CHAPTER XIV
After the awful disappointment Claude and Marguerite experienced whenthey saw the vessel of their hopes sink out of sight, they could onlyturn to each other for silent comfort. Unconscious of whither they went,their feet led them to the top of the high cliff from which Marie hadfallen. Trembling on the dizzy verge, each seemed to read what was inthe other's mind. A leap, sudden darkness, and all would end. The nextworld--what of that? Could there be another world as cruel as this?
"Come away!" they exclaimed together, clutching each other's hands."Come away! Not yet!" And in these words each knew that the otherrealised that death--the death which for a moment they had courted--wasall they could hope for. The ship which had passed was but a chancevessel; the fishermen never came so far north. Their provisions werebeginning to run low; and the rigorous climate which had killed poor oldBastienne must in time sap their young strength. Claude was feeling itsinfluence the more keenly. His wounds had left him less robust than ofold, and the harsh treatment he had received at De Roberval's hands hadhelped to shatter his iron constitution. His cheek, once ruddy withhealth, had grown thin and pale; his limbs were shrunken, and his hands,once so strong and sinewy, had become cold and nerveless. WhenMarguerite rested hers in them, she could not but feel that for himdeath was not very far off; but she dared not speak. She saw he did notrealise it, and his eye was ever filled with pity for her suffering.
With her it was otherwise. Her will bore her nobly up. Instead of losingstrength, she grew more robust. Her step became as light and wiry asthat of the fleet-footed fox which stole silently about the island. Herarms, which had never exerted themselves beyond bending a bow in sport,could now wield the axe as skilfully as Claude's. She had lost none ofher beauty, but in her rough garb, browned by the sun and wind and sea,she seemed, in Claude's eyes, queenlier than ever. On this night, as sheleaned upon Claude's arm, each felt that the strength to endure mustcome from her, though neither allowed the thought to form itself intowords.
When they reached their hut, the terrible loneliness, the blank left bythe death of their devoted old companion, so weighed upon them that theyonce more sought the beach, where the long waves rolled in and broke attheir feet, keeping time, in their melancholy rush and retreat, with theever-recurring wave of sorrow in their young hearts.
"Marguerite," Claude said, pressing her tenderly to him, "this is morethan I can bear. You do not blame me, but I know that I am to blame. Iknew your uncle, and I should never have allowed myself to bring you tothis."
"Hush, dear, you are mad to speak so! Neither of us is to blame. No onecould have foretold the lengths to which my uncle's stubborn will wouldcarry him. But, my own, even at this time, each of us can say that wehave known happiness. I would have had it otherwise; but had I to livemy life over again, I could not have acted but as I did."
"Dear, I know it. But I cannot forget that Bastienne and Marie owe theirdeaths to me."
"You are gloomy to-night, love! Neither died with a complaining word onher lips. It was not you, nor my uncle, who cut them off, but fate.Dearest, the night wind cuts you keenly," she added, as Claude gave wayto a sudden fit of coughing. "Let us return to the house."
"I dread the loneliness," said Claude. "Ah, Marguerite, I am weakto-night, unmanly to-night! I felt at every step I took to the beachthat the spirits of those two murdered women were walking beside me, andyet I welcomed them not. I trembled."
"You are indeed weak, my love. But be strong. We have yet a hard fightto fight. We must not give in till we see France."
"See France! I shall never see it! It is hard, when life promised sofair, to have to lay it down away from the camp and the court. I hadhoped yet to win myself a name; not for my own sake, but that you, myqueen, might be the proudest woman in France."
"I am the proudest woman in the world," she said. "This year of trialhas proved my love a king. I have watched you toil and suffer for us inuncomplaining silence, and the hopeful words which were ever on yourlips told how nobly you were fighting. O Claude, I need you! I need younow more than ever! We each must help the other!" She clung trembling toher lover's arm.
Claude braced himself.
"I must not let my gloomy spirit make my love's as heavy as its own. Ithas passed, sweetheart I feel strong again; and to-morrow I shall beready to fight the battle anew."
As they walked back in the darkness Claude stumbled, and would havefallen, but that Marguerite's arm held him up.
