Love Eternal

  CHAPTER V

  MADAME RIENNES

  About 11 o'clock on the day following this conversation, Godfrey foundhimself standing on the platform in the big station of Lucerne.

  "How are you going to get to Kleindorf?" Miss Ogilvy asked of him."It's five miles away by the road. I think you had better come to myhouse and have some _dejeuner_. Afterwards I will send you there in thecarriage."

  As she spoke a tall gaunt man in ultra-clerical attire, with a verylarge hooked nose and wearing a pair of blue spectacles, came shufflingtowards them.

  "Madame is Engleesh?" he said, peering at her through the blue glasses."Oh! it is easy to know it, though I am so blind. Has Madame by chanceseen a leetle, leetle Engleesh boy, who should arrive out of thistrain? I look everywhere and I cannot find him, and the conducteur, hesays he not there. No leetle boy in the second class. His name it isGodfrey, the son of an English pasteur, a man who fear God in the rightway."

  There was something so absurd in the old gentleman's appearance andmethod of address, that Miss Ogilvy, who had a sense of humour, wasobliged to turn away to hide her mirth. Recovering, she answered:

  "I think this is your little boy, Monsieur le Pasteur," and sheindicated the tall and handsome Godfrey, who stood gazing at his futureinstructor open-mouthed. Whoever he had met in his visions, the PasteurBoiset was not one of them. Never, asleep or waking, had he seen anyonein the least like him.

  The clergyman peered at Godfrey, studying him from head to foot.

  "Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, "I understood he was quite, quite leetle, nota big young man who will eat much and want many things. Well, he willbe _bon compagnon_ for Juliette, and Madame too, she like the bigbetter than the leetle. _Il est beau et il a l'air intelligent, n'estce pas, Madame?_" he added confidentially.

  "_Bien beau et tres intelligent_," she replied, observing that Godfreywas engaged in retrieving his overcoat which he had left in thecarriage. Then she explained that she had become friendly with thisyoung gentleman, and hoped that he would be allowed to visit herwhenever he wished. Also she gave her name and address.

  "Oh! yes, Mademoiselle Ogilvee, the rich English lady who live in thefine house. I have heard of her. _Mais voyons!_ Mademoiselle is notCatholic, is she, for I promise to protect this lad from that red wolf?"

  "No, Monsieur, fear nothing. Whatever I am, I am not Catholic,"(though, perhaps, if you knew all, you would think me something muchmore dangerous, she added to herself.)

  Then they said goodbye.

  "I say, Miss Ogilvy," exclaimed Godfrey, blushing, "you've been awfullykind to me. If it hadn't been for you I should have missed that trainand never heard the last of it. Also, I should have had to go hungryfrom London here, since I promised my father not to buy anything on thejourney, and you know I forgot the basket." (By the way, beingaddressed, it arrived three days afterwards, a mass of corruption, withsix francs to pay on it, and many papers to be signed.)

  "Not at all, Godfrey, it was delightful to have you as a companion--anda friend," she added meaningly. "You will come and see me, won't you?"

  "Yes, of course, if I can. But meanwhile, please wait a minute," and hepulled out his purse.

  "What on earth are you going to do, Godfrey? I don't want your card."

  "Card! I haven't got a card. I am going to make you a present."

  "Make me a present?" gasped Miss Ogilvy, a vague vision of half-crownsflashing before her mind.

  "Yes, it is rather a curious thing. It was found round the neck-bone ofan old knight, whose remains they threw out of the Abbey Church whenthey put in the heating apparatus. I saw it there, and the sexton gaveit to me when he discovered that it was only stone. You will see it hasa hole in it, so he must have worn it as an ornament. The grave he layin was that of a Crusader, for the legs are crossed upon his brass,although his name has gone. Oh! here it is," and he produced an oblongpiece of black graphite or some such stone, covered with mysticalengravings.

  She seized the object, and examined it eagerly.

  "Why, it is a talisman," she said, "Gnostic, I should think, for thereis the cock upon it, and a lot that I can't read, probably a magicformula. No doubt the old Crusader got it in the East, perhaps as agift from some Saracen in whose family it had descended. Oh! my dearboy, I do thank you. You could not have made me a present that I shouldvalue more."

  "I am so glad," said Godfrey.

  "Yes, but I am ashamed to take it from you. Well, I'll leave it back toyou one day."

  "Leave it back! Then you must die before me, and why should you dothat? You are quite young."

  "Because I shall," she answered with a sad little smile. "I lookstronger than I am. Meanwhile you will come and tell me all about thistalisman."

