Kitabı oku: «The Heart of Denise, and Other Tales», sayfa 2
CHAPTER III.
THE SPUR OF LES ESCHELLES
De Lorgnac was gone. Through the open window overlooking the courtyard, that let in the warm summer evening, we heard him give an order to his men in a quick, resolute voice, far different from the low tones in which he had spoken before, and then he and his troop rode off at a rapid trot in the direction, as it seemed, of the Porte St. Honoré. I could hardly realize that I was free and that de Lorgnac had resigned me without a struggle. All that I could think of was that he was gone, and with a quick gasp of relief I turned to my friend.
"Oh, madame! How can I thank you? What shall I say?"
"Say nothing to me, my child, but rather thank the good God that there was a little of honour left in that man. And now, before we start, you must have some refreshment."
"I cannot-indeed, no. I am ready to go at once. I want to put leagues between me and Paris."
"You must be guided by me now, Denise," and as she spoke a servant brought in some soup and a flask of wine. Despite my protests I was forced to swallow something, though I felt that I was choking; yet the little Frontignac I drank, I not being used to wine, seemed to steady my shaking limbs and restore my scattered faculties.
As we put on our cloaks and demi-masks preparatory to starting, Madame de Termes kept saying to herself, "I cannot understand-Blaise de Lorgnac to lend himself to a thing like this! I would have staked my life on him. There is something behind this, child," and she put a hand on each of my shoulders and looked me full in the eyes. "Have you told me all-have you withheld nothing?"
"Has he not himself admitted what I said, madame? If that is not enough I will add every word of what I know;" and as we stood there I detailed what I have already told, forcing myself to go on with the story once or twice when I felt myself being unnerved, and finishing with a quick, "And, madame, I was taken by storm. Indeed, I hardly know even if this is not some frightful dream."
"Would it were so," she said, and added, "Denise, I believe every word you say; and yet there is something behind de Lorgnac's action. I know him well. He would never lend himself to be the tool of others. Once, however, at Périgueux you will be safe with the Vicomte and myself, and it will be a long arm that would drag you thence-nothing short of that of the Medicis. But Catherine owes much to de Termes; and now let us start."
What was my surprise when we reached the courtyard, to hear my maid Mousette's voice, and I saw her perched on a little nag, already engaged in a flirtation with one of the men. When I spoke to her she pressed her horse forward and began hurriedly:
"I was sent here with Madame's things," she said. "I am afraid the valises are but hastily packed, and much has had to be left behind; but Madame will excuse me, I know; it was all so quick, and I had so little time."
"Thank you, Mousette," and I turned to my horse, her address of Madame ringing strangely in my ears.
We were, including Madame de Termes' servants, who were well armed, a party of about twelve, small enough to face the danger of the road in those unsettled days, but no thought of this struck me, and as for Madame de Termes, she would, I do believe, have braved the journey alone, so anxious was she to be by the Vicomte's side, for between herself and the stout old soldier, who held the lieutenancy of Périgord, there existed the deepest affection.
As we rode down the Bourdonnais, I could not help thinking to myself how noble a spirit it was that animated my friend. Not for one moment had she allowed her own trouble to stand in the way of her helping me. Her husband, whom, as I have said, she dearly loved, was ill, perhaps dying, and yet in her sympathy and pity for me, she had let no word drop about him, except the cheery assurance of his protection. Nevertheless, as we rode on, she ever kept turning towards Lalande, her equerry, and bade him urge the lagging baggage animals on. Passing the Grand Chatelet, we crossed the arms of the river by the Pont au Change, and the Pont St. Michel, and kept steadily down the Rue de la Harpe towards the Porte St. Martin. We gained this not a moment too soon, for as the last of the baggage animals passed it, we heard the officer give the word to lower the drawbridge and close the gates. The clanking of the chains, and the creaking of the huge doors came to me with something of relief in them, for it seemed to me that I was safe from further tyranny from the Hôtel de Soissons, at any rate for this night.
