CHAPTER XXXVI.
Sleep was not to be obtained, and I was up long before the dawn. Allthe ch?teau was dark and silent; but as it was in vain to seek thatblessed forgetfulness, which only falls upon the eyes of toil orhappiness, I dressed myself, notwithstanding the obscurity, and,throwing back the casement, gazed out upon the dim and silent world,that lay chill and vague in the fresh depths of an autumnal night.
A heavy dew was falling, spreading a sort of whitish-grey mist overthe woods and falls of ground around the Pr?s Vall?e; but the skyabove was quite clear, and a thousand bright calm stars were lookingout, like the eyes of angels watching the dark scene of man'smelancholy pilgrimage. The ground mist, however, and the nearer massesof dark trees, and the spangled heaven, were the only objects I couldsee as I looked forth, while my ear caught no sound but a light windstirring the leaves, and the faint murmur of the river, whose rarelyheard voice showed the profound stillness of everything else around.Still I gazed out, though it was upon vacancy, for the fresh nightair, as it bathed my feverish brow, seemed to cool the burning of mybrain, and quell the fiery thoughts that were passing within. For nearan hour I continued leaning upon my arm in the deep aperture of thewindow, revolving things which took perhaps a more melancholy but aless frenzied form as the calmness of the night sunk down into mysoul. At length, another sound seemed added to the whisper of the airand the murmur of the stream, and I fancied that some early shepherdwas leading his flock betimes to the pasture of the neighbouringmeadows. But presently I heard a distinct step, which seemed toproceed from beneath a group of trees, at about ten yards from theterrace, under which a walk wound along towards the river; and,accustomed as I was to mark the slightest noise, I at once concludedthat it was the footfall of some one who, in walking along beneath theelms, had crossed the gravel. The next moment, as the step lighted onthe turf again, I lost the sound, but almost at the same time, twofigures came a little forward, and paused under the branches of thetrees. Had it been any other kind of night than that which it was, Icould not have distinguished the two strangers from the ground behindthem, but beyond the trees was a deep slope of ground, in which themist had gathered, white and heavy, and against it both the trunks ofthe elms and the forms of the men beneath their branches were clearlymarked out, though of course it was still impossible to recognisetheir persons.
I have before remarked that neither Monsieur de Villardin nor any ofhis household were, generally speaking, matutinal in their habits, andit struck me as extraordinary that any of the servants should showthemselves such very early risers as to be out and walking in thewoods nearly an hour before daybreak. But I soon found, from theproceedings of the two men who had caught my attention, that they werenone of the inmates of the ch?teau. They paused for several minutesunder the trees, gazing up at the building, and scanning every part ofit attentively. They spoke, too, in a low voice, but it was impossiblefrom the distance to hear what they said, though I could distinctlysee one of them raise his arm and point to the part of the ch?teau inwhich Laura's apartments lay. My own chambers, as I believe I havebefore said, were situated in the tower forming a sort of wing to thewestward of the other buildings, and in the foot of the tower was adoor, which opened at once from the terrace to a staircase which ledup to my apartments, to the rooms above them, and to the corridorcommunicating with the rest of the house.
At the end of a few minutes, the two men advanced leisurely to theterrace, and, mounting the steps, approached the base of the ch?teau,seeming carefully to examine the principal door, from which, however,they turned again immediately, and came towards the foot of the towerthrough one of the windows of which I was watching them. As I was nownot above ten or twelve feet above the spot where they stood, I couldhear more distinctly what passed between them; and to speak the truth,they were conversing with a sort of cool and confident nonchalance,which showed that they either cared not who listened, or had no fearof being overheard.
"I have known this one left open for nights together," said one, asthey approached the door beneath my windows.
"But, if it were, you would not go in?" replied the other.
"Not to-night, certainly," said the first again; "but if we found thatit is still usually open, we could easily come back strong enough todo what we liked."
"Ay," answered his companion, "but would the priest do his part undersuch circumstances? I heard him promise to marry them if they camewillingly; but----"
"Give him a thousand francs more, and he will do anything,"interrupted the first; "I would coin my very blood to do it."
"It would be a glorious booty, to be sure," was the sort of meditativereply; "but, after all, I think we may fall upon a better plan. Weshould find it difficult to muster sufficient hands. However, if weonce get hold of her, we will easily find means to make marriage thebest thing she can do."
