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THE HEART

OF DENISE

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Longmans' Colonial Library

THE HEART GF DENjSE

AND OTHER T/VLES

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«•. LE^TT YEATS..

" The /Ionaur^o/;Savelli,"ck.

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, TORONTO „ ^

THE CQPP CLARK CO, LIMITED
; / LONDON /

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.

■r .-r.y ■ .: -^ 1899/ • . ':-\:-'..

•yiis i^dition is intended fw ciixirtation only in India «nrf

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CONTENTS.

THE HEART OF DENISE.

/• • PAOB
I. M. DE LOHGNAC'S PllICE. 1

II. The Ohatoky. '..,.. ., . 13

III. The Spur ok Les Eschelleh, , . 22

IV". At Amuazac. . ................. 33

V. M. LE Mauquis Leads His Hhihest Trump...;,. 45

|f. At the Skjn of the Golden Fuoo..., ;.

Unmasked 4 . . -v- /_

VIII. Blaise de Loronac. ,...,...;.

IX. La Coquille's :MKH8AaE. ,

3j[. Monsieur le Chevalier is Paid in Full

THE CAPTAIN MORATTI'8 LAST AFFAIR.

''^ ■:""/.

I. " Arcades Ambo " .

II. AT " The Devil on Two Sticks ".. .......

in. FELicitA ..:....V..;;v.^,..

IV. Conclusion-^The Torre Dolorosa.

• • % • • •• ••*•«,

• • • • I

I '■' • • •- • '

THE TREASURE OP SHAGUL.. ...;..... .........

THE FOOT OF GAUTAMA.......................

65
66
75
88
08

107

125
134

143

165

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TIIK DKVII/H MANUSCRIIT.

I. TlIK lU.AClK rA<;KRT.^......^... " 101

II. TlIK Kki> Tuidknt r. ..: 201

III. " Tiijc Maiik ov mi Bkaht " 208

UNDER THE ACHIUkSA. *"

TIIK MADNK88 OF t^HEHij: BAHADUR 220

REGINE'8 APE..... .\... 230

A SHADOW OF THE 1»A8T.\ 263

>..:

101
201
208

217

22U

230

2G3

(..I

THE HEART OF DENI8E

>..: -

CHAPTER I.

U. DE LOBOprAO*a PBICB.

One afternoon I sat alono in the little anteroom
before the Queen Mother's cabinet. In front of me was
an open door. The curtains of violet velvet, spangled
with golden lilied, were half drawn, and beyond ex-
tended a long, narrow, and gloomy corridor, leading
into the main salon of the Hotel de Soissons, from
which the sound of music and occasional laughter came
to me. My sister maids of honour were there, doubtless
making merry as was their wont with the cavaliers of
the court, and I' longed to be wit^ them, instead of ■
watching away the hours in the little prison, I can call
it no less, that led to the Queen's closet.

In the corridor were two sentries standing as motion-
less as statues. They ivere ifi" shadow, except where
here and there a straggling gleam of light caught their
armour with dazzling effect, and M. de Lorgnac, the

'-'■ ■ •• » T

^ :

2 ' THB HEART OF DENISE, ",

Ueutenant of the guard, paced Slowly Tip and down the
full length of the passage, twisting his dark moustache,
and turning abruptly when he came within a few feet
of the entrance to the anteroom.

♦ I was so dull and wearied that it wpuld have been
something even to talk to M. de Lorgnac, bear though
he was, but he took no more notice of me than if I
were a stick or a stone, and, yet there were, I do not
know how many, who would have given theit ears for a
<eie-d-/c<e with Denise de Mieux. "

i ought not to have been surprised, for the lieutenant
showed no more favour to any one else than he did tQ.
me, and during the year or more I had been here, en-
joying for the first time in my life the gaieties of the
Court, after my days in. apron-strings at Lespaille, my
uncle de Tavannes' seat, I had not, nor had a soul asr
far as I^kneW, seen M. de Lorgnac exchange more than
a fo^m^al bow and ,a half-dozen words with any woman.
He was poor as a homeless cat, his patrimony, as we
heard, being but a sword and a ruined tower somewhere
in the Correze. So, as he had nothing to recommend
him except a tall, straight figure, and areputation for
bravery^qualities that were shared by a hundred others
with more agreeable manners, we left Monsieur L'Ours,
as we nicknamed him, to himself ^ and, to say the truth,
he did not seem much discomposed by our neglect.

As for me I hardly noticed his existence, sometimes
barely returning his bow; but often have I caught him
observing me gravely'with a troubled look in his gfey
eyes, and as ill-ltick wouid have it, this was ever when
I was engaged in some foolish diversion, and I used to
feel furious, ag I thought he w a s playing the spy on

Jf. DE LORGNAO'S PRICE.

■.?

me, and press on to dtbet folly, over which, in the soli-
tude of my room, I would stamp my foot with vexation,
and sometimes shed tears of anger.

This afternoon, when I thought of the long hours I
had to spend waiting the Queen's pleasure, of the mel-
low sunlight which I could see through the glazing of
the d||^er window that lit the room, of the gaiety and
brightness outsijfie, I felt dull and wearied beyond de-^
scription. I had foolishly neglected to bring a book
or my dmbroid^y, so that even my fingers had .to be
still, andiin my utter boredom I believe I should have
actually wflcSlned the company of Catherine's hideous
dwarf, Majbsky. * js^^ ^

It had com^ tp me that perhaps M. d,eIiorgnac, who
had, no doufet, a weary enough watdk in the corridor,
might feel disposed to beguile a, little of his tedium,
and to ainuse me for a few minutes, and I had purposely
drawn the curtains and opened the door of the ante-
room so that he might see I was there, and aloUe, and
that the door of the Queen Mother's cabinet was shut.
I then, I confess it, put myself in the most becoming
attitude I|could think of, but, as I have said before,
he tooki -not the slightest notice of me, and walked up
and down, tramp, tramp, backwards and forwards as
if he were a piece of clockwork— like that which Messer
Cosmo, the Italian, made for Monslbur, the King's
brother. ■: ■ ,,-^ •'"•;■';,'■..■':'. n-' ; vC .■,.•," ■"■

I began to feel furious at the slight— it was no less
I considered— that he was putting on me, and wished
I had the tongue and the spirit of Mademoiselle de
Ohateauneuf, so tl\^t I could make my gentleman smart
a s she did M. de Luxembourg. For a moment or so I

^rm.

■?'•

I
' ' 'i

-^t

THE HEART OF DENI8E.

pulled at the silken fringe of my tourette-de-fiez, and
then made up my mind to show M. de I^orgnac that the
very sight of him was unpleasant to me. So I waited
until in his march he came to a yard or so from the spot
where he regularly turned on his heel, and then, spring-
ing lip, attempted to draw the curtains across thp door.
Somehow or other they would not move, and de Lor-
gnac stepped forward quietly and pulled them together.
As he did this our eyes met, and there was the twinkle
of a smile in his glance, as if he had seen through my
artifices and was laughing at them. I felt my face grow
warm, and was grateful that the light was behind me j
but i thanked him icily, and with his usual stiff bow
he turned off without a word.

I came back to my seat, my face crimson, my
eyes swimming with tears, and feeling if there was a
man on earth that I hated it was the lieutenant of the
guards ' \

It had a good two hours or so to run before my time
t)f waiting would be over, and ^ may take the plunge
now, and confess that the lengthened period of attend-
ance to which I was subjected, was in a measure a pun-
isrhment, for my having ridden out alone with M. de
Glermont, and, owing- to an, accident that befell my
horse, had not been able to return until very late. The
ill-chance which followed all my girlish escapades was
not wanting on this occasion, ^ with the result, that
whereas ten others might have escaped, 1 was observed
'^in what was after all but a harmless frolic, and my
conduct repoi:ted on^ — ^and Madame, who had a weak
enough eye for follies, and sometimes sins, that were
committed by rule— she loved to direct our ill-doings—

M. DB LOliQNAC'8 PliXCE.

ee.

rated me soundly and imposed this penance, and per-
haps the worse punishment that was to follow, on me.

In the anteroom there was but a cushioned stool for
the lady in waiting, and this was placed close to the
door, so that one could hear Queen Catherine calling,
for she never rang for us, as. did the Lorrainer f or even
such ladies as the Buchesse de Nemours, the mother of
Guise. >.

I pushed the seat closer towards the door and, hardly
thinking what I was doing, leaned my head against the
woodwork and dropped off into a sort of troubled doze.
How long I slept in this manner I cannot say; but I
was suddenly aroused by the distinct mention of my
name, followed by a laugh from within the cabinet. I
looked Up in affright, for the laugh was thfe King's, and
for the moment I wondered liow h« had passed in, then
recollecting the private passage I knew that he must
have come in thence. I would have withdrawn,' hut the
mention of my name coupled witk the King's laughter
aroused my curiosity, and I remained in my position,
making, however, a bargain with my conscience by re-
moving my head from, the carved oak of the door. It
was my duty to be where I was, and although I would
make no effort to listen, yet if those within were talk-
ing of me, and loud enough for me to hear, I thought
it no harm to stay, especially as it was Henri who was
speaking, for I knew enough to be aware that no one
was safe from his scandalous tongue. I may have been
wrong in acting as I did, \vA. I do not think there -is one
woman in a thousand who would have done otherwise,
supposing her to be as I #as— but one-and-twenty years
of age. 1. , .: -. . ••; . :

ui'm

;:■'•■'■■ t--

THE BE ART OF DENI8E,

Sa thick, however, was the floor, that, my head once
removed, I could hear but snatches of the converse

within. ^

"It is his price, Madame," I heard the King say,
"and, after ail, it is a cheap one^ considering her esca-^
pade with de Clermont. iWorfeiett/But he isasaddog I "

And then came another surprise, for the gruff voice
of my uncle, the Marshal de.Tavannes, added :
' "Cheap or dear ! I for one am willing that it should
be paid, and at once. She has brought disgrace enough
on our house already. As for the mAn;, if poor he is
noble and as brave as his sword. He is well able to look

after her/'

"If he keeps his head," put in the King, whilst
my ears burned at the uncomplimentary speedy of my
guardian, and my heart began to sink. Then came
something I did not catch from Catherine, and after
that a murmur of indistinct voices. At last the King's
high-pitched tones rose again. It was a voice that
seemed to drill its way through the door.

" Enough ! It is agreed that we pay in advance— eh,
Tavannes ? Send for the little baggage, if she is, as you
say, here, and we will tell her at once. TJie matter does
not admit of any delay. St. Blaise! I should say that
after thirty a man must be mad to peril his neck for any

woman!" » ^

^i rose from my seat trembling all oVer with anger and

apprehension, and ^s I did so the Queen Mother's voice

rang out sharply i; yv

"Mademoiselle de Mieux,!" /

The next moment the door opened, and the dwarf
Majosky put out his leering face. — ^— — ' — ^

■* iU.-:

M. DB L0R0NA0\3 PBIOE.

■! '

"Enter, mademoiselle 1" he said, with a grotesque
how, adding in a rapid, malignant whisper as I passed
him, " You are going to be married — to me."

At any other time I would have spared no pains to
get him punished for his insolence ; but now, so taken
aback was I at what I had heard, that I scarcely noticed
him> and entered the room as if in a dream. Indeed, '
it was only with an (effort that 1 recollected myself
sufficiently to make my reverence to the King. He
called out as I did so, " Mordieu I I retract, Tavannes I
I retract ! Faith I I ialmost feel as if I could take the

adventure on myself ! "

A slight exclamation of annoyance escaped the Queen,
and Tavannes said coldly :

" PerJiaps your Majesty had better inform my, niece
of your good pleasure," adding grimly, " and I guarantee
mademoiselle's obedience."

There was a minute or so of silence, during which
the King was, as it were, picking his words, whilst I
stood before hinr. Majosky shuffled down at Catherine's ,
feet, andwatch^d me with his wicked, blinking eyes.
i do not reihember to have looked around moj and yet
every little detail of that scene will remain stamped on
liiy memory Until the day I die.

Madame, the Queen Mother, was at her secretary, her
fingers toying with a jewelled paper-knife, and- her
white face and glittering eyes fixed steadily on me,
eyes with that pitiless look in them .which we all kne\^^t
so well, and which, made the most daring of us tremble.
A little to my right stood de Tavannes, one hand on the \.
back of a chair, and stroking his grizzled beard with the J
of.bw- "RpfoTft Tne, 0^1 a coffer,-^hereon he had negli-

...: . ■*.

■dah'

^ TIIM HEART OF DENIBE.

■ /

1 /

gently thrown himself, was the King, and he surveyed
nie without speaking, with a half-approving, half-sar-
castic took that made my blood tingle, and almost gave

me back my courage, , ^ ,, • .»

In sharp contract to the Wlemit black of Catherine s

, robes and the stem soldierly marshal Was the figure of
the King. Henri was dressed in hi* favourite colours,
orange, green, and tan, with a short cloak of the same
three hues hanging from his left shoulder. His^pour-
point was open at the throat, around which was clasped
a necklet of pearls, and he wore three ruffs, one such
as we women wear, of lace that fell over the shoulders,
and two smaller ones as stiff as starch could make tiiem
He wore earrings, there were rings on his embroidered
gloves, and all over his person, from his sleeves to the
aigrette' he wore on the little turban over his peruke,
a multitude (^f gems glittered. On his left side, near his
Bword hilt, was a bunch of medallions of ladies who had

■ smiled on him, and this was balanced on the other liand
by an equally large cluster of charms and relics. A^ he .

> sat there he kept tapping the end of one of his shoes
with a little cane, whilst he surveyed me with an almost
insulting glance in the mocking eyes that looked out
from his painted cheeks. ,

The silence was like to have become embarrassing
had not Catherine, impatient of delay, put in with that

even voice of hers : *,.._,

~ ^'Perhaps I had better explain your Majesty's com-
mands ;"- and then without waiting for an answer she
went on, looking me straight in the face—

" Mademoiselle. In his thought for yjour welfarer-a
kindness you have not deserved-the ^ing hag been

■(:

•■

M. DB LORONAO'a PRICB,

pleased to decide on your marriage. Circumstances
necessitate the ceremony being performed at once, and
I have to tell you that it will take place three hours
hence. His Majesty will do j9U the honour of being
himself present on the occaa)i|B|Q." ,
' This was beyond my wprst fears. I was speechless,
and glanced from one to the (Jther in supplication; but
I saw no ray of pity in their, faces. Alas I These were
the three iron heart| that had sat and planned the
Wssacre.

The Queen's face was as stone. The King half closed
his eyes, and his lips curled into a smile as if hie en-
joyedthe situation; but my uncle, within whose blufE
exterior was a subtle, cruel heart, spoke out harshly :

** Ybu hear, mademoiselle ! Thank the King, and
get you gone to make ready. I am sick of your end-
less flirtations, and there must be an end to them —
there must be no more talk of your frivolities."

Anger brought back my courage, and half turning
away from Tavannes, I said to the Queen :

**I thank the King, madame, for his kindness. Per-
haps you will add to it by telling me the name of the
gentleman who intends to honour me by making me his

. wife.":--. ■■ ^ " .. -■>'■■-'

" Arnidieu ! She makes a point," laughed the King.

" She shall marry a- stick if I will it,^' said de Ta-
vannes ; btjt. Madame the Queen Mother lifted her hand
in deprecation. .

"It is M. de Lorgnac," she said.

" De Lorgnac ! De Lorgnac ! " I gasped, hardly be-
lieving my ears. "Oh, madame! It is impossible. I
hate him. What have I done to be forced into fchia ?

;..'ii,'.i

&4r ; •■''■ J

TUJB HEART OF DENWB,

»M.

Your Majesty," and I turned to the King, "I will not

marry that man/* \ v j

"Well, would you prefer de Clermont ? hq ftsked,
with a little laugh j but de Tavannes burst out : ^ .

« Sire I This matter^dmits of no delay. Hne snail
marry de Lorgnac, if I have to drag her to the altar/;

** Thank you, monsieur," I said with a courtesy ; it
is kindness itself that you, the Count de Tavanne^ peer
and marshal of France, show to your sister's child.

He winced at my words; but Catherine again mter-

^^« Madem<^8elle ! you do not understand ; and if I
hurt you ^ow it is your own fault. Let me tell you
that for a tithd^f your follies Mademoiselle de Torigny
was Vanished from court to a nunnery. You may
not be aware of it, but thewliole world, at least our
world, and that is enough for us, is talking of your
affair with de Clermont, who, as you well know, is an
affianced man. It is for the sake of your house, for
your own goo4 name, and because yoii will do the King
a great service by obeying, that this has been decided
on, and you mustr-do you hear F-^must do as we bid

you. ' \

She dropped her words out one by one, cool, passion-
less, and brutal in\ their clearness, ^y^^^^^^^^;^
with shame and an^er, and yet I knew that the ribald
tongues that sparel not the King's sister wouldnot
spare me. I, the heiress of Mieux, to be a by-word m
the court \ I to be mWried out of hand like a laundress
of the cowZisse 7 it Was too much I It was unbear-
ab l e ! A nd to be bmin^ to de Lorgnac above all others I
Was -ever woman wooed and wed as I ?

M. DB LORmAO'8 PRICB,

i burst into a passion of \ngry tears. I went so far
as to humble myself on mV knees; but llenn only
laughed and slipped out by the secret door, and de IV
vannes followed him with a rbugh oath.

«Say this is a jest, madamd I " I sobbed out to the
Queen. " lam punished enough. .Say it is a jest. ^^It
must be so. You do not mean>. It is too cruel 1 "

** No more is happening to yok than what the daugh-
tersof France have to bear sometimes.*^

"That should make you the more pitiful, madame,
for such as I. Let me go, madam^ to a nunnery-^even
to that of Gur Lady of Le8paiUe-4)ut spare me this ! "
"It is impossible," she said sharply. "See, here is
Madame de Martigny come, and shW will conduct yc^
to your room. Tush! It is nothkig after all, girl.
And it will be better than a convent and a lost name.

Do not make a scene." JL

I rose to my feet stunnea -a^C\bewildered, and
Madame de Martigny put her arm thiough mine, and
dried my eyes with her kerchief. / \

" Come, mademoiselle," she said, " \i[e have to pass
through the corridor ^0 gain your apartment. Keep

up your heart ! " \ / .„

« I offer my escort," Mocked the dwarf/ " and will go
60 far as to take M. de^Lorgnac's place, if your royal
pleasure will allo.w— ah ! ah I/'— and he broke into a
shriek, for Catherine had swiftly and silently raised a
dog-whip, and brouglit it across his shoulders as he sat

crouehing at her feet^^ - v ,., ^, .

"Begone!" she saicT" Another speech like that
and I break you on the wheel!'' Then she turn^
to Madame deMartignyv

> •• , ' .fit

lit'.

-' • ";■>!

TUB IlBAItT OF DBNtBE.

** Take her awfty by the private door. She i8\not fit
to see or bo seen now. Tell Par6 to give her a cordial
if she needs it, and see that she is ready in time. Go,
madtrhoiselle, and be a brave girl V*

■ :■).■

1 ■ . .

■'■.'■ '■: '•

',.''■

■■■■■-. ■■ • •«•■

• : ' ,. : ■.:.'

• ■ . , . "

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• -

'•■,*

CHAPTEK 11.

i If .i

'!,

THE ORATORY.

YotJ who read this will please remember that I was
but a girl, and that my powers of resistance were lim-
ited. Some of you, perhaps, may have gone through the
same ordeal, not in the rough-and-ready Way that I had
to make the passage, but through a slower if pot less
certain mill. The result being the same in both cases,
to wit, that you have stood, as I did, at the altar with
vows on your lips that you felt in your heart were false.
■ A thought had struck me when I was led back to my
room, and that was to throw myself on the mercy of de
Lorgnac. But means of communication with him were
deniied to me by the foresight of my persecutors. Even
my maid, Mousette, was not allowed to see me, and
Madame de Martigny, though kindness itself in every
other way, absolutely refused to lend herself to my sug-
gestion that she should aid me, if only to the extent
of bearing a note from me to my future husband, in
which I meant to implore him, as a man of honour and
a gentleman, not to force this marriage upon me. I
then tried Par^, who, by the Queen's command, had
been sent to me. He brought me a cordial with his own

'<::u

i'irr^' ^ '-'1

;/ • ■' ■ '■:¥*■

Ti< '"■i 'T

hands, and to him I made my request, notwithstanding

;^^

rilK UK AM OF DKNI8JS;

|)TiMp'

all Madame do Martiffny*8 protcHts, to carjyA

do Lorgnac. Ho listened with that ajnit#|i|||Uloi)i

peculiar to him, and anawered : ^^^^ *'" '

" MademoiHt'Uo 1 I have npj flmnHCOvcM the
halfittm that will heal a severed neck— you must oxcuso

)}

Safe-

me.
When he loft, Madame do MartignV tried to comfort

mo in her kindly way.

" My dear," she said, " after all it is not so very tor-
rible^ myself never saw M. de Marti^ipiy mort; than
twix^jroforo wo were married, and yet I have learned
to»4ovo kim, ond wo are very happy. Believe me I Love
before marriage does not always mean happiness. In
five years it will become a friendshij) — that is all. It
is best to start as I did, so that tlicre will he no
awakenings. As for de Lorgnac— rest you assured that
monsieur is well aware of the state of your mind towards
. him, else he would never have taken the course he has
adoptjjd. Be certain AdBJiJe, that all lapgcjij to hini
will bf in vain 1 " JBHHp: '••^ -

I felt the force oflnnastwords and was silent, and
then de Clermont's face came before me, very clear ^nd
distinct, and with a sob I broke down once again and
*gavo way to tears. '■ '^

■'^- I will pass over the rest of the time until I founi
Jjself ready for the ceremony, noting only with sur-
prise, that I was to be married in a riding-habit, as if
the wedding was to be instantly followed by a joumey.
Unhinged though jLwas, I asked the reason for this, but
Madame do Martigny could only say it was the Queen's
order, and I hon e stly believe s he had no further e x ;
planation to dfoTi

OMMTORTJ

♦

At the door of iho oratory the mjirshal met n]ie. m^
led nio into tlio d»»tpt4; which wua But dimly lightoi,
and whor(5 my huHbaiul that was to be, wan already stand^
in^ hooted an<l Hpurred, ready, like my»olf, to 1||k.6 t(^
horHo. Thero were a dozen or bo of people pjroiip«d
around, and one Heated figure wWch I felt wm that of
the King. 1 made a half-gluncc Awardn him, hut dared
not look again, for behind ttenri'a chair was de Cler-
mont, gay and brilliant, in nuirked contraat to the eom-
^bro, if stately, figure of do Lorgnac. || . \

At last the time -came when I placed a hand aH cold
8 stone in that of my husband, and the words were
sbokon which nuide us num and wife. When it was all
oier, and wo had turned to bow to tkc King» de Cler-
mJunt stepped forward and clasped a jewelled collar
round my neck, saying in a loud voic% " In the King's
naiSe," and then, aided by the dim li^t, and with un-
exampled daring, he swiftly snatched away one of my
glovk, which I held in my hand, wfth a whisper of
"Thlpformo." * 1,

Heiri spolce a few jesting wdr^ils, and^hen rising, le||
the ch\pel abruptly, followed by de Clermont; but those^
who remained^^came round us with congratulations that
sounde^ idle dnd hollow to me. It was then that I
noticed for the first time that Catherine >was not present,
although I saw ^ueen Margot, and Madame do Canillac
there. ISie marshal, however, cut. the buzz of voices^
short. \ ■ 'i

" The hiiJTses ate ready, de Lorgnac, and, as arranged,
you start io-night. And now, my good niece, adieu,
and good fVtune f)e with you and your hushand.^^

*With thai he be?it, and touching my forehead with

/ N

•■I',

M^U

^ii

I H ■:

THE HEART OF DENISE.

It n

■■ ■»■••■

his stiff moustache, stepped back a pace to let us pass.
As I walked by my husband's side, dazed and giddy,
with a humming in my ears, there came back to me with
a swift and insistent force, the words of the vows, which^
if I had not spoken, I had^given a tacit as8ei[it to. They
were none the less binding on this a.ccoutit. Two of
them i could net keep. One cannot contrifone's soul,
ftnd I felt that in this respect my life would be hence-
fortii a living lie; but one I thought I might observe,
and that was the oath to obey ; yet 6ven in the short pas- ,
sage leading from the oratory to the entrance to the
chapel, my heart flamed up in rebellion, aiid, with a
sudden movement, I withdrew mx hand from my hus-
band's arm, and biting my lips till the blood came,
forced myself to keep by his side. He made no effort
to restrain me, spoke never a word, until we came to the
door where the horses were waiting, with half-a-dozen
armed and mounted men. Here de Lorgnac turned to
me, saying, almost in a whisper, "May I help you to

mount ?"

I made a movement of my hand in the negative, and
he stepped back ; but the animal was restive, and at last
I was forced to accept his aid. As we passed out of the
gateway, riding side by side, I spoke for the first time.

"May I ask where you are going to take me. Monsieur

;(le -Lorgnac ?" . :■'(].■'■ -M--:^'-' ' ■ ''■''■'_:.:'

He answered, speaking as before, in low tones, ^'I

thought ^ou knew— you should have been told. We go

first to the house of Madame de Termes."
Like lightning it came to me that the mammas afraid

of me. I cannot say how I' knew it. I felt it, and

made up my mind to use my advantage, with' a vengeful

joy at b

I theref<

, "Eno

question

Iloolj

he tone]

two in

But my

wardly i

we were

her hut

mine, h

one wh(

i%ja8n(

I hid n

was no

until w

cburtya

bustle i

fell on

horses i

of armf

and I a

leaving

"Ne

in his g

ing the

i ■;;.-**; An

monsie

some p
*5It
andll

. ■«•»-

THE ORATORT,

joy at being able to make my bear dance to my time.
I therefore broke in upon his speech.

" Enough, monsieur I I should not have asked the
question. It is a wife's duty to obey without inquiry.'*

I looked him full in the face as I said this colijly, and
he touched his horse with the spur and rode a yard or
two in front of me, mutteTi:^g something indistinctly,
But my heart was leaping at the discovery, and I in-
wardly thanked God that it was to Madame de Termes
we were to go, for apart from the fact that both she and
her husband, whose lands of Termes marched with
mine, had been life-long friends of our hoiise, she was
onejurhbni I knew to be the noblest and best of women.
i%te not aware that she was known to de Lorgnac ; but
I hid my curiosity and asked no questions, and there
was no further speech between my husband and myself
until we came to our destination. As we entered the
cburtyard of the Hotel de Termes all appeared to be
bustle and confusion within, and the flare of torches
fell on moving figures hurrying to.%nd fro, on saddled
horses and packed- mules, and on the flash and gleam
of arms. ' My surprise overcame my resolve of silence,
and I asked aloud, " Surely Madame de Termes is not
leaving Paris ? " '

" News has come that the Vicomte is grievously ill
in his government of Perigueux, and Madame is hasten-
ing there."

"And we travel with her ? There ! It is impossible,
monsieur, .that I can face so long a JourHey without
some preparation. It is cruel to expect this of me."

*5 It is the King's order that we leave Paris to-night,
and I have done my best " :

!'■■'■!■»• -1
A 'If, ■/>■

THE HBABT OF DENI8B.

Say your worst, monsieur ; it will be more correct,"

d then we came to the door. We appeared to be ex-
pected, for W6 were at once ushered up the stairway into
a large reception room, where Madame stood almost
ready to start, for her clOak was lying on a chair, and
she held her mask in her hand. She came forward to
meet ui, but as the light fell on TnyJHjbi, she started
back with a little cry : ^^feS'

" Youi Denise— you ! My dear, EalSk hot know it was
you who Were to travel with me. You are thrice wel-
come," and she took me in her arms and kissed my cold
cheek. "I was but told," sbe went on, "that a lady
travelling \to Guyenne would, join my party, which
would be escorted by M. de Lorgnac. But what is the
matter, child ? You are white as a sheet, and shiver
all over. You are not fit for a long journey."

" M. de Lorgnac thinks otherwise, madame."

" Blaisie de Ijorgnac ! What has he to do with it ?"
and the spirited old lady, one arm round my waist,
turned and faced my husband, who stood a little way
.off, fumbling witli the hat he held in his hand.

"It is a wife\s duty to obey, madam^e, not to ques
tion."

I felt her anii tighten round my waist, and I too
turned and faced\de Lorgnac, who looked like a great
dog caught in some fault.

" A wife's duty to obey ! " exclaimed Madame ; " but
that does not concei(n you. Stay ! What do you mean,
child?"

" I mean, madamei that I was married to M. de Lor
gnac scarce an hour affo."

THE OBATOBT.

Her hand dropped from my side, and she looked from
one to the other of us in amazement.

" I cannof Understand," she said.

"It is for, my husband to explain," I said bitterly,
"it is for the gentleman,^ to whom we are to trust our
lives on this journey, tosfiy in how knightly a manner
he can treat a woman." ■,.

And there deLorgnac stood,both of us looking at him,
his forehead burning and his eyes cast down. Evon
then a little pang of pity went through me to see him
thus humbled> so strangely does God fashion the hearts
of us women. But I hardened myself. I was deter-
mined to spare him nothing, and to measure out in full
to him a cup of bitterness tor the draught he had made

me drink.
" Speak, man," exclaimed Madame. *" Have you no

voice ?"
"He works in. silence, madame," I burst in with an

uncontrollable gust of anger ; " he lies in silence.

Shall I tell you what has happened ? I, Denise de

Mieux, am neither more nor less than M. de Lorgnac's

price — ^the hire he has received for a business he has to

perform for the King. What it is I know not— perhaps

something that no other gentleman would undertake.

All that I know is that I, and my estates of Mieux, have

become the property of this man, who stands before us,

and is, God help me, my husband. Madame, five hours

ago, I had not spoken ten words ta him in my life, and

I now I am here, as much his property, as the mlise his

lackey bears behind his saddle." -^ _

*'Hnsh,deax— be still— yon forget yourself," and

r 'VO

) ^1

'.^

■ i
■a? i .1

1 J 1 <■ f

TBS UBART OF DENI8B.

ill

Madame drew me once more to her side t^nd turned to
my husband.

"Is this true, Blaise deLorgnac ? Or is the child
^11 and raving t Answer, man 1 "

" It is," he answered hoarsely, " every word."

In the silence that ensued I might have heard riiy
glove fall, and then Madame, with a stiff little bow" to
my husband, said, "Pray excuse me for a moment,"
and stepped out of the room. He would have held
the door for her, but she waved him aside, and he moved
back and faced me, and for the first time we were alone
together.

In the meanwhile I had made up my mind. I had re-
peated parrot-like the words that it was my duty to
obey. I had vowed to follow my husband whitherso-
ever he went ; but vow or no vow I felt it was impossi-
ble, and I spoke out.

" Monsieur, \ you stand self -convicted. You have
pleaded guilty to every charge I have made. Now hear
me before Madime comes back, for I wish to spare you
as much as possible. I have been forced into this mar-
riage ; but I amlas dead to you as though we had never
met. I decline to accept the position you have prepared
for me, and our\ paths separate now. Would to God
they had never crossed ! I shall throw myself on the
protection of Madame de Termes, and at the first op-
portunity shall se^ the refuge of a convent. You will
have to do your work without your hire, M, de Lor
gnac."

He made a step If orward, and laid his hand on my^
cloak.

'* Denise— hear mi

-I love you.'l

■•;/

// -. I ■

.•./•

THE ORATORY.

"You mean my chateau and lands of Mieux. Why
add a lie to what you have already done ? It is hardly
necessary," and I moved out of his reach.

His hand dropped to his side as he turned from me,
and at the same time Madame re-entered' the room.

"Monsieur," she said, "I fear the honour of your
escort is too great for such as I, and I have arranged to
travel with such protection as my own people can give
me. As for this poor girl here, if she is willing to go*
with me, I will take the risk of the King^s anger— and
yours. She shall go with us, 1 say, and if ^ there 4S a
spark of honour left in you, you will leave her alone."

" She is free as air," he answered.
^ " Then, monsieur, you will excuse me; but tinie is
pressing."

rii?

'U ^t \

' ». v»

■ i-

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■ ■ /

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■

■-■ .■ ' . ■'\''^. "

■ ■- ■■ .- ■ ■■ " ■' 'i

E^i^O

In ".

. CHAPTER III.

THE 8PUB OP LE8 ES0HELLE8.

pE LOKONAO was gone. Through the open window
overlooking the courtyard, that let in the warm summer
evening, we heard him give an order to his mej^jji a
quick, resolute voice, far different from the low tones in
which he had spoken before, and then he and his troop
rode off at a rapid trot in the direction, as it seemed, of
the Porte St. Honors. 1 could hardly realize that I
was free and that de Lorgnac had resigned me without
a struggle. All that I could think of was^at^ he was
gone, and with a quick gasp of relief I turned to my

friend. • . n

"Oh, madame I How can I thank you ? What shall

Tsay:?" ■' ■■' ■ ^'-y\':- ' ■■:^^-'

^* Say nothing to me, my child, but rather thank the
good God that there was a little of honour left in that
man. And now, -before we start, you must have some

refreshment." ; _

*< I cannot— indeed, no. I am ready to go at once.' I

want^to put leagues between me and Paris." ;

"You must b6 guided by me now, Denise," and as
she spoke a qervant brWght in some soup and a flaSk of
wine. Despite my pWests I was forced to swallow
something, though I felt that I was choking ; " yet the
little Frontignac I dran^, I not being used to wine.

Etn^,

1 ' seemt

H acattc

'wL'- ' vAs

m '} to stf

9 ' " I cfi

1 self t

I on hi

% • she p

\ full i

^ withh

Ifthi

\ know
; alreac

once

i finish

storm

fright

1 I beli

M thing

■ He w

I Once,

B . Vicon

1 would

I Medic

! now 1<

/ yard,^

percfhi

■ withe

I her h(

i-.^ v.,

THE SPUR OF LE8 BSCffELLBS.

"IP-

seemed to steady my shaking limbs and restore my
scattered faculties.

As we put on our cloaks and demi-masks preparatory
to starting, Madame de Termes kept saying to herself,
" I cannot understand— Blaise de Lorgnac to lend him-
self to a thing like this I I would have staked my life
on him. There is something behind this, child," and
she put a hand on each of my shoulders and looked me
full in the eyes. "Have you told me all^— have you
withheld nothing ? "

" Has he not himself admitted what I said, madame ?
If that is not enough I will add every word of what I
know ;" and as we stood there I detailed what I have
already told, forcing myself to go on with the story
once oip twice when I felt myself being unnerved, and
finishing with a quick, " And, madame, I was taken by
storm. Indeed, I ,hardly know even if this is not soii^e
frightful dream." \

" Would it were so," she said, and added, " Denise
I believe every word you say ; and yet there is some-
thing behind de L<^^ac's action. I kndw him welL
He would never lejid himself to be the tool of others.
Once, however, at Perigueux you will be safe with the
Vicomte and myself, and it will be a long arm that
would drag you thence— nothing short of that of the
Medicia. But Catherine owes much to de Termes ; and
now let us start.". \

What was my surprise when w^ reached the courts
yard," to hear my maid Mousette's voice, and I saw her
perched on a little hag, already engaged in a flirtation
with one of the men. When I spoke to her she pressed
her horse forward and began hurriedly :

* ■

' wK^ .

24 TUB UEAUT OF DBNIISE.

^*I was sent here with Madame*s things," she said.
"I am afraicl the valises arc but hastily packed, and
much has had to be left behind ; but Madame will ex-
cuse me, I know ; it was all so quick, cind I had so little

time." \

"Thank you^ Mousette," and I turnbd to my horse,
her address of Madame ringing strangely in ray ears.

We were, including Madame de f ermeJ^' servants, who
were well armed, a party of about twelve^ small enough
io face tlie danger of the road in those linsottled days,
but no thought of this struck me, and as fir Madame de
Termes, she would, I do believe, have braved the jour-
ney alone, so anxious was she to be by the Vicomte's
side, for between herself and the stout old Soldier, who
held the lieutenancy of P6rigord, there i^xisted the

deepest affection.

As we rode down the Bourdonnais, I coul^ ^ot help

thinking to myself how noble a spirit it wasUhat ani-
mated my friend. Not for one moment had shy allowed
her own trouble to stand in the way of her helping me.
Her husband, whom, as I have said, she dearly loved,
was ill, perhaps dying,' and yet in her sympathy and pity
for me,^he had lot no word drop about him, except the
cheery assurance of his protection. Nevertheless, as we
rode on, she ever kept turning towards Lalande£her
equerry, and bade him urge the lagging baggage anfirials
on. Passing the Grand Chatelet, we crossed.the arms of
the river by the Pont au Chafige, and the Pont^ St.
Michel, and kept steadily down the Rue de la Harpe
towards the Porte St. Ma^in, We gained this not a mo-

Boon, for as th o last of the b a ggage animals

Tnent

-a^

passed it, we heard the officer give the word to lower

THE 8PUR OF LBS EBO^LLES

■\

the drawbridge and close the gates. The clanking of
the chains, and the creaking of tJio huge doors came to
mo with something of relief in them, for it seemed to
me that I was safe from further tyranny from the Ildtcl
de Soissons, at apy rate for this night.

As we passed the huge silhouette of the. Hotel do
Luxembourg, we heard the bells of St. SuJpice sounding
Compline, apd then, from behind us, the solemn notes
rang out from the spires of the city lurches. Yield-
ing to an impulse I could not resist, 1 turned in my sad*
dle and looked back, letting my eyes run over the vast,
dim outlines of the city, so softened by the moonlight
that it was as if some opaque, fantastic cloud was rest*
ing on the earth. Above curved the profound blue of
the night, with here and there a star struggling to force
its way past the iSplendour of the moon. All was quiet
and still, and the church bells ringing out were as a
message from His creatures to the M'osit High. I let
my heart go after the voices of the bells as they travelled
heavenward, and fiad it not been for Mousette's shrill
tones, that cut through the quiet nig'ht and recalled me
to myself, I might have let the party go onwards, I do
not know how far. As it was, I bad to bustle my little
horse to gain the side of Madame de Termes once more.
It was not, of course, our intention to travel all night.
That would have been impossible, for it would have en-
tailed weary horses, and a long halt the next day ; but
it was proposed that we should make for a'^mall chateau
belonging to Monsieur de Bouchage, the brother of the
Due de Joyeuse, which he had placed at Madame de
Termes disposal, and there rest for the remainder of

■'^.^v?-; )

the night, making a start early the next morning, and

..X-

tth

THE HBART OF DBNI8K.

•\\:

m^r

then prcfising on tlaily, as fast" as our strength wouUl
allow, littlando had sent a courier on in advance to
announce our sudden coming* We did not expect to
reach do Bouchage's housp'uj^til about midnight, and
the equerry mv^ fussing ^Jiund down the- lino of
march> urging a pacHhorse otf here, chocking a restive
animal there^ and ever^and again warning the lackeys
to keep their arms in readiness, ior the times were such
fhat no ma^'s teeth were safe in his head, unless he wore
' a good blade by hiftjido.

Wo were, in slljfl;,' on the eve of that tremendous
struggle whi'ch, beginning with the Day of the Barri-
cades, went on to the murder of the Princes of Lorraine
on that terrible Christmastide'at Blois, and culminated
with the dagger of Clement and« the dqath of the mis-
creant whom God in His anger had given to us for a

king.

Already the Huguenots were arming again, and it
was afloat that the Palatine had sent twenty thousand
men, under Dhona, to emulate the march of the Due
de Deux Ponts from the Rhine to Guyenne. It was
said that the Montpensier had gone so far as to attempt
.. seize the person of the King, swearing that once in
her hands, he would never see the outside of four walls
again, and rumours were flitting here and there, credit-

tg^he Bearnnois with the same, if not deeper, resolves.
Tilings being so, the land was as full of aiiOT mur-
murs as a nest of disturbed bees ; the result beiii^that
the writ of the King was almost as waste paper, and
bands of cut-throat soldiery committed every excess,
now nnder the white, then under tho red scarf, as it
suited their convenience.

THE BPUR OF LE8 E80nELLK8.

■•

It was for this reason that Lalande urged us oti, and
we were nothing loath ourselves to hasten, but our pace
had to fee regulated by that of the laden animals, and do
what wb would our progress was slow.

Madajnie and I rode in the rear of the troop, a couple
of ann^d men immediately behind us. Lalande was in
front, ajnd exercised the greatest caution whenever wo
came td a place that was at all likely to bo used for an
ambusci^de.

Uothing, however, happened/and finally we set down
to a jogging motion, speaking no word, for we were
wearied, and with no sound to break the silence of the
night except the shuffling of our liorses, the straining
of their/ harness, and the dink of sword sheath and
chain b^t. •

Suddenly we were startled by the rapid beat of hoofs,
and inla moment, a white horse and its rider emerged'
from the moonlit haze to our right, coining b& it were
straight upon us. X^alande gave a quick order to halt,
and" I saw the 'fearr^l of his pistol flashing in his hand ;
but the horseman, with a cry of "For the King 1 Way \
Way !" dashed oyter the^oad at full gallop, and sped oflE
like a sprite over the open plain to our left.

« Did you hear the voice, Denise ? " asked Madame. .
: ■"Yes.^'^l ■;/;■■■

"It is itranger than ever," she said, and I 'cotild
make no tjnswer. ■«

There ^as no douht about it. It' was de Lorgnac ;
and insteid of going to the Porte St, Honor6 as I
thought Vhen he left us, he must have crossed^ by the
Meunnie r i^ and come out by the St. Oermains Ga|e. He
had evidently, too, separated himself from his men.

1 f

'. ''

<^ii

&■:• t -^

THIS IIS ART OF DBNISB.

'I'-: >

i: I

"I shall bo glad when wo roach do Bouchage*<
houso," I said with ft nhWor, for tho apparition of my
husband had sent a chill through mo.

" It is not far now," replied Madamo ; and then wo
both became silent, ahsorbod in our own thoughts. Sho,
no doubt, thinking of tho Vicomto, and I with ray mind
full of forebodings as to what other evil fate had in
store for me ; and with this there camo thoughts of
do Clermont, whose presence I seemed absolutely to fool
about mo. I could not say I loved him, but it was as if '
he had a power over me that sapped my strength, and
I felt that I was being dragged towards him. I cannot
explain what it was, but others have told mfe the same,
that when his clear blue eyes were fixed on them, they
seemed to lose themselves, and that his glance had a
power, the force of which no one could put into words,
nor indeed, can I.

It was only by an effort and a prayer that I succeeded
in collecting myself ; and it was with no little joy that
I saw the grey outlines of the Chateau do Bouchage,
and knew that for the remainder of the night there was

I win pass over our journey till we reached the
limbusin. Going at our utmost strength, we found
we could barely cover more than six leagues a day; and
as day after day passed, and no ne^vs of the Vicomte
came, Madame's face greW paler, and she became fevex-
ishly impatient for us to hurry onward ; yet never for
one moment did she lose the sweetness of her temper
or falter in her kindness towards me. No mishap of
any kind befell us ; but at the ford of the Garieinpe,

if:

^:-

..^^-_-

.''■Ai

THK BPUR OF LBS B8GnBLL$8,

d»

I • •

there at last camo good news that brought the glad tears
to Mndnnic'H oyen, and the eatour oncu iiiori! to her
cheeks, for. hero a courier met \xiy riding with a red spur,
to say that the Vicointc waa out of danger, and striding
hour by hour towards recovery. The couricB further
said, in answer to our questions, that the mesHcngor
w'hom Madame dc Termes had sent on in advance, to
announce her coming, had never arrived, and ho him-
self was more than surprised at meeting us, believing
Madame to be yet at Paris. No doubt the poor man who
had been sent on in Advance had met with ill, and wo
thanked God for the lucky chance that had put us in
the way of the Vicomte's messenger, and also that it
was not with us as with our man, for ho had doubtless
been killed, and indeed he was never seen again. Back
.we sent the courier with a spare horse to announce our
speedy coming, and it was a gay and joyous party that
splashed through the sparkling waters "W i\f Gartcmpo.
Even I, for the moment, forgot everything with the glad
tidings that had cpme like the" lark's song in the morn-
ing to cheer my friehd's h^art, and for a brief space I
forgot de Lorgnac and my bonds, and was once more
Denise de Mieux, as heedless and light-hearted" as youth,
high spirits, and health could make me. It .was decided
to push on to'Ambazac at any^ cost by tha^ evening. The
news we had heard seemed td. lighten e^ven^he loads of
the pack animals, and we soon le^t the silver thread of
the riyer behind us, and entered the outskirts of the
Vienneis. As for me, I do not know how it was, but I
was, as^ have said, in the wildest of spirits, and nothing
could cAfit e nt m o but the most r a pid mot i on . At one

4fe- ■ ■

^ . • mm

'^1

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* . H^.BiV«

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f ■*

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■ ■ ' ■■ i ■ -S- '

V 1 •4'-

•'illftf

■ ■ ■ ■•■ ■ . '.*■

THE H&ABT OF DENI8E.

ilin

y^,.

time I urged. my horse far in advance of the party, at
another I circled round and round them, or lagged be-
hind, till they were all but out of sight, and then caught
them up at the full speed of my 'beast, and all this de-/
spite Lalande's grumbling that the horse would be worn
put, He spoke truly enough, but I was in one of those
mtjods that can brook no control, and went my own way,
I was destined^ however, to be brought back sharply to
the past, from whieh for the moment I had escaped.
As we reached the wooded hills of Les Eschelles, 1 had
allowed the party to go well in advance of me, and, stop-
ping for a moment, dismounted near a spring from
which a little brook, hedged in on each side with ferns,
babbled noisily off along the hillside* To me, who after
^1, loved the friesh sweet couijtry, the scene was en-
chanting. The road wound half-way up the side of the
spur, and the rough hillside with its beech forests,
amongst the lieaves o| which twined the (enchanter's
nightshade, swept downwards in 'bold curves into a wild
moorland, covered With purple heather and golden
broom. The sheer rock above mi? wa^s gay with pink
mallow, and the criinson of the cranesbill flashed here
and there, Vhilstithe swish of the bracken in the breeze
was pleasant to my ears. Overhead, between me and the
absolute blue of tl^e sky. Was a yellow lacework of birch
leaves, and a wild rose, thick with its snowy bloom,
'sprambled along the face of th e^roc k Just above^-ihe
spring. It was to^gather a b etnpie t of these flowers for
Madame that I had halted and dismounted. The task
was more difficult than I imagined, and whilst I was
wrestling with itj I heard the full ridh bdritone of a
man's voice singing out into the morning, and the next

'^ ■

THE SPUR OF LE8 ESCIIJSLLES.

moineiii, the singer turned the cotner (yi a bluff a few
yards from me, and Raoul de Clermont was before me.
He stopped short in his song with an exclamation, and,
lifting his plumed hat, said in astonishment:

"You, mademoiselle ! Pardon— Madame de Lor-
gnac I Where in the world have you dropped from:i
Or, stay^are you the genius of this spot?" and his
laughing: eyes looked me full in the face. -^ ''

I stood with my flowers^'in my hands, inwardly trem-
bling, but outwardly calm.

" It is rather for me to ask where in the world you
have sprung from, monsieur. It is not |air to startle
people like this.'^

"I ask your pardon-once more. As it happens, I am
travelling on business and pleasure eombin^d. My es-
tates of Clermont-Ferrand lie but a short way from here^
as you perhaps know ; but let me l^elp you to add to
those flowers you have gathered," and h^ sprang from

his horse. . " ■ v • . ■ ■, ': "'■■■- -^■';^ '■■^■.

" No, thank you. Monsieur de Clermont," I ansFered

hastily. "I must hurry on lest MadaiH^ Je Termes,
with whom I am travelling, should think laWlost.*^

" So it is Monsieur He Clermont now, is it ? It will
1)0 a stifl^' Monsieur le Marquis soonf and my heart
began to beat, though I said nothing, and he went on :
"For old sake's sake let me gather that cluster yonder .
for you, and then Monsieur de Clermont will take you
to Madame." '

With a touch of his poniard he cut the flowjers, and
handed them to m6, breaking one as he d|d and fasten- ^
ing it into the flap of his ppurpoint. Sp quiet and
masterful was his manner that I did nothing to redst,

?: te.'tSi

.; ,•! :" •:'

• I ',-^

■n'hX

'.■..».'t? ' *:'3i

'If

PI
If

THB BBABT OF BENI8E.

and then, putting Ine oh my horseAhe mounted himself,
saying with that joyous laugh of his : ;

"Now, fair lady, let us hasten onward to Madame de
Vermes. I need protection, too— I f i^ar my knaves have
lagged far behind."

CHAPTEB IV.

AT AMBA2A0.

The road swept onward with gentle curves, at one
time hanging to the edge of the hillside, at another
walled in on either hand by rocks covered with fern and
bracken, to whose jagged and broken surface— whereon
purples, greens, and browns seemed to absorb them-
selves into each other— there clung the yellow agrimony,
and climbing rose, with its sweet Woom full of restless,
murmuring bees.

Sometimes the path lost itself in some cool arcade
of trees, where the sunlight fell in oblique golden shafts
through the* leaves that interlaced overhead^ and then
suddenly, without warning, we would come to a level
stretch on which the marguerites" lay thick as snow-
flakes, and across which the wind bustled riotously.

As we cantered along side by side, my companion
again broke forth into a joyous song, that sprang full-
throated and clear, from a heart that never seemed to
have known a moment of pain. His was a lithe,
leopard-like strength, and as I looked at him, itiy
thoughts ran back to the time when we first met, on his
return from the Venetian Embassy, whither he had
gone when M. de Bruslart made a mess of thiiigs. I
do not know why it was, but he singled me out for his
particular notice; and though it was 6peniy Hnown

' 83

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■4'
til-

I'l-

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li'ti-

IK:
I-

TIJE HEART OF DENISB.

that he was betr</thed to the second daughter of M.
D'Ayen, I, like jf fool, was flattered by the attentions
of this.gayandnarilliant cavalier, and day by day we
were thrown together more ind more, and a sort of
' confidence was established between us that was. almost
more than friendship. There was, as I have said, that
in his masterful way, that had the effect of leaving me
powerleds ;/and though he could put all its light in his
eyes,and ail its tones in his y6ice,I felt instinctively that
he did nof love me,* but was merely J)laying with me to
exercise his strength, and dragging me towards him with
a resistless force. In>8hort, the influence of de Cler-
mont on me was never for my good, and our intercourse
always tot me with the conviction that I J^ad ^nk a
little lower than before ; and it was at times like these,
when il met de LorgnacV grave dyes, th^t*L f|>t "t*he u^-
spokA reproach in their glance, an^;wBuld struggle to
rise again, and 'then, in the consciousness of my own
foiml felt, I fairly hated him for seeing my weakness.
What right had de Lorgnaceven to think of me?
; "VBiIt did it matter to him wiiat I did or said ? So I^
lised to argue with inyself ; yet in my heart of hearts,
I ffit that my standard of right and wrong, was bei^g
metsured by w'hat I imagined a man, to whom I had
hdrdly ever spoken, might think:~ - I

jWhen I make this confession, and say that'^e in-
fluence of de Glermont over me was never for my. good,
imo'not mean to- imply that I was guilty of anything
torelhan foolishness ; bui i\\^ effect of it was to sap
ly high ideas, and 1 now know that this man^aided
jt^his surtounding s-^and they were all to his adyantage

i"'-

'III: 1

llli-

took the pleasure of ia deyil in lowering my moral

^ ■.

:3f-^

AT AMBAZAC.

nature, and in moulding me to becom% "of the world,"
as he would put it. God be thanked that the world is
not as he would havef made it. At that time, how-
ever, I was dazzled— all but orverpowered by him, and
day by day my struggles were growing weaker, like
those of some popr fly ca,ught in a pitiless web. The
knowledge of all tliis was to come to me later, when,
by God's help, I eseaped ; bufthen I was blind, and
foolish, and mad.

Hy companion's song was interrupted by Lalande,
who cdme galloping back in hot haste, and in no good
tem|)er, io say that the whole parly had halted to wait
for me ; and quickening our pace we hurried onward,
and found them about a mile further on. To say that "
Madame de Termes was surpnsed at' seeing de Clermont
is to say little, and I could see, too, that shewa$ not very
well pleased ; but he spoke to her so fairly and grace- ,
fully that, in spite of herself, she thawed ; anij half an
hour later he was riding at her bridle hand, bringing
smiles that had long been absent io her fa«e. He was
overjoyed, to heiar of the Vicomte's recovery, and said
many flattering things about him, forlie knew him well,
having served under him in the campaign of liingue-
doe, and then he went off to become more communica-
tive about himself, saying that he was the bearer of a
^despatch to the KiAg of Navarre, adding, with a laugh,
'*'a duplicate, you know— the original being carried by
M. Norreys, the ilnglish freelance. Jfa Jot ! But I
should not be surprise^ if I reached the Beamnois
before the sluggish islander."- , ' .,

'^Hardly, if you loiter here, Monsiehr le Marquis,"

, I said.--: ■■ ■ - ■ „' ■ '-. ■■,•■.,. ,•'...:■• '■:.'■''■-■'■■■-■

» ♦ .

■•i<;

fBE HEART OF DANIBE

¥ .nl.

