The Courtship of Morrice Buckler: A Romance

  CHAPTER XX.

  IN THE PAVILION. COUNTESS LUKSTEIN EXPLAINS.

  Of the horror which the next two hours brought to me, I find itdifficult to speak, even at this distance of time. 'Twas not the fearof what might be in store for me that oppressed my mind, though Godknows I do not say this to make a boast of it; for doubtless some fearupon that score would have argued me a better man; but in truth Ibarely sent a thought that way. The savour of life had become brineupon my lips, and I cared little what became of me, so that the endingwas quick.

  For the moment the door closed I was filled with an appalling sense ofloneliness and isolation. Heart and brain it seized and possessed me.'Twas the closing of a door upon all the hopes which had chattered andlaughed and nestled at my heart for so long; and into such a vacancyof mind did I fall, that I did not trouble to speculate upon thenature of the story which Countess Lukstein believed to be true. Thatshe had been led by I knew not what suspicions into some strange errorthat she had got but a misshapen account of the duel between herhusband and myself, was, of course, plain to me. But since her formerkindliness and courtesy had been part of a deliberate and ordainedplan for securing me within her power, since, in a word, she hadcherished no favourable thoughts of me at any time, I deemed it idleto consider of the matter.

  Moreover, the remoteness of these parts made my helplessness yet morebitter and overpowering; though, indeed, I was not like to forget myhelplessness in any case, for the cords about my ankles and wrists bitinto my flesh like coils of hot wire. "A sequestered nook of theworld," so I remembered, had Ilga called this corner of the Tyrol, andfor a second time that night my thoughts went back to my own distantvalley. I saw it pleasant with the domestic serenity which a mandiscovers nowhere but in his native landscape.

  And to crown, as it were, my loneliness, now and again a few straynotes of music or a noise of laughter would drift through the chinksinto the pitch-dark hut, and tell of the lighted Hall and of Ilga,now, maybe, dancing among her guests.

  'Twas a little short of eleven when she returned to the pavilion. I amable to fix the time from an incident which occurred shortlyafterwards. At first, the steps falling light as they approached, Ibethought me my visitor was either Otto or Groder coming stealthilyupon his toes to complete his work with me; for I never expected tolook upon her face again.

  She carried no light with her, and paused on the sill of the door, herslight figure outlined against the twilight. She bent her headforward, peering into the gloom of the room, but she said no word;neither did I address her. So she stood for a little, and then,stepping again outside, she unbarred and opened the shutters of thewindow. Returning, she latched the door, locked it from within, and,fetching the stool from the corner, sat her down quietly before me.

  The moon, which had previously shone into the room almost in a levelbar, now slanted its beams, so that the Countess was bathed in themfrom head to foot, while I, being nearer to the window, lay half inshadow, half on the edge of the light.

  She sat with her chin propped upon her hands, and her eyes steadilyfixed upon mine, but she betrayed no resentment in her looks nor,indeed, feeling of any kind. Then, in a low, absent voice, she beganto croon over to herself that odd, wailing elegy which I had onceheard her sing in London. The tune had often haunted me since that dayfrom its native melancholy, but now, as Ilga sang it in the moonlight,her eyes very big and dark, and fastened quietly upon mine, it gaineda weird and eerie quality from her manner, and I felt my flesh beginto creep.

  I stirred uneasily upon the settle, and Ilga stopped. I must think shemistook the reason of my restlessness, for a slow smile came upon herface, and, reaching out a hand, she tried the knots wherewith I wasbound.

  "It may well be," she suggested, "that you are better inclined tospeak the truth, since now you know to what falsehood has broughtyou."

  "Madame," I replied wearily, "I know not what you believe nor what youwould have me say. It matters little to me, nor can I see, since youhave reached the end for which you worked, that it need greatlyconcern you. This only I know, that I have already told you thetruth."

  "And the miniature you left behind you?" she asked, with an ironicsmile. "Am I to understand it has no bearing on the duel?"

  "Nay, madame," said I; "'tis the key to the cause of our encounter."

  "Ah!" she interrupted, with a satisfaction which I did not comprehend."You have drawn some profit from the reflection of these last hours."

  "For," I continued, "it contained the likeness of my friend, SirJulian Harnwood, as, indeed, Otto must needs have told you. 'Twas inhis cause that I came to Lukstein."

  "'Twas the likeness of a woman," she replied patiently.

  I stared at her in amazement.

  "Of a woman!" I exclaimed.

  She laughed with a quiet scorn.

