el dorado-第19章

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〃I　would　not　hinder　you　if　I　stayed。〃

〃God　knows　you　have　hindered　us　enough　already。〃

〃How？〃

〃You　say　she　saved　your　life　。。。　then　you　were　in　danger　。。。　Heron
and　his　spies　have　been　on　your　track　your　track　leads　to　mine；
and　I　have　sworn　to　save　the　Dauphin　from　the　hands　of　thieves。。。。
A　man　in　love；　Armand；　is　a　deadly　danger　among　us。。。。　Therefore
at　daybreak　you　must　leave　Paris　with　Hastings　on　your　difficult
and　dangerous　task。〃

〃And　if　I　refuse？〃　retorted　Armand。

〃My　good　fellow；〃　said　Blakeney　earnestly；　〃in　that　admirable
lexicon　which　the　League　of　the　Scarlet　Pimpernel　has　compiled　for
itself　there　is　no　such　word　as　refuse。〃

〃But　if　I　do　refuse？〃　persisted　the　other。

〃You　would　be　offering　a　tainted　name　and　tarnished　honour　to　the
woman　you　pretend　to　love。〃

〃And　you　insist　upon　my　obedience？〃

〃By　the　oath　which　I　hold　from　you。〃

〃But　this　is　cruelinhuman！〃

〃Honour；　my　good　Armand；　is　often　cruel　and　seldom　human。　　He　is　a
godlike　taskmaster；　and　we　who　call　ourselves　men　are　all　of　us
his　slaves。〃

〃The　tyranny　comes　from　you　alone。　　You　could　release　me　an　you
would。〃

〃And　to　gratify　the　selfish　desire　of　immature　passion；　you　would
wish　to　see　me　jeopardise　the　life　of　those　who　place　infinite
trust　in　me。〃

〃God　knows　how　you　have　gained　their　allegiance；　Blakeney。　　To　me
now　you　are　selfish　and　callous。〃

〃There　is　the　difficult　task　you　craved　for；　Armand；〃　was　all　the
answer　that　Blakeney　made　to　the　taunt〃　to　obey　a　leader　whom
you　no　longer　trust。〃

But　this　Armand　could　not　brook。　　He　had　spoken　hotly；
impetuously；　smarting　under　the　discipline　which　thwarted　his
desire；　but　his　heart　was　loyal　to　the　chief　whom　he　had
reverenced　for　so　long。

〃Forgive　me；　Percy；〃　he　said　humbly；　〃I　am　distracted。　I　don't
think　I　quite　realised　what　I　was　saying。　　I　trust　you；　of　course
。。。　implicitly　。。。　and　you　need　not　even　fear　。。。　I　shall　not
break　my　oath；　though　your　orders　now　seem　to　me　needlessly
callous　and　selfish。。。。　I　will　obey　。。。　you　need　not　be　afraid。〃

〃I　was　not　afraid　of　that；　my　good　fellow。〃

〃Of　course；　you　do　not　understand　。。。　you　cannot。　To　you；　your
honour；　the　task　which　you　have　set　yourself；　has　been　your　only
fetish。。。。　　Love　in　its　true　sense　does　not　exist　for　you。。。。　　I
see　it　now　。。。　you　do　not　know　what　it　is　to　love。〃

Blakeney　made　no　reply　for　the　moment。　　He　stood　in　the　centre　of
the　room；　with　the　yellow　light　of　the　lamp　falling　full　now　upon
his　tall　powerful　frame；　immaculately　dressed　in　perfectly…tailored
clothes；　upon　his　long；　slender　hands　half　hidden　by　filmy　lace；
and　upon　his　face；　across　which　at　this　moment　a　heavy　strand　of
curly　hair　threw　a　curious　shadow。　　At　Armand's　words　his　lips　had
imperceptibly　tightened；　his　eyes　had　narrowed　as　if　they　tried　to
see　something　that　was　beyond　the　range　of　their　focus。

Across　the　smooth　brow　the　strange　shadow　made　by　the　hair　seemed
to　find　a　reflex　from　within。　　Perhaps　the　reckless　adventurer；
the　careless　gambler　with　life　and　liberty；　saw　through　the　walls
of　this　squalid　room；　across　the　wide；　ice…bound　river；　and　beyond
even　the　gloomy　pile　of　buildings　opposite；　a　cool；　shady　garden
at　Richmond；　a　velvety　lawn　sweeping　down　to　the　river's　edge；　a
bower　of　clematis　and　roses；　with　a　carved　stone　seat　half　covered
with　moss。　　There　sat　an　exquisitely　beautiful　woman　with　great
sad　eyes　fixed　on　the　far…distant　horizon。　　The　setting　sun　was
throwing　a　halo　of　gold　all　round　her　hair；　her　white　hands　were
clasped　idly　on　her　lap。

