Orrain: A Romance

by S. Levett Yeats

"We will rest there, mademoiselle. 'Tis barely fifty paces; bear up till then!" And dismounting I walked by the side of her horse.

Short as the distance was I was in doubt if she would hold out, and as I glanced at her I saw even by the moonlight how white and drawn was her face, and then she began to sway in her seat. Calling to Pierrebon to take the reins of her horse I tried to hold her in the saddle, but, feeling her slipping, I put my unhurt arm around her and lifted her to the ground. For a little space she stood as one dazed, leaning against me with closed eyes, and then with an effort recovered herself and drew back.

"I am able to walk, monsieur—I—how far is it?"

"Only a step now." And, still supporting her, I led her onward until we reached the trees.

"We are here, mademoiselle." And taking her into the shade of a huge walnut-tree I flung my cloak on the grass, and made her sit thereon, whilst we hedged her around with saddlery. It was done as quickly as we could, and the tired girl leaned back against the saddles utterly wearied and exhausted. I stood watching her for a little, and then with a whispered word to Pierrebon about the horses stepped aside. I could do no more; but my heart was heavy within me, for I feared the result of exposure for her.

A few yards off a withered tree stood apart, an outcast from its fellows. The thought struck me as I went up to it, and tapped the decayed trunk with my fingers: "You and I, my friend—we have seen our past, and are out of the pale now." With this I sat down on one of the huge roots, that coiled like monstrous serpents at my feet, and leaning my head against the tree prepared to wait for the dawn.

My arm, where Simon's sword had touched me, now began to remind me that it needed attention. A low whistle brought Pierrebon to my side, and the injury was looked to by such light as the moon gave. Fortunately it was but a slight flesh wound, and an improvised bandage soon gave relief. So, resting it in a sling out of my scarf, I leaned back once more, and bade Pierrebon go and sleep.

For an hour or more I sat thus, watching and thinking. At last, rising slowly, I cautiously stepped up to mademoiselle and looked. She was asleep; but so still did she lie, so pale and white did she look, that I thought for a terrible moment that she was dead, and bent over her, placing my hand close to her lips to feel if she breathed. She moved uneasily as I did so, and I came back to my tree and to my thoughts. Finally, as the moon was sinking, I too slept, and as I slept I dreamed. I saw myself once more riding towards Orrain, and not alone, for mademoiselle was by my side. As we rode out of the pine-woods the Chateau stood before us. There was the square keep, with its pepper-box towers, and bartizans overhanging the moat. There were the grey ramparts tapestried in ivy, and the terraced gardens, where the peacocks sunned themselves. All around us were happy faces, and joyous voices welcoming us home—the home to which I had so long been dead; and it was mine now, and more besides—and then—I awoke with a start and looked around me. It was all so real.

"Tush!" I exclaimed, "have I slipped back into the days of enchantment and the fay Melusine?" And rising I saw it was touching dawn, for the east was red, and the morning star, Maguelonne—the shepherd's star, as we call it in our hills—was burning bright. Mademoiselle and Pierrebon were still asleep, and it was too early yet to awaken them. It would be time enough when the sun rose, and in the meanwhile I began to reflect upon the best means of bestowing mademoiselle in safety. Razines was so near to Richelieu that if the latter were occupied by marauders they would hardly have left the little hamlet alone, unless, indeed, they were Huguenots who were in Richelieu. In which event Razines, which was known to be touched with the new heresy, would probably be unharmed. This, however, did not make things any the better for us. I made up my mind that the best course would be to take mademoiselle on with me to Poitiers, and there hand her over to some responsible person until her friends could be told of her. The very thought of this, however, jarred on me somehow, and I caught myself building castles in Spain again. "Come," I said to myself, "at your age, mon ami, you should know better than to go off dreaming at the sight of a pretty face and the sound of a sweet voice." And then I laughed aloud at the thought that I knew but half her name—that at any rate would be remedied soon. So, rising, for it was time now, I softly awoke Pierrebon and mademoiselle, and in a short while we were once more on our way through the low hills that stretched through Lencloître.

It was necessary at all hazards that we should get some food, as well for the horses as ourselves, and when we had gone a little way we saw Razines lying to our left. Here I halted, and, moving my party into cover behind some trees, I explained the position, and begged mademoiselle to remain with Pierrebon, whilst I went forward to the village to see how matters stood, adding that, if I did not return within a short time, her best course would be to go on to Poitiers with Pierrebon, and place herself in a convent there until she could write to her friends.