"Oh, no fear of that," answered the other; and after a few words morethat I could not distinguish, they tried the door at the foot of thetower, and finding it locked, retrod their steps across the terrace.For a moment or two, they again paused under the elms, and once morescrutinised every part of the building; and then turning through thedell behind, they were immediately lost to my sight.
What could be their purpose? was my first question; and though Icertainly could not find a probable answer, yet one fact wasevident--their purpose, whatever it was, was anything but good. How itmight be obviated became the next consideration; and as I was aboutto quit the vicinity for a long time, and did not choose to besuspected of any wish to linger, I saw that the only thing whichremained for me to do was to inform Monsieur de Villardin of thefacts, and set him upon his guard. As I reflected, however, I sawthat I might find no fitting opportunity for putting my intention inexecution the next morning, and in all that I was about to suffer,it appeared not improbable that I should forget it altogether. Whileit was fresh in my mind, then, I determined to write it down, andleave it for the Duke at my departure; and having struck a light,I thus occupied myself till the day mingled its purer beams withthe yellow glare of my lamp.
Thinking that if Laura had heard of any of the events which had takenplace during the preceding evening, she might be at our rendezvousearlier than usual, I set out as soon as the sun was fully risen, andwith a wavering step and beating heart, took my way to the trees atwhich we usually met. Casting myself down upon the dewy grass, Iwaited her arrival; and bitter, bitter were the feelings which filledthe next half-hour. About to part with her for ever--about to resignher to the arms of another--all her loveliness and all her gentlenessseemed heightened a thousand-fold by the power of regret. Nor were myfeelings entirely selfish--at least, if they were so, they strove hardto clothe themselves in a garb of disinterestedness. "If she could behappy herself," I thought, "half my sorrow would be removed; but toknow that my own misery implies hers also, and that she, like me, isdestined to a life of sorrow and disappointment, is too, too painful."
At our usual time of meeting she came; and Lise remained by the bankof the stream, within call, but out of hearing of any ordinary tone. Isaw at once that Laura was unaware of any change, and her first wordswere an affectionate comment upon my pale and haggard looks. I wouldhave given worlds that she had known the whole before we met, for oh,how terrible it was to break to her the approaching end of ourcommunion for ever! How I did it I can scarcely tell, but her griefand agony were far more fearful than even I had anticipated. At thatmoment of bitter sorrow, all the treasure of her heart was pouredforth. She had no reserve--she had no coldness; and, with her weepingface buried in my bosom, she told me how long and how dearly she hadloved me, and traced, in words that only served to render me moremiserable, the growth of her affection for me, from her infancy tothat hour. I did all that I could, without appearing indifferent orunkind, to calm her, and to persuade her that no course was lefteither for her or me but to obey the commands of her father; and whileI told how deep was my love, how acute was my grief, and how eternalwould be my regret,
I besought her to forget me, and to strive forhappiness, or at least, tranquillity, in the only way in which itcould be obtained.
"De Juvigny," she cried, clasping her beautiful hands, "I will so farobey my father as never to dream of marrying you without his consent;but I can love none other; my heart is given, and for ever; and I willnever perjure myself by vowing to love any man, when I know and feelthat I cannot do so. No, De Juvigny, no; there is a higher duty thaneven that to my parent; and it cannot be violated. When I looked uponmy husband I should think of you, and I should hate him because he wasnot you. I should drown his house with tears, and show him every hourthat I loved another. No, De Juvigny, no," she cried, starting up; "Iwill fly to my father this instant; I will tell him all andeverything; I will show him the consequences of what he is about todo, and I will entreat him to spare me at least the last and worstpart of his will."
As she spoke, she turned, and ere I could even attempt to stay her,she darted away like lightning, all bathed in tears, to cast herselfat her father's feet, and implore him to change a purpose which I knewtoo well to be unchangeable. Lise, who saw her pass, followed quick,and I more slowly, feeling that she had herself put an end to our lastinterview, and that it could never be renewed. Passing by the door ofMonsieur de Villardin's chamber, which was not entirely closed, Iheard her voice, mingled with sobs, still entreating her father toyield his resolution. I knew, however, that she would entreat in vain:I knew, too, that means would be found after my departure to soothher, and to persuade her to acquiesce in the views which had beenformed for her by her father; and feeling that to linger longer thannecessary was but to inflict additional pain upon her, upon myself,and upon Monsieur de Villardin, I summoned my servants, bade themprepare my horses and baggage immediately, and seeking out littleClement de la Marke, I told him that I was about to set off forDumont, if he were willing to accompany me. Any change is generallydelightful to youth, and the boy, catching at the proposal withrapture, flew to make ready for the journey, while I returned to mychamber to give the last thoughts to all the agonizing pangs of mypresent situation.
