Wolf Breed

by Jackson Gregory

  CHAPTER XV

  THE TALE OF LE BEAU DIABLE

  His meeting with Ygerne two hours before noon cast out from his mindall thoughts which did not have to do with her. There was a new gloryabout her this morning, crowning her like an aureole. Partly was thisdue to a greater care in her dress and the arranging of hercopper-brown hair; partly to the emotions which at sight of him chargedthrough her. She was going down to her breakfast at Joe's when he sawher. He crossed the street to her, his face brightening like a boy's.As he moved along at her side, having had only a fleeting, tantalisingglimpse of the grey of her eyes from under the wide brim of her hat, hewhispered:

  "Do you love me, Ygerne?"

  There were men on the street who, though they might not hear the words,could not misread the look. She flushed a little, sent anotherflashing sidelong glance at him, making him no other answer than that.He asked none other. He accompanied her to Joe's and where they haddined the other evening in the privacy of the half shut-off room, theybreakfasted now. Drennen ordered another cup of coffee for himself andforgot to drink it as he had forgotten the first.

  Ygerne, on the other hand, ate her meal with composure. When he soughtin a lover's undertone to refer to last night she remarked evasivelyupon the weather. When he said, over and over, "And you do love me,Ygerne?" she turned her eyes anywhere but upon his and refused to hear.And he laughed a new laugh, so different from that of yesterday, andworshipped man fashion and man fashion yearned to have her in his arms.When at last she had paid her own score, so insistent upon it thatDrennen gave over amusedly, they went out together.

  "We're going down the river," he told her quite positively. "I wantyou to sit upon a certain old log I know while I talk to you."

  For a little he thought that she would refuse. Then, a hotter flush inher cheeks, she turned with him, passing down the river bank. Theydrew abreast of his dugout, Ygerne glancing swiftly in at the opendoor. They had grown silent, even Drennen finding little to say asthey moved on. But at length they came to the log, having passedaround many green willowed kinks in the Little MacLeod. The girl,sitting, either consciously or through chance, took the attitude inwhich Drennen had come upon her with the dual fever in his blood.

  Thus Drennen's idyl began. Ygerne, staring straight out before herwith wide, unseeing eyes, spoke swiftly, her voice a low monotone thatfitted in well with the musing eyes. She loved him; she told him so ina strangely quiet tone and Drennen, wishing to believe, believed andthrilled under her words like the strings of an instrument under asweeping hand. She told him that while he had been unsleeping lastnight neither had she slept.

  "I didn't know that love came this way," she said. "It was easy tofind interest in you; you were wrapped in it like a cloak. Then Ithink I came to hate you, just as you said that you hated me . . ."

  "I was mad, Ygerne!" he broke in contritely.

  "Or are we mad now?" she laughed, a vague hint of trouble on her lips."You say we don't know much of each other. It is worse than just that.What little I know of you is not pretty knowledge. What little I havetold you of myself, what you have seen of my companions here, what youhave guessed, is hardly the sort of thing to make you choose me, is it?You called me adventuress more than once. Are you sure now that I amnot what you named me?"

  "I am sure," he answered steadily, his faith in his idol strong uponhim. "You are a sweet woman and a true, Ygerne. And if youweren't . . . why, just so you loved me I should not care!"

  So they passed from matters vital to mere lovers' talk that was nonethe less vital to them. Drennen, having long lived a starvingexistence, his soul pent up within his own self, opened his heart toher and poured out the thoughts which not even to himself had hehitherto acknowledged. He told of his old life in the cities; of theshame and disgrace that had driven him an alien into a sterner landwhere the names of men meant less than the might and cunning of theirright hands; of his restless life leading him up and down upon a trailof flint; of disappointment and disillusion encountered on every handuntil all of the old hopes and kindly thoughts were stripped from him;of the evil days which had turned sour within him the milk of humankindness.

  Two things alone he would not talk of. He laughed at her, a ringing,boyish laugh when she mentioned them, one after the other. The firstwas what lay back in her own life, the thing which had driven her here.

