The rain fell in torrents. The waves broke over the boat. Darkness added its horrors to the danger, which, to her inexperienced eyes, appeared to be extreme. The sweet voice of her young companion vainly sought to encourage her. By the light of the lanterns carried from side to side to light the boatman, she soon distinguished Clement standing beside the carriage, holding up a sail with a firm hand to screen them on the side most exposed to the waves.
“Poor Clement,” she exclaimed, “it is all over with us, then.”
“No, not quite, unfortunately,” replied Clement. “It will be at least half an hour before we reach the shore.”
“The shore!—the shore!—He imagines, then, we shall reach it alive?” said mademoiselle, hiding her face on Fleurange's shoulder.
“Yes, yes,” replied the latter, pressing her in her arms. “Dear friend, there is no danger, I assure you. Believe me, I am only alarmed to see you so terrified.”
“Pardon me, child,” said the other, raising her head. “I resolved you should know nothing about it. But this time, Gabrielle, you cannot say we are not crossing the sea in a carriage,” continued she, with renewed alarm as she felt the increased motion of the waves.
Fleurange embraced her, repeating the same reassuring words. The poor old lady made no reply, she was trying to overcome her terror by a genuine act of heroism. “Danger or not, it is like what I have always imagined a terrible tempest, destructive of human life. But then,” murmured she still lower, “God overrules all, and nothing happens without his consent.”
Her physical nature was weak, but her soul was strong, and piety, a support in every trial, served now to calm her. She began to pray mentally, and did not utter another word till they reached the shore.
XLIX.
But a far greater danger awaited our travellers beyond Memel, whence they continued their journey the following day in sledges. The first, containing their baggage, preceded them several hours in advance to announce their arrival at the post-stations; the second somewhat resembled a clumsy boat on runners, surmounted by a hood, and protected by a boot of thick fur. It was in this sledge Fleurange and her companion [pg 315] were stowed away. They were obliged to lie nearly down to avoid the piercing wind. The third vehicle, entirely uncovered, was very light, and so small that it barely contained Clement, in front of whom sat a young fellow wrapped in a caftan, strong and vigorous, but with a slender form quite adapted to the seat he occupied and the sledge he drove. With this light equipage Clement went like the wind, sometimes preceding the other sledge as a guide, and then returning to accompany it and watch over its safety.