ClarneU I BOUGHT Wl SAGE ENl HENf ttoeraitji ffiibrarg ca, New ^ncti H THE INCOME OF THE OWMENT FUND HE GIFT OF tY W. SAGE IS9I Date Due f> n f . ■-'--.'- '*' -- '•' 'S'i v.^ 2 - ' ijlvSO'S* J'T " — ; \ 1 '3n Q^k^ .1./^ i'- Jij;tLl)4\) M^ <^//W< T:^^ prograname of im- perialism, and stimulate the enthusiasm of Egyptian bondholders by a glorious victory over helpless fellow- creatures in the East. The Bible, the sword, and the ambulance waggon are triumphant^ and the xs^aa viii PREFACE of Christ prevails. Only one step further, surely, would be needed to reach the Millennium ; and that step would be taken if our rulers would only listen to the voice of Christian opinion, expressed in so many comfortable circles, and cicatrize the old wounds of refractory' Ireland — with powder and shot ! But this subject, after all, is too sad a one to be sarcastic upon. I am face to face with the horrible truth that War is still a reality, and will be a reality so long as it is tolerated, under any circumstances or under any name, by the preachers of Christianity — among which preacher^ I include, as by far the most powerful, the members of the fourth estate. In the nineteenth century, War should be simply impossible. That it is possible is a proof of the failure of the Christian, religion, so far, to enfranchise the world. I have cast " The Shadow of the Sword " as a crumb upon the waters. It may do some good j it cannot by any possibility do any harm. The idea has been described as transcendental, like (to compare small things with great) the sublime ideas of the Founder of Christianity. It has been accepted, and praised with- out stint, by many, as an attack on Despotism in the person of the first Napoleon. I trust, however, that it is something' more^ — an attack on War in the abstract, as the deadliest and most loathsome repre- sentation of the retrograde movement of modern political thought. Once more, " the time grows near the birth of Christ." The Holy Name will be mur- mured from a thousand pulpits, echoed by a million hearts ; but' Christ still sleeps, despite His promise to arise, and sad-eyed' Science is telling us that He will never arise «t all. Blocking the mouth of the Sepulchre lies now, instead of the old stone, a monstrous imple- ment — the Gatling Gun I ROBERT BUCHANAN. Southend, Decembtr 21, i88a. THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD ,> PROEM Nineteen sad sleepless centuries Had shed upon the dead Christ's eyes Dark blood and dew, and o'er them still The ^yaxen lids were sealed chill. Drearily through the dreary years The world had waited on in tears, With heart clay-cold and eyelids wet,, But He had not krisen yet. Nay, Christ was cold ; and, colder stiU, The lovely Shapes He came to kill Slept by His side. Ah, sight of dread ! Dead Christ, and p.11 the sweet gods dead ! I^e had not risen, tho' all the world Was waiting ; tho', with thin lips' curl'd, Pale Antichrist upon his prison Gazed' yet denj^ing, He, had not risen; Tho' every hope was slain save Him, Tho' all th^ eyes of Heaven were dim. Despite the promise and the pain, He slept — and had twt risen again. Meantime, from France's funeral pyre, Rose,-god-like, girt around with fire, Napoleon ! THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD — On eyefe and lips Burnt the red hues of Love's eclipse ; Beneath his strong triumphal tread All days the human winepress bled ; And in the, silence of the nights Pale Prophets stood upon the heights, .And, gazing 'thro' the blood-red gloom Far eastward, to the dead Christ's totab, Wail'd to the winds. Yet Christ still sleplf :— And o'er His white Tomb slowly crept The fiery Shadow of a Sword ! Not Peace ; a Sword. And men adored Not Christ, nor Antichrist, but Cain ; And where the bright blood ran like rain He stood, and looking, men went wild ; — Forlol on whomsoe'er he smiled Came an idolatry accurst, But chief, Cain's hunger and Cain's thirst For bloodshed and for teafs ; and- when He beckon' d, countless swarms of men Flew tiiick as' locusts to destroy Hope's happy harvests, sown in joy ; Yea, verily ; at each finger-wave They swarm'd — and, shared the crimson grave Beneath his Throne. Then) 'neath the sua One man of France— and he, indeed, Lowest and least of all man's seed- Shrank back, and stirr'd not !— heard Cain's cry, But flew not ! — mark'd across the sky The Shadow of the Sword, but still Dfespair'd not ! — Nay, with steadfast will. He sought Christ's Tomb, and lying low, With cold limbs cushion'd on the snow, PROEM He waited 1 — But when Cain's, eye found ' His hiding-place on holy ground, " And Cain's hand gript him by the hair, Seeking tp drag him forth from there, He dutch'd the stones with all his strength, Struggled in silence — ^and at length, In the dire horror of his need, Shrieked out on Christ ! /. Did Christ rise ? Read CHAPTER I FULL SUNSHINE "Rohan ! Rohan 1 Can you not hear me call ? It is titne to go. Come, come ! It frightens me to look down at you. Will you not come up now, Rohan ?" The voice that crieS is lost in the ocean-sound that fills the blue void beneath ; it fades away far under, amid a confused murmur of wings, a busy chattering of innumerable little newborn mouths ; and while the speaker, drawing dizzily back^ feels the ground rise up beneath her feet and the cliffs prepare to turn ovey like a great wheel, a human cry comes upward, cleair yet faint, like a voice from the sea that washes on the weedy ^reefs of blood-red granite a thousand feet below. The sun is sinking far away across the waters,' sink- ing with a last golden gleam amid the mysterious Hesperides of the silent air, and his blinding light comes slant across the glassy calm till it strikes on the scarred and storm-rent faces of these Breton crags, /illuminating and vivifying every nook and cranny of the clififs beneath, burning on the summits and brighten- ing their natural red to the vivid crimson of drippirig. blood, changing the coarse grass and yellow starwort into threads of emerald and glimmering stairs, burning in a golden mist around the yellow flowers of the over- hanging broom, and striking with fiercest ray on one naked rock of solid stone which juts out like a huge horn over the brink of the abyss, and around ^hich a strong rope is noosed and firmly knotted. 4 FULL SUNSHINE S Close to this horn of rock, in the full glory of the sunset light, stands a young girl, calling aloud to one who swings unseen below. ' The sunlight flashes full into her face and blinds her, while the soft breath of the sea kisses ,the lid^ of her dazzled eyes. j Judged by her sun-tanned skin, she might be the daughter of some gipsy tribe. But such dark features as hers are common among the Celtic women of the Breton coast ; and her large eyes are not gipsy-black, but ethereal grey — that mystic ' colour which can be soft as heaven with joy and love, but dark as death with jealousy and wrath ; and, indeed, to one who ^azes lohg into such eyes as these, there are revealed strange depths of passion, and self -coritrol, and piride. The girl is tall and shapely, somewhat sUght of figure, small-handed, small-footed ; so that, were Ser cheek a little less rosy, her hands a little whiter, and her step a little less elastic, she might be a lady bom. It is just eighteen years to-day since that red bluster- ing morning when her father, running into port with the biggest haul of fish on record that season in the little fishing village, found that the Holy Virgin, after giving him four strong sons, had at last deposited in his marriage-bed a maid-child, long prayed for, come at last; and the maid's face is still beautiful with the unthinking innocence of childhood. Mark the pretty, almost petulant mouth, with the delicious underlip^ " Some bee hath stung it newly !" Woman she is, yet still a child ; and surely the sun, that touches this moment nearly every maiden cheek in every village for a hundred miles along this stormy coast, shipes upon no sweeter thing. Like Queen Bertha of old she bears in her hand a distaff, but not even a queen's dress, however fair, could suit her better ■ than the severe yet picturesque garb of the Breton peasant girl— the modest wlute 6 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD coif, the blue go-wli brightly bordered with red, the pretty apron enwrought with flowers in coloured thread, the neat bodice adorned with a tosary and medal of Our Lady ; and finally, the curious sabots, Ot wooden shoes. ; "Rohan! Rohan!" A clear bird-like voice, but it is lost in the niUrmur of the blue void below. The girl puts down her distaff beside a pair of sabots and a broad felt hat which lie already on One of the blocjss of stone ; then, placing herself flat upon her face close to the very edge of the cliff, and clasping with one hand the rope which is suspended from the horn of rook close to her, she peers downward. Half-way dqwn the precipice a figure, conscious of her touch upon the rope, by which he is partially sus- pended, turns up to her' a shining face, and srniles. She sees for a miriiite the form that hovers beneath her in mid-air, surrounded by a flying cloud of ocean birds— she marks the white beacli far below her, and' the red stains of the weedy pools, above the tide, and the cream-white edge of- the glassy moveless sea — she feels the sun shining, the rocks gleaming, for a little space ; — then her head goes round, and she closes, her eyes with ^ little cry. A clear, ringing laugh floats up to her and reassures her. She plucks up heart and gazes once again. What a depth ! She turns diz^y anew as she looks into it, but presently the braiji-wave passes away, and her head grows calm- She sees all nOw distinct and clear, but her eyes rest on one picture only! — not on the crimson reefs and granite rocks amidst which the placid ocean creeps, through fretwork of tangled dulse and huge crimson, watey-fems ; not on the solitary Needle of Gurlan, an enormous monolith of chalk and stone, standing seVeral furlongs out in the sea^ with the waves washing eternally round its base, and a cloud of sea-fowl hovering ever about its crest ; not on the FULL SUNSHINE 7 loBsly specks of rock, where the jgreat black-backed gulls, dwarfed by distance to the size of white moths, sit gazing at the sunset, weary -of a long day's fishing ; not on the long line of green cormorants that are flap- ping drowsily home to roost across waters tinted purple and mother-of-pearl ; not on the se^ls that swim in the dim green coves far beneath ; not on the solitary red- sailed fishing boat that drifts along with the ebb a mile out to sea. AH these she sees for a moment as in a magician's glass ; all these vanish, and leave one vision remaining— the agile and intrepid figure just under her, treading the perpendicular crags like \any goat, swinging almost out into mid-air as from time to time he bears his weight upon the rope, and moving lightly hither and thither, with feet and hands alike busy, the latter hunting for sea-birds' eggs. Thick as foam-flakes around his head float the little tferns; past him, swift as cannon-balls, the puffins whizz from their burrows (for the comic little sea- parrot bores the' earth like a rabbit before she lays her eggs in it like a bird), and galling swiftly for a hundred yards, wheel, and come back, past the intruder's ears again, to their burrows once more ; rormd and round, in a slow circle above his head,- a great cormorant — of the bfedk, not the green, species — sails silently and perpetually, uttering no sound ; and facing him, snow- ing the surface of the cliffs, sit the innumerable birds, with their millions of little eyes on his. The pvdfins on the green earthy spots, , peering out with vari- coloured bills ; the guillemots in earth and rock, alike, wherever they can find a spot to rest an egg ; the little dove-like terns, male and feniale, sitting like love-birds beak to beak, on the tiny little coigns of vantage on the solid rocks below the climber's feet. Of the numberless birds which surround him on every side, few take the trouble td stir, though those few make a perfect snow around him ; but the air is full of a twitter- ing and a trembling, and a chattering and rustling, 8 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD which would drive a less experienced cragsman crazy on the spotJ As he slips nimbly among them, they 'grumble a little in their bird fashion ; that is all. Occasionally an infuriated would-be mother, robbed of her egg, makes belief to fly at his" face, but quails at the first movement of his fowler's staff; and now .and then an angry puffin, as his hand, slips into her hole, clings to his finger like a parrot, is drawn out a ruffled wrath of feathers, and is flung shrieking away into the air. . , The fowler's feet are naked^so his toes sometimes sufier frorri a random bite or peck, but his only answer is a merry laugh. He flits about as if completely un- conscious of danger, or if conscious, as; if the peril of the 6port made it exhilarating tenfold. It is exciting to see him .moving abo^t in his joyous _ strength amid the dizzy void, with the sunset burning on his figure, th6 sea sparkling beneath his feet. His head is bare ; his hair,- of perfect golden hue, floats to his shoulders, and is ever and anon blown into his face*, but with a tos;g of his, head he fling^ it behind him. The head is that of a lioh ; the throat, the chin, leonine ; and the eyes, even when they sparkle as now, have the strange, lar-awE^T'visionary look of the king of animals. His figure, agile as it is, is . herculean ; for is he not a Gwenfern, and when, since the memory of a man, did a Gwenfern ever stand less than six feet in his sabots ?. Stripped of his raiment and turned to stone, he might stand for Heracles — so large of mould is he, so mighty of limb. But even in his present garb— the peasant dress of dark blue, shirt open at the throat, gaily-coloured sash, and trousers fastened at the knee 'with, a knot of scarlet ribbon — he looks sufficiently herculean. - He plies his trade. Secured to his waist hangs a net of dark earth-coloured eggs, and it is nearly full. The sunset deepens, its flashes grow more blinding as they strike on the-reddened cliif, but the fowler lifts FULL SUNSHINE , 9 up his eyes in the light, and sees the dark face of the maiden shining down upon him .through the snow of birds. . , " Rohan, Rohan !" she cries again. He waves his fowler's staff and smiles, preparing to ascend. " I am coming, Marcelle !" he calls. And through the flying snow he slowly comes, till it, is no longer snow around his head, but snow around his feet. ~ Partly aided by the rope, partly by the hook of his fowler's staff, he clings with hands and feet, creeps from ledge to ledg^, crawling steadily upward. Sometimes the loose conglomerate crumbles in his hands or beneath his feet, and he swings with his whole weight upon the rope ; then for a moment his colour goes, from excitement, not fear, and his breath comes quickly. No dizziness with him ! his balm blue eyes look upward and downwaird with ecpial unconcern, and he kno\^s , 6ach footstep of his way. Slowly, ^almost laboriously, he seems to move, yet his progress is far more rp,pid than it appears to the eye, and in a few minutes he has drawn himself up the overhanging summit of the crag, rea;ched the top, gripped the horn of rock with hands and knees, and swung himself on to the greensward, close to the girl's side. All the prospect above the cliffs opens suddenly on his sight. The cloudy east is stained with deep crimson bars, against which the grassy hills, and fresh-ploughed fields, and the squares of trees whose foliage hides the crowning farms, stand out in distinct and beautiful lines. But all he sees for the moment is the one dark face, and the bright eyes that look lovingly into his. " Why will you be so daring, Rohan ?" she inquires in a soft Breton patois. " If the rope should break, if the knot should slip, if you should grow faint ! -Gildas and Hoel both say you are foolish. St. Gurlan's Craig is not fit for a man to climb !" 10 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD CHAPTER II ROHAN AND MARCELLE To creep where foot of mart has never crept before, to crawl on the great cliffs where even the goats and sheep, are seldom seen,' to know the secret places as they are known to the hawk and the ravdn and the black buzzard of the crags, this is the joy and glory of the man's life — this is the rapture that he shares with the winged, the swimming, and the creeping things. He swims like a fish, he crawls like a fly, and his joy would be complete if he could soar like a bird! His animal enjoyment, meantii^e, is perfect. Not the peregrine,, wheeling in still circles round the topmost crags, moves with more natural splendour on its way. All the peasants and fishers of Kromlaix are crags- iiien too, b,ut none possess his cool sublimity of daring. Rohan Gwenfern will walk almost erect where no other 'fowler, however experienced, would creep on/ hands and knees. In the course of his lifelong perils he has'had ugly falls, which have only stimulated him to fresh exploits. ^ He began, when a mere child, by herding sheep and, goats among these very crags, and making the lonely caverns ring, with his little goatherd's horn. By degrees he familiarized himself with every feature of the storrn-reut terrible coast ; so that even when he grew up towards manhood, and joined his fellows in fishing expeditions far out kt sea, he still retained his early passion for the crags and cliffs. While others were lounging on the beach or at the door of the' ealozes, while these were drinking in the cabaret and those were idling arnong their nets, Rohan was walk- ing in some vast cathedral not made with hands, or penetrating like a spectre, torch in hand, into the ROHAN AND MARCELLE ii pitch-black cavern where the seail was suckling her young, Of swimming naked out to the! corniotant's roost on the base of the Needle of Gurlafi; Even in wildest wintet, when for days together the cormorants sat on the ledges of the clifife and gazed" despeliringly at the sea, starving, afraid to &tir a feather lest the mighty winds, should dash them to pieces against the, stones ; vyhen the tnduntains of foam shook the rocks to their foundation ; when the earthquakes of ocean were busy, and Crag after fcrag loosened, crumbled, and swept like an a.vala,nche doWn to the sea,— even in the maddest storms of nature's maddest season, Rohan was abroad, — not the great herring- gull being more constant a ttiover along the black water-mark than he. Hence there had arisen in him, day by day and yedr by year, that terrible and stolid Idve for Water which wise critics and dwellers in towns believe to be the special and sble prerogative of the poets, patticularly of Lord Byron, and which, when described as an attri- bute of a Breton peasant or a Connaught " boy," they refer to the abysses of sentimentality. Does a street- girl love the street, or a ploughman love the fields, or a sailor \o-ire the ship that sails hini Up and down the World ? Even so, but with an infinitely deeper passion, did Rohan love the sea. It is no exaggeration to say that even a few miles inland he would have be^n heartily miserable. And that he should love the sea as he did, not with a sentimental emotion, not with any idpa of romancing or attitudinizing, but with a vital and natural love, part of the very beatings of his heart, was only just. He was its foster-child. Weird and thrilling supefstitions are still afloat on this wild coast ; grotesque and awftil legends, many of them full of deep faith and pflthetie beauty, still pass from mouth to mouth ; but aihong them thete is one which is sbtnfething tnore th^ a mere legend, something more than a firegide dream. It tellg of the J2 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD sore straits and perils on the lonely seas during " the great fishing," and how, one summer night, a fisher, R^oul Gwenfern, took with him to sea his little golden- haired child. That very night, blowing the trumpets • of wrath and death, Euroclydon arose, tost, shriek- ing, terror-stricken, the flept of boats drifted before the wind in th^ terrible mountainous sea ; and at last, when all hope had flfed, the crew of this one lugger knelt down together in the darkness for the last time — knelt as they had often done side by side in the little chapel on the cliflf, and invoked' the succour of Our Blessed Lady of Safety ; — and no less than the others prayed the little child, shivering and holding his father's hand. And at last, amid all the darkness of the tempest and the roaring of the sea, there dawned a solemn shining, which for a moment stilled the' palpi- tating waters around the vessel; and that one innocent child on board, he and none other beside, saw with his mortal eyes, amid that miraculous light; and floating upon the waters — all spangled and ' silver as she , stands, an image, up there in the little chapel of Notre Dame de la Garde — the face and form of the Mother of God ! Be that as it may, the storm presently abated, and the fleet was saved ; but when the light dawned, and the fishers on board the luggej: came to their senses again they missed one man. The child cried " Father!" but no father answered ; he had been washed over in the darkness, and his footprints in the land of men were never seen more. It was then that the child, wailing for his beloved parent, told what he had seen upon the waters in that hour of prayer. Whether it was a real vision, pr a child's dream, or a flash of memory illuminating the image he had often seen and thought so lovely, who can tell? But that day he ran and flung himself into his mother's arms, an orphan child ; and from that day forth he had no father but the sea. . His mother, a poor widow now, dwelt in a stone ROHAN AND MARCELLE 13 cottage just outside the village, and under the shelter of a hollow in the crag. Her son, the only child of her old age, the child of her prayers and tears, obtained by the special intercession of the Virgin and her cousin St. Elizabeth, grew fairer and fairer as he approached manhood, and ever on his face there dwelt a brightness which the mother, in her secret heart, deemed due to that celestial vision. Now, tales of wonder travel, and in . due course the legend travelled to the priest ; and the priest came and saw the child, and (being a little bit of a phrenologist) examined his head and his bumps', and saw the shining of his fair face wiih no ordinary pleasura It is not every day that the good God performs a miracle, and this opportunity was too fine a one to be lost. So the cuvi, a remarkable man in his way, and one of con- siderable learning, then and there made the widow a proposition which caused her to weep for joy, aind cry that St. Elizabeth was her friend indeed. It was this — that Rohan should be trained in holy knowledge, and in due season become a priest of God. Of course the offer was joyfully accepted; and Rohan was taken from the solitary crags, where he had been herding goats to eke out the miserable pittance that his mother earned, to live in the house of the priest. For a time the change was pleasing, and R.ohan was taught to read and write, and to construe- a little Latin, and to know a word or two of Greek; he was, moreover, a willing child, and h§ would get up without a murmur on the darkest and coldest winter's morning to serve the curb's mass. He evinced, on the other hand, an altogether stupendous capacity for idleness and play. As he grew older his inclinations grew more irre- pressible, and he would slip off in the fishing boats that were going out to sea, or run away for a long day's ramble among the crags, or spend the summer after- noon on the shore, alternately bathing naked and wading for shrimps and prawns. When most wanted 14 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD he was often not to be found. One day he was carried home with his collar ^Taone broken, after having, in vain attempted to take the nest of. an indignant raven. Twice or thrice he was nearly drowned. This might have been tolerated, though not for long, but presently it was discovered that Master Rohan had a way of asking questions which were highly puzzling to the priest. It was still Revolution time. Though the kingdom was an Empire, and though the terrible ideas of '93 had scarcely reached Kromlaix, the atmosphere was full of strange thoughts. The little acolyte began secretly to indulge in a course of secular reading; the little eyes opened, the little tongue prattled; and thp good priest discovered, to his disgust, ' that the child was too clever. ' ' When the time came for the boy, in the natural course of things, to be removed from lie village, Rohan revolted utterly. He had made up his niind, he said,, and he would never become a priest ! That was a bitter blow for the mother, and for a space her heart was hard against the boy; but the priest, to her astonishment, suied with the revolter. ' Come, mother !' he said, nodding his big head till his great hollow cheeks trembled with his earnestness.. ' After all, it is ill to force a lad's inclination. The life of a priest is a hard one, see you, at the best The priesthood is well enough, but there are better ways of serving the good God." Rohan's heart rejqiced and the widow cried, " Better ways !^ah no, m'sieu It eur&." " But yes," persisted his reverence. " God's will is best pf all ; and better even a good ropefiaaker than a bad priest !" It was settled at last, and the boy returned to his home. The truth is,, the priest was glad to be rid of his bargain. He saw tliat Rohan was not, the stuff that holy men are made of, and that, sooner or later, he would be inventing a heresy or adoring a woman. ROHAN AND MARCELLE 15 He did Dot relinquish his charge without a sigh, for that business of the miraculous vision, if consummated by a life of exeriiplary piety, would have been a fine feather in the Church's c&p. He soon found a more .fitting attendant, however, and his former annoyances and disappointments were forgotten. Meantime, Rohan returned to his old haunts with the rapture of a prisoned bird set free. He soon per- suaded his mother that it was all ari'anged for the best ; for would he not, instead of being taken away as a priest must be, remain with her for ever, and supply his father's place, amd be a comfort to het old age ? There were two sorts of lives that he detested with all his heart, and in either of these lives he would be lost to home" and to her. He would never become a Priest because he liked not the lifcj and b^ause (he naively thought to himself) he, could Aever marry his little cousin Mafcelle ! He could never become a Soldier (God and all the saints be praised for that I), because he wds a widow's only son. But it was the year 1813, the " soote spring season" of that year, and the great Emperor, after having suc- cessfully allayed, the fear of iiivasion wiich had filled all France ever since his disastrous return from Moscow, was preparing'a grand coup by which all his eneniies were utterly to be annihilated. There were strange murmurs afloat, but nothing definite was yet known. The air was fuU of that awful silence which precedes thunderstorm and earthquake. Down here at Kromlaix, however;, down here in the loneliest and saddest corner of the Breton coast, the sun shone and the sea sparkled as if Moscow had never been, as if hecatombs of French dead were not lying bleaching amid the Russian snows, as if martyred Ftance had never in her secret heart shrieked out a curse upon the Avatar. The sounds of war had echoed far away, but Rohan had heeded them little. Happi- ness ig uniformly selfish, and Rohan was happy. Life > i6 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD was sweet to him. It was a blessed thing ^to breathe, , to be, to remain free ; to raise his face to the sun, to mark the cliffs and caves, to watch the passing sails, or the blue smoke curling from the chimneys of the little fishing village; to listen to the plump cmi, "fatter than his cure;" to hear the strange stories of bivouac and battle-field told by the old Bonapairtist bum- powder, his uncle ; to hea,r Alain or Jannick play wild, tunes on the hiniou] or bagpipe ; to hunt the nests of gulls and ^eapies ; to go out ori calm nights with his ^comrades and net this shining shoals of herring; best of all, to walk with Marcelle albng the sward or shore; to kneel at her side, holding her hand, before the statue of Our Lady ; to look into her eyes, and, pleasanter still, to kiss her ripe young lips ! , What life could be better, what life, all in all, could be sweeter than this? And Marcelle ? k His mother's sister's child, and only niece of the quaint old corporal with whom she lives, with her four great brothers, each strong as Anak. - Since they were children together — and he first appalled hei' young heart by his reckless daring — they have been accus- tomed to meet in all the innocence of Nature. While her great, brothers care not for her society, but haunt the cabaret or go courting when ashore, Rohan . seeks the maiden; and is more gentle than any brother, though still her kin. He loves her dark eyes and her hidden black hair, arid her gentle ways, and her tender adrniration of himself. She has been his playmate for years — now she is, what shall we say ? his companion — sOon; perhaps, to be- known by a nearer name. But the marriage of such close kin is questionable in Brittany, and a special consent from the Bishop will be needed to bring it about; and besides, after all, they have never .exchatngfed one 'syllable of actual love. ■ Doubtless they understand each other; for youth is electrical, and passion has many tones far beyond 5Vords,and it is not in Nature for a man and a maiden. ROHAN AND MARCELLE 17 both beautiful, to look upon each other without joy. To their vague deUcious feehng in each other's society, however, they have never given a name. They enjoy each other as they enjoy the fresh sweet air, and the shining sun, and the happy blue vault above, and the sparkling sea below. They drink each other's breath- ihg, and are glad. So is the Earth glad whenever lovers so unconscious stir and tremble happily in her arms. Mark them again, as Rohan rises from the cliff, and stands by the girl's side, and listens to her laughing rebuke. How does he answer ? He takes her* face between his two hands and kisses her on either cheek. She laughs and bliashes slightly ; the blush would be deeper if he had kissed her on the lips. Then he turns to the block of granite where he has left his hat and sabots, and 'slowly begins to put them on. The sunset is fading now upon the ocean. The vision of El JDorado, which' has been burning for an hour on the far sea-line, will soon be lost for ever. The golden city with its purple spires, the strange mountains of , pink-tinged snow beyond, the dark ditn cloud peak softly crowned by one bright green opening star, are dissolving slowly, and a cold breath comes now from those ruined sunset shores. The blood-red reefs, the wet sands, the flashing pools • of water along the shingle and beneath the crags, are , burning with dimmer and dimmer colours ; the crows are winging past to some dark rookery inland ; the sea-fowl pxe settling down with many murmurs on the nests among the cliffs ; the' night-owl is fluttering forth in the dark shadow of a crag ; and the fishing lugger . yonder is drifting on a dark and glassy sea. Rohan looks down. The lugger glides along on the swift ebb tide, and he can plainly see the men upon her deck, bare- headed, with hands folded in prayer and faces upraised i8 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD to tho very crags on which he stands ; for not far beyond him, on the very summit of the cliffs, stands the littlp Chapel of Our Lady of Safety— the beloved beacon of the homeward-bound, the last glimpse of home thd fisher sees as he sails away to the west, and the help, night and day, of all good mariners. All this picture Rohan has taken in at a glance, and 1 now, grasping' i his fowler's hoolc in one hand, and coiling the rope around his arrli, he moves along the summit of the , cliff, followed by Marcelle. A well- worn path along the scanty sward leads to the door of the little Chapel, and this path they follow. , _ ^ They have not proceeded far when a large white goat, which has been busy somewhere among the cliffs, climbs up close by, and stands looking at them cu^'iously. , The inspection is evidently satisfg,ctory, for it approaches th^cn slowly with some signs of recognition. - " See !" tries the girL " It is Jannedik." Jarinedik answers by coming closer and rubbing its head against her dress, r Then it turns to Rohan, and pushes its chin into his outstretched hand. " What are you doing so far from horne, Jannedik ?" he asks, smiling, surprised. ''You are a rover, and will some day break your neck. It is nearly bed- time, Jannedik !" Jannedik is a lady among goats, and she belongs to the mother of Rohan. It is her pleasure to wander among the cUffs like Rohan himself, and she knows the spots of most succulent herbage and the secretest corners of the caves. There is little speculation in her great brown eyes, but she comes to the whistle like a dog,' and she will let the village children, ride upon her back, and she is altogether more instructed than most of her tribe, in which the clififs abound. As Sphan and ICarcelle wander on to the little Chapel, Jannedik follows, pausing now ao4 then to browsa upon the way ; but when they ejjiter — whicfc ROHAN AND MARCELLE 19 they do with a quiet reverence — Jannedik hesitates for a moment, stamps her foot upon the ground, and trots oiF homeward by herself. She has many points of a good Christian, but the Church has no attractions for her. The little Chapel stands open night and day. It was built by sailor hands, for sailor use, and with no small labour were the materials carried up hither front the village below. It is very tiny, and it nestles in the highest cliff like a white bird, mbvd'essin all weathers. It is quite empty, and as Rohan and Marcelle ' approach the altar, the last light of sunlight strikes through the painted pane, illumining the altar-piece within the rails — ^a rudely paiinted piefure of ship- wrecked sailors on a raft, raising 6yes to the good Virgin, who appears among the clouds. Close t© the altar stands the plaster figure of Our Lady, dressed in satin and spangles. Strewing the pedestal and hang- ing round her feet are wreaths of coloured bea;ds, garlands of flowers cut iu silk and satin, little rude pictures of the Virgin, medals in tin and brass, wooden rosaries, a.nd strings of beads. Marcelle crosses herself and falls softly upon her knees. Rohan remains standing, hat in hand, gating on the picture of the Virgin on the altar-piece behind the rails. The little Chapel grows darker and darker, the rude timbets and storm-stained walls are very dim, and the last sunlight fades on Marcelle's bent head and on the , powerful lineaments of Rohan. Faith dwells here, and the touch of a passionate peace and love which are worth more. Peace' be with thetn and with the world 116-Bfight-^-^ peate iri thetf hearts, love in their breasts, peace alid love in the hearts and breasts of all mankind I But ah f should to^morifo-«7 bring the Sha;dow of the Sword ! 