Arthur O'Leary Part 31

'This was a rapid business of yours,' said he, as he smoothed down his few locks at the back of his head.

'That it was, _pere_--a regular runaway.'

'I guessed as much,' said he. 'I said so, the moment I saw you at the ferry.'

The _pere_ is no bad judge of horse-flesh, thought I, to detect the condition of our beasts at that distance.

'"There's something for me," said I to Madame Guyon. "Look yonder! See how their cattle are blowing! They've lost no time, and neither will I."

And with that I put on my gown and came up here.'

'How considerate of you, _pere_; you saw we should need your help.'

'Of course I did,' said he, chuckling. 'Of course I did. Old Gregoire, here, is so stupid and so indolent that I have to keep a sharp lookout myself. But he's the _maire_, and one can't quarrel with him.'

'Very true,' said I. 'A functionary has a hundred opportunities of doing civil things, or the reverse.'

'That's exactly the case,' said the _pere_. 'Without him we should have no law on our side. It would be all _sous la cheminee_, as they say.'

The expression was new to me, and I imagined the good priest to mean, that without the magistrature, respect for the laws might as well be 'up the chimney.'

'And now, if you will allow me, we 'll pay our duty to the lady,' said the Pere Jose, when he had completed his toilette to his satisfaction.

When the ceremonial of presenting the _pere_ was over I informed Laura of his great kindness in our behalf, and the trouble he had taken to provide us with an equipage.

'A sorry one, I fear, mademoiselle,' interposed he, with a bow. 'But I believe there are few circ.u.mstances in life where people are more willing to endure sacrifices.'

'Then monsieur has explained to you our position?' said Laura, half blus.h.i.+ng at the absurdity of the adventure.

'Everything, my dear young lady--everything. Don't let the thought give you any uneasiness, however. I listen to stranger stories every day.

'Taste that Haut-Brion, _pere_,' said I, wis.h.i.+ng to give the conversation a turn, as I saw Laura felt uncomfortable, 'and give me your opinion of it. To my judgment it seems excellent.'

'And your judgment is unimpeachable in more respects than that,' said the _pere_, with a significant look, which fortunately was not seen by mademoiselle.

Confound him, said I to myself; I must try another tack. 'We were remarking, Pere Jose, as we came along that very picturesque river, the Chateau de Bouvigne; a fine thing in its time, it must have been.'

'You know the story, I suppose?' said the pere.

'Mademoiselle was relating it to me on the way, and indeed I am most anxious to hear the denouement.'

'It was a sad one,' said he slowly. 'I'll show you the spot where Henri fell--the stone that marks the place.'

'Oh, Pere Jose,' said Laura, 'I must stop you--indeed I must--or the whole interest of my narrative will be ruined. You forget that monsieur has not heard the tale out.'

'Ah! _ma foi_, I beg pardon--a thousand pardons. Mademoiselle, then, knows Bouvigne?'

'I 've been here once before, but only part of a morning. I 've seen nothing but the outer court of the chateau and the _fosse du traitre_.'

'So, so; you know it all, I perceive,' said he, smiling pleasantly. 'Are you too much fatigued for a walk that far?'

'Shall we have time?' said Laura; 'that's the question.'

'Abundance of time. Jacob can't be here for an hour yet, at soonest. And if you allow me, I'll give all the necessary directions before we leave, so that you 'll not be delayed ten minutes on your return.'

While Laura went in search of her hat, I again proffered my thanks to the kind _pere_ for all his good nature, expressing the strong desire I felt for some opportunity of requital.

'Be happy,' said the good man, squeezing my hand affectionately; 'that's the way you can best repay me.'

'It would not be difficult to follow the precept in your society, Pere Jose,' said I, overcome by the cordiality of the old man's manner.

'I have made a great many so, indeed,' said he. 'The five-and-thirty years I have lived in Bouvigne have not been without their fruit.'

Laura joined us here, and we took the way together towards the chateau, the priest discoursing all the way on the memorable features of the place, its remains of ancient grandeur, and the picturesque beauty of its site.

As we ascended the steep path which, cut in the solid rock, leads to the chateau, groups of pretty children came flocking about us, presenting bouquets for our acceptance, and even scattering flowers in our path.

This simple act of village courtesy struck us both much, and we could not help feeling touched by the graceful delicacy of the little ones, who tripped away ere we could reward them; neither could I avoid remarking to Laura, on the perfect good understanding that seemed to subsist between Pere Jose and the children of his flock--the paternal fondness on one side, and the filial reverence on the other. As we conversed thus, we came in front of a great arched doorway, in a curtain wall connecting two ma.s.sive fragments of rock. In front lay a deep fosse, traversed by a narrow wall, scarce wide enough for one person to venture on. Below, the tangled weeds and ivy concealed the dark abyss, which was full eighty feet in depth.

'Look up, now,' said Laura; 'you must bear the features of this spot in mind to understand the story. Don't forget where that beam projects--do you mark it well?'

'He'll get a better notion of it from the tower,' said the _pere_, 'Shall I a.s.sist you across?'

