The White House Part 87

"The woman whom I loved best, and who was stolen from me! Yes, you have her features, the same sweet expression--or perhaps it is only a delusion.--However, the sight of this country had almost made me forget the Baron de Marcey; I still hated him, but I would not have left these mountains to find him. Fate, however, has enabled me to take my revenge.

First of all, I learned that Edouard's friend, that Alfred was the baron's son by his first marriage."

"Alfred, my protector's son?" cried Isaure.

"Yes, he is his son, and that is why I urged him more than once to abduct you. I tried to persuade him to do all sorts of wild things, even to fight with Edouard! By ruining the son, I hoped to avenge myself on the father. But Alfred was weak enough to renounce his love. I do not know what I should have determined upon. Perhaps I should have sought my vengeance in his blood! But fate has served me better. I learned from Alfred himself that the man of the White House was his father; thereupon, changing my plans, I determined to repay the baron a part of the anguish he has caused me, by obtaining possession of you. I have succeeded; you are parted from him forever.--Now, my girl, you know all, you know the motive which has led me to take you to this undiscoverable retreat."

"Oh! mon Dieu!" said Isaure, falling on her knees, and raising her hands to heaven; "I am most unhappy, a.s.suredly; but if, by remaining in this place, I save my protector's life, and his son's, I shall not complain, and I submit to my fate without a murmur."

Touched by the girl's demeanor, the vagabond allowed her sometimes to breathe the fresh air in front of the hovel; at such times Charlot kept watch at some little distance; and at the slightest sound, at the approach of any person, Isaure and her companion would return to the inner house. But it rarely happened that a traveller pa.s.sed along that rocky path, which was at a distance from all the travelled roads. In the fortnight that she had been in the house, Isaure had seen only a few goats, which had shown their heads over the edge of the hole, in which her abode was situated; but no murmur escaped the lips of her who was now leading such a melancholy existence. She seemed to be submissive to her fate; and if she sometimes uttered Edouard's name, it was because she believed herself to be alone, because she thought that she was musing when she p.r.o.nounced her lover's name.

At such times, to comfort the poor child, the author of her misfortunes said to her coldly:

"Your Edouard would have been no better than the rest; his love would have pa.s.sed away, because everything pa.s.ses away in this life; and then he would have deceived and abandoned you, or else he would have repented marrying you and would have reproached you harshly."

Isaure made no reply; but she did not believe that Edouard would have behaved thus; her heart told her that he would always have loved her dearly; that, although he no longer saw her, he constantly thought of her; that idea was the last consolation, the last ray of happiness that the poor child had; why should she not try to retain it?

In the long hours which she pa.s.sed in solitude, she was always thinking of Edouard; sometimes she involuntarily called him; perhaps all hope was not banished from her heart; but when her courage failed her, when she felt more keenly the horror of her new existence, she took from her breast the locket which she kept carefully hidden there; and, after a.s.suring herself that she was quite alone, that no one could see her, she covered with kisses the portrait which she had been told was her mother's, and which she had sworn never to show to anyone. Indeed, she had no idea that the sight of that beloved image could possess any interest to those with whom she was condemned to pa.s.s her life.

Three weeks had pa.s.sed since Isaure had been taken to Charlot's house; during that time, only two shepherds had appeared in the neighborhood, and they had not entered the narrow path, but had followed the road which pa.s.sed at the end of it. So the vagabond believed that although he was only twelve leagues at most from the White House, his captive was more difficult to find than if he had taken her into another province.

Isaure was seated on the bench in front of the outer house; it was mid-day, but the weather was bad and no one was likely to be tempted to travel through the mountains. However, the old shepherd was keeping watch on a cliff near by, and the vagabond himself, who was a few yards away from Isaure, also watched keenly.

Suddenly, old Charlot gave the signal agreed upon to warn him of someone's approach. The vagabond hastily entered the hovel with the girl, and soon the old shepherd joined them there.

"What is it?" the vagabond asked Charlot.

"I saw three men in the distance on the mountain."

"Three men! Are they coming in this direction?"

"They act as if they didn't know where they wanted to go."

"Remain in this cabin; if these men knock at the door, open at once, don't keep them waiting, and let them come in and rest; if they want refreshment, give them only bread and water; if they ask you questions, you know what you are to answer."

