The Heart of Denise, and Other Tales

"I listen, monsieur."

"I'll tell you. At a supper party given by that croquemitaine of a King of yours, a certain matter was discussed, there was no assassination in it; but the execution of it had to be dropped, as no one of those present who was offered the enterprise would accept it. Later on the wine passed, and a fool, after the fashion of your Court, began to boast openly of his conquests and spoke openly of your favour."

"Monsieur, how dare you!"

"Madame, it is the fashion amongst your fine gentlemen to lie like this. I will do de Clermont the justice to say that it was not he, for he was not there, and the man who spoke is dead, so let his name pass. But Tavannes was there, and had to be reckoned with. The King offered to have you married, and the marshal burst out that he would give you to the first man who asked."

"Oh!"

"Blaise de Lorgnac was on guard at the door. He had heard every word, and now stepped forward and claimed your hand, offering at the same time to undertake the affair for which an agent could not be found. His offer was accepted, and in the early morning, madame, in the yard of la Boucherie, where I had the honour to be your husband's second, your traducer met with his death, and with his last breath confessed that he had lied. That was the very day, madame, that you foolishly rode out with de Clermont. Stay, there is yet a little more, and that concerns the despatch. My business at Périgueux was to give an order to de Termes to receive at St. Priest-Taurion a prisoner of state, who was to be handed over to him by myself and de Clermont. I am here to receive that prisoner, and it is Blaise de Lorgnac who is entrusted with the duty of taking him alive. The duplicate despatch, if there is such a one-and you say you have seen the cover-does not refer to you, and de Clermont has lied. I will settle with him for using my name; but, madame, you are as free as air, and may go where you like, and for Blaise de Lorgnac's sake I will help you all I can-and this is all."

"Oh! I don't know what to think."

"You are free to go, I say; and as de Clermont will be here soon, and not alone, I would advise an immediate departure. I will detach a brace of lances to act as further escort, and let me give the order now. I will be back in a moment."

He did not wait for my reply, but turning on his heel stepped out of the room, and I sat with my brain burning, and my head between my hands. I could not doubt this story, and if ever woman passed through a furnace of shame and anger I did so in those few minutes. I now knew what de Lorgnac was. I now for the first time saw de Clermont in his true colours, with his mask off; and yet-and yet-perhaps Norreys was mistaken about him. I had proved myself to be so utterly wrong, to have jumped to conclusions so rashly, that I dared not sit in judgment any more on a soul, and whilst I floundered on in this way Norreys came back.

"I have arranged everything, madame; the orders have been given to your people. They will be ready to start in a half hour. About midnight you should reach Millevranches, and I should halt there and go on with the morning."

"Monsieur, how can I thank you? I have no words."

"Let the matter rest, Madame de Lorgnac," and then his voice took a gentler tone. "I would not urge your going at once except that we are on de Clermont's own estates, and he has a hundred lances with him at his Château of Ferrand. It is shut out from view by the hills, but it lies yonder," He pointed to the west through the open window, and as he did so an exclamation of surprise burst from him, and he crossed himself.

I followed his glance and saw, high in the heavens, hanging over the mountainous pile of reddening clouds that lay in the west, the grim outline of a vast fortress. The huge walls reflected back with a coppery lustre the red light of the sun, and it was as if we could see figures moving on the ramparts and the flash of arms from the battlements. From the flag-staff on the donjon a broad banner flaunted itself proudly, and so clear and distinct was the light that we made out with ease the blazon on the standard, and the straining leashed ounces of the house of Clermont-Ferrand. And then the clouds took a duskier red, and the solid mass of castle faded away into nothing. I stood still and speechless, and Norreys burst forth, "Sorcery, as I live. Madame, that was the Château de Ferrand."