HI i >.■!'■'■

"You must bear the blame for that, Madame ; but
I will add that my orders arc to pass through Ferigueux
as well, and so, Mddame," and he turned to my fnend,
"if you will permit Raoul ^e Clermont to be your
escort there, he will look upon it as the most sacred

trust of his life." , ' • ■

He bowed to his saddle-bow; and looked so wmning
and handsome that Madame replied most graciously m
the affirmative. A little beyond La Jonch^re some-
thing very like an adventure befell us— the first on this
hitherto uneventful journey. At the cross road lead-
ing to Bourganeuf, We met with a party of six or eight
men, who didTrot^^i^e a second gknce to make us see
that they were capable of any mischief. _They had
halted to bait their horses, and, flung about in pictu-
resque attitudes,: were Testing, under the trees— as ill-
looking a set of fellows m the pleasant shade of the
, planes had ever fallen upon. Had they known before-
hand that we were travelling this, way, they would very
probably have arranged an attacjc on us; but as it was we
came upon them rather suddenly, and as our party— .
which had been added to by de Clermonif s two lackeys
—WAS som^t too strong to^assault openly, without
the risk of broken heads and iwrd knocks-things which
gentry'of this kind do/not much affect— they let us alone,
contenting themselves with gathering into a group to
watch us as we went by ; and this we did slowly, dur
'men with their, arms ready. As we approached, how- .
evei, and saw their.truculent faces,! had doubts as to
>' wlietfe^we Xhould pass them' without bloodshed, and
pegged de Cldhnbnt in a low vpfce to preveiiWny such
tiiSig. He haiUrawn a light rapier t^^ JV^^

•:■: --rUf.-

AT AMBAZAC.

prived^^ou of a pretty toy had I done so.

'ym

as I spoke he put it backwith a snap, and holding out
' his ^d/asked for the loan of my riding-whip— a htUe
. dblicWi agate-handled thing. _ ^

« It will be enough," he said as I gave it to him, and

he begaiito swing it Cack^ards and forwards, as _ if .

using it to flick off flies from his horse. ^ 1^ my joy
• they^ade jio attempt to molest us, tliough at one tune

a oAiarrel hung' on a cobweb, l^r as ^e passed the

leader of Ae troop, a l)ig burly man, witlri vepr long
sword trailing at his side, and a face as red as the eon-

' stant dippingof hi^ nose into a, wip? eup could make it,
advanced a step into ^he wood, and, wishing us th^^ay,

^ tried deliberately to ^et a-better lock at me^ with an
uhspeakable expression in his eyes. I f ^ de aermoivt s
faci^grow cold and haW, he qHiietly put lus 1k^^^

.*betw4 ipe and thfe^man, and (checking it slightly,
stretchef out the^hip, afid toiIcBBd^ not very clean
white scarf^the creature wore over his Bhoulder, say- ,

'""You are a trifle loo near Limoges to wear this, my
mkn-^tte my advice and fling it away." . _ ,

"That i» my affair," answered the man insolently.

« Precisely, Captaih la Coquille. I spoke butfor your
good. iVh Intake aare!" and de Clermont V horse, ik)
iubt ^ecrefe touched by the spur, la^ed out sud-
denly, causing t)he man to spring back with an oath and ^

an exclamation of .. - » ; v»

« You know me 1- Who the devil are you ?. _^ _

To this, ho^irever, de Clermont made no answer, but

as we pkssed on he returned my whip to ^^^"^^

I a m glnd T did not haVe tcy use it.V It would have de-

:H-

Pit'

% .1..

W:.-

Mti 'V

€UB aWAUT OF DBKISS.

■:*

"Thank you. Who is that horrible man ? ;Y<?k
called him by name," ' • •' ^/^

«* Yes, la Coqiiille. I know him by sight, though he ,'
does not know me. He was very hear being crucified
oUce, and escaped but by a ftuke. He is robber, thief,
and perhaps a murderer, and^ '-' ' ,

-i^^-^« And what. t'^-l----:l^-:--v:~--^^-^:'-:-^-^

be Clermont reached' forward and brush-off an
imaginary fly from his horse's ears.

" And has something of a history. I believe he was a
gentleman once, and then-went under— found his way
to the galleys. After that he was anything, ai^d per-
haps I ougfit not to tell you, but in time he became
de Lorgnac'6 sergeant— his confidential man— and it
was only his master's influence that say^ld him from a
well-deserved death. It was foolish of de Lorgnac, f6r
the man knew too many of his secrets, and was getting
dangerous. I hope |l have not pained you," he added ^

gently. - ■:] ' ' ': '

"Not in the least," •! replied, and rode on looking
straigjht before me.r So this vile criminal :was once my
husband's confidential servanti was perhaps slill con-
nected with him in his dark designs. And then I
said' a bitter thii^g, ' '* Like master, like man. Is not
that the adage,, ^ionsieu^?.'^ But as the-words escaped
me, I felt a keen/regret 'V . - V

< ""Qod help ypli, Denise," 1 heard 4e Clermont mur-
ffiur as if to hiniself, and then he turned abi^uptly from
me, tod joined 'Madame de Termes, leaving me with a^
beating heart, fbr his words had come to me with a*
sense of undyiiig, hopeless Igve in them, and he was so
bravB, he seemed so true, and looked soliandsome, that

AT AMBAZAO.

rrvy heart Veniwut in pity for him. JIow the mind can
move! In a mojnoht th^re rose before me thoughts of
a life far dilTerenfc from the one to which I was doomed,
and witb them came the grim spectres of the vows that
bound me forever, and which I would have to keep.
God;helpmel Yes> J needed help-7de Clermont was
right.-'' ^-^-^r-'^^^^-^-^—^-;~^~~'^"-': ' : , ^^:-i- y^— -^--
We passed on, leaving .tl^e gang still under the plane-
» trees, and soon came in view of Ambazac, lying amidst
its setting of waving pornfields. Here for a little time
\ve suddenly missed de Clermont and one of his lackeys,
^d both Madame and I were much concerned^ for the
same thought struck us both, that he had lagged behind
and then goW off hot-foot to punish la Coquille. We j
were about to turn after 'him when he came in sight,
followed by his pian, and caught us up, riding with a** '
^ free rein." He psrhaps saw the inquiry in my look, for
hesaid softly to pe, "I went back to pick up a souvenir
I had dropped," and his eye fell on the lapel of his coat
where my/rdse was, a little, however, the worse for wear.
After that he did not speak to me, but kept by Madame
and defoted himself to her with a delicacy for which I
was grateful, for I felt I wanted all my thoughts for
myself. At Ambazac, which Wis reached in a little,
we found good accommodation at a large inn, although
the toWn, was full, it being the fefe of St. Etienne ^e
"Murct ; and ^fter taking some light refreshment^ Ma-,
dame arid I r^iredto our apartments, to rest until the
supper hour, for we were wearied, ^e supped in the ■
common halLbut at a fimalV table a little apart from the
othe r s, and de Cl e rmont, who sat next t^ me, gave
Madame an interesting account of the defence of Am-

,/.

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'^"'^'I'iffl

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40 Tm iiKAitr or vknisb.

teac,imi.lo by her husban.l against the Prince of iM
Jt wM whil/t he wa« detailing the .ne.dent« of tins
adventure that, with a great clattering ""d ""«•■'. '""''
talking, la Coquillo and his men cnterekl the d.n.ng-
^oSnd began to shout for food and drink. M««.
the people in the inn being conunon coun ry folk an.l
unarmed, made way tor the crew with has e and even
an expression of alarm appeared on I-alande s face, for
our own servants were but six in number, including ^<:
baggage drivers, and Madame's maid and my own, whn,
of lurse, were useless, and two pf our mon-servanU
were at the moment attending to the horses ; so that w
were at a decided disadvantage, and la Coqunie was not
slow to perceive this. • v .

« Dam," he exclaimed, looking towards us, here .3
my popinjay and his sugar-plum. Look you, my good
Mow, join those boys there, whilst I bask m beautys

Hismen crowded round out servants with rough jok-
ing, and he, picking up a stool, placed it at our table,
and held out an immense greasy paw to me. _

« Shalce hands, ma mignonm ! Never mmd the old
lady and the silk mercet. There is no Iovct like a

brave soldier.'* , , -, l _«

• Midamc was white with anger. I had sprung to_my
feet, meditating flight, and the villains followers raised
,a h^arle «hout, "Courage, captain I None but ^h^
brave deserve the fair." , ^ i j

^ ' Then de Clermont's hand was on the man s neck,and_
iith a swing oi his arm he sent ^^'"/^^^ >";^ ,,
> almost across the room. He r c cov o rod himself on the
;; iiistant, however, for he was a powerful man, and rushed

Air AMBAZ/itJ,

forward ; but atoppdd when ho saw tic CIcrmont'fl rapier '
in his hand, and began to tug at hisjfathonj of a sword.
His men, however, oiTered no uBsiBtance to him, eon-
tenting themselves with breaking into loud laughter.
As for de Clermont, he was as cool and self -p>i»6se&8ed
as if he were at a Court function. : • V_ ' ;

/Out of this," he said. " Begone— else I shalThavo
you flogged and you shall taste irho earcan. lie

off." ' ' •■ V- ' '"■■■ ' '•- ■"■ :-■

*< The earcan ! You sireworm, you cream-faced dahc-
irig-master f" yelled the man, who had now drawn vliis
sword. " Who the devil are .you to .threaten inth-Xk
Coquille— with the earcan i Blood of a Jew I Who are

you?." ■ ■■ .■*^■■f^>■.■ .•■■;,:i- • \ ; I- ';/.,_. ■■■•

"The Marquis de Cicrmont-lferrand,** was the an-
swer, "and these ladies are of tltc^ousphold of M.^e
Termes, and now 1 will give yoU and your men two
minutes ta,go. If not I shall have tliem stoned out of
the place ; and you—you know^hat> to expect. If you
are wise, you will put a hundrod leagues between your-
self and P6rjgorcl after this y and now be off— fool." -

The man dropped his swbrtinto its sheath and stam-
mered out, "Your pardon, monseigneur ! I did not
know. Come, boys," %e e^d with an affectation of nn-
concem, "these ladies complain that the place is too
crowded; we will go elsewhere. \At your service, mes-
dames," and making/ a, bow that had k sort of faded
grace- about it, he swaggered off followed by his men,'
who took his lead with surprising aljaprlty. The people
'in th^iiin and our servants raised aJch^r, and were for
.goi/l after them, doubtless to adn/inister the stoning ;
bvit de Cl e nripnt pu); a/to f ^ to tfiig, s a ying in a per-

y, : I

":nv'

.^^H.

It -,'■'

■ IJ

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■3

TUK UKAlir or DKHISS-

art

en.ptory t..i.c, " Let tliciii go j^wiH ^o that thoy

'"a. :.!ly "bo in.«Kinc-l - were in no mood for much
Bunncr after tl.i«. Mj knees felt very weuk under me,
and Ma.l..n.e de Termed wa» trembling all over ; but .he
thanked de Clern.onl very gracefully, and he made
.ome mode«t answer with his eyes nxed on me, and ^^
I eould «.y nothing. We would have 'f '«<» "'J^ff'
but de Clern,ont pressed ub to stay, "«<',»;''«'";■'"•';"".'',
little amile, agreed, Baying, " I am afraid «'«";" '-"^
thes6 years 1 am not quite a sohlier-* wife. So we m
gcred yet a little longer and found our nerves come tok
to us After that we sat in the garden where the moon-
light was lull and bright, and the breeze brought us the
seenl of the roses. Thende Clermont brmging out h
lute sang to us. He had a voice such as neither I, noi
any Te else I knew who had listened to it, had ever
Zd eValled, So, perhaps, saL ^i-^^^^tty
.ncestors, and the sweet notes bandied w.th the days
ot chivalr, to be horn in Raoul ^e ««"»»"*• .J^J
Bong he else was one that was perchance wr tten ^
Te o^his Lnstrel forbears, and dWcribed m that old
~ thatVe no longer use, a lovU agony at being
's^;':i;ed forever -from his mistress.Y The, words were,
Jrhaps, poor, but there was genum^ *f ''"^ '" ^^Tj.
Td sung hy de Clermont, It ini^t ha\been the wa.1 o
Tangel shuLut from .Paradise. NevW did I hear the
• Uk^n ver luld I ca^ to hear the li^e again, and a
llTCi of X -gloriouA notes^ died aiay m a liquid
^t«am of inelbfe melodVl saw Madj^^^^^^

^Vber hands.V thf 3 ■^tl!' SlH t S

jTi he r hanas, aim v»t;i ^ " j - &- —
came from th^ broad chesftof l.^ian.de,

:.#:^

^ k

. it

AT amuazao.

up to heur. and wus blulbcririK Hko a cluUl. Thch
Madamo clc- Tcrmcs roue, \nd hurried olT followed by
Ulundo, and wo were alohc, I uittinK still with my
\whole soul full of thut woiu^touh Kong. and every nerve
strung to its highest piteh. whilst do mermont remained
landing, his lute, slun« by il^ silken sash, in the loop
ol his arm»

»vl

i« Deniso I ** he said, " you imderstand, dear ?
V Yes:" I could barely whisrter the word ; and then
he Vent down and kissed me ^)ftly on the forehead,
and\the touch of his lips 8oemec\ to burn into mo like
a reihot seal. With a little cry I rose to my feet, and
Mfli knowing what I was doing! ran past him, never
ItmiipW nhtil I reached my roon^. Here I remained
«s if loV in a dream, with a hundredWad thoughts danc^
ing in rtiy brain. I tried to pray, bui my lips could only
frairie words, for there was nothingUn my heart ; and
then I thought I would seek forgetf uli^css in sleep. But
sleep would not come, and I lay awi^ke watching the
broad banner of moonlight that cam^ in through the
open window, and all the memories oUhe past awake
within me. Do Clermortfc's kiss still burftd hotly on
my face, and I shivered with the shariie and the sin
of it, for I was another's wife—and Heaven help me I
I thought then that I loved de Clermont. Oh ! the
&ery of those hours, when I tossed from side to sul^e
with dry, burning eyes and bitter shame in my heart.
At last, as the moon was paling, I could endure it no
longer, and, rising from my bed, began to pace^e
roem 1 felt that what I needed was motion, movement
-I could not be still. If I could only pray ^^";^ «« .^^^^
thought came to me once more I heard a little cUvJc,

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44 ? TEXBBAttT Of DENIBW.

and Btoopitig, picked up a email lockef containing _a
Sa:^of'n.^ mother which I wore round w-^

i:^ne^:rs^^^Mci ^

totu!^ with the soft eyee bent on me in pity; and then
a Toice^it was her . voice— said :. .

^^3t:;'^eyLwere^lindedwithtea^
ing my S^^nm/ knees with my hands c -pe^ on^th ,
mulUons of the window I sobhed out, 'Godl Dear

the sense of a great peace Wl««»^;- J^the light
.asifthe^eryhe^ve^g-^JgW^^a^^

my eyes from the splendour. 1 ^ ^

- When Kooked^P again t^ gone, but my

' ^ of rp«t I Stood at the^windovr and let the

. sonl was at rest. V«J?oa a ^ ^ ^ ^^_

prayer.

CHAPTER V, *

M LB MARQUIS LEADS HIS HIGHEST TRUMP,

When I came down in the moVnirig I found we were
all ready to start. Madame was lAounted, arid de Cler-
mont was standing to assist me to my horse. It^all
seemed so strange after the erisis of last night. I had
iTot schooled myself. I had not had time^to meet de
Clermont with unconcern, and overcome by a sudden
shyness I declined his aid/and he said in his cool, level

voice: . ,, .

" You are very proud this mornmg.

The touch of proprietorship in his tone, which he so
often used towards me, and to which I had hitherto sub-
mitted, jarroa on me now, and in a moment my courage
had come back. I looked him full in the face and an-

swered i
« It is necessary to be proud sometimes, monsieur."

Our -eyes held' each other for an instant, and for the
first time I saw in his clear blue glance an expression
of hesitation and surprise, and I felt that the compeUmg
power of his. look was gope, and t^en— he dropped his
gaze, and stepping back lifted his hat without a word ;
but I saw the white line of bis teeth close on his nether

\hen we started, and de Clermdnt dropped away t6

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.■■:■■■:% ;■.•■•;■ ■;.■ ., ■'■ •,■;.■: ';■

4ft TBB BEARf OF DENIBE.

tcfrear o^the party, leaving Madame de ^^^^s^
myself al^n^ ^m^JKa^i^lL^^f-t^^-*^^

"'^'hadhe.^ Of his voice before," ^^"^,

never thought it was anything lilte tliat. St Siege

and she gave a little shudder. "I am an old woman

but it was maddening. I forgot everything. I oould

thtak of nothing except that sorrow i^ that last ve^

• the poor man.the poor man!" And the dear ol^jl.^

eves filled once more with tears at the recolU

- "But it was not a good song," she ^o-^* »","'.. .^

aent, "it was a beautjful evil thing. and he shall smg

I r^more. I will speak to him. It « « tt -

wicked to touch the lieart as that song^an. He ^ vei^

Sand- grave to-day. I wonder if it a«ected him, a.

'' Buttieno answer, for my mind was full of other
thinS, of the hopeless love in the heart that I though
fo °tron. and lave, and of the wondrous power tha|
^ tme over me arid enabled me to be vict.>r over
mvself and I cast up an unspoken prayer that th.
Sh -hould be continued to m«, and then I found
de Clermont once more by my side. , ,

Madame, kept her word about the song, and he said

^'a'p«.mise. 1 will never sing it again. . It hurts m<^
• too," anichanging the subject, other "^f «- «-
■spoWabout. In a little I found myself separated
r'om Madame, and de Clermont, bending fonvai^, sai

"I have news I shouW have given before that will
interest you, madame-something' you ought to know
-ilof M. de Lorgnac." ^- .

m^'\ :

SS*'

•.v.j.

ji,mMAmmsi^BAi)8m trump. 4T

" Is it really of importance ?**

« Then what is it, monsieur ? " „ ;

<* I qannot well tell you here. We will let them go
onward, ancTride slowlyjjehind" , , ' «, i

I agreed silently, and we soon f bund ourselves at fc
liUle distance from the party. wW were descending the
Vooded valley of the Briance, and a turn in the forest
road left us alone. Then de Clermont, -who had up to
now remained silent, began abruptly : ^ _ . ;

"Madame, it has, been given to meto find out the
busine^on which. M.de Lorgnac is engaged, and^over
which you have been sacrificed. You are a brave
woman---the bravest I have ever met-^and I know jrou
will bear^with the bluntness of my speech, for ^his is
: no time to beat about the bush.'* ^ ;

"Monsieur, it does not concern me on what business
M de Lorgnac is engaged. 1 only ask and pray God
to give me some refuge where I may never see him

again." : , , i. ,

« Hear me a moment. I think it does concern you,

and vitally too."

. "Then what is it?" :, .

"Now call to mind your race, and all that can give
you strength. Benise de Mieux, your' husband is
nothing more than an assassin. He has b^en hired by
the KijQ^nd that she-devil the Queen Mo%er to muiv
der Kavalre. It is a political necessity for them, and
they have found an instrument in Blaise de Lorgnac
base enough for their purpose. His price was high,
though— it was you, Denise, and fe Tavannes, who is
in the secret, bas paid it. How he came to persuade

J-

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. '■ '•■ . r-„ ■ ■■■■■,■- ■
THE H^EABT OF BENISS,

Itself to do 80, 1 to^^

«& ntft 6aY alaytbmg against him. . > . ^. .

I feU » if I had .eceiV^ a blow. ■ There was trulh jn
e^tyline of de Cleftno^t's face, in every toe fh,s
voice -biit I struggled against it.andsaid faintly . ■

'^^is does not^ncer^n«>-^ a» '"^» "^l^TZ
i shall Aever see^de J^rgnac. He is dead to.

-V--:^'. ,'- _ -- i^^

r« Woto to God he were dead indeed I " he hnrst out.
« But there is more. Catherine is tyrant to W.toget
x^msWhas heard that yu have refu^sd to reinam-
^S«^»^a°a, and at his request an^rd« J«s ten
sent t^e Termes to deliver you up tohim at ^^ns^<^.
No revs to taken that order, and it h». already reac^
Wm! ?f To" aoubt me hire is the duplicate. , You ma,

'tepS^inmyhand.^
Th^rSld with the paifo of the Medici-CMheftn^
private signet. But I could not read it^. My W ^
Lne a chaos. « Oh I .what sh^l I do ? What^aU
. do ?'" I exclaimed aloud in my despair. • /^^.^
"Denise!" he said. " tl.ere ^'^^'^^^'^^
' only one, for de Lorgnac Tias already^ade h^d«m at
.. P«rigue,^,.?nd you go straight into the lions jaws.

"What is it? Tell me." „V. ■ • k£«wt vom

He laid his hand on my rein. "Dems^pnt y^f
tr^ in me and come. My deavl love ^^--^^^
- This marriage is an infamy. J<^ ™? "l*^^
vol swear are not binAig. Come with me, my dear
Ind under.the banner of the Emperor, ^^ y»» ^J ^
,„'ae te help me..IjviU work _^nV-a - ««• ^

'name of Olermont-Fer iwd is already^ known

Ji:

■."■;■,:■ ■ • !■■ 'r;- ■ '.'■'- m • •■• '

;-;■<■■'•■■■■..■-■.■ S> "^ -

M. L^ iABQUIB' LJSAJia BIB UIQBE^ TJ^UMp! ^^

■«■■: ' ' . ''.,'.'■■ . . ■ .•- ■ * ''

■ ■-.■ * ' , ■'■ ■ ''■*■ *

Last night I saw the love-l*ght in your eyes. Let it bum
ther^ again for me. Come,'^ • >l ' .

He "made as if to turn m/ horse's head, and it was
only with an effort that I re&trained him. God knows
I wassorry for the man. I know, 'too> that \^ was in
. my heart to' takeihe great love 1 thought he was giving
me/ and, forgetting ^ver^thing,»tO'.ff)llow him to thel
world's end. In th^f€?wsfic(mds.tliat passed,'! wbnt^

through a frightki strug'gl^,w4 ^^^^^ *^® strength of
last night came back to me. -. '^ . '.

"DeClprmontl It i^' impossible; and now go— go."

I -If you sa/y.Qu loVe ^pe,,g<>. in pit^^^^^^^

' \j«De^ise,^yOu know not Jivh^jt'yo^ say ! ., Think, dear !

In tw& ho^irriye wUtbfrsafe. -in two^hoursthe world
l,itlelf^cc^d ribiimrtVus.^;^ not let you sacrifice

yourself/ : tori- love ine,\de^^^^ know ft, and

' 'whenloveiiie ours exists there is no right And no wrong

—only our, love/' rf

. ^ It canti6t be— it'ca-nnot be. De Clermont, you are
[,! iemptiBg tlie woman you my you lovp, to dishonour.' Let
^ me tell you plainly, I do not love you. For brie moment

I thought I did J but I am sure of myself now ; and

even di^ I loyie you, as I feel sure 'you deserve to be

loved, I vouldnevef consent i;o— to what yoii .prbpose."

yourself. Come, Denise. " I hear Lalande ridirig back,
and in a moment it will be too late."

"Let go my rfeins, monsieur, else I shall call but. I
heal^ Lalande, top. Go, ^^m^ whilit I can still

think of ypu as I tJ,^«^ bate. Go aiid forget me/' "

His hand dropped W&s s\de, arid taking the occasion

id he

•^

I struck my horse smartly with the whip a nd he s^irang

. ^ » "i

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PI' 11

lit

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1 y

B(>i TBE asART or DsmsB.

forward De Clermoht mafle no attempt to follow but
'.t Send of ths road- as 1 glaneed across my shoulde,
I^w Mm.turn*l,is horse's head and p ^nge mto tte, |
forest and a mcment later I pict Lalande. _ 1

'"Teo^ld only realise that I had eseapod a grea »,
beyond that my mind could not S« ^h"\\*r"X
BcTou" that, despite the terrible earnestness of hii worc^
BciouB uiot, *' . , , . j.Qt convincing in tie

• there was something ^hat was noi _ ^
pioTtnont The narrow escape that 1 naa arove un ,
Clermoni. xai^ "« r when I cfinu}

^^^Vl^l^eip t5 Midam^'s side she glanced ai^c J

; ^rSe^t - an W a^nd^: " --
he hM gone, too, without a word of good-bye., :^ . |
-wSr made too sure of the success of his pWns

• Is^Syl^aMadameVanswe^

"^^nise, there ^^'^'<^^^'''W^^^\m
And as we rode close together, side by side, I told her
^nttaswerou v = , ^ ^ ; sounded hard

AOTTv word, hidmg nothing- »y »"'v<=

M. de Clermont'^ story. I f'^^'^'^'^'^'^r^^A^
^*^v .. . ^ , _ .:.„,,! A Y,ovor oflTTv out the orqer

were true de Terrnes would nevnr carry

M. LB MARQUIB LEADS H18 BtQUmT TRUMR 6l

^* There is always one way of escape, madairie, -and I
am my 'father's daughter."

' ** And there is a God above, .girl. YSw father's
daughter should never talk like that.'*

"Then why does lie not hear my prayers ?'* I said,
in impious forgetfulness. " Is heaven so far that our
voicesf cannot reach there ? "

/ And my dear old friend sighed deeply in answer.

We wer^'to lialt at Chalusset for .the night, and hero
confirmation was received of the truth of de Clermont's
story, for an equerry of the Vicbmte's met us here with
a letter to "his wife- in hi#^wn Jiahd, in which he said
th^t our message, the one we had sent from the

^ Gartempe, liiad. reached him, and that he was hastening

' forward himself to n\eet us. Then he went on to other
matters, and hisietter concluded with a postscript :

; ^ ■-.■■/:■■■- :■ ■ _^ . --:.-..;:■ , i. ■ /...:;■. ■■■■'.•: ■■ .
^ **M. Norfeys is Jiere with an order from the King, or,'
rather' from the Qtieen MoiJier. ,It is very unfortunate,
hut must he obeyed'

I »

She first read the letter herself— we. were sitting to-
getjier in her apartment, i|^ the one inn at Ghalusset—
an4 then she handed it tok me* with a request to rc^ad
it aloud to her, V I did sd f but on coming to the .post-
[. .script my voice i^ltexed in sj^it© of myself , and then she
bent forward and kissed me. » ♦

*«Deni8e; it will never be. Are you stroidi| enough to
do abrave thing ?" .r " ■ •

.. "^fl will try.'* ■•••:.;■;;■ : .■;'::^/!-'^^;:;:^' ;>-:■•!'• ^ ^

"It is clear, to me tjiat de Tehnes; postscript is a

ux. T knew that he

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mS EKABT 0tDmJ8S.

of hU meBBagc; DanUe, you mwt not be with me when ,

'^^'St^^y^ ^l aba^ao^a n.e. What

can I do— where shall I hide ? " / , ^^

"I will ten you. My Bister loujee.s Abbe^o^a«^

't«<1v of Mevmao. I wiU send you to her. Theconve.t

RPlf would not dare to violate— but sne will uc ^

Sir there. Vet it is a. long i«;-'^,^^^^^^^
have to cross the mountams., Will you ^«^,"

'■night?" ■* . ' , „ ■■-,. .. .'^-'l ■■'".■.■*,-'" ■'.

"1 am ready now, njadame. ^ ^ „u-.'„„Vpd *or

^ , 4ery welV- and, cal«°8 *»''«'•, ""^'f'S^o
uJa^Wwhen the .equerry came she, tunie^^^^

•'"Mande, how lotg is it that.you have foUowed"

"sieurWsasimple^valieroftheguard. __ ,

"And vo«l would do anything for Monsito ? ^^ _

« Madam" I have been his man in lean timesand in

}, -f^Sne and in fuU harvest . He --^^^

' ^tooUes and it was I who got him out of the Bas,

i luThiv^ bVen by his side from the time he was a

i Se^;*;::! t/the^^esen. ^-^^^^J

. : ; jsi^narshal and <-?«-. <^^«^\j^^^'vLnte
do^ anvthing for Monsieur. If Monsieur le .
■' to^a Ae to lay down my Ufe to-morrow I WPUW

' ^ -'_ _ ■ , f _ \

■"■■ ■•"-> ^ " """■"."■"

*■ ■;i

•:' , • '

Lorgnac here is in great danger^ It ns Monsieur ^
Vicomto's wi8h that 8he should be convened to the Con-
' vent of Our Lady of Meymoc, and we trust her to you.
No one is to know where she is plaeed. You must pro-
tect her with your life-do you. und6r8tand ^ And
you inust start now-and ^lone-for Madame b hiding-
place is a secret/' - 4l^ „„^ T ' '
«We eould start in aofew minutes, madame> and 4

wjU do what you say " ' • ^ ^^ . f '
"^* Then he ready in half-an hour. ^ •

**MadftnieAandhewa^.gone. ^ -

*^Do not let Mousette .know whither you are hound,

Denise. She is a chattering ape, and, though she loves

. you, can never keep a secret. As for de Termes, I will

arrange to manage him-and, dear, keep » hrave heart. .

I would go with you myself ; but you know it is impos; -

The moon was^^ rising wh^n, after taking an affecf
tionate farewell of Madame d0 Termes, who had bc^n.to
me as a mother, we started-Mousette, Lalande, and my-
self Our horses had .been brought to a little gate at,-,
the'ba^ of the Straggling gafdeh attached to the. inn,
by the equerry himself, so that ^e might - get away un-
observed. Hither. Madame apcompanied, us, and after
giving some further instjajMions in a low .tone to J.a-
lande, embraced me again and again, and I am afraid we
both wept, whilst Mousette'joined in to keep us com-'
pany. Finally we started, and I tume^jmce or twic^
to look back, and sawihe slender grey-clad figure, still
at the gate, growing fainter and fainter in outline at
- ' ' • ftt TflRt to slip away into

4^1

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each step we took, and s eeming

V-,.- .-; ■: ; . .; ■ . y^

■'I Hi.!

liVI: .11;

|B» nsABT of DiCNiaa.

the sXer hale ^ the moonlight, until when I turned
fof the l«»t time, 1 could »oo nothing but the w.nd.ng
road the ghostly outline of Iho trees, and .the pom ed
root olthe inn. I have oflen wpndered if the g.rU of the
present day would endure and aet as we women Imd^to
do then. AH women have to endure passively. lUw
will bo 80 for aU time unless the world be made anew,
but with us there were times and seasofis when we ha.. .

to act like men. . . • , _ . , .„i,„„

Itwt year, when I was in Paris, where I had taken
my daughtfer for her presentation, a great Ijdy ealled^n
me, the'ivifo and daughter of. a soldier, and 4he reached
onr honso almost in hysterics, because one of the wheels
of her coach had come off, and sl>e had to waUc a hun-
dred paces or^so. She was in. fear of her hfe at the ,
• • aeeident. And when we had made much of her and
she was gone, my husband's eyes met mine, and^ the
same thought struck us both, for ho came up and kissed

: """ jSoi^u,/ I thank God I am not thirty ye»vs
,,,,.,;younger ! " ■. \ ' . ■'■;-.■. .' ■,

trr

^^m.

■,m:'--

'•■*'■

„ ■-"■■A

CHAPTER VI.

AT THE BION OF THE OOLDRN PHO

ob; I,

At first wc managea to get along af a fai? paee,1iB
the road was good and we were well able to see our way
by the moonlight ; but after crossing the Taunon by
a frail wooden ^ridge, which creaked and groaned
ominQusly fis we passed over it, Lalando took a turn
to the right and followed a narrow track whereon we
'had to ride nose to tail. Womanlike, I began to think
he was taking the wrong road, and asked him whither
he was leading us. '_

- ''St. Priest-Taurion lies on the main road, madame,
and it would be well to avoid it. Let not madame have
any fear. I could make my way to Meymac blmd-

fpld." ' .^ .XA

- « And wani^ to show ofE by picking the most horrible
paths," shrilled out Mousette, whoso temper, never of
the best, had gone to ribbons, and little wonder, too,

poorthingl " .

i«It would be well if we speak in lower tones— better
f-tni not to speak at all," said the equerry, and silencing
]\Iousette with a reprimand, I asked Lalande to" lead on.
Whilst the motion was fast it was not possible to
' think, but now that we were going at something like 4
snail's pace, I unconsciously gave myself over to my re-
flections, though I had by this time reached a state of

fift-

■ *^-

J*.

i«^

' ' n. <«

.til

;2>'^'

'W'

I ft

TUB ItBART OF DKNIBB.

-»''■#.

l!il*•^

ii--

i ( ,,-i:-

w ■ ■ ■ ' \

mind when it soemod impoBRible for mo to diRtli;kul8h
between right and wrong, or to think coherently. A The
proof of the truth of do Clermont's wtory had aec^tu-
ated the bitternoBB in my heart againwt my huHbandj^and
v^his wag not leasened when I remembered the infieny
of the enterprise which l>e had undertaken, and of which
I was the price. 1 had it onccrortwjco fn my mind to
try and prevent the crime ho contemplated by attempt
ing to wain the Bearnnois ; but it was imi)08sible t\
do so from here, knd I should have to mal{b4he attempt
from Meymac. Then that thought gave pla&B to de\
Clermont, and with the menwry of him r^grets^hat I
had uot taken hia offer, and by one desperate stroke
freed myself forever from do Lorgnac, even\at the cost
of that good opinion of the world, we pretend to despise
and yet value so much, even against what I felt to be
the teachings of my conscience. After all I was merely
holding to vows that I had never really made. The
priest's benediction surely could not bind me forever
to a hateful life. I had my dreams as all young women
and young men have— \of a life that I could share with
one whom I could trust and honour i^nd love. One
whose joys would be my joys, whose sorrows would bo
my sorrows, whose ambitions and hopes would be my
ambitions and hopes, ana so to pass hand in hand witli
him until cpe or both of us were called away to fulfil
the mystery of life by death. And de Clermont ? Could
he have been the one to^jhave so travelled with me ?
Did I lov^^im ? For the life of m^ I could not tell at
that mortient, At one timi I seemed dragged towards
him, at another there wp\ a positive repulsion, and

'"?¥'■

I - 0."" : '■; ■ .■

4T TBR SIQN OF THE aorJ)B^ FROQ.

K '."«

mc, liko the tolling of a bell hung over a sunken rock
to wawC^^Jtenyrs of danger, telling t|ie, " IJuwaro 1 Be-
ware f-^^ ,ftU in my heart that Itt did iLot ring true

metal-^^'m^hy, If could not tell — nor can I t#i now. But
I BupposetKat (iod, who \\m limited thjjrapacity of us
women to reason an Compared with tnan, has g^n to
us this faculty of intuition by which we can know^ -
Would that it were followed more often ; would that its
warnings were ever heeded I Such were the thoughts
that chased each other through my brain as the long
hours passed, and then they seemclfl to twine themselves
together into a network that left mc powerless to follow
them and unravel the tangle. Qh, it was a weary ride !
Overhead hung the mooh now light, then darkened by
flitting clouds, with a (l^s^ars showing here and there
in the sky. On all sidlBjf us floated a dim silvery haze ,
that made it appear as if we were going through Dream*
land; dark shadowtoof trees, fantastic rocks that might
have been throwp here and there by giants at play, and
a road that turned and twisted like a serpent's track,
full of stones and boulders, on which our" horses con- "
tInuaUy stumbled, but, mercifully, did not come down
and bring us with them. There was one advantage we
derivei from these boulders. They k^pt the horses and
ourselves from sleeping, for af*er a stumble and a jerk,
both beilist and rider began to see the folly of nodding,
and bravely strove to keep awake. At last we came
to something that looked like level ground, and Lalande
suggested that we should increase our pace to a canter, .
addiiig tni\y enough that it would rouse us all up. We
follov^edhifl advice, nothing loath^ and kept at this pace

irX:-

^•■.f

,'■.

Ml*

with occasional halts to rest the horses, for the best part

*• 7 .a

« "^S

i^:.

I ■^<:Ji::

h:K^''''.

-jf^^^

-v

THE HEART OF DENI8E.

of the. night. At last^ however, neither Mousette nor
myself could endure going on longer, and indeed our
horses were as much, if not more worn out than we were,
In short, wewere so fatigued that I had got into a frame
of mind in which I did not care what happened to me,
one way ot the other, and Mousette, poor girl, was cry-
ing softly to herself, though she kept her way with the,
greatest courage. This being the case, I called to La-
lande^ that we could not go on any further ; but at his
intercession we made yet another effort, and at la^ we
halted near a clump of teeches, close to fhich a small
brook purled by. / 1 do not think I shall" evey forget the
kindness and attention of the honest f'ellow. He made
us as wmfortable a resting-place as he could contrive
with fh:e aid of saddles and rugs, and then, giving us
some wine to drink, bade us sleep, whilst he retired a
little distance-^^not to rest, feut to attend to the horses
and feeep a watch. So utterly tired out were we that
•we must have fallen asleep at once, and the sun was al-
ready rising when Lalande aroused us.

" l^ madame does not mind,'' h(B said, '^ it will ho
well if. we move' further up into i\i%\ wood yonder and
rest there, whilst I go to a village hard at hand, and
procure some food, and -takfe news of the state of the

To this I assented readily, and after walking for about
a quarter of a mil« we found a spot which exactly suited
our purpose, where both we and the horses could be
concealed for the remainder of the day, if it was so
necessary, without any fear of discovery. Lalande then
started off for tWe village, and wre waited his coming
with a hungry imnaiie^e, taking, however, the. oppor-

■1 '■■■■

G. 5^

AT TUB aiGN Of TUS GOLD

tunity of his absence to make a forest tftilet. It was
some time before the ^lAry came back, and we were
just beginning to be alarmed at his absence when
he appeared, bearing with him the things he went to
procure, and whilst Mouaette and I were eating, he told
us what he- had found out, adding : ^

"I regret that madame will n*)t be able to travel by
d&ylight^that croquemort la Goquille and his gang
passed through St. Bathilde yesterday, and are in the
neighbourhood, and not they alone, but one or two
others of like kidney.' We shall hav6 to make our way
as best we can by night."

But this was too mueh— not for anything, .was I going
\to endure the misery of last nigiit over again, and I
/argued and expostulated with Lalande, Mousette Join-
ing with me witif shrill objurgations, and^ fit last the
poor fellow gave in, but I confess with^vetyj bad grace,
grumbling a good deal to himself aW-d^laring he
would be no longer responsible for our safety. I own
now that We were wrqjig in persisting as we did, but I
put it to.any one if they would have, endured. what we
had to endurfe without protest ; and then wewerewomen,
and I ank afraid possessed some of that contrariness of
disposition which I have heard the opposite sex ctedit
us with-^t^ough for pure, mulish obstinacy, give me
a man who thifiks he has'made up his mind.

Lalande wai, however, determined upon one thing,
and that was to avoid the main roa^, and as rhad so far
successfully opposed his plan of forcing a night jour-
ney,! did not feeV justified in making further objections,
and allowed him to follow the by-paths he chose without
further protest, though indeed, it was. as if there was

I •*'

^■ f \t Ul

■ ■• "1

'■■''I?
'tti ■

■^m

.ii;.i'.il.,

;\ .'•■

ri"

• I;

m.-

"ii: I:

TBMI nBABT OF DBNI8S,

some truth Ai Mousette's remark of last night, that he
was choosi^the most difficult tracks to show how well
he knew the way. We now entered the mountains of
the Limousin* and what would have been a mile else-
where, became three here with the up& and downs, the
turns and twists. For miles we passed never a human
habitation, except, now and again a few woodcutters'
huts, and sometimes a small outlying farm, and I felt
the justice of Lalande^s remark, when lie def ended him-
seM from a sharp attack by Mousette, by saying he had
chosen this road b^se it was safe from gentlemen like
la Coquille, who-nl^ found any bones worth the pick-
ing on it, and therefore left it and its difficulties severely
alone— though, of course, ther6 was the odd chance of
'our meeting them, and so again to the old argument of
ti-avelling by night. As we went on the scenery became
-Wilder and more sa>age, a^^ ^nce a large grey wolf,
with two cubs by her side, appeared on the track about
fifty paces or so in front of us, and after giving our
party a qUlet survey, and showing us a line of great
gtronglieeth as she snarled on us, trotted calmly off with
Ker family down the hillside. Both Mousette and my-
self were not unnaturally alarmed ;' but Lalande, with
a "Never fear, madame, there is no danger," kept
quietly along, thou^hj saw that he had pulled a pistol
from his holster. As the "day advanced we becapie
aware that the sun was being obscured by clouds more
often than it should he at thia, time of year, and
every now and again giist^ of wind would race down the
ravines, and lose themselves with ominous warnings
through the forest. StilV however, the horizon was
cl ear, and %h ab ove ill others we could make out the

',"1 -■ ■ •■ -■-

\M' « ■

/:^

-¥^^-t^~--

^r Tm SJON OF TBS GOLDSK ^^^- , ^^ /

crest Of Mount Odouze. I asked Lalande il>he thoU|^'
there wis likely to be a storm. > v

"It is hard^to tell, mad^e; storms come on very .
suddenly in these h^fUi H there is one i^l^^^t be
very bad, for we can see the Cradle, as tha dip be-
tween the two peaks of Mount Odon^e is called, quite

(iistinctly." - . , ^ 4:u«f

But though he spoke thus reassurmgly, I saw that
he increased the pace, and that ever and again he wou^
scan the horizon, and look up at'the sky Once when he
thought I had caught him, he explained as be pomted

^^"Tis a red eagle, madame, that must have flown here
from the Pyrenee^a long journey. See-there-it la-

that speck ia the sky.'' , v

I followed his glance, but could make out^^l^ng. -

"Youhave sharp eyesight, Lalande," I said witi^p*le,
and then the matter dropped. • I could not, how^but
think how good a heart was beneatb that rough exterior,
and not the finest gentleman I have ever met could
have behaved to us with more chivalrous courtest than
did that simple under officer of horse. A little past mid-
day we rested for an hour qr so, more for the sak^ of
the a^als than ourselyn, and then^ntinued our

iourney. , 7 , ■> ^ i

« We should make St. Yriarte by about three o clock,
madams," said Lalande,^!' and there is a smaH inn there
kept by my sister and her husband, 'for we are of the
Limousin. It Is called * The Golden Frog.' We will
stay there, for the night, and a loiig^march to-morrow:
will bring us to Meymac by nightfall." • .-;

"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Mousette, * i or every

. ■' '■* •' .:r,|

.■ .'■'', '''-'k-H '

"-^,

lii;

ea ^ naf iri?iiii^ of Dmim

bone in my body .aches as il some one had b^tk

""is the time passed, bringing with "it no storm, I begah
•■ to think we were sale Ironi that annoyance, and at last^.
from the crest ot thill over *hich we were ndmg wc
suddenly came in sight of St. Ym£U, lyihg b^ow w «v
a Uttle valley. As we did sp^tSESde called «ut, W^
Sill be there in half an houn madam^and save alK
dianceof a wetting for to-night." ^ ^ , , ■-,.
It took us a little time to descend the slope of the
ikhai. but after that we came to more or less level ground,
and in a few moments reached the gates of Uie inn, ^
»-hich stood in a large garden scjne way apart from
the haiilet, for St. Yriarte could he called by no other

"^As'werode^ili a dog commenced to bark; Laljmde ]
■• called out" Jeanne! Jeanne !" and on o-ir haltmg
, near the entrance, gay with honeysuckle, in full bloom
" Lalahde's sister and her. husband came oiit to meet us,
and seeing him,.lell to embracing him, and there w^s an
animated converse carried on by all three at once, wMsl
Mouse^te and I were kept waiting, Whilst «eMtte

imtiently, I began to look ""^'"^'/"V'il^ m'
time became aware of the pr^e««e of a stranger Uc
had been sitting on a garden seat, halMidden by the
■falling honeysuckle, but, a« my eyes fellvon him, ho
rose politely, and stood as if in doubt, whether, he
'. should offer to assist me to dismount, or not._ ile
■ , was a tell well-built man, with aquiline features, fait
-hair, and blue eyes, and wore a short pointed^ beard
slightly tinged with grey. His dress was smjle though
ri ch, and it was e as y to gee that, whoever he was, he.

was a pe

^^m^'-

^getting j

oift^ar]

^H.'

V "Of c\

have the

^'^^H

I eaw

^^^B

rious loo

he stepp

cign acc<

<'wm

- '"I^l

alight ?

ie Che\

Colonel

heard."

I becj

' this was

. '

was he

^ himself

all was

I thanl

5, mount,

'4
1^

"Ma

• I have

t^ comes

the.gF<

' here.?*

Igl.

The e

d,epths

- which

AT THE BJON OF THE GOLDEN FROQy 68

■:■■: \

["'It

was a per^ori of soije Consequence. Thi position was
getting just a little absurd When Jeanne's voioe rang

"^^ Of^^ I Of course^! Madame de Lorgnac shall
have the-bektA^can provide." • - - V

I eaw the stranger start pereeptibly, and an odd cu-
rious look came into his eyes. Then as if with^ari e^rt
he stepped forwkrd, and lifting his hat 6ai d ^^^

ci)m accent! - ^ '-'lu^tri

'> Will Madame de Lorgnac permit me to assist her to
aliffht? I hiive the honour to be known to Monsieur
le Chevalier de Lorgnac. My name is Norreys-
Colonel „:N:orreys, of whom, perhaps, you may haye
■ heard'* ' 'W ^ ■*';■. ■■

I became almost sick with fear, aiid apprehension, for ^
this was the very man whom I least wished to*meet. It
was he who had borne the order concerning me to de^
%„ __„ • He must therefore Ittiware that, my pmence

T^js.

th^^meaht that I was in fl|ht, He acknowledged

himself to ^e a friend of my.husband, aud I felt th^t

' nil was losWJf ustering up as much coujage as I could

I thankedmi for his ^r, and he helped me to dis^

mount, saying as he did^ ^ '\-...^i- ' =, . -^, ^

"Madame will find the inn morre thaWomfort^^.*
I have been hepfe for two days awaiting a ^riei^Il he

comes this evening 1 shall have to leaye to-morlPI^ vfith
^ the gpeatest regr^. It has been so quiet and peace^

' here/* ' ''"'

I glanc0d at Him again. It was a Strong, good face. '^
The eyes looked at me >n^y,,and, in their clear
depths I could see no deceit. That woman's instinct of

- which I have spoked, told me at once that here was a

•'■>*■;

tell: ), pr:;||l

•^^

. . H.

'.«'(

fet tiid same JEee!

.^I p.— - '..-^ me' when'e-ver
Ma^^Slliore base thali

|""Eieur,di l^ojs, will you se«.n«toV "oW^

H" t ^^^ - :^elooked a4itfe%risca, but bowed. "H there
^'>,- \^Msl<^ command ™=.

- • .i|r^ ;^ coia^analrmal, and chUkd me. • Then

• it&ev^nt m,. goiuf tutther. ; What dee eouU hav ^
i b^^t hte to aa'^tit-of-the-vray place ?^Mh^ #1
looked a gentleman 4tt* man of honqur.and 1 would
^4f, dictates 4?*. beirt,*9* |

■ ■■hi&.:inerc3r.>' \- ■v'f;': ■■■^' ■ ^ " '■''" ■■'■■■■■-■■' ^

, ■:/■

'*^.

\i'

;>•

^*^

CHAPTER VII.

Now do 1 xcv^ently thank God that by Hie mercy
I was strong enough to take the course I adopted. lor
had I not done so, I know not what had been njy fate .
On the surface, the impulse on which I had acted
seemed foolish and ill-advised, yet when I think over
, all calmly now, and especially of the circumstances^ that
llf^lcd to my meeting with Monsieur de Norreys and he
* 'kents which foflowe'd, I am sure and confident that the
Mefciful Power which had so far watched over me had
heard my prayers and answered them. At the moment,
iwever I did not know or think of this ; my pne idea
" to if possible, to enlist the Englishman on my
ie «l»^this was not to be, then I knew not what |
'^mL thitigh^he most desperate resolves were jiot-
in^inmyi4iS^ l^^ljoo excited^^o rest, but a bath^

Steadied my nerv«,ki^ them I sailor a^pa^^

ep^ii wto>w m^ ^all ?^pom to try^ ^^^ 7 "^^
^ my int^ptiew ^it M.,^ ^orreyS. ^^e clouds

seemed to W^^m^m^^^S^^ M thS ^
mountains tliere^a#;0y banlilhat showed th^

Btorm w^s boverf^ig Over u,, and the wind still bkw-^
unrMain ^sts. ge^w me-I^lande was attend^N

.U,-i

r. .-K'.'

:iM ■• •»

l3'-%''i:'

i„g to uL ho™«. and a bo.^ot -^^^^^

del of the i«-^'»-l«»°r7: tJ^lXan»^amP-»' ■
„„t noticed bo o»-ndth^t^»;^-«^ J'^^ J ^

"^^r"^; ^t a* to whir the t~»P» bolongcd.lhc^
had any do»M aB to «*»m ^^ ^^^^ P ^^ ^^ ^

were set at rest oy ui*5 b towards the inn,

Jwta but ealh effort seemed to be worse than the.
eay to h.ta, '^"Vff? , .^i„^i t„ si^Aply throw myself
•°''rl,>ai; and st^T he hazard^ ■

a it .ame to a struggle ^^^^^IZLrAi one
pend upon-a brave on^. ^^^^^ ,ay but
poor man do «g^'"^^''»/„hich had come so suddenly
the one way ^''^^^//^f^^fau^ounting at the door
to me. Now I heard I^O"^ hesitation, I took my

coming in, '^nd handea^ ^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^j

*^ ":S^-e 'tnelayea . Jittle longer |«

te,V The last ^-^^rC^f ^"iSh^

all but took

lor " ^ The last woras, uicci°»- - . ^'. ^ ^ .1^

-Ich, appeared t otneto convey a ^^ ^^ I"'*
^^^^lEs ■ and as a natural resuITaU

nmtAenBD.

away from me the power of 8aymg-anyth,ng. Muster-
iil-P courage, however, I took the eha.r he offered.
Lying. «» I '"^ '»' '"^'" y" ?"' '"^ "''*"• ""'°"'
'^^« Thank you," came the answer in the same set tone,

ai^l then he fixed hi« eyes on me with » /^'^ Y/hS
in which, however, there was mingled, as I thought,
much repressed curiosity.; + ' 7" ' - , .,

" Momieur de Norreya," I began desperately, « you,
cannot bnt be awarg^hat I'fuUy unde%n4 why you are.

""ho started ,lightty. but i««overed hiK|at oueo,
thouffh he said nothing. ; ; _

" ind, monsieur,>^ I wont on,' « I have come to throw
mvself on your mercy. Monsieur, you. look a gen-
tleman. What object can yoi:^gain,by carrying out your .

" orders against a poor weak woman, whose only end is to
hide heml!'frotn:the 'world? I have done 11^ wrong,
monsieur, and i^ you knew my stoBjgggould pUy me
_I ask you as a i gentleman— as a mflT^Thonour..^ ,^ •
"Mddame," he interrupted, genuine amaze in hw;
voitie, "I do not understand. As f ar as I am ^^onc^d

you Ire as free as air. 1 know y«^^-*^^.*J^^f „^
my friend deLorgnac, 'and my only regret is, that I am

unable to offer you my escort -'V ;^ • _ .

« Say that again, monsieur. ^ Do^you-me^n your

business here lias nothing to do with "i^ ^'.- ;, ^
« Absolutely jiothing, madamev I. am. afraid you have

;alanned youirielf needlessly.*\ • V .. ^ a^
:*But M. a(#erm«t.tol4 W l^e B^id youlmd^^^
to P^rigueuiJ^l^ll^ deliver^ over to W M*^
" M adamftirvjj ^ j gl ^cessaty f or flomg so, a^ |

J,. .

« !t:

,'4

ri«.

t ,t

- It

'4'

. J'.f

%g^BM OFPSmSB!.

i H
III I k

1.4
i!h'

I"*

i'lr

1» fl^' '■"■"" •' ■

i( I w« not certain thSt you mu,t be mi.«ke.a wouU

,. mo&*T,thaf:it U UBolesB, even m kmdncss. to h|.

^our oilers froAi me." „„;i nf tlie

■ Tl^n I told him briefly o£ my marnage, «"* rf *e
xuc" * _ whilflt he leaned backii in

circumstances a^M.ng^t^^^^^^^^^^ ^,^^ ^ j.^^,^

t.« *f»"jrtok^a^.^ might have been cut out

f:.lKw ' tlrS was that as 1 spoko I
"JS^I^citea. and my ton^e .w. ^^^
„-«lin8tle torgfial, whom, to my sorrow, I "P^ffflaeu

He stopp^a '?'lJ'feX; ^.Madame de Lorgnae,
rising from his seat, faced me. . j^^g„ i have •

IteUyouagain yyouarent My^; ^ ^^^^,

notMng to do with yow

with your movefnont B

have B

^^r^'^gnaei^riend.a^dlno^

see

•/■■

?«■

VNHASKKD.

. „. iho other man i^ It Ifl not my l.abil to meddle

hSer peoplo'- a«ai« ; but, boeuu«c>de I..rgnac »

!^ wtk "m tell you ....nething thatWiU gwe you

tZ % tl 1 otll^e authority ot the Mar^uU
n lormont vol. have aceused me of playing catch-
,„ St no a matter that troubles me. my honour -

P" V irwns but YOU have alBO accused your hus-
8 m safe keeping , bui you uu L„rima*

1,.„>(1 and mv friend, and believe MlaiBO Mo i»rgn»<.
Tt an a,raLih, and capable of forcing a marriage on
u Jtrolke of your wealth ^"^ r:^^
L the sake of de U.rgnac, you shall know the truth.
"I listen, monsieur." _^ •„„„ w that

"I'll tell you. At a supper party given by that
.„, ll:L/of a King of you., a certain matt«w^
aiJussedther..a»noa y^^^^^^

out on of it had to be t"'>PPyif>^pf , , . :+

cuuon oi (iiffiP ac would iUKJOpt it.

