Portion 2
A Norman woman, Amante by name, was sent to Les Rochers by the Parismilliner, to become my maid. She was tall and handsome, though upwardsof forty, and somewhat gaunt. But, on first seeing her, I liked her;she was neither rude nor familiar in her manners, and had a pleasantlook of straightforwardness about her that I had missed in all theinhabitants of the chateau, and had foolishly set down in my own mindas a national want. Amante was directed by M. de la Tourelle to sit inmy boudoir, and to be always within call. He also gave her manyinstructions as to her duties in matters which, perhaps, strictlybelonged to my department of management. But I was young andinexperienced, and thankful to be spared any responsibility.
I daresay it was true what M. de la Tourelle said--before many weekshad elapsed--that, for a great lady, a lady of a castle, I became sadlytoo familiar with my Norman waiting-maid. But you know that by birth wewere not very far apart in rank: Amante was the daughter of a Normanfarmer, I of a German miller; and besides that, my life was so lonely!It almost seemed as if I could not please my husband. He had writtenfor some one capable of being my companion at times, and now he wasjealous of my free regard for her--angry because I could sometimeslaugh at her original tunes and amusing proverbs, while when with him Iwas too much frightened to smile.
From time to time families from a distance of some leagues drovethrough the bad roads in their heavy carriages to pay us a visit, andthere was an occasional talk of our going to Paris when public affairsshould be a little more settled. These little events and plans were theonly variations in my life for the first twelve months, if I except thealternations in M. de la Tourelle's temper, his unreasonable anger, andhis passionate fondness.
Perhaps one of the reasons that made me take pleasure and comfort inAmante's society was, that whereas I was afraid of everybody (I do notthink I was half as much afraid of things as of persons), Amante fearedno one. She would quietly beard Lefebvre, and he respected her all themore for it; she had a knack of putting questions to M. de la Tourelle,which respectfully informed him that she had detected the weak point,but forebore to press him too closely upon it out of deference to hisposition as her master. And with all her shrewdness to others, she hadquite tender ways with me; all the more so at this time because sheknew, what I had not yet ventured to tell M. de la Tourelle, thatby-and-by I might become a mother--that wonderful object of mysteriousinterest to single women, who no longer hope to enjoy such blessednessthemselves.
It was once more autumn; late in October. But I was reconciled to myhabitation; the walls of the new part of the building no longer lookedbare and desolate; the _debris_ had been so far cleared away by M. dela Tourelle's desire as to make me a little flower-garden, in which Itried to cultivate those plants that I remembered as growing at home.Amante and I had moved the furniture in the rooms, and adjusted it toour liking; my husband had ordered many an article from time to timethat he thought would give me pleasure, and I was becoming tame to myapparent imprisonment in a certain part of the great building, thewhole of which I had never yet explored. It was October, as I say, oncemore. The days were lovely, though short in duration, and M. de laTourelle had occasion, so he said, to go to that distant estate thesuperintendence of which so frequently took him away from home. He tookLefebvre with him, and possibly some more of the lacqueys; he oftendid. And my spirits rose a little at the thought of his absence; andthen the new sensation that he was the father of my unborn babe cameover me, and I tried to invest him with this fresh character. I triedto believe that it was his passionate love for me that made him sojealous and tyrannical, imposing, as he did, restrictions on my veryintercourse with my dear father, from whom I was so entirely separated,as far as personal intercourse was concerned.
I had, it is true, let myself go into a sorrowful review of all thetroubles which lay hidden beneath the seeming luxury of my life. I knewthat no one cared for me except my husband and Amante; for it was clearenough to see that I, as his wife, and also as a _parvenue_, was notpopular among the few neighbours who surrounded us; and as for theservants; the women were all hard and impudent-looking, treating mewith a semblance of respect that had more of mockery than reality init; while the men had a lurking kind of fierceness about them,sometimes displayed even to M. de la Tourelle, who on his part, it mustbe confessed, was often severe even to cruelty in his management ofthem. My husband loved me, I said to myself, but I said it almost inthe form of a question. His love was shown fitfully, and more in wayscalculated to please himself than to please me. I felt that for no wishof mine would he deviate one tittle from any predetermined course ofaction. I had learnt the inflexibility of those thin delicate lips; Iknew how anger would turn his fair complexion to deadly white, andbring the cruel light into his pale blue eyes. The love I bore to anyone seemed to be a reason for his hating them, and so I went on pityingmyself one long dreary afternoon during that absence of his of which Ihave spoken, only sometimes remembering to check myself in mymurmurings by thinking of the new unseen link between us, and thencrying afresh to think how wicked I was. Oh, how well I remember thatlong October evening! Amante came in from time to time, talking away tocheer me--talking about dress and Paris, and I hardly know what, butfrom time to time looking at me keenly with her friendly dark eyes, andwith serious interest, too, though all her words were about frivolity.At length she heaped the fire with wood, drew the heavy silken curtainsclose; for I had been anxious hitherto to keep them open, so that Imight see the pale moon mounting the skies, as I used to see her--thesame moon--rise from behind the Kaiser Stuhl at Heidelberg; but thesight made me cry, so Amante shut it out. She dictated to me as a nursedoes to a child.
