The Black Wolf's Breed

by Harris Dickson

  CHAPTER XV

  NEW HOPES

  Now, that I was well out of their way, it came to me to wonder what Ishould do with myself until Jerome might please to seek me again, butaccident favored me with occupation. Passing through the hall I hearda woman's shrill voice, lifted in anger, berating some unfortunateattendant.

  "You wretched hussy, to speak rudely to a guest of mine, who did butmake to you a pretty speech. I'd have you be most charming to MonsieurViard. Remember, you are only a hireling, and need give yourself nosuch fine and unseemly airs."

  The door just ahead of me was thrown violently open, and out strutted atiny lady in a most disproportionate rage. She was beautiful neitherin face nor figure; she was diminutive, and petulant of manner, butbore herself with an air of almost regal pride. It was she whom I cameto know as Madame du Maine, a daughter of the proud and princelyCondes. Following her, weeping bitterly, came the sweet maid who hadspilled the tray of flowers on me at the door. I stepped back into analcove, lest, perchance, she look behind, and aimlessly I straggled outinto the gardens as best I might. The Villa being a strange ground, itfretted me to be alone therein, with nothing to think of but thistrouble of my friends. And Madame de Chartrain, did I blame her?Blame Jerome? Yes--no. I hardly knew. Viewed at a distance andimpartially, such things strike us with aversion, and we are quick tocondemn. But the more I thought the nearer I came to concluding ittook something more than a mere mummery to make a wife. All theceremonials and benedictions and lighted candles and high-soundingphrases could not bind a woman's heart, where that heart was free, orcalled some other man its lord. Yet the bare fact remained, this womanwas a wife, and to me, at least, that name had always been a sacred andholy one.

  To what vain or wise conclusions my cogitations may have led me, Iconceive not, for another small matter now quite absorbed my wholeattention. It was the beginning of that one dear hope which speedilybanished all others. It is said the trippant tread of Fate doth leaveno print upon the sand to mark its passage, nor doth she sound a noteof warning that the waiting hand may grasp her garments as she flies.

  A gleam of white in one of the summer houses caught my roving eye, andquite aimlessly I passed the door. A chit of a child crouched upon thefloor, and leaned forward on the benches, weeping as though each sobwere like to burst her little heart. I grant it was no affair of mine,yet my tears were ever wont to start, and eyes play traitor to mine armat sight of woman's trouble. Without thinking one whit, I stepped inbeside her, and laying my hand gently upon the lassie's shoulder,implored that she weep no more.

  Up she sprang to face me, flushed and indignant. Verily was I abashed.Yet there was that of sympathy and sincerity in my voice and mien--orso she told me after--which turned her wrath aside.

  "You, Monsieur; I thought it was old Monsieur Viard, he pursues me so."

  It was the same little maid I had seen in the hall, and that was why Itrembled. She wept now for the scolding she had got. I caught mybreath to inquire why she wept.

  "Oh, Madame, Madame--it is the humor of Madame to humiliate me of late;she reminds me ever of my dependent position. And Monsieur," the childstraightened up proudly till she was quite a woman. "Monsieur, I comeof a race as old as her own--and as honored." "Charles is poor--theChevalier de la Mora, you know. But now he goes to the colonies, andwill take me with him."

  It was a silly enough thing to do, but about here I stalked mostunceremoniously off, leaving her to her sorrow and her tears. Sincethat day I have often smiled to think how foolishly do the wisest mendeport themselves when they first begin to love. Their little startsof passion, their petty angers and their sweet repentances--all wereunexplored by me, for Love to me was yet an unread book.

  At the door of the house M. Leroux hailed me graciously:

  "Well met, my dear Captain; we go to the park, and would have you bearus company. Where is M. de Greville?"

  I explained as best I might his absence, and followed them in lieu ofbetter employment, forgetting for the time the threatened fete. BeforeI could extricate myself, these new friends had led me into a brilliantcircle, and duly presented me to Madame, who sat on a sort of raisedplatform in the center.