"n tCw n iS aWoC, after the fashion
!; yorJourt. began to boa,t openly of his conquests
and spoke openly of your favour.'
" Monsieur, Iww dare you i n.

"Madame, it is the fashion amongst your fine gen Ue-
' T, KW.this iWiU do de Clermont the justice

rL?;:tfw:^:otL:iorhewasnot^^^^^^^

man'who spoke is dead, so let his name pass. But

Tavannes wL there, a«d had to be -koned -th^ J^ 1
Kins offered to have you married, and the marsnai
tat olThat he wonld give you to th^ fi|rBt man who

asked."

trtrr

^*-

■'** ill-

» *:.

■K-'

■as,; ', • •

W ■\.' : ■■■■■■ \.
■■■'•. .1 ■«.. . . J'

/'I

TUB JJJSAliT OF DBNWS:

p ill 1.

"Blaise do.Lorgnac was on guard at the door. Ho
had heard every word, and now stepped forward and
claimed your hand, olTering aC the sanio time to under-
take the affair for which an agent could not be found.
His offer was accepted, and in the early morning, \\m-
dame, in the yard of la Jtouchcric, where 1 had thu
honour to be your husband's second, your traducer met
with his death, and with his last breath confessed that
he had lied. That was the very day, madame, that you
foplishly rode out with de Clermont. Stay, there is
yet a little more, and that concerns the despatch. My
business at P6rigueux was to give an order to de Termes
to receive at St. Priest-Taurion a prisoner of state, who
was to be handed over to him by myself and de Cler-
mont. I am here to receive that prisoner, and it is
Blaise de Lorgnac who is entrusted with the duty of
taking him alive. The duplicate despatch, if there is
such a one— and you say you have seen the cover — does
not refer to you, and de (Mermont has lied. I will settle
with him for using my name ; but, madame, you arc
as free as air, and may go where you like, and for Blaise
de Lorgnac's jsake I will help you all I can— and this is
.all." ,■: ■■'■-■--^r-:' -'■ -— ,. ■.-:-■•■.■-■■-■ -. ■

"Oh I I don't know what to think." »*^

" You are free tl go, I say ; and as de Clermont will
bo here soon, and not alone, I would advise an immed%
ate departure. I will detach a brace of lances to act as
further escort, and let me give the order now. Iwill
be back in a ^QineniK*^;^^^^^- ^^ ' :^^

He did not wait for my reply, but turning on his heel
stopped out of the room, and I sat with my brain burn-
, and my head between my hands. I could not doubt

L^iT

UNMASKKIh

■i

this Htory, and if ever woman paHsed through a furnaco
of Hliunio and angor I <lid m in those fow ininutca. I
now knew wluit do Lorgnac wau. I now for the first
time saw do Clermont in hi» truo eolourn, with liitt mask
off ; and yet— and yet— perlmpn NorreyH wan iniutakon
about him. I had proved myself to l>e ho utterly wrong,
to have jumped to conclunions m rashly, that I 4ared
not sit in judgment any more on a soul, and whilst I
, lloundered on in this way NorreyH came baek.

"I have arranged everything, madiimo ; the orders
have been given to your people. They will bo ready
to start in a half hour. AWbut midnight you should
reach Mille('rancheti', and I should halt there and go on
with the morning," '^

" Monsieur, Kow can 1 thank you ? I have no
words."

" Let the matter rest, Madame de Lorgnac," and then
his voice took a gentler tone. "I would not urge y6ur-
going at once except that we are on do Clermont's own
estates, and ho has a hundred lances with him at his
Chatep^^errand. It is shut out from view by the
hills, \^-fjp1ie8 yonder." t^Q .pointed to the west
through the open window, and as h^ did ,80 an exclama-
tion of surprise burst from him, and he crossed him-
self. .;:■■• ■ ■.■■■•," '".-^ ■'■• -' -''

I followed his glance and saw, high in the heavens,
hanging over the mountfiinous pile of reddening clouds
that lay in the west, the grim outline of a vast fortress.
The huge walls reflected back with a coppery lustre the
red light of the sun, and i^ was as if we could see Sgures
moving on the ramparts jtA the flash of arms from the

ill

battlements. From the flag-staff on the donjon a broad

-7^

^■

.1 1 >.

THE HEART OF HBNISE. v

II:-.

banner flaunted itself proudly, and so clear and distinct
was tjie light that we made out with ease the blazon on
tTie standard, and the straining leashed ounces of the
hoHse of Clermont-Femnd. And then the clouds took
a duskier red, and the solid mass of castle faded away
into nothing. I stood still and speechless, and Norreys
burst forth, "Sorcery, as I live. Madame, tliat was the
• Chateau detegrand.^^.. -^ ,

I had never seen the like before, never again -did I m
it, nor do I wish to, and it left me so chilled and faint,
that Norreys noticed it at qnce a:nd called for wine. As
he did so,. r fancied that I heard the titeaa of a horse'a
hoof, but paid nO attention to it j and then the wine
came and I drank, he standing over me. I wds just
setting down the glass when there was a grating at^he
etftrance, a long shadow fell through the doorway,, and
de Clermont stepped in ;nfith. a cheery ^^ Good-day,
Monsieur de Norreys. I see you have not been neglect-
ing your time here. Arni^ieu! 'D&niie \ Is it you.?
You seem to be forever dropping from the cloiids across
my path,^' and he helA o«t hisVnd'^; but I took -no
noticejthough I rose from my chair, ancl Norreys merely
bowed frigidly in return to- his greeting.. De Cletmont
seemed in nowise discon<jerted, but the^.wias an angry,
"flash in his eyes, and for a second he stood tapping^ the
end of his boot. wit!ih^s riding^whip, and looking from
orie% another of ^^^BSjt^^ on his Jips. Then

putting his plum^lpiil^e^^^ mA drawing off his
gloves, he ^rnl^^ff^^ a #ilecL msolenc© in every
i^one of his voic^;;^^)Oii*my w^
congratulate you, an^it we^ Iq^Iq?? (»ir business I
wouI4 leave you in peaoe^ foi" madame sfeems to have

* " 4'' - " - I ^

\ . *

UNMASKED.

learned the lesson that * It is well td be off with the old
love before you are on with the new/ " 7

He had grasped the weakness of the situation /t ^ ; •
"glance, and took JfuU advantage of it, but though out- -
wardly cool and self-possiessed there was death m his
eyes. I could bear it no longer, and turnet^^to leave the
room. He rose from his seat, saying, "Pray do not
leave* us, madame^you look pale, though, and perhaps,'
need rest. . I trust, however, your indisposition has
nothing to do with the sight I observed you patching r
from the window. Do you know what it means ? " anc^
he turned- to Norreys. C ■ .

In spite of mysejf I stopped for in instant ; but Nor- ~
reys ignored him, andr de Clermont went on : \

" ft means, monsieur, that this apparition is always •
seen when a man dies by the hand of deClermont-Fer-,
•rand." ■ .,.".;.■.; '' '■ ,;"/■ ^ •'.>,"■ ■■ ,";.'■« 7

Norreys simply bow^, thojigh I thought I heard the ^
ward " bolster '* muttered between his tcfeth, and, turn-
ing to me, said, " Permit mc," madame," and: gave me •;
his arm to take' me from the cGf^m. " :v .

Outside, in the ^narrow passage tliat led to my cham^
]ber,vhe stopped and iield out his hand. ' y^* •

" Let raie. say^ adieu* madame. \ I would accompany ■'
you if I could, but it js- impossible. .^I would advise you .^
to leaveat once before a*iy of M. le Mirciuis's;me'n come •
'up. I can' see he IS ripe f0r mischief ."^ "^ - -* • °

■■" Moiisieur d^ Norreys, i am ^o fol^^-s^F can under- 1
stand. For ifiercy's sake avoid a quarrel with, de C(ler- v
mp^t. H(B is a'd^a^jy swordsman, and if anything hap-^ ;
pfcns to you, I shaft teel all my life thait I ^as the cause .

of it;. God ^nows l/Owe you much, |or you hive t^

V ' . ^■;>..--;:\, ■■■;■ '■■-..'' /■'■:■, ■ ■: '■-. ;•- '■\., :. - * . • ■ ^' ."■.,':

*.-■

'"<!

-'^x.

■Jf s .

fk' 'ill

I i !i

/■■■*'V

I TffE HEART okDENISJS.

opened my eyes. Promise mfe, monsieur, promise

me ! " >

"Madame, the use of the sword is not confined to your

country nor to de Clermont alone;" and then he saw
the tears that sprang to my eyes. " Ah ! mkdame, not
•that ; you will unman me I ^e, there is your equerry. ^
Commend me , to de Lorgnac. when yott»» meet, and
adieu!" .. f . .

He dropped my hand and tuAed on his heel, but I
could not let him go like that.*' - ^'

" Monsieur, not that way. Promise me what I ask."'
" I promise to avoid a quarrel \f. possible'; I can say
no more^" With that he went, erect and stately. Of
what followed I never knew ; but, alas !■ There is one
.sorrow that ever haunts me ; and iii the quiet church-
yard of'^t. Yriarte is a tomb w^hich I visit yearly with
my husband, arid it covers the = hear! of as brave and,
gallant ia gentleman as ever lived— poor^^Norrejjg^!

r „

I'. ••'

. ^

— I-

K .*

CHAPTER VIII.

BLAISE DE LOBQNAO.

«'1

We lost no time in setting forth from The Golden
Frog, and as Lalande had apparently been warned by
Nomys of the danger of our meeting any of de Cler-
mont's following, we pnee more left, what b^ a stretch
I might call the direct road, and again took to the" hill
tracks, where our wearied beasts, whom from my heart
I pitied, stumbled slowly and painfully along. "

But if the beasts were wearied, how was it with myself
and my maid ? I wm Ible to keep up, no doubt because
of the mental exci&aient ^under which I laboured;
"hut r have never undiersto^ how my faithful Mousette
endured that journej)^ it Was iii truth a road of sulfer- "^

ing.. \;,-; :.-f-:. ;: -v-J--^--^- .. V-..'; •.:.,:■ :■::■'■■.:»■■ . :■

I siWly Avent on mechanically, my mind a prey to a
thousand cojijfcin&v emotions, and to thoughts that
chased one JBP^Cifc.^cross Jt Ijkd' dry aftd fallen leaves
in a forest giad(^l(>w|j hitlicr and thither by an autiimft
%ind.*^Itha3^ru^iAe^ as there. ^^ to be

feared fro^ de Termeg, that 1 sfe^d order LalandO/
to turn and guide me back to Madame and P^rigneux ; -
'biit;de Clermoni; barred the way, and it was better after
I §11 to push on'^Eo M^mac, and there with a cooler head
than. I now ppss0ssed, decide what to do. What had I
.not*.^8sedtlirou^ within the last few- hours ? I had
' . mal^r^Tcible enongli for mysllf by juT^ping womanlike
/'''■■'■ •'•'°' ::-.;.. .-^^'^ .■.■;,'• . ^'■-■•■.v ,. .:l:-^-"-r' :/^7iS- ■■r- .

f~i

■^

» .\'

^:-V^

THE BEAUT OF DEmSE,

p:.

to conclusions, axid imagining that the postscript of de
Termes' letter to his wife referred to me,;whereas it
clearly concerned s^me one else. That Was perhaps a
pardonable efror considering the circumstanca^ ; but'
there were other things, and even now my faceVgtows
hot when I think of them. \ ;

My nature is proud \ That can never alter, though
sorrow and many a bitter lesson has brought me good
sense ; but it cut like a knife to realise how I^had been
fooled by de Clermont, ani| how near I hM been to fall
a victim to a pitiless libestine. It is a' bad and cruel
lesson for any Woman-to l^arn that she has been the
sport of a man, ten times bad and cruel if the woman be
proud and high-spirited. And as for de Lprgnac I did
. not know what to think. My mind concerning him was
a chaos. I had misjudged him, wronged him utterly ;
but it was gall to me to know that he hadVstood forth
■as my c'hampiqn. It was bitterness untold to think 'that
\I must humble myself in my heart before him ; I could
never do so in words to his face, if ever we. met, ai
daughter of Mi^ux could not do that. It was awful to
think that hisjj^ hands were red with blood for "my sake,
and X shuddered as I reflected that I had been as it Were
the inmiediate cause of a frightful death ;. de Lorgnac
had no business to kill that man whoever lie was ; he .
had no right to make me feel almost a murderess ; land
withal there rose in my heart a kind of fierce pride iii
the man who could do this for my sake, and ^ Joy I
could not make out because he was other than 1 took .
him' to be — -Ibec^use, in short, he was a gallant gentle- ^,
man, and not — oh ! I need say tio more. ""
Wheii we had travelled for -about the space of two .

•I

■XV.

/',■■

iiLAjmB DAmmNAo: o

■■)?

^\-

hours the horse of one of the two troopers, \^hoiii M*
Norreys in his kindness had lent to me, fell whilst ctmfii
inga water-cutj and on exammation it was found to be
sd hurt that it was irapossiSld(, for it to continue the '
'journey to Millevranches. It wks decided , that the two
men should be left behind ta return to their camp — they
had not far to g(^-and that ^e should press on as before."
I gave the good fellows a brace of crowns apiece, dnd
commending myself to M. de.Norreys, we went on, the
sheep track— I can call it by no betfef name— now pass-
ingihrough all the wildest scenery sii^rrounding the Puy
de Meymac, ^

" If 'luck befriend us, madame, ani the storm which-
ha| kept off so* long does not come, \we should reach
Millevranches in a little over tiyo hourt," said "Lalande
V to me as we rode down a narrow and ste^ desdint.
\ "Why should the storm come on now'^?' There is no
breath of; air stirir|ng5> and the moon is clear."
, \The equerry did not reply until reaching the more
leyel ground at the foot of the incline down, which we
; had ridden, and then, pointing behind me, said simply,
'^ Look, madame ! '* - ' •

T)irpi^, I saw that half the arc of the heavens was
ofeeeured as it wereby a thiqk curtainithat hung heavily
and sullenly over it, and as we looked a chain of fire ran
across the blackness, t'lie distant roar of thurfder came •
to us, add then a low, deep moaning vibrated thrdugh
^he air. ► . 1/ , \

" The storm is afoot^I fear, madame. We must press
on and cross the Lux^ge, which thoug'h narrow enough
to jump over now, may in an hour be impassable, and
with, the darkness it will be impossiblo to tell the way."

.>'

i,*

(1.

;v-

TU^ BSAUT^Q

^B.

it.T ■„

Lt tlws speech MouBette ^ave a littl6 cry of alarm,
imi then, het f ears overopnilng her, began, tc^ declare
thai, she Wuld go.w) furtheir, and begged us ^o' leave

' her mwe to die, t<:fll\kUled b| the storm or eaten up by \
the wolvei it did notVm^t,|er which, either alterjiative
was preferable ik g«ing\o^^I tried all I could to pacify
the poor girl, butj sne vv%|3 getting into a state of hysteri-
cal excitement, a^absoVteiy refused to moV,e, though
every morhent Vas\ preciious, a:iid the dead\ stillness
formerly aroind Us\wa§ now awake With the V voice Apf

',th^ coming Vstorm. A At ilast I began to\ despa\r

,of moving^ hei when vLalande said grirhly, "Ij^ave he
to me, madame. I am an md married man.p' Then
bending forward he seized my bridle and with a cool
"Adieu, mademoiselle 1 i hope you wiirnot disagree

\with the wolves,Y to Mousettfr, began to urge our it)east3
forward, notwithstanding my protests. iBut the issue
showed he was riglit, though I confess I wi|fs surprised to
see the way in which my maid recovered! her strength
under this rough-andrready treatment, foi\ in two min-
ute^ she was bustlii^g along at our hVels. But the lost
tim^ never came to .our hands again, and as we began to
Hescend the wooded slope towards th6 Lujcdge, which
\|^ c'puld hear humming angrily below\us,ithe stream

"burst with" a Shriek of the winds, and -atu absolute
d^rknogs, that ,was rendered more intense and horrible
by the vivid, ila«hes of lightning, 'and th^ continuojjs
rolar of thunder. In a trice Lalande had\dJsmounted
and taken us from tnrp horses^ and the poo? animals
seemed ^ overcome by fear or fatigue, or ^th conn-
bined, that they stood perfectly still. " ^. "v"
** It is death, madame,* attempting to. ride* lifow. Wei

w^l

■ .■'-." ■ -ria

WROWAa

must ge^ 1^0 the rivet on fobt.^ ^Saying this, Lalande
munaged 8(3(^me'Aow to get the hbraes iiK|ri)Dt of us, any
then, holding on to each othet land gui^4 by the in
cassant flaijhes oi lightning, Ve ppgan a 8lo\v ah4 painful
progress. \^ I\ soAn began to fetel the fatigue ak^^ex*
haustion Bo^Vchyhat I, in my ti^rn, begge4 tialand^
stop

" Courage JmydaVne, 'tis but a ^w yards mote to the
river bank," lie Answered, ** there w^ can stop and rest,"
\^and I took my. hearft up and strove \in^ards onee again.
At last, when within a few yards (if the river, I sank
down utterly exhaustM and u^abld 'toy move further, and
Mousctte alternately sbbbed and prayed over me j whilst
now and again I coul\i see the tall figure of Lalande
standing grim* and m^ionless, and once I fancied I
heard a deep oath. V ■ \ "^

He gave us some cognae from a flask he carried,, and
then there was nothing for it but to wait and meet death,
if it was so to be. Now there came a series of ligh|;nin
V flashes that lit up the terrific scene, and I almost gaspe
for right before me on a butting crag I mad| out a
small castle. Lalande saw it tOo, for he blew long and
shrilly on his horn, and then we Watched and waited
fpr a time that seemed interminable, when all at once
the flare of a huge beacon rose bright and red against

\ the darkness, and an answering bugle reached otir ears.^

I^alande blew again, and to our joy there was a reply.

•Strength came back to me, with the prospect of safety,

^ and rising to my feet I called to Lalande: " On J On ! " '
(He, answered, " The rivery, madame **

I looked, and ;«aw below me a white lashing floocb
Hhftt sprung and awirted pagt witln a savage roar. Thef/

■:\ ••v'\ • '

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.ff^yh'

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Hj .* .^i ■, ■ ,.

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•

%hMilng showed us the angry water, and the •wickfcd
dtncing foaiiij that secnicd to leap up in delight at\tli
prpspeefc of the black i^wirl below it dragging uf dowi
to \dea[th\ Then agam We heard t^e bugle notes, aW^
sawthe lights of torchWynd heard the shouting of, jni
from the "opposite banki \ ,

jet us go on to meet, thbm— wearesaVodl" 8crea\ific<l\
Moueiette, and holding on to each other we staggered
forwaVd past the horses, who stood all huddled together,
onljr to be &tppped here by the utter darkncsd^ and La-
lande. \ . ••■■.., •-''■.; :^■, ' '''v-- '%-■■'■: '-:'['

"Foi^the love of hee^yen, ra^dame, do not move," he
cried, " rGscue is cominj
." ■ ; ^And- it -^id come./: '■■:'-\ ' ,■ ■ '.^X'- vV :X>7':\/

All that I can re|nembey was seeing the light of many

.sputtering torches around us. Some one lifted nie in his

arms like a «hil(]j, and I heard a voice say/" Be careful

with the horses over the bridge, Pierre,'*/ahd then my

strength gave way. »

» *, ^ • ' ■ \;^- ■ ■ : ■ ■■: {. .. "■

I Tiad been asleep, asleep fm* ages il^i seemed/ and all
the past was a dream, tbank God!^ This was the thought'
that' struck me as I opened my\ eyes ; nut as I looked
around, I saw the room in which nI ^y was strange-
to me, and inch by inch everythmg ca^
cept the events hi the last moments b;^
my recoTleciion became confused. Alt
still the remains of the storm of laat iight were in evi-'
dence, and I could hear the water Wripping from the
. eaves, and through the /half-open ddtmer window, the
murmur of the Lux^ge; still angi^,\a|id uiiapp0a$ed,
reached inyeard.

le back-^all ex-
th^e river, where
rasidaylight, but

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"m"<

Where wis' J r^ I looked aMiit me, Wd found that\l
was in A large rdom, warm (mm the Meets of a huge
wood fire tli^i daiiped cheerily iM the firetolace. Leaninjr
on one elbow, 1 glanced still further abokt me, and saw'
that the furniture was of the Bame old and heavily
antique mpke that we had at MiiSix* The curtains of
the bed were, howtivet, worn aftd\ faded, the tapestry
on the wallp was older 'and more faded etillV; and then
my eyes were arrested by Hhe coatJbf-anns W oft
the jatonework of the fircplace^-two wolves' hi^ds, with
a mott^ so chipped and defaced thatvJ could not read
it. Whose was the device? I lay b&k and thought,
but coiild not make it out. Ceftainly iot that of any
of the great hoi^^p nc^bubt>n^y kind preserVer be-
longed to the lesJ^obintf--^but I eou^^ find out.
Then I closed mj^eyes once more and wpuld have slept,
but- was aroused by some one entering th\ room' and,

. looking up, saw Mousette

'"Ah ! madem^madame, I mean," she s^d eagerly,
" thank God, you^re looking none the worsV for that
terrible nigttt. iTOle thought we would eve^ live to see

daylight again,"

"Where are welMousettQ?;. Md who are ^e kind
people who saved usT" ' » * , y

"I do li;ot know, madame," sheanswrere^d quickly,
■^but we at^ the only w«men here. But," she rato on,
" it is mid-day and fouching the dinner hour. \Wijl

served here ? "
course, Mousette ; " and during ^he

^ I asked if the people of the hpi^sV
er""

madame r
"I wiU
course of m
knew wiio we
> "^^ I have n(J

ted anything,, madiame," replie

V. ■' • \f •. MM

'.-«'_i

♦i. ,&

"V^;-

'\m

\y-

TIIE UBARf OF DJiJilBE.

Mou^cite, with her face slightly turned away, ''and
LalaAde is discreet/^ . i,

I f^t that Mousette knew more than she cared to
tell ; ^it it is not my> way to convetse with servants ;
and finil^hing my dressing in silence, I asked her to show
pie the i^ay to the salon, and as I spoke I heard a gong

" Monsieur will he served at once," said Mousette.
"This^wa;^, madame," and opening tlie curtains of
the door, she led me down a series of windings
steps worn with the feet that had passed up and down
there for perhaps a coUple of centuries, and then, past
a long paiMige hung with suits of rusty armour and
musty trophies of the chase, to a large door. I gathered
that Mousette had been inaking good use of her time
whilst in the house, but kept Silent. The door was open,
and as I passed in Mousette left me. I found I was in a
room that was apparently used as a dining-room and sa-
lon m well. There was trace ^B^^ecent occupation, for
& man's hat and a pair of Icath^lm glove? somewhat
soiled with use were lying on a table,^d a great hound
rose slowly from the- rushes on the floor, and, after eyeing^
me a moment, came up in a most friendly manner to be
patted and made much of. A small table near the fire-
place was laid for one, and as I was looking towards it
a grey-haired and sober servant brought in the dinner,
and -^ th^n, bowing gravely, announced that I was
served. ' .

-/:

" Is not morisieur-^naoiisieur-^ ^ " I stammered*

" H^onsieur le Chevalier has had to go out dn urgent

business. He has ordered me to present his conipli-

ments to madame——^'/ / -.

.:/-^

lii::!;

;J'

" I aee ; m
Tlio man b
with the big dog

LOIIGNAO.

-V

)t (lino here."

lit down to a solitary meal
feet, and the Bilunt, grave at-
tendant to wait ori rae. lamused myself with the
hound, and with taking note of the room. Like every-
thing else 1 had seen, its furniture and fittinga seortied
a century old, and spoke of wealth that had passed away.
There was a sadness about this, and a gloom that sad-
dened me in spite of mydelf^lo Jhftt it .was with an
effort I managed to eat, and then, when dinner waa
over, X told the servant to inform his master that I
desired to thank him for the great kindness shown to
rae. •

"I will deliver madame's message," and with thit
reply he went. -

Left to myself, I went to the window and looked out
through the glazing. The landscape was. obscured by
a rolling mist ; but the sun was dissipating this bravely.
It was a wild and desolate scene, and, despite the sun-
light, oppressed me almost as much as my solitary meal,
so I turned back into the room, and, seating myself in
a great chair, stared into the fireplace, the hound
stretching himself beside me. I was still wearied, and
my thoughts ran slowly on until I caught myself won-
deringj who my unknown host was, and getting a trifle
impatrent, too, because he did not come, for I was
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Suddenly 1 heard a steady measured step in the pas-
sage, the, hound leaped up with a bay of welcome, and
as I rose froni my seat the curtain was lifted, and I stood
face to face with my husband. - _ __ _

" You t DeLorgnac I " I gasped. . . ^

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TffB MB! ART OF DBNI8E.

" Even I," he said. " I thought you knew. Ase you
none ^e worse for your adventure of last ixight ? " .

" I am quite well, thanks iff 'God." " An5 thanks to
you," I was about to add, but" my lips could not frame
the words, and I felt myself beginning to tremble.
Monsieur noticed this. ' > ?|^

"I am afraid you underrate your strfing^ ; do sit
down/Vhe said kindly. _

"I prefer to standi thank you,*Monsieur le Glievalier,"
and then there was a silence, during which I know not
what passed through de Lorgnac's mind ; but I, I was.
fighting with myself to prevent my hearf", getting the
better of me, for if so I wrfuld have to humble myself
— I, a daughei* of Mieux !- Monsieur broke the silenpe
himself. ,

" Deni^se, I give you my word of honour that I would
not have intruded, on you, but that you'asked to see me,
and I thought you knew whom you wished to see. Be-
sides, I felt- that I owed a little to myself. You have
accused me of being a dishonoured gentleman, of being
Uttle less than a common bravo, of wedding you to your
misery for your estates." He came forward a step and
looked me full in the face with his clear strong eyes.
" As God is my witness," he went on, "you are utterly
mistaken. I am going to-day on an affair the issue of
whicli no one. can foresee. Think ! Would I go \Sth
a lie on my lips ? Answer me— tell me. Whatever £lse
you may think, you do not believe this."
* I was fumbling with one ot his gloves, and could not
meet liis look, - • ' ,

"You put me in a difficult position, monsieur — ^this
is your own house."

11 ™

i'-

BLAISE DE LOUGNAC.

He looked about him with a bitter smile. „ "Yes— it is^
my house — hardly the house t6 whicli one would bring
the heiress of Mieux, — but is .that your answer to

And still I was silent. I could not bring myself to
say what he wanted. And now too it was not only pride
that was holding me back. I felt that if 1 gave him
the answer he wished, manlike he would begin to ^ress
his love on me, and I was not prepared for this. I did
not know my own feelings towards -him; but of one
thing! was sure^ — I would not be bound by hollow vows
that were, forced upon me, and so I fenced.

"This adventure of yours, monsieur — is it So very
dangerous ?" '^

"It is not the danger I am thinking of. It is your
faith in my honour. No man is blameless, and least of
all I. 1 own I was wrong — that I sinned grievously in
marrying you as I have. My excuse is that I lov^ you
,— that is a, thing I cajinot control. But I will ^fcl 1
can to make reparation. I will never see you » again,
and the times are such that you may soon be as free as
air. All that I ask is this one thing."

" But, monsieur, have you no proof — :nothing to
brin^ forward ? "

"I have nothing to offer but my word.".

"Tour word — your word— is that all you can say ? "

He bowed slightly in reply, but his look was hungry
for his answex; Still I could not give it, and played
with time. : ■ f

"You say yoil love^me. Does love resign its object
as you do— without a struggle ? If I believe one thing
I must believe all, monsieur. I canncrt believe a prof es^

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JirJK HEART OF DBNiaK

sion of love like yours " — how false 1 knew this to be—
"and the rest must follow." >

He twisted at his moustache .in the old way^ and I saw
his sunburnt face grow, asdt ivere on a sudden, wan and
haggard, and the pity that lies yi all women's hearts
rose within me. > -

" Monsieur le Chevalier, if you were to get the answer
that you wanted, would you still adhere to your promise
and never see me again ? "

" I have said so,"^he -said hoarsely.

" T^hen, monsieur, let me tell you that I have found I
was wrong, and that I do "believe your word— nay, more,
monsieur, I have -found de Lorgnac to te a gallant
gentleman— whom Denise de Mieux has to thank for
her honouf and her -lif e - -— ' V dlfc

" Denise ! " There was a glad note 'iJB^ voice/ and,
in a moment he had stepped up "to »jiie^ and I "had
yielded, but that I wanted this king amongst mien to be
king over himself.

"A moment, monsieur. Yop have given me your
word, be strong enough to keep it. I have learned to
respect aad honour you; but I dp not love you. You
must keep your word, de Lorgnac, and go — until I ask
you to come back.'*

Without a word he turned on his heel and walked to-
wards the door • but I could jiot let him go like that
\and I called to him. He stopped and turned towards
^ but made no further advance, and then I went up
to Mm with .my hand outstretched.

isieur, there is one thing more. I have the,
honour tVbe the wife of de Lorgnac, and for the present
I crave yout permission to make Lorgnac my home.

Will yoi
shake h

I tho
would I
thehagj

" Den
I thank
my fing

..\ ';-' - '". ' '^•'

BLAISE DE LORONAO.

V 87

Will you not grant ine this request ? And will you not
shake hands before you go ? "

1 thought I had tried him too far, and that the man
would break down ; but no, the metal was true. Yet
the haggard took in his face went out as he answerqd :

" Denise, Lorgnac is yours to its smallest stone, and
I thank you for this." Then he bent down and touched
my fingers with his lips, and was gone,

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CHAPTER IX.

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XA ooquille's message.

"Until I ask you to come back."

These were my own wofds to de Lor^ac, and they
rang in my ears as I listened to his foot^faSps dying
away along the passage. Would I ever call him back ?
It was on my tongue to do so as he went ; but I held
myself in, and began restlessly to pace the room, the
dog watching my movements wit*h his grave eyes. I could
not bear to have them fixed upon me — ^those eyes that
seemed to have a soul imprisoned behind them, and
that were so like, in their hoi)Lest glance, to those of my
husband. I bent down and stroked the great shaggy
head.

"If 1 but knew myself! If I but knew myself!"
I called out aloud, and^then moved aimlessly towards
the window. Here I looked out, but saw nothing of the
view, for I w;as looking into my own heart, and there
all was mist and fog. The more I tried to think the
more hopeless it all seejmed, and it came to me to
abandon my position, and, accepting my fate, make the
best of circumstances as other women had done. I could
give rrepect and trust • and as long ias my husband knew
this, and I looked after his comforts, he would never
know that I did not love him. I had seen enough of the

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lACOQUlLLE'a MESSAGE.

world to knowjbow selfishly blind men are in this re-
spect. But de Lorgnac was not as other men. I felt
that his keen eye would take in the part I was playing,
that his great love for me would penetrate and grasp
all my devices, and that he would feel that he Kad only
a wife — not a lover as well. What was this love that I
was in doubt about ? If it meant absolute sacrifice of
myself, then I could give it to no man. If it meant
respect, and honour, and adesire for a constant guiding
presence about m^, then I felt L could give that to
Blaise de Lorgnac ; but I felt, too, that more was due
to him, and it wasV^l tp w;9it— to wait until my heart
told ipe undeniably that I had found its king.

The neigh of a horse, and the clatter of hoofs on
s^ony ground, aroused me. Bending forward over the
window, I looked out and saw de Lorgnac and a half
dozen mounted men riding out of the coijirtyard. My
husband rode a little in advance, square and erect, his
plumeless helmet glittering in the sunlight ;« but he
never gave one backward glance to the window. Even
if he thought I was not there, he might have done so ;
he might have given me the chance. The men who
rode behind him seemed stout, strong fellows, though
their casques were battered and their cuirasses rusty;
and ais the last of them went :out I recognised la Co-
quille. I know I had no right to pick and choose for
de Lorgnac, but I would have given my right hand not
to have seen that swashbuckler riding behind my hus-
band. Such men as he were never employed on honest
deeds! With a stamp of my foot I turned from the
window and saw Pierre, the old servant, waiting pa-
tiently near the door, with a hug t ^unch. of k e ys on a

i'M

THE HEART OF DENJUE.

salver in his hand. As our eyes met he bowed to the
ground.

" I did not know it was Madame de Lorgnac who wus
here until an hour ago," he said. "Monsieur Ic
CheYaUer has directed that these should be given over.
to 3^u, and the household is outside awaiting madame's

-orders". ■ ' ■,-■■ V ■"■' ;.;,-. /.■ _'■ ;■ __•. . •). '.

Half amused, half embarrassed, I took the keys. I
felt sure de Lorgnac had given no such order, but that
^%3 WAS the spontaneous outcome of old Pierre's jfolite-
ness. " Fastening them in my girdle, I said, with as
gracious, yet dignified an air as I could assume, " Call
in the people, please."

Pierre bowed once more to the ground and vanished
tb reappear in two minutes with a well-grown youth,
and the two stood bolt upright before me. This was
the household of de Lorgnac, then. The smile did
away from my lips as I thought of the straits to which
a- gallant gentleman was reduced. ^"Pierre," I said,
"you must add Mousette, my maid*, to the household,
*^nd see that the good Lalande is well treated," and I
placed a small purse containing a half dozen or so of
gold crowns that I happened to have with me in
the old man'« hands. He held the little silken bag for
a Iboment, and then his face began to flush.
- >*" There is no need, madame ; we have enough."
" You forget, Pierre, what I am giving you is Mon-
sieur le Chevalier's, to whom God grant a safe return."
He took the money, though I saw a suspicious swim-
ming of his eyes, and I hastily asked :

"And do those men who rode out with Monsieur
belong to the household, too, Pierre ? "

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LA G0qVILlEi'a^ME88AaE, 9J

',•-,'■■■» ■ . *,

.4 " St. Blaise — no, madame ! They came here.but yes-
terday morning, and with.t;heir leader have ilrunk and
-sworn about the place ever since. They tilled the lower
^hall with disorder ; but they are stout fellows, and we
)iad hardly been able to help you so well last night but
for them ; they follow Monmejir le Chevalier for a littlo
time only."

I well knew for what purpose, but kept silent on that
point, saying, "And how far is Lorgnac.from here?";^
" The town you mean, madame ? "

"Precisely." -

" At the foot of the hill to the right of the chateau ;
. we cannot see it from here. Ah ! it was a line place
lintil Monsieur de Ganache, and his bandits of Hugue-
nots, came over from La Roche Canillac one fine (}ay
and put the place to fire and sword. MonsielJKe
Ohevalier jias vowed his death at the shrine of Uf i
Lady of Lorgnac, Ah ! he is § devil, is Monsieur de
Ganache ; he is with the Beamnois now."

"And is there any news of the Huguenots moving
now?"

" None, madanie ,' but Antoine the peddler of Argen-
tat says that a-gi^ lady from .Paris is at the ChMeau
de Canillac, and that Monsieur de Turenne, and many
a high lord from the south have been visiting her.
They will be tired of dancing and singing soon, those
hot bloods, and -we may have to look to the castle walls."

"This evening, then, you must take nie to Lorgnac,"
I said with a view to end the conversation.

**It is madame's order, but— — ^" and he stopped
short for a second, and then continued, "Antoine, the
peddler's daughter, w^ho married Gribot, th© wood-

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M\ -"li

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THE HEART OF DKN18E.

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man of Ijorgnac, has a cow and calf for sale, and there
ii none in the chateau."

" Then biiy it of her, Pierre," and with another low
bow the old man withdrew with the " houftehold," who
had evidently been trained in a severe school by Pierre,
for he had stood bolt upright like a soldier at attention,
and never moved muscle during the whole of the inter-
view. ^

• So my business as mistress Of Ijorgnac had begun;
but there were one or two things that required imme-
diate attention from me before I began my househohl
duties. I called Mousette, and going over the money
we had, found that |t' reached to 'about a hundred
crowns. This was enongji for all present requirements,
though I would wiant much more soon, if all the designs
that were Hitting through my brain, in shadow as it
were, were carried out; but that could be easily arranged
hereafter. Tlien I «aw Lalande, and informing him
that my journey was over, asked if there would be any
difficulty in his remaining at Lorgnac for at least a few
days, as I wanted his help. He answered that he was
at my service, and this being settled, I §et about ex-
ploring the quaint old mansion, and as I did so all kinds
of dreams of changing its cheerless aspect possessed me,
and the time passed on wings.

In the afternoon we visited the town. Alas I It
had been for a century but a hamlet, and all traces of
town, if ever there was any, had long gone. But small and
pooa* and obscure as Lorgnac was, the hand of ijVar had
not epared it, and blackened rafter arid fallen roof still
bore witness to Monsiexir de Oanache*B pitileflB visit,

Privation and want had left their marks on the faces of

By 4 ■v-

Zul COQlflLLK'S MEtiSAUE.

the score or so of inhabitaiita of llio village ; but when
lliey found out who I wus, i,h<}y oim^' forward eagerly,
and a small child, no doubt proy}[)ted by her eldera,
gave uie a bouquet of wild llowers, and I went back,
vowing in my heart that ere many weeks were over all
this would be changed. /\

That night as 1 sat before th^ huge log fire in the
Imll with More the hound — I found out his name from
Pierre — for the first time for mariy days my mind was
at rest, and I began to feel also, for the first time, the
glow that comes to the heart when one is able to help
one's fellow creatures. I knew I was young and in-
experienced, that my life, especially \Vithin the last year
in the poisonous air of the Court, had been made up of
frivolities and follies that had brought their o^n sharp
punishment with them, yet I had always in my mind
the desire for a nobler li^ where my wealth could bo
used to help the distress||||and as fiir as it could go to
add to the happiness of others. So far so good ;. but'
there was my own happiness and that of de Lorgnac to
think of. There was a great pity in my heart for him.;
but was it right to mistake pity for love, and give myself
wholly to a man to make him happy, to my own sor-
row? For the life of me I could ii€»t :see this. I felt
that a man who would accept sTIch a sacrifice would be
unworthy of it. But Blaise de Lorgnac was not of
those wh6 would do this. He was true metal. Was
there another man who would have acted as he di^—
whose love was so generous and yet so strong ? I dojibt;
it. I well knew the profession of a man's love, that
swore it was ready to die for its object ; but was unable
to abandon or to forego anything in its selfishness. ~

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the- love that wuh, an it were, in tl»e hollow of my luind
WU8 not m this ; and then I began to Heo the hidden
Heeret of my own heart, and eallod out aloud, " Como
buck, *de Lorgnae. Come back ! " But the echo of
the vaulted roof waB my only annwer. Yet that ni>,'lit
1 Hiept a happy woman, % 1 knew what it was now to

The days paused, and notwitliHtanding that I threw
myself heart and soul into my plans aljout Lorgnac,
there was an ever-eating care in my hear^, for no tidings
canio of my husband, and it^was not piiide now, but ii
shyness that 1 could not overcome, do What I would,
that absolutely prevented mo from making any inquiry,
though no doubt inquiry would have been fruitless and
vain. Listless and tired, I sat one day towards the after-
noon at the window by the hall, my favourite seat, and
looked down the winding road,l;hat clung to the side of
the steep rocks, hoping against hope that I should see
the great white horse, when suddenly I spied a horse-
man riding towards the castle;^ with a loose rein, and at
times he swayed from side to side like a drunkeli man.
In a moment I felt the worfit tidings, and knew that the
rider was bringing me sorrow. With an effort I roused
myself, and with shaking limbs went down to the court-
yard, and there, calling Lalande and Pierre, waited for
his coming, who was bringing me the evil message I
felt I already knew. We had not long to wait. With
a thunder of hoofs, the horseman passed the lower draw-
bridge, and reining in sharply, slid rather than dis-
mounted from his saddle. It was la Coquille, covered
with blood and dust, and the red gone out of hi s

' t.

cheeks.

'^^■'

JJL OOQUILLE'8 MSHSAOK.

" Mndamo— Mttdaino do Lorgnac ! " ho cftUecl put in
a cracki'il voice.

*' I am htiro, inonHieur."

« I can Htay but a moment. l''ly ! Fly ! The blood-
hoiiiuU art! even now on my track, and tliey will be hero -
in an hour."

« U that all ?" How my heart beat, though my voice

wart cool 1 -,

"Att?-'Nb. Hut, give me to drink, and I will speak.
My throat is parched and I have hwt much blood."

Pierre handed him a flagon of wine, which he drained
at a draught, and then wont on.

« It will not take long to tell. Mordku ! It wa.s tlio
beat plan ever laid, and to think it was spoiled by a trai-
tor. Madanu', if we had succeeded, 1 'ranee would have -
been at iM3ace, and your husband a nuirshal antf-pedP.
We watched the Bearnnois for days, aod then laid out
to seize him, on the day of a hunting party. We^got all
details of movements from that double-dyed traitor, do
Clermont ; but he played the right hand for Navarre^
and the left for us. We laid out as I said, and the King '
came : but not alone— our ambuscade was surprised,
and five as good fellows as ever drew sword now swing
to the branches of the beech trees of Canillac. I got off
somehow, but alas I they have taken de Lorgnac,
though not easily, for Monsieur do G^nache fell to his
sword, and I think another too."

" Taken de Lorgnac ! "

"Yes, maAam^—Mordieu ! It is the fortune of
war ! They are coming straight here, for what pun>f>8e, ^
I k now n ot ; but, m ilh diah Us ! I have wasted enbugh
time already, and the skin of la Cociuille is the skin of

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la CoquiUe. There is not a moment to spare. Fly if you
value your lives t " And with this he put his foot in hia
stirrup^ and made as if he would mount his panting
horse again.

** Save your skin. Monsieur la CoquiUe," I said. " As
forme and min^ we stay here." Would to God my hus-
band had true swords at his back ! "

He stopped and put down his foot.

" You can say what you please, madame, but we did
^x best ; but as God is my witness the Huguenots
-mean dfeath, and I advise you to go* In a half-hour \i
will be too late."

"Monsieur, I have asked you to save the skin of la
CoquiUe.^' . s .

His broad face became dark and red with the blood
that rushed to it. "I know I deserve nothing at your
hands, madame," he said. " You think me a cur, and one
I am. Mordieu / For ^ bribe of twenty crowns-^so
fallen am I— I once played the craven for de Clermont
before you. .It was at Ambazac not so many days ago.
Did I know you were de Lorgnac's wife, I had cut off
my sword arm rather than do what I did then. Let me
make some recompense. 1 implore you to go. Fools,"
and he turned to Lalande and Pierre, "do you wish
to swing from the rafters here? Take her away, by
force if necessary." ^

'"Enough, monsieur. You have said too much I I
am sorry for you. I would help you if I could/ but my
place is here. Save yourself whilst there is yet time.
As for me, I and mine will defend Lorgnac to the last
istone.'* ;

Pe flung th^, reins he held in his hand from him, and

LA COqUIUjB'8 MB8SAGB.

over tho sin-marked features of the man there came
Boinchow an expression of nobleness.

" Then, by God, madame, I stay I And I thank you
for teaching mo how to die. Twenty-five years^ —
twenty-five years ago I was a gentleman, and to-day I
bridge over the past. I will stay, madame, and the
Bword of la Coquille will heby o hold the castle f©r you.
Hasten, men. Up witli tlS^drawbridge. Ah ! aacre
nom d'un chien / We are too late I "

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CHAPTER X.

MONSIEUR LE CHEVALIER IS PAID IN FULL.

It was too late. Before I realized it, the courtyard
was full of armed men. La Coquille, who had liung
himself to the front with his sword drawn, was ridden
down and secured ero he could strike a blow, wliilst
Lalande and Pierre, who bore no weapons but their
poniards, and were utterly surprised, shared the like
fate. So suddenly and quickly was this done that—
for the courage had gone out of my fmger-tips— I had
no time io flee, and I stood like a stone, whilst a sea of
savage faces surged around me. I gave myself for dead,
and one, d trooper— -more brute than man — raised liis
sword to slay me, but was struck from his horse in the
act. Then some one seemed to come from nowhere to
my side— a tall, straight figure, with a shining blade in
his hand, and he called out, "Back I back I Or I run
thf first man through ! " .

The men were called to order in a moment at that
tone of command, though a voice I well knew and now
hated called out :

/'Well done, de Rosny, my squire of dames. Par-
dieu ! We have the whole hive—Queen-Bee and all."

" By God ! " said another, " they will hang ' from
the rafters in a half-hour, then—my poor Ganache ! "
And the speaker, whose rough, harsh voice was as piti-

:88' '

UONSIEUR LE CHEVALIER IS PAID IN FULL. 90

".'■■■■ ■ ■ ■ . ■ » • ",

less as his speech, swore a bitter oath. "Gently,

Tremblecourt,", replied the one who had been called de

Roany; "our poor de Ganache's soul has not llown so far

but that the others can overtake it in time." And then

de Clermont came up to me, but as he passed la Coquille

in 80 doing, the latter strained at his cords, and hissed^

I'&ther than spoke out the word " Traitor I "as he spat

at him.

" You hang in a little time head downwards at de
Lorgnac's feet for that," said de Clermont calmly, and
then turning to me, " 'Tis a sad business this, madame ;
but war is war, and after all things are going as you
would have them, are they not ? "

r could not bear to meet that sneering, beautiful face,
which; now that its mask was snatched away, cared not
in how evil an aspect it showed itself. Words wquld^
not come to me, and as I stood there before de Clermont,
quivering in every limb at the awful threat conveyed
in his speech to la Coquille, de Tremblecourt's voice
rang out again, mad and broken with rage :

" Away with them ! Sling them from the parapet-
now !"■ ;,'; .■

The men around mshed with a yell at la Ooquille and
his fellow-prisoners — God pardon those who cause the
horrors of war— but my. defender, de Rosny, again inter-
posed, and drove them back, despite de Tremblecourt's ;,
angry protests, wliiM de Clermont stayed his rage with
a quiet : • .

"Be still, Tremblecourt. The King will be here in
ten minutes with our other prisoner, and we will deal
with Messieurs— in a bunch," and he glanced at me
with a meajiing in Jiis eyes that I read as an open page.

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THE JIBAHT OF DBNlSE.

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' " Come, inadame," said de Rosny, who saw my pallor
" let me tako you 'out of this. 1 pledge the word of
Bethuno that no harm will touch you ; but that is to
happen, I fear, which is not fit for you to see." Witli
these words he took my arm kindly and led ine inside,
unresisting and as in a dream. In the hall whefe wo

' stopped I forced myself to regain some courage. It
was no time for a faint heart.

" Monsieur'I What does this all mean ? What is to
happen to de fergnac ? Tell me— I am his wife, mon-
sieur."

He bowed grayoly yet sadly. " The- King of Navarre
is generous, madame. Henri will be here soon, and all
may yet be well. In the meantime rest you here, and
compose yourself— you are safe from harm."

With this, he, who was in after years to be the first
man in, France, left me almost stunned and broken by
what I had heard. Now that I was about to lose him—
nay, had already lost him, for nothing, I felt sure,"
would move these pitiless hearts— I realized to the end
what de Lorgnac was- to me, and with this came the
dreadful conviction that it was I, and I alone, who had
brought this on my husband. I, a fool in my folly, who
did not know my own heart, I who with a word might
have stayed and kept him who was all in all to me, had
driven- him forth^with my senseless pride to death. I
could do nothing to save him. What could a woman
do against these men,? And then it was as if the whole ,
horror that was to be pictured itself before my eyes,
and a mocking fiend gibed in whispers in my ears, "You,
you have done this 1 '* Alnaost with a cry I sprang from
my seat, my hand on my forehead and an unspoken "

rN..

M0N8IBUR LB CHBIVAUBR 18 PAID IN FULL. 101

prayer on my lips. I felt that my brain was giving way,
and that I murtt do something to regain my«elt' and think.
This was no time for anght but action, and here I was
giving way utterly. I might do something — surely my
woman's wit could suggest some means of saving my
husband? Then what happens to those wlio arc face to
face with an awful terror haj)pened to mc, and, as once
k'fore, I fell on my knees before God's Throne, and
prayed in a mortal agony. " God helj) mc in my dis-
tress I " I called out aloud, and a quiet voice answered :
" Perhaps lie has sent the help, Deniso."
I sprang up with a start, a wild hope rushing through
my heart, and saw llaoul de Clermont before me, with
the sneering hardness out of his face and all the old soft
light in his eyes. If it was so— if he but bore me the
glad tidings his words hinted at— I could forgive him
all, and be his friend forever.

" Say that again, monsieur,'* I gasped ; " say it again
and I will bless you to my last breath." And as I spoke
the heavy folds of the curtain that covered the doorway
moved as if stii^red by a wind.

" I said that perhaps God " — and he bowed reverently
— ah ! devil and traitor !— "that perhaps God has an-
swered your prayer. .You have asked fbr help, and it
has come. I am here to offer it. I, and I alone, can
save de Lorgnac, by force if necessary, for I have -fifty
lances at my hWls, and it rests with you to say the word.
I have been mad, .Denise ; then I came to my senses ;
and now I am mad again. I love you— do you" hear ?
Ijovc you as man never loved woman. You beautiful
thing of ice I Come with me, and de Lorgnac is free.
Come!"

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102

ri7J!7 ttKAliT OF DBNI8B,

In his eagerness ho put forth his hand towards me,
but with a uhuddur I drew buck and his face darkenud.
Tlien nerving myself, I made one hist appeal.

" Itaoul de Clermont, I believed you once to be a man
of honour. Let mo think so again ; give mo the
chance. Be merciful for once. Save my husband aa
you say you can. See, it is a wife who pleads. Man I
There must be some spark of knighthood in you to lire
your soul I You are brave, I know. Can you not be
generous and pitiful ? You have tried to kill my soul.
Monsieur, I will forget that — I will forget the past, and
thank you forever if you do this. Save him, for I lovo
him!"

"Uvebimi"

" Yes, love him as ho deserves to bo loved, and by a
better woman. De Clermont, be true to yourself."

His breath Came thick and fast, and then he spoke
with an effort :

" You ask too much, Dcnise. I have offered you my
terms. I give you five minutes to say yos or no, and I
will take your answer as final. God is answering your
prayer in His oVn way," he went on, with the shadow
of a sneer once more across his lips.

" He mostly does," came the, replyj^as the curtain was
lifted and de Kosny stepped in, calling out as he entered,
« Madame, the Kin|1^"

Then there was a tramp of spurred boots, the clash-
ing of steel scabbards, the waving of plumes, and ere I
knew it I was at the fuet of the Bourbon, sobbing out
my prayer for mercy. v

He raised me gently— there was no more knightly
heart than his. "Madame! It is not enemies that Henri

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■ K

MONSmUli LB CUKVAUKH IS PAID IN FULL. 108

do Bourbon needs, but friondB. It is not sorrow his
pre8cn(» would cause, but joy. There has been enou^li
blood shed already in this misorablo alTair, and — 1 tliirfk
it is my good do Ilosny hero who anticipated nie— all
our prisoners arc free, but there is some one here who
trill tell you the rest himself better than the Beamnois
can." And, putting a kind hand on my shoulder, ho
faced me round to meet the eyes of ile Ix)rgnoc.

"I have come back unasked, Deniso," he said ; but
I could make no answer, and then ho took mo in his
arms and kissed me before them all.

"A wedding present to the happy pair I " and some-
thing struck me lightly on the shoulder and fell at my
feet. It was the glove that de Clermont had snatched
from me on the day of my marriage. " I return a pres-
ent from madame, given to me on her wedding day. It
is no longer of use to me— Monsieur le Chevalier, will
you not take it ? " and do Clermont was before us, the
same awful look in his eyes that I had seen there when
he played with death before do Norreys.

De Lorgnac's arm dropped from my waist, and his
bronzed face pal^d as -he stood as if petrified, looking
at the soft white glove at my feet. Then with a voice
as hard and stern as his look he turnjcd' to mo, and
pointing to the glove, said :

** Is this true, madame ? " .

" It is my glove," was all I could say.

"And permit me to restore it to you," cut in the
King, and with a movement he lifted the glove and
placed it in my husband's hand. " Give it to her back,
man! Madame de Canillac was at your wedding, and
mj good Margot who writes me such clever letters, and

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104

THIS IIHAUT OF DKNISK.

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thoy hove both told ine the story of your marrliiRo, nnd
tho incident of tho glovo. They both naw it snatcliwl
from your wife's hand by M. le MurquitJ — Ventre St.
Oria 1 For oneo I timik a woman's gosnip hat* dhm
some good — and on tlie word of Navarre wliat I say \n
true. Ab for you, nionHieur," and IlT'nri turned to de
Clermont, " Monsieur de Uowny hero hoH my eominaiuU
for you, and your furtlier presence iH exeused."

^ly huHband's arm wan round my waist once more ;
but de IJlctmrtnt made no movement to go, standing
quiptl/ twisting his short blonde mourtacho.

"Monsieur, you have heard his Majesty," put in do
Eosny.

"Yes — I thought, however, that Monsieur de lior-
gnac might have a word to say ere I went."

" Tlint will be in another place, and over our crossed
swords, Monsieur lo Marquis," replied my husband,
heedless of my entreating look and gesture, and in as
cold and measured a voice as do Clermont's.

"I am at your service, monsieur, when and wherever
you please," and with this, and a formal bow to the
King, he passed from the room — a' man under God's
right arm of justice. /-

What happened I never was able to find out eTtactly ;
but as far as I could gather it was this. As already
mentioned, la Coquille, Lalande, and Pierre had been
released by N'avarre on his coming, and the former bcin*
faint from his wounds was resting on a wooden bench
in the courtyard. As dc Clermont passed, the sight of la
Coquille and the memory of the insult He had put on
him roused the haughty noble, already in a white heat
with rage, to madness, and he struck the freelance once.

