CHAPTER XXXIV
THE TALE OF THE PRIEST
With all possible tenderness we bore the slender form of the helplesspriest along the dark, crooked passage, until we found a comfortableresting-place for him against the altar.
"I thank you much, Messieurs," he said simply, the depth of hisgratitude apparent in uplifted dark eyes, glistening in the light ofthe fire. "Members of our Order are more accustomed to blows thankindness, so I have no words with which to express thanks for yourcare."
"Think nothing of it," I returned hastily, and then, observing how thePuritan drew back from beside him, added, "Master Cairnes, you mightbusy yourself hunting more food--it will be exactly in your line--whileI attempt to bathe the limbs of the priest, and see what little may bedone toward alleviating his pain."
The mere thought of eating was sufficient to put the Puritan in goodhumor, and he was soon diligently scouring nooks and corners with scentfor provender as keen as that of a pointer dog. I noticed withcuriosity how the motionless Jesuit followed the movements of hishulking figure as he passed back and forth amid the shadows, his darkeyes filled with wonder and aversion.
"'Tis truly a strange thing, Monsieur," the latter remarked soberly,"to meet with one pretending love for Christ, yet who hateth MotherChurch, and dares make open mock of Her most holy offices. Thou didstname thy comrade Puritan?"
"Ay, of the same breed as the Huguenots of your country, rebels againstthe Pope."
He made the sign of the Cross.
"The curse of Holy Church is upon them all; they are condemned tohell," he exclaimed with fervor. "A vile pestilence to be stamped out;yet it would afford me joy beyond words could I save this man's soulfrom eternal torture, and lead him back into the true faith. Mother ofGod! what was it moved yonder?"
I glanced quickly about toward where he pointed, seeing the shadowedfigure of our forgotten prisoner.
"'Tis only one of the savages we have captured and bound. He guardedthis altar, ministering to the superstition of the tribe; an old man,perchance the very chief priest who held you in the flame."
I anticipated seeing the light of revenge leap into his eyes, but,instead, a rush of pity softened them, and before I could extend myhand to interfere, he crept across the intervening space, and bent overthe fellow.
"A most cruel turn on the rope, Monsieur," he exclaimed, busyinghimself at the knot. "Surely the man will rest easier, and no lesssafely, with back propped against the rock. Nay, have no fear; I willkeep him tied fast if that be your wish, yet I seek to relieve his painso I may profitably converse with him upon the needs of his soul."
"With him! Saint George! he had small enough mercy on you."
"That is of the past, and abideth not in memory," and the white handsheld up the crucifix into the light. "He who died on this Crossprayed, 'Father forgive, they know not what they do,' and who is AndreLafossier, to be harsher than his Master?"
Not until after he had prayed long and earnestly, holding the silvercross ever before the wicked eyes of the unrepentant savage, did hepermit me to bathe his disfigured limbs, dressing them as best I couldwith what rude materials I found at hand. Even while I worked heseemingly thought nothing of himself, but, oblivious to pain, his facewas ever turned to the prisoner, his lips moving in petition for hissoul. I caught but scattered sentences.
"Oh, Christ, this one--unworthy, yet I beseech Thee--Be merciful, OVirgin--out of the wilderness ariseth the voice of Thy servant--purgethe soul of all past iniquity--yield me this one brand plucked from theburning--Thine be the glory forever--let my life be given for thissoul--this one precious reward for my ministry."
A little later the three of us partook, although largely in silence, ofthe sustaining food which Cairnes furnished in abundance. Throughoutthe meal I felt it necessary to be ever watchful to prevent the twozealots, who were now my comrades, from clashing. Again and again thepriest sought to lead the sectary to his way of thinking, but the grayface only hardened ominously, his bull voice denouncing bitterly allRomish deeds.
"Come, be at peace, you two," I commanded at last, thoroughly tired andangry. "Hold your tongues over those questions, at least while I amwith you. Odds! I care nothing as to your Catholic or Protestant,your popes or preachers. Be done, and bear yourselves like men. Iwill no longer have you vexing the air with controversy while our verylives are hanging by a thread. There are other things to talk aboutjust now. So, Cairnes, if you cannot bide quietly in our company, thenstay here alone while I take the Jesuit out into the sunlight, where wecan hold sensible counsel together."
