by Mary Dillon
CHAPTER XXVIII
EXIT LE CHEVALIER
"The King of France with forty thousand men, Went up a hill, and so came down agen."
Clothilde, Caesar, and I had ridden late into the night before we hadreached the little village on the Seine where my boatman, Gustave, wasto tie up. But it was moonlight and we rode through a beautifulcountry dotted with royal chateaus,--the birthplaces of illustriouskings,--and I had my thoughts, and Clotilde and Caesar had each other:for Caesar was the first of her kind Clotilde had seen since coming toFrance, and much as she might enjoy the attentions of footmen ingorgeous liveries, after all they were only "white trash," and sheloved best her own color. Clotilde was rapidly becoming consoled; andthough she only spoke creole French, and Caesar only English, save forthe few words he had picked up since coming to Paris, they seemed tomake themselves very well understood.
So the ride had not been so tedious as it might have been. And when wehad found Gustave's boat tied to the bank and had routed up him andhis wife, and delivered Clotilde into their care (and theiradmiration and awe of the black lady was wonderful to see), and Caesarand I had hunted up a fairly comfortable inn and had two or threehours of sleep, we were all quite ready to start on again.
Feeling that Clotilde was a sacred trust, I was anxious both for hersafety and for her welfare, and thus it was that the early morningfound me following the windings of the Seine by a little bridle-pathon its banks, hardly twenty feet from Gustave's boat dropping downwith the tide. Gustave's wife was in the forward part of the boat,preparing breakfast for the three, and the savory odor of her baconand coffee was borne by the breeze straight to my nostrils on the highbank above her. Gustave himself was in the stern of the boat, lazilymanaging the steering-oar and waiting for his breakfast, andincidentally grinning from ear to ear at Caesar, riding a pace behindme and casting longing glances at the thatched roof of the littleboat's cabin, whence issued in rich negro tones the creole love-songYorke had sung to Clotilde on the Ohio boat:
"Every springtime All the lovers Change their sweethearts; Let change who will, I keep mine."
I had straitly charged Clotilde that she must keep herself closelyconcealed within the cabin, but I had said nothing to her about alsokeeping quiet. Now I was idly thinking that perhaps I had better giveher instructions upon that point also, when down the stony road somethree feet higher than the bridle-path, and separated from it by abank of turf, came the thunder of hoofs. I glanced up quickly. Alittle party of horsemen, five or six in number, were dashing down theroad toward us, and in the lead was the Chevalier Le Moyne! At sightof us they drew rein, and the chevalier, looking down on me (for thefirst time in his life), brought his hat to his saddle-bow with aflourish.
"Good morning, Monsieur. I hear you are off for America."
"Good morning," I answered coolly, merely touching my own hat. "Youhave heard correctly"; and I wished with all my heart that I had hadtime to tell Clotilde to keep still, for up from the boat below,louder and clearer than ever, it seemed to me, came the refrain of herfoolish song:
"Tous les printemps, Tous les amants Changent de maitresses; Qu'ils changent qui voudront, Pour moi, je garde la mienne."
The chevalier was listening pointedly.
"An old song, Monsieur, that I have often heard in St. Louis. And thevoice, too, I think is familiar. It is the black maid of the Comtessede Baloit, is it not? Perhaps her mistress is with her; if so, ourquest is at an end."
"What do you mean, Monsieur le Chevalier!" I exclaimed, affectingvirtuous indignation, and feeling a little of it, too, for I liked notthe chevalier's manner.
"You have heard, I suppose," he answered, with a light sneer, "thatthe comtesse has disappeared from Paris. At almost the same moment itwas announced that monsieur had started for America, and some of thecomtesse's friends thought it not impossible that they had gonetogether. From the warbling of that nightingale yonder I judge theywere not far wrong."
Not until this moment had it occurred to me that any one would connectthe flight of the comtesse with my departure, and I hardly knewwhether I was more ragingly angry at the thought or secretly glad.There was no question as to my state of mind toward the chevalier.That he should speak in such a light and sneering tone of any lady,but most of all that he should so speak of the loveliest lady onearth, was not to be borne. Yet I was glad, for some reasons, thatsuch a mistaken surmise had arisen: it would throw pursuit off thetrack until Pelagie was well on her way to the German frontier, andthe truth would come out later and my lady not suffer in herreputation (which indeed I could not have endured).
So instead of giving free vent to the anger that raged in my heart, asI longed to do, I thought it wise to dally with the chevalier and keephim as long as possible on the wrong scent, for every moment of delayto the chevalier was setting mademoiselle farther on her way.
"Your news, Monsieur," I said, "is most astonishing, but yourinsinuations also most insulting to a lady whose honor and reputationshall ever be my dearest care."
Now the chevalier was five to one (for I could not count upon Caesarfor fighting, as I might have counted upon Yorke). I do not say thatthat fact made the chevalier more bold or less careful in his manner,but I certainly think that had we been man to man he would not haveanswered as he did.