Jiomi^lfn LB aiKVAUKH 18 PAW W FULL. 106

twice, acro88 the face with a light onnc he horo in hia
hand, and full a moment after Htahbed to the hearty.
his murderer bein^ cut do#n by the men-at-jirm«.

At once all wan hurry and confusion. The dyin^ man
was borne in m gently as he could be, and placed on a
eettle. There waa no leech in hand, and long before
the priest of Lorgnac came it was ail over. We i\\&
what we could, and in the horror ( f the fate that had
overtaken thin num in tho pride of strength I forgot the
past utterly, f could only hco a terrible BulTering for
which there was rto relief. We gatlicred, an awestruck
group, around him, and ho spoke no word at (Iryt, but
auddcnly called out, " Hold me ujjt-I choke 1 '* /

Some one — I afterwards found it was Trenifdccourt
—raised him slightly and he spoke again, " i)o Ijor-
gnac ! Say what you hpe to say now, I'm goipg."

And JMaiso de Lorgnac knelt by t% couch, iaying aa
he did so :

" 1 have no message now— forget my words, do Cler-
mont." "

"Would to God I had died by yourjiand," came tho
answer, " but to go like this — struck down like a dog.
Your hand, de Ijorgnac— yours, Denise — quick — 1 am
going. Forgive."

De Tremblecourt laid him softly back on the cushion,
and my tears fell fast on the cold hand I held in mine.
Who could remember wrongs at such a moment ? t

The King bent over him and whispered in his ear.
I thought I heard tlie word " pray," and a wan smile
played on the lips of the dying man. ^^ky

" Too late— I cannot cringe now. Ah ! Norreys ! I
will join you soon. Denise— pardon," and he was gone.

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106

WK UK ART OF DKIflBK,

'1!

Ip'

Lato that night when all had gone to roit I walked

•'on the raniparlH of lA)rj(iiac, and leaning againut the

parapet, looked out into tht moonlight. So lout waa I

•' in tliought that it was not until his hand wm on my

ihoulder that 1 knew my husband had joined mo..

** Dcniue," ho wiid, " the King goes to-morrow, and—
I— do I go or stay ? "

And MonHiour lo CUovalier— ho in Monsieur lo Mar6-
clial Due now—gprtno^anijwer ho wanted.

|y"

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THE END.

■■X

"*m'

TUB CAPTAIN MOR ATTICS LAST

AFFAIR

CHArTKll I.

"aboades amdo."

" Halt ! " The word, which seemed to como from
nowhere, rang out into the crinp winter moonlight so
sharply, bo suddenly, so ahnolutely without warning,
that the Cavaliere Michelo di Lippo, who was ambling
comfortably along, reined in hin horso with a jerk ; arul
with a start, looked into the night, lie had not to fret
his curiosity above a moment, for a figure gliding out
from the black shadows of the pines, fen(\ing in,^ach
side of the lonely road, stepped full into the white band
of light, stretching between the darkness on either hand
and stood in front of the horse. As the two faced each
other, it was not the fact that there was a man in his
path that made the rider keep a j-estraining hand on his
bridle. It was the persuasive force, the voiceless com-
mand, in the round muzzle of ^'n arquebuse pointed at
his heart, and along the barrel 0f which di Lippo could
Bee the glint of the moonlight, fi thin bright streak end-
ing in the wicked blinking star Of the lighted fuse. The

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108 TUM CAPTAIK MOHATTVa LAtT ArfAIH.

f ,,

cavalioro took in the petition at a gtano«, and Ikmii^^ «
man of nwolution, hurrindl^ cai^ op hit chnnfoit of
ofciipo by MpiirnnK \n* hortt^ and Ntiddvniy riding d|wi
tho thiof. in a Hash tho thought nuno and wtui
miiMod. It wan imfMHiiiiklo ; for the night-hawf hail
taken 1)ia stand at a diHtance of about lii foetlgir^ »paiin
enough to enable liint to bh>w hiit (|uarry'N heart out,
well bt^fore the en<l of ony i«u<hU>n ruiih to dirtjirrn hiirf.*
Tho mind movoM lil(c lightning in matter* of thin kind,
Hful <li [iippo Hurrundered without condition. Though
hio heart wax buriiiwp'Within him, ho wa« outwardly
ccml and eoUecttHL Tlq^luMl yic^hled to force he could
not reiiist, CouUI he hove seen ever mo Hmall a chonec,
tho poHitionH might have been reversed. As it wai,
Mt««er tho bandit might fitiil have to look to himHcdf,
and hiH voice waH icy oa the night aH ho said : " Well I
I have halted. What more ? It in chill, and I care not
to bo kept waiting."

Tlio robber was not, without humojAjaMj lino of
teeth Hhowed, for an iiltfint, behind {|£Htt(![ rniil
of tl^p weapon be bold Htcadily beforelHIWredid not,
how(?ver, wnxte wordH. " Throw down your purse."

The cavjilloro hesitated. Ducats were Bcarco with
j^bHtJtbe bandit bad a short patience, " Diavolo !
' "^'bearf Bignore P "

< "^<-'Sp^^ resist. Tho fingers of tho cavalierc
h\ und(?niis cloak, and a fat purflo foil squab into
the snow, where it lay, a dark spot in tho whiteness
around, for nil tho world liko a sleeping toad. The
bandit chuckled as ho hoard tho^lump thud of tho
purso, and di lyippo's muttered curse was lost in the
sharp order : " Get off the horse/'

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**AR0AJ)M8 AMBC*

I litf in A hurry, iignofv." Ttio robber blirw on ih«

icb of hii iir(|U(!buM(% Mid tbu iimtch in iU glow cuit a

i|om<^uttiry liglU on hii face, ihowing thv outtinuiei ol

" htgh aquilino foaturun, and tho blick curvo of a i^^lM

long m^nxtfii'hi**, ''^W-

** MaledtUo f ** and tho dingUHiiHl eiivulioft (H^-
mountt'd, tho ncabbiirtl of bin UMtilMM nword iitriking wiiii
a clink agniniit tho Mtirrup iron, and ha unwilling^
N^^mg from tho Maddto atui Mtood in tho Know — a tall
figure, l«an and giiunt. -^ 1

An ho did thift, tho ban<lit Mtoppoil buck a pace, no
M to give him tho rtmd. " Your oxcoUcncy," ho Haid
mockingly, " is now froo to p««»— on foot. A walk will
(loubileHM roriiovo tho chill your oxcclloncy flndii 80 tin-
plcjuMint."

Hut (li Lippo made no advance. In fact, aa hia foet
touched tho Ktiow^ ho rocovorod tho compoHuro ho had m
jioarly lost, and huw \m way to gain Homo advantage
from dcfe^. It struck him that here wrh tho very tniin
ho wanted for an affair of the utmost impbrtarut^ In-
deed, it waa for juHt Huch an iuHtrument that ho had
been racking bin brainH, an ho rode on that winter night
through the fiotifolina doHlo, which McparatcH tho mid-
dle and^ho jfepwef valleys of tho Arno. And now — a
hand turn — and be had found bis man. True, an ex-
penHJve find ; but cheap if all turned out Well — that is,
well from di Lip[H>'s point of view. Thifl thing tho
cavalier© wanted done he could not take into bin own
hands. Not from fear — it was no question of tliat ;
but because it was not convenient; and Michole di Lippo
never gave himself any inconvenience^ although it was

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110 THE CAPTAIN MOIiAtTl'8 LAST AFFAIR.

sdmetiroes thrust upon him in an unpleasant mannxiriy
others. If he could but induc^ the man before him to
undertake the task, what migit notl)^ ? But the knight
of the road was evidently very impatiejQt. .

"Blood of a kingT'-he swore, "Ve you going,
signore ? Think you I am to stand here all night ? "

** Certainly not," answered di Lippo in his even voice,
*y nor am I. But to come to the point. I want a little
business managed, and will pay for it. You appear to
be a nian of courage— will you undertake the matter ? "

" Cospetto ! But you are a cool hand ! Who are

you?-": "■ /■'- :'■ :■■■■■■■ :■■■■"...^^^■-■

" Is it necessary +0 know ? I offer a hundred crowns,
fifty to be paid to you if you agree, and fifty on the com-
pletion of the affair."

" A matter of the dagger ?

"That is for you to decide.

The handit almost saw the snarl on di Lippo's lips as
he dropped out slowly :" You tire too cautious, my
friend— you think to the skin. The rack wiir come
whether you do my busiiiess or not." The words were
not exactly calculated to soothe, and called up an im-
pleasarit, vision before the robb^'^ eyes. A suddi^n
access- of 'wrath shook him. "Begone, signGre!" he
burst out, " lest my patience exhausts itself, and I give
you a bed in the sftow. Why I have spared your life, I
know not. Begone ; warm yourself with a walk— — ■'

" I will pay a hundred crowns," interrupted di Lippo.

" A hundred devils— begone ! " '

^' As you please. Remember, it is a hundred crowns,
and, on the faith of a noble, I say nothing about to-
night. Where can I find ybu/ in case you change your

I fj

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**AliCADE8 AMBP."

Ill

mind? A hundred crowns is a comfortable sum
money, mind you." I

' There was no excitement about di Liippo. He spoke
slowly and distinctly. His cool voice neither rose nor
dropped, but he spoke in a steady, chill monotone. A
hundred crowns was a comfortable sum of money. It
was a sum not to be despised. For a tithe of that— nay,
for two pistoles— the Captain Guido Moratti would have
risked his life twice over, things had come to such a pass
with him. ^ Highway robbery was not exactly his line, •
alth(^|igj^'Sometimes, as on this occasion, he had been
driv^to it bj^tjie straits of the times. But suppose
this offer was a blind ? Suppose the man before him
merely wanted to know where to get at him, to hand
him over to the tender mercies of the thumbscrew and
the rack ? On the other hand, the man might be in
earnest— and a hundred crowns ! He hesitated.

«°A— hun^ — dred— crowns." The cavaliere repeated
these words, and there was a silence. Finally the ban-
dit spoke ;

" I frankly confess, signofe, that stealing purses, even
as I have done to-day, is not my way ; but a man must
live. If you mean what you say, there must be no half-
confidences. Tell me who you are, and I will tell you
where to find me." ^V

" I am the Cavaliere Michefe di Lippo of Castel Lippo

on the Greve."
"Where is Castel Lippo ?"
^' At the junction of the Arno and the Greve— on the

left bank.*^ - ■ ■

" Very well. In a week you will hear from me

again." , ■ ~" ~~~^~ ~ , •,

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'■h^J'

112 TEE CAPTAIN MORATTI'B LAST AFFAIR.

.If;

It is enough. You will allow me to ransom the
horse. I will send you the sum. On my word of
honour, I have nothing to pay it at once."

"The signore's word of honour is doubtless very
white. But a can in the hand is a can in the ha]^tt|f}d
I need a horse— Good-night !" ?£^^

" Gobd-night ! But a can in the hand is f|a'^l%ays
wine to the lips, though a hundred crowns is 'ever a
hundred crowns ;" and saying this, di Lippo drew his
cloak oyer the lower part of his face, and turned sharply
to the right into the darkness, without so much as giv-
ing a look behind him. His horse would have followed;
but quick as thought, Moratti's hand was on the trailing
reins, and holding them firmly, he stooped and picked
up the purse, poising it at arm's-length in front of

■ him. -^ ■ ■;' ■■■■■■■.

"Silver," he muttered, as his fingers felt the coins
through the soft leather— "thirty crowns at the most,
perhaps an odd gold piece or so— and now to be off.
HoU ! Steady ! " and mounting the horse, he turned
his head round, still talking to himself : "I am in luck.
Cheese falls on my macaroni— thirty broad pieces and a
horse, and a hundred crowns more in prospect. Captain
Guido Moratti, the devil smiles on you— you will end
a Count. Ammo !** He touched the horse with his
heels, and went forward at a smart gallop ; and as he
galloped, he threw his head back and laughed loudly
and mirthlessly into the night.

In the meantime it was with a sore "heart that the
cavaliere made his way through the forest to the banks
of the Amo, and th en plodded along the river-side,
through the wood, by a track scarcely discernible to any

4R0ADEB AMBO:

liait"''^-"

but on6 who had seen itsmany times. On his right
hand the river hummed drearily ; on his left, the trees
sighed in the night-wind ; and before him the narrow
track wound, now up, then down, now twisting amongst
the pines in darkness, then stretching in front, straight
as a plumb-line. It was gall to di Lippo to think of the
loss of the crowns and the good horse ; it was bitter-
ness to trudge it in the cold along the weary path that
led to the ferry across, the Arno, which he would have
to cross before reaching his own home ; and he swore
deeply, under the muffling of his cloak, as he pressed
on at his roundest pace. He soon covered the two miles
that lay between him and the ferry ; but it was past
midnight ere lie did this, and reaching the ferryman's
hut, battered at the door with the hilt of his sword.
Eventually he aroused the ferryman, who came forth
grumbling. Had it been any one else, honest Giuseppe
would have told him to go hang before he would have
risen from his warm bed ; but the Cavaliere Michele
was a noble, and, although poor, had a lance or tWo,
and Castel Lippo, which bore an ill name, was only/a
mangonel shot from the opposite bank. So Giuseppe
punted his excellency across ; and his excellency vented
his spleen with a curse at everything in general, and the
bandit in particular, as he stepped ashore and hurried
to his dwelling. ' It was a steep climb that led up by a
bridle-path |p his half-ruined tower, and di Lippo stood
at the ppstern, and whistled on his silver whistle, and
knocked for many a time, before he heard the chains
clanking, and the bar put back. At last the door
opened, and a figure stood before him, a lantern in one
hand.

■■■(

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. V:'

114 THE CAPTAIN MOSATTrS LAST AFFAIR.

«; ' "c*

' Ml

. ^* St. John 1 But it is your worshi|> I We did not ex-
pect you until sunrise. And the horse, excellency ? "

" Stand aside, fool. I have been robbed, that is all.
Yes—let the matter drop ; and light me up quick. Will
you gape all night there ? "

The porter, shutting the gate hastily, turned, and
walking before his master, led him across the courtyard.
Even by the moonlight, it could be seen that the flag-
stones were old and wotn with age. In many places
they had come apart, and with the spring, sprouts of
green grass and white serpyllum would shoot up frora
the cracks. At present, these fissures were choked with
snow. Entering the tower by aii^arched door at the end
of the courtyard, they ascended a winding stair, which
led into a large but only partially furnished room.
Here the man lit two candles, and di Lippo, dropping
his cloak, sank down into a chair, saying : "Make up
a fire, will you— and bring me some wine ; after that,
you may go.".

The man threw a log or two into> the fireplace, where
there was already the remains of a fire, and the pine-
wood soon bla2ed up cheerfully. Then he placed a flask
of Orvieto and a glass at his master's elbow, and wishing
him goo&-night, left him. .

Michele di Lippo poured himself out a full measure
and drained it at a draught. Drawing his chair close to
the blazing Wood, he stretched out his feet, cased in long
boots of Spanish leather, and stared into the flames.
He sat thus for an hour or so without motion. T^s
candles burned out, an^ the fire alone lit the room.

rv or

casting strange shadows jon the moth -e at e n tapestry of
the hangings, alternately lighting and leaving in dark-

iLW.'.nMl".

"AROADSS AMBO:

115

ness the corners of the room, and. throwing its fitful
glow on the pallid features of the brooding man, who sat
as if cut out of stone. At last the cavaliere moved, but
it was only to fling another log on the flames. Then he
resumed his former attitude, and watched the fire^ As
he looked-, he saw a picture. He saw wide lands, lands
rich with olive and vine, that climbed the green hills
between which the Aulell^ babbles. He saw the grey
towers of the castle of Pieve. Above the donjon, a-
broad flag flapped lazily in the air, and the blazon on it
—three wasps on a green field— wag^'his own. He was
no longer the ruined noble, confined to his few acres,
living like a goat amongst the rocks of the Greve ; but
my lord count, ruffling it again in Rome, and calling the
mains with Kiario, as in the good old times ten years
ago. /Diavolo ! But those were times when the Borgia
was Pope! . Wha(,t nights those were in the Torre
Borgia ! He had one of Giulia Bella's gloves still, and
there were dark stains on its whiteness— stains that were
red once with the blood of Monreale, who wore it over
his heart the day he ran him through on the Ripetta.
Basta! na« was twelve years ago ! Twelve years I
Twelve hundred years it seemed. And he was forty now.
Still young enough to run another man through, how-
ever. Cospetto I If the bravo would only undertake
the job, everything might be his ! He would live again
—or perhaps! And another picture came before the
dreamer. It had much to do with death— a bell was
tolling cl|gmaliy, and a chained man was walking to his
end, with a priest muttering prayers into his ears. In
the background was a gallows, and a se a of heads, an
^dless swaying crowd of heads, with faces that looked

T I I -'

fit -* * -f

"%^ i '

116 TBE OAPTAW MORATTVS LAST AFFAin.

OIL the man with hate, and' tongues that jeered and
Bh'out^d curses at him. And the voices of the crowd
seemed to merge into one tremendous roar of hatred as
the condemned wretch ascended the steps of the plat-
form on which he was to find a disgraceful death.
_ ilichele di Lippo rose suddenly with^«hiver and an
oath : "Maledetto t I must sleep. ll touches the
morning, and I have been dreaming too long."

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■y- In '^

] V ■

CHAPTER n.

I- V

AT "THE DEVIL ON TWO STICKS.

■A

It was mid-|ay, and the Captain Guido Moratti was
at home in his lodging in "The Devil on Two Sticks."
Not an attractive address; but then this particular
hostel was not frequented by persons who were squeam-
ish about names, or — any other thing. The house itself
lay in the Sant6 Spiritp ward of Florence, filling up
the end of a chiassolino or blind alley in a back street
behind the church of Santa Felieita,and was well known
to all who had "business" to transact. It had also
drawn towards it the attention of the Magnifici Signorij
and the long ann of the law would have reached it ere
this but for the remark made by the Secretary Machia-
velli, " One does not purify a city by stopping the
sewers," he said ; and added with a grim sarcasm, " and
any one of us, might have an urgent affair to-morrow,
and need an agent — 'let the devil rest on his two sticks."
Andit was so.

Occasionally, the talons af Messer the Gonfaloniere
tfould close on some unfortunate gentleman who had
at the time^o "friends," and then he Was never seen
again. But arrests were never made in the house, and
it was consequently lodked upon as a secure place by its
customers . The room occupied by Moratti w as on the
second floor, and was lighted by a small window which

117

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■■MX

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TIT,

118 7!Z7i? CAPTAIN M0RATTV8 LAST AFFAIR.

faced a high dead wall, affording no view beyond that
of the blackened stonework. The captain, being a single
man, could afford to live at his ease, and though it was
mid-day, And past the dinner hour, had only just risen,
and was fortifying himself with a measure of Chinnti.
He was seated in a solid-looking chair, his goblet in his
hand, and his long legs clothed in black and white
trunks, the Siena colours, resting on the table. The
upper part of his dress consisted of a closely fitting pied
surcoat, of the same hues as his trunks ; and round his
waist he wore a webbed chain belt, to which was at-
tached a plain, but useful-looking poniard. The black
hair on his head was allowed to grow long, and fell in
natural curls to his broad shoulders* He had no beard ;
but under the severe arch of his nose was a pair of long
dark moustaches that completely hid the mouth, and
the^ he wore in a twist that almost reached his ears.
Oflpie table where his feet rested was his cap, from
wliich a frayed feather stuck out stiffly ; likewise his
cloak, and a very long sword in a velvet and wood scab-
bard. The other articles on the table were a half-empty
flask of wine, a few dice, a pack of cards, a mask, a wisp
of lace, and a broken fan. The walls were^t)are of all
ornament, except over the entrance door, wfence a cru-
cified Christ looked down in His agony over the musty
room. A spare chair or two, a couple of valises and a.
saddle, together with a bed, hidden behind s?ime old and
shabby curtains, completed the furniture of the cham-
ber; but such j^s it was, it was betfer accommodation
than the captain had enjoyed for many a day. For be.
it, known that " The Devil on Two Sticks " was meant
f or ite aristocraits of the "profession." The charges

AT " TBB DEVIL ON TWO STICKS.'

119

were accordingly high, and there was no credit allowed.
No! No 1 ITip padrone knew better than to trust his
longest-sworded clients for even so small a matter as
a brown paolo. But at present Moratti was in funds, for
thirty broad crowns in one's pocket, and a horse worth
full thirty more, went a long way in those days, and
besides, he had! not a little luck at the cards last night.
He thrust a sipewy hand into his pocket, and jingled
the coins therej with a comfortable sense of proprietor-
ship, and for l!he moment his face was actually pleas-
ant to look upon. The face was an eminently hand*
some one.. It was difficult to conceive that thos6 clear,
bold features tlirere those of a thief. They were rather
those of a soldier, brave, resolute, and hasty perhaps,
though hardened, and marked by excess. There was
that in them which seemed to point to a past very differ-
ent from the present. And it had been so. But that
story is a secret, and we must take the captain as we find
him, nothing more or less than & bravo. Let it be re-
membered,' however, that this hideous profession, al-
though looked upon with fear by all, was not in those
days deemed so dishonourable as to utterly cast a man
out of the pale Of liis fallows. Troches, the bravo of
Alexander VI., was very nearly made a cardinal j Don
Michele, the strangler of Cesare Borgia, became com-
mander-in-chief of the Florentine army, and had the
Ijonour of a conspiracy being formed against him— he
Was killed whilst leaving the house of Chaumont,
Finally, there was that romantic scoundrel "II
Medighino,'V wlio advanced from valet to bravo, from
bravo to be a pirate chief and the brother of a pontiff,
ending his days as Marquis of Marignano and Viceroy

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120 Tfl» OAPTMN M^RATTia (JUST AFFAIR.

of Bohemia. So that, rounSly speaking, if the profes-
« sion of the dagger did lioad to the galleys or the scaf-
fold, it as often led to wealth, and sometimes, as in the
case of Qiangiacomo Mediei, to a co"r(^||m. Perhaps
some such thoughts as these lifted in the^c^tain'a mind
as he jingled his crowns and slowly sipped- his wine.
His fellow-men had made him a wolf, and a wolf he was
now to the end of his spurs, as pitilesa to his vietimfl
as theyi had been to him; lie wad no longer young ; but
a man between two ages, with c^)|^he strength and vital-
.. ity of youth and the experieri^iB- of . five-and-thirty, so
that with a stroke of luck ho might any day do what the
son of Bernardino had done. He had failed in every-
thing Up to now, although* he had had his chances. His
long 8\irord had helped to stir the times when the Duke
of Bari upset all Italy, and the people used to s|ng :

Cristo in cielo 6 il Mqto in terra, I

Solo sa il fine di questa guerra.

He had fought at Fornovo and Qt Mertara ; and in
the breach at Santa Croce had even crossed swords with
the Count di Savelli, the most redoubted knight, with
* the excepti|Jli of Bayard, of the age. He had been run
through thi ribs for his temerity ; but it was an honour
he never forgot. Then other things had happened, and
he had sunk, suiik to be what he was, as many a better
man had done before him. A knock at the door dis-
turbed his meditations. He set §owp. his empty glass
an4 called out, "Enter r* .
The door opened, |ind the Cavaliere Michele di Lippo

t-.; ... — ^ e nt e r e d th e room. Moratti showed no surprise, although

the visit was a little unexpected ; but beyond pointing
■ ■- V -■_' ■ ■' ■ ■■ ■.. ■■■■; •■■■ ■••■.-..:■.-.. ■■■:■■ ■.■.■■-. ' ■■ ■■ :': '■

\r-^

1;-:
1*1

AT " TUB DBVIL ON TWO STWKB." 121

to a chair, gavo di Lippo no other greeting, Baying sim-
ply : " Take a seat, signore— and shut tlie door behind
you. I did not expect you until to-morrow."

"True, captain ; but you see I was impatient. I got
your letter yesterday, and, the matter being pressing,
came- here at once."

^* Well— what is the business?" ^" - — -

Thp cavaliere's steel-grey eyes contracted like those
of a cat when a sudden light is cast upon them, and ho
glanced cautiously atound him, " Tliis placo is safe —
no eavesdroppers ?" he asked.

"None," answered Moratti ; and slowly putting his
feet down from the table, pushed the wine towards di
Lippo. " Help yourself, signore— l^o I Well, as you
wish. And now, your business ? "

There was a silence in the room, "^nd each man
watched the other narrowly. Moratti looked at the
cavaliere's long hatchet face, at the cruel close-set eyes,
at the thin red hair ghowing under his velvet cap, and
at the straight line of the mouth, partly hidden by a.
moustache, and short peaked beard of a slightly darker
red than the hair on di Lippo's head. Michele di Lippo,
in his turn, keenly scanned the seamed and haughty
features of the bravo, and each man recognised in the
other the qualities he respected, if such a word may be
used. At last the cavaliere spoke: "As I mentioned,
captain, my business is one of the highest importance,

and-^~"- .: . . .■.■■• ,;■■::■•■.:;•■■■■:-

"You are prepared to pay in proportion — eh ?" and
Moratti twirled his moustache between his fingers.
" Exactly. — I hav e made you my off e r.

"But tave not told me what you want done."

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122 riraf captain MORArrra last affaih,

" I am coming to that: Permit mo ; I think I will
change my inind;" and aH Morotti liodded asHcnt, di
Lippo pouml hitiiHolf out a glaes of wine and .drained
it Hlowly. When ho had dono thi«, ho sot the glass
■ down with extronio caro, and continued : " I am, as yoir
SCO, captain, no longer a young man, and it is incon-
vcnicnt to have to wait for an inheritance" — and ho
grinned horribly.

"I SCO, cavalioro— you want mo to anticipate matter*
a little— Well, I am willing to help you if I can."

"It U a hundred crowns, captain, and the caxo \m.
thug. There is but one life between nio and the County
of Pievg in the Val di Magra, and you know how un-
certain life is." i|

He paused ; but as Guido Moratti said nothing, con«
tinued with hia even voice: "Should tho old (V)iint
of Pieve die— und he is on the edge of the grave— the
estate will pass to his daughter. In the event of her
death— -^'

"Whew !" Moratti emitted a low whistle, and sat
bolt upright. "-So it is the lady," he cried. " That is
iiot my line, cavaliere. It is more a matter of the
i)oi6oh-cUp, and I don't deal in such things. Carry

yoiir offer elsewhere."

■ '' ■-,■■■

" It will be a new experience, captain--and a hundred
crowns."

: " Blood of a king, man ! do you think I hesitate over

a paltry hundred crowns ? Had it been a man, it would

have been different— but a woman I No I No I It is

not my Ivay ;" and he rose and paced the room.

^. — " Tush, m a n ! It is but a touch of your dagger, and

■a-

ypu have done much the same before."

AT " TnS DBVIL ON TWO $TIOKa," 128

■ ■ '%■

Moratti faced <H Lippo. "Ah you miy, f have exe-
cuted co^^nuHHions before, but never on u wonmn, and •
never on^a man without giving him a chance."
/ "You are too tender-hearted for your profes-
fiion, captain. J lave you never been wi;pnged by a
woman ^ Thgr can bemoro pitiless than nien, 1 ansure _

you-" '•■■

The bronze on Moratti'a cheek paled to ashes, and his
face hardened with a sudden memory. Ho turned his
bncic upon di Lippo, and stared out df the window at
the dead wall which was the only view. It was a chance
shot, but it had told. Tho cavaliero rose slowly and
flung a purso on tho table. " Better give him the whole
at once," he muttered. "Come, captain," he added,
raising his voice. " It will be over in a moment ; and
after all, neither you, nor I will ever see heaven. We '
might as well burn for something ; and if I mistake?^
not, both yO)A and I are like those Kastern tiger.-^, who
once having tasted blood must go on forever— see ! "
and he laid his lean hand on the bravo's shoifldcr, " why -/
not revei^ge on the whole sex the wrong done you by
one f ■■'■ ■ ■ _

The iaptain swung round suddenly and shook off, di ^
Lippo/*8 hand. "Don't toucV me," he cried ; " at times ^
like this I am dangerous. What demon put into your .
mouth the words you have just used ? They have /.
semd your purpose — and she-shall die. Count me out
the money, the full hundred— and go**':::2u.^..-^L-^-^:.:^..:J^.

-It is there;" and di pippo pointed with his finger
to the purse. 7 "You will find the tale complete^— a

•

se..'/
mm

hundred erowns— count* them at your leisure. Addio !
captain\ I Efhall hear good news soon, I trust.** Rub-

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124 THS OAPTAm MOBATTrB lABT APFAIli

bihg the palms of his hands together, he stepped softly
from the room.

Guido Moratti did not hear or answer him. His
mind had gone back with a ru^h for ten years, when
the work of a woman had made him ^nk lower Ihan a
^heast. Such things happen to men .sometimes. H«
had sunk like a -stone thrown into a lake ; he had been
* destroyed utterly, and it was sufficient to say that he
lived now to prey on his'feliow-creiatures. "But he had
never thought of the revenge that di Lippo had sug-
gested. Now that ho did think of it, he- remembered
a story told in the old dafs round the camp fires, when
they were hanging on the rear of Ohar^s's retreating
army, just before he turned and rent the League at
Fornovo. Rodrigo Gonzaga, the Spaniard, had told it
of a countryman of his, a native of Toledo, who for a
wrong done to him ]>y a girl had devoted himself to the
doing to death of women. It was horrible ; and at the
time he had refused to believe it. Now he was fade to
face with the same horror— nay, he^had even embraced
it. He had lost his soul ; but the price of it was not yet
paid in revenge or gold, and, by Heaven ! he would
have it. He laughed out ^s loudly and cheerlessly as on
that winter's night when he rode off through the snow ;
and laying hands on the purse, tore it open, and the
contents rolled out upon the table. " The ^rice of my *
soul ! "' he sneer&d as he held up' a handful of the coins,
and let them drop again with a clash on thebgaS^n the
table. "It is more than Judas got for his — ha ! ha I "

' > - CHAPTER III.

' ■ "' -■; .■ .; .FELICITA. ' -.' ■

"Some few days after his interview with '91 Lippo, the
Captain Guido Moratti rode his horse across the old
Roman bridge which at that time spanned the Aulella,
and directed his way towards the castle of Pieve; whose
outlines rose before him, cresting an eminence about a
league from the bridge. The captain was travelling
as a person of some quality, th6 better to carry ^ut a
plan he had formed for gaining admission to Pieve, and
ateckey rode behind him holding his valise. He had
hired horse and man in Florence, and the servant was
an honest fellow enough, in cbmplete ignorance of his
master's character and professions^ jfeoth the captain
and his man bore the appearance of long travel, and in
truth they had journeyed with a free i'ein ; and now
that a stormy night was setting in, they were not a
little anxious to reach thei;!' point. (.The snow was fall-
ing in soft flakes, and the landscape was grey with the
driving mist, tl(«ough which the outlines of the castle
loomed large and shadowy, more like a fantastic crea-
tion in cloudland than the work of human hands. As
the captain pulled down the lapels of his cap to ward
off* the drift which was coming straight in his face, the
bright flare of a beacon fire shone from a tower of the
oastle, and the rays from it stretched in broad orange

;v. ■--.:>:■ ■'^'.'.. ■ ■>. - : •■ 125' ■

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126 Tins OAPfAIN MOBATTra LAST AFFAIR.

1 1

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bands athwart the rolling mist, which threatened, to-
gether with the iijicreasing darkness, to extinguisli ^U
the view that was left, and make the league to Pieve
a road of suffering. With the flash of the fire a weird,
sustained howl came to the travellers in an eerie
cadence; and as the fearsome call died away, it was
picked up by an answering cry from behind, then an-
other and yet another. There could be no mistakinj^
these signals; they meant pressing and immediate
danger. -

"Wolves!" shouted Moratti ; and turning to his
knave : " G-allop, Tito !— else pur bones will be picked
clean by morning. Gallop!"

They struck their spurs into the horses ; -and the
jaded animals, as if realizing their peril, made a brave
effort, and daihed off at their utmost speed. It was
toone too soon, for the wolves, hitherto following in
^silence, had given tongue at the sigHt of the fire; and as
if knowing that the beacon meant safety for their prey,
and that they were like to lose a dinner unless they
hurried, laid themselves on the track of the flying horses
with a hideous chorus of yells. They could not be
seen for the mist ; but they were not far behind. They
were going at too great a pace to howl now; but an
occasional angry "yap "reached the riders, and reached
the horses toq, whose instinct told them what it meant ;
and they needed no further spurring, to make them
strain ^^ry muscle to put a distance between them-
selves aM their pursuers. Moratti thm'oughly grasped
the situation. He had experienxjed a similar adventure in
the Pennine Alps, when carrying despatches for Paolo
Orsini, with this difference, that then he had a fresh

feligjtX.

127

horse, and could see where he was going ; whereas now,
although the distance to Pieve Was short, and in ten
minutes he might be safe and with a whole skin, yet a
false step, a stumble, and nothing sjiort of a miracle
could prevent him becoming a living meal to the beasts
behind. ./

He carried, slung by a strap over his shoulder, 4' light
bugle, which he had often found useful before, but
never so useful as now. Thrusting his hand under his
cloak, he drew it out, and blew a long clear blast ; and,
to his joy, there came an answer through the storm
from the castle. Kescue was near at hand, and faster
and faster they flew ; but as surely the wolves gained
on them, and they could hear the snarling of the leaders
as they jostled against and snapped at each other in
their haste. . Moratti looked over his shoulder. He
could see close behind a dark crescent moving towards
them with fearful rapidity. He almost gave a groan.
It was too horrible to die thus ! And he dug his spurs
again and again into the heaving flanks of his horse,
with the vain hope of increasing its speed. They had
npw reached the ascent to Pieve. They could see the
lights at the windows. In two hundred yards there
was safety ; when Moratti's horse staggered under him,
$nd he had barely time to free his feet from the stirrups
and lean well back in the saddle ere the animal came
down* with a plunge^ Tito went by like a flash, as the
captain picked himself up -and faced the wolves, sword
in hand. Tlfere was a steep bank on the side of the
road. He made a dash to gain the stfmmit of this ; but
had hardly reached^alf-way up when the foremost ""
wolf was upon him, and had rolled down again with a

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128 THE OAPTAIN MOBATTI'S LAST AFFAIR

. ■ ■-_ ^ »■ ^' _ * ■ ■ ■ '. ■ a ■ . . .

yell, run through the heart. His fellows tore him to
shreds, and in a moment began to worry at the strug.
gling horse, whose fore-l^g was brokenC In a hand?
turn the matter was ended, and the wretched beast Was
no longer visible,, all 4hat could be seen being a black
swaying mass of bodies, as the pack hustled and fought
oyer the dead animal. ' ■

N^evertheless, there Wbre three or four of the wolves
who devoted their atMition to Moratti, and he met
them with the courag^ of despair. 'But the odds were
too many, and he be^n to fed: that he could not hold
out miich longer. OAie huge monster, Ms sljaggy coat
icy ^vjjth the sleet, h|id pulled him to his knees," and it
waC^nly a lucky thrust of the dagger, he held in his
left hand, that saved him. He regained his feet only
to be dragged^ do\^ again, and to rise yet once' more.
H^ was bleeding and weak, wounded in many plai^^r,
and the end could not be iar off. It Was not thus that
he had hoped to.die«^ and he was dying like a worried
lynx.".;^; ^: ■''-::: y . "■■^:_'

The thought drove him to madness. He>wiis of
Siena, and somewhere in his veins, though he did not
know it, ran the blood of the SenoAian Gauls, and it
came out now— he went Berserker, as the old. northern
pirates were wont- to do. Sliding down the bank, he
jumped full into the pack, striking at them in a dumb
fury. He was hardly humaij himself now, and he
plunged his swOrd again and again into the heaving,
mass around him, and felt no pain froiii'the teetli of ihe
wolves as they rent his flesh. A fierce mad joy came
upon him. Jt was a glorious jfight after all, .and he was
dying game.' It was Jt glorious fight, an^when he felt

:{■,•

'v ».-

fblicitA,

129

■'■■■■. ■ - ■ ♦ ■ ■ '■

a grisly liead at his throat, and the weight of his afl-
sailant brought him down once more, he flung aside
his sword,^arfd grappling his enemy with his hands, tore
asunder the h^ge jaws, and flung tlie body 'from him
Vith a yell. Almost at that very instant there was the
sharp report of firearms, the rush of hurrying feet, and
the blaze of torches. Moratti, half on his knees, .was
suddenly/pulled to his feet by a stroiig hand, "iaiid sup-
ported by it he stood, dizzy and faint, bleeding almost
everywhere, but safe. The wol\res had fled in silence,
vanishing like phantoms across the snow ; and shot
after shot was fired" in their direction by the rescue

„.party.f ■'•■'■ ' ■ . ' \^:.' .' ', ■'■■ :/--.^' ■:'V. -;■ ^ ; <'■■'■* ■

f K Per Bacca I " said the man who was holding Moratti

up; "but it was an affair between the skin and the

V'fl^sh, sighore—steady ! " and his arm tightened round

* the captain; -As he did this, along defiant howl floated

back ta them through the night, and Guido Moratti

knew no more. He seemed to have dropped suddenly

into an endless night. :He seemed to be flying through

space, past countless millions of stars, which, bri^t

themselves, were unable to illumine the abysmal dark-'

ness around, and then— there was nothing.

When Moratti bame to himself again, he was lying
m a^bed, in a large room, dimly lighted by a shaded
ISnp; set on a tall Corinthian pill^ of marble. After
the jfirst indistinct glance around him, he shut his eyes,
ah(^ was lost in a dreamy stupor. In a little, he,
looked again; aiid saw that the chamber was luxuriously
fit§d, and that he was not alone, for, kneeling at a
prte-fZtew, under a large' picture of a Madotina and Ghildj^
was the figures of a woman. Her face was tjxna him ; but

if.'

■■I

! '■ ■

il- ' 'if-.

Hy''^:-

130 THE CAPTAIN MORAfTI'8 LAST AFFAtli.

ill as he was, Moratti saw th§t -the tight-fitting dress
showed a jouthful and perfect figure, an^ ^that her head
was covered with .an abundance of red-gold hair. The
man was still in the shadowland caused by utter wcak-
/ ness, and for a moment he thought that this was no-

thing but a vision' of fancy ; but he rallied half uricoa-
.J^;_ sciously, and looked again; and., then, curiosity
' • overcoming 'him, attempted to turn so as to obtain a
better view, and was checked by a twinge of pain, which,
coming suddehly, brought ah exclamatiop to his lips.
;In an instant the lady rose, and moving towards him,
, bent ovep the hed. As she did this- their eyes met, and
t^fieree though dulled gaze of the bravo saw before
^ hi^a: face pf ideal innocence,. of such saintlike purity,
that it might have been a'drcam of Raffaelle. She
placed a cool hand on his hot forehead, arid- whispered
softly: "Be still— and drink this— you will sleep."
Turning to a side table, she lifted a silver gobkt theie-
■ \ from, and gave him to drink. The draught was cool
> arid refreshing, and he gathered strength frgm it.
" Where arii I ? "he askefr; and then, with a sudieii
courtesy, . « Madoniia— pardon riie-^I thank you."
'^ Hush !" she answeried,liftmg a small hand. "You
' are in Pieve, and you, have been yery ill. But I must;
not'talk— sleep now, signore." '

: ' , " I Temember now,'*- he said jdreainily—" the wolves ;
but it seems so long ago." ' ^

She made iH^i^ply, .]mt stepped softly o«i of the
•^ rQom, and wis jgone. Moratti would have called. out
after her ; but a drowsiness came on , him, and closing
his pyep, he slept. ^ .' " !

It^ tak^s a strong man some time to

y 4

felicjtA.

131

woundfl inflicted by ^ wild animal ; and when a man
has, like Guido Moratti, lived at both ends, it takes
longer atilj, and it was weeks before the captain was
out of danger, lie never saw his fair visitor. again.
Her place was taken by a staid and middle-aged nurse*
and he was visited two px three tiraesdaily by a solemn-
looking physician. But although he did: not see her
whom he Idnged to see, theye was a message both morn-
jiig and evening from- the" Count of PievC and his
daughter, hoping the invalid was botte^— the former
regretting that liis "infirmities prevented his paying a
personal visit, and the inquirios of the, latter b^'ing al-
. ways accompaijied by ^ bouquet of winter flower st. But .
strange as it tnay- seemr^hen he was under the influence
of the- opiate they gave him nightly/ he was certain of
the presence of the slight graceful figure, of the lady of
the prie-dieUy as he called het to hiipself. He saw again
the golden-red hair , and the sweet eyes, and felt again
the tou?h of the cbpl hand. He began to think that
this bright presence whibh lit his, dreams was but a
vision after all, and uged to long ior the night and the

■ opiate:'" ■ ,'" •,■■•:■■■; ' ' ; ;', ,t: ■■■■■■.-■■""■■■■:;:■.

At last one fine m'oming Tito appeared, and be^an'
to get out,iand brush the captain's apparel as if nothing
had levers happened. Moratti watqjied him for. a space,
and then rising up against his .pillows,, spoke :'*' Tito I "
; . .^' Signor^ *" ' ,. ".: ;. V /.-V.'. .. ,:]-.■,:

: > How isit^hat you have not been here before? I*
-^ "I was not allowed, Excellency, until to-day~ypnr
worship was too ill.'\ ,
"Then I am better/^ ^ A

"Excellency !" ^ '

\ .

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m '• tf

l¥'' ^■

U'Z'

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W'-

■i-W:

"'.>

182 rms OAPTAm MOHATTI'S last AFFAin.

There was a silence of some minutes, and the captain
spoke aga'in: "Titol'V , .

' "Signorei;*. . -'

" Have you seen the Count and his daughter ? "
; " Excellency I " ;'

• "* What are they like?"

"The Count old, and a cripple. Madonna Felicity,

■?m^

I'ii

1 ' ''<'•'■ '

'■-.':■:.■ ■■'

h^i.

i.-. ■

small, thin, red-haired like my wife SanciV*

Mdratti sank down again upon the bed, a satisfied
smile "upon his lips. So there was truth in his dreams.
The vision of the night was a reality. He would see her
soon, as soon as he could rise, and he was fast getting*

, well, very fast; ' He had gone back 'many years in his
- iHness. He had thoughts stirred within him that he
had imagined dead long ago. He was the last man to
day-dream, to build castles in the air ; but as ho lay
idly watching Tito, who was evidently very busy clean-
ing something— for he was sitting, on a low chair with

. his baok towards the captain, and his.elbpw moving
backwards and forwards rapidly— the bravo pictured
himself Gdido Moratti as he niigHt. have been, a man
able to look all men in the face, making .an honourable •
way for himself, and worthy f he love of & good woman.
The last thought brought before him a fair face and

, sweet eyes, and a dainty head crowned with red-gold
hair, and the strong man let his fancy run On with aii
uprising of infinite tenderness^ in his heart. He was
lost in a eloudland of dreams.

r--V:**;Signorer" : / : ■ /.■/} 4--/ - .■■%:::. ^^^.^^^^^^

Tito's harsh voice had pulled down the castle in
Spain, and Tito hims elf w as fi tandjng a t t he b edside

holding a bri^t and jittering dagger in his' hand. But

*:.'('.

i'^J'"!'.

%■

\^%J^^.'

-■"■■%;:■

I8d

he had done more tha^ upset his masteifs dreams. lie
had, all unwittuigly, brought hiuvbaclv in a Hash to tho
hideous reality, £ot, as a consequenoie of his long illness,
of the weeks of fpver and deliri\ira>» Moratti had clean
forgotten the dreadful object of . his'^^oming to Pieve.
It all came Jback to him. with a blinding suddenness,
and he closed his eye& with a shudder of horror as Tito
laid the poniard upon the bod, qsking : " Will the sig-
nore see if thei^^ade is keen etiough ? A touch of the
finger will sufTice!'* _ I

. I ■ ' ■

Hi'

-' 1 ^" ^
V * ^

■'*>.

( ■

* .1 1

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/ ■

/■■■•

■'i/
(

iA-

CHAPTER IV.

OONCLIISION— THE TORRE DOLOROSA.

ST; I ji , :

»*»

Days were yet to pass before Guido Moratti was able
to leave his chamber ; but at last the leech who attended
him said he might do so with safety ; and later on, the
steward of the household brought a courteous invitation
from the. Count of Picve to dine with him. As already
explained, Moratti had not as yet seen his host ; and
since he was well enough to sit up, there were no nuuo
dreamy visions of the personal presence of Felicitil. He
had made many resolutions whilst left to himself, and
had determined that as soon as lie was able to move
JiQ would leave the castte, quit Italy, and make a new
name {or hiniself, or die in the German wars. He was
"old enough to build no great hopes on the future ; but
fortune might? smile on him, and then— many> things
might happen. At any ratfe, he would wipe the slate
clean, and there should lie no more ugly scores on it.
> Not that he was a reforriied man ; he was only grop-
ing bis way back-to light. Men do not cast off the past
as a snake ^heds his skin. He knew that well enoUgli,
but he knew, too, that he had seen a faint track back
to. honour ; and difficult as it was, he had formed a
determination to travel by it. He had been so vile, he
%ad stink so low, thift there were moments when a de-

,=.{.,

CONClUSION^TaiillE DOLOROSJ^.

186

ipair came on him ; but with a new country nnd now
scenes, and the little (lame of hope tliat was wanning iiidl
(lead soul back to life, there might yet, be a chance.
He knew perfectly that he was in love, and when a man
of his ago loves, it is -for the remainder of his life.
He wi% awarc-rnono .better — that his lofo waa mad-
ness, all but an insult, and that it was worse than pre-
Bumption to even entertain the thought that ho. had ;
inspired any other feeling beyond that of pity in tho
heart of Felicity. It is enough to say that he did not
dare to hope in this way ; but he meant to so ofder his
future life, as to feel that any such sentiment ^as -JoVe
in his heart towards her would not be sa'crilege. 'I

He sent back a civil answer to the invitation ; and
a Httle after eleven, descended the stairway whi|j^ led
from his chamber to the Count's apartments, l^jokipg
very pale and worn, but very handt^ome. For he was,.in
truth, a man whose personal appearance took all eyes/
The apartments of the Count were inimwKately below
Moratti's own chamber, and on entcringyhe^aw the old
knight himself reclining in a large chair. H^ was alone,
except for a .hound which lay 'stretched on,t on^ the
hearth, its muzzle between its forepriws, and ia dining-
table set' for three was close to his elboV. Bernabo of
Pieve received his guest with a stately courtesy, asking
pardon for being unable to rise, as he was crippled.
"They clipped my wi^^s at Arx Sismundea, captain— r
before your time ; bwt of a truth I am a glaiman to
see you strong again. It was a najrow affair. *

*' 1 cannot thank you in words. Count ; you and your
house ha v e placed a .debt ' on me I can ne v errepay/*

"Tush,, man I • There must be no talk ol thinks.

/ 1-

. i^'i'

''M M

'■:M

^ ^j.fljwr, , , .gr; ^

r:i;

ft)" t

■S

186 TUIB CAPTAIN MOJlATTfa LAST AFFAin.

If thorw aro to bo any, thoy aro duo to the leech, and to
FelicitA, my daughter. She is all I have left, for my
son was killed at 8anta Croce."
" I was there, Count." §

** And knew him ? *♦

" Alaa, no. 1 was on the side of Spain.'*
~ **With the .beaieged, and he with the League. He
was killed on the broaeh — poor lad."

At this moment a curtain at the side of the room was
lifted, and Feliciti entered. She greeted Munitti
warinly, and with a faint flush on her cheeks, in-
quired after his health, hoping he was guito strong
■again.' ■-,■;: .;',.i^'\-...vr:..._ •._^._./ . /^i./""; ;
So well, Madonna, that I must hurry on my journey

to-morrow.

"To-morrow!" Her large eyes, bpened wide in as-
tonishment, and there was a pain in her look. " Why,"
sho continued, " it will be a fortnight ere you can sit
in the saddle affainj* i

" It might have been nevier, biit ror you,*' he answered
Ir'avely, and her eyes met his; and felL . At this mo-
-ment the steward annoutl^d t^at the table was ready;
and by the time the repast waa ended, Moratti had for-
gotten his good resolutions for instant departure, and
had promised to stay for at least a week, at the urgent
intercession of both the Count and his daughter. He
knew he was wrong in doing so, and that, whatever hap-
pened, it was his duty to^ go at once ; but he hesitated
with himself. He would give himself one week of
'happiness, for it was happiness to be near her, and then
- h e would go- away fo r e v e r . — And she w oulA never

know, in her innocence and pimty, thAt Guido Moratti,

,*.;'■■

3h, and to
t, for my

gue. lie

room was
i Muratti
loeks, in-
to strong

■ *

y journey

de in a»-

« Why,"

>u can sit

answered
this rao-
as ready ;
I had for-
ture, and
tie urgent
iter. He
ever hap-
hesitated
week of
and theii
ilA never

OONOLUfiTON'^TOnRE DOf.OROSA.

181

bravo — ho shuddered at the. infamous word — loved her
better than nil the worhl beside, and tlmt for her sako
be had become a new man.

After dinner tiie Count skpt, and, the (hiy being
bright, they stepped out into a large balcony and gazed
at the view. The balcony, which stretched out from a ^
iow window of the dining chamber, terminated on the
edge of a precipice which dropped down a clear two
hundred feet ; and leaning over the mows-grown biittle-
nientH, they looki l tiu- white winter landscape before
them. Behind rose the tower they had just quitted,
and FelicitA, turning, pointed to it, saying : " Wo call
this the Torre Dolorosa." . v_i_l:^i

"A sad name. Madonna. May I ask why ?**

" Because all of our house who die in their beds die
here,'* ■■ - «;'■ . \- -.^.^ ^ :

" And yet you occupy this part of the caatle."

"Oh, I do not. My chamber is therc^— in Count
Ligo's Tower ; " and sho pointed to the right, where
another grey tower rose from the keep. " But my
father likes to occupy the Torre Dolorosa himself. He
eays he is living \vitj^ his ancestors— to whom lie will
soon go, as he alwajrs adds." ^

" May the day be far distant.'V

And she answered "Amen." "

After this, they went in, and the talk turned on other
matters. The week passed and then another, but at
last the day came for Moratti's departure. . He had pro- '
cured another horse. It was indeed a' gift which the old
Count pressed upon him, and he had accepted it with

much reluctance, biit much gratitude. In truth, the
Moratti, ■ kindness of these people towards him was unceasing.

"■m:-

<^»

*lf

jA^

Hi:

vR> V

^J
^

if,':'

138 THE GAPTAm MOBAT^TVB LAST AFFAIJi.

and iVforatti made great strides towards his new self
^ ia that week, lie, was to have started after the mid-day
dinnel- ; but^with the afternoon he was not gone, and
sunset found him on the balcony of the Torre Do/orosa
with Felicity by his side. ' .

"You cannot possibly go to-night,'' she said. .
• *'I will go to-morrow, then,^' replied Moratti, and she
looked away from him. —-

It was a moment of temptation. Almost did a rush
of words come to the captain's lips. He felt as if he
must take her in his arms and tell her that he loved her
as man never^oved woman. It was an effort! but he
was getting stronger in will daily, and he crushed down
the feeling.

"It is getting chill for you," "he said ; ^' we had bet-
ter go in." A

"Tell me," she answered, not heeding his remark,
" tell me exactly where you are going ? "

" I do not know—perhaps to join Piceolbmini in^
Bohemia— perhaps to join Alva in the Low Countries—
wherever a soldier's sword has work to do."

" And you will come back ?^' « ■

"Perhaps." ^ V ■

"A great man, with a conddita ot a thousand lances^
and forget Pieve." , V

^ "As God is my witness— never— but it is' chill,
Madonna— conie in."

When they came in, Bernabo of Pieve was not alone,
for standing close to the old|man, his back to the fire,
and rubbing his Idttds softly together, was tie tall,

gaunt figure of th e Cavaliere Michele di Lipj j io
"A sudden visit, dear cousin," he said, greet^g

I-

J>^

OONOLVaiON— TORRE DOLOROSA.

180

Felicity, and turning his steel-grey eyes, with a look of
cold inquiry in them, on Moratti,

"The Captain Guido Moratti— my cousin, the Cava-
liere di Lippo." *

"Of Castel Lippo, oil the Oreve," put in di Lippo.
"I am charmed to make the acquaintance hi the
Captain Moratti. Do you stay long in Pieve, captam ? "

"I leave to-morrow." Moratti spoke shortly. His
blood was boiling, as he looked on the gloomy figure of
the eavaUere, who' watched- him furtively from under
his eyelids, the shadow of a sneer on his face. He. was
almost sick with shame when he thought how he was
in di Lippo's hands, how a word from him could brand
him with ignominy beyond repair. Some courage, how-
ever, came b»ck to him with the thought that, after all,
hehdd cards as well, as for his own sake, di Lippo
would probably remain quict.^

*'||o soon I " said di Lippo with a curious stress
on the word soon, and then added, "That is bad

news." ;: ■;, :;./;■§; ■

"I have far to go, signore," replied Moratti coldly,
and the conversation then changed. It was late when
they retired ; and as the captain bent over Felicita's
hand, he held it for a moment in his own l?road palm,
and^said : "It is- good-bye, lady, for I go before the
dawn to-morrow.'' > ■'■'^':. ^ :

She made no answer ; but, with ^sudden movement,
detached a bunch of winter violets she wore at her
neck, and thrusting them in Moratti's hand, turned
and fled. The Count was half asleep, and did not notice
the passage ; but di Lippo said with his icy sneer :
" Exoellent-7-you work like an artist, Moratti." ^

.1:

** ' t

•

•> /

■

* ^

-4.

