CHAPTER XLV
RETRIBUTION
Carriage after carriage drove from Edeldorf to the foot of theWaldenberg, and deposited its living freight in a picturesque gorge orcleft of the mountain, where the only road practicable for wheels andaxles terminated, and whence the sportsman, however luxurious, must becontent to perform the remainder of his journey on foot. A heartywelcome and a sumptuous breakfast at the Castle had commenced the day'sproceedings; but Madame de Rohan had kept her room on the plea ofindisposition, and the only ladies of the party were the Princess andCountess Valerie. Victor was in unusual spirits, a strange, wildhappiness lighted up his eye, and spread a halo over his features; buthe was absent and preoccupied at intervals, and his inconsequent answersand air of distraction more than once elicited marks of undisguisedastonishment from his guests. The Princess was more subdued in mannerthan her wont. I watched the two with a painful interest, all thekeener that my opportunity had not yet arrived, and that the confidencein my own powers, which had supported me the previous evening, was nowrapidly deserting me, as I reflected on the violence of my friend'sfatal attachment, and the character of her who was his destiny. If Ishould fail in persuading him, as was more than probable, what would bethe result? What ought I to do next? I had assumed a fearfulresponsibility, yet I determined not to shrink from it. Valerie was gayand good-humoured as usual. It had been arranged that the two ladiesshould accompany the sportsmen to the trysting-place at the foot of themountain, and then return to the Castle. The plan originated withValerie, who thus, enjoyed more of her lover's society. Nor did it meetwith the slightest opposition from Victor, who, contrary to his usualcustom of riding on horseback to the mountain, starting after all hisguests were gone, and then galloping at speed to overtake them, hadshown no disinclination to make a fourth in his own barouche, the otherthree places being occupied by an Austrian grandee and Prince andPrincess Vocqsal. Had he adhered to his usual custom, the Zingyniewould have met him before he reached the lodge. English thorough-bredhorses, harnessed to carriages of Vienna build, none of them being drawnby less than four, make light of distance, and it seemed but a shortdrive to more than one couple of our party, when we reached the spot atwhich our day's sport was likely to commence.
A merry, chattering, laughing group we were. On a level piece ofgreensward, overshadowed by a few gigantic fir-trees, and backed by thebluff rise of the copse-clothed mountain, lounged the little band ofgentlemen for whose amusement all the preparations had been made, whoseaccuracy of eye and readiness of finger were that day to be tested bythe downfall of bear and wolf, deer and wild-boar, not to mention suchignoble game as partridges, woodcocks, quail, and water-fowl, or suchinferior vermin as hawk and buzzard, marten and wild-cat, all of whichdenizens of the wilderness were to be found in plenty on the Waldenberg.A picturesque assemblage it was, consisting as it did of nearly a scoreof the first noblemen in Hungary--men who bore the impress of theirstainless birth not only in chivalry of bearing and frank courtesy ofmanner, but in the handsome faces and stately frames that had come downto them direct from those mailed ancestors whose boast it used to bethat they were the advanced guard of Germany and the very bulwarks ofChristendom. As I looked around on their happy, smiling faces, andgraceful, energetic forms, my blood ran cold to think how the lightestwhisper of one frail woman might bring every one of those noble heads tothe block; how, had she indeed been more or less than woman, a crosswould even now be attached to every one of those time-honoured names onthat fatal list which knows neither pity nor remorse. And when I lookedfrom those unconscious men to the fair arbitress of their fate, with herlittle French bonnet and coquettish dress, with her heightened colourand glossy hair, I thought, if the history of the world were ever_really_ laid bare, what a strange history it would be, and how unworthywe should find had been the motives of some of the noblest actions, howpaltry the agency by which some of the greatest convulsions on recordhad been effected.
She was fastening Victor's powder-horn more securely to its string, andI remarked that her fingers trembled in the performance of that simpleoffice. She looked wistfully after him, too, as he waved his hat to bidher adieu, and stood up in the carriage to watch our ascending partylong after she had started on her homeward journey. She who wasgenerally so proud, so undemonstrative, so careful not to commit herselfby word or deed! could it have been a presentiment? I felt angry withher then; alas! alas! my anger had passed away long before the sun wentdown.
"Help me to place the guns, Vere," said Victor in his cheerful,affectionate voice, as we toiled together up the mountain-side, andreached the first pass at which it would be necessary to station asportsman, well armed with rifle and smooth-bore, to be ready forwhatever might come. "I can depend upon _you_, for I know yourshooting; so I shall put you above the waterfall. Vocqsal and I willtake the two corners just below; and if there is an old boar in theWaldenberg, he _must_ come to one of us. I expect a famous day's sport,if we manage it well. I used to say '_Vive la guerre_,' Vere--don't youremember?--but it's '_Vive la chasse_' now, and has been for a long timewith me."
He looked so happy; he was so full of life and spirits, I could not helpagreeing with his head forester, a tall, stalwart Hungarian, whofollowed him about like his shadow, when he muttered, "It does one goodto see the Count when he gets on the mountain. He is like _himself_now."