She　gazed　out　beyond　the　river；　beyond　the　sunset；　toward　an
unseen　bourne　of　peace　and　happiness；　and　her　lovely　face　had　in
it　a　look　of　utter　hopelessness　and　of　sublime　self…abnegation。
The　air　was　still。　　It　was　late　autumn；　and　all　around　her　the
russet　leaves　of　beech　and　chestnut　fell　with　a　melancholy
hush…sh…sh　about　her　feet。

She　was　alone；　and　from　time　to　time　heavy　tears　gathered　in　her
eyes　and　rolled　slowly　down　her　cheeks。

Suddenly　a　sigh　escaped　the　man's　tightly…pressed　lips。　With　a
strange　gesture；　wholly　unusual　to　him；　he　passed　his　hand　right
across　his　eyes。

〃Mayhap　you　are　right；　Armand；〃　he　said　quietly；　〃mayhap　I　do　not
know　what　it　is　to　love。〃

Armand　turned　to　go。　　There　was　nothing　more　to　be　said。　　He　knew
Percy　well　enough　by　now　to　realise　the　finality　of　his
pronouncements。　　His　heart　felt　sore；　but　he　was　too　proud　to　show
his　hurt　again　to　a　man　who　did　not　understand。　　All　thoughts　of
disobedience　he　had　put　resolutely　aside；　he　had　never　meant　to
break　his　oath。　　All　that　he　had　hoped　to　do　was　to　persuade　Percy
to　release　him　from　it　for　awhile。

That　by　leaving　Paris　he　risked　to　lose　Jeanne　he　was　quite
convinced；　but　it　is　nevertheless　a　true　fact　that　in　spite　of
this　he　did　not　withdraw　his　love　and　trust　from　his　chief。　　He
was　under　the　influence　of　that　same　magnetism　which　enchained　all
his　comrades　to　the　will　of　this　man；　and　though　his　enthusiasm
for　the　great　cause　had　somewhat　waned；　his　allegiance　to　its
leader　was　no　longer　tottering。

But　he　would　not　trust　himself　to　speak　again　on　the　subject。

〃I　will　find　the　others　downstairs；〃　was　all　he　said；　〃and　will
arrange　with　Hastings　for　to…morrow。　　Good　night；　Percy。〃

〃Good　night；　my　dear　fellow。　　By　the　way；　you　have　not　told　me　yet
who　she　is。〃

〃Her　name　is　Jeanne　Lange；〃　said　St。　Just　half　reluctantly。　　He
had　not　meant　to　divulge　his　secret　quite　so　fully　as　yet。

〃The　young　actress　at　the　Theatre　National？〃

〃Yes。　　Do　you　know　her？〃

〃Only　by　name。〃

〃She　is　beautiful；　Percy；　and　she　is　an　angel。。。。　　Think　of　my
sister　Marguerite　。。。　she；　too；　was　an　actress。。。。　　Good　night；
Percy。〃

〃Good　night。〃

The　two　men　grasped　one　another　by　the　hand。　　Armand's　eyes
proffered　a　last　desperate　appeal。　　But　Blakeney's　eyes　were
impassive　and　unrelenting；　and　Armand　with　a　quick　sigh　finally
took　his　leave。

For　a　long　while　after　he　had　gone　Blakeney　stood　silent　and
motionless　in　the　middle　of　the　room。　　Armand's　last　words
lingered　in　his　ear：

〃Think　of　Marguerite！〃

The　walls　had　fallen　away　from　around　himthe　window；　the　river
below；　the　Temple　prison　had　all　faded　away；　merged　in　the　chaos
of　his　thoughts。

Now　he　was　no　longer　in　Paris；　he　heard　nothing　of　the　horrors
that　even　at　this　hour　of　the　night　were　raging　around　him；　he　did
not　hear　the　call　of　murdered　victims；　of　innocent　women　and
children　crying　for　help；　he　did　not　see　the　descendant　of　St。
Louis；　with　a　red　cap　on　his　baby　head；　stamping　on　the
fleur…de…lys；　and　heaping　insults　on　the　memory　of　his　mother。
All　that　had　faded　into　nothingness。

He　was　in　the　garden　at　Richmond；　and　Marguerite　was　sitting　on
the　stone　seat；　with　branches　of　the　rambler　roses　twining
themselves　in　her　hair。

He　was　sitting　on　the　ground　at　her　feet；　his　head　pillowed　in　her
lap；　lazily　dreaming。　whilst　at　his　feet　the　river　wound　its
graceful　curves　beneath　overhanging　willows　and　tall　stately　elms。

A　swan　came　sailing　majestically　down　the　stream；　and　Marguerite；
with　idle；　delicate　hands；　threw　some　crumbs　of　bread　into　the
water。　　Then　she　laughed；　for　she　was　quite　happy；　and　anon　she
stooped；　and　he　felt　the　fragrance　of　her　lips　as　she　bent　over
him　and　savoured　the　perfect　sweetness　of　her　caress。　　She　was
happy　because　her　husband　was　by　her　side。　　He　had　done　with
adventures；　with　risking　his　life　for　others'　sake。　　He　was　living
only　for　her。