"How strong you are become, my darling!" he said tenderly. "Had I asword on shore I would teach you to wield it; and truly, I think, whenwe get home again another Joan of Arc would be ready to lead the hostsof France."
"'Tis good to see the old spirit return. We shall indeed get home; andit will be sufficient for me to know that my hero is the first in thefield, with my glove borne honourably into the thick of the fight."
But though she spoke thus cheerfully her heart was heavy within her; andwhen, in the night, she woke to hear Claude coughing as he had done onthe beach, she knew that the end must be near. In the morning, a greatersorrow awaited her. She found him weak, worn, and feverish, having spenta sleepless night. When he attempted to build the fire, which had goneout during the night, as he was placing a heavy log upon the drybranches, he fell forward on his face, and would have been burnt by thefire he had just kindled but that Marguerite, springing to his side,bore him bodily to the hut. As she laid him down, she saw that her armwas dyed with blood.
Could the end have come already? He was bleeding at the mouth, and sheknew that his lungs were affected. She had little experience orknowledge about sickness of any kind, and at first she thought he wasdead. But she bravely did what she could to restore him, and was soonrewarded by seeing the languid eyes open with a half-dreamy stare. Theminutes seemed like hours before he showed any further signs ofregaining consciousness, and it was to her as the voice of God when hislips parted, and he murmured her name. His hand pressed hers tenderly,lovingly, despairingly. He had had a glimpse of death, and, as he awokefrom his swoon, his first thought was of the horrors she would enduretill she should follow him. His strength slowly returned, and by noon hewas able to sit propped up in the door of the hut, through which thewarm sunshine streamed brightly.
"How cold it has become," he said suddenly, with a shiver.
"Let me wrap this blanket about you, dearest. You are weak still, but alittle rest will make you strong."
"Your words would drive away any chill breath," he said tenderly, as shearranged the covering about him. "But surely it is strange, with thatwarm sun streaming down, that the gentle wind should so soon have cooledthe air. A moment ago it was as warm as the summer breezes of France.But what means that shouting?"
"I can hear naught," said Marguerite, her heart sinking within her asshe became convinced that Claude's attack had left him delirious.
But suddenly she, too, held up her warm hand in the wind. It had indeedgrown colder, although the restless ocean seemed to wear a calmer smilethan it had done in the early morning. Her ear, too, caught an unwontedsound; it was the screaming of innumerable sea-birds; and as they drewnearer, the loud flapping of their wings resounded through the island.What could their strange appearance mean? While she thus questioned, asudden coughing told her that the keen blast which had swept across themhad left Claude weakened. She went to him, drew him within doors, andwrapped him warmly in the thickest coverings they had; then she satanxiously by his side. The wind grew colder, and the screaming of birdslouder. Both feared some dire calamity--they knew not what. At last adull rumbling was heard, and then a roaring, a bellowing, a grinding, acrashing, and the sudden falling of a mighty burden, as if a mountainpeak had toppled over on their island, which shook and vibrated as withan earthquake.
The two held each other's hands and waited.
"Could it be a ship?" exclaimed Marguerite, suddenly.
"God help the ship that struck with such a fearful crash! But listen!"
The grinding, crashing s
ound continued to re-echo through the island,while the warm sun gleamed brightly down on the two terrifiedinhabitants of the hut; the cowering animals slunk trembling to theirholes; and the timorous birds plunged into the sea, or circled far outover the peaceful waters.
Marguerite, seeing that sudden destruction had not come to them, nervedherself, and went out to discover the cause of the unearthly din. As sheturned her eyes to the northern side of the island, she was almostblinded by the resplendent glare. A huge iceberg, stretching far out tosea, lay hard against the high cliffs, whose base was a hundred fathomsbeneath. A myriad birds circled above it, and flew over the island,wondering at the green stretches and the spreading trees, and thestrange being who stood alone amidst it all.
The berg was like a series of mountain peaks, which scintillated in thesunshine. Its green base, eaten and worn by the seas, sparkled likeemerald, and its innumerable caves and grottos, giving a variety oflight and shade, made it seem a veritable fairy realm. The base, wornwith many hollows, kept up a continuous roaring as the sea swept aboutit, and the crashing fragments, which fell ever and anon with loudresounding splash, added to the din. On the cliff lay piled a huge masswhich had fallen thundering down when the berg struck the shore.
