CHAPTER VI.
After the memorable interview with his father, Isidore had at firstbuoyed himself up with the hope that with the help Clotilde andMarguerite he might still find some way out of the difficulty; a nightof anxious thought, however, convinced him that they would be powerlessto effect anything, and that he must act for himself, and promptly too.He could not remain at Beaujardin, nor could he any longer accept thehospitality of the baroness. Besides, out of consideration forClotilde he did not care to disclose to her her mother's part in thematter, whilst his pride recoiled from telling Marguerite all thehumiliating incidents of the scene with his father. There could be nohope of their speedy union, or indeed of any favourable turn of affairsfor some time to come, and he therefore resolved to go off straight toParis and obtain his re-appointment to his former post in Canada; therehe could communicate with his uncle, and secure his aid. Heaccordingly confided to a trusty messenger a note, in which he brieflyinformed Marguerite of the unfavourable result of his visit toBeaujardin, and of his object in proceeding to Paris, whence hepromised to return without delay. He set off for that city on thefollowing morning, and on arriving there made his application to theMinister of War; but two days elapsed before he received an answer.What was his astonishment on opening it to find that the applicationwas refused! He was on the point of hurrying off to seek an interviewwith the Minister himself, when he perceived a small note, which hadbeen enclosed with the official letter; it was in the hand of aconfidential secretary whom he knew well, and ran as follows:--
"_Quit Paris without an hour's delay, or you are lost. The danger alsothreatens a person about whom you are most concerned._"
The warning came from one who would not have penned it without goodgrounds, and Isidore felt that it was not to be neglected for a moment.What if some mischief had already befallen Marguerite during hisabsence! In half an hour he was again in the saddle and on his way toValricour.
Full of anxiety, and wholly unable to form any plan for want ofinformation as to the nature of the impending danger, he rode on, withbut scanty rest, stopping only for a few hours during each night. Theroad to Valricour passed close to Beaujardin, and the sun was justrising as he came to one of the side gates leading into the greatgardens of the chateau. Suddenly the thought occurred to him that hewould see his father once more, and make a final appeal to him. Promptto act on his resolves, he sprang from his horse, and telling hisattendant to await his return, entered the garden and made his waytowards the mansion. Ah, if only his path were as clear and straightas those he was now treading--and yet the stiff formality of the vastpleasure grounds seemed hideous and hateful to him. To think thathundreds of thousands of livres should be spent on making nature asunlike to herself as possible. Here were miles of straight gravelwalks and terraces, and hedges of almost incredible height, cut trimlyto pattern like gigantic green walls, with prim and formal arches cutto the inch, and, for a change, long terraces with cold stonebalustrades and statues, which, instead of giving life, made everythingseem yet more lifeless. O for a thicket or a coppice, or a clump oftangled brambles, to show that there was some sympathy in nature withthe tangled trouble of his heart! Yet the inflexible regularity of allaround him produced one effect on Isidore, and led him to make up hismind on one point at least. He resolved that no consideration whatevershould induce him to give up Marguerite, or to desert at such a crisisthe poor girl who could have no hope but in his constancy. There weremoments in which he could not help thinking that the kindest thing hecould do would be to relinquish her, and thus free her at once from thepersecution she had incurred. Still he clung to the notion that hisfather could not really intend to cast him off altogether. Yes, themarquis had been indeed harsh and angry, but it could not be deniedthat appearances gave him some excuse. These thoughts were passingthrough his mind when he noticed that some one was dogging his steps.In no mood to brook anything that looked like espionage he turnedsharply on the intruder, and, to his surprise, found that it was oldAchille Perigord.
"What! is it you?" said the young marquis. "What brings you here atsuch an hour?"
"Alas, alas! my dear young master," replied the old man, "then it isyou indeed; I had hardly dared to hope for such good fortune. Butthere is not a moment to be lost."
"What do you mean?" answered Isidore, hastily. "What brings you here?"
"I thought I saw you in the garden as I stood at my window, almostdespairing of ever seeing you again. Ah, there may yet be a chance ofsaving you, for you are in such danger that I shudder to think ofit--you whom I have dandled on my knee--you who were always so braveand so good, and so considerate to me, and were always fighting anyyoung malapert who laughed at old Perigord."
Isidore could not help feeling his heart yearn towards the old _chef_,who, indeed, had got him out of many a boyish scrape, and allayed thepain of many a whipping with tarts, preserves, and other delicacies.
"Yes, you used to stand my friend often enough, Monsieur Perigord,"said Isidore, as the old days came vividly back to his memory, "thoughI am afraid your well-meant sympathy will not help me much just now.But what do you know of my troubles and my danger?"
