You refuse to see me; it depends, however, upon me to render you the most happy or most unhappy of men. I know that you are Blanche's abductor. Respect that young girl. Hasten to listen to me; I still wish to forgive you, but at some moments I listen to nothing but my fury.
The letter written, she entrusted it to a faithful man, and awaited his return with the most lively impatience. The messenger at length came and brought an answer from the marquis. Julia seized it, and hastily read the following,—
My little Julia: your sweet note made me laugh a good deal; I find nothing more pleasing than those women who threaten us with their fury. The only vengeance which a woman in your situation can take upon a man is to deceive him,—and God knows whether you would use this means; but it is necessary, in order that the charm may work effectually, that it should be taken while he still loves you, without which it fails of its object. Your reign is past, my dear friend. You undoubtedly did not think to captivate the Marquis de Villebelle for long, and I sent you a check on my banker to settle the account. I do not know who could have told you that I had abducted a certain Blanche; once more, what does it matter to you? Am I not entitled to abduct ten women if that pleases me. Believe me, you had better not disquiet yourself about my actions or give yourself the further trouble of writing to me, for your letters will be returned to you unopened. Good-by, hot-head, I wish you a faithful lover, since you hold so much to fidelity.
Julia remained motionless, the letter was still in her hands, but she did not see it; one thought alone occupied her, the thought of vengeance, she seemed to give herself up to it with delight.
"You will have it, will you?" said she, "I will not hesitate longer."
However, the marquis was very much surprised that the young Italian should know who had abducted Blanche, and as soon as night came he wrapped himself in his cloak and went to the barber's house. Touquet himself opened to the nobleman, for the events of the night before and the fear which she had experienced seemed to have paralyzed old Marguerite, who was unable to leave her room.
"You here, monseigneur?" said the barber, with surprise, "I imagined that you were at your château, all taken up with your new love. Can it be that Blanche is already forgotten?"
"Forgotten? Why, I love her more than ever. But I was forced to come to Paris for some days, though I hope soon to return to Sarcus; each moment that I pass away from Blanche seems to me a century. However, I have not yet succeeded, and the remembrance of her Urbain—but let us come to the motive which has brought me hither. How is it that Julia knows that I have abducted Blanche? how could she have come to know this lovely child whom you kept with so much care?"
"You find me as much surprised as yourself, monseigneur. This young Italian had the audacity to introduce herself into my house yesterday evening; she presented herself, so my old house-keeper tells me, as bringing news of Blanche, but really she came to gather the details of her flight."
"She came also to my hotel; I refused to see her; she wrote to me, she threatened me. My fate is, said she, in her hands. You may imagine that I only laughed at these threats as inspired by the jealousy and spite of a woman. However, there's something very singular to me about it all."
"Wait, monseigneur, I believe I have a glimpse of light. Who informed you yourself that there was a charming young girl in my house?"
"Hang it! you recall it to my recollection. It was an original, a little man whom I found at my house in the Faubourg, hidden under a statue, and who pretended to have helped in the abduction of Julia."
"Chaudoreille?"
"It's that same."
"I should have divined it; there's no doubt of it, it was he who told Julia that you had abducted Blanche. If he should happen to know Urbain, I should not be astonished if he has told him also."
"The little clown! I paid him well enough for everything."
"After having caused the abduction, he does his best to help someone to find Blanche."
"Truly, that is not so very stupid; this is a boy who follows in your footsteps; but if you meet him, I recommend him to you. Give him a good beating."
"Be easy about that, monseigneur."
"For the rest, they may do what they please, they cannot snatch Blanche from my hands. This young girl has more power than all of them put together; one tear from her could, I feel, change all my resolutions. When I see her beautiful eyes turned towards me with a supplicating look, I am often about to sacrifice my love and to restore her to him whom she regrets, in the hope of at least obtaining her friendship."
"O monseigneur, what folly! Why, Blanche is in your power, and you are going—"
"No, no, she must belong to me; henceforth for me to separate from her is impossible. Besides, has she not told me that she is disposed to love me?"
"Come, monseigneur, pull yourself together. They will say that you yield to the threats of this little Julia."
"My uncle is very ill, perhaps he will not last through the night. I shall soon return to Sarcus, then I will not again leave Blanche, I will listen to nothing but my love."
"With women, monseigneur, that causes everything to be forgiven."
Since the barber knew that the marquis suspected where he had obtained his fortune, he believed that it was for his interest to lose sight of Blanche. If Villebelle dreamed of reëntering the path of honor, Touquet could no longer feel easy as to himself.
The marquis regained his hotel. As he had foreseen, his uncle expired during the night, leaving him immense wealth; which would lead one to think that fortune does not show her preference to those who make good use of her favors. But someone answers to that, that fortune does not make happiness; it is, therefore, necessary to console the unhappy a little.
A week sufficed the marquis to settle his affairs. At the end of that time he prepared to return to Blanche, to whom he carried presents of every kind, which were carefully packed in the travelling carriage.
Chaudoreille, who was continually on the watch about the hotel, saw these preparations for departure, and ran to tell Julia.
"Enough," said the young Italian, "I have long been prepared for this, and I have bought two good horses. You shall come with me."
"To the end of the world; I am devoted to you."
"I do not think that we shall have to go very far, we shall have nothing to do but follow the marquis' carriage."
"I understand you."
"You can ride a horse?"
"Perfectly; however, I prefer donkeys, they don't trot so fast."
"Idiot! can one hope to follow a post-chaise on an ass? Make all your preparations."
"They are made. I have my wardrobe upon me; as to my purse, yesterday evening I had some cursed ill-luck while you relieved me at the hotel. I didn't remain in the gambling-house longer than between five and ten minutes, and I had well calculated my play; well, I can say with Francis the First, I have lost everything but honor."
While Chaudoreille rattled on, Julia donned a large cloak, and took all the money which remained to her. Then she sent the Gascon to his post, while she went to get the horses. Towards seven o'clock in the evening the marquis got into his carriage with Germain and started for the Château de Sarcus, not for one moment thinking that Julia and Chaudoreille were following his carriage from afar.
Leaving the travellers to make their way we will return to poor Urbain, who, for a long time past, had languished on his bed, kept there by illness and grief. He was heartbroken at being without strength to go in search of his dear Blanche, and the good girl who gave him every care, incessantly repeated to him,—
"The more you disquiet yourself, the longer you retard your cure."