As we passed the huge silhouette of the Hôtel de Luxembourg, we heard the bells of St. Sulpice sounding Compline, and then, from behind us, the solemn notes rang out from the spires of the city churches. Yielding to an impulse I could not resist, I turned in my saddle and looked back, letting my eyes run over the vast, dim outlines of the city, so softened by the moonlight that it was as if some opaque, fantastic cloud was resting on the earth. Above curved the profound blue of the night, with here and there a star struggling to force its way past the splendour of the moon. All was quiet and still, and the church bells ringing out were as a message from His creatures to the Most High. I let my heart go after the voices of the bells as they travelled heavenward, and had it not been for Mousette's shrill tones, that cut through the quiet night and recalled me to myself, I might have let the party go onwards, I do not know how far. As it was, I had to bustle my little horse to gain the side of Madame de Termes once more. It was not, of course, our intention to travel all night. That would have been impossible, for it would have entailed weary horses, and a long halt the next day; but it was proposed that we should make for a small château belonging to Monsieur de Bouchage, the brother of the Duc de Joyeuse, which he had placed at Madame de Termes' disposal, and there rest for the remainder of the night, making a start early the next morning, and then pressing on daily, as fast as our strength would allow. Lalande had sent a courier on in advance to announce our sudden coming. We did not expect to reach de Bouchage's house until about midnight, and the equerry was fussing up and down the line of march, urging a packhorse on here, checking a restive animal there, and ever and again warning the lackeys to keep their arms in readiness, for the times were such that no man's teeth were safe in his head, unless he wore a good blade by his side.
We were, in short, on the eve of that tremendous struggle which, beginning with the Day of the Barricades, went on to the murder of the Princes of Lorraine on that terrible Christmastide at Blois, and culminated with the dagger of Clement and the death of the miscreant whom God in His anger had given to us for a king.
Already the Huguenots were arming again, and it was afloat that the Palatine had sent twenty thousand men, under Dhona, to emulate the march of the Duc de Deux Ponts from the Rhine to Guyenne. It was said that the Montpensier had gone so far as to attempt to seize the person of the King, swearing that once in her hands, he would never see the outside of four walls again, and rumours were flitting here and there, crediting the Bearnnois with the same, if not deeper, resolves.
Things being so, the land was as full of angry murmurs as a nest of disturbed bees; the result being that the writ of the King was almost as waste paper, and bands of cut-throat soldiery committed every excess, now under the white, then under the red scarf, as it suited their convenience.
It was for this reason that Lalande urged us on, and we were nothing loath ourselves to hasten, but our pace had to be regulated by that of the laden animals, and do what we would our progress was slow.
Madame and I rode in the rear of the troop, a couple of armed men immediately behind us. Lalande was in front, and exercised the greatest caution whenever we came to a place that was at all likely to be used for an ambuscade.
Nothing, however, happened, and finally we set down to a jogging motion, speaking no word, for we were wearied, and with no sound to break the silence of the night except the shuffling of our horses, the straining of their harness, and the clink of sword sheath and chain bit.
Suddenly we were startled by the rapid beat of hoofs, and in a moment, a white horse and its rider emerged from the moonlit haze to our right, coming as it were straight upon us. Lalande gave a quick order to halt, and I saw the barrel of his pistol flashing in his hand; but the horseman, with a cry of "For the King! Way! Way!" dashed over the road at full gallop, and sped off like a sprite over the open plain to our left.
"Did you hear the voice, Denise?" asked Madame.
"Yes."
"It is stranger than ever," she said, and I could make no answer.
There was no doubt about it. It was de Lorgnac; and instead of going to the Porte St. Honoré as I thought when he left us, he must have crossed by the Meunniers and come out by the St. Germains Gate. He had evidently, too, separated himself from his men.
"I shall be glad when we reach de Bouchage's house," I said with a shiver, for the apparition of my husband had sent a chill through me.
"It is not far now," replied Madame; and then we both became silent, absorbed in our own thoughts. She, no doubt, thinking of the Vicomte, and I with my mind full of forebodings as to what other evil fate had in store for me; and with this there came thoughts of de Clermont, whose presence I seemed absolutely to feel about me. I could not say I loved him, but it was as if he had a power over me that sapped my strength, and I felt that I was being dragged towards him. I cannot explain what it was, but others have told me the same, that when his clear blue eyes were fixed on them, they seemed to lose themselves, and that his glance had a power, the force of which no one could put into words, nor indeed, can I.
It was only by an effort and a prayer that I succeeded in collecting myself; and it was with no little joy that I saw the grey outlines of the Château de Bouchage, and knew that for the remainder of the night there was rest.