Meanwhile the beaters, collected from the neighbouring peasantry, andwho had been all the previous day gradually contracting the large circlethey had made, so as to bring every head of game, and indeed everyliving thing, from many a mile round, within the range of our fire-arms,might be heard drawing nearer and nearer, their shrill voices anddiscordant shouts breaking wildly on the silence of the forest, hithertouninterrupted, save by the soft whisper of the breeze, or the soothingmurmur of the distant waterfall. Like the hunter when he hears the noteof a hound, and erects his ears, and snorts and trembles withexcitement, I could see many of my fellow-sportsmen change colour andfidget upon their posts; for well they knew that long before thebeater's cry smites upon the ear it is time to expect the light-boundinggambol of the deer, the stealthy gallop of the wolf, the awkward advanceof the bear, or the blundering rush of the fierce wild-boar himself; andas they were keen and experienced sportsmen, heart and soul in thebusiness of the day, their quick glances and eager attitudes showed thateach was determined no inattention on his own part should baulk him ofhis prey.
One by one Victor placed them in their respective situations, with ajest and a kind word and a cordial smile for each. Many a hearty friendremarked that day how Count de Rohan's voice was gayer, his manner evenmore fascinating than usual, his whole bearing more full of energy andhappiness and a thorough enjoyment of life.
At last he had placed them, all but Ropsley and myself, and there was notime to be lost, for the cry of the beaters came louder and louder onthe breeze; and already a scared buzzard or two, shooting rapidly overour heads, showed that our neighbourhood was disturbed, and the game ofevery description must ere long be on foot.
"Take the Guardsman above the waterfall, Vere, and put him by the oldoak-tree," said Victor, fanning his brow with his hat after hisexertions. "He can command both the passes from there, and get shootingenough to remind him of Sebastopol. You take the glade at the foot ofthe bare rock. Keep well under cover. I have seen two boars therealready this season. I shall stay here opposite the Prince. Halloa!Vocqsal, where are you?"
"Here," replied that worthy, from the opposite side of the torrent,where he had ensconced himself in a secure and secret nook, commandingright and left an uninterrupted view of two long narrow vistas in theforest, and promising to afford an excellent position for the use ofthat heavy double-barrelled rifle which he handled with a skill andprecision the result of many a year's practice and many a triumphant_coup_.
Unlike the younger sportsmen, Prince Vocqsal's movements were marked bya coolness and confidence which was
of itself sufficient to predicatesuccess. He had taken off the resplendent wig which adorned his"imperial front" immediately on the departure of the ladies, andtransferred it to the capacious pockets of a magnificent green velvetshooting-coat, rich in gold embroidery and filagree buttons of the sameprecious metal. Its place was supplied by a black skull-cap, surmountedby a wide-brimmed, low hat. On the branches of the huge old tree underwhich he was stationed he had hung his powder-horn, loading-rod, andshooting apparatus generally, in such positions as to ensurereplenishing his trusty rifle with the utmost rapidity; and taking ahunting-knife from his belt, he had stuck it, like a ScottishHighlander, in his right boot. Since his famous encounter with the bearat this very spot, the Prince always liked to wear his "best friend," ashe called it, in that place. These arrangements being concluded to hisown satisfaction, he took a goodly-sized hunting-flask from his pocket,and, after a hearty pull at its contents, wiped his moustache, andlooked about him with the air of a man who had made himself thoroughlycomfortable, and was prepared for any emergency.
"Here I am, Victor," he shouted once more, "established _enfactionnaire_. Don't shoot point-blank this way, and keep perfectlyquiet after you hear the action has commenced."
Victor laughingly promised compliance, and Ropsley and I betookourselves, with all the haste we could make, to our respective posts.
It was a steep, though not a long climb, and we had little breath tospare for conversation. Yet it seemed that something more than theexhausting nature of our exercise sealed our lips and checked our freeinterchange of thought. There was evidently something on Ropsley'smind; and he, too, appeared aware that there was a burden on mine. Itwas not till I reached the old oak-tree at which he was to be stationed,and was about to leave him for my own place, that he made the slightestremark. Then he only said--
"Vere, what's the matter with De Rohan? There's something very queerabout him to-day; have you not observed it."
I made some excuse about his keen zest for field-sports, and hishospitable anxiety that his guests should enjoy their share of the day'samusement, but the weight at my heart belied my commonplace words, andwhen I reached the station assigned me I sank down on the turf oppressedand crushed by a foreboding of some sudden and dreadful evil.
