Alive only to one dreadful idea, to one apprehension, she now believed her fate approaching, and looked round for some place to secrete herself; she looked in vain however; for mouldering cells and narrow passages, choked with rubbish only, met her view.
At length she recollected, that near the cell where she had been sitting there was a long and winding gallery, pretty free from rubbish, and which Madame D'Alembert had informed her led to the innermost recesses of the building; down this she determined to fly.
At the head of the staircase which faced the body of the chapel was a large dismantled window, through which the moon, now beginning to rise, shed a faint light, but still sufficient to render objects conspicuous. Madeline therefore feared she should be seen as she crossed the staircase, she knew however there was no alternative, and that she must either run the risque of being discovered now, or remain where in a few minutes later she was sure of being so.
Madeline accordingly stepped forward, but though her step was too light to be heard, her figure was perceived, and she instantly heard a shout from the chapel, and ascending steps. Fear lent her wings, she flew to the gallery, but, just as she was darting into it, a large iron hook entangled her clothes: with a strength which desperation only could have given her, she attempted to tear them from it, but 'ere her efforts had succeeded her arm was rudely seized; she immediately turned her head and beheld the inflamed countenance of a man glaring upon her; the moment he saw her face he started back with a look which seemed to intimate she was not the person he expected to have seen, but the faint pleasure which this idea gave was quickly destroyed by his drawing a small dagger from his breast with which he again approached Madeline. Her death she now believed inevitable, and staggering back a few paces, "Ah! heaven have mercy upon me!" she said, and dropped lifeless on the floor.
As she recovered her senses she felt some one chafing her hands.
"Ah! (she cried, in a faint voice) do you restore me to life but to have the pleasure of depriving me of it?"
"My Madeline, my love, (exclaimed the soft voice of Madame D'Alembert) what has thus disordered your senses?"
Madeline raised her head from the ground, she looked at Madame D'Alembert,—she looked from her, and beheld Lubin.
"Gracious heaven! (cried she) do I dream or have I been in a frightful dream from which you have just awakened me?"
"My dearest girl, (said Madame D'Alembert) what has alarmed you?"
"Alarmed me? (repeated Madeline, wildly staring at her) Oh, heavens! surely it is but an instant ago since I saw the poignard of the murderer raised against me?"
"You terrify me," exclaimed her friend.
"Terrify you, (repeated Madeline, starting from the ground) Oh, let us fly this dreadful place directly, for even now perhaps our lives may be in danger."
"Don't be frightened, Mademoiselle, (cried Lubin) I am not unarmed."
"You strike me with horror, (said Madame D'Alembert) and take from me the power of moving: tell me what danger it is we have to apprehend, for no trace of any being, of any thing to alarm you, did we discover, and the swoon in which we found you we imputed to illness instead of terror."
Madeline in a few hasty words informed her of the manner in which she had been terrified, and whilst she gratefully returned her thanks to heaven for her safety, she expressed her astonishment at being uninjured.
"Oh! my love, (cried her friend, clasping her arms round her as she concluded) never, never can I requite you for what you have suffered on my account; never can I forgive myself for having exposed you to such alarms."
"I wish with all my soul (said Lubin, grasping the rusty sword he had brought from the chateau) I wish with all my soul I had caught the villain, I'll warrant if I had I should soon have made him confess what brought him hither; his companion I suppose, was only a man in disguise."
"Who these mysterious strangers were I cannot possibly conceive, (cried Madame D'Alembert) but that they certainly did not mean to harm you, however appearances may make you believe to the contrary, I think; for had such been their intention they most assuredly could have accomplished that intention 'ere we came."
"They only designed to rob her I suppose, (said Lubin) and frighten her to silence; pray search your pockets, Mademoiselle, to try if you have lost any thing."
"There was nothing of any value in them, (replied Madeline) so I need not take that trouble."