"Your virtuous indignation is pretty to see, Monsieur," he answered;"but I have the warrant of the republic to search whatever domains Imay suspect of harboring the comtesse, and I think I will use myrights on yonder boat, where I see the face of her maid at thewindow."
I glanced quickly at the boat. Sure enough, in the little square ofglass that formed the window of the cabin was framed Clotilde's blackface. And her nose (already broad enough) being flattened against theglass, and her eyes rolling wildly with curiosity and fear as shegazed at the party of armed horsemen on the bank, she made a ludicrouspicture indeed. I would have liked to laugh heartily but that it wasmy role to display chagrin and anxiety rather than a careless levity.
"Monsieur," I said seriously, "you are quite right: that is Clotilde,the maid of Mademoiselle la Comtesse. I was requested last evening totake her back to America and return her to her friends in St. Louis.It will always be my greatest pleasure to render the comtesse anyservice within my power, and I did not stop to question why she wishedto get rid of her maid."
"Your explanation is most plausible, Monsieur,"--the chevalier's tonewas intentionally insulting, and, but that I had mademoiselle'sinterests more at heart than my own sensitive self-esteem, would havebeen hard to brook,--"but since I hold a warrant of search, ifMonsieur permits, I will do myself the honor of visiting his boat."
Now I cared not at all whether the chevalier visited the boat or not,knowing well he would not find the comtesse there. My only anxiety wasto temporize as long as possible and keep him still suspicious of mycomplicity with mademoiselle's flight, that she might profit by hisdelay in discovering the true scent. So I answered sternly:
"Monsieur, that boat is for the time being United States territory.You step upon its planks without my consent at your peril. I will atonce report the matter to our minister at Paris, Mr. Livingston, andif a war between the United States and France is the result, you willhave to give an account to the First Consul of your acts which causedthat war."
I was not enough of a diplomat to know whether I was speaking withinmy rights or not, but I trusted to the chevalier being no betterinformed than I, and at the best I was but speaking against time. Theeffect of my speech was all that I could have desired. The chevalierlooked immediately crestfallen, and turned to consult with hiscomrades. For full five minutes (I could have wished it ten timesfive) they carried on a conference that at times appeared to beheated, though always low-toned. Then the chevalier turned to meagain, and his manner was no longer insulting, but of such respect asis due one gentleman from another.
"Monsieur," he said, "perhaps I have no right to _demand_ that I beallowed to search a boat belonging
to an American gentleman, but ifMonsieur will permit me to do so he will oblige me greatly, and itwill be the means of clearing him at once of suspicions that may haveunjustly accrued to him."
There was no wisdom in delaying longer.
"Since Monsieur puts it in that way," I said, "I can have no object inrefusing his request. I shall have to ask you, however, that you waita few minutes until I step aboard and warn Gustave and his wife of thepurpose of your visit, lest they be unnecessarily alarmed."
The chevalier showed that he liked not the last part of my speech. Heno doubt thought that my purpose in going aboard first was to find asecure hiding-place for the comtesse. However, he had no alternativebut to acquiesce. My real purpose was to warn Gustave and his wifethat on no account were they to betray at what hour or where Clotildehad come aboard. She was to have come aboard at Paris at four o'clockthe day before; and they, having no inkling of the true state of thecase, but suspecting, I believe, some intrigue between the "dark lady"and her lovers, sympathetically promised implicit obedience. WithClotilde I was even more strenuous. Her story must agree withGustave's: she had boarded the boat in Paris at four of the afternoon;but especially was she to know nothing of her mistress's plans--whyor where she had gone. With her I appealed to her love for hermistress, and warned her that the comtesse's liberty, possibly herlife, might depend upon her discretion. With the others a promise ofliberal rewards if they proved true, and dire threats should theybetray me, I believed secured their fidelity.
I had had Gustave tie the boat to the bank before boarding it myself;I now invited the chevalier and his friends to come aboard. Leavingtwo of their comrades to hold their horses, the three others climbeddown the bank and hastened to comply with my invitation. As they didso I saw Caesar dismount, tie his own horse and mine securely to twosaplings, and clamber up the bank beside the horsemen. I thought hismotive was probably to take advantage of this opportunity to stretchhis legs, and perhaps also to indulge his curiosity with a nearer viewof the French gentlemen, and I saw no reason to interfere--especiallyas the two gentlemen, young blades whom I knew by sight, not onlyoffered no objections, but began at once to amuse themselves with hisclownish manners and outlandish speech.
Of course the chevalier's quest was futile, as also was hisexamination of his three witnesses. They all stuck to their text,--theembarkation of Clotilde at four o'clock on the afternoon previous inParis,--and Clotilde was as stupid as heart could desire, professingabsolute ignorance of her mistress's plans, and knowing only that sheherself was being sent home to America because she was homesick; andwith a negress's love of gratuitous insult when she thinks she issafe in offering it, she added in her creole dialect:
"De Lord knows, I's sick o' white trash anyhow. I's mighty glad to be gittin' back to a country ob ladies and gen'lemen."