Without any aid, however, Laura trod the narrow pathway, and hasted along up the steep and time-worn steps of the old tower. As we emerged upon the battlements, we stood for a moment, overcome by the splendour of the prospect. Miles upon miles of rich landscape lay beneath us, glittering in the red, brown, and golden tints of autumn--that gorgeous livery which the year puts on, ere it dons the sad-coloured mantle of winter. The great forest, too, was touched here and there with that light brown, the first advance of the season; while the river reflected every tint in its calm tide, as though it also would sympathise with the changes around it.

While the Pere Jose continued to point out each place of mark or note in the vast plain, interweaving in his descriptions some chance bit of antiquarian or historic lore, we were forcibly struck by the thorough intimacy he possessed with all the features of the locality, and could not help complimenting him upon it.

'Yes, '_ma foi_,' said he, 'I know every rock and crevice, every old tree and rivulet for miles round. In the long life I have pa.s.sed here, each day has brought me among these scenes with some traveller or other; and albeit they who visit us here have little thought for the picturesque, few are unmoved by this peaceful and lovely valley. You'd little suspect, mademoiselle, how many have pa.s.sed through my hands here, in these five-and-thirty years. I keep a record of their names, in which I must beg you will kindly inscribe yours.'

Laura blushed at the proposition which should thus commemorate her misadventure; while I mumbled out something about our being mere pa.s.sing strangers, unknown in the land.

'No matter for that,' replied the inexorable father, 'I'll have your names--ay, autographs too!'

'The sun seems very low,' said Laura, as she pointed to the west, where already a blaze of red golden light was spreading over the horizon: 'I think we must hasten our departure.'

'Follow me, then,' said the _pere_, 'and I 'll conduct you by an easier path than we came up by.'

With that he unlocked a small postern in the curtain wall, and led us across a neatly-shaven lawn to a little barbican, where, again unlocking the door, we descended a flight of stone steps into a small garden terraced in the native rock. The labour of forming it must have been immense, as every shovelful of earth was carried from the plain beneath; and here were fruit-trees and flowers, shrubs and plants, and in the midst a tiny _jet d'eau_, which, as we entered, seemed magically to salute us with its refres.h.i.+ng plash. A little bench, commanding a view of the river from a different aspect, invited us to sit down for a moment. Indeed, each turn of the way seduced us by some beauty, and we could have lingered on for hours.

As for me, forgetful of the past, careless of the future, I was totally wrapped up in the enjoyment of the moment, and Laura herself seemed so enchanted by the spot that she sat silently gazing on the tranquil scene, apparently lost in delighted reverie. A low, faint sigh escaped her as she looked; and I thought I could see a tremulous motion of her eyelid, as though a tear were struggling within it My heart beat powerfully against my side. I turned to see where was the _pere_. He had gone. I looked again, and saw him standing on a point of rock far beneath us, and waving his handkerchief as a signal to some one in the valley. Never was there such a situation as mine; never was mortal man so placed. I stole my hand carelessly along the bench till it touched hers; but she moved not away--no, her mind seemed quite preoccupied. I had never seen her profile before, and truly it was very beautiful.

All the vivacity of her temperament calmed down by the feeling of the moment, her features had that character of placid loveliness which seemed only wanting to make her perfectly handsome. I wished to speak, and could not. I felt that if I could have dared to say 'Laura,' I could have gone on bravely afterwards--but it would not come. 'Amen stuck in my throat.' Twice I got half-way, and covered my retreat by a short cough. Only think what a change in my destiny another syllable might have caused! It was exactly as my second effort proved fruitless that a delicious sound of music swelled up from the glen beneath, and floated through the air--a chorus of young voices singing what seemed to be a hymn. Never was anything more charming. The notes, softened as they rose on high, seemed almost like a seraph's song--now lifting the soul to high and holy thoughts, now thrilling within the heart with a very ecstasy of delight. At length they paused, the last cadence melted slowly away, and all was still.

We did not dare to move; when Laura touched my hand gently, and whispered, 'Hark! there it is again! And at the same instant the voices broke forth, but into a more joyous measure. It was one of those sweet peasant-carollings which breathe of the light heart and the simple life of the cottage. The words came nearer and nearer as we listened, and at length I could trace the refrain which closed each verse--

'Puisque l'herbe et la fleur parlent mieux que les mots, Puisque un aveu d'amour s'exhale de la rose, Que le "ne m'oublie pas" de souvenir s'arrose, Que le laurier dit Gloire! et cypres sanglots.'

At last the wicket of the garden slowly opened, and a little procession of young girls, all dressed in white, with white roses in their hair, and each carrying bouquets in their hands, entered, and with steady step came forward. We watched them attentively, believing that they were celebrating some little devotional pilgrimage, when to our surprise they approached where we sat, and with a low curtsy each dropped her bouquet at Laura's feet, whispering in a low silver voice as they pa.s.sed, 'May thy feet always tread upon flowers!' Ere we could speak our surprise and admiration of this touching scene--for it was such, in all its simplicity--they were gone, and the last notes of their chant were dying away in the distance.

'How beautiful! how very beautiful!' said Laura; 'I shall never forget this.'