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THE HEART 
 
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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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 THE CQPP CLARK CO, LIMITED 
 ; / LONDON / 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 ■r .-r.y ■ .: -^ 1899/ • . ':-\:-'.. 
 
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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 
 
 Tl 
 
 >..: 
 
T 
 
 ii 
 
 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. 
 
 8 
 
 ■.? 
 
 I 
 
 ^ 
 
 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 
 
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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. 
 
 5 
 
 \ 
 
 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-- 
 
 k 
 
 
8 
 
 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' 
 
 8 
 
 ^ TIIM HEART OF DENIBE. 
 
 I 
 
 ■ / 
 
 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 
 
 
10 
 
 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, 
 
 11 
 
 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'. 
 
 -' • ";■>! 
 
19 
 
 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 ■ . . 
 
 ■'■.'■ '■: '• 
 
 ',.''■ 
 
 
 ■■■■■-. ■■ • •«•■ 
 
 1 
 
 / 
 
 • : ' ,. : ■.:.' 
 
 • ■ . , . " 
 
 ■• 
 
 1 1 . ■ ^ 
 
 
 
 9 ' ■ ■ 
 
 
 
 ■■■■'...■■-■'■• ' 
 
 ■ 1 ■ - ' •- ■■ ■'■■■" ••■... 
 
 
 '.'.♦■■■ " ■ ■ 
 
 .■ • . " .■ 
 
 - • ■' ■'•' ■ '. 
 
 • - 
 
'•■,* 
 
 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 
 
 18 
 
;^^ 
 
 14 
 
 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 
 
 \ 
 
 K 
 
 ♦ 
 
 \ 
 
 # 
 
 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 
 
 
 •■I', 
 
 m 
 
 t 
 
 % 
 
 M^U 
 
 ^ii 
 
 I H ■: 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 
16 
 
 THE HEART OF DENISE. 
 
 It n 
 
 Hf 
 
 i 
 
 ■■ ■»■••■ 
 
 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 
 
 
. ■«•»- 
 
 *t 
 
 THE ORATORT, 
 
 IT 
 
 
 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, ■/>■ 
 
 
 
 
 
%. 
 
 18 
 
 THE HBABT OF DENI8B. 
 
 it 
 
 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. 
 
 19 
 
 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 
 
 T 
 
 
 1 J 1 <■ f 
 
io 
 
 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. 
 
 21 
 
 "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? 
 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 
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 ' ». v» 
 
 
 
 ■ i- 
 
 
 
 ■;**^ '■". ' ' ' ; 
 
 /'' ' y 
 
 ':*J' ." 
 
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 ■ 
 
 ■-■ .■ ' . ■'\''^. " 
 
 '9 
 
 
 
 h 
 
 
 
 ■ ■- ■■ .- ■ ■■ " ■' '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< 
 
 Wh 
 
 / yard,^ 
 
 percfhi 
 
 ■ withe 
 
 I her h( 
 
 1- 
 
 i-.^ v., 
 
THE SPUR OF LE8 BSCffELLBS. 
 
 23 
 
 "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 : 
 
 
 * ■ 
 
f 
 
 It 
 
 
 ' 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 
 
 25 
 
 ■\ 
 
 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 
 
 i 
 
 
 ■'^.^v?-; ) 
 
 
 
 the night, making a start early the next morning, and 
 
 ..X- 
 
 
tth 
 
 26 
 
 THE HBART OF DBNI8K. 
 
 F 
 
 
 •\\: 
 
 i: 
 
 
 I 
 
 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. 
 
 $7 
 
 ■• 
 
 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. 
 
 I 
 
 
 1 f 
 
 
 '. '' 
 
 <^ii 
 
 &■:• t -^ 
 
 
28 
 
 THIS IIS ART OF DBNISB. 
 
 !l 
 
 ,1 
 
 ,1 
 
 '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 
 
 
 '^1 
 
 
 ■ ' 'i[>:".1 
 
 
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 B 
 
 'V -l 
 
 
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 Ir 
 
 s. '^ 
 
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 ■ ■ ' ■■ i ■ -S- ' 
 
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 V 1 •4'- 
 
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 ■ ■ ■ ■•■ ■ . '.*■ 
 
 M 
 
 
^ 
 
 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. 
 
 n 
 
 I 
 
 
 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 
 
 
 
 M. 
 