"I know all--everything--partly from what I have picked up in variousquarters, for you may easily suppose that what goes on in the salon istalked about in the kitchen, but principally from that villain, thattraitor, Jasmin, who for once let his tongue run on last night, andtold enough to make it certain that something terrible is impendingover you, and not only over you, but also over that sweet young lady,Mademoiselle Marguerite. Yes, my dear young master," continued the oldman, as Isidore gave a slight start, and regarded him with manifestanxiety, "yes, I know how matters stand between you, and that there isa plot hatching against you, in which--monsieur will excuse me if I sayit plainly--madame the baroness is the chief actor, and in which shehas bribed that rascal to assist her and to betray you."
Isidore gazed at him half incredulous, and yet after what he hadlearned at Paris, what could be more likely, considering Madame deValricour's conduct, and the check she had received in her mostcherished plans?
"And Jasmin too! Where is the scoundrel?" said Isidore, impetuously."Is he here?"
"My good master, do not waste time on him. I tell you frankly that Ifear madame is contemplating a _lettre de cachet_, it may be formademoiselle only, but I do not believe that even you are safe from hermachinations, and I have reason to believe she has influence enough atVersailles for anything."
"I am not afraid of her, Monsieur Perigord," observed Isidorehaughtily. "My father would hardly stand that, although he may beangry with me, as I suppose you know, since you know so much else."
"Perhaps so, perhaps so," answered old Perigord; "but it may be donebehind his back, and before he can interfere. Besides, even ifmonsieur is safe I do not suppose he would let Mademoiselle Margueriterun any risk of such a horrible fate if he could help it."
"You are right, my good friend," said Isidore; "I am afraid there isdanger indeed, and at all events I will do what I can to avert it. Iwill go on at once to Valricour and warn Mademoiselle Lacroix, thoughas to what more I can do I am at present utterly at a loss."
"Then I will tell you," rejoined the old man. "I have a cousin at St.Sulpice--you know the place, monsieur--it is on the Paris road fromValricour, not more than four or five leagues from the chateau; he isan honest and kindly man. I will go to him to-day--it is a fete daythere, and my visit will cause no surprise. I will tell him that youare coming, and I am sure he and his wife will give mademoiselle arefuge--ay, and you too, if things should come to the worst--untilsomething can be done. He is a worthy man, and I will answer for himwith my life. Now go, my dear young master, and Heaven speed you.There is no time to lose."
Isidore would have expressed his thanks to the old man for the livelyinterest he had shown, and for the assistance he had so promptlyoffered in case of need, but Perigord had already vanished. Tenminutes later the young marquis was again on horseback,
and on his wayto Valricour.
On reaching the chateau Isidore found his cousin and Marguerite in astate of great anxiety on account of his long absence, and what he hadto tell them was not calculated to allay their uneasiness. Fortunatelythey were alone, as the baroness had again gone over to Beaujardin thatmorning, and many a plan was discussed and abandoned by turns as theirvague hopes of finding some way out of the difficulty alternated withthe fears to which Isidore's account of the interview with his father,of the warning received in Paris, and of the meeting with old Perigord,could not but give rise. At last it was agreed that Isidore shouldwait and boldly face Madame de Valricour on her return, and that thefinal step to be taken should depend on the clue which that interviewmight afford as to the precise nature of the danger and the quarterfrom which it was likely to come. In the meanwhile Isidore, who waswell known and much liked in the neighbouring village, engaged theservices of a small tenant farmer who owned a good horse and cart, incase Marguerite's immediate removal from Valricour should prove to benecessary.
It was already dusk when the distant sound of wheels was heard, and onhastening to the window they perceived the great lumbering family coachcoming up the avenue. In a couple of minutes more it had stopped atthe hall door, and all eyes were bent on the spot to catch a sight ofthe baroness. To their surprise, however, no Madame Valricourdescended from the vehicle, but they noticed that in addition tomadame's coachman and footman it was accompanied by one of theBeaujardin servants on horseback, a not unusual precaution when personsof note travelled after dusk, although one which the state of herhousehold and stable mostly obliged the baroness to dispense with. Themystery was soon solved by the entrance of a servant with a note forMademoiselle Lacroix. It was from Madame de Valricour, and was to theeffect that as she had found it impossible to return to the chateauthat evening, she considered it undesirable that Marguerite shouldremain under her roof after what had passed, she had therefore, sheadded, sent the carriage to bring her to the Chateau de Beaujardin,where she would for the present remain.
More than once was this unexpected communication perused both byMarguerite and her friends, and then an animated dispute arose as towhat was to be done. Marguerite, anxious only to escape from a roofunder which she was in such a false position, was for setting off atonce in compliance with the wishes of the baroness; Isidore, however,would not hear of her going alone, and declared that he would accompanyher and make another appeal to his father.
