I have but little courage to write of what followed this upbraiding interview and degrading discovery; for one episode of horror followed another.
I resumed the green hunting suit of the absent count, and Angelique was filled with dismay when she saw me clad in it, as she dreaded the punishment that would be awarded for her connivance in the recent masquerading; and moreover she loved her young mistress dearly. Then she wept when she found it was ordained that I was to depart secretly that night on horseback, and that it was to be given out that Basile the paysanne from the Morbihan, had eloped or run away.
I was to be the bearer of a special letter from madame to the Comte de Boisguiller, Governor of St. Malo, charging him by his old allegiance to her, and his present friendship, to have me despatched on board the first British ship that came in sight of the city, or sent by an especial boat to the Isle of Jersey: in short, to get me out of the province at all hazards, and quietly too.
It occurred to me that the count might neither seek a ship nor send a boat, but instead of obeying his venerable inamorata, might cast me into a vault at St. Malo as a prisoner; however, I felt so crushed, so crestfallen and miserable by the sudden, though not unexpected turn the matter had taken, that for a long time after these events I cared very little what became of me.
The evening drew on, and twilight deepened into night. Then Madame de Bourgneuf, on inquiring for her niece, found that she was not within the chateau; on this she had the great bell rung repeatedly to summon her from the garden or grounds; but it rang in vain, for there was no appearance of our Jacqueline. After this the countess sent for me, and addressing me sternly, said—
"Monsieur, my letter for M. le Comte de Boisguiller is here, ready written and sealed, the horse which is to bear you to St. Malo is ready in the stable, saddled and bridled, but you shall not pass the gate of Bourgneuf until mademoiselle returns to her apartment. Do you understand me?"
"I beseech you, madame——"
"Beseech me not!" she interrupted, sharply. "There is some other trick—some vile plot in this prolonged absence at an hour so unusual, and on the eve of your departure, too; so I shall keep you as a hostage for her."
But as the first hours of this anxious night drew on, the surprise of the countess and her household took the new phase of alarm and fear, a feeling that was quickened by my repeated assurances of ignorance, and my too evident deep anxiety. The avenue of yew and orange-trees, the lawn and its shrubbery, the borders of the lake, the garden, the labyrinth, and every room, turret, and corner of the chateau, were rigidly searched without success, for no trace of the missing one was found, till Urbain the gardener picked up, near the door of the bower in which we had been seated when madame discovered us, a small kid glove and a gold bracelet, which we knew belonged to Jacqueline.
Near these, on a bush, were some fragments of lace torn from her dress; and when inspected by lantern light the garden-walk and border bore evidence of a struggle; the flowers were crushed and bushes torn, and in the earth were the deep footmarks of a man who wore sabots.
About ten yards from the bower we found a small axe, which had been lost or cast away. It was such as woodmen generally used, and cut upon the handle, appeared the name of T. HAUTOIS!
The deductions we drew from these traces and indications filled my soul with the keenest alarm and horror!
* * * * *
That Jacqueline had been violently assaulted, carried off, and perhaps killed ruthlessly by this outlaw, who had so long vowed vengeance on her family, and whom Jacquot and I had both seen lurking in the grounds during the past week, seemed beyond all doubt. Of his extreme cunning, ingenuity, and of the length his daring and brutality could carry him, I had already had ample proof, and my heart sickened as imagination pictured the gentle, soft, and delicately nurtured Jacqueline, writhing and helpless in his felon hands.
The lamentations of Angelique and the female domestics were mingled with the oaths and maledictions of the men, who proceeded at once to arm themselves with muskets and pistols; and now it was that Madame de Bourgneuf, in her despair, was disposed to rely on me.
She pressed my hand in hers, and said, in a broken voice—
"Monsieur, if you ever loved my niece, as you say you do, aid in her rescue from this demon!"
I returned the pressure in silence, and was making preparation to scour the roads and thickets which covered all the district, when, amid our consternation, the tramp of horses was heard, and the Chevalier de Boisguiller, accompanied by twelve hussars, rode hurriedly up to the gate.
The countess was standing on the front door-steps of the chateau, pale, trembling, and her eyes red with weeping. Some ten men, including Urbain, the valets, gardeners, and grooms, stood around her, loading their arms, fixing and snapping their flints and lighting torches and lanterns, for darkness had long since set completely in.
The Chevalier dismounted, threw his bridle-reins to a hussar, and advancing to the countess, said, with a smiling bow—
"Peste! but I seem to have come at a critical time, madame. Has the lake been poached—the hen-roost robbed, or what, that you are preparing to take the field like a chatelaine of old?"
"Oh, chevalier, you have indeed come at a most critical time. Heaven itself must have sent you!"
"Not at all," replied the heedless hussar. "I am such a sad dog that I fear Heaven has long since given me up as incorrigible, but I have been sent here by order of the count, my father, with a sergeant and twelve troopers. You must learn, that on the day I had last the honour to visit you, a letter came to the commandant of St. Malo—a private letter, oddly spelled, on a very crumpled piece of paper, and bearing the feigned signature of Theophile Damien, but bringing information that an English spy was secreted here. So, as duty compelled the count to see into the matter, and friendship urged that he should spare you an affront, he despatched me to make the necessary inquiries. Now I remember me of a soubrette of my cousin's——"
"Monsieur le Chevalier," said the poor countess, speaking rapidly amid a torrent of tears, "the person of whom you speak is no spy—for that you have my word of honour."
The chevalier bowed low, with his right hand on his heart, accepting the pledge for me.
"He is no spy, and must be protected. He it was who saved the life of Jacqueline, and will peril his life with you to save her once again, if indeed it be not too late already."
"Again—too late—what do you mean?"
"She means, chevalier," said I, "that Mademoiselle Jacqueline has been torn from us by a ruffian of the most daring and unscrupulous character—by Hautois, the galley-slave."
"Hautois!" repeated the chevalier, with indescribable alarm.
"By Hautois, and thus your arrival is most opportune. I am the person referred to in your orders; but for Heaven's sake—for the sake of Mademoiselle Jacqueline, waste no time or thought on me. I will assist you, aid you with my life to save, to rescue her, and after that is achieved, deal with me as you will."
For a full minute the Frenchman seemed to lose his invincible self-possession on hearing all this, but in a few words I acquainted him with what had occurred, and urged the necessity of immediate action. On hearing the name of Hautois, with whose story he was familiar, the chevalier changed colour, and appeared much disturbed and alarmed.
"If 'tis he, we have indeed no time to lose," said he, through his clenched teeth; "but the pursuit must be on horseback—the servants can beat the woods, while my hussars shall scour the roads. You ride, monsieur, I presume?"
Under other circumstances I might have smiled at the question, but then I simply replied in the affirmative.
"Bon! then get a horse from the stables, and let us begone."
In a few minutes our plan was detailed, and we all separated, inspired by anxiety and excitement. Three hussars took the road towards Dinan; three towards St. Paul le Plenguen; three on that which led to Montford, and other three on that which led towards Rennes. The armed servants under Urbain the gardener and the porter, who had been once a soldier, proceeded to search the woods and forests, while the chevalier and I departed at a gallop towards St. Aubin du Cormier, stopping for inquiry every person we met on the road.
The chateau was to be our point of rendezvous.
"Save her—bring her home in safety," were the parting words of the countess, "and I vow to God to hang a silver lamp worth a thousand livres on the altar at Roscoff!"
This was a little chapel near Leon in Brittany, built by Mary Queen of Scots, in memory of her landing there during a storm when on her voyage from Scotland to France.