I will pass over our journey till we reached the Limousin. Going at our utmost strength, we found we could barely cover more than six leagues a day; and as day after day passed, and no news of the Vicomte came, Madame's face grew paler, and she became feverishly impatient for us to hurry onward; yet never for one moment did she lose the sweetness of her temper or falter in her kindness towards me. No mishap of any kind befell us; but at the ford of the Gartempe, there at last came good news that brought the glad tears to Madame's eyes, and the colour once more to her cheeks, for here a courier met us, riding with a red spur, to say that the Vicomte was out of danger, and striding hour by hour towards recovery. The courier further said, in answer to our questions, that the messenger whom Madame de Termes had sent on in advance, to announce her coming, had never arrived, and he himself was more than surprised at meeting us, believing Madame to be yet at Paris. No doubt the poor man who had been sent on in advance had met with ill, and we thanked God for the lucky chance that had put us in the way of the Vicomte's messenger, and also that it was not with us as with our man, for he had doubtless been killed, and indeed he was never seen again. Back we sent the courier with a spare horse to announce our speedy coming, and it was a gay and joyous party that splashed through the sparkling waters of the Gartempe. Even I, for the moment, forgot everything with the glad tidings that had come like the lark's song in the morning to cheer my friend's heart, and for a brief space I forgot de Lorgnac and my bonds, and was once more Denise de Mieux, as heedless and light-hearted as youth, high spirits, and health could make me. It was decided to push on to Ambazac at any cost by that evening. The news we had heard seemed to lighten even the loads of the pack animals, and we soon left the silver thread of the river behind us, and entered the outskirts of the Viennois. As for me, I do not know how it was, but I was, as I have said, in the wildest of spirits, and nothing could content me but the most rapid motion. At one time I urged my horse far in advance of the party, at another I circled round and round them, or lagged behind, till they were all but out of sight, and then caught them up at the full speed of my beast, and all this despite Lalande's grumbling that the horse would be worn out. He spoke truly enough, but I was in one of those moods that can brook no control, and went my own way. I was destined, however, to be brought back sharply to the past, from which for the moment I had escaped. As we reached the wooded hills of Les Eschelles, I had allowed the party to go well in advance of me, and, stopping for a moment, dismounted near a spring from which a little brook, hedged in on each side with ferns, babbled noisily off along the hillside. To me, who after all, loved the fresh sweet country, the scene was enchanting. The road wound half-way up the side of the spur, and the rough hillside with its beech forests, amongst the leaves of which twined the enchanter's nightshade, swept downwards in bold curves into a wild moorland, covered with purple heather and golden broom. The sheer rock above me was gay with pink mallow, and the crimson of the cranesbill flashed here and there, whilst the swish of the bracken in the breeze was pleasant to my ears. Overhead, between me and the absolute blue of the sky, was a yellow lacework of birch leaves, and a wild rose, thick with its snowy bloom, scrambled along the face of the rock just above the spring. It was to gather a bouquet of these flowers for Madame that I had halted and dismounted. The task was more difficult than I imagined, and whilst I was wrestling with it, I heard the full rich baritone of a man's voice singing out into the morning, and the next moment, the singer turned the corner of a bluff a few yards from me, and Raoul de Clermont was before me. He stopped short in his song with an exclamation, and, lifting his plumed hat, said in astonishment:
"You, mademoiselle! Pardon-Madame de Lorgnac! Where in the world have you dropped from? Or, stay-are you the genius of this spot?" and his laughing eyes looked me full in the face.
I stood with my flowers in my hands, inwardly trembling, but outwardly calm.
"It is rather for me to ask where in the world you have sprung from, monsieur. It is not fair to startle people like this."
"I ask your pardon once more. As it happens, I am travelling on business and pleasure combined. My estates of Clermont-Ferrand lie but a short way from here, as you perhaps know; but let me help you to add to those flowers you have gathered," and he sprang from his horse.
"No, thank you, Monsieur de Clermont," I answered hastily. "I must hurry on lest Madame de Termes, with whom I am travelling, should think I am lost."
"So it is Monsieur de Clermont now, is it? It will be a stiff Monsieur le Marquis soon," and my heart began to beat, though I said nothing, and he went on: "For old sake's sake let me gather that cluster yonder for you, and then Monsieur de Clermont will take you to Madame."
With a touch of his poniard he cut the flowers, and handed them to me, breaking one as he did and fastening it into the flap of his pourpoint. So quiet and masterful was his manner that I did nothing to resist, and then, putting me on my horse, he mounted himself, saying with that joyous laugh of his:
"Now, fair lady, let us hasten onward to Madame de Termes. I need protection, too-I fear my knaves have lagged far behind."