Someone had told him that a great nobleman was Blanche's abductor, and he was in despair at not having been able to keep his appointment with this man, who would have told him his rival's name. But at last he felt better and could go out, and the first use which he made of his returning strength was to go to the barber's house. It was closed on every side, the shutters had not been taken down from the shop, although the hours of labor had long since begun; Urbain knocked, but no one opened to him.
"It is useless for you to knock," said a neighbor to him, "the house is empty and is for sale. You must inquire at the agent's, Rue des Mauvaises-Paroles."
"And the barber?"
"The barber has left it, I tell you, there's nobody there."
"And Marguerite?"
"She died a week ago."
"Marguerite is dead—is it possible?"
"Why, what is there so extraordinary in that? The poor woman wasn't young."
"Where can I find M. Touquet now?"
"I can't give you any information. That man was a bear, and he spoke to nobody."
Urbain departed, discouraged at this new event. He grieved for the good Marguerite, who had been the witness of his love and his happiness. He had no idea of any way in which he could obtain information as to Blanche's fate. He went to the Porte Montmartre and waited for three hours, in the hope that he who had given him an appointment would come there; but he waited in vain, and then turned despairingly towards his lodging. The good-natured girl, to whom he made his lament, tried to console him by saying,—
"If it's a nobleman who has abducted your mistress, you must go and ask for her at all the great noblemen's houses."
Suddenly Urbain uttered a joyful exclamation, and a slight smile animated his pale and sorrowful features.
"There still remains one hope," he said.
"And what is that, monsieur?"
"In the midst of all these events I had forgotten that adventure, however, it may yet serve me."
"What adventure; monsieur?"
"Listen to me. You remember that in order to see Blanche I was for some time obliged to disguise myself as a woman."
"Oh, yes, monsieur, I remember very well. Didn't I help to dress you and to put in your pins?"
The girl smiled. Urbain paid no attention and continued,—
"One evening, I think it was the first time that I wore my disguise, having been accosted by several men, I escaped them by traversing many streets and it was very late when I found myself in the Grand Pré-aux-Clercs. I had almost reached my dwelling when I was stopped by four men, whom by their language I recognized as noblemen of the court. I confessed to them that I was a man, hoping by that means to escape them, but one of them wanted me to tell him the motive for my disguise. I refused, he persisted; I got angry, he threatened; in short, one of his companions lent me his sword and we fought, I wounded my adversary, but very slightly, I think. 'My friend,' he said to me then, tendering me his hand, 'you are a brave man and I am very pleased to have made your acquaintance; if you should some day have need of a protector, come to my hotel, ask for the Marquis de Villebelle and you shall find me ready to oblige you.' Those are his exact words."
"The Marquis de Villebelle? Oh, I have sometimes heard my master speak of him. They say that he is a great nobleman, very generous, but a very wild fellow."
"No matter, he offered me his protection, and I shall have recourse to it."
"Mercy, monsieur, you will do well, and who knows whether he's not acquainted with the rascal who has stolen your darling."
"Yes, I hope that the marquis will help me to recover Blanche. These great noblemen tell each other their adventures, their good luck; such a brave man should have some pity on my torture. Why have I not already spoken to him—but his hotel?"
"Oh, he's very well known, monsieur, and it will be very easy for you to find that out."
On the morrow, as soon as it was day, Urbain went out to try and find the one on whom he placed his last hopes. He obtained information as to the marquis' hotel, and he soon arrived there.
"Monsieur le Marquis de Villebelle?" said he entering the court, and timidly addressing the porter.
"This is his hotel, but monsieur le marquis is not in Paris."
"Is not in Paris?" exclaimed Urbain, his heart contracting.
"No, he is travelling."
"Travelling? And will he soon be back?"
"He'll come back when he pleases. Do you think monseigneur needs your permission in order to go travelling?"
"That was not what I wished to say, monsieur, but I am in such haste to see monsieur le marquis, to speak to him."
"You can see him when he comes back, whenever monseigneur is willing to receive you."
The insolent porter returned to his lodge, took his glass and his fork, and resumed a copious breakfast, without paying any further attention to the young student, who remained in the court, heaving big sighs, as he said,—
"He's not in Paris; how unfortunate I am."
Ten minutes later Urbain softly approached the porter's lodge, and said to him in a supplicating tone,—
"Monsieur, can you not tell me where the marquis has gone?"
"What? Are you still there?" answered the porter without turning his head. "Can't you leave me to eat my breakfast in peace? I tell you that monseigneur is travelling. There are some people who are so stubborn; they all say the same thing, 'I wish to see monseigneur,' and they bother my head from morning till night."
Urbain would not be repulsed; he knew the customs of Paris, and took out his purse, in which he had put several crowns, and made it chink in his hand. Then the porter deigned to turn towards him, and said to him, a little more politely,—
"I'm truly sorry, but monseigneur is really absent, and between ourselves, I believe he will be so for a long time."
"O heavens!" said Urbain, "and he is my only hope. Oh, monsieur, if you know where monseigneur is, I entreat you to give me his address."
The young man held out his purse and advanced.
"Come in for a moment," said the porter opening the little door of his lodge; "yes, of course, I know where monseigneur is. It's very necessary that we should know that, in order that we may send him any important letters that may be addressed to him; but it's a secret. However, if you'll promise to be discreet, and to let nobody know that it was I who told you,—"
"I swear to you not to do so."
"Then I'll tell you. Monsieur le marquis is at his Château de Sarcus, situated in the neighborhood of Grandvilliers. Take the road to Beauvais and—"
Urbain did not wait to hear more; he threw his purse on the porter's table, hastily left the hotel, ran to his lodging, took all the money he had left, and the same day set out to seek the marquis at his château.
DURING the absence of the marquis from the Château de Sarcus the unhappy Blanche had passed some sad and monotonous days; she had grown used to seeing and talking with him, and hoped to induce him to allow her to rejoin Urbain; so the day after Villebelle's departure, astonished at not receiving his accustomed visit, she believed that he was disposed to take her back to Paris; but in the evening, not meeting him in the park as usual, Blanche, on her return to her room, asked the maid for some news of her host.
"Monseigneur has gone, he went away yesterday," answered the country girl.
"Gone without me!" exclaimed Blanche, raising to heaven her beautiful eyes, filled with tears and despair; "can it be possible that he wishes to keep me always a prisoner in this château, then?"
"Don't grieve, mademoiselle," said the good-natured girl, "monseigneur said that he would not be long absent."
