CHAPTER VI. MORGAN
Our readers must permit us for an instant to abandon Roland and SirJohn, who, thanks to the physical and moral conditions in which we leftthem, need inspire no anxiety, while we direct our attention seriouslyto a personage who has so far made but a brief appearance in thishistory, though he is destined to play an important part in it.
We are speaking of the man who, armed and masked, entered the room ofthe table d'hote at Avignon to return Jean Picot the two hundred louiswhich had been stolen from him by mistake, stored as it had been withthe government money.
We speak of the highwayman, who called himself Morgan. He had riddeninto Avignon, masked, in broad daylight, entered the hotel of thePalais-Egalite leaving his horse at the door. This horse had enjoyedthe same immunity in the pontifical and royalist town as his master; hefound it again at the horse post, unfastened its bridle, sprang intothe saddle, rode through the Porte d'Oulle, skirting the walls,and disappeared at a gallop along the road to Lyons. Only aboutthree-quarters of a mile from Avignon, he drew his mantle closer abouthim, to conceal his weapons from the passers, and removing his mask heslipped it into one of the holsters of his saddle.
The persons whom he had left at Avignon who were curious to know ifthis could be the terrible Morgan, the terror of the Midi, might haveconvinced themselves with their own eyes, had they met him on the roadbetween Avignon and Bedarides, whether the bandit's appearance was asterrifying as his renown. We do not hesitate to assert that the featuresnow revealed would have harmonized so little with the picture theirprejudiced imagination had conjured up that their amazement would havebeen extreme.
The removal of the mask, by a hand of perfect whiteness and delicacy,revealed the face of a young man of twenty-four or five years of age,a face that, by its regularity of feature and gentle expression, hadsomething of the character of a woman's. One detail alone gave it orrather would give it at certain moments a touch of singular firmness.Beneath the beautiful fair hair waving on his brow and temples, as wasthe fashion at that period, eyebrows, eyes and lashes were black asebony. The rest of the face was, as we have said, almost feminine. Therewere two little ears of which only the tips could be seen beneath thetufts of hair to which the Incroyables of the day had given the name of"dog's-ears"; a straight, perfectly proportioned nose, a rather largemouth, rosy and always smiling, and which, when smiling, revealed adouble row of brilliant teeth; a delicate refined chin faintly tingedwith blue, showing that, if the beard had not been carefully andrecently shaved, it would, protesting against the golden hair, havefollowed the same color as the brows, lashes and eyes, that is to say, adecided black. As for the unknown's figure, it was seen, when he enteredthe dining-room, to be tall, well-formed and flexible, denoting, if notgreat muscular strength, at least much suppleness and agility.
The manner he sat his horse showed him to be a practiced rider. With hiscloak thrown back over his shoulders, his mask hidden in the holster,his hat pulled low over his eyes, the rider resumed his rapid pace,checked for an instant, passed through Bedarides at a gallop, andreaching the first houses in Orange, entered the gate of one whichclosed immediately behind him. A servant in waiting sprang to the bit.The rider dismounted quickly.
"Is your master here?" he asked the domestic.
"No, Monsieur the Baron," replied the man; "he was obliged to go awaylast night, but he left word that if Monsieur should ask for him, to saythat he had gone in the interests of the Company."
"Very good, Baptiste. I have brought back his horse in good condition,though somewhat tired. Rub him down with wine, and give him for two orthree days barley instead of oats. He has covered something like onehundred miles since yesterday morning."
"Monsieur the Baron was satisfied with him?"
"Perfectly satisfied. Is the carriage ready?"
"Yes, Monsieur the Baron, all harnessed in the coach-house; thepostilion is drinking with Julien. Monsieur recommended that he shouldbe kept outside the house that he might not see him arrive."
"He thinks he is to take your master?"
"Yes, Monsieur the Baron. Here is my master's passport, which we usedto get the post-horses, and as my master has gone in the direction ofBordeaux with Monsieur the Baron's passport, and as Monsieur the Barongoes toward Geneva with my master's passport, the skein will probablybe so tangled that the police, clever as their fingers are, can't easilyunravel it."
"Unfasten the valise that is on the croup of my saddle, Baptiste, andgive it to me."
Baptiste obeyed dutifully, but the valise almost slipped from his hands."Ah!" said he laughing, "Monsieur the Baron did not warn me! The devil!Monsieur the Baron has not wasted his time it seems."
