Francezka Part 11

"I am ready to deliver the prisoners on the spot and to receipt for the money."

I thought it best to hand the money over at once, knowing if they wished to play us false it was as easy to do it at one time as another; for it was clear that we could not undertake to return until daylight came to a.s.sist us. We were obliged to trust them partly, and I thought it best to trust them wholly. Therefore I had my men bring forward the two leathern bags. Colonel Pintsch wrote a receipt, meanwhile gravely a.s.suring me that the money would go to the defense fund for Courland, and he would certainly inform General Bibikoff of the whole affair. I listened, longing to throttle him, and he concluded by saying to Schnelling:

"Show Captain Babache our guests."

Guests they were now, no longer prisoners. What rags of politeness will sometimes cling to the worst of villains!

Schnelling led me a little way toward the edge of the open s.p.a.ce, where the forest closed in its dark ramparts. There was a kind of screen formed by fir boughs stuck into the ground, and behind these a smaller fire was blazing. Under a low hanging larch tree was a bed of boughs, and on it lay Francezka, sleeping. The huge black cloak given Gaston Cheverny by Count Saxe was thrown over her, covering her completely, except her delicate, clear-cut face.

The young and the innocent always look like infants when they are asleep. Although Francezka was then nearly sixteen, she looked like the merest child, with her long lashes lying on her cheek, and the little rings of damp hair on her forehead. I gazed upon her one moment in rapture, and then turned away in reverence. Gaston Cheverny, who had been sitting by the fire, had sprung up and was giving me an embrace which all but cracked my ribs.

"Babache," he said, in a low voice, so that Francezka would not be awakened, "I can say, like the patriarch of old, 'Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace.'"

I shook myself free from his embrace.

"Come," said I, "tell me what particular folly brought you to this pa.s.s?"

He scowled at me for a moment and then said hotly--and I suppose I had spoken angrily--

"My report shall be made to Count Saxe. I--" And then we both smiled involuntarily.

"Babache," continued Gaston in the meekest tone, "I swear to you, I can not now recall one thing I have done since we parted in the courtyard of the schloss at Mitau, that seems to me on reflection rash, or ill-considered. Listen and I believe you will agree that I am in no way to blame for what has come to pa.s.s."

Schnelling interrupted us to say that food was being prepared for us; but, had it been before me, I could not have eaten nor drunk until Gaston had told me his story. He spoke softly, glancing often toward the spot under the larch tree where Francezka's face, like a lily flower, lay.

CHAPTER X

A PILGRIM AND A WAYFARER

"We pa.s.sed through the tunnel easily enough, except that Francezka"--he spoke her name unconsciously--"was frightened to tears by the toads.

She, a Kirkpatrick, wept with terror at a harmless toad, but when it comes to real danger, she is as brave as my sword. We got to the market-place, just as the drenching rain came down. There was an inn near-by, and we ran to that for shelter. We were well received, no one suspecting anything, and ordered breakfast in a private room. We heard the people about the inn discussing Count Saxe's escape, and we concluded he had got away safely. It lifted a load from our hearts.

We were very merry while we were at breakfast. It seemed no more than a delightful escapade, and we spoke of how we should tell it in the saloons of Paris. We were afraid, however, it would sound very tame."

This was the way these two young people took their predicament to heart--a predicament which involved the reputation of the one and the life of the other!

"After we had breakfasted, Francezka retired to a room to rest, and I slipped into the town to learn something of Madame Riano. It was then about six o'clock, and cataracts of rain poured. I went straight to the palace. Just as I came near it, a traveling chaise with an escort of dragoons rolled out of the gates. On the box of the chaise sat old Peter, Madame Riano's man, and within was Madame Riano, alone. She had her head out of the chaise window, haranguing the dragoon officer upon the iniquity of so treating a Kirkpatrick, the widow of a grandee of Spain five times over, of the Ricos Hombres, whatever that may be--whom the Queen of Spain rose to greet, and much more of the same sort. To this the dragoon officer paid no attention, and the party rattled and clattered off.

"Here was a predicament, was it not? I managed to get speech of some of the servants in the palace, and found that Madame Riano's tongue had got her in serious trouble with the Russians, with whom the d.u.c.h.ess Anna Iwanowna had taken sides vigorously, and Madame Riano was being escorted to the Russian frontier in consequence. I doubted if they really meant to be so severe on her, but that was not the question. It was how to put Francezka under proper protection, according to Count Saxe's directions. I managed, by bribing the servants, to be smuggled into the palace. I did not suppose the d.u.c.h.ess to be out of her bed, but I found she had not been in it since the ball closed. She was bent on being revenged on Count Saxe. I had done his bidding only too well, having told at least a dozen ladies of his high regard for the d.u.c.h.ess's worth--and she longed then for news of his capture. Instead of that, she had found out that he had got away.

"She stormed like fury at that, and in the midst of it Madame Riano was brought in. I judge the meeting between the two ladies was like an irresistible force meeting with an immovable body. The very rooks on the palace roofs soared away, cawing in terror, and the dogs in the kitchens, with their tails between their legs, skulked into hiding places. You may imagine this was not an auspicious time for me to appear with a request that the d.u.c.h.ess take charge of Madame Riano's niece. I own that when I at last succeeded in getting into the d.u.c.h.ess's august presence I thought she would eat me up, crunching my bones and lapping my blood. However, I ventured to ask protection for Mademoiselle Capello, and the d.u.c.h.ess swore like a trooper--yes, actually swore. She demanded I should tell her where Count Saxe proposed to take refuge. I refused. She said:

"'Sir, you shall tell or you shall hang.'

"'Madame,' said I, 'I will neither tell nor hang.'