Charlot nodded and returned to his house. The pa.s.sage leading to the inner house was carefully secured. The vagabond made Isaure go in; she had started when she heard mention of three travellers; a secret presentiment seemed to tell her that they were her protector, with his son and Edouard, searching for her. But the vagabond's eye had become threatening. He had seized his sword, which had been hidden in a corner of the excavation, and seizing Isaure's arm, he said to her in a menacing voice:

"If a single cry escapes you while those strangers are with Charlot, if you try to reveal your presence, I swear that I will kill you! Do you swear, therefore, that you will keep the most absolute silence?"

"I swear," replied Isaure, trembling from head to foot; thereupon the vagabond left her in her room and returning to the hole, walked to the boards which formed the rear of Charlot's house, and placing his eye at a wide crack, saw everything that took place in the room that looked on the path; more than ten minutes pa.s.sed, and no one arrived; the old shepherd was beginning to think that the travellers whom he had seen had taken another road, when footsteps were heard; they stopped in front of the house and a voice exclaimed:

"Here is a house, at all events."

The vagabond started at that voice, for he recognized it as Edouard's.

There was a knock at the door, Charlot opened, and the vagabond shuddered as he saw the Baron de Marcey, Edouard and Alfred enter.

"Excuse us, my friend, if we disturb you," said the baron, while the young men glanced curiously about them. "We are tired; the roads are so bad in these mountains that we were obliged to leave our horses in the village below; may we rest a moment here?"

"Yes, messieurs, sit down," replied Charlot calmly. Thereupon the three travellers seated themselves upon some straw, and Alfred, taking a sword from beneath his cloak, placed it beside him. The vagabond could not avoid a thrill of horror as he recognized the weapon he had used against Vaillant. But he was conscious of a savage joy when he saw the grieved and melancholy expression in the eyes of the two young men and the baron.

"Do you live alone here?" the baron asked the old shepherd.

"Yes, monsieur."

"Do you ever entertain travellers here?"

"Oh! hardly anybody ever comes here."

"And you do not remember having seen a man with a young girl?"

"No."

"Listen!" said Alfred to Charlot; "we are looking for a lovely young woman, whom one or more wretches have stolen from her house; if her abductors did not come here, it is possible that they pa.s.sed through this neighborhood, that you have heard someone speak of them. If you can give us any information concerning her for whom we are looking, you will be handsomely rewarded."

"I don't know anything and I haven't seen anyone," replied Charlot, with cold indifference.

"So all our search is vain!" cried Edouard, in a despairing tone. "Dear Isaure! We shall never be able to find you, to see you again; we do not know even in what direction to look for you!"

The baron took Edouard's hand and tried to allay his grief, although it was easy to see that he was no less affected himself. Alfred rose; he examined the place where they were, and, noticing the staircase, said to Charlot:

"You have another room upstairs?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"I suppose it looks on the narrow path by which we came; could we rest more comfortably there than here?"

Without awaiting the old shepherd's reply, Alfred went to the upper room, but he found it empty, and came sadly down again, seated himself by his companions and said:

"We shall be quite as comfortable here."

"This part of the mountains is quite unfrequented," said the baron. "How do you manage to live here?"

"I go to the village and buy bread enough to last ten days."

"What a dismal place to live in!" said Alfred. "How in the deuce can a man make up his mind to pa.s.s his life here?"

"Poor Isaure!" said Edouard, "who knows that you are not living in some hovel as wretched as this? Three weeks have pa.s.sed already since you were torn away from our love, and no indication,--nothing to lead us to hope that we are on the track of your abductors!"

The three travellers were silent for a long time. The vagabond, hidden behind the part.i.tion at the rear, did not take his eyes from them, and did not leave his place; after half an hour, the baron rose, saying:

"Let us go on; it is useless to remain here any longer."

"Yes, let us go," said Alfred, "and let us try to remember the road, so that we need not go over the same ground twice, which would cause us to waste time. However, this place is easily recognized; I have seen few spots so wild, so melancholy as this, where somebody has thought fit to build this house.--Well, Edouard, are you coming?"

Edouard rose, casting a last glance at the walls of the hut, and walked slowly off with his companions. Soon their steps died away along the path, then the travellers disappeared altogether from the sight of Charlot, who was looking after them from the doorway.

Thereupon the vagabond returned triumphantly to Isaure, crying:

"It was they! but they haven't the slightest suspicion, and they have gone away from this place, and will never return to it!"