"They must certainly (resumed Lubin) have retreated, on hearing us, down that gallery," pointing to the one Madeline had attempted to conceal herself in; "I would give all the money I am worth for somebody now to assist me in searching it."
"Oh, Madeline! (cried her friend) I can no longer attempt to detain you: I came to you half determined to let you return immediately to your father, as Monsieur D'Alembert, contrary to his first intention, has resolved on passing a month in the chateau; but I am now, in consequence of what I have heard, resolved on doing so; to-night therefore we part, and heaven knows whether we shall ever meet again."
"To-night!" repeated Madeline amazed.
"Yes, (replied Madame D'Alembert, whose tears scarcely permitted her to speak) to-night—was your journey postponed till to-morrow, Monsieur D'Alembert must discover that you have hitherto been concealed in the chateau, and the consequences of such a discovery would be extremely disagreeable to me."
"Heaven forbid then (said Madeline) I should delay my journey; and yet"—she paused, she recollected herself—and since her friend was anxious for her immediate departure, resolved not to mention the fears she felt at the idea of travelling by night.
"I confide you to the care of Lubin, (cried Madame D'Alembert) I know he is faithful, I know he is brave, and will fulfil the trust I repose in him."
"I humbly thank your Ladyship for your good opinion of me, (said Lubin, taking off his hat and making a low bow) it shall be my study to deserve it: I am sure I should be an ungrateful varlet if I would not go through fire and water for you, or any one beloved by you; and Mademoiselle may be assured, while I have an arm to stretch out in her defence, I will protect her."
"At the extremity of the wood surrounding the chateau, is the cottage of my nurse, (said Madame D'Alembert, addressing Madeline) thither Lubin must now conduct you, and there he will procure horses for your journey; for I am afraid to have any taken from the stables here, least a discovery should be the consequence of doing so: do not delay longer than is absolutely necessary at the cottage, I have important reasons for wishing you to get to a distance from the chateau, as soon as possible, when you are about half way between it and your father's house you can stop to rest."
"Yes, (replied Lubin) there is a snug house just thereabouts, where we can put up. You may recollect, Mademoiselle, (turning to Madeline) that you and my poor lady dined there last spring in your way to the chateau?"
A deep sigh stole from the breast of Madeline at the recollection of that happy period; and Madame D'Alembert was for a few minutes unable to speak.
"In the course of a few days, Madeline, (said she, as soon as she had recovered her voice) you may expect a letter, containing a full explanation of every thing that appeared mysterious in my conduct towards you. After suffering so much on my account you surely are entitled to know every secret of my heart—Oh! Madeline, that heart can never forget the gratitude it owes you."
"Ah, Madam, (cried Madeline, while tears trickled down her cheeks), do not hurt me by speaking in this manner; all that I could do, could never never repay the numerous favours I have received from you, 'tis I only have a right to speak of gratitude."
"Perhaps (resumed her friend) we may meet again: I will indulge such a hope, it will sooth, it will console me in some degree for your loss. Oh! Madeline, 'tis with pain, 'tis with agony I consent to our separation, but without murmuring I must submit to that as well as to many other sorrows."
She now took the trembling hand of Madeline, and they descended to the valley, thro' which they silently and swiftly passed, nor stopped 'til
l they came within sight of the chateau; Madame D'Alembert then paused, to give a last farewell to Madeline: locked in each others arms they continued many minutes unable to speak, unable to separate; at length Madame D'Alembert summoning all her resolution to her aid, disengaged herself from Madeline. "farewell, (said she) may heaven for ever bless, protect you, and make you as happy as you deserve to be." She turned away as she spoke as if fearful her resolution would fail her if she continued another moment with Madeline, and hastened to the chateau.
Silent and immovable Madeline stood gazing after her till addressed by Lubin.
"Come, Mademoiselle, (said he) we had better not delay any longer, 'twill be a late hour even as it is, I can assure you, 'ere we reach the house where we are to rest, this way, Mademoiselle."