"Just where you're mistaken, Baptiste! if I didn't waste all my time, Iat least lost a good deal, so I should like to be off again as soon aspossible."
"But Monsieur the Baron will breakfast?"
"I'll eat a bite, but quickly."
"Monsieur will not be delayed. It is now two, and breakfast has beenready since ten this morning. Luckily it's a cold breakfast."
And Baptiste, in the absence of his master, did the honors of the houseto the visitor by showing him the way to the dining-room.
"Not necessary," said the visitor, "I know the way. Do you see to thecarriage; let it be close to the house with the door wide open when Icome out, so that the postilion can't see me. Here's the money to payhim for the first relay."
And the stranger whom Baptiste had addressed as Baron handed him ahandful of notes.
"Why, Monsieur," said the servant, "you have given me enough to pay allthe way to Lyons!"
"Pay him as far as Valence, under pretext that I want to sleep, and keepthe rest for your trouble in settling the accounts."
"Shall I put the valise in the carriage-box?"
"I will do so myself."
And taking the valise from the servant's hands, without letting it beseen that it weighed heavily, he turned toward the dining-room, whileBaptiste made his way toward the nearest inn, sorting his notes as hewent.
As the stranger had said, the way was familiar to him, for he passeddown a corridor, opened a first door without hesitation, then a second,and found himself before a table elegantly served. A cold fowl, twopartridges, a ham, several kinds of cheese, a dessert of magnificentfruit, and two decanters, the one containing a ruby-colored wine, andthe other a yellow-topaz, made a breakfast which, though evidentlyintended for but one person, as only one place was set, might in case ofneed have sufficed for three or four.
The young man's first act on entering the dining-room was to go straightto a mirror, remove his hat, arrange his hair with a little comb whichhe took from his pocket; after which he went to a porcelain basin witha reservoir above it, took a towel which was there for the purpose,and bathed his face and hands. Not until these ablutions werecompleted--characteristic of a man of elegant habits--not until theseablutions had been minutely performed did the stranger sit down to thetable.
A few minutes sufficed to satisfy his appetite, to which youth andfatigue had, however, given magnificent proportions; and when Baptistecame in to inform the solitary guest that the carriage was ready hefound him already afoot and waiting.
The stranger drew his hat low over his eyes, wrapped his coat about him,took the valise under his arm, and, as Baptiste had taken pains to lowerthe carriage-steps as close as possible to the door, he sprang into thepost-chaise without being seen by the postilion. Baptiste slammed thedoor after him; then, addressing the man in the top-boots:
"Everything is paid to Valence, isn't it, relays and fees?" he asked.
"Everything; do you want a receipt?" replied the postilion, jokingly.
"No; but my master, the Marquise de Ribier, don't want to be disturbeduntil he gets to Valence."
"All right," replied the postilion, in the same bantering tone, "thecitizen Marquis shan't be disturbed. Forward, hoop-la!" And he startedhis horses, and cracked his whip with that noisy eloquence which says toneighbors and passers-b
y: "'Ware here, 'ware there! I am driving a manwho pays well and who has the right to run over others."
Once in the carriage the pretended Marquis of Ribier opened the window,lowered the blinds, raised the seat, put his valise in the hollow, satdown on it, wrapped himself in his cloak, and, certain of not beingdisturbed till he reached Valence, slept as he had breakfasted, that isto say, with all the appetite of youth.
They went from Orange to Valence in eight hours. Our traveller awakenedshortly before entering the city. Raising one of the blinds cautiously,he recognized the little suburb of Paillasse. It was dark, so he struckhis repeater and found it was eleven at night. Thinking it useless to goto sleep again, he added up the cost of the relays to Lyons and countedout the money. As the postilion at Valence passed the comrade whoreplaced him, the traveller heard him say:
"It seems he's a ci-devant; but he was recommended from Orange, and, ashe pays twenty sous fees, you must treat him as you would a patriot."
"Very well," replied the other; "he shall be driven accordingly."
The traveller thought the time had come to intervene. He raised theblind and said:
"And you'll only be doing me justice. A patriot? Deuce take it! I pridemyself upon being one, and of the first calibre, too! And the proofis--Drink this to the health of the Republic." And he handed ahundred-franc assignat to the postilion who had recommended him to hiscomrade. Seeing the other looking eagerly at this strip of paper, hecontinued: "And the same to you if you will repeat the recommendationyou've just received to the others."
