A Diplomatic Adventure

by S. Weir Mitchell

  III

  As I sat down in the coupe, and Alphonse was about to close the door,I saw behind him a lady standing in the heavy downfall of rain. I saidin my best French: "Get in, madame. I will get out and leave you thecarriage." For a moment she hesitated, and then got in and stood amoment, saying, "Thank you, but I insist that monsieur does not getout in the rain." It was just then a torrent. "Let me leave monsieurwhere he would desire to go." I said I intended to go to the Rue de laPaix, but I added, "If madame has no objection, may I not first dropher wherever she wishes to go?"

  "Oh, no, no! It is far--too far." She was, as it seemed to me,somewhat agitated. For a moment I supposed this to be due tothe annoyance a ride with a strange man might have suggested ascompromising, or at least as the Parisian regards such incidents.Alphonse waited calmly, the door still open.

  Again I offered to leave her the carriage, and again she refused. Isaid, "Might I then ask where madame desires to go?"

  She hesitated a moment, and then asked irrelevantly, "Monsieur is notFrench?"

  "Oh, no. I am an American."

  "And I, too." She showed at once a certain relief, and I felt withpleasure that had I been other than her countryman she would not havetrusted me as she did. She added: "On no account could I permit you toget out in this storm. If I ask you to set me down in the Bois--Imean, if not inconvenient--"

  "Of course," I replied. "Get up, Alphonse." It was, I thought, arather vague direction, but there was already something odd in thissmall adventure. No doubt she would presently be more specific. "TheBois, Alphonse," I repeated. A glance at my countrywoman left with methe impression of a lady, very handsome, about twenty-five, andpresumably married. Why she was so very evidently perturbed I couldnot see. As we drove on I asked her for a more definite direction. Shehesitated for a moment and then said Avenue du Bois de Boulogne.

  "That will answer," I returned. "But that is only a road, and it israining hard. You have no umbrella. Surely you do not mean me to dropyou on an open road in this storm." I was becoming curious.

  "It will do--it will do," she said.

  I thought it strange, but I called out the order to Alphonse and badehim promise a good _pourboire_.

  As we drove away, all of the many people in the streets were hurryingto take refuge from the sudden and unexpected downfall of heavy rain.Women picked their way with the skill of the Parisienne, men ran forshelter, and the carriages coming in haste from the afternoon drivesthronged the great avenue. The scene was not without amusement forpeople not subject to its inconvenience and to the damage of gaygowns. I made some laughing comment. She made no reply. Presently,however, she took out her purse and said, "Monsieur will at leastpermit me to--"

  "Pardon me," I returned gaily: "I am just now the host, and as it maynever again chance that I have the pleasure of madame for a guest, Imust insist on my privileges."

  For the first time she laughed, as if more at ease, and said, lookingup from her purse and flushing a little: "Unluckily, I cannot insist,as I find that I am, for the time, too poor to be proud. I can onlypay in thanks. I am glad it is a fellow-countryman to whom I amindebted."

  We seemed to be getting on to more agreeable social terms, and Iexpressed my regret that the torrent outside was beginning to leak inat the window and through the top of the carriage. For a moment shemade no remark, and then said with needless emphasis:

  "Yes, yes. It is dreadful. I hope--I mean, I trust--that it will neveroccur again."

  It was odd and hardly courteous. I said only, "Yes, it must bedisagreeable."

  "Oh, I mean--I can't explain--I mean this--special ride, and I--I amso wet."

  Of course I accepted this rather inadequate explanation of languagewhich somehow did not seem to me to fit a woman evidently of the bestsocial class. As if she too felt the need to substitute a materialinconvenience for a less comprehensible and too abrupt statement, sheadded: "I am really drenched," and then, as though with a return ofsome more urgent feeling, "but there are worse things."

  I said, "That may very well be." I began to realize as singular thewhole of this interview--the broken phrases which I could notinterpret, the look of worry, the embarrassment of long silences.

  After a time, at her request, we turned into one of the smalleravenues. Meanwhile I made brief efforts at impersonal talk--the rain,the vivid lightning,--wondering if it were the latter which made herso nervous. She murmured short replies, and at last I gave up myefforts at talk, and we drove on in silence, the darkness meanwhilecoming the sooner for the storm.

  By and by she said, "I owe you an apology for my preoccupation. Iam--I have reason to be--troubled. You must pardon my silence."

  Much surprised, I acquiesced with some trifling remark, and we wenton, neither of us saying a word, while the rain beat on the leakycover of the carriage, and now and then I heard a loud "Sacre!" fromthe coachman as the lightning flashed.

  It was now quite dark. We were far across the Bois and in a narrowroad. To set her more at ease, I was about to tell her my name andofficial position, when of a sudden she cried:

  "Oh, monsieur, we are followed! I am sure we are followed. What shallI do?"

  Here was a not very agreeable adventure.

  I said, "No, I think not."

  However, I did hear a carriage behind us; and as she persisted, Ilooked back and saw through the night the lamps of what I took to be acabriolet.

