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Les Quarante-cinq. English

Page 68

by Alexandre Dumas


  CHAPTER LXVII.

  EXPLANATION.

  The danger that Remy braved was a real one, for the traveler, afterhaving passed the village and gone on for a quarter of a league, andseeing no one before him, made up his mind that those whom he sought hadremained behind in the village. He would not retrace his steps, but laydown in a field of clover; having made his horse descend into one ofthose deep ditches which in Flanders serve as divisions between theproperties, he was therefore able to see without being seen. This youngman, as Remy knew, and Diana suspected, was Henri du Bouchage, whom astrange fatality threw once more into the presence of the woman he haddetermined to fly. After his conversation with Remy, on the threshold ofthe mysterious house, that is to say, after the loss of all his hopes,he had returned to the Hotel Joyeuse, quite decided to put an end to alife which he felt to be so miserable, and as a gentleman, and one whohad his name to keep untarnished, he decided on the glorious suicide ofthe field of battle.

  Therefore, as they were fighting in Flanders, and his brother had acommand there, Henri, on the following day, left his hotel twenty hoursafter the departure of Diana and Remy.

  Letters from Flanders announced the intended coup de main on Antwerp,and Henri hoped to arrive in time for it. He pleased himself with theidea that he should die sword in hand, in his brother's arms, under aFrench flag, and that his death would be talked about until the soundeven reached the solitude in which the mysterious lady lived. Noblefollies! glorious, yet sad dreams!

  Just as--full of these thoughts--he came in sight of Valenciennes, fromwhose church tower eight o'clock was sounding, he perceived that theywere about to close the gates. He pushed on, and nearly overturned, onthe drawbridge, a man who was fastening the girths of his horse. Henristopped to make excuses to the man, who turned at the sound of hisvoice, and then quickly turned away again. Henri started, butimmediately thought, "I must be mad; Remy here, whom I left four daysago in the Rue de Bussy; here now, without his mistress. Really, griefmust be turning my brain and making me see everything in the form of myown fancies." And he continued his way, convinced that his idea had beenpure fancy. At the first hotel that he came to he stopped, gave hishorse to a servant, and sat down on a bench before the door, while theyprepared his bed and supper. But as he sat there he saw two travelersapproaching, and this time he saw more clearly.

  "Now," murmured he, "I do not dream, and still I think I see Remy. Icannot remain in this uncertainty; I must clear up my doubts."

  He got up and ran down the road after them, but they had disappeared.Then he went to all the hotels and questioned the servants, and aftermuch search discovered that two cavaliers had been seen going toward asmall inn in the Rue de Beffroi. The landlord was just shutting thedoors when Henri entered. While the man offered him rooms andrefreshment, he looked round, and saw on the top of the staircase Remygoing up, lighted by a servant; of his companion he saw nothing. DuBouchage had no longer any doubts, and he asked himself, with a dreadfulsinking of the heart, why Remy had left his mistress and was travelingwithout her; for Henri had been so occupied in identifying Remy, that hehad scarcely looked at his companion. The next morning when he rose, hewas much surprised to learn that the two travelers had obtained from thegovernor permission to go out; and that, contrary to all custom, thegates had been opened for them. Thus, as they had set out at oneo'clock, they had six hours' start of him. Henri put his horse to thegallop and passed the travelers at Mons. He saw Remy; but Remy must havebeen a sorcerer to know him, for he had on a soldier's great coat androde another horse. Nevertheless, Remy's companion, at a word from him,turned away his head before Henri could see his face. But the young mandid not lose courage; he watched them to their hotel, and thenquestioning, with the aid of an irresistible auxiliary, learned thatRemy's companion was a very handsome, but very silent and sad lookingyoung man. Henri trembled. "Can it be a woman?" asked he.

  "It is possible," replied the host: "many women travel thus disguisedjust now, to go and rejoin their lovers in Flanders; but it is ourbusiness to see nothing, and we never do."

  Henri felt heart-broken at this explanation. Was Remy, indeed,accompanying his mistress dressed as a cavalier; and was she, as thehost suggested, going to rejoin her lover in Flanders? Had Remy liedwhen he spoke of an eternal regret? was this fable of a past love, whichhad clothed his mistress forever in mourning, only his invention to getrid of an importunate watcher?

  "If it be so," cried Henri, "the time will come when I shall havecourage to address this woman and reproach her with all the subterfugeswhich lower her whom I had placed so high above all ordinary mortals;and seeing nearer this brilliant envelope of a common mind, perhaps Ishall fall of myself from the height of my illusions and my love."

