The Black Wolf's Breed

by Harris Dickson

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE GIRL OF THE WINE SHOP

  Youth and health do not long lie idle. Even while I lay recovering myhealth, Jerome and I were busy with our plans. Not the leastunforeseen item in what had befallen, was the chance that carried meinto a house where I saw again the "black wolf's head," which broughtonce more to mind the history of the d'Artins. But there was still tocome that other happening, the one which bound my whole life, heart andsoul, my love and happiness forever, in with the fortunes of that blackwolf's breed.

  As I grew stronger Jerome and I had a long talk. He told me themorning after I left him, which was Thursday, a veiled woman hadbrought him a pair of gauntlets, with the request that he preserve themcarefully. Jerome naturally wanted to know who had sent such apresent. The woman answered no questions, only impressed upon him theimportance of keeping them himself and letting no one have them. Shewould not tell whence she came, and when she departed Jerome made asign to Claude, who followed. He returned and reported she had enteredthe apartments of Mademoiselle de Chartres by a private way.

  Verily this was coming close to the King, and to Orleans; thesegauntlets coming from the house of this haughty Bourbon Princess. Oneof the gauntlets, of course, contained the papers taken from Yvard, thesame I had confided to Mademoiselle la Princesse. I smiled mysatisfaction that she had been so discreet.

  The other packet Jerome found upon me when I was disrobed for bed.

  It was many days before Jerome asked me for any details of myimprisonment, or how it came about there was a dead man in the roomwith me. I related the whole circumstance briefly as possible, whoBroussard was, and all, to avoid further questioning. For I hated todwell upon the occurrences of that night, yet ever returned to themwith a sort of secret fascination.

  "You choked him well, comrade," was Jerome's only comment, regardingthe affair, yet I fancied I saw him shiver somewhat at the ghastlyrecollection of Broussard. The matter being thus dismissed, we neverspoke of it again.

  Our fire burned warm, filling the room with a home-like glow, so withgood wine and clear consciences Jerome and I drank and talked andstretched the lazy evening through.

  "There is just one other thing we can do, Placide, to put the finishingtouch upon our success."

  I turned an interrogative glance toward the speaker.

  "That is to find out, if possible, who is back of this scheming. Thatfellow Yvard, dare-devil though he is, has not brain enough to concoctsuch a plan, even if he had courage and energy to fight it through.Depend upon it, some powerful person is behind Yvard. Most likelyMadame du Maine. What say you to an adventure?"

  My blood was in the humor for sport, the wine heated me somewhat, andrecking not of consequences I caught at his idea.

  "Willingly, comrade, but what?"

  "Let us to Sceaux, to Madame's court, and see what we may discover, fortwo fools like ourselves might perchance stumble blindly upon what awise man would overlook," he continued with mock humility.

  "Yes, and two fools like ourselves might perchance get themselveshanged for what a wise man would keep his skirts clear of. There's aperil in meddling with the affairs of the great."

  "Seriously, now. I have means and ways of learning things in Madame'sfamily. My head has been fast set on this matter for some time. Ifyou agree to take the risk with me, you should know how we are to act.Now mind you," he pursued, rising and stretching his back to the fire,facing me, "mind you, I tell you all I want you to know, and you mustpromise me to make no inquiries on your own account."

  By this time I had grown accustomed to trust de Greville, so I simplyassented.

  "A lady you know--it might get me into trouble," he further explained;with that I made myself content.

  Jerome averted his face as if he would first frame his speech carefullybefore he gave it me. Here Serigny's final remark about making friendsof the ladies recurred to me, and I wondered what this fair unknown hadto do with such a rough game as we played. Before the hand was out,though, I understood how truly it had been said that women's wits nowswayed the destinies of France. Since this day, too, our country hassuffered much through women, when under the next, and more pliantLouis, they ruled with even a scantier pretense at concealment or ofdecency. Jerome spoke slow and guardedly, when he turned to me again.He began in a tone subdued by the intensity of his feelings--which, asI soon learned, were quite natural.

  "I was a mere lad; I had a sweetheart whose family lived near our ownin the vicinity of a certain small provincial town, it matters notwhere. She, much younger than I, shared all my childish games. It wasthe will of God that we should love. My family was rich, is rich; bothwere noble. I had two older brothers who stood between me and a titleor wealth. Her parents were ambitious for her future; I was put aside.They sent her away, away from me, and married her here in Paris to aman she had never seen. A simple marriage of convenience, as we sayhere. Her heart was numb and dead; it made no rebellion. I went tothe army; gained nothing but my rank. My brothers died, and I beingthe next heir can live as it pleases me. Here I am in Paris; she is atSceaux, two leagues away. I love her yet, and, God forgive her, sheloves me. Her old husband who is attached to the Duc du Maine caresnothing for her. She amuses herself half in idleness with theintrigues of the court. Nay do not look so black, Placide, for eventhis can be innocent enough. There is much excuse for her, too, myfriend. A woman must needs have love to feed upon. They can never,like ourselves, fill their hearts entirely with ambition, with glory orwith adventure. Men may make of their lives a cloister or a camp andbe content; but women, whatever else of gaud and glitter they may have,yet require love and tenderness and gentle sympathy beside. Happy isshe who receives all these from her husband; and that husband treadsdangerous ground who denies it to her. I see your wonder at hearingthis from me; but I have thought constantly upon such things. Peste!this touches not our business; let us go on. Through this lady'shusband, and by another source of information, I hope to find the truthconcerning Yvard. Do you follow me?"

