The Rose of Old St. Louis

by Mary Dillon

  CHAPTER XXVII

  "GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART!"

  "I have found out a gift for my fair."

  There was nothing to keep me in Paris. I could not see mademoiselle;she would not let me help her in her flight. I was restless andimpatient to be off. No boat would sail from Le Havre for nearly aweek. It would not take a week either by horse, as Caesar and I wouldgo, or by the river, where my baggage was to be floated down in asmall yawl in the charge of a trusty boatman. But if I stayed in ParisI would be eating my heart out; it was better to be on the way andtaking the route by slow stages.

  So I made the plea to my aunt and uncle that I feared some unforeseendelay might cause me to miss my ship, and with feverish haste I madeall arrangements for departure that very night. To my aunt myimpatience seemed only natural. She herself was greatly distressed atthe news of my father's illness, and would have accompanied me toAmerica if it had been possible.

  My first act on reaching home after leaving mademoiselle had been totear off my gorgeous uniform, with such a mingling of loathing andregret as rarely comes to a man. If my suspicions of the contents ofmademoiselle's note were correct, then I could not quickly enough ridmyself of every emblem of the allegiance I had once owed to the FirstConsul. And yet when I remembered his invariable kindness to me, themagnanimity he had shown for what must have seemed to him criminaleavesdropping, the tenderness of heart I had seen displayed more thanonce, the wonderful powers of the man, master alike of the arts ofpeace and war, the idolatry in which his soldiers held him and inwhich I had hitherto shared, my heart lamented bitterly that its idolshould have been so shattered.

  Since we had time to spare and it was now the meridian of summer, Ihad decided to use only the cool of evening and the early morninghours for travel, as much, I think, for the sake of sparing Fatima asCaesar and myself. Our first stage was to be to the same little inn,twenty miles out, which we had left only that morning to come into thecity. It was not, perhaps, on the most direct route to Le Havre, but alarge part of the way would lead through the forests of Montmorencyand Chantilly and would be pleasant riding, and the inn was almost thecleanest and most comfortable of its kind I had found in France. Myweeks under Bonaparte bearing messages to every little river bigenough to build a boat upon had taught me the roads well; all thisnorthern France was like an open book to me and I would find nodifficulty in cutting across from the forest of Chantilly to thebanks of the Seine, if I preferred to follow its windings to Le Havre.

  So the long shadows of the late afternoon saw us riding under thePorte St. Martin; at sunset we were passing the hoary Basilique of St.Denis, tomb of the kings; through the long twilight we skirted theforest of Montmorency; and by moonrise we were entering the forest ofChantilly. Not more beautiful by early dawn and dew had been thisride, than it was through lengthening shadows, and violet glow ofsunset, and silvery light of moon, the peaches ripening on sunnywalls, and the odors of mint and sweet-smelling herbs rising throughthe gathering damps of evening, the birds singing their vesper songs,and in the deep forest glades the lonely nightingale pouring out hissoul to the moon.

  Yet my heart was heavier. On my long ride from Antwerp, with thebuoyancy of youth, I had passed through all the phases from anguishedfear to the almost certitude of hope, and I had entered Paris feelingsure that I would find my father well again when I should reachAmerica. I had entered Paris also joyous with the thought of seeingmademoiselle once more, and with the unconfessed hope that the budgetI was bearing from the great Bonaparte might be the means of bringingme the crowning happiness of my life. I was leaving it now with oneword ringing in my ears as the death-knell to all my hopes--Farewell!

  The hour was still early and my inn but a little way off on thewestern borders of the forest; I would make a little detour and seethe chateau and park and still be not too late for a good supper anda comfortable night's rest. I left the "old road" (which crossed theforest directly) at the Carrefour de la Table, where twelve roads metin an open circular space surrounding a great stone table. From thereI took one leading straight to the Grille d'Honneur. We crossed alittle bridge that spanned the moat, and looking down into its waters,we heard the splash of the ancient carp that filled it. Then throughthe Grille d'Honneur and between two stone dogs at the foot of theslope that led up to the ruins of the Grande Chateau. There I drewrein and looked over the beautiful domain.