 
 '.■..».'t? ' *:'3i 
 
'If 
 
 PI 
 If 
 
 32 
 
 / 
 
 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 
 
 
 
 
 ^* , ji V 1 
 
 r*^x 
 
 0r 
 
!'" 
 
 ■i ^1 
 
 ■4' 
 til- 
 
 m: 
 
 I'l- 
 
 ;i'V';!Vi 
 
 
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 li'ti- 
 
 IK: 
 I- 
 
 34 
 
 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"'- 
 
 r 
 
 'III: 1 
 
 llli- 
 
 took the pleasure of ia deyil in lowering my moral 
 
 ^ ■. 
 
 :3f-^ 
 
AT AMBAZAC. 
 
 36 
 
 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<; 
 
 86 
 
 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. 
 
 8T 
 
 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- 
 
 
 
 
 
 'i 
 
:H- 
 
 Pit' 
 
 % .1.. 
 
 W:.- 
 
 Mti 'V 
 
 as 
 
 €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. 
 
 80 
 
 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- 
 
 ,/. 
 
 ^r- 
 
 '^"'^'I'iffl 
 
 ■ ^ "if : 
 
 m 
 
 mi 
 
 
 
 ^^. 
 

 ■'V . 
 
 W It! -I 
 
 il'i 
 
 m:- 
 
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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 
 
 m. 
 
 
Air AMBAZ/itJ, 
 
 k 
 
 -^ 
 
 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 
 
 t 
 
 ":nv' 
 
 
 
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 ■ IJ 
 
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 ■3 
 
 43 
 
 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, 
 
 s* 
 
 :.#:^ 
 
^ k 
 
 k- 
 
 I 
 
 . it 
 
 AT amuazao. 
 
 48 
 
 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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 lit. 
 
 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 
 
 46 
 
 -^''-A 
 
 / 
 
 ■''Mm 
 
 I" 1 
 
 >^.i 
 
 
 Hi*-'' I I ' 
 
 i<,i 
 
 :iw 
 
 I. J ( 
 
 •^'T 
 
!;i' 
 
 i:!ii 
 
 ! i 'i i; 
 
 liill'l' 
 
 
 »' 
 
 .■■:■■■:% ;■.•■•;■ ■;.■ ., ■'■ •,■;.■: ';■ 
 
 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- 
 
 v -ii 
 
 .tfg 
 
 
 
 
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 l> 
 
If ' 
 
 
 f 
 
 m\ Wa 
 
 
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 fMr. 
 
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 l-i: •' 
 
 
 
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 'l\t 
 
 . '■ '•■ . r-„ ■ ■■■■■,■- ■ 
 THE H^EABT OF BENISS, 
 
 48 
 
 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. 
 
 >X 
 
 -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 
 
 
 .0 
 
 
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 V' 
 
 
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 V* 
 
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 lit 
 
 II.::;-' 
 
 
 
 : :if 
 
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 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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 111 
 
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 m 
 
 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 
 
 ii': 
 
 
 I mm 
 
 'V •' 
 
 t ■<. i 
 
 ■ ' i ■ K 
 
 y:.^m 
 
 '■.it 
 
 .'.■ii.> ■ 
 
 k:iv' 
 
 s ,1 
 
 \ 
 
 \ • ■ X 
 
 each step we took, and s eeming 
 
 
 I 
 
 V-,.- .-; ■: ; . .; ■ . y^ 
 
f 
 
 ■'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, 
 
 y 
 
 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 
 
 
 Vi 
 
 fift- 
 
 ■ *^- 
 
 J*. 
 
 i«^ 
 
 
 
 ' ' n. <« 
 
 .til 
 
 
 U 
 
 
 m 
 
 ;2>'^' 
 
'W' 
 
 I ft 
 
 69 
 
 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. 
 
 5T 
 
 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:- 
 
 m 
 
 ^•■.f 
 
 ,'■. 
 
 Ml* 
 
 with occasional halts to rest the horses, for the best part 
 
 *• 7 .a 
 
 « "^S 
 
i^:. 
 
