Part 19 (1/2)

”Let us hear it,” cried the old steward, whose face was becoming discomposed with anger.

”No,” returned the Baron, ”I will tell you nothing, nor shall you set foot inside this cave.”

”We will see about that,” said Sperver, advancing towards the cavern.

The young man drew his hunting-knife. Seeing this, I tried to spring between them, when the hound, which I was holding by a leash, shook himself free, throwing me to the ground with the force of the shock. I thought that the Baron was lost; but at the same moment a savage cry rose from the back of the cavern, and as I rose to my feet, I saw the old woman standing upright before the fire, her clothing in rags, her head run forward, and her gray locks scattered about her shoulders, with her long, skinny arms raised towards heaven, and uttering dismal howls, like the cries of the wolf in the cold winter nights, when hunger is gnawing at his entrails.

Never in my life had I witnessed such a frightful spectacle. Sperver, motionless, with his eyes fixed on the strange scene before him, seemed turned to stone. The dog, surprised himself at this unexpected apparition, stood still for a moment, then suddenly arching his bristling back, he flew at the hag with a low growl of fury that made me shudder. The entrance to the cavern was some eight or ten feet above the spot where we stood, or he would have reached it with a single bound. I can hear him still, as he crashes through the frost-laden bushes, and see the Baron fling himself before the old woman with the heart-rending cry:

”My mother!”

Then, as the dog takes his final spring, Sperver, quick as lightning, raises his rifle, and brings down the n.o.ble animal dead at the young man's feet. All this was the work of an instant. The gorge was momentarily lighted by the rifle flash, and the echoes, taking up the noise of the explosion, carried it roaring and tumbling to the infinite depths of the neighboring crags.

When the smoke cleared away, I saw Lieverle lying stretched out at the foot of the rock, and the old woman fainting in the arms of the young man. Sperver eyed the Baron gloomily, as he dropped the b.u.t.t of his rifle to the ground, his features working with rage and grief.

”Baron,” he said, pointing to the cave, ”I have killed my best friend to save the woman whom you call your mother. You may thank G.o.d that her destiny was bound up with that of my master. Take her away from here.

Take her far away, and let her never return; for, if she does, I cannot answer for myself.”

Then, glancing at his dog:

”My poor Lieverle!” he cried; ”was this to be the outcome of our long years of friends.h.i.+p? Come, Gaston, let us hurry away from this accursed spot. I might do something I should regret afterwards.”

Seizing his horse's mane, he started to throw himself into his saddle, but suddenly his heart swelled to bursting, and dropping his head on his horse's neck, he wept like a child.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE BARON'S STORY.--HE DISAPPEARS.

Sperver set out, carrying the body of Lieverle in his cloak. I had refused to follow him, for I felt that duty compelled me to remain near this unhappy woman, and I could not have abandoned her without violating my conscience. Moreover, I am obliged to confess I was curious to examine more closely this mysterious being, and hardly had Sperver disappeared in the darkness of the defile before I began climbing the path to the cavern. A strange sight awaited me there. Upon a large fur cloak with green facings lay the old woman in a long purple robe, with a golden arrow stuck through her gray hair, her withered hands clutching her breast.

Time will never efface the image of this woman from my mind. Her vulture-like face, distorted by the last agonies of death, her staring eyes and half-opened mouth, were appalling to look upon. Such might have been the last hour of the terrible Queen Fredegonde. The Baron, on his knees beside her, tried to restore her to animation, but at the first glance it was evident to me that the unfortunate creature was dying, and it was not without a sentiment of profound pity that I kneeled to raise her arm.

”Leave her alone! How dare you touch her?” cried the young man bitterly.

”I am a doctor, monsieur.”

”Ah, pardon me!”

He was deathly pale, and his lips trembled nervously. After a moment, he asked:

”What is your opinion, monsieur?”

”It is over. She is dead.”

Without replying, he leaned back against the wall of the cavern, his forehead resting in his hands, and staring straight before him, motionless as marble. I sat near the fire, watching the flames as they climbed to the arched top of the cave, casting their vivid reflections upon the rigid features of the Black Plague.

We had been sitting thus for a full hour without stirring, when suddenly lifting his head, the Baron said to me: