The Shoes of Fortune

by Neil Munro

  CHAPTER XVI

  RELATES HOW I INDULGED MY CURIOSITY AND HOW LITTLE CAME OF IT

  Dunkerque in these days (it may be so no longer) was a place for a manto go through with his nose in his fingers. Garbage stewed and festeredin the gutters of the street so that the women were bound to walkhigh-kilted, and the sea-breeze at its briskest scarcely sufficed tostir the stagnant, stenching atmosphere of the town, now villainouslyover-populated by the soldiery with whom it was France's pleasantdelusion she should whelm our isle.

  "_Pardieu!_" cried Father Hamilton, as we emerged in this malodorousopen, "'twere a fairy godfather's deed to clear thee out of thisfeculent cloaca. Think on't, boy; of you and me a week hence ridingthrough the sweet woods of Somme or Oise, and after that Paris! Paris!my lad of tragedy; Paris, where the world moves and folk live. And then,perhaps, Tours, and Bordeaux, and Flanders, and Sweden, Seville, St.Petersburg itself, but at least the woods of Somme, where the roads areamong gossamer and dew and enchantment in the early morning--if we caredto rise early enough to see them, which I promise thee we shall not."

  His lips were thick and trembling: he gloated as he pictured me thismad itinerary, leaning heavily on my arm--Silenus on an ashsapling--half-trotting beside me, looking up every now and then tosatisfy himself I appreciated the prospect. It was pleasant enough,though in a measure incredible, but at the moment I was thinking of MissWalkinshaw, and wondering much to myself that this exposition of foreigntravel should seem barely attractive because it meant a severance fromher. Her sad smile, her brave demeanour, her kind heart, her beauty hadtouched me sensibly.

  "Well, Master Scrivener!" cried the priest, panting at my side, "artdumb?"

  "I fancy, sir, it is scarcely the weather for woods," said I. "I hope weare not to put off our journey till the first of April a twelvemonth."A suspicion unworthy of me had flashed into my mind that I might, afterall, be no more than the butt of a practical joke. But that was merelyfor a moment; the priest was plainly too eager on his scheme to beplay-acting it.

  "I am very grateful to the lady," I hastened to add, "who gave me thechance of listing in your service. Had it not been for her you mighthave found a better secretary, and I might have remained long enoughin the evil smells of Dunkerque that I'll like all the same in spite ofthat, because I have so good a friend as Miss Walkinshaw in it."

  "La! la! la!" cried out Father Hamilton, squeezing my arm. "Here's ouryoung cockerel trailing wing already! May I never eat fish again if'tisn't a fever in this woman that she must infect every man under threescore. For me I am within a month of the period immune, and only feel amalaise in her company. Boy, perpend! Have I not told thee every woman,except the ugliest, is an agent of the devil? I am the first todiscover that his majesty is married and his wife keeps shop when heis travelling--among Jesuits and Jacobites and such busy fuel for thefuture fires. His wife keeps shop, lad, and does a little business amongher own sex, using the handsomest for her purposes. Satan comes back tothe _boutique_. 'What!' he cries, and counts the till, 'these have beenbusy days, good wife.' And she, Madame Dusky, chuckles with a 'Ha! Jack,old man, hast a good wife or not? Shalt never know how to herd in soulslike sheep till thou hast a quicker eye for what's below a Capuchinhood.' This--this is a sweet woman, this Walkinshaw, Paul, but adangerous. 'Ware hawk, lad, 'ware hawk!"

  I suppose my face reddened at that; at least he looked at me again andpinched, and "Smitten to the marrow; may I drink water and grow thinelse. _Sacre nom de nom!_ 'tis time thou wert on the highways ofEurope."

  "How does it happen that a countrywoman of mine is here alone?" I asked.

  "I'll be shot if thou art not the rascalliest young innocent in France.Aye! or out of Scotland," cried Father Hamilton, holding his sides forlaughter.

  "Is thy infernal climate of fogs and rains so pleasant that a woman ofspirit should abide there for ever an' she have the notion to travelotherwheres? La! la! la! Master Scrivener, and thou must come to anhonest pious priest for news of the world. But, boy, I'm deaf and dumb;mine eyes on occasion are without vision. Let us say the lady has beenan over-ardent Jacobite; 'twill suffice in the meantime. And now has'tever set eyes on Charles Edward?"