'Now, madame must have the little kitten to keep her company,' shesaid, 'while I go and ask Marthon for a cup of coffee.' I remember thatspeech, and the way it roused me, for I did not like Amante to think Iwanted amusing by a kitten. It might be my petulance, but thisspeech--such as she might have made to a child--annoyed me, and I saidthat I had reason for my lowness of spirits--meaning that they were notof so imaginary a nature that I could be diverted from them by thegambols of a kitten. So, though I did not choose to tell her all, Itold her a part; and as I spoke, I began to suspect that the goodcreature knew much of what I withheld, and that the little speech aboutthe kitten was more thoughtfully kind than it had seemed at first. Isaid that it was so long since I had heard from my father; that he wasan old man, and so many things might happen--I might never see himagain--and I so seldom heard from him or my brother. It was a morecomplete and total separation than I had ever anticipated when Imarried, and something of my home and of my life previous to mymarriage I told the good Amante; for I had not been brought up as agreat lady, and the sympathy of any human being was precious to me.
Amante listened with interest, and in return told me some of the eventsand sorrows of her own life. Then, remembering her purpose, she set outin search of the coffee, which ought to have been brought to me an hourbefore; but, in my husband's absence, my wishes were but seldomattended to, and I never dared to give orders.
Presently she returned, bringing the coffee and a great large cake.
'See!' said she, setting it down. 'Look at my plunder. Madame must eat.Those who eat always laugh. And, besides, I have a little news thatwill please madame.' Then she told me that, lying on a table in thegreat kitchen, was a bundle of letters, come by the courier fromStrasburg that very afternoon: then, fresh from her conversation withme, she had hastily untied the string that bound them, but had onlyjust traced out one that she thought was from Germany, when aservant-man came in, and, with the start he gave her, she dropped theletters, which he picked up, swearing at her for having untied anddisarranged them. She told him that she believed there was a letterthere for her mistress; but he only swore the more, saying, that ifthere was it was no business of hers, or of his either, for that he hadthe strictest orders always to take all letters that arrived during hismaster's absence into the private sitting-room of the latter--a roominto which I had
never entered, although it opened out of my husband'sdressing-room.
I asked Amante if she had not conquered and brought me this letter. No,indeed, she replied, it was almost as much as her life was worth tolive among such a set of servants: it was only a month ago that Jacqueshad stabbed Valentin for some jesting talk. Had I never missedValentin--that handsome young lad who carried up the wood into mysalon? Poor fellow! he lies dead and cold now, and they said in thevillage he had put an end to himself, but those of the household knewbetter. Oh! I need not be afraid; Jacques was gone, no one knew where;but with such people it was not safe to upbraid or insist. Monsieurwould be at home the next day, and it would not be long to wait.
But I felt as if I could not exist till the next day, without theletter. It might be to say that my father was ill, dying--he might cryfor his daughter from his death-bed! In short, there was no end to thethoughts and fancies that haunted me. It was of no use for Amante tosay that, after all, she might be mistaken--that she did not readwriting well--that she had but a glimpse of the address; I let mycoffee cool, my food all became distasteful, and I wrung my hands withimpatience to get at the letter, and have some news of my dear ones athome. All the time, Amante kept her imperturbable good temper, firstreasoning, then scolding. At last she said, as if wearied out, that ifI would consent to make a good supper, she would see what could be doneas to our going to monsieur's room in search of the letter, after theservants were all gone to bed. We agreed to go together when all wasstill, and look over the letters; there could be no harm in that; andyet, somehow, we were such cowards we dared not do it openly and in theface of the household.
