The Huguenot Part 6

The two hors.e.m.e.n rode to the village at a quick rate, but then slackened their pace, and pa.s.sed through the single little street at a walk. The scene, however, was now changed; the children were no longer playing before the doors; from out of the windows of some of the cottages streamed forth the reddish light of a resin candle; from others was heard issuing the sound of a psalm, sung before the inhabitants retired to rest; and at the doors of others again appeared a peasant returned late from the toil of the day, and--as is so natural to the heart of man--pausing in the thickening twilight to take one more look of the world, before the darkness of night shut it out altogether. A star or two was beginning to appear in the sky; the bats were flitting hither and thither through the dusk; and, though it was still warm and mild, every thing betokened the rapid approach of night.

From the village the Count rode on, relapsing, after having spoken a few words to his servant, into the same meditative mood which had possessed him on his way to Auron. He hastened not his pace, and after he had gone about three miles complete darkness surrounded him. There was no moon in the sky; the road by which he had come, steep, stony, and irregular, required full light to render it safe for his horse's knees; and, after the animal had tripped more than once, the Count struck into a path to the right, which led by a little _detour_ into the high road from Paris to Poitiers.

High roads, however, in those days were very different things from those which they have now become; and there is scarcely a parish road in England, or a commercial road in France, which is not wider, more open, and better in every respect than the high road we speak of was at that time. When he had gained it, however, the Count went on more easily till he arrived at the spot where it entered one of the large woods which supplied the inhabitants with fuel in a country unproductive of coal. There, however, he met with an obstruction which he had not at all antic.i.p.ated. As he approached the outskirts of the wood, there was a sudden flash to the right, and a ball whistled across the Count's path, but without hitting either himself or his servant.

He was too much accustomed to scenes in which such winged messengers of death were common, to be startled by the shot, but merely muttering to himself, "This is unpleasant; we must put a stop to this so near Morseiul," he considered whether it would be better for him to push his horse forward or to go back upon the open road. But the matter was settled for him by others; for he was surrounded in a moment by five or six men, who speedily pulled him off his horse, though he made no effort to resist where resistance he saw would be vain, and then demanded his name in an imperative and threatening manner. He heard, however, at the same time, the galloping of the horse of Jerome Riquet, who had remained some twenty or thirty yards behind him; and perfectly certain, therefore, that very efficient aid would soon be brought to deliver him, he determined to procrastinate as far as possible, in the hopes of taking some of the plunderers who had established themselves so near his dwelling.

"I cannot see," he said, "what your business can be with my name; if it is my money that you want, any that I have upon my person you can take.--My good friend, you will oblige me by not holding my collar so tight; it gives me a feeling of strangulation, which, as you may perhaps some day know, is not very pleasant."

The man who held him, and who seemed the princ.i.p.al of the group, did not appear to be at all offended at being reminded of what might be the end of his exploits, but let go his collar, laughing and saying, "You are merry! however, your money we shall take as our own right. It is fair toll you know; and your name we must have too, as being officers of the King's highway, if not of the King, we have certainly a right to ask for pa.s.sports."

"Heaven forbid that I should deny any of your rights," replied the Count; "my money I will give you with all my heart: but my name is my own, and I do not choose to give that to any one."

"Well, then, we must take you where we can see your face," replied the other. "Then if we know you, well and good, you shall go on; if we do not know you, we shall find means to make you speak more clearly, I will warrant."

"He is one of them! he is one of them, be you sure," replied a second voice. "I would tie him to a tree and shoot him at once out of the way."

"No, no," rejoined the first; "I think I know his tongue. It is Maitre Nicolas, the notary--not a bad man in his way. Bring him along, and his horse too; we shall soon see."

Though the Count, perhaps, might not consider himself flattered by being taken for Maitre Nicolas the notary, he began to perceive that there was something more in the conduct of these men than the common desire of plunder, some personal motive either of revenge or enmity; and, as he well knew that he was generally loved throughout the neighbourhood, he had no apprehensions as to the result regarding himself. He was anxious, however, to see more of his captors'

proceedings, and therefore accompanied them without any effort to undeceive them as to who he was. They led him along for about a quarter of a mile down the high road through the wood, then struck into a narrower path to the right, only in use for wood-carts, and then again took a foot path, which brought them to a spot where a bright light was seen glimmering through the trees before them. It was evident that some wider road than that which they were following at the moment led also to the point to which it tended, for the sound of horses' feet was heard in that direction, and a creaking, as if of some heavy carriage wheels.

"There is brown Keroual," said one of the men, "come back from the other end of the wood, and I'll bet you two louis to two deniers that he's got hold of them. Don't you hear the wheels? I think we might let you go," he added, turning towards the Count, and trying to get a full glance of his face by the light that flashed through the leaves.

At that moment, however, one of his companions replied, "Take him on, take him on! You can't tell what wheels they are. They may be sending away those women."