  "I have told you all I know, Miss Ogilvy."

  "Do you think so? I don't. But look, your old pasteur is calling thatthe diligence is coming. Good-bye. I'll send the carriage for you nextSunday in time for _dejeuner_."

  A few minutes later Godfrey found himself packed in a rumbling olddiligence amidst a number of peasant women with baskets. Also there wasa Roman Catholic priest who sat opposite to the Pasteur. For a whilethese two eyed each other with evident animosity, just like a pair ofrival dogs, Godfrey thought to himself.

  At the outskirts of the town they passed a shrine, in which was theimage of some saint. The priest crossed himself and bowed so low thathe struck the knee of the Pasteur, who remonstrated in an elaborate andsarcastic fashion. Then the fight began, and those two holy menbelaboured each other, with words, not fists, for the rest of thejourney. Godfrey's French was sadly to seek, still before it was done,he did wonder whether all their language was strictly Christian, forsuch words as _Sapristi_, and _Nom de Dieu_, accompanied by snapping ofthe fingers, and angry stares, struck him as showing a contentious andeven a hostile spirit. Moreover, that was not the end of it, since ofthe occupants of the diligence, about one half seemed to belong to theparty of the priest, and the other half to the party of the Pasteur.

  By degrees all of these were drawn into the conflict. They shouted andscreamed at each other, they waved their arms, and incidentally theirbaskets, one of which struck Godfrey on the nose, and indeed nearlycame to actual fisticuffs.

  Apparently the driver was accustomed to such scenes, for after a glancethrough his little window he took no further notice. So it went onuntil at last he pulled up and shouted:

  "_Voyageurs pour Kleindorf, descendez. Vite, s'il vous plait._"

  "Here we do get down, young Monsieur," said the Pasteur, suddenlyrelapsing into a kind of unnatural calm. Indeed, at the door he turnedand bowed politely to his adversary, wishing him _bon voyage_, to whichthe priest replied with a solemn benediction in the most Catholic form.

  "He is not bad of heart, that priest," said the Pasteur, as he led theway to the gate of a little shrubbery, "but he do try to steal mysheep, and I protect them from him, the blood-toothed wolf. Jean, Jean!"

  A brawny Swiss appeared and seized the baggage. Then they advancedacross the belt of shrubbery to a lawn, through which ran a path. Lo!in the centre of that lawn grew such a fruit-tree, covered with largecherries or small plums, as Godfrey had described to Miss Ogilvy, andbeyond it stood the long white house, old, and big, and peacefullooking. What he had not described, because of them his subliminalsense had given him no inkling, were the two ladies, who sat expectanton the verandah, that commanded a beautiful view of the lake and themountains beyond.

  By a kind of instinct distilled from his experience of clergymen'sbelongings, Godfrey had expected to see a dowdy female, with a red, fatface, and watery eyes, perhaps wearing an apron and a black dresshooked awry, accompanied by a snub-nosed little girl with straighthair, and a cold in the head. In place of these he saw afashionably-dressed, Parisian-looking lady, who still seemed quiteyoung, very pleasant to behold, with her dark eyes and gracefulmovements, and a girl, apparently about his own age, who was equallyattractive.

  She was brown-eyed, with a quick, mobile face, and
a lithe and shapely,if as yet somewhat unformed figure. The long thick plait in which herchestnut hair was arranged could not hide its plenitude and beauty,while the smallness of her hands and feet showed breeding, as did hermanners and presence. The observant Godfrey, at his first sight ofJuliette, for such was her name, marvelled how it was possible that sheshould be the daughter of that plain and ungainly old pasteur. On thispoint it is enough to say that others had experienced the same wonder,and remained with their curiosity unsatisfied. But then he might aswell have inquired how he, Godfrey, came to be his father's son, sincein the whole universe no two creatures could have been more diverse.

  Monsieur Boiset waddled forward, with a gait like to that of asuperannuated duck, followed at some distance by Godfrey and thestalwart Jean with the luggage.

  "My dears," he called out in his high voice, "I have found our newlittle friend; the train brought him safely. Here he is."

  Madame and Juliette looked about them.

  "I see him not," said Madame.

  "Where is he?" asked Juliette, in a pleasant girlish voice. "Still atthe gate? And say then, my father," this in low tones meant not to beoverheard, "who is this monsieur?"

  "He is the little boy," exclaimed the Pasteur, chuckling at his joke,"but you see he has grown in the train."

  "_Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed Madame, "I wonder if his bed will be longenough?"

  "It is very amusing," remarked Juliette.

