The command brought Jean to his senses, and the first glance revealed his danger. With a quick rush he broke through the circle of his assailants and ran back into the thicket.
“Follow him, ride him down,” furiously cried the knight.
The men at arms rode after him, but before they could overtake him he had disappeared in the woods, where they could not follow him on horseback. To dismount and pursue him on foot would have been a rash undertaking, so they turned about only to receive violent reproaches and curses from their master, who was forced to resume his journey without his wished-for victim.
Jean did not go far, for he well knew they would not dare to follow him into the forest. Leaning against a tree, he watched the carriage, which took the road to Rouen. His first impulse was to follow it and keep it in sight, but, upon second thought, he remembered he was not at that moment his own master, but was in the service of another, and that under such circumstances he had no right to risk his liberty or his life. Accordingly he let the carriage go on several hours before he resumed his journey.
Making allowance for the precautions he must take, it would be three or four days before he could reach Rouen. On the way he made several inquiries as to the whereabouts of the carriage, so that when he entered that city on the evening of the fourth day, he knew it was there. At the inn where he put up he passed himself off as a fugitive peasant who desired an interview with the bishop, that he might tell him of the sufferings of himself and his fellow villagers. As his story was a probable one, he hoped there would be no opposition to his remaining there. He was told that the bishop arrived two days before in the company of the Duke of Luxemburg, and had brought a young novice to the convent of Saint Ursula. He had gone away again with the Duke, but only for a short time.
Whenever Jean ventured out of the inn, he took his way to the convent. He could see only its outer walls, and yet he was drawn to it over and over again. Near the convent stands the church of Saint Ursula. As its doors were always open there was nothing to prevent him from entering and praying fervently for the unhappy girl he had seen in the forest. One day he as usual selected a spot close to the wall between the church and the convent for his devotions. This wall must have been in frequent use, for there was a door in it opening upon a passage-way to the other buildings. While Jean was praying the church was empty, and in the gathering shades of evening the sacred room was quiet and restful. In the profound silence it seemed to him that he heard human sobs in the distance. He listened intently. There could be no doubt of it. He was not deceived. The sound seemed to come out of the wall. He placed his ear against the stone, and distinctly heard a woman’s painful ejaculations between alternate groans and gentle sobs. A cold sweat stood on his brow. He felt rooted to the spot. The longer he listened the fiercer grew the storm in his breast. At last he could endure it no longer. He rushed out into the air. His heart was almost bursting. “The captive lady!” he cried, “can it be she?”
His despair drew him again to the spot, and again he listened. His pulse beat so feverishly, and he was under such excitement, that it was impossible for him to judge calmly, but he fancied he recognized the voice.
During the remainder of his stay in Rouen Jean spent his time almost exclusively in trying to discover the fate of this unfortunate one, but it was in vain. He only found that he was drawing attention to himself, and this attention at last became so apparent that after delivering the letter to the Bishop he was forced to leave Rouen abruptly and make his way back.
Chapter III
The Conspiracy
Four leagues distant from Cambray[15] the towers of Beaurevoir Castle rise from forest-crowned heights. In selecting this spot the builders combined the useful and the beautiful, for the castle was famous both for its strength and for its attractive situation. The view from the upper windows and from the towers repaid the appreciative observer at any season of the year, but he would have lingered longest in admiration when park and gardens, wood and meadow, field and grove were decked in the beauty of early spring, when the thickly clustered villages, east, west, and north, smiled amid their luxuriant crops, or when on the southern heights the Argonne forest was clad in its most gorgeous greenery. How much more attractive the beauties of this spot must have been to a child whose greatest delight was to be among the flowers of the garden and meadow, the birds in the parks, and the varied scenery! How closely such a child must have been attached to such a spot! How strong its temptation to pass all its time with nature!