)" 1

* *

' ff

140 TBk\€APTAIN MORATTra lAST AFFAJH.

' :■ .■- ■ ■ * ■ ■■ ■■ •:....l.--'^ '■

"I do not understand you ; " and turning on his
heel, the captain strode off to his rftom. ^ ^

An hour or so later, he was seated in a low chair,
thinking. His valise lay packed, and aiU was ready for
his early start. He still held the violets in his hand,
but his face was dark with boding thoughts. \ He
dreaded going and leaving FelicitA to the designs of di
Lippo. There would be other means found ])y di
liippo to carry out his design ; and with a groan, the
captain rose and begaii to pace the room. He was on
the press with anxiety. If he went without giving warn-
ing of di Lippo's plans,"lie would still be a sharer in the
murder— and the murder of Felieitd, for a hair of
whose head he was prepared to risk his soul. If, on the
other hand, he spoke, he would be lost forever in her
eyes. Although it was winter, the room seemed to
choke him, and he sudd^9J^|flung open the door and,
descending the dim stairway, went out into the balcony.
It was bright with moonlight, and the night was clear
as crystal. H6 leaned over the battlements and racked
his mind as to his course of action. At last he re
solved. He would take the risk, and speak out, warn
Bernabo of Pieve at all hazards, and would do so at
once. He turned hastily, and tl],en stopped, for before
hijn in the moonlig'ht stpod the^ Cavaliere Michele di

Vm^. . : ■ ■ ^■;\- ■'7^''':-\v;: ■'■■: ■:.■.:■■. . ■

" I sought you in your chamber, captain," he said
'in his biting voice,'^"ahd not finding you, came
her o ■ " ;■■■■■ •'■■^-'

" And- how did you knQ\^ I would be here ? "
/'Lovers like the moonlight, and you. can see the
light from her window in Ligo's Tower," said di Lippo,

, 'i

OONCLUaiON—TORRB DOLORjOSA.

flTij)(fldded stoply : ^*So you are playing false, Mo-

ratti." •" ■.■•
"The captain made no answer; tiiere was a singing

inhis ears,, and a sudden anidterrible^thought was work-
ing. His hand was on the hilt of his dagger, u spring,
a blow, and di Lippo would be gone. And no one
Jfouid know. But the cavaliere went on, unheeding his
?e.. -:'-.V- ■■ ■/'■■'. ■:': :•.■;■.■.■ ■ . /; ;■■ ■■..;-:.■.;'

rou are playing false, Moratti. You are playing for
your own hand wi^h my hunVlred crowns. You think
your ship has com§ home. Fool ! Did you imagine

.1 would allow this ? But I still give you a chance.

* Either do my business to-night— the way is open^ — or
to-morrow you are laid by the heels as a thief and a
bravo. What will your Felicit^ir—"

"Dog-^speak her name again, antd you die!"
Moratti struck him across the face with his open palm,
and-Michele di Lippo reeled back a pace, his face as
white as snow. It was only a pace, however,, for. he re-
covered himself at once, and sprung at Moratti like a
wild-cat. The two closed. They spoke no word, and
nothing could be heard but their laboured breath as
they gripped together. Their daggers were in their
hand&^ but each man knew this, and had grasped the
wrist o| the other. -Marattivvas more powerful ; but his
illness had weakened lim, and the long lean figure of
Michele di Lippo was as strong as a wire rope. Under
the quiet moon and the winter stars, they fougl^, until
at last di Lippo was driven to the edge of the parapet,
and in the moonlight he saw the meaning in Moratti's
set face. With a superhuman effort, he. wrenched his
hand free, and the*next moment his dagger had sunk

■f*-

■v|H

'!.'

\ I

:■ f

14d THBMPTAIN MORATTrS LA8T ^FAIR.

TO tlie hilt in the captain's side, ;and Moratti's grasp
loosened, hut only for an instant. He was mortallj'
, wdttnded, he j^ew. . He was gqing to die ; hut it» would
not hie alone, He. pressed di Lippo to his hreast. He
lifted him from his feet, and foilted: him through an
* jemhAsure which yawned hehind. Here, on its hrink,
- ^he, two figures, swayed for ^niijstanti, and then the
ba:lcony was empty, and ifrom the deep of the precipice
two hundred feet below, tteo'^velled upwards tlie
sullen echo of a ijull oi;ash, and all \^a8 quiet again*
■ ■'-'■■h ' * -■ •■-^ ."* ■' ':':.'*.'■'":.' *'^' - - ' .*•/•...■'

."When the ^tars were paling, the long. hx)wl of awolf^
rang out into the stillnes^. It reached Felicity in Count
Ligo's Tower, and filled her with a nameless. tefrror.
"Guard him, dear saints," she prayed ;" shield hijn
from peril, and hold him -safe." ' » r

si* ,

f "'St

- - ' '"I

Hi-

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1
5-1

V-i

; • ■■■■ •■. I "■.,.'.• • ' ■ '

TH? TREASURE OP SHAGUL

• " «• ■ *■■■;'-■•■ .■.■■•. •

'«•

It waB past two o'clock, and "AMin;,:t:he elephaBt-
4river, had gatljered together his usual. jftudi6ilce under .
tk" shade of the manga tree near the elephant-shed.
^Aladia was a noted sto^y-tellc? V'he had a lon^. n^emory,
jHid an exhaustless furid^^df aneG^tefl It-Vag- ten -years
sine^h'e had c6me f>om "tepaul witjj 5Iotila^ fiari, the; ; .
i)ig she-elephantj and for .ten-yeltrs he had .delighted
the inhahitaikts of Ihe^anaHettlera'ent art Dadupur with -
his UU^.r It was his 'practice to tell onei' story daily,., ,
%eVer more .than bn'c ;' and hi4 time f^^r- t^is relaxation
wasan'lidur prso after fl^e midday meal, when he would
sit on a pile=< ot sal logsvunder the mango tree, and hi* .
^Ildl audiel^ce, collecting ' round hini in a semi-circle, • .
would wait, patiently until tlie oracle "spo^. >N'o one „
ever attempted to aSk; him to •hegii. O^ce Bullen, the
water-carrier, the- soh of Bishen,. after, waiting^^n im- .
patient e3?pectation,thtoiigB ten long- minutos of §plemn .
silence, had suggested that it was tim4 for Aladin to '
eommencfe. At this the old man rdse in wrath, and ask-
ing the water-carrier if he was his slave, smote him over •
the ear, and stalked off to the elephant-shed. "For three
days there was no story-telling, and Bulleii, the son of
Bishen, had a hard timfe of <itwit.l<^i s fellows. > finally; -.

i-4t

s. :-,

i* s

^■\

■\-

\ m

1';

144

Tits TRBASUm OF 8UAGUI.

/^.

matters were a^usted; both Aladin and Bullcn were
persuaded by Gunga Din, the tall Burkundaz guard, to
, forget the jiast, and affairs went on in, the old^way. That
was three yedrs ago, but thtl Ipsson had mi been for-
gotten. So although it happened on this lApril after-
noon, that all the elephant-driver's old qronies were
there,^Gunga Dino the Burkundaz, Dulalob the white
haired Sikh messenger who had been orderljy to Napier
of Magdala, Piroo Ditta the telegraph-clerk, iind Gobind
Ram the canal-accountant, with a half -scoi-e others —
yet hot one of them ventured to disturb th^ silence of
^Aladin, as he 8at> gravely strbking |iis beard, on the : '
ant-eaten saZ logs which had mouldered there for so *
many years. They were the remains of a wrecked raft
that had come down in a July floods and haying been (
rescued from the water, were stacked under the mango
tree for the owner to claim.^ No owner ever came, but
they had gerved as food for the white ants^ and as a
bench for Aladin, for many a year. The aftornodn was ,
delicious ; a soft breeze was blowing, and the leaves of
the trees tinkled pverhead. Above the muffled roar of
the canal, pouring through the open sluices, came the
clear bell-like notes of a blackbird, who piped' joyously
to himself from a snag that stood up, jagged and sharp,
out of the clear waters of the Some. To the iiorth the
"Khyarda and' Kalessar Duns extended in long lines of
yellow, brown>aii^ grey, and above them rose fthe airy
outlines of the lower Himalayas, while higher ^ill, in
the absolute blue of the sky, towered the white peaks
of the eternal snows. Beeroo, the Sansi, saw the group
under the mango tree as he crossed the canal-bridge,
and hastened towards it. Beeroo was a mepiber of a

jfi^.

THE THEASUBE OF SmOXJL,

criminal tribe,' a tribe of nomads* who lived by hunting
and , stealing, who are to be founjj in fevety Indian fair
as acrobats, jugglers, and fortune-tellers, or trapiping
painfully thf-ough the peninsula with 4^, tanio bear or
performing ' moAkeyp. In shoi't the Sansiswre very
similar to gipsies^ i|i (hey are. not, indeed, tile paient
stdiek from which ourl own "Egyptians" spring. Beeroo
came up to the 'sitters, but as he was of low caste, or
tatli^r of no caste, he toek'up ^is position a little apart,
leanings on a long knotted bamboo staff, his coal-black
eyes glancing keenly around him. " It !& Beerop," said
DulaloQ the Sikh, and with this greetiag^ lapsed into
silence. Aladin ceased stroking his henna-stained, beard,
an^ilooked at the hew-conrrarv . V j

" Ai^eerdal What news P" ^ |# .^

" TJfcre is a tiger at Hathni Kllobnd, and t Bave;
marked fiim down. Is the Sahib here ?^* ^
^••^e Sahib sleeps now," relied: A|adin; "it is the
time for his noontide rest. He will fi,wa,ken '^t four
o'clock." - v ' , ^ . , ' ' .

" I will see His Honour then,"" replied Beeroo, " and
there will be a hunt to-morrow."
'- Is it a big tiger ? " asked. Bullen, the spn of Bishen.'

"AhoL" and the Sansi,. sliding his hands down* the
Ikmboo staff, sank to a sitting posture.- *
M^"y^hen was it the Sahib sl-ew his last tige^r E." as)i;ed
Pirob Ditta, the telegraphrclcTk.

^'liast May, at Mohonagh, near the temfple," answered
Aladin ; " I remember well, for the elephant lost a toe-
nail in fording the river-bed — poor beast ! " j,

"At Mohonagh ! That is wher e the SHagul Tree is,"
said Gobind Ram. , i . •

_lSk

/■'

Mi
Sir'

i-'i-

■•IV,.

bit'.!

Li-

146

THS TRBA8URB OF 8HAGUL,

m^:

" True, brother. Hast heard the tale ?*' -

There was a chor||j3 of *' noes," that' clrown§d Qobind

Ram's "yes," and Aladin; taking a long pull at his

water-pipe, began : / / -

"When Raja Sham Ghand had ruled in Suket lor six

^ years, he fell into evil ways, and abandoning the glirine

of Mohonagh, where his fathers had Worshipped for

V , generations, set up idols to a hundred and ^fifty gods.

^Prem Chand, the high priest of Mohonagh, cast himself

^t the Raja's feet, and expostulated with him in vain,

■; lor Sham Chand tfnly laughed, saying Mohonagh was

.\ 0I4 and blind/ Then he mocked the priest, and Prem

Chand threw dust on his own head, and departed sore at

heart. So Mohonagh was deserted, and the Raja wasted

: '^ his substance amonjg dancing-girls apd the false jifiest*

'who. pandered to him. About this time Sham Chand,

being a fool althoUgh-a king, put hiff faith in tlj?

Hirord of the emperor it Delhi, and came down from

\ - fhe^hills to ^nd himself a prisoner. In his despair the

; Baj^ callM upoi^ each One of his hundred and fifty gods

' :to s^ye him, promising half his kingdom if his prayers

: ; were answered; but there was no^ reply. At last the

; Raja' bethought him of thevneglected Mohonagh, and

'failing on his knees implored the aid of the god, making

him the. same' promise of half his kingdom, and vowing

: l^at if he were but f ree,'he wbuld put aside^his evil ways,

return to the faith of his fathers, and destroy the tem-

J^ of his false gods. As Ae prayed he hfeard \, bee

:buzJ5ing in his cell, aiid watching Jt, saw it creep into

a hoUpw^betweeil two of the bricks in the wall, and then

'cree> out again, and buzz arbund the room. Sham
Chand put bis hand to the bricks and found they were

J-

t^^Sf, '

mS TttBASURB Ojr SltAOXTL.

looaev He put^t^^rii^ to carefully, and waited till

night./ IJnd^,6dv^rpf the dark he , set to work onco

more, and TCmdVirig t>rick after brick, found that he

could make his pat^age throu^i the Wall. Thia lie did

and effected his escape. WJxen he came back to.Suket

he kept his vow, and more than this.. Wijhin the walla

of the mandar of Mohont^h groj^s a shdgul, o^yild

pear tree. Gtf this tree the Raja nailed a hundreiTand

fifty^old mohurs, a coinfor 6ach one of .the false ^oda

whose idols he;^8troyed, and decri^ed tjiat every one

in^uket Who had a prayei* answered, should affix a coin

or a4ewel''to the tree. ThatWas a htindred years ago,

^nd now the stem of the Bhagul Tree is covered with

'coins and jewels to the value ()f lakhs. 1 saw it with my

•own" eyes. This is not all, for .vhen at Mohonagh I

heanfihat the god strikes blind any thief who attempts

to steal but a le^f from the tree. J?w«/— there is no

more td tell." - ' " ^^ -

"Wah ! Wak !** exclaimed tli^jdjgteners, and, Beeroo

put in, "Lakhs of rupees didst thou say, Mahputjee ? "

'*! have said what I have said, 6 Sansi, and

■thou hast heard. Hast thou a mind to be v struck

Wind?" V ' • "^ '>,-■-

Beeroo made no answer, and the group shortly* after-
irards broke up. But Gobind Rani, thef Cjanal-account-
ant, who knew the story of the Sha^ulTree, went
straight to his quarters. Here he wrote aTrief note on
a piece of soft yelloW paper, and sealed .it- cairefully.
Then he drew' forth a pigeon from a cage in a coiiier of
the room, and fastening the letter tp the bird, freed
the pig e on with a toss into th e air. — Th e , carrier circled

« vgsk JL

V't

f)-;

U-"^

J ',1

slowly thrice aboVe the neem trees, and, theii spreading .

-t- _

*''S* it

*■

t* ^

Sp^

" IfJ. i

148

■* '■ ■"' ,■'■'" ^. • . ■ ■ ■ . •
its strong slate-eoloured wings, flew swiftly towards the.
hills. Gobind Ram watched the speck iii'^he sky until
it vanished :frora sight, then ho went in, niulteiiiij; to
himself, "The high priest will k^ow in an hour tlmt
Beeroo the Sansi has heard of the Shagul Treo^Ho,
Aladin, thou hast too long a beard and too long a
tongue," and* the subtle Brahmin- squatted himself down
to smoke. ^ > ^

An hour afterwards, as Aladin was talcing the she-
elephant to water, he saw a figure going at a long slbuuh-
ing trot along the yellow sandbanks of the Some, mak-
ing directly towards the north. [The old man shadec)
his eyes with his hands and looked keenly at it ; but
his sight was not what it was, and h« turned to Mah-
boob, the elephant-cooly, who would step intd biis shoes
some day, when he died, -and asked : " See'st th^ that
figure on the sandbank there, Mahboob ? ^' .

"It is the Sansi," answered Mahbpob'. "Behold!
He limps on the left foot, where the leopard clawed
him at Kara Ho. Perchance the Sahib will not hear .
of the tiger to-day." ' • '

" If ever, Mahboob," answered the Mahout ^ " would
that mine eyes were young again. Fai/" and he
tapped Moula Piari's bald head with his driving-hook,
for her long trunk was reaching out to grasp a. bundle
Qf green grass from tbte head of a grass-cutter, "who was
bearing in fodder for the SahiVs pony.

Mahboob was not mistaken ; it was Beeroo. Whoii
the party broke up, he alone remained apparently ab-
sorbed in thought. After a time he took some tobacco
from aii embroidered pouch hanging at his waist,
crushed it in the palm of his hand, and rolled a cone-

•■',•1

iipf'

'■^:

rns micAsuRS of bitaoul.

140

ghaped cigarette with the aid of a leaf, fastening the
folds of the louf together with a small dry stick which
he stuck through the cigarette like a hair-pin. At this
he sucked, his forehead contracted into a frown, and his
bead-like eyes fixed steadily before him. Finally ho
rose quickly, as one who has made a 8uddc% resolve.
.**The tiger can wait for the Sahib," he said to him»-
gelf ; " btit7ail7fs of rupees— they wait also— for me. I
will go and worship at Mohonagh. The idol will surely
make the convert a gift." ;

' Laugh^g softly to himself, he stole off with long
' cat-like steps in the direction of the river. He forded
the Some where it w^s crossed by the telegraph-line,
und the water was but breast-deep. Once on the op-
posite bank, he shook himself like a dog, and breaking
. into a- trot, headed straight for the hills. His way led
' up a narrow and steep track, hedged in with thorns ovet
which thd -purple convolvulus twined in a confused net-
work." On either hand were sparse fields of gram and
corn, which ran in lozenge shapes up the low hillsides,
' ending in a tangle of underwood, beyond which rose
the solid outlines of the forest. As the sun was setting
lie came to a long narrow ravine, over which the road
crossed. Here he stopped, and instead of keeping to
the road, turned abruptly to the right and trotted on.
In the darkening woods above him he heard the cry
,of a panther, and the alarmed jabbering of the monkeys
' in the trees ahoye their most dreaded enemy. : Beeroo
marked the spot with a glance as he went on : "I will
buy a gun when I come back from Mohonagh," he mut-
t e red to himself, *' a two-barrelled gun of English
make. The Thanadar at Thakot has one for sale, a.

■r^

?ii.

•>i

1 "

..**

V V 4-

150

TlJt TRKASUHK of SllAOUL.

''^"

■\ %

i.r

JhB^H^j

birich'lodas;* and then I will fchoot that panther."
Ilouyh ! Hough ! The cry of i\m iinitruil rang through
the forest again, as if in assont to his thoughts, ami
Buoroo continued his way. Juit as the sun sank and
^^darkness was setting in, he saw the wavering glininur
of a' circlo oi camp-fires and the outlines of figures niuv-
Jng against the light. The Hare of the hurning wood
disco^^inrd also a few low tents, shaped likecaski cut In'
half lehgthwise, and lit up with red the grey fur of a
: numher of donkeys thit were tethered within the radius
of the fires. In a little time he heard the barking (I.
dogs, and five minutes later was with the lenta ot his
tribe. ., /. ■ #■ ■,.-:

One or two men exchanged brief greetings with him,
and answering ^|hom, he stepped up to the centre fin',
where a tall good-looking woman addressed him. " Alio,
Beeroo, is it you ? Is the hunt to be to-morrow ? "

**The Sahib was asleep," answered Beeroo; *vgive
me to eat."

The woman brought him food. It was a stew made
of the flesh of a porcupine that had been kept warm
in an earthen wate dish, and Beeroo ate heartily of this,
quenching his thirst with a draught of the fiery spirit
made from the blossoms of the mhowra, after which he
began to smoke once more, using a small clay pipe
called a chillum. His wife, for so the woman was, made
no attempt to converse with him, but left him to the
ciJmpany of his tobacco and his thoughts. Beeroo sat
moodily puffing blue curls of smoke from his pipe, and
with a black blanket drawn over his shoulders, stared

' Breechloader.

■^^pa^^ll

■/■ir«7 ^ #

7i2» fBEASUJUB OF BUAQUl^

Htcttdily into the firo
turbing him, sat u
the wind alono
forcBt. Sagoo, h
dnd lay by hJB §it

So ho sat for hours, no one di«-
the camp had j?ono to ruHt, and
nko and Hlghing throi«|^h tho
to hound, canio.clo8i|ipto hit

to hint tiiat it wan tinu
glcep. Beeroo stroked tho leun,-jnuHcuhir (lank ofHne_
(lofif, and h)okt'd around him. ^'In a little time," ht
said to himHclf, "I will bo Ueeroo Naik, with a'villttge
of my own and wide lands. Ik'croo Naik," ho repeated
softly to himself, with a lingering prido on the title
implied in the last word. Then ho rolled himfielf up
in his blanket; Sagoo snuggled beside him, and the)|

»M- '■■• .... ■ ■. ■'■ -vy-' -^^ ■■ .:■,,:./ ;■:-:-

Beeroo awoko long befofd surtHse. He i!ran1c some
milk, stolo into his tent, and crept otft again with a
stout canvas haversack in his hiMj^ Into this sack,
which contained other things hesrap, he stuffed some
broken meat and htead wade of Indian com, and slung
is over his shoulders. Then gUftping his staff, he gave
a last look around ra|Di, ami plunged into the jungle.
Sagoo would have fiSowed, but Beeroo ordered hini
back, and the hound with drooping tail and wistful
eyes watched the figure of his master until it was lost in
the gloom of the trees. Beeroo walked on tirelessly,
and by midday was far in the hills. He could go from
sunrise to sunset at that long trotting pace|of his, rest
a little, eat a little, and then keep on till the sun rose
again. He was now high up in the hills. The sal
trees had given place to the screw-pine, silk-cotton and
mango were replaced by holm-oak and walnut. In the
tangle of thfelow bushes the dog-rose and wild ias-
mine bloomed, and^ the short green of the grass \^

■4^

'#♦

152

TBE TRBASXmE OF SHAOUL.

'S0

\><! -^ " ll^' '

'%' i

'*■ '

spangled, witii the wood violet, the amaranth, ^d the
pimpernel. Far below the Jumna hummed down to the
plains in a white lashing flood, and the voice of the
distant river reached him, soft and dreamy,' through the '
murmur of the pines. As he glanced into the deep of \ ,
.;the valleys, a blue pheasant rose with its whis^tling call,
and with widespread wings sailed slowly down into the '
mist below. The sunlight caught the splendour of his
plumage, and he dropped like a jewel into the pearl
grey of the vapour that clung to the mountain-side.
Beeroo looked at th^ bird for a moment, and then lift-
ing his gaze, fixed it on a white spot on the summit ^ff
'the forest-covered hill to his left. He made out ^' cone-
like dome,' surmounting a square building, built like an
eagle's nest at the edge oMhe precipice which fell sheer
for a thousand feet to the silver ribbon of the river. - It
was the mandar, or temple of Mohonagh, and so clear
was the air, that it seemed as if Bee>6o had only Jo
stretch out his staff to touch the white spot before^ him.
He knew befter than that, however, and knew^ too that
the sun Inust rise again before he. could rest himself ■
t beneath the walls of the temple, and look on the treqts-
ure of the shagul. n- ''

" Ram, rani, Mohonagh ! " he cried, saluting th^i^r-
off shrine in mockery, and then continued his ^-ay;
\ATien he had gone thus for another hour or so,
he- came upon the traces of a recent encampment
There was a heap of stale fodder, one or two earthenware
pots, were lying about, and the remains of a fire still
smouldered under the lee of a walnut tree. Hard by,
on the opposite side of the track, a huge Tock rose
abruptly, and froiii its scarred side a bubbling spring

TME TREASUAB OF SHAOUL.

'%'

plashed musically into a natural basing and, overflowing
this, ran across the path in a small ^tr^m, fast £he tree
and' over the precipice, where it lost^itself in a spray .
in which a quivering rainbow hung. Here Beeroo
halted, and having broken his fast and slaked his thirst,
proceeded to totally alter his personal appearance,
•ftiis he did by.the simple process of removing hifi tur-
ban of Turkey red and his warm vest, tlie only covering
he had for the upper portion of his body- After this he
let down his long straight hair, which he wore coiled in
a knot, to- faU freely over his shoulders. " Then he
smeared himself fell over, head and all, with ashes from
the fire; and when this was done he stood up a grisly
phantom in^ which no one would^have recognised the.
. Sansi trackek He hid his sandals and the wearing
apparel l^ad removed in a secure place in a cleft in
the rocks, arid marking the spot carefully, went.on-^no
longer Beeroo the Sansi, a man of no caste, but a\holy)
mendicant. In his left band be held one of the ear^he<
vessels he had found under the walnut, in his-iigh|,
his bamboo staff, arid the knapsack hung over Ms
shoulders. When he had gone thus for about a mile
he heard the melancholy '^ 4os?i /'^^^s/i /" of .cattle-
drivers in the hills and the tinkling of bells. Turning
a bluff he came face to face with a small caravan of bul-
locks, returning from the interior, laden with walnuts,
dried apricots, and wool. Each bullock hada bundle of
merchandise slung on either side, and the f ronUet of
the leading animal was adorned with string^of blue ^
beads and shells. The caravan-drivers walked, and as
they urged their beasts along, repeated at intervals their
call, which to European ears would sound more like a

.7-

!» 'ilX ., til

!» '^-f

■■rM:

.? .

« ^

V '■'

■^ —

154

THE TREASURE OF 8H4QUL.

*(. 1

Ik..

sigh of despair than a cry of encotiragemeiit. Beeroo
stqpd by the side of l^e road, and, stretching out his
ash-covered hands, h^d out the vessel for alriis. Each
man as he passed dropped a little into it .for luck, one a
brown copper, another spme dried fruit, a third a hand-
ful of parched grain, and Beeroo received these offerings
in a grave silence jas became his holy calling. He stayed
thus until the caravan was out of sight ; then ho col-
lected the few coins and tossed the rest of the contents
of the vessel on to the roadside. He was satisfied that
his disguise was complete, arid that he could face the
priests of the temple at Mohonagh without fear of dis'
covety, for the carriers wei«l^|Eijaree8, members of a
tribe allied to his own, whose lynx-eyes would have dis-
covered a Sansi in a moment unless his disguise was
perfect. . ', ; ■:■■■■-■'-■.'-;:-.

f^'Thdba /''laughed Beeroo to himself as he pressed
on. "Had^the Bunjarees.onljr known v;^o I was, I
h^a heardf the whisper of their sticks through the air,
an#n|i^^ack might have been sore ; but the blessing of
lagh is upon me,'' he chuckled.

Beeroo rested that evening in a cave. He rose at
midnight, however, and travelling without a chock was
by morning ascending the winding road that led to the
shirine. He was not alone here, for there were a niiira-
ber of pilgrims toiling up the ascent, halting now and
again to take breath, as they wearily climbed the narsow
track set in between the red and brown rocks, and over-
hung by wild apricot and holm-oak. Among the pil-
grima were those who, in expiation of their sins,
wriggled up the height on their faces like snakes, ©thcM
who laid themselves flat'at every third ste^y others

TBE TBEA8URE OF 8HAGUL.

156

again who crawled up painfully on their blistered hands ^
and knees ; there were women going to thank the god ^
for the blessing of chlildren, J)earded Dogras of the hiUs,
ash-covered and ochre-robed mendicant's, and a fat
maAa;wn, or money-lender., who«d won a lawsuit and
ruined a village. All these were hurrying towards the
shrine, and their hands were full.

Under the llrch of the gateway stood Prem Sagar,
the high priest of Mohonagh, and flung grain towards a
countless number of pigeons that fluttered and cooed
around him. " They are the eyes and ears of the tem-
ple " he said to himself as he gazed upon them ; " they
warn the shrine of danger, they bring the news of. the
world beyond the hills, they are surer than the telegraph
of the Sahibs, for they tell no secrets. Perchance,"
and he looked down on "the specks slowly nearmg the
gate, "amongst that crowd Of fools is Beeroo the Sansi ;
if so the god will welcome him, and there will be an-
other miracle. Purun Chand !" and he called out to a
subordinate priest who approached him reverently,
*' Purun €'hand, awaken the god."

Purun Chand placed a conch-horn tp/his lips, and
blew a long deep-toned call. Its dismal notes were
caught up in the hills and echoed from viilley to valley,
untn they died away*-moaning in the deeps of the forest*.
As the call rang out dolefully, the pilgrims ascending
the road fell on their knees, and with one voice cast up
a wailing cry, " Ai, ai, Mohonagh ! "^ And Beeroo the
Sansi, the man of no caste, whose very presence so
near the temple was an abomination, shouted the
toudest of all. , ' ^ . .

• i

1. •

it: •*

ft n

'^ ?♦ .1

^V\

■Wt'-:--

if Wt "^ f It ' lifti

156 THE TRBASXIHK OF SJ^GUZ.

(Half an hour later, O^rem Sagar,thef liigh pwest,
naked to the waist, with his brahminical cord haiigihg
over his left shoulder and a red* and white trident
painted on his forehead, stood oj^ the stohe steps leading
up to thfe shrine, and watch^j^ with keen eyes tlie pil-
grims as they cajne within ^the temple walls. The
devotees took no notice of him, except;_soffl^ of the
^ women who prostrated themselves, whifeThe bowed liis

' head gravely in answer, but said nothing. His lips
were muttering prayers in a sing-song tone, but his eyes *
were tirelessly watching the groups as they came up in
files. Alilafet Beeroo appeared, and on his coaiing to
» the steps, slightly dragging his left foot, a qukk light
shone in the high priest's eyes. > V .

\ " Soh ! It is the holy man I " his thoughts rah on
•" Qobind Earn did well to \yarn me of his limp. There

.too are the five ma^ks of the leopard's claws, running

^Gwn ^e- inside of the calf." As Bperoo approached
" |the priest, he imitated the action of a womap befoM'
lim, and prostrated himself. Prem Sagar pretended
iriot to see him ; but raised his voice fo a loud chant,
atid repeated the nyrstic words Om,mane padme, om ! *
There was a time \^hen these words caused the heavens
to thunder as at the sacred name of Jehovahj but now
the limpid blue of the sky was undisturbed, as the priest
called out to the jewel in the lotus, the symbol of the
ITnijersal God/

'* Only mane padme/ om .' ** repeated Beeroo, and
pakied into the. shrine. He found hiinself in a room
about twenty feet square, the walls and floor blackened

> '• Om, the jev^el in the lotus, amt'
the flower from which BridiQia sprang.

The padma, or lotus, is ^

n . » if

TBS TREASURE OF '8BAGUL.' 157

by age and by the &moke'from t^ec^pssets which biiniid
Jay and. night in little niches in the walls. Overhead
the vault of the dome was in inky darkness, and iii front
of ttim, three-headed>a|id four-amied,- painted a bright
red, was the grinniit^ idol of Mohonagh. At -the feet
.of the g^pd were the offerings of the pilgrims, and on
each side of the idol stood an attendant priest holding .
a censer, which he swung to and fro, and the fumes
from .which, heavy with the odoiir of the wild Jasmine
aiif the champac, curled slowly up to the blackened
dome. But it was' not on the idol, nor on the .priests,^
nor on the worshippers, that Beeroo's eyes were fixed.
They were bent to the right of the idol, where^ejtrunk
of thl^hagul Tree rose from tfee flooring of the temple
like ihe body of a huge snake; %dy escaping butside
through a cutting" in the wail, spread out into branches >
and leaves. In fact the temple was bujlt around the
tf ee, and even thi;ough the gloom, Beeroo ^d see that
the pai^of the fte within the temple wallTf as covered'
Ywith coins and gems^' The coins, old ai\d blaokened
■?^ith smoke,' looked Imejcales on the snake-like tru^
of Jhe Shagul Tree ; t#|old and sUver of the jewels
were dimmed of tlieir brightness ;^||iit through' t
murky seated atmo-sphere the Sansi saw the dus
burning r6d of the riibf, the green glow of the emerald^
the orangg flame within the opal, and the countless
lights in the diamond ; and all these came and went like
itars twinkling though the veil of a dark night. The
-Sansi almost gasped, such riches as these were beyond
' his dreams ; they truly i»eant lalefi^ of r^pees. A single
one of the gems Would buy him a village ai#lands ^if
he oould get the whole I Hj|bra^in almost reeled at the

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; ■ t;hoii|tit, 4ina||^y witIiileffort;^lia|:Sip8te

i:|il/ou|,i# the tenipf *---*5''^^^

; thenpftj^ walls 4li(^i^^iWI;ti^ was^ a spce
4? ' ^''";^^'*^^^"''^RMHIffi square, 8ha^^3 by a. number of

^^^t- :^ ^ ' 'i^^^i'^^^^K^*^^®^'^**^^'' N^i^ himself, %iid

^*^ ^!*^' *l^^^|®^<ii%^^'^h6i bowl on the ^
■' _ f^"^ y)?%^Wifii; &hg stolidly; be%e. kiAsif-trying toiase-
%', C *^ ^ * -' j^, ^)|. I /^in^lf Jn that abstraction bV whi^l^be devotee aitains I
i^kS^ ' '^\.' *^ nirm??^a.' Somedif the pil^riins p&isly dropped food 1
^^ "" ■ ' %into the vessel-; iui^^Beerootoiic'ii^Je^^^ of this, his
* eyes ^pYe fixe^ on vabanGyi andhis ifeind was revolving V'
L \ / • many ;^ingjj.^.^^8|q Woj^r after hem? {^ed, and Bceroo
it > ' ' ' - still sal motdenless as \a stone. ;iE*rem Sagar approached ,.
him onofe and sjtyke '; put the holy inan jnade no answer,- r,
'; judgin04t ]l>^ti;ent,o^ prA|tend to be.undfer a vow of silence,
fff ' u ^ . , - than tbi tetrj^y anything By convert Icirith the Brahmin.
PI S^!'^ ,' ' " ''-''. The high priest' turned- a\jray " m^$ ■ tp hiir^cl|j> 1
WF ;V'fe'* • ,"''*'Bliie^throat€fdEVishJla|:hem:ui^ujf^,^^buttl^

plays his part well I I had bden- deceived myself, h^d I: :
if j' i»it /> «ot be^ warned by thel^god,'^ arid he walk^ to ttie

K(m' -^ \ temple

elates, and gazed down intti J|e vap^jfej)erieatli

** him. ' „^: - ;. ,v V ■• ■.•,/:, 'V* '

^ • '• '.

:^- ■ \

11/

•At fest the strain df the
b^gari Jlj|eil upon Beerod\ .
not hflBPracticfr, in thosie \ i
•endurance to which the regu'
have accustomed^ themselves,
lowed the track of a \youndedsta
days ; he would lifted a cow m. J^gi

te had assnmecl

l^he wasi he had

feats o'f patien^jp

'ts> or holy men,

oTild havt f ol-

jftckal for tjirce

at nightiall, and

by morning he6n in the Mdhun Pass: he would have

danced his taml bear at Umritsur at noontide, and when

-- ; . -':'f^^

>.. "

TBB TREAaURE OF SnAOUL.

150

.themaon rose would have been resting at the Taksali

. 4atep^ Lahore ; but to ^it without motion for hour

after hour, to sit until his limbs seemed paralyzed and

his'blood dead— this was ' unbearable. At all hazards

tliis'niust be ended ; and he suddenly rose, and began to

move up and down, gesticulating wildly^ . The people

who looked on thought he was mad, and therefore moje

holy than ever. They little knew of the method in the

Sansi's madness, and that he was making the frozen

blood circulate once again in 'his cramped limbs.

^^^. fr^^^^ done this he came back, ate a little, and

coiling himself up in the dust went to sleep, his sack

umlcr his head. ' ■

By sunset most of the pilgrims had departed from the
shrine, leaving pnly those who, having far to go, deter-
mined to^cjunp witbin the inclosure of the temple wallfl
•^fflthemghf^They had bpottght provisions with the^
:)0^ soon fires w^e' sputtering merrily, and little groups
?$td around' them, *enJoying themselves in the subdued
faihibn of Indians. ^The^holy man was not forgotten ;

^IJull of sriioking hot cakes of Indian

I9^ei^"than the, others plae(S|d a brass

^^4i?fe *^ Tbj0 holy one proved himself

be vei*f filling^* to a(;c^tltl3,es| jjfilts, and doubtless

refreshed by his Jeeyi^ af(^nd ^tgmt^

dane appSite. J^hile tlfus erigagecl, a; little child came,

pmciiig an offeriijf pf a si%g m. flowiert at^iisfe^t,
^hyl^r^ back to his par^ts. Pjem Sagar saw thfi, %i
. - i.- XI. . _:„ - - J!!:4. ^1.5 had arc^sed the idol ^ ;

^l^|^leMi#^at'^
ites this i|^onting^^in€ eyes became dirti;
41 TOariiag pi miie ears. Then Weard

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160

TnW TREA8URS OF SHAOUL.

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the voice of the idol of Mohonagh, nnd he said unto
iae: iFive score years have passed to4day since the
days of Sham Chand ihe king, . since tl^e days of the i
high, priest Prem Chand, since I, Mo|ionagh, have |
spoken. Now to-night is the night of the now moon,
and I, Mohonagh, will work a sign/ Then the darkness
cleared away, and all was as before. Therefore I say to ,
thee, Pnrun Chandrf let not the idol be watched to-
night: let the temple gates bo kept open that Mohonagh
may enter; and to-morrow at the dawning we shall
behold his sign." ! ,♦

Purun Chand bowed his obedience to the high prkiBt ; ,
and then the darkness c&me> and witlvit the- stars- ah d
the thin scimitar of the ycmng moon 8€if|lantwise in the
sky. Beeroo was in no hurry ; he /had plenty of time to
think out his plan of action, and had resolved to make
his ^ attempt in the small hou^ of the morning, for
choice, in that still time between night and day, when
all would be asleep, when even if it became necesf^ary
to remove an obstacle from his path, oii one would hear
the stroke of the knife or the groan olf the victim. A
little after midnight, then, Beeroo arose^to his feet, and
looked cautiously dhpiit him. Evei^thiilg was very
still ; the camp-fires burned low and thlte wf/as no sound
except the rustle of the leaves overhead": fThe tree be-
neath which he rested was very near to tfte' temple gatet^lf
and it struck him that they were o^n. He crept
softly towards them, and found it was as he thought. '
" The blessing of Mohonagh ts on me,'* he laughed ,
lowly to himself as he came back. He thrusts his hand
into his sack, and pulled out a light but strong claw^
hammer, aiid a knife with a pointed blade keen as a

'/.

'■, •:r

- X

TUB TRBABURB OF SffACMTL. .

161

• 1

razor. As he brought thorn forth they clicked- against
each other, and in the dead stiilnesa the sharp, metallic
sound seemed loud enough to be heard all over the iQ-
closure. SomeChin^ also disturbed the pigeons oh the

hemple, and there was an uneasy fluttering of wings.
The Sansi drew in his breath'' with a hissing souhd. -
"This will cause a two hours' delay," he said to himself.
«il will risk nothing if i can help, it." Then ho, sat .

"liirn down again and waited. ^ . ,^ • ,

At last I He rose once mor&^softly*, and crept iKth
long cat-like steps towards the entrance of the 8hrin^g|^
Thetiressets burning withinjOast a faint penooii of lighl^^
out of the pointed archway of the entrance, and as they
wavered in the night wind, this banner of fire shook and
tremblfed with an uncertain motion. , Beeroo halted in
the shadow. He was about to step forward, again when
he was startled by a strange, shrill chuckling cry that
made his very flesh creep.' H^ looked around him in
fear, and ||ie elvish laugh came again from ^"^^^HUt^
leaves of tie walnut trees, The mail heaved a siglTpf'
relief ; " Pah ! " he exclaimed in disgust at himself, " it
is but a screech W." He had to wait a little, however, "
to steadv himself ; find then he boldly pressed -forward
antU^Migh the door of the shrine.' There was noti a
sounPlin. The ^immering lights cast uricertain shad- •
ows around them, and the three heads of the idol faced - '
the Sansi in a stony silence. There was but one eye in .
theintre of each forehead ; l^ut all three 6f these . eyes .
8f ei^ to lighten, and the.^ick lips on i^hothree faces .
tb widen in a griS; of moc!M|f-at tig: thief^ Like all
■Mtivee of Ihdia, Beeroo w ja' djje jrgjtiiyia, and rf ear he ,
could hardly control fell orf^P/j^lt]^^

-HA

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TUfC

K TRKAHURK OF SBAGUL.

stories of the idol's power' were true ? Aladin had
lied about the Shagiil Tree ; why should he lie about t
power of the idol ? Still Mohemagh was not the god of
the Sansis. lie would invoke his, own gods, doitieti of
forest and flood, against this three-heacled niouster.
Then the Shagul Tree was there. Ho cJduld all but
Hbuch it ; he caught the flash of the winking gcm^, and
^ .; ihe instincts of tl|e^ robber, fighting with liis fear
^~^twPought back his courage. 3ip

«;v"Aho, Mohonagh I Thy blessing is on me, tho
S^nsi." He sa^d this loudly in-bravado, and wA§ alriiost
frightened again at the echoes of his own voice in the
vault of the dong^e. He had spoken with th&«|ame feeling
in his heart fhatSiiiiiikes a ^id traveller whistle when
passu^a |l^e he^eads. fie had spoken to keep \m
he&TiWj^, ajm the very sound of his own voice terrified
himV At last the echoes died away and there was
silencei^Wkhe slirii^||f. Largfi^fbetv^la^of sweat stood on
thetnian^ forehead. ' AiHi6«t did hj^tfeel It in^ his heart
to flee at once ; ^t tM|.V(^ that pripeleft treasure now !
It could not ^I^^^Hi^ If strides lie was beside the tree.
^, A wrench of tj^^atrj-hammer and a jewelled bracelet
^* was in his hanSf; another wrench and he had secured
another blazing trophj
* «B6erooi''

The man looked lip in guilty amazement. To his
Jiorror he saw that the three heads of the idol, which
were facing_the doAr when he entered, ha,d moved
round, and were now facing him,|^ The hammer fell
from his liand with a crash, and he stood shivering, a
grey figure with staring eyes and open gasping mouth.
Ai, Mohonagh I ' he 'said in a choMng voice.

:. -. /

*=--j«^.-'

*<„;«

THE TUBASURK OF HllAaUkm,

168

"The blessing of Mohonagh is on thee ; " anid Bomc-
tliing that Boomed all on lire rose from behind the idol,
and laid its hand' on Beeroo's face. With a shriek of
agony the Sansi loWm on the floor, and twisted and
curled there like a snake with a broken back.

When, rou8e<l by his cries, the people and the priest*
awoke and liurried to the temple, they shrank back in
terror; and none dared enter, not even the priests, for
froi%iSe 4;nouths of the idol three long tongues of flame
playcKfl, paling the glow, of the cressets and throwing its
lighfon the blind and writhing wretch at its feet.

Suddenly a qui|ji voice spoke at the temple-doorj
aii^i^rem Sagar the high-priest appeared. "0 pil-
griS," hfi said, " be not afraid 1 Mohonagh has but
protected his treasure, and given us a sign. Said I not
he would do this, Puriin Chand ? See," he added, as
he stepped into the teniple, andjifted up therms from
the floor, '* this man would have robbed Jt g^^ And
the people, together with the priests, fell o^lj^^ knees
and touched the earth with their foreheads, crying "ill,
cvKphonagh P' " . ■

Prem Sagar pointed to Beeroo. " Bear him outside
the temple-^tes and leave him there," he said ; " he is
blind and cannot, see." ^

•Two or three jnen volunteered to db this, and they
bore him out as Prem Sagar had orderfefd, a6d cast him
on the roadside without the temple-gates ;, and he, to
whom day and night were to be henceforth ever the
same, l^y there moaning in the d|i8t»

Late that morning certain pilgrims returning to their
houses found him there, and, being pitiful, offered to

guide him back. - It is said that the first question Ke

- — ^ ^ '' - " •- — -^— ^ ■ ^ —

. •■ .. A

4 ' /

'-W- ■ f»;

104

THK TRBASVHB OF 8UAGUL.

asked was, "When will it bo day light P " And a
JJogra of tJio hills answered bluntly, '• Fool, tliou uit
blind " ; whereat the Sansi lupsod into a stony silence,
and was led away like a child.

"'J

In the tribe of the Sansis, who wander from Tajawala
^te Jagadhri where the brans-workers are, and from Ju.
gadhri to Kamal, is a blind madman who bears on his
scarred face the impress of a hand. It is said tiiat he
can cure all diseases at will, for he is the only man living
who has stood face to face with a god.

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from .Jji-

rs on hid

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an living

The

■J

THE FOOT OP GAUTAMA

.*'■

The Qr0ory Oasper, or, as tho* Lascars iiMisted on
calling her, the Qir Uiri Qaspa, bound from Calcutta
to Itangoon and the Straits, had injured her nuichinery,
and was now going, as it were, on one leg, and going
very lamely, across the Bay of Hcn^'al. Wo liad got
into a dead calm. The sea and the sky fused into each
other in the horizon, and the water around us was as
molten glass, parting sluggishly before the bows of the
ship, instead of dancing back in a creamy foam.

" By^Jove J^tnd Sladen, as he leaned over the side
and watched ^thg^^iljyr brown swell lounge backward
from our coUIbcj' " tlys is a dirty bit of water : that
wave should have had a white headjo it. I.bplieye
we've got into a sea of flat beer." /*^ f^

"We've got to go to Rangoon for hospitat; and this
is the cutwater of the Irawadi," said a passenger from
his seat. " We can't bo more than sixty miles from the
coast, and an Ir^wadi flood shoots its slime out quite
as far as that'*

' I

'* 1 prefer to think it's flat ale. It's too hot to go into
physical geography, Burgess"; and Sladen, flinging the
half -burnt stump of his cheroot overboard, joined us

165

'%'

166

THE POOT OF OAUTAMA.

W-

"1.,

• •>.

who sat in torpid silonce, . The heat was intense. We

had tried every known way to kill time, and failed.

; The small excitement of the morning, caused by a

shoal of tAirtles drifting, by solemnly, had passed.

They looked like sp many inverted earthen pots in tlie

water, and we had wasted about fifty of the ship's snider
^artridges^^n^them^uB^ ^ ^^

range ted sight, iinhu«rt and - safe. ^ Then an Indian
Marine vessel passed us in the offing, and there was a
hot discussion between Sladen and iny^el! wljeth^ it was
the Warren Hastings or the Lord VUve, We appealed
po the captain, who, being a member of the Eoyal Naval
Reserve, looked with profound scorn on i}i& Indian
;Marine. He scarcely deigned to glance at .the ship as
he grunted out : ■ "^ '

.** Oh> it's one of those damned cockroach navy boat^ : -
it's that old tub the Lord dive," anS lie wilked off to
the bridge. Ten minutes afterwards we lost the grey
sides of the old^tub in the grey of "the sea, and a dark
. line of smoke running from ea»t,to west^was the only'
sign of i^QLord CZm, ds she st^med through the dead
calm at fburteen knots anjiour. gPhen w6 tried nap,
)Ve adventured at loo, and we bluWed.at poker. ^^There
'ms no balm in them, and ^Sladen tfece held a flush
> sequence of hearts. Therefore we satlmoody and sileirt, .
some of .us too sleepy even to^nmJ^Bj. 1:

It was at'tl^is mofnent th^trfil'a&^pier' rejoined u5,
and behind him came his stdigfa^lk^^utleP, with a
ttay full of long glasses/lj^hicri the ice "chinked '
pleasantly. , - - ^^M. - % * •

. "Drink, boys I" he said, settling himself" &' fhe
special chair reserved for him: '" rt*s the chi^if's.wa^'ch,

~7* ?^

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/ K

THE FOOT OF GAUTAMA.,

167

and Vve brought you a particular brew, as jou sewn
dull and lonesome, so to speak." . •

' Itwas a partidular brew, and we sucked at it lovingly /
through thcj^ long amb6T straws.

"Ha!" said the skipper, "I thorght that %ould

stiffen ypuii backbones. Phew I it is hot ! " and he

mopped his face with a huge haridkerdhiei

Sladen bur§t out ; "-We've got absolutely on the

'vnump. Somebody do something iio kill time. Can't

• some of you fellows tell a story ? Any lie will do I

Gome, Captain !*' 1 ' * / . .

f "No, no !*' said the skipper. /' J'|n the ienior.officer
here, and speak last. -Here's Mr. Burgess ; He's" been in
§11 sorts of uncanny places, and should be able "to tell •
us something. 1 put the call on him— so heave away."
Burgess, the man who had ^oken about the putwater
of the Ira wadi, leaned back for a ntbment in his chair,
osed "eyes. He' was a short, squarely built
man," Very sunburnt, with moUth and chin hidden Ijy
/ thp growth of a large inoijstacheantf beard. There was
nothing particular in his appearance ; yet in foljowingi
■ his callinor— -thatof an orchid-shunter— Itb had been to
-strange* places and seen strange things. Sladen, who
knew himj^ well, hinted darkly that he had, f^versed;
unlgiown tracts . ; o£ country,; hacl hobnpbb^ with
- cannibals^ and hfeld his life^J|p lis hands f o?^ ii|3| past
:■'. thirty years.^'.:;^^:.';.- '^'.''^'ri ' r:- ■■'::: '/^::'-\'^W^:-- '
*' You've hit on the^Vely man. Captain,!' said SIAderi. .
" Now, Burgeesf tell us Iio\|^'y^ij.fouiid the snake-pr^
ahd sold it to a duchess for a thonsand pounds. '^You
promised tG^t^ll me the story one day^ you r^meinber ? "
"That's too lofag. FU tell y^ a story, however" ;

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169

rjy^ FOOT OF GAUtAMA.

fh:A

..\

atid Burgess lifted up his drink,' took a pull at it> and,
picking up tht} gtra\v that leaned back in a helplees man-
jier against the edg^ of the glass, began twisting it.
round his fing'crs as he spoke. / ,

■ ** All this happened many years agot ** . '

** When flowers and birds could talk,*' interrupted the
Boy ; and Burgess, turning on 4iim, said J&lowly i
** Flowers and birdii can talk now. When you ar&'
older you will understand/* ^ *^^ - .

The Boy looked down a little abashed, flmd Bnrgcgs
continued : " 1 am afraid to say how i4§iny years ago
I first went to Burma. I was as poor as^ja rat, and things
had panned ojit badly tor me. Rangoon then was not
the Rangoon of to-day, and the old king Min-Doon Min,
who succeeded to the throne after ihe war, was still
atepet all-powerful. He was not ja bad fellow, and
I once did a roaring tra.de with him at, Mandalay;
exchanged IJfty packets of coloured candle^ torf^ .
pigeon's-blodd rubies. I'hey had a big ilh^Mmtmo. af '
the palace that night, and I. only narrowly escaped being
made a menib^ of the cabinet.. I, however, got the
right of travelling through, his majesty's ' dominions,
wherever and whenever T pleased ; but the chief queen
ma^e it a condition that f should supply no mcfte

* coloured candles. She preferred the ri^bies ; and I
fancy old Min-Doon Min must have had a bad tiMe 1>l
it, for theque^ was as remarjjable for her thrift as fft^
her tongue. Sfee was as close as that "—Burgess held
up a square brown fist before us, and, as he c^d .so,,I

" noticed the white line of a sear running>acrossit,'^law
the 'knuckles, fi-om thu];nb■io4ittIe^finga^ * He caught
my.eje resting oil |t, and laughingly said : ** It'« a" seal;

^kj-

.%>

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K -•

TBB FOOT OF QAUTA MA.

169

of the kind friends I [haye in '^Kinnabalu. But to
resume, as the story-books say. All this a1)out Min-
Doon is a ' divapsion,* and V\\ go back to the point when
I found myself fir^t at Rangoon; with att my wardrobe
on my back, and a two-dollar bill in my pocket. After
drifting about for some time, I got employment in a
rice-shipping firm, and set myself to work to learn the
language. In about a year 1 could speak it well, and,
having got promotion in the firm,, felt myself on the
high road to foEtune. It ^as hard work : the boss knew
the value of every penny he spent, and took evei^ ounce
he could out of his men."

" Bosses are cut out of the same pattern even now,"
murmured the Boy. " The breed don't ^eem to im-
prove." I

Burgess took no notice of the interruption, 'but went
on : "I was finally placid in ^6hayge of some work at
Syriam ; and a little mi§fortine Happened — my over-,
man- died. It was rat^l^ a jfob, to get. another. Men
were not easily picked i^ in those days. But at last I
unearthed one; or, rather he unearthe<J himself. He
hailed from thjM^teai^ and described himself as a
Kentucky maifl^e^i^Beal . ^ half -horse, half-alligator *
breed. I askedsno^estions, but set him to work, and
reported to the boss, whi^ said ' All right." The new "man
seemed to be a gem : he turned up reguli|rly, stayed till
all hours, and never spared himself. He w^ a great
lanky fellow,- wdth dark hair,. and eyes so palely grey that
they, seemed almost white. They gave him an odd ap-
pearance-; but, as good looks "were net a qualification
in ouj^^btisiness, it did not matter much what he was
Uke. -"B^ had been a miner, and had alsp^' been to sea,

* *

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iv-

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170

riTi? FOOT OF GAUTAMA.

and knew how to obey an order at the double. One
dy he suddenly looked u^ from his table — ^we sat in the
SMue room — and asked if I had heard of treasure ever
bemg buried in or near old pagodas. . v ^

"* Every one hears such stories/ I answered; *but
why do you ask ?* V \

"*Wal,' he went on, in his slow drawl, * I've bin
£eadin* ez haow a Portugee cafled Brito, or some %ieh
name, did a little bit of piracy in these hyar parts, until
his games were stopped by thi^ local Jedge Lynch.
They ran a stick through hi^^8\the Burmese dol now
to a dried diick.' ,

"'What's that got to do with buried treasure r*

"*You air smart ! This Brito, before his. luck pe-
tered but, had a pow'fi^l soothinV time of it with the
junks anV pagodas, and poongyiesj as they .call^ their
clergy. - Guess he didn't lay round hyar for nuthin',
an' if all I've heard be true, vermilion isn't the name for
the p^jnt he put on the' squint-eyes. .^

"'But— '■■:,.■•:■:■■ [■-:,:;■:::.- '■ ^M^'-y\y\: ■:■■■'

^^He put up his hand. 'So long. I'm thinkin'
that, ef I'd a sniart pard — one who saveyed their l^go^
— we might strike a lead of luck.' "^

"I was always a bit of a roving character, and^-fond
of a little adventure, so that the conversation interested
me ;^till, however, I objected, more with a desire to see,
how^ubh Stevens, as he called himself, knew than any-
thi^ else. " , *

See thar,' he said, pulling out a map from his
di-awer and unrolling it on the table. 'See iharl
This is wh^e Brito and his crowd were,' and he laid a
long forefinger on- the mouths of the Irawadi. * When

lit; •- • "

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TffJS FOOT OF 04UTJ^4.