"All is well, Claude," cried Marguerite. "It is but a berg which hascome to visit us in our loneliness. And what a troop of companions ithas brought us! The air is thick with feathered friends! Make haste andget strong, dear," she added, as she re-entered the hut, "and to-morrowyou will be able to come out and look upon it. A fairer sight I neverbeheld. Odin and Thor could not have had a grander palace."
"Sweet, that is like you to turn our terror into a jest," said Claudesmiling tenderly at her. "But hark!" and as he spoke a low, savage growlreached their ears.
"Give me the arquebuse, quick!" cried Claude, and stretched out his handfor the weapon.
But Marguerite had already seized it. She had learned to take aim andfire as well as any man, and she stood with the gun firmly held in herstrong young arms, and pointed towards the door. For one breathlessmoment--which seemed a year--they waited. The growl sounded nearer, anda swift shuffling of clumsy feet told them that some ponderous animalwas approaching. The next instant the object of their dread appeared.
It was an animal such as they had never seen before, or heard of. Ashe-bear, full six feet in length--gaunt and fierce. It had doubtlessbeen prowling about in its Greenland home in search of food, when itfound itself, and the cub which followed it, adrift on this vast berg.The birds, the only other occupants of its habitation, were able toelude it, and so it spent hungry weeks on its slow, southern journey.Scarcely had the berg come in sight of the island when the starvingbrute, followed by its cub, sprang into the ocean and swam for theshore. As it prowled about in search of seals or fish, it had caughtsight of Marguerite. It scented food, and with a fierce growl cameshuffling with the speed of a galloping horse towards her.
As she now looked upon it her heart never flinched. She waited calmlytill it should be within sure range.
It was a beautiful creature, with a mantle of silvery white, tinged withyellow. As it drew nearer, its long, strong neck, its flattened,elongated head, and small ears and mouth gave it a cruel appearance,while its tongue, lolling out, seemed to be lapping in anticipation theblood of its victims. When it was but twenty yards away Marguerite'sarquebuse was raised, and with unflinching nerve she fired at theadvancing brute. The bullet struck it, and with a growl it seized itsbreast with its teeth, as if trying to pull out the thing that hadsmitten it. The next instant it was at the very door, and its huge formshut out the light, as it was about to pounce upon its prey. But Claudehad seized a second arquebuse, and, when the bear was within two yards,fired point-blank into its hairy breast. The bullet entered its heart,and it fell dead at their feet. The cub, which had followed close at itsheels, with a pitiful cry threw itself upon its mother's body, andseeing the warm blood flowing in a great stream, began lapping it upwith greedy tongue.
"Bravely done, my queen!" said Claude, as the bear fell dead in thehut. "I would La Pommeraye could have seen your nerve! What a buzz thisadventure would cause in Paris!"
"O Claude, it is horrible! See that unhappy little creature drink itsmother's life! Dear God, why is life created only to be destroyed?"
As she uttered the prayer, which has gone up a myriad times from amyriad hearts, she turned with a pitying hand to the motherless cub, butat her touch the terrified little creature rushed with ungainly shuffleaway, and skulked among the rocks on the beach.
The dead bear was lying almost at the feet of Claude, a ghastlyspectacle, and Marguerite felt that she must get it outside the hut. Sheseized its huge hairy paws, with their black, curved claws, andattempted to drag it to the door. But, gaunt and starved as it was, itwas too heavy for her strength, and resisted all her efforts. Claude wasin no condition to assist her, and she was compelled all day to moveabout, caring for him, with the shadow of death in her presence.
