by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER I.
THE LAST OF THE MEROVINGIANS.
About a month had elapsed since the departure of Abd-el-Kader and hisfive sons to meet Charles Martel in battle.
A boy of eleven or twelve years, confined in the convent of St.Saturnine in Anjou, was leaning on his elbows at the sill of a narrowwindow on the first floor of one of the buildings of the abbey, andlooking out upon the fields. The vaulted room in which the boy was keptwas cold, spacious, bare and floored with stone. In a corner stood alittle bed, and on a table a few toys roughly cut out of coarse wood. Afew stools and a trunk were its only furniture. The boy himself, dressedin a threadbare and patched black serge, had a sickly appearance. Hisface, biliously pale, expressed profound sadness. He looked at thedistant fields, and tears ran down his hollow cheeks. While he wasdreaming awake, the door of the room opened and a young girl of aboutsixteen stepped in softly. Her complexion was dark brown but extremelyfresh, her lips were red, her hair as well as her eyes jetty black, andher eyebrows were exquisitely arched. A more comely figure could ill beimagined, despite her drugget petticoat and coarse apron, the ends ofwhich were tucked under her belt and which was full of hemp ready to bespun. Septimine held her distaff in one hand and in the other a littlewooden casket. At the sight of the boy, who remained sadly leaning onhis elbows at the window, the young girl sighed and said to herself:"Poor little fellow ... always sorry ... I do not know whether the newsI bring will be good or bad for him.... If he accepts, may he neverhave cause to look back with regret to this convent." She softlyapproached the child without being heard, placed her hand upon hisshoulder with gentle familiarity and said playfully: "What are youthinking about, my dear prince?"
The child was startled. He turned his face bathed in tears towardsSeptimine, and letting himself down with an air of utter dejectment on astool near the window, said: "Oh, I am weary!... I am weary to death!"and the tears flowed anew from his fixed and red eyes.
"Come now, dry those ugly tears," the young maid replied affectionately."I came to entertain you. I brought along a large supply of hemp to spinin your company while talking to you, unless you prefer a game ofhuckle-bones--"
"Nothing amuses me. Everything tires me."
"That is sad for those who love you; nothing amuses you, nothing pleasesyou. You are always downcast and silent. You take no care of yourperson. Your hair is unkempt ... and your clothes in rags! If your hairwere well combed over your forehead, instead of falling in disorder, youwould not look like a little savage.... It is now three days since youhave allowed me to arrange it, but to-day, will ye, nill ye, I shallcomb it."
"No; no; I won't have it!" said the boy stamping his foot with feverishimpatience. "Leave me alone; your attentions annoy me."
"Oh, oh! You can not frighten me with your stamping," Septimine repliedmirthfully. "I have brought along in this box all that I need to combyou. Be wise and docile."
"Septimine.... Leave me in peace!"
But the young girl was not to be discouraged. With the authority of a"big sister" she turned around the chair of the recalcitrant boy andforced him to let her disentangle his disordered hair. While thus givinghim her care with as much affection as grace, Septimine, standing behindhim said: "Are you not a hundred times better looking this way, my dearprince?"
"What is the difference, good looking or not?... I am not allowed toleave this convent.... What have I done to be so wretched?"
"Alack, poor little one ... you are the son of a king!"
The boy made no answer, but he hid his face in his hands and fell toweeping, from time to time crying in a smothered voice: "My father....Oh, my father.... Alas!... He is dead!"
"Oh, if you again start crying, and, worst of all, to speak of yourfather, you will make me also cry. Although I scold you for yournegligence, I do pity you. I came to give you some hope, perhaps."
"What do you mean, Septimine?"
Having finished dressing the boy's hair, the young girl sat down nearhim on a stool, took up her distaff, began to spin and said in a low andmysterious voice: "Do you promise to be discreet?"
"Whom do you expect I can talk to? Whom could I reveal secrets to? Ihave an aversion to all the people in this place."
