Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER IV.

  MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE.

  To be frank, however, it was not the old wound that touched me sonearly, but Madame's words; which, finishing what Clon's suddenappearance in the garden had begun, went a long way towards hardeningme and throwing me back into myself. I saw with bitterness--what I hadperhaps forgotten for a moment--how great was the chasm whichseparated me from these women; how impossible it was we could longthink alike; how far apart in views, in experience, in aims we were.And while I made a mock in my heart of their high-flown sentiments--orthought I did--I laughed no less at the folly which had led me todream, even for a moment, that I could, at my age, go back--go backand risk all for a whim, a scruple, the fancy of a lonely hour.

  I dare say something of this showed in my face: for Madame's eyesmirrored a dim reflection of trouble as she looked at me, andMademoiselle ate nervously and at random. At any rate, I fancied so,and I hastened to compose myself; and the two, in pressing upon me thesimple dainties of the table, soon forgot, or appeared to forget, theincident.

  Yet in spite of this _contretemps_, that first meal had a strangecharm for me. The round table whereat we dined was spread inside theopen door which led to the garden, so that the October sunshine fellfull on the spotless linen and quaint old plate, and the fresh balmyair filled the room with the scent of sweet herbs. Louis served uswith the mien of major-domo, and set on each dish as though it hadbeen a peacock or a mess of ortolans. The woods provided the largerportion of our meal; the garden did its part; the confectionsMademoiselle had cooked with her own hand.

  By-and-bye, as the meal went on, as Louis trod to and fro across thepolished floor, and the last insects of summer hummed sleepilyoutside, and the two gracious faces continued to smile at me out ofthe gloom--for the ladies sat with their backs to the door--I began todream again. I began to sink again into folly--that was half pleasure,half pain. The fury of the gaming-house and the riot of Zaton's seemedfar away. The triumphs of the fencing-room--even they grew cheap andtawdry. I thought of existence as one outside it. I balanced thisagainst that, and wondered whether, after all, the red soutane were somuch better than the homely jerkin, or the fame of a day than ease andsafety.

  And life at Cocheforet was all after the pattern of this dinner. Eachday, I might almost say each meal, gave rise to the same sequence ofthoughts. In Clon's presence, or when some word of Madame's,unconsciously harsh, reminded me of the distance between us, I wasmyself. At other times, in face of this peaceful and intimate life,which was only rendered possible by the remoteness of the place andthe peculiar circumstances in which the ladies stood, I felt a strangeweakness. The loneliness of the woods that encircled the house, andhere and there afforded a distant glimpse of snow-clad peaks; theabsence of any link to bind me to the old life, so that at intervalsit seemed unreal; the remoteness of the great world, all tended to sapmy will and weaken the purpose which had brought me to this place.

  On the fourth day after my coming, however, something happened tobreak the spell. It chanced that I came late to dinner, and enteredthe room hastily and without ceremony, expecting to find Madame andher sister already seated. Instead, I found them talking in a low toneby the open door, with every mark of disorder in their appearance;while Clon and Louis stood at a little distance with downcast facesand perplexed looks.

  I had tune to see all this, and then my entrance wrought a suddenchange. Clon and Louis sprang to attention; Madame and her sister cameto the table and sat down, and made a shallow pretence of being attheir ease. But Mademoiselle's face was pale, her hand trembled; andthough Madame's greater self-command enabled her to carry off thematter better, I saw that she was not herself. Once or twice she spokeharshly to Louis; she fell at other times into a brown study; and whenshe thought I was not watching her, her face wore a look of deepanxiety.

  I wondered what all this meant; and I wondered more when, after themeal, the two walked in the garden for an hour with Clon. Mademoisellecame from this interview alone, and I was sure that she had beenweeping. Madame and the dark porter stayed outside some time longer;then she, too, came in, and disappeared.

  Clon did not return with her, and when I went into the garden fiveminutes later Louis also had vanished. Save for two women who satsewing at an upper window, the house seemed to be deserted. Not asound broke the afternoon stillness of room or garden, and yet I feltthat more was happening in this silence than appeared on the surface.I began to grow curious--suspicious; and presently slipped out myselfby way of the stables, and, skirting the wood at the back of thehouse, gained with a little trouble the bridge which crossed thestream and led to the village.