CHAPTER IV.
AT AMBAZAC
The road swept onward with gentle curves, at one time hanging to the edge of the hillside, at another walled in on either hand by rocks covered with fern and bracken, to whose jagged and broken surface-whereon purples, greens, and browns seemed to absorb themselves into each other-there clung the yellow agrimony, and climbing rose, with its sweet bloom full of restless, murmuring bees.
Sometimes the path lost itself in some cool arcade of trees, where the sunlight fell in oblique golden shafts through the leaves that interlaced overhead, and then suddenly, without warning, we would come to a level stretch on which the marguerites lay thick as snowflakes, and across which the wind bustled riotously.
As we cantered along side by side, my companion again broke forth into a joyous song, that sprang full-throated and clear, from a heart that never seemed to have known a moment of pain. His was a lithe, leopard-like strength, and as I looked at him, my thoughts ran back to the time when we first met, on his return from the Venetian Embassy, whither he had gone when M. de Bruslart made a mess of things. I do not know why it was, but he singled me out for his particular notice; and though it was openly known that he was betrothed to the second daughter of M. D'Ayen, I, like a fool, was flattered by the attentions of this gay and brilliant cavalier, and day by day we were thrown together more and more, and a sort of confidence was established between us that was almost more than friendship. There was, as I have said, that in his masterful way, that had the effect of leaving me powerless; and though he could put all its light in his eyes, and all its tones in his voice, I felt instinctively that he did not love me, but was merely playing with me to exercise his strength, and dragging me towards him with a resistless force. In short, the influence of de Clermont on me was never for my good, and our intercourse always left me with the conviction that I had sunk a little lower than before; and it was at times like these, when I met de Lorgnac's grave eyes, that I felt the unspoken reproach in their glance, and would struggle to rise again, and then, in the consciousness of my own folly, I felt I fairly hated him for seeing my weakness. What right had de Lorgnac even to think of me? What did it matter to him what I did or said? So I used to argue with myself; yet in my heart of hearts, I felt that my standard of right and wrong, was being measured by what I imagined a man, to whom I had hardly ever spoken, might think.
When I make this confession, and say that the influence of de Clermont over me was never for my good, I do not mean to imply that I was guilty of anything more than foolishness; but the effect of it was to sap my high ideas, and I now know that this man, aided by his surroundings-and they were all to his advantage-took the pleasure of a devil in lowering my moral nature, and in moulding me to become "of the world," as he would put it. God be thanked that the world is not as he would have made it. At that time, however, I was dazzled-all but overpowered by him, and day by day my struggles were growing weaker, like those of some poor fly caught in a pitiless web. The knowledge of all this was to come to me later, when, by God's help, I escaped; but then I was blind, and foolish, and mad.
My companion's song was interrupted by Lalande, who came galloping back in hot haste, and in no good temper, to say that the whole party had halted to wait for me; and quickening our pace we hurried onward, and found them about a mile further on. To say that Madame de Termes was surprised at seeing de Clermont is to say little, and I could see, too, that she was not very well pleased; but he spoke to her so fairly and gracefully that, in spite of herself, she thawed; and half an hour later he was riding at her bridle hand, bringing smiles that had long been absent to her face. He was overjoyed to hear of the Vicomte's recovery, and said many flattering things about him, for he knew him well, having served under him in the campaign of Languedoc, and then he went on to become more communicative about himself, saying that he was the bearer of a despatch to the King of Navarre, adding, with a laugh, "a duplicate, you know-the original being carried by M. Norreys, the English freelance. Ma foi! But I should not be surprised if I reached the Bearnnois before the sluggish islander."
"Hardly, if you loiter here, Monsieur le Marquis," I said.
"You must bear the blame for that, Madame; but I will add that my orders are to pass through Périgueux as well, and so, Madame," and he turned to my friend, "if you will permit Raoul de Clermont to be your escort there, he will look upon it as the most sacred trust of his life."
