Une fille du régent. English

  CHAPTER V.

  THE JOURNEY.

  That very night Gaston made his will, and deposited it with a notary atNantes.

  He left everything to Helene de Chaverny; begged her, if he died, not torenounce the world, but to accept the career opening to her youth andbeauty; but, as he was the last of his family, he begged her, in memeoryof him, to call her first son Gaston.

  He next went to see each of his friends, and once more told them that hebelieved the enterprise would be successful. Pontcalec gave him half apiece of gold and a letter, which he was to present to a certain Captainla Jonquiere, their correspondent at Paris, who would put Gaston incommunication with the important persons he went to seek. He then putall the ready money he had into a valise, and, accompanied only by anold servant named Owen, in whom he had great confidence, he set out fromNantes.

  It was midday, a bright sun shone on the stream, and sparkled on theicicles which hung from the leafless trees, as Gaston made his way alongthe deserted road, looking in vain for anything resembling the conventcarriage.

  The servant appeared much more anxious to quicken their pace than Gastonhimself did, for to him the journey was fraught with annoyances, and hewas so anxious to arrive at that Paris of which he had heard suchwonderful tales, that, had it been possible, he would willingly haveadded wings to their horses' feet.

  Gaston, however, traveled slowly as far as Oudan, but the conventcarriage proceeded more slowly still. At Oudan he halted; he chose theChar Couronne, a house which had some windows overlooking the road, andwhich, moreover, was the best inn in the village.

  While his dinner was preparing, Gaston, in spite of the cold, remainedin the balcony; but in vain he looked for the carriage he so muchwished to see.

  Then he thought that perhaps Helene had preceded him, and was already inthe inn. He went at once to a window at the back, overlooking thecourtyard, to inspect the carriages standing there.

  His attention was arrested by seeing, not the carriage, but his servant,Owen, speaking earnestly to a man dressed in gray and wrapped in a sortof military cloak, who, after a short conversation, mounted his horseand rode off with the air of a man to whom speed is of the utmostimportance, as Gaston heard his steps along the road to Paris.

  At this moment the servant raised his eyes, and began busily brushingthe snow from his boots and clothes.

  Gaston signed to him to approach.

  "Who were you talking with, Owen?"

  "To a man, M. Gaston."

  "Who is that man?"

  "A traveler--a soldier, who was asking his way."

  "His way; to what place?"

  "To Rennes."

  "But you could not tell him, for you do not know this place."

  "I asked the landlord, monsieur."

  "Why could not he ask himself?"

  "Because he had had a quarrel with him about the price of his dinner,and did not wish to speak to him again."

  "Hum," said Gaston.

  Nothing was more natural than this, yet Gaston became thoughtful; but hequickly threw off his suspicions, accusing himself of becoming timid ata time when he most needed courage; his brow remained clouded, however,for the carriage did not appear.

  He thought at one moment that Helene might have chosen another road inorder to part from him without noise or quarrel, but he soon concludedthat it was only some accident which delayed her; he sat down again totable, though he had finished his dinner, and when Owen appeared toclear away, "Some wine," said he. Owen had already removed a half emptybottle.

  "Some wine?" repeated the servant in astonishment, for Gaston usuallydrank but little.

  "Yes, some wine; is there anything surprising in that?"

  "No, monsieur," replied Owen.

  And he transmitted the order for a second bottle of wine to the waiter.Gaston poured out a glass, drank it, then a second.

  Owen stared.

  Then, thinking it both his duty and his interest to prevent his master'sfinishing the bottle--

  "Monsieur," said he, "I have heard that if you are riding, it is bad todrink when it is very cold. You forgot that we have a long way to go,and that it will be getting still colder, and, if we wait much longer,we shall get no post-horses. It is nearly three o'clock, now, and athalf-past four it will be dark."

  This behavior surprised Gaston.

  "You are in a very great hurry, Owen," said he; "have you a rendezvouswith the man who was asking his way of you?"

  "Monsieur knows that to be impossible," replied Owen, "since he is goingto Rennes, and we to Paris."

  However, under the scrutinizing gaze of his master, Owen turned red,when suddenly, at the sound of wheels, Gaston ran to the window. It wasthe dark carriage.

