Arthur O'Leary Part 30

'Oh, that's very simple, as far as you 're concerned,' said she, with a saucy smile; 'but I'd just as soon not have this adventure published over the whole country.'

Ha! by Jove, thought I, there's a consideration completely overlooked by me; and so I became silent and thoughtful, and spoke not another word as we led our horses up the little rocky causeway towards the 'Toison d'Or.'

If we did not admire the little _auberge_ of the 'Golden Fleece,' truly the fault was rather our own than from any want of merit in the little hostelry itself. Situated on a rocky promontory on the river, it was built actually over the stream--the door fronting it, and approachable by a little wooden gallery, along which a range of orange-trees and arbutus was tastefully disposed, scenting the whole air with their fragrance. As we walked along we caught glimpses of several rooms within, neatly and even handsomely furnished--and of one salon in particular, where books and music lay scattered on the tables, with that air of habitation so pleasant to look on.

So far from our appearance in a neighbourhood thus remote and secluded creating any surprise, both host and hostess received us with the most perfect ease, blended with a mixture of cordial civility very acceptable at the moment.

'We wish to dine at once,' said I, as I handed Laura to a chair.

'And to know in what way we can reach Rochepied,' said she; 'our horses are weary and not able for the road.'

'For the dinner, mademoiselle, nothing is easier; but as to getting forward to-night----'

'Oh, of course I mean to-night--at once.'

'Ah, voila,' said he, scratching his forehead in bewilderment; 'we're not accustomed to that, never. People generally stop a day or two; some spend a week here, and have horses from Dinant to meet them.'

'A week here!' exclaimed she; 'and what in Heaven's name can they do here for a week?'

'Why, there's the chateau, mademoiselle--the chateau of Philip de Bouvigne, and the gardens terraced in the rock; and there's the well of St. Sevres, and the Ile de Notre Dame aux bois; and then there's such capital fis.h.i.+ng in the stream, with abundance of trout.'

'Oh, delightful, I'm sure,' said she impatiently; 'but we wish to get on. So just set your mind to that, like a worthy man.'

'Well, we'll see what can be done,' replied he; 'and before dinner's over, perhaps I may find some means to forward you.'

With this he left the room, leaving mademoiselle and myself _tete-a-tete_. And here let me confess, never did any man feel his situation more awkwardly than I did mine at that moment; and before any of my younger and more ardent brethren censure me, let me at least 'show cause' in my defence. First, I myself, however unintentionally, had brought Mademoiselle Laura into her present embarra.s.sment; but for me and the confounded roan she had been at that moment cantering away pleasantly with the Comte d'Espagne beside her, listening to his _fleurettes_ and receiving his attentions. Secondly, I was, partly from bashfulness, partly from fear, little able to play the part my present emergency demanded, which should either have been one of downright indifference and ease, or something of a more tender nature, which indeed the very pretty companion of my travels might have perfectly justified.

'Well,' said she, after a considerable pause, 'this is about the most ridiculous sc.r.a.pe I've ever been involved in. What _will_ they think at the chateau?'

'If they saw your horse when he bolted----'

'Of course they did,' said she; 'but what could they do? The Comte d'Espagne is always mounted on a slow horse: _he_ couldn't overtake me; then the _maitres_ couldn't pa.s.s the grand maitre.'

'What!' cried I, in amazement; 'I don't comprehend you perfectly.'

'It's quite clear, nevertheless,' replied she; 'but I see you don't know the rules of the _cha.s.se_ in Flanders.'

With this she entered into a detail of the laws of the hunting-field, which more than once threw me into fits of laughter. It seemed, then, that the code decided that each horseman who followed the hounds should not be left to the wilfulness of his horse or the aspirings of his ambition, as to the place he occupied in the chase. It was no momentary superiority of skill or steed, no display of jockeys.h.i.+p, no blood that decided this momentous question. No; that was arranged on principles far less vacillating and more permanent at the commencement of the hunting season, by which it was laid down as a rule that the _grand maitre_ was always to ride first. His pace might be fast or it might be slow, but his place was there. After him came the _maitres_, the people in scarlet, who in right of paying double subscription were thus costumed and thus privileged; while the 'aspirants' in green followed last, their smaller contribution only permitting them to see so much of the sport as their respectful distance opened to them--and thus that indiscriminate rush, so observable in our hunting-fields, was admirably avoided and provided against. It was no headlong piece of reckless daring, no impetuous dash of bold horsemans.h.i.+p; on the contrary, it was a decorous and stately canter--not after hounds, but after an elderly gentleman in a red coat and a bra.s.s tube, who was taking a quiet airing in the pleasing delusion that he was hunting an animal unknown. Woe unto the man who forgot his place in the procession! You might as well walk into dinner before your host, under the pretence that you were a more nimble pedestrian.

