The wedding was celebrated at the Maison Bastide with all that Madame Bastide considered essential in spite of the fact that there had been little time to prepare. The Comte, so I heard, had been good to his workers and had given the couple a handsome wedding present which would buy the furniture they needed; and as they were taking over some of the Durands’ pieces, because naturally the old couple couldn’t fit them into a small cottage, they could settle in at once.
The change in Gabrielle was astonishing. Serenity replaced fear and she looked prettier than ever. When I went over to St. Vallient to see her and Jacques’s old mother she made me very welcome. There was so much I should have liked to ask her but I could not, of course; I wanted to tell her that I did not want to know merely to satisfy an idle curiosity.
When I left she asked me to look in again when I was riding that way and I promised to do so.
It was four or five weeks after the wedding. We were now well into spring and the climbing stems of the vines were beginning to grow fast. There was continual activity out of doors which would continue until harvest.
Genevieve was with me but our relationship was no longer as harmonious as it had been. The presence of Claude in the chateau affected her adversely and I was continually on tenterhooks wondering what turn it would take. I had felt I was making some progress with her; and now it was as though I had achieved a false brightness on a picture by using a solution which could only give a temporary effect and might even be injurious to the paint.
I said: “Shall we call on Gabrielle?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Oh, well, if you are not eager, I’ll go alone.”
She shrugged her shoulders but continued to ride beside me.
“She’s going to have a baby,” she said.
“That,” I replied, ‘will make her and her husband very happy. “
“It will arrive a little too soon, though, and everyone is talking about it.”
“Everyone! I know many who are not. You really shouldn’t exaggerate.
And why are you not speaking in English? “
“I’m tired of speaking in English. It’s such a tiresome language.” She laughed.
“It was a marriage of convenience. I’ve heard that said.”
“All marriages should be convenient.”
That made her laugh again. Then she said: “Goodbye, miss. I’m not coming. I might embarrass you by talking indelicately … or even looking. You never know.”
She spurred her horse and turned away. I was about to follow her because she was not supposed to be riding about the countryside alone.
But she had the start of me and had disappeared into a small copse.
It was less than a minute later when I heard the shot.
“Genevieve!” I called. As I galloped towards the copse, I heard her scream. The branches of the trees caught at me as though to impede me and I called again: “Genevieve, where are you? What’s happened?”
She was sobbing: “Oh, miss … miss …”
I went in the direction of her voice. I found her; she had dismounted and her horse was standing patiently by.
“What’s happening…” I began; and then I saw the Comte lying on the grass, his horse beside him. There was blood all over his riding-jacket.
“He’s … he’s been… killed,” stammered Genevieve.
I leaped to the ground and knelt beside him. A terrible fear came to me then.
“Genevieve,” I said, ‘go quickly for help. St. Vallient is nearest.
Send someone for a doctor. “
Those next minutes are hazy in my mind. I listened to the thudding of hoofbeats as Genevieve reached the road and galloped off.
“Lothair …” I murmured, saying his unusual name for the first time and saying it aloud.
“It can’t be. I couldn’t bear it. I could bear anything but that you should die.”
I noticed the short thick lashes; the hood like lids drawn like shutters taking away the light from his life . from mine for evermore.
Such thoughts come and go while one’s hands are more practical. As I lifted his hands a wild exultation came to me for I felt the pulse although it was feeble.
“Not… dead,” I whispered.
“Oh, thank God … thank God.” I heard the sob in my voice and was aware of a wild happiness surging through me.
I unbuttoned the jacket. If he had been shot through the heart as I had imagined, there should have been a bullet hole. I could find none.
He was not bleeding.
Quite suddenly the truth dawned on me. He had not been shot. The blood came from the horse lying beside him.
I took off my jacket and rolled in into a pillow to support his head, and I fancied I saw the colour warm in his face; his eyelids flickered.
I heard myself saying: “You’re alive … alive … Thank God.”
I was praying silently that help would come soon. I knelt there, my eyes upon his face, my lips silently moving.
Then the heavy lids flickered; they lifted and his eyes were on me. I saw the faint lift of his lips as I bent towards him.
I felt my own lips tremble; the emotion of the last minutes was unbearable the fear replaced by sudden hope which in itself must be tinged with fear.
“You will be all right,” I said.
He closed his eyes, and I knelt there waiting.
Eight
The Comte was suffering from nothing more than concussion and bruises.
It was his horse that had been shot. The accident was discussed for days in the chateau, the vineyards and the town. There was an inquiry but the identity of the one who had fired the shot was not brought to light, for the bullet was one which could have come from a hundred guns in the neighbourhood. The Comte could remember little of the incident. He could only say that he had been riding in the copse, had ducked to pass under a tree and the next thing he knew was that he was being put on a stretcher. It was believed that ducking had probably saved his life for the bullet had richocheted, hit the branch of a tree and then struck the horse’s head. It had all happened in less than a second; the horse had fallen and the Comte had been thrown into unconsciousness.