  I told him I had never had any hand in the Jacobite affairs, if that waswhat he meant.

  His countenance fell at that.

  "What!" he cried, losing his Roman manner, "do you tell me you havenever seen him?"

  But once, I explained, when he marched into Glasgow city with his wildHighlanders and bullied the burgesses into providing shoes for hisragged army.

  "Ah," said he with a clearing visage, "that will suffice. Must point himout to me. Dixmunde parish was a poor place for seeing the great; 'tiswhy I go wandering now."

  Father Hamilton's hint at politics confirmed my guess about MissWalkinshaw, but I suppose I must have been in a craze to speak of her onany pretence, for later in the day I was at Thurot's lodging, and theremust precognosce again.

  "_Oh, mon Dieu, quelle espieglerie!_" cried out the captain. "And thisa Greig too! Well, I do not wonder that your poor uncle stayed solong away from home; faith, he'd have died of an _ennui_ else. MissWalkinshaw is--Miss Walkinshaw; a countryman of her own should knowbetter than I all that is to be known about her. But 'tis not ouraffair, Mr. Greig. For sure 'tis enough that we find her smiling,gentle, tolerant, what you call the 'perfect lady'--_n'est ce pas?_Andof all the virtues, upon my word, kindness is the best and rarest, andthat she has to a miracle."

  "I'm thinking that is not a corsair's creed, Captain Thurot," said I,smiling at the gentleman's eagerness. He was standing over me like alighthouse, with his eyes on fire, gesturing with his arms as they hadbeen windmill sails.

  "No, faith! but 'tis a man's, Master Greig, and I have been happy withit. Touching our fair friend, I may say that, much as I admire her, Iagree with some others that ours were a luckier cause without her. Gad!the best thing you could do, Mr. Greig, would be to marry her yourselfand take her back with you to Scotland."

  "What! byway of Paris in Father Hamilton's glass coach," I said,bantering to conceal my confusion at such a notion.

  "H'm," said he. "Father Hamilton and the lady are a pair." He walked alittle up and down the room as if he were in a quandary. "A pair," heresumed. "I fancied I could see to the very centre of the Sphinx itself,for all men are in ourselves if we only knew it, till I came uponthis Scotswoman and this infernal Flemish-English priest of Dix-munde.Somehow, for them Antoine Thurot has not the key in himself yet. Still,'twill arrive, 'twill arrive! I like the lady--and yet I wish she were athousand miles away; I like the man too, but a Jesuit is too many menat once to be sure of; and, Gad! I can scarcely sleep at nights forwondering what he may be plotting. This grand tour of his-"

  "Stop, stop!" I cried, in a fear that he might compromise himself in anignorance of my share in the tour in question; "I must tell you that Iam going with Father Hamilton as his secretary, although it bothers meto know what scrivening is to be accomplished in a glass coach. Likeenough I am to be no more, in truth, than the gentleman's companion orcourier, and it is no matter so long as I am moving."

  "Indeed, and is it so?" cried Captain Thurot, stopping as if he had beenshot. "And how happens it that this priest is willing to take you, thatare wholly a foreigner and a stranger to the country?"

  "Miss Walkinshaw recommended me," said I.

  "Oh!" he cried, "you have not been long of getting into your excellentcountrywoman's kind favour. Is it that Tony Thurot has been doingthe handsome by an ingrate? No, no, Monsieur, that were a monstrousinnuendo, for the honour has been all mine. But that Miss Walkinshawshould be on such good terms with the priest as to trouble with theprovision of his secretary is opposed to all I had expected of her. Why,she dislikes the man, or I'm a stuffed fish."

  "Anyhow, she has done a handsome thing by me," said I. "It is no wonderthat so good a heart as hers should smother its repugnances (and thepriest is a fat sow, there is no denying) for the sake of a poor ladfrom its own country. You
are but making it the plainer that I owe hermore than at first I gave her credit for."

  "Bless me, here's gratitude!" cried the captain, laughing at my warmth."Mademoiselle Walkinshaw has her own plans; till now, I fancied themsomewhat different from Hamilton's, but more fool I to fancy they werewhat they seemed! All that, my dear lad, need not prevent your enjoyingyour grand tour with the priest, who has plenty of money and thedisposition to spend it like a gentleman."