 
 I ■^<:Ji:: 
 
 i- 
 
 h:K^''''. 
 
 -jf^^^ 
 
 -v 
 
 58 
 
 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 
 
 N^ 
 
 
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 WW 
 
 ^■ f \t Ul 
 
 
 
 M 
 
■ ■• "1 
 
 '■■''I? 
 'tti ■ 
 
 ■^m 
 
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 ;\ .'•■ 
 
 ri" 
 
 • I; 
 
 m.- 
 
 "ii: I: 
 
 
 60 
 
 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 
 
 t 
 
 . ■' '■* •' .:r,| 
 
 .■ .'■'', '''-'k-H ' 
 
 
 II 
 
 rm 
 
"-^, 
 
 
 m 
 
 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. 
 
 m 
 
 im 
 
 
 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 
 
 4 
 
 
 
 ^ himself 
 
 
 all was 
 
 
 I thanl 
 
 !: 
 
 5, mount, 
 
 '4 
 1^ 
 
 "Ma 
 
 u 
 
 • 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;': ■■■^' ■ ^ " '■''" ■■'■■■■■-■■' ^ 
 
, ■:/■ 
 
 '*^. 
 
 V. 
 
 \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 ■• •» 
 
 
 
 mh 
 
 
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,. . 
 
 
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 68 
 
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 |f 
 
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 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 
 
 •/■■ 
 
 ?«■ 
 
V 
 
 VNHASKKD. 
 
 69 
 
 % 
 
 . „. 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." 
 
 V. 
 
 St 
 
 trtrr 
 
 ^*- 
 
 ■'** ill- 
 
 » *:. 
 
 ■K-' 
 
 ■as,; ', • • 
 
 W ■\.' : ■■■■■■ \. 
 ■■■'•. .1 ■«.. . . J' 
 
 
 /'I 
 
70 
 
 TUB JJJSAliT OF DBNWS: 
 
 li 
 
 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 
 
 t 
 
 L^iT 
 
-^ 
 
 A 
 
 UNMASKKIh 
 
 n 
 
 
 t 
 
 ■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 >. 
 
12 
 
 THE HEART OF HBNISE. v 
 
 II:-. 
 
 
 m. 
 
 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. 
 
 t3 
 
 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 ' . ^■;>..--;:\, ■■■;■ '■■-..'' /■'■:■, ■ ■: '■-. ;•- '■\., :. - * . • ■ ^' ."■.,': 
 
 *.-■ 
 
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 fk' 'ill 
 
 I i !i 
 
 
 /■■■*'V 
 
 74 
 
 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 „ 
 
 *4 
 
 
 I'. ••' 
 
 14 
 
 
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 — I- 
 
 
 t, 
 
 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 
 
 \ 
 
 ■^ 
 
 
A: 
 
 » .\' 
 
 ^:-V^ 
 
 76 
 
 THE BEAUT OF DEmSE, 
 
 M 
 
 if 
 
 p:. 
 
 ^ 
 
 vn 
 
 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,* 
 
 'I 
 
 m 
 
 

 (1. 
 
 
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 TU^ BSAUT^Q 
 
 ^B. 
 
 
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 5? 
 
 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 
 
 
 %r 
 
w^l 
 
 wt 
 
 '$ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ .■'-." ■ -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/ 
 
 4C 
 
 
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 "r~T 
 
 
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 .ff^yh' 
 

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 y''.' 
 
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 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 
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 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. » 
 
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 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 
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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 
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 Mou^cite, with her face slightly turned away, ''and 
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 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——^'/ / -. 
 
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 LOIIGNAO. 
 
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 )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 
 anxibua to set forward to Meymac. n 
 
 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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 84 
 
 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." 
 
 1, 
 
 11 ™ 
 
I 
 
 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 
 
 me 
 
 9" 
 
 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. 
 
 80 
 
 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 
 
 y 
 
 
 
i'M 
 
 i" 
 
 ^ 
 
 00 
 
 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 
 
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 .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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 92 
 
 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. 
 
 93 
 
 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. 
 
 96 
 
 " 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. 
 
 97 
 
 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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 ' " 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 " 
 
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 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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 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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 WK UK ART OF DKIflBK, 
 
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 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. 
 