  She showed no traces of her recent anger and spite, vented upon thatpatient girl who now claimed all my thought. Her ladies, somelanguishing literary notables of the day, and officers, stood aboutdiscussing the news, and talked of naught but some fetching style orpopular play, through all of which I struggled as bravely as my dazedcondition would permit. It seemed I would never grow accustomed to thelike, though it is said many men find great delight in such gatherings.But one thing I searched for most eagerly.

  Behind Madame's chair, after a little, appeared the sweet shy face ofmy weeping Niobe of the park. I felt she saw and recognized me, and myface grew warmer at the thought. I made bold to ask one of thegentlemen standing near me who the lady might be, and not desiring topoint at her, simply described her as well as possible, and as being inattendance upon Madame.

  "That, Monsieur, is Madame Agnes, wife of the Chevalier de la Mora; thewittiest and most beautiful woman at Sceaux, and the chilliest."

  Noting the change of countenance which I sought in vain to control, hewent on banteringly.

  "Beware M. le Capitaine, half the men at Sceaux are in love with her,but she has the execrable taste to prefer her own husband. Such womendestroy half the zest of living. Beside, the Chevalier has a marveloussword and a most unpleasant temper. Bah! how ludicrous it is for mento anger at trifles."

  "But," I faltered, "she seems a mere child."

  "Yes, but none the less charming," and he turned away to continue hisinterrupted conversation with the daring young Arouet, the same who wasto acquire universal fame under the name Voltaire.

  Thus rudely were my new-awakened hopes of love cast down. A wife, andthe wife of a friend! She had spoken to me of "Charles," and of goingwith him to the colonies. A wife, yet for all that, I knew I loved her.

  They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. My intentionswere the best that ever made excellent cobblestones toward the infernalgate. Only a few days and I would be gone; surely those could bepassed through in peace. She was a wife--I would never let her knowthat all my heart was hers. This I determined. But man is weak, andthe very atmosphere of France dried up the springs of every honestimpulse. Everywhere was scoffing, raillery and disbelief. Honor,friendship and virtue were regarded as the vain chimeras of a fool.Why should not I enjoy life while I might?

  Directly Madame Chartrain entered without intruding, and composedlytook her place among the ladies who made room for her near Madame.Nothing in her manner bore evidence of her recent conflict. It wasreally marvelous how the life these women led schooled them to astoicism any Choctaw brave daring the stake might envy. She nodded tome gaily, and I stopped to touch her hand.

  "Where is M. de Greville? Is he not to be with us this afternoon?"

  I looked her in the face, wondering, for could she not answer her ownquestion far better than I? She read my meaning, but her glance neverwavered.

  "Ah! There he is, among the gentlemen. I feared he found Sceaux toodull after Paris, and he had promised us a bit of his work. You knowhe composes famous verses to some fair and distant inamorata."

  "Indeed, Madame, I suspected not his talents," I replied. Ourconversation lagged, for the programme had already commenced, and wegave our attention to the reading of some curious letters, said to havebeen written by two Persians of distinction then traveling in Europe,which were being published anonymously in Paris. At first, I could notbring myself to listen to such twaddle, dubiously moral, which, underthe guise of light, small talk, struck at the foundations ofgovernment, religious beliefs, and all which I had before held sacred.Listening only to contradict, I grew interested in spite of myself, andonly at some allusion more than usually out of place, as it seemed tome, among so many ladies, did I take my eyes from the reader'scountenance, and su
ffer them to roam about the company.

  Feeling again the subtle influence of Agnes' gaze fixed full upon me,it caused my cheeks to flush, my knees to quake, and verily, my legswere as like to carry me away as to sustain me where I leaned against atree. The girl was looking straight at me; I dared not return herstare which had something more than mere curiosity in it, and disturbedme greatly.

  The reading was finished without my knowledge, a piece of buffoonery,or play acting gone through with, which I did not see, when my ownname, called by Madame, brought me to my proper good sense again.

  I found myself, before I was quite aware, bending before Madame andreceiving her command that I should do something for the amusement ofthe company.