The chevalier's two companions laughed, but the chevalier lookedperplexed.
"Monsieur," he said, with an air of exaggerated deference, "I havediscovered nothing on your boat, either by search or by examination ofthe witnesses, that can implicate you in any way with the flight ofthe Comtesse de Baloit. But will you permit me to ask you oneimportant question? How does it happen that you are not riding Fatima,and that you are riding the horse which answers exactly to thedescription of the one the comtesse was riding when she disappeared?"and the chevalier could not quite keep the tone of triumph out of hisvoice as he propounded his question. I had been expecting it, and Iwas prepared for it. I should have been much disappointed if he hadnot asked it.
"Monsieur," I answered, "Fatima met with a serious accident just afterleaving Paris. I was obliged to leave her in the hands of a veterinarysurgeon on the outskirts of St. Denis, who has also a small farmconnected with his establishment for the care of sick horses. Hepromised me to take the best of care of her and to return her to me inAmerica as soon as she was sufficiently recovered. I bought this horsefrom a dealer to whom the surgeon directed me. I cannot say whether itresembles the horse on which the Comtesse de Baloit left Paris; I didnot see the comtesse when she left Paris."
Which was the only truth in my statement; but I did not for a momentconsider that I had told a lie, but only that I had employed a ruse,perfectly permissible in war, to throw the enemy off the track. Hesnatched at the bait.
"Will Monsieur give me the address of that horse-dealer?"
"With pleasure, as nearly as I am able," and thereupon I describedminutely a place in St. Denis that never existed. But St. Denis wasonly four miles this side of Paris, and should the chevalier go allthe way back to find out from the mythical horse-dealer where he hadprocured my horse, much valuable time would be lost and mademoisellewould, I hoped, be beyond all risk of being overtaken.
By one little artifice and another we had already managed to delaythem for a good three quarters of an hour, and now, by an apparentlyhappy accident, as long a delay again was promised. A great noise ofshouting and trampling of horses' hoofs arose on the bank above us.
We looked up and saw the five horses plunging frantically, with thetwo Frenchmen uttering excited cries as they tried to hold them, andCaesar doing his share in trying to hold the horses and more than hisshare in making a noise. As we looked, one of the horses broke awayand started up the road toward Paris. The two Frenchmen dashed wildlyin pursuit, each man leading a horse with him, and Caesar running onbehind gesticulating madly, and bellowing at the top of his lungs.
I had taken advantage of the excitement of the fracas to slip from thepost the rope that held us to the bank. We glided gently away down theriver, with no one (unless it might have been Gustave, but he saidnothing) noticing that we were moving until we were many yards belowour mooring-place. The anger of the chevalier and his friends whenthey discovered it knew no bounds. Gustave was full of apologies forhis carelessness, as he called it; I was dignified.
"Gustave," I said severely, "make a mooring as quickly as possible,that Monsieur le Chevalier and his friends may rejoin their horses."
Gustave made all haste apparently, but without doubt he fumbled, andwe were some two or three hundred yards farther down the river beforewe were finally tied to the bank.
"Good-by, Messieurs," I said politely as the three hastened to leapashore. "I trust you will have no difficulty in recovering yourhorses."
They stayed not upon the order of their going, as Mr. Shakspere says,but scrambled up the bank and on to the hot and stony road, and thesun, now well up in the sky, beating strongly on their backs, theystarted at a round pace toward Paris, their horses by this time out ofsight around a distant bend in the road.
Caesar had given up the pursuit and returned to where he had tied ourhorses. I signaled to him to bring them down the river, and mountinghis and leading mine, he was soon at our mooring-place.
Riding down the soft turf of the shady bridle-path a few minuteslater, I heard Caesar chuckling behind me. I turned in my saddle:
"What is it, Caesar?"
"I done it, Marsa!"
"Did what, Caesar?"
"Done mek dat hoss run away. I put a burr un'er his girth. Den when heplunged I cotched de bridle and let him loose. He, he, he! Hi, hi,hi!" and Caesar rolled in his saddle in convulsions of mirth, while theshore echoed to his guffaws.
I looked at him in astonishment for a moment. Then he had planned itall: tying the two horses, clambering up to the road, making himselfthe jest of the two Frenchmen, and all the time the burr concealed inhis hand, no doubt, waiting his chance.
"Caesar, you are a general!" I said. "Yorke could not have donebetter." And then, his mirth being contagious, I threw back my headand laughed as long and as loud as he.
I turned in my saddle once more and looked up the road. Through thehot sun plodded the three figures: the chevalier with bent head and, Idoubted not, with gnashing teeth. I waved my hand toward him andcalled, though he could neither see nor hear:
"Good-by, Chevalier Le Moyne; this cancels a few debts!"
I have never seen him since.
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