CHAPTER XXIII.
The next few days were gloomy with misty, rainy weather, and Count Schlichting grumbled incessantly at the enforced idleness of his command. Arno and Kurt employed the time in improving their knowledge of each other, and passed many a pleasant hour together with Count Styrum in exploring the park and gardens of the castle, which were remarkably fine and spacious. On returning from one of these walks about a week after their arrival at Assais, they found the castle court-yard a scene of much bustle and excitement, and learned that orders had arrived recalling the Saxon regiment to Nontron and Chalus,--orders that had been received with enthusiasm, since they pointed to a general massing of forces preparatory to a move upon the French army of the north. The colonel came into the dining-hall with a very cheerful countenance, and, taking his seat with the Uhlan captain, Von Säben, and several officers, drank a bumper to an energetic continuance of the war, and to its speedy victorious termination.
The Uhlan captain alone was depressed, and with good cause; for while the Saxon regiment was to take up its march to Nontron on the following morning, the squadron of Uhlans was to remain at Assais until further orders, to prevent the formation of bands of franctireurs in the surrounding country. Although this was an honourable service, it was one that could be crowned by no laurels, and life in the castle, after the departure of the Saxon officers, would be by no means attractive. The captain's only hope was that the colonel might be right in declaring that before many days the Uhlans also would be withdrawn from so advanced a post.
Kurt von Poseneck too was greatly disappointed at the prospect of losing sight of Arno von Hohenwald. He had so rejoiced in the new-formed friendship with his betrothed's brother, and now it was to be thus nipped in the bud. As soon as was possible without churlishness, Styrum, Arno, and Kurt withdrew from the circle of their comrades on this last evening and passed together a farewell quiet hour. When they separated Arno pressed Kurt's hand. "We shall perhaps not see each other to-morrow," he said; "let us say farewell to-night; only for a short time, I trust. When you send a letter to the Rhine remember to send my greetings in it, and in return I will send yours to Celia, and tell her that the greatest pleasure I have had during the campaign has been to learn to know and to cordially like my future brother-in-law. Farewell, Kurt!"
The three had lingered longer together than they had intended, and when they separated at the foot of the staircase leading to Styrum's and Arno's apartments perfect quiet reigned throughout the castle. Kurt's room was at the end of a long corridor on this second floor, and as he walked along it his steps sounded so loud in the intense stillness that he took care to make his tread as light as possible, lest he should arouse his sleeping comrades. The corridor was very long, and his room lay next to his captain's, the windows of both looking out upon the court-yard. The night had grown cloudy, and the long window before him, that would have given some light if the weather had been clear, was of no use to illuminate the darkness around him, but Kurt cared little since he could not possibly miss his door, the second from the end on his right. He had reached about the middle of the passage when his attention was roused by a noise upon his left; he thought he heard approaching footsteps. He paused and listened; yes, he was right; a door opened softly upon his left; he had a momentary glimpse of a spacious, dimly-lighted apartment, and Monsieur Gervais stood before him holding a lantern, the light of which fell full upon the young officer. The man was evidently much startled, but quickly regaining his self-possession, bowed with the courtesy he always displayed to the Prussian officers, and offered to light the lieutenant to his room, excusing himself for having, under the impression that every one in the castle had retired to rest, extinguished the lights.
He then preceded Kurt with his lantern, and only left him when he had lighted the candle in the young man's room.
Why had the Frenchman been so startled, so evidently frightened, at first sight of a Prussian officer? and whence came Monsieur Gervais? These were questions which Kurt asked himself as soon as he was left alone,--questions which he could not answer. It occurred to him that, confident in their numbers, the officers quartered in the castle had neglected many precautions that prudence would have suggested. Not one of them had hitherto thought it worth while to explore all the rooms and passages of the huge old castle. All had been content with the comfortable quarters assigned them by Monsieur Gervais, and had not reflected upon the facilities that the other rooms might afford for concealing spies and traitors. Kurt determined to use the first unemployed hours of the following day in exploring the castle thoroughly, and particularly in ascertaining whence the door led at which Monsieur Gervais had appeared. As far as he could judge at present, the large room, of which he had had a glimpse, must be traversed to reach the wing built out into the park, at present inhabited by the Baron de Nouart.
With the determination to atone for a neglected duty he ceased to think of Monsieur Gervais or of danger threatening him; he dwelt rather upon Arno's last words to him; his heart beat at the thought that he had accepted him as a brother-in-law, and Celia's lovely image accompanied him to the land of dreams.