  Turning round at this point, I could see the house, and I moved alittle aside into the underwood, and stood gazing at the windows,trying to unriddle the matter. It was not likely that M. de Cocheforetwould repeat his visit so soon; and, besides, the women's emotions hadbeen those of pure dismay and grief, unmixed with any of thesatisfaction to which such a meeting, though snatched by stealth,would give rise. I discarded my first thought, therefore--that he hadreturned unexpectedly--and I sought for another solution.

  But none was on the instant forthcoming. The windows remainedobstinately blind, no figures appeared on the terrace, the garden laydeserted, and without life. My departure had not, as I half expectedit would, drawn the secret into light.

  I watched a while, at times cursing my own meanness; but theexcitement of the moment and the quest tided me over that. Then Idetermined to go down into the village and see whether anything wasmoving there. I had been down to the inn once, and had been receivedhalf sulkily, half courteously, as a person privileged at the greathouse, and therefore to be accepted. It would not be thought odd if Iwent again; and after a moment's thought, I started down the track.

  This, where it ran through the wood, was so densely shaded that thesun penetrated to it little, and in patches only. A squirrel stirredat times, sliding round a trunk, or scampering across the dry leaves.Occasionally a pig grunted and moved farther into the wood. But theplace was very quiet, and I do not know how it was that I surprisedClon instead of being surprised by him.

  He was walking along the path before me with his eyes on theground--walking so slowly, and with his lean frame so bent that Imight have supposed him ill if I had not remarked the steady movementof his head from right to left, and the alert touch with which he nowand again displaced a clod of earth or a cluster of leaves. By-and-byehe rose stiffly, and looked round him suspiciously; but by that time Ihad slipped behind a trunk, and was not to be seen; and after a briefinterval he went back to his task, stooping over it more closely, ifpossible, than before, and applying himself with even greater care.

  By that time I had made up my mind that he was tracking some one. Butwhom? I could not make a guess at that. I only knew that the plot wasthickening, and began to feel the eagerness of the chase. Of course,if the matter had not to do with Cocheforet, it was no affair of mine;but though it seemed unlikely that anything could bring him back sosoon, he might still be at the bottom of this. And, besides, I felt anatural curiosity. When Clon at last improved his pace, and went on tothe village, I took up his task. I called to mind all the wood-lore Ihad ever known, and scanned trodden mould and crushed leaves witheager eyes. But in vain. I could make nothing of it at all, and roseat last with an aching back and no advantage.

  I did not go on to the village after that, but returned to the house,where I found Madame pacing the garden. She looked up eagerly onhearing my step; and I was mistaken if she was not disappointed--ifshe had not been expecting some one else. She hid the feeling bravely,however, and met me with a careless word; but she turned to the housemore than once while we talked, and she seemed to be all the while onthe watch, and uneasy. I was not surprised when Clon's figurepresently appeared in the doorway, and she left me abruptly, and wentto him. I only felt more certain than before that there was somethingstrange on foot. What it was, and whether it
had to do with M. deCocheforet, I could not tell. But there it was, and I grew morecurious the longer I remained alone.

  She came back to me presently, looking thoughtful and a trifledowncast. "That was Clon, was it not?" I said, studying her face.

  "Yes," she answered. She spoke absently, and did not look at me.

  "How does he talk to you?" I asked, speaking a trifle curtly.

  As I intended, my tone roused her. "By signs," she said.

  "Is he--is he not a little mad?" I ventured. I wanted to make her talkand forget herself.

  She looked at me with sudden keenness, then dropped her eyes.

  "You do not like him?" she said, a note of challenge in her voice. "Ihave noticed that, Monsieur."

  "I think he does not like me," I replied.

  "He is less trustful than we are," she answered naively. "It isnatural that he should be. He has seen more of the world."

  That silenced me for a moment, but she did not seem to notice it. "Iwas looking for him a little while ago, and I could not find him," Isaid, after a pause.

  "He has been into the village," she answered.

  I longed to pursue the matter farther; but though she seemed toentertain no suspicion of me, I dared not run the risk. I tried her,instead, on another tack. "Mademoiselle de Cocheforet does not seemvery well to-day?" I said.