  "Of a woman," she repeated. "I showed it you in my apartments atLondon."

  "The portrait of Lady Tracy? It is impossible!" I cried, starting up."Why, Marston gave it you. You told me so."

  "Oh, is there no end to it?" She burst out into sudden passion,beating her hands together as though to enforce her words. "Is thereno end to it? I never told you so. 'Twas you who pretended that. Youpretended you believed it, and like a weak fool, I let your cunningdeceive me. I was not sure then that you had killed the Count, and Ibelieved you had never seen the likeness till that day. But now Iknow. You own you left the miniature behind you."

  "But the case was locked," I said, "and I had not the key."

  "I know not that."

  I could have informed her who had possessed the key, but refrained,bethinking me that the knowledge might only add to her distress andyet do no real service to me.

  "And so," I observed instead, "all your anxiety that I should not taxMarston with the giving of it was on your own account, and not at allon mine."

  She was taken aback by the unexpected rejoinder. But to me 'twas nomore than a corollary of my original thought that the Countess hadbeen playing me like a silly fish during the entire period of ouracquaintance.

  "I showed you the portrait as a test," she said hurriedly. "I believedyou guiltless, and I knew Mr. Marston and yourself had little likingfor each other. Any pretext would have served you for a quarrel.Besides--besides----"

  "Besides," I took her up, "you allowed me to believe that Marston hadgiven you the miniature, and had I spoken of the matter to him Ishould have discovered you were playing me false."

  "But you knew," she cried, whipping herself to anger, as it seemed tome, to make up for having given ground. "You knew how the miniaturecame into my hands. All the while you knew it, and you talk of myplaying you false!"

  Suddenly she resumed her seat, and continued in a quieter voice:

  "But the brother found out the shameful secret. You could overreachme, but not the brother; and fresh from accounting to him for yourconduct, you must needs stumble into my presence with Lady Tracy'sname upon your lips, and doubtless some new explanation ready."

  "Madame, that is not so. I came that evening to tell you what I havetold you to-night, but you would not hear me. You bade me come toLukstein. I know now why, and 'twas doubtless for the same reason thatyou locked the door when I had swooned."

  She started as I mentioned that incident.

  "'Twas not on Lady Tracy's account, or because of any conduct of minetowards her, that I fought Marston. Against his will I compelled himto fight, as Lord Elmscott will bear out. He had learned by whose handCount Lukstein died, and rode after you to Bristol that he might bethe first to tell you; and I was minded to tell you the story myself."

  "Or, at all events, to prevent him telling it," she added, with asneer. "But how came Mr. Marston to learn this fact?"

  I was silent. I could not but understand that the Countess presumedher husband, Lady Tracy, and myself to be bound together by somevulgar intrigue, and I saw how my answer must needs strengthen hersuspicions.

  "How did he find out?" she
repeated. "Tell me that!"

  "Lady Tracy informed him," I answered, in despair.

  "Then you admit that Lady Tracy knew?"

  "I told her of the duel myself, on the very morning that I first mether--on the morning that I introduced her into your house."

  "And why did she carry the news to her brother?"

  Again I was silent, and again she pressed the question.

  "She was afraid of you, and she sought her brother's protection,"Every word I uttered seemed to plead against me. "I understand now whyshe was afraid. I did not know her miniature was in that case, butdoubtless she did, and she was afraid you should connect her withCount Lukstein's death."

  "Whereas," replied the Countess, "she had nothing to do with it?"

  I had made up my mind what answer I should make to this question whenit was put. Since I had plainly lost Ilga beyond all hope, I wasresolved to spare her the knowledge of her husband's treachery.'Twould not better my case--for in truth I cared little what became ofme--to relate that disgraceful episode to her, and 'twould only add toher unhappiness. So I answered boldly:

  "She had nothing to do with it."

  The Countess sat looking at me without a word, and I was bethinking meof some excuse by which I might explain how it came about that LadyTracy's portrait and not Julian's was in the box, when she bentforward, with her face quite close to mine, so that she might noteevery change in my expression.

  "And the footsteps in the snow; how do you account for them? Thewoman's footsteps that kept side by side with yours from the parapetto the window, and back again from the window to the parapet?"

  I uttered a cry, and setting my feet to the ground, raised myself upin the settle.

  "The footsteps in the snow? They were your own."

  The Countess stared at me vacantly, and then I saw the horror growingin her eyes, and I knew that at last she believed me.

