"The stars look very bright, however."
"Never trust them. Before day breaks, you"ll see the mountain will be covered with mist."
As he spoke, he crossed his arms on his breast, and recommenced his walk up and down the chamber. The few words he spoke surprised me much by the tones of his voice, so unlike the accents I should have expected from one of his miserable and squalid appearance; they were mild, and bore the traces of one who had seen very different fortunes from his present ones.
I wished to speak, and induce him to converse with me; but the efforts I made seeming only to excite his displeasure, I abandoned the endeavour with a good grace; and having disposed my knapsack as a pillow, stretched myself full length before the hearth, and fell sound asleep.
When I awoke, the shepherd was not to be seen. The fire, which blazed brightly, showed, however, that he had not long been absent; a huge log of beech had recently been thrown upon it. The day was breaking, and I went to the door to look out. Nothing, however, could I see; vast clouds of mist were sweeping along before the wind, that sighed mournfully over the bleak mountains and concealed everything a few yards off, while a thin rain came slanting down, the prelude to the storm the shepherd had prophesied.
Never was there anything more dreary within or without; the miserable poverty of the ruined tower was scarcely a shelter from the coming hurricane. I returned to my place beside the fire, sad and low at heart.
While I was conjecturing within myself what distance I might be from Spa, and how I could contrive to reach it, I chanced to fix my eyes on the sabre above the chimney, which I took down to examine. It was a plain straight weapon, of the kind carried by the soldiery; its only sign of inscription was the letter "N" on the blade. As I replaced it, I caught sight of the printed paper, which, begrimed with smoke and partly obliterated by time, was nearly illegible. After much pains, however, I succeeded in deciphering the following; it was headed in large letters--
"Ordre du Jour, de l"Armee Francaise. Le 9 Thermidor."
The lines which immediately followed were covered by another piece of paper pasted over them, where I could just here and there detect a stray word, which seemed to indicate that the whole bore reference to some victory of the republican army. The last four lines, much clearer than the rest, ran thus:--
"Le citoyen Aubuisson, chef de bataillon de Grenadiers, de cette demi-brigade, est entre le premier dans la redoute. Il a eu son habit crible de balles."
I read and re-read the lines a dozen times over; indeed, to this hour are they fast fixed in my memory. Some strange mystery seemed to connect them with the poor shepherd; otherwise, why were they here? I thought over his figure, strong and well-knit, as I saw him stand upright in the room, and of his military salute; and the conviction came fully over me that the miserable creature, covered with rags and struggling with want, was no other than the citizen Aubuisson. Yet, by what fearful vicissitude had he fallen to this? The wild expression of his features at times did indeed look like insanity; still, what he said to me was both calm and coherent. The mystery excited all my curiosity, and I longed for his return, in the hope of detecting some clue to it.
The door opened suddenly. A large dog, more mastiff than sheep-dog, dashed in; seeing me, he retreated a step, and fixing his eyes steadily upon me, gave a fearful howl. I could not stir from fear. I saw that he was preparing for a spring, when the voice of the shepherd called out, "Couche-toi, Tete-noir, couche!" The savage beast at once slunk quietly to a corner, and lay down--still never taking his eyes from me, and seeming to feel as if his services would soon be in request in my behalf; while his master shook the rain from his hat and blouse, and came forward to dry himself at the fire. Fixing his eyes steadfastly on the red embers as he stirred them with his foot, he muttered some few and broken words, among which, although I listened attentively, I could but hear, "Pas un mot; silence, silence, a la mort!"
"You were not wrong in your prophecy, shepherd; the storm is setting in already," said I, wishing to attract his attention.
"Hush!" said he, in a low whisper, while he motioned me with his hand to be still--"hush! not a word!"
The eager glare of madness was in his eye as he spoke, and a tremulous movement of his pale cheek betokened some great inward convulsion. He threw his eyes slowly around the miserable room, looking below and above with the scrutinising glance of one resolved to let nothing escape his observation; and then kneeling down on one knee beside the blaze he took a piece of dry wood, and stole it quietly among the embers.
"There, there!" cried he, springing to his legs, while he seized me rudely by the shoulder, and hurried me to the distant end of the room.
"Come quickly! stand back, stand back there! see, see!" said he, as the crackling sparks flew up and the tongued flame rose in the chimney, "there it goes!" Then putting his lips to my ear he muttered, "Not a word! silence! silence to the death!"
As he said this, he drew himself up to his full height, and crossing his arms upon his breast stood firm and erect before me, and certainly, covered with rags the meanest poverty would have rejected, shrunk by famine and chilled by hunger and storm, there was still remaining in him the traits of a once n.o.ble face and figure. The fire of madness, unquenched by every misery, lit up his dark eye, and even on his compressed lip there was a curl of pride. Poor fellow! some pleasant memory seemed to flit across him; he smiled, and as he moved his hair from his forehead he bowed his head slightly, and murmured, "Oui, sire!"
How soft, how musical that voice was then! Just at this instant the deep bleating of the sheep was heard without, and Tete-noir, springing up, rushed to the door, and scratched fiercely with his fore-paws. The shepherd hastened to open it, and to my surprise I beheld a boy about twelve years of age, poorly clad and dripping with wet, who was carrying a small canvas bag on his back.