I had never seen the like before, never again did I see it, nor do I wish to, and it left me so chilled and faint, that Norreys noticed it at once and called for wine. As he did so, I fancied that I heard the beat of a horse's hoof, but paid no attention to it; and then the wine came and I drank, he standing over me. I was just setting down the glass when there was a grating at the entrance, a long shadow fell through the doorway, and de Clermont stepped in with a cheery "Good-day, Monsieur de Norreys. I see you have not been neglecting your time here. Arnidieu! Denise! Is it you? You seem to be forever dropping from the clouds across my path," and he held out his hand; but I took no notice, though I rose from my chair, and Norreys merely bowed frigidly in return to his greeting. De Clermont seemed in nowise disconcerted, but there was an angry flash in his eyes, and for a second he stood tapping the end of his boot with his riding-whip, and looking from one to another of us with a half smile on his lips. Then putting his plumed hat on the table, and drawing off his gloves, he drawled out with a veiled insolence in every tone of his voice, "Upon my word, M. de Norreys, I congratulate you, and if it were not for our business I would leave you in peace, for madame seems to have learned the lesson that 'It is well to be off with the old love before you are on with the new.'"

He had grasped the weakness of the situation at a glance, and took full advantage of it, but though outwardly cool and self-possessed there was death in his eyes. I could bear it no longer, and turned to leave the room. He rose from his seat, saying, "Pray do not leave us, madame-you look pale, though, and perhaps need rest. I trust, however, your indisposition has nothing to do with the sight I observed you watching from the window. Do you know what it means?" and he turned to Norreys.

In spite of myself I stopped for an instant; but Norreys ignored him, and de Clermont went on:

"It means, monsieur, that this apparition is always seen when a man dies by the hand of de Clermont-Ferrand."

Norreys simply bowed, though I thought I heard the word "boaster" muttered between his teeth, and, turning to me, said, "Permit me, madame," and gave me his arm to take me from the room.

Outside, in the narrow passage that led to my chamber, he stopped and held out his hand.

"Let me say adieu, madame. I would accompany you if I could, but it is impossible. I would advise you to leave at once before any of M. le Marquis's men come up. I can see he is ripe for mischief."

"Monsieur de Norreys, I am no fool-I can understand. For mercy's sake avoid a quarrel with de Clermont. He is a deadly swordsman, and if anything happens to you, I shall feel all my life that I was the cause of it. God knows I owe you much, for you have opened my eyes. Promise me, monsieur, promise me!"

"Madame, the use of the sword is not confined to your country nor to de Clermont alone," and then he saw the tears that sprang to my eyes. "Ah! madame, not that; you will unman me! See, there is your equerry. Commend me to de Lorgnac when you meet, and adieu!"

He dropped my hand and turned on his heel, but I could not let him go like that.

"Monsieur, not that way. Promise me what I ask."

"I promise to avoid a quarrel if possible; I can say no more." With that he went, erect and stately. Of what followed I never knew; but, alas! There is one sorrow that ever haunts me; and in the quiet churchyard of St. Yriarte is a tomb which I visit yearly with my husband, and it covers the heart of as brave and gallant a gentleman as ever lived-poor Norreys!

CHAPTER VIII.

BLAISE DE LORGNAC

We lost no time in setting forth from The Golden Frog, and as Lalande had apparently been warned by Norreys of the danger of our meeting any of de Clermont's following, we once more left, what by a stretch I might call the direct road, and again took to the hill tracks, where our wearied beasts, whom from my heart I pitied, stumbled slowly and painfully along.

But if the beasts were wearied, how was it with myself and my maid? I was able to keep up, no doubt because of the mental excitement under which I laboured; but I have never understood how my faithful Mousette endured that journey; it was in truth a road of suffering.

I simply went on mechanically, my mind a prey to a thousand conflicting emotions, and to thoughts that chased one another across it like dry and fallen leaves in a forest glade, blown hither and thither by an autumn wind. It had struck me, as there was nothing to be feared from de Termes, that I should order Lalande to turn and guide me back to Madame and Périgueux; but de Clermont barred the way, and it was better after all to push on to Meymac, and there with a cooler head than I now possessed, decide what to do. What had I not passed through within the last few hours? I had made trouble enough for myself by jumping womanlike to conclusions, and imagining that the postscript of de Termes' letter to his wife referred to me, whereas it clearly concerned some one else. That was perhaps a pardonable error considering the circumstances; but there were other things, and even now my face grows hot when I think of them.

