The Trampling of the Lilies Part 19

"Suspect what you will, but voice no suspicions here, else you'll become acquainted with the mighty short methods of Charlot Tardivet. And as for aristocrats, my friend, there are none so rabid as the newly-converted.

I wonder how long it is since you became a patriot?"

Before the fellow could make any answer the corporal in command of La Boulaye's escort entered to inform Caron that the men were in the saddle.

At that the Deputy hurriedly took his leave of Tardivet, and wrapping his heavy cloak tightly about him he marched out into the rain, and mounted.

A few moments later they clattered briskly out of Boisvert, the thick grey mud flying from their horses' hoofs as they went, and took the road to France. For a couple of miles they rode steadily along under the unceasing rain and in the teeth of that bleak February wind. Then at a cross-road La Boulaye unexpectedly called a halt.

"My friends," he said to his escort, "we have yet a little business to discharge in Belgium before we cross the frontier."

With that he announced his intention of going North, and so briskly did he cause them to ride, that by noon--a short three hours after quitting Boisvert--they had covered a distance of twenty-five miles, and brought up their steaming horses before the Hotel de Flandres at Leuze.

At this, the only post-house in the place, La Boulaye made inquiries as to whether any carriage had arrived from Soignies that morning, to receive a negative answer. This nowise surprised him, for he hardly thought that Mademoiselle could have had time to come so far. She must, however, be drawing nearer, and he determined to ride on to meet her.

From Leuze to Soignies is a distance of some eight or nine leagues by a road which may roughly be said to be the basis of a triangle having its apex at Boisvert.

After his men had hurriedly refreshed themselves, La Boulaye ordered them to horse again, and they now cantered out, along this road, to Soignes. But as mile after mile was covered without their coming upon any sign of such a carriage as Mademoiselle should be travelling in, La Boulaye almost unconsciously quickened the pace until in the end they found themselves careering along as fast as their jaded horses would bear them, and speculating mightily upon the Deputy's odd behaviour.

Soignies itself was reached towards four o'clock, and still they had not met her whom La Boulaye expected. Here, in a state of some wonder and even of some anxiety, Caron made straight for the Auberge des Postes.

Bidding his men dismount and see to themselves and their beasts, he went in quest of the host, and having found him, bombarded him with questions.

In reply he elicited the information that at noon that day a carriage such as he described had reached Soignies in a very sorry condition. One of the wheels had come off on the road, and although the Marquise's men had contrived to replace it and to rudely secure it by an improvised pin, they had been compelled to proceed at a walk for some fifteen miles of the journey, which accounted for the lateness of their arrival at Soignies. They had remained at the Auberge des Postes until the wheel had been properly mended, and it was not more than an hour since they had resumed their journey along the road to Liege.

"But did both the citoyennes depart?" cried La Boulaye, in amazement, and upon receiving an affirmative reply it at once entered his mind that the Marquise must have influenced her daughter to that end--perhaps even employed force.

"Did there appear to be any signs of disagreement between them?" was his next question.

"No, Citizen, I observed nothing. They seemed in perfect accord."

"The younger one did not by any chance inquire of you whether it would be possible to hire a berline?" asked Caron desperately.

"No," the landlord answered him, with wondering eyes. "She appeared as anxious as her mother for the repairing of the coach in which they came, that they might again depart in it."

La Boulaye stood a moment in thought, his brows drawn together, his breathing seeming suspended, for into his soul a suspicion had of a sudden been thrust--a hideous suspicion. Abruptly he drew himself up to the full of his active figure, and threw back his head, his resolve taken.

"Can I have fresh horses at once?" he inquired. "I need eight."

The landlord thoughtfully scratched his head.

"You can have two at once, and the other six in a half-hour."

"Very well," he answered. "Saddle me one at once, and have the other seven ready for my men as soon as possible."

And whilst the host sent the ostler to execute the order, Caron called for a cup of wine and a crust of bread. Munching his crust he entered the common-room where his men were at table with a steaming ragout before them.

"Garin," he said to the corporal, "in a half-hour the landlord will be able to provide you with fresh horses. You will set out at once to follow me along the road to Liege. I am starting immediately."

Garin, with the easy familiarity of the Republican soldier, bade him take some thought of his exhausted condition, and s.n.a.t.c.h at least the half-hour's rest that was to be theirs. But La Boulaye was out of the room before he had finished. A couple of minutes later they heard a clatter of departing hoofs, and La Boulaye was gone along the road too Liege in pursuit of the ladies of Bellecour.

CHAPTER XIII. THE ROAD TO LIEGE

"Of what are you thinking, little fool?" asked the Marquise peevishly, her fat face puckered into a hundred wrinkles of ill-humour.

"Of nothing in particular, Madame," the girl answered patiently.

The Marquise sniffed contemptuously, and glanced through the window of the coach upon the dreary, rain sodden landscape.

"Do you call the sometime secretary Citizen-cutthroat La Boulaye, nothing in particular?" she asked. "Ma foi! I wonder that you do not die of self-contempt after what pa.s.sed between you at Boisvert."

"Madame, I was not thinking of him," said Suzanne.

"More shame to you, then," was the sour retort, for the Marquise was bent upon disagreeing with her. "Have you a conscience, Suzanne, that you could have played such a Delilah part and never give a thought to the man you have tricked?"

"You will make me regret that I told you of it," said the girl quietly.

"You are ready enough to regret anything but the act itself. Perhaps you'll be regretting that you did not take a berline at Soignies, as you promised the citizen-scoundrel that you would, and set out to join him?"

"It is hardly generous to taunt me so, Madame, I do very bitterly regret what has taken place. But you might do me the justice to remember that what I did I did as much for others as for myself. As much, indeed, for you as for myself."

"For me?" echoed the Marquise shrilly. "Tiens, that is droll now! For me? Was it for me that you made love to the citizen-blackguard? Are you so dead to shame that you dare remind me of it?"

Mademoiselle sighed, and seemed to shrink back into the shadows of the carriage. Her face was very pale, and her eyes looked sorely troubled.

"It is something that to my dying day I shall regret," she murmured. "It was vile, it was unworthy! Yet if I had not used the only weapon to my hand--" She ceased, the Marquise caught the sound of a sob.

"What are you weeping for, little fool?" she cried.

"As much as anything for what he must think of me when he realises how shamefully I have used him."

"And does it matter what the canaille thinks? Shall it matter what the citizen-a.s.sa.s.sin thinks?"

"A little, Madame," she sighed. "He will despise me as I deserve. I almost wish that I could undo it, and go back to that little room at Boisvert the prisoner of that fearful man, Tardivet, or else that--"

Again she paused, and the Marquise turned towards her with a gasp.

"Or else that what?" she demanded. "Ma foi, it only remains that you should wish you had kept your promise to this sc.u.m."

"I almost wish it, Madame. I pledged my word to him."

"You talk as if you were a man," said her mother; "as if your word was a thing that bound you. It is a woman's prerogative to change her mind. As for this Republican sc.u.m--"

"You shall not call him that," was the rejoinder, sharply delivered; for Suzanne was roused at last. "He is twenty times more n.o.ble and brave than any gentleman, that I have ever met. We owe our liberty to him at this moment, and sufficiently have I wronged him by my actions--"

"Fool, what are you saying?" cried the enraged Marquise. "He, more n.o.ble and brave than any gentleman that you ever met? He--this kennel-bred citizen-ruffian of a revolutionist? Are you mad, girl, or--" The Marquise paused a moment and took a deep breath that was as a gasp of sudden understanding. "Is it that you are in love with this wretch!"

"Madame!" The exclamation was laden with blended wonder, dignity, and horror.