"Oh! don't worry, citizen," said the postilion; "there'll be but oneorder to Lyons--full speed!"
"And here is the money for the sixteen posts, including the doublepost of entrance in advance. I pay twenty sous fees. Settle it amongyourselves."
The postilion dug his spurs into his horse and they were off at agallop. The carriage relayed at Lyons about four in the afternoon. Whilethe horses were being changed, a man clad like a porter, sitting withhis stretcher beside him on a stone post, rose, came to the carriage andsaid something in a low tone to the young Companion of Jehu which seemedto astonish the latter greatly.
"Are you quite sure?" he asked the porter.
"I tell you that I saw him with my own eyes!" replied the latter.
"Then I can give the news to our friends as a positive fact?"
"You can. Only hurry."
"Have they been notified at Servas?"
"Yes; you will find a horse ready between Servas and Sue."
The postilion came up; the young man exchanged a last glance withthe porter, who walked away as if charged with a letter of the utmostimportance.
"What road, citizen?" asked the postilion.
"To Bourg. I must reach Servas by nine this evening; I pay thirty sousfees."
"Forty-two miles in five hours! That's tough. Well, after all, it can bedone."
"Will you do it."
"We can try."
And the postilion started at full gallop. Nine o'clock was striking asthey entered Servas.
"A crown of six livres if you'll drive me half-way to Sue withoutstopping here to change horses!" cried the young man through the windowto the postilion.
"Done!" replied the latter.
And the carriage dashed past the post house without stopping.
Morgan stopped the carriage at a half mile beyond Servas, put his headout of the window, made a trumpet of his hands, and gave the hoot of ascreech-owl. The imitation was so perfect that another owl answered froma neighboring woods.
"Here we are," cried Morgan.
The postilion pulled up, saying: "If we're there, we needn't gofurther."
The young man took his valise, opened the door, jumped out and steppedup to the postilion.
"Here's the promised ecu."
The postilion took the coin and stuck it in his eye, as a fop of ourday holds his eye-glasses. Morgan divined that this pantomime had asignificance.
"Well," he asked, "what does that mean?"
"That means," said the postilion, "that, do what I will, I can't helpseeing with the other eye."
"I understand," said the young man, laughing; "and if I close the othereye--"
"Damn it! I shan't see anything."
"Hey! you're a rogue who'd rather be blind than see with one eye! Well,there's no disputing tastes. Here!"
And he gave him a second crown. The postilion stuck it up to his othereye, wheeled the carriage round and took the road back to Servas.
The Companion of Jehu waited till he vanished in the darkness. Thenputting the hollow of a key to his lips, he drew a long trembling soundfrom it like a boatswain's whistle.
A similar call answered him, and immediately a horseman came out of thewoods at full gallop. As he caught sight of him Morgan put on his mask.
"In whose name have you come?" asked the rider, whose face, hidden as itwas beneath the brim of an immense hat, could not be seen.
"In the name of the prophet Elisha," replied the young man with themask.
"Then you are he whom I am waiting for." And he dismounted.
"Are you prophet or disciple?" asked Morgan.
"Disciple," replied the new-comer.
"Where is your master?"
"You will find him at the Chartreuse of Seillon."
"Do you know how many Companions are there this evening?"
"Twelve."
"Very good; if you meet any others send them there."
He who had called himself a disciple bowed in sign of obedience,assisted Morgan to fasten the valise to the croup of the saddle, andrespectfully held the bit while the young man mounted. Without evenwaiting to thrust his other foot into the stirrup, Morgan spurred hishorse, which tore the bit from the groom's hand and started off at agallop.
On the right of the road stretched the forest of Seillon, like a shadowysea, its sombre billows undulating and moaning in the night wind. Halfa mile beyond Sue the rider turned his horse across country toward theforest, which, as he rode on, seemed to advance toward him. The horse,guided by an experienced hand, plunged fearlessly into the woods. Tenminutes later he emerged on the other side.
A gloomy mass, isolated in the middle of a plain, rose about a hundredfeet from the forest. It was a building of massive architecture, shadedby five or six venerable trees. The horseman paused before the portal,over which were placed three statues in a triangle of the Virgin, ourLord, and St. John the Baptist. The statue of the Virgin was at the apexof the triangle.