  "They were your own," I went on. "I knew nothing of Count Lukstein'smarriage. I had never set eyes on him at all. I knew not 'twas yourwedding-day. I came hither hot-foot from Bristol to serve my friendSir Julian Harnwood. He had quarrelled with the Count, and since helay condemned to death as one of Monmouth's rebels, he charged me totake the quarrel up. In furtherance of that charge, I forced CountLukstein to fight me. In the midst of the encounter you came down thelittle staircase into the room. I saw you across the Count's shoulder.The curtain by the window hangs now half-torn from the vallance. Itore it clutching its folds in my horror. We started asunder, and youpassed between us. You walked out across the garden and to the Castlewall. Madame, as God is my witness, when once I had seen you, I wishedfor nothing so much as to leave the Count in peace. But--but----"

  "Well?" she asked breathlessly.

  "'Twas Count Lukstein's turn to compel me," I went on, recovering froma momentary hesitation. I had indeed nearly blurted out the truthabout his final thrust. "And when you came back into the room, youpassed within a foot of the dead body of your husband, and of myself,who was kneeling----"

  She flung herself back, interrupting me with a shuddering cry. Shecovered her face with her hands, and swayed to and fro upon the stool,as though she would fall.

  "Madame!" I exclaimed. "For God's sake! For if you swoon, alas! Icannot help you."

  She recovered herself in a moment, and taking her hands from beforeher face, looked at me with a strangely softened expression. She rosefrom her seat, and took a step or two thoughtfully towards the door.Then she stopped and turned to me.

  "Lady Tracy, you say, had nothing to do with this quarrel, and yet herlikeness was in the miniature case."

  I had no doubt in my own mind as to how it came there. 'Twas the casewhich Lady Tracy had given to Count Lukstein, and doubtless she hadsubstituted her portrait for that of Julian. But this I could not tellto the Countess.

  "'Twas a mistake of my friend," said I. "He gave me the case as awarrant and proof, which I might show to Count Lukstein, that I cameon his part, telling me his portrait was within it. But 'twas on thenight before he was executed, and his thoughts may well have goneastray."

  "But since the case was locked, and you had not the key, who was toopen it?"

  "Count Lukstein," I replied, being thrown for a moment off my guard.

  "Count Lukstein?" she asked, coming back to me. "Then he possessed thekey. You fought for your friend, Sir Julian Harnwood. Lady Tracy wasbetrothed to Sir Julian. The case was given to you as a warrant of thecause in which you came. It contained Lady Tracy's likeness, and CountLukstein held the key."

  She spoke with great slowness and deliberation, adding sentence tosentence as links in a chain of testimony. I heard her with a greatfear, perceiving how near she was to the truth. There was, however,one link missing to make the chain complete. She did not know thatLady Tracy had owned the case and had given it to Count Lukstein, andof that fact I was determined she should still remain ignorant.

  "My husband loved me," she said quickly, with a curious challenge inher voice.

  "I believe most sincerely that he did," I answered with vehemence. Iwas able to say so honestly, for I remembered how his face and tonehad softened when he made mention of his wife.

  "Then tell me the cause of this quarrel that induced you to break intothis house at midnight, and, on a friend's behalf, force a stranger tofight you without even a witness?"

  There was a return of suspicion in her tone, and she came back intothe moonlight. The temptation to speak out grew upon me as I watchedher. I longed to assure her that I was bound to no other woman, butpledged heart and soul to her, and the fear that if I kept silent shewould once more set this duel down to some rivalry in intrigue, urgedme well-nigh out of all restraint. Why should I be so careful of thereputation of Count Lukstein? 'Twas an unworthy thought, and one thatpromised to mislead me; for after all, 'twas not his good or illrepute that I had to consider, but rather whether Ilga held his memoryin such esteem and respect that my disclosures would inflict greatmisery upon her and a lasting distress. This postulate I could hardlybring myself to question. Had I not, indeed, ample surety in the careand perseverance wherewith she had sought to avenge his death?However, being hard pressed by my inclinations, I determined to testthat point conclusively if by any means I might.

  "Madame," I said, "last night, as I lay in my bed, bethinking me ofthe morrow, and wondering what it held in store for me, I heard thesound of a woman weeping. It rose from the little room beneath me;from the room wherein I fought Count Lukstein. 'Twas the most desolatesound that ever my ears have hearkened to--a woman weeping alone inthe black of the night. I stole down the staircase and opened thedoor. I saw that the woman who wept was yourself."

  "'Twas for my husband," she interposed, very sharp and quick, and myheart sank.