171

they bested^him, the Burmese got little or nuthin' back. .
I want a pard — one who knows the lingo, an' is a white ,
man. You set nie up when Td struck bed rock ; an' 1
says to myself, Wal, this *ere w a whito man. Ef eve*
Hake^Stevens gets a pile, i^^ to be halyes. The pile's
thar — will you jine?* i j : •

"He sWd up, and^ put his hand on my shoulder.
It really wasn't good enough. Steven^ had simply
got hold of a very ordinary legend after all, and I
laughed Mck, * You'll make more out of a rice-tipom,
Steveiis, some d^J)^, than ever you wiil out of Brito's
treasure.' I|e rolled up t]|e map and put it back\into
his drawer. »,

<V I've* done the sqUar'thiiig by you, pard,' he said..
'No\one can deny ez I haven't done the squar' by you.'

"'\)f course,' I answered, and turned to my dutfes.
Froin that tim^, however, Stevens seemed to he able to
think 6^ nothing but 'his imaginary treasure. Some
days afterwards he did not come to work, and the fol-
lowing day we got an ill-epelt letter, resigning his post,
.and asl^ng that the money due to him should be sent to
a (jertain a^ddress. We paidup, and got a Chinaman in
his-. place." -v. ■,.■ ''■'■-■'''■"■-:■- '::■ ■:.'■■::■ '"■''; '.>v\ ,■":'-

" In a short tinie the Ohinamah will be doing every-
body's wpric in Burma," said^Sladen., "Hand over th^
■ baccy,> please, (Captain.'^ /!:■;; A;- ■ •\;:3^ '.'. "[^r '_ -f ". ■ ^.

The skipper flung Sladen a black rubber tobacco
pouch, and Burgess, in this interlude, finished his glass.

* I clean forgot all about Stevens, when one evening,
as I was sitting in my rooms over a pipe, my servant told
me some one wished to see me. I told the m^n to" admit
him, and Stevens came in. He seemed fairly well off ;

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THE FOOT OF GAtjTAMA,

i)ut was, if possible, a trifle thinner than when I last saw
him. , He shook me by the hand, disjointed himself like
a fishing-rod, and sank i^ a chair. k

**/Wal, pard, will :^ou jine ? ' V

^ " f Still at the old game, Stev^ ? No, I don^t think
I'll join on a fool's se^jch Hip ^t.'

"'Fool's search, yoi^,call it, Very wal, let it be
naow ; but I want yew/ to come with me this evening
to an entertainment. It's a sort of swarrey ; but I guess
ez we'll \^ the only guests^^ - - r- ^^^- -^^
"'Have a whiskey first ?' ■ P ■ J ;
"*l guess ez 'fiaow a wet won't hurt,* and he pourea
himself out a glass from the bottle— we weren't up to
decanters in Burma, then.
" I thought I might as well go> and, having made up
• my mind, we were walking down the street in the next
ten minutes. Rangoon was not laid out in squares as it
is now, with each street numbered, so that losing your
way is an impossibility. Well as I knew the place, I
found that Hake Stevens was aware of short cuta and
by-lanes -which I had neVer seen before. We entered
thfr^phmeee quarter. It was a feast4ay for John, aiid
the'stre^ was alight with paper lanterns, : dragons, ser-
pen*s,, ^bes, and; tortoises swung to and fro in i^H .
'manrier of colour -%ere;( a grefen dragon w^nt op^n-^
mouthed at a yellow serprnity tKere an^ aipber tortoigg
swung in a circle ^ol crimsonTand-bliie- globes. 1^^
passed a joss hous^ whei^.fer|,wa^in illtiminated '
inscription to th^e<?t t^it ehligliteninent ^n§f its^
even amongst, the oiitfer barb^llR^
' left much ^<^ere ;^T#^|yfSivyn;m^ Ar^--

wip«d out all thai.|l«irfe0f '.H^^

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lA gully, and finAlly stopped before a small shop; Sit-
ting in a cane chair in the doorway was a short man/
go enormously stout that he was almok globular. ' Is
he in ? ' asked Stevens, in English ; and the mfin, with
his teeth closed on thti stem of the W he

smoked, answered * Yees/ or rather hissed the words
between his lips. We passed -by him with some littte
difficulty, for he made no effort to move, a^d, ascending
a rickety staircase, entered a small room, ^i^^^y lighted
by a cheap kerosene lamp. In one comer ^f the room
an old mMi was seated. He rose as we e^tqred, and

saluted us.
«*This is the

host/ and Stevens waved his hand in
mtroduction. *put he knows only about six\word8 of
English, and I know nothing of his derned lip, so yeu
see my new pard an' I cayn't very well exchange con-
fidences.' ^

'"I confess to a feeling of utter disappointment when-
I saw what we had come to ; but thei'e was no use. in
saying anything. 'Who is hi ? How did you get to
know him ? M ,asked Stevens. He closed an eyebrow
over one of his white-grey eyes with a portentous wink.,
" ' That, pard, is one of the secrets of tl^e past.
We hev the future before us.' . '

" I never could quite make Stevens out. He spoke
l^the most obtrusive yi^kee ; yet, with turns of expres-
sion tirhich at tim^ induced me to think he was play-
ing 9 ^art. •, • " ,. ' ^ . ' ^
;."'* Very well,' I lam^hed,. ' I don't want tp look back ;
. bui may I ask ^hU is the entertainment this gentleman
'* has provided for- -qfe^?' ' . • **

' Wal,'i|eplied.S|^Vens, 'he's just one of their medi-

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174

TnB FOOT OF GAUTAMA.

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cine-men : goes of! to sleep, and then tells you all abouA
everything. I'm goin' to lay round for him to tell us
where Brito's pile is. ^pirit-rappin' does strangii things
in my country, an' I don't see ez how this old cuss
moutn't bo of help/ i

"The old tack again !—i resigned myself to fato^*

There is ho use in going into preliminaries. Stevens

stated what he wanted, and I explained fully and clearly

; what was required. We then paid our fee, which the

~^old gentleman wrapped up for security in a corner of

the saffron sash he wore round his head, and told us to

sit down before him. Then he stripped himself to the

^^w^ist— there wasn't much to remove— apd spre*fd . a

.square of white cloth on the floor ; on this he placed a

[■■ njirror, brought the ligh! close to thfe miri:or,.and then

settled himself crpss-legged before his wangemeni of

mirtx)r and light. Wl V

** * Listen ! ' he said in Burmefic, * I have given my
word, and will show you what you want ; hut you must
not speak, and you must f^jllow jmy diredjions im-
plicitlj?/: ; ■ -4 ' :■' .■.■-i- ■ ■■- ji. y .^ ,i '■'"■■•-■' ■

•*I translated to Stevens, who willingly a^eed.

" * Now shut your eyes.' *^ ■ .

*We did so, and I felt his hands passing over my
face. Then something cold touched my forehead,
paving a sensation much like that caused by a i^enthol
crystal. A moment later a subtle odour filled the room
— ai^ odour indescribably sweet and heavy, the effect pt '
which on me Was to make me-feel giddy^ ;>

" * Open your eyes I ' % }• ' ,

" I almost started, for the ^ords were spoken in the 1
purest English. We obeyed> and found, the room full

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THE FOOT OF GAUTAMA*

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of a pale blue vapour! The lamp, had gone out ; but )i»
the mirror was instinct with light, and threw a halo

around it, showing^ <>he dim outliu^ of the eorcerer - 4:

crouched low down ^with , hie face between his hands. i;

,-,:«'* Look I *■ .,■; ■ .. •■■■/' v ■ .; ■ :■'_ '■■■• "■■■■■■'ri

" The voice seemed to come from all parte of the room
at once, and Stevens' hand clutched on to my shoulder,
the fingers gripping in like a vice. We bent over the
glass, and saw reflected in it, not our own, faces, but a
wide creek,' overhung by forest on each side, and a row
of six, colossal i^iages of Buddba, fir Gautamas as th^
♦are called, Uning one of the banks. Whilst we looked*
on this silent scene, A boat with a couple of native oars-
men came round the elbdgjpf the creek. In the stem
sat a man in an old-iittshiwHlid dress, with a cuirass on ;
, and as the boat groundednightly near the figitfe of the
largest -Oautama, he leaped actively to land, holding
up from the ground a long, basket-hilted rapier. The
two men followed, baring with them an iron-bound
chest, and laid it at the Ig^et of the biggest Gautama ;
then returning to tHe boat, they brought picks there-
from, and began to dig, the man with the rapier stand-
ing oyer them, resting on Ife^e/ hilt of his sword. They
• dug away under the foot ol the idol, and ^nally con-
cluded they had gone far ^enough. The chief exanfuni,cd
their work, and some w(Jrds pasSed. We saw the lips
jmoving, but heard ja|itog. The box was buried care-
fully, ^ and the 9taMHBid earth put back, so as. to
renndye all traces dOffljiiding-place of the treasure.
Some fijrther directiOfis JWe ffiven, and one of the two
natives stooped as if t|||ith|3wome brushwood over the
jP)t. Th^ next moment *P||Tapier passed through his

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176

-,*■

TUB FOOT OF QAUTAMJi,

body. ITc twisted himself double, and rolled over dead.
The other turned to lice, but there was a fltt**h, a small
curl of blue and grey smoke/and he fell forward on his
fftce into^ the water and sank. The cavalier, still
holding the pistol in bin hand, went up to the first man.
There wan no doubt he was dead; so the Don put back
his pjstol, wiped his sword carefully with a handful
of grass, and returned it to its scabbard; then ho
dra^.sfed thip body to the crock and flung it in. After
that he gave a last look at the foot of the Gautama, an^l,
^TnjJing into the boat, began to paddle himself away!
" * Dead men toll no tales.' The words seemed to
burst from Stevens. Instantly there was a blinding^
flash, and When we recovered ourselves the room was as
before. The cloth and mirror had gone, and the old
•sorcerer was 'seated on. his stool in the comer of the
room, the lamp burning dimly besicjie him.

You spoke,' he said. * I can do no more/
"I loo|^ at Stcveijs reproach fu'tlys^nd ho undor-
6tqo(f. Hie face was very pale, and hisj^f^lue with
excitement. After a little he recovered himself, and
said, with a shake of eagerness in his voice :

"' Gayn't this old cuss 8ta,rt fresh» an' give us another

run ?' ":;■■:■ :■,. •■■ ■ ,, ..■ .■/ . ■ ■'■■. ...

^ *" I can do nothing/ replied the mail to my inquiry.
You must go now.'. . "^

'V We turned to. depart, and when we got into the
street Stevens said to me : Mil see you home. ^ I'm
afrtrid I busted the show.* '

f '^M'm afi:aid you have; but it's no U8« crying over
spilt milk.' , ^

' "Stevens made no answer,^ and we walked back to

' /

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over (lead.
>h, a ijmall
ard on his
ilier, atill
first mun.
I put back
\ handful

then he
n. After
ama, and,
jclf away,
leomod to

blinding
»m was as
1 the old
Br of the

c under-
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?elf^ and

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inquiry.

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THE

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my rooms without SBy1l|||^^WF At the door he left
me abruptly, refusing all^HlpFConie in. Once in my
rooms, I tried to think outlfte matter, but gave it up
and went to bed. Sleep wouldn't come, so I lay awak^
the whole night, picturing to myself over and over again
the grim scene I had seen enactitMl in the mirror. To-
wards morning I dropped into a troubled sleep, and
awoke rather late. I got out ol bed thinking that the
^events of the past night were, after all, nothing rhore
than k dream ; but it all came back to me. Wljen X
went down to breakfast I found Stevens waiting for
me, and he pressed me earnestly to Join him in a search
for the place we had seen in the looking-glass. I was
in an irritable mood. /Great Scott I* 1 said, * can't
you see that all this is only a conjurer's trick ? How
many thousand Oautamas are there in Burma? Are
you going to dig them all up ? '

"*Some men don't know their luck> pard,* he said,
88 he left me j and, although I thought of liim some-
times, I never heard anjrthing m'ore of him for a long
time. . ■- 'v.

"A run of bad luck canie now, and the boss suspended
payment— went bung, in fact— and I was thrown on my
beam ends. I had something in the stocking, though ;
and it was about this time that my tl^oughts kept tum-
.ing continually towards the orchid trade. It first 'Atruck
me in this way : A friend of mine had written from
home, jpointing out that a demand had arisen for or-
chids; and the small supply I sent was sold on such
favourable terms that I was seriously considering a
larger venture. I thought the matter OYer, and one
evening after dinner d^rmin^ to give iit a final eon-

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(716) 482 - 0300 - Phone
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TBB FOOT OF OAUTAMA.

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sideration. So I lit my pipe, and strolled out towards
.the jetties— a favourite walk of mine. It was bright
moonlight ; and I walked up and down the planking,
more and more resolved at every turn I took to decide
upon the orchid business. '?

" At one end of the jetty there was a crane that
stretched out its arm in- a how-de-do sort of manner to
the river below it. I walked up to it with idle curiosity,
and when I bame close, saw the figure of a European,
apparently fast asleep, near the carriage of tne crane.
A common * drunk ' or a loafer, I thought to myself—
when the figure rose to a sitting posture, and," as the
moonlight shone on its face, I , could not make a
mistake.

"'StevensI' I said. "'

" ' Wfil, pard ? ' and Hake Stevens,* \^thout another
word, rose up and stood before me.

"I saw at a glance that he was in rags, and that about
the third of one stockingless foot was protruding in an
easy manner from his boot ; the otjier boot seemed more
or less wearable. Stevens had a habit of walking with a
lurch to his left— heeling over to port, as it were— which
accounted for the fact I observed. —

"*Why,' I said, putting my hand on his shoulder,^
*how has it conae to this ? Why didn't you come to
■ .Hie ?■' : ■ ' \ , '■.; " ■ ■ : r /• '-;.,.

" * Have you got a smoke ? ' 'he asked.
" '* i?or answer I handed him my baccy pouoh, and he
loafli'^d an old'pipe.
• ''*^Ligbt-o!>

"I struck a vesta, and han^ded it to himr By the
• flare of it I could see him very white and starved.

,Jti

THE FOOT OF OAUTAMA.

179

towards
( bright
banking,
) decide

ne that
jQner to
ariosity,
iropean,
3 crane,
lyself—
," as the
make a

another

»■ •
it about
ig in an
ed more
w with a
—which

fioulder,
come to^

and he

By the
Fed.

" ' Now/l added, * you come straight home with me.'

"'Guess ez haow 1 was making tracks thar, when I
broke down, an' had to heave to. I hev found it th|
time. Seehyar.' ' ^

« * First come home with me, and then you- can tell
me all' about it. I won't hear > word till you've^ had
something to eat and a rest.' '

"It was only a few minutes' walk to my rooms ; but
I had tohalf carry Stevens there. Those were the days
when cabs were unknown, remember. As soon as we
arrived, I told my boy to raise supper ; and in the mean-
time Stevens had a stiff whiskey, a bath, and changed
into some of my things. He looked a figure of fun
as he came out, with about a yard of lean leg and leaner
arm sticking out of the things I'd given him. But,
Lord ! you should have seen him wblf the cold m^at

and pickles ! When, he^d done, I was, for just ^^

him straight to bed. But, nO : he was deteminfed to

tell me his stocy ; so 1 let him run his course.

" ' Pard/ he eaid, ' when I busted the caboodle thai
night, an' left you, 1 said to myself: " Hake Stevens,
you chowder-headed clam, you jest make this level ;
you've done an all-fired foolish thing, an^ now you've
got ter eat yerleek." The next mornin' I gave yoii
another try, button wouldn't rise to it ; so I. went off
an' took a passage- to Henzada. It was all in the low
countries that Brito was, an' I determined to work the
thing in squarS— work every inch of it^ ef it took me a
hundred years, until*I found thet crfeek with the images.
I got to Henzada in a rice boat; then I pulled out my ^
map, marked my squars, an' set to work. I bought a
paddle canoe, an' blazed every creek I went up. I made

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180

THE FOOT OF QAUTAMA.

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up my mind ez I should work ^owri'erdB from Henzada,
ez'thet was the furthest point old Brito struck. I
calc'lated thet ef he was hard pressed, an' t^ Burmec
squint-eyes were gettin' the jamb on him, he would lay
fur to hide his greenbacks ez far from his usual
bars ez possible. Wal, I worked those creeks up an'
down, night an' day, gettin' what I could out of the
villagers on payment, an' when the doUare ran out, ggt
it without payment. Snakes I How the squitters fed
on me I An' I waa a'most so starved thet, ef I could
on^y hev managed it, I'd hev fed on them lil{:e a fish,
an' got some oi myself back agen. WaVit'|i|k$nakes
when they found I swooped down on tT^BPokynut
plantations, and one thing and another ;. btit a f reebom'
American ain't goin' fur to starye when these hyar
yeller.Burmans gits their bellies f\p. The local sheriff
and his posse turned out, an' thar was a vigilance com-
mittee behind every tree. Shootin' was not in my line,
unless forced to • so I skedaddle^, an' they after me. It
was a tight race, an' I was m weak I felt I could haxdly
hold out ; so I thought I'd better take to land. I
filhot the canoe under some branches, an', to my surprise,
found they overhung an' concealed a small passage,
hardly wide enough for two canoes abi-east. Up this
I/went : it was easier goin' than walkin' throuffh the
tnoms. After about four hours of shovin* through^ slime,
it widened out ; an' then, tumin' a great clumri of bam-
boos, I swung round to my right— an' what do you think
Isaw?'

"He stretched his hand out to me, and the grey of his
eyes seemed absolutely to whiten.

" ^ Ez I live, I saw the six big images all in a row.

THE FOOT OF QAlffAMA.

181

each one bigger than the other; an' they wax smilin'
across the creek, as they smiled when Brito buried his
treasure thar, an' God knows how many years before.
I ran the boat ashore, jumped off, an' patted the big
idol's knee— couldn't reach further up; an' then I came
back to find you. The gold lies thar, pard, an' we ^e
made men ; it's thar, I ^say. Come back with me ;
share an' share alike^hands on it/

"His voice cracked as he brought his story to this
abrupt close ; and I s#d nothing, but shook his out-
stretched hand. , .

"*When can we start?' he asked.

*''You must pull yourself together a bit, Stevens,
V before we do anything of the kind.'

" Then I told him briefly how I was a free man, and
able to go where I listed ; and-that, as I could combine
my first essay in orchid-huntjng with the search for
Brito's treasure, I didn't care how soon I went. But
it could not be unt|l Stevens was better able to travel,
as the rains were coming on, and further exposure might
mean death to him.

" ' And now,' I said, * you'd better turn in ^d have
a snooze. I'm a bit sleepy myself.' ,

"With that he got up and shambled off to bed. The
next morning he was in a high fever, and it was some
time before he was right again. At length he said he
was once more fit * to fight his weight in wild cats.' He
wasn't by any means that : he was still weak, and not
able to face any great hardship ; but enforced idleness
was sending the man mad, and I thought we'd better
make a staH. I did not mean to go in for any
particiilflT roughin g it. It was only subsequently that

i» 1

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182

THM FOOT OF GAUTAMA.

«*

I learned what sbrt of music an orchid-hunter has to
face."- ; ■■:■:: -' ;

Bur^ss stopped for a moment, and pointed his finger
at the Boy, whyi lay flat on his back, sound asleep, with
his lower jaw open. \

"If you're , feeling like that, nl reel up."

"Go ahead," said the skipper; "if you've done
nothing else /you've quieted that young limb for the
present, and/we owe you a vote of thanks for that."

" Go on. Burgess," sa|d V^laden : « you've burnt your
ships now, and can't go back."

The maji laughed— a pleasant, low laugh, that was
good to hj&ar.

" Very /well— I'lU go on. I totted uj) my savings,
and founa I could fairly risk the venture. We made
arrangements to go to Henzada first, and the passage
was done in a big rice boat : there was no flotilla com-
pany in those days. We simply crawled to our des-
tination, and I was pretty; sick of the journey. It
nearly drove Stevens mad, Rowever ;'i»e fretted and
fumed until I almdst thought he'd be ill again. When-
ever we could stop, we did ; and I collected as many
orchids as I could. Heavens ! the rubbish I picked up
m those days! Stevens did nothing but sw£r at the
serangm^ pore oyer the notes in his pocket-boolcx He
got into a way of repeating the notes in his book aloV.
'Third tumin' to the right, first to the left, three big
jack trees, and then the passage.' He was learning his
notes by heart, he said, in case anything happened.

"When wb reached Henzada, a difficulty arose which
we should haver foreseen. Stevens w'as recognised, and
his late visit only too well r emembered. Th e r esult

W < 'I

THEFOOTOFGAUtAMA.

was trouble ; but the Myook— -th^j^re was only a Myook
tliere in those days — was op6n to argument, backed up
with palm oil, and Stevens was jet oil" with a fine/ Of
course I paid, and was correspondingly sorry f9r my-
self ; but weM gone too far now to recede. We/bought
a boat^-or rather 1 did— hifed a couple of inen /to help,
and started. Stevens had selected some good/ picks at
llarigoon, and these formed a not unimi)oiil(jmt item
of our outfit. In three days we reTached a /big creek.

"*It was hyar that 1 cut from those Iniuns on the
war-path,' said Stevens, ^and we cayn't be iftor'n a mile
from the gully— we should be there by nightfall.'

" It was noonday, almost as hot as it is now, and I
was snoozing comfortably, when I heard Stevens shout :

" * Hyar we are, pard— wake up ! ' ■ /

"The boat s^ng lightly round, ancVshot under the
overhanging branches of a large jack /tree as he spoke,
and I had to stoop very low to save n(y head. Stevens
was trembling with excitement. I

" ' In thar/ he called out^* tell them to steer in thar,
an' then right ahead.' He ppintei^ to a small opening,
about three feet wide, up which a^ long straight cut of
water extended. We got the bos(t in with some little
trouble, and then slipped along easily. The cut was
as straight as a canal j overhung on each side with a
heavy undergrowth. As we went deeper into the forest
this undergrowth became less, and finally almost ceased.
Every yard of our advance took us amongst trees which
grew more gigantic as we went on. ^ome of the trees

CTe splendid, going up fifty or sixty^eet before throw-
ing\mt a single branch ; and the bamboos— T never
8 aw 8u6h bamboos. — A s we continued our cour s e it be-

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THE FOOT OF GAUTAMA.

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came darker and darker, until we entered the blackest
bit of forest I ever saw. Wo could hear the drip of the
dew from leaf to leaf. The few rays of sunlight that
straggled in fell in level bars on the green of the leaves,
shadowing the dim outlines of the long colonnades of
tree trunks, and occasionally lighting up the splendour
of some rare orchid in full bloom. A hundred times
I wanted to stop and colleqj' specimens, but Stevens
Would not hear of it.

"*No, no, old pard ! let's get on. We'll come back
hyar in our steam yacht, an' you can then root away for
etarnity. We're on the right trail, an' in ten hours—
my God II cayn't think ez how your mind can turn to

