The Mystery of the Lost Dauphin Part 21

Book IV

PICMORT

Chapter I

THE CASTLE

At the foot of a mountain-chain which crosses Brittany, continues through Normandy and terminates in Cherbourg, stands the castle of Picmort. It pertains to the de Breze patrimony, through the Guyornarch fief, which was the avenue through which the ill.u.s.trious family claimed descent from the royal house of Brittany. Notwithstanding political vicissitudes and the invasion of new ideas, the de Brezes continued to exercise a veritable sovereignty in that corner of France. There lived not in the valley a shepherd nor a long-haired peasant who failed to acknowledge the dominion of the House de Breze and render the tribute of a reverence approaching divine honors. Rene during his hunting journeys to Picmort received proofs of the extraordinary attachment which the Bretons evinced to their master.

One evening as the setting sun gilded the lichens on the rough Celtic rocks, there traveled toward the thicket a woman and a man,--the latter carrying a child in his arms. They journeyed laboriously, as tho greatly fatigued, especially the woman, who with the greatest difficulty lifted her small feet, clad in rude sabots, which were in keeping with her peasant's dress and the white coif covering her blond hair. At last, heaving a sigh, she sank upon the ground. The man came to her saying warningly and gently:

"Mademoiselle, it will soon be night and if we do not hurry, we shall have to sleep here with the child. Can you not make an effort?"

"The sabots have bruised my feet," she complained, her beautiful young face full of pain. "But no matter, I shall start again."

She tried to walk, but failed, saying:

"O I cannot, I cannot! What will become of us?"

Louis Pierre did not dare to insist further. He placed the sleeping child on the ground and wiped his wet forehead with a nervous hand.

Suddenly, the barking of a dog came to them, followed by the appearance of a great mastiff, springing through the thicket. The child awoke and began to cry, and the woman,--girl, rather--half rose. Then the approaching tread of a horse was heard and a splendid voice called to the dog:

"Here Silvano!" and the horseman sprang lightly to earth. Turning to the travelers, he said:

"A good and holy evening to you."

He was a tall, young, finely proportioned peasant of beautiful beardless face and abundant hair.

"Are you the people we await at Picmort?"

"We are," answered Louis Pierre. "Are you Jean Vilon?"

"My name is Jean Vilon, servant of G.o.d and my master, the Marquis de Breze. My letter of instruction reads that there will arrive a woman, a child and two men."

"Our companion remained on the coast," replied Louis Pierre evasively.

"He will be here later."

"He shall be welcome when he arrives," replied Jean Vilon with grave courtesy. "In the meantime I shall carry out my master's orders. He wishes that no one in the village know of your presence. Prepare then to follow my instructions."

"We shall obey you, Jean Vilon. I know you are a valued and trusted servant of the Marquis."

The Breton made no rejoinder to the praise. He stooped and raised the tired girl to the saddle, caressed the child and seated him on his shoulder. Then, taking the reins in his hands, he led the horse into the thicket. Night was almost upon them and the darkness was rapidly increasing. The horse, had he not been preceded by Silvano and led by Vilon, would have many times stumbled upon the stumps of trees hidden beneath the gra.s.s and leaves. The child clung confidingly to Vilon, asking incessantly, "Are we almost there?" After a three hours' journey, they halted in an open which led to a species of natural bower. Here Vilon aided Amelie to descend. He placed the child on the earth, tied the horse to a tree and took from his pocket a small lantern which he lighted from a flint. Then turning its beams full upon Louis Pierre's face, he asked in the cautious tone of a peasant-warrior:

"The watch-word?"

"Giac and Saint Ann," Amelie hastened to answer.

"Correct," answered the young Breton. "Henceforth we are friends. My master has written a letter of instructions, which he commands me to burn after reading. Bear witness that I comply," and he took from his belt a folded paper which he lighted with a flint. When it had crumbled to ashes, he followed the mastiff for some distance. On reaching a great stone, he halted, the removal of which disclosed an aperture which resembled the opening of a wild beast's cave. He signaled the others to follow, entering first himself, bearing the child in his arms. The little fellow commenced to cry, whereupon Amelie drew near, whispering:

"Baby d.i.c.k, do you want to live with me or away from me?"

"With you, with you!" he cried.

"Well then," and she smiled sweetly into Jean Vilon's face, "go with this good man, and he will take you where you will always be with me."