He bowed to his saddle-bow, and looked so winning and handsome that Madame replied most graciously in the affirmative. A little beyond La Jonchère something very like an adventure befell us-the first on this hitherto uneventful journey. At the cross road leading to Bourganeuf, we met with a party of six or eight men, who did not require a second glance to make us see that they were capable of any mischief. They had halted to bait their horses, and, flung about in picturesque attitudes, were resting under the trees-as ill-looking a set of fellows as the pleasant shade of the planes had ever fallen upon. Had they known beforehand that we were travelling this way, they would very probably have arranged an attack on us; but as it was we came upon them rather suddenly, and as our party-which had been added to by de Clermont's two lackeys-was somewhat too strong to assault openly, without the risk of broken heads and hard knocks-things which gentry of this kind do not much affect-they let us alone, contenting themselves with gathering into a group to watch us as we went by; and this we did slowly, our men with their arms ready. As we approached, however, and saw their truculent faces, I had doubts as to whether we should pass them without bloodshed, and begged de Clermont in a low voice to prevent any such thing. He had drawn a light rapier that he wore, but as I spoke he put it back with a snap, and holding out his hand, asked for the loan of my riding-whip-a little delicate, agate-handled thing.
"It will be enough," he said as I gave it to him, and he began to swing it backwards and forwards, as if using it to flick off flies from his horse. To my joy they made no attempt to molest us, though at one time a quarrel hung on a cobweb. For as we passed, the leader of the troop, a big burly man, with a very long sword trailing at his side, and a face as red as the constant dipping of his nose into a wine cup could make it, advanced a step into the wood, and, wishing us the day, tried deliberately to get a better look at me, with an unspeakable expression in his eyes. I saw de Clermont's face grow cold and hard, he quietly put his horse between me and the man, and checking it slightly, stretched out the whip, and touched a not very clean white scarf the creature wore over his shoulder, saying:
"You are a trifle too near Limoges to wear this, my man-take my advice and fling it away."
"That is my affair," answered the man insolently.
"Precisely, Captain la Coquille. I spoke but for your good. Ah! take care!" and de Clermont's horse, no doubt secretly touched by the spur, lashed out suddenly, causing the man to spring back with an oath and an exclamation of:
"You know me! Who the devil are you?"
To this, however, de Clermont made no answer, but as we passed on he returned my whip to me, saying, "I am glad I did not have to use it. It would have deprived you of a pretty toy had I done so."
"Thank you. Who is that horrible man? You called him by name."
"Yes, la Coquille. I know him by sight, though he does not know me. He was very near being crucified once, and escaped but by a fluke. He is robber, thief, and perhaps a murderer, and-"
"And what!"
De Clermont reached forward and brushed off an imaginary fly from his horse's ears.
"And has something of a history. I believe he was a gentleman once, and then went under-found his way to the galleys. After that he was anything, and perhaps I ought not to tell you, but in time he became de Lorgnac's sergeant-his confidential man-and it was only his master's influence that saved him from a well-deserved death. It was foolish of de Lorgnac, for the man knew too many of his secrets, and was getting dangerous. I hope I have not pained you," he added gently.
"Not in the least," I replied, and rode on looking straight before me. So this vile criminal was once my husband's confidential servant, was perhaps still connected with him in his dark designs. And then I said a bitter thing, "Like master, like man. Is not that the adage, monsieur?" But as the words escaped me, I felt a keen regret.
"God help you, Denise," I heard de Clermont murmur as if to himself, and then he turned abruptly from me, and joined Madame de Termes, leaving me with a beating heart, for his words had come to me with a sense of undying, hopeless love in them, and he was so brave, he seemed so true, and looked so handsome, that my heart went out in pity for him. How the mind can move! In a moment there rose before me thoughts of a life far different from the one to which I was doomed, and with them came the grim spectres of the vows that bound me forever, and which I would have to keep. God help me! Yes, I needed help-de Clermont was right.
We passed on, leaving the gang still under the plane-trees, and soon came in view of Ambazac, lying amidst its setting of waving cornfields. Here for a little time we suddenly missed de Clermont and one of his lackeys, and both Madame and I were much concerned, for the same thought struck us both, that he had lagged behind and then gone off hot-foot to punish la Coquille. We were about to turn after him when he came in sight, followed by his man, and caught us up, riding with a free rein. He perhaps saw the inquiry in my look, for he said softly to me, "I went back to pick up a souvenir I had dropped," and his eye fell on the lapel of his coat where my rose was, a little, however, the worse for wear. After that he did not speak to me, but kept by Madame and devoted himself to her with a delicacy for which I was grateful, for I felt I wanted all my thoughts for myself. At Ambazac, which we reached in a little, we found good accommodation at a large inn, although the town was full, it being the fête of St. Etienne de Muret; and after taking some light refreshment Madame and I retired to our apartments, to rest until the supper hour, for we were wearied. We supped in the common hall, but at a small table a little apart from the others, and de Clermont, who sat next to me, gave Madame an interesting account of the defence of Ambazac, made by her husband against the Prince of Condé. It was whilst he was detailing the incidents of this adventure that, with a great clattering and much loud talking, la Coquille and his men entered the dining-room, and began to shout for food and drink. Most of the people in the inn being common country folk and unarmed, made way for the crew with haste, and even an expression of alarm appeared on Lalande's face, for our own servants were but six in number, including the baggage drivers, and Madame's maid and my own, who, of course, were useless, and two of our men-servants were at the moment attending to the horses; so that we were at a decided disadvantage, and la Coquille was not slow to perceive this.