The　man；　the　dreamer；　the　idealist　that　lurked　behind　the
adventurous　soul；　lived　an　exquisite　dream　as　he　gazed　upon　that
vision。　　He　closed　his　eyes　so　that　it　might　last　all　the　longer；
so　that　through　the　open　window　opposite　he　should　not　see　the
great　gloomy　walls　of　the　labyrinthine　building　packed　to
overflowing　with　innocent　men；　women；　and　children　waiting
patiently　and　with　a　smile　on　their　lips　for　a　cruel　and　unmerited
death；　so　that　he　should　not　see　even　through　the　vista　of　houses
and　of　streets　that　grim　Temple　prison　far　away；　and　the　light　in
one　of　the　tower　windows；　which　illumined　the　final　martyrdom　of　a
boy…king。

Thus　he　stood　for　fully　five　minutes；　with　eyes　deliberately
closed　and　lips　tightly　set。　　Then　the　neighbouring　tower…clock　of
St。　Germain　l'Auxerrois　slowly　tolled　the　hour　of　midnight。
Blakeney　woke　from　his　dream。　　The　walls　of　his　lodging　were　once
more　around　him；　and　through　the　window　the　ruddy　light　of　some
torch　in　the　street　below　fought　with　that　of　the　lamp。

He　went　deliberately　up　to　the　window　and　looked　out　into　the
night。　　On　the　quay；　a　little　to　the　left；　the　outdoor　camp　was
just　breaking　tip　for　the　night。　　The　people　of　France　in　arms
against　tyranny　were　allowed　to　put　away　their　work　for　the　day
and　to　go　to　their　miserable　homes　to　gather　rest　in　sleep　for　the
morrow。　　A　band　of　soldiers；　rough　and　brutal　in　their　movements；
were　hustling　the　women　and　children。　　The　little　ones；　weary；
sleepy；　and　cold；　seemed　too　dazed　to　move。　　One　woman　had　two
little　children　clinging　to　her　skirts；　a　soldier　suddenly　seized
one　of　them　by　the　shoulders　and　pushed　it　along　roughly　in　front
of　him　to　get　it　out　of　the　way。　　The　woman　struck　at　the　soldier
in　a　stupid；　senseless；　useless　way；　and　then　gathered　her
trembling　chicks　under　her　wing；　trying　to　look　defiant。

In　a　moment　she　was　surrounded。　　Two　soldiers　seized　her；　and　two
more　dragged　the　children　away　from　her。　She　screamed　and　the
children　cried；　the　soldiers　swore　and　struck　out　right　and　left
with　their　bayonets。　　There　was　a　general　melee；　calls　of　agony
rent　the　air；　rough　oaths　drowned　the　shouts　of　the　helpless。
Some　women；　panic…stricken；　started　to　run。

And　Blakeney　from　his　window　looked　down　upon　the　scene。　　He　no
longer　saw　the　garden　at　Richmond；　the　lazily…flowing　river；　the
bowers　of　roses；　even　the　sweet　face　of　Marguerite；　sad　and
lonely；　appeared　dim　and　far　away。

He　looked　across　the　ice…bound　river；　past　the　quay　where　rough
soldiers　were　brutalising　a　number　of　wretched　defenceless　women；
to　that　grim　Chatelet　prison；　where　tiny　lights　shining　here　and
there　behind　barred　windows　told　the　sad　tale　of　weary　vigils；　of
watches　through　the　night；　when　dawn　would　bring　martyrdom　and
death。

And　it　was　not　Marguerite's　blue　eyes　that　beckoned　to　him　now；　it
was　not　her　lips　that　called；　but　the　wan　face　of　a　child　with
matted　curls　hanging　above　a　greasy　forehead；　and　small　hands
covered　in　grime　that　had　once　been　fondled　by　a　Queen。

The　adventurer　in　him　had　chased　away　the　dream。

〃While　there　is　life　in　me　I'll　cheat　those　brutes　of　prey；〃　he
murmured。



CHAPTER　XIII
THEN　EVERYTHING　WAS　DARK

The　night　that　Armand　St。　Just　spent　tossing　about　on　a　hard；
narrow　bed　was　the　most　miserable；　agonising　one　he　had　ever
passed　in　his　life。　　A　kind　of　fever　ran　through　him；　causing　his
teeth　to　chatter　and　the　veins　in　his　temples　to　throb　until　he
thought　that　they　must　burst。

Physically　he　certainly　was　ill；　the　mental　strain　caused　by　two
great　conflicting　passions　had　attacked　his　bodily　strength；　and
whilst　his　brain　and　heart　fought　their　battles　together；　his
aching　limbs　found　no　repose。

His　love