Blanche made no answer, but returned to her room, and there passed her days in grief and discouragement. She regretted the absence of the marquis, for the sweet child flattered herself that he would yet yield to her prayers. She had several times seen that her tears caused him emotion, and she still hoped that he would reunite her to Urbain; but left alone she no longer hoped, and the days rolled slowly by for the young prisoner. However, the return of springtime embellished the earth; the trees regained their foliage and the grass its verdure, the meadows were dotted with flowers, and the birds came again to the groves to sing the season of love. But, indifferent to the scenes which spread before her eyes, Blanche looked without pleasure on this charming perspective, with which at any other time she would have been delighted. The sorrow with which her heart was filled, threw a gloomy veil over all the objects which surrounded her.
Sometimes while walking in the park, Blanche considered the idea of escaping; but in what direction could she take her flight? Besides, the park was surrounded with very high walls, and the doors which led to the country were always scrupulously closed. The young girl was ignorant of the fact that in the absence of the marquis, two men servants watched her every step.
A deep melancholy seized her, the servant, Marie, tried in vain to distract her; sighs and tears were the only response which she obtained. Ten days had passed when Marie came running one morning to tell Blanche her master had arrived.
This news seemed to reanimate the young prisoner, and she waited impatiently for the marquis to come and speak to her. Villebelle, who ardently desired to see his captive, did not tarry in coming to her, and was greatly struck by the changes which had been wrought in her whole person.
"You have forgotten me, then, in this château?" said Blanche sighing.
"I forgotten you?"
"Why did you not take me to Paris, then? Are you going to keep me here long?"
"At least, Blanche, I will not leave you again."
"Let Urbain come to us, and I will not ask you to let me go away again."
The marquis knit his brows and tried to distract Blanche by offering her several pretty trifles which he had brought from Paris; but these presents were no better received than the first, and did not even evoke a smile from the young girl. In the evening Blanche and the marquis again walked in the park. Villebelle, more in love than ever, recalled the barber's counsels and promised himself the conquest of his captive, but when he was near Blanche, he felt all his resolutions vanish. One look from the lovely child put a curb on his desire, though it penetrated to the depth of his heart, and Villebelle said to himself,—
"By what magic does this young girl inspire me with a respect that is stronger than my love?"
Blanche, rendered confiding by her innocence, was seated at the entrance of a grotto which was surrounded by thick shrubbery. The marquis placed himself beside her. For a long time he remained silent, tenderly watching her. Then he took Blanche in his arms and was about to cull a kiss from her charming mouth, when she turned her supplicating eyes towards him, saying,—
"In pity, monseigneur, let me go."
Without knowing why he did so, he allowed the lovely girl to escape from his arms. He remained alone in the grotto; Blanche, experiencing a novel fear of the marquis, had fled, and the latter, cursing his weakness, returned to the château, vowing that he would no longer tremble before a child.
Julia and her companion had arrived at Sarcus and had seen the marquis enter the château. Chaudoreille had only fallen three times on the way, but he asserted that that was because his horse had been frightened. However, he complained greatly of fatigue, to which his companion appeared insensible, as she scrutinized the château which the marquis had entered, and its high towers illuminated by the sun.
"This is where he went, then," said the young Amazon, guiding her horse close against the walls.
"Yes, signora, there's not the least doubt that he went there, since we have seen him go in," answered Chaudoreille, who had alighted from his horse, where he was not comfortable.
"That's the Château de Sarcus, according to what a peasant told me."
"It is, in faith, a very fine castle. My ancestors had ten or a dozen like that; but they played for one every evening at piquet, and you know that luck is not always favorable. But ugh! how tired I am, this palfrey trotted so hard."
"And within these walls Blanche is shut up."
"That's very probable. By jingo! but we came at a good pace, and at the present time I would defy the best jockey in France."
"How shall we know on which side this young girl is?"
"I think it's first necessary to know where we can get some breakfast; you must be terribly fatigued, signora."
"I don't feel in the least tired, the hope of vengeance has doubled my strength."
"I have had nothing to double mine; I'm knocked up, exhausted, and I'm as hungry as a hunter."
Julia alighted from her horse and led the animal to Chaudoreille.
"Mount him," she said, "and take the other by the bridle. Go to the village, which you see over there, find an inn, and there wait for me. I wish to examine the château."
"Enough, I'll go and make them get breakfast ready. Oh, under what title shall we present ourselves? I have been thinking that it would be better to preserve our incognito in this part of the country."
"Say what you like."
"I shall say that we are Moors from Spain, that we have come from Granada to give lessons in castanets. That will prevent all suspicion, and our rather dark skins will foster the supposition."
Julia did not listen further to Chaudoreille and walked towards the château, while the chevalier, not caring to remount, took both horses by their bridles and went hobbling along to the village.
Chaudoreille inquired for the best inn. There was only one in the village and he reached it, leading his two horses after him. The master of the inn came to meet him, and Chaudoreille, trying to pull himself up, said to him,—
"I am Malek-al-Chiras of Granada, professor of castanets in the two Spains, and come to France with my sister, Salamalech, to dance the bolero before Cardinal Richelieu. We shall perhaps stay for some time in this village, but we wish to preserve the strictest incognito. Do you understand?"
"I don't understand very well," said the innkeeper, looking stupidly at him.
"In that case, prepare at once an omelette with bacon, give me a room, and take care of my horses, which are Arabian."
The innkeeper understood this better, and led his guest to a chamber on the first floor, to which Chaudoreille mounted with pain, so greatly had his long ride on horseback discommoded him.
After resting for some hours he went to the table, and had been there for a long time when Julia came in search of him.
"I awaited you with impatience," said Chaudoreille, while dismembering his third pigeon.
"Well, what have you learned?"
"My faith, I've learned that we shall not have fish for dinner."
"Idiot! I was speaking to you of the marquis."
"It seems to me that as I left you at the château, you should know more than me."
"I have been all around it, but I did not see anybody. You should have asked these peasants what they know of the château."
"They look as stupid as geese. How should these people know anything? By the way, you are my sister and you are called Salamalech."
"Chaudoreille, do you think that I brought you here to listen to your foolishness? Make haste and rest yourself and we will visit the neighborhood of the château; we will see if there is any way of introducing ourselves into the park."
"Begging your pardon, it will be very difficult for me to stir today. I am nailed before this table."
Finding it would be impossible to get her companion on his feet again, Julia left the inn, after taking a little nourishment, and again went to prowl around the walls of the château.
"The devil's in that woman," said Chaudoreille to himself as he got into bed, "she would be worthy to carry Rolande at her side." "My good host, put Rolande there, under my bolster. That's it, so that at the first alarm I can get him. Now see that you shut my door, and when my sister Salamalech returns tell her that I beg of her not to waken me before tomorrow at midday."
