Turning our horses that way with a shout and a halloo, we rode on as fast as we could, and, at the distance of about two miles to the left of the right road, we came up with a party which proved to be that we were in search of. Riding up to the side of Louise, I bestowed not a few harsh words upon Master Andriot for having misled the party; and then, taking Louise's hand in mine, I said everything I could say, in order to put her mind at ease, that the circumstances permitted, being surrounded by a number of people who heard every word that was spoken. Her hand was like a piece of ice; and I found that she was suffering much from the intense cold; yet how to assist her I could not tell. I became, I confess, greatly alarmed about her. Nor were my fears without some foundation, for two or three days before I had seen the hands of one of our men so completely frostbitten as to require the amputation of two of the fingers. Nothing, however, was to be done but to ride on as fast as possible, and yet we were now so far from the road that the time of our journey to the village must necessarily be lengthened, and was, in some degree, uncertain.
After riding on for about three miles more, however, I saw a long, irregular building on the left, and, on a nearer approach, found that it was one of those large granaries or barns which are found scattered about so frequently in Poitou and Sainctonge at great distances from any habitable spot. Though it was a miserable shelter enough, yet, as it promised to afford us a covering against the intense cold, I turned our horses' heads thitherward, saying that, at all risks, we must break it open in order to obtain some shelter for the young lady. Not a little to my satisfaction, however, the door was found unlocked, and the place completely vacant; and, on entering, we found that it was divided into two by a wooden partition, which separated a small space, in the shape of an ordinary room, from the great barn and threshing-floor. This we discovered by lighting two or three coils of match that we had brought with us; and, lifting Louise from her horse, I carried her into the inner room in my arms, for she was so stiff with the cold that she could hardly move.
Soldiers may, and, doubtless, have a multitude of faults; but the tenderness and care which they can sometimes exhibit towards the weak and the suffering, forms a strange contrast with the savage fury they display under excitement. Nothing could exceed the kindness, the diligence, the attention with which they crowded round to give assistance to poor Louise, one cheering her with a kindly word, another bringing in the pillions to make a comfortable seat for her, a third rushing in with his arms full of apple-branches, which he had torn down from the neighbouring trees, and which, placed on a hearth that we found in the inner room, soon raised a cheerful and a blazing fire.
Moric Endem, for his part, brought from his saddlebow an appendage without which he never travelled, and which, on the present occasion, proved of the utmost service. This was a gourd, dried in the form of a bottle, and filled with excellent wine, and I insisted upon Louise drinking some, which, I believe, more than anything, prevented her from suffering severely. Some more piles of wood were soon brought in, together with other cloaks; and Moric and the rest, having seen that everything had been done to make Louise as comfortable as the circumstances admitted, retired into the larger division of the barn, to provide, as best they might, for the passing of a long winter's night, Moric leading the way, and saying, "Better leave the seigneur and his cousin alone. I dare say they have a great deal to say to each other."
"Is he her cousin?" I heard one of the men say as they went out, turning at the same time to Andriot; "I thought most likely he was her lover."
"He is her cousin," replied Andriot. "You might almost call them brother and sister, indeed, for they have been like such all their lives."
I had, indeed, always felt so towards Louise de Blancford; I had loved her as a very dear sister, with whom no word had ever been exchanged but that of kindness and affection, and such had been simply my sensations till the moment when, quitting her father's house, I sought my own fortunes in the wide world. I have said that then a dream came up before my eyes; that a vision of future happiness connected itself with the remembrance of Louise, that I felt that I could not be happy, that I could not even figure to myself a state of happiness without the dear, the beloved companion of my infancy and my youth.
From that moment new and deeper feelings began to mingle with the memory of Louise; hopes and visions, and fancies bright and enchanting, dreams of joy and satisfaction in meeting her again; aspirations to conquer every difficulty and overcome all resistance, till I had raised myself high for her sake. Was this love, or merely a dream of the fancy--a boyish fondness for the girl that had been brought up with me? I cannot well tell, but I think not; for love can have no greater intensity of regard and affection than I felt towards Louise de Blancford: imagination might gild it, but does not imagination gild love also? It wanted something, indeed. I had looked upon Louise with fondness, I can scarcely say that it was with admiration, for I had been so much accustomed to the sight of her beauty that I did not know how beautiful she was, even as a girl, till afterward, in comparing the beauty of others whom I saw with her image in my memory, I found that there was none at all like her.
If there was anything wanting, however, to make that which I felt towards her love of the deepest, the most intense, the tenderest, the most passionate nature, it was wanting no longer after that night; the dear embrace which she had given me when first we met; the touch of her hand when we came up with her after the little skirmish; the holding her in my arms and to my bosom as I carried her from her horse into the building; the anxiety for her, the fear, the tenderness, the care, gave warmer, nearer, more engaging, if not more intense sensations to my affection for her; and from that moment I felt I loved her with all the fire and energy of passion.
By the warmth of the fire Louise soon began to revive, her eyes to sparkle brightly again, the natural colour to come into her lips and cheeks, the icy hand to grow warm and soft. She had been scarcely able to speak when we entered, but now she answered my eager words kindly though briefly, and added a bright smile, and let her hand press mine, to thank me more than she was able to do in words. Oh! how beautiful did she look then, as gradually the bright returning stream of life flowed more rapidly through her veins, and every moment seemed to bring out some new loveliness. I cannot but think that so must have looked the ivory statue of the Greek sculptor, when his prayer of love was heard, and it was kindled into sudden being. She was changed, much changed since last I saw her: she was now just sixteen; and what a difference one year will make at that period of life! every alteration had been an addition to the beauty that she possessed before: she was now a woman, when I had left her a girl, and the brightness of perfection had been added to the rich promise of beauty.