20 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD CHAPTER HI Rohan's cathedral Not far from the Chapel of Our Lady of Safety, but situated on the wild sea-shore under the crags, stands a Cathedral fairer than any wrought by man, with a roof of eternal azure, walls of purple, crimson, green, gold, and a floor of veritable " mosaic paven." Men name its chief entrance the Gate of St. Gildas, but the lovely Cathedral itself has neither name nor worshippers. At low water this Gate is passable dry-shod, at half - tide it may be entered by wading waist-deep, at three- quarters or full flood it can only be entered by an intrepid swimmer and diver. Two gigantic walls of crimson granite jut out from the mighty cliff- wall and meet together far out on the edge of the sea, and where the sea touches them it has hollowed their extremity into a mighty arch, hung with dripping moss. Entering here at low water, one sees the vast walls towe'riijg on every side, carved by wind and water into fantastic niches and many-coloured marble forms ; with no painted windows, it is true, but with the blue cloudless heaven for a roof far above, where the passing sea-gull hovers, small as .a butterfly, in full sunlight. A dim religious light falls downward, lighting up the solemn place, and showing shapes which superstition might fashion into Statues and images of mitred abbots and cowled monks and dusky figures of the Virgin ; and here and there upon the floor of weeds and shingle are strewn huge blocks like carven tombs, and in lonely midnights the seals sit on these and look at the moon like black ghosts of the dead. Superstition has seen this place, and has transformed its true history into a legend. ROHAN'S, CATHEDRAL 21 Here indeed in immemorial time stood a great abbey reared by hands, and surrounded by a fertile plain; but the monks of this abbey were wicked, bringing their wantons into the blessed pla.ce, and profaning the name of the good God. But the good God, full of His mercy, sent a Saint — Gildas indeed by name — to warn these wicked ones to desist from their evil ways and think of the wrath to come. It was a cold winter night when Gildas reached the gate, and his limbs were chill and he was hungry and athirst, and he knocked faintly with his frozen hand ; and at first, being busy at revel, they did not hear ; he knocked again and they heard, but when they saw his face, his poor raiment, and his bare feet, they bade him begone. Then did Gildas beseech them to receive and shelter him for Our Lady's sake, warning them also of their iniquities and of God's judgment; but even as he spoke, they shut the gate in his face. Then St. Gildas raised his hands to Heaven and cursed them and that abbey, and called on the great sea to arise and destroy it and them. So the sea, though it was then some miles away arose and came; and the wicked ones were destroyed, thfe likeness of the abbey was changed, and the great roof was washed away. Even unto this day the strange semblance remains as a token that ' these things were so. We said this Cathedral had no worshippers. It had two, at least Within it sat, not many days after they had stood together in the little chapel, Rohan and Marcelle. It was movte mer, and not a ripple touched the light cathedral floor ; but it was damp and gleaming with the last tide, and the weed-hung granite tombs were glittering crimson in the light. They sat far within, on a dry rock close under the main cliflf, and were looking upward. At what ? At the Altar. Far up above them stretched the awful precipices of 23 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD stone, but close over i&eir heads, covering the whole side of the cliff for- a hundred square yards, was a thick curtain of moss, and over this moss, from secret places far above, (pcwiured little runlets of crystal water, spreading .tfaenasedyies on the soft moss-fringes and , tsiming into innumerable drops of diamond dew : here seaiterwg eountless pearls over a bed of deepest emerald, theye jtricldirig into waterfalls of brightest silver filagree, and ggaia gleaming like molteo gold on soft trjembling folds of the yellow lichen ; and over all this dewy mass of sparkling colours there ebbed and flowed, aad flitted aiid changed, a perpetually liquid light, flashing alternately with all the' colours of the prism. A hundred yards above, all was rent again into fantastic columns and architraves. Just over liie Altar, where the dews of heaven were perpetually distilling, was a dark blot like the mouth of a Cave. " Is it not timfi to go ?" said Marcelle, presiently. , " Suppose the sea were to come and find us here; how dreadful! HoelGrallon died like that !" Rbhao smiled-^the self-sufficient smile of strength and superior wisdom. . ■ " Hoel Grallon was_ a great ox, and shojild have stayed prayiag by his own door. Look you, Marcelle ! There are always two ways out of my Cathedral ; when it is neap tide aad not rough- you can wait for the ebb up here by the Altar — it will not rise so far ; and when it is stormy and blows hard you caa climb up yonder to the Trou" — and he pointed to the dark blot above bis head — " or even to the very top of the cliff." . i Marcelle shrugged }ier shoulders. " Climb the cliff 1 — why, it is a wall, and eveary one has not the feet of a fly.'' "At least it is ^sy as far as the Trou. There are great ledges for the feet, and niches for tlie hands." ROHAN'S CATHEDRAL 23 " If OBe Were evem there, what then ? It iS like the motith of Hell, and one could not eilter." Marcelle crossed herself religiously. " It is rather like the little Chapel above, when One carries a light to look around. It is quite dry and pleasant ; one might live there and be glad." " It is, then, a cave ?" " Fit for a sea- woman to dwell in and bring lapi hfer little ones." Rohan laughed, but Marcelle crossed herself agaim. " Never name them, Roham 1^-ah,." the terrible place !" " It is not terrible, Mafcelle ; I could sleep there in peace — ^it is so calm. So still. It would be like one's own, bed at home but for the blue doves stirring upoin the roosts, and thes bats that slip in and out into the " The bats — ^horrible ! my flesh creeps !" Marcelle, though a maid of courage, had the femi- niafe horror of unclean and creeping things. Charlotte Cord^y slew the rat Marat, but she shivered at the sight of a mouse. ' " And as for the crag above," said Rohan, smiling at her, " I have seen Jannedik climb it often, and I should not fear to try it myself; it is easier than St. Gurian's Craig. Many poor sailors, when their ship was lost, have been saved like that, when the wind is off the sea ; and they have felt God's hand grip them and hold them tight against the precipice that they might not fall — God's hand of the wind, Marcelle, that is all one ?" After this there was silence for a time. Marcelle kept her great eyes fixed upon the glittering curtain of rnoss and dew, while Rohan dropped his eyes again to a book which he held upon his knee — an old, well- tfittmbedj coarsely printed volume, with leaves well sewn together with waxed thread. He read^ or seemed to read ; yet all the time his joy 24 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD was in the light presence by his side, and he was conscious of her happy breathing, of the warm touch of her dress against his knee. Presently he was disturbed in his enjoyment. Mar- celle sprang to her feet. " If we stdy longer," she cried, " I shall have to take oflF my sahots and stockings. Fbr my party Rohan, I shall rvm." And the girl passed rapidly towards the Gate and loolced for Rohan to follow her. Rohan, however, did no^ stir. " *rhere is time," he said, glancing through ' the Gate at the sea, which seemed already preparing to burst and pour in between the granite archway. " Come back, and do not be afraid. There is yet a half -hour, and as for the sahots and stockings, surely you remember how we used to wade together in the blue water of old. Come, Marcelle, and look !" Marcelle complied. With one doubtful side-glance at the wall of water which seemed to rise u^) and glimtner close to the Gate, she stole slowly back, and seated herself "by her cousin's side. His strength and beauty fascinated her, as it would have fascinated any maiden on that coast, arid while she placed her soft brown hand on his knees, and looked up into his face, she , felt within heir the mysterious stirs of a yearning she could not understand. i " Look, then," he said, pointing but through the Gate ; " does it not seem as if all the green waters of the sea were about to rush in and cover us, as they covered the great abbey long ago ?" Marcelle looked. To one unaccustomed to the place it seemed as if egress were' already impossible ; for the great swell rose and fell close up against the archway, closing out all glimpses of blue air or sky. Out beyond the arch swam a great grey-headed seal 'looking with large wistful eyes into the Cathedral, and just then a flight ROHAN'S CATHEDRAL 25 of pigeoijs swooped through the Gate, scattered in swift flight as they passed overhead, and disappeared in the darkness of the great cave above the Altar. " Let us go^" said Marcelle in a low voice. She was superstitious, afid the allusion to the- 0I4 legend made her feel uncomfortable in that solemn '{^ce. " Rest yet," answered Rohan, as he rose and closed his book and touched her arm. " In half an hour, not sooner, the Gate will Ije like the jaws of a great monster. Do you remember the story of the great Sea-beast and the Maiden chained to a rock, and the brave Youth with wings who rescued her and turned the beast to stone ?" Marcelle smiled and coloured slightly. " I remember," she answered. More than once had Rohan, who had a taste for mythology and fairy legend, told her the beautiful myth of Perseus and Andromeda ; and more than once had she pictured herself chained in that very place, and a fair-haired form — very hke Rohan's — floating down to her on great outspread wings from the blue roof above her head ; and although in her dream she herself wore sabots and coarse stockings, and had her dark hair pinned in a coif, while Perseus wore sabots too, and the long hair and loose raiment of a Breton peasant, was it any the less delicious to think of ? As to slaying a monster, Rohan was quite equal to that, she knew, if occasion came ; and taking his reckless daring and his wild clifF-flights into consideration, he really might have been born with wings. Just then the incoming tide began to be broken into foam below one arch of the gateway, and the rocks with jagged teeth to tear the sea, and the whole side of the Gate, blackly silhouetted against the green water, seemed like the head and jaws of some horrible monster, such as the Greek sailor saw whenever he sailed along, his narrow seas ; such as the Breton 2 26 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD fisher sees to this hour when he glides along the edges of his craggy coast. " There is the great Sea - beast," said Rohan, " crouching and waiting." " Yes ! See the huge red rock — ^it is like a mouth." " If you could stop here and watch, you would say so truly. In a little it will begin to lash and tear the water till the red mouth is white with foam and black with weeds, and the water belovi;' it is spat full of foam, knd the air is filled with a roar like the bellowing of a beast. I have sat here and watched till I thought the bid story was come true and the monster was there ; but that was in time of storm." " You watched it — up in the 7>6W .-'" " It caught nae one tide, and I had to sit shivering until sunset ; and then, the Storm went down, but the tide was high. The water washed close to the roof of the Gate, and when the wave rose there was not room for a fly to pass — it surged right up yonder against the walls. Well, I was hungry, and knew not what to do. It was pleasant to see the water turn crystal green all along the cavern floor, and to watch it washing over the rocks and stoneS where we sat to-day, and to see the seals swimming round Mid round and trying in vain to find a spot to rest on. But all that would not fill one's stomach. I waited, and then it grew dark, but the tide was still high. It was terrible then, for the stars were clustered up yonder, and the shapes of t^e old monks seemed coming down from the walls, and I felt afraid to stay. So I left my hat and sabois at the mouth of the cave, and slipped down from ledge to ledge, and dropped down into the water — it was dark as death !" Marcelle uttered a little terrified " Ah !" and clutched, Rohan's arm. , " At first I thoTjight the fiends were loose, for I fell amid a flock of blapk cormorants, and they shrieked like niad things ; and one dived and seized me by the ROHAN'S CATHEDRAL ^^ leg, but I shook Mm away. Then I struck out for the Gate, and as I drew near with swift strokes I saw the great waves rising momently and shutting out the light j but when the waves fell there was a glimmer, and I could just see the top of the atch. So I came close, treading on the sea, fill I could almost touch the arch with my hand, and then I watched my chance and dived! Men Dieii, it was a sharp minute | Had I swum awry, or not dived deep enough, J should have been lifted Up and crushed against the jagged stones of the arch ; but I held my breath a.nd struck forward — eight, nine, ten strokes under water, when choking, I rose !" i " And then ?" " I was floating on the great wave just outside the arch, with the sea before me and the stars above my head. Then I thought all safe, but just then I saw a billow like, a mountain coming in ; I drew in a deep breath, and just as the wave rose above me I dived again ; when I rose it had passed and was shrieking round the Gate of St. Gildas. So all I had to do then was to swim on ' for a hundred yards, and turn in and land upon the sands below the Ladder of St. TriiiSne." The girl looked for a moment admiringly on her herculean companion — then she smiled. " Let us go, now," she cried, " or the sea wUl come again, and this time one at least would drown." " I will come." "There, that last wave ran right down into the bassage. We must wade, after all." " What then ? The water is warm." So Rohan still standing ra|)idly pulled oflF his stAiots . and stockings; while Marcelle, sitting on a low rock, drew off hers — nervously, and with less speed. Then she rose, making a pretty grimace as her little white feet touched the cold Shingle. Rohan took her hand, and they passed right under the portal, close up against which the tide had by this time crept.' 28 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD At every step it grew deeperj and soon the maiden had to resign his hand ; and gathering up her clothes above the knee^ she moved nervously on. No blush tinged her jcheek at thus revealing her pretty limbs; she knew they were pretty, of course, and she felt no shame. True modesty does not consist in a prurient veiling of all that nature has made fair, and perhaps there is no more uncleanness in showing a shapely leg than in baring a well-formed arm. On one pointj however, Marcelle's riiodesty was supreme. According to the custom of the country^ she carefully curled up and coifed her locks, which, ^ unlike those of most Bretoij maidens, were lorig enough to reach her shoulders. Her hair was sacted from seeing. Even Rohan in all their later rambles had never beheld her without her coif. They had reached the portal and were inly knee-deep, but before them stretched for several yards a solid wall connected with the Gate, and round the end of this wall they must pass to reach the safe shingle beyond. ' ■• Marcelle stood in despair. Before her stretched the great fields of the ocean, illimitable to all seeming — still but. terrible, with here and there a red sail glimmering and following the shining harvest. On every side the tide had risen, and around the outlying wall it was quite deep. " Ay me !" cried the girlin a pretty despair ; " I told yoti so, Rohan." Rohan, standing like a solid stone in the water, merely smiled. "Have no fear," he replied, coming close to her. " Hold your apron I" . She obeyed, holding up her apron and petticoat together ; and then, after putting in h/sr lap his and her own sabots and stockings, with the book he liad been reading, he lifted her like a feather in his powerful arms. ROHAN'S CATHEDRAL 29 " You are heavier than you used to be," he said, laughing ; while Marcelle, gathering her apron up with one hand, clung tightly round his neck with the other. Slowly and surely, step by step, he waded with her seaward along 'the moss-hung wall; he seemed in no huriy, perhaps because he had such pleasure in his burthen, ; but at every step he went deeper, and when he reached the end of thfe wall the water had crept to his hips. ^ " If you should stumble !" cried Marcelle. " I shall not stumble," answered Rohan quietly. Marcelle was not so sure, and clung to him vigor- ously. She was not afraid, for there was no danger ; but she had the true, feminine ' dread of a wetting. Place her in ainy circumstance of real peril, call up the dormant courage within her, and she would face the very sea with defiance, with pride, dying like a heroine. Meantime, she was timid, disliking even a splash. The wall was quickly rounded, and Rohan was wading with his burthen to the shore, so that he was soon only knee-deep again. His heart was palpitating madly, his eyes and cheeks were burning, for the thrUl of his delicious load filled him with strange ecstasy ; and he lingered in the water, unwilling to resign the treasure he held -within his arms. " Rohan 1 quick ! do not linger 1" It was then that he, turned his face up to hers for the first time ; and lo ! he saw a sight which brought the bright blood tp his own cheeks and made him tremble like a tree beneath his load. Porphyro, gazing on his mistress, " Half hidden like a mermaid in seaweed," and watching her naked beauty gleam like marble in the moonlight, felt no fairer revelation. . Rohan, too, " felt faint." And why? It was only this — in the excitement and 30 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD struggle of the passage Marcelle's white coif had fallen bacjs^ and her black hair, loosened from its fastenings, had rained down, in one dark shower, round cheeks and neck; and cheeks and neck, when Rohan raised his eyes, were burning crimson with a delicious shame. Have we pot said that the, hair of a Breton maid is virgin, and is as, hallowed as an Eastern woman's face, and is oiily to be, seen by the eyes of him she loves ? Rohan's head swam round. ' As his face turned up» burning like her own, the sacred hair fell upon bis eyes, and the scent of it — who knows not the divine perfume even scentless things give out when touched by Love ? — ^the scent of it was sweet in his nostrils, while the thrill of its touch passed into his very blood. And under his bands the live form trembled, while his eyes fed on the blushing face. , ~ " Rohan ! quick ! set me down !" He stoo4 now on dry land, but he still held her in his arms. The sweet hair floated to his lips, and he kissed it madly, while the fire grew brightei: on her face, ^ j" I love you, Marcelle !" CHAPTER IV THE MENHIR There is one supreme emotion in the life of Love which is never to be known again when once its holy flush has passed; there is one 'divine sensation when the wave of life leaps its highest and breaks softly, pever to rise quite so high again in sunlight or star- light ; there is one first touch of souls . meetiqg, and that first touch is divinest, whatever else may foUoW. The minute, the sensation, the touch, had come to THE MENHIR 31 Rohan and Marcelle. Passion suddealy; arose full- orbed and absolute. The veil was drawn between soul and soul, and they knew each other's tremor aad desire.. Many a day had the cousins wandered alonfe together for hours and hours. Froni childhood upwards they had been companions, and their kinship was so close that few coupled their names together as loVeirs, even in jest. Now, when Rohan was three Or four and twenty and Marcelle was eighteen,- they were attached ' friends as ever, and no surveillance was set upon their meetings. Walking about With Rohan had been only like walking .With Hoel, or Gildas, or Alain, her tall brothers, ■ ■■ Not that either was quite unconscious of the sweet , sympathy which bound them together. LoVe feels' before it speaks, thrills before it seeSj wonders before it knows. They had been beautiful in each other's eyes for long, but neither quite knew why. So their secret had been kept, almost from them- fetelves. '" But that disarrangement of the coif, that loosening of the virgin hair, divulged all. It broke the barrier between lilem, it bared each to each in all the nudity of passion. They had passed in an instant from the cold clear air to the very heart of Love's fire, and there they moved, and turned to golden shapes, and lived. Then they passed out again, g,nd through the flame, into the common day. • ^ All this time he held her in his arms, and would not let her go. Her hair trembled down Upon his face in delicious rain. She could not speak, now, nor struggle. At last he spoke again. " I love you, Marcelle ! — and you ?" There was only a moment's pause, during which her eyes trembled on his with an excess of passionate , light ; then, stirring not In his arms, she Closed her 32 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD eyes, and in answer to him, then and for ever, let ,her iipB drop softly down on his ! It was better than, all words, sweeter than all looks ; it was the very divinest of divine replies, in that language of Love which>is the same all over the wide earth. Their lips trembled together in one long kiss, . and all the life-blood of each heart flowed through that warm channel into the other. Then Rohan set her down, and she stood upon her feet, dazzled, and trembling; and lo! as if that supreme kiss was not enou^, he kissed her hands over and over, and caught her in his arms, and kissed her lips and cheeks again. , " By this time, however, she had recovered herself ; so she gently released herself from his ernbrace. " Cease, Rohan !" she said softly. " They will see us from the cliffs." ' Released by Rohan, she picked up her Stockings and sabots, which had fallen on the dry sand, together with those of Rohan, and the book — all the contents of her lap. Then she sat down with ,her back to , Rohan, and drew on her stockings, andxould he have marked her face just then, he would have seen it illumined with a strange complacent joy. Then. she softly up-bound her hair within its coif. When she rose and tui^ned to him she was quite pale and cool — and the sweet hair was hid. ,^ In these consummate episodes a -woman subdues herself to joy sooner than a man. Rohan had put on his stockings and sahots ^hut he was still trembling from head to f0ot. " Marcelle ! you love me ? ah, but you give me good news— it is aliaost too good to bear !" He took both her hands in his, and drew her forward to him, but this time he kissed her brow. " Did you not know ?" she said softly. " I cannot tell ; yes, I think so ; but now it seems so new. I was afraid because I was your cousin you THE MENHIR 33 might -not love me like that. I have known you all these years, and yet it now seems most strange." " It is strange also to me." As she spoke she" had drawn one ha^nti away, and was walking on up the beach. " But you love*me, Marcelle ?" he cried again. " I have loved you always." « But not as to-day ?" , " No, not as to-day ;". and she blushed again. " And you will never change ?" " It is the men that change, not we women." " But yoii will not ?" « I will not." " And you will marry me, Marcelle ?" ■" That is as the good God wiUs." "So!" " And the good God's bishop." " We shall have hjs blessing too." ='.And tny brothers also, and my Uncle the Cor- poral." " Theirs also." After that there was a brief silence. To be candid, Rohan was not quite sure of his uncle, who was a man of strange ideas, differing greatly from his own. The Corporal might see objections, and if he saw them he would try, being a man of strong measures, to enforce them. Still, the thought of him was only a passipg cloud, and Rohan's face soon brightened. It was a clear bright day, and every nook' and cranny of the great cliffs was distinct in the sunlight. The ^ea was like 'glass, and covered as far as the eye could see with a dim heat, like breath on a mirror; Far up above their ieads two ravens were soaring in beautiful circles, and beyond these dark specks the skies were all harebell-blue and white feathery clouds. They soon sought and found a giddy staircase which, entering th« very heart of the cliff, wound and wound until it reached the summit; it was partly naturali 3'4 THE SHADtr'tV' OF THE SWORD j)artly he*fl b^ liuman bands : bere a£d there ill was dangerousii tot tbe loose stone steps bad fallen stvfa.-^ and left only a slippery slide. Tbis was the Liaddet of St. Triffine. It was a hard pull to the summit, and fot a great part of the Way Roban's attn was round Marcelle's waist. Again and again they stopped for biteath,' and saw through airy loop-holes in the rock the sea break- ing far below thetti ■wfith a cream- white edge oh the ribbed sands, and the great boulder^ glistening in the sun, and the -vTbite giills hovferihg on the watet's brim. A't last they reached the grassy plateau above the cliffs, and there they sat and rested, — for Marcelle was very tired.' They could have lingered so fdr ever, since they were so happy. , It was enough to breathe, to be neat each otli'er, to hold each other's hands. Tbe veriest comrnoiipla.ce became divine on' their lips, just as the Scenes around, common to them, became divine in their eyes. Love is easily satisfied. A look, a tone, a perfume' will content it fdr hoUts. As for speech, it needs none. Slice it knows the languagte of , all the flowers and. Stars, and the sectet tones of all the birds. When the loveirs did talk, walking hdmewatd along • the' greensward, their talk was practical enough. " I shall not teU fny unde yet," said Marcelle, "nor any of my brothers, not e'ypn Qildas. It wants think- ing over, and then I will tell them all. But there is no hurry." " None," said Rohan, " Perhai^s they may guess ?" " How should they if v^e are wise ? We are cousins, and we shall meSt ho oftener than before." "That is true." " And when ohe meets, one need not show one's heaert to all the world." "That 's true also. And my mother shall not know." THP ^PNHIR 35 "Why should sl]i^?, Sfje will know all in gop4 time. Wp ^e dqing jqo wrong, g.nd a sescret may be kept ffom one's people with,pui siij.'* "Swrely!"' '■' All the village wouljd t;§.lk if they knew, and your mother perhaps most o^ ajj. 4- gi''! ^°^^ ^°t like h^p name carried abput like tha^, unless it i? a pertaig thing." " Marceljie ) is it not certain ?" "Perhaps — yes, I think ,so — bjit npv)?rtheless whp can 'tell ?" ' ' " But you love me, Marcelle !" I " Ah yss, I Ipveyoii, Rohan 1" "Then nothing b]at the good God can keep us asyn^er, and fie is just !" , So speaking, they had wandejred along the gre^ii plateau uhtilthey came in 'sight of a Shape of stop#, which, like some gigantic living form, dominated the sjirrounding prospect for many miles. ' It :was a Mejjhir, so colossal thft one speculated in vgin over the means that had been adopted to raise it oi; iti§ jagged eijd. It Eiurvieyed the sea-coast like sonip dark lighthouse, but no' ray ever issued fr;oni its awful h^art. On its summit was an iron cross, rendered white as snow by the sea-birds ; and down fjs sides, also, the same white snow drippefi aihd hardened, making it hoary ao4 awful as some Ijearded pruidic god of the primeval forest. The cross was ^^qdeip.—^. sign of capture set there •by the new faith. But the Menhir rerpajned un- changed, and gazed at fhe sea lik,e some calm eterpal thing. ' , ' It had stood there for ages — how many iio jp,an might pount ! hut feiy doubted that it was first erected ip tlj'§ djpi iegen^ary times ^J^en darjj forest^ of oaJc and .pfpe ci^ypjr.f^ this treeless upland ; when the sea, if mdeed there were any sea, and not in its stead a rpcky 36 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD arm reaching far away into the kindred woods of . Cornwall — ^when the sea was so remote that no sound of its breathing shuddereti through the brazen forest- gloom ; and when the dark forms of the Druidic procession flitted in its shadow and consecrated its stone with human blood. All had changed on sea and land; countless races of men had winged past like crows into the red sunsets of dead TimQ, and had returned no more; mountains of sand had crumbled, whirlwinds of leaves had scattered; mighty forests had fallen, and had rotted, root and branch; and the sea, inexorable and untiring^ had crawled and crawled over and under, changing, defacing, destroying, — washing away the monuments of ages as easily as it obliterates a child's footprints in the sand. But the Menhir remained, waiting for that far-away hour when the sea would creep still closer, and drink it up, as Eternity drinks a drop of de\v. Against ^11 the elements, against wiiid, rain, snow, yea, even earth- quake, it had stood firm. Only the sea might master it — ^it, and the cross oii its brow. As the lovers a,pproached, a black hawk, which was seated on the iron cross, flapped its wings and swooped away down over the crags into the abys's beneath. " I have heard Master Arfoll say," observed Rohan as they approached the Menhir, "that the great stone here looks like some giant of old turned into stone for shedding human blood. For my part, it remiilds me of the wife of Lot." " Who was she ?" asked Marcelle. " The name is not of our parish." It must be confessed that Marcelle was utterly ignorant even of the literature of her own religion. Like most peasants of her class, she took her know- ledge from the lips of the priest, and from the pictures of the Holy Virgin, the child Jesus, and the saints. In many Catholic districts the least known of all books is the Bible. THE MENHIR 37 Rohan did not smile; Us own knowledge, of the Book was quite desultory. " She was flying away from a city of wicked people, and God told her not to loqk back ; but women are curious, above all, and she broke God's bidding, and for that He turned, her into a stone like this, only it was made of salt. That is the story, Marcelle !" " She was a wicked woman, but the pimishmedt was hard." " I think sometimes myself that this rnust once have been alive. Look, Marcelle ! Is it not like a monster with a white beard ?" Marcelle crossed herself rapidly. " The good God forbid," she said, . . • " Have you not heard my mother tell of the great stones on the plain, and how they are petrified ghosts of 'men; and how, on the night of Noel, they turn into life again, and bathe in the river and qufench their thirst ?" " Ah, but that is foolish !" Rohan smiled. , " Is it foolish, too, that the stone faces on the church walls are the devils that tried to burst in when the place was tuilt and the first mass was said, but that tjie saints of Gbd stopped them and turned them into the faces you see? I have heard m'sieu le curS say as much." , "It may be true," observed Marcelle simply, "but these are things we cannot understand." "You believe ? Master ArfoU says that is foolish also." Marcelle was silent for a minute, then she remarked quietly: v " Master Arfoll is a strange man. Some say he does not believe in God." " Do not listen to them. He is good." " I myself have heard him say wicked things — Uncle said they were blasphemous. It was shameful ! He 38 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD ^^heti the Emperor might lose, that he might fee killed!" The girl's face flashed with keen anger,' her vbite tfembled with its ifidignatioli. " Did he say that ?" asked Rohan in a loW Voice. , " He did— I heard him— ah, God, the great good •Emperor,' that anyone alive should speak of him like ti^! If my tincle had heard him there would have ^ been blood. It was dreadful! It made my heart go ■ cold." Rohan did not ahswer dii^ectly. 