My nature is proud! That can never alter, though sorrow and many a bitter lesson has brought me good sense; but it cut like a knife to realize how I had been fooled by de Clermont, and how near I had been to fall a victim to a pitiless libertine. It is a bad and cruel lesson for any woman to learn that she has been the sport of a man, ten times bad and cruel if the woman be proud and high-spirited. And as for de Lorgnac I did not know what to think. My mind concerning him was a chaos. I had misjudged him, wronged him utterly; but it was gall to me to know that he had stood forth as my champion. It was bitterness untold to think that I must humble myself in my heart before him; I could never do so in words to his face, if ever we met, a daughter of Mieux could not do that. It was awful to think that his hands were red with blood for my sake, and I shuddered as I reflected that I had been as it were the immediate cause of a frightful death; de Lorgnac had no business to kill that man whoever he was; he had no right to make me feel almost a murderess; and withal there rose in my heart a kind of fierce pride in the man who could do this for my sake, and a joy I could not make out because he was other than I took him to be-because, in short, he was a gallant gentleman, and not-oh! I need say no more.

When we had travelled for about the space of two hours the horse of one of the two troopers, whom M. Norreys in his kindness had lent to me, fell whilst crossing a water-cut, and on examination it was found to be so hurt that it was impossible for it to continue the journey to Millevranches. It was decided that the two men should be left behind to return to their camp-they had not far to go-and that we should press on as before. I gave the good fellows a brace of crowns apiece, and commending myself to M. de Norreys, we went on, the sheep track-I can call it by no better name-now passing through all the wildest scenery surrounding the Puy de Meymac.

"If luck befriends us, madame, and the storm which has kept off so long does not come, we should reach Millevranches in a little over two hours," said Lalande to me as we rode down a narrow and steep descent.

"Why should the storm come on now? There is no breath of air stirring, and the moon is clear."

The equerry did not reply until reaching the more level ground at the foot of the incline down which we had ridden, and then, pointing behind me, said simply, "Look, madame!"

Turning, I saw that half the arc of the heavens was obscured as it were by a thick curtain, that hung heavily and sullenly over it, and as we looked a chain of fire ran across the blackness, the distant roar of thunder came to us, and then a low, deep moaning vibrated through the air.

"The storm is afoot, I fear, madame. We must press on and cross the Luxège, which though narrow enough to jump over now, may in an hour be impassable, and with the darkness it will be impossible to tell the way."

At this speech Mousette gave a little cry of alarm, and then, her fears overcoming her, began to declare that she could go no further, and begged us to leave her there to die, to be killed by the storm or eaten up by the wolves, it did not matter which, either alternative was preferable to going on. I tried all I could to pacify the poor girl, but she was getting into a state of hysterical excitement, and absolutely refused to move, though every moment was precious, and the dead stillness formerly around us was now awake with the voice of the coming storm. At last I began to despair of moving her, when Lalande said grimly, "Leave her to me, madame. I am an old married man." Then bending forward he seized my bridle and with a cool "Adieu, mademoiselle! I hope you will not disagree with the wolves," to Mousette, began to urge our beasts forward, notwithstanding my protests. But the issue showed he was right, though I confess I was surprised to see the way in which my maid recovered her strength under this rough-and-ready treatment, for in two minutes she was bustling along at our heels. But the lost time never came to our hands again, and as we began to descend the wooded slope towards the Luxège, which we could hear humming angrily below us, the stream burst with a shriek of the winds, and an absolute darkness, that was rendered more intense and horrible by the vivid flashes of lightning, and the continuous roar of thunder. In a trice Lalande had dismounted and taken us from our horses, and the poor animals seemed so overcome by fear or fatigue, or both combined, that they stood perfectly still.

"It is death, madame, attempting to ride now. We must get to the river on foot." Saying this, Lalande managed somehow to get the horses in front of us, and then, holding on to each other and guided by the incessant flashes of lightning, we began a slow and painful progress. I soon began to feel the fatigue and exhaustion so much that I, in my turn, begged Lalande to stop.