Soon a shot afar off at the extreme edge of the wood warned me that thesport had commenced; another and yet another followed in rapidsuccession. Branches began to rustle and dry twigs to crack as thelarger game moved onwards to the centre of the fatal circle. A finebrown bear came shambling clumsily along within twenty yards of my post;I hit him in the shoulder, and, watching him as he went on to mark if myball had taken effect, saw him roll over and over down the steepmountain-side, at the same moment that the crack of Ropsley's unerringrifle reached my ear, and a light puff of smoke from the same weaponcurled and clung around the fir-trees above his hiding-place. A "Bravo"of encouragement sprang to my lips, but I checked it as it rose, for atthat instant an enormous wild-boar emerged from the covert in front ofme; he was trotting along leisurely enough, and with an undignified andungraceful movement sufficiently ludicrous, but his quick eye must havecaught the gleam of my rifle ere I could level it, for he stopped deadshort, turned aside with an angry grunt, and dashed furiously down thehill towards the waterfall. "Boar forward!" shouted I, preparing tofollow the animal, but in a few moments a shot rang sharply through thewoodlands, succeeded instantaneously by another, and then a scream--along, full, wild, ear-piercing scream! and then the ghastly, awfulsilence that seems to tell so much. I knew it all long before I reachedhim, and yet of those few minutes I have no distinct recollection.There was a group of tall figures looking down; a confused mass ofrifles, powder-horns, and shooting-gear; a hunting-flask lying white andglittering on the green turf; and an old woman with a bright crimsonhandkerchief kneeling over _something_ on the ground. Every one madeway for me to pass, they seemed to treat me with a strange, awe-strickenrespect--perhaps they knew I was his friend--his oldest friend--andthere he lay, the brave, the bright, the beautiful, stretched at hislength, stone dead on the cold earth, shot through the heart--by whom?by Prince Vocqsal.
I might have known there was no hope. I had heard such screams beforecleaving the roar of battle--death shrieks that are only forced from manwhen the leaden messenger has reached the very well-spring of his life.I need not have taken the cold clammy hand in mine, and opened hisdress, and looked with my own eyes upon the blue livid mark. It was allover; there was no more hope for him than for the dead who have lain ahundred years in the grave. This morning he was Count de Rohan; Victorde Rohan, my dear old friend. I thought of him a merry, blue-eyedchild, and then I wept; and my head got better, and so I learned bydegrees what had happened.
"I might have known there was no hope. _The Interpreter__Page 418_]
The boar had dashed down at speed towards the waterfall He had crossedthe range of Count de Rohan's rifle, but the Count--and on this fact theforester laid great stress--the Count had missed his aim, and the animalalmost instantaneously turned towards Prince Vocqsal. The Prince'srifle rang clear and true; with his usual cool precision he had waiteduntil the quarry was far past the line of his friend's ambush, and hadpulled the trigger in perfect confidence as to the result. He, too, hadfailed for once in the very act of skill on which he so prided himself.His ball missing the game had struck against the hard knot of an oldtree beyond it, and glancing thence almost at right angles, had lodgedin poor Victor's heart at the very moment when the exhausted Zingynie,staggering with fatigue, had reached his post, murmuring a few hoarsewords of warning, and an entreaty to abandon the sport only for thatday. As he turned to greet her, the fatal messenger arrived, and with aconvulsive bound into the air, and one loud scream, he fell dead at herfeet.
Old Prince Vocqsal seemed utterly stupefied. He could neither beprevailed upon to quit the body, nor did it seem possible to make himcomprehend exactly what had happened, and the share which he had himselfborne so unwittingly in the dreadful catastrophe. The Zingynie, on thecontrary, although pale as death, was composed and almost majestic inher grief. To her it was the fulfilment of a prophecy--the course ofthat destiny which is not to be checked nor stayed. As she followed thebody, with head erect and measured tread, she looked neither to rightnor left, but her black eyes flashed with awful brilliance as shefastened the dilated orbs on what had once been Victor de Rohan, andmurmured in a low chant words which I now remembered, for the firsttime, to have heard many years before, words of which I now knew toowell the gloomy significance. "Birth and Burial--Birth andBurial--Beware of St. Hubert's Day!"
So we bore him down to Edeldorf, slowly, solemnly, as we bear one to hislast resting-place. Down the beautiful mountain-side, with its russetcopsewood, and its fine old oaks, and its brilliant clothing of autumnalbeauty; down the white sandy road between the vine-gardens, with theirlightsome foliage and their clusters of blushing grapes, and the buxompeasant-women, and ruddy, happy children, even now so gay and noisy, buthushed and horror-bound as they stopped to look and learn; down acrossthe long level plain, where the flocks were feeding securely, and thecattle stood dreamily, and clouds of insects danced and hovered in thebeams of an afternoon sun. Slowly, solemnly, we wound across the plain;slowly, solemnly, we reached the wide park-gates. A crowd of mourners,gathering as we went, followed eager and silent in the rear. Slowly,solemnly, we filed up the long avenue between the acacias, bearing thelord of that proud domain, the last of the De Rohans, to his ancestralhome.
Two ladies were walking in the garden as we approached the house; Icaught sight of their white dresses before they had themselves perceivedour ghastly train. They were Constance de Rohan, and Rose, PrincessVocqsal.
There was deep and holy mourning, there were bitter scalding tears thatnight in the Castle of Edeldorf. On the morrow, when the sun rose,there was one broken heart within its walls.