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 THE END. 
 
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 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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1 
 
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 "W^ 
 
 **AR0AJ)M8 AMBC* 
 
 KH 
 
 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 
 
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 **AliCADE8 AMBP." 
 
 Ill 
 
 of 
 
 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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112 TEE CAPTAIN MORATTI'B LAST AFFAIR. 
 
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 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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114 THE CAPTAIN MOSATTrS LAST AFFAIR. 
 
 
 
 «; ' "c* 
 
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 . ^* 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 
 
 
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 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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 CHAPTER n. 
 
 I- V 
 
 M 
 
 AT "THE DEVIL ON TWO STICKS. 
 
 tt 
 
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 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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 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 -■_' ■ ■' ■ ■■ ■.. ■■■■; •■■■ ■••■.-..:■.-.. ■■■:■■ ■.■.■■-. ' ■■ ■■ :': '■ 
 
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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. 
 
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 "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- 
 
 ■;'it ." 
 
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 ,5;; 7* ■ : . 
 
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Ki"W 
 
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 -.*■■,„, 
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 If!' .--• > 
 
 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' ■ 
 
 '*f 
 
 ^ ^:i 
 
 
 rlH: 
 
 ■^^ 
 
M^.. 
 
 126 Tins OAPfAIN MOBATTra LAST AFFAIR. 
 
 1 1 
 
 
 
 
 i^^ 
 
 ■■ rti^v 
 
 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 
 
 X 
 
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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 Mi. 
 
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 Vim > 
 
 
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 if- i\ 
 
 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 
 
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 :{■,• 
 
 'v ».- 
 
 
w 
 
 fblicitA, 
 
 129 
 
 J' 
 
 ■'■■■■. ■ - ■ ♦ ■ ■ '■ 
 
 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 
 
 'A 
 
 
 
 ^1 
 
 if.' 
 
 'V 
 
 ■■I 
 
 I' 
 
 
m 
 
 ! '■ ■ 
 
 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 
 
 1. 
 
 f 
 
 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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 'h 
 
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 W'- 
 
 ■i-W: 
 
 "'.> 
 
 4 
 
 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' 
 
 
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 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. 
 
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 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 
 
 /. 
 
 M 
 
 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:- 
 
 .# 
 
 W 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 4\ 
 
 <^» 
 
 
 *lf 
 
 jA^ 
 
Hi: 
 
 
 
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 'M 
 
 vR> V 
 
 ^J 
 ^ 
 
 if,':' 
 
 li 
 
 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- 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 h 
 
 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 
 
 * 
 
 • 
 
 1 
 
 •> / 
 
 4 
 
 
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 s. 
 
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 fc 
 
 * ^ 
 
 -4. 
 
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 ' 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 
 
 WU 
 
 
OONCLUaiON—TORRB DOLORjOSA. 
 
 Ul 
 
 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 
 
 h\ 
 
 
 
 :■ 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 
 
 
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 ; • ■■■■ •■. 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. :-, 
 
 
 51 
 
 
 
 i* s 
 
 
 ^■\ 
 
 
 ■\- 
 
 \ m 
 
 4; 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 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^. 
 
V 
 
 THE THEASUBE OF SmOXJL, 
 
 iM 
 
 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,. 
 
 i 
 
 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. 
 
 %? 
 
 U1 
 
 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. 
 
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 ?ii. 
 
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 V 
 
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150 
 
 TlJt TRKASUHK of SllAOUL. 
 
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 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 \^ 
 
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152 
 
 TBE TRBASXmE OF SHAOUL. 
 
 
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 i 
 
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 '%' i 
 
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 ^' 
 
 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 
 
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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. , ' ^ . . 
 
 
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 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 
 
y4 
 
 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* ' 
 
 ^ • '• '. 
 
 I 
 
 :^- ■ \ 
 
 
 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 
 
 ft 
 
 -- ; . -':'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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 5if ■- ' 
 
 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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 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«^.-' 
 
 *<„;« 
 
V 
 
 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 
 
 - — ^ ^ '' - " •- — -^— ^ ■ ^ — 
 
 ll 
 
 . •■ .. A 
 
 4 ' / 
 
 
 
 '-W- ■ f»; 
 
 
f 
 
 104 
 
 THK TRBASVHB OF 8UAGUL. 
 
 m. 
 
