“Mr. Egremont, it is the seventh time, when I have said a spot, a stream was beautiful, land well cultivated, or anything in praise of this country through which you are travelling, that you have responded, ‘Madam, you should see such and such a one at Egremont!’”
“True,” replied Roger, quite sheepish and abashed. “I dare say I have made a fool of myself about Egremont; I always do. But to tell you the truth from my heart, I cannot help it. I never could see the forest at St. Germains at evening without thinking, thinking, thinking about the woods of Egremont, how they looked with the evening light shining upon their dark masses. And if a bird sang in a bush it recalled the singing of the thrushes and blackbirds in the hedges. Nor can I look at a rising moon, without seeing its reflection in the Dark Pool where the river widens out, under the myrtle bushes and alders—for myrtle does actually grow in the open at some spots in the path—and the oak avenue. If Hugo Stein has cut down all the oaks, as he often urged me to do—”
Roger unconsciously clenched his fist. His face was so expressive that Michelle could not but note it. Usually he was a comely man, with his wide, roguish, laughing mouth, white teeth, and glowing eyes; but when he was angry he became positively ugly. However, he checked himself in time, saying,—
“Pray pardon a man who has not yet learned to govern himself as he should. And now, think you that you can ride all the way to Meaux?”
“To be sure I can,” replied Michelle, with spirit. “I hope Monsieur Bossuet will be there; you know he is Bishop of Meaux, and perhaps we may have the good fortune to hear a sermon from him.”
“And perhaps,” piously added Roger, “being then well into the champagne country, we may get some of the best wine in France.”
They rode on steadily. At four o’clock they again stopped for a rest. They were then twelve miles from Meaux; but at Meaux Madame de Beaumanoir would sleep. At five they again started. Their last stage was made slowly, for the horses were tired, and the baggage wagon was far behind. The moon was high in the heavens before the roofs and steeples of Meaux, then a large city, came into sight. The town was quiet for the night; it was quite eight o’clock. The air had grown sharp, and Michelle had put on her travelling-mantle, and Roger found his furred cloak comfortable. They passed the huge mass of the cathedral, standing nobly and solemnly beautiful in the moonlight. Berwick piloted them to the chief inn of the town. The approach of such a party, and the incessant clacking of Madame de Beaumanoir’s tongue waked the neighborhood. They had supper in a private room before a good fire, and as the case generally is with travellers’ suppers, it was very gay. Then they parted for the night. Each one protested that he or she, as it might be, was perfectly fresh and ready to take the road at sunrise; but for the sake of the horses, they deferred their start until nine o’clock the next morning.
Berwick and Roger had a room between them with two beds; and it did not take them long to seek their rest.
At sunrise next morning Berwick was wakened by Roger moving softly about the room, dressing himself as quietly as possible. Ever since daylight they had heard at intervals the deep-toned music of the great cathedral bells. The chimes were exquisitely attuned, and their soft, deep, rich, melodious thunder was like a vast sea of aerial music, which rose and fell like the waves of some mighty ocean. The glorious sound would arise, filling the heavens and the earth with its majestic harmonies, swelling grandly and more grandly until it seemed to reach the great arch of the sky; and then to melt away, in the softest, the sweetest, the most delicate vibrations, only to rise, to swell, to die away once more.
Roger could not but stop sometimes in his rapid dressing to listen to this noble diapason; but he had great work on hand, and proceeded with it. He thought Berwick was asleep, until just as Roger with hat and cloak in hand, was leaving the room, Berwick rolled over in his bed and said quietly,—