  And the young man tore his hair in despair at the thought of losing thelove which was killing him; for a dead heart is better than an emptyone. So he continued to follow them, and to wonder at the cause whichtook to Flanders, at the same time as himself, these two beings soindispensable to his existence.

  At Brussels he gathered information as to the Duc d'Anjou's intendedcampaign. The Flemings were too hostile to the duke to receive well aFrenchman of distinction, and were too proud of their position torefrain from humiliating a little this gentleman who came from Franceand questioned them in a pure Parisian accent, which always seemedridiculous to the Belgians. Henri began to conceive serious fears withreference to this expedition, in which his brother was to bear soprominent a part, and he resolved in consequence to push on rapidly toAntwerp. It was a constant surprise to him to see Remy and hiscompanion, in spite of their desire not to be seen, continue to followthe same road as himself.

  Henri, now hidden in the clover field, felt certain of seeing the faceof the young man who accompanied Remy, and thus putting an end to allhis doubts. As they passed, unsuspicious of his vicinity, Diana wasoccupied in braiding up her hair, which she had not dared to untie atthe inn.

  Henri recognized her, and nearly fainted. The travelers passed on, andthen anger took, in Henri's mind, the place of the goodness and patiencehe had exercised, while he believed Remy and the lady sincere towardhim. But after the protestations of Remy, this journey seemed to him aspecies of treason.

  When he had recovered a little from the blow, he rose, shook back hisbeautiful light hair, and mounted his horse, determined no longer totake those precautions that respect had made him hitherto observe, andhe began to follow the travelers openly, and with his face uncovered. Nomore cloak nor hood, no more stops and hesitation; the road belonged tohim as to them, and he rode on, regulating the pace of his horse by thatof theirs. He did not mean to speak to them, but only to let them seehim. Remy soon perceived him, and, seeing him thus openly advancewithout any further attempt at concealment, grew troubled; Diana noticedit and turned also.

  "Is it not that young man following us?"

  Remy, still trying to reassure her, said, "I do not think so, madame. Aswell as I can judge by the dress, it is some young Walloon soldier goingprobably to Amsterdam, and passing by the theater of war to seekadventures."

  "I feel uneasy about him, Remy."

  "Reassure yourself, madame, had he been really the Comte du Bouchage, hewould have spoken to us; you know how persevering he was."

  "I know also that he was respectful, Remy, or I should never havetroubled myself about him, but simply told you to get rid of him."

  "Well, madame, if he be so respectful, you would have no more to fearfrom him on this road than in the Rue de Bussy."

  "Nevertheless, Remy, let us change our horses here at Mechlin, in orderto get on faster to Antwerp."

  "On the contrary, madame, I should say, do not let us enter Mechlin atall; our horses are good, let us push on to that little village whichis, I think, called Villebrock; in that manner we shall avoid the town,with its questioners and curious gazers."

  "Go on, then, Remy."

  They turned to the left, taking a road hardly made, but which visiblyled to Villebrock; Henri also q
uitted the road, and turned down thelane, still keeping his distance from them.

  Remy's disquietude showed itself in his constantly turning to lookbehind him. At last they arrived at Villebrock. Of 200 houses which thisvillage contained, not one was inhabited; some forgotten dogs and lostcats ran wildly about the solitude, the former calling for their mastersby long howls. Remy knocked at twenty doors, but found no one. Henri onhis side, who seemed the shadow of the travelers, knocked at the firsthouse as uselessly as they had done, then, divining that the war was thecause of this desertion, waited to continue his journey until thetravelers should have decided what to do.

  They fed their horses with some corn which they found in an inn, andthen Remy said--

  "Madame, we are no longer in a friendly country, nor in an ordinarysituation; we must not expose ourselves uselessly. We shall certainlyfall in with some French, Spanish, or Flemish band, for in the presentstate of Flanders, adventures of all kinds must be rife. If you were aman I should speak differently; but you are a young and beautiful woman,and would run a double risk for life and honor."

  "My life is nothing," said she.

  "On the contrary, madame, it is everything. You live for a purpose."

  "Well, then, what do you propose? Think and act for me, Remy."

  "Then, madame, let us remain here. I see many houses which would affordus a sure shelter. I have arms, and we will defend or hide ourselves,as we shall be strong or weak."

  "No, Remy, no, I must go on; nothing must stop me; and if I had fears,they would be for you."

  "We will go on then."

  They rode on, therefore, without another word, and Henri du Bouchagefollowed.

 

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