Almost instinctively Madeline followed him to a door which opened from the garden to the lawn, but here she again stopped; the variety of distressing and terrifying scenes she had lately gone through had almost bewildered her senses, and she now felt as if she scarcely knew where she was, or whither she was going.
"Have I really taken my last leave of Madame D'Alembert? Am I really quitting the chateau?" said she, earnestly looking at Lubin.
"Lord, yes, that you have indeed Mademoiselle," answered he, somewhat surprised and alarmed.
"Gracious heaven! (cried she, with folded hands) if any person two months ago had told me I should quit the chateau in the manner I am at present doing, what little credit should I have given to their words.—
"Oh life! (she sighed to herself) how rapid are thy revolutions!—But a short time ago and that very mansion which I now leave with secrecy and precipitation, I entered with every hope of finding a permanent and happy home within it; but a short time ago and it was a refuge for distress, an asylum for innocence and virtue; but now the mendicant may wander to it in vain for relief, innocence and virtue seek protection without receiving it.
"With its virtues its honours must decline; for he who has not a heart to cherish the former, must surely want a spirit to support the latter.
"No more then shall the arm of valour unfurl its banners to the call of glory; no more shall the records of fame be swelled by its achievements; no more shall noble emulation be inspired by them.
"With its late owner its greatness and happiness departed; they are set, but set not like that sun whose splendours so lately brightened this scene, to rise again with renovated glory."
CHAPTER III
Forlorn and lost I tread,
With fainting steps and slow,
Where wilds, immeasurably spread,
Seem length'ning as I go.
"I hope, Mademoiselle, (said Lubin, on hearing her sigh as she turned from the chateau) you are not frightened at the idea of going through the wood?"
"No;" replied Madeline.
"So much the better, so much the better, (said Lubin) but indeed I should not wonder if you were."
"Why, (cried Madeline) is it dangerous?"
"Not over safe indeed, but don't be frightened, Mademoiselle, (on seeing her suddenly stop) I shall bring you the shortest path through it."
"And when we get to the road we shall be safe, (cried Madeline) as there are cottages scattered all along it?"
"Yes, (said Lubin) but if you were in danger and expected any assistance from their inhabitants, you would be sadly disappointed, for those kind of people are so fatigued after their day's labour, that when once they get to bed one might as well try to waken the dead, as waken them: but don't be frightened, Mademoiselle."
"Frightened! (repeated Madeline) it is scarcely possible to be otherwise from the manner in which you talk; you have really made me tremble so that I can scarcely move."
"If you would condescend to accept my arm, Mademoiselle, we could make infinitely more haste than we do at present."
Madeline accepted the offer of Lubin, nor did they again pause till they had reached the cottage they were bound to; they found it shut up for the night, and Lubin knocked loudly with his stick against the door, but without effect.
"You see, Mademoiselle, (said he, after the silence of a few minutes) I was right in saying it was next to impossible to waken these cottagers."
"Poor people, (cried Madeline) it is a pity to disturb them."
"Oh, not at all, (said Lubin) they can go to bed immediately again, you know, and I warrant they will not rest the worse for having had their slumbers interrupted."
He now repeated the knocks with a violence that shook the door: at last a window was opened, and an old man, putting out his head, asked who came there.
"Why, a friend, (replied Lubin) and a devilish time he has been trying to gain admittance: Come, come, Mr. Colin, you may open the door without any grumbling, for by the time I have taken to waken you it is pretty evident you have had a good spell."
"Pray what brings you here at this time of night?" cried a shrill female voice.
"I am come by the command of my lady to borrow two horses, (answered Lubin) I must get them directly, and without being asked whither I am going with them; pray make haste, I have a lady waiting with me for them."
"A lady!" the old couple repeated, and both thrust their heads together out of the window, to see whether he spoke truth or not.
