CHAPTER LXVI.
THE TRAVELERS.
While these disasters, the forerunners of a still greater one, weretaking place, two travelers, mounted on excellent horses, left Brusselson a fine night, and rode toward Mechlin. They rode side by side,without any apparent arms but a large Flemish knife, of which the handleappeared in the belt of one of them. They rode on, each occupied withthoughts perhaps the same, without speaking a word. They looked likethose commercial travelers who at that time carried on an extensivetrade between France and Flanders. Whoever had met them trotting sopeaceably along the road would have taken them for honest men, anxiousto find a bed after their day's work. However, it was only necessary tooverhear a few sentences of their conversation to lose any such opinionsuggested by their appearance. They were about half a league fromBrussels, when the tallest of them said:
"Madame, you were quite right to set off to-night; we shall gain sevenleagues by it, and shall probably arrive at Mechlin by the time theresult of the attack on Antwerp is known. In two days of short marches,and you must take easy stages, we shall reach Antwerp."
The person who was called madame, in spite of her male costume, repliedin a voice calm, grave, and sweet:
"My friend, believe me, God will tire of protecting this wicked prince,and will strike him cruelly; let us hasten to put our projects intoexecution, for I am not one of those who believe in fatality, and Ithink that men have perfect freedom in will and deed. If we leave hispunishment to God, and do not act ourselves, it was not worth whileliving so unhappily until now."
At this moment a blast of north wind, cold and biting, swept across theplain.
"You shiver, madame," said the other traveler; "take your cloak."
"No, thank you, Remy; I no longer feel pain of body or mind."
Remy rode on silently, only now and then stopping and looking back.
"You see no one behind us?" asked she, after one of these halts.
"No one, madame."
"That cavalier whom we met at Valenciennes, and who inquired about us,after looking at us so curiously?"
"He is not here, madame."
"But I fancied I saw him again near Mons."
"And I, madame, am sure I saw him just before we entered Brussels."
"Brussels?"
"Yes; but he must have stopped there."
"Remy," said Diana, drawing near him, as if even on that lonely road shefeared to be overheard, "did he not seem to you like (in figure, atleast, for I did not see his face) that unhappy young man?"
"Oh! no, madame, not at all; and besides, how could he have guessed thatwe had left Paris, and were traveling along this road?"
"But he found us out when we changed our house in Paris."
"No, madame, I am sure he did not follow us; and, indeed, I believe hehad resolved on a desperate course as regards himself."
"Alas! Remy, every one has his own share of suffering. I trust God willconsole this poor youth."
Remy replied with a sigh, and they went on with no other sound thanthat of their horses' feet on the hard road. Two hours passed thus. Justas they were about to enter Vilvoide, Remy turned his head, for he heardthe sound of horses' feet behind them. He stopped and listened, butcould see nothing. His eyes uselessly tried to pierce through thedarkness of the night, and as he no longer heard any sounds, they rodeon and entered the town.
"Madame," said he, "if you will take my advice, you will stay here;daylight will soon appear, the horses are tired, and you yourself needrepose."
"Remy, you are anxious about something."
"Yes, about your health, madame. Believe me, a woman cannot support somuch fatigue; I can scarcely do so myself."
"As you please, Remy."
"Well, then, enter that narrow street. I see a light at the end of it,which must proceed from an inn. Be quick, I beg you."
"You have heard something?"
"I thought I heard a horse's feet. I am not sure, but I will stay behinda minute to find out."
The lady, without replying, went on, and Remy got off his horse and lethim follow her, while he hid himself behind an immense post and waited.The lady knocked at the door of the inn, behind which, according to thehospitable custom of the country, watched, or rather slept, a maidservant. The girl woke up and received the traveler with perfectgood-humor, and then opened the stable-door for the two horses.
"I am waiting for my companion," said Diana; "let me sit by the fire; Ishall not go to bed until he comes."
The servant threw some straw to the horses, shut the stable door, thenreturned to the kitchen, put a chair by the fire, snuffed the candlewith her fingers, and went to sleep again.
Meanwhile Remy was watching for the arrival of the traveler whose horsehe had heard. He saw him enter the town and go on slowly, and seemingto listen; then, seeing the inn, he appeared to hesitate whether to gothere or to continue his journey. He stopped close to Remy, who laid hishand on his knife.
"It is he again," thought Remy, "and he is following us. What can hewant?"
After a minute the traveler murmured in a low voice, "They must havegone on, and so will I," and he rode forward.
"To-morrow we will change our route," thought Remy.
And he rejoined Diana, who was waiting impatiently for him.
"Well," said she softly, "are we followed?"
"There is no one, I was wrong; you may sleep in perfect safety, madame."
"I am not sleepy, Remy."
"At least have supper, madame; you have scarcely eaten anything."
"Willingly, Remy."
They reawakened the poor servant, who got up as good-humoredly asbefore, and hearing what they wanted, took from the cupboard a piece ofsalt pork, a cold leveret, and some sweets, which she set before them,together with a frothing jug of Louvain beer.
Remy sat down with Diana, who drank half a glass of beer, and ate apiece of bread. Remy did the same, and then they both rose.
"Are you not going to eat any more?" asked the girl.
"No, thank you, we have done."
"Will you not eat any meat? it is very nice."
"I am sure it is excellent, but we are not hungry."
The girl clasped her hands in astonishment at this strange abstinence;it was not thus she was used to see travelers eat.
Remy threw a piece of money on the table.
"Oh!" said the girl, "I cannot change all that; six farthings would beall your bill."
"Keep it all, my girl," said Diana; "it is true my brother and I eatlittle, but we pay the same as others."
The servant became red with joy.
"Tell me, my girl," said Remy, "is there any cross-road from here toMechlin?"
"Yes, monsieur, but it is very bad, while the regular road is a veryfine one."
"Yes, my child, I know that, but we wish to travel by the other."
"Oh! I told you, monsieur, because, as your companion is a lady, theroad would not do for her."
"Why not?"
"Because to-night a great number of people will cross the country to goto Brussels."--"To Brussels?"
"Yes; it is a temporary emigration."
"For what reason?"
"I do not know; they had orders."
"From whom--the Prince of Orange?"
"No; from monseigneur."
"Who is he?"
"I do not know, monsieur."
"And who are the emigrants?"
"The inhabitants of the country and of the villages which have no dykesor ramparts."
"It is strange."
"We ourselves," said the girl, "are to set out at daybreak, as well asall the other people in the town. Yesterday, at eleven o'clock, all thecattle were sent to Brussels by canals and cross-roads; therefore on theroad of which you speak there must be great numbers of horses, carts,and people."
"I should have thought the great road better for all that."
"I do not know; it was the order."
"But we can go on to Mechlin, I suppose?"
"I should think so, unless you will do like every one else, and go toBrussels."
"No, no, we will go on at once to Mechlin," said Diana, rising; "openthe stable, if you please, my good girl."
"Danger every way," thought Remy; "however, the young man is before us."And as the horses had not been unsaddled, they mounted again, and therising sun found them on the banks of the Dyle.