This seemed to decide the matter somewhat to the satisfaction of Albert de Morseiul, who was not a little anxious to witness what was going on; and the men accordingly led him forward through the bushes, which partially obstructed the path, till coming suddenly to an open s.p.a.ce under a high sandy bank, he found himself in the midst of a scene, upon which we must pause for a moment.

There was a large wood fire in the midst of the open s.p.a.ce; and both to the right and left led away a small road, deeply channelled by the wheels of sand carts. The high bank above was crowned with the fine trees of the wood, amongst the branches and stems of which the light of the fire and of one or, two torches lost itself; while the fuller light below shone upon three or four curious groups of human beings.

One of these groups was gathered together near the fire, and consisted of seven men, some lying down, some standing, all of them well armed, and some of them with carbines in their hands; their dress in a great degree resembled that of the English soldiery at the time of Cromwell, though the usurper had been dead, and the fas.h.i.+on of such clothing gone out, about twenty years. A few of them had their faces bare, but the greater part had something drawn over their countenance so as completely to disguise it. In general, this covering was a mere piece of silk or cloth with slits made for the eyes, but in two instances a regular mask appeared.

At a little distance from the fire, farther under the bank, sat two ladies, one richly habited in the taste of that day, and with the upper part of the face covered by the common black velvet riding mask, the other dressed more simply, but still handsomely, with a large watch hanging by her side, and two or three rings still upon her hands, notwithstanding the company in which she was found. There were some large grey cloaks spread upon the ground beneath them, to protect them apparently from the damp of the ground; and standing near, leaning on a musket, apparently as a guard over them, was one of the same fraternity that appeared by the side of the fire.

At some distance up the road to the right, a carriage was seen stationary, with the horses taken out and cropping the gra.s.s by the side; but the eyes of the whole party under the bank were turned to the other side, where, at the entrance of the road into the open s.p.a.ce, appeared a second carriage drawn by four mules, which had just been led up by a party of the banditti, who were the first that had appeared mounted.

From the door of the vehicle, which was now brought to a halt, its tenants were in the very act of descending, with fear and unwillingness written upon their countenances. The two first that came forth were ecclesiastics of the Catholic church: the first, a man who might well be considered as remarkably ugly, had his countenance not been expressive, and its expression indicative of considerable talent.

The second was a much handsomer man in every respect, but with a keen, sly, fox-like aspect, and a constant habit of biting his nether lip, of which he could not divest himself, even at a moment when, to judge by his countenance, he was possessed by extraordinary fear. After them came another man, dressed as a layman, one or two domestics, and a fat inferior priest, with a dirty and a greasy countenance, full of nothing but large black eyes and dull stupidity.

While they were thus making their unwilling exit from the carriage, several of those who had brought them thither were mounted upon different parts of the vehicle, busily cutting off, opening, and emptying various valises, trunk-mails, and other contrivances for conveying luggage.

The attention of the other actors in the scene was so much taken up by this group, that no one seemed to notice the arrival of the party which brought the Count thither; and though the man who had led it had resumed a grasp of his collar, as if to demonstrate that the Count was the captive of his bow and spear, he was himself so intensely occupied in looking at the proceedings round the carriage, that he paused close to the wood for several minutes. At length, however, he recollected himself, and, by advancing two or three steps with those that followed, called the attention of the rest from the carriage and its ejected tenants to the new captive that had been brought in. The light flashed full upon the Count as the man held him; but the moment the eyes of the group around the fire were turned upon him, several voices exclaimed in a tone of surprise and consternation, "The Count! The Count! The Count de Morseiul!"

No sooner did the first of the ecclesiastics, who had descended from the carriage, hear the exclamation, than he turned his eyes in that way also, ran forward, and, catching the Count by the hand, exclaimed, "Monsieur de Morseiul, my dear friend, I claim your protection. These men threaten to murder me!"

"Monsieur Pelisson," replied the Count, "I greatly grieve that I can give you no protection. I am a prisoner to these men, as you see, myself, and, were I not of another creed, might, for aught I know, have to apply to you to shrive me! for they have threatened to tie me to a tree, and shoot me likewise."

"Good G.o.d! this is very horrible," cried Pelisson, in utter terror and consternation. "Pray, Monsieur de St. Helie," he exclaimed, turning to the other ecclesiastic who followed, "Pray, exhort these men--you are so eloquent!"

"I--I--I--I can exhort n.o.body," stammered forth the other, trembling in every limb.

A change, however, was working itself in their favour; for the moment that the Count's name had been publicly announced, a great degree of agitation and movement had taken place amongst the robbers. Those who had been lying down started up, those who had been plundering the carriage abandoned their pillage, and joined their companions by the fire; the man who had grasped the Count let go his hold, as if he had burnt his hand, and a rapid consultation evidently took place amongst the rest, which the Count himself was not a little surprised to see, as, amongst those whose faces were uncovered, there was not a single individual whom he could recognise as having ever beheld before.

