The Heart of Denise and Other Tales Part 5

"Let go my reins, monsieur, else I shall call out. I hear Lalande, too. Go, monsieur, whilst I can still think of you as I always have.

Go and forget me."

His hand dropped to his side, and taking the occasion I struck my horse smartly with the whip and he sprang forward. De Clermont made no attempt to follow, but at the bend of the road, as I glanced across my shoulder, I saw him turn his horse's head and plunge into the forest, and a moment later I met Lalande.

I could only realize that I had escaped a great danger; beyond that my mind could not go; but I was conscious that, despite the terrible earnestness of his words, there was something that was not convincing in de Clermont. The narrow escape that I had drove all other things out of my mind, and it was only when I came in sight of our party again that I recollected de Clermont's warning that by going to Perigueux I was going straight into the lion's mouth, and an absolute despair fell upon me.

When I rode up to Madame's side she glanced at me narrowly and asked for de Clermont.

I answered truly enough that I did not know, and she looked at me again with her clear, searching eyes. "It is odd, Denise, but do you know that his lackeys have gone, too? They left us an hour ago--and now it seems he has gone, too, without a word of good-bye."

"Monsieur made too sure of the success of his plans," I said bitterly, and Madame's answer was sharp and swift:

"Denise, there is something wrong--what is it?"

And as we rode close together, side by side, I told her every word, hiding nothing. My voice sounded hard and dry to my own ears, my eyes were burning, and when I had finished, she said, "Denise, I cannot believe M. de Clermont's story. I _feel_ it is untrue. Even if it were true de Termes would never carry out the order about you. He is incapable of such baseness."

"There is always one way of escape, madame, and I am my father's daughter."

"And there is a G.o.d above, girl. Your father's daughter should never talk like that."

"Then why does He not hear my prayers?" I said, in impious forgetfulness. "Is heaven so far that our voices cannot reach there?"

And my dear old friend sighed deeply in answer.

We were to halt at Chalusset for the night, and here confirmation was received of the truth of de Clermont's story, for an equerry of the Vicomte's met us here with a letter to his wife in his own hand, in which he said that our message, the one we had sent from the Gartempe, had reached him, and that he was hastening forward himself to meet us.

Then he went on to other matters, and his letter concluded with a postscript:

"_M. Norreys is here with an order from the King, or, rather, from the Queen Mother. It is very unfortunate, but must be obeyed_."

She first read the letter herself--we were sitting together in her apartment, in the one inn at Chalusset--and then she handed it to me with a request to read it aloud to her. I did so; but on coming to the postscript my voice faltered in spite of myself, and then she bent forward and kissed me.

"Denise, it will never be. Are you strong enough to do a brave thing?"

"I will try."

"It is clear to me that de Termes' postscript is a warning for you not to go to Perigueux. I knew that he would be incapable of carrying out such orders as he has received--and I can read his meaning between the lines of his message. Denise, you must not be with me when my husband and I meet."

"G.o.d Himself seems to have abandoned me. What can I do--where shall I hide?"

"I will tell you. My sister Louise is Abbess of Our Lady of Meymac. I will send you to her. The convent has special rights of sanctuary that even Catherine herself would not dare to violate--but she will never know you are there. Yet it is a long journey, and you will have to cross the mountains. Will you risk it tonight?"

"I am ready now, madame."

"Very well," and, calling to her maid, she asked for Lalande, and when the equerry came she turned to him:

"Lalande, how long is it that you have followed Monsieur le Vicomte?"

"Thirty years, madame, from the days when Monsieur was a simple cavalier of the guard."

"And you would do anything for Monsieur?"

"Madame, I have been his man in lean times and in fat--in famine and in full harvest. He saved my life at Cerisolles, and it was I who got him out of the Bastille; I have been by his side from the time he was a simple gentleman to the present day, when Monsieur is a marshal and a peer of France. You ask if I would do anything for Monsieur. If Monsieur le Vicomte were to ask me to lay down my life to-morrow I would do so willingly."

"I believe you, Lalande. Now listen. Madame de Lorgnac here is in great danger. It is Monsieur le Vicomte's wish that she should be conveyed to the Convent of Our Lady of Meymac, and we trust her to you. No one is to know where she is placed. You must protect her with your life--do you understand? And you must start now--and alone--for Madame's hiding-place is a secret."

"We could start in a few minutes, madame, and I will do what you say."

"Then be ready in half an hour."

"Madame," and he was gone.

"Do not let Mousette know whither you are bound, Denise. She is a chattering ape, and, though she loves you, can never keep a secret. As for de Termes, I will arrange to manage him--and, dear, keep a brave heart. I would go with you myself; but you know it is impossible."

The moon was just rising when, after taking an affectionate farewell of Madame de Termes, who had been to me as a mother, we started--Mousette, Lalande, and myself. Our horses had been brought to a little gate at the back of the straggling garden attached to the inn, by the equerry himself, so that we might get away un.o.bserved.

Hither Madame accompanied us, and after giving some further instructions in a low tone to Lalande, embraced me again and again, and I am afraid we both wept, whilst Mousette joined in to keep us company. Finally we started, and I turned once or twice to look back, and saw the slender grey-clad figure still at the gate, growing fainter and fainter in outline at each step we took, and seeming at last to slip away into the silver haze of the moonlight, until when I turned for the last time, I could see nothing but the winding road, the ghostly outline of the trees, and the pointed roof of the inn. I have often wondered if the girls of the present day would endure and act as we women had to do then. All women have to endure pa.s.sively.

