CHAPTER II
AN ECHO OF THE PAST
Immovable on its granite base, the great rock, or "Mount," as it hadbeen called for centuries, stood some distance from the shore in a vastbay on the northwestern coast of France. To the right, a sweep ofsward and marsh stretched seaward, until lost in the distance; to theleft, lay the dense Desaurac forest, from which an arm of land, thicklywooded, reached out in seeming endeavor to divide the large bay intotwo smaller basins. But the ocean, jealous of territory alreadyconquered, twice in twenty-four hours rose to beat heavily on this darkpromontory, and, in the angry hiss of the waters, was a reminder of apersistent purpose. Here and there, through the ages, had theshore-line of the bay, as well as the neighboring curvatures of thecoast, yielded to the assaults of the sea; the Mount alone, solidlyindifferent to blandishment or attack, maintained an unvarying aspect.
For centuries a monastery and fortress of the monks, at the time ofLouis XVI the Mount had become a stronghold of the government, stronglyruled by one of its most inexorable nobles. Since his appointment manyyears before to the post, my lord, the Governor of the rock, had everbeen regarded as a man who conceded nothing to the people and pursuedonly the set tenure of his way. During the long period of his reign hecommitted but one indiscretion; generally regarded as a man confirmedin apathy for the gentler sex, he suddenly, when already past middleage, wedded. Speculation concerning a step so unlooked for wasnaturally rife.
In hovel and hut was it whispered the bride Claire, only daughter ofthe Comtesse de la Mart, had wept at the altar, but that her mother hadappeared complacent, as well she might; for the Governor of the Mountand the surrounding country was both rich and powerful; his ships sweptfar and wide, even to the Orient, while the number of _metayers_, orpetty farmers that paid him tribute, constituted a large community.Other gossips, bending over peat fires within mud walls,affirmed--beneath their breath, lest the spies of the well-hated lordof the North might hear them!--that the more popular, thoughimpoverished Seigneur Desaurac had been the favored suitor with theyoung woman herself, but that the family of the bride had found himundesirable. The Desaurac fortune, once large, had so waned thatlittle remained save the rich, though heavily encumbered lands, and, inthe heart of the forest, a time-worn, crumbling castle.
Thus it came to pass the marriage of the lady to the Governor wascelebrated in the jeweled Gothic church crowning a medley of palaces,chapels and monastery on the Mount; that the rejected SeigneurDesaurac, gazing across the strip of water--for the tide was at itsfull--separating the rocky fortress from the land, shrugged hisshoulders angrily and contemptuously, and that not many moons later, asif to show disdain of position and title, took to his home an orphanedpeasant lass. That a simple church ceremony had preceded this step wasboth affirmed and denied; hearsay described a marriage at a neighboringvillage; more malicious gossip discredited it. A man of rank! A womanof the soil! Feudal custom forbade belief that the proper sort ofnuptial knot had been tied.
Be this as it may, for a time the sturdy, dark brown young womanpresided over the Seigneur's fortunes with exemplary care and patience.She found them in a chaotic condition; lands had either been allowed torun to waste, or were cultivated by peasants that so long had forgottento pay the _metayage_, or owner's due, they had come to regard theacres as their own--a delusion this practical helpmate would speedilyhave dispelled, save that the Seigneur himself pleaded for them andwould not permit of the "poor people" being disturbed. Whereupon shemade the best of an anomalous situation, and all concerned might havecontinued to live satisfactorily enough unto themselves, whenunfortunately an abrupt break occurred in the chain of circumstances.In presenting the Seigneur with a child, half-peasant, half-lord, themother gave up her own life for his posterity.
At first, thereafter, the Seigneur remained a recluse; when, however, ayear or two had gone by, the peasants--who had settled in greaternumbers thereabouts, even to the verge of the forest--noticed that hegradually emerged from his solitude, ventured into the world at large,and occasionally was seen in the vicinity of the Mount. Thispredilection for lonely walks clearly led to his undoing; one morninghe was found stabbed in the back, on the beach at the foot of the Mount.
Carried home, he related how he had been set upon by a band ofmiscreants, which later, coming to the Governor's ears, led to anattempt to locate the assailants among the rocky isles to thenorthwest, haunts of privateersmen, rogues and those reformers whoalready were beginning to undermine the peace of Louis XVI's northernprovinces. In the pursuit of these gentry, the Governor showed himselfin earnest. Perhaps his own sorrow at the rather sudden death of hislady, occurring about this time, and leaving him, a morose widower,with a child, a little girl, led him to more relentless activities;perhaps the character of the crime--a noble stabbed!--incensed him.