He never suspected that Monsieur Gervais was standing outside his bedroom-door listening with bated breath to every movement of the young officer, and that his ear was not removed from the key-hole until the long, regular breathing inside told him he had nothing to fear from the Uhlan's wakefulness. The enemy slept. Monsieur Gervais could now pursue his way unmolested, but he would guard against a second surprise. He put the lantern on the floor, took off his boots, and in his stockings glided swiftly to the grand staircase, which he mounted to the very topmost story of the castle, then through a labyrinth of lumber-rooms he reached the door of a retired apartment; here he knocked softly three times; a bolt inside was drawn and the door opened. "Is all secure?" was whispered in the steward's ear.
"Yes; they are all asleep at last," was the whispered reply. "There is no time to waste; take off your boots; you must go in your stockings as I do."
"Whither are you taking me?" the man asked.
"Down-stairs and through the blue room to the Baron."
"Why not down the back-stairs, as I came up?"
"Because two sentinels were placed there this very after noon. Quick! quick! we have no time to parley; the Baron has been expecting you for more than an hour."
The maire, for it was Fournier, of whom Repuin had spoken to Sorr, obeyed. In his stockings he noiselessly followed his conductor, who cautiously guided him down the grand staircase to the door of the blue room, at which Gervais had appeared before Kurt. When it had admitted them and was closed behind them, the steward gave a sigh of relief. No officers were quartered in this wing; he paused and handed the lantern to the maire, saying, in a low tone, "Now you can find your way to the Baron without my help. I will slip back to my room in the darkness."
"Are you not coming with me to the Baron?"
"No; it is unnecessary; he knows all that I have been able to discover; he will tell you what you ought to know. Farewell, Monsieur Fournier; I will go and pray the saints to get you safely out of the castle."
"I shall get off safely; at least these cursed Germans shall never capture me alive, and woe to the man who attempts to detain me! I will not die unavenged!"
The two men separated, and the maire pursued his way to the door of the Baron's room, where he found instant admittance.
De Nouart was pacing restlessly to and fro; he had been awaiting Fournier for more than an hour, and had begun to fear that some accident had befallen him. "At last you are come!" he exclaimed. "I was almost crazed with terror lest you had been discovered!"
"No one suspects that I am in the castle."
"Thank God! If I could but know you once in the forest and on the way to our friends, I should indeed bless my lucky star! We have all taken our lives in our hands, maire."
"And what of that? To-day or to-morrow what matter? I would rather it were to-day, but that I have some hope of vengeance upon these accursed Germans."
"You will have abundant opportunity for that," the Baron rejoined; "but you have a long journey to make to-night."
"Be quick, then; tell me my errand and let me be gone," the man said, gloomily.
"You can serve your desire for revenge upon your boy's murderers in no way more surely than by carrying the important intelligence to Count Repuin that the enemy is to depart to-morrow morning early for Nontron and Chalus; the Uhlans only are to remain in Assais, and this probably only for a few days. All this Gervais has learned from the colonel himself. If Count Repuin has collected a sufficient force to make an attack, he must be quick about it or he will find no foes in Assais."
The thought that the hated Prussians might escape lent wings to the maire's resolve; he leaped from the window, as Count Repuin had formerly done, and vanished the next instant in the mist. Again, as formerly, did the Baron listen, lest a shot should tell of the discovery of the fugitive, whom in truth he cared for as little as for that other, and yet for whose safety he trembled. His anxiety was unnecessary, the deep silence of the forest was unbroken.
He turned from the window and gave himself up to reflection upon the dangers that encompassed him. Had he done right in apprising Repuin of the intended departure of the Saxons? If the Count should make the attack and be repulsed, would not Prussian vengeance first strike the French inmates of the castle? It had been folly to incite the Count to an attack! But no, whatever came of it he must keep his word to the Russian. Prussian vengeance he might escape; the Russian's never. He was bound body and soul to this man whom he hated; he could not free himself from the chain.
His head ached with the thoughts that crowded upon him; he was terribly weary and exhausted. There was one way to cure this dull pain, one means to scare away this terrible weakness; but he had promised not to use it. A single glass of the fiery liquid in the flask on the sideboard would send the blood dancing in his veins again; a single glass! Repuin was far away, there was not the slightest danger threatening for the moment; was he an utter slave to the Russian? No; he would endure it no longer. He poured out a glass from the flask and emptied it at a draught. Ah, this was strength and courage to face the future! Another and another. He had not slept o'nights of late, now he began to feel delightfully drowsy. By the time the flask was finished he had slipped from his arm-chair to the floor, where he lay until the following day.