Francezka Part 8

Count Saxe laughed at this, and swore very melodiously at the Courlanders; but being quick to decide, he gave orders that we should prepare to leave Mitau within three days. Thence we should retire to Uzmaiz, whence we hoped to give the Russians such a bone to pick that they would not soon forget it.

When Count Saxe was through with swearing at his Courland subjects I reminded him there was a court ball that night, and that he must go and smile on the ugly d.u.c.h.ess.

At this he swore again, and for the only time I ever knew of, plotted revenge against a lady.

"Gaston Cheverny," he cried, "do you, when you go with me to the palace to-night, take pains to inform some of the ladies of the court that I admit the d.u.c.h.ess is not handsome, but she is worthy. Be sure and insist upon her worth--that is a form of praise hated by women; they know if a man praises their worth it is at the expense of their beauty. So, forget it not!"

We sat not long at table after that. I had to begin to plan our departure, and Count Saxe and Gaston Cheverny wished to arrive early at the palace, so as to leave before midnight. It was still daylight when they rode away into the town--daylight lasts long in those far northern regions. Two gentlemen rode with them as escorts.

After attending to what was necessary, I watched from the courtyard the sun go down in darksome glory. The sky was full of coppery clouds, and bad weather was brewing. Of course I thought of the difference between our confident departure from Paris and our crestfallen return; and Madame Riano's simile of the drenched hen plagued me much. And Monsieur Voltaire--how I hoped the king's ministers would see the usefulness of keeping him out of France! And Mademoiselle Lecouvreur--how sweet and generous she would be--and then came the ever-haunting thought of Francezka Capello. Where was she at this moment? Under Italian skies, or among the peaks of the Swiss mountains, or in some distant German city; at all events far, far from me--so thought I.

The darkness came down suddenly, with copper clouds grown dusky and scurrying across the night sky. The lights vanished from the shabby town, but afar off the palace windows gleamed. All was darkness and silence, but all was not peaceful. As I stood on the drawbridge, under the light of the lantern swinging overhead, it seemed to me that the town was full of moving shadows. There would be a dark ma.s.s away in the distance, and while I was looking, it would noiselessly dissolve.

Then the ma.s.s would become serpentine, appearing and disappearing silently and mysteriously. I had made up my mind that these softly moving shadows, like the shapes in a dream, were not dream shapes, but solid Russians, with arms in their hands; and I congratulated myself that every moment since we entered the schloss two men with loaded muskets had kept their eyes fixed on the entrance to the courtyard. They were not sentries--oh, no--it was a mere guard of honor suitable to Count Saxe's rank; but they were not wholly ornamental.

Suddenly hoofbeats sounded out of the darkness, and Count Saxe himself, with his two gentlemen, clattered over the drawbridge. He flung himself off his horse and said to me:

"You were right, Babache. This night must we ride for Uzmaiz."

Our horses were stabled some little distance away toward the river side. I sent four men after them, with orders to bring them as quietly as possible.

"And Gaston Cheverny, sir?" I asked of Count Saxe.

There was that in his present circ.u.mstances which would have quenched mirth in most men, but Count Saxe was one of those men who could laugh in the face of fate.

"Gone to fetch Peggy Kirkpatrick," he said. "We arrived at the ball--everything hostile to us--the d.u.c.h.ess uglier than I ever saw her, and the Russians elbowing us at every turn. The first person my eyes rested on was General Bibikoff. I wondered what an officer of his rank was doing at Mitau just now. I surmised, however, that it was not for his health, and that he was not alone. And whom, think you, was he talking with--Peggy Kirkpatrick! She arrived at Mitau to-day on her way to France. She had with her that charming young creature, Mademoiselle Capello, grown wonderfully handsome, and splendidly dressed. I thought Gaston Cheverny would die of delight, he was so joyful to see her. Peggy was a blaze of jewels and feathers, and looked more like an ostrich than ever. By heaven! If I had ten thousand men like Scotch Peg I could conquer Europe. But she did me one of the greatest services of my life. She took the first chance to speak to me aside.