  At my right was the ruined chateau; in front of me the chatelet, inperfect preservation, apparently floating on the bosom of a silverylake that entirely surrounded it. Beyond were the famous stables ofthe Great Conde, holding two hundred and sixty horses in his lifetime.Beside them was the chapel, and everywhere a network of basins andcanals gleaming white under the flooding moonlight. At my back werethe gloomy towers of the Chateau d'Enghien, built to house the guestsof the Condes who overflowed the Grande Chateau and the chatelet; andbeyond was a mass of rich foliage belonging to the Park of Sylvie.

  As I gazed a thousand thoughts crowded into my mind. This was the homeof mademoiselle's ancestors; it should now be the home of the Ducd'Enghien; perhaps when mademoiselle came into her own it would behers. No doubt in these very parks she had played in infancy.Generations of grandeur, of princely splendor, were behind her. Howhad I dared to dream of her! How had I dared to think she would stoopto my lowly rank!

  I gave Fatima's bridle to Caesar and told him to wait for me while Iwalked down the green slope into the Park of Sylvie. Enchanting vistasopened before me, the moonlight filtering through arched canopies offoliage just enough to show me the way. Old tales of the Duchesse"Sylvie" and the poet-lover, condemned to death, whom she had hiddenin this park and its little chateau floated through my mind strangelymingled with dreams of a later daughter of Montmorency.

  And then suddenly I came upon something that for a moment I almostbelieved to be a continuation of my dreams. I had turned to my rightand a new vista had opened before me, closed by the little "Chateau ofSylvie." On the wide lawn before it, half hidden by the shadow of thechateau, half in the broad moonlight, was a strange group: a carriageand what seemed to me many horses and many men. I thought for a momentI had landed upon a nest of bandits such as might easily infest aforest like this, and it would behoove me to steal silently back tothe horses and make good my escape; but I caught a glimpse ofpetticoats: they were not bandits; they must be Gipsies.

  Then as I gazed there stepped out into the full moonlight a manleading a powerful black horse with one white stocking and a whitestar in his forehead. I heard the man call some brief order to someone in the shadow, and there was a slight lisp in his voice. In amoment I understood it all, although the man was no longer wearing acountryman's coat, but the livery of a gentleman's servant. It wasPelagie and her party fleeing to Baden and the Duc d'Enghien!

  I knew not whether I would be a welcome guest or an intruder, but Iknew I was not going to miss this opportunity of seeing Pelagie oncemore. I stepped out boldly from under the shadows of the trees intothe moonlight, and in so doing came near losing my life. There was theclick of a lock and the flash of a gun-barrel in the countryman'shands.

  "Don't shoot, Monsieur," I cried; "it is a friend."

  There was a short, sharp cry, half suppressed, and Pelagie camerunning out of the shadow, both hands extended and her face glowing inthe moonlight.

  "Is it you, Monsieur?" she cried. "How came you here?"

  I suppose I answered her in some fashion. I know I took her hands inmine and looked down into her beautiful eyes, but I know not what Isaid. She was wearing the cap and apron and simple gown of a lady'swaiting-maid, and as she saw me look curiously at it she said, withthe shrug of her pretty little shoulders that I had learned to know sowell in St. Louis:

  "It is a fright, is it not, Monsieur? But I am no longer the Comtessede Baloit: I am Susanne, the maid of Madame du Bois, with whom I amtraveling."

  Her voice had the happy ring of a child's, as if she were glad to befree, even if only for a time, from the cares of rank and positi
on;or, perhaps more truly, glad to be away from the surveillance of theduchesse, happy that she need no longer fear the chevalier and theFirst Consul. I longed to think that a part of the gladness was inseeing me once more so unexpectedly; but I knew this was only myfoolish vanity, and I steadied my brain by saying over to myself, "Sheis a princess of Conde in her ancestral home; you are only the son ofa plain American gentleman." So I made her such a speech as I wouldhave made to a princess of Conde.

  "If Mademoiselle were not the Comtesse de Baloit I could wish she werealways Susanne the maid of Madame du Bois. 'Tis a bewitching costume."

  It was, and she knew it, as I could see by her dancing eyes and thesmile (that she vainly tried to suppress) playing hide-and-seek withthe roses in her cheek as I spoke. Being a man, I could not name eacharticle of her costume; but what I saw was a vision of little ringletsescaping from under a coquettish cap, dainty ankles that the shortblue skirt did not pretend to hide, a snowy apron that almost coveredthe blue skirt, and a handkerchief demurely crossed over the beautifulshoulders.

  She turned quickly, as if to escape my gaze, and called to thecountryman: "Monsieur le Prince, this is the friend of whom I havespoken; I want him to meet the Prince de Polignac."

