star on the forehead. Well, just now we saw thehorse pass among a mass of wrecks, the foot of a rider was caught in thestirrup and was floating on the water."

  "Great God!"

  "Good heavens!" echoed Remy, who had drawn near and heard the tale.

  "One of my men ventured down into the water and seized the reins of thefloating horse, and drew it up sufficiently to enable us to see thewhite boot and gold spur that the duke wore. But the waters were rushingpast, and the man was forced to let go to save himself, and we saw nomore. We shall not even have the consolation of giving a Christianburial to our prince."

  "Dead! he also? the heir to the crown! What a misfortune!"

  Remy turned to his mistress, and with an expression impossible todescribe, said,

  "He is dead, madame, you see."

  "I praise the Lord, who has spared us a crime," said she, raising hereyes to heaven.

  "Yes, but it prevents our vengeance."

  "Vengeance only belongs to a man when God forgets."

  "But you, yourself, comte," said the ensign to Henri, "what are youabout to do?"

  The comte started. "I?" said he.

  "Yes."

  "I will wait here till my brother's body passes," replied he, gloomily,"then I will try to draw him to land. You may be sure that if once Ihold him, I shall not let go."

  Remy looked pityingly at the young man; but Diana heard nothing--she waspraying.