Certainly he revenged himself to the full; not only raked the rocks forrunagates, but dragged peasants, inclined to sullenness, from theirhuts; clapped some in dungeons and hanged the rest. In the popularmind his name became synonymous with cruelty, but, on his high throne,he continued to exercise his autocratic prerogative and cared not whatthe people thought.
Meanwhile, the Seigneur Desaurac, recovering, became a prey to greaterrestlessness; no sooner was he able to get about, than, accompanied bya faithful servant, Sanchez, he left the neighborhood, and, for anumber of years, led a migratory existence in continental capitals.The revolt of the colonies in America and the news of the contemplateddeparture of the brave Lafayette for the seat of hostilities, offered,at least, a pretext to break the fetters of a purposeless life. Atonce, he placed his sword at Lafayette's disposal, and packed himselfand servitor--a fellow of dog-like fidelity--across the ocean. There,at the seat of war's alarms, in the great conflict waged in the name ofliberty, he met a soldier's end, far from the fief of his ancestors.Sanchez, the man, buried him, and, having dutifully performed this lasttask, walked away from the grave and out of the army.
During this while, the son by the peasant woman, intrusted to an oldfishwife who had been allowed to usurp a patch of his father's lands,received scanty care and attention, even when the stipulated fees forhis maintenance had continued to come; but when, at the Seigneur'sdeath, they ceased, any slight solicitude on the caretaker's partsoured to acrimony. An offspring of dubious parentage, she begrudgedhim his bread; kept him from her own precious brood, and taught them toaddress him as "brat," "pauper," or by terms even more forcible. Thusset upon, frequently he fought; but like young wolves, hunting inpacks, they worried him to the earth, and, when he continued tostruggle, beat him to unconsciousness, if not submission.
One day, after such an experience at the hands of those who hadpartaken of the Seigneur's liberality, the boy, all bruised and aching,fled to the woods, and, with the instinct of an animal to hide, buriedhimself in its deepest recesses. Night came; encompassed by strangesounds, unknown terrors, he crept to the verge of the forest, and lyingthere, looked out across the distance toward the scattered habitations,visible through the gloom. One tiny yellow dot of light which helocated held his glance. Should he return? That small stone hut,squalid as it was, had been his only remembered home. But the thoughtof the reception that awaited him there made him hesitate; the starscoming out, seemed to lend courage to his resolution, and, with hisface yet turned toward the low long strip of land, sprinkled with thefaint, receding points of light, he fell asleep.
The earliest shafts of morn, however, awaking him, sent him quicklyback into the dark forest, where all day he kept to the most shadowyscreens and covers, fearing he should be followed, and, perhaps,captured. But the second night was like the first, the next like thesecond, and the days continued to pass with no signs of pursuit.Pinched by hunger, certain of the berries and roots he ate poisonedhim, until in time he profited by his sufferings and learned todiscriminate in his choice of the frugal fare about him. Not that hisappetite was ever satisfied, even when he extended his explorations tothe beach at night, digging i
n the sand with his fingers for cockles,or prowling about the rocks for mussels.
Yet, despite all, he hugged to his breast a compensating sense ofliberty; the biting tooth of autumn was preferable to the stripes andtongue-lashings of the old life; and, if now frugal repasts were therule, hunger had often been his lot in the past. So he assimilatedwith his surroundings; learned not to fear the animals, and they, toknow him; indeed, they seemed to recognize him by that sharp unsatedglint of the eye as one of their kind. When the days grew bleaker andthe nights colder, he took refuge in a corner within the gray walls ofthe moss-grown castle of his ancestors, the old Seigneurs. No cheerfulplace, above all at night, when the spirits of the dead seem to walkabroad, and sobs, moans, and fierce voices fill the air! Then,creeping closer to the fire he had started in the giant hearth,wide-eyed he would listen, only at length through sheer weariness tofall asleep. Nevertheless, it was a shelter, and here, throughout thewinter, the boy remained.
Here, too, Sanchez, the Seigneur's old servant, returning months laterfrom long wanderings to the vicinity of the Mount--for no especialreason, save the desire once more to see the place--had found him. Andat the sight the man frowned.
In the later days, the Seigneur Desaurac had become somewhat unmindful,if not forgetful, of his own flesh and blood. It may be that theabsorbing character of the large and chivalrous motives that animatedhim left little disposition or leisure for private concerns; at anyrate, he seemed seldom to have thought, much less spoken of, that"hostage of fortune" he had left behind; an absent-mindedness that inno wise surprised the servant--which, indeed, met the man's full,unspoken approval! The Seigneur, his master, was a nobleman ofuntarnished ancestry, to be followed and served; the son--Sanchez hadnever forgiven the mother her low-born extraction. He was, himself, apeasant!
The Lady of the Mount Page 2