"Excepting myself.... Not true?"
"Yes, excepting you, Septimine.... You are the only one who inspires mewith some little confidence."
"What distrust could a little girl, born in Septimany, inspire you with?Am not I as well as my mother, the wife of the outside porter of thisconvent, a slave? When eighteen months ago you were brought to thisplace and I was not yet fifteen, I was assigned to you, to entertain youand play with you. Since then we have grown up together. You becameaccustomed to me.... Is it not of course that you should have someconfidence in me?"
"You just told me you had some hope to give me.... What hope can yougive me? I want to hear?"
"Do you first promise to be discreet?"
"Be easy on that score. I shall be discreet."
"Promise me also not to begin to weep again, because I shall have tospeak about your father, a painful subject to you."
"I shall not weep, Septimine."
"It is now eighteen months since your father, King Thierry, died on hisdomain in Compiegne, and the steward of the palace, that wicked CharlesMartel, had you taken to this place and kept imprisoned ... poor dearinnocent boy!"
"My father always said to me: 'My little Childeric, you will be a kinglike myself, you will have dogs and falcons to hunt with, handsomehorses, chariots to ride in, slaves to serve you'; and yet I have noneof these things here. Oh, God! Oh, God! How unhappy I am!"
"Are you going to start weeping again?"
"No, Septimine; no, my little friend."
"That wicked Charles Martel had you brought to this convent, as I wassaying, in order to reign in your place, as he virtually reigned in theplace of your father, King Thierry."
"But there are in this country of Gaul enough dogs, falcons, horses andslaves for that Charles to have an abundance and I also. Is it not so?"
"Yes ... if to reign means simply to have all these things ... but I,poor girl, do not understand these things. I only know that your fatherhad friends who are enemies of Charles Martel, and that they would liketo see you out of this convent. That is the secret that I had for you."
"And I, Septimine, would also like to be out of here! The devil take themonks and their convent."
After a moment's hesitation, the young girl stopped spinning and saidto the young prince in a still lower voice and looking around as iffearing to be heard: "It depends upon you to get out of this convent."
"Upon me!" cried Childeric. "That would be quickly done on my part. Buthow?"
"Mercy! Do not speak so loud," replied Septimine uneasily and castingher eyes towards the door. "I always fear some one is there listening."She rose and went on tip-toe to listen at the door and peep through thekeyhole. Feeling reassured by the examination, Septimine returned to herseat, again started to spin, and went on talking with Childeric: "Youcan walk in the garden during the day?"
"Yes, but the garden is surrounded by a high wall, and I am alwaysaccompanied by one of the monks. That is why I prefer to remain in thisroom to walking in such company."
"They lock you up at night--"
"And a monk sleeps outside before my door."
"Just look out of this window."
"What for?"
"To see whether the height of the window above the ground would frightenyou."
Childeric looked out of the window. "It is very high, Septimine; it isreally very high."
"You little coward! It is only eight or ten feet at most. Suppose a ropewith large knots were fastened to that iron bar yonder, would you havethe courage to descend by the rope, helping yourself with your feet andhands?"
"Oh, I never could do that!"
"You would be afraid? Great God, is it possible!"
"The attempt looks to me above my strength."
"I would not be afraid, a
nd I am only a girl.... Come, have courage, myprince."
The boy looked once more out of the window, reflected and proceeded tosay: "You are right.... It is not as high as it looked at first. Butthe rope, Septimine, how am I to get it? And then, when I am down there,at night.... What shall I do then?"
"At the bottom of the window you will find my father. He will throw uponyour shoulders the caped cloak that I usually wear. I am not really muchtaller than you. If you wrap the mantle well around you and lower thecape well over your face, my father could, with the help of the night,make you pass for me, traverse the interior of the convent, and reachhis lodge outside. There, friends of your father would be waiting onhorseback. You would depart quickly. You would have the whole nightbefore you, and in the morning, when your flight was discovered, itwould be too late to start in your pursuit.... Now answer, Childeric,will you have the courage to descend from this window in order to regainyour freedom?"