"Has the lamb been found, Lazare?" said the child, as he unslung his little sack.
"Yes; "tis safe in the fold."
"And the spotted ewe? You don"t think the wolves could have taken her away so early as this----"
"Hush, hush!" said the shepherd, with a warning gesture to the child, who seemed at once to see that the lunatic"s vision was on him; for he drew his little blouse close around his throat, and muttered a "Bonjour, Lazare," and departed.
"Couldn"t that boy guide me down to Spa, or some village near it?" said I, anxious to seize an opportunity of escape.
He looked at me without seeming to understand my question. I repeated it more slowly, when, as if suddenly aware of my meaning, he replied quickly--
"No, no; little Pierre has a long road to go home; he lives far away in the mountains. I "ll show you the way myself.
With that, he opened the sack, and took forth a loaf of coa.r.s.e wheaten bread, such as the poorest cottagers make, and a tin flask of milk.
Tearing the loaf asunder, he handed me one-half, which more from policy than hunger, though I had endured a long fast, I accepted. Then pa.s.sing the milk towards me he made a sign for me to drink, and when I had done, seized the flask himself, and nodding gaily with his head, cried, "A vous, camarade." Simple as the gesture and few the words, they both convinced me that he had been a soldier once; and each moment only strengthened me in the impression that I had before me in the shepherd Lazare an officer of the Grande Armee--one of those heroes of a hundred fights, whose glory was the tributary stream in the great ocean of the Empire"s grandeur.
Our meal was soon concluded, and in silence; and Lazare, having replenished his fire, went to the door and looked out.
"It will be wilder ere night," said he, as he peered into the dense mist, which, pressed down by rain, lay like a pall upon the earth; "if you are a good walker, I "ll take you by a short way to Spa."
"I"ll do my best," said I, "to follow you."
"The mountain is easy enough; but there may be a stream or two swollen by the rains. They are sometimes dangerous."
"What distance are we then from Spa?"
"Four leagues and a half by the nearest route--seven and a half by the road. Come, Tete-noir, bonne bete," said he, patting the savage beast, who with a rude gesture of his tail evinced his joy at the recognition.
"Thou must be on guard to-day; take care of these for me--that thou wilt, old fellow; farewell, good beast, good-bye!"
The animal, as if he understood every word, stood with his red eyes fixed upon him till he had done, and then answered by a long low howl.
Lazare smiled with pleasure, as he waved his hand towards him, and led the way from the tower.
I had but time to leave two louis-d"ors on the block of wood, when he called out to me to follow him. The pace he walked at, as well as the rugged course of the way he took, prevented my keeping at his side; and I could only track him as he moved along through the misty rain, like some genius of the storm, his long locks flowing wildly behind him, and his tattered garments fluttering in the wind.
It was a toilsome and dreary march, unrelieved by aught to lessen the fatigue. Lazare never spoke one word the entire time; occasionally he would point with his staff to the course we were to take, or mark the flight of some great bird of prey soaring along near the ground, as if fearless of man in regions so wild and desolate; save at these moments, he seemed buried in his own gloomy thoughts. Four hours of hard walking brought us at last to the summit of a great mountain, from which, as the mist was considerably cleared away, I could perceive a number of lesser mountains surrounding it, like the waves of the sea. My guide pointed to the ground, as if recommending a rest, and I willingly threw myself on the heath, damp and wet as it was.
The rest was a short one; he soon motioned me to resume the way, and we plodded onward for an hour longer, when we came to a great tableland of several miles in extent, but which still I could perceive was on a very high level. At last we reached a little grove of stunted pines, where a rude cross of stone stood--a mark to commemorate the spot where a murder had been committed, and to entreat prayers for the discovery of the murderers. Here Lazare stopped, and pointing to a little narrow path in the heather, he said--
"Spa is scarce two leagues distant; it lies in the valley yonder; follow this path, and you "ll not fail to reach it."
While I proffered my thanks to him for his guidance, I could not help expressing my wish to make some slight return for it. A dark, disdainful look soon stopped me in my speech, and I turned it off in a desire to leave some souvenir of my night"s lodging behind me in the old tower.
But even this he would not hear of; and when I stretched out my hand to bid him good-bye, he took it with a cold and distant courtesy, as though he were condescending to a favour he had no fancy for.
"Adieu, monsieur," said I, still tempted, by a last effort of allusion to his once condition, to draw something from him--"adieu!"
He approached me nearer, and with a voice of tremulous eagerness, he muttered--
"Not a word yonder, not a syllable! Pledge me your faith in that!"
Thinking now that it was merely the recurrence of his paroxysm, I answered carelessly, "Never fear, I"ll say nothing."
"Yes, but swear it," said he, with a fixed look of his dark eye; "swear it to me now, that so long as you are below there"--he pointed to the valley--"you will never speak of me."
I made him the promise he required, though with great unwillingness, as my curiosity to learn something about him was becoming intense.
"Not a word!" said he, with a finger on his lip, "that"s the _consigne_.
"Not a word!" repeated I, and we parted.
CHAPTER XVII. THE BORE--A SOLDIER OF THE EMPIRE.