CHAPTER XXIX.
WOMAN'S LOVE IS LIFE.
Before we leave the fortress, to return thither no more, a glance mustbe taken at Madeleine, evading the power of the Church and the seculararm, escaping from the mother who had grown to hate her and the cousinwho had not courage to shield her. Her rescuer was not a man--if it betrue that man was made in the image of God--yet his actions upon thatnight went far to prove that he owned a human heart.
So soon as Roussilac had gone from his cousin's sight for ever, thetramp of the sentry's feet began again beating out the seconds like aclock. The girl was unable to see the soldier, but at regularintervals his shadow blackened the cracks along the door, and sometimesshe heard him growl when a mosquito pricked his neck. Life becamestrangely mechanical as she lay half-asleep, her eyes opening andclosing at intervals, her ears half unconsciously admitting the soundsof the outer world, her body subdued for the time and yielding tolanguor. But soon she stirred, hearing voices outside her cell. Agrating laugh hurt her nerves, and after it came the order of thesentry calling on some unwelcome visitant to depart. Then the heavytramp sounded monotonously again.
"Would rather be a toad gnawing the root of a tree, than a machine topace a dozen yards of grass," taunted an ugly voice. "Admit me intothe hut, Sir Sentry. Know you I have this day been ordained a priestof Holy Church, and 'tis my duty to reason with the fair impenitent.Shall defy me, rascal? I can mutter a spell that shall knock the swordfrom your hand and shake your body with ague."
"Begone!" muttered the soldier. "I talk with none while on my duty."
Madeleine stirred uneasily. Something fell lightly against her arm,and she looked up to the aperture which made a window. Nothing unusualmet her eyes; but when she moved again a soft odour brushed her face,and her delighted hand caught up a bunch of wild bush roses.
"I go." The fully aroused girl felt that the hideous voice wasintended for her ears. "There is no moon to-night, and after dark,when none shall see, I will be here to ease your duty by a song ofroses and woman's love, brave comrade. Mayhap I shall then meet with aless churlish welcome."
"That may be," answered the soldier sullenly. "Another shall havetaken my place. Sing to him if you will."
"Oh, the lovely flowers!" murmured Madeleine. The blooms had openedsince noon and their yellow hearts were wet, because the gatherer haddipped each one into the river, before tying them together with a bladeof scented grass.
She brushed these sweet companions against her cheek, wondering whocould have dared to show himself her friend. The time passed happilywhile she waited in tingling expectancy for the coming of dark.
First came Laroche, full of bluster and talk of the wickedness ofself-will, of the fate of the unbeliever in the next world, and thepunishment of the heretic in this. The abbe had employed the afternoonin putting an edge to his sword with his own clerical hands, and hismind was fully occupied with the fineness of the bright steel and theexcellence of the point while he talked.
"We must save a soul from the everlasting burning," he said withmenace, as he made to depart. "When the body is put to pain the mindis said to yield with wondrous readiness, and there is joy in Heavenover the sinner that repenteth. Impenitence in one so young is surelythe work of the devil. The power of exorcism has been conferred uponthe priests of Holy Church. Pray to our Lady and the saints, daughter,that they strengthen you for the ordeal."
Laroche swaggered out conscious of having well performed an unpleasantduty, and hurried down to the street of fishermen, to convince himselfthat Michel had not again dared to adulterate his wine.
After vespers came St Agapit. He had spent the day over hismanuscripts, endeavouring to unravel some of the perplexities of thehuman mind. The ascetic was liberal beyond his time. He regardedMadeleine as rather an object for pity than for punishment. Her brainhad been worked upon and her mind possessed by some spirit of darkness;and it became his duty to deliver her from the benumbing influence andto point out to her the way of life.
But when he came to leave the stone hut, he was for the first moment inhis life a doubter. Madeleine had spoken with such happiness of thejoy of life; had held out to his colourless face her blushing rosebuds,bidding him note that their smell was as fragrant to her the Protestantas to him the Catholic; had dwelt upon her faith, which was pure andperfect even though it excluded the aid of saints and the help of theMother of God. And thus had she answered his final argument:
"In the free country birds would surround me, and each one had its ownway of showing me affection. One would peck at my gown, another caressme with its wings, another, too shy to approach, would sit on a boughand sing as best it could. But I loved them all, and the shyest thebest. Father, if the birds have each a different way of showing uslove, may not we, who are better than many sparrows, be allowed toworship God after our own different promptings?"
St Agapit blessed her less sternly than usual, and returned perplexedto his studies, there to search for proof of what Madeleine had said,praying like the holy man he was for light and understanding.Reluctantly he was compelled to admit that it was an evil spirit whichhad spoken to him out of the mouth of Madeleine. So he went into hislittle chapel and prayed for her and for himself that the doubt of hisheart might be forgiven him.
But in years to come, after those days when the Islanders had stirredup the Iroquois to avenge their wrongs, a sachem of the Oneidas wouldnarrate the story of the death of the white doctor, dwelling upon thoselast moments when the priest had turned to him to say: "Tell me, is ittrue that you worship the sun?"
"Surely," answered the sachem. "For the sun is our life."
"In worshipping the sun," cried the exultant priest, "you have surelyworshipped the one God."
And over the horde of bloodthirsty natives, who were preparing hisfiery torment, St Agapit made the sign of the cross.
Evening came, soft and fragrant, with a rush of sweet wind when thedoor opened to admit food and drink for the prisoner. Madeleine caughta glimpse of the sentry who took up his post after the proclamation ofthe evening gun; a thick-set man, swarthy and black-bearded, a Cyclopsin appearance, but a Cerberus for watchfulness, as the girl knew; foronce, when she had timidly tried the door, the brute had growled at herlike a dog.