  "Don't you want me to tell you of that?" she had asked, looking at himswiftly.

  "No," he had answered. "Not now. When we are married, Ygerne, then ifyou want to tell me I want to hear."

  His faith in her was perfect, that was all. He wanted her to know thatit was and took this method of telling her.

  The other matter was his gold.

  "You haven't told me of your discovery," she reminded him, again aftera brief, keen scrutiny. "Aren't you going to tell me . . . David?"

  It was the first time she had called him David, and the foolish joy atthe little incident drove him to take her again to his arms. But witha steady purpose he refused to tell her. He had his reason and to givethe reason would thwart his purpose. He meant to go to Lebarge andattend to the routine work there in connection with a new claim. Thatmatter settled, and another, he would return swiftly to MacLeod'sSettlement. He would seek Ygerne and they two would slip awaytogether. He would take her with him so that her eyes might be thefirst to see with him the golden gash in the breast of earth. He wouldtell her: "It is yours, Ygerne."

  So he just said lightly:

  "Wait a little, Ygerne. Wait until I come back from Lebarge. I'll begone a week at most. And then . . . and then, Ygerne . . ."

  He had been holding her a little away from him so that he could lookinto her eyes, his soul drinking deep of the wine of them. Now hebroke off sharply, a swift frown driving for the instant the radianceof his joy from his face. He had forgotten that he and Ygerne Bellairewere not in truth the only two created beings upon the bosom of earth.And now, from around a bend in the river came a low voice singing,Garcia coming into view, Garcia's eternal song upon his lips:

  "The perfume of roses, of little red roses; (Thou art a rose, oh, so sweet, _corazon_!)"

  Garcia's eyes, a little glint of slumbrous fire in their midnightdepths, were upon the man and the girl. He paused a moment, stared,bowed deeply with the old dramatic sweep of his hat. A hot spurt ofrage flared across Drennen's brain; this was no accidental meeting.Garcia had seen them leave the Settlement and had followed. Then theburning wrath changed quickly to hard, cold, watchful anger. Through amere whim of the little gods of chance he had seen another face in thethicket or young elms not twenty paces from Ygerne's log, a face withhard, malevolent eyes, peaked at the bottom with a coppery Vandyckbeard. If Ramon Garcia had seen, certainly Sefton had both seen andheard.

  When Drennen's long strides had carried him to the thicket there wasonly the down trodden grass to show him where Sefton had stood forperhaps ten minutes. When he had come back to Ygerne Ramon Garcia hadended his stare, had turned with his shoulders lifting, and twirlinghis mustaches had gone back toward the Settlement.

  "Ygerne," cried Drennen harshly, "why do you travel with men like thatSefton and Lemarc?"

  Her voice was cool, her eyes were cool, as she answered him.

  "Marc Lemarc is my cousin. Captain Sefton is his friend. Is thatreason enough?"

  "No. What have the three of you in common?"

  She caught up one knee between her clasped hands, once more seated, andlooked up at him curiously. For a moment she seemed to hesitate; thenshe spoke quietly, her eyes always intent upon his.

  "So, if you don't want to know what drove me from New Orleans you dowant to know what brought me here? I think that perhaps you couldguess if you had heard as much as other men know about my grandfather,Bellaire _le Beau Diable_, as men called him. It is the quest of gold,his gold, which has brought me, and with me Marc and Captain Sefton."

  Drennen frowned, shaking his head slowly.
r />   "You won't need to seek such things now, Ygerne," he said with quietconviction in his tone. "Surely you know the type of men these twoare? Will you cut loose from them, dear?"

  The fine lines of her dark eyebrows curved questioningly.

  "Because you have found gold, much gold," she returned, "must I come toyou penniless, like a beggar?"

  Before he could answer she spoke again, flushed with that quick temperwhich was a part of her.

  "They would be glad enough, both of them, if I drew out now! But Iwon't do it! It is mine, all mine, and I am going to find it! Theyshall have their shares, as I promised them: ten per cent each. And I,Sir Midas, will not be suspected then of falling in love with you as Iam doing because you are rich and I have nothing!"