  As at times we moved more slowly, so it seemed did the cabriolet; andwhen our driver, who had no lights, saw better at some open place andwent faster, so did the vehicle behind us. I felt sure that she wasright, and to reassure her said: "We have two horses. He has one. Weought to beat him." I called to Alphonse to tell the driver to driveas fast as he could and he should have a napoleon. He no doubtcomprehended the situation, and began to lash his horses furiously.Meantime the woman kept ejaculating, "_Mon Dieu!_" and then, inEnglish, "Oh, I am so afraid! What shall we do?" I said, "I will takecare of you." How, I did not know.

  It was an awkward business--probably a jealous husband; but there wasno time to ask for explanations, nor was I so inclined. It seemed tome that we were leaving our pursuers, when again I heard the vehiclebehind us, and, looking back, saw that it was rapidly approaching, andthen, from the movement of the lanterns, that the driver in trying toovertake us must have lost control of his horse, as the lights werenow on this side of the road, now on that. My driver drew in to theleft, close to the wood, thinking, I presume, that they would pass us.

  A moment later there was a crash. One of our horses went down, and thecabriolet--the lighter vehicle--upset, falling over to the right. Aswe came to a standstill I threw open the left-hand door saying: "Getout, madame! Quick! Into the wood!" She was out in an instant and,favored by the gloom, was at once lost to sight among the thickshrubbery. I shut the door and got out on the other side. It was verydark and raining hard as I saw Alphonse slip away into the woodshadows. Next I made out the driver of the cabriolet, who had beenthrown from his seat and was running up to join us.

  In a moment I saw more clearly. The two coachmen were swearing, thehorses down, the two vehicles, as it proved later, not much injured. Aman was standing on the farther side of the roadway. I went around thefallen cab and said: "An unlucky accident, monsieur. I hope you arenot hurt." He was holding a handkerchief to his head.

  "No, I am not much hurt."

  "I am well pleased," said I, "that it is no worse." I expected thatthe presumably jealous husband would at once make himself unpleasant.To my surprise, he stood a moment without speaking, and, as I fancied,a little dazed by his fall. Then he said:

  "There is a woman in that carriage."

  I was anxious to gain time for the fugitive, and replied: "Monsieurmust be under some singular misapprehension. There is no one in mycarriage."

  "I shall see for myself," he said sharply.

  "By all means. I am quite at a loss to understand you." I was surethat he would not be able to see her.

  He stagger
ed as he moved past me, and was evidently more hurt than hewas willing to admit. I went quickly to my coachman, who was busy witha broken trace. Here was the trouble--the risk. I bent over him andwhispered, putting a napoleon in his hand, "There was no woman in thecarriage."

  "Two," said the rascal.

  "Well, two if you will lie enough."

  "Good! This _sacre_ animal! Be quiet!"

  I busied myself helping the man, and a moment later the gentleman wentby me and, as I expected, asked the driver. "There was a woman in yourcarriage?"

  "No, monsieur; the gentleman was alone, and you have smashed mycarriage. _Sacre bleu!_ Who is to pay?"

  "That is of no moment. Here is my card." The man took it, but saiddoubtfully,

  "That's all well to-day, but to-morrow--"

  "Stuff! Your carriage is not damaged. Here, my man, a half-napoleonwill more than pay."

  The driver, well pleased with this accumulation of unlooked-for goodfortune, expressed himself contented. The gentleman stood, mopping theblood from his forehead, while the two drivers set up the cabrioletand continued to repair the broken harness. Glad of the delay, I too,stood still in the rain saying nothing. My companion of the hour wasas silent.

  At last the coachmen declared themselves ready to leave. Upon this,the gentleman said to me: "You have denied, monsieur, that there was awoman with you. It is my belief that she has escaped into the wood."

  "I denied nothing," said I. "I invited you to look for yourself. Thewood is equally at your disposal. I regret--or, rather I do notregret--to be unable to assist you."

  Then, to my amazement, he said: "You, too, are in this affair, Ipresume. You will find it serious."

  "What affair? Monsieur is enigmatical and anything but courteous."

  "You are insulting, and my friends will ask you to-morrow to explainyour conduct. I think you will further regret your connection withthis matter."

  "With what matter?" I broke in. "This passes endurance."

  "I fancy you need no explanation. I presume that at least you will nothesitate to inform me of your name."

  As he spoke his coachman called out to him to hold his horse for amoment, and before I could answer, he turned aside toward the man. Ifollowed him, took out my card-case, and said as I gave him a card,"This will sufficiently inform you who and what I am."

  As I spoke he in turn gave me his card, saying: "I am the Count leMoyne. I shall have the honor to ask through my friends for anexplanation."

  He was evidently somewhat cooler. As he spoke I knew his name as thatof a recently appointed under-secretary of the Foreign Office. I hadnever before seen him. As we parted I said:

  "I shall be at home from eleven until noon to-morrow."

  We lifted our hats, and the two carriages having been put incondition, I drove away, with enough to think about and with somewonder as to what had become of Alphonse.