  "M. Jerome has favored us, you know--we have no drones here," she wenton pleasantly, "and it is the rule at Sceaux that all must join ourmerriment."

  "Jerome?" I answered in a bewildered fashion, for I had no recollectionof seeing aught he did; then I remembered hearing him recite somelanguishing verses about a white rose, a kiss, a lady's lips--somesighs, and such other stuff that now escapes me--but I had paid noattention to it all.

  Jerome, the villain, seconded Madame's request so vigorously I couldnot decline, though he well knew I was no carpet knight capable ofentertaining ladies fair on the tourney field of wit.

  "The Captain sings divinely, Madame, but is becomingly modest, as yousee." The wretch laughed in his sleeve; I could have strangled him.

  "Ah, so rare," she retorted, "you men are vainer than my ladies."

  I knew myself the target for dozens of curious eyes, under the heat ofwhich I near melted away.

  "Sing, comrade, sing some sweet love ditty of a lonely forest maidenand her lover, robed in the innocence of Eden."

  Had the fool no sense? I caught the imploring expression of intereston the girl's sweet face behind Madame, and determined at all hazardsthey should not have the laugh at me. I saw it all then; they were inleague with Jerome to play a game of "bait the bear," with me for bear.

  So I pitched in and sang, such a song I warrant as my lords and ladieshad never bent their ears to hear before, a crooning death incantationof the Choctaws, which fell as naturally from my lips as my own mothertongue.

  Their laughter hushed, for even in the court of France, sated as it waswith novelties, laying a world under tribute for amusements, that wild,weird melody never rose before nor since. One stanza I sang translatedinto French that they might understand;

  "Yuh! Listen. Quickly you have drawn near to hearken; Listen! Now I have come to step over your soul; You are of the Wolf Clan; Your name is Ayuni; Toward the Black Coffin of the upland, in the upland of the Darkening Land your path shall stretch out. With the Black Coffin and the Black Slabs I have come to cover you. When darkness comes your spirit shall grow less and dwindle away never to reappear. Listen."

  And they did listen; yea, attentively did they hearken, for a greatpall of silence lowered upon them, so new, so strange to them was thesong.

  When I had quite finished, the soft, Indian words dropping as thesplash of unknown, unseen waters, Madame besought me with earnestnessto tell her more, and the others crowded round to hear. I do not knowwhat evil genius of folly prompted the childish deed, but feeling safein having found what we wanted, and moved more than I would admit bythe now admiring eyes of the girl, I gathered up half a dozen daggersfrom the gentlemen who stood about. Selecting those whose weight andbalance commended themselves most to my purpose, I cleared a smallspace, and having sent a serving man for a pack of cards, chose a fivespot and pinned it to a tree. Standing back some ten to fifteen paces,I cast the four knives at the corner pips in quick succession, piercingthem truly, then paused a minute and cast the fifth knife at thecenter, striking accurately between the other four. It was an act ofidle vanity, yet I hated for Jerome to taunt me on the way home.

  By these petty means I gained a cheap applause from the belles andgallants at Sceaux, and Jerome opened not his lips to jibe me, as Ifeared, but like the rest, applauded.

  I had now quite regained my courage, but for the girl. I loved tothink of her as but a girl; that she was also a wife I barred out ofour castle in Spain. Why should I be afraid of such a timid child?Verily, I knew not.

  My folly had one result I could not then foresee; it told some of thosepresent, whose hand it was had cast the hunting knife which struckYvard. I did not learn this for days after.

  The approving and pleased look on the little lady's face fired me withan insane desire to further win her notice, whereat I chided myself fora vain coxcomb, and drew imperceptibly away from the company, until Igained a shady and secluded walk which led to a retired nookoverlooking the valley.

  The quietude of the evening's close jarred on my turbulence of spirit.For the first time a woman's voice lingered in my ears after her speechwas done, a woman's smile played as the fitful summer's lightningbefore my eyes. Oh, fool, fool! What place had women in a soldier'slife. What a discordant harmony would one angel create amid the roughdenizens of Biloxi. So I reasoned, forgetful that reasons never yetconvinced the heart.