"'The Russians are after you,' she said, 'eight hundred of them under Bibikoff. A fool, Bibikoff; a dozen of the Kirkpatricks are worth, for fighting, his whole eight hundred. But mind you, General Lacy is behind him with four thousand, and Lacy is a Scotchman, so you need to beware of him.'

"'Madame,' said I, 'we march before daylight--every hoof and toe of us.' For I knew her information was sound. Then, after I had expressed my everlasting thanks, what do you think she said? 'If, then, you are so eternally grateful to me, you will kindly allow me and my niece to travel to France with you.' I told her I was not going to France yet--still holding some cards in my hand--but to the island in Lake Uzmaiz, where I proposed to make a stand. That delighted her. To Uzmaiz she would go, and for very shame, I could not refuse, after the service she had just done me, for she had taken not only trouble, but risk, to find out about Lacy. She desired that I let Gaston Cheverny go to her lodgings with her to make ready for her departure, and the young fool was charmed, of course. They left before the end of the ball. I remained to the last, so as to avoid the appearance of running away--but where are the horses?"

There had scarcely been time enough for them to be brought, but I saw my four men come running back along the dusky street; and they brought the alarming news that our horses, stablemen, and all had disappeared.

This put another face on our affairs. We had exactly three horses champing quietly in the courtyard, and nineteen men, not counting Gaston Cheverny, needing to ride to save their skins.

And before we could draw breath, the open place in front of the drawbridge grew black with men; the restless, serpentine shadows were, in truth, Bibikoff's Russians.

In half a minute our men were tugging at the chains of the drawbridge.

They had raised it about a foot when out of the gloomy night rode a horseman, straight upon the drawbridge. The weight of man and horse slowly brought the bridge down again. It was Gaston Cheverny. He turned his horse's head toward the town, and sat motionless, holding the bridge down. There had been no moon until that moment, when softly and quickly the murky clouds parted, and a great, white moon glared out, making all things light as day. Then we saw plainly the Russian soldiers duly ranked, with their officers. The moonlight fell full upon Gaston Cheverny sitting upon his horse. The only sounds that broke the silence were the horse's pawing gently on the bridge and a growl from our men that the bridge was held down.

But presently another sound was heard--a very dreadful and menacing sound, though faint and m.u.f.fled--that of a hundred muskets raised and leveled upon the man and the horse, which made the finest target in the world. When Gaston Cheverny saw the gleam of the musket barrels in the moonlight I believe he thought his hour had come, and determined to meet it as a man who knows how to die; for he brought his sword to the salute, so that he might meet the Great Commander as became an officer and a gentleman. And as I have seen a hundred times and known of a thousand times, the coolness of his courage was his s.h.i.+eld and breastplate; for no man among the Russians could slay so brave a man.

Even the murmuring among our own men at his holding the drawbridge down ceased, when they saw Gaston Cheverny standing at salute as if the king were pa.s.sing.

I knew instantly why Gaston Cheverny waited, in such imminent peril; it was for Francezka Capello, and, incidentally, Madame Riano. It was but a scant five minutes by Count Saxe's watch that he had to wait for them, but it was the longest five minutes I had known for many a day.

CHAPTER VIII

OUR CITY OF REFUGE

At last the rumbling of wheels was heard and a large traveling chaise appeared. It was at once stopped by a Russian officer, but we saw that he permitted Madame Riano to alight, and another person--a slim young figure in a crimson mantle--and that, I knew, was Francezka Capello.

There was a parley between Madame Riano and the officer, but he escorted her and Mademoiselle Capello to the drawbridge, Gaston Cheverny standing his ground until the ladies were well in the courtyard. Then he dismounted, and advancing, bent and whispered in Mademoiselle Capello's ear, as she followed Madame Riano, who stalked ahead. The Russian officer remained on the farther edge of the bridge.

