And Count Saxe helping and hastening me in every 457 way, as became such a soul as his, I set forth at once on my journey. It was the latter part of December when I left Prague behind me.
The journey was a terrible one; the season harsh beyond comparison. The ground was deeply covered with snow, which the wild winds piled in great drifts, in which both men and beasts were sometimes lost. Rain and sleet alternated with snow. The sun scarcely shone at all. The sufferings of dumb creatures were dreadful; horses plunged amid the snow, and died in it; the gaunt cattle froze in the fields; even the birds dropped dead from the icy roofs and trees. I think I never saw so much misery in any journey I ever made, as in that journey to Capello. Even when I reached the flat country of the lower Rhine, there was but little amelioration. I traveled as rapidly as I could, both night and day, but my progress was slow. My eager heart outstripped my laggard body, and it seemed to me that every hour the urgency of Francezka’s call for me grew greater. I could actually hear that sweet, penetrating voice, now full of agony, crying to me, “Babache! Babache! Come quickly—quickly, or you will be too late!”
CHAPTER XXXV
WOULD YOU LEAVE ME NOW
I fought my way to Brussels against the elements, and reached there at sunset of the last day of the year. I had not slept for thirty-six hours, and then it was in the rude cart of a peasant, jolting over the rough highroad. But sleep had departed from me. Up to that time I had managed to get a few hours of rest out of every twenty-four, for I was a soldier and knew how to take hard travel. But if I had been offered the great down bed of Louis le Grand, I could not have slept on that December night, thank God! Had I remained the night in Brussels—had I preferred soft slumber to the dumb cry of Francezka’s soul to mine—what grief! What remorse! Therefore, I took horse again at sun-setting, and did not draw rein until I reached Capello, at nine of the clock.
It was the first time I had seen the place in the icy clutch of winter. I had ever thought it the cheerfullest spot on earth. Nature was all gaiety at Capello. Now she was in a tragic mood, but not the less beautiful. The sky was of a deep, dark blue, jeweled with stars in every part. A radiant, majestic moon rode high, flooding the snowy earth with a pale, unearthly splendor. The château, white and stately, shone dazzling 459 in this moonlit glow. The bare branches of the forest covered with frost, were like silver lace. All was cold, still, lonely and sad.
I noticed as I approached the château through the great bare avenue of frosted lindens, that the windows were not, as usual, lighted up. Two only were illuminated—the windows of the little yellow saloon, where Francezka spent her evenings when without company.
As ever I drew nearer to Francezka, that need for haste seemed to be more urgent. I dismounted in the courtyard, and ran, rather than walked up the terrace. Through the window, with its undrawn curtains, I saw Francezka and Gaston seated together in the yellow saloon.