Scarcely had I entered it, however, when I was followed by Monsieur deVillardin. He was pale and much agitated; but, nevertheless, he didnot fail to remark, with his usual kindness, the change which had beenwrought in my appearance by the passing of the last twelve painfulhours.
"You are sadly altered, De Juvigny," he said, "and this unfortunatebusiness will be the destruction of us all, if it be not speedilybrought to a conclusion. At present it is vain arguing with Laura; butI need not tell you that at any sacrifice my word must be kept. Afteryou are gone, I trust we shall be able to calm her and bring her toreason; but, in the meantime, for the sake of every one, it will bebetter for us to part immediately."
"My lord," I replied, "I am ready at this moment, and my servants haveorders to lose not an instant in their preparations. In less thanhalf-an-hour the horses will be on the terrace, and before night Itrust to be at Dumont. In the meanwhile, allow me to give you thisletter, which I wrote to you during the night, fearing that I mightnot have an opportunity of speaking with you on the subject ere I setout."
He took it with somewhat of an anxious glance, as if he feared that itmight inflict upon him some new pain connected with the matter whichwas uppermost in all our thoughts; but I hastened to relieve him. "Itrefers, my lord," I continued, "to something which I observed lastnight, while looking out of the window to pass away the time, as I wasnot inclined to sleep, and which I felt myself bound to make youacquainted with, lest any evil should occur during my absence."
Monsieur de Villardin tore open the letter and read its contents. "Itis strange enough," he said, when he had concluded; "it is certainlystrange enough; but we are a great deal too strong in numbers to fearany violence, although I hear that two or three people have beenplundered in the neighbourhood of St. Aubin, and that Monsieur de Vinshimself was shot at in riding through the forest: however, I will beupon my guard. And now, my dear boy, you must promise to let me hearfrom you continually. As my affection towards you is anything butdecreased by all that has happened, let me trust that your affectiontowards me remains unimpaired likewise, though you may be thesufferer. No one knows better than myself that the human mind can dobut little to master affliction and overcome the emotions of theheart: but still it can do something; and I am sure that, for all oursakes, you will exert yourself to the utmost to conquer the effects ofsorrow and disappointment."
I made no reply, for I knew too well how little one can calculate uponone's own powers in moments of passion or despair. Almost as he haddone speaking, one of my servants came in to inform me that the horseswere prepared, and that everything was ready to set out. My heart wastoo full to take leave of any one, and merely clasping Monsieur deVillardin's hand for one moment in my own, I descended as rapidly aspossible to the terrace.
I found Father Ferdinand at the door, embracing little Clement de laMarke before his departure. Old Jerome, the major-domo, and a greatmany of the servants and attendants, were standing round, grave andsad, and evidently aware that something unpleasant had occurred tocause my sudden departure. My own three servants, booted and spurred,stood holding the horses in front of the house; and, as my eye glancedaccidentally over the windows, I saw that many a person was watchingto see me set out, though I was afraid of looking farther, lest Ishould behold what might overcome my resolution. Saying a few words toFather Ferdinand, I walked direct towards my horse; but, as I wasgoing to mount, I found that Monsieur de Villardin himself, anxious todeprive my situation of any unnecessary pain, had followed me out totake leave of me in the kindest manner before all those who werelooking on. Laying his hand upon my arm, as I was just about to put myfoot in the stirrup, he embraced me affectionately, saying, "Heavenbless you, my dear boy; let me hear from you directly." He thenturned, and patted the head of little Clement de la Marke, wishing hima safe journey; and then looked round again to me, with an anxious andeven hesitating glance, as if he would fain, fain have yielded all,and forbidden my departure.
I felt that I could bear no more; and leaping into the saddle, Istruck my horse with the spur, and galloped away from the Pr?s Vall?eand the many dear objects that it contained. Those who have lost allthat was nearest to their heart on earth may judge what were myfeelings for the first ten miles. It were useless to detail all that Iexperienced:--the bitter disappointment, the burning regret, theswelling of the sad heart, the fire of the agitated brain. I havespoken of it all too much already; and, besides, it is impossible togive any idea of sensations which I do not believe that many can feel,and which those who can feel must know that it is impossible torelate.