Leaving the fellow growling to himself over the remnants of the meal, Ibore the priest along the short passage, until we discovered a secure,comfortable resting-place outside, where our eyes could sweep the fullextent of the wide valley. It was a quietly beautiful scene at thishour, the glow of the sun over all. We could distinguish gangs ofslaves toiling in the fields, and a group of warriors, their spearsglistening, clustered together before the gloomy altar-house. Yet myeyes barely rested upon either scene, for there, close beside the opendoor of the Queen's dwelling, my glance, sharpened by love, perceivedthe movements of a woman's apparel, and from the faint color of it,distinguishable, even at that distance in the sun glare, I knew Ilooked once more upon Eloise. It would be difficult to express inprosaic English with what intense relief I realized, through theevidence of my own eyes, her continued safety. It seemed years alreadysince our last parting, when she had chosen to remain prisoner in thosesavage hands. Father of all! how I loved her then; how I yearned tohave word with her, to read again the silent message of her pure eyes.
The priest was gazing silently far away up the valley. Busied with myown thoughts, forgetting him utterly, I kept my eyes eagerly, hungrilyupon that single, far-off figure, until, finally, I saw her arise anddisappear within the open door. I growled forth a bitter curse,observing the cause for retreat--a man and a woman slowly climbing themound together. There was no doubt in my mind as to the identity ofthe Queen and De Noyan. Faith! but it would have pleased me then toput hand upon the false coxcomb and choke him back to decency and duty.The look of it was in my face, no doubt, as I stared down upon them inhelplessness, for the Jesuit rested his fingers gently upon my arm, asthough he would restrain my passion.
"There seemeth something below which angers you, my friend," he saidsoftly. "'Tis a battle-light flaming in your eyes."
"'Tis the shame of it all which crazes me," I responded, trembling withpassion, yet yielding to the influence of his presence. "You have notyet heard the story, so cannot rightly judge our position here."
As briefly as possible I reviewed the adventures of our little partysince leaving New Orleans, and it was good to observe with what growinginterest he followed the simple story, interrupting with but fewquestions until I reached the end. Then his soft hand closed warmlyover mine, his eyes upon my face.
"It is a brave tale," he said kindly, "one not unworthy the days ofknighthood. Yet, good friend, it is scarcely well for you to thinkthus tenderly regarding the wife of another. 'T is against the laws ofHoly Church, and can only lead to harm and suffering. But, Mother ofGod! who am I to pass judgment?--I, who am also guilty of this sin."
He had uplifted his crucifix, sitting with bowed head before it, withso sad a face I could not forbear questioning.
"Have you, then, such another tale in your life?"
He did not look at me, yet hesitated not in reply.
"Ay, 'tis true, yet not so pure a one. I like not to dwell upon iteven in thought; but you have trusted me, and we are here together asmen of a common race in face of death. Perchance our hearts may bettercomprehend each other through such confidences. Do you care to hear mytale?"
"I listen gladly, for in truth I know of nothing better to do," Ireturned uneasily. "Pish! but I feel as if we were locked in a cellawaiting the headsman."
"Yet God can open the doors even as He did for Peter," he saidsolemnly, fastening his eye
s on the blue sky. For a moment neitherspoke; then the gentle voice took up the story, as if telling it overto himself.