Presently my supper came up--partridges, bread, fruits, and cream. Howwell I remember that supper! We put the untouched cake away in a sortof buffet, and poured the cold coffee out of the window, in order thatthe servants might not take offence at the apparent fancifulness ofsending down for food I could not eat. I was so anxious for all to bein bed, that I told the footman who served that he need not wait totake away the plates and dishes, but might go to bed. Long after Ithought the house was quiet, Amante, in her caution, made me wait. Itwas past eleven before we set out, with cat-like steps and veiledlight, along the passages, to go to my husband's room and steal my ownletter, if it was indeed there; a fact about which Amante had becomevery uncertain in the progress of our discussion.
To make you understand my story, I must now try to explain to you theplan of the chateau. It had been at one time a fortified place of somestrength, perched on the summit of a rock, which projected from theside of the mountain. But additions had been made to the old building(which must have borne a strong resemblance to the castles overhangingthe Rhine), and these new buildings were placed so as to command amagnificent view, being on the steepest side of the rock, from whichthe mountain fell away, as it were, leaving the great plain of Francein full survey. The ground-plan was something of the shape of threesides of an oblong; my apartments in the modern edifice occupied thenarrow end, and had this grand prospect. The front of the castle wasold, and ran parallel to the road far below. In this were contained theoffices and public rooms of various descriptions, into which I neverpenetrated. The back wing (considering the new building, in which myapartments were, as the centre) consisted of many rooms, of a dark andgloomy character, as the mountain-side shut out much of the sun, andheavy pine woods came down within a few yards of the windows. Yet onthis side--on a projecting plateau of the rock--my husband had formedthe flower-garden of which I have spoken; for he was a great cultivatorof flowers in his leisure moments.
Now my bedroom was the corner room of the new buildings on the partnext to the mountains. Hence I could have let myself down into theflower-garden by my hands on the window-sill on one side, withoutdanger of hurting myself; while the windows at right angles with theselooked sheer down a descent of a hundred feet at least. Going stillfarther along this wing, you came to the old building; in fact, thesetwo fragments of the ancient castle had formerly been attached by somesuch connecting apartments as my husband had rebuilt. These roomsbelonged to M. de la Tourelle. His bedroom opened into mine, hisdressing-room lay beyond; and that was pretty nearly all I knew, forthe servants, as well as he himself, had a knack of turning me back,under some pretence, if ever they found me walking about alone, as Iwas inclined to do, when first I came, from a sort of curiosity to seethe whole of the place of which I found myself mistress. M. de laTourelle never encouraged me to go out alone, either in a carriage orfor a walk, saying always that the roads were unsafe in those disturbedtimes; indeed, I have sometimes fancied since that the flower-garden,to which the only access from the castle was through his rooms, wasdesigned in order to give me exercise and employment under his own eye.
But to return to that night. I knew, as I have said, that M. de laTourelle's private room opened out of his dressing-room, and this outof his bedroom, which again opened into mine, the corner-room. Butthere were other doors into all these rooms, and these doors led into along gallery, lighted by windows, looking into the inner court. I donot remember our consulting much about it; we went through my room intomy husband's apartment through the dressing-room, but the door ofcommunication into his study was locked, so there was nothing for itbut to turn back and go by the gallery to the other door. I recollectnoticing one or two things in these rooms, then seen by me for thefirst time. I remember the sweet perfume that hung in the air, thescent bottles of silver that decked his toilet-table, and the wholeapparatus for bathing and dressing, more luxurious even than thosewhich he had provided for me. But the room itself was less splendid inits proportions than mine. In truth, the new buildings ended at theentrance to my husband's dressing-room. There were deep window recessesin walls eight or nine feet thick, and even the partitions between thechambers were three feet deep; but over all these doors or windowsthere fell thick, heavy draperies, so that I should think no one couldhave heard in one room what passed in another. We went back into myroom, and out into the gallery. We had to shade our candle, from a fearthat possessed us, I don't know why, lest some of the servants in theopposite wing might trace our progress towards the part of the castleunused by any one except my husband. Somehow, I had always the feelingthat all the domestics, except Amante, were spies upon me, and that Iwas trammelled in a web of observation and unspoken limitationextending over all my actions.
