“Next summer! Preceded by a severe winter, which saw sufferings such as Valmont had never known before—for the demands on Collet for money became more and more peremptory, and though the curé and Germain had written to the Countess a full account of the state of things, no notice had been taken of it, and they began to fear she had never received their letter—‘next summer’ brought no better state of things. The king and his family were now, to all intents and purposes, prisoners in the hands of their people; the few wiser and cooler-headed men in the government were overruled; great numbers of the better classes had left their unhappy country; of those whom obstinacy, in some cases poverty, caused to remain, till too late to get away, the fate became daily more uncertain. And among these there was every reason to fear were Edmée de Valmont and her mother!
”‘If they had left the country, I feel sure they would have found some means of letting us know,’ said Madame Germain, shaking her head, for the long anxiety and uncertainty had lessened her hopefulness. And just as her husband and son, after discussing for perhaps the hundredth time this sad state of things, had arrived at the conclusion that something must be done, some step they must and would take, there came again suddenly, and in an unexpected way, news of the two so dear to them.
“It came in the shape of a very feeble and very old man, who, looking more dead than alive, dragged himself one evening, late in the month of September, in the year I have now reached in my narrative, that of 1792, to the door of the forester’s cottage, and there, half-fainting on the threshold, asked in a broken voice for Germain or his wife. They did not know him in the least—how could they, in this wretched, dust-and-mud-covered old beggar, whose white beard hung neglectedly, whose feet were almost shoeless, whose poor old hands trembled with nervous weakness, have recognised the carefully-attired, respectable, nay stately Ludovic, who had driven away on the box of the travelling chariot, so proud to follow his ladies to the end of the world, had they bidden him? His devotion had cost him dear, poor old man, and as he feebly murmured—
”‘Don’t you know me—your old friend Ludovic?’ mother Germain burst into tears—tears of pity for him, of terror for those he had come from.
“They at once did their best for him. It would have been cruel to question him till he had regained a little strength, and indeed useless. Now that he had reached the end of his journey, his forces seemed altogether to collapse, and for some hours they feared he would die without having told them anything. But food and wine carefully administered, and a refreshing sleep into which he fell, did wonders for him, for notwithstanding his age, he had been till lately a vigorous and healthy man; and by the evening he woke up greatly revived, and eager to explain everything, and by degrees his kind hosts heard all, which perhaps it is well to give as far as possible in his own words—for the events he related have often been told me both by my mother who had seen them herself, and by my father who heard them at the moment from Ludovic’s own lips.
”‘I never thought I should reach here alive,’ began the old man. ‘The last few days have been terribly hard. From some distance on the other side of Machard I have come on foot. But few conveyances are on the road—no longer a chance of meeting with those of some of the great lords whose attendants, had they known who I was, would have given me a lift—no, the days of such travelling are over indeed; and in the few public coaches I met I could not have had a place, for I had not a sou! She gave me all she had—our dear lady—but it was very little, and there was no time to sell the jewels she had with her. Since four or five days I have scarcely tasted any food, though once or twice kind souls took pity on me. The first part of the journey was easy enough. I travelled in the public conveyances, to save time; but though easy, I soon saw it was a risk. While I was decently dressed they looked at me more than once with suspicion—above all that my clothes, though they were shabby enough compared with those you used to know me in, in happier days, had the look of my position, and nobleman’s servants are now often objects of suspicion. So I decided to make the rest of the way as best I could, getting a lift in a cart as long as my money lasted, and when my clothes became so shabby I dare say it was a safeguard. At all events here I am! God be thanked, if I could but think my dear ladies were also in safety!’
”‘But where are they?—what of them?’ burst out Pierre, who had listened with compassion indeed, but not without a certain impatience, to the poor old man’s somewhat rambling account of his own adventures.
”‘Softly, my boy,’ said his mother in a low voice. ‘Do not hurry him, let him tell all in his own way, otherwise he may grow confused.’
“But Pierre’s words had done no harm.
”‘Of course,’ said Ludovic, ‘that is where I should have begun, instead of wasting time over my own affairs, stupid old man that I am. But you must forgive me, my good friends. Old age is garrulous, and finds it difficult to keep to the point. Where was I?’ and he looked round feebly.