"I was not always of the black robe; only six years since I wore theblue and gold of a soldier of France in the dragoon regiment ofAuvergne. I came of good family, and was even known and trusted of theKing. But let that pass. We were stationed at Saint-Rienes, in thesouth country, as fair a spot, Monsieur, as this world holds, yetstrangely inhabited by those discontented under the faith of HolyChurch. But we rode rough shod over all such in those days, for it wasthe will of the King to crush out heresy. 'Tis a pleasure to see theshrinking of a heretic before the wrath of God. Yet this tale haslittle to do with this service, however I love to dwell upon it. As Isaid, we were quartered in garrison at Saint-Rienes, and it was there Ifirst met Marie Fousard, the girl wife of a Captain in His Majesty'sGuard. She was a creature of beauty, Monsieur, with clear cheeks, lipsof the rose, and great trustful eyes. I was but a boy then, she notmuch older in years, but with that knowledge of the world and of menwhich enabled her to make poor, blinded fool--her helpless slave forevil. Merciful Mary! how I did worship her! To me she was as anangel; divinity lurked in her smile and found utterance upon her lips.I could have died at her word, happy to know it was her pleasure. Yet,as I know now, all the love-making between us was no more than play toher; she merely sought to amuse herself with my passion through a dullseason. No, not quite all, for back of her smiles lurked a purpose sodark, so diabolical, 'twas not strange I failed to fathom it. 'Tishard to associate crime with such young womanhood, to feel that evilthoughts lurk behind eyes soft with love and lips breathing tenderness.Yet behind the outer angel of Marie Fousard there was a devilincarnate. I was blind, crazed, helpless to resist an evil I failed toperceive. I loved her; in that passion all else was lost. She hadconfessed love for me; in that was all the heaven I desired. Little bylittle she fanned within my heart a hatred for the man whose wife shewas, my comrade in arms. I cannot relate the details, the stories ofwrong, the lies, the upbraidings which turned my blood to flame,picturing him ever to me as a monster. Ah, it means much, Monsieur,when such things are told with tears, when every sob rings in the earsas though crying for vengeance. I listened, believing it all, untildeep in my heart hate was born. Once she showed me her shoulder, thewhite flesh discolored as if by a blow, swearing that he did it. Thesight maddened me to action. I left her to seek him at the inn,cursing in my teeth, and caring not what happened, so I killed him.What boots now the insult offered which forced him to the field? I cansee his face yet, full of wonder at my words, doubting my very sanity;yet I saw only her and that bruised shoulder. I would kill him, and Idid, running my sword through his body, and gazing down remorselesslyinto his glazing eyes. What cared I for aught but her? It was a duel,fairly fought, and I was safe from censure. God! in that hour it nevercame to me that it was foul murder; that I had stricken down aninnocent man at the word of a harlot."
He stopped, his white face buried in his hands, his slender formtrembling. I remained motionless. With an effort he resumed.
"I went back to her at our trysting-place, intoxicated by my deed,confident she would come to my arms in gratitude. Instead she laughed,tore from her face the mask of innocence, called me fool, boasted thatshe had merely used me for her own vile purposes. I shrank away,horrified by my deed, despising her, my love stricken dead. In thatmoment my life was changed; I cared for nothing except to get away frommy fellows, to expiate my sin in the sight of God. I felt no interestin what became of her; I neither smiled nor wept, when, three dayslater, she married the prefect of that village. All was over; the firewithin me had become ashes."
"But the woman? this Marie Fousard?"
"She went her way, the broad road leading to destruction. We met neveragain, yet I heard, for there were those eager to tell such things. Ayear, and the prefect was dead of poison, but, before the gendarmeslearned the truth, the widow fled by night taking much property. OneD'Anse was her paramour, a sub-lieutenant of hussars. 'T is all Iknow; they took ship together at Marseilles. Mother of Mercy! wherevershe lives it will be under the spell of the Evil One. To my heart Godhath brought peace, but for such as she there can be no peace; she hathbeen damned already."
I know not how long we sat there motionless, our eyes on the sunlitvalley, our thoughts on past years. The father ran the beads swiftlythrough his white fingers, his lips moving noiselessly; but I found nosuch help, no such consolation in my struggle. His story was foreverended; mine was not, the very scene beneath bringing home to me anewthe desperate burden. Oh, Eloise! Eloise! what of fate awaited us inthe coming night shadows? What sacrifice of mine could bring to youlife and liberty? It is one thing to rush headlong into danger; avastly different one to sit awaiting disaster which it is impossible toavert. The desire to act, to attempt something, became an imperativepassion, and I sprang to my feet.
"Come, _pere_," I broke forth impatiently, "let us get back inside.Before we are aware it will be night, and we must learn first if thereis any chance for escape. We can dream no longer over the past. SaintGeorge! the present holds sufficient work for us to do."
I bore him back in my arms and left him lying beside the savage priest,testing again on him the efficacy of prayer, while Cairnes and I faredforth to explore. We sought long and painfully, trying the walls forsome concealed opening, groping in the corners, and squirming throughnarrow crevices. The effort was useless, except to convince us thatthe cavern had but the single entrance. All we discovered was anassortment of odd weapons, war-clubs and stone-tipped spears, collectedin one corner of the gallery. Everywhere else were bare walls.Feeling like rats in a trap we dragged tired limbs back to thealtar-room, our sole remaining hope a possible escape down the rocksunder the early shadows of the night. This might be accomplished ifsufficient time were granted us, and if the good Lord guided. It was ahope, a cheer to the spirits of the others, yet in, my own heart Icounted little upon it.
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