Part 51 (1/2)

The night was drawing toward its close. Edouard was still beside the wagon, dismayed by Lampin's flight, and so disturbed by all that had happened to him within a few hours that he had no idea what he had better do.

The unfortunate peasant still breathed; from time to time he uttered feeble groans. Edouard could not decide whether he ought to help him or to take to flight. He wavered and hesitated and the first rays of dawn found him in that condition. Glancing at himself, he shuddered at sight of his coat, which at once identified him as an escaped convict; and he trembled lest he should be taken for the murderer of the peasant. That thought froze his blood with terror; the sight of the peasant was horrible to him, and he walked away as rapidly as his strength permitted, until he reached a small tract of woodland, where he hoped to elude pursuit.

His first care was to file his fetters and throw them away; but he could not rid himself of his costume also, and he realized that he could not show himself without risk of being arrested. That thought drove him to frenzy for an instant. He regretted that he had not stripped the peasant entirely.

Day broke, and the peasants began to go to their work. Edouard plunged into the wood, picked figs and olives and climbed into a tree to await the return of night.

But how long that day was! and how many times did he shudder with apprehension as he saw peasants come into the wood and sit down to rest not far from the tree in which he was hiding! He heard them talking about the poor wagoner's murder.

”It was a convict who did the job,” said the peasants; ”a number of them escaped last night from the galleys at Toulon, but they're on their tracks, and they can't fail to take them soon.”

Edouard realized only too well the difficulty he would have in escaping, and he abandoned himself to despair. The night arrived at last; he descended from his protecting tree and resumed his journey. Every time that the faintest noise reached his ear, he stopped and buried himself in the thickest bushes. His face and hands were torn by thorns and brambles; but he did not feel the pain; he would have been glad to hide in the bowels of the earth. He walked as fast as his strength permitted, picking up fruit of which he retained some for the following day, stopping only in the most solitary places, and hiding during the day in the top of some densely-leaved tree.

On the fourth day, toward morning, he pa.s.sed a small cottage surrounded by a garden; he cast a glance over the wall in the hope of discovering fruit; but what was his joy when he saw linen and clothes hanging on lines; the idea of taking possession of them and getting rid of his convict's costume, at once occurred to his mind; the thought of theft no longer frightened him; he justified it by his plight. Only a half ruined wall, four feet high, separated him from the priceless garments; for the first time, he did not stop to consider the danger. He climbed the wall, took whatever he needed, and made his escape without the slightest twinge of remorse; for what he had done seemed to him a mere trifle to what he had seen done.

Having reached a dense wood, he removed his accusing costume and donned the clothes which he had stolen. Thereupon, being a little more at ease in his mind, and thinking that he must already be very far from Toulon, he set forth again, determined to ask hospitality for the night of some peasant, and hoping that they would give him a crust of bread, which seemed to him a priceless treasure capable of restoring his strength. As he did not choose, however, to take the risk of entering a village, where he feared to meet gendarmes who were in pursuit of him, he decided to knock at the door of an isolated cabin, surrounded by dense woods.

A peasant answered his knock and asked him what he could do for him.

”A great deal,” said Edouard; ”I am an unfortunate man, worn out with fatigue and hunger; allow me to pa.s.s the night in your house, and you will save my life.”

”It's a fact,” said the peasant, scrutinizing him with attention, ”you seem very tired and very sick. But who are you? For a body must know who he takes in.”

”I am--I am an unfortunate deserter; I trust my secret to you; don't betray me!”

”A deserter--the devil! It isn't right to desert! But I'm not capable of betraying you; come, come in, and you can tell me why you deserted.”

Edouard entered the cabin, conscious of a keen sense of delight in being once more under a roof.

”Look you,” said the peasant, ”I'll give you half of what I have got and that won't be very good; but you hadn't ought to be hard to suit. I'm a poor wood-cutter; I ain't rich, I live from day to day, but I am glad to share my supper and my bed with you. I've got some bread and some cheese and the remains of a bottle of wine, and we'll finish it. My bed ain't bad; it's the best thing in my house, and I'll bet you won't wake up.

Come, my friend, tell me your adventures. I have been in the army myself; yes, I used to be a soldier, and I flatter myself that I didn't desert; I'd like to know what reason you had for doing such a miserable thing as that.”

Edouard invented a fable, which he told the wood-cutter, who listened with attention.

The strangeness of Edouard's story, the improbability of his adventures, his embarra.s.sment when his host asked him for details concerning his regiment and the place where they had been in garrison, all tended to arouse the wood-cutter's suspicions, and he began to fear that he had been duped by some vagabond.

However, as he owned nothing that was likely to tempt cupidity, the peasant shared his supper with Edouard none the less; then he invited him to undress and go to bed. Edouard accepted this invitation with a good heart; he had taken off his jacket and was about to remove his waistcoat, when a sudden reflection stopped him, and he stood before the wood-cutter, speechless with confusion.

”Well, have you got over wanting to go to bed?” said the peasant, noticing Edouard's sudden terror.

”I beg pardon; I am going--I am going to lie down.”

”It seems to me that you started to undress yourself, and now you stand there as if you didn't know what to do.”

”Oh! the fact is, I thought better of it; it will be wiser for me to stay dressed, so that I can get ready quicker to go away in the morning.”

”As you please! suit yourself.”

Edouard threw himself on the bed, and the wood-cutter did the same; but not with the purpose of going to sleep; he was secretly anxious, for he was afraid that he had offered shelter to a scoundrel, and he was trying to think how he could set his doubts at rest.