  "No?" she answered carelessly. "Well, now you speak of it, I do notthink she is. She is often anxious about--my husband."

  She uttered the last two words with a little hesitation, and looked atme quickly when she had spoken them. We were sitting at the moment ona stone seat which had the wall of the house for a back; and,fortunately, I was toying with the branch of a creeping plant thathung over it, so that she could not see more than the side of my face.For I knew that it altered. Over my voice, however, I had morecontrol, and I hastened to answer, "Yes, I suppose so," as innocentlyas possible.

  "He is at Bosost--in Spain. You knew that, I conclude?" she said, witha certain sharpness. And she looked me in the face again verydirectly.

  "Yes," I answered, beginning to tremble.

  "I suppose you have heard, too, that he--that he sometimes crosses theborder?" she continued, in a low voice, but with a certain ring ofinsistence in her tone. "Or, if you have not heard it, you guess it?"

  I was in a quandary, and grew, in one second, hot all over. Uncertainwhat amount of knowledge I ought to admit, I took refuge in gallantry."I should be surprised if he did not," I answered, with a bow, "being,as he is, so close, and having such an inducement to return, Madame."

  She drew a long, shivering sigh--at the thought of his peril, Ifancied, and sat back against the wall. Nor did she say any more,though I heard her sigh again. In a moment she rose. "The afternoonsare growing chilly," she said; "I will go in and see how Mademoiselleis. Sometimes she does not come to supper. If she cannot descend thisevening, I am afraid you must excuse me too, Monsieur."

  I said what was right, and watched her go in; and, as I did so, Iloathed my errand, and the mean contemptible curiosity which it hadplanted in my mind, more than at any former time. These women--I couldfind it in my heart to hate them for their frankness, for theirfoolish confidence, and the silly trustfulness that made them so easya prey!

  _Nom de Dieu!_ What did the woman mean by telling me all this? To meetme in such a way, to disarm one by such methods, was to take an unfairadvantage. It put a vile--ay, the vilest--aspect, on the work I had todo.

  Yet it was very odd! What could M. de Cocheforet mean by returning sosoon, if M. de Cocheforet was here? And, on the other hand, if it wasnot his unexpected presence that had so upset the house, what was thesecret? Whom had Clon been tracking? And what was the cause ofMadame's anxiety? In a few minutes I began to grow curious again; and,as the ladies did not appear at supper, I had leisure to give my brainfull license, and in the course of an hour thought of a hundred keysto the mystery. But none exactly fitted the lock, or laid open thesecret.

  A false alarm that evening helped to puzzle me still more. I wassitting, about an hour after supper, on the same seat in the garden--Ihad my cloak and was smoking--when Madame came out like a ghost, and,without seeing me, flitted away through the darkness toward thestables. For a moment I hesitated, then I followed her. She went downthe path and round the stables, and so far I understood; but when shehad in this way gained the rear of the west wing, she took a trackthrough the thicket to the east of the house again, and so came backto the garden. This gained, she came up the path and went in throughthe parlour door, and disappeared--after making a clear circuit of thehouse, and not once pausing or looking to right or left! I confess Iwas fairly baffled. I sank back on the seat I had left, and said tomyself that this was the lamest of all conclusions. I was sure thatshe had exchanged no word with any one. I was equally sure that shehad not detected my presence behind her. Why, then, had she made thisstrange promenade, alone, unprotected, an hour after nightfall? No doghad bayed, no one had moved, she had not once paused, or listened,like a person expecting a rencontre. I could not make it out. And Icame no nearer to solving it, though I lay awake an hour beyond myusual time.

  In the morning neither of the ladies descended to dinner, and I heardthat Mademoiselle was not so well. After a lonely meal, therefore--Imissed them more than I should have supposed--I retired to myfavourite seat, and fell to meditating.

  The day was fine, and the garden pleasant. Sitting there with my eyeson the old-fashioned herb-beds, with the old-fashioned scents in theair, and the dark belt of trees bounding the view on either side, Icould believe that I had been out of Paris not three weeks, but threemonths. The quiet lapped me round. I could fancy that I had neverloved anything else. The wood-doves cooed in the stillness;occasionally the harsh cry of a jay jarred the silence. It was an hourafter noon, and hot. I think I nodded.