While Chaudoreille slept, Julia made the tour of the park and noticed a place where the wall was broken, and where it was possible to introduce one's self into the interior of the garden; but not wishing yet to risk it, she returned to her inn and tried to obtain some information about the inhabitants of the château. The peasants knew but one thing, and that was, that for the present, their lord was at Sarcus.
"But did not somebody bring a young girl to the chateau, some days ago?" asked Julia.
"When monseigneur is here the house is full of ladies and gentlemen," answered the host; who believed that the brother and sister had come to play their castanets before the marquis.
Julia decided to take a little rest, but the next day at dawn she repaired to Chaudoreille's room.
"Monsieur, your brother, is still sleeping," said the host whom she met, "and M. Malek-Al-de Granada has forbidden that anyone should wake him before noon."
Julia, without listening to the host, went into the chevalier's room. He was sleeping soundly, and she pulled him rudely by the ear.
"Did I bring you here with me," said she, "that you might sleep?"
"Oh, by jingo! how cruel you are, I was in my first slumber."
"Come, get up!"
"Get up? get up? I respect decency too much to rise before you."
"Get up, I tell you."
"Well, since you will have it so," and Chaudoreille put his two little thin legs out of bed, saying, "It appears that I cannot make her run away."
"You will go to the château, you will enter the first court, under the pretext of admiring the architecture, and you will chat with the porter."
"And if I am recognized?"
"By whom?"
"By monseigneur."
"Do you think he amuses himself by walking in the court? He is with his young captive."
"That is presumable."
"We will meet here presently and you will tell me all that you shall have learned. For my part, I am going to find my way into the park."
After a good breakfast, Chaudoreille started, enveloping himself in a mantle or cloak which Julia had given him, and which was so much too large for him that part of it dragged on the ground; but he admired himself very much in it, and felt himself six inches taller.
As he drew near the château, his first care was to look and see if there were a sentinel upon the wall, but perceiving nothing that seemed to indicate that the castle was upon a war footing he decided to advance. On arriving before the principal gate he walked for an hour, far and wide, before knowing if he should go into the château or not. The old porter, smoking his pipe before his door, perceived this little figure, trailing a cloak, and coming and going for a long while in the same circle. Irritated by this conduct, the porter left the château and walked towards Chaudoreille, to ask him what he did there. The latter, seeing a man walk with long steps towards him, imagined that the porter suspected him and was about to arrest him. Immediately he began to run on the sward, but presently his feet became entangled in the train of his cloak and he rolled on the grass. The porter, hearing someone calling in the château, did not continue his walk, and on rising Chaudoreille saw nobody. He then hastened to take the way to the village.
"This is enough of it for today," said he, "another time I shall not be so imprudent, I'll hide in the thickets which are within cannon shot of the castle," and he returned to his inn where, while awaiting dinner, he played at little quoits with his host, and insisted on teaching madame, his wife, to dance the bolero. Julia, hearing the noise, found Chaudoreille in the courtyard of the inn, in the midst of the fowls and manure, making many bows to a little woman of forty years, and beating time with Rolande, saying,—
"In Granada nobody dances except sword in hand. Ah, here is my sister Salamalech, she can make curtseys without touching her heels."
Julia pushed the dancing master into her room, saying to him,—
"What are you doing in that courtyard?"
"What the deuce! I did it the better to preserve our incognito, for prudence' sake."
"What have you learned this morning?"
"Many things. I believe there is a garrison at the château. I saw an armed man come out. As to little Blanche, I have a suspicion that they are keeping her in a subterranean dungeon."
"You're a fool. I've spoken to a young girl who lives at the château; I made her gossip. Blanche is in one of the towers which overlook the lake."
"Then the soldier whom I questioned must have lied to me. I had him, however, with my sword at his throat."
"Nobody has arrived at the château?"
"Oh, nobody, I'm sure of that, I have not lost sight of it."
"This evening I shall introduce myself into the park and I hope—"
"I hope that I'm not to introduce myself there."
"No, you are to watch outside."
"Ah, I'm good at watching outside; besides, I have the eyes of a cat, I can see clearly at night."
According to his custom the marquis went to visit Blanche on the day after the scene in the grotto, but she experienced a new dread at sight of him. She recalled how passionately he had folded her in his arms, and despite her innocence she felt a degree of fear as she saw him approach and seat himself at her side. The marquis knew women too well not to perceive the change in Blanche's manner. He tried to read the young girl's eyes, he wished to see again the sweet expression which so charmed him, but Blanche kept her eyes downcast, she trembled, and feared to meet those of the marquis. After a shorter visit than usual Villebelle left Blanche, and went to reflect on the means which he should employ to overcome her resistance. He awaited the evening impatiently, he flattered himself that he should be more fortunate in the gardens in making his peace with his young prisoner; but Blanche listened to a secret voice which told her she was not safe in the park with the marquis, and she did not intend to go there.
It had long been night, and vainly had Villebelle walked up and down the pathways where the young girl walked every evening. He did not meet her.
"She fears me," said he, "however, she does not hate me, she herself has told me so."
On passing before the grotto where they had sat the evening before, the marquis believed that he saw a shadow flit before him. Persuaded that it was Blanche, he ran to seize her. The person whom he pursued paused, turned, and, by the light of the moon, the marquis recognized Julia.
"You in this neighborhood, and in my park?" said Villebelle, with the greatest astonishment.
"Yes, monsieur le marquis," said Julia with a bitter smile, "does that astonish you? Monsieur de Villebelle should, however, understand all the pleasure which I experience in being near him."
"Once more, what are you doing here?"
"There was a time, monsieur le marquis, when my presence caused you no weariness, when you told me with the most tender vows that you would love me forever. Remember how often it was necessary to repeat those vows in order to make me yours."
The marquis made a gesture of impatience and exclaimed,—
"And is it to tell me this that you introduced yourself at night into my chateau?"
"No," said Julia, giving way to all her fury. "Another motive led me to this place; it was the hope of vengeance. You have laughed at my love, at my grief; I will revel in your sufferings, you shall shed tears of blood when it will be too late."
"This is too much; your threats weary and make me despise you. If you have the power to fulfil them, why are you waiting for your revenge?"
"I am awaiting the presence of an indispensable witness, your worthy confidant, the barber Touquet."