Darker grew the air. Madeleine stood against the wall, listening tothe rush of water far beneath, the drone of beetles, and the scarcelyaudible murmur from the heart of the fortress. The last beam went out,the tired day was asleep, and Cerberus tramped, growling out histhoughts.
It became so dark that the walls disappeared. Clouds hung low, dark asthe under-world; the stars were blotted out; not a gleam of phosphorusnor a smoky ray shot upward from the north. The land whirled blacklyinto space.
Madeleine moved her forehead from the cold stone and sighed softly.She crept to her bed and sat shivering gently, holding fast hertreasured blooms. The night damp had revived the flowers and drawn outtheir odour, so that the girl pleased herself with the fancy that shewas sitting in a rose-bower.
She heard the screech of an owl far away, the rattle and splash ofoars, the running out of a chain, the snap of a belated locust. Sheheard the ticking of an insect in the walls; and she heard the growl ofCerberus:
"A plague upon that ghost-light!"
She heard a sound which made her shiver, though it might have beennothing more than a heavy foot struck sharply upon the turf; but hardlyhad the thrill passed when a gasp and a great groan made the dark nightwild, and the hill-top and every stone in the building seemed to jar asthe ground was smitten. The silence that followed was unbroken by thesolemn tramp which had become a part of the girl's life. The humanclock was broken.
Then a subdued voice began to sing, harsh and unmusical, straining tobe sympathetic, and its song was of peace and love in an old-worldgarden. Harsher grew the voice, though the effort to be tenderunderlay each note.
"Friend," whispered Madeleine
The song was stilled.
/> "Oh, friend, open the door and let me feel the air."
"Prepare your eyes for a hideous sight," muttered the voice, dull andgrating like a saw.
"My deliverer cannot make me fear," she murmured.
The iron bolt grated, the door opened, and Madeleine beheld in thegloom the shapeless outline of the dwarf.
"Thank the night, lady," he said. "It is kind because it hides one ofnature's failures. A spider, they say, once saved a Scotchman. Ahunchback may do as much for a queen."
Madeleine stepped out to the balmy night.
"What made you come to my aid?" she murmured. "It is death for you."
"Lady," said Gaudriole, "I bow to the Church, because hypocrisy drivesmany a sinner to play the saint. When the fat Laroche calls me to myduty, I confess with my tongue in my cheek and burn a rushlight. Thatis for policy. Before you I am a Protestant. By myself I am abeliever in living long and cheating the gallows. That again ispolicy. I hate the Church and its priests, therefore I have releasedyou. Also, by some strange mischance, nature has placed a man's heartwithin this contemptible body. But let us hasten."
"The sentry!" exclaimed Madeleine.
"Look not in that direction," said Gaudriole. "Lady, which way? Iwill guide you to safety, stay by your side while I can serve you, andwhen you say, 'Back, dog!' I disappear."
"You have done murder," cried the girl. "Let me see. Stand aside.Ah, poor wretch! He was but doing his duty, and his blood is on myhead."
"The deed is mine, both in this world and the next," said Gaudriole."I had a grudge against the knave. He stunned me once with his fistwhen I stumbled by mischance across his foot. Lady, you must comequickly. I see lights moving yonder. There is no time to lose."
"Geoffrey!" murmured Madeleine softly to her self.
"For his sake," urged the dwarf. Then he paused and ground his teeth.
"But you?" she exclaimed.
"I!" Gaudriole uttered his malevolent chuckle. "To-morrow I shall behopping about the fortress, full of wild fancies which shall mightilyimpress the superstitious. I shall say how, as I lay on the hillside,I saw lightning strike the sentry dead, and how at the roll of thunderthe door of this hut burst open and you passed out in a flame of fire.Laroche shall worship you as a saint to-morrow, if he worship aught buthis belly and his sword, and shall keep the day holy in honour ofSainte Madeleine. Fear not for me. I have a clever tongue, lady, anda brave imagination, and if I am pushed can devise twenty men to dothis deed. Come!" he whispered sharply. "The lights approach."
Madeleine permitted herself to be hurried away, and the ill-matchedpair made no stop until the forest had closed behind. Not a sound camefrom the heights; only the watch-fires flickered gently in the wind.
"Which way?" cried Gaudriole.
"The sea," said Madeleine.
"There lies your path. 'Tis a mountainous country yonder. If you hideto-night, I will after dark to-morrow bring down a boat, and in thatyou may escape."
"I know how to find food, and the Indians will not harm me," shereplied. "I have made myself friendly with them, and carry a markedstone which one of their sachems gave me."
"Say now the words, 'Back, dog!' and I leave you."
Madeleine turned reluctantly to the dwarf.
"Go, friend," she said, with her pitying smile Gaudriole went down onhis sharp knees, and his crooked shoulders heaved.
"Lady, I am no man, but a beast who has done you what little service itmight. My life shall continue as nature has fitted me, but when I cometo die on the gallows, as such as I must end, I would have one blessedmemory to carry with me into hell. Suffer me to kiss your hand."
Madeleine hesitated, her lips parting pitifully, her eyes wet as thegrass which brushed her skirt. Then, as the poor villain raised hishideous face, she bent and swiftly kissed his grimy brow. Her glorioushair for a moment streamed upon his elfin locks, then she was gone,breathing a little faster, while Gaudriole lay humped upon the ground.