  "Then," said Drennen, "if you are not to be turned aside can I help?Will you tell me about it, Ygerne?"

  "Yes and yes," she answered eagerly. "I'll tell you and you can help.Here is the story: When Napoleon was overthrown my grandfather, PaulBellaire, was a boy of eighteen. But already Napoleon's eye had foundhim and he was Captain Bellaire. That title suited him better than hisinherited one of Count. Already men called him _le Beau Diable_. ThenNapoleon went down before Wellington and Paul Bellaire had to shift forhimself under difficult circumstances. But he didn't flee from Franceas did so many. He twirled his young mustaches and went to Paris.

  "Louis, _le Desire_, had at length got his desire and was King LouisXVIII. Now that the lion was in his cage Louis roared. The youngCaptain Bellaire, going everywhere that entertaining society was to befound, managed to keep out of Louis's hands. One night, while he wasbeing sought in one end of the kingdom, he danced _en masque_ in thepalace of the king. The most celebrated beauty of the court was theLady Louise de Neville. Perhaps a little because she was the beautyshe was, perhaps more because she was the king's ward, Paul Bellairepaid her his court.

  "The king had a husband for her but the Lady Louise had found one moreto her liking. Knowing what royal displeasure might mean, and being,despite her hot heart, a cool-headed sort of person, she tookprecautions to put all of her estates into gold and jewels which onecould carry readily in case of flight. Then she slipped away from thecourt and rode with her lover to the south.

  "That was in the year 1820. Bellaire, though penniless after thedisaster of 1815, had managed in the five years to have accumulatedmuch. He was a born gambler and the fates turned the dice for him sothat men said that he was in truth the Devil and the son of the Devil.Like the Lady Louise he had his property converted into such form thata man might carry it in his hands. It became known publicly after theflight that the Nemours diamonds and the pearls of the old prince deChartres had found their way into Bellaire's hands across a table witha green top.

  "When the honeymoon was six hours old the wrath of the testy king foundthem. Paul Bellaire put the Lady Louise out of a side door and uponher horse; then he unlocked the front door and bowed to his callers.They were five men and those of them whom he did not merely cripple hekilled. All of France rang with it."

  The girl was breathing deeply as though agitated by her own tale, hereyes having the look of one who stares at ghost figures through the dimyears. In her voice there was the ringing note of pride, pride ofblood, of consanguinity with such a man as her fancy pictured PaulBellaire to have been.

  "He was hurt, badly hurt," she went on. "But he found another horseand left the village, following the Lady Louise to the coast andcarrying with him both her moneys and his. A ship brought them toAmerica and they made a home in New Orleans. There they sought andfound exiles of their own station, making about them a circle asbrilliant as Louis's court. And here Bellaire prospered until after myfather was born. Then there came other trouble, a game in PaulBellaire's own home over which there were hot dispute and pistol shots.And once more, because he had killed a man who was not without fame,wealth and a wide reaching influence, Paul Bellaire became an exile.

  "After that night the Countess Louise saw my grandfather only fourtimes. An exile from two countries, two prices upon his head, heplayed daily with death. Driven from France he had come to America;now driven from America he went back to France. Louis was dead; a newgovernment held sway; and yet he was not forgotten there. Once, eventhe authorities got their hands upon him. But again he slipped away,and again he came to New Orleans. He spent one night in his own homewith the Countess Louise and their little son; then word of his returnleaked out and once more he was a fugitive.

  "In spite of all this he lived to be a man of seventy. In 1850, drawnwith the tide of adventurers surging to California, he took ship toPanama, crossed the isthmus, and at last came to the Golden Gate. Helived in California for seven years, added to his wealth, and went backfor the second time to New Orleans. Again he made the long trip to theWest, but this time he fared further and came on into the Dominion ofCanada. He was wealthy, more wealthy than most men suspected then. Hebrought servants with him and plunging into the wilds devoted his timeto the lure of exploration and the sport of hunting big game. A thirdtrip to New Orleans and he confided in his countess that he had found ahome for both of them and their son in their old age; he would make ofhimself a power in a new world; his son should some day be a man forthe world to reckon with.

