Part 26 (2/2)

”Ah!--yes,” replied the Baron, carelessly; adding, half aloud, ”my dear sister, do not let us stay here talking with these boors.”

”Nay, brother, this place is not Versailles, _Dieu merci!_ Let me talk a little with my old friend--he reminds me of the days when I was so happy.”

”And so poor,” muttered the dragoon between his teeth, as he turned away and began talking _cha.s.se_ with the Cure of St. Saturnin.

”And now tell me, Pere Jacques,” said the young Countess, seating herself at the foot of a chestnut-tree, ”why have you left the chateau de Pradines?”

”You were there no longer, Madame,” said the mountaineer, standing before her in a respectful att.i.tude.

”But I was not here either.”

”True; but Madame might, some day, grow weary of the court; and I knew that sooner or later she would come to Auvergne. Besides, here I worked on Madame's property, and ate of her bread.”

”Poor Pere Jacques! you also think sometimes of the old days at Pradines?”

”Sometimes!--it seems as if it were but yesterday, Mam'selle, that I carried you in my arms, and ran beside you when you rode Fifine, the black pony, and heard your laugh in the courtyard and your foot in the garden! Ah, Madame, those were the happy times, when the hunt came round, and Monsieur your father, and yourself, and Monsieur the Chevalier de Fon----. Oh, pardon, Madame! pardon!--what have I said!”

And the herdsmen stopped, terrified and remorseful; for at that name the lady had turned deathly white.

”Hush, my good friend,” she said, falteringly. ”It is nothing.” Then, after at brief pause and a rapid glance towards her brother and the priest, ”Come nearer, Jacques,” she said, in a subdued tone. ”One word--_Was the body ever discovered?_”

”No, Madame.”

She shaded her face with her hand, and so remained for some moments without speaking. She then resumed in a low voice:--

”A terrible death, Jacques! He must have fallen down some precipice.”

”Alas! Madame, it may have been so.”

”Do you remember the last day that we all hunted together at Pradines?

The anniversary of that day comes round again to-morrow. Poor Eugene!...

Take my purse, Pere Jacques, and share its contents with your companions--but reserve a louis to purchase some ma.s.ses for the repose of his soul. Say that they are for your friend and benefactor--for he was always good to you. He has often spoken of you to me. Will you promise me this, Pere Jacques?”

The herdsman was yet a.s.suring her of his obedience, when the priest and her brother came forward and interrupted them.

”My dear sister,” said M. de Pradines, ”the sun is fast going down, and we have but another hour of daylight. Our friend here, M. le Cure, apprehends a storm. It were best we rejoined our huntsmen, and began to return.”

”A storm, _mon frere_,” said Madame de Peyrelade with surprise.

”Impossible! The sky is perfectly clear. Besides, it is so delightful under these old trees--I should like to remain a short time longer.”

”It might be imprudent, Madame la Comtesse,” said the Cure timidly, as he cast a hurried glance along the horizon. ”Do you not see those light vapours about the summit of Mont Cantal, and that low bank of clouds behind the forest? I greatly mistake if we have not a heavy storm before an hour, and I should counsel you to take the road for the chateau without delay.”

”Come hither, Pere Jacques,” said the lady, smiling, ”you used to be my oracle at Pradines. Will there be a storm to-night?”

The old mountaineer raised his head, and snuffed the breeze like a stag-hound.

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