"Courage, madame, 'tis but a few yards more to the river bank," he answered, "there we can stop and rest," and I took my heart up and strove onwards once again. At last, when within a few yards of the river, I sank down utterly exhausted and unable to move further, and Mousette alternately sobbed and prayed over me, whilst now and again I could see the tall figure of Lalande standing grim and motionless, and once I fancied I heard a deep oath.

He gave us some cognac from a flask he carried, and then there was nothing for it but to wait and meet death, if it was so to be. Now there came a series of lightning flashes that lit up the terrific scene, and I almost gasped, for right before me on a butting crag I made out a small castle. Lalande saw it too, for he blew long and shrilly on his horn, and then we watched and waited for a time that seemed interminable, when all at once the flare of a huge beacon rose bright and red against the darkness, and an answering bugle reached our ears. Lalande blew again, and to our joy there was a reply. Strength came back to me with the prospect of safety, and rising to my feet I called to Lalande: "On! On!"

He answered, "The river, madame-"

I looked, and saw below me a white lashing flood that swung and swirled past with a savage roar. The lightning showed us the angry water, and the wicked dancing foam, that seemed to leap up in delight at the prospect of the black swirl below it dragging us down to death. Then again we heard the bugle notes, and saw the lights of torches, and heard the shouting of men from the opposite bank.

"Let us go on to meet them-we are saved!" screamed Mousette, and holding on to each other we staggered forward past the horses, who stood all huddled together, only to be stopped here by the utter darkness, and Lalande.

"For the love of heaven, madame, do not move," he cried, "rescue is coming."

And it did come.

All that I can remember was seeing the light of many sputtering torches around us. Some one lifted me in his arms like a child, and I heard a voice say, "Be careful with the horses over the bridge, Pierre," and then my strength gave way.

I had been asleep, asleep for ages it seemed, and all the past was a dream, thank God! This was the thought that struck me as I opened my eyes; but as I looked around, I saw the room in which I lay was strange to me, and inch by inch everything came back-all except the events of the last moments by the river, where my recollection became confused. It was daylight, but still the remains of the storm of last night were in evidence, and I could hear the water dripping from the eaves, and through the half-open dormer window, the murmur of the Luxège, still angry and unappeased, reached my ears.

Where was I? I looked about me, and found that I was in a large room, warm from the effects of a huge wood fire that danced cheerily in the fireplace. Leaning on one elbow, I glanced still further about me, and saw that the furniture was of the same old and heavily antique make that we had at Mieux. The curtains of the bed were, however, worn and faded, the tapestry on the walls was older and more faded still; and then my eyes were arrested by the coat-of-arms carved on the stonework of the fireplace-two wolves' heads, with a motto so chipped and defaced that I could not read it. Whose was the device? I lay back and thought, but could not make it out. Certainly not that of any of the great houses-no doubt my kind preserver belonged to the lesser nobility-but I could soon find out. Then I closed my eyes once more and would have slept, but was aroused by some one entering the room, and, looking up, saw Mousette.

"Ah! madem-madame, I mean," she said eagerly, "thank God, you are looking none the worse for that terrible night. I little thought we would ever live to see daylight again."

"Where are we, Mousette? And who are the kind people who saved us?"

"I do not know, madame," she answered quickly, "but we are the only women here. But," she ran on, "it is mid-day and touching the dinner hour. Will madame rise or be served here?"

"I will rise, of course, Mousette;" and during the course of my toilet I asked if the people of the house knew who we were.

"I have not mentioned anything, madame," replied Mousette, with her face slightly turned away, "and Lalande is discreet."

I felt that Mousette knew more than she cared to tell; but it is not my way to converse with servants; and finishing my dressing in silence, I asked her to show me the way to the salon, and as I spoke I heard a gong go.

