CHAPTER XV.
THE FOREST OF ST. AUBIN DU CORMIER.
When my thoughts took some coherence again, evening had come on, and I found myself alone and still in a forest—alone with the bloodhound, whose steel chain I grasped with an unyielding hand.
I heard the rising wind shaking the tops of the lofty oaks. I remembered now, like one who, after a long and deep slumber, recals the passages of a dream, that near the tree beneath which we found her, Urbain the gardener had picked up a fur cap, which I had no difficulty in recognising as one that had been worn by Hautois.
This furnished the dog with a scent, put us on his track, and the livelong day we had followed it, like Indians on the trail of an enemy.
One by one, Guillaume de Boisguiller, Urbain the gardener, Bertrand, the old porter, the peasant, and others, had dropped behind in weariness; but I, taking the dog in hand, inspired and endued by revenge with thrice my natural strength, had urged the pursuit alone, through wild thickets, up rough ravines, and across streams and torrents, while a pale face, in awful repose, with eyes glazed and half open, and a mouth the lips of which were two blue lines, seemed to lead me on—and on I went, unflinchingly and unswervingly.
Gradually there came a horrid calmness to my mind—the calmness that follows a shock—a grief too great to last; and there was something soothing in the conviction that Hautois could not escape me; that so surely as if I held an enchanted clue or magic wand I could track him now, if I husbanded my strength, and I could have kissed the ferocious dog that led me on his devious and secret track.
What had she suffered—my poor Jacqueline!—how much endured ere death came to her release!
It may seem strange, but I had a grim satisfaction in the knowledge that her sufferings were all over now—that she was at rest, at peace, and that she would see how fearfully I would avenge her.
But how, was the startling question or thought which occurred to me; for in the rapidity of my pursuit through the thickets of briars and matted shrubs in which I had to make my way, up the rocks which I had to climb, or down which I had to leap, the pistols had dropped from my girdle, when or where I knew not, and thus I was—defenceless!
Yet I heeded not even this terrible conviction; my only desire was to reach, to meet and to grapple with Hautois—weary though I was, to grapple with him bare-handed, and trust the rest to youth and strength, to justice and to God.
When twilight was setting in I found myself in a very wild place. The dog was conducting me up a ravine the sides of which were covered with vast blocks of basalt, the débris of some earthquake. In rank luxuriance the weeds and wild flowers covered them in many places. On both sides of this wilderness of rocks grew a dense forest, the timber of which was of several kinds; but the underwood seemed to consist of wild apple-trees. Great mountains of rock bordered this forest on one side; on the other it stretched away into the gloom of evening and the obscurity of distance.
Although I knew it not, I was then in the forest of St. Aubin du Cormier, so named from the prevalence of the cormier, or sorb-apple tree—that forest through which flows the subterranean torrent which forms one of the natural wonders of the province.
On reaching the head of the ravine, the dog led me through a mass of brushwood, by a path so narrow that it seemed to be such a track as the feet of wild rabbits might form, and then I found myself before a large hut, or chaumière, of dilapidated aspect.
It was built of stone blocks, and heavily thatched with heather and straw. The door, which was opened by a wooden latch of primitive construction, was old and worm-eaten, but seemed to have been once strong and well made. I afterwards found that a bar of oak secured it transversely on the inside.
Arming myself with a stone, I boldly entered this hut, and found it deserted. On the hearth there smouldered a fire of wood, turf, and fir-cones, showing that it had been recently occupied; and by the light of this, and the last flush of the set sun which stole through the little window, I could observe the squalor and wretchedness of the place. A few pots of brown ware, a couple of ricketty stools, an old chest, a hunting-belt that hung on a nail, and a few sheepskins that lay in a corner, as if to form a bed, were all the furniture of this cheerless abode.
As I surveyed it, the bloodhound licked my hand with his hot, steaming tongue, and whined, rubbed himself against me, and scented about, as if with satisfaction; then he lay down at my feet, lashing the floor with his thick, heavy tail, as if to inform me that we were in the lair of Hautois—of this human panther!
But would this man return to it after the deed he had perpetrated?
I could scarcely doubt it; the chaumière was in an utter wilderness, and while lurking there he must have committed many a crime ere this.
Would he return alone?—if not, I had perhaps only tracked him hither to find my own doom sealed; for I was defenceless.
Resolving to possess a weapon if it could be found, I searched the whole hut, which consisted of only two apartments, but sought in vain. Nor stick nor bludgeon were there; so I armed myself with one of the stools, which was certainly better than nothing.
The window of the inner room, faced the north-west, where a red light that overspread the sky attracted my attention; for if not some natural phenomenon, it assuredly proceeded from the flames of a vast conflagration.
I secured the door by its bar, lest I should be taken by surprise, and seated myself on a stool in a corner, with the dog crouching at my feet. But to rest was impossible, amid the whirl of thought, the mingled rage and grief that oppressed me. I felt as one in a burning fever.
There seemed to be under and about me the ceaseless rush of water. Was it fancy? The sound was too real for that; and it seemed to proceed from a torrent or waterfall at the back of the chaumière. I again entered the inner apartment, through the dirty and broken lattice of which the moon, shone clearly and brightly upon the discoloured and ill-jointed boarding of the floor. No fall of water was visible without, but the sound of it was louder now than before.
A trap-door about three feet square arrested my attention; and on raising it by an iron ring in its centre, I felt my flesh creep, when far down below, in darkness and obscurity, I heard the distant rushing of a vast torrent of water that flowed unseen down the mountain side; and I now knew that this trap-door—the concealment of many a crime—was merely an opening to the subterranean stream of St. Aubin du Cormier, and that this half-ruined chaumière had been built immediately over one of the open chasms—without a doubt for purposes dark and nefarious.
I had scarcely let the trap-door drop from my hand, when the bloodhound started up with a snort, and uttered a low growl. Then I felt a wild fierce glow in my heart, and a prickly sensation pass over every limb, when, on looking from the window, I beheld him for whom I longed with a hate so intense and deadly; he whom I had tracked thus far—he who had on his hands the blood of Jacqueline—he who had her sufferings and death to atone for—was now plainly visible as he passed through the screen of wild bushes, and approached the hut!
The moonlight fell full upon his pale and hideous visage—his black and matted hair. He was bareheaded, and had a pair of long pistols and a knife in his belt, while I was weaponless and weary; but as I grasped one of the stools I felt, in imagination, the strength of three men pass into my poor right arm.