  At this sight Gaston darted from the room.

  It was then Owen's turn to run to the window to see what it was that hadso much interested his master. He saw a green and black carriage stop,from which the driver alighted and opened the door; then he saw a younglady in a cloak go into the hotel, followed by an Augustine sister; thetwo ladies, announcing that they should only remain to dine, asked for aroom.

  But to reach this room they had to cross a public salon, in which Gastonstood near the fire-place; a rapid but meaning glance was exchangedbetween him and Helene, and, to Gaston's great satisfaction, herecognized in the driver of the carriage the convent gardener. He lethim pass, however, unnoticed, but as he crossed the yard to go to thestable, he followed him.

  He accosted the gardener, who told him that he was to take the twoladies to Rambouillet, where Helene would remain, and then he was totake back Sister Therese to Clisson.

  Gaston, raising his eyes suddenly, saw Owen watching him, and thiscuriosity displeased him.

  "What are you doing there?" asked he.

  "Waiting for orders," said Owen.

  "Do you know that fellow?" asked Gaston of the gardener.

  "M. Owen, your servant? Of course I do; we are from the same place."

  "So much the worse," murmured Gaston.

  "Oh, Owen is an honest fellow."

  "Never mind," said Gaston; "not a word of Helene, I beg."

  The gardener promised; and, indeed, it was his own interest to keep thesecret, for, had it been discovered that he had given Gaston the key, hewould have lost his place.

  After a hasty meal, the carriage was again ordered, and at the doorGaston met the ladies, and handed them in. Chanlay was not quite unknownto the sister, so she thanked him graciously as he handed her in.

  "Monsieur," said Owen, behind the chevalier, "our horses are ready."

  "One more glass," said Gaston, "and I shall start."

  To Owen's great surprise, Gaston returned to the room and ordered athird bottle--for Owen had removed the second, of which Gaston had onlydrank his two glasses.

  Gaston remained about a quarter of an hour, and then, having no furthermotive for waiting, he set out.

  When they had ridden a short distance, they saw the carriage imbedded ina deep rut, where, in spite of the efforts of the horses and thegardener, it remained stationary. Gaston could not leave him in such adilemma, and the gardener, recognizing Owen, called to him for aid. Thetwo riders dismounted, opened the carriage door, took out the ladies,and succeeded in freeing the carriage, so that they were able toproceed.

  An acquaintanceship was thus established, and the poor nun, who was verytimid, inquired of Gaston if the road were safe. Gaston reassured her,and said that he and his servant would escort them, and his offer was atonce accepted with thanks.

  Meanwhile Helene had played her part admirably, showing that a younggirl, however simple and naive, has the instinct of dissimulation, whichonly requires opportunity to develop itself.

  Gaston rode along close to the door, for the road was narrow, and SisterTherese asked him many questions. She learned that he was called theChevalier de Livry, and was the brother of one of the young ladies whohad been in the convent school, but who was now married to Montlouis.

  They stopp
ed, as previously arranged, at Ancenis.

  The gardener confirmed what Gaston had said of his relationship toMademoiselle de Livry, so that Sister Therese had no suspicion, and wasvery friendly with him.

  She was, in fact, delighted, on starting the next morning, to find himalready mounted, and to receive his accustomed politeness in handingthem into the carriage. As he did so, he slipped a note into Helene'shand, and by a glance she told him he should receive a reply.

  Gaston rode by the side of the carriage, for the road was bad, andassistance was frequently required, either to free a wheel, to assistthe ladies to alight for the purpose of walking up a steep ascent, orsome of the many accidents of a journey. "My dear Helene," said SisterTherese, several times, "what would have become of us without the aid ofthis gentleman?"

  Before arriving at Angers, Gaston inquired at what hotel they were goingto stay, and, finding that it was the same at which he intended to putup, he sent Owen on before to engage apartments.

  When they arrived, he received a note, which Helene had written duringdinner. She spoke of her love and happiness as though they were secureand everlasting.

  But Gaston looked on the future in its true light. Bound by an oath toundertake a terrible mission, he foresaw sad misfortunes after theirpresent short-lived joy. He remembered that he was about to losehappiness, just as he had tasted it for the first time, and rebelledagainst his fate. He did not remember that he had sought that conspiracywhich now bound him, and which forced him to pursue a path leading toexile or the scaffold, while he had in sight another path which wouldlead him direct to happiness.