  "Coming back to Canada he brought with him the bulk of his own and theCountess Louise's wealth, converting landed property into coined goldand jewels. In 1868 he came back to New Orleans, a hale, stalwart oldman, who thought to have a score of years still before him. But thelaw had never forgotten him and this time found him. In his own home,fighting as the young Captain Bellaire in Napoleon's cavalry hadfought, he went down to an assassin's bullet."

  There were tears in her eyes, tears of anger as she thought of the oldman dying with his wife weeping over him and his son going sick at thesight of the spurting blood. Drennen, watching her, marvelled at thegirl. He remembered her words of the other day: "We of the blood ofPaul Bellaire are not shop girls!"

  In a moment she went on swiftly, the eyes turned upon Drennen verybright, a flush of excitement in her cheeks.

  "My grandmother died soon after Paul Bellaire. They had just the onechild, my father. He was no coward; no man ever dared say that of him;but he seemed to have none of the adventuresome blood of his parents.And yet that blood has come down to me! My father inherited the NewOrleans home and a position of influence. He became a merchant andprospered. When he married my mother he was a man of considerableproperty. It was only when both my father and mother were dead that Icame to know the story which I have told you. In one breath I learnedthis and that during the last years of his life my father's means hadbeen dissipated through expensive, even luxurious, living, and a seriesof unwise speculations. But one heritage did come down to me . . . thememorandum book of my grandfather, Paul Bellaire! And it is because ofthat that I am here!"

  "Lemarc and Sefton?" prompted Drennen.

  "Marc learned the story with me. We looked over the papers together.There was a rude cryptic sort of map; I have it. It meant nothingwithout a key. We searched everywhere for that key. Marc pretendingto aid me, had it all of the time in his hand. When he had had time tocarry it away and place it where I could not find it he came back andtold me that he had it. Without it the map is useless. So Icompromised with Marc, since there was no other way, and he came withme. And Captain Sefton?" She frowned and her voice was hard as sheconcluded: "Marc has, I think, all of the vices of our blood withoutits virtues. Through gambling debts and other obligations he was in abad way. Captain Sexton has him pretty well at his mercy. So, just asI let Marc in, Marc was forced to allow Sefton to become the thirdmember of our party."

  A wild enough tale, certainly, and yet Drennen doubted no word of it.Wilder things have been true. And, perhaps, no words issuing from thatred mouth of Ygerne's would have failed to ring true in her lover'sears.

  "You said that I could help?"

  "Yes." Again there was that g
lint of eagerness in her eyes; no doubtthe old Bellaire fortune of minted gold and jewels in their richsettings shone in dazzling fashion before her stimulated fancy. "Wehave found the spot; it is in a canon not twenty miles from here. But,at some time during the last ten winters, there have been heavylandslides. The whole side of a mountain has slipped down, coveringthe place where, on the map, there is the little cross which spellstreasure. It will take money, much money, for the excavation. AndMarc and Captain Sefton and I have no money. We may dig for months,but at last . . ."

  "I'll finance it," said Drennen steadily. "If you will allow me,Ygerne? I'd do so much more than just that for you! I am afraid itwill have to wait until I can have sold my claim. Then you can havewhat you want, five thousand, ten thousand . . ."

  She had sprung to her feet, her arms flung out about his neck.

  "I believe you do love me, David," she said triumphantly.

  Before Drennen left her it was arranged that Lemarc was to come withhim to Lebarge, that Drennen was to raise the money as soon as hecould, that it was to be placed in Lemarc's hands so that the workcould begin. And the next morning David Drennen, bearing a heart whichsang in his bosom, left the Settlement for Lebarge.

  "In a week at most I'll be back, Ygerne," he had whispered to her. "Onthe seventh day, in the morning early, will you meet me here, Ygerne?"

  And Ygerne promised.