Night came, and still the bear lay stretched, cold and stiff, in thedoorway. Again she struggled with it, but again her efforts were futile,and there was nothing for it but to let it remain there all night. Butin its ghastly presence she could not sleep; and she lay awake listeningto the crashing and roaring of the berg, as the waves rose about it, andhearing beside her the quiet breathing of Claude. Worn out by illnessand the excitement of the day, he was sleeping like a tired child.Several times, as she looked out on the darkness, she saw a white formmoving stealthily back and forth. She knew it was the little cub, andher heart was moved with pity for its loneliness. She heard its stepdraw nearer and nearer to where she lay, and at last she saw it standingin the door. She moved not a muscle for fear of alarming it, ordisturbing Claude; but when she heard it with an almost human wail throwitself against its mother, she could have risen and fondled it. Allnight it lay there, wondering, no doubt, why that once warm breast wasnow as cold as the icy home it had left.
When morning broke, Marguerite made a movement to rise, and the cub, interror, sprang up, lumbered down to the beach, and plunged into thewater.
"Poor beast!" she said, "we must try to win its confidence. It willdispel something of our own loneliness."
She left the hut to stir up the embers of the fire, and pondered how shemight lure the little bear to her. But it would not come near her, andat her approach dived into the ocean, or skulked behind rocks.
The gentle sleep of the night had worked wonders for Claude. In themorning, when the crackle of the fire told him that Marguerite was upbefore him, he rose, and to his surprise found his limbs strong and hisbrain clear. He looked upon the dead bear, and all that had passed cameback to him. He stepped over its gaunt form, and stood beforeMarguerite.
"Oh, you wicked boy!" she exclaimed, when she saw him. "To get upwithout my permission! You will kill yourself."
"My darling, I am strong again! I never felt better in my life."
"You must obey me, dear," she said firmly. "You are indeed weak, and ifyou overtax your strength--think what will become of me! To please me,go back and rest till I have prepared your breakfast, and then, if youstill feel strong, we will think about letting you stay up."
As she spoke, she laid her hand lovingly in his, and led him back as amother would her child. He would not disobey; and when he was once morewrapped in his blankets, she kissed him on the lips and eyes, laughinglybade him be good, and went about her work with a lighter heart, feelingthat he was indeed stronger, and hoping that the warm summer weatherwould restore him to perfect health.
By noon he was almost his old self, and even Marguerite's persuasioncould not keep him within doors. His strength had not fully returned,but he was able, by resting frequently, and leaning on her arm, to go tothe central part of the island, and get a good view of the wonderfulberg.
As they looked upon it, the grinding ceased. A warm south wind had comeup, and the great mass, catching its breath, slid from the shore, andalmost imperceptibly began to move away. T
hey watched it with a feelingakin to sorrow, as the blue water widened between it and their island.It had been something to break the monotony of their existence; and evenits loud roaring was a relief from the dreary sameness of their days.For hours they sat there, watching it make its slow way northward; nordid they take their eyes from it till it was but a dim, misty fog-bankon the blue horizon.
They had not been alone. Beneath them, on the shore, squatted the cub,watching its northern home drift slowly away; once it made as if itwould have plunged into the waves and followed it, but, seeming tochange its mind, paused at the water's edge.
When Claude and Marguerite went back to their hut, they put forth theirunited strength, and succeeded in dragging the ponderous form of thebear out into the open air. Claude had watched the Indians skin wildbeasts with no better implements than their rude flint knives, and hadlearned the process by which they cured the skins. On the following dayhe set to work to remove the strong white hide. It took him the wholeday, but at night he and Marguerite had the satisfaction of seeing itspread to dry on the roof of their hut. All through that night theyheard the piteous cries of the young bear, as it prowled helplesslyabout. Their own suffering made them sympathetic, and next day both madeevery effort to coax it to them.
At last the bear-skin was spread, broad, and white, and soft, on theirfloor. To their delight they found that their new comrade would steal inat night and rest upon the soft rug, creeping away in the early morning,just as the first robin announced that day was beginning to break.
Gradually it grew accustomed to them, and ere a month had passed itwould take food from their hands, although it would not allow them totouch it. But before the summer had passed, and the September leavesbegan to turn, it would crouch at Marguerite's feet, and rest its snoutin her lap as she petted and fondled it.
All through the summer Claude grew stronger and stronger. The gods weregood to him, for a time was coming when all his man's strength would beneeded.
Marguerite De Roberval: A Romance of the Days of Jacques Cartier Page 14