'He knew that he was on delicate ground. When he did speak, he kept his eyes fixed nervously Upon the grass. " Marcelle, there are many others that think like Master ArfoU." Marcelle looked round quickly into the speaker's face. It was quite pale now. " Think what, Rohan ?" >' That the Emperor has gone too far, that it would be better for France if he -Were dead/' "Ah!" "More- than that; bfettet that he had never b^en bote." The girl's face grew full of mingled anger afid afiguish. It is tefrible to hear blasphfemy against the cteed we believe in with all ohr heart and soul ; most terrible, when that creed has all the madness of idolatry. She trembled,' and her handls were deriched convulsively. " And yoU too believe this ?" she cried, ia k low shuddering -whisper, almost shrinking away from His side; Rohan saw his danger, and prevaricated. "You are too quick, Marcelle^--I did n6t say that ■ Master Arfoll was right." " He is a deVil I" crfed the girl, with d flerbfefless which showed the soldier-stock of which she cdrne. " It is cowards and devils like him that have sometimes THp PJENHIP. 39 nearly broken the good Emperor's heart. They love neither France nor the Emperor; they are hateful; God will punish them in the next world for their un- belief." ' "Perhaps they are punished already in this," re- turned Rohan, with a touch of sarcasm which passed quite unheeded by the indignant girl. "Tlje great good JEmperor," she continued, uncon- scious of his interruption, " who loves all his people like Jjis childrep, who is not proud, who has shaken my uncle by the hand and called him ' comrade,' who would die fop Prance, wbo has rnade her name glorious over ajl the world, who is adored by all save his wicke,d epemies — God punish ih&n, soon i! He is next to ,G,o,4 and the Vijrgin and God's Son ; he is a saint ; he is sublime. I pray for hiijj first every night before I sle,^pT-for him i first, and th^n for my uncle after- wards. If I were a man, I would figh;t for him. My uncle gave hipi Ijis poor leg — I would give hirbi niy Jw&?^>wy.soui!" Jt ,caii^ jfronj her in a torrent, in a fatois that anger , rgjiderpd broader, yet that was stiU mjost rausical. Hex jfa.c§ shone with a jceligious ecstasy; she clasped her hand^ as if in prayer. Rohao remained silent. 't'-' , ■ $ud,4^ply she turned to him, with more anger- thap love m her beautiful eyes, and cried : 1 ." Speak j:hen, !^han ? Are you against him ? ■ Do you hate him in. your heart ?" Rohan trembled, arid cursed the moment when he had intfpduced the unlucky subject. "Qpd forbid]" he answered. "I hate no man. put why ,?" Her cheeks went white as .death as she replied : , " pecajjse tbep / shpiiild hate you, as I hate all the enemies of God, as I hate all the enemies of the great Emperor." .\ 40 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD CHAPTER V MASTER ARFOLL They had approached close to the Menhir, and were standing in its very shadow while Marcelle spoke the last words. As she concluded, Rohan quietly put one hand on her arm, and pointed with the other. Not far from the pillar, and close to the edge of the qrag, stood a figure which, looming darkly against the white sheet of sky, seemed of superhuman height — resembling for the moment one of those wild petrified spirits of whom' Rohan had spoken, in the act bf turning to life. Lean and skeletonian, with stooping shoulders, and snow-white hair falling down his back, thin shrunken limbs, arms drooping by his side, he stood moveless, like a very shape of stone. His dress consisted of the broad hat and loose jacket and pantaloons of the Breton peasant. His stockings were black ; instead of sabots he wore old-fashioned leather shoes fastened with thongs of hide, but long usage had nearly worn these shoes away. His extreme . poverty was perceptible at a glance. His clothes, where they were not hopelessly ragged, were full of careful patches and darns, and even his stockings showed signs of constant mending. "See!" said Rohan in ai whisper. "It is Master* Arfoll himself ." The girl dreW back, still full of the indignation that had overmastered her, but Rohan took her arm and pulled her softly forward, with whispered words of love. She yielded, but her face still wore a fixed expression of superstitious dislike. The sound of footsteps startled the man, and he turned slowly roimd. If his form had appeared spectral at the first view,- his face seemed more spectral still. It was long and MASTER ARFOLL 41 wrinkled, with a powerful high-arched nose, and thin firm-set lips, quite bloodless, Uke the cheeks. The eyes were black and large, full of a weird, wistful expression and wild fitful light. An awful face, as of one risen from the dead. But when the large eyes fell on Rohan he smiled, and the smile was one of beatitude. His face shone. You would have said then, a beautiful face, as of one who had looked upon angels. Only for a moment ; then the smile faded; and the old worn pallor returned. " Rohan !" he cried,in a clear musical voice. " And my pretty Marcelle !" Rohan raised his hat as to a superior, while Mar- celle, still preserving her resolved expression, blushed guiltily, and made no sign. ' There was that in this inah which awed her as it awed all others. She might dislike him when he was absent, but in his presence 'she was conscious of a charm. Poor though he was in the world's goods, and unpopular as were many of his bpinions, Master Arf oil possessed that demoniac and magnetic power which Goethe perceived in Bonaparte, arid avowed to be, whether fashioned for good or evil, the especial charac- teristic of mighty men. More will be spoken of Master Arfoll anon when the strange events on which this story is based come to be further rehearsed. Meantime it is necessary to explain that he was an itinerant schoolmaster, teaching from farm to farm, from field to field. ,From his lips Rohan had' drunk much secret knowledge, seated in the open meadows in the summer-time, or in some quiet cave by the white fringe of the sea, or on some mossy stone on the Sumriiit of the high crags. He was a dreamer, and he had taught the boy to dream. Men said that his face was pale because of the awful things he had seen when the seals of the Apocalypse were opened in Paris. He never entered a church, .4» THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD ys* he prjayed ia the opieiQ air ; Jae pxe^ire^ perfect fte^dopi of religious bejief, yet be taught litt-J,e childres to read the BMe ; he was the friepd Oif many a c^rl and many a soldier, but ceremonies |ipd battles were alike his abomination. In brief, he was an outcast ; his bed was the earth, his roof heayen ; hut the holi- ness of Nature was upon him, and he crept from place to place like a spirit, sanctifying and sanctified. " It was some months since he had been in that neighboujrhoAd, and his appearance there at that moment was a surprise. "You are a great stranger. Master Arfoll," said Rohan, after they had taken each other by the hand. " I have been far away this time, as far as Brest," was the reply. I' Ah, but my journey has been deso- late : I have seen in every village Rachel, weeping for her children. There have been great changes, my son ; and there are more changes poming. Yet I return, as you see, anfl find the great Stone un- ch^ged. Nothing abides but death:, that only is eternal." As he spoke, he pointed to the Menhir. " Is there bad news, then, Master Arfoll ?" inquired Rohan eagerly. » "How should there be good? Ah, but you are children, and do not understand. Tell me, why should this cold loveless thing abide " — again he pointed to the Menhir — '/when men and cities, and woods and hills and rivers, and the very gods on their thrones, and the great kings on theirs, perish away and leave no sign that they have been ? Thousands and thou- sands of years ago there was blood on that stone ; men were sacrificed there, Rbhan ; it is the same tale to-day ^men are martyred still." He spoke in low sad tones, as if communing with himself. They perceived now that he held in his band a book — ^the old Bible in the Breton tongue, from which he was wont to teach — and that his finger was , MASTER ARFOLL 43 inserted between the leaves as if he had just been reading. He floW walked slowly on, with Rohan and Mar- cfelle close to his side, until he reached the edge of the glassy plateau ; andlo! lying just under the, very edge of the sea was Kromlaix, with every house and boat ma!pped out clearly in the shining sun. The light fell on glistening gables, on walls washed - blue and white, on roofs of wrecked timber or stone tiles, or of thatch Weighted with lumps of granite to resist the yiolence 6f the wind. The houses crouched on the very edge of the sea. Scattered among them Were wild huts made of old fishing boats, upturned and roofed with straw ; and though some of them Were used for storing nets, sails, oars, and other boat- ing implements a&d tackle, some served for byres, itiad many; occupied by the poorer families, sent up their Curl of blue soioke through an iron funnel. BeloW the houses and huts, flbatinig on thfe edge of the -^vater — for it was high tide noW— was the fishing fleet : a long line of boats, like cormoraints with their black necks poirited seaward. A 'tillage crouching on the very fringe of the wild ocean. The sea was around and beneath as well as before it ; for it oozed below it into unseen shingly cavesi and crawling inland underground for miles, finally bubbled into the green brkckish pools that form the dreary tarns of Ker L'6on. A lonely village, many ffli'iles' from any other ; a village cradled in tempest, daily rocked by death, and ever gazing with Sad eyes sesvrktd, hungry fOt the passing sail. For liiles and milps on either side stretches the' great ocean wall, washed and worn into grandest forms of archyay, doine, and spire, beaten against; storm shaken,- underniined ; gnawed, torn, rent, stricken by •whirlwind and earthqfiaike, yet ^till standing. With its menhirs and d'Olrtiens,. firm and strong ; a rttighty line Of weed-hung scatirs, precipices,- and cfags^ 6f ifibtio- 44 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD liths and dark aerial caves, towering above the ever- restless sea :— so high', that to him who walks above on the grassy edges of the crags the sea-gull hovering miidway is a speck, and the dark seaweed-gatherers on the sands beneath are dwarfed by distance small as crawling micie. For many a league stretches the great wall, and the Wayfarer threading its dizzy paths hears underneath his feet the rush and roar of water, and the flapping wings of winds, and the screams of birds from foam-splashed gulfs. But here, suddenly,, the wall, rent apart as if by earthquake, leaves one mighty gap ; and in the gap (which widening inward , turns into a grassy vale fed by a dark river) the village crouches, winter and summer, changeless through the generations, with its eyes ever fixed on the changeless sea. A village ever doomed and ever saved. For the river, when it reaches the tarns of Ker L6on, plunges into the earth, and mipgles with the increeping ocean, and so crawls onward unseen ; and the houses are verily rocked upon the waves which moan sullenly beneath them, and the fountains are brackish wherever they burst, and . the village trembles and cries like a living thing when the vials of heaven are opened and the great sea threatelis with some mighty tide- That day, however, while Master Arfoll gazed down, all was brightness and peace. In and about the boats children played, while the men lounged in twos and threes, or lay smoking on the sands, or lazily sat in the sunlight mending their nets. The smoke went up straight to heaven, and heaven was calm. All was quite still, but you could hear the village just breath- ing, like a creature at rest. Higher up the valley and partly on a rising slope stood, surrounded by its graveyard, the little red granite church, with its stone-tiled roof and ruddy tower crusted with dark green mosses and a hoary rime of salt blown from the sea. • The sunlight struck MASTER ARFOLL 45 along the gorge, so that even from the height they could see the rude group of the Calvary close by, the stone head of the Christ drooping in death, the little wells of holy water sparkling on the tombstones, and ■ along the wall of the charnel-house the dark dots where the skulls of the dead, each in its little pigeon- box, were nailed up as a ghastly memento mori. "Could, the Stone yonder speak," said Master ArfoU, looking down, " what a tale it could tell I I will tell you something it could remember. The time when all around us stretched mighty forests, and when a deep river ran down yonder gorge, and when a great City stood on the river's banks full of people who wor- shipped strange gods." i "I have hesiid m'sieu le cuvi speak of that," said Rohan. '? It is very strange ; and they say that if you listen on the eve of Noel you can hear the bells ring- . ing, and the dead people flocking in the streets, far under the ground. Old Mother Brieux, who died last Noel, heard it all, she said, before she died." Master ArfoU smiled sadly. " That is an old wife's tale : a superstition — the dead sleep." Marcelle felt herself bound to put in a word for her traditions. " You do not believe," she said. " Ah, Master ArfoU, you believe little ; but Mother Brieux was a good woman, and she would not lie." " All that is superstition, and superstition is an evU thing," returned Master Arfoll quietly. " In religion, in politics, in all the affairs of life, my child, supersti- tion is a curse. It makes men fear the gentle dead, and phantoms, and darkness ; and it inakes them bear wicked rulets and cruel deeds, because they see in them an evil fate. It is superstition which holds ba,d kings on their thrones, and covers the earth with blood, and breaks the hearts of all who love their kind. Superstition, look yoii, may turn an evil man into a 4^ THE SHADOW QF TfJE SWORD go^,^^^.Jpakpail pjen worship hjpi and .die for him 9s " )^p were dfvine." " TJo^t is tpuf," said Ilpha^, with s rather anxious glance ^t M^afpellf. Thep, ap if wishing to change the subject, " It is certain, is it not, tliat the great City <)jjpe stop4 there ?" ""We Jajpw thgt by many §igpSi'' answered the ?pj^plmqster ; '.' oije need npt dig yery deep to copae upon its traces. Oh yfs, tlje City was there, with its bj0»ses oif marble ^nd tpjpples gi gold, and its great pi^ms and theatres, and its statues of the gods ; and a l^if sigtt it pii^st have been glittering jp the sunlight as jECromlaix glitters now. Then the river was a river indeed, and white villas stood upon its banks, and t^^re were flowers on eypry path and fruit on every tjree. Well, even ihetf qni Stonfe stood here, and Saw it all. For' the City wa^ built like many another of our own witlj human blood, apd its citizens were part of the butchets of the earth, and a sword was at each nian's side, and jpjpod was oij each roan's hand. God was against them, and tl^eir stone gods could not save them. They vere a race of wolves, these old Romans! tney were the children of Gain ! So what did God do g.t last ?^He wiped thepj ^way like weeds from the face of the earth I" The speaker's face was terrible ; he seemed deliver- 'ing a. propl^epy, not describing an event. "He lifted His fipger, gnd the sea came up and devoured that City, and covered it over with rock and S3.nd. Every man, ■^ypnianV an4 child wete buried in one graye, and tij^re lijey sleep." ? Tiil thp Last jpidgmentl" sai4 Marcelle, solemnly. , '; TJ^ey are judged already," answered Master Axfoll. " Theu: doom was sppken, and they sleep ; it is only 'superstition' that would ^xyake them in their graves." l^arpeUe seemed about to speak, but the large word 'f superstition " pvprpowpred her. She bad only a dim Ijotion of its n^eaning, but it .sounded conclusive. It MASTER ARFO'LL 4? vfks Master Arfoll's petwofdvand it must hfefcdnfeSsed that he used it in a confusing way to express all sorts of ideas' and coflditions. Rohan said Ifttle or nothing. In truth, he -^as Mightly astonished dt the exceedingly soleHm tone of Master Arfoll's discourse; for he knew well the ^Vanderer's gentlet and merrfet side, and he had seldiim seen him look so sad and talk sO cheerlessly als to'-day. It was cleat to his mind that sotaiething un- usual ha!d happened ; it was' clear also, from certain ^gnificant looks, thai Mastfer ArfoU did not care to Express himself ftlUy in the presence of Matcelle. MeantiTne they had begun descending the slope that ted to the village. Marcelle' fell a, few steps behind, b'li't Rohan kept by the' itinerant's side, quietly solicit- otte to discover the cause of his unusual melancholy. As they went Mastet Arfoll's 6ye fell upon Rohan's book whKrh he still carried in his hand. " What is that you read ?" he asked. ' , 'fiirlfian d'elivereid iip the Book. It was a rudely f'lnfed fknyatiori of Tacitus into' Ffench, with the ^ iginai La#n 6ti thfe opposite page. It bore ai date of the RevolilliOttV arid had been printed in some dark den ^hea Paris -w^as trembling with the storin. Master Arfoll looked S.t the Voltime, then returned it to' its Ownef. tie himself had taught Rohan to see', however dimly, the spirit of such bObks as thdt ; but to-day he #as bitter. " Of whsit do ypu read there ?" he exclainied. " Of *e^h^t bnt blpOd, and battres, and the groians of people under the weight Of thrones ? Ah, God, it is too terrible ! EveH here, in what men call God's own book " — and he held lirp the old Bible — " it is the same tkd story, the saflie mad cry of martyred men. Yes, God's book is bloody, like God's earth." Marcelle shuddered. Such toguage was veriest bM#'heMyi , " Master Arfoll " she began. 48 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD His large wild eyes seemed fixed as in a trance ; he did not heed her. " For ever and ever, now as it was in the beginning, this wild beast's hungfer to kill and kill, this madman's thirst for war aad glory. Who knows but the great Stone yonder holds the' spirit of some mighty murderer of old times, some Cain, the Emperor, 'turned to rook, but with consciousness still left to see what glory is, to watch while kingdoms wither and kings waste and dead people are shed down like leaves ? Well, that is superstition ; but had I my will, I would serve each tyrant like that. I would petrify him — I would set him as a sign ! He should see, he should see ! And then there would be no more war, for there would be no more Cains to make it and to drive the people mad !" , Marcelle only half understood him, but some of his words jarred upon her heart. She did not address Master Arfoll, but with angry flashing eyes s^ie turned to Rohan. " It is only cowards that are afraid to fight. -Uncle Ewen was a brave soldier and shed his blood for France : witness the beautiful medal of the great Emperor ! The country is a great country, and it is the wars against the wicked that have made it great. It is the, bad people that rise against the Emperor because he is good and so grand; that makes war, and the Ernperor is not to blame." Master Arfoll heard every word, and smiled sadly to hinaself. He knew the maiden's 'worship for the Emperor ; how she had been brought up to, think of him next to Gpd; so without attacking her Jdol, he said softly, with that benign smile which owed its chief charm to an inexpressible sadness — - , "That is what Uncle- Ewen says? Well, Uncle Ewen is a brave man. But do you, my little Marcelle, want to know what war is ? Look then 1" He pointed inland, and the girl followed the direc- tion of his hand. MASTER ARFOLL 49 Far away, towering solitary among the winding hedgerows of the vale, was another deserted Calvary, ^so broken and so mutilated that only an eye familiar with it could have told what it was. One arm and a portion of the body was still intact, but the head and the other limbs had disappeared, and what remained was stained almost to blackness by rain atid foul ver- dure. Beneath, wild underwood and great Weeds climbed, — darnel and nettle made their home there, and there in its season the foxglove flowered. 'Yet, broken and ruined as the figure was, it dominated the inland prospect, and lent l;o the wild landscape around it a wilder desolation. " That is war!" said Master ArfoU solemnly. "Gur roads are strewn with the stone heads of angels and the marble limbs of shapes like that. The gospel of love is lost; the figure of love is effaced. The world is a battlefield, France is a charnel-house, and — well, you were right, my child ! — the Emperor is a god !" Marcelle made no reply ; her heart was full of indig- nation, but she felt herself no match for her opponent. "That is treason," she thought to herself; "if the Emperor heard him talk like that he would be killed." Then she looked again sidelong into the worn wild face and the gr6jit sorrowful eyes, and her anger passed away in pity. " What they say is right," she thought, " it is not his fault — he has grown foolish with much sorrow ; his lonely life has made him almost mad. Poor Master Arfdll !" ^ By this time they had reached the outskirts of the village. Their way was a footpath winding hither and thither until it passed close under the walls of the old church. Here Marcelle, with a quiet squeeze of Rohan's hand and a quick glance at Master Arfoll, slipped away aiid disappeared; The itinerant walked on without noticing her absence ; his heart was too full, his brain too busy, and he held his eyes fixed upon the ground. ' 50 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD Rohan distutbed him abruptly from his reverie. "Master ArfoU — ^tell me^^speak — Marcelle is no longer here— ^what has happened ? Something di?ead- ful, Ifear^• Master ArfoU looked up wearily. " Be not impatient to hear bad news — it will come soon enotigh, my son. There is a thunderstorm brew- ing, that is all." " A thunderstorm ?" " That : and earthquake, and desolation. The snows of Russia are not tomb enough; we shall have the waters of the Rhine as Well,", he added solemnly. " We are On the eve of a new conscription." Rohan trenibled, for-he knew what that meant. " And this time there are to be no exemptions except peres de families I Prepare yourself, Rohan ! This time even only sons will take their chance !" Rohan's heart sank within him, his blood ran cold. A new and nameless horror took possession of him.- Looking up, he saw in the distance the broken Calvary, like a sign of misery and deSolatioUj He was about to speak, when the church gate swung open, and forth from the churchyard stepped monsieur le curi', with his breviary tucked under his arm, and a shptt pipe, black as ebony with tobacco stains, held between his lips. CHAPTER VI "RACHEL MOURNING FOR HER CHILDREN" He walked with a waddle, his shoujders thrown back, his chest thrust forward, and his portly stomacli shaking at every step. His legs were short and bandy, his arms long and powerful, his body long and loose and well covered with fat. ,There was iiothitig of the soft^ybarite, however, about Father Rolland. He could run, leap, and wrestle with any man in Kromlaix. "RACHEL MOURNING" 51 His face was coloured almost to a m£^hogany hue by constant exposure to sun and, wind, and above his dark brown cheeks glittered two eyes as black as coals,' as comic as the eyes of any ignis fatuus. His mouth, from which he ever and anon drew his pipe to emit a clgud of smoke, was firm yet merry. As he came out of the churchyard, he might have been taken for some comical bird unused to walking ; for he waddled like any crow, and the skirts of his threadbare black cassock were drawn up clumsily, and his little legs in their worn black stockings appeared peeping out behind. Marcelle's uncle the Corporal, who exercised the old soldier's prerogative of inventing nick-names, and who had a keen eye for detecting odd resemblances, was in the habit of calling the birds who Rocked to his window in winter-time " the little citris of God," and the robins in particular " the little euris au vahat rouge." And truth to say, Ffither RoUand possessed in a Ijarge degree two strong charat^teristics of the robin redbreast — extreme patience and coptentedn^ss under difficulties, and an immense amount of good-natured pugnacity. His life was hard, and had been a perilous one. He rose with the lark, although (to be quite honest) he not unfrequently went to bed with it ! He lived in a, dismal hut, where an Englishman would scarcely keep his cow ; he was liable to be cs.Ued oijt at any hour and in any weather to exercise his holy vocation; his food was miserable ; and, to crown all his miseries, the " drink " of the country was vile I Now, Father RoUand was a convivial man, a gourmet in good liquors — a man, indeed, who needed, good liquor to loosen his tongue and complete his good-humour. He was by nature and instinct and habit a gossip. If the earth had been deserted, and hjimself left all alone with the Enemy of mankind, he would have gossiped and drunk with "Master Robert" for company. And in good sooth, he bore no malice 52 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD in his heart to any creature — not even " Master Robert " : or Bonaparte. He had not been long curi in Kromlaix ; his prede- cessor, whom Rohan Gwenfern had worried so tre- mendously, having only been removed some few years. But he, was a native of the district, and knew every ' menhir, every village roof, and every fireside for miles along,the coast. He still spoke his native Brezonec to perfection, and in using the politer French he was guilty, especially ■v^^hen excited, of a strong patois — pronouncing (for exapiple) poeme as if it meant an apple (ponime), couteau, May, and chevaux, jvak. In recording his conversation in an English translation it would be quite impossible to follow this peculiarity, tut the reader must imagine a thick shower of gutturals,' very peculiar and very difl&cult for any but Bretons io comprehend. Father Rolland had passed with a sound skin through all the storms of the Revolution and the Civil War. i He was a man of no " ideas," and he performed his priestly functions— such as marrying and giving in marriage, shriving the sick and dying — automatically enough, with a certain eye to his monetary dues. The great Figures of Contemporary History passed like contending Titans above his head ; he saw them from afar, and discussed them with unconcern. He was not the stuflF ot which martyrs are made. His sole business was with his nock, to whom he ever com- -V mended patience, good gossip, and contented drinking. To sum up, his intellectual grasp was small, but his scholastic attainments were fair. He was a gpod Latinist, an excellent 'gramiharian,' and he counted among his stock of quotati&is some half-dozen lines of Homer, among others the famous Aetfi) Sh xXayyj) yevtr' ifyvpioio /Swio, and the still more famous and commonplace B^ S' iKiuv vapi, ffiva 7ro\v0\a(a'/3i»o SaSAaai]!, "RACHEL MOURNING" 53 both of which he hurled at the heads of new ac- quaintances in a thick patois with all the charm of novelty. Conceive, then, a jovial peasant taken from the soil and supplied with a little learning, and you have Father Rolland. As he sallied from the church gate he held out both his brown hands to Master ArfoU, and nodded kindly to Rohan. - ' He had a greeting for everybody, had Father Rol- land — Legitimist, Bonapartist, or Republican ; and Master Arfoll's love of the " rights of man " did not daunt him. The only recusant and hopeless offender was the parishioner who had not paid his dues, or who attempted in any way to diminish the Priest's per- quisites ! Yet Father Rolland was not mean. He demanded his rights on principle, and then when they were paid, whether in the shape of money or grain, he rattled them in his pocket or stored them in his yard, and incontinently chuckled over them. And then, perhaps the very next day,i^e turned them into bread or wine or brandy, and shared them among the sick and hungry at his door. ^ " Welcome, Master Arfoll !" cried the curi. " You are a stranger to Kromlaix ; 'tis months since we had a glass or a pipe together. Where have you been ? What have you been doing ? Welcome again !" As he spoke his brown face beamed with pleasure. Master Arfoll returned the greeting gently. They walked on a few paces side by side. Presently' the priest, linking his arm familiarly through that of Master Arfoll, while Rohan strode beside them like the giant that he was, began to demand his news. The itinerant shook his head sadly. " News, father," he exclaimed. " Ah, there is none — only, of course the old bad news. Red blood on the battle-field, and black crape in all the lands around.' 54 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD I do not think that it can last long— the patience of die world is exhausted." "Humph!" muttered the cuyi, with 'his fat little fimger in the bdvvl of his pipe. "The World seems topsy-furvy, honest brother — it is standing on its head/' It seemed odd to the little cmi, mpre odd thafl 'terrible. He ha,d seen so much of terror and death thkt he had no particular horror for them, or for War. In his heart he lovedj as in duty bound, the White better than the Blue, but he would never have instigated any man to die for the White. The re- spectable sort of thing, he believed, was to die, after " anointiiig,'' in one's bed at hoine. He nevertheless believed battled, large and siliall, to be the expression of an irrepressible element in human, nature, and fie was not politician enough to blame anyone in par- ticular for encouraging' bloodshed. ^ Master ArfoU continued, in a Iflw voice — " I will tell you Something, a small thing, but a sign of the end. I was stopping in a village far away east, and I entered the house of a woman who had lost both her sons in the last campaign, and'^but a week before buried her husband " " God rest his soul !" interrupted the cur&, making the sign of the cross. "She was sitting on a form, staring into the fire^ and her eyes seemed fixed and mad. I touched her on the shoulder, and she did not stir ; I spoke, and she did not hear. By slow degrees I roused her from her trance. She rose mechanically, my father, and .opened her press and set before nie food and drink. Then she sat down again before the fire, and I saw that her hair Was White, though she was not old. When I had eaten and dfiunken — for I was very hungry — I spoke . to her again, and this time she .listened, and I told her I was a schoolrnaBter and was seeking for pupils. •What can you teach, master?' she asked suddenly turn- ing her eyes on mine. I answered softly, telling her "RACHEL MOURNING" 55 I could teaqh her childirea to write and read. She laughed, father — ah, it was a terrible laugh. 