There was a light in the upper room; we paused, and Amante would haveagain retreated, but I was chafing under the delays. What was the harmof my seeking my father's unopened letter to me in my husband's study?I, generally the coward, now blamed Amante for her unusual timidity.But the truth was, she had far more reason for suspicion as to theproceedings of that terrible household than I had ever known of. Iurged her on, I pressed on myself; we came to the door, locked, butwith the key in it; we turned it, we entered; the letters lay on thetable, their white oblongs catching the light in an instant, andrevealing themselves to my eager eyes, hungering after the words oflove from my peaceful, distant home. But just as I pressed forward toexamine the letters, the candle which Amante held, caught in somedraught, went out, and we were in darkness. Amante proposed that weshould carry the letters back to my salon, collecting them as well aswe could in the dark, and returning all but the expected one for me;but I begged her to return to my room, where I kept tinder and flint,and to strike a fresh light; and I remained alone in the room, of whichI could only just distinguish the size, and the principal articles offurniture: a large table, with a deep, overhanging cloth, in themiddle, escritoires and other heavy articles against the walls; allthis I could see as I stood there, my hand on the table close by theletters, my face towards the window, which, both from the darkness ofthe wood growing high up the mountain-side and the faint light of thedeclining moon, seemed only like an oblong of paler purpler black thanthe shadowy room. How much I remembered from my one instantaneousglance before the candle went out, how much I saw as my eyes becameaccustomed to the darkness, I do not know, but even now, in my dreams,comes up tha
t room of horror, distinct in its profound shadow. Amantecould hardly have been gone a minute before I felt an additional gloombefore the window, and heard soft movements outside--soft, butresolute, and continued until the end was accomplished, and the windowraised.
In mortal terror of people forcing an entrance at such an hour, and insuch a manner as to leave no doubt of their purpose, I would haveturned to fly when first I heard the noise, only that I feared by anyquick motion to catch their attention, as I also ran the danger ofdoing by opening the door, which was all but closed and to whosehandlings I was unaccustomed. Again, quick as lightning, I bethought meof the hiding-place between the locked door to my husband'sdressing-room and the portiere which covered it; but I gave that up, Ifelt as if I could not reach it without screaming or fainting. So Isank down softly, and crept under the table, hidden as I hoped, by thegreat, deep table-cover, with its heavy fringe. I had not recovered myswooning senses fully, and was trying to reassure myself as to my beingin a place of comparative safety, for, above all things, I dreaded thebetrayal of fainting, and struggled hard for such courage as I mightattain by deadening myself to the danger I was in by inflicting intensepain on myself. You have often asked me the reason of that mark on myhand; it was there, in my agony, I bit out a piece of flesh with myrelentless teeth, thankful for the pain, which helped to numb myterror. I say, I was but just concealed within I heard the windowlifted, and one after another stepped over the sill, and stood by me soclose that I could have touched their feet. Then they laughed andwhispered; my brain swam so that I could not tell the meaning of theirwords, but I heard my husband's laughter among the rest--low, hissing,scornful--as he kicked something heavy that they had dragged in overthe floor, and which layed near me; so near, that my husband's kick, intouching it, touched me too. I don't know why--I can't tell how--butsome feeling, and not curiosity, prompted me to put out my hand, everso softly, ever so little, and feel in the darkness for what layspurned beside me. I stole my groping palm upon the clenched and chillyhand of a corpse!
Strange to say, this roused me to instant vividness of thought. Tillthis moment I had almost forgotten Amante; now I planned with feverishrapidity how I could give her a warning not to return; or rather, Ishould say, I tried to plan, for all my projects were utterly futile,as I might have seen from the first. I could only hope she would hearthe voices of those who were now busy in trying to kindle a light,swearing awful oaths at the mislaid articles which would have enabledthem to strike fire. I heard her step outside coming nearer and nearer;I saw from my hiding-place the line of light beneath the door more andmore distinctly; close to it her footstep paused; the men inside--atthe time I thought they had been only two, but I found out afterwardsthere were three--paused in their endeavours, and were quite still, asbreathless as myself, I suppose. Then she slowly pushed the door openwith gentle motion, to save her flickering candle from being againextinguished. For a moment all was still. Then I heard my husband say,as he advanced towards her (he wore riding-boots, the shape of which Iknew well, as I could see them in the light):
'Amante, may I ask what brings you here into my private room?'
He stood between her and the dead body of a man, from which ghastlyheap I shrank away as it almost touched me, so close were we alltogether. I could not tell whether she saw it or not; I could give herno warning, nor make any dumb utterance of signs to bid her what tosay--if, indeed, I knew myself what would be best for her to say.