, roots now.'

~~~^.4Kaa ajittle surprised myself ; butjfiie love of these
flowers was in me, and not all the gold in Asia could stop
that. In this way we travelled for about four hours ; and
then towards evening a broad band of daylight spread
ftuddenly before us, and, almost before I was aware of it,
we we*te out of the long, snake-like cutting, and, turning
SL munificent clump of bamboos, came upon a wide
stretch of water.

" ' There they air ! ' said Stevens. -

"There they were — six huge statues— standing in a
row on the edge of the inland lake, each colossal image
larger than the other, all with their faces set towards
the west. It was almost sunset, and the sky was aflame
with colour, which was reflected back by the water, over
which the Oautamas looked in serene peace. There
was not a sound except the soft murmuring of the breeze
amongst the tree tops. As I live, it was the place we had
seen in the mirror, and for a moment thai?' tragedy of

.)>S

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TUB FOOT OF GAUTAMA.

185

the past came before me in all its (Clearness — and I was ^^ ,
in dreamland. i

" ' Wal, pard \ Struck ile at lait/

" The sound of Stevens' voice ct^ijie to mo as from a
far distance. In the sunlit haze l^efore nie 1 saw the
Don paddling his boat a, way,, hip lobg black moustaches ^
Hfted with the snarling laugh he! had lauj^hed, wHen ^_«,
he hid his treasure sq that no man could tell. *" V

"The boat grounded softly, and Stevens shook me *^
,by the shoulder. i

"*Wake up, old boss! — wake up IV

"I pulled myself together and looked at my coni-
panion. His face was full of a strange excitement;,
as for myself, 1 felt as if I coUld hardly speak. A?
matter of fact, we wasted no time in words; but took
off our coats and set to work. Our small crew lent a
willing hand. It was under the left foot of the biggest
Buddha we dug, and in about half an hour made a hole
big enough for a man to stand in over his waist.

"* Guess he must have burjowed down far,' said
Stevens, * or we've missed the spot/ Even as he spoke
his pick struck with a sharp clang against something.

"* Iron against iron,' yelled Stevens, as he swung
his pick round like a madman, ^e worked so furiously
that it was impossible to get near him ; but finally he
stopped, and said very calmly:

"/Thar's^he pile, pard.' . -

" We sfr^^o'k'^ands, and then, witii the aid of the men,
lifted out the box. It was exceedingly heavy. When
we got it out '_ there was some difficulty in opening it,
but a revolver 'partridge and the pick solved the matter.
As the lid we,nt up, we saw before our eyes a pile of gold.

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THE FOOT OF QAUTAMA

jewellery 9nd precious stones. Hake Stevens run his
fingers through them lovingly, and then lay down on
the ground, laughing and crying. Then he got up
again, andplunged his arms up to the elbows into the
winking mass — ;and his eyes were as the eyes of a mad-
man. I put Hi} hand into the box and pulled out a
fistful of gems, Stevens grasped me by the wrist, and
then loosed his hold at once.

"*0h God I oh God 1' :

"*Why, what is the matter, Stevens? Look at
these beauties I ' and I held out my hand to him. IIo,^
looked back at me in a strange sort of way, and said, in a
husky voice :

, "'Keep that lot, pard. Don't let them be mixed
with the others. See ! I will take what I can hold,
too, and we will divide the rest.' He put his hand
amongst the Jewels anj^ drew it' back with a snudder.
"They're hot as hell,' he said.

"I thought the best thing to do was not to notice
his strange manner.

"*Keep them to cool,' I said, flinging what I hail
with me into the box, and shutting the lid, ' and come
and have soone dinner. I'm famished/

" * Do you think those fellows arc all right ? ' Stevens
said, apparently trying to pull himself together, as he
indicated the crew with a glance.

"*/W^e ought to be a match for twice the number;
but we'll keep a look out.'

"We went to dinner in the boat, carrying our box
with us. Our crew lit a fire near one of the idols, and
cooked their food, whilst we ate our very simple meal.
The sun had gone down, and the naoon was fighting

\Si

THE FOOT Op GAUTAMA^

187

with a heavy musK of clouds that had nprung up ap-
parently from nowhere, and were gathoring in moun-
tainous piles overhead. Thejow rumbling of distant
thunder came to our ears,
"'Looks like rain. Jehoshaphat ! — it is rain.'
" A distant moaning sound that gradually incrcaaoA
in volume was audible, the tree tops bent and swayed,
the placid surface of the lagoon wajii beaten into a white
foam, and the storm came. We heard a yell from the
boatmen on the bank. The next moment we were torn
from our moorings, and went swinging down the creek
in pitchy darknese. Overhead and around all hell was
loose. The paddles were swept away, and we spun
i*ound in a roaring wind, in ,» din of the elements,
and a darkness like utf^w'hat was before God siiid,
' Let there be light.' Flouted to~ Stevens, but ^ could
not hear my own voice. Suddenly there came a" deafen-
ing crash, and a chain of fire hung round the heavens.
I saw Stevens crouching in the boat, with his face
resting on the box, and his arms clasped around it.

* By the Lord ! ' he was gibberjng and mowing to him-
gelf_even above the storm F heard his shrill cry—

* the idols, the idols ! they're laffin' at us.* I turned my
head as he spoke: the blackness was again lit up, and I
saw by it the calm, smiling faces of the Buddhas. All
their eyes were fixed on us, and in that strange and
terrible light the stony smiles on their faces broadened
in devilish mockery. The rain ^ame down in sheets ;
and the continual and ceaseless flashes of lightning
flared on the angry yellow water around us, and made
the rain seem as if there were millions of strands of fine
silver and gold wires hanging from the blackness above.

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THE FOOT OF QAUTAMA.

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It waH all I could do to keep myself in the canoe. Afc
each flush 1 looked ut Stevens, and.Huw him in the Huino
posture, crouching low, like a cat. Then he began to
sing, in a shrill voice, that worked its way, as a bradawl
through wood, past all the noise of the eloments. And
now the whole heavens were bright wit^ a pale light
that was given back by the hissing water around. The
raindrops sparkled like gems, and hit almost with the
force of hailstones. Stevens rose with a scream, and
stood in the boat.

" * Sit down, for God's sake I ' I called out.

"Tm holding them with my life^tho diamonds,
the jewels I' he yelled with a horrid laugh, and shook
his fist at something. I followed his movements ; and
there, riding in the storm, was a small canoe, paddled by
a man in the dress of old days. He was smiling at
Stevens as, with long easy sweeps of his paddle, he came
closer and closer. ^^

'*' Shoot him I * yelled Stevens, as he pulled out his
revolver and fired once, twice, and then flung it with all
his might at the vision. In the effort he overhalanced
the boat, and all I can remember is that I was swim-
ming for gear life, and heing borne down with fright-
ful rapidity through that awful light. I saw some-
thing, which mrght have been Hake Stevens, struggling
lor a moment on the water ; hut, Stevens or not, it sank
again almost immediately, and some one laughed too as
jthis happened.

f "And I think/' said Burgess, "thafs ahout all. I
InevOT saw Hake Stevens again,' and I donti^rant ever to
see Britons jewels any mora/*

« How did you get^ out ? ''

-1;

TIIK FOOT OF OAUTAMA.

180

:^\

" By absoluto luck. I don't very w(^ . rcraombor
now ; and By Jove ! hero comes tlio brcozo."

Even as he spoke, a cool pui! ol wind fanned ua into
Ufo.

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THE DEVIL'S li^NUSCRIPT

CHAPTER I.

THE BLACK PACKET.

" M De Bag ? De Bac ? I do not know the name."
^* Gentleman says he knows you, sir, and has called on
urgent business." • • j

There was no answefr, and John Brown, the ruined
puWisher, looked about him in a dazed manner. He
knew he was ruined ; to-morrow the world would know
it also, and then— beggary stared him in the face, and
infamy too. For this the world, would not care. Brown
was not a great man in "the trade," and his name in
the Gazette would not attract notice ; but his name, as
he stood in the felon's dock, and the ugly history a
cross-examination might disclose would probably arouse
a fleeting interest, and then the world would go on With
a pitiless shru^ of its shoulders. What does it matter
to the moving^ave of humanity if one little drop of
spray from its crest is blown into nothing by^he wind ?
Not a Jot. But it was a terrible busine^ for|;hedi!«p
of spray, otherwise John Brown, publisher. He was at
his best not a good-looking man, rather mean-looking

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THE DEVIL'8 MANU80BIPT.

than otherwise, with a thin, angular face, eyes as shifty
as a jackars, and shoulders shaped like a champagm;-
bottle. As the shadow of coming ruin darkened ovt't
him, he seemed to shrink and look meaner than ever.
He had almost forgotten the presence of his clerk. He
could think of nothing but the morrow, when Sim-
naonds' voice again broke the stillness.

"Shall I say you will see him, sir ?"

The question cut sharply into the silence, and
brought Brown to himself. He had half a mind to say
"No." In the face of the coming to-morrow, business,
urgent or othefwise, was nothing to him. Yet, after all,
there could be no harm done in receiving the man. It
would, at any rate, be a distraction, and, lifting his
head. Brown answered:

" Yes, I will see him, Simmonds."

Simmonds went out, closing the green baize door be-
hind him. There was a delay of a moment, and M. De
Bac^ntered — ^a tall, thin figure, bearing an oblong par-
cel, packed in shiny, black paper, and sealed with flame^
coloured wax. {

"Good-day, Mr. Brown ;" and M. De Bac, who, for
all his foreign name, spoke perfect English, extended his
hand.

Brown rose, put his own cold fingers into the warm
giasp of his visitor, and offered him a seat. \*

"With your permission, Mr. Brown, I will take* tliis
other chair. It is nearer the fire. I am accustomed to
warm climates, as you doubtless perceive ;" and De B|ac,
suiting his action to his words, placed his packet on the
table, and began to slowly rub his long, lean fingers
together. The publisher glanced at him with aom^

rt". ■■

THB BLACK PACKET.

193

curiosity. M. De Bac was as dark as an Italian, with
clear, resolute features, and a moustache, curled at the
ends, thick enough to hide the sarcastic curve of his
tlyn lips. He wus strongly if sparely built, and hie
fiery black eyes met Brown's gaze with a look that ran
through him like a needle.

" You do not appear to recognise me, Mr. Brown ? "
— Do Bac's voice was very quiet and deep-toned. ^

"I have not the honoiir " began the publisher ;

but his visitor interrupted him.

" You mistake. We are quite old friends ; and i»
time will always be very near each other. I have a
minute or two to spare" — he glanced at a repeater—
** and will prove to you that I know you. You are John-*
Brown, that very religious young man of Battersea^
who, twelve years ago, behaved like a blackguard to a
girl at Homerton, and sent her to b ut no mattes*
You aUfacted my attention then; but, unfortunately,
I had no time to devote to you. Subsequently, you
effected a pretty little swindle— don't be angry, Mr.
Brown— it was very clever. Then you started in busi-
ness on your own account^ and married. Things went
well with you ; you kno^ the art of getting at a low
price, and selling at a high one. You are a. bom
* sweater.* Pardon the word. You know how to keep
men down like beasts,' and go up yourself. In doing
this, you did me yeoman's service, although you are
even bow not aware of this. You had one fault, you
have it still, and had you not been a gambler you might
have been a rich^man. Speculation is a bad thing,
Brown-^I mean gambling speculation."
Brown was an Englishman, and it goes without

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194

THE DSVW8 MANUSORTPT.

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saying that he had courage. ' But there wae something
in De Bac'a manner, some strange power in the steady
Btare of those black eyes, that held him to his seat as .
if pinned there.

As De Bac stopped, however, Brown's anger gave
him strength. Every word that was said was true, and
Btung like the lash of a whip. He rose white with
anger.

" Sir ! " he began with quivering Hpe, and made a
step foiwards. Then he stopped. It was as if the
sombre fire in De Bac's gaze withered his strength. An
invisible hand seeined to. drag him back into his seat
and hold him there.

" You are hasty, Mr. Brown ; " and De Bac's even
voice continued : "you are \ really very rash. I was
about to tell you a littte more of your history, to tell
you you are ruined, and to-morrow every one in London
—it is the world for you. Brown— will know you are A
beggar, and . many will know you are a cheat." -

T?he publisher' swore bitterly under his breath.

" You flee, Mr. Brown," continued his strange visitor,
" I know all abjjmt you, and you will be surprised, per-
haps, to hear that you deserve help from me. You are
too useful to let drift. I have therefore oome to save

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• "Saveme?" \':^/-' ;:';■•:: ;;-■■

" Yes. By means of this manuscript here," he
pointed to the packet, "which you are going to pub-.

H*." ; -..■"■"■.■■:. :-■.'. y. :'.',, ., : \/

,. Brown now realized that he was dealing with a
lunatic. He tried to stretch out his arm to touch the
bell on the table ; but found that he had no power to

TRK BLACK PACKKT.

195

do 80. He made an attempt to shout to Simmonds; but
his tongue moved inaudibly in his mouth. He seemed
only to have the faculty of following Pe Sac's words,
and of answering them. He gasped out :

"It is impossible!"

" My friend "—and De Bac smiled ftiirthleesly-^
" you will publish that manuscript. I will pay. The
profits will be yours. It will make your name, and you
will be richi You will even be able to build a church."
,"Kichl" Brown's voice was very bitter. " M.
De Bac, you said rightly. I am a ruined man. Even if
you were to pay for the publication of that manuscript
I could not do it now. It is too late. There aie other
houses. Go to them."

"But not other John Browns. You are peculiarly
adapted for my purpose. Enough of this I I know
what business is, and I have many things to attend to.
You are a small man, Mr. Brown, and it will take little
ta remove your difficulties. See I Here are a thou-
sand pounds. They will free you from your present
troubles," and De Bf^c tossed a pocket-book on the table
before Bro^n. "I do not want a receipt," he went
on. " I will call to-morrow for your final answer, and
to settle details. If you need it I will give you more
money. This hour — ^twelve— will suit me. Adieu f*
He was gone like a flash, and Brown locked around in
blank amazement. He was as if suddenly aroused from
a dream. He could hardly believe the evidence of his:
senses, although he could see the" black packet, and the
neat leather pocket-book with the initials " L. De B."
let in in silver qu the outside. He rang his bell
violently, and Simmonds appeared.

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196

TITB DEVIL'S MANUSCUIPT.

" Hm M. Do Bac gone ? "

" I don't know, sir. He didn't pass out through the
door."
" There is no other way. You must havo been

asleep."

" Indeed I was not, sir."

Brown felt a chill as of oold fingers running down his
backbone, but pulled himself together with an effort.
" It does not matter, Simmonds. You may go."

Simmonds went out scratching his head. "How
the demon did he get out ? " he asked himself. " Must
have been s'leeping after all. The giiv'nor seems a bit
dotty to-day. It's the smash coming— sure."

He wrote a letter or two, and then taking his hat,
sallied forth to an aerated bread-shop for his cheap and
wholesome lunch, for Simmonds was a saving young
man, engaged to a young lady living out Oamden
Town way. Simmonds perfectly understood the state
of affairs, and was not a little anxious, about matters,
ior the mother of his fiancee, a widow who let lodgings,
had only agreed to his engagement after much per-
suasion ; and if he had to announce the fact that, in-
stead of "thirty bob a week," as he put it, his income
was nothing at all, there would be an end of everything.

"M'ria's all right," he said to his friend Wilkes, in
trustful confidence as they sat over their lunch ; "but
that old torpedo"— by which name he designated his
mother-in-kw-elect — ^** she'll raise Cain if there's a

smash-up."

In the meantime, John Brown tore open the pocket-
book with shaking hands, and, with, a crisp rustling,
^ a number of new ban|:-Jaotes fell o^t, and lay in a

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THE BLAOK PAVKJST.

197

hcop before him. He counted them one by one. They
totalled to a thousand pounds exactly. He was a small
man. M. Dc Bac had said so truly, if a little rudely,
and the money waa more than enough to «tavo oi! ruin.
De Bac had said, too, that if needed he would give him
more, and then Brown fell to trembling all qver. He
waa like a man snatched from the very jaws of death.
At Battersea he wore a blue ribbon ; but now he went
to a cabinet, filled a glass with raw brandy, and drained
it at a gulp. In a minute or so the generous cordial
wanned his chilled blood, and picking up the notes,
h^counted them again, and thrust them into his breairt-
pocket. After this he paced the room up and down
in a feverish manner, longing for the morrow when he
could settle u^ the most urgent demands against him.
Then, on a sudden, a thought ertnick him. It waa
almost as if it had been whispered in his ear. Why
trouble at all about matters ? He had a clear thousand
with him, and in an hour he could be out of the
country I He heeitated, but prudence prevailed.
Extradition laws stretched everywhere ;, and there was
another thing— that extraordinary madman, De Bac,
had promised more money on the morrow. After all,
it was better to stay.

As he made this resolve his eyes fell on the black
packet on the table. The peculiar colour of the seals
attracted his attention. He bent over them, and saw
that the wax bore an impress of a V-shaped shield, with-
in which was set a trident. H^ noticed also that
the packet was tied with a silver thread. His curiosity
was excited. He sat down, snipped the threads
with a penknife, tore off the black paper coverings

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TUB DEVIL' a MANUHORIPT,

flung it into the firo, and saw before hlin a bulky
nianuBcript exquisitely " written on very flno paper.
A closer examination showed th^ they wore a
number of irtiort staries. Now Brown waa in no
mood to read ; but the title of the first tale caught his
eye, and the writing was so legible that he had glanced
over half a dozen lines before he was aware of the fact.
Those first half-dozen lines were sufTicient to make him
read the page, and when he had read the page the pub-
lisher felt ho was before the work of a genius.

He was unable to stop now ; and, with his head reet-
ing between his hands, he read on tirelessly. Simmonds
came in once or twice and left jjapers on the table, but
his master took no notice of him. Brown forgot all
about his lunch, and turning over page after page read
as if spellbound. He was a business man, and was
certain the book would sell in thousands. He read as
one inspired to look into the author's thoughts and see
his design. Short as the stories were, they wore Titanic
fragments, and every one of them taught a hideous les-
son of corruption. Some of them cloaked in a religious
garb, breathed a spirit of pitiless ferocity ; others were
rich with the sensuous odonrs of an Eastern garden ;
otheTs, again, were as the tender green of moss hiding
the treacherous deeps of a quicksand ; and all of them
bore the hall-mark of genius. They moved the man
sitting there to tears, they shook him with laughter,
they seemed to rock his very soul asleep ; but through
it all he saw, as the mariner views the beacon fire on a
pocky Coast, the deadly plan of the writer. There was
money in them — ^thousands — ^and all was to be his.
Brown's sluggish blood was running to flame, a strange

THE BLACK PACKET.

199

strength glowed in his face, and an uncontrollablo ad-
miration for Do IVac'B evil power (illud him. The book,
when jiublishod, might comipt genoratioim yet unlmrn ;
but that was nothing to Brown. It meant thouaiind* for
him, and an eternal fame to Ue Bac. lie did not
grudge the writer the fame as long m he kept the
thousands.

/* By Heaven I " and, ho brought his fist down on the
table with a crash, " the-man may bo a lunatic ; but ho
is the greatest genius the world ever saw— or ho is the
devil incarnate."

And somebody laughed softly in the room. ^ i

The publisher looked up with a start, and saw Sim-;;
monds standing before him. .^v

" Did you laugh, Simmonds ? " %

" Noj sir I " replied the clerk with a surprised loolc.

" Who laughed then ? " / ^'

»** There is no one here but ourselves, sir— «nd I
didn't laugh."

"Did you hear nothing ?"

« Nothing, sir."

" Strange 1 " and Brown began to feel chill again.

"What time is it ?" he asked with an effort. .

" It is half-past six, sir." '■■''■ m' ' '

" So late as that ? You may go, Simmorids. ftaYd
me the keys. I will be here for some time. Qood«
evening." %^

" Mad as a coot," muttered Simmonds to himself ;
"mtist break the news to M'ria to-night. Oh, Lor* !**
and his eyes were very wet as he went out into the
Strand, and got into a blue omnibus.

When he was gone, Brown turned to the fire, poker

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200

rm: dkvil'b manuscript.

in hand. To hw BurpriMo ho mw that the black paper
Wii itill there, hurninK red hot, and the wax of iho
•oaU waa Mtill intact— the hwiIh themselveB shinirtK like
orange glow-lighta. Ho beat at the paper with Iho
poker ; but intitead of crumbling to ai}hc6 it yielded
paHsively to thjB lOroko)) and came back to itw originul
fhapo. Then a fury came on IJrown. Ho raked at tho
fire, threw more coaU over tho paper, and blow at the
flames with hia bellows until they roared ^p the chim-
ney; but still the coppery glare of tho pack<iit-cover
never turned to the grey of ashes. Finally, he could
endure it no longer, and, putting the manuscript into
the safe, turned off the electric light, and stole out of
his office like a thief.

CUAITEB 11.

TlIK UKU TIIIDENT.

WiiKN BcKKnrnum, \\ow\vm & Co., of Providnnoo Van-
Mgo, Lonibuni Street, called at eleven o'clock on tho
morninK followinK Do Uuc'h vi«it, their ropreaontativo
waH not a little Hurprined to find tho Hrm'H billa mot in
hard cash, and Himn»on«lM paid him with a radiant face.
Wlicn the affair waa aottled, the clerk leaned back in hia
chair, aaying half-aloud to himaolf, "By George I X
am Klad after all M'ria did not keep our appointment in
the Camden Koad last night." Then hia face began to
darken. "Wonder where she could have been,
though ? " his thoughta ran on ; " half aorry I intro-
duced her to Wilkes laat Sunday at Victoria Park. Wilkes
ain't half tho man I am though," and he tried to look
at himaelf in the window-pane, " but ho haa two pound
ten a week— Urd I There'a tho guv'nor ringing." He
hurried into Brown'a room, received a brief order, and
waa about to go back when the publiaher spoke again.

"Simmonds!"

"Sir." ■

"if M. De Bac calls, ahow him in at once."

** Sir," and the clerk went out.

Left to himself. Brown tried to go on with the mann-
aeript ; but waa not able to do so. He was impatient
for the coming of De Bac, and kept watching the hands

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TUK DMVIL'B MANU80RIPT,

of the clock m they ilowly trovelltul Uiwardu t^
Whon ho came to tho ollko in tho morning Wxti^a
looked with ft uervouii fe»r in tho llroplaco, half oxpc* t-
iag to find the blaek |m|>or still thoro ; and it Waa a e^^u
iidorablo roUof to \\w mind to find it wai not. Ho coulc|
do nothing, not cvon opon tho onvolopoa of Uio him*
that lay on \m table. ' Ho made an elTort to (Ind occu-
pation in tho niornmg'H papor. It wa* full of hom«
ftbHurd corroHpond#Con u trivial Hiibj«'t;t, and ho w..n-
dorod at tho thoi*JUiruhrof fooU who could wa«to tiiiio in
writing and in reading yj^fdn of print on the thcmo of
" Whether women nhould Wear neckties." Tho ticking
of tho clock irritated him. He Hung the paper anWe,^
just as the door opened and SimmondH camo in. b'or a
moment Brown thought he had come to announce Do
Bac'g arrival ; but no~Simm()nd8|Simi)ly placed a
square envelope on^yie table he for^iy||J^ ^^^>

)n^ie
►m nri!

ransom's, sir

id8vsimi>ly P'l

** Pa«8-l>ook from
ho went out.

Ilrown took it up mechanically, and opened tho on-

'yelono. A type-written letter fell out with the pass-

*■ Jle ran his eyes over it with astoni(<hmont. It

»yrieflyJ5<Linform him that M. Do Bac had paid into

,wn'8 alPiit yesterday afternoon the sum of five

tSousand pounds, and that, adjusting overdrafts, tho

balance at his credit was four thousand seven hundred

and twenty pounds thirteen shUlings and three pence.

Brown rubbed his eyes. Then he hurriedly glanced at

the pass-book. The figures tallied— there was no error,

no mistake. He pricked himself with his penknife to

see if he was awake, and finally sHoutod to SimmondH :

Read this letter aloud to me, Simmonds," he said.

rUK HKl) mwisHT.

jimmond«* oyc« opened, but he did it he ♦•• M^
md thoro wan iH» luintako about th« account. ■

- t - Anything elae, tir ? " wked Sinimoudt when ho hrt4
flniiihtid. I .i-A

" No-notjliiig." att«» »f^« ''** ^^'^^^ ""mI^
He «at Htarini? at the (Igurca before him in •lllllcii,^!-
moHt nicHmorixing himself with the intentue.- of |a

*^'-**'My Ood ^* he burnt out at UiMt. ii» abnoluto Wond
" WhaiH your (iod. Hrown ? " an.wert-d a deep voiol,
" I-^K^M. Ue Unc 1 How d»<l you oonie ? J

« I did Jot drop down the chimney," aaid De B^
with ft grin I " your cleric announced mv in the ordinar
way but y«iu were «o absorbed you di.l not hoar. Ho
UK.1< tlio l^Wrty of fitting in tlu« clmir, and awa.t.n
your returL to earthly mutter-. You were dreaming,
Cwn^bTtho way, who i. your God?" ho repeated

'* with a low lau^h. ^^ •

" I— I do not un<U!THtjind, sir. ^ . , a

« Powltly not, poHHibly not. I wouldn't bother about
the^matter. Ah I 1 see UrauBom'H have Hont you your
paHH-book t Sit down, Brown. I hate to see a man
lidgeUng .bo,i-I paid in that amount yesterday on a
8econd thofeht It is enough-eh ?

Brown's jackal eyes contracted. ,^«[»»»P« ^^\3^

get moje out of Do Bac ? But a look at the strong

impassijye face before him frightened him^ ^

"Mdre than enough, sir," he Htammered ; and then,

with i rush, " I am grateful--4inything I m do for

^""^oi ! I know,*T know. Brown— by the way, you do
not ol|)ie6t to smoke?"

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" Certainly not. I do not snv&ke myself .2*^ ^

"In Battersea, eh?" And De>Bac ptiHing out a
silver cheroot case held it out to,^own. But the pub-
lisher declined. '^ * /

" Money wouldn't buy a smoke liKe that in Englancl,"
remarked De Bac, "but as you will. I wouldn't smoke
if I were you. Such abstinence looks respectable and
means nothing." He put a cigar between his lips, and
pointed his forefinger at the end. To BrowA's amaze-
ment an orange-flame licked out from under the finger-
nail, and vanished like a flash of lightning ; but tiie
cigar was alight, and its fragrant odour filled the ro\m.
It reached even Simmonds, who sniffed at it like a buck
scenting the morning air. "By George!" he ^-
clalmed in wonder, " what baccy ! "

M. De Bac settled himself comfortably in his chair,
and spoke with the cigar between, his teeth. "Now
you have recovered a little from your surprise. Brown,
I may as well tell you that Pnever carry matches.
This little scientific discovery I have made is very con-
venieiit, is it nc^ " ^ • /

*f I have never seen anything like it/'
"There are a good many things you have not seen,
Brown— but t^ work. Take a pencil and paper and
note down what I say. You can tell me when I have
done if you agree or^ot."

Brown did as he was told, and De Bac spoke slowly
and carefully. * >

"The money I have given you is absolutely your own
on the following terms. You will publish the manu-
script I left with you, enlarge your business, and work
as yon have hitherto worke4— as a ' sweater.' You may

K»»

TUE nm> Tnrntcyr.

Boeculate as much as you like. You will "not Iwc You
pCtot avoid the publication of religious books hut
V^rtust never give in charity secretly. I do not ob-
iect To a big cheque for a public object, and your name
fall the pape«. It will be well for you to hound
down the vicious. Never give them a chance to recover
thlselves. You will be a legislator. Strongly up-
twU those measures which, under a mora cloak
^U do harm to mankind. I do not mention them. I
li not seek to hamper you with detailed mstruct.ons
Work on these general Hues, and you wiU do what I
^ l^ord more.- It will he advisable whenever
Thave a chance to call public' attention to a great evU
which is also a vice. Thousands who have never heard
lift before vriU hear of it then-and human nature is
very frail. You have noted all this down ? _^ ,
"1 have. You are a strange maut M. Ue Bae._
M De Bac frowned, and Brown began to tremble.
« i do not permit you to make observations about me,

Mr. Brown."

« I beg your pardon, sir." . \ n n.:^t

« Do not do so again. WiU you agree to aU this ?

I pro4tee you unexampled prosperity for ten ye»s. ^At

the e?d of that time I shall want you elsewhere. And

von must agree to take a journey with me.

« IlQPg one, sir ? " Brown's voice was just a shade

'Ifte Baft iSled *ddly. «No-in your case I
promise a quick passage. These are all the eondr^ions
I attach to my gift of six thoi^and pomids to yo^

Brown's amazement did not blmd him to the fact of
the advantage he had, as he thought, over his visitor.

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206 Tmi>EyiVR MANUSCRIPT. ,

The six ttousand pounds were already his, and he had
given no promise. With a sudden boldness he spoke

out.
"And if I decline?"
i' You will return me my money, and my ^ooI^^,a»|

I will go elsewhere." W'^'^^^S

" The manuscript, yes— but if I refuse t6 give ,^

theH^ey?"

"Ha! ha! ha!" M. De Bac's mirthless laugh
chilled Brown to the bone. " Very geod, Brown— but
you won't refuse. Sign that like a good fellow," and
he flung a piece of paper towards Brown, who saw that
it was a promissory note, drawn up in his name, agree-
ing to pay M. De Bac the sum of six thousand pounds

on demand.

" I shall do no such thing," said Brown stoutly.

M. De Bac made no answer, but calmly touched the
bell. In a half -minute Simmonds appeared.

" Be good enough to witness Mr. Brown's signature
to that document," said De Bac to him, and then fixed
his gaze On Brown. There was a moment of hesitation,
and then— the publisher signed his name, and Sim-
monds did likewise as a witness. When the latter had
gone, De Bac carefully put the paper by in a l^ter-ca,se
he drew from his vest pocket.

" Your scientific people would call this an exhibition
of odic force, Brown-^eh ? "

Brown made no answer. He was shaking in every
limb, and great pearls of sweat rolled down his forehead.

"You see. Brown," continued De Bac, " after all you
are a free agent. Either agree to my terms and keep
the money, or say you will not, pay me back, receive

..-««.*■ "■

THB RED TBipmT,

207

^ ;'

your note.b£-h.nd. and I g^ elsewhere mth7iny book,

"^tL that is settled," and De Bao r/se from Ms
chair " There is a little thing more-^treteh out your
.™ like a eood fellow— the right arm."
"^^^il so ; and De Bac placed his t-f°8« -
his wrist, jnst between what palmists caU« the Imes rf
wJ The touch was as that of a red-hot iron, and
-♦; » nuick m Brown drew back his hand and looked
! U rti W was a small red trident, as cWy
lid as if it had been tattooed into the skm. The
ITn was but komentary ; and, as he looked at the
S he heard De Bac say, « Adieu once more. Brown,
r Ml' fin,! mv wav out-don't trouble to rise." Brown
'L"d ht wfsh Immouds an aflable 'f Good-day." and

he was gone.

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CHAPTER III.

"THE MARK OF THE BEAST

h IJ, V

It was early in the spring that Brown publishtd
"The Yellow Dragon "-—as the collection of tales left
with him by De Bac was called— and the success of the
book surpassed his wildest expectations. It became the
rage. There were, the strangest rtunours afloat as to
its authorship, for no one knew l?e Bac, and the name
of the writer was supposed to be an assumed one. It
was written by a clergyman ; it was penned by a school-
girl; it had employed the leisure of a distinguished
statesman during his retirement ; it was the work of
an ex-crowned head. These, and suchlike statements,
were poured forth one day to be contradicted the next.
Wherever the book was noticed it was either with the
most extravagant praise or the bitterest rancour. But
friend and foe were alike united on one thing— that of
ascribing to its unknown author a princely genius. The
greatest of the reviews, after pouring on « The Yellow
Dragon" the vials of its wrath, concluded with these
words of unwilling praise : "There is not a sentence
of this book which should ever have been written, still
less published ; but we do not hesitate to say that, hav-
ing been written and given to the world, there is hardly

a line of this terrible work which will not become im-

mortal— to the misery of mankind."

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"TBB MABK OF TJIX BOAST.

200

Be this as it may. the book sold in tene of thousande,
.„dBrown'» »e was assured. In ten years a man
Cay do many things ; but during the en years that
wLed the publication of "The bellow Dragon,
B rn did so many things that he astonished 'nhe
d^' and it takes not a little to do that. It waa not
:^'e the marvellous growth of his business-aUhough

^advanced ^V »<»P^ "^ ^""^t jt^^oT^ ^
.hadowed all others-it was his wonderful luck on tne ,
Stock Exchange. Whatever he touched turned to gold.
HrwasTookcd upon as the Napoleon of finance. Hia
^Brction with "The Yellow Dragon" was forgotten
whrnhs connection with the yellow sovereign was r.-

^1 ^er • but as years went on he became aceustomed
to tCil and 'thought no more of it t^n ^.t h^^i .
been a mole. ^^-J^^^^^^'^l^Z^^'^A

a family dating from the Confessor.
' S was John Brown, when^we meet him again ten
vmslifto DeBaCs visit, seated at a large wntag-
S^ tabs luxurious office. A clerk standing l«s.de

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TEE DBVWS MANUSCRIPT.

him' waf cutting Wen the envelopes of the morning's
post, amt placing ihe letters one by one before his mas-
ter. It is our f riehd Simmonds— still a young man, but
bent and old beyOnd his years, and still on "thirty
bob " a week. And the history of Simmonds wijl show
how Brown carriedlout De Bac's instructions.

When "The Yellow Dragon " came out and business
began to expand, Simmonds, having increased work,
was ambitious enouih to expect a rise in his salary, and
addressed his chief ?n the subject. He was put ofE with
a promise, and on the strength of that promise Sim-
monds, being no wiper than many of his fellows, mar-
ried- M'ria; and hiisband and wife managed to exi&t
somehow with the [help of the mother-in-law. Then
the mother-in-law died, and there was only the bare
thirty shillings a wekk on which to live, to dtess, to pay
Simmonds' way dail^ to the city and back, and to feed
more thai tw(r mouths— for Simmonds was amongst the
blessed who have thfeir quivers full. Still the expected
' increase of pay did not come. Other men came into
the business anci passed over Simmonds. Brown said
they/had special qualifications. They had ; and John
Brown knew Simmonds better, than he knew himself.
The other men we^e paid for doing things Simmonds
could not have donp to save his life ; but he was more
than useful in his way. A hundred times it was in the
mind of the wretchfd clerk to resign his post and seek to
better himself eWhere. But he had given hostages to
fortune." There w^s M'ria and her children, and M'ria
set her face resolutely against risk. They had no re-

seijve upon which

to fall back, and it was an option

So "Sim/' as

•'TBS! MABK OF TUB BEA8T."

211

M'ria called him, held on and battled w|th the woVt at
The door, theVolf gaining.ground inch by inch Then

illness came, and debt, and then-temptation. Sim
feU, as many a better man than he has fallen. _

Brown found it out, and saw his opportunity to be-
have generously, and make his generosity pay. He got
a written confession of his guilt from Simmonds and
retained him in his service forever on th,rty sh.llmga _
a week. And Simmonds' life became such as made him
envy the lot of a Kussian serf, of a Siberian exile, of a
nesTO in the old days of the sugar plantations. He be-
came a slave, a living machine who S^^^^^»^
hours of work ; he became mean and sordid in aoul, as
one does become when hope is extinct Such wa. Sim-
monds as he cut open the envelopes o Brown sjettex^
and the great man, reading them quickly, endorsed them
with terse remarks in blue pencil, for subsequent du-
poaal by his secretary. A sudden exclamation from the
clerk, and Brown looked up.
" What is it ?" he asked sharply. ^ ^

« Only this, sir," and Simmonds held before Brown s
eyes a jet black envelope ; and as he gazed at it, hia
mind travelled back ten years, to that day when he
stood on the brink of public infamy and ruin, and De
Bac had saved him. For a moment evcYthmg faded
before Brown's eyes, and he saw himself in a dingy
room, with the gaunt figure of the author of The
Yellow Dfagon," and the maker of his fortune, before

'-Shall X open it, sir?" Simmonds' voice reached
, him'«f Irom a far distance, and Brown roused himseU
with an efEort.

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TUB DEVWH MANmORIPT,

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the

«Ko/* he said, "give it to me, and go for

^^wTen the bent figure of the clerk had passed out of
the room, Brown looked at the envelope carefully. It
bore a penny stamp and the impress of the postmark
was not legible. The superscription was »^ J^^te mk,
and it was addressed to Mr. John Brown. The Mr^
on the letter irritated Brown, for he was now The Kight
Hon'ble John Brown, and was punctihous on that
score. He was so annoyed that at first he thought o
casting the letter unopened into the waste-paper basket
beside him, but changed his mind, and tore open the
cover. A note-card discovered itself. The contents
were brief and to the point : ..,.,*

« Qet ready to start I will call for you at the close of

tned(UL L.DeB." \ .,

F<B|moment Brown was puzzled, then the remem-
branSTof his old compact with De Bac came to him.
He fairly laughed. To think that he The Right
Hon'ble John Brown, the richest man in England, and
one of the most powerful, should be written to like
that ! Ordered to.go somewhere he did not even know 1
Addressed like a servant ! The cool insolence of the
note amused Brown first, ^nd then he became en-
taged. He tore the note IMo fragments and'^^^^^
from him. « Curse the madman," he said aloud III
J^bim in diarge if he annoys me." A suddentwm^
Fn his right wrist made him hurriedly look at the spot.
There was a broad pink circle, as large as a flonn,
around the mark of the trident, and it smarted and
bumeJ as the sting of a wasp He ran to a basin of
water and dipped his ^rm in to the.elbow ; btft the pam

"TUB MABK OF TBB ItBAST."

213

became intolerable, andy finally, ordering h« ca r,ag^
he drove home. That evening there »aB a great cmo
taquet in the city, and amongst the guests waa The
Hiirht Hon'blc John Brown. /

All through the afternoon he had been m afeony with
his wrist, but towards evening the pain ceased as sud-
d nJTs it had come on, and Brown attended the ban,
a!e^ a little pale and shaken, but st.U y.mself. On
Cwn'sright hand sat the Bishop ol B'0>™'' °" f ''
rdta mort distinguished scientist, a«f amongst tt^e
crowd o7 waiters was Simnioh*, who h^ h,red himse I.
r^for^Cevening to earn «n extra-sluUing or so to
eke outhis miserable subsistence. The ftnan of sc.en(»
tdllst returned from Mount^^^as, ihither he had
Le to observe the transit of Mercury] and had come
fack full stories of witchcraft. He led the conversa-
to in hat direction, and very soon the ^^^-f'^]?^;'
Z himself were engaged in the discuss.9n t.t M^
The Bishop was a learned and & saintly man and was
a" believeT" ;. the scientist was pu.ried by what he had
seen, and Brown openly scoffed. ^ _ ,

"Look here !" and pulling back h'^jf ' ^y^'^^^^
the red mark on hi* wrist to I"' «<>"'P'"»,7' - ' ^ ^^^
to tell you how that came here, you would say tlve devil

^*«^f^miio./' said the scier^^^^

Bishop fixed an inquiring g"^" "P"" ^""™; ?'";

Z2 was standing behind, ""^'-^f^^^tld '^
near Then the man, omitting many things, told the
Sry of the mark on his wrist. He left out much.
XTZiki enough to make the scientist edge hvs chair
^^^' W^m him, and a look of grave eompas-

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TUB dew: a MANvacRiPT.

sion, libtlintinged with scorn,* to com^ into tjie eyes of
the Bishpp. As Brown ciune to the end ot\^^ story he
became unnaturally excited, ^ raised hi^i^ice, and,
with a sudden gesture, held his wrist clwe to the
Bishop's face. " There 1 " ,ho sttid, " I suppose you
would say the devil did that ? " '
^ And as the .Bishop looked, a voice seemed to breathe
in his ear : *'^And he caused dlt^ • to receive a mark
in their right hand, or irk their f dreads." It was as if
his soul was speaking to him and urging him to say the
words aloud. He did not-; but with a pale face gently
put aside Brown's hand. ".1 do not know, Mr. Brown
—but I think you are called upon for a speftch,'* *

It was so ; andj after a moment's hesitation, Brown
rose; He was a fluent speaker, and the occasion was
one with which he was peculiarly qualified td deal. He
began, well ; but as he went on those who looked upon
him sa^ that he was ghastly pale, and that the veins
stood out (in hi^ high forehead in blue cords. As he
spoke he made>6ome allusion to those men who have
risen to eminej^eirom ah obscure position. He spoke
. 'of himself afsone of these, and then began to tell the
> story of *^ The Devil's Manuscript," as he called it, with
a mocking lddk^# the Bishop. As he went on he com-
pletely lost command over himself, and the story of the
manuscripft became the story of his life. He concealed
nothing, he passed over nothing. He laid all his sordid
past before feis hearers with a vivid force. His listen-
ers were astonished into silence ; perhaps curiosity kept
them still. But, as the long tale of infamy went on,
some, in pity for the nian, and believing him struck
mad, tried to stop hina, but in vain. He came at last

TUE MARK OF TUB BEAST.

215

to the incident of tlic letter, and told how De Bac wa*
to call for him to-night. " The Binhop of JJrowboro
ho Baid with a jarring laugh, " thought De Bac wa8 the
fiend hiniHelf," but he (Brown) knew better ; ho^ho
stopped, and, with a half-inarticulato cry, began to back
slowly from the table, his eyes fixed on the entrance to
the room. And now a strange thing happened. There
was not a man in the room who had the power to move
or to speak ; they were as if frozen to their seats ; as
if struck into stone. Some were able to lollow Brown 8
glance, but could see nothing. All were able to see
that in Brown's face was an awful fear, and that he was
trying to escape from a horrible presence which was
moving slowly towards him, and which was visible to
himself alone. Inch by inch Brown gave way, until he
at last reached the wall, and stood with his back to it,
with his arms spread out, in the position of one cruci-
fied His face was marble white, and a dreadful terror
and a pitiful ftppe^ shone in his eyes. His blue lips
were parted as of one in the dolors of death.
The silence was profound. ,

There were strong men there ; men who had faced
and overcome dangers, who had held their lives m their
hands, who had struggled against desperate odds and
won ; but there was not a man who did not now ieel
weak, powerless, helpless as a child before that invisible,
advancing terror that Prown alone could see. They
could move no hand to aid, lift no voice to pray. All
they could do was to wait in that dreadful silenc^ and
to watch. Time itself seemed- to stop. It was ^s if
the stillness had lasted for hours/ ^ ' , *

Suddenly Brown' s face , so white hef ore, flushed a

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crimson purple, and with a torriblo cry he fell fnrwardn
on the poliHhcd woodwork of the iloor.

Ab he fell it seemed aa it the weight which hehl ull
still was on the moment removed, and they were tree.
With scared faces they gathered around the fallen nuin
and raised him. He was quite dead ; but on his fore-
head, where there was no mairk before, was the iinj«rt[rw

of a red trident. /

A man, evidently one of the waiters, who had forcc<l
his way into the group, laid his finger on tlrc mark and ^
looked up at the Bishop. There was an unholy exulta-
tion in his face as he m4 the priest's eyes, and said : .

** He's marked twice^iifse him!" >

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UNDER THE ACH1LLB6

O Charity 1 thy my»t«ry
Potb cover many thingn.

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"Now, aon't break hup the 'eppy omo I ^ ^ . ^

"Move those wite mice o' yourn hon then, .te«a o

.ittin- like a. hipn monkey ho|a bloomm barrel

'TtLm hil backed into a>^ ^""V^^'S;:;
diUv Cirom, at/the point where Regent Street and P.e»
Sly meet. ;Tron. hi, height ol vanta^ t^F^jbn.
driver ttvrcw a sarcasm at the cabman, and Je^u.^nstead

Lding to business, lifted his head to f-8 J«f ^^
nnswer The sorrel in the hansom likewise 1 Ited hM

held rtooa^n hi' ^^ !«««• »"* *"": ^'r%l ♦t
Tys on to the pavement, locked the wheels of Ithe two

Zey^ees tog^her, completely stopping thejo^-y-
It was' not a good time for a_th.ng of «" .^'"f V* ''"^^
ncn-'It-was Piccadilly Circus, just after thP big
Le" o*the theatres had let out their red hot <= -
tents The molten stream was hissing through the
Seis, Ling in the throbbij^ Circus SufiU e^
fas there, too, as no gity besi^e^may show ; but-I^n-
don need not plume itself on tltts. Here, i,n

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on tras. nerc, lu .'»« — --t

wflB becoming the faresent of

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218

UNDBft TBE AOEILLBB,

another, assembled together the good and the bad. The
■ honest father of a family, with a pure wife .pr daughter
on his arm, jostled the soiled dove in her jewelled
shame. Here were gathered the men whose lives by
daylight were white, those who trod the primrose path,
and the workers of the nation ; gilded infamy, tawdry
sin, joy and sorrow, shame and innocence, vice blacker
than night, more hij^eous than despair. Above blazed
the electric stars of the Monico aiid the Criterion. A
st^am of fire marked Coventry Street. To the right
the lamp glarje terminated abruptly in Waterloo ,
Place, leaving, tire -moon and the lonely Park to-
gether. From all the great arteries, through Shaftes-/
bury Avenue, through Coventry Street, through the
Haymarket, the toilers of the night bqat lip to. the
roaring Circus, and it was full. I, a . derelict of
humanity, was there, In the crowd that fought, and
elbowed its way for room— it was a crowd all elbows—
I w^s the first to reach the hansoih. There were two
^ occupants : a man who lai^ back with a scared face, and
a woman who laughed as-she attempted to step out. It
'was as daylight, and the rush Of an awlul recoUectioir
" came to me-— God help me ! It was my wife ! My
hand stretched out to aid fell ft? my side.; but, as^
staggered back, the brute in the hansom plunged yet
more violently tban before. There, was an ^gjanedrcry,
a swaying motion, and the cab turned over^sfo4[ly, like
a foundering ship. I could - not control myself. I
sprang forward, ancHif ting the woman from the cab
placed her oil the pavement. "There was a bit of a cheer,
and before I knew it she thrust her purse into my hand.
- — "Take this, man, and ^^-^:^ —

UNDER

ACHILLm.

219

I waited to hear no more; a sudden frightened look
came into her eyes, and I turned and fled up Ficcadilly.
Some fool cried "Stop thief !" Some other one took
up the cry.; In a moment every one was running. I
ran with the crowd, my hand still clenched tightly on
the purse, which seemed to burn into it. It was too
well dressed a crowd to run far. Opposite Hatchett's
it tired, and public attention was engaged by an alter-
cation, which ended in a fight, between a bicyclist and
a policeman. I had sense enough left to pull up and
slacken my pace to a fast walk. I went straight on. It
did not matter to me where I, went. If I had the pluck
I should have killed myself long^ ago. It takes a lot of
pluck to kill one's self . Five years had gone since Mary
passed out of my life. Five years! It was six years
ago that I,^^ichard Manning of the Bengal Cavalry,
had cut for%earts, and turned up— the deuce \ What
right liad T to blame her ? Whose fault was it ?^ I
asked this question aloud to myself, and a wretch selling
matches answered : ^-w' =

" Most your hown, guv'nor : buy a box o' mami%B to
warm yer bones with a smoke— hpnly a penny ! "

I looked up with a start. I Was opposite the Naval
and Military. Once I belonged there. The very
thought made me mad again, and I cursed aloud in
the bitterness of my heart. >

"Drunk as a fly," remarked the match-seller to the
public at large, indicating me with ^ handful of match-
boxes. '^^ \^ v^.

Opposite ApBley House I, was alone, All.the%g
crowd on the pavement had died away, only the street -
seemed full of flashing lights. -- ^

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220

UNDBB THE ACBILLES.

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I:-..

Sufely some one called Dick ? I stopped, but for a
second only. I must be getting out of my mind, I
thought, as I hurried on again. A few steps brought
me to Hyde Park Comer. A few more brought me close
to the foot of the Achilles, and, without knowing what
I was doing, I sank into a seat. One must rest some-
where, and I was dead beat. The long shadow of the
statue fell over me, clothing me m darkness. It fell
beyond too, on to the walk, and the huge black sil-
houette stretched even unto the ttees. A portion of
my seat was in moonlight, and the muffled rumble of
carfiage wheels reached my ears from the road in front.
It might have been fancy ; but I saw a dark figure glide
past the moonlit road into the shadow behind me.
Some poor wretch— some pariah of the streets as loat
as I. I wonder if any of the three-volume novelists
ever felt the sensation of being absolutely stone broke.
ITothing but these words " stone broke" can describe
it. 1 am not going to try and paint a picture of my
condition. I was stone broke, and Mary— the very air
was full of Marys I

Mechanically I opened the purse I still held in my
hand, and looked at its contents. I don't know why I
did ihis. I remember once shooting a stag, and when
I came up to it, I found the poor beast in its mortal
agony trying to nibble the heather — ^it was nibbling the
heathe^^ And here I was, wounded to death, looking
at the contents of a Russian* leather- purse with idle
curiosity. It was heavy with gold— her gold— Mary's.
Damn her ! she ruined my life. I flung the purse from
me, and it made a black arc in the moonlight, ere it fell
w ith a little clash beyond. I ga w the gold as it r olled

±v

VNDBR TBE ACBILLES.

221

on the gravel walk in red splashes of light. Ruined my
life ? Did Mary do this ? The old, old story- the
woman gave me and I did eat." Of course Mary ruined
my life. Had I anything to do with the wreck of hers ?
if so, I had committed wqrse than murder-I had killed
a soul I put my hot head between my hands and tried
to think it out ; I would think it all out to-night, and
give my verdict for or against myself . If agamst me^
then I knew how to die at last. It would not be as at
that other tim6, when my courage failed me. The bit-
terness of death was already past. I would go over
what had been, bafance each little grain, measure forth
each atom, and the end would be-the end. ^ ^ V^

It needed no effort. The past came up of itself be^
fore me. Five years of soldiering in Afghanistan, the
heights of Cherasiab, the march to Candahar, a medal,
a clasp, a mention in dispatches. This was good. Then
came that staff appointment at Simla, and the down-
ward path. Life was so easy, so pleasant. I was always
gregarious, fond of my fellow-creatures, easy-going;
and as each day passed I slipped down lower and lower.
There were other deeps to come, of which J ^^^^ ™^^
not A lot of conscience was rubbed out of me ^ij^^^
time. Mrs. Cantilivre must answer for that. ThCTe
again : the blame on the woman ! But when a society
bdle makes up her mind to form a man, she lakes a
lot of the nap off the fi?ie feelings. I tried to pull up
once or tT«tce, but the effort was beyond me. I drifted
back again. Things thai were formerly looked upon

by me as luxuries became necessaries ;
-taste for gambling, and got into debt,
kind could not l a st l on g. There came

I developed a"
Pace of this
a day when I

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UNDjm THE ACHILLES.

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got ill, and then came furlough. A long^spell of leave,
with a load of debt on my shoulders ; but my creditors
were, to do them justice, very patiwit. The voyage/
gave me plenty of oppoftutiity to reflect, and the folly
of the past came befbre me vividly. I would bury the
past,, have done with Myra Cantilivre, and start afre'sjp
England again I Words cannot describe the feelings
that stirred me when I saw the Eddystone, with the l|iig
waves lashing about it. Arriving on Sunday, I had j to
spend the afternoon in Plymouth, and«aW Drake lopk-
ing out over the sea. All the old fire wa:^ warming Mck
in ray heart. There was time to mend. all yet : whjeni I
got back I meant to win the cherry ribbon aniid brbnze
gtar— no more flirtation under the deodars for |n^I
.would soldier again. ; ,^ yi

A few months later I met Mai^, and in a month §tfe '
had promised to be my wife. I can see her yet a^ she
stood before me with'^owncast h6ad, and the pink-Jush
on her bheek. She lifted her eyes to mine, and the look
in them was my answer. A few months afterwards we
weje married, and almost immediatelv sailed for India.
I give my. word that 1 meant all that a man should mean
for his wife. But one cannot live in the world and look
on things in the same light as an innocent woman. I
liad buried all the past, as I thought, fdrever.^ Myra
Cantilivre was dead .to. me, but' she had done her work.
It was an effort to niel^lwaysto live in the pure air of
Mary's thoughts, and one day I said soniething Qti board
the -steamei' ihat ja,rred on my wife.» It was a come-
, down from cl0udlaiid,*and vfm ifhe first little- rift Mthin
the lute. 1 pulled myself up, I^;p\fever, an-d smoothed it

over. Then" the scheme wliich I worked out took its'

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UNDER THE ACHILLES.

820

I * •

birth in iny mind. If there was to be any happinesa
in-our future life, Mary must either come down to my
level or I must go up to hers. I had tried and failed.
There was nothing for it but to bring her d9wn. This -
fine sensitiveness of hers necessitated my having to play
the hypocrite forever. Then again I did not like to
unveil myself, - Every man likes to be a hero to his
wjfe. I suppose she finds him out, hc^wever, sooner or
later. Perhaps it would be better to let Mary find ont
gradually. It would in effect be carrying out my pro-
gramme ii^ the best possible way. Now, I had hitherto,
cdncealed from Mary the fact that I was in debt; but
sotoething happened at Simla, s6on after we reached
ttiere, that' "necessitated her knowing this. There was
aiiothdr little difference. It, was not, Mary said, the
matter of the debt, but the fact of my concealing it,
that hurt her. She brought up in minute detail little
plans of mine, sketched without consideration of the ^
bonds of my creditors; and put them in such a manner'
that it appeared as if I had told untruths to her reg^rd^-
ing myself. The confession has to be made : they were
practically untruths ; but a man during his courtship,
and the first weeks of his married life, has often to say
.jhii^s which wonld not bear scrutiny. My wife showed
6he;had a retehtiye memory, and, for a girl, a very clear
and incisive way of putting things. The Storm passed
ov^ at last, and then Mary set' herself to put my'dis--
oi^ered affairs to rights. Debts had to be paid,, and
i;i|id edonpmy was the order of the da^ ; but coming
back to Simla .meant coming "back to the old things. I -
tried'to second Mary's efforts, to the best 'of my ability ; -
ut took its' I 'but 1 felt l'couldn?t last long., I met Mrs. Cantilivrc

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224

CTiVDiKft rjISr A0BILLE8.

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i4[ * , one evening at Viceregal Lodge. SJifr received me like

i^\.} • • . an old friend, and begged to be introduced to Mary.

She made only one reference to what had been :
"And so, Dick, the past is all forgotten ? "
<^ "It is gopd to forget, Mrs. Cantilivte ; and I am
now hedged in with all kinds of fortifications."

r looked towards Mary, whei*e she stood talkiiig to
" " Redvers of the Sikhs — I always hated Redvers, and
;\ '' ' , never saw what women admired in him. .

Myra laughed ^ at my speech^— if'was an odd little
laiigh, and I did not like it. , ^

"Who n^akes her dresses ?" she asked. "And now
give>ipe your arm and take me to your wife."

I sliotjld not have dqhe it, 1 ktiow I should not, but
my hand was forced. If I had Tiad the moral courage
I should have got out of it somehow. It was just that
. ' want of moral. courage that broke me. This is some-
thing like a verdict against myself, but \t is worth' while
' * setting forth\the whole indictment. I began to tire of
^ Mary's rigid rules of honesty and strict economy. She
iied me down too much. I slfould have been allowed a
fcV' !ll run now and again: 'The short of it^ was that »! began

to break out o| bounds, and in a fe\y months^was lead-
ing my old life once again. There^ was this difference,
; however— that formerly I had nothing to fear, w^hereas
. ' now it was necessary to conceal things. I flattered my-
self that I was still her idol. 'I should' have known she
had long ago perceived thaif the idol was of the earth,
•^ < earthy. I had 'occasionally to resort to falsehooci, and
was almost as invariably discovered. I had hot a siiffi-

ci c ntly good m e mory to be a complete liar. - The shame

of It was knowing I was discovered ; but Mary never

.:« 'i

UNDBR THE ACHILLES.

225

^: . t

threw it up to iri|^ifece. She set herself to her duty ,
loyally, though day by day I could see the despair .eat-
ing its way through her. I had tartcen to gambling
again, and as usual had bad luck and lost lieavily. This
necessitated, my 'havmg to borrow some more money/
which I arranged to pay'back^y instalments ; and -then
i had to tell my wife tl^t, owing to tin alteration in the^
scales of pay, my income was so much tlie less. I up- ;
braided the tulee of the service, and on this occasion
Mary believed me.* I rc6olved to gamble no more. "About
this time ray-wife got ill, and w-hen.sbe tecpvered there .
was a small Mary in the house. ' During her illness
things were so upset'that i was compelled to fregjient my
• club more than ever. Toiaddto the.worry to WhichI waa
8ubjected,»'tiie child got ill, and reftlly seemed very ill
indeed. All tbis involved . expenditure which I did
not know how to meet, and in despair one evening I
turned to the cards agaiii. It was, the only thing to do.
It w|8 absurd t6 lose^aU I had lost, for the want of a
'little pluck io pull it back again. ^ ^^

One evening I had Just cut into .a table when a note
was put into my hands. It was from my wife, afe^ting
me to come home at once, fas the child seemed very Ul.
It was lather hard 'luck being diragged home ; and I
could do Clothing. So I dropped'^ note back to Mary to ,
say she had better send for the dcicto'r, and that I would
come as soon as possible. I- meant to go immediately ^
after one^ber. I Won. It would have beeiv a sin.
it) have turned oh my luck, and I played /on nnt|l the ^
small hours of the morning, and Jor once was %tu-
nate. I rode back i^ high spirits. Near my gate eoine
one galloped past me ; I thJught 1 recognised Erasing-

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ham's (the doctor's) nag, but wasn't quite sure. At any
rate, if it was, Mary had taken my advice. I rode in
softly and entered the house. A dim liJBfht was burning
in the flitting-ronm ; beyond it was the baby's room. I
lifted the curtain and entered.* As I came in my wife's*
ayah rose afld salaamed, then stole softly out. . I cannot
tell why, but I felt I was in the presence of death.
Mary was kneeling by the little bed, and in it lay our
child, very quiet and still. I stepped up to my wife and
put my hand on her shoulder. She looked up at hie
with* a silent reproach ^n her eyes. "Wife," I said,
**give me one chance more"; and without a word she ^
came to me and .lay sbbbing on my heart.
^ .We went away after that for about a month ; and I
think that month was a more restful one than any we-,
had spent since the first weeks of our marriage. , By the
end of it, however, I was weary of the new, life. I mustt
have been mad, but I longed to get again to the old
.excitements. I tpld-Mary that wlien we came back she
fihojuld go out as niuch as possible— that the distraction
of society WiOuld be good for her. ^he agreed passively,.
We went out a greai deal after that ; and somehoi^ my
wife discovered the falsehood I had tbld ,^'er about the *
reduction in my income. She djd no.t upbraid me, 'but
she let me understand she knew, with a quiet contempt
that stung me to the quick From this moment .she
changed. Whilst formerly I had i6 urge her to mix in
Society, she now appeared to seek it with an eagerness
that a little surprised ^ne. Redvers was always' witlr,
her. At any rate this made things more comfortable

for me in one way, tax I could more op e nly go my own
path. :■■:.■-.;*■■:,-■■'■..■•■ ■; ■"; •-"■■:•'■■ './;-^^^' ; /■■'•..-■.: 1

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' I renewed my acquaintance with Mrs.' Cantilivre. Slie
always said the right ^hing, and she' understood men— °
at any rate she understood me. |l Mrs.' Cantilivre had
been my wife I would have been aisucccss in' life, liit
by bit all my old feelings for her a^vj^ke again, and then
the crash came. It was the night ofvtjhe Cavalry Ball.
I asked Myra Cantilivre for a dance ; "but she preferred
to sit it eut I cannot tell how it happened, but ten
minutes after 4 was at her feet, telling her I loved her
more than mjriife— talking like a madman and a fool.
She bent down artd kissed my forehead. "Poor
boy ! " she said -, and as I,- looked up I saw Mary on
Redvers' am not six feet from us. I, rose, and Myra
Cantilivre leaned back in her chair and put up the big
plumes of her fan to her face^^Mary turned away with-
out a word, and walked down the^assage with her cora^

panion. ■■• - ; ^ -'■■ . ■■ ■'* ' " '"■ 'f ■' ■■;■■■ '■

I followed, but dared not 9^eak to her. " Old Cramley,
the Dejputy Quarterm«£ter General, buttonholed mo.
He was a senior officer, and I submitted. Half an hour
later^ when I escaped, my wife was. gone. I reached
homi at last. Mary was there, in a dark gtey walking
dress, a small bag in her hand. I met her in the hall,
and she stepped aside as if my touch would pbllute her.
" Mary," I said, " I fcan explain all/
"I want no explanation : let me pass, please.'*
She went out ihto the night.

In IwQ dkys all Simla knew of it,And in six months
I was a ruined mam ^ ; . X ;

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I am strong now— ^there wouW bo no blacksliding if
another chanco were given to me. Ilegrets 1 There is ,
no UBe regretting — ten times would 1 give my life to
live over the past again. " Mary, my dear, I have killed
you : may God forgive me I "

Some one stepped out of the shadow into the moon-
light as I raised my head with the bitter cry on my lips;

"Dick I"

"Mary!"

And we had met once more.

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THE MADNESS OF SHERB
BAHADUR^ ^^A_

• The mahout's small son, engaged with an equally
small friend in the pleasant occupation of stringing into
garlands the thick yellow and white champac blos^ms
that strewed the ground under the broad-teaved tree'
near the lentena hedge, was startled by an angry tram-
pet, and looked in the direction of Shere Bahadur. \.

" He is musty" said one to the other, in an a#e-str1ick
whisper, and then, a sudden terror seizing them, they
bounded silently and awiftly like little btp^tfnapcjs into
a gap in the hedge and vanished. . ^.^

There were ten thousand evil desires ^ssing iivShere
Bahadur's heart as he sWayed ^ and iro under the\uge
peepul tree to which he was chained. Indignity upon
indignity had been 'heaped upoij^him. It wasSi mere
accident that Aladin, the mahout .who had attended
him for twenty years, was dead. How on earth Was
Shere Bahadur to know that his skull was so thin ?
He had merely iapp^ it with his trunk in a moment of
petulance, and. tho^tead of Aladin had crackled in like
the shell of an eg^^ Shew Bahadur wM^reduced to th^
ranks. For weeks he had to carfy theiodder supply of
the Maharaj's tables,, like an ordinary beast of burden

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TBE MADNB88 OF mjCHE nArTADUk

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and a lowKJaste slave ; a fool to boot had bocn kt to
attend on him. It was not to bo borne. Shore DahlL
clanked his chains angrily, and ever and anon'uLLr
wisps of straw, twigs,, and dust on his broad back/and
mottled forehead. IJe, u Ker.uTiah of Kerneriali/!, t«
be treated thus I Ho was no longer t^ie stately List 1
Uiat boro the yellow and silver howdah of the Muhamj \
Adhiraj in solemn i)n)0088ion, who put aside with a 1
gentle sweep of tis trunk the children who crowde 1 the
narrow streets of Kalesar. No, it' was different now
ile was a felon and an outcast, bound like a ihief
Something had given way in his brain, and Shero fiiha-
dur was mad. The flies hovered on the sore part over
his loft ear, where the long peak of the driving-iron had
burrowed in and, with a trurnpet of rage, the elephant
blew arxjloud of dtist into the air and strained himself
backwards.

Vlick ! clieh ! The cagt-iron links of the bi^ chain
that bound him snappod, and Shore Bahadur was free. -
He cautiously moved his pillar-l ike legs backwards and
forirards to satisfy himself of the fact, and then, with
the broad fans of his ears spread out, stood for a mo-
ment still as a stone. High np amongst the leaves thei^
green pigeons whistled softly to each other, and a grey
sqmrrd was engaged in hot dispute with a blue jay
over treasure-trove, found in a hollow of one of the long
branches that, python-like, twined and twisted over-
Md. Far away, rose tier upon tier of purple hills, and
beyond them a white line of snow-capped peaks stood
out against the sapphire of the sky. Hathni Khund '
was there, the deep pool of the Jumna, where thirty
ye a r s b e for e Shere Bahadur had splashed and mtm

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tUE MAUffma or mmtjc itAiiADvu, 381

It was (here that lio foup;ht and dofwited tho hoary
tusker of, the herd, the ono-tu«ked giant who had bulUed
and tyrannized over Iiis tribe for time beyond Sher©
Bahadur^H nieniory.

Perhaps a thou^Mit of that big fight stirred him, per-
haps the breeze broughi him the sweet scent of the
youiig gross in tlio glens. At any rate, with a quick,
impatient flap of his ears, Shore Hahadur turned and
faced the hills. As he did so his twinkling red eyes
caught sight of the Kalesar state troops on their pirado
ground, barely « ifuarter of a mile from where he stood.
The fat Httk Maharaj was there, standing near the
saluting paint. Close to him was the Vizier, with the
court, and, last but not least, a knowing little fox-terrier
dug up the earth with his forepaws, scattering it about
regardless of the august presence.

The Maharaj was proud of his troops. He had wised
them himself in an outburst of loyalty, the day after a'
birthday gazette in which His Highne^ Sri Ranabir
Perteb Sing, Maharaj Adhiraj of Kaleear, had been ad- '
mitted a companion of an exalted order. The Star of
India glittered on the podgy little prince. He was
dreaming of a glorJ5)U8 day when he, he himself, would
lead the victorious levy through the Khyber, first in the
field against the Russ, when a murmur that swelled to
a cry of fear rose from the ranks, and the troops melted,
away before their king. Rifles and accoutrements were