'Go then and seek them,' sh^ cried, pointing to the door, 'and when you have found theta in their graves among the snow, come back and teach me to curse the hand that killed them and buried them there ! Teach me to curse the Emperor, teach me a curse that will drag him down] Teach me how to kill him, and curse hinfi down into hell-fife I O my poor boys, my poor boys! — Andr6! Jacques!' She shrieked,, and cast herself down on her knees, and bit her hair between her teeth and spat it out. My heart was sick. I could not help her, and I crept away." The curi nodded his head thrice musingly. He was well used to suih grief, a.nd it moved him little. Nevertheless, in the true spirit of a good gossip, he condpled. " It is terrible — it is terrible indeed, Master Arfoll !" " That is but one house out of thousands upon thousands. The curses go up to God. Shall they not be heard ?" "Softly, Master Arfoll," murmured the curi, with an anxious glance around, "some one may bear you." ' " I care not," cried the schoolmaster. " The Emperor may be a great tactician, a great engineer, a great soldier, but he is not a great man, for he has no heart Mark me, my father, this is the beginning of the end. It is your Christ against the Emperor, and Christ will win." . The little cur& made no reply: such language was terribly serious, and the times were dangerous, He comproinised. " After all, if the Emperor could but give us peace!" "Could? And could hs not?" asked the itinerant suddenly. ' "All the world is against our Frepce," answered the 56 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD "AH humanity is against our Emperor," retorted Master ArfoU. - " But the Emperor fights for France, Master ArfolL Without him the English, and the Russians, and the .Germans would eat us up alive." He added, seeing Master Arf oil's half amazed, half indignant look, " Well, I am no politician !" " You have eyes and you can see, my father. It is well to stay at Kromlaix by the sea, far away from the march of men, but were you to wander out on the broad highway, you would know. It is all a living sacrifice to feed the horrible vanity of one man. How should he give us peace ? His trade is war. He declares now that -it is England that will not allow him to make peace ; he declares that it is for peace he fights. He, lies, he lies I" " Strong language, Master Arfoll !" "When last he rode through the streets of Paris, the common people clamoured to him for peace, peace at any cost. They might as well have prayed to the great Stone up yonder; h^ passed on silent lik^ a marble man, and did not hear them. Ah, God ! the people are weary, father ! they would rest !" "That is true," exclaimed Rohan in a decided tone. The cttrS glanced at Rohan. " Master Arfoll has taught you to think with him in many things, and Master Arfoll is a good man, whether he is right or wrong. But beware, my son, of hot - speeches here in Kromlaix. What Master, Arfoll could say boldly, might cost you youi liberty, and perhaps your life." He did not explain, what was a fact, that Master Arfoll was by a large majority of people considered simply insane, and in no way responsible for the strange things he said and did. Even Bonapartist officios heard his diatribes with a smile, and touched their fore- heads significantly when he had finished. This is not "RACHEL MOURNING" 57 the only instance on record of the one sane man in a district being mistal^en for a Fool. "I will remember," answered Rohan, half shrugging his great shoulders. " The people are right. Father RoUand !" resumed the schoolmaster. " The wealth and pride of France is being blown away in cannon smoke. The loss of mere money would be little,- had we only strong hands to work for more. But where are those same strong hands ? The conscription has lopped theih off with its bloody knife, and left us only the useless stumps." "Not quite all," answered the priest, smiling:/ "for exaipple, Rohan here has a pair of strong fists, and there are many bold lads left beside." Mastfer Arfoll glanced strangely at Rohan, and then said in a voice more tremulous than before — " The . conscription is famished StiU — the mbnster cries for more human flesh. Out there" — and he pointed with his lean hand inland, as at some scene afar off — "out there the land is a desert, ay, darker than the desert of La Bruy6re,^for the men who should till it are lying under the growing grain of strange countries, or in the deep sea, or beneath the snow. I tell you, father, France is desolate; she has nursed a serpent in -her -bosom: it has stung her children one by one, and it is now stinging her. Oh, how deaf you must be out here at Kronilaix by the sea, not to hear her crying — not. tp hear the new Rachel, wailing and weeping for her children !" • Master Arfoll had mounted his hobby, and there is no Saying how far he would have ridden in his denun- ciation of Avatarism ; but suddenly monsieur lecuri put his plump hand on his arm and whispered — "Hush!" Master Arfoll paused suddenly, not too soon, for as he ceased a clear sharp voice quickly demanded — <"' Who is this new Rachel, Master Arfoll ?" 58 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD CHAPTER VH CORPORAL DERVAL DEFENDS HIS COLOURS The speaker sat on a form in the open sunshine, at his own door, in the main street of the village. He wore horn spectacles, tied to his ears by pieces of string, and he held in his hand a paper which he had just been reading. His face was as red as a berry ; his hair, which was cropped close, reminded one of a stubble white with hoar-frost. His dress, half rustic half military, ccjnsisted of a loose open corporal's jacket from which the epaulets and adornments had long been worn away, loose trousers reaching to the kiiee, and beneath the knee, one light red stocking and an o^d slipper, foy he had only one natural leg, the place of the other being supplied by a sturdy implement of wood.. "Good-morning, Uncle Ewen!" said ^ the curi, ■ anxiops to .divert at1;ention from Master Arf oil's last remarks, while Rohan gave good-morrow Joo, and shook his uncle's hand. For it was none other than Corporal Derval whp sat there, the hero of many b3,ttles, the liege worshipper of Bonaparte, and uncle to both Rohan and Marcelle. The Corporal, who well knew and' detested Master A,rfoirs sentiments, was not to be bafHed; so after greeting the schoolmaster and shaking his hand, he repeated his question — " But what about this new Rachel, Master ArfoU ?" he said, taking off his spectaples. , The wondering scbbl^r thjjs ch^lenged pointblank, showed the courage of his opinions, and replied — "I spoke of these latter days pf France, Corporal Derval ; another conscription, it appears, is talked of, and it seems to me the best blood of the country is ; gained away already. I compared' our poor count^ry DERVAL DEFENDS HIS COLOURS 59 to Rachel, who grieved for the children who had gone from her, and would not be comforted. That was all." The veteran did not reply, but rose Suddenly to his feet. " That was all !" he repeated',, in a voice like low thunder. As he Spoke the forefinger and thumb of his left hand were plunged violently into his waistcoat pocket, while his right hand made a pass in the air and was plungfid back into one of his coat tails ; then forefinger . and thumb, grasping a mighty pinch of snuff, were applied vigorously to his swelling nostrils, while he threw out his chest and stamped on the ground with his leg of wood ! In a moment one detected, despite the wooden leg, a curious and comical, resemblance. Viewed cursorily sideways, in his quaint old imperial coat with its worn facings, in his black hat cocked d I'pmpereur, with his ch^est thrust forward and his legs wide apart, the wooden one shut out by the leg of flesh, he looked like a very bad and battered copy of the great Emperor,; like a Napoleon with a Wellihgton nose, and six feiet high ; like (let us say) Mr. Gomersal at Astley's got up for the part, and really very much resembling the real thing, but for his nose, his heightj and a certain shakiness in his legs. , Seen very closely, his face was deeply bronzed and wrinlqled. and scarred, his eyes of a piprcing blackness; his chin ' and neck closely shaven, with prominent muscles standing out like whipcord, his nose vermilion- , tipped and deW'diropped,' his nostrils dilating and looking very black--the result of a habit of prodigal snuff-taking, which he shared with his great namesake " the Little Corporal" It must not be supposed that he was ignorant of his .resemblance to his Emperor and Master. He hald been told of it, and he believed and gloried in it ; it 6o THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD was the pride and delight of his existence. He assumed the imperial pose habitually- — legs well apart, chest thrown out, hands clasped behind his back, head rnusingly dejected, all in the well-known fashion. And when Marcelle or some good gossip would whisper admiringly, " See ! would you not say it was the Emperor himself ?" or " God save us, it might be the ' Little Corporal's ' ghost !" his heart expanded exult- ingly, and his' nose took a deeper red, and he strode on his own threshold like a colossus overstriding the world ; and he saw his neighbours and his foes beneath his feet, like sp many kings, and princes ; and he sniffed the air of battle from afar, and, snuffing .vigorously, laid the plan of some cabaret campaign ; and he went over his old glories like his Master, and sighed as he reflected that he could not hasten to further victories on his wooden leg ! Not that he was irreverent. He kne>v how far off he was from his Idol ; he knew that the resemblance was that of a pigmy to a giant. His brother's wife was a religious woman, and the arid wind of French atheism had spared their hearth ; so that he believed in God if not in the Saints, for to him there seemed but one saint in the calendar — St. Napoleon ! With all his good qualities, Corporal Derval was rather an unpopular man in Kromlaix, The village lay far away from ordinary political contagion, and though it had once, like the rest of Brittany, caught a particle of the Legitimist fever, that time "was wellnigh forgotten ; but the chief prayer of the 'honest folk was to let Napoleon fight it out, and leave them alone. Of course this could not be ; so they heartily cursed the conscription, and, in their hearts, Bonaparte. There being too many Bonapartist enthusiasts in the place to make open grumbling safe, the inhabitants held their tongues, sighed secretly for the days of the old fSgime, and avoided in particular any passage of words with the old Corporal. DERVAL DEFENDS HIS COLOURS 6i " That was all !" repeated the soldier a second time. " Humph !— and you, Master Arfoll, believe thai ?" " I am sure of it, my Corporal." The Corporal's face grew red as the tip of his nose, his black eyes flashed terribly, he snapped his snuff- box fiercely, then opening it agairi, took from it a huge pinch, and drew it up into his dilated nostrils with a snort of angry scorn. The action gave him time to master the first rush of savage wrath, and he answered civilly, though his voice trembled with excitement — "Your reasons, Master ArfoU ? — come,, your reasons ?" The schoolmaster smiled sadly^ "You may behold them with your eyes, my Corporal," he said. " Women sow and reap our fields — women and old men over fifty — ^the flower of our youth is gathered up with the bloody sheaves of war,, and in a little time France will fall, for there will scarce be one hand to lift a sword." Master ArfoU spoke of course hyperbolically; but as if directly to falsify his assertion, there suddenly came forth, from the Corporal's own door, four gigantic youths, in all the bloom of health and strength,' whom ' Rohan greeted with a smile and a nod. These were the Corporal's four nephews — Ho^l, Gildas, Alain, and Jannick. The Corporal stood aghast,, like one who hears blasphemy against his God ; an oath unmentionable to ears polite was hissing between his teeth, half heard, but incomprehensible. It was time for the little curl to interfere, He plucked the old soldier by the sleeve, and whispered—^" Calm yourself. Corporal ! Remember it is only Master Arfoll !" The words were as oil on water, and the Corporal's ■features relaxed somewhat.. Slowly his stern firown grew into a grim contemptuous smile as he surveyed 62 THE SHADOW OF THE' SWORD his antagonist. His look was supreme, Napoleonic. He surveyed the itinerant as Bonaparte would have ' surveyed one of those liliputians of the period — a King. Nevertheless heresy had been uttered, and for the benefit of tho^e whb had overheard the abomination, it must be confuted^ , The Corporal assumed a military attitude. " Attention !" he cried, as if addressing a file of raw recruits. All started. The yoiiths, who had been leaning sheepishly in various attitudes against the wall, stood up erect. ■ « Attention !— Heel !^' " Here !" answered the youth of that name. . "Gildas!" '*Here!" " Alain !" " Here I" "Jannick!" "Here!" All stpod in a row, like soldiers , regarding their superior. ' " Listen, all of you, for it concerns you all. Atten- tion, while I answer Master Arfoll." He turned to the schoolmaster. All his wrath had departed, and his voice was quite clear anii calm. , " Master Arfoll^ I will not say you blaspherne, for ■ you have had sorrows enough to turn any man's brain, however wise ; and you are a scholar, and you travel -^ from village to village, and fromfarni to farm, all over the country. Like that a man learns much, but yoii have something yet to learn. I have read my history as well as you. France has, mt fallen, she is fwt like that Rachel of whom you speak ! She is great I she is sublime ! like the mother of the Mg,ccabees !'' The comparison was a happy one. It was at once patriotic and religious. The little cuy& kindled, and' loo)ied at Master Arfoll as if to say, '< There ! answer DERVAL DEFENDS HIS COLOURS 63 that if you can, good friend!" The youths smiled at each other. They did not understand the , alliision, but' it was delivered like a musket-ball and seemed decisive. Rohan smiled too, but shrugged his shoulders with secret contempt. The Corporal looked for a rejoinder, but none came. Master ArfoU stood silent, a little pale, but with a pitying light on his sad and beautiful face that spoke far more than words ; and his eyes rested on thfe Cotporal with that sad affection good men >feel» for antagonists hopelessly 'deluded The veteran threw out his che^t still more, display- ing more protninently the medal of the Legion of Honour : and again, this time with a proud victorious smile, gave the word of command. " Attention ! Hoel, Gildas, Alain, and Jannick 1" The youths became rigid ; but Jannick, who was the youthful humourist of the family, winked at Rohan, as much as to say, " Uncle is going ahead !'^ , " These are my boys ; they were my poor brother's, and they are mine ; you see them ; they are mine, for my brother gave them into my keeping, and I have been a father to them, and to their sister Marcelle. I call them my sons, they are all I have in the world ; I love them,!. They were little children when 1 took them, and who has fed them since that hour ? . I ! Yes, but whose hand has given me the bread I gave to them,? The Emperor, the great Emperor 1 God guard him, and give him victory over his enemies !" As he spoke, his voice now trembling with ^motion, he raised his hat rfeverently and stood bareheaded, the ■ bright light burning on his bronzed face and snow- white hair. Such faith was as touching as it was con- tagious. Even a chottan might have been tempted to cry like those four youths with their voices of thunder : " Vive I'Bmpertur !" The veteran replaced his hat upon his head, and held up his hand for silence. 64 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD , "The 'Little Corporal' forgets none of his children — no, not one ! He has remembered these fatherless ones, he has fed them, and he has enabled them to becbme what you see! They have been taught to pray for him nightly, and their prayers hav6 mingled with the prayers of millions, and these. prayers. have brought victory to him over the wide earth." Master Arfoll,though gentle as a lamb, was human. An opportunity occurred of answering the Cojrporal's former furious fire, and he found it irresistible. While the veteran paused for treath, the schoolmaster said, in a low voice, not faising his eyes from the ground — "And what of their three brothers. Corporal Der- val?" The blow struck home, and; for a moment the blood was driven from the soldier's cheek. Far away in foreign climes slept, with no stone ■, to mark their graves, three other brothers of . the same house, who had fallen at different times — two. among the awfiil snows of Moscow. The veteran trembled, and his eyes glanced for a moment uneasily into the house, where he knew sat his brother's widow, the mother of those dead and "t hese living. Then he answered sternly — ' "Their souls are with God, arid their bodies are at rest, and they died gloriously as brave men should die. Is it better to fall like that, or to breathe the last breath in a coward's bed ? to die like a soldier, 6r to pass away like an old woman or a child ? They did their d^ty, Master Arfoll^may we all do ours as well !" " Amen !" said the little curL " And now," continued the Bonapartist, " if the little Corporal ' away yonder should hold up his snuff-box " — he suited the action to the word — " and cry ' Corporal Ewen Derval, I have need of more of your boys,' they would srtiile — Hoel, Gildas, Alain, and Jannick — ^they would smile all four ! — and I, the old grenadier of Cismone, Areola and Austerlitz, I, do DERVAL DEFENDS HIS COLOURS 65 you see, with my rheumatism and my wooden leg, would march to join him — rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat — quick march ! — at the head of my Maccabees !" Strictly speaking, the enthusiasm of the Maccabees seemed greatly reduced by the sepulchral turn the conversation had taken. Hoel, GUdas, and Alain did not this time cry " Vive V Empenuv" and the irreverent Jannick put his tongue in his cheek. Another voice, however, now chimed in enthusiasti- cally — " And I would march with you, Uncle Ewen !" It was- Marcelle. Standing on the threshold of the cottage, with her eye flashing and her cheek burning, she looked a Mac- ca.bee indeed. Uncle Ewen turned quickly, and surveyed her with pride. " Thou shouldst have been a. man-child too !", he exclaimed, snuffing vigorously to conceal the emotion that filled his throat and dimmed his eyes; "but there, go too !" he added, with a gfim lajigh, " thou shalt be the vivandiere of the Maccabees and watch the bivouac fire. But, mon Dim, I forget, chouan that I am. I am keeping your reverepce in the street — will you not walk in, Father Rolland?" So saying, he stalked, clip-clop, to • the door, and stood there bowing with a politeness uncommon among his class, but characteristic of the Breton peasant. The little cure followed, with a friendly nod to Master ArfoU, and the two disappeared into the cottage. Master ArfoU stood with Rohan in the middle of the road; then, after hesitating a moment, he. said hurriedly, holding out his hand — , " Meet me to-jiight at thy mother's — I must go now.'' Without awaiting any reply. Master ArfoU retreated rapidly down the narrow street leading to the sea, leaving. Rohan to the society of his cousins-r-the gigantic " Maccabees." 66 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD CHAPTER Vni , / THE CORPORAL S FIRESIDE All that day Marcelle was full of the stirring of a new sweet trouble ; she moved to and fro like one in a dream, to a music unheard by any ears save hers ; her colour went and came, her hand trembled as she cut the black bread and made the gaieties ; she was low- spoken and loving with her brothers, and she had strange impulses to kiss her mother and the Corporal, Her mother, looked at her very curiously, for, having loved herself, she half suspected what it all taeant. Silent love is sweet, but love first spoken is sweeter, for it brings with it calm assurance and love's first kiss. Up to that day Rohan had never spoken' what was moving in the hearts of both ; up to that hour he had never done more than kiss her on both cheeks, in the ordinary Breton fashion. Now their lips had met, their silent plight, was sealed. ^ ■ ' The meeting with Master ArfoU had somewhat depressed her, but the cloud soon passed away. She did not in her heart doubt for a moment that Rohan was a good Christian in both senses, believing first in God arid secondly in the great Emperor. Marcelle's religious education had been twofold. Hermothen a simple ;pe,asant woman, still retained in her heart all that passion for Church formulas, old stiperstitibris, and sacerdotal legpnds, which the Revo- lution had endeavoured, most unsuccessfully,- to root out of Fraiice by force. She was a faithful attendant at every ceremoiiy in the little chapel, she fell on her knees and prayed whenever she passed a Calvary, and she believed simply in all the miracles of all the saints. She had escaped the worship of her class for Kings, for the curis and vicaires of Kromlaix had never been enthusiastic Legitimists; but she detested the Revolu- tion. THE CORPORAL'S FIRESIDE 67 She had been a fruitful woman. Her husband, the Corporal's elder brother, was a fisherman, who had , perished in the great gale of 1796, and the Corporal, then a private soldier coming home on leave from Italy, had found her a widow with a large circle of helpless children — from the eldest, Andrl, now fast asleep in Russian snow, down to the youngest born, Marcelle ; not to speak of Ja,nnick^ who wab then stirring unborn beneath her widowed heart. Then and there, with his brother's children clinging round neck and knges, and his brother's widow weep- ing on his shoulder, Ewen Derval had sworn a great oath that he would never marry, but be a father to the fatherless, a brother to his brother's wife. And he had kept his word. , . Fighting through many a long campaign, serving his Master with the strength of idolatry, he had carefully avoided all temptation to waste his hard-earned re- wards; he had sometimes, indeed, been deemed a .mean and a hard man in consequence ; but the little family had never wanted, and the brave man nourished them,' as it were, with his very blood. * At last, at Austerlitz, he fell and lost a leg ; his service was ended, and from that hour forth he was no use to his Master. His discharge pay was not illiberal, and he could still do his duty to his " children,'! as he ever called them, though he could no longer follow the great Shadow that was sweeping across the world. ~ / Worn, weather beaten, wooden-legged, covered with medals, his heart full of gratitude and his pocket full of presents for the children, he .returned to Kromlaix by the sea ; and there, a hero, an oracle, and quite a family man despite his bachelorhood, he had resided peacefully ever after-. Good .Corporal Ewen had preserved, throughout all the dissipations and disbeliefs of a military life, a purity of character and a simple piety of soul which 68 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD were not ordinary characteristics of Napoleon's veterans. He fiad a respect for women quite removed from the rude freedoms of an old campaigner ; an^, as we have said, he believed in God. He was certainly not what pe'ople'call a good Catholic, for he seldoin or never went to confession, and he heard mass only once a year, at midnight, on Christmas Eve ; but he would doflf his old hat whenever the angelus sounded in the distance, and mingle the great, Emperor's name with that of the good God.- So no sceptical jests from his mouth, no such coarse infidelities as distinguished the period, interfered with the quiet holy teaching with which the Widow Derval reared her children, who were taught to love and revere Christ and the Saints, and to honour monsieur le cuvi, and to go through life reverently, as became the offspring of a godly woman. But in the long .winter nights, when the wind swept in from the sea, and the snow lay deep without, the children would cluster round the old veteran, while the widow spun in the corner, and would listen open- mouthed to his stories of the great Man who of all living men was next to God. Strange to say, these stories sank deepest into the heart of the little girl, Marcelle. She was more pas- sionate and reverent than her brothers. Taught from her infancy to believe that the Emperor was divine, she gave hjm her heart's worship, with a faith that never could be shaken, with a love that could never die. She had heard of him as early as she had heard of God; God and he were in her imj^gination hope- lessly interblended ; and with every prayer she uttered, and evety dream she dreanjed, the Emperor became holier and holier, in a fair religious light. On this one day of all her days, on this day of love to' be marked for ever with a white stone, Marcelle almost forgot her Idol in the rapture of the new joy. Pver and anon, as she flitted about the cottage, she THE CORPpRAL'S FIRESIDE 69 felt herself uplifted in Rohan's arms, and heard the > murmuring of the summer sea, and felt her virgin hair unloosening and raining on the passionate upturned face. Fair indeed she seemed in her quaint Breton dress, ♦ movinjg to and fro in the fading sunset glearn. Her brightly coloured petticoat and snowy bodice shone against the dark walls in the dim, Rembrandtesque light of that quaint "interior." In its general aspects the room resembled that of its neighbours. It was the living room, salle-d-manger, and kitchen all in one. There were the customary forms, and the polished table with its soup-wells hol- lowed out of the wood; the spopn-rack and bread- basket suspended by a pulley from the great polished black cross-beams, which were well stored with an odd mixture of. eatables and wearables, candles and stockings, oil-cans, skins of lard, strings of onions, Sunday boots with great thongs of leather, some goat- skin jackets, and a flitch of bacon. In a corner near the chimney stood one lii elds — or what the Scotch call " press-beid" — reaching to the ceiling like a large clothes-press, with sliding panels black as ebony and quaintly carved ; and in the opposite part of the room was another and smaller bed of the same description. A great black pot stood on the emberS of the turf fire, and blazing pieces of turf were also piled over its lid. All was clean, fresh, and bright, with no coarser scent than that of fresh linen from the lits clos, or a whifF from the old veteran's pipe — a quaint old German pipe of china, which lay, well blackened with use, upon a shelf in the ingle. A staircase! ancieiit, quaintly carved, and black as ebony, led to the upper portion of the little cottage, the earthen floor of which was baked hard as bricks by the heat of an ever-burning fire. They had just finished their supper of gaieties and milk. The Corporal had hobbled off to discuss cam- 70 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD paigning with a neighbour ; the twins, Hoel and Gildas, were' leaning back on their forms against the wall; Alain was smoking at the door, and Jannick was crouching by the fire ; while the mother still sat by the table — brooding in housewife's fa,shion, with her large eyes fixed on the glow; * The mother watched Marcelle quietly; the youths rebuked her for her silence arid her blunders, and Jannick, the humorist, her junior by two years, made her the subject of divers practical jokes. '".What is the matter with Marcelle?" asked Hoel presently. " She has not spoken a word for hotirs, and she stares this way and that, like mad Jeanne who lives by the Fol-Pouet." Marqelle blushed, but said nothing. "Perhaps," jokingly suggested Gildas, the other twin, " she has seen the kourigmn." "God and the saints forbid!" cried the widow, crossing herself rapidly. For the Breton hourigwm,- like the Scotch banshee, is a spirit presaging evil and , perhaps death to whomsoever it haunts in the desolate Breton ways. " Nonsense !" cried Marcelle. " The child is pale," said her mother anxiously. "She eats too little arid, she works too hard. She . does riot lounge about like you others, idle as grand seigneurs when you are not at the fishing. Thia is a full house, and two pair of women's hands have hard work to keep it in good order." There was a monient's silence, and Marcelle looked gratefully at her mother, to whom that one glance betrayed her secret. The mother dropped her eyes and looked at the fire ; the dailghter began hurriedly to clear away the remnants from the table. " That is all ver^ well," said Jannick, stretching out his long shapeless limbs and grinning with his dark, beardless bgby face ; " that is all very well, but Marcelle does not do h^r housework at the gate of St. Gildas. '' THE CORPORAL'S FIRESl£>E 71 Marcelle started, and almost dropped the dish she was carrying ; pale now instead of red, she gassed with no amiable expression at the speaker, who only replied by an irreverent wink and a grimace. " What does the boy mean ?" inquireTi the widow. " He is a wicked imp, and should be beaten," said Marcelle in a low voice; The gigantic hobbledehoy burst into a hbrse-laugh. "Fetch thy heart's delight and let him try," he cried. " Mother, ask her pnce more-^doth she wash . her linen at the Gate of St. Gildas ? and if she answers nay, ask why she lingered there so long to-day." The mother looked inquiringly at Marcelle, who was still quietly busy. " Wast thou there to-day, my child ?" , ^ There was no hesitation in the reply. "Yes, my mother." Marcelle's large truthful eyes gazed Steadfastly now at her mother. " It is a long way to walk. What took thee so far, mychild?" " I went down the Ladder of St. Triffine on to the shore to look for dulse, and the tide was loWj and I wanted to see the great Gate and the Trdu 4 Gildas ; and, mother, the tide came in quick and nearly caught me, and I had sore work to come' found through th6 great Gate back to the strand." The widow shook her head. " Thou art too fond of wandering into dangerous places ; thou Wilt be lost one of these days, like thy father. A maid's work is in the house, and not out yonder, or on the sea. I have liyed in Kromlaix, raaid and wife, for nigh fifty years, and I have never seen the Gate" yet save once, from thy father's boat, when he took me out with him in the|Wicked days to hear the blessed mass at sea." By this time the housewife had risen and settled down again by her wheel, where she began to spin 72 TH£ SHADOW OF THE SWORD busily. She was one of- those thrifty energetic women to whom idleness is death, and who fill the houses 'they inhabit with -a busy hum of work, sometimes quite beeiike in its misdirected waste of energy. " I will tell you," saidjannick, rising and stiretching , ^is limbs, " of something we saw this day when coming home from the fishing. We were drifting with the flood close by the great Gate, as near as a boat may sail, when Mikel Grallon, who has eyes like a hawk, cried out, ' Look,' and we looked, all, in at the Gate. We were too far to make out faces, but what we saw was this: a man like a fisherman Wading' up to his waist, and carrying a maiden in his long arms. The tide was high, and he carried her round from the Gate, and sat her down upon the shore. Turn thy face this ^yay, Marcelle ! Then, the man kissed, the maid, and the maid the man, and after that we slipped round the point and saw no more." The twins laughed, and all looked at Marcelle. She was quite calm now, and shrugged her pretty shoulders with a charming air of ijadifference. Jannick, irritated by her composure, turned to his mother. "Mother! 