My thoughts in regard to Laura were, indeed, a wild chaos ofeverything painful and distressing, without form or consistency.Towards Monsieur de Villardin, however, my feelings were more clearlydenned; and, notwithstanding all that I suffered, I did full justiceto the noble and generous conduct which he had displayed towards me. Isaw and felt even then, that his kindness--that his generous sympathy,under the painful circumstances in which I was placed, would, at somefuture period, when time should have softened the pangs that it couldnever cure, become one of the sweetest memories for my after years,and bind me to that noble-hearted man by a tie that could never bebroken. I saw, too, hi examining his behaviour, that the memory of allhe himself had felt had greatly influenced his conduct. It was thesame noble spirit which, moved by passion and by the arts of others toabsolute madness, had in former days caused his own wretchedness andmisery, that now, divested of any personal passion, softened andpurified by long years of sorrow and regret, led him to sympathizedeeply and sincerely with two hearts, which he was bound by anobligation he could not violate to tear asunder. His unshakenkindness--the generous confidence that he had reposed in me, which wasthe more touching from his heart not being naturally a confidingone--the sympathy he had shown--the allowances he had made--allaffected me much; and, although I could not but think he was wrong innot permitting Laura
to decide for herself, though I thought that nopromise could bind a father to use absolute compulsion with his child,yet his conduct towards myself left me without a word to say, and mademe love him the more deeply even while he inflicted the most bitter ofdisappointments.
These were the only alleviating feelings which my heart experienced,as I rode on towards Dumont. All the rest was bitterness itself; and,although I had by this time made up my mind to the belief that itwould be criminal to expose myself to danger in a greater degree nowthan I would have done upon any other occasion, yet I acknowledge thatI was in that frame of mind in which death would have been a relief;and that I should have blessed the hand which took a life that Ilooked upon as a prolongation of misery through a long and tediousseries of years. Such were my thoughts as I rode through a part of theforest in which Monsieur de Villardin had told me that some outrageshad lately been committed; and I could not help feeling that if achance shot from some of the plunderers that still infested thecountry were to lay me low, it would be but a happy termination ofsufferings to which I now saw no end. Death, however, has his ownappointed time; and as it is vain to fly from him, so also is it vainto seek him ere the moment be come. Nothing disturbed me on myjourney, no sign of marauders was visible as I rode along, not acreature did I meet but a forester with his axe upon his shoulder, anda thin priest riding quickly along on his ambling palfrey. Such werethe only sights which I saw in the forest, except the tall trees, andthe yellow banks, and the jays fluttering and chattering from boughto bough.
Sombre and silent as was every feeling of my bosom, my little pageClement endeavoured in vain to seduce me into conversation while werode along; but still nothing could repress the joy of his heart; and,indeed, no small delight did he seem to experience at the idea ofrevisiting Dumont, and the scenes in which I had first found him, ofall which he had preserved the most perfect recollection, and forwhich he seemed to entertain a peculiar regard. After riding abouttwenty miles, we paused to refresh our horses, and, remembering thatthe boy's frame was not so strong as my own, I asked him if he werefatigued, and would like to remain for the night at the auberge wherewe had made our halt; but he declared eagerly that he was not tired inthe least, and that he had much rather proceed to Dumont as fast aspossible. After a short repose, then, we resumed our journey, andreached the place of our destination before night.
One or two female servants, who had remained in the ch?teau, soon putmy apartments in order; but still, about the whole place, there wasthat air of chilly solitude which every house gains by being left longunoccupied. My own heart had no gay feelings to cheer or enliven it;all the memories associated with every object around me were of themost gloomy and painful description; the sear leaves of autumn wereupon every tree, a dull covering of grey vapour veiled the brightnessof the sky, a sharp, parching wind was blowing the clouds of dust downthe dim deserted avenues of the park, while the closed windows of thegreater part of the building spoke the want of inhabitants, and theaspect of everything harmonised too well with the dark and sombrethoughts that crowded my own bosom. I have felt pain, and anxiety, andmisery, at different periods of my life, but I never, throughout thewhole range of remembrance, can call to mind having experienced suchdeep despondency as on that night of my arrival at Dumont.
The Little Ball O' Fire; or, the Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall Page 36