  Then they both descended from the verandah, to greet him with foreigncordiality which, as they spoke rapidly in French, was somewhat lost onGodfrey. Recognizing their kind intentions, however, he took off hishat and bowed to each in turn, remarking as he did so:

  "_Bonjour, oui. Oui, bonjour_," the only words in the Gallic tonguethat occurred to him at the moment.

  "I speek Engleesh," said Juliette, with solemn grandeur.

  "I'm jolly glad to hear it," replied Godfrey, "and I _parle Francais_,or soon shall, I hope."

  Such was Godfrey's introduction to his new home at Kleindorf, wherevery soon he was happy enough. Notwithstanding his strange appearanceand his awkwardness, Monsieur Boiset proved himself to be what iscalled "a dear old gentleman"; moreover, really learned, and this insundry different directions. Thus, he was an excellent astronomer, andthe possessor of a first-rate telescope, mounted in a littleobservatory, on a rocky peak of ground which rose up a hundred feet ormore in the immediate neighbourhood of the house, that itself stoodhigh. This instrument, which its owner had acquired secondhand at somesale, of course was not of the largest size. Still, it was powerfulenough for all ordinary observations, and to show many hundreds of theheavenly bodies that are invisible to the naked eye, even in the clearair of Switzerland.

  To Godfrey, who had, it will be remembered, a strong liking forastronomy, it was a source of constant delight. What is more, itprovided a link of common interest that soon ripened into friendshipbetween himself and his odd old tutor, who had been obliged hitherto topursue his astral researches in solitude, since to Madame and toJuliette these did not appeal. Night by night, especially after thewinter snows began to fall, they would sit by the stove in the littleobservatory, gazing at the stars, making calculations, in which,notwithstanding his dislike of mathematics, Godfrey soon became expert,and setting down the results of what they learned.

  In was in course of these studies that the whole wonder of the universecame home to him for the first time. He looked upon the marvel of theheavens, the mighty procession of the planets, the rising and settingof the vast suns that burn beyond them in the depths of space, weighingtheir bulk and measuring their differences, and trembled with mingledjoy and awe. Were these the heritage of man? Would he ever visit themin some unknown state and age? Or must they remain eternally far andalien? This is what he longed to learn, and to him astronomy was agateway to knowledge, if only he could discover how to pass the gate.

  Godfrey had not the true scientific spirit, or a yearning forinformation, even about the stars, for its own sake. He wanted toascertain how these affected _him_ and the human race of which he was amember. In short, he sought an answer to the old question: Are wemerely the spawn of our little earth, destined to perish, as the earthitself must do one day, or, through whatever changes we must pass, arewe as immortal as the universe and the Might that made it, whateverthat may be? That was his problem, the same which perplexes every highand thinking soul, and at this impressionable period of his life itscarcely ever left him. There he would sit with brooding eyes and bentbrow seeking the answer, but as yet finding none.

  Once Juliette discovered him thus, having come to the observatory totell him that his dinner had been waiting for half an hour, and for awhile watched him unnoted with the little shaded lamp shining on hisface. Instantly, in her quick fashion, she christened him, _Hibou_, and_Hibou_ or Owl, became his nickname in that establishment. Indeed, withhis dark eyes and strongly marked features, wrapped in a contemplativecalm such as the study of the stars engenders, in that gloom he didlook something like an owl, however different may have been hisappearance on other occasions.

  "What are you thinking of, Monsieur Godfrey?" she asked.

  He came back to earth with a start.

  "The stars and Man," he answered, colouring.

  "_Mon Dieu!_" she exclaimed, "I think man is enough to study withoutthe stars, which we shall never visit."

  "How do you know that, Mademoiselle?"

  "I know it because we are here and they are there, far, far away. Alsowe die and they go on for ever."

  "What is space, and what are death and time?" queried Godfrey, withsolemnity.

  "_Mon Dieu!_" said Juliette again. "Come to dinner, the chicken itgrows cold," but to herself she added, "He is an odd bird, this English_hibou_, but attractive--when he is not so grave."

  Meanwhile Godfrey continued to ponder his mighty problem. When he hadmastered enough French in which Madame and Juliette proved efficientinstructors, he propounded it to the old Pasteur, who clapped his handupon a Bible, and said:

  "_There_ is the answer, young friend."

  "I know," replied Godfrey, "but it does not quite satisfy; I feel thatI must find that answer for myself."

  Monsieur Boiset removed his blue spectacles and looked at him.

  "Such searches are dangerous," he said. "Believe me, Godfrey, it isbetter to accept."