'ask her if she went to the Gate of St. Gildas a/oMfi /" Before the question could be put Marcelle herself answered, looking defiantly at thp imp who was torturing her. "Nay, both going and coming I had company, as you have told. Listen, mother ! Jannick is a goose, and sees wpnders where older people would see nothing strange. I found a comrade on the beach, and he guided me through the Gate, and after that, when the tide rosei he carried me through the Gate again, and then — what the stupid Jannick says is true ! — I kissed him on both cheeks for thanks ! It was only Cousin Rohan, and but for his help, mother, I might have been drowned this day." There was andther general laugh, this time at THE CORPORAL'S FIRESIDE 73 Jannick's ejcpense. Marcelle's rambles with Rohan were well known, and Rohan's connexion with the family was so close that they elicited little surprise. Only the mother looked grave. " That is not true," cried Jannick, angry at having the laugh against him. " When I came up the street yonder, Rohan was with the priest and Master ArfoU, and when I entered the house thou hadst not come home. Besides, he who carried thee — for thee it was, I swear — was not taller than I, and he embraced- thee too close and too often to be Rohan Gwenfern or any of thy kin." The widow broke in sharply — " Whoever it was — and the Holy Virgin forbid that Marcelle or any child of mine should speak a lie — whoever it was, Rohan or another, Marcelle should not have wandered there. It is no place for maids, nor for any but mad creatures who bear their lives in their hands, like Rohan Gwenfern. Besides, all the country knows the spot was cprsed' by the blessed St. Gildas, and turned into a place of ill. AIJ men know that wicked spirits walk there by night, and the souls of monks who denied the hcily Cross : altogether, 'tis an evil spot, and even Rohan himself does wrong to venture there." Here for a spgice the conversation ceased ; but that ■night, when all the house was still, Marcelle fell secretly on her mother's breast and told her all. She had intended to be silent, but she. could not bear the loving questioning eyes that followed hei:, with fond maternal solicitude and anxibty, all about the house. The mother was not altogether unprepared for the reception of the truth. It certainly gave her little ■pleasure; for Rohan Gwenfern was. not the husband she would have chosen for her only daughter. He was too eccentric and too reckless, too careless an attendant at mass and too diligent a pupil of that terrible Master ArfoU, to suit her old-fashioned taste ; 74 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD and often indeed, in her secret heart, she pitied her half-sister for having such a son. His physical beauty and his affectionate disposition were both known to her, and she loved him well; but she viewed his vagaries with alarm, and feared that they might lead him to no good. It would be absurd to affirm that MarcfeUe's confes- sion took her altogether by surprise. She had for some time feared afld suspected that Rbliah, on his part; regarded her daughter with more than cousinly affed- tion, and nUinberless secret presents from his handsr^ such as brooches, enibroidered belts, silk neckerchiefs, and other simple fineries purchased at the pardons — had only confirmed her suspicions. As happens in most such cases, she had ten^porized, never quite believing ihat there was any danger of a love affair ; and lo ! here lay Cupid full-grown before her eyes, sleeping under the snowy kerchief that covered her daughter's breast. A mother and daughter on truly affectionate terms soon understand each other, and thiese two at once came to an arrangement. It was promised, on the mother's side, that no notice shouid be taken at present of what had occurred; that all the family, and the Corporal in particular, should remain in dompletfe ignorance d^f Rohan's sentiments ; that Rohdn should be received in. the house on the old fqoting, as in a rheasure one of the family ; and, finally, that not one word should be breathed as yet to Rohan's mother. It was conceded, on Marfcelle's side, that no final answer amounting to secret betrothal was to be given to Rohan ; that Marcelle should not again wander in his company so far from home, or in any way do more to awaken suspicion or* cause scandal ; that she shoujd'^ lead Rohan to understand that the confession made in a moment of passion was in no Way binding, and that all would depend on the good or bad opinion of the widow and the Corporal. THE CORPORAL'S FIRESIDE 75 Natiirally engugh, the "widow was a little shocked. Conventional propriety had been so far violated that two young people had taken the initiative, instead of leaving themselves to be disposed of by their elders in the usual fashion. Properly speaking, and according to strict etiquette, Rohan should have sent a deputy to the Corporal, explaining Jiig wishes formally and stating his prospects ; it would then have been the Corporal's task to consult the widow, and if the widow was willing, simply to explain, with no particular attention to the girl's wishes in the matter, that Roh^n Gwenfern was to be her future husband ! ' To have refused an excellent match, arranged for her by her superiors, even if the match was with one whose face she had oever seen, would have darkly tarnished the fame of any Kronilaix rqaideu, and her prospects of marrying would thenceforth have been almost as uncertain as those of a girl who had actually committed a breach of chastity. The lovers in thp present iiistance being cousins, who had from childhood upward been accustomed to each other's society, there was little or no fear of gcandal or misunderstanding. Marcelle had only to be careful, and. Rohan discreejt ! At the same time the -widow prayed in her secret heart that Marcelle might in time be cured of bet fancy for Rohan Gwenfern. CHAPTER IX ST. NAPOLEON Had the Widow Derval beheld her daughter's face as she stood undressing in theupper chamber that night, she would have felt that her prayers were almost useless. The little chamber contained two small bedg in the 76 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD wall, each white as snow, as is the linen of the poorest Breton cottage. In one of these the widow, fatigued with a long day's work; slept soundly and peacefully, while Marcelle, preparing for rest, lingered over her toilette with a rapture yifhich she had never known before. The floor was black and Ijare, the walls, were black too, and round the beds themselves ■ were hooks, whereort hung sundry articles of female attire. The cfhief furniture in the room was a table and a form ; cm the table stood; burning low, an old-fashioned oillamp.. In a. press in the corner stooda great oaken chest, whence came the smell of clean linen, perfumed with little bags of dried rose-leaves; and not far, from the chest, fixed in a frame against the wall, was a rude mirror of common glass. Marcelle had divested heself of her outer skirt, her saSofe and stockings, her bodice, and her white coif^ land now, in undress as pure as samite, she stood loosening her beautiful longhair, 3.nd caressing it with her two pretty hands. , As the dark tresses rained over her shoulders, she gazed at *her image in the glass, and blushed to see it looking back at her with eyes so sparkling and cheeks so bright. Then winding one long ' tress around her forefinger, and contemplating herself sejrenely, she went over again in her mind the scene of the mofning. , She felt the strong em- bracing arms, she heard the softly murmuripg sea, she was conscious again of loving kisses on the lips. Then, thoroughly pleased with herself, she smiled; and the image answered her from the darkness of the wall. She bent closer, as if to view herself the better* The image stooped and brightened. Then, carried awa,y by-: an impulse she could not resist, she put her red lipg against, the glass, close against the lips of the image,, in one long, soft, caressing, loving kiss. A kiss for herself, with whoni she was thc^roughly well pleased! , ST. NAPOLEON 77 She unloosened her hair, and touched it lovingly. It was such a treasure as few Breton maids possessed ; not a lock of it had ever been sold to the travelling barber, and she preserved it in her coif as a precious though secret possession. Not " Gold-hair," whom oiir poet of passion had so. sweetly sung, loved her bright growth better. Marcelle, too, would have prayed to have it with her in her grave. What is more divine on this low earth than Beauty lingering over herself, not in vanity, not in folly or pride, but with that still joy in its own deliciousness which a sweet flower might be supposed to feel; with that calm rapture; of its own light which lives' in the being of a star ? From the soft caressing fingers, to the pink and prettily formed feet, Marcelle was fair, a" softly rounded form of perfect womanhood — perfection from the dark arched neck to the white stnd ^dimpled knee. And she knew it, this Breton ' peasant girl, as Helena' and Aphrodite knew it ; not, as it were, with her mind, not, as it were, quite consciously, but as simply felt in her breathing, - stirring in her heart, whispering in her ear : just as though a flower might enjoy its own perfume, while softly shedding it on the summer air. At last she uptiraided her hair, and stood hesitating for a moment ; then, gently as a fountain falls, she sank on her knee before the chair, and bowing her face between her hands, began to pray. Right over her head painted on cardboard, and hung against the wall, was a figure of Our.Lad^, with the Infant in her lap holding a lily and brightly smiling.' Though the figures were covered with gold and silver tinsel, and the very stalk of the lily was stuck on in gold, leaf, the faces were comely enough, and the whole suggestion atoned for the vulgar execution. And Marcelle prayed. " In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." She thanked the Lord for His favours,; she begged 78 THE SHADQW OF tHE SWORD Him to ikiake her sins known ilhto her, whether against God, or against her neighbour, or against herself. Then she repeated the General Confession. ' Theii, uplifting her eyes to the picture, the Litany of tl?e Blessed Virgin. Presently, in a low clear voice, she prayed for those who loved her and whom she loved. For the soul of her dead father, for the old Corporal and her beloved mother, for het brothers Hoel, Gildas, Alain, and Jannick. Lastly, in a loWer voice still, she breathed the name of Rohan Gwenfern, and trembled as she prayed. " Bless my love for Rohan, O blessed Lady^ and grant me now thy grace, that I may never ofFfend against thee niore." There was a pause. Her prayer seemed finished ; she was silent for a hloment. Then, uncovering her eyes, she looked up, not at the picture of Our Lady and her Son, but at another picture, less large and highly coloured, which hung on the same wall. It Was that of a Man in soldier's costume, standing oh ail eminence and pointing down with still forefinger at a red light below him, which seemed to come from some burning town. His face was White as marble ; and- at his feet crduclied, like dogs waiting to be unleashed, their heads close against the ground, several grizzly grenadiers, monstached, and bearded, with bloodshot eyes, each with his bayonet set. The picture was rude but terrible, vulgar but sublime. It was the lurid representation of a fact which a more artistic treatment might have ruined. Not with a less gentle love,, not with a less deep reverence, did Marcelle regard this picture than the other. Her eyes lingered over it tenderly, her lips moved as if they would haVe kissed it ; then her face softly fell into her hands, as before some higher Presence. She praya, again ; and as she prays, mark how above the bed wherein she is to lie are hiing suspended a gun ST. NAPOLEOlvI 79 and bayonetj and above these, on a high shelf, lie, clean and carefully brushed and folded, an old knap- ' sack, haversack, cartouche-box, shako, and greatcoat. These too are sacred ; ■ for the old Corporal has worn and borne them in many a war. He does not, like some veterans, parade them ostentatiously oyer his fireplace ; he keeps them here apart, in the sanctity of this virgin bed. "And lastly, O merciful God, for the sake of Jesus thy Sbn and Our Holy Mother and all the Saints, preserve the gopd Emperor, and give hini victory over bis enemies, and cast down the wicked who seek to destroy him and his people, and fill his lap with blessings, for the sake of the blessings he has given us. Arneh, Amen!" ' f And so the last arid perchance not the worst of Saints, St. Napolegn, stands impassive, pointing down- ward, while-the maiden rises from her knees, her eyes dinj with the intensity and earnestness of her pra,yer, Soon she has unclothed her limbs and blown out the lamp, and crept into bed; and very soon after she.ig sound asleep ; while, the old bayonet, whiph has drunk many a human creature's blood, keeps its place above her head, and the figures of the Virgin and of St. Napoleon, side by. side, remain near her through the watches of the night. CHAPTER X AT THE FOUNTAIN "Speak low, for it is the Kannerez-noz who sing; stoop, hide, lest the Kannerez-noz may see ; for they wash their bloody linen white as snow, and their eyes Ijook hither, and they sing together no earthly song. Holy Virgin, keep us ! Son of God, protect us ! Ameni Amenl" ^,,., 8o THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD Thus, in the wild words of an old Celtic sdne, murmurs the wayfarer as he moves by night along the silept ways, and peers here and there with timid eyes, and sees spectral shadows assail his path, till his heart leaps at the sight of the light in his cottage window afar.~ Well may he fear the dreadful Washerwomen of the Night,' for these are no fairy fancies bred in the bright imaginations of a sunny place, but spectres, lonely and horrible, of darkness and death. Doomed i&he who thus "beholds them in the loneliness of the night, since it is his shroud they are washing with skeleton fingers, and it is his face-cloth they stretch to dry on the starlit sward beside the brook, and it is his dirge they are singing as they stoop above the glimmer- ing stream in the shadowy wood or by the lonely shore. Night after night the Kannerez-noz are busy ; their work is never done, for the long line of the Dead ceases never. Sometimes in the haunted forest, oftener under the shadowy crags, they wash and wring. And the' fisherman from his craft by night sees them as often as does the, waggoner crossing the great moors with his loads of salt. Down here at Kromlaix — even here, where rnost men would die of old age we^re it not for the accursed conscription — they ply thfeir trade. Drifting along under the shadow of the Menhir, float- ing close to the Gate of St. Gildas, and dozing at the helm, many a Kromlaix man has seen the crags part open, revealing a spectral village, With a silver kirk in the midst from whence the fngelus rings, a graveyard bright with silver tombs, a Calvary whete the figures were not stone but -white skeletons, and far away houses thatched with silver, with crimson window- panes and shadows moving within ; and then, half ' wakening and shivering, he has beheld the strand below, the spectral village all bestrewn with hnen whitfe as snow, and has seen — ah, God, with his living eyes has seen ! — the Kaniierez crouching close beside the sea, and has heard their terrible voices singing the AT THE FOUNTAIN 8i dirge of- dread ! What avail to cross himself now, and Gallon Jesu and the Blessed Lady and all the ^^^ints? for sure it is that that man's shroud is wovien, and all that remains uncertain is whether he will die on firm land or out there in the great sea. At the front of Mother Gtwehfem's cottage door, situated apart in the shadow of the crag, stood Rohan and Master Arfoll, looking downward toward the strand and calmly contemplating the very scene on which superstition has based its horrible dream of the Washerwomen of the Night. For it was a calm night, of little wind ; the moon eyery minute was darkened by slowly drifting cloud, and few stars were visible ; and down on the sand, murmuring and sometimes singing, were shadowy figures stooping over hidden po(^s, and all around them were gleams of whiteness, as of linen spread upon the shingle. Here and there a lantern glimtnered from the ground, or moved hither and thither in unseen hands. Beside these murmuring groups with flitting lights lay Kromlaix, the moonlight shimmering on its roofb, the red lights gleaming in its windows— as strange as any spectral village seen in a half-dream. It was dead low water, the fountains were upburst- ing from the hidden river far below, and the women and maidens of Kromlaix were collected there, wash- ing their linen or dipping their pitchers for water, while tbey gossiped over the news. Here, night or day, whenever it was low water, they gathered, old and young ; and, naturally enpugh, the Fountain was the leading centre of all the scandal and gossip of the place. That fancy of the Kannerez had occurred to Master Arfoll, as he quietly contemplated the far-off busy scene. " It is so, mark you, that ' superstition ' constructs its tales," he said. " Could you not fancy now that the Kannerez-noz were before you, washing their 82 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD white shrouds in the pur,e pools ? The Kannerez ! not pretty maids' like yourXousin Marcelle, with their white feet tripping on the warm sand !" "Nevertheless, Master ArfoU," returneid Rohan, laughing^ " there are many there who would pass for the Kannejez even by broad day. Old Mother Bar- baik, for example." Master ArfoU did not laugh, but kept his sad eyes fixed, as he said — ". Poor women ! poor old mothers, with their weary limbs and broken healrts, and hearts that will soon be broken more ! Ah, Rohan, it is a pleasant thing to be young and stroiig and pretty like Marcelle, but it is a sore thing to grow old and despised like Mother Barbaik of whom you speak. Hath she not a son ?" « Yes." " An only son ?" " Yes ; Jannick — you will know him, Master ArfoU, by sight — he walks lame, and hath a great hunch on one shoulder, and two of his right-hand fingers have never grown 1" " God has been very good to him !',' said Master ArfoU quietly. " Good, Master ArfoU 1" "To him — and to his poor old mother. Better, Rohan, in these days to be born halt and lame,, or deaf and blind, than to grow up into man's strength. Happy Jannick ! He will never go to war ! Mother Barbaik can keep her child !" There was a long pause. Both men watched the Fountain and the sea, but with different emotions. The itinerant's heart was full of the terrible calm of pity and unselfishness ; liohan's was stirred by a stortny passion. » At last Rohan spoke. He seemed like one con- cluding a long train of reflection rather than Opening a subject. ;> > " After all, my name will be on the list !" AT THE FOUNTAIN 83 " No doubt." " And my number may be drawn ?" " Perhaps ;— but God foifbid !" Rohan turned his face full on his companion's, and laughed fiercely, quickly ; a laugh with no joy in it, only desperation. " God forbid ?■ — I am sick of hearing God's name mentioned so 1" ■ ' " Never be sick of hearing God's name,'' Said Master Arfoll gently. " God forbid ? What does God forbid ? Cnielty, butchery, battle, hunger, disease ! None of these ! ^ He sits calm, if He is at all, giving his world over to devils. Ah, Master Arfoll, you know ! You have seen ! And yet — you have faith !" , Rohan laughed again alpapst contemptuously. As he stood thus, towering by the frail . figure of Master Arfoll, he seemed (with his fair hair and leonine locks) like some mighty giant of the riorth. " I have" faith," answered Master Arfoll, and his face shone beautiful in the moonlight ; " I have faith, and I think I shall have it till I die. You have seen little of the world y I have seen much. You have suffered nothing ; I Tiave lost all ; and yet I say to you now, my son, as I would s^y to yoij in your despair : God forbid — that I should doubt my God !" "And yet, mark you. He suffers these things." " It is so," answered Master Arfoll simply. " While men remain ignorant, these things will be ; when men grow wise, these things will cease. Man, not' God, is the scourge of man. God made the world beautiful, and God is joy ; the' wicked are unhappy, see you, and they do not know God." " Who knovi^s Him, then ? — Those only who weep ?" "Those who help Him, ^ohan." " How ?" " By fulfilling His law of love; by loving all things, Ijpping all things, enduring all things. But stay, my 84 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD Rohan, perhaps my God is not yours. Mine is not the god of monsieur le cure, nor the god of Uncle Ewen, neither the god of priests nor the lord god of battles. He is the Voice within my own heart, answering all the voices that cry around me, ' There is no hope ! despair, despair !' " Rohan inclined his, head, not irreverently, for he had been an apt pupil and he adored his master ; but the spirit of wrath was still, strong within him, and his eyes -burnt angrily. The blood of the Gwenferns was fire. In this man native passion and pride had been subdued by accidental culture into something eminently noble ; but the elements were therej and it only needed some insufferable outrage or indignity to turn him again into the original savage Adam, f Let me speak again of the conscription. Master Arfoll," he said in a voice trembling with agitation. . " It is coming^ again, and the Emperor may say to any man, 'Follow -me!' Tell me then — is ^Am the will of God ?" ■ . - "sit is not!" "And a man would be justified in answering the Emperor, ' No, I will not follow, for thy leadership. is accurst ' ?" - ' » " There is no escape — he who is called must go !" " But first answer — ^would that man be justified ?" ' " Before God he would." Rdhan Gwenfern threw his, hands up into the air. " Then, remember, if ever that call should come to me, if ever the bloody hand should be laid upon my shoulder and the bloody finger point me forward- remember, then, what I swear now — I will resist to the last drop of my blood, to the last fibre of my flesh ; though all the world should be against me, even what I love best, I will be firm; though the Emperor him- self should ' summon me, I will defy him. -They may kill me, but they cannot make me kill. Master Arfoll, if the time comes, remember that!" The words poured, forth in a torrent. Could the AT THE FOUNTAIN 85 speaker's face have been seen, it would have appeared quite bloodless-T-the lips compressed, the eyes set, the whole countenance in one white heat of passionate resolve. AJmost involuntarily, as he concluded, Gwen- fern crossed himself — a custom which he seldom fol- lowed, but which he now adopted in the vehemence of his feeling, as if calling God to wjthess his oath. Master ArfoU sighed. The words seemed wild and raving, and he had heard such frantic protestations made before, but the end had ever been the same — despairing submission to inevitable destiny. A few moments afterwards the men shook hands, and Master ArfoU made his way -up the cliff side. " God forbid, indeed," he thought, ," that the lot should ever fall on him ! He is a lamb now, for h^ has known, only green fields and the breath of peace ; but I see the wild spirit within him^the first blood of battle would change him into a wild beast !" While this dialogue was proceeding the scene at the Fountain was growing brisker. Seen closer, it lost much of its weird mystery, and became a lively human picture. About midway between high and low water-marks glimmered numerous pools, fresh dug by the hands of the women ; for wherever holes were scooped the fresh water bubbled up ; and around the pools, kneeling on boards and old thwarts of boats, and sometimes even on the shingle with their bare unprotected knees, were busy groups of white-capped women and girls, wash- ing, beating their linen with their wooden bats, laugh- ing and chattering as merrily as a sisterhood of rooks' which the moon keeps awake in the tree-tops. The sands were still luminous with the ebbed tide, and strewn with tangled weeds and gleaming jelly-fish. The air was warm-, but piquant with the odours of ocean, and every breath of it wafted inland the night- moths and large gnats that people sandy places. 86 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD At intervals there came from the dim sea the cry of some belated and solitary gull ; and once a great white owl, while prowling purblind among the clefts of the moonlit crags, blun'dered across the Open space of the Fountain, and, uttering a startled Screani, buried itself in the gloom of the cliffs beyond. Among the pools were some preserved for domestic piurposes, and at these were young girls and children with earthen pitchers and wooden pails, some standing, others coming and going. Among those lingering stood Marcelle, her pitcher balanced on her head, her eyes turned to the groups of women who chattered near her in the Inodnlight. . She was not a popular member of that assembly, ''for she had two great drawbacks in the eyes of the women — her beauty, had her connexion with the old Corporal , / As a. rule, the Fountain (the place of many pools was always spoken of thug, in the singular number) was a scene of extraordinary animation and merriment. Every matter of public or private interest was discussed and analyzed there ; characters were beaten to shreds by tongues as "hard as the wooden bats of their owners ; the foibles of friends and neighbours were turned inside out and well scrubbed, amid a blinding spray of prattle. Not the congress of women, in the great play of Aris^ tophaneis, kept up a more incessant chatter. It must' be admitted^ moreover, that much of the humour ventilated at the Fountain had an Aristophanic broadr ness,-^rerhinding one terribly of the " Lysistrata.'-' The gaudyiok iisid its place vindicated herey as much as, in the page of Bdranger. Yet the^ were modest matrons, ' meek as mice before their husbands. God- fearing, loving, gentle. They merely prattled together over the secrets of their matronhood, and, though they sometimes laughed coarsely, meant no harm, ' As for the younger females, they clustered together, and discussed their love affairs, ■v^rith milch tittering AT THE FOUNTAIN 87 and whispering, and no naughtiness whatever. There were lovely maids among them, but none quite so Ipvely as Marcelle. Marcelle was stately as a grande 4ame, and never condescended to foolishness ; for which characteristic hauteur, be certain they loved her none the more, So there she stood lingering in the moonlight, fair and happy as Marguerite before s^he learned to sing " Meine Ruh' ist hin, mein Herz ist schwer I" Soriie- thing in the gossip of the elder women had struck her ear, and, she had paused to listen. That night there was laughing and singing and chattering enough, but. these had ever and anon been interrupted by pauses of thoughtful silence, broken betimes by low anxious' whispers. " Ah, won Dieu I it is all true enough, little Joan, as some of us shall soon know to our sorrow 1" cried one of the women. " It will be a sore day for Kromlaix," said another, , looking up from the pool over which she was leaning. " Our Piarik was taken the last timp, and he has never come back yet" " Ah, but he lives !" said the, first speaker. "Yes, helivbsl" " It is your house that has the luck," cried a grizzly giantess with grey hair, whose brawny arms were busy in the same pool. * My Jannick and my Gillarm are gone, with never a priest to give them a blessing or a friend to pray their poor souls to God !" She drew a heavy breath, while her face was con- torted with agony, but she had a mighty man's heart, which would break rather than find relief, in tears. " No one says it is not true," said the girl called Joan, a small but adult girl who walked 'lame, "bat the time is not fixed, and some say the Emperor himself does' not know his plans. It may be a year — two years — none can tell. Father Holland was telling mother to-day — for when she heard of it she was very 88 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD anxious about Ho6l and L6on, as you conceive — that the lists do not mean very much. The men may not be wanted for a long time; and^ again, there may be peace, and no one may have to go at all." " One camnot understand why the Emperor does not make peace. Is he not the master ? When one is master like that, peace is easy." The masculine 'woman iwho had formerly spoken ' gave a fierce laugh. , " The Emperor ! — Say the Devil, and all is said — does the Devil make peace ?" ' This was more than Marcelle could bear. "Silence, Yvonne Penvenn ; you have no right to say such things ; and as for your sons, they are better where they are than where they used to be, at the cabaret'fightmg and cursing." Yvonne lifted up her worn face and glared at the speaker, but Marcelle was not to be daunted. " You know well that what I say is true, !and the good God knows I pity you, but you-'should not talk as you do. Listen ! It is the English who will not let the Emperor make peace." All became attentive. Marcelle spoke as one having authority. " My Uncle Ewen says the. Emperor would be glad- to rest, but the English have -bought over all the kings with their gold, and they will nor suffer 'him. Have ,you seen a swarm of wasps round a man going to market across the sandhills of Traonili ? , Well, it is like that ! , They cannot hurt the great Emperor, these wasps of Prussians and English, but they can keep him troubled — they can prevent him from inaking peace !" A general murmur of voices was the, answer ; some agreed with Marcelle, many dissented strongly^- each spoke according to her own stake in the game. "But why, then," asked a young matron, " is the sergeant in such a hurry about preparing the lists ? AT THE FOUNTAIN 89 If there was to be no drawing at all — or only after six months or a year — why should there be such haste to get the names ? For my part, I understand it all — the Emperor has a new plan in his head, and we shall hear of it before harvest." j A general groan followed this unpopular prophecy. As the speaker finished, a little old woman, bent nearly double with age, hobbled in among the group with a crock in one hand and a stout ash staff in the other. Setting the vessel down on the shingle, she stood pantipg for breath ; then, clasping the staff with " both hands and resting her chin- on her wrists, she stirveyed the speaker with a strange glitter in her black eyes. Meantime, the little maid called Joan answered the would-be prophetess. " Come must, come will," she said, sententiously. " There is at least this comfort,, the Emperor does not want all ; each man takes his chance ; and the lots are in God's hands, after all" " And one can light a candle up s-t Notre Dame de la Garde," said the other. " There is hope yet, and to blame the Emperor is not fair." 1 She was a young mother, and all her children were little fledgelings, who had but lately left the nest of her enfolding arms. So what cared she ? Her husband was fishing on the cod-banks of Newfound- land, and all her brood was safe. ^ "I cried when our poor Antonin died in the fall of the leaf," said a girl who had not yet spoken, and who was quietly filling the crock of the old woman who had last arrived. " I cried' then ; but now I do not care, if God has taken him instead of the conscription." A pathelic murmur answered her. The old woman stood still, leaning on her staff, as if fascinated. " For our part, we are safe," cried Joan ; " I have only one' brother, and the Emperor does not take the only sons," 4 igo THE SHADOW OF THE SWQRD Marcelle, who was slowly retreating, turned sharply at this statement.. ' "It is a good thing," she cried, with a scornful laugh, "to have three ftdl-gfoWn brothers, left, and ilone of them cowairds. Oiie of mine, at least, will look upon the Emperor. Would I were a man that I migljtgo!" One or two girls echoed the sentiment : it is so easy to be courageous when one is in no personal peril. "But as fqr your only sons," she continued, "the Emperor has changed all that this time. Every strong 'man will take his chance-*-all except the blind and the poor idiots will have to go if 'tis the Emperor's will. What then ? Vive, V Empereur !" Not a voice echoed her ; the women surveyed her in grim silence, and made signs to each other. ■ Only the infirm old creature leaning on her staff uttere'd a feeble wail. Hobbling over to Marcelle, she clutched her arm. " That is false, Marcelle Derval !" " What is, false, Mother Goi'on ?" " That the only sons will be drawn. That is what the sergeant says, but it is false." " You are right. Mother Goron," sympathetically murmured several voices; and angry faces crowded round Marcelle. The old woman trembled like an aspen leaf, and her thin yoice piped despairingly-^ "Ah, God, it cannot be true. The sergeant says that no one will be exempt — no one at all, but it cannot be true. I have talked to the sergeant, and te says the Emperor must have men — ^thousands, millions-^ soon! It is to cut the throats of the Germans, and that is just> But the Emperor shall not have my boy. I have prayed that the Emperor might have victories ;' while he left me my boy, I say,,! have prayed for the Emperor every night. The others are dead— they died young— ^and I have only Jan." AT THE FOUNTAIN 91 Marcelle was touched, and laid her hand softly on those of the old woman, " Have no fdar, Mother. Goron !" she said. " The sergeant knows all that— ^nd that you have no one but Jan. He will not let him be put down in the lists, and even if his name is drawn, he would not suffer him to go." "My curse upon them all !" cried the old crone madly. " My Jan is tall and strong, and they always draw the strong and the tall. Ah, they are cunning ; they cheat in the drawing, and take the best. And the Emperor is making ready once more ! But he shall not. have my Jan : as God is in Heaven he shall not have my J^n!" With a look of pity, Marcelle departed, walking slowly up the beach in the light of the moon, which had now groWn brighter, and was lying like silver on the sands and on the sea. As she reached the shadow of the village, a dark figure joined her, and a low voice murmured her name. ' , " Marcelle !" " Rohan !" , - There was a silent kiss in the mo&nlight, and then Rohan lifted up his hands to take the pitchei: of water. " Let me carry it for you — it is heavy !" " No, it is quite light !" He persisted, but she would not suffer him to release her of her burthen ; so he followed quietly at her side. " You are lite at the Fountain, Marcelle. The tide has turned." "Yes." That was all they said till they were near the Cor- poral's door. Rohein was unusually gloomy and taci- turn, but to Marcelle there was a delicious pleasure in this silent companionship. " Will you not come ia ?" she said, setting down her pitcher. 