CHAPTER LXVIII.
THE WATER.
As the travelers advanced, the country took an equally strange aspect,for it was utterly deserted, as well as the towns and villages. Nowherewere the calves to be seen grazing in the meadows, nor the goat perchedon the top of the mountain, or nibbling the green shoots of the brier oryoung vine; nowhere the shepherd with his flock; nowhere the cart withits driver; no foreign merchant passing from one country to another withhis pack on his back; no plowman singing his harsh song or cracking hislong whip. As far as the eye could see over the magnificent plains, thelittle hills and the woods, not a human figure was to be seen, not avoice to be heard. It seemed like the earth before the creation ofanimals or men. The only people who animated this dreary solitude wereRemy and his companion, and Henri following behind and preserving everthe same distance. The night came on dark and cold, and the northeastwind whistled in the air, and filled the solitude with its menacingsound.
Remy stopped his companion, and putting his hand on the bridle of herhorse, said--
"Madame, you know how inaccessible I am to fear; you know I would notturn my back to save my life; but this evening some strange feelingpossesses me, and forbids me to go further. Madame, call it terror,timidity, panic, what you will, I confess that for the first time in mylife I am afraid."
The lady turned.
"Is he still there?" she said.
"Oh! I was not thinking of him; think no more of him, madame, I beg ofyou; we need not fear a single man. No, the danger that I fear orrather feel, or divine with a sort of instinct, is unknown to me, andtherefore I dread it. Look, madame, do you see those willows bending inthe wind?"
"Yes."
"By their side I see a little house; I beg you, let us go there. If itis inhabited, we will ask for hospitality; and if not, we will takepossession of it. I beg you to consent, madame."
Remy's emotion and troubled voice decided Diana to yield, so she turnedher horse in the direction indicated by him. Some minutes after, theyknocked at the door. A stream (which ran into the Nethe, a little riverabout a mile off), bordered with reeds and grassy banks, bathed the feetof the willows with its murmuring waters. Behind the house, which wasbuilt of bricks, and covered with tiles, was a little garden, encircledby a quickset hedge.
All was empty, solitary, and deserted, and no one replied to the blowsstruck by the travelers. Remy did not hesitate; he drew his knife, cut abranch of willow, with which he pushed back the bolt and opened thedoor. The lock, the clumsy work of a neighboring blacksmith, yieldedalmost without resistance. Remy entered quickly, followed by Diana,then, closing the door again, he drew a massive bolt, and thusintrenched, seemed to breathe more freely. Feeling about, he found abed, a chair, and a table in an upper room. Here he installed hismistress, and then, returning to the lower room, placed himself at thewindow, to watch the movements of Du Bouchage.
His reflections were as somber as those of Remy. "Certainly," said he tohimself, "some danger unknown to us, but of which the inhabitants arenot ignorant, is about to fall on the country. War ravages the land;perhaps the French have taken, or are about to assault Antwerp, and thepeasants, seized with terror, have gone to take refuge in the towns."
But this reasoning, however plausible, did not quite satisfy him. Thenhe thought, "But what are Remy and his mistress doing here? Whatimperious necessity drags them toward this danger? Oh, I will know; thetime has come to speak to this woman, and to clear away all my doubts.Never shall I find a better opportunity."
He approached the house, and then suddenly stopped, with a hesitationcommon to hearts in love.
"No," said he, "no, I will be a martyr to the end. Besides, is she notmistress of her own actions? And, perhaps, she does not even know whatfable was invented by Remy. Oh, it is he alone that I hate; he whoassured me that she loved no one. But still let me be just. Ought thisman for me, whom he did not know, to have betrayed his mistress'ssecrets? No, no. All that remains for me now is to follow this woman tothe camp, to see her hang her arms round some one's neck and hear hersay, 'See what I have suffered, and how I love you.' Well, I will followher there, see what I dread to see, and die of it; it will be troublesaved for the musket or cannon. Alas! I did not seek this; I went calmlyto meet a glorious death, and I wished to die with her name on my lips.It is not so to be; I am destined to a death full of bitterness andtorture. Well, I accept it."
Then, recalling his days of waiting, and his nights of anguish beforethe inexorable house, he found that he was less to be pitied here thanat Paris, and he went on.
"I will stay here, and take these trees for a shelter, and then I canhear her voice when she speaks, and see her shadow on the window."