Saying these words Julia glided among the trees, and disappeared before the marquis could stop her. Greatly surprised at this singular meeting, he was careful on reëntering the château to warn Germain; and ordered him to redouble his watchfulness in order that no one might gain access to Blanche.
THE marquis returned in great agitation to his apartments. He was greatly incensed, but not at all intimidated by Julia's threats, which he attributed to spite and her jealousy. However, despite his lack of consideration for her he had cast off, there was something in the voice of the young Italian which carried conviction, and her eyes appeared to be animated by a barbaric joy when she had fixed them on those of the marquis, and warned him to beware.
Vexed at not having forced Julia to explain herself, Villebelle called his valet, and ordered him to search the park with some of his people, and if he met a woman to bring her immediately to the château. Germain, the gardener, and three men servants hastened to investigate the park and gardens, but they returned to the château without meeting anybody, and the marquis passed the night in reflecting upon the event. The presence of Julia had disturbed his peace; he feared that she would come and bring Blanche news of her lover. At daybreak he wrote to the barber and ordered him to come to the château.
Marguerite was dead; the old servant could not bear the loss of Blanche, and the fury of her master after Julia's visit. The barber, who had for a long time desired to sell his house, was about to go to a lawyer, when a letter was brought to him by a messenger from the marquis.
"He wishes that I should go to Sarcus," said Touquet to himself, after reading the note; "the marquis still has need of me. He has at times, an inclination for virtue which causes me uneasiness, but he pays generously; besides I can refuse him nothing. He has divined a part of my conduct, and if some day he should desire to ruin me as an expiation for all his own follies—for it is often in this manner that great folks repair their errors—but no, the marquis will commit follies as long as he lives; it is above all necessary that he should triumph over Blanche's virtue, for that would insure my safety."
Touquet made the preparations for his departure, and on the next day but one he arrived at the château, and presented himself to the marquis, who was awaiting him in his apartment.
"You see, monseigneur, with what haste I have obeyed your orders," said the barber, bowing.
"That is well; your presence here may be very useful to me. I feel that I need someone who will make me ashamed of my weakness. Would you believe that I am no further advanced in regard to Blanche?"
"I shouldn't believe it unless you told me so, monseigneur."
"It is certain that I should never have dreamed of it myself. She has been for three weeks at the château, and I have hardly dared to kiss her hand. Some days ago we were in the park, and I tried to advance a little further, but she supplicated me to let her go in so touching a voice, it affects me in a manner which I cannot account for, but I was nearly heartbroken at having caused her pain; since that time she has not left her room. When near me, she is fearful, embarrassed, and always in tears."
"All that will end, when you have made her yours, monseigneur."
"Have you seen her lover? This Urbain of whom she talks incessantly, and whom she calls at every moment of the day."
"No, monseigneur, and I presume that young Urbain, more reasonable than Blanche, has already forgotten that little love affair."
"The poor little thing is always thinking of him. If I could persuade her that he no longer loves her,—she would not, however, believe me. But in speaking to you of Blanche I forget the motive which induced me to send for you. You can never divine whom I met the day before yesterday, in the evening, in my park—Julia."
"Julia!" cried the barber, starting with surprise.
"Yes, she had entered these premises. But how could she have discovered that I was here?"
"I can't imagine, monseigneur."
"She had the audacity to threaten me, jealousy and rage shone in her eyes; she also spoke to me of you. I didn't understand all she was saying to me, and she disappeared when I was about to force her to explain further."
"Monseigneur, this young girl has some evil design."
"I think that, also. However, she has not reappeared since, and every evening my people make a general search in the park."
"No matter, Julia will do her utmost to take Blanche away from you."
"How do you think she will do it? You must visit the neighborhood, and if you discover Julia, tell her from me that I forbid her to present herself on these premises. If she still dares to come I can easily obtain a lettre-de-cachet, which will relieve me from her importunities."
"That will be the best thing you can do, monseigneur. Tomorrow I'll begin my researches."
"During the time which you are at the château, avoid passing through the park by the side of the lake, for you might be seen by Blanche, and I don't wish that she shall know you are here; I don't think that the sight of you would give her pleasure, and I desire to keep her from all that might add to her grief."
"I've never seen monseigneur so much in love."
"No, never has any woman inspired me with that which I feel for Blanche."
"I'm going to get some rest. Tomorrow at daybreak I shall take my way; I will search the neighborhood, I will visit the smallest cottages; Julia cannot evade my search, and as soon as I know where she is, I answer for it, monseigneur, that you will not see her again."
The barber was about to go as he said these words, but there was an expression on his face which did not escape the marquis. Villebelle ran to him and stopped him, saying in a severe tone,—
"Touquet, you have misunderstood me. Remember that I do not wish that any harm should come to Julia. That young girl is passionate, headstrong, but her love excuses it. One should always forgive the faults of which one is the first cause. I should, perhaps, have further considered her sensibility; I have treated her with too much disdain. If she will consent to become reasonable, promise her all that she shall ask. Scatter gold, that she may be happy. In addition to that, I wish to speak to her myself, that she may explain to me what she wished to tell in her letter."
"In that case, monseigneur, as soon as I have discovered her retreat, I will hasten to let you know it."
The barber bowed low to the marquis and left the apartment.
"That man is a deep scoundrel," said Villebelle, as he watched Touquet depart. "For a long time I thought he was only a schemer and a thief; why should he still be necessary to me? But I can't charge Germain to speak to Julia. Julia! I believed for a little while that I loved her. Ah, what a difference there is between that passionate, vindictive woman and the sweet and charming Blanche. Why should Julia love me so passionately, and yet I cannot kindle in the breast of that timid child a spark of the fire which consumes me?"
While the marquis was dreaming of Blanche, who, sad and solitary in her lonely room, passed her days in praying to Heaven and weeping for her lover, Julia, after her nocturnal meeting with Villebelle, sought to gain speech with the young prisoner. The watchfulness of the marquis' people did not prevent her from gliding through the park; but though she drew near the lake it was impossible to reach the tower; they had taken away all the boats for fear that one of them should serve as a means of approaching Blanche's windows. As for Chaudoreille, being ordered to watch all who entered or left the château, he hid himself in a thick bush, which was about two cannon shots from the entrance to the castle; and there, having Rolande bare at one side by way of precaution, and a bottle of wine at the other, he passed his day with a pack of cards, studying a new manner of turning the king and of re-turning the aces, hiding entirely under his immense mantle at the slightest sound.