92 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD The street was empty, and ttey were quite alone. "Not to-nightj" answered Rohan. He had both her hands now, and was drawing her face quietly to his. All at once she drew back, laugh- ing, and said^r " After all, then, the news is true !" " What news ?" he asked, kissing her. "There will be more war. The Emperor is mad against the Germans." It was as if the lips of a corpse had been put to his ; he drew back shivering. " What is the matter ?" she asked softly. " It is nothing ; only the night is cold. And so there will be more war? Well, that is old news at the best." ' He was trying hard to conquer the emotion that was fast mastering him ; and his voice did not tremble. All at once, and absolutely for the first time, it flashed upon the girl, looking in his face, that this man, her lover, might be called>among the-^rest. A sharp pain ran through her heart. " Ah, Rohan," she said, self-ireproachfully, ^' I had forgotten^-I did not think-^the only sons will be drawn too !" Rohan laughed. The laugh had fierceness in it, which Mafcelle, in her own emofion, scarcely noticed. " What then ?" he asked. The maid hung her head, still with both her hands clasped in his, aiid answered, using for the first time that night the endearing second personal pronoun — "K-adthoul" There was a pause. Rohan shivered and did not reply. Presently the girl, coming close to him and putting both , her arfns around his neck, so that he could feel her heart beating against his own, kissed him passionately on the lips of her own accord. " My Rohan ! my brave Rohan ! It is true ; thy name is down, and may be drawn, and if so, thou wilt AT THE FOUNTAIN 93 leave m& — thou wilt go away to serve the great Emperor, and to fight for France. I will not speak- falsely — I am praying that thou mayst not go ; but if thou goest, I will not cry — I will be brave. It is hard to part with one's best beloved — ah yes, it is hard ; but it is for the Emperor's sake — and, for that what would we not do ? , If it is- his will and God's, I will not be sorry. Nay, then, I will be proud !" She passed her hands across her eyes, which were moist with tears. Just then a voice from the Corporal's threshold cried loudly — " Marcelle !" Kissing her lover quickly once again, Marcelle catight up her pitcher and hurried rapidly away, leaving Rohan standing silent in the shadow of the street. He had not answered her, nor interrupted her ; he was too amazed, too sick of heart. Her very kiss had seemed terrible to him. He felt now, for the first time, how, far their feelings ran apart : how their souls prayed asunder, like worshippers who adore different gods. And with all this the love within him rose wave by wavp, ever stronger and stronger, till, between its rapturous excess and the new terror that was pursuing him, he seemed as a man gone mad. Nevertheless, as he walked in the 'moonlight hour after hour that night, sometimes conjuring up the ' beloved face again and feeling the passionate embrace, sometimes shuddering as he remembered all the fierce bigdtry and adoration of the , heart he had pressed against his own, he more than once raised his hands toSHeaven and cried silently — ■ " I have sworn it, O my God ! Never, never J" 94 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD CHAPTER XI THE RED ANGEL "For I will pass through the land of Egypt this night, and will smite all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast ; and against all the • gods of Egypt I will execute judgment : I am the Lord ! And the blood shall be for a token upon the houses where v. my people are !" ' So whispered Jehovah in the ears of Moses and Aaron, in [Egypt long ago, and the passover lambs were slaiui and th^ Angel of the Lord passed over the houses where the blood was set as a token, and the Lord's chosen were saved, 'and all the hosts of the Lord went out from the land of Egypt- So was it in Egypt, long ago, and there was safety at least for those the Lord loved. So was it not in France at the opening of this century, for the Lord was silent afar, and there were no Moses and Aaron to lead His beloved out of the wicked land. And instead of God's passover and the blood of the Lamb upon the dwellings of the people, there was a great darkness, and blood indeed upon the houses, but hot of lambs; for on almost every threshold there gleamed a crimson tokeuj, not God's token but Cain's : , — a tok^n, not of deliverance, but of doom. As a spent storm flies across the earth, Napoleon had hastened from Moscow to Paris, little daunted by the loss of 500,000 men, little heedful of the cries and tears of innumerable widows and orphan children. How had he been greeted by the people of his Empire ? With curses and groans, with passionate prayers and appeals ? On thje contrary, with blessings and accla- mations. The cities of his Empire— ^Rome, Florence,. Milan, Hamburg, Mayenqe, Amsterdam — put their THE RED ANGEL 95 smartest rdiment oil, and wore lilies in their hair. The public officials flocked in to offer their felicita- tions. " What is life," cried the Prefect of Paris, "in comparison with the immense interests which rest on the sacred head of the heir to the Empire ?" " Reason," cried M. de Fpntagnes, grand-master of the Imperial University — " Reason pauses before the mystery of power and obedience, and abaildons all inquiry to that religion which made the' persons of Kings sacred, after the image of God Himself !" To this tune, and with even mo^e hideous flourishes, danced, raved, and blasphemed the scented arch-priests of the imperial Baal. And meantime the heavens .opened and buried the Grand Army, deeper and deeper under the siledt snows ; and in every home there was an empty place, in every house an, aching heart ; and from every ruined home thete went up a bitter cry — " We beseech thee to hear us, O Lord!" But the lord mednt by those who cried was not Jehovahj noi: the All-unseen and All-mSrciful, nor any God of the cold heavena whence these snows came covering those de^d. The lord of the broken heart was ■ Napoleon, who usurped the Divine seat, and whispered his awful fiat across a desolated world. " We beseech thee to hear Us, O Lord !" He brooded in the piidst of his city, and his ejres surveyed the silent earth. ' As a spider in the he^rt ot its web, he lay and waited in the heart of his city. The creature whom Paris had borne in those travails ■ysrhich shook the world, the child of the Revolution which began with the cry of liberated souls and ended with the clang of souls in chains, the soldier fashioned out of fire, the King-destroyer and King-liberator, was now known veritably for what he was-^Avatar, arid lord of Europe, master and dictator of the earth. What wonder if madmen in their frenzy fell praying iq hi& presence, as to very God ? 96 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD " We beseech thee to hear us, O Lord !" If he heard, he smiled. If he understood, he smiled also. But we may b,elieve, indeed, that he neither understood nor heard. An Avatar cannot understand, for he has no wisdpm ; he cannot hear, for he has no ears. He has neither eyes, nor understanding, heart, nor ears. He looks not upward, for he cannot con- ceive of God ; he gazes not downward, for he cannot perceive humanity. Blind, deaf, irrational, pitiless, terrible, he sits as ,God — an earth-god, deadly, and born to die. We shall be answered here that Napoleon was what strange speakers and writers of all times have called a Great Man; that, being such, he must have been supremely hutnan, as indeed many of his utterances and doings seem to.show. The explanation is simple. Great men of a certain sort are great through their very negation of ordinary human qualities. Voltaire was great because he could not revere. Roqsseau was great because he was incapable of shame. Napoleon was great because, as a sovereign, he was perfectly incapable of ' realizing the consequence of his own deeds — because, in fact, he did not possess even an ordinary share of that faculty of verification which is allotted to common men, to men who are in no respect great. It is curioHs, as illustrating this truth, that Napo- leon, when he saw suffering, pitied it. He could not bear to contemplate physical pain in any shape, and, like Goethe, he carefully avoided it. As a human being he had his humanities. As a great man, as the conqueror of Europe, he was simply an ignorant^ and irresponsible Force, without eyes or ears, or heart or understanding, an automaton moved by a blind and , pitiless will to dark designs and ever fatal ends. They were not far wrong, therefore, though they expressed the truth in an image, who pictured him as ever attended in secret by a certain Man in Red, his THE RED ANGEL 97 familiar, or kukos Sal/xaiv. This secret familiar, how- ever, was his own miraculous invention. Napoleon, indeed, was the Frankenstein of the War-monster which he had himself created, and which, from the hour of his creation, never suffered him to sleep in peace. He Inigjit be as God to the people ; to this Monster he was a slave. "Thou hast created me out pi chaos^feed me : my food is human lifei Thou hast conjured me out of the mighty democratic elements — clothe me: my raiment shall be woven by fatherless children. Thou hast fashioned me and fed me, and clothed me in God's name — find me a Bride, that my race may increase, and inhabit the earth." And the name of the Bride was Death. " We beseech thee to hear us, O Lord !" Perchance, indeed, he might have heard, perchance he did hear, and hesitated. But the Monster con- tinued, " Quick ! more food, for I am hungry ; more raiment, for I walk na,ked in rags ; and another Bride, for she you g^ve me is too cold. Deny me, and I will devour thee : thee and thy seed, and thine Empire, and thy hopes for evermore." So the Emperor cried, in this dark year of 1813, "Peace, Monster ! and I will do thy behest ;" and leaving the Saifmv in the darkness of his secret chamber, he passed smiling forth, aniid the worship of his creatures, and flowers were strewn beneath his feet, while music filled his ears. More food was ready — more raiment was being woven. Another ghastly Bride was soon prepared; and the name of this Bride was Slaughter, youngest . born of three sisters, whose other names were Famine and Fire. So Napoleon returned to the Monster and cried unto him, " Be thou my Red Angel, speeding across the land in the darkness of the night; and as tjiou goest set on each door a crimson mark; and whatsoever 98 THE SHADOW OF TH^E SWORD house thou markfestishall yield up its best beloved to thee and thy Bride. For I am Napoleon!- And the blood shall be, as a tolsen upon the houses where our victims are !" " We beseech thee to hear us, O Lord !" The -cry went up, but to What avail ? The Evil Angel had flown across the earth, and at dawn the crimson signs were on the doors. And the number of the newly chosen children of France was two hundred thousand and ten thousand ; and at his call they answered, each in his dwelling; and no passover lambs were slain, but each one of .the tv^ro hundred thousand and ten thousand presented himself as a lamb for the sacrifice, ere tlje hosts of Napoleon went out anew from the land of France. CHAPTER XII CORPORAL DERVAL HARANGUES THE CONSCRIPTS Those spring days were bright at Kromlaix ; fish were plentiful, and the; people had never known a more promising time. The air was full of sweetness, the heavens werif blue and peaceful, the sea like a mirror./ Yet the shadow was creeping nearer, and the dreaded hour of the Drawing of Lots. was close at band. I't was now known for certain that Napoleon had raised up his fatal hand, making the sighal of the Conscription. Previous to this, the hundred cohorts cSf the National Guards — a Sort of militia, enrolled under the declara- tion that they were never on any pretence to cross the frontier — had been turned injo regular troops of the ' line ; while the sailors and marines of the French fle^t „ had been gathered in from the sek, and froin the sea- ports and villages which they occupied, and turned, into corps of artillery. Then to crown all 'came tha DERVAL AND THE CONSCRIPTS 99 decree of the Senate granting to the Emperor the anticipation of the Conscription of 1814 — a force of some two hundred thousand raw recruits, which, united to the marines and to the youths of the National Guards would comprise a new army of at least 349,000 men. There was much public ;ioise and jubilation, much bustling of functionaries and rejoicings of corporations, but by the fireside there was silence and a great dread.. It was soon made known far and near that, owing to the great national losses and the immense cirain on the lives of the population during the last catnpaigns, the old pleas of exemption from service were to be disallowed. Only sons were to take their chance with the rest. A rigorous inspection would follow the ballot, and few indeed would escape on the score of deformity or bodily infirmity. Every conscript who drew a fatal" number would have to go. As to pur- chasing a substitute, that would be out of the question. One mercy was afforded to the people, that of imrnediate relief from the agony of suspense. The ballot was to take place at once, in the little n'eighr bouring town of St. Gurlott. The morning of the fatal day came soon, and came with blue skies, white clouds, and the softest of winds upon the sea. , ' As the sun slowly rose, colouring all the ocean to delicate rose and burning bright^ on the little village, a head in a red nightcap was thrust out of the street door of Cgrporal Ewen's house, and the eyes of the Corporal himself looked with an approving twinkle at the weather. , "Soul of St. Gildas !" he muttered to hirnself ; "it is a good* omen. The morning of Austerlitz was not more sunny." Here, however, he heaved a sigh, and looked down contemptuously at his wooden leg, of which Austerhtz was the cause. Then, hobbling into the house, he proceeded with 100 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD his toilette, shaving ■ carefully, brushing Up his best semi-military clothes, polishing his red cheeks till they shone again, and chattering to himself like some invalid daw in the privacy of his cage. W^hen all his preparations were finished, he sat down, in his shirt sleeves, btefore the fire — ^which he. had already lit with his own hands^-and began to smoke his usual " pipe before breakfast." He was an early riser, and invariably the first to move about the house and light the fire. He would cook his own breakfast, too, upon occasion, with the skill of an old campaigner. Hoei and Gildas — the twins — were still, snoring in, one of the lits clos in the kitchen ; the other, just vacated by, the Corporal, was lying open. The first to descend the black wooden stairs was Marcelle. She wore her coif, and her face was very pale. The Corporal turned at her step, drew the pipe from his mouth, and as she came up and kissed him on the weather-beaten cheek, exclaimed quickly, " Thou, little one ! But where is thy mother ?" " She sleeps still, and I did not waken ' her ; it is still early." Uncle Ewen puffed rapidly, and looked at the fire. It was a ifact almost unprecedented to find the busy widow lying in bed after her daughter had risen ; but the Corporal almost guessed the truth, or some of it. Bright as the day might seem to him, to her it was a day of troublfe ; and all night long she had been weeping and thinking of her three dead sons, and praying that the good God might spare her those who remainedr " Humph !" grunted the old soldier, glancing at the sleeping twins. " They, too, are sound. Hoel ! Gildas ! It is time to rise." While Marcelle walked to the door, leaning against the doorpost and looking out into the street, the young DERVAL AND THE CONSCRIPTS loi giants rose and were soon sitting with their uncle by the fire. Presently down came Alain and Jannick, looking very cross and sleepy ; and last of all, Mother Derval herself, white as a ghost, and very silent. Meantime Marcelle stood in the street, watching the little village wake. Brighter and brighter grew the light; windows and doors were thrown open, heads were thrust out, voices were heard ; and presently a little girl passed, going to the fountain, for it was low water. The little girl wore a tight white cap, wooden shoes, and a stiff bright-coloured holiday petticoat. " How, Marrianic," cried Majrcelle; " art thou, too, going to St. Gurlott ?" , "Yes," answered Marrianic -eagerly. " I am going with mother and Uncle Maturin and my brothers. There will be great fun — as good as at the Pardons. I must run now, for mother is waiting for water." And she ran on down the street, smiling gaily and singing to herself an old Celtic song. The Conscrip- tion to her meant a holiday, and she was too young to comprehend sorrow in any shape. Marcelle sigHed. Her enthusiasm for the great cause remained, but somehow her mother's tears had troubled her, and she was thinking very sadly of her three dead brothers — and yes ! of Rohan. She was selfish enough, despite her principles, to pray that Rohan might not be taken. ^ Her first sip of Love had been so delicious, and her nature was composed of such passionate elements, that she could not bear to lose her lover so soon. The sun was fully up, ,and Kromlaix, like a great bee-hive, stood in the sunshine, with its inhabitants moving in and out. Nearly all wore their best. The white caps and coloured skirts and embroidered bodices pi the women shone gaily in the sun. The men lounged hither and thither, some in coloured cotton nightcaps, some in broad hats of felt ; many in loose breeches and sabots, but the greater number in 102 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD tight trousers, black giaiters, and rude leather shoes. Early as it was, some had already set forth inland, on the road to St. Gurlott. Re-entering the house, Marcelle found breakfast ready, her mother still stooping over the fire, the Corporal and his four nephews seated round thei table eating black bread. Each of the men had also a tin mug before hini, and on the taWe was a stone jug with cider. The Corporal was rattling his mug and ad- dressing " the Maccabees." ' ' ■ " Attention ! I drink to the Emperor !" The others joined with a certain enthusiasm, for the cider was good, and moreover ' an unusual luxury. Marcelle sat down and »begian to break a little bread, but her mother did not turn round. " Mother, mother," cried Uncle Ewen, with reproach- ful gentleness, addressing the widow, " come ! thou wilt put us out of heart. Have courage 1' See now, all the world -jvill npt'be dra^yn; and perhaps none of thine. If the worst comes to the worst, little woman, thou wilt be proiid to serve "the Emperor in his trouble, and he may send thee back what thou lovest safe and sound." The widow's answer was a deep sigh. As for the young men, they looked cheerful enoiigh. They were not sufficiently old to grieve oVer danger before it came; and besides, they all possessed a certain pug- nacity and raw courage which the enthusiasm of Uncle Ewen had alttiost jieveloped into a sentiment. ",For my part," cried Hoel, " I shall take my chance. If I go,' I go. It is in God's hands." " If the drawing is fair !" cried Gildas suddenly, scowling. The old Corporal struck his fist on the table. ■. " Soul of a' crow ! does not the Emperor see to that ! And who doubts the Emperbr ? What Hoel said was right — it is God that shuffles the numbers, and we that draw. He that God picks out should be proud. I^ERVAL AND THE CONSCRIPTS 103 Loolk at thy sister Marcelle ! Were she a man she would break her heart if she did not go." , " It is all very well to talk," said HoSlj " when one is a woman." " Bah ! then hear rne, I who am a man ?" said the Corporal, oblivious of the fact that his nephews had heard him almost too often. " This is the way to look at it, mother ! When a man's time comes, when the Angel with the white' face arrives and knocks, we must get up and let him in. It is no matter where he hides — on land or sea, here or there — he wilbbe found ; it may be to-morrow see you, it may be twenty years after ; it may be wh^n he is a babe at breast, it may be when he is 9,n old stump like me. Well, that is God's •way ! You cannot live longer by staying at home if it is God's will that you should die." "That is quite true. Uncle Ewen," said the widow,, " but " ' , . , The Corporal waved his hand with a grim smile, " Look at me, mother ! Look at thy good man's brother, little woman ! I have been a soldier — I have seen it all — I have dined on thiinder and, gunpowder, I— and yet I live. Covbleu I I live, and but for this accursed leg of a tree, as sound as any man. Have I not followed the Little Corporal to Egypt, to Italy, and across the Alps ? Was not that red work, littlp mother ? I knew him General at Cjsmone, boys, and I lived to see him crowned Eniperqr of France! — and a year after that I lost my leg ! A leg — ^^bah ! . If it had been the two legs I should have laughed, since it was for the Emperor. But, see you, I. did not die— I live ' to tell you all this. I have had buUets round me like rain, but I was never struck, Why, little mother ? Because every bullet is marked by tlie Hand you know, and, not 'a man falls but it is God's will." In this strain, talking volubly, sometimes addressing his nephews,, som.etimes turning to his sister-in-law 104 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD and Marcelle, the veteran endeavoured to inspire the household with confidence and courage. He was to a certain extent successful, and even the mother assumed a sort of cheer. Previous to that day Uncle Ewen ha:d not been idle. Stalking from door to door, wherever he was on friendly terms, stumping along in his old uniform with the cross of the Legion of Honour upon his breastj his nose in the air as if he smelt the battle afar off, his face crimson with enthusiasm, he had canvassed all Kromlaix on behalf of the Emperor. Such enthusiasm is contagious, and the young fishermen began to laugh and swagger as if the Conscription were a good jo^e — at all events, they determined not to show the white feather, ' So on this bright morning of the drawing of lots all seemed quite festal. If a quivering lip or a wet cheek was visible here and there, it was soon forgotten in the general display of rustic splendour — embroidered waistcoats, silk-sewn bodices, bright petticoats, snowy caps, ornaments of coarse silver and gold. True, many a poor mother had quietly stolen out in the early grey of dawn to kneel under the Calvary and say a prayer of entreaty toTrhe Blessed One carved in stone in its centre. But nqw grief seemed all forgotten. There was laughing and shouting as the group gathered, and more than one man had already been drinking deep. Fresh and glorious shone the sea, happy and glad seemed the village, with its black boats crowding, like a flock of cormorants, on the water's edge. But over all, dominating the scene, stood the Menhir — black, forbidding, like the imperial Idol looking down upon his creatures. Out sallied the Corporal at the head of his four nephews. By his side walked Marcelle, very pale, but dressed in colours bright as May, with a coif like snow, its DERVAL AND THE CONSqRIPTS 105 lappets reaching to her waist, and her feet clad in pretty shoes with buckles. Then came a strain of wild music ; for Jannick carried his biniou — or bagpipe — tricked out with long streamers of a dozen colours, and Alain was blowing into his tin whistle. " Forward !" cried Uncle Ewen. There was a cheer in the street, and the party was soon joined by many young men, friends" of the "Maccabees," Among them came a thin, sinister- looking young fisherman, whom the Corporal greeted by name. ''. Good morrow, Mikel Grallon !" Mikel answered quietly, and, joined the party, thrusting himself as close as possible to Marcelle, who noticed his approach with courteous indifference. Her thoughts were elsewhere. She was looking up and down ' the street for one tall figure ; but it was not there. The Cojporal, too, was on the qui vive. " He is late," he muttered. " Pest on him, to lie a-bed on such a day as this !" "For whom are you looking ?" asked Mikel Grallon, as they all paused close to the old cabaret, which was distinguished by the bunch of withered mistletoe hung over the door. " For another sheep of my flock," returned Uncle Ewen. "His name is down m the list, yet he delays." Grallon smiled significantly. " If you mean Rohan Gwenfern, I fear he will not come. I met him yesternight, and he told me he should 'be too busy to go — that thou or another might draw in his name." The Corporal stood aghast. The very announce- ment seemed blasphemous. " Too busy " to obey the summons of the Enfperor ! "Too busy " to perform his duty like a man on that day of all days ! Soul of _ a crow ! it was stupefying. But the Corporal shook his head, and would not . believe it. io6 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD " By the bones of the blessed St. Gildas !" he cried, naming again the patron saint often invoked by his brbther's wife, " it is unheard of— it is not true, Mikel Grallon. If Rohan said that, he was mocking at thee. I see it plain, boys ! The rascal has stolen a march upon us and hurried on to the town to be first among the fun. Forward 1 we shall find him there/' ' Alain and Jannick played loudly, and the whole party turned again up the street. Maircelle said nothing then, but she remembered that, some few nights before, Rohan had hinted that he might be absent. "But. if I am," he added, "let thou or our uncle draw for me in my name ; it matters little, for the luck will be- the same ; and if the lot is against me, I shall be as conteflt as if I had draWn myself." He had said this in the twilight, and his voice was firm ; and, fortuhately or unfortunately, she had not seen the terrible expression on his face. As they left the village and hastened along the roiad they found themselves with many other groups going the same way— women young and old, aged tn6n, yoting fishermeuj and even little boys and girls. As they passed the church and Calvary, Alain and Jaimick- ceased to play, the Corporal took oif his hat, and Marcelle and her brothers knelt ^down for a tnomfent. ''\ The little cuyi was standing at the church door^ with his vicaire (or curate), a spectral young man fresh from college. Father RoUand stretched out his plump hands in blessing, and they hurried on. The town of St. Gurlott lay a good twelve English miles away, in the middle of a fertile! valley, but the road to it was through a waste country of heather and enormous granite rocks, most dreary to the eye." It was an old cart-road well worn in between banks of heather and thyme, amid which glimmered the little yellow stars of tormentil. If one lark sang in the hot blue air all around them, there sang a thousand ! THE. DRAWING OF LOTS. "ONE I" 167 CHAPTER Xni THE DRAWING OF LOTS. " ONE !" Despite his wooden leg, Uncle Ewen pegged forward gallantly, but after a few miles he was glad enough to take a seat in a rude cart which was jogging along, full of brightly dressed girls, atid drawn by two little fat oxen. Marcelle, too, found a seat, while the musi- cians Alain and Jannick, with Hoel, Hildas, and the rest, followed behind. It was very merry indeed ! Everywhere along the rpad Marcelle looked for her lover, but he was nowhere to be seen — nor, indeed, the maiden thought to herself, any man fit to be his peer. They had travelled along drowsily for some miles more, and were not far from ^ the town— which was now visible in the sunlight before them— when Mar- celle beheld old Mother Goron clinging to the arm of her son — a powerful-looking; youth very plainly attired. As they came up, he begged a seat in the cart for his mother, who' seemed sperit with fatigue ; but as they lifted, her up, not ungently, she fainted away. When she recovered she did not speak a word, but sat staring like one in a dream. She was very weak and feeble, and the mental anxiety and bodily fatigue had been too much for her. Her son walked close by the cart's side, for she still held his hand firmly, and would not let it go. At last they crossed a rude bridge of wood and entered the district town. It was the quaintest of little old towns, with odd little houses of granite opening on the narrow streets, and old-fashioned churches everywhere. Every street was crowded, and every church was full. In the market- place, which they soon reached, carts stood full of fresh arrivals, wooden stalls were erected for the sale of refreshments, crowds of men and women were jost- io8 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD ling together, and all sort^ of scenes were being enacted — from the wailing group surrounding some poor woman whose son had drawn a fatal number, down to the laughing skirmish of boisterous farm girls with their rude admirers. In the corner of the square stood a miserable stone building, in front of which strutted the military offi- cialsj in their ridiculous fine plumage. This was the Town Hall, within which the drawing had already commenced. It must be admitted that few signs of discontentment or grief appeared on the surface. Everything had bepn done to impart to the affair the appearance of a gala. ' Flags were hung out from many of the house- roofs, music was heard on all sides, and everywhere old soldiers and agents of the Government were cir- culating among the peasantry, treating, chatting, telling stories of the glory of the Empire. Many of the young men who were to take their chance that day were hopelessly intoxicated; a wrestling match had begun, here and there, and blows were given and taken. Of all the faces gathered there, only those of the elder women seemed utterly despairing. Alighting from his cart and heading 'his little pro- cession. Uncle Ewen soon made his >sray to the Town Hall. Marcelle clung to his arm nervously, and still looked on every side for Rohan. Corporal Derval was well known, and way was soon made for him. The officials, always instructed to treat disabled veterans of the Empire with respiect, greeted him 'familiarly, and smiled at his attendaiit band. If his influence had failed, Marcelle's pretty face would have conquered^— for a pretty maid is always a power, and most of all to the heart of a military Jean Crapaud. " Uncle," she whispered, as she crossed the threshold under the admiring gaze of the " cocked hats, ' " uncle, Rohan is not here. ' THE DRAWING OF LOTS. "ONE!" 109 " Malediction !" cried the old Corporal. " But per- haps he is within !" As he entered the sacred precincts he took off his hat. Squeezing his way, and drawing Marcelle behind him, he was soon in the body of the hall. It looked very grand and imposing. At the upper end of the hall, before a large table on which stood the fatal ballot-box,* sat the mayor — a grim, consequential little man — with the other mag- nates of the town, and an officer of the line. The mayor had a military look, and wore a blue scarf decorated with several orders. Behind him stood a file of gendarm'es, all attention. At one end of the table sat a clerk with a large open book, ready to register against each name as it occurred the numbers as they were drawn ; and at the other end stood bareheaded a grizzly sergeant of the Grand Army, ready to read the number aloud for the edification of the public. Each village or hamlet came separately in alpha- betical order. As the name of each -was proclaimed, aloud, those men of the village whose names were on the list came forward personally or by deputy and drew. After this drawing, there was still one solitary chance of, escape, A week or so later would come the medical examination, when those conscripts who were disqualified would be exchanged for those whose names came next by number. When the total number from each district had been selected, the Conscription would be over, and the conscripts would march. Now, the number of men demanded from each hamlet was fixed ; so each that came to draw knew the odds against him. From Kromlaix the Emperor demanded five and twenty conscripts, and therefore he who drew any number up to five and twenty was chosen, while those who drew above that number were * In many parts of Brittany the ballot was more primitive, and ' the tickets were enclosed in a simple hat. no THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD free, always providing the whole five and twenty were pronotinced " fit for service." , ' The men of Kromlaix had not long to wait before their turn came. The neighbouring hamlet of Goch- loan was being disposed of, and as each name was read, sad or glad comments came from the audience. Uncle Ewen surveyed the men critically, as they came up one by one, while, Marcelle still looked everywhere for Rohan Gwenfern. . At last the officer at the table called out— " Kromlaix." The men of Kromlaix crowded up towards the table, while the sergeant rapidly read over the names, in- cluding those of Marcelle's brothers, Mikel Grallon, Jan Goron, and Rohan Gwenfern, among a Ust of others. The crowd -near the Corporal trernbled, and those whose names took alphabetical precedence were shuffled to the front. , But the old Corporal kept his groimd, and stood, with Mai^celle beside him and his nephews close behind him, in the very front row. Now, as we have said. Uncle Ewen was a well- known character, and so the sergeant whispered to the officer, and the officer, to the maire, and then all three smiled. " Good'day, Corporal !" said the maire, nodding. He knew his cue well, and he was_ not the man to overlook or snub one of Napoleon's veterans. The Co; poral saluted, and reddened with pride as he looked round on his party. "You are welcome," said the maire SLgain, "and I see you bring us an old sOldier'4 best gift— a nosegay of brave lads for the Empetor, But who is that pretty girl at your side ? Surely she is not upon- the lists ?" . At this all laughed, and Marcelle blushed, while the Corporal explained : " She is my niece, m'sieu, and these are her brothers, whose names are down." The magnate nodded, and the business proceeded. THE DRAWING OF LOTS. "ONE!" iii . -A Name after name was called out, and number after number read aloud, while each man came back from the. table and rejoined his friends. Many canle back quite merry, and, strange to say, some . of those who : had drawn ' fatal numbers — those under twenty-five — laughed loudest, from sheer indifference or simple despair. ' " Alain Derval !" Forward stepped Alain, having handed over his whistle to Jannick. He saluted the authorities,, and thrust his hatid rapidly into the ballot-box, while Uncle Ewen, watching intently, drew himself up to his full height, and set himself still femer upon his legs. Alain drew out his paper, read it rapidly, and with- out moving a rduscle of his countenance, handed it to the sergeant. ' " Alain Derval — one hundred and seventy-three!" Alain came back with real or assumed disappoint- ment on his face. , ^' Just my luck," he -lyhispered to Marcelle ; " I would rather have been drawn !" « Gildas Derval !" The gigantic twin of that name stepped forward, while those at the table surveyed his proportions with admiration. " What a man !" whispered the maire to his neigh- ' hour. The veteran watched with a grim smile, while Gildas phlegmatically drew his number^ and read it quietly. Having read it, he scowled, and did not seem well pleased; but he shrugged his shoulders as he handed it to the Sergeant. , . " Gildas Derval — sixteen !" " Vive I'Emperetfrl" said the Corpprali while Marcelle uttered a little cry. Gildas came slouching tack, and when the Corporal shook him by the hand evinced enthusiasm. " But 1 don't care," he said, " if they draw Hoel also." ,112 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD "HoelDerval!" The second twin strode out, and, as if eager to know his fate, dipped quickly into the box. A inoment afterwards the Sergeant cried : " Hoel Derval — twenty-seven !" The Cprporal started. Marcelle drew a deep breath. Hoel himself looked dumfounded. Twenty-seven was all very well if the whole previous twenty-five passed the medical inspection ; but that was scarcely possible. So Hoel came back and jbined Gildas with a nervous grin. , There was a slight pause here, the clerks writing busily in their books ; and Marcelle whispered eagerly to her uncle : " Uncle Ewen ! it is very strange, but Rohan is not here. What is to be done ? He will be blamed, and perhaps punished." The Corporal paused. " There is, but one way ! — I will draw for him !" , Marcelle looked down for a moment, then said quickly, " No, let me I He made me promise to do so if he did not come." " Corbleu /" cried the Corporal. " But they will lai^gh " " Hush !" said Marcelle. Business was brisk again, and the Sergeant read out loudly : "Jannick Goron!" Goron stepped forward from the crowd, while his infirm mother, white as death, was, held forcibly but kindly back. He was very pale, and hishand trembled ever so slightly. He drew forth his paper, and with- out o{>ening it, was about, in his nervousness, to hand it to the Sergeant. " Read it first !" the Sergeant said. The man, with one pathetic glance at his mother, opened it, and read in a low voice : "Two hundred!" THE DRAWING OF LOTS, "ONE I" 113 I " Jan Goron — two hundred I" said the stentorian tones. Through a blinding rnist of joyful tears Goron sti;ode back to his mother, who had fainted away at the good news. Not a soul there begrudged the loving and dutiful son his good luck. "MikelGrallon!" The fisherman came forward neryously, cap in hand. He was very white, and his little fox's eyes twinkled with dread. He bowed somewhat servilely to the authorities, and stood hesitating. 