  On a sudden, as if in a dream, I saw Clon's face peering at me roundthe angle of the parlour door. He looked, and in a moment withdrew,and I heard whispering. The door was gently closed. Then all was stillagain.

  But I was wide awake now, and thinking hard. Clearly the people of thehouse wished to assure themselves that I was asleep and safely out ofthe way. As clearly, it was to my interest to know what was passing.Giving way to the temptation, I rose quietly, and, stooping below thelevel of the windows, slipped round the east end of the house, passingbetween it and the great yew hedge. Here I found all still, and noone stirring. So, keeping a wary eye about me, I went on roundthe house--reversing the route which Madame had taken the nightbefore--until I gained the rear of the stables. Here I had scarcelypaused a second to scan the ground before two persons came out of thestable-court They were Madame and the porter.

  They stood a brief while outside, and looked up and down. Then Madamesaid something to the man, and he nodded. Leaving him standing wherehe was, she crossed the grass with a quick, light step, and vanishedamong the trees.

  In a moment my mind was made up to follow; and, as Clon turned at onceand went in, I was able to do so before it was too late. Bending lowamong the shrubs, I ran hot-foot to the point where Madame had enteredthe wood. Here I found a narrow path, and ran nimbly along it, andpresently saw her grey robe fluttering among the trees before me. Itonly remained to keep out of her sight and give her no chance ofdiscovering that she was followed; and this I set myself to do. Onceor twice she glanced round, but the wood was of beech, the light whichpassed between the leaves was mere twilight, and my clothes weredark-coloured. I had every advantage, therefore, and little to fear aslong as I could keep her in view and still remain myself at such adistance that the rustle of my tread would not disturb her.

  Assured that she was on her way to meet her husband, whom my presencekept from the house, I felt that the crisis had come at last; and Igrew more excited with each step I took. True, I detested the task ofwatching her: it filled me with peevish disgust. But in proportion asI hated it I was eager to have it done and be done with it, andsucceed, and stuff my ears and begone from the scene. Wh
en shepresently came to the verge of the beech wood, and, entering a littleopen clearing, seemed to loiter, I went cautiously. This, I thought,must be the rendezvous; and I held back warily, looking to see himstep out of the thicket.

  But he did not, and by-and-bye she quickened her pace. She crossed theopen and entered a wide ride cut through a low, dense wood of alderand dwarf oak--a wood so closely planted, and so intertwined withhazel and elder and box that the branches rose like a solid wall,twelve feet high, on either side of the track.

  Down this she passed, and I stood and watched her go; for I dared notfollow. The ride stretched away as straight as a line for four or fivehundred yards, a green path between green walls. To enter it was to beimmediately detected, if she turned; while the thicket itselfpermitted no passage. I stood baffled and raging, and watched her passalong. It seemed an age before she at last reached the end, and,turning sharply to the right, was in an instant gone from sight.

  I waited then no longer. I started off, and, running as lightly andquietly as I could, I sped down the green alley. The sun shone intoit, the trees kept off the wind, and between heat and haste, I sweatedfinely. But the turf was soft, and the ground fell slightly, and inlittle more than a minute I gained the end. Fifty yards short of theturning I stayed myself, and, stealing on, looked cautiously the wayshe had gone.

  I saw before me a second ride, the twin of the other, and a hundredand fifty paces down it her grey figure tripping on between the greenhedges. I stood and took breath, and cursed the wood and the heat andMadame's wariness. We must have come a league or two-thirds of aleague, at least. How far did the man expect her to plod to meet him?I began to grow angry. There is moderation even in the cooking ofeggs, and this wood might stretch into Spain, for all I knew!

  Presently she turned the corner and was gone again, and I had torepeat my man[oe]uvre. This time, surely, I should find a change. Butno! Another green ride stretched away into the depths of the forest,with hedges of varying shades--here light and there dark, as hazel andelder, or thorn, and yew and box prevailed--but always high and stiffand impervious. Half-way down the ride Madame's figure trippedsteadily on, the only moving thing in sight. I wondered, stood, and,when she vanished, followed--only to find that she had entered anothertrack, a little narrower, but in every other respect alike.