Her voice was quite changed when she spoke; quite hoarse, and very low;yet it was steady enough as she said, what was the truth, that she hadcome to look for a letter which she believed had arrived for me fromGermany. Good, brave Amante! Not a word about me. M. de la Tourelleanswered with a grim blasphemy and a fearful threat. He would have noone prying into his premises; madame should have her letters, if therewere any, when he chose to give them to her, if, indeed, he thought itwell to give them to her at all. As for Amante, this was her firstwarning, but it was also her last; and, taking the candle out of herhand, he turned her out of the room, his companions discreetly making ascreen, so as to throw the corpse into deep shadow. I heard the keyturn in the door after her--if I had ever had any thought of escape itwas gone now. I only hoped that whatever was to befall me might soon beover, for the tension of nerve was growing more than I could bear. Theinstant she could be supposed to be out of hearing, two voices beganspeaking in the most angry terms to my husband, upbraiding him for nothaving detained her, gagged her--nay, one was for killing her, sayinghe had seen her eye fall on the face of the dead man, whom he nowkicked in his passion. Though the form of their speech was as if theywere speaking to equals, yet in their tone there was something of fear.I am sure my husband was their superior, or captain, or somewhat. Hereplied to them almost as if he were scoffing at them, saying it wassuch an expenditure of labour having to do with fools; that, ten toone, the woman was only telling the simple truth, and that she wasfrightened enough by discovering her master in his room to be thankfulto escape and return to her mistress, to whom he could easily explainon the morrow how he happened to return in the dead of night. But hiscompanions fell to cursing me, and saying that since M. de la Tourellehad been married he was fit for nothing but to dress himself fine andscent himself with perfume; that, as for me, they could have got himtwenty girls prettier, and with far more spirit in them. He quietlyanswered that I suited him, and that was enough. All this time theywere doing something--I could not see what--to the corpse; sometimesthey were too busy rifling the dead body, I believe, to talk; againthey let it fall with a heavy, resistless thud, and took toquarrelling. They taunted my husband with angry vehemence, enraged athis scoffing and scornful replies, his mocking laughter. Yes, holdingup his poor dead victim, the better to strip him of whatever he worethat was valuable, I heard my husband laugh just as he had done whenexchanging repartees in the little salon of the Rupprechts atCarlsruhe. I hated and dreaded him from that moment. At length, as ifto make an end of the subject, he said, with cool determination in hisvoice:
'Now, my good friends, what is the use of all this talking, when youknow in your hearts that, if I suspected my wife of knowing more than Ichose of my affairs, she would not outlive the day? Remember Victorine.Because she merely joked about my affairs in an imprudent manner, andrejected my advice to keep a prudent tongue--to see what she liked, butask nothing and say nothing--she has gone a long journey--longer thanto Paris.'
'But this one is different to her; we knew all that Madame Victorineknew, she was such a chatterbox; but this one may find out a vast deal,and never breathe a word about it, she is so sly. Some fine day we mayhave the country raised, and the gendarmes down upon us from Strasburg,and all owing to your pretty doll, with her cunning ways of coming overyou.'
I think this roused M. de la Tourelle a little from his contemptuousindifference, for he ground an oath through his teeth, and said, 'Feel!this dagger is sharp, Henri. If my wife breathes a word, and I am sucha fool as not to have stopped her mouth effectually before she canbring down gendarmes upon us, just let that good steel find its way tomy heart. Let her guess but one tittle, let her have but one slightsuspicion that I am not a "grand proprietaire," much less imagine thatI am a chief of chauffeurs, and she follows Victorine on the longjourney beyond Paris that very day.'
'She'll outwit you yet; or I never judged women well. Those stillsilent ones are the devil. She'll be off during some of your absences,having picked out some secret that will break us all on the wheel.'
'Bah!' said his voice; and then in a minute he added, 'Let her go ifshe will. But, where she goes, I will follow; so don't cry beforeyou're hurt.'