1" Draw, my man !" Grallon had drawn before, and had always bfeen lucky ; but this did not lessen his present alarm. " Mikel Grallon — ninety-nine !" Grallon slipped bacjc to the crowd, and looked delightedly at Marcelle, as if seeking her sympathy in his good fortune. But Marcelle was deathly pale, and wjth her eyes fixed intently on the box, was praying to herself. There was another pause ; then, loud and distinct, the name — " Rohan Gwenfern !" No one stirred. The Corporal looked at his niece, she at him. " Rohan Gwenfern !" repeated the voice. " Where is the man ?" asked the maive, pausing and frowning. The Corporal stepped forward with Marcelle. " My nephew is not here, m'sieu : he is indisposed ; but either I or rtiy niece will draw in his name." " Wh^t sayest thou, little one ?" said the maire. " His'sweetheart perhaps ?" " I am his cousin," said Marcelle simply. " And cousin in good French, little one, means often swee'theart too ! Well, thou shalt draw for him, and bring him luck !" All the grim officials looked on gracioiasly as 114 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD Marcelle put her pretty' hand into the box. She let it stay there so long that the officers smiled. She was still praying. " Come !" said the officer, stroking his mbustache and nodding encouragingly. ,- She drew forth a , paper, and handed it to the Corporal, who opened it, read it with a stare, and uttered his usual oath, " Read, Corporal !" said the officer, while Marcelle looked wildly at her uncle. "It is incredible !" cried Uncle Ewen, with another astonished st^re. " One !" , He handed the paper over. " Rohan Gwenfern — one !" shouted the Sergeant, while Marcelle clung to her uncle and hid her face upon bis arm. CHAPTER XIV ' A DAY AT SEA Had the Corporal and his'partyj as they paused in the centre of Kromlaix on their way to St. Gurlott, turned their eyes oceanwaM and carefully searched thewatefj they might have perceived far out to sea a black speek^ now visible, -now hidden in the deep troiigh of the waves. This black speck was a boat^a small fishing-! boat with a red lug-sail, which, with the peak set, and the rudder fastened to leeward, rocked to and fro softly, now " lying-to " admiri^blyj again falling off and running along with the calm breath of the morning i breeze. In the stem sat a man, restless-eyed yet plunged in thought; sometimes looking eagerly towards the shore, where the cold morning light glimmered along the crags and on the sparkling rotifs of the village ; at others turning his gaze wistfully seaward, where far A DAY' AT SEA 115 away on the dim horizon line some white-sailed argoSy of England might be/dimly seen creeping along to the west. , T Rohari Gwenfern had risen before light, and launch- ing the little craft, had urged it, witl^ sail and oar, out to sea, until, at a distance of several miles from land, witli the water ' surrounding him on every side, he could brea-the freely and feel comparatively secure. Rocking thus, he saw the village awaken — marked the grey smoke gradually ari^e to heaven — saw bright movements hpre and there as of folk astir — and caught faintly the sound of music, mingled with fat-off inland cries. He had seen such a picture often, but never with such emotions as this day ; he had watched before with a sweet iq difference, but now he gaze4 with a sickening fascination. His hair was wild around a face pale with many sleepless nights ; his eyes bloodshot, his brows con- tracted; but nothing could destroy or even mar the sup6rt) beauty of the man. The broad 1 dreamy brow, the bVooding eyes, "the firm yet mobile smile, were all there!, preserving the leonine likeness. There was no ferocity in his look, but something even more dangerous — ^the strength of an unconquerable will. Yet the man shivered as if with fear, and looked all round him as if expecting to see some unearthly pursuer upspring from the waves ; and laughed to hini- self, sometimes almost hysterically ; and wore such a weary, waiting, listening expectant look, as poor hunted ■ beasts wear when they catch from far away the murmur of voices and the sound of coming feet. , Well, he had thought it all over, again and yet again, and the more- he had thpught, the more his soul had arisen in determination and in idread. JJe knew his name was at last on the lists of the Con- scription; that the fatal day had broken, and that before night he would hear his doom ; and he knew ii6 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD also that his part was chosen — if the worst happened, as he feared, resistance to the death. He felt with what a power he would be contending. That his country, his fellow-villagers, his own relar tions, even, perhaps Marcelle, would be against hirn ; but this -did not shake his resolve "in the least. He would not Serve the Monster of his abhorrence: he would rather die. ,It would be most tedious and difficult to describe the long series of thoughts and emotions which had awakened in Rohan Gwenfern's heart his horror and dread of public War ; we can do no more than glance again rapidly at the history of his mind. To begin^ with, he was a man whose life had been very solitary, and in wtiom solitude, instead of , developing morbid introspections, had strengthened the natural instincts of pity and affection. Combined with his extraordinary enjoyment of physical freedom, he possessed a unique sympathy with an attraction for things which were free likfe himself. He hated bloodshed in any form, and- his daily creed was peace — peace to the good God over- head^ to man and woman, to the gentlp birds that build their nests in the crags, to the black seals that came near to him in the caves and looked at him with human eyes. His immense physical strehgth had never been exerted for any evil, and even at the inland wrestling matches. — whither he had sometimes . gone with his gigantic cousins— ^he had never fought brutally or cruelly. That he rejoiced in his strength is unques- tionable ; but he had the affections of a man, as well as the magnanimity of powerful animals. Courage of a certain sort he did not lack ; that we have shown already. He had no equal in darings among the cliffs or upon the sea ; and his constant explorations, which made him familiar with every secret of that craggy coast, showed even a more adventurous spirit. Yet, the fact is not to be denied, the mere dread of being drawn for the Conscription A DAY AT SEA 117 paralyzed him with fear — filled his heart with the sick horror cowards feel — seemed to touch the inmost springs of his enormous strength, and make him tremble to the very sdul. Prejudices, passions, and affections such as Rohan Gwenfern felt do not grow naturally in a peasant's breast. Fine as the man was by nature, he would never have felt the subtleties of either love or terror, the ecstasies of either freedom or fear, if he had never known Master Arfoll. Fresh from the teachings of the poor distracted cwr&. Father Holland's predecessor, Rohan had encountered this othfer instructor, this peripatetic of the fields and crags. Many a strange lesson had he received secretly while sitting under some lonely dolmen, or in some bright nook on the shore. He had heard the low cadences of the Psalms mingle with strange tales of the Time of Terror, and had followed in his mind, perhaps during the same hour, the mystery of the birth of Jesus and the horror of the death of Marat. It was thus that. Master Arfoll sowed his seeds. For the most part they fell on barren soil— da soulless natures that could not comprehend. Some- times, and notably in this instance, they bore fruit that astonished the sower ; for soon Rohan's abomination of tyranny and bloodshed equalled that of ArfoU him- self, and in the end his horror of the Napoleonic Phantom became as deep as that of any living man. And the more that Rohan's thoughts grew, the more food they received. As in a glass darkly, he got bloody glimpses of the history of society : — he saw the white luminous feet of a Redeemer passing over the waters of a world yet unredeemed ; he heard the terrible 'persiflage of Voltaire and the emotional Deism of Rousseau, translated for him by his teacher into pleasant Brezonec ; he was taught to comprehend the sins of Kings and the righteousness of Revolutions ; he learned to loathe Robespierre and to love Lafayette. rr8 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD This influence from this world without deepened instead of lessening his enthusiasm , of physical freedotn. Suspended from the highest Kromlaix crag, swimming in the darkest undefcaYern where the seals breed, \ rocking on the waters, he enjoyed his liberty the more because he learned that it was unique. He pictured himself vistas of enslaved generations led by mad and cruel leaders to misery and death, and he thanked the good God who made him a widow's pnly son. Slo'w^ly, year by year, under Master ArfoU's occas- ional instructions, he became Conscious that Humanity, in the failure of the Fretich Revolution, had lost the mightiest of its chances; that instead of the holy- Goddess Fireedom, a mighty Force was dominating France and all the world. With his own eyes, year by year, he had seen the Angel of the Conscription passing over Kromlaix and marking the doors with blood for a sign ; with his own ears, year after year, he had heard the widows wail and the children weep ; with his own soul and his own reason, still more strongly as every year advanced, he had appraised 'the ruling Force as the Abominable, and -had prayed, while yet rejoicing in his strength and freedom, for the martyrs of the Consulate and Empire. And now perhaps his turn had come ! What mighty, what loving arms are those of the great calm sea! What a soft beating is this of its solenin heart, as it lifts us in its arms and rocks us on its breast ! The stormy spirit of Rohan grew hushed, as he rose and fell in the stillness of the morning light. The freedom of the waters was with him, and he breathed now securely. As a floating seagull, ■ now hidden, now visible, the boat rose and fell on the great smooth waves. He heard the tinkling of the chapel bell, he saw the village astir, he caught the hum of music. Then all was stilL , A DAY AT SEA iig As the hours rolled on, the sea-breeze rose a little, and he let the boat run close to the wind. His eye sparkled and his^ sense of freedom increased. He almost forgot his fear in the delight of the rapid motion. Midday came, and still he was upon the water. By this time he had reached a great patch of glassy calm,* covered with black masses of guillemots and shear- waters, over which the great gulls sailed and the small terns hovered and screamed. As the boat crept in among them, no bird was disturbed ; he might almost have reached them with his hand. He leant over the boat's side, and suddenly, like a lightning flash, he saw the innumerable legions of the herring pass, followed closely by the dark shadows' of the predatory fishes, firom the lesser dog-fish to the non-tropical shark. There was a tremor and a trouble of life all below him; above him and around him, the tremor and trouble too; As he hung over and gazed, sick fancies possessed hiiji. In the numberless creatures of the ocean he seemed to see ii^e passing of great armies, pursued by mighty legions mad with blood. The mystery, and the horror of the Deep troubled him, and he threw up his face to the sunlight. And the predatory birds .were killing and feeding, the porpoises were rolling over and over in slow pursuit of food, and half a mile off, a bottle-nosed whale rose, spouted, and sunk. Before now, it had all appeared most beautiful and pleasant ; now it seemed yery cruel and dreadful. He was face to face with th^ lawofjlife, that one thing should prey upon another ; andThefe, in the deepness of his own personal dread, he realized almost for the first time the quiet cruelty of Nature. Calmer thoughts ensued. After all, he might not be drawn, though the chances were against hiJn, and the' Conscription, he knew, had a mysterious knack of picking out the strongest men. God might be good, 120 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD and spare him yet. Then he went over in his mind the names of fellow-villagers who, like Mikel Grallon,, had escaped again, and again, though their names had been repeatedly upon the lists. He was yet perhaps: too free, and had been so recently too happy, to feel as acutely as Master Arfoll the pangs of others. His emotion was just now that of a strong animal sur- rounded, ra,ther than that of a beneficent man feeling for his fellows. It did not even occur to him that his escape would be another man's doom ; these were subtleties of sympathy he had yet to learn in sorrow. It was a day of anguish and horrible uncertainty. If he knew his fate he would be prepared, but he~could hot know it yet» He must wait and wait. He had been accustomed to go for long days, without food, and this day he neither ate nor drank. All his hunger and thirst were in his eyes, watching' the land. And lo ! as chief cynosure in the prospect, he saw the black Menhir, like some fatal and imperial form, tower- ing over Kromlaix, and warning him away from home, The day declined. A land breeze rose again, and he beat for a mile against' it, toward^ the shore ; and now the sun had declined so far that the purple shadow of the boat ran beside him on the sea, and Kromlaix wa^ glistening in the rays of the afternoon sun, and he could ' see the stone Christ standing piteous, high up on the hill. Suddenly he stared and listened, like a wild beast afraid. Then he stood up in the boat and ga^zed eagerly up the hill, where the sunlight illumined the old church and the white road at its gate. ,. He was alone ; not another boat was upon the water but his own. The whole village -seemed deserted and still. From inland, however, he had caught the sound of ' music and of human voices. Yes, they were now quite audible : they werp return- ing ; his fate was known. He shudderedf and shivered. The sounds came nearer and nearer; he recognized A DAY AT SEA 121 the pipe of the biniou and the voices of men singing the national song. He waited and waited, listening and watching, until he saw the crowd coming over the hill : conscripts marching about half-mad with wine, fishermen and villagers shouting, girls in bright -coloured "raiment running and laughing, the biniou playing, many singing. Over the hill they came, and up to -the church gate, and the little cm^ came out and blessed them, asking the news meanwhile. Rohan could see it all. He could recognize the cure's black figure among the crowd. Then they came flying downhill. His first impulse had been to land and meet them, Stirange to say, eager as he had been all day to know the day's proceedings — whether his name had been drawn at all in his absence, if so, who had drawn in his name, and whether. his number was lucky or fatal — eager as he had been, to know all this, he now shuddered to hear it. The closer the crowd came, the louder the noise grew, the more his heart sickened within him. He saw the children and old women coming out to the house doors, he heard the little village gradually growing busy, he watched the crowd from the town as they marched down nearer and nearer, he heard the murmur of many voices. Then, instead of hastening to land, he turned his boat's head round, and ran, with a free sheet, out again to sea. Night had quite fallen, and the lights of Kromlaix were twjnkling like stars on the water's edge, when Rohan Gwenfern ran his boat into the little creek below his mother's house. All was still here, though a confused murmur came from the village. He drew the boat up the shingle by means of a wooden windlass and a rope", placed there for the pur- pose, and put it safely above high-water mark. Then, 5 122 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD still keeping in the shadciw of the crags, he approached the door of his home. ' As he came nearer, a sound of voices fell upon his ears. He stopped, listening, and while doing so, he becanie conscious of dark figures congregated round the door. He hesitated for a moment ; then summon- ing up all his resolution, strode on. In another minute he found himself surrounded by an eager crowd, and as the light from the door^felP upon his face, all uttered a shout.- " Here he is at last !" cried a voice, which he recog- nized as that of Mikel Grallon. Then another, that of Gildas Derval, cried in stentorian tones : " Vive V Empereur /—axid three cheers for number one!" ;/■ CHAPTER XV If.' " THE KING OF THE CONSCRIPTS ", While the shouts still rang in his ears and the Mniou began to play up outside, Rohan pushed his way into the cottage. .. The moment he crossed the threshold he saw the kitchen was full of men and women, in the midst of ' whoTOj with his back to the fire, stood Corporal Nerval declaiming. On a form close to the fire, with her face covered with her apron and her body rocking to and fro in agony, sat the motheir, weeping silently ; and round, her gathered, some crouching at her feet, others bend- ing over her and talking volubly, several sympathizing women. _ . • The scene explained itself in one fiash, and Rohan Gwenfern knew his fate ; but pale as death,' he strode across the floor to his mother's side.' As he went be was greeted with cries articulate and "THE KING OF THE CONSCRIPTS" laij inarticulate. The Corporal ceased declaiming, the mother threw the apron off her face and reached out quivering hands to her son. , ■' Rohan I Rohan !" Scarcely looking at his mother, Rohan sternly addressed the others. " What is the matter ? What brings you all here ?" Many tongues answered him, but in the confusion few were iijtelligible. "Silence!" cried the Corporal, frowning, fiercely. " Silence all ! Listen, Rohan ! I will tell thee all that has taken pla,c&. Malediction ! these women — they make one deaf! They say I bring thee bad news ; but that is false, as I tell them. Thy name has been drawn, and thou art-to serve the Emperor — that is all!" " No, no !" cried Mother Gwenfern — " he cannot go ! If he goes I shall die 1" " Nonsense,' mother !" said the Corporal. " Thou wilt live and see him come back covered with glory. Ha, ha, boy, thou wilt make a grenadier ; the Emperor loves the tall fellows, and thou wilt soon be Corporal. Shake hands with thy cousin Gildas. He is drawn too." Gildas, who had entered by this time, approached, holding out his hand with a feeble hiccup, It was clear that he had been drinking deep, for his eyes were glazed and his legs most unsteady. Without noticing the outstretched hand, Rohan glared all round. "Is this true?" he panted. "Tell me — sorne one who is' sober !" The Corporal scowled. Jan Goron came forward quietly and put his hand on Rohan's shoulder. They were old friends and companions. " It is all over, as they say. God has been good to me and my mother, but thou art drawn." There was a general murmur gf coi^dolence from tbf.^ 124 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD old women, and a wail from Mother Gwenfern. Like one dazed, stupefied now his fate had come, Rohan stood silent. Several men flocked round him, some sympathetically, others with jests and laughter. Just then Jantiick Derval gave a comic scream with his bagpipes, and there was a loud roar of merriment, in which even the conscripts joined. " Hands away !" cried Rohan fiercely, thrusting out his arms, and adding, while the men slirank back before him, "It is false ! you are doing this to make a jest of me ! How can I be drawn ? I was not there !" The Corporal, who, like the rest, had imbibed a little,- replied, with a wink at the conscripts — "Oh yes, that is all very. well, but the Emperor is not to be done in that way, mm garz. More shame for one to be skulking in a corner when he should be standing forth like a ,man! Thank thy good fortune that thou hadst a brave uncle there to repre- sent thee and explain thy absence. It is all right ! Vive I' Empereur'.i" Rohan quivered through all his powerful frame. . " It is the wiirof God," said an old woman aside. " Thou hast drawn' in my name !" cried Rohan. Uncle Ewen nodded, but proceeded to explain. " Thou wast not there, mon garz. Thy duty called thee, but thou wast elsewhere. Well, I would have drawn for thee, but my pretty Marcelle was by, and she craved so to draw, saying thou hadst bidden her do so if thou wast away. Gorhhu ! how they smiled when the little one came forward and put her hand into the great box. She groped about for a long time — like this ! — and I thought to myself ' Parbleu I she is feeling .aboul for the lucky, number.' ' Cou/rage !' cried m'sieu le maire, and she drew it out !" "Marcelle?" " Have I not said so, mon garz I At, she is a brave little one, and brings luc)c both to thee and to the "THE KING OF THE CONSCRIPTS" 125 Emperor. Thou shouldst be proud,! Thou art at the head of all in Kromlaix ! Thou art King of the Con- scripts — and all through the little hand that drew for thee and pulled out ' number one '!" " Rohan Gwenfern — number one I" roared Gildas, mimicking the tones of the Sergeant of the lists. There was a laugh,'and Jannick again perfqrmed his ridiculous squeak on the hiniou. The dirink had circulated freely, and the conscripts, whatever their secret feelings might be, were publicly uproarious. Gathering round the door, and flocking into ' the room, they loudly called on Rohan to join them, Gildas most vehemently of all. But there was no real joy or enthusiasm, there. No woman smiled, and many wept bitterly. Suddenly the cries without increased, and intd the house flocked a \troop of young girls, singing the national hymn. At their head Marcelle. Pale with excitement, with one hectic spot burning on either cheek, she entered the chamber ; then, seeing Rohan, she paused suddenly, and looked at him with questioning eyes. He had not stirred or spoken from that moment when he had uttered Marcelle's name ; he had heard the Corporal declaim, and the conscripts cry, in a horrid stupefaction. Now, when Marcelle entered, he only turned his eyes rapidly towards her, then averted them, and grew more deadly pale. A hard struggle had gone on ih the heart of the girl. When first she had drawn the fatal number she had been horrified and stupefied. Then she had reasoned with herself, and her adoration for the Emperor had risen up in het heart, until, carried away by her uncle's enthusiasm, she forgot her self-reproach, and deter- mined to act an heroic part in all the scenes which were to follow. Few of the conscripts had taken their ill luck personally to heart, and she did not calculate for any 126 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD extraordinary resistance on the part of Rohan. True, she had often heard him express his loathing of war- fare and of the Cohscription ; but then, so had the other men of Krdmlaix ; and yet, when the iour came and they were called, they made merry and went. . "Look, Rohan,'* she cried, holding up in her hand a rosette with a long coloured streamer. " Look ! I have brought it for ^Aeis /" Every one of the conscripts wore a similar badge, and the old Corporal, to complete the picture, had stuck one upon his own breast. All cheered as ' Marcelle advanced. Rohan looked up wildly. " Keep back ! Do not touch me I" he cried, with outstretched arm. " Hear him !" derisively called Mikel Grallon. " The boy is mad !" cried the Corporal. " Rohan, do you not understand ?" cried Marcelle, terrified by her lover's look. "I drew for thee as I was bidden, and though I did not wish thee to go, God has arranged it all, and thou wilt serve the ,goQd Em- peror with Gildas and the rest. Thou art not angry^ my cousin, that' it is so ? I had it from tbine own lips, and I drew in thy name, and thou art King of the Con- scripts, and this is thy badge. Let me fasten it now upon thy breast !" From the pocket of hier embroidered apron she drew a needle and thread and came neai'er. He did not stir, but his features Worked convulsively,; his eyes were still fixed upon the ground. In a moment her soft fingers bad attached the rosette to his jacket. Another cheer rose, and the Corporal nodded, as much as to say, " That is good !" " And now — forward !" cried the Corporal. " We will drink his health;" There was a movement towards the door, but sud- denly Rohan started as if from a trance, and cried * " Stay 1" "THE KING OF THE CONSCRIPTS" 127 All stood listening. Mother Gwenfern crept cloee and gripped his hand. " You are all mad, I think, and I seem going mad too. What is this you tell me about a Coilscription' and an Emperor ? I do not understand. I Only know you are mad, and that my uncle there is maddest of all. You say that my name is drawn, and that I must go to be killed or tp kill ? I tell you only God can draw my name, and I will not stir one ■ foot — never, never. Hell seize your Emperor ! Hell swallow up him and his Conscription 1 I commit him as I com- ' mit this badge you have given me — to the flame !" Furious to frenzy, he tore the rosette from his breast, and cast it into the fire. There was a low murmur, and Mother Gwenfprn wailed aloud. , , " Hush, mother !" he said ; then turning again to the conscripts and to the Corporal,- he Cried : " Your Empferor can kill me, but he cannot compel me to be a soldier. Before God, I deny his right to summon me to fight for him, for he is a Devil. If every man of France had my heart, he would not reign another day, for he would have no army, no sheep to lead to the slaughter. Go to your Emperor and do his bloody work — I shall remain at home." , All this time he had not once turned his eyes on Marcelle. She now approached him again, crying : "Rohan! for God's sake be silent! These are foolish words." " , Still he did not look at her or answer her. Gildas Derval brpke in with a coarse oath : ■ " It seems to me that there is only one word for my cousin Rohan. He is ttn Idche/"' Rohan started, but controlling hims6lf, looked quietly ' at the speaker. By this time the old Corporal, who had stood perfectly paralyzed with amazement and indignation, recovered his breath. "Attention!" he cried aloud, purple with passion. " Gildas is right, and Rohan Gwenfern is a coward^ 128 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD but he is something more. He is a ckoun, and he blasphemes. Listen, you who are going to fight like men for your country : this man is a Idche, a choun, and he blasphemes. Mother Gwenfern, thy son is accurst ! Marcelle, thy cousin is a dog ! He has spoken words treasonable and damnable; he has cursed the holy name of our father the Emperor. And yet he lives !" ' The scene had now grown terrible. Rohan stood erect facing his uncle and his other antagonists, but still ' clasping his mother's hand. Mother Gwenfern, poor woman, could not bear to hear such words uttered of her son, and she cried, through her tears : " Ewen Derval, you are wicked to speak so of my boy !" " Hush, mother !" The momentary storm was over, and Rohan stood now subdued. "Attention!" again cried the Corporal. "We will be charitable — rperhaps the boy is not well, is under a charm — we will try to think so, my.brarves. He may come to-morrow and ask forgiveness of the good Emperot, and pray to be allowed to join ypu others who fight for your country. If not, mark you, we will come to fetch him ; he shall not, disgrace us without a cause. He thinks he is very strong, but what is a man's strength against ours, against the Emperor's ? I tell you we will hunt hirn down if need b& — like a fox, like a dog: and look you, I his uncle will lead you on. . . . Yes, Mother Loiz, I will lead them on ! . . . With or without his will he will join. you, re- member that; and if he goes unwillingly, may the first bullet in his first battle find him out and strike the ' coward down !" Rohan , said nothing, but still stood with a ghastly smile upon his firm-set face. Words were useless now, since the terrible hour had come. There was a dead silence, during which the men gazed savagely enough at the revolter. Then Marcelle crept up, and stood between Rohan and her uncle. "THE KING OF THE CONSCRIPTS" 129 " Your words are too hard, Uncle Ewen, and you do not understand. Rohan did not mean all he said ; he spoke in passion, and then men do not utter' their , right minds. And he is no coward, but a brave man —yes, the bravest here !" At this there was a .general^ groan. " Silence, Marcelle !" said the Corporal. " I will not be silent, for it is my fault, and it is I that have brought bad luck to my cousin. Rohan, wilt thou forgive me ? I prayed it might not be so, but God has willed it — God and His saints, who will watch over you when you go to war !" Rohan looked sadly into the girl's face, and when he saw the wet eyes, the quivering lips, his hpart was stirred. He topk her hand and kissed it before them all. An ill-favoured face was suddenly thrust forward between them. " It is a pity, is it not," cried Mikel Grallon, " to see a pretty girl wasting all her comfort on a coward, when-^ — " He did not complete the sentence, for Rohan, scarcely stirring his frame, stretched out his hands and smote the speaker down. Grallon fell like a log. A wild cry arose from all the men, the women screamed, Marcelle shrank back aghast, and Rohan strode to the door, pushingihis way out. "Seize him! hold him! kill him!" cried many voices. " Arrest him !" cried the Corporal. But Rohan hurled his opponents right and left like so many ninepins. They fell back and gasped, Gildas and Hoel rushed forward, their great frames shaking with wrath. Rohan turned suddenly and faced them ' at the door, but in a mqment they were upon him, hurling themselves forward like two huge battering- rams. It was only for a moment thiat Rohan hesitated, remembering that his opponents were his cousins and the brothers of Marcelle. Then, with a dexterous trick well known in Brittany, he tripped up the huge 130 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD Hoel and grappled with the huge Gildas. Now, Gildas ^ was at no time quite a match for Rohan, and just now he was half seas over ; so in another moment he lay shrieking and cursing by the side of his brother. Then Rohan turned his white face rapidly on Mar- celle and passed untfiolested out into the darkness.