  "Yes, but how?" I put in. "When I run my neck into a halter, I want toknow whose hands are playing with the cord."

  "Never fear for her. Madame--that is, the lady--has a firm hold uponthe Duc du Maine himself, in fact she is quite indispensable to him.Don't ask me for more. Once let the Duc be made Regent, and myold-time sweetheart of those innocent days in Anjou will be the mostpowerful woman in France. But with all that, Placide," and the man'squivering voice went straight to the very tenderest core of my heartfor the depths of bitterness it contained, "in spite of it all she'drather be back in the country breathing the pure and peaceful air, aguiltless and happy girl, than to live as she does, and rule the land.God knows I wish we had never seen Paris."

  I held my tongue; there was nothing I could say. He felt his troublekeenly enough, and I refrained from molding my undesired sympathy intowords. Directly, Jerome took heart and spoke again:

  "Those are the conditions, I merely make the best of them. There isstill another friend of mine at Sceaux, the Chevalier Charles de laMora, a most gallant soldier and kindly gentleman. Verily, they arescarce now in France. He has fallen into misfortunes of late and isabout to take some command in the colonies. I love him much, and amsorely tempted to cast my lot with his. But, you understand why Istay," and he lifted up his hands with a gesture of perfecthelplessness.

  "His wife, Madame Agnes--almost a girl--is one of the most beautifuland clever women in France, and who, by way of novelty, loves her ownhusband. Women are queer sometimes, are they not? To-morrow we go toSceaux; it will at least be an experience to you, even should nothinggood come of it. Do you agree?"

  My curiosity was thoroughly aroused, and scenting sport of a rarecharacter I agreed to join the chase. It was judged best that weshould make all things ready for an immediate journey to Versaillesupon our return from Sceaux.

  Before we slept, my few serviceables were put in position for instantdeparture.
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  When I arose in the morning Jerome had already left his bed. Isupposed it was out of consideration for what he was still pleased toconsider my weak condition that he refrained from waking me. Claudecame tripping in later with the message that M. de Greville had gone tomake some last arrangements for our journey. I slept so restfullythrough the night my fatigue and all unpleasant reminders of theepisode at Bertrand's had quite worn away, and I felt refreshed andstrong again. When Florine came to inquire for my health she found mebusied about the packing. I greeted her kindly, for in truth mygratitude was deep and sincere.

  "Monsieur is preparing to leave?" she asked as if more than afraid of areply. I could see she had some purpose in the question.

  "Yes, I leave Paris to-day."

  "To-day?" she echoed.

  "Yes, but I would return and find you again; I could not depart fromFrance without finding and thanking you for all your kindness. Intruth I am glad you came, for----." I tried to say more, but the wordsleft my lips sounding so cold and meaningless the sentence died awayincomplete.

  Florine stood there, vaguely watching me as though she did notunderstand.

  "Leave France?" she repeated, her tone expressing the hope she had notheard aright.

  I had already said much more than I intended, for I was not fully awareof Jerome's intentions, and desired to say nothing which would revealthem.

  "Leave France?" she urged again, "Monsieur--" she halted for the wordquite naturally.

  "De Mouret," I supplied, and for the first time she knew my name;surely it was little enough to trust one with who had given me my life.

  "Monsieur de Mouret is to leave France?"

  "Yes," I answered her truly, "but not to-day, possibly not for severaldays. I would not go away without seeing you again."

  I felt my tone become warmer as I thought of all this girl had riskedfor me, and so blundered on uncertainly. What was I to do? What couldI offer her in repayment? Not gold; she had refused that with the airof a grande marquise the night she first helped me from Bertrand's.

  Heartily wishing for some of Jerome's finesse and tact, I gazed at her,stupid and silent, watching the tears gather in her eyes. I could onlyguess the thought which was passing in her mind, and even there Iwronged her.

  "Oh, Monsieur!" she spoke as from the fullness of her heart, while hervoice trembled with excess of emotion, "Monsieur is going back into thegreat world; Monsieur has honor and fair fame; I must return to thewine shop."

  The poor girl must have been wearied out with her watchings by my bed,for she burst into such an uncontrollable weeping as I fain would haveprevented. I did my rough best at comfort, but had to let her sorrowrun its course.

  "Oh, Monsieur, think of it! I must go back to that dreadful wine shop,to the gaming tables; must continue to draw men there to be despoiledof their money, perhaps of their lives; must laugh and be gay, thoughmy heart break at its own debasement. There have been many, ah, somany, I have lured to that place; and it came so near to costing youyour life--you who were so kind to Florine."

  She had sunk to the floor, and catching my hand poured out all thebitterness of her heart.