The door was now opened in a minute, and the nurse invited Madeline into the cottage, while her husband went forth with Lubin to a little shed adjoining it, to prepare the horses: she had seen Madeline before at the cottage, and almost immediately recollected her; she was all amazement at now beholding her, nor could forbear inquiring the reason of it. Madeline waved the discourse, and expressed her regret at her having been disturbed.
The horses were ready in a few minutes, and the good couple having received a strict caution against mentioning her to any one, she was assisted by Lubin to mount, and they set off at a smart pace.
"How very curious old Colin and his wife were! (said Lubin) I dare say they would have given half they were worth to know the cause of our travelling by night, and not getting horses at the chateau."
"I don't wonder at their being so," cried Madeline.
"No, nor I neither, Mademoiselle; 'tis a comical thing to be sure our rambling about at night; it puts me in mind of the Fairy Tales I have read; heaven be praised our journey is but a short one."
They did not slacken their pace till they reached the gloomy forest, in which the gothic castle of Montmorenci stood; the heart of Madeline sunk as she approached it, and she trembled as she entered amidst its awful shades, and heard the breeze sweeping over them with a hollow murmur: the courage of Lubin too seemed a little to fail him.
"I wish with all my soul Mademoiselle, (said he) that the house we are going to was at this side of the forest instead of the other."
"I wish it was, (cried Madeline) or that we could get shelter elsewhere."
"That is impossible, Mademoiselle, (replied he) so we must only make what haste we can to it; Lord how glad I shall be when I find myself there; so will you, I dare say, Mademoiselle."
"Undoubtedly, (replied Madeline) the recollection of past danger will heighten present pleasure."
"I wish all our dangers were over, and our pleasures come, (cried Lubin) but Lord, Mademoiselle, the very worst of our way is still before us; the middle of the forest, which we have not yet reached, is a grand rendezvous, they say, for a gang of banditti, that have long infested the country; there they meet as soon as it grows dark, and settle their plans for the night. Well, of all places in the world I should not like to be robbed in a forest, it would be such an easy matter afterwards to murder one."
"Pray, Lubin, (said Madeline) do not talk any more in this manner, for if you do you'll make me tremble so I shall not be able to keep my seat."
"I ask your pardon, Mademoiselle; I am sure the last thing in the world I meant to do was to frighten you: To be sure I wish I had brought a pocket pistol or two with me from the chateau, instead of this rusty sword, to defend you; though, after all, what would avail
my single arm against a whole gang? Heaven help us if they meet us! poor Colin may then go whistle for his horses; though upon recollection my Lady would certainly recompense him for their loss."
"Drop this dreadful subject I entreat you," said Madeline, in a tremulous voice.
"Come cheer up, Mademoiselle (exclaimed Lubin, who was now thoroughly convinced he had alarmed Madeline) we will keep as near as possible to the extremity of the forest, and if we ride fast we shall soon reach the house."
As fast as the intricacies of the path would permit them to go, they went, and at last reached in safety their destined goal.
Here Madeline, who had hitherto with difficulty kept her seat, alighted; but how impossible to describe her disappointment, and the disappointment of her companion, when after repeatedly knocking at the door they were at length convinced that the house was uninhabited. They stood for some minutes looking at each other, in a consternation that deprived them of speech.
Lubin was the first who broke silence.
"What's to be done, Mademoiselle?" said he.
"I am sure I can't tell," answered Madeline in a faint voice, and leaning against the wall.
"Faith, (cried Lubin) I have a good mind to break open the door and obtain shelter for the night, though, to my sorrow, I can't get a good supper; I meant to have ordered a nice omelet, the moment I arrived."
"For heaven's sake do not attempt to break open the door, (exclaimed Madeline) the consequences of such an action might be dreadful."
"What's to be done then I again ask? (said Lubin) you would not wish, I suppose, to sit down here without any shelter for the remainder of the night; neither would you, I suppose, like to mount your horse and go ten miles farther in search of another habitation, and nearer you need not expect to find one that would receive you."
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 304