Lorraine Part 9

At the foot of the terrace, Lorraine de Nesville stood with Jack, watching the dark drive for the lamps of the returning carriage.

Her maid loitered near, exchanging whispered gossip with the groom, who now stood undecided, holding both horses and waiting for orders. Presently Jack asked him where the messengers were, and he said he didn't know, but that they had perhaps gone to the kitchens for refreshments.

"Go and find them, then; here, give me the bridles," said Jack; "if they are eating, let them finish; I'll hold their horses. Why doesn't Mademoiselle de Nesville's carriage come back from Saint-Lys? When you leave the kitchens, go down the road and look for it. Tell them to hurry."

The groom touched his cap and hastened away.

"I wish the carriage would come--I wish the carriage would hurry," repeated Lorraine, at intervals. "My father is alone; I am nervous, I don't know why. What are you reading?"

"My telegram from the New York _Herald_," he answered, thoughtfully.

"It is easy to understand now," she said.

"Yes, easy to understand. They want me for war correspondent."

"Are you going?"

"I don't know--" He hesitated, trying to see her eyes in the darkness. "I don't know; shall you stay here in the Moselle Valley?"

"Yes--I suppose so."

"You are very near the Rhine."

"There will be--there shall be no invasion," she said, feverishly. "France also ends at the Rhine; let them look to their own!"

She moved impatiently, stepped from the stones to the damp gravel, and walked slowly across the misty lawn. He followed, leading the horses behind him and holding his telegram open in his right hand. Presently she looked back over her shoulder, saw him following, and waited.

"Why, will you go as war correspondent?" she asked when he came up, leading the saddled horses.

"I don't know; I was on the _Herald_ staff in New York; they gave me a roving commission, which I enjoyed so much that I resigned and stayed in Paris. I had not dreamed that I should ever be needed--I did not think of anything like this."

"Have you never seen war?"

"Nothing to speak of. I was the _Herald's_ representative at Sadowa, and before that I saw some Kabyles shot in Oran. Where are you going?"

"To the river. We can hear the carriage when it comes, and I want to see the lights of the Chateau de Nesville."

"From the river? Can you?"

"Yes--the trees are cut away north of the boat-house. Look! I told you so. My father is there alone."

Far away in the night the lights of the Chateau de Nesville glimmered between the trees, smaller, paler, yellower than the splendid stars that crowned the black vault above the forest.

After a silence she reached out her hand abruptly and took the telegram from between his fingers. In the starlight she read it, once, twice; then raised her head and smiled at him.

"Are you going?"

"I don't know. Yes."

"No," she said, and tore the telegram into bits.

One by one she tossed the pieces on to the bosom of the placid Lisse, where they sailed away towards the Moselle like dim, blue blossoms floating idly with the current.

"Are you angry?" she whispered.

He saw that she was trembling, and that her face had grown very pale.

"What is the matter?" he asked, amazed.

"The matter--the matter is this: I--I--Lorraine de Nesville--am afraid! I am afraid! It is fear--it is fear!"

"Fear?" he asked, gently.

"Yes!" she cried. "Yes, it is fear! I cannot help it--I never before knew it--that I--I could be afraid. Don't--don't leave us--my father and me!" she cried, pa.s.sionately. "We are so alone there in the house--I fear the forest--I fear--"

She trembled violently; a wolf howled on the distant hill.

"I shall gallop back to the Chateau de Nesville with you," he said; "I shall be close beside you, riding by your carriage-window. Don't tremble so--Mademoiselle de Nesville."

"It is terrible," she stammered; "I never knew I was a coward."

"You are anxious for your father," he said, quietly; "you are no coward!"

"I am--I tremble--see! I s.h.i.+ver."

"It was the wolf--"

"Ah, yes--the wolf that warned us of war! and the men--that one who made maps; I never could do again what I did! Then I was afraid of nothing; now I fear everything--the howl of that beast on the hill, the wind in the trees, the ripple of the Lisse--C'est plus fort que moi--I am a coward. Listen! Can you hear the carriage?"

"No."

"Listen--ah, listen!"

"It is the noise of the river."

"The river? How black it is! Hark!"

"The wind."

"Hark!"

"The wind again--"

"Look!" She seized his arm frantically. "Look! Oh, what--what was that?"

The report of a gun, faint but clear, came to their ears.

Something flashed from the lighted windows of the Chateau de Nesville--another flash broke out--another--then three dull reports sounded, and the night wind spread the echoes broadcast among the wooded hills.

For a second she stood beside him, white, rigid, speechless; then her little hand crushed his arm and she pushed him violently towards the horses.