  And so it went on for quite half an hour. Sometimes Madame turned tothe right, sometimes to the left. The maze seemed to be endless. Onceor twice I wondered whether she had lost her way, and was merelyseeking to return. But her steady, purposeful gait, her measured pace,forbade the idea. I noticed, too, that she seldom looked behindher--rarely to right or left. Once the ride down which she passed wascarpeted not with green, but with the silvery, sheeny leaves of somecreeping plant that in the distance had a shimmer like that of waterat evening. As she trod this, with her face to the low sun, her tallgrey figure had a pure air that for the moment startled me--she lookedunearthly. Then I swore in scorn of myself, and at the next corner Ihad my reward. She was no longer walking on. She had stopped, I found,and seated herself on a fallen tree that lay in the ride.

  For some time I stood in ambush watching her, and with each minute Igrew more impatient. At last I began to doubt--to have strangethoughts. The green walls were growing dark. The sun was sinking; asharp, white peak, miles and miles away, which closed the vista of theride began to flush and colour rosily. Finally, but not before I hadhad leisure to grow uneasy, she stood up and walked on more slowly. Iwaited, as usual, until the next turning hid her. Then I hastenedafter her, and, warily passing round the corner--came face to facewith her!

  I knew all in a moment--that she had fooled me, tricked me, lured meaway. Her face was white with scorn, her eyes blazed; her figure, asshe confronted me, trembled with anger and infinite contempt.

  "You spy!" she cried. "You hound! You--gentleman! Oh, _mon Dieu!_ ifyou are one of us--if you are really not _canaille_--we shall pay forthis some day! We shall pay a heavy reckoning in the time to come! Idid not think," she continued--her every syllable like the lash of awhip--"that there was anything so vile as you in this world!"

  I stammered something--I do not know what. Her words burned intome--into my heart! Had she been a man, I would have struck her dead!

  "You thought you deceived me yesterday," she continued, lowering hertone, but with no lessening of the passion and contempt which curledher lip and gave fulness to her voice. "You plotter! You surfacetrickster! You thought it an easy task to delude a woman--you findyourself deluded. God give you shame that you may suffer!" shecontinued mercilessly. "You talked of Clon, but Clon beside you is themost honourable of men!"

  "Madame," I said hoarsely--and I know my face was grey as ashes--"letus understand one another."

  "God forbid!" she cried, on the instant. "I would not soil myself!"

  "Fie! Madame," I said, trembling. "But then, you are a woman. Thatshould cost a man his life!"

  She laughed bitterly.

  "You say well," she retorted. "I am not a man. Neither am I Madame.Madame de Cocheforet has spent this afternoon--thanks to your absenceand your imbecility--with her husband. Yes, I hope that hurts you!"she went on, savagely snapping her little white teeth together. "Tospy and do vile work, and do it ill, Monsieur Mouchard--Monsieur deMouchard, I should say--I congratulate you!"

  "You are not Madame de Cocheforet!" I cried, stunned--even in themidst of my shame and rage--by this blow.

  "No, Monsieur!" she answered grimly. "I am not! And permit me to pointout--for we do not all lie easily--that I never said I was. Youdeceived yourself so skilfully that we had no need to trick you."

  "Mademoiselle, then?" I muttered.

  "Is Madame!" she cried. "Yes, and I am Mademoiselle de Cocheforet. Andin that character, and in all others, I beg from this moment to closeour acquaintance, Sir. When we meet again--if we ever do meet--whichGod forbid!" she cried, her eyes sparkling, "do not presume to speakto me, or I will have you flogged by the grooms. And do not stain ourroof by sleeping under it again. You may lie to-night in the inn. Itshall not be said that Cocheforet," she continued proudly, "returnedeven treachery with inhospitality; and I will give orders to that end.To-morrow begone back to your master, like the whipped cur you are!Spy and coward!"

  With the last fierce words she moved away. I would have saidsomething, I could almost have found it in my heart to stop her andmake her hear. Nay, I had dreadful thoughts; for I was the stronger,and I might have done with her as I pleased. But she swept by me sofearlessly--as I might pass some loathsome cripple in the road--that Istood turned to stone. Without looking at me--without turning her headto see whether I followed or remained, or what I did--she wentsteadily down the track until the trees and the shadow and the growingdarkness hid her grey figure from me; and I found myself alone.