  The prince came forward at once; and as we grasped each other's handsand looked into each other's eyes, I think he knew that he need nolonger regard me with suspicion, and I knew that here was a man towhom I could trust even Pelagie.

  We laughed a little over our first meeting, and I told him how Caesarhad detected his weapon; and then out of the shadows came otherfigures: Henriette, to whom, as her mistress, Madame du Bois, Pelagiegaily presented me; a man in the costume of a well-to-do bourgeois,whom they called Monsieur du Bois, but who, Pelagie whispered to me,was the prince's trusted body-servant; and Clotilde, whom I had notseen since I had seen her on La Belle Riviere, and who wept at thesight of me, a tribute to the memory of other days. Last of all therecame out of the shadows my burly host of last night's inn. He hadbrought over to the little chateau a relay of fresh horses and ahamper of supper. All arrangements had been made at his inn the nightbefore by the Prince de Polignac in the guise of a countryman; forcareless Boniface as my host had seemed to be, he was devotedlyattached to his old masters, the Bourbon princes, and could be trustedto the death.

  It amazed me greatly that they should have accomplished this journeyin a shorter time than I, and still more that they should havesucceeded in getting safely, out of Paris with so large a party, and Iso expressed myself to the prince.

  "It had been all carefully planned, Monsieur," he told me. "My man,'Monsieur du Bois,' had a traveling-carriage waiting at a little housenear the Porte St. Denis, where an old servitor of the family lives.He had passports made out for Madame and Monsieur du Bois from NewOrleans, traveling with their negro servant Clotilde, and with a maidSusanne, and a man Francois. Mademoiselle la Comtesse arranged to tryher hunter at three o'clock in the Bois, accompanied by her companion,Henriette (who in these few weeks has become devotedly attached to thecomtesse), and by the countryman who had brought her the horse andunderstood him more thoroughly than a groom from the stables of theduchesse would have done. At the same hour the negro maid of thecomtesse strolled out into a quiet street at the rear of the hotel,where she was met by my man and conducted to the little house near thePorte St. Denis. At a little before four we had all gathered there; byhalf-past four the transformation had been made and we were leavingthe house, Madame du Bois and her two maids in the carriage, Monsieurdu Bois on the comtesse's hunter, I on my own horse and leading theone Henriette had ridden. We had arranged to meet Pierre here withfresh horses and provisions, and spend half an hour in changinghorses, resting, and supper. Your unexpected appearance, Monsieur, hasalarmed me. I had thought the Park of Sylvie sufficiently secluded toinsure us secrecy, but if you have found it, others may whom we wouldbe less glad to see, and I think I will form my little company intomarching order at once. The comtesse is taking it all as a grandadventure; her spirits have risen with every step away from Paris:that is the princely blood of Conde that loves deeds of daring, and Iwould not say a word to dampen her ardor; but we know, Monsieur, it isa serious matter, and so, though our half-hour is not quite up, Ithink I will order the advance."

  "You are quite right, Monsieur le Prince," I replied. "My man iswaiting for me with our horses in the Court d'Honneur; will you permitme to ride a little way with you?"

  The prince hesitated a moment, and then in his courtliest manner hereplied to my request:

  "I am sure Monsieur will not misunderstand me when I say nothing couldgive us greater pleasure if it seemed safe. But Monsieur's sizeand--appearance," with a bow and a smile flattering no doubt, butdiscouraging, "have made him well known in France. Moreover,Monsieur's friendship for the comtesse (which does him honor) is knownalso, and should a pursuing party make inquiries along the road, andshould our party be described with you in attendance, I fear they willbe able to identify us at once."

  "I understand, Monsieur le Prince," I answered, much crestfallen. Andthen into my slow brain there popped another question.

  "But will not the negro maid Clotilde betray you also?"

  "Monsieur is very astute," answered the prince. "He has touched uponour weak point, and I am going to prove my friendly regard forMonsieur by asking of him a great service. We could not leave thenegress behind in Paris: the comtesse would not stir one step withouther, fearing that she would be very unhappy, if not come to want andsuffering in a strange city. All the way from Paris I have beenrevolving plans in my mind as to how best to separate her from ourparty. I had thought of letting Pierre take charge of her, but thatwould not do; for should she be discovered, that would make Pierre'suspect,' and he would be thrown into prison for aiding and abettingthe flight of the comtesse, and it would be a clue to trace us. When Isaw you, Monsieur, I said, 'There is a way out of our dilemma. IfMonsieur will take Clotilde back with him to America, we are safe.'"

