A prince of lovers

by Sir William Magnay

For a while they would drive through the forest so thick and dark as to seem impenetrable, the road strewn with a carpet of moss and pine needles, so that they glided along without noise, the great trees in their serried myriads seeming to close in upon them with an oppressiveness which threatened to shut out air as well as light. The silence was supreme, appalling, in its dominating intensity; it seemed to enforce itself upon every living intruder on its domain, even Ompertz’s singing was hushed. Then the wall of trees would open out, the air would grow lighter, fresher, and the track would pass out upon an amphitheatre of towering rocks, grim, frowning, majestic, beyond which the outlet was a defile roofed by the overhanging cliffs so as to resemble the mouth of a cavern. The terrors of that natural tunnel made Minna cover her face with her hands and sob for very despair; Ruperta sat with pale face and compressed lips, keeping her fears at least from utterance. Ludovic leaned forward and touched her hand. She looked up quickly with a little shiver, then, as her eyes met his, he saw what told him she would be brave to the end. Ah, that end! How far off it was yet, and every tedious minute seemed, instead of bringing it nearer, to push it farther still. Soon the long archway was passed, to be succeeded by the steep ascent of a wooded gorge leading to the very heart of the mountains. Now the storm was beginning to break over them in its fury. The gale howled and roared in the chasms and ravines, sweeping with it the rain in blinding scuds. At one moment it would be light enough just to make out the way, in the next a pall of blackness would cover them so that even the great walls of rock on either side could not be seen. They were forced to halt, and Ompertz, still cheery, dismounted and held counsel with Ludovic.

“We cannot go on through this, Lieutenant,” he declared ruefully, “at least not up this track. I know these mountain storms too well, we are comparatively sheltered here, but at every step we take upwards its fury will increase. We must turn aside and make at all hazards for the main road. Yes, it is a risk, but it is either that or staying here all night.”

Delay, which could in any way be avoided, was not to be thought of. And, indeed, if they were to take to the high road now, the sooner they struck it the better for their chances of proceeding unmolested. But how were they to make their way out of that rocky maze? Never admitting the difficulty, Ompertz turned the horses and made for a cross road he had noticed some distance back. This proved, when he turned into it, to be rough and almost impossible for a vehicle to traverse. Nothing daunted, Ompertz stuck to his task, and, his horses being willing and sure-footed, the carriage made some progress through the roaring tempest. The track, as Ompertz had expected, led gradually downwards; he was confident that a couple of leagues should bring them to the road, and then all they would have to fear would be Rollmar’s pursuit.

But now their first serious mishap was to occur. The mountain road, which seemed to be getting smoother so that the horses could increase their pace, dipped unexpectedly in its winding course, just as a great squall of wind and rain came roaring over the mountain. Aided by the declivity, the carriage was now rolling down at a dangerous pace. Blinded for the moment by the squall, Ompertz was unable to check or even guide the horses. The carriage swerved from side to side, to crash at last into a projecting corner of rock, the impact splintering a wheel and so bringing their progress to an end. With a cry of discomfiture, Ompertz leapt down and satisfied himself that no one was hurt.

“Unlucky wretch that I am!” he cried in an agony of regret. “I have ruined everything now.”

Ludovic, taking in the cause of the accident, was far from blaming him.

“No fault of yours, my friend. Who could hope to drive down such a place in a night like this?”

As the clouds were swept across the sky, alternating darkness penetrable and impenetrable, the rain would cease fitfully, and then pour down and, caught by the wind, sweep horizontally through the gorge. The carriage certainly afforded shelter, but to Ludovic the idea of having to stay there all night was maddening. It seemed the very ruin of their enterprise.

“Stay you with the ladies,” said Ompertz, “while I go and reconnoitre.”

The idea of finding an inn or another carriage in that wild spot seemed hopeless enough; still, anything was better than inaction.