The movement of Pelisson, however, and the words which pa.s.sed between him and the Count again called their attention in that direction from the consultation which was going on. Two men, both masked, separated themselves from the rest, one a very tall and powerful man, somewhat richly though not tastefully dressed; the other a short, broad-made, st.u.r.dy looking person, who only wanted the accompaniment of a bandoleer over his buff coat to be a perfect representation of the parliamentary soldier of Great Britain. The lesser man took upon himself to be spokesman, though they both advanced direct towards the Count.

"We are sorry for what has happened, Monsieur de Morseiul," he said; "we had not the slightest intention of disturbing you upon your road, and it was this fellow's stupidness and the darkness of the night that has caused the mistake. I have only to say, as I said before, that we are sorry for it, and that you are quite at liberty to go when you like."

The Count's determination was taken in a moment. "I am happy to hear,"

he said, "that you are sorry for one offence at least against the laws of the country; but, in regard to my going, if I go, I have not the slightest intention of going alone. I am not a person to abandon my companions in distress, and I must insist upon some of the parties here present being liberated as well as myself."

Pelisson looked at him with an imploring glance; the Abbe de St. Helie elapsed his hands together, and gazed anxiously in his face; while the man to whom he had spoken replied in a surly tone,--

"We would fain treat you well, Sir Count, and do you no harm; so go your way in G.o.d's name, and do not meddle with what does not concern you, for fear worse come of it. You are not leading the forlorn hope at Maestricht now, remember."

"Oh!" said the Count, with a meaning nod of the head, as if the man's allusion had let him into some secret; but ere he could reply further, the taller and more athletic of the two whispered a few words to his companion in a low voice, and the other, after a moment's pause of hesitation, turned once more to the Count and said, "Well, sir, what is it you would have? We respect and love you, and would do much to please you. What do you demand?"

"In the first place," replied the Count de Morseiul, speaking very slowly and distinctly, and using as many words as he possibly could, knowing that every moment was something gained by bringing succour nearer; "in the first place, as I am sure that you are too much men of honour, and too courteous in your nature a great deal----"

"Come, come, Sir Count," replied the man, interrupting him, "cut your story short. We have honour of our own particular kind; but as to our nature being courteous, it is not. We are neither fools, babies, nor frequenters of the painted chambers of Paris, but freemen of the forest. What I ask is, what do you demand?"

"In the first place," replied the Count, taking a step forward towards the spot where the two ladies were sitting, and pointing in that direction with his hand, "in the first place, I demand that you should set those two ladies at liberty!"

"They might have been at liberty long ago," replied the man, "if they had chosen to say whence they came and whither they were going.

However, go they shall, as you ask it; but I should like to have those rings and that watch first."

"Fie," said the Count, "you surely would not touch the trinkets. Their purses, I dare say, have been taken already."

"Those were given up at first," replied the man, "and we should have had the watch and rings too if we had not been interrupted by this other affair. Come, pretty one," he added, turning to the younger of the two ladies, who had both risen when they heard the intercession that was made for them, and were gazing on the young Count with eager anxiety, "come, let us see if there be any diamonds amongst those rings, for we must not let diamonds get out of the forest. They are better than gold a great deal."

Thus saying, he advanced towards her, and took the small delicate beautiful fingers, on which the rings appeared, in his rough grasp.

"I fear, lady," said the Count, who had followed him, "that I cannot protect you farther. We must feel grateful for your being permitted to go at all."

"We owe you a deep debt of grat.i.tude as it is, sir," replied the elder lady; and the younger added immediately, "indeed we do: but let them take the rings," she continued, drawing them from her fingers.--"All but one," she added suddenly, "all but one."

"What, a wedding-ring," cried the man, with a loud laugh, "or a lover's token, I suppose, for I see no wedding-ring here."

"No, sir," she said, drawing up her head somewhat proudly, "but the gift of a mother that loved me, and who is most dear to me still in memory. Pray, let me keep it. This is the ring."

"Why, that is worth all the rest," said the man, looking at it. "No, no, my pretty mistress, we must have this."

The Count de Morseiul had stood by, somewhat pale, and with a manner which, for the first time, betrayed some degree of agitation. But he now interposed, seeing, by the trembling of her hand, how much emotion the man's words produced upon the young lady, though he could not behold her countenance.

"What is the value of the ring?" he demanded of the man.

"Why, some twenty louis, I dare say," he replied.

"Well, I will give you double the amount for it," said the Count. "I have not the money upon me, for your men have taken all I had; but you can trust me, and I will pay it to any one whom you will send to the chateau of Morseiul, and pledge my honour they shall come and go in safety, and without inquiry."

"Your honour, my Lord Count, is worth the city of Poitiers," replied the man. "There is the ring," and he gave it into the Count's hand.