"Dame," he exclaimed, looking towards us, "here is my popinjay and his sugar-plum. Look you, my good fellow, join those boys there, whilst I bask in beauty's smiles."
His men crowded round our servants with rough joking, and he, picking up a stool, placed it at our table, and held out an immense greasy paw to me.
"Shake hands, ma mignonne! Never mind the old lady and the silk mercer. There is no lover like a brave soldier."
Madame was white with anger. I had sprung to my feet, meditating flight, and the villain's followers raised a hoarse shout, "Courage, captain! None but the brave deserve the fair."
Then de Clermont's hand was on the man's neck, and with a swing of his arm he sent him staggering back almost across the room. He recovered himself on the instant, however, for he was a powerful man, and rushed forward; but stopped when he saw de Clermont's rapier in his hand, and began to tug at his fathom of a sword. His men, however, offered no assistance to him, contenting themselves with breaking into loud laughter. As for de Clermont, he was as cool and self-possessed as if he were at a Court function.
"Out of this," he said. "Begone-else I shall have you flogged and you shall taste the carcan. Be off."
"The carcan! You silkworm, you cream-faced dancing-master!" yelled the man, who had now drawn his sword. "Who the devil are you to threaten me-la Coquille-with the carcan? Blood of a Jew! Who are you?"
"The Marquis de Clermont-Ferrand," was the answer, "and these ladies are of the household of M. de Termes, and now I will give you and your men two minutes to go. If not I shall have them stoned out of the place; and you-you know what to expect. If you are wise you will put a hundred leagues between yourself and Périgord after this; and now be off-fool."
The man dropped his sword into its sheath and stammered out, "Your pardon, monseigneur! I did not know. Come, boys," he said with an affectation of unconcern, "these ladies complain that the place is too crowded; we will go elsewhere. At your service, mesdames," and making a bow that had a sort of faded grace about it, he swaggered off followed by his men, who took his lead with surprising alacrity. The people in the inn and our servants raised a cheer, and were for going after them, doubtless to administer the stoning; but de Clermont put a stop to this, saying in a peremptory tone, "Let them go; I will see that they are dealt with."
As may be imagined we were in no mood for much supper after this. My knees felt very weak under me, and Madame de Termes was trembling all over; but she thanked de Clermont very gracefully, and he made some modest answer with his eyes fixed on me, and I-I could say nothing. We would have retired at once, but de Clermont pressed us to stay, and Madame, with a little smile, agreed, saying, "I am afraid even after all these years I am not quite a soldier's wife." So we lingered yet a little longer and found our nerves come back to us. After that we sat in the garden where the moonlight was full and bright, and the breeze brought us the scent of the roses. Then de Clermont bringing out his lute sang to us. He had a voice such as neither I, nor any one else I knew who had listened to it, had ever heard equalled. So, perhaps, sang his old troubadour ancestors, and the sweet notes had died with the days of chivalry to be born in Raoul de Clermont. The song he chose was one that was perchance written by one of his minstrel forbears, and described in that old tongue that we no longer use, a lover's agony at being separated forever from his mistress. The words were, perhaps, poor, but there was genuine feeling in them, and sung by de Clermont, it might have been the wail of an angel shut out from Paradise. Never did I hear the like-never would I care to hear the like again, and as the last of the glorious notes died away in a liquid stream of ineffable melody, I saw Madame's face buried in her hands, and there was a great sob behind me that came from the broad chest of Lalande, who had stolen up to hear, and was blubbering like a child. Then Madame de Termes rose, and hurried off followed by Lalande, and we were alone, I sitting still with my whole soul full of that wondrous song, and every nerve strung to its highest pitch, whilst de Clermont remained standing, his lute, slung by its silken sash, in the loop of his arm.