I was happy during the days that followed. I knew it was an uneasy situation, but only one thing mattered: he was alive.
Because I had always been sensible, even during those days of exquisite relief I asked myself what the future held. What had happened to me that I had allowed a man to become so important to me?
He could hardly have a similar interest in me; and if he did his reputation was such that any sensible woman would avoid him. And had I not prided myself on being a sensible woman?
But there was nothing in my life in those days but blissful relief.
I walked down to the patisserie in the market square.
often went there during my afternoon walks and had a cup of coffee.
Madame Latiere, the proprietress, welcomed me, and plunged quickly into the topic of the day.
“A mercy, mademoiselle. I hear Monsieur Ie Comte is unharmed. His saint was watching over him that day.”
“Yes, he was fortunate.”
“A terrible thing, mademoiselle. Our woods aren’t safe, it seems. And they haven’t caught the one who did it.”
I shook my head.
“I’ve told Latiere not to ride through those woods. I shouldn’t like to see him on a stretcher. Though Latiere’s a good man, mademoiselle.
He hasn’t an enemy in the place. “
I stirred my coffee uneasily.
She flicked a serviette over the table absently.
“Ah, Monsieur Ie Comte. He is gal ant fort gal ant My grandfather often talked of the Comte of his day. No girl in the neighbourhood safe … but he always found a husband if there was trouble, and believe me, they didn’t suffer for it. We’ve a saying here that in Gaillard you often come across chateau features. Handed down through the generations. Oh, well, there’s human nature for you.”
“What a change in the vineyards in these last weeks,” I said.
“I’m told that if the weather stays warm and sunny this will be a good year.”
“A good harvest.” She laughed.
“That will make up to Monsieur Ie Comte for what has happened in the woods, eh?”
“I hope so.”
“Well, it’s a warning, would you not say so, mademoiselle? He’ll not ride in those woods for a while, I’ll swear.”
“Perhaps not,” I said uneasily, and finishing my coffee, rose to go.
“Au revoir, mademoiselle,” said Madame Latiere rather wistfully. I think she had hoped for more gossip.
I couldn’t resist going over to see Gabrielle the very next day. She had changed since I had last seen her; her manner was nervous, but when I complimented her on her new house, which was looking charming, she was pleased.
“It is more than I dared hope,” she said.
“And you are feeling well?”
“Yes, I have seen Mademoiselle Carre; she is the midwife, you know.
She is satisfied and now it is only a matter of waiting. Maman, Jacques’s mother, is always at hand and so good to me. “
“Do you want a girl or a boy?”
“A boy, I think. Everyone likes the first to be a boy.”
I pictured him playing in the garden a small sturdy little fellow.
Would he have chateau features?
“And Jacques?”
She blushed.
“Oh, he is happy, very happy.”
“How fortunate that… it all worked out so well.”
“Monsieur Ie Comte is very kind.”
“Everybody doesn’t think so. At least the one who took a shot at him didn’t.”
She clenched her hands together.
“You think it was deliberate. You don’t think …”
“He had a lucky escape. It must have been a shock to you when it happened … so near here.”
As soon as I had said that I was ashamed of myself, for I knew that if there could be any foundation for my suspicion about the Comte and Gabrielle I must be hurting her deeply; yet I had to know whether the Comte was the father of her child.
But she did not resent what I had said and that made me happy, for she did not seem to grasp the implication which, I was sure, had she been guilty she would immediately have done.
She said: “Yes, it was a great shock. Fortunately Jacques wasn’t far away and he got the man with the stretcher.”
Still, I had to pursue my investigation.
“Do you think the Comte has enemies about here?”
“Oh, it was an accident,” she said quickly.
“Well,” I added, ‘he wasn’t hurt much. “
“I’m so thankful.” There were tears in her eyes. I wondered whether they were tears of gratitude or something that went deeper.
A few days later I was walking in the garden when I came face to face with the Comte. I was in the middle terrace with its ornamental gardens and parterres separated from each other by boxwood hedges, and wandering into one of these I found him sitting on a stone bench overlooking a small lily pond in which the goldfish were visible.
The sun was hot in the enclosed garden and at first I thought he was asleep. I stood looking at the scene for a few seconds and then was about to go away when he called to me: “Mademoiselle Lawson.”
“I hope I am not disturbing you.”
“It’s the pleasantest of disturbances. Do come and sit down for a while.”
I went to the seat and sat beside him.
“I’ve never really thanked you for your prompt action in the woods.”
“I’m afraid I did nothing praiseworthy.”
“You acted with commendable promptitude.”
“I only did what anyone would in the circumstances. Are you feeling recovered now?”
“Absolutely. Apart from certain strained muscles. I am told that in a week or so all that will pass. In the meantime I hobble round with my stick.”