"Monsieur will be served at once," said Mousette. "This way, madame," and opening the curtains of the door, she led me down a series of winding steps worn with the feet that had passed up and down there for perhaps a couple of centuries, and then, past a long passage hung with suits of rusty armour and musty trophies of the chase, to a large door. I gathered that Mousette had been making good use of her time whilst in the house, but kept silent. The door was open, and as I passed in Mousette left me. I found I was in a room that was apparently used as a dining-room and salon as well. There was trace of recent occupation, for a man's hat and a pair of leathern gloves somewhat soiled with use were lying on a table, and a great hound rose slowly from the rushes on the floor, and, after eyeing me a moment, came up in a most friendly manner to be patted and made much of. A small table near the fireplace was laid for one, and as I was looking towards it a grey-haired and sober servant brought in the dinner, and then, bowing gravely, announced that I was served.

"Is not monsieur-monsieur-?" I stammered.

"Monsieur le Chevalier has had to go out on urgent business. He has ordered me to present his compliments to madame-"

"I see; monsieur does not dine here."

The man bowed, and I sat down to a solitary meal with the big dog at my feet, and the silent, grave attendant to wait on me. I amused myself with the hound, and with taking note of the room. Like everything else I had seen, its furniture and fittings seemed a century old, and spoke of wealth that had passed away. There was a sadness about this, and a gloom that saddened me in spite of myself, so that it was with an effort I managed to eat, and then, when dinner was over, I told the servant to inform his master that I desired to thank him for the great kindness shown to me.

"I will deliver madame's message," and with this reply he went.

Left to myself, I went to the window and looked out through the glazing. The landscape was obscured by a rolling mist; but the sun was dissipating this bravely. It was a wild and desolate scene, and, despite the sunlight, oppressed me almost as much as my solitary meal, so I turned back into the room, and, seating myself in a great chair, stared into the fireplace, the hound stretching himself beside me. I was still wearied, and my thoughts ran slowly on until I caught myself wondering who my unknown host was, and getting a trifle impatient, too, because he did not come, for I was anxious to set forward to Meymac.

Suddenly I heard a steady measured step in the passage, the hound leaped up with a bay of welcome, and as I rose from my seat the curtain was lifted, and I stood face to face with my husband.

"You! De Lorgnac!" I gasped.

"Even I," he said. "I thought you knew. Are you none the worse for your adventure of last night?"

"I am quite well, thanks to God." "And thanks to you," I was about to add, but my lips could not frame the words, and I felt myself beginning to tremble. Monsieur noticed this.

"I am afraid you underrate your strength; do sit down," he said kindly.

"I prefer to stand, thank you, Monsieur le Chevalier," and then there was a silence, during which I know not what passed through de Lorgnac's mind; but I, I was fighting with myself to prevent my heart getting the better of me, for if so I would have to humble myself-I, a daughter of Mieux! Monsieur broke the silence himself.

"Denise, I give you my word of honour that I would not have intruded on you, but that you asked to see me, and I thought you knew whom you wished to see. Besides, I felt that I owed a little to myself. You have accused me of being a dishonoured gentleman, of being little less than a common bravo, of wedding you to your misery for your estates." He came forward a step and looked me full in the face with his clear strong eyes. "As God is my witness," he went on, "you are utterly mistaken. I am going to-day on an affair the issue of which no one can foresee. Think! Would I go with a lie on my lips? Answer me-tell me. Whatever else you may think, you do not believe this."

I was fumbling with one of his gloves, and could not meet his look.

"You put me in a difficult position, monsieur-this is your own house."

He looked about him with a bitter smile. "Yes-it is my house-hardly the house to which one would bring the heiress of Mieux-but is that your answer to me?"

And still I was silent. I could not bring myself to say what he wanted. And now too it was not only pride that was holding me back. I felt that if I gave him the answer he wished, manlike he would begin to press his love on me, and I was not prepared for this. I did not know my own feelings towards him; but of one thing I was sure-I would not be bound by hollow vows that were forced upon me, and so I fenced.

"This adventure of yours, monsieur-is it so very dangerous?"

"It is not the danger I am thinking of. It is your faith in my honour. No man is blameless, and least of all I. I own I was wrong-that I sinned grievously in marrying you as I have. My excuse is that I love you-that is a thing I cannot control. But I will do all I can to make reparation. I will never see you again, and the times are such that you may soon be as free as air. All that I ask is this one thing."

"But, monsieur, have you no proof-nothing to bring forward?"

"I have nothing to offer but my word."