  Yet her words seemed to quicken my desire to reveal the truth. Theywoke in me a strange and morbid jealousy of the man. I longed to cryout: "He was a coward; false to you, false to his friend, false tome."

  "And in London?" I asked, temporising again. "The morning I came toyou unannounced. You were at the spinnet."

  "'Twas for my husband," she repeated, with a certain stubbornness."But we will keep to the question we have in hand, if you please--thecause of your dispute with Count Lukstein."

  "I will not tell you it."

  I spoke with no great firmness, and on that account most like I helpedto confirm her reawakened suspicions.

  "Will not?" says she, her voice cold and sneering. "They are bravewords though unbravely spoken. You forget I have the advantage and cancompel you."

  "Madame," I replied, "you overrate your powers. Your servants can bindme hand and foot, but they cannot compel me to speak what I will not."

  "Have you no lie ready? What? Does your invention fail?" and shesuddenly rose from the stool in a whirlwind of passion. "God forgiveme!" she cried. "For even now I believed you."

  She ceased abruptly and pushed her head forward, listening. The creakof wheels came faintly to our ears.

  "You hear tha
t? It is Mr. Buckler's carriage, and Mr. Buckler rideswithin it. Do you understand? The carriage takes you to Meran; youwill not be the first traveller who has disappeared on the borders ofItaly. I am afraid your friend at Venice will wait for you in vain."

  The carriage rumbled down the hill, and we both listened until thesound died away.

  "For the future you shall labour as my peasant on the hillside amongthe woods, with my peasants for companionship, until your thoughtsgrow coarse with your body, and your soul dwindles to the soul of apeasant. So shall you live, and so shall you die, for the wrong whichyou have done to me." She towered above me in her outburst, her eyesflashing with anger. "And you dared to charge me with trickery! Why,what else has your life been? From the night you went clothed as awoman to Bristol Bridewell, what else has your life been? A woman! Thepart fitted you well; you have all the cunning. You need but theaddition of a petticoat."

  The bitterness of her speech stung me into a fury, and, forgetful ofthe continence I owed to her:

  "Madame!" I said, "I proved the contrary to your husband."

  "Silence!" she cried, and with her open hand she struck me on theface. And then a strange thing happened. It seemed as though wechanged places. For all my helplessness, I seemed to have won themastery over her. A feeling of power and domination, such as I hadnever experienced before, grew stronger and stronger within me, andran tingling through every vein. I forgot my bonds; I forgot thecontempt which she had poured on me; I forgot the very diffidence withwhich she had always inspired me. I felt somehow that I was hermaster, and exulted in the feeling. Whatever happened to me in thefuture, whether or no I was to labour as her bondslave for all mydays, for that one moment I was her master. She could never hold me inlower esteem, in greater scorn than she did at this hour, and yet Iwas her master. Something told me indeed that she would never hold mein contempt at all again. She stood before me, her face dark withshame, her attitude one of shrinking humiliation. Twice she strove toraise her eyes to mine; twice she let them fall to the ground. Shebegan a sentence, and broke off at the second word. She pulledfretfully at the laces of her gloves. Then she turned and walked tothe door. She walked slowly at first, constraining herself; shequickened her pace, fumbled with the key in her hurry to unlock thedoor, and once out of the pavilion, without pausing to latch or lockit, fled like one pursued towards the house. And from the bottom of myheart I pitied her.

  In a little while Father Spaur, with the two Tyrolese, returned, andthey carried me quickly through the little parlour and up thestaircase to my bedroom. There they flung me on the bed and locked thedoor and left me. Through the open window the dance-melodies rose tomy ears. It seemed to me that I could distinguish particular tuneswhich I had heard when I crouched in the snow upon that Novembernight.

  Que toutes joies et toutes honneurs Viennent d'armes et d'amours.

  Jack's refrain, which he had hummed so continually during our ride toAustria, came into my head, and set itself to the lilt of the music.Well, I had made essay of both arms and love, and I had got little joyand less honour therefrom, unless it be joy to burn with anxieties,and honour to labour as a peasant and be deemed a common trickster!

  The music ceased; the guests went homewards down the hill, laughingand singing as they went; the Castle gradually grew silent. The doorof my room was unlocked and flung open, and Groder entered, bearing acandle in his hand. He set it down upon the table, and drew a longknife from a sheath which projected out of his pocket. This he heldand flourished before my eyes, seeking like a child to terrify me withhis antics, until Father Spaur, following in upon his heels, bade himdesist from his buffoonery.