The mysterious traveller had reached his goal, for this was theChartreuse of Seillon. This monastery, the twenty-second of its order,was founded in 1178. In 1672 a modern edifice had been substituted forthe old building; vestiges of its ruins can be seen to this day. Theseruins consist externally of the above-mentioned portal with the threestatues, before which our mysterious traveller halted; internally, asmall chapel, entered from the right through the portal. A peasant, hiswife and two children are now living there, and the ancient monasteryhas become a farm.
The monks were expelled from their convent in 1791; in 1792 theChartreuse and its dependencies were offered for sale as ecclesiasticalproperty. The dependencies consisted first of the park, adjoining thebuildings, and the noble forest which still bears the name of Seillon.But at Bourg, a royalist and, above all, religious town, no one daredrisk his soul by purchasing property belonging to the worthy monks whomall revered. The result was that the convent, the park and the foresthad become, under the title of state property, the property of therepublic; that is to say, they belonged to nobody, or were at the bestneglected. The republic having, for the last seven years, other thingsto think of than pointing walls, cultivating an orchard and cuttingtimber.
For seven years, therefore, the Chartreuse had been completelyabandoned, and if by chance curious eyes peered through the keyhole,they caught glimpses of grass-grown courtyards, brambles in the orchard,and brush in the forest, which, except for one road and two or threepaths that crossed it, had become almost impe
netrable. The Correrie, aspecies of pavilion belonging to the monastery and distant from it aboutthree-quarters of a mile, was mossgrown too in the tangle of the forest,which, profiting by its liberty, grew at its own sweet will, and hadlong since encircled it in a mantle of foliage which hid it from sight.
For the rest, the strangest rumors were current about these twobuildings. They were said to be haunted by guests invisible by day,terrifying at night. The woodsmen and the belated peasants, who went tothe forest to exercise against the Republic the rights which the town ofBourg had enjoyed in the days of the monks, pretended that, through thecracks of the closed blinds, they had seen flames of fire dancing alongthe corridors and stairways, and had distinctly heard the noise ofchains clanking over the cloister tilings and the pavement of thecourtyards. The strong-minded denied these things; but two very oppositeclasses opposed the unbelievers, confirming the rumors, attributingthese terrifying noises and nocturnal lights to two different causesaccording to their beliefs. The patriots declared that they werethe ghosts of the poor monks buried alive by cloister tyranny in theIn-pace, who were now returned to earth, dragging after them theirfetters to call down the vengeance of Heaven upon their persecutors.The royalists said that they were the imps of the devil, who, findingan empty convent, and fearing no further danger from holy water, wereboldly holding their revels where once they had not dared show a claw.One fact, however, left everything uncertain. Not one of the believersor unbelievers--whether he elected for the souls of the martyred monksor for the Witches' Sabbath of Beelzebub--had ever had the courage toventure among the shadows, and to seek during the solemn hours of nightconfirmation of the truth, in order to tell on the morrow whether theChartreuse were haunted, and if haunted by whom.
But doubtless these tales, whether well founded or not, had no influenceover our mysterious horseman; for although, as we have said, nineo'clock had chimed from the steeples of Bourg, and night had fallen,he reined in his horse in front of the great portal of the desertedmonastery, and, without dismounting, drew a pistol from his holster,striking three measured blows with the butt on the gate, after themanner of the Freemasons. Then he listened. For an instant he doubted ifthe meeting were really there; for though he looked closely and listenedattentively, he could perceive no light, nor could he hear a sound.Still he fancied he heard a cautious step approaching the portal fromwithin. He knocked a second time with the same weapon and in the samemanner.
"Who knocks?" demanded a voice.
"He who comes from Elisha," replied the traveller.
"What king do the sons of Isaac obey?"
"Jehu."
"What house are they to exterminate?"
"That of Ahab."
"Are you prophet or disciple?"
"Prophet."
"Welcome then to the House of the Lord!" said the voice.
Instantly the iron bars which secured the massive portal swung back, thebolts grated in their sockets, half of the gate opened silently, and thehorse and his rider passed beneath the sombre vault, which immediatelyclosed behind them.
The person who had opened the gate, so slow to open, so quick to close,was attired in the long white robe of a Chartreuse monk, of which thehood, falling over his face, completely concealed his features.