The Black Wolf's Breed

by Harris Dickson

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE UNEXPECTED

  As one who pauses at the threshold of some fabled palace of the houri,so did I stop, bewildered by the beauty of this virgin field of love,by fancy decked with blossoms, now spreading all the allurements offetterless imaginings before me. A sudden whiff brought me the perfumeof her presence, and, turning, she appeared before me, whether in thespirit or the flesh, I could hardly tell, so transported was I by theswift changes of my thought, merging beauties ever new, ever sparkling,with those scarce tasted ones but just discarded. Yet there she was, adainty thing in white. White of dress, white of face, white of spirit.

  In frightened tones of far-away sweetness, her voice mingled with theair, so low, so melodious one could scarce determine when she commencedto speak.

  "Monsieur, quick, listen. You are in danger. I was in Madame deChartrain's chamber and overheard. You have letters. M. de Grevillewill take them from you--for her sake--they compromise her. There isother danger," she spoke breathlessly on, "other more deadly dangerlurking for you here; I beseech you to leave--at once. M. de Grevillewill take those letters from you by force or guile. Oh, tarry not,there has been so much of blood, and this place so seeming fair; theassassin, the poison and prison houses."

  The eloquence of fear trembled in her words. Half starting forward Idrank in every syllable, not for the warning she would fain convey, butfor their sweetness. All I could realize for the moment was that shehad sought me, sought me freely. Then she was gone. Swiftly,noiselessly as she came, she disappeared. The distant flutter of herskirts among the sombre trees marked the path she went. Through it allI spoke no word, returning, as one who has received an angel's visit,to my reverie.

  I was not suffered long to spend my time alone. The old beau, deVirelle, in his bluff and hearty way directed the attention of a partyof ladies who were with him to where I hung over a marble balustradeenraptured at the broad expanse of valley, rosy tinted with the hues ofebbing light, boundless as the dim horizon of my own sweet dreams.

  "By my faith, Captain, you should have heard the clamor over yourdeparture. Already famous, and so soon weary of your laurels. Ah! atryst," he exclaimed. "Verily you do better than I thought," for hehad picked up a muslin handkerchief, edged with lace, which sought invain to hide itself among the leaves. So busied had I been it escapedmy notice. Instinctively I reclaimed the prize and with no gentle handI doubt, for his touch and jeering manner desecrated the sacred relicof my vanished saint.

  De Virelle scowled somewhat at my precipitation, but, meeting a no lessdetermined air, passed the matter by. His ladies affected not to see.They in their turn plied me with inquiries about the savages inAmerica, asked all manner of silly questions, and completed with theirfoolish simperings the disgust I already felt at such an interruptionto my thought. Yet so great is the force of novelty to women theyclung about me as if I were some strange tame animal brought to Parisfor their divertisement.

  "Zounds, Margot dear," de Virelle blurted out aside, for even his dullsenses saw I was not pleased, "our good Moliere must have had thishermit captain in his mind when he made Alceste to rail so at thehypocrisies of the world, and urge the telling of truth and looking oftruth at all times."

  "How brutally frank! What bad breeding," assented that young woman.

  "This captain seems so full of weariness at our coming, and lacks thegrace to veil it decently; let us go."

  Finding no hand of mine raised to hinder them, these fair dames anddemoiselles, with many pretty pouts and flutters and flounces, betookthemselves away, followed by their faithful squire.

  I began then to feel sorry at having disgraced Jerome's gentleteachings. The light dying away across the distant fields and streams,I resigned my solitary communion and set out slowly toward the villa.The meaning of all the girl had said now forced itself upon myattention. If this were true, and it seemed plausible enough in viewof all that had transpired here, I was indeed confronted by a new andserious danger. Happily danger was not a new fellow-traveler; I merelyturned over in my mind the best means to meet it.

  Going rather out of my way, I found the grooms without much difficulty,and telling them we were to leave Sceaux at once, ordered the horsessaddled, and made ready at a side door where I directed them to wait.My own mind was to tell Jerome nothing of it, but simply to mount thebest horse and ride away alone--if that course became necessary.

  * * * * * *

  I will break in a bit just here to speak of an incident which occurredthat very night in the modest boudoir of Madame de la Mora. Had I butknown of it at the time, it would have saved me many weary months ofsuffering.

  Madame Agnes de la Mora sat placidly, her work basket by her side,busied about some lace she was mending. The Chevalier studied a numberof military maps of Louisiana at his table. It was a pretty picture ofdomestic harmony, then quite unfashionable at Sceaux. A timid rap atthe door, and a voice:

  "Sister, may I come in?"

  "Yes, child," and her sister Charlotte slipped silently in and satherself upon the floor at Madame's feet. There was a strikingsimilarity between the two. Madame, for all her dignified title, beingbut a year the elder, and she scant of twenty. Charlotte, somewhatslighter and more delicately colored, was even of greater beauty thanher sister, with much promise for the years to come. To the casualobserver, though, especially when viewed apart, they seemed almostreflections one of the other. There was something of a lovingguardianship in the attitude of the elder, of confiding trust in thatof the younger, as she leaned her head upon her sister's knee inpensive meditation.

  "Sister, I must tell you of something; I know not that I did well orill," and she lifted her face with a surety of sympathy.

  "What is it, dear, what weighty matter troubles you now?"

  The Chevalier looked up long enough to say:

  "Have you torn your frock, or only quarreled again with the good Abbeover your task?" The girl very evidently had nothing to fear from hisharshness.

  "No! No! Don't tease; it's really important. This day at noon MadameChartrain was in her chamber--you know the young man who came with M.Jerome?" de la Mora nodded.

  "The same I ran into at the door?" and she flushed again at the memoryof our discomfiture.

  "Well, to-day noon at Madam Chartrain's I heard that danger threatenedhim concerning some papers or something which he has--and Madame duMaine, too, they mean him harm; and--and--well, I told him. Did I doill, sister?"

  "What is that, Charlotte? Come here."

  She crossed the room obediently and stood before him.

  The Chevalier asked: "How did it happen, child? Tell me all about it,where you saw him, who was there, and all."

  So she went on to tell of her seeking me in the park, and her hurriedwarning.

  "Well, what did he say to all that?"

  "He didn't say anything; I gave him no chance; I just ran up near himand told him as quick as ever I could that he had better go offsomewhere, and then--and then--well, I just ran away again. He lookedso startled and surprised he could not say anything. When I turnedagain to peep through the hedge he was still standing there with hishands stretched out as if he would have liked to stop me, but I wasalready gone."

  The girl laughed a short little laugh and tucked her hand closer intohis.

  "Did I do wrong, Charles? Tell me, was it so very, very--bold?"

  The Chevalier could not quite suppress the smile already twitching athis lips, though he soon looked grave enough.

  "Yes, child, it was not well; beside, the affair is not yours, and itis always dangerous to meddle. There, now, don't worry, it does notmatter much after all. Soon we leave here and you will never see anyof them again, I hope. This is no place for lassies fair and young asyou. I hope to take both you and Agnes to a new and purer land."

  "Soon we leave?" she repeated, "oh, I forgot; but I don't want to, Ilike it here."

  "Like it? I thought you h
ated Sceaux?"

  "Yes, I did--but--"

  "But, what?"

  "But, nothing, I just like it--now," she insisted illogically.

  "Who is this young man, Charles?" asked Agnes when her sister had gone.And he told her.