De L'Orme. / The Works of G. P. R. James, Esq., Vol. XVI.

by G. P. R. James

As I recovered my health, there was of course much to hear concerning all that had occurred, both during my absence in Spain, and my illness after my return.

In regard to the first, I shall merely notice the circumstance which occasioned my father to recal me: this was nothing else than a visit from the Marquis de St. Brie, of whom the Chevalier had instilled into our minds so unfavourable an opinion.

On his presenting himself at the château, my father received him coldly and haughtily; but the Marquis soon, by the polished elegance of his manners, and the apparent frankness of his character, did away the evil impression which had been created against him. He spoke of his rencontre with me, and he praised my conduct in the highest manner. Courage, and skill, and generous forbearance, were all attributed to me; and the ears of the parent were easily soothed by the commendation bestowed upon his child. Besides, my father was too lazy to hold his opinion steadfastly, when any one strove to steal it from him; and he gradually brought himself to believe that the Marquis de St. Brie was a very much slandered person, and that, so far from having any evil intent towards me, the Marquis was my very good friend and well-wisher.

My mother was slower to be convinced; but the language of my former adversary was so high whenever he spoke of me, that she also gradually yielded her unfavourable impressions, and willingly consented to my recal--the Marquis having promised to revisit the Château de l'Orme in the spring, and expressed a wish to see me, offering at the same time, if his interest could be of service to my views, to use it to the utmost in my behalf. My mother looked upon this, at the worst, as an empty profession, and my father almost believed him to be sincere.

Thus I was recalled; and my adventures on my return being already told, I have only farther to relate the means by which I was saved from the fate that menaced me. Immediately on quitting Father Francis and myself, my faithful Houssaye had ridden on with the guide to Laruns, as hard as he could. The wind, however, and the snow had delayed them far longer than he had anticipated; and, anxious for my safety, he galloped to the little cabaret in search of some one to return and lend their assistance in finding me out, and rescuing me from the peril in which he had left me.

The first persons whom he encountered in the auberge were Arnault, the procureur of Lourdes, and his son, the latter of whom instantly proffered to join the party, and aid with all his heart. But the old procureur was thereupon immediately smitten with a fit of paternal tenderness, such as had not visited him for many years before; and he not only positively prohibited Jean Baptiste from encountering the dangers of the snow himself, but he also pronounced such a pathetic oration upon the horrors and dangers of the undertaking, that of the whole party collected in the cabaret not one could be found to venture.

Houssaye's next resource was amongst the cottagers round about, and, by promises and persuasion, he induced eight sturdy mountaineers to accompany him with the resin torches for which they are famous in that part of the country, and which are almost as difficult to extinguish as the celebrated fire of Callinicus. With these they began their search on the road towards Gabas; but scarcely had they passed the defile immediately above Laruns, than the light of the torches flashed over a spot where the snow had evidently been disturbed, and on examining they found a part of my clothes not yet covered with the drift which had come down since the wind had swept Father Francis and myself from the path. We were soon extricated, and carried to Laruns apparently dead.

Here all means were applied to recall us to life, but they proved successful only with me; on Father Francis they had no effect, though Houssaye assured me that everything which could be devised was employed in vain.

Amongst the most active in rendering me every assistance after I was extricated was the good youth who had saved me before from a watery grave; but in the midst of his endeavours, his father checked him, and calling him on one side, spoke to him for long in a low voice.

"The old fox thought I could hear nothing," said Houssaye; "but enough reached me to make me understand he would rather have had you die than live. If he dies, I heard him say, you shall have both--something which I did not hear--and all the property; but if he lives, mark if he do not thwart us, though I will take care to throw obstacles enough in his way! The lad seemed well enough inclined to help you still," proceeded Houssaye, "but his father would not let him; though he came the next morning himself, fawning and asking if he could bear any message back to Lourdes, whither he was about to return, finding that he could not pass into Spain as he had intended."