"Septimine, I have a strong desire to do so ... but--"
"But you are afraid.... Fie! A big boy like you! It is shameful!"
"And who will give me a rope?"
"I.... Are you decided? You will have to hurry; your father's friendsare in the neighborhood.... To-night and to-morrow night they will bewaiting with horses not far from the walls of the convent ... to takeyou away--"
"Septimine, I shall have the courage to descend, yes ... I promise you."
"Forget not, Childeric, that my mother, my father and I are exposingourselves to terrible punishment, even death perhaps, by favoring yourflight. When the proposition was made to my father to help in yourescape, he was offered money. He refused, saying: 'I want no otherreward than the satisfaction of having contributed in the deliveranceof the poor little fellow, who is always sad and weepful all theseeighteen months, and who is dying of grief.'"
"Oh, be easy. When I shall be king, like my father, I shall make youhandsome presents; I shall give you fine clothes, jewelry--"
"I do not need your presents. You are a child that one must sympathizewith. That is all that concerns me. 'It is not because the poor littlefellow is the son of a king that I take an interest in him,' my fatherhas said to me, 'because, after all, he is of the race of those Frankswho have held us in bondage, us the Gauls, ever since Clovis. No, I wishto help the poor little fellow because I pity him.' Now, remember,Childeric, the slightest indiscretion on your part would draw terriblemisfortunes upon my family."
"Septimine, I shall say nothing to anybody, I shall have courage, andthis very night I shall descend by the window to join my father'sfriends. Oh! What happiness!" the child added, clapping his hands, "whathappiness! I shall be free to-morrow!... I shall be a king like myfather!"
"Wait till you are away to rejoice!... And now, listen to me carefully.You are always locked in after evening prayers. The night is quite darkby that time. You will have to wait about half an hour. Then tie therope and let yourself down into the garden. My father will be at thefoot of the window--"
"Agreed.... But where is the rope?"
"Here," said Septimine, taking from amidst the flax that she held in herapron a roll of thin but strong rope, furnished with knots at intervals."There is at the end, as you see, an iron hook; you will fasten that tothis bar, and you will then let yourself down from knot to knot till youreach the ground."
"Oh! I am no longer afraid! But where shall I hide the rope? Where shallI keep it until evening?"
"Under the mattress of your bed."
"Good! Give it to me!" and the young prince, helped by Septimine, hidthe rope well under the mattress. Hardly had they re-covered the bedwhen trumpets were heard blowing at a distance. Septimine and Childericlooked at each other for a moment in astonishment. The young girlreturned to her seat, took up her distaff and observed in greatexcitement:
"Something unusual is going on outside of the abbey.... They may comehere.... Take up your huckle-bones and play with them."
Childeric mechanically obeyed the orders of the young girl, sat down onthe floor, and began to play huckle-bones, while Septimine, withapparent unconcern, spun at her distaff near the window. A few minuteslater the door of the room opened. Father Clement, the abbot of theconvent, came in and said to the young girl: "You can go away; I shallcall you back if I want you."
Septimine hastened to leave; but thinking she could profit by a momentwhen the monk did not see her, she placed her finger to her lips inorder to convey to Childeric a last warning of discretion. The abbothappening to turn around suddenly, the girl hardly had time to carry herhand to her hair in order to conceal the meaning of her first gesture.Septimine feared she had aroused the suspicion of Father Clement, whofollowed her with penetrating eyes, and her apprehensions ripened intocertainty when, having arrived at the threshold of the door and turninga last time to salute the Father, her eyes met his scrutinizing gazefixed upon her.
"May God help us," said the poor girl seized with mortal anxiety andleaving the room. "At the sight of the monk the unhappy prince becamepurple in the face.... He did not take his eyes from the bed where wehid the rope. Oh, I tremble for the little fellow and for us!... Oh!What will come of it?"