This will be so for all time unless the world be made anew, but with us there were times and seasons when we had to act like men.

Last year, when I was in Paris, where I had taken my daughter for her presentation, a great lady called on me, the wife and daughter of a soldier, and she reached our house almost in hysterics, because one of the wheels of her coach had come off, and she had to walk a hundred paces or so. She was in fear of her life at the accident. And when we had made much of her and she was gone, my husband's eyes met mine, and the same thought struck us both, for he came up and kissed me, saying:

"_Mordieu!_ I thank G.o.d I am not thirty years younger!"

CHAPTER VI.

AT THE SIGN OF THE GOLDEN FROG.

At first we managed to get along at a fair pace, as the road was good and we were well able to see our way by the moonlight; but after crossing the Taurion by a frail wooden bridge, which creaked and groaned ominously as we pa.s.sed over it, Lalande took a turn to the right and followed a narrow track whereon we had to ride nose to tail.

Womanlike, I began to think he was taking the wrong road, and asked him whither he was leading us.

"St. Priest-Taurion lies on the main road, madame, and it would be well to avoid it. Let not madame have any fear. I could make my way to Meymac blindfold."

"And want to show off by picking the most horrible paths," shrilled out Mousette, whose temper, never of the best, had gone to ribbons, and little wonder, too, poor thing!

"It would be well if we speak in lower tones--better still not to speak at all," said the equerry, and silencing Mousette with a reprimand, I asked Lalande to lead on.

Whilst the motion was fast it was not possible to think, but now that we were going at something like a snail's pace, I unconsciously gave myself over to my reflections, though I had by this time reached a state of mind when it seemed impossible for me to distinguish between right and wrong, or to think coherently. The proof of the truth of de Clermont's story had accentuated the bitterness in my heart against my husband, and this was not lessened when I remembered the infamy of the enterprise which he had undertaken, and of which I was the price. I had it once or twice in my mind to try and prevent the crime he contemplated by attempting to warn the Bearnnois; but it was impossible to do so from here, and I should have to make the attempt from Meymac. Then that thought gave place to de Clermont, and with the memory of him regrets that I had not taken his offer, and by one desperate stroke freed myself forever from de Lorgnac, even at the cost of that good opinion of the world, we pretend to despise and yet value so much, even against what I felt to be the teachings of my conscience. After all I was merely holding to vows that I had never really made. The priest's benediction surely could not bind me forever to a hateful life. I had my dreams as all young women and young men have--of a life that I could share with one whom I could trust and honour and love. One whose joys would be my joys, whose sorrows would be my sorrows, whose ambitions and hopes would be my ambitions and hopes, and so to pa.s.s hand in hand with him until one or both of us were called away to fulfil the mystery of life by death. And de Clermont? Could he have been the one to have so travelled with me? Did I love him? For the life of me I could not tell at that moment. At one time I seemed dragged towards him, at another there was a positive repulsion, and through it all there was an ever-warning voice within me, like the tolling of a bell hung over a sunken rock to warn mariners of danger, telling me, "Beware! Beware!" I felt in my heart that he did not ring true metal--why, I could not tell--nor can I tell now. But I suppose that G.o.d, who has limited the capacity of us women to reason as compared with man, has given to us this faculty of intuition by which we can know. Would that it were followed more often; would that its warnings were ever heeded! Such were the thoughts that chased each other through my brain as the long hours pa.s.sed, and then they seemed to twine themselves together into a network that left me powerless to follow them and unravel the tangle.

Oh, it was a weary ride! Overhead hung the moon now light, then darkened by flitting clouds, with a few stars showing here and there in the sky. On all sides of us floated a dim silvery haze that made it appear as if we were going through Dreamland; dark shadows of trees, fantastic rocks that might have been thrown here and there by giants at play, and a road that turned and twisted like a serpent's track, full of stones and boulders, on which our horses continually stumbled, but, mercifully, did not come down and bring us with them. There was one advantage we derived from these boulders. They kept the horses and ourselves from sleeping, for after a stumble and a jerk, both beast and rider began to see the folly of nodding, and bravely strove to keep awake. At last we came to something that looked like level ground, and Lalande suggested that we should increase our pace to a canter, adding truly enough that it would rouse us all up. We followed his advice, nothing loath, and kept at this pace with occasional halts to rest the horses, for the best part of the night. At last, however, neither Mousette nor myself could endure going on longer, and indeed our horses were as much, if not more worn out than we were. In short, we were so fatigued that I had got into a frame of mind in which I did not care what happened to me, one way or the other, and Mousette, poor girl, was crying softly to herself, though she kept her way with the greatest courage. This being the case, I called to Lalande that we could not go on any further; but at his intercession we made yet another effort, and at last we halted near a clump of beeches, close to which a small brook purled by. I do not think I shall ever forget the kindness and attention of the honest fellow. He made us as comfortable a resting-place as he could contrive with the aid of saddles and rugs, and then, giving us some wine to drink, bade us sleep, whilst he retired a little distance--not to rest, but to attend to the horses and keep a watch. So utterly tired out were we that we must have fallen asleep at once, and the sun was already rising when Lalande aroused us.

"If madame does not mind," he said, "it will be well if we move further up into that wood yonder and rest there, whilst I go to a village hard at hand, and procure some food, and take news of the state of the road."