Chapter XXII
Grûl’s Case
On the following day, being alone all day, I walked out, shaking atfirst, but with a step growing rapidly assured. Not far from the cave Ipassed a clear pool, and saw my face amid the branches leaning over it.A pretty cavalier, I thought, to go a-wooing. A little further on I cameto a secluded cabin, where a young woman bent over the wash-tub in thesunny doorway. I went up and saluted her courteously. The alarm diedfrom her face, and compassion melted there instead.
“I have been long wounded, in the woods,” I said. “Give me, I pray you,the charity of a cup of milk, and lend me your scissors and a glass.”
At this the compassion ran away in laughter, and she cried merrily:
“Sit here on the stoop, monsieur, till I get them for you.”
“Plainly,” thought I, “you have not husband or brother in the chapel atGrand Pré!”
On her return she answered as it were straight to my thought.
“My man’s in the woods!” she said, with pride. “And he’s all safe. Theydidn’t catch _him_.”
“You may well thank God for that, madame!” said I gravely, drinking themilk with relish and setting myself assiduously to my toilet. My hair ofcourse I could do little with,—I was no barber’s apprentice. The long,straight, lustreless black locks hung down over my collar, framinglugubriously a face to scare hunger from a feast. But there was enoughof it to be persuaded into covering the patches and scars.
My beard, however, proved interesting. With infinite pains I trimmed itto a courtly point, and decided it would pass muster. It was not unlikemy uncle’s—and the Sieur de Briart was ever, in my eyes, an example ofall that was to be admired. The success of my efforts was attested bythe woman’s growing respect. She now recognized me for a gentleman, andbrought me a dish of curds, and bustled with civilities till I went.
I arrived back at the cave in such good fettle that I felt another daywould see me ripe for any venture. But I was tired, and slept so soundlythat I knew not when my host came in.
In the morning he was there, getting ready a savory breakfast. When Iproposed my enterprise for the day, he said, very wisely:
“If you think you’re fit to-day, perhaps you may almost be so to-morrow.Wait. Don’t bungle a great matter by a little haste!”
So I curbed my chafing eagerness, and waited. He rested at home all day,and we talked much. What was said, however, was for the most part notpertinent to this record. Only one short reach of the conversation livesin my memory—but that is etched with fire.
It came in this way. One question had led to another, till at last Iasked:
“Why do _you_ so hate La Garne?” and was abashed at my boldness inasking.
He sprang up and left the cave; and left me cursing my stupidity. It wasan hour ere he came back, but he was calm, and seated himself as ifnothing had happened.
“I had thought,” said he, in an even voice, “that if I were to speak ofthat the walls of this cave would cry out upon me for vengeance delayed.But I have considered, and a little I will tell you. You must know; forthe hour will come when you will help me in my vengeance, and you mightweaken, for you do not comprehend the mad sweetness of hate. You areborn for a great happiness or a great sorrow, and either destiny maymake one blunt to hate.
“I was a poor gentleman of Blois, part fop, part fantastical scholar, adabbler in magic, and a lover of women. My nature pulled two ways. I wasalone in the world, save for a little sister, beautiful, just come towomanhood, whom I loved as daughter and sister both. She thought me thewonderful among men. It chanced that at last I knew another love. Awoman, the wife of a witless pantaloon of the neighbourhood, ensnaredall my wits, till I saw life only in her eyes. Her husband came upon usin her garden—and for his reproaches I beat him cruelly. But he, thoughnot a man, was not all fool. For loving his wife he could not punishme—I being stronger and more popular than he; but he knew that for theftthe law would hang a man. He hid a treasure of jewels, and with a nicecunning fixed the crime upon me. It was clear as daylight, so thatalmost myself believed myself guilty. In a foul, reeking cell in thecity wall I awaited judgment and the penalty.
“A confession makes the work of the judges easier, and as I would notconfess I was to be tortured—when the Court was ready; all in good time.
“At Blois was a young blade renowned no less for his conquests of womenthan for his ill-favoured face. His ugliness prevailed where the beautyof other men found virtue an impregnable wall against it. He courted mysister. She repulsed him. It got about and shamed him. Then (I thiswhile in prison, and she helpless) he laid a public wager with hisfellows that he would have her innocence.
“He told her I was to be tortured. After a time he told her he couldsave me from that extremity. This thought worked for a time upon herlonely anguish. Then he swore he _would_ save me—but at a price.
“At last the price was paid. He won his wager. On the day that I wastortured she killed herself before the judges. He, astonished, fled toItaly, hid in a monastery, and dedicated himself to the missions of theNew World.
“The judges were, after all, men. They said the evidence against me wasinsufficient. They set me free, as an avenger.
“I have not been in haste. The man has grown more evil year by year; soI have waited. I will not send him to his account till the score isfull. The deepest hell must be ready, and gape for him. Meanwhile, hissoul has dwelt all these years alone with fear. He is a brave man, buthe knows I wait—he knows not for what; and he sweats and is afraid!”
He told the story simply, quietly; but there was madness in his voice.The unspeakable thing choked me. I got up.
“It is enough!” said I. “I will not fail you when you need me.”
But I went out into the air for a little.
A Sister to Evangeline Page 23