I could not see Francezka's face clearly, as it was shaded by her large black hat and she kept her eyes downcast. I think she was not without embarra.s.sment at the position in which she found herself, for Madame Riano was insisting on accompanying Count Saxe in his retreat to Uzmaiz. These were her words as she marched up to him:

"Well, Maurice of Saxe, I told you long ago, that this Courland business was an egg that would never hatch. Lacy, the old fox, will bag you yet, if you are not very sharp. I warned you to beware of him--for he is a Scotchman, is Lacy--and his great-great aunt married the wife's cousin of an ancestor of mine. However, I don't care to trust myself to those blessed Russians and Courlanders, and I have determined to cast my lot, and my niece's, and my man Peter, and my two waiting maids, and my chaise, and my horses, with you."

Here was a pretty addition to men supposed to be in the lightest possible marching order, and expecting to flee for their lives. I never saw Count Saxe disconcerted by any woman except Madame Riano--but she could disconcert a graven image.

"But, Madame," said my master lamely, "we shall be running great risks; we have a fight on our hands at this moment; for we shall not be allowed to depart in peace."

"No Kirkpatrick has ever yet avoided a fight," replied Madame Riano, firmly. "Life with us was ever a battle."

"But, Madame, it is not only a fight but a flight, I am looking for."

"Well, the Kirkpatricks were ever better at fighting than running away, but I will agree to stand my ground, so as to give you a chance to run!"

This she said to Count Saxe, the greatest warrior in the world! And she looked like Bellona as she spoke.

"The Russian officer allowed me to speak with you," she continued, "upon my promise to return; so I must go back, but only for a moment.

I will have the traveling chaise brought here, but, if need be, both my niece and myself can ride a-horseback."

With that, she turned back, and walked across the drawbridge, Count Saxe accompanying her to the middle of it, where the Russian officer met her, and escorted her to where the chaise still stood.

Meanwhile, Francezka and Gaston had withdrawn into the shadow of the courtyard wall, where Gaston continued to whisper in her ear. Count Saxe, however, speaking to me by name, Francezka glanced up, and instantly coming toward me, laid her hand on my arm.

"This is my good friend Babache," she said, smiling into my face.

"Yes, Mademoiselle," I answered, "this is your good friend Babache."

I saw her face plainly by the light of the lantern swinging overhead.

She was handsomer than she had been the year before, her features having lost the sharp outline of immaturity; her eyes were wells of light, her eloquent red mouth wore a charming smile; the child had become a woman.

"It seems my destiny always to trouble you," she said, smiling, and yet blus.h.i.+ng a little; for her pride was offended at being thus thrown upon us, as it were.

I replied as well as I could, and then we heard Madame Riano's voice raised on the other side of the drawbridge. She was giving the Russian officer the worst rating in her repertoire. Everything Russian, from their religion to their cookery, she heaped anathema on, when, suddenly, this farce became a tragedy. The Russians closed about her; her voice ran high, and then suddenly stopped as if she had been gagged. We saw her thrust into the chaise; a Russian soldier jumped on the box, and it rattled off.

And, at the same moment, there was a rush for the drawbridge, but we were too quick for them; it was up and fast before they knew it. Count Saxe then turned to Mademoiselle Capello, and offering her his hand as if he were at the king's levee, said:

"Mademoiselle, permit me to conduct you to a place of comfort--I will not say safety, for all is safe here; the walls are nine feet thick and our friends, the Russians, have nothing but musketry."

Francezka's face grew very pale, but her eyes did not falter. Her courage was in truth greater than Madame Riano's, for madame loved battle; Francezka did not love it, neither did she fear it.

She accepted Count Saxe's hand, and he led her across the courtyard and up the stairway, where she disappeared within the door, first making a curtsy to us all as well as to Count Saxe.

My master came down the stairway three steps at a time.