The day after his arrival at the château, the barber commenced his search. Not imagining for a moment that Julia would conceal herself at Sarcus, he visited Damerancourt, and Grandvilliers, and returned towards the evening to Sarcus. As he approached the village, he perceived in front of him a little man enveloped in a brown cloak, under which it was difficult to distinguish his body, but a long sword, whose handle protruded from one side of his cloak, betrayed who carried it.
"It's Chaudoreille," said the barber to himself, and he hastened that he might catch up with him. The little man, when he heard someone behind him, was seized with terror, and also tried to walk faster, but the unfortunate cloak entangled his legs at every step, and soon he felt himself pulled by the handle of his sword. He turned and was petrified at seeing the barber Touquet.
"Where are you going, Chevalier Chaudoreille?" said the barber, in a mocking tone.
"Where am I going? By jingo! How are you, my good friend?"
"You clown," said the barber, "I've heard some fine things about you."
"One mustn't believe all that one hears, my dear Touquet."
"And don't you think I ought to believe monsieur le marquis? It was you who told him about Blanche, despite your vows."
"You know very well that between ourselves an oath is not binding, and what have you to complain of? I was the means of your obtaining a large sum of money."
"And do you serve Julia now?"
"Yes, I serve Julia. I will serve you, if you wish, I will serve anybody; I have always been very obliging."
"Where is Julia?"
"She wishes to preserve her incognito."
"Answer, wretch, no more lies."
"Ow! leave go of my ear, you are hurting me. We are lodging in this village at the inn; there is only one here. Julia passes as my sister, and I for a Moor of Granada, professor of castanets."
"What are Julia's plans?"
"The devil carry me away if I have any idea of them. She passes her days and a part of her nights in prowling about the château, like a fox watching a chicken. Between ourselves I believe she's a little cracked."
"And with what design did she bring you here?"
"Simply to keep her company. She likes my society very much, I sing villanelles to her."
"Listen to me, I ought to break your back to punish you for what you've done."
"O my dear Touquet, that was a joke."
"Get along with you, I despise you too much to strike you."
"That's very civil on your part."
"Have you told me the truth?"
"If you doubt it, come with me to the inn. Julia will not be long before she comes in."
"No, I can't go there this evening; but I forbid you to say a word to her about our meeting."
"As soon as you forbid me, it's as if you had cut out my tongue."
"If I don't find Julia tomorrow in the place you have told me of, monsieur le marquis himself will see that you are punished, and this time there will be no quarter given you."
"You may be sure I'll obey you."
"Good-by, I'm going back to the château."
"And I to the village—where I shall not await your visit," said Chaudoreille, in a low tone, gathering his cloak up under his arm that he might walk more quickly.
Touquet returned to the château and sought the marquis. It was night, and Villebelle was seated before a table as sumptuously furnished as was possible at the château; but the marquis, presuming that he should make a long sojourn there, had had his cellars replenished, and if the fare was not so delicate as in Paris, the wines were no less exquisite. The marquis appeared gayer than usual. He had already emptied several bottles, and near him were several letters which he read while supping.
"What news?" said he, on perceiving the barber.
"My researches have not proved vain, monseigneur. Julia is at the village; she is living at the inn under an assumed name. I have seen Chaudoreille, who is now her confidant."
"Ah, the little Gascon. Have you thrashed him soundly?"
"Not yet, monseigneur, I wished first to get your orders, and I have not seen Julia."
"You have done well, I will speak to her myself. Tomorrow we will go together to the village; I shall make the heedless girl hear reason, and we shall know this grand secret which she pretends she has to tell me."
"A secret?"
"Yes, and it's necessary, she says, that you should be present when she tells it."
"Me? monseigneur."
"Tomorrow she shall be satisfied. Do you see those letters? All of those were sent to me from Paris. They are from the great ladies who regret me; there are reproaches, promises, vows, and a little of everything. Here, throw all that in the fire."
"What, monsieur le marquis, even those which are unopened?"
"Yes, of course; do they not all say the same thing? Ah, a single smile from Blanche is worth all the sweet nothings of these ladies. Why is she not here, near me?"
"If monseigneur desires it—"
"That she may come with her eyes full of tears? No."
The marquis filled a large glass with wine, which he drank at a draught, when he exclaimed,—
"I'm commencing, however, to fear that I sigh in vain; Blanche is near me, in my château, but I dare not—but to employ violence, I cannot resort to that."
"Without employing violence, monseigneur, are there not a thousand ways? She sleeps undefended—and you have double keys to all the rooms."
"What perfidy!"
"Not greater, monseigneur, than taking her in a carriage, telling her that she was going to join Urbain."
"Be silent, you are a monster; and to listen to your horrible counsels renders me more criminal than yourself."
"It was not I, monseigneur, who counselled you to fall in love with Blanche, but since she is in your power, it seems to me that your scruples are a little tardy."
The marquis remained silent for some moments; then he resumed,—
"This morning she spoke to me less coldly; I remained several hours with her; she seemed to me less timid. I took her hand, and she left it for a long time in mine."
"What more do you wish for, monseigneur? In secret Blanche loves you; but do you think that so timid a young girl will confess what is passing in her heart? It is not until after she has yielded that she banishes all constraint."
"Blanche loves me, say you? Ah, if it were true. But it is late; go and take some rest. Tomorrow we will go and see Julia."
Touquet bowed to the marquis, and looked stealthily and scrutinizingly at him; then he took a candle, and departed in silence. For a long while the marquis remained at the table, buried in thought, or drinking glass after glass of wine. He seemed to wish to drown in the liquor the thoughts which pursued him. Finally he rang for Germain, and said to him in a gloomy voice,—
"Who has the double keys to the château?"
"The porter should have them, monseigneur."
"Bid him come here, I wish to speak to him."
The old porter hastened to obey his master's orders.
"Are there some double keys for these apartments?" said the marquis.
"Yes, monseigneur, there are even triple keys; 'tis an ancient usage that dates from—"
"Go and get me those of the tower which looks on the lake."
The porter departed, and soon returned with a bunch of keys, saying,—
"If monseigneur wishes I will conduct him through the château."
"Give me those and go, I do not need your assistance," said the marquis, snatching the keys from his hand.
The old man, stupefied, bowed and departed, without daring to raise his eyes on his master. The marquis dismissed his servants, saying that he had need of rest, and presently the most profound silence reigned in the château and in the grounds pertaining to it.
