Part 5 (1/2)
”Let go my reins, monsieur, else I shall call out. I hear Lalande, too. Go, monsieur, whilst I can still think of you as I always have.
Go and forget me.”
His hand dropped to his side, and taking the occasion I struck my horse smartly with the whip and he sprang forward. De Clermont made no attempt to follow, but at the bend of the road, as I glanced across my shoulder, I saw him turn his horse's head and plunge into the forest, and a moment later I met Lalande.
I could only realize that I had escaped a great danger; beyond that my mind could not go; but I was conscious that, despite the terrible earnestness of his words, there was something that was not convincing in de Clermont. The narrow escape that I had drove all other things out of my mind, and it was only when I came in sight of our party again that I recollected de Clermont's warning that by going to Perigueux I was going straight into the lion's mouth, and an absolute despair fell upon me.
When I rode up to Madame's side she glanced at me narrowly and asked for de Clermont.
I answered truly enough that I did not know, and she looked at me again with her clear, searching eyes. ”It is odd, Denise, but do you know that his lackeys have gone, too? They left us an hour ago--and now it seems he has gone, too, without a word of good-bye.”
”Monsieur made too sure of the success of his plans,” I said bitterly, and Madame's answer was sharp and swift:
”Denise, there is something wrong--what is it?”
And as we rode close together, side by side, I told her every word, hiding nothing. My voice sounded hard and dry to my own ears, my eyes were burning, and when I had finished, she said, ”Denise, I cannot believe M. de Clermont's story. I _feel_ it is untrue. Even if it were true de Termes would never carry out the order about you. He is incapable of such baseness.”
”There is always one way of escape, madame, and I am my father's daughter.”
”And there is a G.o.d above, girl. Your father's daughter should never talk like that.”
”Then why does He not hear my prayers?” I said, in impious forgetfulness. ”Is heaven so far that our voices cannot reach there?”
And my dear old friend sighed deeply in answer.
We were to halt at Chalusset for the night, and here confirmation was received of the truth of de Clermont's story, for an equerry of the Vicomte's met us here with a letter to his wife in his own hand, in which he said that our message, the one we had sent from the Gartempe, had reached him, and that he was hastening forward himself to meet us.
Then he went on to other matters, and his letter concluded with a postscript:
”_M. Norreys is here with an order from the King, or, rather, from the Queen Mother. It is very unfortunate, but must be obeyed_.”
She first read the letter herself--we were sitting together in her apartment, in the one inn at Chalusset--and then she handed it to me with a request to read it aloud to her. I did so; but on coming to the postscript my voice faltered in spite of myself, and then she bent forward and kissed me.
”Denise, it will never be. Are you strong enough to do a brave thing?”
”I will try.”
”It is clear to me that de Termes' postscript is a warning for you not to go to Perigueux. I knew that he would be incapable of carrying out such orders as he has received--and I can read his meaning between the lines of his message. Denise, you must not be with me when my husband and I meet.”
”G.o.d Himself seems to have abandoned me. What can I do--where shall I hide?”
”I will tell you. My sister Louise is Abbess of Our Lady of Meymac. I will send you to her. The convent has special rights of sanctuary that even Catherine herself would not dare to violate--but she will never know you are there. Yet it is a long journey, and you will have to cross the mountains. Will you risk it tonight?”
”I am ready now, madame.”
”Very well,” and, calling to her maid, she asked for Lalande, and when the equerry came she turned to him:
”Lalande, how long is it that you have followed Monsieur le Vicomte?”