He lay down, then, under the willows, listening, with a melancholyimpossible to describe, to the murmur of the water that flowed at hisside. All at once he started; the noise of cannon was brought distinctlyto him by the wind.
"Ah!" said he, "I shall arrive too late; they are attacking Antwerp."
His first idea was to rise, mount his horse, and ride on as quickly aspossible; but to do this he must quit the lady, and die in doubt, so heremained.
During two hours he lay there, listening to the reports. He did notguess that what he heard was his brother's ships blowing up. At last,about two o'clock, all grew quiet.
"Now," thought Henri, "Antwerp is taken, and my brother is a conqueror;but after Antwerp will come Ghent, and then Bruges; I shall not want anoccasion for a glorious death. But before I die I must know what thiswoman wants in the French camp."
He lay still, and had just fallen asleep, when his horse, which wasgrazing quietly near him, pricked up his ears and neighed loudly.
Henri opened his eyes. The animal had his head turned to the breeze,which had changed to the southeast, as if listening.
"What is it, my good horse?" said the young man; "have you seen someanimal which frightened you, or do you regret the shelter of yourstable?"
The animal stood still, looking toward Lier, with his eyes fixed and hisnostrils distended, and listening.
"Ah!" said Henri, "it is more serious; perhaps some troops of wolvesfollowing the army to devour the corpses."
The horse neighed and began to run forward to the west, but his mastercaught the bridle and jumped on his back, and then was able to keep himquiet. But after a minute, Henri himself began to hear what the horsehad heard. A long murmur, like the wind, but more solemn, which seemedto come from different points of the compass, from south to north.
"What is it?" said Henri; "can it be the wind? No, it is the wind whichbrings this sound, and I hear the two distinctly. An army in march,perhaps? But no; I should hear the sound of voices and of regularmarching. Is it the crackling of a fire? No, there is no light in thehorizon; the heaven seems even to grow darker."
The noise redoubled and became distinct; it was an incessant growlingand rolling, as if thousands of cannon were being dragged over a pavedroad. Henri thought of this. "But no," said he, "there is no paved roadnear."
The noise continued to increase, and Henri put his horse to the gallopand gained an eminence.
"What do I see?" cried he, as he attained the summit. What he saw hishorse had seen before him; for he had only been able to make him advanceby furious spurring, and when they arrived at the top of the hill hereared so as nearly to fall backward. They saw in the horizon aninfinite body rolling over the plain, and visibly and rapidlyapproaching. The young man looked in wonder at this strange phenomenon,when, looking back to the place he had come from, he saw the plainbeginning to be covered with water, and that the little river hadoverflowed, and was beginning to cover the reeds which a quarter of anhour before had stood up stiffly on its banks.
"Fool that I am," cried he, "I never thought of it. The water! thewater! The Flemings have broken their dykes!"
Henri flew to the house, and knocked furiously at the door.
"Open! open!" cried he.
No one replied.
"Open, Remy!" crie
d he, furious with terror; "it is I, Henri duBouchage."
"Oh! you need not name yourself, M. le Comte," answered Remy fromwithin, "I recognized you long ago; but I warn you, that if you break inthe door you will find me behind it, with a pistol in each hand."
"But you do not understand," cried Henri; "the water; it is the water!"
"No fables, no pretexts or dishonorable ruses, M. le Comte; I tell youthat you will only enter over my body."
"Then I will pass over it, but I will enter. In Heaven's name, in thename of your own safety and your mistress's, will you open?"--"No."
Henri looked round him, and perceived an immense stone. He raised it andthrew it against the door, which flew open. A ball passed over Henri'shead, but without touching him; he jumped toward Remy, and seizing hisother arm, cried, "Do you not see that I have no arms? do not defendyourself against a man who does not attack. Look! only look!" and hedrew him to the window.
"Well," said he, "do you see now?" and he pointed to the horizon.
"The water!" cried Remy.
"Yes, the water! it invades us; see, at our feet, the river overflows,and in five minutes we shall be surrounded."
"Madame! madame!" cried Remy.
"Do not frighten her, Remy; get ready the horses at once."
Remy ran to the stable, and Henri flew up the staircase. At Remy's cryDiana had opened her door; Henri seized her in his arms and carried heraway as he would have done a child. But she, believing in treason orviolence, struggled, and clung to the staircase with all her might.
"Tell her that I am saving her, Remy!" cried Henri.
Remy heard the appeal, and cried:
"Yes, yes, madame, he is saving you, or rather he will save you. Come,for Heaven's sake!"