As for the Marquis de Villebelle, he walked irresolutely about his apartment, holding the bunch of keys in his hand, and meditating deeply. He was apparently still undecided as to what course he should take, and muttered to himself from time to time,—
"No, I cannot make use of these keys—she seemed to give me her confidence and I dare not abuse it; but must she pass her life thus? To be so near her, to have abducted her in vain. What would all the libertines say of me, all the people of fashion, if they knew of my conduct? But if they could see Blanche! Why did that cursed Touquet speak to me of these keys? I should have divined that when he entered this château, that man would advise me to commit some wicked action."
Some moments passed, and at last the marquis took up a candle, and exclaimed,—
"It is settled; I will listen only to the passion which leads me."
He left his room, which was separated from the tower where Blanche was lodged by a long gallery adorned with portraits of the marquis' ancestors. Villebelle walked slowly, pausing often to listen, and trembling for fear he should meet someone; he kept his eyes down, and seemed afraid to look at the portraits of his ancestors, who, for the most part, had honored their country by their bravery and virtue. At this moment something told him he was about to commit an act which was unworthy of the name which they had transmitted to him, and when his eyes met by chance one of those noble faces with which the gallery was hung, he seemed to read in it an expression of indignation and scorn. At last he reached the end of the gallery, and never had it seemed to him so long; he mounted a grand staircase, crossed several rooms, and entered the tower which held the young girl. A violent trembling seized him. Wishing to master his uneasiness, he hastened his walk. All the doors of communication were open, and he soon found Blanche's room. He paused, and looked at the keys which he held in his hand; he still hesitated, but, seeking to deaden himself to the crime which he was about to commit, he tried several keys, and was soon in Blanche's room. The deepest silence reigned in this place; the marquis stepped very softly, taking each step with precaution. The door of the bedroom was not closed. Villebelle looked in, and by the light of the lamp placed on the hearth, perceived the young girl asleep.
"She sleeps," said the marquis; "she thinks herself safe in this shelter, but her breathing is oppressed; she seems as though she were going to speak; if I could but hear her."
He approached the bed. Blanche was dreaming of her lover; softly she breathed Urbain's name, and extended her arms as if imploring someone; then she murmured,—
"O dear God! they still keep us apart."
Villebelle felt moved and softened.
"No, she does not love me," said he softly; "in her sleep she is always thinking of Urbain."
He sighed profoundly, and was about to depart, when Blanche awakened, opened her eyes, and called out in terror,—
"O heavens! who is there?"
"It is I, Blanche," answered the marquis in a halting voice.
"You seigneur? so late in my room? What do you want with me?"
"Be calm, I beg of you."
"But you are trembling yourself, seigneur, what has happened?"
"Nothing, nothing; I wished to see you—to speak to you, to look at you once more."
"Ah, don't look at me so, monsieur le marquis, you frighten me."
"Frighten you? Ah, Blanche, is that the feeling with which the most faithful lover should inspire you? Yes, my love is at its height; I can no longer master it; you must make me happy; you must be mine."
The marquis already held Blanche in his arms. The young girl uttered a piercing cry, and gathering her strength, disengaged herself, jumping lightly from her bed, but Villebelle again seized her; he tried to cover her with kisses; he tried to stifle her cries. Blanche threw herself at his feet, extended her arms towards him, supplicatingly, and cried in a heart-breaking-voice,—
"Mercy! mercy! if only for today."
These accents penetrated to the depths of the marquis' soul. The sight of Blanche at his feet, of her tears and of her despair, restored him to reason, but fearing that he might no longer be able to master his passion, he precipitately left the young girl, and distractedly fled to his room.
BLANCHE remained motionless and silent for a long time in the place where she had implored, and her loveliness and the nameless charm of her innocence had obtained, the pity, the forbearance of a man who had been about to wrong her womanhood. At last a flood of tears relieved her heart. She rose and then looked about her with terror; she listened tremblingly; at the least sound caused by the wind on the lake she shuddered, and imagined she heard the marquis returning. She passed the night in cruel anxiety.
"All is over," she said, weeping; "my hope of happiness is completely shattered. O my well-beloved Urbain, I shall see you no more; they will separate us forever, but I will die rather than cease to be worthy of thee."
The marquis had rested no better than his victim. Divided between love and remorse, regretting at times having yielded to what he called his weakness, and cursing a passion which made Blanche unhappy, he saw day break without having closed his eyes.
Astonished at having received no orders in regard to Julia, Touquet presented himself before the marquis; he remarked the dejection of the latter's features, and sought to divine the cause of it. Villebelle's gloomy and melancholy tone did not indicate that he was happy; he remained silent, and the barber dared not question him. At this moment Germain entered the room, and announced to his master that a young man had presented himself at the château, and begged the favor of speech with him.
"A young man?" said the marquis. "Is he an inhabitant of the neighborhood?"
"No, monseigneur, his dress is that of a young student; he expresses himself well, and appears to have the greatest desire to see you."
"He did not tell you his name?"
"He says that you know him without knowing his name."
"How very singular, can he be a messenger from Julia?" said Villebelle, looking at the barber.
"I don't think so, monsieur le marquis. The description which Germain has given of the stranger is not that of Chaudoreille."
"When they introduce this young man, Touquet, step into the next room; it is possible he wishes to speak to me alone."
The barber departed and Germain returned with Urbain, who, having travelled without stopping, had arrived at Sarcus, and was waiting impatiently at the porter's lodge for the answer which the marquis should send him.
"My master consents to see you. Follow me, monsieur, I will take you to him," said Germain to Urbain; the latter joyfully hastened to follow the valet, who introduced him to the marquis.
Urbain entered the room trembling; approaching with embarrassment the great nobleman, who was seated on a sofa, and who looked curiously at the young man, unable to resist a certain interest which Urbain's refined and distinguished face inspired.
"Deign to excuse, seigneur, the liberty which I take," said the young bachelor, bowing low to the marquis.
"Speak, monsieur, what do you want of me?"
"I come to implore your protection. You gave me permission to have recourse to it. We have already seen each other at Paris, some time ago; I was disguised, I met you at night in the Grand Pré-aux-Clercs, fought a duel—"
"What, my brave fellow, was that you, who were dressed as a girl?"
"Yes, seigneur, I had the misfortune to wound you in the arm."
"And I tell you that that was just, for I was wrong, as I usually am. Hang it! I'm delighted to see you again; give me your hand, you are a brave fellow."
The marquis rose, came towards Urbain and cordially shook him by the hand. The latter, delighted by this welcome, did not know how to evince his gratitude.
"Seat yourself near me," said Villebelle, "and tell me what has procured me the pleasure of receiving you in my château."
"Monseigneur, you had the goodness to offer me your protection if I were unfortunate, and I come to claim it."