  "Yet, Monsieur, what can Florine do? There is no way for a weak womanto do anything in this wretched Paris. If I do not bring players tothe house my aunt beats me. See," she drew up her sleeve, and exposedthe welts of cruel cuts across the bare white flesh. "She denies mefood in my garret. So I must work, be merry and work--and weep all theday for the misery of the nights." My heart went out to the girl withall sympathy, but, every whit as helpless as she, I only wondered whatcould be done.

  "Monsieur, it was not of my choosing, believe me, believe me, it reallywas not. My father thought his sister so well off in this fine Paris,when she offered to bring me up as her own child, and sent us presents,he made me come with her. We were so poor, so cruelly poor. My mothercould not come for me, and now how can I go back? I dare not let herknow how I am treated. It would break her heart, and she is so old andtottering. If I seek other employment no one will take me, no onewould give me a character for service. All the world is open to you.You go where you please, do what pleases you. All the world is shut toFlorine. And you, Monsieur, my only friend, I hoped when you were wellagain, such a rich gentleman could find me a place among his friends;find me some quiet place where I might live and be of use, not bringingevil to all I touch. What an evil life, what a wicked life I lead.Oh, Monsieur, save me from it; save me! The horrible man you defendedme from that night pursues me everywhere; my aunt is jealous because ofhim. She hates me now and would like to drive me out upon thestreets--ugh! the terror of it. But her husband won't let her; he iskinder than she. See, I am pretty, I bring custom. She can not tellher husband why she hates me. No, no. Bertrand would kill her. And Idare not tell him. They would kill me--"

  Her speech rambled on now, disconnected and incoherent. Still bycatching sentences here and there the whole pitiful story was clear tome. My eyes would always overflow at sight of woman's suffering, mythroat choked up; I could speak no word to her. Of a truth what ahorrible life it must be; what iron webs do sin and circumstance weaveround their victim. The cowering girl sobbed convulsively on the floorat my feet. I laid my hand tenderly upon her head.

  "Florine, I have but two friends myself in all this land of France.You have served one of these faithfully in helping me. I will commendyou to him, and am sure he will reward you well."

  "Monsieur, I seek no reward; I served you not for money."

  She shamed me, though I persisted.

  "Not a reward, Florine, but surely you can let him send you back toyour mother. Here is money; his money, not mine; he is rich, I ampoor. He can pay you for valuable service, I can only give you myundying gratitude."

  I bent down and kissed her pale forehead, whereat she wept afresh.

  "Claude's wife will keep you here safe until we come again. Then wewill find means to protect and provide for you."

  I bade her rise now and calm herself, for a bustle in the streetannounced the noisy arrival of several horsemen. A few moments, andJerome's voice called me from below to make all ready.

  I called Claude's wife up and delivered the girl to her keeping, thenturned to look out into the street. There were now drawn up in frontof the door four sturdy equerries, well mounted, and leading twoexcellent nags, which I took to be those Jerome had provided for ourown use.

  Jerome obliged me once more to dress with exceeding care, but I frettedmuch for my own easy garments which permitted a man to use his limbswith the freedom God had given them. Verily there would be no regretwhen all this frippery could be cast aside, and by my faith, it wasmuch simpler to lay it off than to array one's self in. I never didlearn all the eccentricities of that remarkable rig my fashionablefriend had adorned me with.

  "Had we better not strap on our pistols?" I asked, not knowing what hepurposed.

  "No; gentlemen do not wear them. Beside, at Sceaux one sharpens one'swits, and lets even his good blade dull and rust."

  We mustered six stout swords as we clattered away from the AustrianArms, and I could not but note, despite what Jerome had said, he tookgood care to provide trusty fellows and swift horses.

  "A lean hound for a long race," Jerome laughingly remarked, noticing myinspection of the not over-fed nag I bestrode.

  We took that road leading past the heights of Villejuif, which inhardly more than an hour's brisk ride brought us to the park of Sceaux,overlooking the beautiful Fontenay valley of which I was destined tolearn much. During this ride I had leisure to speak with de Grevilleof Florine, for the girl's story had roused a real desire in my heartto see her bettered.

  "There are thousands such in Paris," he replied, shrugging hisshoulders unconcernedly. "The few tell you truth, the many lie to you.You know not when to believe them. If you like, though, I will seewhat may be done. At least she may be placed in la Saltpeterie w
hereno present harm can reach her, to earn a living. It is not a pleasantlife, and no wonder young and pretty girls prefer the gay world to theseclusion and labor of Saltpeterie. Yet we will try."

  He treated the matter lightly, as a thing of common occurrence, yet wasJerome tender-hearted. Men who live in great cities become so hardenedto the vice and crime about them that they no longer feel keenly, as weprovincials do, the appeal of misery.

  I might say here that Florine was one of the next ship-load of girlswho were sent to the colonies. There she found a very worthy youngplanter who took her to wife, and after the manner of the mistreatedgirl in the fairy tales you children used to read, "lived happily everafterward." She became, from all accounts, a good wife and devotedmother; her children yet live in Louisiana, happy and prosperous.