  "Then why do you find fault with the Roman Catholics, Monsieur?"

  The question was like a match applied to a haystack. At once thePasteur took fire:

  "Because they accept error, not truth," he began. "What foundation havethey for much of their belief? It is not here," and again he slappedthe Bible.

  Then followed a long tirade, for the one thing this good and tolerantold man could not endure was the Roman Catholic branch of the ChristianFaith.

  Godfrey listened with patience, till at last the Pasteur, having burnthimself out, asked him if he were not convinced.

  "I do not know," he replied. "These quarrels of the Churches and of thedifferent faiths puzzle and tire me. I, too, Monsieur, believe in Godand a future life, but I do not think it matters much by what road onetravels to them, I mean so long as it is a road."

  The Pasteur looked at him alarmed, and exclaimed:

  "Surely you will not be a fish caught in the net which already I haveobserved that cunning and plausible cure trying to throw about you! Oh!what then should I answer to your father?"

  "Do not be frightened, Monsieur. I shall never become a Roman Catholic.But all the same I think the Roman Catholics very good people, and thattheir faith is as well as another, at any rate for those who believeit."

  Then he made an excuse to slip away, leaving the Pasteur puzzled.

  "He is wrong," he said to himself, "most wrong, but all the same, letit be admitted that the boy has a big mind, and intelligent--yes,intelligent."

  It is certain that those who search with sufficient earnestness end infinding something, though the discovered path may run in the wrongdirection, or p
rove impassable, or wind through caverns, or along theedge of precipices, down which sooner or later the traveller falls, orlead at length to some _cul-de-sac_. The axiom was not varied inGodfrey's case, and the path he found was named--Miss Ogilvy.

  On the first Sunday after his arrival at Kleindorf a fine carriage andpair drew up at the shrubbery gate, just as the family were returningfrom the morning service in the little church where the Pasteurministered. Madame sighed when she saw it, for she would have loveddearly to possess such an equipage, as indeed, she had done at oneperiod in her career, before an obscure series of circumstances led toher strange union with Monsieur Boiset.

  "What beautiful horses," exclaimed Juliette, her hazel eyes sparkling."Oh! that tenth Commandment, who can keep it? And why should somepeople have fine horses and others not even a pony? _Ma mere_, why wereyou not able to keep that carriage of which you have spoken to me sooften?"

  Madame bit her lip, and with a whispered "hold your tongue," plungedinto conversation about Miss Ogilvy. Then Godfrey entered the carriageand was whirled away in style, looking like the prince in a fairy book,as Juliette remarked, while the Pasteur tried to explain to her howmuch happier she was without the temptation of such earthly vanities.

  Miss Ogilvy's house was a beautiful dwelling of its sort, standing ingardens of its own that ran down to the lake, and commanding fine viewsof all the glorious scenery which surrounds Lucerne. The rooms werelarge and lofty, with parquet floors, and in some of them were reallygood pictures that their owner had inherited, also collections ofbeautiful old French furniture. In short, it was a stately and refinedabode, such as is sometimes to be found abroad in the possession ofAmericans or English people of wealth, who for their health's sake orother reasons, make their homes upon the Continent.

  On hearing the carriage arrive, Miss Ogilvy, who was dressed in asimple, but charming grey gown and, as Godfrey noticed at once, woreround her neck the old Gnostic talisman which he had given her, camefrom a saloon to meet him in the large, square hall.

  "I _am_ glad to see you, Godfrey," she said in her soft, cultivatedvoice.

  "So am I, Miss Ogilvy," he answered, with heartiness, "I mean to seeyou. But," he added, studying her, "you do not look very well."

  She smiled rather pathetically, and said in a quick voice:

  "No, I took a cold on that journey. You see I am rather an invalid,which is why I live here--while I do live--what they call_poitrinaire_."

  Godfrey shook his head, the word was beyond him.

  "_Anglice_ consumptive," she explained. "There are lots of us inSwitzerland, you know, and on the whole, we are a merry set. It ischaracteristic of our complaint. But never mind about me. There are twoor three people here. I daresay you will think them odd, but they areclever in their way, and you ought to have something in common. Comein."

  He followed her into the beautiful cool saloon, with its large, doubleFrench windows designed to keep out the bitter winds of winter, butopened now upon the brilliant garden. Never before had he been in solovely a room, that is of a modern house, and it impressed him withsensations that at the moment he did not try to analyse. All he knewwas that they were mingled with some spiritual quality, such as once ortwice he had felt in ancient churches, something which suggested boththe Past and the Future, and a brooding influence that he could notdefine. Yet the place was all light and charm, gay with flowers andlandscape pictures, in short, lacking any sombre note.