By this time, they had nearly stripped the body; and the conversationturned on what they should do with it. I learnt that the dead man wasthe Sieur de Poissy, a neighbouring gentleman, whom I had often heardof as hunting with my husband. I had never seen him, but they spoke asif he had come upon them while they were robbing some Cologne merchant,torturing him after the cruel practice of the c
hauffeurs, by roastingthe feet of their victims in order to compel them to reveal any hiddencircumstances connected with their wealth, of which the chauffeursafterwards made use; and this Sieur de Poissy coming down upon them,and recognising M. de la Tourelle, they had killed him, and brought himthither after nightfall. I heard him whom I called my husband, laughhis little light laugh as he spoke of the way in which the dead bodyhad been strapped before one of the riders, in such a way that itappeared to any passer-by as if, in truth, the murderer were tenderlysupporting some sick person. He repeated some mocking reply of doublemeaning, which he himself had given to some one who made inquiry. Heenjoyed the play upon words, softly applauding his own wit. And all thetime the poor helpless outstretched arms of the dead lay close to hisdainty boot! Then another stooped (my heart stopped beating), andpicked up a letter lying on the ground--a letter that had dropped outof M. de Poissy's pocket--a letter from his wife, full of tender wordsof endearment and pretty babblings of love. This was read aloud, withcoarse ribald comments on every sentence, each trying to outdo theprevious speaker. When they came to some pretty words about a sweetMaurice, their little child away with its mother on some visit, theylaughed at M. de la Tourelle, and told him that he would be hearingsuch woman's drivelling some day. Up to that moment, I think, I hadonly feared him, but his unnatural, half-ferocious reply made me hateeven more than I dreaded him. But now they grew weary of their savagemerriment; the jewels and watch had been apprised, the money and papersexamined; and apparently there was some necessity for the body beinginterred quietly and before daybreak. They had not dared to leave himwhere he was slain for fear lest people should come and recognise him,and raise the hue and cry upon them. For they all along spoke as if itwas their constant endeavour to keep the immediate neighbourhood of LesRochers in the most orderly and tranquil condition, so as never to givecause for visits from the gendarmes. They disputed a little as towhether they should make their way into the castle larder through thegallery, and satisfy their hunger before the hasty interment, orafterwards. I listened with eager feverish interest as soon as thismeaning of their speeches reached my hot and troubled brain, for at thetime the words they uttered seemed only to stamp themselves withterrible force on my memory, so that I could hardly keep from repeatingthem aloud like a dull, miserable, unconscious echo; but my brain wasnumb to the sense of what they said, unless I myself were named, andthen, I suppose, some instinct of self-preservation stirred within me,and quickened my sense. And how I strained my ears, and nerved my handsand limbs, beginning to twitch with convulsive movements, which Ifeared might betray me! I gathered every word they spoke, not knowingwhich proposal to wish for, but feeling that whatever was finallydecided upon, my only chance of escape was drawing near. I once fearedlest my husband should go to his bedroom before I had had that onechance, in which case he would most likely have perceived my absence.He said that his hands were soiled (I shuddered, for it might be withlife-blood), and he would go and cleanse them; but some bitter jestturned his purpose, and he left the room with the other two--left it bythe gallery door. Left me alone in the dark with the stiffening corpse!
Now, now was my time, if ever; and yet I could not move. It was not mycramped and stiffened joints that crippled me, it was the sensation ofthat dead man's close presence. I almost fancied--I almost fancystill--I heard the arm nearest to me move; lift itself up, as if oncemore imploring, and fall in dead despair. At that fancy--if fancy itwere--I screamed aloud in mad terror, and the sound of my own strangevoice broke the spell. I drew myself to the side of the table farthestfrom the corpse, with as much slow caution as if I really could havefeared the clutch of that poor dead arm, powerless for evermore. Isoftly raised myself up, and stood sick and trembling, holding by thetable, too dizzy to know what to do next. I nearly fainted, when a lowvoice spoke--when Amante, from the outside of the door, whispered,'Madame!' The faithful creature had been on the watch, had heard myscream, and having seen the three ruffians troop along the gallery downthe stairs, and across the court to the offices in the other wing ofthe castle, she had stolen to the door of the room in which I was. Thesound of her voice gave me strength; I walked straight towards it, asone benighted on a dreary moor, suddenly perceiving the small steadylight which tells of human dwellings, takes heart, and steers straightonward. Where I was, where that voice was, I knew not; but go to it Imust, or die. The door once opened--I know not by which of us--I fellupon her neck, grasping her tight, till my hands ached with the tensionof their hold. Yet she never uttered a word. Only she took me up in hervigorous arms, and bore me to my room, and laid me on my bed. I do notknow more; as soon as I was placed there I lost sense; I came to myselfwith a horrible dread lest my husband was by me, with a belief that hewas in the room, in hiding, waiting to hear my first words, watchingfor the least sign of the terrible knowledge I possessed to murder me.I dared not breathe quicker, I measured and timed each heavyinspiration; I did not speak, nor move, nor even open my eyes, for longafter I was in my full, my miserable senses. I heard some one treadingsoftly about the room, as if with a purpose, not as if for curiosity,or merely to beguile the time; some one passed in and out of the salon;and I still lay quiet, feeling as if death were inevitable, but wishingthat the agony of death were past. Again faintness stole over me; butjust as I was sinking into the horrible feeling of nothingness, I heardAmante's voice close to me, saying:
'Drink this, madame, and let us begone. All is ready.'