I looked at his hands with the jade signet ring on the little finger which curled about the ivory-topped walking stick. He wore no wedding ring as was the custom for men in France. I wondered whether he was just naturally flouting conventions or whether that was significant.
He glanced at me and said: “You look … so contented, Mademoiselle Lawson.”
I was startled. I wondered how much of my feelings I had divulged.
“This setting,” I said quickly.
“The warm sun… the flowers, the fountain… it’s all so beautiful. Who wouldn’t be contented in such a garden? What is the statue in the middle of the pond?”
“It’s Perseus rescuing Andromeda. Rather a pleasant piece of work. You must take a close look at it. It was done about two hundred years ago by a sculptor whom one of my ancestors brought to the chateau. It would appeal to you particularly.”
“Why particularly?”
“I think of you as a female Perseus rescuing art from the dragon of decay, age, vandalism and so on.”
“That’s a very poetic fancy. You surprise me.”
“I’m not such a Philistine as you imagine. When you have given me a few more lessons in the gallery I shall become quite knowledgeable.
You will see. “
“I am sure you will have no wish to acquire knowledge which would be no use to you.”
“I always understood that all knowledge was useful.”
“Some more than others, and as one can’t acquire it all it might be a waste of time to clutter the mind with that which is of no practical use … at the expense of so much that is.”
He lifted his shoulders and smiled. And I went on: “It could be useful to know who caused the accident in the woods.”
“You think so?”
“Of course. What if it were repeated?”
“Well, then there might be a more unfortunate outcome … or fortunate, of course. It depends on which way you look at it.”
“I find your attitude extraordinary. You don’t seem to care that someone who intended to murder you is not discovered. “
“How? My dear Mademoiselle Lawson, there have been numerous inquiries.
It is not so easy to identify a bullet as you imagine. There is a gun in almost every cottage. Hares abound in the neighbourhood. They are good in the pot and they do some damage. The shooting of them has never been discouraged. “
“Then if someone was shooting a hare why shouldn’t they come forward and say so?”
“What! When they shot my horse instead?”
“So someone was shooting in the woods and the bullet hit the tree and then killed the horse Wouldn’t that person with the gun have been aware of you in the woods?”
“Let us say he … or she … was not.”
“So you accept the theory that it was an accident?”
“Why not, since it’s a reasonable theory.”
“It’s a comfortable theory, but I should not have thought you were a man to accept a theory because it was comfortable.”
“Perhaps when you know me better you will change your mind.” He was smiling at me.
“It is so pleasant here. I hope you had no other plans.
If not, will you stay and talk awhile? Then I will take you to the pond and you can have a closer look at Perseus. It’s really a little masterpiece. The look of determination on his face is quite extraordinary. He is determined of course to slay his monster. Now talk to me about the pictures. How are they progressing? You are such a wonder.
In a short time you will have finished work in the gallery and we shall have our pictures looking as they did when they were jirst painted. It’s fascinating, Mademoiselle Lawson. “
I talked of the pictures and after a while we looked at the statues.
Then we returned to the chateau together.
Our progress through the terraces was necessarily slow; and as we went into the chateau I fancied that I saw a movement at the schoolroom window. I wondered who
was watching us -Nounou or Genevieve?
Suddenly interest in the Comte’s accident waned because the vines were in danger. They were now growing rapidly towards the peak at which they would arrive in early summer when the black-measles scare arose.
The news spread through the town and the chateau.
I went to see Madame Bastide to hear what was happening. As we sat drinking coffee together she told me what damage black measles could do. If it wasn’t kept down the whole crop could be contaminated perhaps not only this year but for years to come.
Jean Pierre and his father were working half the night. The vines had to be sprayed with a sodium arsenite spray and too much of such a solution could be harmful, too little could fail to destroy the pest.
“That is life,” said Madame Bastide with a philosophical shrug and proceeded to tell me once more of the great calamity when the vine louse had destroyed vines all over the country.
“Years it took us to bring prosperity back to the vines,” she declared.
“And every year there are these troubles … if it is not the black measles it is the grape-leaf-hopper or the root-worm. Ah, Dallas, who would be a vine grower?”
“Yet when the harvest is safely gathered in what a joy it must be.”
“You are right.” Her eyes shone at the thought.
“You should see us then. That is a time when we go wild with joy.”
“And if there hadn’t been continual danger you couldn’t feel quite so gay.”
“It is true. There is no time in Gaillard like the harvest… and to enjoy we must first suffer.”
I asked how Gabrielle was getting on.
“She is very happy. And to think it was Jacques all the time.”
“Were you surprised?”
“Oh, I don’t know. They were children together … always good friends. Perhaps one does not see the change coming. The girl is suddenly the woman, the boy the man; and there is nature waiting for them. Yes, I was surprised that it should be Jacques, though I should have known she was in love. She has been so absentminded lately. Ah, well, there it is. Everything is settled happily now. Jacques will do well at St. Vallient. Now of course he will be working as we are here for these pests spread fast.
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