  Groder cut the girdle which bound my ankles.

  "March!" said he.

  But my legs were so numbed with the tightness of the cord that theyrefused their office. Father Spaur ordered him to chafe my limbs withhis hands, which he did very unwillingly, and after a little I wasable to walk, though with uncertain and wavering steps.

  "Should you suffer at all at Groder's hands," said the priestpleasantly, "I beg you to console yourself with certain reflectionswhich I shared with you one afternoon that we rode together."

  We proceeded along the corridor and turned into the gallery which ranround the hall. But at the head of the great staircase I stopped anddrew back. The priest's taunts and Groder's insolence I had endured insilence. What they had bidden me do, that I had done; for in themiscarriage of my fortunes I was minded to bear myself as a gentlemanshould, without pettish complaints or an unavailing resistance whichcould only entail upon me further indignities. But from this finalhumiliation I shrank.

  Below me the entire household of servants was ranged in the hall,leaving a lane open from the foot of the stairs to the door. Everyface was turned towards me--except one. One face was held aside andhidden in a handkerchief, and since that hour I have ever felt aspecial friendliness and gratitude for the withered littleFrenchwoman, Clemence Durette. Alone of all that company she showedsome pity for my plight. None the less, however, my eyes wentwandering for another sight. What with the uncertain glare of thetorches, that sent waves of red light and shadow in successionsweeping across the throng of faces, 'twas some while or ever I coulddiscover the Countess. That she was present I had no doubt, and atlast I saw her, standing by the door apart from her servants, her facewhite, and her eyelids closed over her eyes.

  Groder pushed me roughly in the small of the back, and I stumbled downthe topmost steps. There was no escape from the ordeal, and glancingneither to the right nor to the left, I walked between the silent rowsof servants. I passed within a yard of Countess Lukstein, but she madeno movement; she never even raised her eyes. A carriage stood in thecourtyard, and I got into it, and was followed by Michael Groder andOtto. As we drove off a hubbub arose within the hall, and it seemed tome that a ring was formed about the doorway, as though some one hadfallen. But before I had time to take much note of it, a cloth wasbound over my eyes, and the carriage rolled down the hill.

  At the bottom, where the track from Lukstein debouches upon the mainroad, we turned eastwards in the direction of Meran, and thence againto the left, ascending an incline; so that I gathered we were enteringa ravine parallel to the Senner Thal, but further east.

  In a while the carriage stopped, and Otto, opening the door, told mecivilly enough to descend. Then he took me by the arm and led meacross a threshold into a room. A woman's voice was raised inastonishment.

  "Wait till he's plucked of his feathers!" laughed Groder, and bade herclose the shutters.

  The bandage was removed from my eyes, and by the grey morning lightwhich pierced through the crevices of the window, I perceived that Iwas in some rough cottage. An old woman stood gaping open-mouthedbefore me. Groder sharply bade her go and prepare breakfast. Ottounbound my wrists, and pointed to a heap of clothes which lay in acorner, and so they left me to myself.

  I had some difficulty in putting on these clothes, since my wristswere swollen and well-nigh useless from their long confinement.Indeed, but for a threat which Groder shouted through the door, sayingthat he would come and assist me to make my toilet, I doubt whether Ishould have succeeded at all.

  For breakfast they brought me a pannikin full of a greasy steaminggruel, which I constrained myself to swallow. Then they bound my handsagain. Groder wrapped up the clothes which I had taken off in abundle, and slung it on his back. Otto replaced the bandage on myeyes, and we set out, mounting upwards by a rough mountain track,along which they guided me. About noon Otto called a halt, and nonetoo soon, for I was ready to drop with fatigue and pain. There we madea meal of some dry coarse bread, and washed it down with spirit of avery bitter flavour. 'Twas new to me at the time, but I know now thatit was distilled from the gentian flower. Groder lit a fire and burnedthe bundle of clothes which he had brought with him, the two mensharing my jewels between them.

  From that point we left the track and climbed up a grass slope,winding this way and that in the ascent. 'Twa
s as much as I could doto keep my feet, though Otto and Groder supported me upon either side.At the top we dipped down again for a little, crossed a level field ofheather, but in what direction I know not, for by this I had lost allsense of our bearings, mounted again, descended again, and towardsnightfall came to a hut. Groder thrust me inside, plucked the clothfrom my face, and unbound my hands.

  "'Tis a long day's journey," said he; "but what matters that if youmake it only once?"