I let her put her arm under my head and raise me, and pour somethingdown my throat. All the time she kept talking in a quiet, measuredvoice, unlike her own, so dry and authoritative; she told me that asuit of her clothes lay ready for me, that she herself was as muchdisguised as the circumstances permitted her to be, that whatprovisions I had left from my supper were stowed away in her pockets,and so she went on, dwelling on little details of the most commonplacedescription, but never alluding for an instant to the fearful cause whyflight was necessary. I made no inquiry as to how she knew, or what sheknew. I never asked her either then or afterwards, I could not bearit--we kept our dreadful secret close. But I suppose she must have beenin the dressing-room adjoining, and heard all.
In fact, I dared not speak even to her, as if there were anythingbeyond the most common event in life in our preparing thus to leave thehouse of blood by stealth in the dead of night. She gave medirections--short condensed directions, without reasons--just as you doto a child; and like a child I obeyed her. She went often to the doorand listened; and often, too, she went to the window, and lookedanxiously out. For me, I saw nothing but her, and I dared not let myeyes wander from her for a minute; and I heard nothing in the deepmidnight silence but her soft movements, and the heavy beating of myown heart. At last she took my hand, and led me in the dark, throughthe salon, once more into the terrible gallery, where across the blackdarkness the windows admitted pale sheeted ghosts of light upon thefloor. Clinging to her I went; unquestioning--for she was humansympathy to me after the isolation of my unspeakable terror. On wewent, turning to the left instead of to the right, past my suite ofsitting-rooms where the gilding was red with blood, into that unknownwing of the castle that fronted the main road lying parallel far below.She guided me along the basement passages to which we had nowdescended, until we came to a little open door, through which the airblew chill and cold, bringing for the first time a sensation of life tome. The door led into a kind of cellar, through which we groped our wayto an opening like window, but which, instead of being glazed, was onlyfenced with iron bars, two of which were loose, as Amante evidentlyknew, for she took them out with the ease of one who had performed theaction often before, and then helped me to follow her out into thefree, open air.
We stole round the end of the building, and on turning the corner--shefirst--I felt her hold on me tighten for an instant, and the next stepI, too, heard distant voices, and the blows of a spade upon the heavysoil, for the night was very warm and still.
We had not spoken a word; we did not speak now.
Touch was safer and asexpressive. She turned down towards the high road; I followed. I didnot know the path; we stumbled again and again, and I was much bruised;so doubtless was she; but bodily pain did me good. At last, we were onthe plainer path of the high road.
I had such faith in her that I did not venture to speak, even when shepaused, as wondering to which hand she should turn. But now, for thefirst time, she spoke:
'Which way did you come when he brought you here first?'
I pointed, I could not speak.
We turned in the opposite direction; still going along the high road.In about an hour, we struck up to the mountainside, scrambling far upbefore we even dared to rest; far up and away again before day hadfully dawned. Then we looked about for some place of rest andconcealment: and now we dared to speak in whispers. Amante told me thatshe had locked the door of communication between his bedroom and mine,and, as in a dream, I was aware that she had also locked and broughtaway the key of the door between the latter and the salon.
'He will have been too busy this night to think much about you--he willsuppose you are asleep--I shall be the first to be missed; but theywill only just now be discovering our loss.'
I remember those last words of hers made me pray to go on; I felt as ifwe were losing precious time in thinking either of rest or concealment;but she hardly replied to me, so busy was she in seeking out somehiding-place. At length, giving it up in despair, we proceeded onwardsa little way; the mountain-side sloped downwards rapidly, and in thefull morning light we saw ourselves in a narrow valley, made by astream which forced its way along it. About a mile lower down thererose the pale blue smoke of a village, a mill-wheel was lashing up thewater close at hand, though out of sight. Keeping under the cover ofevery sheltering tree or bush, we worked our way down past the mill,down to a one-arched bridge, which doubtless formed part of the roadbetween the village and the mill.
'This will do,' said she; and we crept under the space, and climbing alittle way up the rough stonework, we seated ourselves on a projectingledge, and crouched in the deep damp shadow. Amante sat a little aboveme, and made me lay my head on her lap. Then she fed me, and took somefood herself; and opening out her great dark cloak, she covered upevery light-coloured speck about us; and thus we sat, shivering andshuddering, yet feeling a kind of rest through it all, simply from thefact that motion was no longer imperative, and that during the daylightour only chance of safety was to be still. But the damp shadow in whichwe were sitting was blighting, from the circumstance of the sunlightnever penetrating there; and I dreaded lest, before night and the timefor exertion again came on, I should feel illness creeping all over me.To add to our discomfort, it had rained the whole day long, and thestream, fed by a thousand little mountain brooklets, began to swellinto a torrent, rushing over the stones with a perpetual and dizzyingnoise.
