CHAPTER IX
ROMEO AND JULIET
Under the possibility of immediate departure, Morgan's horse,
after being washed, rubbed down and dried, had been fed a double
ration of oats and been resaddled and bridled. The young man had
only to ask for it and spring upon its back. He was no sooner
in the saddle than the gate opened as if by magic; the horse
neighed and darted out swiftly, having forgotten its first trip,
and ready for another.
At the gate of the Chartreuse, Morgan paused an instant, undecided
whether to turn to the right or left. He finally turned to the
right, followed the road which leads from Bourg to Seillon for
a few moments, wheeled rapidly a second time to the right, cut
across country, plunged into an angle of the forest which was
on his way, reappeared before long on the other side, reached
the main road to Pont-d'Ain, followed it for about a mile and
a half, and halted near a group of houses now called the Maison
des Gardes. One of these houses bore for sign a cluster of holly,
which indicated one of those wayside halting places where the
pedestrians quench their thirst, and rest for an instant to recover
strength before continuing the long fatiguing voyage of life.
Morgan stopped at the door, drew a pistol from its holster and
rapped with the butt end as he had done at the Chartreuse. Only
as, in all probability, the good folks at the humble tavern were
far from being conspirators, the traveller was kept waiting longer
than he had been at the monastery. At last he heard the echo
of the stable boy's clumsy sabots. The gate creaked, but the
worthy man who opened it no sooner perceived the horseman with
his drawn pistol than he instinctively tried to, close it again.
"It is I, Patout," said the young man; "don't be afraid."
"Ah! sure enough," said the peasant, "it is really you, Monsieur
Charles. I'm not afraid now; but you know, as the curé used to
tell us, in the days when there was a good God, 'Caution is the
mother of safety.'"
"Yes, Patout, yes," said the young man, slipping a piece of silver
into the stable boy's hand, "but be easy; the good God will return,
and M. le Curé also."
"Oh, as for that," said the good man, "it is easy to see that
there is no one left on high by the way things go. Will this
last much longer, M. Charles?"
"Patout, I promise, in my honor, to do my best to be rid of all
that annoys you. I am no less impatient than you; so I'll ask
you not to go to bed, my good Patout."
"Ah! You know well, monsieur, that when you come I don't often
go to bed. As for the horse--Goodness! You change them every
day? The time before last it was a chestnut, the last time a
dapple-gray, now a black one."
"Yes, I'm somewhat capricious by nature. As to the horse, as
you say, my dear Patout, he wants nothing. You need only remove
his bridle; leave him saddled. Oh, wait; put this pistol back
in the holsters and take care of these other two for me." And
the young man removed the two from his belt and handed them to
the hostler.
"Well," exclaimed the latter, laughing, "any more barkers?"
"You know, Patout, they say the roads are unsafe."
"Ah! I should think they weren't safe! We're up to our necks
in regular highway robberies, M. Charles. Why, no later than
last week they stopped and robbed the diligence between Geneva
and Bourg!"
"Indeed!" exclaimed Morgan; "and whom do they accuse of the robbery?"
"Oh, it's such a farce! Just fancy; they say it was the Companions
of Jesus. I don't believe a word of it, of course. Who are the
Companions of Jesus if not the twelve apostles?"
"Of course," said Morgan, with his eternally joyous smile, "I
don't know of any others."
"Well!" continued Patout, "to accuse the twelve apostles of robbing
a diligence, that's the limit. Oh! I tell you, M. Charles, we're
living in times when nobody respects anything."
And shaking his head like a misanthrope, disgusted, if not with
life, at least with men, Patout led the horse to the stable.
As for Morgan, he watched Patout till he saw him disappear down
the courtyard and enter the dark stable; then, skirting the
hedge which bordered the garden, he went toward a large clump
of trees whose lofty tops were silhouetted against the darkness
of the night, with the majesty of things immovable, the while
their shadows fell upon a charming little country house known in
the neighborhood as the Château des Noires-Fontaines. As Morgan
reached the château wall, the hour chimed from the belfry of the
village of Montagnac. The young man counted the strokes vibrating
in the calm silent atmosphere of the autumn night. It was eleven
o'clock. Many things, as we have seen, had happened during the
last two hours.
Morgan advanced a few steps farther, examined the wall, apparently
in search of a familiar spot, then, having found it, inserted
the tip of his boot in a cleft between two stones. He sprang
up like a man mounting a horse, seized the top of the wall with
the left hand, and with a second spring seated himself astride
the wall, from which, with the rapidity of lightning, he lowered
himself on the other side. All this was done with such rapidity,
such dexterity and agility, that any one chancing to pass at that
instant would have thought himself the puppet of a vision. Morgan
stopped, as on the other side of the wall, to listen, while his
eyes tried to pierce the darkness made deeper by the foliage
of poplars and aspens, and the heavy shadows of the little wood.
All was silent and solitary. Morgan ventured on his path. We
say ventured, because the young man, since nearing the Château
des Noires-Fontaines, revealed in all his movement a timidity
and hesitation so foreign to his character that it was evident
that if he feared it was not for himself alone.
He gained the edge of the wood, still moving cautiously. Coming to
a lawn, at the end of which was the little château, he paused. Then
he examined the front of the house. Only one of the twelve windows
which dotted the three floors was lighted. This was on the second
floor at the corner of the house. A little balcony, covered with
virgin vines which climbed the walls, twining themselves around
the iron railing and falling thence in festoons from the window,
overhung the garden. On both sides of the windows, close to the
balcony, large-leafed trees met and formed above the cornice a
bower of verdure. A Venetian blind, which was raised and lowered
by cords, separated the balcony from the window, a separation
which disappeared at will. It was through the interstices of
this blind that Morgan had seen the light.
The young man's first impulse was to cross the lawn in a straight
line; but again, the fears of which we spoke restrained him. A
path shaded by lindens skirted the wall and led to the house.
He turned aside and entered its dark leafy covert. When he had
reached the end of the path, he crossed, like a frightened doe,
the open space which led to the house wall, and stood for a moment
in the deep shadow of the house. Then, when he had reached the
spot he had calculated upon, he clapped his hands three times.
At this call a shadow darted from the end of the apartment and
clung, lithe, graceful, almost transparent, to the window.
Morgan repeated the signal. The window was opened immediately,
the blind was raised, and a ravishing young girl, in a night
dress, her fair hair rippling over her shoulders, appeared in
the frame of verdure.
The young man stretched out his arms to her, whose arms were
stretched out to him, and two names, or rather two cries from
the heart, crossed from one to the other.
"Charles!"
"Amélie!"
Then the young man sprang against the wall, caught at the vine
shoots, the jagged edges of the rock, the jutting cornice, and
in an instant was on the balcony.
What these two beautiful young beings said to each other was
only a murmur of love lost in an endless kiss. Then, by gentle
effort, the young man drew the girl with one hand to her chamber,
while with the other he loosened the cords of the blind, which
fell noisily behind them. The window closed behind the blind.
Then the lamp was extinguished, and the front of the Château
des Noires-Fontaines was again in darkness.
This darkness had lasted for about a quarter of an hour, when
the rolling of a carriage was heard along the road leading from
the highway of Pont-d'Ain to the entrance of the château. There
the sound ceased; it was evident that the carriage had stopped
before the gates.