  Gathered at its far end where the bow window overlooked the sparklinglake, were three or four people, all elderly. Instantly one of theseriveted his attention. She was stout, having her grey hair drawn backfrom a massive forehead, beneath which shone piercing black eyes. Herrather ungainly figure was clothed in what he thought an ugly greendress, and she wore a necklet of emeralds in an old-fashioned setting,which he also thought ugly but striking. From the moment that heentered the doorway at the far end of that long saloon, he felt thoseblack eyes fixed upon him, and was painfully aware of their owner'spresence, so much so, that in a whisper, he asked her name of MissOgilvy.

  "Oh!" she answered, "that is Madame Riennes, the noted mesmerist andmedium."

  "Indeed," said Godfrey in a vague voice, for he did not quiteunderstand what was meant by this description.

  Also there was a thin, elderly American gentleman to whom Godfrey wasintroduced, named Colonel Josiah Smith, and a big, blond Dane, whotalked English with a German accent, called Professor Petersen. All ofthese studied Godfrey with the most unusual interest as, overwhelmedwith shyness, he was led by Miss Ogilvy to make their acquaintance. Hefelt that their demeanour portended he knew not what, more at any ratethan hope of deriving pleasure from his society; in fact, that theyexpected to get something out of him. Suddenly he recollected a picturethat once he had seen in a pious work which he was given to read onSundays. It represented a missionary being led by the hand by a smilingwoman into the presence of some savages in a South Sea island, who wereabout to cook and eat him.

  In the picture a large pot was already boiling over a fire in thebackground. Instinctively Godfrey looked for the pot, but saw none,except one of the flowers which stood on a little table in a recess,and round it half a dozen chairs, one of them large, with arms. Had hebut known it, that chair was the pot.

  No sooner had he made his somewhat awkward bow than luncheon wasannounced, and they all went into another large and beautiful room,where they were served with a perfect meal. The conversation at tablewas general, and in English, but presently it drifted into a debatewhich Godfrey did not understand, on the increase of spirituality amongthe "initiated" of the earth.

  Colonel Josiah Smith, who appeared to associate with remarkable personswhom he called "Masters," who dwelt in the remote places of the world,alleged that such increase was great, which Professor Petersen, whodwelt much among German intellectuals, denied. It appeared that these"intellectuals" were busy in turning their backs on every form ofspirituality.

  "Ah!" said Miss Ogilvy, with a sigh, "they seek the company of theirkindred 'Elementals,' although they do not know it, and soon thoseElementals will have the mastery of them and break them to pieces, asthe lions did the maligners of Daniel."

  In after years Godfrey always remembered this as a very remarkableprophecy, but at the time, not knowing what an Elemental might be, heonly marvelled.

  At length Madame Riennes, who, it seemed, was half French and halfRussian, intervened in a slow, heavy voice:

  "What does it matter, friends of my soul?" she asked. Then havingpaused to drink off a full glass of sparkling Moselle, she went on:"Soon we shall be where the spirituality, or otherwise, of this littleworld matters nothing to us. Who will be the first to learn the truths,I wonder?" and she stared in turn at the faces of every one of them, aprocess which seemed to cause general alarm, bearing, as it did, astrong resemblance to the smelling-out of savage witch-doctors.

  Indeed, they all began to talk of this or that at hazard, but she wasnot to be put off by such interruptions. Having investigated Godfreytill he felt cold down the back, Madame turned her searchlight eyesupon Miss Ogilvy, who shrank beneath them. Then of a sudden sheexclaimed with a kind of convulsive shudder:

  "The Power possesses and guides me. It tells me that _you_ will be thefirst, Sister Helen. I see you among the immortal Lilies with the Wineof Life flowing through your veins."

  On receipt of this information the Wine of Life seemed to cease to flowin poor Miss Ogilvy's face. At any rate, she went deadly pale andrested her hand upon Godfrey's shoulder as if she were about to faint.Recovering a little, she murmured to herself:

  "I thought it! Well, what does it matter though the gulf is great andterrible?"

  Then with an effort she rose and suggested that they should return tothe drawing-room.

  They did so, and were served with Turkish coffee and cigarettes, whichMadame Riennes smoked one after the other very rapidly. Presently MissOgilvy rang the bell, and when the butler appeared to remove the cups,whispered something in
French, at which he bowed and departed.

  Godfrey thought he heard him lock the door behind him, but was not sure.