flung aside; there wa^ a wild stampede, and the gor-
geously attired colonel, putting spurs to his horse, min-
gled with the dust and was lost to view/ The Maha-

a,.

,,ji,

4*-

yaj storm e d in his native tongue, and then burst into

uis. XI e c

i*a a very pretty v(

)cabularv, for had i m

f H^'

■•''^'"^ .1

IP'

tJlii-

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S ,V'

282 THB mmmSS OB S^mt BAUADUB.

he not been brought up under the tender care of the
Sirkar? He turned in his fury towards the Vizier
but was only in time to see the snowy robes of that
high functionary disappearing into a culvert, and the
confused mob of his court running helter-skelter across
the sward. But yet another object caught the prince's
eye, and chilled him with horror.; It was th© vast bulk
of Shere Bahadur moving rapidly and noiselessly
towards him. Sri Ranabir was a Rajpoot of the bluest
.. blood, and his^heart was big : but this awful sight, this
swift, silent a'dvance of hideous deai^h, paralyzed him
with fear. Already the long sha^o^ of the elephant
had moved n^r hi» feet, already he seemed impaled
on those cruel white tusks, when there was' a snapping
bark, and the fox-terrier flew at Shere Bahadur and
daiiced round him in a tempest of rage. The elephant
turned, and made a savage dash at the dog, who skipped
nimbly between his legs and renewed the ^sault in the
rear. But this moment of reprieve roused His High-
ness. The princte became a man, and the* Maharai
turned and fled, darting like a star across the soft green
Shere Bahadur saw. the flash of the jewelled aigrette,
the sheen of the order, and, giving up the* dog, curled
his trunk and startfed in pursuit. It was a desperate
race. The Mahpaj was out of training, but the time
he made was wonderful, and the diamond buckles on
his^hoes formed a streak of light as he fled. But, fast
las he ran, the race would have ended in a few seconds
If it were not for Bully, the little white fox-terrier.
Bully thoroughly grasped the situation, and acted ac-
cordingly. He rah round the elephant, now sapping
between his legs, the next momeht snapping at him be-

^ THE MADNESS OF SUER^ BAEADUR, 283

hind—and Bully had a remarkably fine set of teeth.
The Maliaraj sighted a small hut, the door of which
«tood invitingly open. It was a poor hut made of

grass and ffticks, but it seemed a royal palace to him
" Holy Gunputty I " he gasped. "If Icould^— "
^ But it waa <io time to waate words. Already tiie snake-
like trunk of his enemy was stretched out to fSd round
him, when with a desperate spurt he reached the door,
and dashed in. But Shere Bahadur was not to be
denied. He stood for a moment, and then, putting for-
ward Jiis forefdbt, staved in the side of the frail shelter
and brought down the house. Sri Ranabir hopped out
like a rat, and it ^as well for him that in the cloud of
dust and thatch flying about he was unobserved, for
Shere Bahadur/now careless of Bully's assaults and cer-
tain of hft man, was diligently searching the debris.
But he found nothing save a brass vessel, which he
savagely flung at the dog.^Then he carefully stamped
ot the hut, and reduced everything to chaos. In the
meantime Sri Ranabir, uncon^ious that the pursuit had
ceased, ran on as if he; was wound up like a clock, ran
until his foot slipped,, and the-Maharaj Adhiraj rolled
into the soft bed of a nullah, and lay there with his eyes
closed, utterly beaten, and careless whether the 4eath
he had striven so hard to avoid came or not. The^
tljere was a buzzing in his ears and everything became a
blank. . . *^, t

« Blessed be the prophet I JEIe liveth." And the
Vizier helped his fallen master to rise, aided by the
Heir Apparent, in whose heart, however, there were

P^%

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334 ^"BB^MAJ^^ or SSBBS SABADVS.

thoughts far different ftJ those which found eipW
s.on_ on the Ups of the iawab Juggun.Jung, prime
x.^ister of Kalesar T^e s^pathetic, if L^M
excited, court crowded roind their king, and a little in
the distance was the whoje popuUtion of Kalesar, armed
rth every conceivable weapon, and keeping ub their
courage by beating, on tom-toms, blowi^ horns, and
shouting until the confusion of sound was indescribable
Come back to the palace, my lord. They will drive
- the evil one\,ut of him." And the Vizrer waved ^l
hwdm the direction of the crowd, and pointedto
where in_^ the distance Shere Bahadur wfs making
slowly and .teadily for the hills. But the Maharaj Ad!
hiraj would do no such thing. "Kyful lao I " he roared

Mh' >r'" ' " ^'"'"" "y 8"° ' " ■>« shrieked in
^^^i^T-TT "''"'"»5 " aouble-barrelled
^Hwi^r* "» »"» h""*!*. He scrambled on the back

^h^J^^'T^f^' "'^' ^°"»''«<1 by his cheering

«M^r .r^T ' """rt' "l^^h^ after the elephant

Mirror of the^^TJniverse, destroy him not," advised

the Vmer who rode at the prince's bridle-hand. « The

\^.Z "t.^ y^^ *''°"'''"^ ""?««' and cannot be
replaced. The treasury is almost empty, and we will

want him when the Lat Saheb! comes." The Maharai
was prudent jf he was brave and the empty treasu^
was a strong argument. Besides, fhey were gettine
ra her dose to Shere Bahad^ and autpa'cing l!tZ
ful people. But he gave^n slowly. "What is to be
done^?" he asked, taking a pull at the rls. ^

^ The people^wiU drive him bagk," reiilied the Virfer.

and t?,! *?" ° -"n "P '"'"^- /'^e « Wt mmi
and m a month or so all will pass amiy.'' . ;,

n--

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TBS MADNiBaa OF BHBRB BAHADUR. Mb

a-:.:' :■ .■■" / ■■■•■ '■;•■• ' ' ' ■ ■ -1- ■ ■■ - ■

Shite Bahjadur had now reached an op^ plain, where
he stopped, and turning round, faced his pursuers.

" ^0 on, brave men 1 " shouted *the Vizier, ** A
thousand rupees to him who links ^ the first, chain
on that Shaitan. Drive him back! Drive him
•kck!''' .-; \ ■■:.-.■ .X.-^^-:. '; , . • ;■-

^is the courage of numbers, and this the people
possess. They gradually formed a semi-circle
iere Bahadur, cutting off his retreat to the hills,
and attempted by slants and the beating of tom-toms
to drive him forwards." But they kept at a safe distajjpe,
aijd the elephant remained unmoved.

" Prick him forwards," roared the Vizier. " Are
none of ye men ? Behold ! the Light of the Universe
watches your deeds I A must elephant— poA / What
is it but an animal ? " , /

"By your lordship's favour," answered a voice, '*he
is not Hmsty only angry— there is no stream from his
eye. Nevertheless, I will drive him to the lines, for I
am but dust of the earth, and a thousand rupees will
make me a king." Then a red-turbaned man stepped
out of the throng. It was the low-caste cooly who had
been put^to attend to the elephant on Aladin's death.
He ,yas Armed with a short spear, and he crept up to
the beast\)n his hands^aiwi knees, and then, rising, dug
the weapon into the elephWs haunch. Shere Bahadur
rapped his trunk on the ground, gave a short quick
trumpet, and, swinging round, made for the man. * He
did this in a slow, deliberate mannei:, and actually al-
lowed him to gain the crowd. Then he flung up his
head with a screech and dashed fortfard. ^^^^-^ t^^^^^^

Crack ! crack I went both barrels of Sri Ranabir's

it?

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gan, and two bullets whistled harmlessly through the.
air. •The paniqitrik|n, mob^ tum'6d and fled, bearing"
the struggling prince in the press.' The elephant was/
•howev^, too quick; and, to his horrS-, Sri Ranabir saw
that h# had charged home. Then Sri Ranabir also saw
^ something that he never forgot. Not & soul did the
elephant harm, but with. * doggedj^rsistence followed
the red turban. Some- bolder thanthe rest struck at
him Fith their tulwars,1i some tried to stab.-hii^. with
their »pears, and one or two matchlocks were fired at
him; but to no pui^ese. Throygh the crowd .he iteeted
straight for hfe prey, an^ the crowd itself gave back
before him, iii a sea of frightejied faces. At last the man
himself seemed to realize Shere Bahadur's object, ^nd it*
dawned like an inspiration- on the rest. They made a^
road for the elephant, and he separated his quarry from-
the crowd. At last I He ran him down on a ploughed-
field and stood over the wretch. The man lay partly
on his side, looking up at his enemy, and he put up his
hand weakly and rested it against the foreleg of the
ele^Jiffit, who stood motionless above him. So still yraa .
he that a wild thought of escape must have goiie
through^e wretijh -s mind, and with the resource bom
of imminent peril he gathered himself together inch
by inch, and mafe a rush for^eedom. With an e?isy •
sweep of hi§ trunk Shere Bahadur brought him back
into his former position, and then— the devil came out,
and a groan went up from the crowd, f«r Shere Baha-
dur had dropped on his knees, . and a moment after rose;
and kicked sojn6thing,ji mangled, shapeless sometl^n^,
backwards and forwards between his feet. ^^ /

"Let him be," said^tHe Vizier, laying .a restrai|)i|n^

■It .

'5 '

' I

: ■ TBBMADNmS OF SHEttB BAnADUn. -izl

I • ■ y. ■■"■«■■ ^ ^^ ._ ■

hand on Sri Ranabir. ^^Vhat . has he' killed .]^^^^^^^
refuse?. The Shaitan will go out of himAnow/^ > '
When he had done the deed Shore Baliadiir mV>yed a
few yar^ further and began to cast clods of earth 6yer

• himself. Thfen it was _8qen that a small' figure, with, a-
driVing-jhook' in its little brown liaiidp,^ wa^ njaking
directly for the elephant^ ■ : ' . , '

^ - ^' Come back, you little f ool J " '^hdiitecT S^ Raiiabir.

• But the boy made no answeh and winni/igii^btly for-
#a>d> ' stood before Shefp Bahadur. ■ He placed the
"tinsel-cove.red cap he w^fe at ^Ikf bcasf's feet, anl; held
up, his hands. |ki fiupplicitfoti. <ThV fci'ciwd itood breath-

, loss ;. they could hejiV noEhjjig' M ^he^ child' was. tr^i-'

r ■ dentljT Ispeakin^ They' *§aw :,Sliere Bahadur glare

viciously at tJ^e bpy^^aAisti^unk dt^oped forward ina

. straight Hue. .The lad again spoke^ and tbe7elephant

'fi^prted doubtfully; <rben there ttras no mistaking the

. shria- trebie " Ufil." S^er^ Babafc held /out his

trunk in a^n ui^wiUiiji^vmanner. The boy seized •hold.

• of i§as higk as heeould reach, placed his bare f6et on
; the curl,,,and murmured som^fhing. ^'mopient Aftet

he^ was seated on the\elephant'-s neck, an)& liftings tjie'.
{driving-iron, wayed. jt"iri the airl \, .. ^^^ ^ '- ;

"Hai !" he screamed* a^ he drove il on to- the riglit
spot, the sore part over the left ear: v -' Hail Base-
• hom thief, ^back to your lines !" • t -

And the huge bulk o{ Shere Banadur tu*hed slowly
round and shambled off to the peepul tree* like' a lamb. '
"By the trunk of Gunj^utty V I will make' that lad 'a '
havildar, and the- thousand rupees' ^k|ll ba 'his,'\ ^wore
theMaharaj. • '* ^. - " * -,

"Pillar of the earth !*'. ad vised the Yizier, *^et this

— — — — — I— ■ — • ■ — - — ^ *

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288" THE MADNESS OF SH^BB BAUAI/dn >

unworthy 9116 speak. It is FutteH^ Bin, tlie dead
'Aladin's son. , Give him' five rupees, and kt Urn be
mahout'* . *

•r

When I last sawShere Bahadur he was passing
solemnly under the old archway of the *' Qate of the
Hundred Winds'' at Kalesar. The Maharaj Adhiiaj
Was seated iii the howdah, with his excellency the '
Nawab Juggun Jung by his side. On the driving-seat
was Futteh Din> gorgeous in cloth of gold, and they
were on their way to the funeral-pyre of the Heir Ap- .
par^t, who had died suddenly from a surfeit of cream. ^

As they passed under the archway a sweetmeat-seller
rose and bowed to the prince, and ^liere Bahadur/
stretching out his trunk, helped himself to %, pound or
so of Turkish Delight.

** Such," said the sweetmeat-seller to himself ruefully, •
as he gazed after the retreating procession, '^ such are
the ways of kinga.'* , ; ^

V "

X'^

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REGINES APE

It ift a May morning in the north* of Indi«H-|iuch a
tooming as comes when the hot w|nd htfs heen mowing
for threer weeks, and has-shrivelledevaijlihing/ before
if, like^ tea-leaves Tinder the fan j6t a drying /engine.
Tl^ Grand Trunk Roa^, a long iW of grey dotted in
with dupt^coVered fctAjMr trees, ^tretehes for three hun-
dred ^les to the frcmtier, an4iotlie right and to of^
it, beginning at tho village of the Well of Lehna
SlBp^ "wljich 4ies biit a quoit-cast , from the road-
side, spreads a plain, dry, arid,, jjn^ p^ched —
agape withjthirst— the 'seams running ajon^its brown
surface like open -lips /panting for rain, the cool
rain which will not come yet, aJthottgh, at timea,
the distant rumble of thunder is hea^d, ind dark
clouds pile^upinith6 horizon, ^^(^^^ Away

iilto n6tlnn|. The tall s«r|?a; gras^ ha» been cut> and
its pruned stalks,. stiff as "the^bristles on a hijr-brush,
extend in regular patches of. yellow, spiky sc nib, with
bands of mottled brown and grey' earth betw«ien them.
Here and again it would seem there are scattered |)ool8,
for the eyes, running over the landscape, shi ink back
from a sudden flash, as of water reflecting 1 he fierce
light of the sun. It is not so, however, for, ex<[ept what

V -

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BSOINB'S APR

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the graining Peraian wheels drag uf> from the deep
wells, there is neve A drop, of water lor man, for beast,
or for field. Those gleaming, stretches from which the
pained eyes turn are hothing more than the bare earth,
covered with a saline elflorescence, soft and silver Vhite,
as if it were dry and powdered foam.» .It is yet early,
and the light is not so dazzling a!s to prevent the eye
resting ,on the patchwork of the plain, ertudded here
-^nd there with clumps of trees, that mark a well and
\he hamlet that has grown up around it. To found a
. village heire it^is only necessary to dig a well, and be-
hold ! mud huts spring up like fungi, and a hamlet
has come inta being. Right across the plain is a dark
.line' of H^wr and s^eswm trees. That is where th^'-dry
' 1)ed of thel)eg tenants lies.' Only let it rain, and the
Deg will come down, anjingry yellow fl()od, aliVe with
catfish, and bubble- its way to the wid^ but not less
jelipw bosom of the Ravi. Beyond the dry bed of the
'[ torrent, and towards the' east, are a number of sand
' dunes covered with the soda plant,, and" looking like ant-
^ .hills'in the distance. In the eftst itself the sun looms
through a red haze, and against tKis'ruddy, semi-opaque
mist, a dust-devil rises in a spiral column, and openin;?
oHit atthe^p>^l|ke an expanding smoke wreath, spreads
sullenly agaihst the sky line. On a morning such as
this, two men ar^ beating for a boar in a large patch of
$irp^t grass. One man is at each end of the grass •field,
and"between them are twenty or thirty /S^answ, a criminal
tribe, who make excellent beaters whatever their other
faults may be. With the man to the right of the field
we have little concern:- It is with the man to the left
that this sto ry dealR. A s

Ije sits hi s fretting Arab, and

■'•.^p ,

the sunlight falls on his features^ Vwtild need but" a
glance to tebl he was a soldier. , The' cai-ef ijl ob-
server might, however, - discover in that glance, thut
there was something wrong about the good-looking face.
The eyes were too close together, the bow of the moutli
both weak and cruel, although the chin below ^was
fir6i enough. If the grey helmet he wore were removed,
it would have bepn •«een that the hpad was small and
somewhat conictf in sliape, the head of a Carib rather
tMn that pf an European! ^&\xq slowly advanced his
. h6r86 along the edge of the field, keeping in line with
the beaters, it was evident that he was in a high state
of excitement,, and the shaft of his spear was shivering
in'his h^nd. . \ >

\Wivrr! wUrf! A <x>uj)le of fclack partridge rise
froit^ the grass and sail away till they look liikp cock-
chafenrs in the distance. 'Phen therp is a scramble, a"
liare dashes out, and scurries ma^fijpacross the plain, his
long ears laid flat on his back, and his big eyes almost
starting out of his head with fnght. The beaters yell
at this, and the Arab plunges forward; but the .rider,
who is growing pale wi-th eitcitemeiit, holds hini i;i, and
he dances along sideways in a white sweat— bdth horse
and man all nerves. Two mangy .jackals slink out of
the grass, givjs' a sly look around, and the»^ope along
in the direction, taken by the hare. It will be had fpt
puss if %hey come across him. As yet not a sign of the
boar, and the Arab is almost pulling Sangster's arms oflP.'
He lopks across at his friend, and sees him wefl to th6
right, on his solemn-lookihg black, and he catches sight
of a pale blue curl of smoke from Wilkinson's pipe.

;• * 1

. ,■ i I

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By George!" he muttereld, « only think pf"

:r^^

■f"-< ,:

d49

BSOmE'8 APR.

P v«. amokingnowl Steady ^' He miglit>J well have

tried to stop -an engiae. Therq is a chorus of yells,
shrieks, and howls from tho beaters, a^suddon waving of
crackling grass, the plunge of a heavy body, and in a
hand-turn an old boar breaks cover, and, with one savage
look about him, l^cads at a tremeuddus pace for the lieg.
The Arab has seen it, and lets himself out like a butk,
and then all is forgotten except the fierce excitement
of the chase. Sangster can hear the drumming of tho
black's hoofs behind him, and fast as he goes WUkinson
draws alongside, his tieeth still clenched over the stem °
of his pipe. The boar is well to the front, a brown spot
bobbing up and down, racing for his life, as he means to
fight for it when the tkne comes. He is not "afr|pd,
his little red eyes are aflame with wrath, and as he goes
he grinds hi8i;usk8 till the yellow foam flies off them on
to his brindled sides. He is not in the least afraid, and
he fully intends, at the proper time, to adjust matters
with one or both his pursuers. It is his way to run
first and fight afterwards— that is, providing the enemy
can run hin^tO' a, standstill. ^If not— well, the Aght
must be deferred to another day, %nd in the meantime
'it is capital going, except over that ravine-scarred,
poriion of the plain called the "Gridiron," where^ at
any nite, the advantage will lie with him.

Side by side the two men race. Wilkinson know^
perfectly well that when the time comes he can draw
away from the Arab, which, with all its speed and pluck,
is no match for a fifteen-hand Waler. He is calculating
on gaining "first spear" with a sudden rusji ; but h^pa^
missed out of this calculation the consequences of an
accident. In the middle of the " Gridiron," the >Valer

^¥

. f

RSaiNB'S APB.

V makes' a f^lso step between two"ghi8s-crowned hum-
moclcB, and Songster is left alone with the boar, whilst
Wilkinson, with a sore heart, cniwls out of a wuier-cut,
and, after many an inefTectual effort, sueceed^in catch-
ing his horse and following the chase, now almost out
of sight. .

In thp meantime the boar- has all but reached^e^
Deg, and safety lies there. Could he only gain one 6.
th^ hundred ravinee that cobweb the plain, u quarter
mil^e or so f^m the dry bed of the torrent, ho would
yet live to run, and mayhe fight, on another day. Ho
strains every nerve to effect this object, and Sangster,
seeing this, calls on his horse, and the Arab, answering
gallantly, brings him almost up to the boa^ with a rush.
Sangster can see the foam on the boar's jowl, flecked
with bright spQts of red ; blood-marks from the hunted
animaPs lips, wounded by the sharp tushes as he ground
^em together in his wrath ; already has he reached out
Ws ^rm to deliver the spear, when, quick aa lightning,
Jhe boar jinks to the right, and, dashi^ down a deep
Jnd narrow ravine, is lost to view. Sangster saw the
/bristles on his back as the beast vanished, and the speed
of his horse bore him almost to the edge of the steep
*bank of the Deg before he could stop and turn him
Wben Sangster came back tothe point where he had
lost the boar he realized that it was uselese to make any
attempt to find the animal. In a hasty look round Ee
had given when Wilkinson came to grief he had seen
that the accident to his friend was not serious, and he
now resolved to cross the Deg by an old bridge known
as ' Shah Doula^s Pool," and make his way back to the

beaters along the" soft " that bordered the metalling of

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344

UEQlNB^a APS,

the Grand Trunk Koad. It would be nlimly thoro, and
he waa parched with thirst, and very much out of
temper. Failure fn anything nuwlo this nervoua mun
extraordinarily irritable, and he wa« in a mood to pick
a quarrel on the fllightest provocation. ^^

• Sanget^ reached the bridge in thia frame of mind,,
and as he crossed it came upon a curious scenic JLJndei^
. Ihe shade of a peepul, whoso heart-shaped loaves shel-
tered him from th© sun, Sat a devotee staring fixedly in-
to space with his lustreless eyes. Beyond a cloth around
■ his waist he had no clathin|;, his body wat^imearJa
with aahes, and on his ash-eover^ forehead was drawn
a trident in red ochre. His haii', which was of great
length, and had been bleached by exposure from black to
a russet brown, fell over his thin shoulders in a long
matted mane. SitUng there, he was, up to this point,
like any one of the hundred wandering mendicants a
man might meet in a week's march in India ; but here
the resemblance ceased, for this man was of those who,
in the fulfilment of a vow, was prepared to inflict upon
himself and to endure any torture. He sat cross-legged,
and what at first Sangster thought was the dry and
blasted bough of a stunted likur tree behind the man
he sawy at a second glance, was nothing less than the «
devo^'s arm, which he had held out at a right angle
to yy^ body, until it had stiffened immovably in that
position, and had shrunk until it seemed that the
ydracked skin alone covered the bone. How long* the
arm had been held to reach this condition no one can
say. But it was long enough for the nails to have
grown «irough the palm of the clenched hand, over
which they curied and drooped like tendrils. The

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Xf^a INK'S AVK.

•scetic's gourd In^
pii«6er-by hud tJr
behind him garn
lwn«/«or,whogibb('re<

birii, into which sornqf piouB
handful of purched v(jf^ti, an<
jtrcy monkt7, an entollus

'jnowed at SungHter tt« ho rWlo
U{H but made no attempt to retmt-~evidcflt]y he war^
tame, and uhccI to pwplo. , ... V? m ■{ '

^ Ahhough 8ang8tor h^ neartywyven yeare of gi^Ic^ "
he knew notJiing about the f^aet ; hi« knowledge ot
ite peoples and their characterB expresw^l iuelf in two "
J^^rd^, brief and strong. He knew nothing /&d canjd ^
yl«w for the complex laws, the mystic philosophy, the/^
mmemond civilizatibn of the gremt en.pire which he, '
t.lrT'lr^* was helping to hold for England, *
He fbrtunately represented only a-^all class of the
seirants of the Queen, that class ^0^ the native
to be a brute^httle, if at all, botteTThan the grey ape
who leered o^the devotee's sho^der at the Arab and
hi8 nder. gaj^Bter, however, kWw something of the •
l8nguage,saiid^8(»,e devil prompted him to rein in, and
mipenously^k the sitting figure if the boer had gone '
thut way. He might as well have asked the ape, for
that figure, seated there in the dust, with its rieid arm
stretched out and dull look staring into vacancy, would
have been oblivious if a hundred boars hnd passed
before ,t, and was so lost in abstraction that it
was even nnoonscious of the pr^ence of the fierv
champing horse and equally impatient W who
were nght m front of its unwinking J^es. l)f _

*!!!!L^r "^^ ""^ ""^^^ «^^ SangKbef angrily ~ "
repeated the question, lowering the point of his spear .
as he did so, and .l ightly pricking t he mL below
him. What came into the little brain of the ape \

:%v

-V-
T

_-f

—I

^%-

.s^ . ^ ^* .

246

mi!QmB*8 Apsi.

it is hard to say ; but it was an instinct that told him
" his mdster was in danger, and with a dog-like fidelity
he -i^solved to defend him. Springing forward the
-b^st grasped the shaft of the lance, and, with chatter-
ing teeth, pushed it violently on one side. All the little
temper Sangster had left went to shreds ; with an oath
he drew back his arm, the spe&r-head flashed, and the
next moment passed clean through the shrieking ^imal,
and was out again, 50 longer bright' but dripping red.
With a pitiful moan the poor brute almost flung itself
into the devotee's lap, and died there, its arms clasped
around the lean waist of its master. All this happened
80 8uddenly,'80,quickly, that Sangster had barely time to
think of what he haS done; but, as he raised his red
spear, a horK>r came on him, so human was the cry of
the dying ape, so like a child di^ it lie in its death-
agony. He would have turned away and ridden off,
but a power he could not control kept him there, and
for a space there jvas a silence, broken o!hly by the drip
from the speaj^-head, and the soft Whistle of a Uuryal or
green pigeon from the shade of the leaves overhead.

The ascetic gently put aside the dead ape,.^d rose,
a grey phantom, to his feet. Solarge was hi§ head,
so small his body, and so long the withered bird-like
legs that supported him, ihat he appeared ta.be some
uncanny creature oi another worid.\Se was overcome
with a terrible excitement, ysbrealt heaved, his lips
inovedwith a hissing sound, and he urieonsciouslytried to
shake hisrigid right ann at the destroyer. Then his voice
came, shrill and fierce, with a note of unending pain in
it, and he dropped out slowly, and with a deadly hate in
each word : ** Cursed U the hand that wrought thla d ee d !

r'-'i-

.■.^-

BBdmB'S APB.

247

Cursed be Jkou above thy fellows r il9y Durgadogthe,
iUrn^h Ufe, and let tUy life ilsclf end in blood ! Now
go I ' ,

Without a word Sangster turned to the "left, and
galloped along the banks of the Deg. At. any *ther ,
tune he_could have found it in his heart t6 laugh at
theeurseof the mad ascetic, for so he thought the man
to be; but the hmp body of the dead ape was before
him and Its pitiful cry was ringing in hiV ears. M
he rode on he^caught a glimpse of his dull spear-point
It was^on y the blood of an animal after aJl; but he
flung the lanoe aw|,y with a jerk of tis arm, anfl it fell ••
softly into tH brqlid-leared dakh shrubs and laV there
r T^ W; V' ™»i'«ht. He prised on madly ;' ■

IndT '^''^*' "'^•"i.Trunk Boad was nowcl4
and he could make out a gigantic figure on a gigaAtie

Sangster-s head seemed bursting, and there was a drum- '
"""S in_h«_ears. Somehow-lie managed to keep his
seat, and at last heard Wilkinson's cool voice •

, " Got the pig, old man ? Good God t—" For Srfhir
^r, with a flushed red Jace, slid froin his saddle, and"
lay senseless in the white burning dust "

In a moment Wiikj^p^-h^a sprung to earth and was ,
bending over his friend. ' ,

•« Sunstroke, by, Jove I Must get him back at once."

iiil

On^doea not recover .from sunstroke in a little, and
m most cases it leaves a permanent mark beliiiid It '
bangster was no exception to the rule. For weeks he'

248

nSOINB'S APE,

^'T'x,

:/ lay between life and death. Tliere were times when
;i • he tottlred on the brink M that dark precipico, down

^ f , which we must all go soonfer or later ; but he rallied at
' . last. Finally he was- well enough to travel, and the

. : sick man came home. He had never mentioned to a

soul what he had done at Shah Doula's Pool^- ff he
had spoken of it during his illness, it wa« doubtless set
V " down 4o the ravings of deiirium.' When at length he
V recovered his senses, he could only recall what had

'I V happened to him in a vague manner. But he was no

I ^ longer his own cheery, somewhat noisy self. He was

listless, moody, and apathetic. ^€|i^his mind there
seemed to brood a shadow that ^i^ld take to itself
^ I neither tojm nor substance, and against which he could

* not battle. Thff doctors said the long sea-voyage home
;5 * would s^ him right in this respect. They were wrong,

I i and day after d^ the man lay str^ched on his cane

deck-chair, orypaced up and down in. sullen Silence,
exchanmng W word with his fellow-passengers. At
last th^y-sfeched Plymouth, and although it was seven
yeafssince he had left England, he never even glanced
oiit of the windows as the train bore him to his Berk-
shire home. He arrived- at last and was made much
over. Kind hands tended him, awd loving hearts were
there to anticipate his slightest whim. It was im-
' possible to resist Jhis, and in a little time the clouds
seemed to roll away from his mind, and he was once
>' more gay and bright. One warm sunny day, as he was
^^-lying in a hammock under the shade of a sycamore,
hardly conscious that he was awake, and yet knowing
he was hot asleep, his mind seemed to slip back of
— lia o w n acco r d into the pasi. — In an instant the sa ft~

.,,.,,.

isfc-

ii«\

, r

JiBGIirE\ APE.

249

turf, the mellow green trees, the restful English land-
scape faded away. U winc^that was as hot as a furnace
blast tot upon him/ All around, was i dreary waste,
and above, the sky was a cloudlss, burning b^e He
wafl once again holding in his fiery Arab, a^d listening
to the curse hissing out from the lips of) jbhe devotee.
He^almost he#rd the blood dropping" froW Mis spear on
to the grey dust -below his horse's hoofs, and from the
heart-shaped peepul leaves':^it was ' no longer a syca-
more he was beneath-^ihe whistle of the green pigeon
CMie to him soft.and low. A strange terror seized him.
He sprang out of the hammock. He had not been
asleep. It was broad daylight^ and yet he could have
sworn that for the moment time had rolled backwards,
an<} that he was eight thousand miles away from the
square, red brick parsonage, in the firwoods of Berk-
shire. And then he began to understand. .

He went into the house his old brooding self, and iji
a week, finding life there insupportable, ran up to town.
Here he t«k chambers close to his club, and plunged
into dissipation. He was not naturally a^ man given
that way, and he did not take to it kindly. But he
held his, course and broke the remaios of his health,
and wasted his subst^ce in a vain effort to shake off "
the weight from his soul But it was useless, and now
a weariness of life fell upon him, and something seemed
to be ever whispered in his e«jr to end all. The temp-
tation came upon Him-^ne- evening with an almost
irresistible force. He was to dine out that evening '
and had just finished dressing when his eye fell on a
small plated Derringer that lay on the table before him.

"^ — 3 — 1 In — r-, — r — . . ; : ^"

He took It up and held it in his hand. But a little

■V; ■vi|

:, . ,\ .

^■' ■ / -^'H:

jw* f

>■*■ .

■t >

■ ■■ J'

■:% V

250

* <>

""-t:

:4.

BBGmS'S ATM

::.\'^

r';::-:r

; ' '.-i ■

t^ ' .:

tou^h on the trigger, and there would be an end of all
things.. It was 80 easy. Only a little touch I He
placed the round muzzle to his temple, and stood thus
for a second. He could hear the ticking of his watch,
he could feel the pulse in his te|fiple throhbing against
the cold steel of the pistol, he cbiild feel his very heart
beating. His whole pa^t rose up beforejiii^. He
^closfed his eyes, set his teeth, his fing^r^s on the
trigger, whenihe heard a low laugh, a mocking laugh of
triumph, that, soft as it was, seemed to vibrate
through the room. Sfuigster's hand dropped to his side,
and he lool^ed" round with a scared face. At thoAtime
, this occurred he was sbanding at his dressin^-tabld, and
the only light was that from two candles, one dn each
side of the glass. The bedroom was separated from the
sitting-roo^ by a folding dqpr, overhung by a heavy
crimson cuftain, and tjiis part of the room was in semi-
d^kness.'^^^AsSangstei? turned his whjte face to the
;cm^ he saw nothing, although the laugh was still \
- xmging in his ears ; but, as he looked/ a pale blue mist
^ rose before the curtain; a mist that seemed instinct
^>ith light, and in it floated the body of the devotee,' the
rigid arm extended towards him and a smile of infernal
malice on the withered lips. Foy a moment^gster
stood as if 8peil-bound^-« cold sweat dnhisiojfehead..
Then, for he ;was no coward, he nerved himself, and
advanced towards the vision. As he stepped up, 'mist
and figure faded into nothing, -and he was alone. But
he ebiild beaj* to„be jso no longer, and thrusting the
pistoHnto the breast pocket of his cbat, hurried x)utside.
Once in the sti^et, he hailed a hansom and was driven
to his de stination. '- ■ '' ■' '■

'mi: ■ .■■■■■ \: - ' '^' . V.-. ■ . , ■ , ■ ■

. \ . «

■,-,.. ■■■■■.: \ , \::-' , ■ r:-.i<\.. ■ .'■■■;;''a- '';', ' ■,■;:■;■' -gp--..

During his stay in town he had sgught every class of
Baciety> and chance had thrown him in the way of
Madame R^gine. Wl^or^she was is not.material to this
storyf but she was thq Ol^e person he had met who could ,
for the moment make' Sangster forget his gloom.
^: Iji her^way, too, R^gine was attracted by this man, \
Jo grave and silent, yet who was able to speak of things
and^cends she had never heard of, and who looked so
different from tTie other men she canie acro&s in her
literary and artistic circlft >

Of late, with a perversity which cannot be adcount^
for, 'he had avoided seeing her, and she was more than
glad'^jas coming that night ; and as for him, he almost \
had itfin his heart to thank God he was to see Engine
that evening, , , \ , i

Madame kriew how to gelect her guests. ^ There were
but^half a dozen people/and it was very gaj|i At first
Sangster ^uld n^hake off his depression,^t a« the '
wine went round and the wit sparkled he pullpd himself
together, and in a half^iour had forgotten what hadV
•happened before he came iWehe house, ^hey were late
that evening ; but the tinie came to g<||| last, ^ang- '^
ster, howeveif Ungered-^the latest of all to say .good; W

As he wenf up to her she put aside his hand with e •
smile. ■■■■;■-- r*vv- y-: •.::::,, ^■,-;/- ;■ ■:'■ .■■.;;■■ •.;"■■ "

"^I have not seen /ou for ages. Yo^ might stay for
another ten minutes and talk to me." <

f I shall be delighted." - ' - . . •

" That is nice of you— and I will show yoA'pres-'
ent r have had from India. You ^ can smoke if y n^ .

1i£

>fj , :

^t.W

■^ ,M

^^^^^^^^*^^^«™^^ering laugh thrft he
■^*f^»*8. If camffironmowhere ; but

^ 'i^'^^'l^^lT^"^^*/'^^ ^^ theais^jn his lips died to ,■ ■

4^^>ol|a;lbra^xname|itathimis^^

:!^;5i>tl!!?id^^'^^'^^^?^ ^he was gone.

»rip6«ght hp- would ,'

*.. . -^lS.f^Mr^''"^™-e5-Vtr'»Jn«''r would

wmo-y^^- W'-i '■ I. j7i^'' , *r^^f^r^'" "*""*^*- ■*;»»; I'MWuis nana m ■ his
ffii v^^%^^ ^^iliiled grimly tp himsJ^X S

| | i|i:|' -Si^^'^^ ^:|^^,;lt:ln.h^«:.ha^d(.'^;*■> ' ■,. . ■ . " 'u^f.^-. ,. - -T :- ■• •

^m'^A^^^^^^^^ "^ ""^ ^ ^'^^' a^lfehere -els^-- he'^

W-: 1 . * tl He gave » quick dry and looked itn to mo«f fii. ^^^l^L

., ,. , , Ttn^U^ . 1 "^ -t'-«"s "s"wjr to ms snoulcjers.

' rv>^*^®<^^»»«ntellusnu)nkeyleerinff^^-^-* ^

.i^*^

. > . My;Gddr»he^spe^^
^ f . Derringer cut into 'B^g^fteV peaL
I ,,vv . chapgedgk note to a screani
1 'Po?"^q|||p5he\iras. bending o\

^ ? , man, laughipg in shrill hyffterifc^^
. 1J ^ *^em from, his se&t on the hig^

Ws eye4>

^report^of ; the':
lughtefri and
Fbr. Wh^ the
tody of the mad- ^
sape gibbered \
'chair. '%■';

:.a.v .„

■ ' . ■ . r *
. ■ ■■' ' 4

A SHADOW OP THE ]?AST

The sunbirds, hovering and twittering over the neem
trees, signalled to me the approach |of the coming hot
weather. The sky was a steel grby, ind over the
horizoni of the wide plain before my bung^low> on which
the short grass was already dry and crisp, hung a cur-

Jaj^* ot^siifj^T^hTowTi dust. Her§ and there on the
expanse of fad*d green were'*small ijerdsol lean kine,
and, almost on thkedge of the road bjordennir the plain,
a line of water-buffaloes sluggishly headed for a shallow
pool about a t^ ot bo westward, where they would '

^_ii-i_ ±iu ]^:jeni; down, and then be driven

camelast mtl^^ arid ^ lys bac^k »at a little naked '
:>% a p^netffeow m his l^d, ^d^aTc^n bag full of
inud pell# slung^isihig Sibuld*. *He tris singing in ^
. f biglnpitched ttirielees voice,- an« ^is song, seemed |«^ * r
•«nrage the '^bra^^evrf « bird'if ihfe^^ where* d *

^ h^M^ jen silent since tige^daw^»/ The bird obfected i .
J^cendo of rin|lij^^te§.#a1i>f(^B^^^^^
ato play, trnd then th^fe ^ wln^e of . -
rings as life flpwT^k'safer spot, and a

■■■"h;

°'-V

y . VC

\ ■■■''■

;en. (mly ^h^ mpjiotonous Urik, mitiink^

■f-

^- .

'U^

tli''

ft*.

jj^

'.It-

\ S^ -A bAadow OF Tim past,

of the UUle green barbet or coppersmith. There w^
timee when fever held me in its grip, that the madden-
ing Iteration of its crywaa almost unbe^rablb, and to

^'1^^ I TT * ^"^'"^ ^^^^ "*"« gretn-coated a^
red-throated plague--<>f a truth "the coppersmith hath
done me much evil/' I stood in my veranda watching
the retreating figure of the Judge, as he drove away
full of a project of spending a month in Burma-an
enterprise he had been vainly tempting me to shar&;
but I bad other fish to f ry : ^ way ^ westwards^
not eastwards, and besides I had slaved for six W
years in Burma, and knew it fer too well Qne glajice ^
at the Judge a« he turned the elbow olf the road^^ii
was lost to view behind th^ siris trees, «e look at t
thirsty plain, and the shivering heat'^aze; throilffh
which glinted, now and again, the distant spear^ads
of a squadron of Bengal Lance/s trotting slWfy ba<3k
to their barracks, and I turned in to my study I had
determined to devote the day to the dea^rucytiori of old
papew, and set about my task in earnegfc. There waa /
one drawer in particular that had not ^been touch^/
for three years. I had forgotten what ^it containeS^
and opened it slowly, thinking it was possibly an
gean Stable • but nothing met mfy eyes fce«t a s^all

packet of papers. Yet with throne look MmebaJ to -
me the memory of a life's ^edy. Me j^ ^om^»
haveibeen destroyed long ago, and now-g hesitated
DO longer, but tore them up into the smairest frag-
ment^ glad to be ridy as I thought, of the jLseraWe
record of a man's folly, of his crime, and of his s&ne. "
But an awakenfed memory is Hot easily set at rested

in the stillness of that Indian day, the whole ^thhig

■ .1- -■ 'i

A 8EAD0W OF TBB PkaT.

>5fi

returned with an insistent force, dead voiced sp^ke t6
me once wore, and bitter regrets hummed of the paat
the past thAt can never be retrodden--and , then ther«'
arose out of the shadows in vivid distinetnesfl the
memory .of that supreme moment when John Mazarion
cast his soul ^0 hellv It all cdme back like a picture-
that lonefer Himalayan mountain side, the black pinea*
the s^t eternal snows, Mazarion with hia paje white
faepj^and Itani with her laughing^ eyes. Anlaglfl
Sreamed above us, Iremembeir and with a hiHsiS^ '
wmgs dropped over the abygs into Jl^e blue mist* t
clung to the mountain side. •„

John Mazarion and I had been friends at school, and
we met again as )^ung men with a common fnterest*
m our hves, for we h^d both adopted^ an Indian career;
Mazajion had gone into the Indian Marme, ind I—
I wanted ift those days to build emptree as did Clive and
liastings, and so I sought honour in another. §|^^
and got s%t to Burma for mjy pains. and— the ^Wm'
harve yet to be built. Theresas yet another interest
between John and myself, and thatwas Nelly. Being
young men we did as young men do, and both fellin
.love ^ unfortunately we both fell in love with the
f^!^Wm'^''' ^""^ Nelly took Mazarion. It was a bitter
thmpOTme then ; but now that I have come to an aae
when I can argue with myself, I can see it was but
natu^l. John was » big handsome man with fair hair
and ||ipid-^lue eyes, and Nelly-well, a man does not
care ff wiifce abpiitgthe woM|yie loves ; shd^^ms-lfelly
and that js _ enough. ThougW ne|| spoke of it, IV
fancy Npll y m,.of 'h fr yr 1rt| | Ji rVi f f|fi (-> > ta il ffii III

alb^e .

that tender -womanly ''way w^

.1 ,

riK

:^t.:

^■K'.

266

\A'.v

■w-

■^9k

4 SHAD OW JIF TJHE PAST*

have she gave mo strength -to endure, and for her sake
I wished Mazarion good' luck, and sailed for Uie Easl^
John followed in a few "weeks, and I understood
they were to be married in three yeats, when Mazarion
got hia stej) — a long engageinont ; but the purse of an
Indian oflicer is mostly a lean one, and Nelly's people
wye not rich. Well, -as I said before, 1 began/ my
li^sterh career in Bumia, and Mulzurion's dutiesied him
id the Bay of Bengal and to the J$urm^|||^aters. WeW
never mot for close on foUr years ; but ot^casionally I jkk
caihe to Rangoon, the capital of Burma, and there i ^
*hear^*inuch of him, and always in connection with some
story of stiipid fpHy. The best of men w^ld shrinl^
from daylight#*eiij[g ihrown^pn all their actions ; but
what would liflve b&ea wrong in any man's case becatne
doubljip^ arf(J*«oubly dishonourable, in the case of John
Mazarioh — at least 1 thought aji4 think so, for Nelly's
face usQ^;ft||.j*ise be&ure .me #th a^look of patient
"waiting in*the sWeet-eySi^^* ' ^ t^-^ *

At la^i wejhet in t^jMij^.at'Rangoo|k>ind lunched

[entail

«ieritally^ let out that he had got

togetherj " He
^vhis step in proiPHc^ nearly a^year ago, and went
. *^ on to answif theipspofcen question in my look. ,

"Nelly will have to wait a year or so more, I'm afraid
-*Fm deuced hard up. But I suppose you're in the same
street. Come and l^kve a smoke." ■

I was Hot in the/same street : but I went and had a

smoke. We talked of many things, and when I left

I knew thait Joh|i had slipped down, -feijt how far down

* I was yet to know. Before I left ttie club I accepted

an invitation to supper with him in his rooms ; he had

received a port appointment, and was for the present

for her sake
for ttic Emik
understood
am Mazarion
purse of an
clly's pooplo
I began/ my
ities'led him
Raters. Wfi
:;ca8ionally I
and tker^ i
»n with some
fould shrinl^
ctions ; but
case beeatne
case of John
, for Nelly's
: of patient

md lunched
he had got
>, and went
ook. /
B, I'm afraid
in the same

t and had a
when I left
)w far down
) I accepted
ms : he had

A aUADOW OF TUB PdST,

S5T

stationed in Rangoon. I went to that supper. There
were two or three others there, and a lady— (Jod save the
mark I— who did the honours of the house. 1 oould
have struck MaalNon where ho sat brazening the
whole thing out ; but I held myself in somehow and
saw it through. I was the first to go, and Mazarion
followed me to the door— shame was not quite dead in
him. " Ijook here, old man," hri said, you're of! home,
I know, and will see Nelly. You needn't— and— you
liiow what I mean—" holding out his hand.
%I drew back. " Yes, I know what you mean, and 1
will keep silent. But I would to God I hadn't accepted
J^ur cursed hospitality i "

^And I turned and walked down the stairway, leaving
him on the landing, white with rage. In a month from
that day I was in England, and a week later I had seen
Nelly. I well remember it was with a J^ating heart
that I came to the door of fhe BuburbaTg^|| with the
May tree in bloom near the gate, and in&^^ute or so
was in the little drawing-room I knew so** well. In the
place of honour was a large photograph of Mazarion in
niS naval uniform, and near it was a vase with a votive
offertng of fresh flowers. I felt who had placed them
there, and swore bitterly under my breath. Then the
door opened and Nelly canie in with outstretched bands.
"I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Thring, after all these
years." ■, ■ ■'

: "And it seems to me as if I had never been away.
I shook off the East with the first grey sky I saw.'*
Then we sat and talked, but I carefully avoided the
ect of Mazarion, and now and

.suhjfii

a gain parried a

the present

leadiiig question because I did not know what to say.

z/i

268

A BBADOW OF THE PASf,

'' r ,;*

i'i.* '

V",fr

and felt miBerablc when I saw the eager light in Nolly's
eyes fade into a look of disappointment. Finally Mrs.
Carstaire, Nelly'fl mother, ciune in, and it wa« a relief,
for I had tp go over my expericnices again. But I struck
on the rocl^a at last when Mrs. Carstairs said : " Well, I
suppose you are lucky in getting back in four y<5ar8 —
though that doeg seem such a long time/'

" Yei, I Buppoeo I am, Mrs. Carstairs. There are
men who have been away ten years and more, ajid whoee
prospects of seeing home again are still far."

I thought I heard the faintest echo of a sigh, and
grew hot all over. My hand shook so that I could hear
the teacup I held rattle on the saucer. I waa a tactlesfi
fool.

"How hard I" said Mrs. Carstairs, "and there is
poor John still out there, waiting for his step. I wonder
when he will get it and be able to come home."

I looked at Nelly. Her eyes were ablaze and her
cheeks flushed, and the words " waiting for his step "
rang in my ears. Mazarion had got his step a year ago
— he had told me so himself. I could eay nothing.

"I siippose you have seen John," Mrs. Carstairs
went on. " You and he used to be such friends. When
did you last meet ? ** f

" About six weeks ago, in Rangoon ; he was looking
very well.**, "v -■ ■;\■■■^^ '■ ^ -■■ ^ .' ll:;' ^■ .'';:-: ;

"I am so glad. We— that is,' Nelly has not heard
for nearly two months, and when he last wrote he said
he was very busy, and likely to go on a long cruise,"

Now I knew Mazarion had held that port appoint-
ment for nearly six months, and would hold it for a

it in Nolly's
finally Mrs.
wim a relief,
But I struck
I : " Well, 1
four y<»ar8 —

There are
), and whofic

>»

a Bigh, and
[ could hear
aa a tactlece

tid there is
>. I wonder
e."

ize and her
T his step"
J a year ago
lothiug,
s. Carstairs
ids. When

wm looking

} not heard
rote he said
J cruise,"
>rt appoint-
)ld it for a

•t'

A 8ITAD0W OF TBB PAST..

269

cruise, and I of course kne\r that he was lying— lying
to the dear heart that loved him so well. To this day
I know not whether I did right or wrong in hohling my
tongue, in saying nothing, and when I left them I left
them still in that tmV» jmradise of trust and live and
hope. I saw them once again before I left. JLcould
not go back without one more look at N^Mly. As I said
good-l$ro she timidly slipped a small packet into my
hands, and I promised it would reach John Mazarion
in safety. ' /

On the'voyajSfo back I thought of many things, and
reproached myself for having parted mih Mazarion as
I had. For her sake I should have made some effort
to pull him right, and as it were I had simply kicked
him down a step lower, for I had made him feel his
infamy, and that is not the way to help a man to re-
cover his own self-respect. I had been hasty— for the
moment my temper had got the better of me— wifh the
usual result. And so I determined not to send him
Nelly's gift, but, on reaching Rangoon, to deliver the
packet with my owiThands.

I found him ith^is^^ifie on the rivef face, and, aa I
expected, there wW a/coldness and constraint in his
manner. Our eyesj^et- his stillwith anger in them
-^«nd then he dropped his look. >

"I have brought this," I said, "from Miss Carstairs.
I pft>mised it should reach you safely." /

He took the packet from me in silence, but I 4w his
hands shaJce and the crow's-feet gather about JfJ is eyes.
He fumbled with the seals, then let the packef drop on
the table, and look e d at me again aa I bUyted out;

** I have said nothing — ^not a word."

' I.

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260

4' 8BJLD0W OF TBS PAST.

"I da not uncleifstahd, sir." ^

" Joh^ Mazarion/* I cut in, "you are still to her what
you have ever^been. Man I you know not what you are
throwing away: See here, John 1 You 'are my oldest
friend; and I can't lot you go Jike this. Pull up and'
turn round ; give yourself a chance^ 1 If-^f money is
wanted^ — well, I've saved a bit— -^" v

He simply leaned back in hm ehair and laUghed.
Aud such a laugh I Theije was not a r^g of mirth iU
it-Mi tunelefssi mocking laugh such as might^ come from
^ the throat of a devil. Then he stopped and looked at .
ine, the hard lines still in the comers o| his itiouth ajifd.
round his eyes. . * V ^.

" Thrifig, you're a meddlesome fool I Take my rid-
vjice and let each man sftir his Own porridge. I wAnt no
. interference and none of your damned advice. I mean
to live my own life." ; ^

** It isii't. of y^ alone I am thinking.^' ^ ^ ■^.

Hei, fairly shook with rage. " Go ! '^^-he Wrst but. , ,
" 6o I I hate the sight of you, with your lip^ full' of
talk about duty and self-respect and honour. (Jo I."

I left the man, but for all his violence I felt^that his
anger wa^ really agaiiist himself, and fhait my woipdd had"
. j^one home.

A year, two years passed. Three times in this iui;
terval I- had heard from Nelly, and on each occasion the •
leit&x was not-so much for me as to obtain news of
'Mazarion. She was still watchtna iind waitinsr —
wasting the treasures of* her h^^a^^ lAkvt^ another
woman has done on men as wortb||ttfs^^^r%ti. And
I-^I was powerless to. help .her l|(J^PEom I would have ,
. gfyen my'li^e. Twice I bad answ|ii^^o say th^f^ had

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to hep what
irhat yon are
•e my oldest
Pjill up and
-if money is

nd laughed,
of mirth it
become from
id looked at
I i^outh ajjd,

'■ ■ ■ '■- ■■ *'
'ake my rid-
IwA^tno
ce. I mean

i burst but. ,/
lip^ fiill of
r. aol"
f elt^that his
ywoipddhad'

in this iui; .
occasion the •
tin news of •

waiting—
in^ another

W^nld have ,
?:tKaMha9

A BBApOW OF TBS PAST.

2dl

no news to give"; but oh the third occadion it was on
the heels of her letter that news reached me. It came
from the commander of a river steamer who dined with
ine in my lonely district hbus© on the banks of the
Irawadi. ■ / '^

"The man \ias practically gone to the devil," said
Jarman in his blunt outspoken way ; " he got a totfch
of the $un aboyt a year ago." .

"I never heard of that." ' -^

"I'm not surprised at that; if s a wonder ybn hear
" anything in this doggone hole. Welt, when M^zarion!
came round again" the pace was faster tht^a ever. I
catft help thinking that his brain never really righted
itself ; but he acted like a fool, and a madman, a,nd a
blackguard combined— with the usual result." '
' "You' don't Ifheian to say he's brolven!" . -^

" About as good as broke. . Government is long- .
suffering, T>ut in /jommon decency theycouldn'l over-"
look the things Mazarion did. They^Ve given him a
chance, hoWev;fer. ' He's had six months? sick leave" to
settle his affairs, and he's cleared off to some hill station '
or other in India." , ** -.

So it had come Jto this. And latef that night I took fha
bnll by the horns and wrote to' jfrs.* Carstairs, telling
her (exactly how things were, and in t^je morning my
heart failed me and I tore -lip thiat letter and, wrote an-
other one to Nelly," iyi which, all' that i said of Mazarion
was thai he had gone on leave to, the" Indian hills ; «a;nd
this letter I posted. '^ -^^ ** > '- , • '^'♦^*' •

I little knew how near the time was When I should
go myself, 'My tonr of seiss^irfe Jn.*Butma was coming
to an eh^ and that iend was hastene^by the ric€^

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262

A SJBtlbOW OH* THE PA3T>\ ; ''^

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Bwamps of Henzada. A medical. certificate did the re8t>

^~* and within the month I w^s ordered to India, and, best
of good luck, to a Himalayan station. In a fortnight
I'was out of Burma— in India—iA the Himalayas. i
How I enjoyed that journey from the plains I How ',
strength seamed to come back by leaps aftd bounds as
we rushed through the belt of forest that, girdled t^
mountains, past savannahs of waving yellow tjger-gra^
through purple-blossomed iroijiwood and Ulac jerrol,
through stretches, of ba,mboo jungle in every shade of -
colour, with their graceful tufts of culms a Hindr^
feet and more from the ground,, through, giai^ sal a^d
toon woods whose sombre foliage was lightened by the
orange petals of the palas, and the blazing crimson
bloom of the wax-like flowers of the siljk cotton I
Higher fiftill, arid iKiJ^ tropical forest is now iut a hazy
green |ea that quivers uneasily below. Now the hedge-

, rows are bright wit^ dog-roses, and the shade is' the ^y ^
s^adeof oak and birch and. maplfe. In the long tpA^^

'^^arcades of the forest, by the edges of the tricteig
mountain springs, the sward is gay with amaranth and '
marguerite, the pimpemel winks its blue eyes from
beneath its shelter of tender green, and a hundried other-
* nameless woodland flowers spangle the glades. Higher
. still at^d the whde wonder of the <!Hinialayas is arpjind
Tue, one rolling ma§s of greeny purple, and azure ifioun-
tains, with a horizon ot snow-clad pea]j:s standing white ,
and pure against the perfect Jblue of the sky.

.. , There was a window at the €lub which used to be my- '
favourite seajt, for it commanded a niatcrhless view, imd C
it 'was^here/that I used to srt ^iid ^ogitif ely dnnk in
strength wifh"^eiy \^ cajpae in ;

'i.

4 SffADOW, OF THE PAST.

268

did the rest,
ia, and, best

a fortnight
aalayas.
ains I How >
d bounds as

girdled tyf»
^ger-graOT,
Hlac Jerral,
ry shade ot -

a Itindred ^
an^ sal a^d
med by the
ng crimson
iljk cotton I

t)Ut a hazy

the hedge-
biade is the. y—^
long reS^il><; ^
le tricMihg i

laranth and

eyes from
adiSed other-
js. Higher
s is aipjind .
zure inoiin-
iding white ,

y. ; •• -

id to be my^
3 view, and C
y dHnk in
mt ca&ie in •

past the roses clustering on. the trellisworlT outside.
A/friend joined me— one who like myself had escaped
to the hills after wrecking his health in a Barman
8\^amp. He had known Mazarion, and somehow the
conversation turned upon him, and Paget aaked me to
step with him into the hall. Once' there he pointed to
aemallbbard which I had noticed before, but never had
the^uriosity to examine. On that board Waa posted the
name of John Mazarion as a defaulter.
;> .*VHe has gone undei^^^terly," said Paget OS We re-
gained our seats, *' for thisls not all that has happened/'
* "Could anything be worse ?"

''Well, I rather think .so. Do you know the man
has flung away all shame and has gone to live 'like a
beastly Bhootea—a hill man-.a lavage on the ipountain
" 'side?"- :.. :'■■•.;': .:■;■...;■■:;. .■; 1. ■ - -■ ,j' ■ V ^

"i "^^ ft happened about

tto?eei months ago—just af% that aflFair,"^ and he

indicated the bc^rd in the hall with a tuni of his hand.

*'The man must be j^|a/' _^ >*

"Not he; only he«P|lMuck^.e^^ blow his-

>ains out. He^ notalo^g^e^ taken a wife

—-a Bhootea woman. r^'Th^re^j^ot far oif from,; hero-^
over there on that spur," and te pointed to a wooded
arm of the mountains that stood out above a gjrey ,
rolling mist, *

, *f My God ! '^^ and' I' pwt my head' between my hands:
" The cad I ' the worthless brute I " I burst out. " See
here, Ptaget : ^erHaps you're wrong— perhaps this story
isn't true ?'*^ \ ^ , &

Paget caxefulfy dusted a. speck from his Coat-sleeve.

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264

8BAD0W OF THE PAST.

... I

' **I know what you're thinking of, Thring. That girl
Bibonv^ I heard something about the affair. I used/ to
f^I inVftned to kick him when I saw her picture in jhis
ro^msat Eangoon beside that of the other one — ^ydu
know whom I mean. Yes, it's all true, and you can go
-an4 see if you like. The Boothea girl is called Rani ;
ehe ^devilish pretty. If s the * sqilalid savage 'business,
'you know ; but the man is a moral hog— damn him 1 '*
H Saying this, Page^, who was a good fellow aftfer his
"kind, lit another cigar, and nodding hi^ head in fayewelL
, went off to the billiard-room, and I sat \8till— -thinking,
■thinking, with fury aixd shame in my heart. At last
1 could endure it no longer, a[iid then suddenly rose
and walked to my rooms— I lived in the club. I was
hardly donecious of what I did, but I remember ordering
my pony>^ and then my eyes fell on a case containing
a small pair of dainty revolvers. I took them mechan-
ically from their velvet-lined beds, loaded them care-
fully, and slipped them in a' courier-bag. ^Theii I
mounted the pony and rode off to find Mazarion. THe
road was longer than I thought ; but it seemed as if .
some instinct guided me — some power, I know not what,
was over me, arid led my steps straight to my^al.

It is curious how in moments like this unimportant
and trivial incidents impress themselves on the mind.
I remember tying the pony to a white rhododendron,
and that in so doing I dropped my cigar. It was the
only one I had," and it lay smouldering before me,
drosswise on the petals of one of the huge lemon-scented
flowers that had fallen from the tree. I kicked itv
from me, and then went onwards on foot. In about
half an hour I came to a Uttle tableland of greensward,

>■-. '■■-■ .■■■ - -• ■ ■ ■:•■■■■ ■.^■' ,.■■■■•■ ■■ ■ ■ V ■-//

■■■■■.■ ■ ■■■■ ■■ ■ . . ■■. ■ ■'■■■■ .. - ^.V-'-, ■■ ■■■■■. ■' "■ ■'vU

A BHAhoW OF TSBPASt 26$

Winch hun^ byer a grdy ^byse. Huge bM pines rose
stiffly on the rocks that beetled over the level turf, and
to tho^e^e of the rocks there clung, like a wasp's nest,
jjvretch^ hut, with a thin' blue moke rising from
^ between the tafters of its moss-grown roof.
\ It was touching 8unset,^and the west was a blaze of
^nmson and gold. The face of the pine-covered crag
towering above me was in black shadow ; but th^ '
mellow light was bright on the green turf at iny feet
-Ot^cast a ruddy ^ow over the withered trunk of a huge
fallen pme that lay athwart % open, and'then fell4
Jong rainbow-hued shafts on thf uneasy mists th^ filled
the vaUey, and stole up the mountain side in soft-rolling
billows of purple, of grey, and of silver-white. The
pme ixun^^was not ten paces from me, and walking up i
to It J ^6k out the pistols from the courier-bag^nd
placed them^on the tough b^rk, and from their rating-
place the -plt^Iished barrels glinted brightly in tl^
^enmg light.;, I knew I was near my man ' and if ev^ . •
there ms an wuse for doing what I meant to ^o, I had
that defen^ Jb I stood there^. one hand on the tree n
trunk andst^ll a«a. stone, a red ti^gopan ^re^t out from ^
«ie yellow-ferried bramble at the edge of the steep. '
f"' ^\^Tfl we looked at^die aiiother,vand then he
dropped, his blue-wattled 'heaf an -was off like a flash
and at the ^me instant ther^was a scream and a rush
of wings, as^a homing eagl^^ropped like a falling stone
overthe Plies, and^hizpfng past me was M to view;
r walked to the edge of J0ie precipice over which he had
flown to hi^ eyrie^oii Jhe fa^ of the cliffs below ; X
could see nothing ^t ihat heaving swell of feuiows, a^
now some dpe laughi^d^-^ sweet, melodious laugh like

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266

,V;

A SfTADOW OF THE PASf.

'■■" tte tinkling 6f a silver.b^U. I turned sharply, and Bani
stood before mci It could be none other than she.
Bhootea, savage, Mongol — whato^er she was, she was
of those whom God bad dowerea\ith beauty, and she
stood before me a lithe, supple elf of ^ woods. The
rounded outlines of her form were^lli through the
single garment she wore,' cla8||d by an embroidered
' „zone at the waist, and boldii^forth a pitcher with a
shapely arm, she offered me some spring water to drink.
^* I shook ihy head, and she laughed again like the song of
a bird, and asked in English, speaking slowly :

" you want— my— m^ ? " ^

Before I could answer, the door of the hut opened and
Mazarion and I had met again, '

" You— you ! " and he paled beneath his sunburnt
cheeks.*': ..: ^ ::'■■::: -< •'-'

" Even I." And we stored at each other, my temples

throbbing and my hands clenched. He was dressed as

a native of the hilh, in a long loOse gabardine, with a

cloth wopnd rolind his waist, ms fair hair hung in an

unkempt tangle 4;o his neck, and hfe had a beard of many

weeks' gr^i^tb.* AH the beauty had gone front his face,

and sin had'^rfthe mark of the beast on him ; he had

. become'a sa6^a|#; he had gone back five thousand years,

-to the* tiih^*' when his cave-dwelling ancestors hunted^'^^

the, aurochs and the- sasbre-toothed tiger. There wasK^

' that in our ga% which stilled the laughter, in Rani's^

eyes, and she crept -closer to him, standing as ii to cov^ '

him. His head drooped slowly forwards, and the

' fingers of his. hands opened and shut^ he was fighting

sonaething within himself.^ '' . '' . > |"

** Send.the woman aMray," I saidi " You. know why I \

8 sunburnt

i..-::':^--W-

.■■ ■'■^%.,

/ ■

A 8BAD0W OF TUB PAST.

have come," and I pointed to the pistols on the fallen
tree trunk. ■'■,y.\-„- '''/ ^ ■:-,":• \ .y^'-v. 'y':-y' '

Kani saw the gesture. Her glance shWd uneasily
from one to the other of us, and then i\ested on the
weapons, and now, trembling with an uiiJcnown W,
she clung to her man. \ ,> y ■

"Send her away. You hear." My own W camti
to me afl from a far distance. /^ V

He put her aside gently, where she stood shivering itiv
every limb, and came forwards a step. ' V

"I cannot," he said thickly, and speaking Wh an
effort ; " I cannot-^not with you——" \

I will force you to/' I spoke calmly eriou^i, but

there was a red mist before my eyes and,a drumming iii.„

my eare. Fool that I was to think that ^^od lirouiSg^^^ '

His vengeance to my hands I And then I struck

him where he stood, struck him twice across the face,

and with a cry like that of a mad boast he was on
.me. -- ./. , ".'" ■■:■■■'•■■

We w^re both strong men, and he was fighting for
- his life ; but I—I had the strength of ten then ; all the \
pent-up rage of years was I'oaring within me, and thorp \
was a pitiless hate in my heart. I would kill him like
the unclean thing he w£^s should be killed. With all >
my force I struck him again and again, and I felt as if
something crashed under the blow. We fell together
and rose dgaiir, and -with a mighty effort I flung him.
from me. " ^He staggered to his feet, his face white and
bleeding; to blue lips hissing curses.. He was then
.facing me,/his back biit a yard from the edge of the

abys^ijigainst: which the ,mists wereibeating like a: grey
sea. '^«f'» ~.«-i *u« ^^.«: — •- .. ./:/ , , , * -^

0e read the meaniiig in m/ look, And" made one

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268

A 8IIAD0W OF TUB PAST,

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last struggle, one l^st rush for safety, but I hit him fair
on the foreliead, and he throw up his arms with a gasp,
staggered beck a pace, and was gotie. Far below there
sounfled something like a dull thud and a cry, and then
all was stilL Nelly was avenged.

It was all oyer. I could see nothing .as I peebd into
the mist before me, and then I was brought to mjrself by
the sound of sudden sobbing, and there wis Rani
stretched on the grass and plucking at the tur^\like a
mad thing. She was a woman after all, and, pooiV wild
waif of the jungles, hers was no^in and itto wrong. \ But
her sobs and the agony on her face brought on a sudden
revulsion and a. horror at my deed. It was as sudc^n,
as swift, as the tumult of passions wiiich had driV^n
me to kjll the man, and now 'the^-^ blackness of nigkt
had settled on my soul. I made nt) attempt at speec^i
with the Woman, but silently tookiip the pistols, gav4
one' last shivering glance at the deep an,d at the pros-\
trate figure of Rani, and thefl^ fled through the forest, \
my one thought to put mil)?^. between me apd my deed.
By the time I had found' the pony and Counted iim
I was able to reflect a little, and it was with a guilty
start that I realized there was a witness, and— and^*^
But the place was a lonely one. And Rani— Would her
word count against mine^ Kever 1 And then I laughed
shrilly and galloped on. • ^ ^~ ^ "^

I reached the club just in time to dress for dinner.
Strange ! I could not bear the thought of beini? alone-—"
I who had lived for; a year at a tkne' a solitary. I ■
dressed in haste, and as I came out my servant handed
me my letters-— the English mail had just come in, lie '\
said. I would have flung them from me, but that tSe

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. ' ^ ^I>OW OF Tnk f^BT. 869

first letter in my .hand was inlMrk Carstairs' writinir
With a vague presonUment of evil I opened and read.
NeIl^waaiIl,N^llyv^^dymg. Some fool had told her
of John Mazarion, and had killed her as surely as with
the stroke of a- knife. As I read, the lines Uurred on6
mto the other/ and something seemed to give way in
my brain. ' I rose and staggered as one drunken, and
then— and then, strong man as I was, I fainted and
remember no mor^.

It was a long illness. I clo not know what the doc-
tors call<>d it ; but they pulled me through, as they
thought. It wag' anoither thing, however;- that cured
me I remember how, whejjjmy brain first righted it.

• 8elf,'the awful memory of ttzarion's end came bact
ag^m and sat over meiike^^eadful vanjpire. Each
Whjsper^d word of the nurses in attendance on m* each
noise I heajd, seemed to presage the announcement that
my .guil|; -was known. One day I asked the nurse
whether I had been delirious,'and what I had said.

/She flushed a little. She #fts a good woman, and tmf
uirtihithwa« hateful to her. Then she fenced :

'* Oh, one ahvays says strangtethlngs in dplirium ; but
you're getting quite strong nJI* 'and Captain Paget is
coming to see you to-day. It was he who found yoti
insensible, and he has been as gopd as any ten of\ "

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• "Paget— Paget foui
She ijufher fing^'to'n^

eyes, and I seeijied ip f^lll

How long I slept I can^ot'^e say, but I became
«insci|us of whispering voftea^jiiie room. -

« TEere's no-doubt about it,!!? it's his only chance.

w^and a cool hand on my

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270

A SHADOW OF TUB PAST.

I think. Just give him the news quietly when he
awakes. Yes, he may have a gia^s of port before."

I liiy still, but^ trembling under my covers. .It had
come at kst. Ol?, the shame of ii I the sin of it I— I a
cqmmon murderer. It was too much, and I tried to
start up, but fell back weakly, ana saw Paget sitting by
the bed, smiling kindly at me.

" Not yet, old man— in a day or so. Take this port,
will you?'* ) J^

nk it witl\ an effort ; but it warmed me andgave
ength.

ou're to be shipped home in a few days— lucky
r ! Wouldn't mind getting ill myself if I could
get leave.*' «

I smiled in spite of myself.

"That's right. Feeling better, I see. Aye had an-
other interesting patient also, but he cleared out a week
or so ago fr<?m Ijospital. It was that fellow HAarion.
Remember him P* ^ \^

"MazarionI'* ? /

" Yes. Fell over the eSge of a precipice and on to a
ledge of Pock. Got his fall broken somehow by the
branches of a tree, and the wild raspberry bushes, or
he'd have been in Kingdom Come— eh ? What ? "
' "Thank God I " J felt a load lifted from my heart,
the shadows had paised from my soul. I lay back, my
eyes closed and a peace upon me. And then I prayed
for the first time in many a long day, and whilst I
prayed^ f^U once, more asleep. There came to me in
that sl6ep a dream of \Nelly-^f Nelly robed in white
with a glory around her, and she sn^iled arid beckoned
metofpme. ' ■' .

':X

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.;-i.

;ly when he
before."
ers. .It had
I of it 1— I a
tl I tried to
et sitting by

ke this port,

me and'gave

days — lucky
f if I could

iVe had an-

out.a week

V Ma^arion.

md oh to a
low by the
bushes, or
hat?"
I my heart,
y back, ray
n I prayed
d whilst I
B to me in
3 in white
I beckoned

A SHAD

Uan

%ii

ell, I was once u^^I'HIJ^^WPiy '^^^ because she
wished it I was allowed WHpUy. She lay on her
cushions very pale and whit^Rit for, the red spot on
each check, and an unnatural brightness of the eyes. I
knew it was a matter of time, and ail that we could do
was to wait and hope.

It came at last, one dreary evehing, when the lamps
wore burning dimly in the streets through the ceaseless,
insistent drizzle. I cannot linger over this or my hci^rtr
would break. We stood by her, sad and silent, waitjng
for the end. It was not long in coming. She had been
as it were asleep, when suddenly she awoke and her
voice was strongj with the strength of death. She oalled
to me :

"Mr. Thring, you know that story about John. Is
—is it true?" .

6h, the chattering ape who had killed her I if or
mother's eyes met mine ; but I could see nothing but
Nelly— Nelly looking- at me with a wistful entreaty. I
oould not ; right or^Tong, I could not.

" It is not true, dear. He will come back, to you."
'"Say that again."

"He will come back to you, Nelly."

"He must follow," and she closed her eyes with a
sweet Smile on her lips. . ; ^

Then my dear's hand' went out to clasp mine in
thanks, and I held the chill fingers in my grasp, v^

" Mother— kiss me. John— you will come," and she
was gone.

\ •♦
\

i had stolen out of the house, leaving them' with their

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16S3 East Main Street

RochMter, New York U609 USA

(71^ 482 - 0300 - Phone

(^16) 288 - 5989 - FOK

2.72

'.vt--

-if

A SHADOW OF THE PAST.

. dead. As I closed the gate, and stepped on to the pave-
ment a ragged figure came out of the mist and, stan<iing
beside the lamp-post, looked towards the house and the
drawn blinds. The light fell on the wasted form and
,: haggard features. I could not mistake; it was John
Mazafion.

I went up to him and touched him on the shoulder.
He started back and stared at me vacuously. V

"^e lies there dead," I said.
"Deadr*

** Ay, dead. She died with your name on her lips."

He looked at" me stupidly. Then something like a

Bob burst from him, and with bowed head and shambling

steps he turned, and crossing the road went from my

life. - .

f^-

THB ENH.

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