  Joy filled my heart that I was at last to be allowed to do somethingfor the comtesse.

  "Gladly, Monsieur!" I exclaimed; "and it can be very easily arranged.We will strike across country to Pontoise and the forest of St.Germain, and head off my boatman. He was to tie up for the night at alittle village near Marly-le-Roi. I will find him there and putClotilde in his wife's care. His wife accompanies him, for the voyageand to cook his meals."

  The prince's gratitude seemed to me incommensurate with so small aservice, and so I told him. And then another difficulty suggesteditself to me.

  "Monsieur le Prince," I said, "I recognized you from the hunter ofMademoiselle la Comtesse; will not perhaps others also?"

  "I have thought of this, Monsieur," he said; "but it seemed even moredifficult to arrange than the other. It is necessary that the comtesseshould have a swift and powerful horse, for if we are pursued, she andI will take to our horses and leave the others to shift forthemselves. I had thought of asking Pierre to try to find another asgood as this (though for speed and endurance I do not believe he hashis equal in France), but even then I should not know what to do withthis one. I could not give him to Pierre: that again would bring himunder suspicion. I should have to shoot and bury him. However, it istoo late now to make the change; we will even have to take the risk."

  "Monsieur," I said slowly, for willingly as I would make any sacrificefor mademoiselle, even to my life I could not lightly do that which Iwas about to do--"Monsieur, I have a horse who for speed and endurancehas hardly her equal in the whole world. She knows Mademoiselle laComtesse well and will do her bidding as she does mine. I will changehorses with you. The comtesse shall have my chestnut mare and I willtake her black beauty."

  The prince did not know that this was a far greater sacrifice on mypart than taking charge of Clotilde had been, yet he knew a man loveshis own mare well, and in so far he appreciated the service andthanked me for it.

  But the matter of separating Clotilde from her mistress had to bebroached to mademoiselle
, and the prince begged me to undertake thedifficult task. All the time while the prince, and I had been holdingour conversation together aside from the others, she had beenexploring the purlieus of the little chateau with frequentexclamations of delight, not one of which fell unheeded on my ears,although I was deep in consultation. Now she came running up to mejoyously.

  "Monsieur, Monsieur," she exclaimed, "I have found the little arborwhere I used to take my dolls and play at housekeeping! Ah, how well Iremember it! How often I have thought of it! And how little I everexpected to see it again!" and her eyes were as bright and as soft asthe waters of the little lake stretching from our feet to the Grilled'Honneur and shining in the misty moonlight. I knew how quickly thoseeyes could change from dewy softness to lightning flashes, and it isnot to be wondered at that I plunged into my subject with nervoushaste.

  "Mademoiselle," I said (and I thought the prince liked not the lack offormality in my address), "the Prince de Polignac has assigned to mean unpleasant duty; it is to tell you that we find it necessary foryour safety to take away Clotilde."

  Perhaps I was too abrupt; at any rate, much as I had expected atempest I was not prepared for the tornado that ensued.

  "Take away my Clotilde!" she interrupted. "Never! never! never!" Andthen there followed a torrent of tears mingled with reproaches as shethrew herself upon Clotilde's breast--the breast she had wept uponsince she was a babe of six. But Clotilde's cries were stormier thanher mistress's: she literally lifted up her voice and wept. The princewas the picture of distress and dismay: there was danger that thesound of weeping might penetrate to unfriendly ears. Mademoiselle intears was ever more formidable to me than an army with banners, butthere was no help for it; I took my courage in my hand.

  "Mademoiselle la Comtesse," I said sternly, "you are causing thePrince de Polignac great distress. You are in danger any moment ofbetraying his retreat to an enemy, and if he is captured, his life isforfeit, as you know."

  I spoke thus to arouse her from a contemplation of her own woes to hisdanger, for well I knew her generous soul would respond at once tosuch a plea, and I was not mistaken. Her sobs ceased instantly and shestilled Clotilde with a word; then she turned and looked at me quietlywhile I went on with what I had to say:

  "It is to anticipate the danger of such discovery that we removeClotilde, who, being almost the only negress in France, would betrayyour identity at once. I will take her with me to America, and fromPhiladelphia I will send her under safe escort to Dr. Saugrain in St.Louis, and when you are safely established in your own home you cansend for her again."

