Part 21 (1/2)

Book IV

PICMORT

Chapter I

THE CASTLE

At the foot of a mountain-chain which crosses Brittany, continues through Normandy and terminates in Cherbourg, stands the castle of Picmort. It pertains to the de Breze patrimony, through the Guyornarch fief, which was the avenue through which the ill.u.s.trious family claimed descent from the royal house of Brittany. Notwithstanding political vicissitudes and the invasion of new ideas, the de Brezes continued to exercise a veritable sovereignty in that corner of France. There lived not in the valley a shepherd nor a long-haired peasant who failed to acknowledge the dominion of the House de Breze and render the tribute of a reverence approaching divine honors. Rene during his hunting journeys to Picmort received proofs of the extraordinary attachment which the Bretons evinced to their master.

One evening as the setting sun gilded the lichens on the rough Celtic rocks, there traveled toward the thicket a woman and a man,--the latter carrying a child in his arms. They journeyed laboriously, as tho greatly fatigued, especially the woman, who with the greatest difficulty lifted her small feet, clad in rude sabots, which were in keeping with her peasant's dress and the white coif covering her blond hair. At last, heaving a sigh, she sank upon the ground. The man came to her saying warningly and gently:

”Mademoiselle, it will soon be night and if we do not hurry, we shall have to sleep here with the child. Can you not make an effort?”

”The sabots have bruised my feet,” she complained, her beautiful young face full of pain. ”But no matter, I shall start again.”

She tried to walk, but failed, saying:

”O I cannot, I cannot! What will become of us?”

Louis Pierre did not dare to insist further. He placed the sleeping child on the ground and wiped his wet forehead with a nervous hand.

Suddenly, the barking of a dog came to them, followed by the appearance of a great mastiff, springing through the thicket. The child awoke and began to cry, and the woman,--girl, rather--half rose. Then the approaching tread of a horse was heard and a splendid voice called to the dog:

”Here Silvano!” and the horseman sprang lightly to earth. Turning to the travelers, he said:

”A good and holy evening to you.”

He was a tall, young, finely proportioned peasant of beautiful beardless face and abundant hair.

”Are you the people we await at Picmort?”

”We are,” answered Louis Pierre. ”Are you Jean Vilon?”

”My name is Jean Vilon, servant of G.o.d and my master, the Marquis de Breze. My letter of instruction reads that there will arrive a woman, a child and two men.”

”Our companion remained on the coast,” replied Louis Pierre evasively.

”He will be here later.”

”He shall be welcome when he arrives,” replied Jean Vilon with grave courtesy. ”In the meantime I shall carry out my master's orders. He wishes that no one in the village know of your presence. Prepare then to follow my instructions.”

”We shall obey you, Jean Vilon. I know you are a valued and trusted servant of the Marquis.”

The Breton made no rejoinder to the praise. He stooped and raised the tired girl to the saddle, caressed the child and seated him on his shoulder. Then, taking the reins in his hands, he led the horse into the thicket. Night was almost upon them and the darkness was rapidly increasing. The horse, had he not been preceded by Silvano and led by Vilon, would have many times stumbled upon the stumps of trees hidden beneath the gra.s.s and leaves. The child clung confidingly to Vilon, asking incessantly, ”Are we almost there?” After a three hours' journey, they halted in an open which led to a species of natural bower. Here Vilon aided Amelie to descend. He placed the child on the earth, tied the horse to a tree and took from his pocket a small lantern which he lighted from a flint. Then turning its beams full upon Louis Pierre's face, he asked in the cautious tone of a peasant-warrior:

”The watch-word?”