Part 13 (1/2)
”We talk folly,” said Christine.
”You must lend me a horse, Lemasle,” said Herrick. ”I must be there without delay. You must come slower, at mademoiselle's stirrup, unless you chance on a mount on the forest road.”
”I'll see to it at once.”
”No; it is folly,” said Christine; but Lemasle had already gone.
”Won't you accept my service, mademoiselle?” said Herrick.
”You go to certain death.”
”The death of a man has won a cause before this.”
”But what part have you in the quarrels of Montvilliers,” she asked--”you, a stranger? Why should you adventure yourself in such a cause?”
”Men are driven forward by all sorts of reasons,” he answered carelessly. ”The spirit of the wanderer brought me here; fate drew me into this quarrel, against my will, it is true, but I have a mind to see the end of it.”
”You do not count the cost,” she said eagerly.
”I do not think of it, mademoiselle.”
”But you must. You shall not go!”
”You refuse my service?”
”Yes, because it is folly; there is no reason in it. Against your will you have played a part; they are your own words. Take one of the horses. Ride to the frontier. I will not have your death on my hands.”
”It was against my will, mademoiselle, but it is so no longer. Would you have another reason for my service? A woman thought me a spy. I would prove her wrong.”
”Believe me, I have already repented that such a thought was in my mind. Forgive me, and seek your own safety.”
”Any other woman in the world may think or say what she will of me, and I shall not care,” Herrick whispered.
Slowly she raised her eyes to his.
”So you looked at me, mademoiselle, in the Castle of Vayenne the other night, so you have looked at me in dreams since then. I would serve you to the death.”
Lemasle burst suddenly into the hut. Talk of action excited him, and there were dangers ahead to appeal to him to the full.
”The horse is ready, Herrick--my horse. There is not a scratch upon him, for all the blows that were struck at him in the clearing. These good fellows, the charcoal-burners, have already a kettle bubbling over a fire in the shed without; you may scent the appetizing smell from here. Breakfast, and then----”
”But you are weak still,” said Christine. ”At least delay a day.”
”I grow stronger every moment, mademoiselle. You have only to say you accept my service.”
”I accept it for the Duke's sake,” she answered, stretching out her hand; ”for his sake and for my own.”
There was a gentleness in her last words which made Lemasle glance quickly at them, but Herrick did not notice the look as he raised Christine's hand to his lips.
In less than an hour Herrick was in the saddle.