  I think the thought of seeing St. Louis once more half consoledClotilde for the parting, though she was a faithful creature and lovedher mistress, and would have followed her to the ends of the earth. Iknow it helped to console Pelagie, for it was the thought of leavingClotilde alone and unprotected in a foreign country that disturbed hermost.

  But all this had taken much time, and the half-hour the prince hadallowed for rest was more than up. They had had their supper, thecarriage-horses had been changed, the saddle-horses had been fed andwatered, and the prince was in feverish haste to be off. I ran swiftlyto the Court d'Honneur, where I had left Caesar, and found himwondering anxiously what had kept me so long. He had fed and wateredboth horses and was now letting them crop a little of the luxuriantgrass at their feet. I did not stop for explanations, but bidding himfollow me with his horse, I led Fatima by a shorter and more directroute straight from the Grille d'Honneur to the little chateau. Ifound the carriage with "Monsieur and Madame du Bois"; the coachmanand outriders had already started. Pierre had set out a luncheon onthe little stone table for Caesar and me (for since we were not to goto his inn there was no prospect for supper for us), and was gettingthe two carriage-horses ready to take them back with him. Clotilde wassilently weeping and Pelagie was trying to comfort her. I led Fatimastraight to Pelagie.

  "Mademoiselle," I said, "the Prince de Polignac permits me to give youa farewell present. Will you take Fatima and keep her for me? She willbear you to your destination, I believe, more safely and more surelythan any horse in the world."

  "Oh, Monsieur, Monsieur!" she said, and then could say nothing more,her little chin quivering piteously. I could not bear to see it. I hadmotioned to Caesar to put on Fatima the side-saddle lying on the grass,and now I said,

  "Let me put you on her back," and bent to lift her; but she drew back.

  "Oh, no, no, Monsieur!" she cried. "I know why you do it, and I knowwhat a sacrifice it is to you. I cannot let you give up Fatima!"

  "Then you are depriving me of a great happiness," I softly answered."I had hoped you would take her and keep her and love her. It wouldbe a great comfort to me in distant America to think of you as beingkind to her sometimes for the sake of old St. Louis memories."

  I looked steadily into her eyes.

  "Mademoiselle, may I put you on her back?"

  She bowed her head, and I lifted her to her seat, put her foot in thestirrup and the bridle in her hand. Then I threw my arm over Fatima'sneck.

  "Good-by, Sweetheart," I whispered, "take good care of your mistress,"and kissed her on the white star on her forehead. Still with my armover her neck I reached up my hand to mademoiselle.

  She put her hand in mine, and I kissed it as I had kissed it when shechose me her king; then I lifted my eyes and looked straight intohers.

  "Good-by, Mademoiselle, and au revoir," I said, and dropped her hand.

  She could not answer for the same piteous quivering of the chin, buther lips formed "Au revoir"; and then she turned Fatima and rodeslowly under the leafy arch that led through a long tunnel of foliage,due east.

  "Monsieur," said the prince, and I started; for a moment I hadforgotten his existence.

  He had withdrawn courteously while I was making my adieus withmademoiselle, busying himself with little preparations for departure.Now he had mounted and drawn his horse to my side.

  "Monsieur, you have taught me to honor and admire all Americangentlemen. If there is any service I can ever do you, I hope you willgive me the opportunity of showing you how much I appreciate the greatservice you have done us this night."

  "Monsieur le Prince," I answered quickly, too eager with my ownthoughts to thank him for his kind words, "there is one kindness youcan show me that will more than repay me for anything I have ever doneor ever could do. Write me of mademoiselle's safe arrival when youreach Baden. I will give you my address," and I tore a leaf from mymemorandum-book, wrote my address upon it, and thrust it into hishand.

  "It is a small commission, Monsieur," he answered, "but I will be mosthappy to execute it."

  He grasped my hand, said "Au revoir," and cantered quickly away aftermademoiselle.

  I watched them riding side by side under the leafy dome until theirfigures were lost in the darkness, mademoiselle still with bent head,and he with his face turned courteously away as if not to seem to seeshould she be softly crying. And if there was for a moment in my hearta jealous envy that he should ride by mademoiselle's side and I beleft behind, I put it quickly away, for I knew him to be a noble andcourteous gentleman, and one to whose honor I could trust the dearestthing in life.