"You do well, my dear fellow; speak without fear. Is it money that you need, I have it at your service; don't spare it, I often enough make a bad use of it, once at least let it serve me in making somebody happy."
"Fortune could not render me happy, for it is love which causes my trouble, monseigneur."
"Oh, you are in love; that's different, I am in love, also; and at this moment it does not make me very happy, either. But come, tell me your love affairs."
"I love, I adore, a charming young girl—ah, monseigneur, there is nobody to be compared to her."
"Perhaps, but go on."
"She did not know her parents, but the man who had brought her up gave me her hand. Only one day and we should have been united, when a wretch introduced himself into the house where she lived and carried off from me the one who was about to become my wife."
"That's very singular," said the marquis, struck by Urbain's recital, "and do you know the name of this ravisher?"'
"No, monsieur le marquis, but after that I learned that it was a great nobleman, a rich and powerful man—Ah, my only hope of discovering this monster lies in you, for you perhaps know the place where he lives. Monseigneur, have pity on my torture, help me to recover her whom they have stolen from me, help me to recover Blanche, and the unfortunate Urbain will owe you more than life."
At the name of Blanche the marquis rose abruptly. Urbain threw himself at his feet, seized one of his hands and looked imploringly at him; but Villebelle turned his head that the young man might not see the change which had come over his face.
"Get up, get up," said the marquis, seeking to master his emotion; "I wish to serve you, yes, but I cannot promise to restore to you the one whom you have loved."
"Among the noblemen of the court, there are men who glory in betraying innocence and snatching a young girl from her relations; seigneur, if you have the least suspicion—sometimes the slightest indication will put one on the track."
The marquis appeared to reflect deeply; Urbain, who believed that he sought to recall some circumstance which had interested him, waited with most lively anxiety for him to speak. After a long silence Villebelle said,—
"You are very young, Urbain."
"I am nineteen years old, seigneur."
"This—Blanche is, no doubt, the first woman whom you have loved?"
"Yes, seigneur, and she will be the last."
"You are mistaken, my friend; at your age one loves ardently, but it is a flame which quickly evaporates. It is only to one like me that—bereft of the illusions of youth and wearied with change—a true love is a need of the heart and should be an insurmountable feeling. Like you, at nineteen years of age, I believed that I should love for life; I deceived myself. Believe me, you will still be happy."
"Without Blanche? That is impossible."
"You have some little fortune?"
"I have a little country house which my father left me, and twelve hundred livres income."
"With so little, distraction is not easy. I wish that you could taste some of the pleasures of your age, and in their vortex you would soon forget your first love."
"I thank you, seigneur, but I cannot accept your benefits. I repeat to you, I can never taste pleasure separated from her I love."
"Well, what I have offered you would facilitate your researches. Do not refuse me, it is only on that condition that I promise you to second your efforts. Wait for me here, do not leave this room."
So saying, the marquis went into the room where Touquet was waiting.
"Urbain is there," said he, "the young stranger who asked to see me is Blanche's lover."
"I know it, seigneur, I recognized his voice and I listened."
"He comes to beg my help in discovering the abductor of her he loves."
"He could not better address himself."
"I almost felt ready to give him his sweetheart."
"What folly!"
"But Blanche's image is too deeply graven in my heart. However, I wish to try and indemnify poor Urbain for the evil which I have caused him; and the power of gold—"
"It is the remedy for all evils, seigneur."
"Yes, to a venial soul like yours; you have never known the sweetness of love."
"But it is necessary, seigneur, to get rid of this young man for a long time. What prevents you—by means of false advice—from sending him to England, to Turkey, to the devil even?"
"In fact, I comprehend."
"Travel will distract him from his love; you are a generous rival. Some others in your place, profiting by the occasion, would shut this young man up in some dungeon in this château."
"Oh, how horrible! to betray the confidence of this mere boy."
"In place of that you will give him money, so that he can live like a great lord."
"Could I ever pay him for the treasure I have taken from him?"
The marquis opened a desk, took sixty thousand livres in notes, which he placed in a pocketbook and returned to find Urbain. The young bachelor, as he noted the elegance of the interior of the château, said to himself,—
"It is, perhaps, in a similar abode that Blanche is lamenting at this moment."
"In thinking of what you have told me," said Villebelle, "I recall certain circumstances which might, perhaps, put you on the track of her whom you are seeking."
"O monsieur le marquis, deign to tell me."
"The Marquis de Chavagnac has often made people talk about him by abducting beautiful girls; he has suddenly left Paris, and one may presume that it was on some similar adventure."
"Ah, it is he who has stolen Blanche from me."
"Remember well that I do not affirm anything."
"And does anyone know to which of his châteaux he has gone?"
"He is not in France, and, according to what I have learned, has betaken himself to Italy."
"To Italy? Then that is where I must go."
"Take this pocketbook as a mark of my esteem, and do not spare that which it holds."
"Seigneur, I do not know if I should."
"Believe my experience; with gold one may gain the duennas, one may seduce jailers, one may surmount many obstacles."
"It will be to you, then, that I shall owe my happiness, my felicity. O seigneur, I do not know how to express my gratitude to you."
"Go, Urbain, make a tour of Italy, and perhaps you will there find happiness."
The young bachelor still wished to express to the marquis all his gratitude, but the latter would not permit him, and again wishing him a pleasant journey, he rang for Germain, who conducted Urbain to the door of the château. Hardly had the young lover quitted the marquis' apartments, when Villebelle called Touquet, and ordered him to follow Urbain at a distance, and not to lose sight of him until he was certain that the bachelor had left Sarcus. Urbain departed, penetrated with gratitude to the marquis, but while passing through the great gate, he experienced a sadness for which he could not account. He could hardly leave the château, and turned to cast a last glance at the antique towers of Sarcus. Wrapped in thought, he walked slowly down the first road which he came to, greatly touched at the welcome which he had received at the château. He hoped, thanks to the benevolence of the marquis, soon to be in Italy, not doubting that it could be any other than the Seigneur de Chavagnac who had carried Blanche off.
Urbain had already gone some distance from the château, and was about to enter a lane which led to the village, when a shout of, "Take care there!" made him raise his head, and he saw before him a man on horseback. The rider, however, managed his horse so badly that the animal was standing across the path, having his head resting on a bush, to which he seemed to be attached.
"By jingo! won't you turn, proud animal; beware lest in place of the spur I bury Rolande's point in your side. Take care there, what the deuce! My horse is skittish, you frighten him."