 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. 
 
 i; 
 
 "'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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 0:. 
 
 ■u 
 
 •V. 
 
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 * 
 
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And a 
 
 
 tiiou urt 
 
 
 y ailenas 
 
 ... \ 
 
 Tajawala 
 
 
 from .Jji- 
 
 
 rs on hid 
 
 ' ( . 
 
 I tiiat he 
 
 
 an living 
 
 The 
 
 ■J 
 
 # 
 
 THE FOOT OP GAUTAMA 
 
 I 
 
 .*'■ 
 
 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 
 
 
 .0 
 
 
 r> 
 
 si 
 
 ^ 
 
 4 
 
 '* 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., 
 
 I 
 
 
 r- 
 
 
 • •>. 
 
 4' 
 
 
 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* ?^ 
 
 
 'J 
 
 . # 
 
 
 / 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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 ^. 
 
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 ^1 
 
 -7.,.^-:/: 
 
 
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 \- 
 
 A^' 
 
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 i 
 
 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- 
 
 .%> 
 
 Vv 
 
 'i>- 
 
 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, 
 
 £ 
 
 
 L 
 
 'i 
 
 * * 
 
 : i.h 
 
H 
 
 :l^ 
 
 ^t 
 
 
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 iv- 
 
 -li 
 
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 :k 
 
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 ■4 
 
 y 
 
 -¥. 
 
 -'\- 
 
 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; •- • " 
 
\ \ 
 
 vkV 
 
 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 ; 
 
 \ 
 
 ■.%. 
 
 7^ 
 
 
"v:\' 
 
 h-4' 
 
 1 T-' 
 
 '!'>. 
 
 
 I !*■:; 
 
 ■0U 
 
 172 
 
 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^^ 
 
 m' 
 
 
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 '/^t. 
 
 ■}.%^-Z'd 
 
 ''X ''^''V. ;'■;.'%»''";-* 
 
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 Ml 
 
 ■ • \ 
 
 .:, »r 
 

 rm FOOT OF OA l/TAMA. 
 
 V 178 
 
 ■ ^\ • 
 
 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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 .^.^jij^^i^^lliH 
 
174 
 
 TnB FOOT OF GAUTAMA. 
 
 ;( f *4' 
 
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 h:' 
 
 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 
 
i.-; ■■■^. 
 
 ,-1 ■ 
 
 THE FOOT OF GAUTAMA* 
 
 '^.. 
 
 
 i!^-. ,.: 
 
 / 
 
 .'■■■ > 
 
 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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 14 
 
 ' '. * ^ -. ■ 
 
 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 
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 first mun. 
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 \ handful 
 
 then he 
 n. After 
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 blinding 
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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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 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 
 
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 " ' 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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 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 
 
 
 
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 >1 
 
182 
 
 THM FOOT OF GAUTAMA. 
 
 «* 
 
 W 
 
 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 
 
■*-■ -*-■ '< 
 
 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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 186 
 
 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; 
 
 
i 
 
 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 
 
 ^/ 
 
 J 
 
 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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 193 
 
 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 
 
 ■you.";: .■:■■■: -■:•"";; ■';:.: /"'■^■V:. ■:■■:■■ "-- : '■ ■';:-'^' ■.■■ 
 
 • "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 
 
 <v 
 
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 
 
 '■.■•"A ■■■■■'■. .■■■■■'■:'; -■ '■ ■■■■ , .■: ■ :■ , 
 
 
;wf- 
 
 •i)'<^:: 
 
 '^% 
 
 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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 198 
 
 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 
 
 h. 
 
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 
 
 m 
 
 ■/■■: 
 
 r . 
 
 ■#'■ • 
 r'W 
 
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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. 
 
 0, 
 
CUAITEB 11. 
 
 TlIK UKU TIIIDENT. 
 
 w 
 
 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 
 
 201 
 
 ^■•.:--V 
 
 1 A.'- 
 
 
90i 
 
 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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 1 1 
 
 
 
 204 
 
 
 " 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 
 
 m 
 
 
 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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p' 
 
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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. 
 