  It is true that when Gaston joined the conspiracy he did not knowHelene, and thought himself alone in the world. At twenty years of agehe had believed that the world had no pleasure for him; then he had metHelene, and the world became full of pleasure and hope: but it was toolate; he had already entered on a career from which he could not drawback.

  Meanwhile, in the preoccupation of his mind, Gaston had quite forgottenhis suspicions of Owen, and had not noticed that he had spoken to twocavaliers similar to the one whom he had seen the first evening; butOwen lost nothing of what passed between Gaston and Helene.

  As they approached the end of their journey, Gaston became sad; and whenthe landlord at Chartres replied to the question of Sister Therese,"To-morrow you may, if you choose, reach Rambouillet," it was as thoughhe had said, "To-morrow you separate forever."

  Helene, who loved as women love, with the strength, or rather theweakness, to sacrifice everything to that love, could not understandGaston's passive submission to the decrees of Providence, and she wouldhave preferred to have seen him make some effort to combat them.

  But Helene was in this unjust to Gaston; the same ideas tormented him.He knew that at a word from him Helene would follow him to the end ofthe world--he had plenty of gold--it would be easy for Helene oneevening, instead of going to rest, to go with him into a post-chaise,and in two days they would be beyond the frontier, free and happy, notfor a day or a month, but forever.

  But one word, one little word, opposed itself to all this. That word washonor. He had given his oath, and he would be disgraced if he did notkeep it.

  The last evening Helene expected that Gaston would speak, but in vain,and she retired to rest with the conviction that Gaston did not love heras she loved him.

  That night Gaston never slept, and he rose pale and despairing. Theybreakfasted at a little village. The nun thought that in the evening shewould begin her homeward journey toward her beloved convent. Helenethought that it was now too late to act, even if Gaston should speak.Gaston thought that he was about to lose forever the woman whom heloved.

  About three o'clock in the afternoon they all alighted to walk up asteep hill, from the summit of which they could see before them asteeple and a number of houses. It was Rambouillet; they did not knowit, but they felt that it was.

  Gaston was the first to break the silence. "There," said he, "our pathsseparate. Helene, I implore you preserve the recollection of me, and,whatever happens, do not condemn or curse me."

  "Gaston, you only speak of the most terrible things. I need courage, andyou take it from me. Have you nothing joyful to tell me? I know thepresent is dark, but is the future also as dreadful? Are there not manyyears, and therefore many hopes, to look forward to? We are young--welove one another; are there no means of struggling against the fatewhich threatens us? Oh, Gaston! I feel in myself a great strength, andif you but say--but no, I am mad; it is I who suffer, and yet I whoconsole."

  "I understand you, Helene--you want a promise, do you not? Well, judgeif I am wretched; I dare not promise. You tell me to hope, and I can butdespair. If I had ten years, five years, one year, at my own disposal, Iwould offer them to you, Helene, and think myself blessed, but from themoment I leave you, we lose each other. From to-morrow morning I belongno more to myself."

  "Oh!" cried Helene, "unhappy that I am, did you then deceive me when yousaid you loved me; are you pledged to another?"

  "At least, my poor Helene," said Gaston, "on this point I can reassureyou. I have no other love."

  "Then we may yet be happy, Gaston, if my new family will recognize youas my husband."

  "Helene, do you not see that every word you utter stabs me to theheart?"

  "But at least tell me what it is."

  "Fate, which I cannot escape; ties which I dare not break."

  "I know of none such," cried the young girl. "I am promised a family,riches, station, and a name; and yet, Gaston, say but one word and Ileave them all for you. Why, then, will you not do as much for me?"

  Gaston answered not; and at this moment Sister Therese rejoined them,and they again got into the carriage. When they neared the town, the nuncalled Gaston, told him that, perhaps, some one might come to meetHelene, and that a stranger should not be seen with them. Gaston bowedsilently and sadly, and turned to leave them.

  Helene was no ordinary woman; she saw Gaston's distress. "Is it adieu,or au revoir?" cried she, boldly.

  "Au revoir," said Gaston, and he rode off quickly.