Clotilde shook her head. "It is useless," said she; "nay, I will gofurther," she continued with a sigh, "I am afraid that there is morebeneath this letter than we can fathom. It is not what my mother wouldwrite if this were all she meant. I will take Marguerite's place andgo to Beaujardin."
"You!" exclaimed Isidore and Marguerite in a breath. "What will be thegood of that?"
"At any rate," replied Clotilde, "I will try what I can do with myuncle, and I think I may do more than either or both of you just now."
"But how can I stay here?" pleaded Marguerite.
"I have not forgotten that; you can remain here no longer, and there isbut one thing to be done. Isidore must take you at once and place youunder the care of Greboeuf, at St. Sulpice. Ask me no questions; Ihave my reasons, but I cannot tell them. Alas! that it should everfall to my lot to bid you, whom I have loved so dearly, to leave my ownfather's house!"
For a few minutes the two girls were clasped in each other's arms; butClotilde soon regained her composure, and assuming as cheerful a faceas she could, impressed upon her friend the necessity of carrying outher plan, which was this. She herself was to depart in the coachsufficiently disguised to pass for Marguerite; the latter, putting onClotilde's cloak and hood, was immediately afterwards to leave thechateau with Isidore and go off to St. Sulpice. Clotilde was to letthem know on the following day, through old Perigord, how matters stoodat Beaujardin, so that they might act accordingly. By this time thehorses had been baited, and all being now arranged, Isidore took downhis cousin and hurried her into the vehicle, which started off at once.
Not a little perplexed and anxious at the turn things had taken,Clotilde leaned back in the comfortable coach and called to mind thevarious incidents of the day. At first her cheek flushed withindignation at the thought of her mother's conduct towards one whomhospitality and the commonest feeling of pity should have protectedfrom such treatment. To think that it was her own mother! Clotildecovered her face with her hands and gave way to her tears. She was,however, not one of those who fold their hands and let circumstancesovermaster them. She had by nature both the wit and the courage thatcan turn things to the best account; quickly drying her tears,therefore, she set herself to consider how she might take advantage ofthis unexpected visit to Beaujardin. She could not but fear that thebaroness intended to carry off Marguerite to some safe place, wherethere would be no means of communicating with Isidore; such things werenot seldom done, and with a strong hand too, when it was foundnecessary to cut the gordian knot of a family difficulty. In thisdesign she would be foiled, at least for the present, and with the helpof M. Perigord and his friends Marguerite might be kept out of harm'sway. In the meanwhile Clotilde would have an opportunity of appealingto her uncle, who, she fully believed, would never countenance anypositive ill-treatment of one who might be said to have been bequeathedto the hospitality of the family. She might have doubted even her ownability to detach the marquis from the enemy's ranks but for one littlecircumstance, which was this. On hearing Isidore's account of thescene at the Chateau de Beaujardin, and the incident of the charredscrap of paper, Clotilde had gone and examined the stove in theapartment occupied by Isidore during his recent visit. Not a tracecould she find of anything having been burnt there, and a minutequestioning of the domestics had proved beyond a doubt that any storyof the burning of the letter in that room was a fabrication. She knewwell her uncle's intense abhorrence of anything like treachery ordeceit. It was indeed this trait in his disposition that had led tohis severity towards Isidore, and it was on this that she now reliedfor the success of her efforts to enlist the sympathy of the oldmarquis in favour of her cousin and her friend.
Absorbed in these thoughts Clotilde took no note of time or distance,while the growing darkness and the absence of novelty in a ride fromValricour to Beaujardin, to say nothing of the pre-occupation of hermind, kept her from observing anything outside of the lumbering vehiclein which she sat. They had jogged on for a considerable time, however,when the coach stopped. Under ordinary circumstances this would hardlyhave interfered with Clotilde's meditations, the occurrence beingcommon enough at a period when in France, as in other countries, mostof the roads, except those along which the king himself was accustomedto travel, were usually in a deplorable condition, notwithstanding thelessons left behind by those famous old road-makers the Romans, and inspite of the iniquitous road-laws which threw upon all but the noblesan intolerable amount of personal labour in the making and maintainingof the highways. But on the present occasion Clotilde's attention wasarrested by the circumstance that men were busy changing the horses,and although it was now dark, she noticed at the roadside a great whitestone cross, from which she knew that they must have turned off fromthe direct road to Beaujardin. Surprised, and perhaps a littlealarmed, she tried to open one of the windows to obtain someexplanation, but it was so tightly fastened that she found thisimpossible. She tried the other, but that too defied all her efforts,and whilst she was still thus engaged the coach was once more drivenon, and now at a gallop. Then, as she peered anxiously out, sheobserved that the horseman who rode close to the carriage was a muchbigger man than the groom from Beaujardin who had started with themfrom Valricour, and that he was muffled in a great riding-cloak.Clotilde was one of those women whose courage rises just when that ofothers usually fails: without an instant's hesitation she stooped down,and the next moment the high wooden heel of one of her shoes sent thewindow-pane flying in shivers out upon the road. A touch of the spurat once brought h
er escort alongside of the broken window.