 M 
 
 1: 
 
 r' a 
 
 ,M1 
 
 1 
 
 

 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "THE MARK OF THE BEAST 
 
 n 
 
 
 
 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." 
 
 ■ ' ■ ■ v ■.. 
 
 ^08^ 
 
 , ' ' ' 
 
 It*; 1 
 
 I < ' 
 
 
 'h 
 
 % > 
 
"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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 210 
 
 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. 
 
 #■•1. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
212 
 
 TUB DEVWH MANmORIPT, 
 
 I'l 
 
 1 *' 
 
 
 
 
 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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 214 
 
 
 
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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 
 
 It 
 
 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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 Lil.ifc.. 
 
 
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 2ie 
 
 r//J^ DBVIL'H ^fANUBCRirr. 
 
 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!" > 
 
 ■ 5S 
 
 
 
 ip... %'. :>: 
 
 ■\- 
 

 ■■l^T 
 
 * « 
 
 14 
 
 UNDER THE ACH1LLB6 
 
 
 O Charity 1 thy my»t«ry 
 Potb cover many thingn. 
 
 , / 
 
 "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 
 
 ■; • 
 
 » 
 
 but Lon- 
 ;hat bouf, 
 
 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 ^^-^:^ — 
 
 
 F 
 
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. -- ^ 
 
 A- 
 
 
 ■• \i 
 
220 
 
 UNDBB THE ACBILLES. 
 
 i>. 
 
 
 
 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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 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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 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 
 
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 UNDBR THE ACHILLES. 
 
 225 
 
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 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 
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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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 't'here is no help for it— the verdict is against me ; 
 
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 ,and J^t for five years I have be6n through- the fire, and 
 
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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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280 
 
 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- 
 
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 yaj storm e d in his native tongue, and then burst into 
 
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 i*a a very pretty v( 
 
 )cabularv, for had i m 
 
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 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 
 
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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.'' . ;, 
 
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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 
 
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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 ' 
 
 
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 : ■ 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 
 
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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.'* , ; ^ 
 
 
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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 
 
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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 
 
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■'•.^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. 
 
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 By George!" he muttereld, « only think pf" 
 
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 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 
 
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. 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. 
 
 Ut 
 
 •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 \ 
 
 
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 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." 
 
 
 I 
 
 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' 
 
^M 
 
 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 
 
 ■,-,.. ■■■■■.: \ , \::-' , ■ 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^ . 
 
 #' 
 
 m 
 
 4 
 
 1i£ 
 
 e. 
 
 >fj , : 
 
 ^t.W 
 

 
 ■^ ,M 
 
 
 
 Qi 
 
 
 ^^^^^^^^*^^^«™^^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^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 1" 
 
 '.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 
 
 
i 
 
 ■ .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^ 
 
 I 
 
 4 
 
 .1 , 
 
riK 
 
 :^t.: 
 
 my 
 
 ^■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 
 
 w^ 
 
 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 
 
 V 
 
 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 
 
 m 
 
 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 
 
 >» 
 
 r. 
 
 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. 
 
 \- 
 
 v«l(' ,"■ 
 
 a 
 
 going on a 
 
 •ijUSI 
 
 "i 
 
w 
 
 :^ 
 
 ^^li 
 
 n 
 
 
 
 ■w 
 
 ■■A'. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 f'' 
 
 frj; 
 
 fcH' 
 
 ■fr ' 
 
 » I 
 
 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 
 
 "- i»*> 
 
 *li''> 
 
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, 
 
ro 
 
 >■-. '■■-■ .■■■ - -• ■ ■ ■:•■■■■ ■.^■' ,.■■■■•■ ■■ ■ ■ 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 \ 
 
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 m: 
 
 
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——" \ 
 
 « 
 
 r^ 
 
 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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#»«'»A. 
 
 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 
 
 '■;^- 
 
 '"1 .»",-.,- 
 
 va: 
 
 
■*>\, 
 
 . ' ^ ^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^. 
 
 V 
 
 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\ " 
 
 -lis -^* \^.■ ,:;:\v ■-'';,".■■■■■ ./'«^/v-' ■■[■-* \ 
 
 • "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 
 
 v-:-:rijl. 
 
 .;-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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 S /^PPUED IN/HGE li 
 
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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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