"Then, seeing it was time for adieu, I ran for it; a great hue and cry was raised after me, but I managed to get out of the palace by an open window on the ground floor, and by doubling and twisting like a hare, I got back, unmolested, to the inn. Now, Babache, was there any indiscretion there?"

I was forced to admit that I could not name any fault he had committed; for surely, his not betraying Count Saxe was not a fault.

"The torrents of rain still continued, and it seemed to me best that we should not lose a moment in getting out of Mitau; and so I told Francezka. I proposed to her that we should cross the river by the bridge of boats. This she at once agreed to; in fact, she proved the most docile creature imaginable in moments of real danger. The crossing of the bridge was not easy, the boats being rickety, and the wind and rain making our footing insecure; but she accomplished it without a sign of alarm--even with gaiety. Once on the other side of the river, we walked briskly, our cloaks protecting us well, and kept to the highroad. I thought it likely the town of Mitau would be well searched for me before the seekers crossed the river. And presently the rains ceased and the sun came out. It seemed as if good fortune had adopted us, and we fared along gaily enough."

Yes, the two no doubt were in great spirits and much laughter, still thinking it a mere escapade.

"Toward noon we reached a considerable village with a good inn and posting house, and going boldly to the inn, I demanded horses. The people seemed to be touched by our youth; they thought--" here a flush showed under Gaston's tan and sunburn--"they thought we were a couple running away to be married, and their sympathy for us was not diminished by the liberal way in which I paid for all I wanted. Here Francezka rested for an hour or two, and I worked out my plan for reaching Uzmaiz with her, as that was our only refuge. I told her all the risks we ran, and offered to follow any other plan which seemed good to her. But she a.s.sured me of her confidence in me, and, in truth, there was but one thing for us to do--to make for Uzmaiz. While she was resting I had gone out and bought a handsome riding suit for her; for it was clearly best that she should travel as my young brother Francois. When I produced the riding suit, and told her gently the necessity for wearing it, she turned pale and burst into tears.

What strange creatures women are, after all!

"She made no objection, however, and the only thing she showed obstinacy about was that her own garments should be carried with us. I believe she would have flatly refused to go if I had not agreed to this; and when I suggested to her that it would be well to leave her laced hat behind, she wept again. The laced hat has accompanied us on all our travels, and it is in my charge now. Our friend Schnelling took possession of her other clothes, and we must manage to get them from him; he does not seem to be an ill-natured dog, and will, no doubt, give them up without trouble. To go back to our travels. We got the best post-horses in the village and started for Uzmaiz. Francezka made the prettiest boy imaginable--" here we both glanced toward the sleeping Francezka--"with her locks curling upon her shoulders. I gave out that she was my brother, but nevertheless suspicion was excited by all who saw her. Such grace and beauty as hers can not be disguised."

"Especially as you treated this alleged boy as if she were a princess," I said.

"Would not you have done the same? At all events, we got three days'

travel away from Mitau, when, on the evening of the third day, we were apprehended by these rogues. They professed to be a part of General Bibikoff's army, but I knew from the beginning that they were merely highwaymen. They sent the post-chaise back, and forced us to march on foot with them. This was nothing to me; but oh, Babache--the spectacle of the woman you love forced to tramp in the company of scoundrels like these! A woman softly nurtured, whose delicate feet were bruised with stones, with rough climbing, bearing it all courageously, never an impatient or sorrowful word--no tears then--taking all the blame for our situation upon herself--you can not imagine my sufferings!"

Perhaps I understood those sufferings better than he dreamed.

"No insult was offered to Francezka. I told them that if any were many lives should pay for it; but I think they never contemplated that; we were held for vulgar ransom, and that only. Ten days ago we were brought to this place. I knew we were near Uzmaiz, although Schnelling stoutly denied it. I do not know how the days have pa.s.sed; only, the strangest thing in the world has happened--Francezka told me to-day she had not been really unhappy a moment since we left Mitau. The time with both of us has flown fast. No one has molested us. We have spent the hours together in these wild forests, watched, it is true, but still virtually alone. At night Francezka has slept soundly on her bed of boughs, while I watched; and she has risen at dawn, while I slept."

"And she watched," I said.

Gaston blushed deeply and made no reply.

The fire was flaming redly; all else black--black sky, black earth, black trees. My eyes turned again to the larch tree under which Francezka slept. She had wakened, and raising herself upon her arm, was gazing at me with those eloquent eyes of hers. I went over toward her. She sat up on the edge of her bed of boughs, and disposing her cloak about her, so as to hide her masculine dress, she said, smiling:

"I knew you would come, and I thank you with all my heart. When do we depart?"

"To-morrow morning, Mademoiselle," I replied.

"And why not to-night?" she asked, turning to Gaston Cheverny, who had also approached.

"It would be difficult for us men to travel through these wilds by night, and for you it would be impossible."

Then Francezka said to me, most earnestly:

"It is I, and I alone, who should be blamed for this. I should have made Monsieur Cheverny leave me in the market-place at Mitau. I could have taken care of myself, and I should not have brought all this trouble and anxiety on Monsieur Cheverny or you, Captain Babache, and on Count Saxe--unfortunate that I am."

"You could not have made me leave you, Mademoiselle," replied Gaston.

"And, besides, it is extremely dangerous in Mitau now for any one who is supposed to be connected with Count Saxe. No, Mademoiselle, no one is to blame, except these ruffians. Perhaps Madame Riano might have been more prudent, but Madame Riano can scarcely be reckoned a prudent woman."

Francezka smiled again.

"You are right. My Aunt Peggy has the spirit of forty men, and Kirkpatricks at that, in her; and no risk has ever daunted her yet.

She is not likely, at her time of life, to learn prudence."

"But," cried Gaston, hotly, "she may well take risks for herself; but for you--pardon, Mademoiselle--"