Every now and then I was wakened from the painful doze into which Icontinually fell, by a sound of horses' feet over our head: sometimeslumbering heavily as if dragging a burden, sometimes rattling andgalloping; and with the sharper cry of men's voices coming cuttingthrough the roar of the waters. At length, day fell. We had to dropinto the stream, which came above our knees as we waded to the bank.There we stood, stiff and shivering. Even Amante's courage seemed tofail.
'We must pass this night in shelter, somehow,' said she. For indeed therain was coming down pitilessly. I said nothing. I thought that surelythe end must be death in some shape; and I only hoped that to deathmight not be added the terror of the cruelty of men. In a minute or soshe had resolved on her course of action. We went up the stream to themill. The familiar sounds, the scent of the wheat, the flour whiteningthe walls--all reminded me of home, and it seemed to me as if I muststruggle out of this nightmare and waken, and find myself once more ahappy girl by the Neckar side. They were long in unbarring the door atwhich Amante had knocked: at length, an old feeble voice inquired whowas there, and what was sought? Amante answered shelter from the stormfor two women; but the old woman replied, with suspicious hesitation,that she was sure it was a man who was asking for shelter, and that shecould not let us in. But at length she satisfied herself, and unbarredthe heavy door, and admitted us. She was not an unkindly woman; but herthoughts all travelled in one circle, and that was, that her master,the miller, had told her on no account to let any man into the placeduring his absence, and that she did not know if he would not think twowomen as bad; and yet that as we were not men, no one could say she haddisobeyed him, for it was a shame to let a dog be out such a night asthis. Amante, with ready wit, told her to let no one know that we hadtaken shelter there that night, and that then her master could notblame her; and while she was thus enjoining secrecy as the wisestcourse, with a view to far other people than the miller, she washastily helping me to take off my wet clothes, and spreading them, aswell as the brown mantle that had covered us both, before the greatstove which warmed the room with the effectual heat that the oldwoman's failing vitality required. All this time the poor creature wasdiscussing with herself as to whether she had disobeyed orders, in akind of garrulous way that made me fear much for her capability ofretaining anything secret if she was questioned. By-and-by, shewandered away to an unnecessary revelation of her master's whereabouts:gone to help in the search for his landlord, the Sieur de Poissy, wholived at the chateau just above, and who had not returned from hischase the day before; so the intendant imagined he might have met withsome accident, and had summoned the neighbours to beat the forest andthe hill-side. She told us much besides, giving us to understand thatshe would fain meet with a place as housekeeper where there were moreservants and less to do, as her life here was very lonely and dull,especially since her master's son had gone away--gone to the wars. Shethen took her supper, which was evidently apportioned out to her with asparing hand, as, even if the idea had come into her head, she had notenough to offer us any. Fortunately, warmth was all that we required,and that, thanks to Amante's cares, was returning to our chilledbodies. After supper, the old woman grew drowsy; but she seemeduncomfortable at the idea of going to sleep and leaving us still in thehouse. Indeed, she gave us pretty broad hints as to the propriety ofour going once more out into the bleak and stormy night; but we beggedto be allowed to stay under shelter of some kind; and, at last, abright idea came over her, and she bade us mount by a ladder to a kindof loft, which went half over the lofty mill-kitchen in which we weresitting. We obeyed her--what else could we do?--and found ourselves ina spacious floor, without any safeguard or wall, boarding, or railing,to keep us from falling over into the kitchen in case we went too nearthe edge. It was, in fact, the store-room or garret for the household.There was bedding piled up, boxes and chests, mill sacks, the winterstore of apples and nuts, bundles of old clothes, broken furniture, andmany other things. No sooner were we up there, than the old womandragged the ladder, by which we had ascended, away with a chuckle, asif she was now secure that we could do no mischief, and sat herselfdown again once more, to doze and await her master's return. We pulledout some bedding, and gladly laid ourselves down in our dried clothesand in some warmth, hoping to have the sleep we so much needed torefresh us and prepare us for the next day. But I could not sleep, andI was aware, from her breathing, that Amante was equally wakeful. Wecould both see through the crevices between the boards that formed theflooring into the kitchen below, very partially lighted by the commonlamp that hung against the wall near the stove on the opposite side tothat on which we were.