Besides this, there were subordinate rules to no end. Certain notes on the _cor de cha.s.se_ were royalties of the _grand maitre_; the _maitres_ possessed others as their privileges which no 'aspirant' dare venture on. There were quavers for one, and semiquavers for the other; and, in fact, a most complicated system of legislation comprehended every incident, and I believe every accident, of the sport, so much that I can't trust my memory as to whether the wretched 'aspirants' were not limited to tumbling in one particular direction--which, if so, must have been somewhat of a tyranny, seeing they were but men, and Belgians.

'This might seem all very absurd and very fabulous if I referred to a number of years back; but when I say that the code still exists, in the year of grace, 1856, what will they say at Melton or Grantham? So you may imagine,' said Laura, on concluding her description, which she gave with much humour, 'how manifold your transgressions have been this day.

You have offended the _grand maitre, maitres_, and aspirants, in one _coup_; you have broken up the whole "order of their going."'

'And run away with the belle of the chateau,' added I, _pour comble de hardiesse_. She did not seem half to relish my jest, however; and gave a little shake of the head, as though to say, 'You're not out of _that_ sc.r.a.pe yet.'

Thus did we chat over our dinner, which was really excellent, the host's eulogy on the Meuse trout being admirably sustained by their merits; nor did his flask of Haut-Brion lower the character of his cellar. Still no note of preparation seemed to indicate any arrangements for our departure; and although, sooth to say, I could have reconciled myself wonderfully to the inconvenience of the Toison d'Or for the whole week if necessary, Laura was becoming momentarily more impatient, as she said--

'_Do_ see if they are getting anything like a carriage ready, or even horses; we can ride, if they'll only get us animals.'

As I entered the little kitchen of the inn, I found my host stretched at ease in a wicker chair, surrounded by a little atmosphere of smoke, through which his great round face loomed like the moon in the grotesque engravings one sees in old spelling-books. So far from giving himself any unnecessary trouble about our departure, he had never ventured beyond the precincts of the stove, contenting himself with a wholesome monologue on the impossibility of our desires, and that great Flemish consolation, that however we might chafe at first, time would calm us in the end.

After a fruitless interrogation about the means of proceeding, I asked if there were no chateau in the vicinity where horses could be borrowed.

He replied,' No, not one for miles round.'

'Is there no mayor in the village--where is he?'

'I am the mayor,' replied he, with a conscious dignity.

'Alas!' thought I, as the functionary of Givet crossed my mind, 'why did I not remember that the mayor is always the most stupid of the whole community?'

'Then I think,' said I, after a brief silence, 'we had better see the cure at once.'

'I thought so,' was the sententious reply.

Without troubling my head why he 'thought so,' I begged that the cure might be informed that a gentleman at the inn begged to speak with him for a few minutes.

'The Pere Jose, I suppose?' said the host significantly.

'With all my heart,' said I; 'Jose or Pierre, it's all alike to me.'

'He is there in waiting this half-hour,' said the host, pointing with his thumb to a small salon off the kitchen.

'Indeed!' said I; 'how very polite the attention! I 'm really most grateful.'

With which, without delaying another moment, I pushed open the door, and entered.

The Pere Jose was a short, ruddy, astute-looking man of about fifty, dressed in the canonical habit of a Flemish priest, which from time and wear had lost much of its original freshness. He had barely time to unfasten a huge napkin, which he had tied around his neck during his devotion to a great mess of vegetable soup, when I made my bow to him.

'The Pere Jose, I believe?' said I, as I took my seat opposite to him.

'That unworthy priest!' said he, wiping his lips, and throwing up his eyes with an expression not wholly devotional.

'Pere Jose,' resumed I, 'a young lady and myself, who have just arrived here with weary horses, stand in need of your kind a.s.sistance.' Here he pressed my hand gently, as if to a.s.sure me I was not mistaken in my man, and I went on: 'We must reach Rochepied to-night; now, will you try and a.s.sist us at this conjuncture? We are complete strangers.'

'Enough, enough!' said he. 'I'm sorry you are constrained for time. This is a sweet little place for a few days' sojourn. But if,' said he, 'it can't be, you shall have every aid in my power. I 'll send off to Poil de Vache for his mule and car. You don't mind a little shaking?' said he, smiling.

'It's no time to be fastidious, _pere_, and the lady is an excellent traveller.'

'The mule is a good beast, and will bring you in three hours, or even less.' So saying, he sat down and wrote a few lines on a sc.r.a.p of paper, with which he despatched a boy from the inn, telling him to make every haste. 'And now monsieur, may I be permitted to pay my respects to mademoiselle?'

'Most certainly, Pere Jose; she will be but too happy to add her thanks to mine for what you have done for us.'

'Say rather, for what I am about to do,' said he, smiling.

'The will is half the deed, father.'

'A good adage, and an old,' replied he, while he proceeded to arrange his drapery, and make himself as presentable as the nature of his costume would admit.