"Holloa!" he exclaimed, in a voice Clotilde had never heard before,"what is all this about?"
"Fellow!" she replied, indignantly, "what is the meaning of this? Whoare you?--and why have we gone out of our road?"
"Ah, well," answered the man coolly, "of course it is natural enoughthat you should want to know, but----"
"Impudent scoundrel!" cried Clotilde, "stop the carriage this momentand let me alight, or----"
"Look you, mademoiselle," the horseman here broke in, bringing his faceat the same time close to the carriage window, and speaking sternly,though in a low voice, as if to avoid being overheard, "you seem to bea fine spirited young lady, and I should be sorry to let that bring youinto more trouble. You are not going to Beaujardin this time. I havemy orders to take you somewhere else. Now just listen, no harm willcome to you if you keep quiet and go peaceably. What is more, I giveyou my word, if you choose to take it, that I am going to hand you overto the safe keeping of a lady who, I suppose, will treat you as agentlewoman ought to be treated, but go you must--there's no help forthat. 'Tis of no use trying to raise an alarm; that might only cost acouple of lives, perhaps," and here the speaker just opened his heavymantle sufficiently to show the butt ends of two heavy pistols at hisbelt. "So, mademoiselle," he concluded, "be complaisant, and make thebest of a bad business."
For a few minutes Clotilde felt overwhelmed and almost stunned atfinding herself suddenly, and without the slightest warning, in aposition so strange and obviously so full of peril. As soon as shecould collect herself, however, a light broke in upon her, and with ita faint hope of escape.
"Whoever you are," she exclaimed, calling to her unknown attendant, whonow continued to ride close to the window, perhaps to stop promptly anypossible attempt to give an alarm, "whoever you are, you have simplymade a stupid mistake, which will only get you into trouble. I am notthe lady you suppose. No, sirrah," she added, as her anger made herfor the moment forget her danger, "I am Mademoiselle de Valricour; sonow you will see that if you dare to attempt to carry out your villainyyou will have to pay dearly for it the moment that I can send either toValricour or to Beaujardin."
"A very likely thing, no doubt," replied the horseman; "I have had thatsort of trick tried upon me more than once; but to tell you the truth Ineither know nor care a sou whether you be what you say you are or not.I have my orders and I stick to them, so there's an end of it." Withthese words the man dropped a few paces behind, and left Clotilde to avery different train of meditations from those which had been sostartlingly interrupted.
There could not be a doubt that she had fallen into a trap intended foranother victim, and that the object of this nefarious plot was to put astop to the engagement between Marguerite Lacroix and the youngmarquis. The thought that such foul means should be used for thepurpose against her bosom friend brought the hot blood into Clotilde'scheeks, and she stamped her little foot impetuously in the height ofher indignation. Then she paused, and her colour fled again as shebethought her of what might be the end of it all if she should beunable to communicate with her mother or the Marquis de Beaujardin, andshould be left to----
To what? More than once she had heard M. de Crillon talk--and veryunconcernedly too--of the living death of those who unhappily becamethe victims of a _lettre de cachet_. Yes, she remembered well howonce, in order to gratify her importunate curiosity, he had told her ofpeople sent to Pignerol, St. Michel, or Isle Marguerite, never to beheard of more. He had actually taken to himself some little share ofcredit for the dread inspired far and near by the terrible length ofthe merciless arm which could strike down an enemy at the court of someforeign potentate. Not long since, indeed, it had dared to seize atFrankfort a man too dangerous through his connection with the world ofletters, and had consigned him to a living tomb, if even his life hadbeen spared. She shuddered at the thought; but even the prospect of afate so dismal could not long keep down the generous and heroic spiritof Clotilde de Valricour. "At least," she murmured, "I shall save poorMarguerite; nay, I perhaps maybe the means of enabling her to be happywith Isidore in spite of these cruel machinations."
How long the journey lasted the unfortunate girl had no means ofknowing; it seemed to her an age, though in reality it was but a fewhours. She became at last nearly exhausted with the incessant joltingover rough roads, and plunging about in others that were little betterthan bogs. Excitement, however, and the continual apprehension of someunlooked-for catastrophe forbade all thoughts of sleep, and it wasactually with a sensation of relief that she noticed that the hugecarriage was rattling over a rough pavement, and heard the noise ofgreat gates being swung to, and barred behind them. She looked out,and could just perceive that they had driven into a spaciouscourt-yard, nearly surrounded by grey, sombre-looking buildings, at thegreat entrance door of which the vehicle drew up.
Tailpiece to Chapter VI]
Headpiece to Chapter VII]