The peasant stared at her transported. Amelie took off her sabots and followed him into the tunnel, Louis Pierre accompanying them. At first they had almost to crawl, for the pa.s.sage was so narrow, but soon they were able to walk upright. After a while they reached a circular apartment whose roof was sustained by granite pillars and whose floor was strewn with dry herbs. Here Jean Vilon presented his charges with a basket of provisions there awaiting them. Bread, wine, cheese and milk const.i.tuted the refreshment, and their hunger made these seem delicious.

Their guide was silent during the meal, tho his eyes of changeful hue were fixed from time to time on Amelie, in wonder and admiration. The white Breton coif on her head intensified the girl's great beauty.

When the frugal repast was over, Jean Vilon cast the lantern's light upon the wall; a rusty grating appeared, which he unfastened with a rusty key. Back of the grating they beheld another pa.s.sageway, narrower still, high, inclined upward, and winding to the right, after ascending which they pa.s.sed through several galleries, reaching at last an oaken door barred with iron. Jean applied a key to this, and it swung upon its hinges. They entered an octagonal salon, through which they pa.s.sed on to another apartment wherein began a stairway which seemed interminable.

Amelie, notwithstanding her exhaustion, resolutely moved on; but there came a moment when she tottered, for the lack of fresh air almost asphyxiated her. Jean hastened to support her and with the gentlest reverence, completed the ascent, his arm around her shoulders.

At the landing a current of fresh air revived her. They stood on the floor of an empty cistern. Stars shone overhead. Amelie realized that the arrangement was a military precaution for enabling the besieged to escape. Jean explained that there existed a tunnel from the cistern to a mine. They walked for a while along a subterranean pa.s.sage. Suddenly Jean seemed to pa.s.s through the wall. He had but leaned heavily against it and thus disclosed a lane, so narrow that they had to push themselves sidewise through it. At length they stood in a large yard, near the foot of several tall gray towers overgrown with ivy. Amelie and Louis Pierre looked back for a last sight of the pa.s.sageway which had conducted them thither. It had disappeared. No exit was visible and Jean smiled demurely at their amazement.

Then he placed a finger on his lips and, bidding Louis Pierre go ahead with the lantern, he approached one of the towers and pushed against the postern, which yielded. Then, with the air of a host, he preceded them up a winding stairway, across an antechamber and into a sumptuously furnished salon, brilliantly lighted with wax tapers in porcelain candelabra of crystal pendants. The apartment was an example of highly refined Louis Quinze taste; the caprice of a Marquise de Breze, removed by a wildly jealous husband from court and incarcerated in the gloomy towers of Picmort. This most capricious Marquise had adorned her prison walls with the refinements and exquisite fantasies of Versailles, until death came at last to her amid flowers, satins and laces. The boudoir remained ever after untenanted, with its mythological paintings, gilded screens, voluptuous couches, blue celadon jars, silver, ivory and enameled ornaments. Even the Marquise's lace handkerchief remained where the dying lady's feverish hand had crushed it.

"My master has written that this apartment is to be occupied by you, Mademoiselle," said Jean. "It is called the Boudoir of the Marquise and the windows are always closed. There is a belief among the peasants to the effect that death should visit the castle if the windows be opened.

You had best, therefore, in order to avoid comment, remain during the daytime in the rooms above. If you are seen from below, 'twill be thought that you are a servant-maid or my sister from Saint Brieuc."

"You are a prudent man, Jean Vilon," said Louis Pierre.

"A prudent and faithful man," said Amelie, smiling sweetly upon the Breton, as with the gentle dignity that so well became her, she seated herself in an armchair.

"And now, Jean," she said, "provide my fellow-traveler with a bed and room. I see my own here. Have a little mattress brought for the boy, as he does not wish to leave me," and she caressed Baby d.i.c.k's blond head as she added an a.s.surance that she would be very comfortable.

As the two men retired, the light of dawn silvered the stern turrets of Picmort.

Chapter II

BAD NEWS

On the following day, Amelie and Louis Pierre had a serious talk.

"I do not consider," remarked the girl, "that Rene has reason to complain of my compliance with his instructions. I have obeyed him blindly, and that is not so easy a thing for me to do. But now I demand to know why, instead of accompanying my father to Paris and of hearing our faithful adherents acclaim him King, I am banished as tho I were a prisoner and enjoined to remain in a peasant's dress behind closed windows. In order to breathe fresh air, I must ascend the dizzy heights of a tower."

Louis Pierre did not at once reply. He sat for a few moments in that gloomy att.i.tude which he so often a.s.sumed.

"Mademoiselle," he said after a few moments, "courage!"