The Maids of Paradise Part 38

JACQUELINE

The stars were still shining when I awoke in my blanket, lighted a candle, and stepped into the wooden tub of salt-water outside the tent.

I shaved by candle-light, dressed in my worn riding-breeches and jacket, then, candle in hand, began groping about among the faded bits of finery and tarnished properties until I found the silver-scaled swimming-tights once worn by the girl of whom we had heard so much.

She was very young when she leaped to her death in Antwerp--a slim slip of a creature, they said--so I thought it likely that her suit might fit Jacqueline.

The stars had begun to fade when I stepped out through the dew-soaked clover, carrying in one hand a satchel containing the swimming-suit, in the other a gun-case, in which, carefully oiled and doubly cased in flannel, reposed my only luxury--my breech-loading shot-gun.

The silence, intensified by the double thunder of the breakers on the sands, was suddenly pierced by a far c.o.c.k-crow; vague gray figures pa.s.sed across the square as I traversed it; a cow-bell tinkled near by, and I smelt the fresh-blown wind from the downs.

Presently, as I turned into the cliff-path, I saw a sober little Breton cow plodding patiently along ahead; beside her moved a fresh-faced maid of Paradise in snowy collarette and white-winged head-dress, knitting as she walked, fair head bent.

As I pa.s.sed her she glanced up with tear-dimmed eyes, murmuring the customary salutation: "Bonjour d'ac'h, m'sieu!" And I replied in the best patois I could command: "Bonjour d'ec'h a laran, na oeled Ket!

Why do you cry, mademoiselle?"

"Cry, m'sieu? They are taking the men of Paradise to the war. France must know how cruel she is to take our men from us."

We had reached the green crest of the plateau; the girl tethered her diminutive cow, sat down on a half-imbedded stone, and continued her knitting, crying softly all the while.

I asked her to direct me to the house where Robert, the Lizard, lived; she pointed with her needles to a large stone house looming up in the gray light, built on the rocks just under the beacon. It was white with sea-slime and crusted salt, yet heavily and solidly built as a fort, and doubtless very old, judging from the traces of sculptured work over portal and windows.

I had scarcely expected to find the ragged Lizard and more ragged Jacqueline housed in such an anciently respectable structure, and I said so to the girl beside me.

"The house is bare as the bones of Sainte-Anne," she said. "There is nothing within--not even crumbs enough for the cliff-rats, they say."

So I went away across the foggy, soaking moorland, carrying my gun and satchel in their cases, descended the gra.s.sy cleft, entered a cattle-path, and picked my way across the wet, black rocks toward the abode of the poacher.

The Lizard was standing on his doorsill when I came up; he returned my greeting sullenly, his keen eyes of a sea-bird roving over me from head to foot. A rumpled and sulky yellow cat, evidently just awake, sat on the doorstep beside him and yawned at intervals. The pair looked as though they had made a night of it.

"You took my letter last night?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Was there an answer for me?"

"Yes."

"Couldn't you have come to the camp and told me?"

"I could, but I had other matters to concern me," he replied.

"Here's your letter," and he fished it out of his tattered pocket.

I was angry enough, but I did not wish to anger him at that moment. So I took the letter and read it--a formal line saying the Countess de Va.s.sart would expect me at five that afternoon.

"You are not noted for your courtesy, are you?" I inquired, smiling.

Something resembling a grin touched his sea-scarred visage.

"Oh, I knew you'd come for your answer," he said, coolly.

"Look here, Lizard," I said, "I intend to be friends with you, and I mean to make you look on me as a friend. It's to my advantage and to yours."

"To mine?" he inquired, sneeringly, amused.

"And this is the first thing I want," I continued; and without further preface I unfolded our plans concerning Jacqueline.

"Entendu," he said, drawling the word, "is that all?"

"Do you consent?"

"Is that all?" he repeated, with Breton obstinacy.

"No, not all. I want you to be my messenger in time of need. I want you to be absolutely faithful to me."

"Is that all?" he drawled again.

"Yes, that is all."

"And what is there in this, to my advantage, m'sieu?"

"This, for one thing," I said, carelessly, picking up my gun-case. I slowly drew out the barrels of Damascus, then the rose-wood stock and fore-end, a.s.sembling them lovingly; for it was the finest weapon I had ever seen, and it was breaking my heart to give it away.

The poacher's eyes began to glitter as I fitted the double bolts and locked breech and barrel with the extension rib. Then I snapped on the fore-end; and there lay the gun in my hands, a fowling-piece fit for an emperor.

"Give it?" muttered the poacher, huskily.

"Take it, my friend the Lizard," I replied, smiling down the wrench in my heart.

There was a silence; then the poacher stepped forward, and, looking me square in the eye, flung out his hand. I struck my open palm smartly against his, in the Breton fashion; then we clasped hands.

"You mean honestly by the little one?"

"Yes," I said; "strike palms by Sainte Thekla of Ycone!"

We struck palms heavily.

"She is a child," he said; "there is no vice in her; yet I've seen them nearly finished at her age in Paris." And he swore terribly as he said it.

We dropped hands in silence; then, "Is this gun mine?" he demanded, hoa.r.s.ely.

"Yes."

"Strike!" he cried; "take my friendship if you want it, on this condition--what I am is my own concern, not yours. Don't interfere, m'sieu; it would be useless. I should never betray you, but I might kill you. Don't interfere. But if you care for the good-will of a man like me, take it; and when you desire a service from me, tell me, and I'll not fail you, by Sainte-eline of Paradise!"

"Strike palms," said I, gravely; and we struck palms thrice.