  Finally I went to my Lord Clancarty, for it will be observed that I hadstill no hint as to the origin of the lady who was so good a friend ofmine. Though the last thing in the world I should have done was to pryinto her affairs for the indulgence of an idle curiosity, I would knowthe best of her before the time came to say farewell, and leave of herwith me no more than a memory.

  The earl was at the Cafe du Soleil d'Or, eating mussels on the terraceand tossing the empty shells into the gutter what time he ogled passingwomen and exchanged levitous repartee with some other frequenters of theplace.

  "Egad, Paul," he cried, meeting me with effusion, "'tis said there isone pearl to be found for every million mussels; but here's a pearl cometo me in the midst of a single score. An Occasion, lad; I sat at thedice last night till a preposterous hour this morning, and now I have aheadache like the deuce and a thirst to take the Baltic. I must havethe tiniest drop, and on an Occasion too. _Voila! Gaspard, une autrebouteille._"

  He had his bottle, that I merely made pretence to help him empty, and Ihad my precognition.

  But it came to little in the long run. Oh yes, he understood my interestin the lady (with rakish winking); 'twas a delicious creature for allits _hauteur_ when one ventured a gallantry, but somehow no particularfriend to the Earl of Clancarty, who, if she only knew it, was come ofas noble a stock as any rotten Scot ever went unbreeched; not but what(this with a return of the naturally polite man) there were admirableand high-bred people of that race, as instance my Uncle Andrew andmyself. But was there any reason why such a man as Charlie Stuart shouldbe King of Ireland? "I say, Greig, blister the old Chevalier and his twosons! There is not a greater fumbler on earth than this sotted person,who has drunk the Cause to degradation and would not stir a hand toserve me and my likes, that are, begad! the fellow's betters."

  "But all this," said I, "has little to do with Miss Walkinshaw. I havenothing to say of the Prince, who may be all you say, though that is notthe repute he has in Scotland."

  "Bravo, Mr. Greig!" cried his lordship. "That is the tone if you wouldkeep in the lady's favour. Heaven knows she has little reason to listento praise of such a creature, but, then, women are blind. She loves notClancarty, as I have said; but, no matter, I forgive her that; 'tis wellknown 'tis because I cannot stomach her prince."

  "And yet," said I, "you must interest yourself in these Jacobiteaffairs and mix with all that are here of that party."

  "Faith and I do," he confessed heartily. "What! am I to be a mole andstay underground? A man must have his diversion, and though I detest thePrince I love his foolish followers. Do you know what, Mr. Greig? 'Tisthe infernal irony of things in this absurd world that the good fellows,the bloods, the men of sensibilities must for ever be wrapped up in poormad escapades and emprises. And a Clancarty is ever of such a heart thatthe more madcap the scheme the more will he dote on it."

  A woman passing in a chair at this moment looked in his direction;fortunately, otherwise I was condemned to a treatise on life andpleasure.

  "Egad!" he cried, "there's a face that's like a line of song," and hesmiled at her with unpardonable boldness as it seemed to me, a pleasantpucker about his eyes, a hint of the good comrade in his mouth.

  She flushed like wine and tried to keep from smiling, but could notresist, and smiling she was borne away.

  "Do you know her, my lord?" I could not forbear asking.

  "Is it know her?" said he. "Devil a know, but 'tis a woman anyhow, anda heart at that. Now who the deuce can she be?" And he proceeded, like atrue buck, to fumble with the Mechlin of his fall and dust his stockingsin an airy foppish manner so graceful that I swear no other could havedone the same so well.

  "Now this Miss Walkinshaw--" I went on, determined to have somesatisfaction from my interview.

  "Confound your Miss Walkinshaw, by your leave, Mr. Greig," heinterrupted. "Can you speak of Miss Walkinshaw when the glory of thecomet is still trailing in the heavens? And--hum!--I mind me of acertain engagement, Mr. Greig," he went on hurriedly, drawing a horologefrom his fob and consulting it with a frowning brow. "In the charm ofyour conversation I had nigh forgot, so _adieu, adieu, mon ami!_"

  He gave me the tips of his fingers, and a second later he was gone,stepping down the street with a touch of the minuet, tapping his legswith his cane, his sword skewering his coat-skirts, all the world givinghim the cleanest portion of the thoroughfare and looking back after himwith envy and admiration.