- Late that night the Uttle e»rl, or vicar, sat in the vicarage before a snug fire. His room was furnished with an oaken table,- strawbottomed chairs, aijd a bed with dark serge curtains, , and ornamented by rude pictures of saints and a black ebony cross on a stand, before which was a low prie-dim. The little curS was reading, riot his breviary, but a strongly spiced history of the doings of the Church previous to the Revolution, when a loud knock came at the, door. Directly afterwards the old serving-woman showed in a man, whom Father RoUand recognized at a glance as Rohan Gwenfern. - ' _, The moment they were alone, Rohan, who was pale as death, approaching the curi and leaning bis hand upon the table, said in a low, emphatic, yet respectful voice : •" Father RoUand, I have come to ask your help." ' The priest stared, but closing his book and motion- ing to a chair, said, "Sit down." Rohan shook his head, and continued to stand. " I have been drawn for the Conscription. My own hand did not draw the fatal number, and I might perhaps protest, for I was absent at the drawing ; bul; it Would be equal — I knew from the , first there could be no escape. The Emperor chooses the strong, and I am strong. But my mind'i§ rtiade up, Father RoUand ; I shall never go to war, I have thought it over and over, and I would rather die. You open your eyes amazed, as if you did not understand.. Well,' understand this — I will not become a soldier. That is as certain as death, as unchangeable as the grave." "THE KING OF THE CONSCRIPTS" 131 Father RoUaad had encountered such cases before — many a weeping mother and miserable son had come to him for advice- -but none had spoken lilse ttis man. They had come in tears and gone in tears, resigned. This man, on the contrary, though under dreadful excitement, was tearless, proud, almost insolent. He stood erect, and his eye never once quailed as it met the priest's. Father RoUand raised his shoulders and rubbed his hands together. , "You are dta.yfn7 — I am sorry for you, my pgor fellow, but you will have to submit." " There is no exemption ?" " None." " Although I am my mother's only son ?" " Ah, that is nothing now. Even the lajne and ' defgrmed are called upon this time. It is hard, but the Emperor must have men." There was a pause, during which Rohan looked fixedly at the priest, to the latter's great discomfort. At last he spoke. ,■!. "Very well, Father RoUand;' you have heard my decision. The Eniperor will not spare me, my country- men will not help me. So I ha,ve come to you." "Tome!" "To you. You are a holy man; you profess to give absolution, to prepare the souls of the dying, to represent God on earth. I appeal against the Emperor to your God, your Christ crucified. I say to Him and to you that war is abominable, that the Emperor is a devil, that France is a shambles. I will keep your God's commandment — that is, I will do no murder; I will not obey the Emperor— that is, I refuse to do wickedness because I am tempted by the Devil, - Your God is a God of Peace ; your Christ died rather than raise His hand against His ■ enemies; you say your God lives, your Christ reigns — let Him help me npwl It is for His help that I have come." 132 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD • It was difficult to tell whether the speaker's manner was quite serious or partly ironical ; his t6ne certainly seemed despairingly aggressive. He stood quite stillj always deathly pale, and his voice did not tremble. Father RoUand was staggered. He himself was no particular friend to the Emperor, but such words seemed dreadful under the circumstances. H e answered good-naturedly but firmly, with soothing waves of the hand — " My son, you should be on your knees -when you come asking help from God. , To the contrite heart, to the spirit that comes in humility and prayer. He grants much — perhaps all. ti seems to me you are angry. It is not in anger that Christ should be sought —hem !" Rohan answered at once, in the same tone. " I know that ; I have heard it before. Well, I have prayed often, but to-night my knees will not bend. Let me ask you. Father Rolland — you who are a good man, with a heart for the poor — is it right that these wars should take place ? is it right that five hundred thousand men should have perished as they did with last year's snow ? is it right th^at the Emperor should now call for nearly four hundred thousand more? That is not all. Are not men' brothers? Was not that proved in Paris ? Is it well for brothers to murder each other, to torture each other, to wade in each other's blood to the ankles ? If all this is right, then, mark you, Christ is wrong, and there is no place left in the world for your God !' This was terrible. The curi started up violently and cried aloud : "No blasphemy !" Then, standing before the fire and putting on a severe look, he continued : " You do not understand these things. I do not say that you have iio cause for complaint, but as to what , you say, there has always been war, and it i& in the "THE KING OF THE CONSCRIPTS" 133 Book of God. Men are quarrelsome, look you ; so are nations ; and a nation or a man, it is all one. If a man struck you, mon garz, would you not strike him again ? And you would be defending your rights ? Well, a nation has rights as well as you." Rohan smiled strangely. " Is that what your Christ says ? Did He not say rather, ' If a man smite thee on one cheek, hold up to him the other ' ?" The priest coughed and looked confused ; then he cried : " That is the letter, mon garz, but we must look to the spirit. Ah yes, the spirit is the thing ! Now, we are alone, and I will tell you honestly I do not love the Emperor ; he has been rough with the Holy Father, and he is not a King by Divine Right ; but there he is, and we must obey, all of us — the Church, as well as you others. I will give another quotation, my Rohan. ' Render unto Csesar the things which are Caesar's, and to God the things which are God's.' Now this is the way to look at it. Your soul belongs to God, and He will watch over it ; -but as for your perishable body, it belongs in the meantime to — humph !— r-well, to Csesar — in other words, to the Emperor !" Rohan did not immediately reply, but walked slowly up and down the room. The little curS, thinking to calm him, said in a low solemn voice : " Let us pray !" ' Rohan started. , " To whom ?" he asked in a hollow voice, " To the good God." " To whom my soul belongs ?" " Ah yes. Amen !" The priest crossed himself and approached the prie-dieu, " But not my body ?" "Not thy body, which is dust." 134 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD The priest was about to sink upon his knees, when Rohan placed his sttong hand upon his shoulder. "Not to-night, Father Rolland; I have heard enough ; and I know now you cannot help me." , " How is that, my son ? Come, prayer will soothe your troubled spirit, and let you hear the still voice of God." " No, I cannot pray; least of all to Him." " What !" " Do not be angry, Father Rolland ; I am not to be won by fear. You are a good man, but your God is ncit for this wotld, and it is this world that I love." "That is sin." " Father, I love my life, and my Strength, and the woman that is in rny lieart, and my mother — all these I love ; and peace. You call my body dust ; well, it is precious to me ; and my soul says, ' Other men, too, feel their bodies preciouS,' and I have sworn never to do any murder at any man's bidding. I will defend myself ' if I can, that is all ; defence may be righteous. Good night." He was at the door, when Father Rolland, whose humanity was large, and who really detested to behold suffering of any sort, cried eagerly : "Stay ! stay ! my poor fellow, I will assist you if I can. " You cannot," replied Rohan ; " nor can ;^our God, Father Rolland. He died long ago, and He will never come again ; it is the Emperor who rules the world, not He." Before aflOther word could be' uttered, Rohan was gone. The little cuv'e sank into a chair, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. At that very hour, while Father Rolland and Rohan Gwenfern were talking together, Marcelle Derval was on her knees in the little chamber already described. She was alone, the poor weeping mother not having yet retired to rest ; and below there was much angry "THE KING OF THE CONSCRIPTS" 135 discussion, much tippling, much savage denouncement of Rohan Gwenfern. ' Of course, no one believed that Rohan would seriously think of resisting the Conscrip- tion ; there was no chance of that, for the country was all on the qui vive for deserter's, and no boats of any size were putting to sea. For all that, he was un lache, and the tipsy giant Gildas was loudest of all ip his denunciations. But Marcelle prayed, under the two pictures of Our Lady with the Infant and of St. Napoleon. For the soul of her dead father, for the old Corporal and her beloved mother, for her brothers (and chiefly for poor Gildas, who was drawn) ; and lastly, she breathed the name of Rohan Gwenfern. " Bless my love for Rohan, O Holy Lady, and bring him back- to me from the terrible wars, and make him forgive me for drawing his name out of the lists, and grant me now thy grace, that I may never offend more." ' Then she looked up, as was her nightly custoni, at the picture of the Emperor. " And, -O merciful God, for the sake of Jesus thy Son and our Holy Mother and all the Saints, preserve the good Emperor, .for whom my poor Rohan and Gildas, my brother, are going to fight ; and give him victory over his enemies, and bring him back to us safe, as thou bringest them. Amen !" She rose and walked across the room to the window. The moon was shining bright, for it was ait the full. She could see far out on the water the still, and vapourous light, and on the house-lops it was bright, arid in the open streets ; but the houses cast great shadows. Presently somethingi stirred in the shadow of the opposite house, and she saw the figure of a man, leaning and logking up at her window. Love has wonderful sight, and she recognized Rohan Gwenfern, She crept close to the window and opened it. The 136 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD moon shone on her snowy coif and bodice, as she leant out whispering softly — "Rohan! Rohan!" He had answered that call, but this time he did not come. , He looked up no longer, but moving forward into the open moonlight, he passed down the street, withr out once raising his head. CHAPTER XVI A GOOD man's blessing On a bright sunny day, about a week after the drawing of lots in the town of St. Gurlott, there gathered, in a green field "twenty miles away, a strange group. In the centre sat an elderly man, with a book in his hand, t'eading aloud in clear and even tones. Gathered around liim, some looking over his shoulders, others seated oh the ground — a fiew indolent and indifferent, most attentive — were eight human figures. The reader' was Master ArfoU ; the rest were his pupils. The eldest was a good-humoured but stupid-looking peasant of about five and twenty, who wore a broad beaver hat and an old-fashioned riisty suit — ^black jacket; loose black breeches, and black gaiters. He sat with his mouth and 'eyes wide open, a model of stupidity and curiosity. Next to him was a slendgr youth of eighteen, with close-shaven hair, like a kloarek or religious student; but he too was a farm labourer, or farmer's son. Next to him, two plump stolid girls of fourteen, with bright skirts, enormous coifs, and sabots. Thfen two clumsy and ill-favoured boys. And finally, looking over Master ArfoU's shouldetrs, a little boy and a little girl of six — the most comical little figures imaginable ; the boy clad A GOOD MAN'S BLESSING 137 exactly like the adult peasant^ — in a black suit, tiny sabots, and broad-brimmed hat ; the girl with an enormous coif, the broad ends of which reached to her waist, a black bodice, a' very stiff black skirt, and black stockings terminating also in wooden shoes. The children looked as solenin as a little old man and woman, the girl with her hands folded primly, on her bosom, the boy with his little hands stuck firmly in the waistband of his bragou-bras. Inland, scattered here and there, sometimes sur- rounded by fir-trees, more often not sheltered at all, were a number of little farms, from which these pupils came. The green field in which they sat was pa.rt of a great plain of heath and gorse, interspersed with broad green pieces of pasture, and _ stretching along the l,ow granite cliffs of the sea. All was very calm and still, and Master Arfoll, from the knoll where he sat, could trace the sea-coast for many miles away — the blue capes stretching dim in the distance, the cream-white surf breaking in sapdy bays, the dark blue waters moving softly under the shadows of the wind. Here and there on the plain rose a menhir* or dolmen ; others lay overthrown among the fiurze. Not tyrenty yards from the knoll, a moss-grown dolmen — so high that a tall man might stand within it erect — cast its dark shadow on the grass. Master Arfoll ceased ; then he turned smiling to the little maiden, and said — " Now, my little Katel, read after me !" The girl came closer, put her little face close into the book, and followed Master ArfoU's finger as it slowly traversed the lines. It was the New Testament she was reading, translated into modern, French. When she had read a verse, with much blundering * A menhir is an upright solitary stone ; a dolmen is a chamber formed by a large stone placed erect on two upright stones, the sides being left open ; and a cromlech is a collection of dolmens. 138 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD and confusion of Bresonec and French proper, the teacher patted her on the head. <' Ggod," he said,, and Katel blushed with delight, ■ Theu the little boy tried, with less patience and less success. . His French was utterly unintelligible. " Take time, my Roberd 1" said the teacher. But Roberd, although he took time, fared no better than before. Presently, when the adult peasant came up to try, it was worst of all, • His pronunciation of the letters was^barbarous, and the smallest word of one syllable was beyond his powers. Nevertheless, he seemed to take great delight in the pursuit of knowledge, and when the other pupils, particularly little Katel, laughed outright at his blunders, he only grinned and scratched his head with the utmost go&d-humgur. It was a Scene for a painter. The sun shone brightly on the ha,ppy group, and softly touched the careworn Unes of Master ArfoU's face and lit up the quaint costumes of his pupils; while all around him it gleaaied on fields and farms, and on the great plain of furze, and on the twinkling sea. Eyer and anon a white sea-gull, sailing in from the cliffs, passed softly over their heads : and right above the dolmen, rising ■ ever higher and higher, a lark was singing. Then Master ArfoU took the old weather-beaten book, and turning over its worn leaves, read a part of a chapter, translating it rapidly aloud into melodious Brezonec. It was the fourteenth chapter of the Gospel of Luke, and the part he read was the parable of the ■ man who gave a great supper. All listened eagerly ; it was a story, like one of the tales told at the \ veillee, and ihey hearkened open- mouthed. When he had finished he said suddenly — " My children, let us pray !" All knelt around him, from the peasant to little Katel, who fingered meanwhile a small rosary of oaken beads that hung over her white stomacher. A GOOD MAN'S BLESSING 139 This was Master Atrfoll's prayer-rr- , " Pour forth, I beseech thee, O Lord, Thy grace into the hearts of these Thy children j that they, when the time comes, may know Thee and not Antichrist ; may feel Thy Divine assistance always with them, may recognize Thy truth and Thy knowledge, nor come and go upon the, earth even as brute beasts of the field. Enlighten, them, since they need light. Amen ! Teach them, since they are willing to be taiight. Amen ! Strengthen them, that they kneel not to any graven Image or to any wicked man. Amen ! May their souls through life know the great gospel of love and peace, and may they meet at Thy great Supper, when the days of their life are done. Amen, Amen !" At every repetition of " Amen," little Katel crossed herself vigorously. To none of the schdlars did the prayer seem dilFerent from other prayers,^ though Master Arfoir extemporized it, as was his custom, with prpfounder meanings. ' Then all rose, and clustered round Master ArfoU in the sunlight. " That is enough for to-day," be said, with his hand on little Katel's head. "To-morrow we will meet here, my children, at the same hour." " Master ArfoU !" cried little Katel. " Well, little one ?" " Mother is angry that thou hast not stayed with her since thou earnest to Traonili. She bids me tell thee that she hath a pair of leather shoes for thee, and more." .The schoolmaster smiled kindly. " Tell thy mother I will stay With, her to-night." " Nay, that is not fair," cried out one of the oldet girls. " You promised Aunt Nola to stay with us." This vehemently, but with a curtsy. "We will see, we will see," said Master ArfoU, nodding his head. " Now, hasten home, for the noon- day mgelus has already Sounded. Goodmann PenvenAi I40 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD till to-morrow ! Patience ! You will be a scholar yet !" The last words were addressed to the, eldest of the class, who grinned a delighted reply, and in a thick patois pressed the schoolmaster soon to visit his brother, Mikel Penvenn, on whose farm he was a labourer. A minute more, and the " school " was scattered : Penvenn making his way straight across the plain, the young girls and the lad walking slowly this way and that, the two young boys running with shouts and cries across the fields, and little Katel and her brother trotting hand in hand to the nearest farm. While the schoolmaster, with a dreamy eye, is watching his little flock retreat, it may be well to explain the peculiarities of his strange vocation. , . Before the great Revolution, Brittany had been full of itinerant teachers, educated by the Church, who travelled from village to village, and from farm to farm, teaching children the Latin prayers,\the Angelus Domini, and the Catechism. They ' were generally men whose hopes of following the priesthood had been disappointed. Their lives were hard, their food the commonest, their whole profession allied to mendi- cancy. Their lessons were given at all hours and under all conditions. Sometimes in the fields, in the intervals of labour ; sometimes in the stable and cow- shed ; sometimes under the CroSs in the highway ; sometimes within, but oftener without % Their pay was miserable : six sous monthly from each family or value for that amount. Besides this, they had perquisites and presents — bacon, honey, linen, measures of corn. They were welcome, to- bed and board, wherever they liked to stay, and had a certain honour among the ignorant people ; for an odour of sanctity hung about them, seeing that they had been reared in the bosom of the Church. They passed thus from village to village, till they were too weak to travel any longer A GOOri MAN'S BLESSING 141 afoot : then some of them, in their age, contrived to procure an old mule or donkey to bear them, feed- ing it in the fields or by the deep roadsides ; and finally, when they were quite decirepit and beyond imparting the little they knew, many became profes- sional mendicants, begging their bread from door to door. I With the fiery, breath of the Revolution, these itinerant schoolmasters were scattered as sparks, and most of them disappeared for ever. During the later years of the Empire, when it was most the cue of . Napoleon to appear as the father of religion and the establisher of a new and holy regime, numbers of them reappeared, following their old vocation. At the time of the Revolution, Master ArfoU must have been about thirty years of age ; but none in that district of Brittany remembered seeing tiis face before about the beginning of the new century. His first appearance was as a grave elderly man, who wore upon his features the mark of some terrible trouble, and many of his utterances were so wild and peculiar that his sanity was often called in question. None knew if he had ever studied in any Church seminary ; none knew whether or not he was a Breton born. It was generally reported that he had been a dweller in one of the great cities, and that there, during the years of Terror, he had known such experiences as had turned his hair prematurely grey. However that may be, the people knew him and loved him. A good man, whatever his opinions, disarms opposition,; and besides. Master Arfoll never paraded opinions. He was welcome at nearly, every farmhouse and little cottage ; and when hospitality failed him, he had black bread in his wallet and could find cresses in the brook. His life might be called hard in a certain sense, but it was nevertheless the life of his desires. The scholars were soon out of sight, and Master 142 THE Slf ADOW OF THE SWORD A'rfoU turned l;is face towards the sea. He had been " sowing his seed," and he felt happy. A gentle light slept upon, his careworn face as, holding his Bible in one hand, and, with both hands behind his back, he moved past the moss-grown dolmen, He was, passing by, when suddenly he heard a sound behind his back ; at the same moment, a hand was placed ijpan his ^shoulder, He turned quickly, and there, as if sprung from liha very bowels of the earth, stood Rohan Gwenfern.' Not at the first look did Master ArfoU recognize his pupil ; for already the man was cruelly changed. His hair was wild a,nd his beard unshaven, his eyes bloodshot and sunken, his iface careworn and pale. It does not take many hours of hunting to turn a human being into an animal; and already Rohan had the wild I hsteni;ng look of a hunted thing. He seemed almost like a man uprisen from the grave ; for his clothes were torn and covered with damp loain, one sleeve of his jacket was rejit and his arm bare to the elbow, and, to crown all, his feet were bare. His height and powerful frame betrayed him most. Moreover, despite his wild appearance, he was still physically beautiful. The l^ead was still that of a lion, the hair still golden ; the ey6s still full of their far away, visionary, leonine look. ' " Rohan !" at last ejaculated Master Arfoll, half questioningly, for he thought Rohan was many miles away, and cpuld scarce beliSve his eyes. ' " Yes, it is 1 1" answered Rohan, with a quick forced laugh, as if in mockery of his own appearance ; and , he added, shaking the hair from bis eyes, " I was hiding within the dolmen, waiting till you were done Tyith your pupils. By St. Gildas, it was a glooniy tomb that, for a living man! I thought you woWd never have done." He laughed ^gaxp. There was a curious restless' A GOOD MAN'S BLESSING 143 recklessness in his manner, and his eyes instinctively looked this way And that, all round him. The schoolmaster placed his hand gently on his arm, looking anxiously into his face. " Rohan ! how is this ? What has happened ?" Rohan set his teeth together and answered the look. " It has come as I feared^— that is all." " What has come ?" " The Conscription." " That I knew. But then ?" " And I am drawn !" answered Rohan. " Ten days- ago was the drawing, and the day before yesterday was the medical inspection. A week since old Pipriac and a file of soldiers called to pay me their first visit. Unfortunately, I was not at home, and could not enter- tain them." He laughed ag&.in, a laugh full of fierceness and fear. All was HOW clear to the schoolmaster, and infinite pity filled his heart. " My poor Rohan!" he said softly. "I have been praying for thee evet since we parted, arid it has come to this. It is a sad fatality, my son, a sad fatality. ' And thou art in revolt — God help thee, for it is tterrible!" - Rohan turned his face away, to hide the mist that clouded his eyes. These tender words shook him like a charm. ' Suddenly he took both the schoolmaster's hands within his own. " I knew that it was coming, and it came, thoagh I did not attend the drawing, and the number was drawn in my name. ■ When the conscripts returned, I defied them and the Emperor ; some one reported that I was refractory. A message capie commanding my appear- ance at Traonili. I did not go. Another ; and I stayed at home. After that it spread, and they camfe to arrest me. My own friends were worst, for they could not bear that they should go and I should escape. Four 144 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD days ago they hunted me from home. I laughed at them, for I knew the ways a thousand times better than they, Well, I was in despair : I thought of thee. I have walked two nights following thee and asking after thee. Yesterday I was nearly trapped in a strange village out there ; I had to fling away sabots and to run ; but a soldier caught me by the sleeve, as you see. It is hot work, Master Arfoll. It is so they hunt wolves in the Forest of Bernard." He spoke rapidly, as if fearing and deprecating any censure. At every sentence his friend's face grew paler and graver. At the end he sadly shook his head, and was silent. Rohan continued : < " I questioned at night, when they could not recog- ni2!e me, and I found you were in Traonili. This morning I followed you, always hiding when strangers appeared, for they might know. When you came this way r saw you were not alone, and I hid yonder and waited. I was in dread that you might accompany them up to the farms. Then I sprang out, as you see !"" The plain was solitary, and they walked on side by side seaward. The sward, was soft and green beneath ' their feet, the furze all around them grew breast-high, finches twittered on every spfay, and many larks sang overhead. Here and there grew bunches of primroses, and wild violets were stirring.underthe sod. Beyond, the sea was sparkling, and the purple shadows of the capes stretched out far away. " Speak, then ! what am I to do ?" Master Arfoll started, for he had been' plunged in deep thought. " My son, it is terrible ! — I am stupefied — I cannot advise you, for I see no hope." "No hope?" " Only one." " And that ?" " To deliver yourself up to the authorities and crave forgiveness : men are precious now," and they will A GOOD MAN'S BLESSING 145 rejoice over thee. Otherwise I see no way ; for if they find thee afterwards, it is death." Rohan made a scornful gesture. " I know that ; but in any case I can die, and they shall not take me alive against my will; But say, is this your advice, that I should give myself up ?" " 1 see no other way." " That I should become a soldier of the Emperor !" " If it is against thy will God will acquit thee. Rohan, it is a man against the world." " Go on." " And even in battle thou mayest serve God. Thou wilt bear a weapon, but it will be thy fault if it takes any creature's life ; and then, thou mayest come back living when all is done." Rohan listened with downcast eyes. "What more ?" Jie apked. "No more. I know no other hope, my son." "Can I not escape? — out of . France ? — to another country?" Master ArfoU shook his head and pointed. " That way lies Vannes ; that way Nantes ; that way Brest ; and between theser towns thousands of villages. On every roadside, at every cabavet, they are ■viratching for deserters." " If I could reach Morlaix, where there are ships !" " It is impossible. From hence to Kromlaix is the loneliest part of Brittany ; all the rest is full of eyes. : No disguise would save thee, for thou art a man in a hundred. Thou hast felt it already. They would dis- cover thee, and then — ^no mercy !" Rohan seemed not in the least astonished. He had not questioned Master Arfoll with the air of a man having much hope left : rather like a man who had weighed all his chances and knew them well before- hand. When the schoolmaster had finished, Rohan said quietly, looking up : " To yield myself up I To become a soldier of the 146 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD Emperor! Well, that is not the help for which I came." , He paused, and then continued rapidly : " My father — for you will 'let me call you that ! — jrou do not do me justice ', you think I am weak and infirm of purpose ; you advise me as if I were little Katel yonder, or her brother, or any child. That is not . fair ; for I am a man. When a taka swears an oath before God it is that man's place to keep it br die. My father, do you remember that night when we watched the women at the Fountain, and when I asked you would a man be justified !" Master Arfoll inclined his head in. assent. His eyes now sought Rohan's face with a new astonishment, for he saw there a sotd in open revolt with nature against the inhumanities of man. He felt rebuked, for indeed he had given his counsel as to any common creature, hoping and instructing for the best. But now he was reminded, as in many a., happier day he had been reminded before, that Rohan Gwenfern was no common creature, but one made in. the most unique mould of nature. " Yes, ypu remember," continued Rohan. " Well, your counsel was unkind, for it bade me break my oath. I said I would never become a soldier ; that ' while breath filled my body • I would never cause another creature's death; that I might be killed, but that I would never kill. The time has come, and I am to be prOved. Ypu say there is no escape ; but, as I said before, I can die." ; AH the wild recklessness had departed, and he spoke now in a Ipw voice, -solemnly and gently. His tones and looks were not to be "mistaken ; they expressed a dbcided will and purpose. Master Arfqll's seed had borne fruit indeed ; it was the Pupil now whb taught and admonished the Master. i Tears were oh Master Arfoll's cheeks, and Rohan saw them^-saw them and trembled at them, though A GOOD MAN'S BLESSING 147 there were no tears on his own. They walked slowly on, till they came to the edge of the cliffs, and saw beneath thern the sea rolling in on the dark-'ribbed sands. Then Rohan sat on a rock close to the edge, and, leaning his cheek on his open palm, looked seaward. Presently he said Quietly,' with, the air ot one fisherman making a remark to another : ' "There will be iwind to-night,' and rain. Look at that bank of clouds creeping up in the south-west." Master Arfoll, did not reply ; never had he seemed so reticent. After a pause, not changing his' attitude, Rohan spoke again. ' " Master Arfoll, you are not angry ?'' Angry ! With those tears still gathering in his eyes, with that tender trouble still lingering on his face! He turned to Rohan and a,nswered him, placing one hand on his shoulder. " I am angry with myself. To be so weak ! to feel so helpless ! to know such things are done, and yet be Unable to lift a hand ! My son, I deserve^ your rebuke, for you are right and I was wrong. It is wrong to acquiesce (in evil, even to save one's life ; it is accursed to draw a sword for that man, even though, France itself is threatened. I weep for thee as for my own child, to see thee so troubled, so pursued ; but I say in my heart, ' God bless him ! he is right I — he is a brave man, and were I indeed hia father I should be proud of such a son.'" Long before the words were finished Rohan had risen to his feet. Stretching out his hands, he cried : " My father, you have spoken at last, and it was for those words I came." He stood trembling, with the siinlight playing on his hair, and on his face a look which, if seen in a poet or a musician, would be called inspiration. " I came for those words ! All are against me, save my mother and thou I all are against me, even the 148 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD one I love best in the world. A gopd father would rather have his. son die than live dishonoured ; and thou art my good father, and to go to war is dishonour, though they think it glory. Thou hast made me strong, my fathet— ^strong and happy. Give me now thy blessing, and let me go !" Master ArfoU started dnd trembled. " My blessing ! Rphan, it is not worth, giving ! You^ would say so, if you knew all." But Rohan had sunk upon his knees, looking up to Master ArfoU's face. " Bless me, my father ! Thou art the onl3r good man r know ; men say, too, thou wast once a Priest. Your words, your love, have made me what I am, and your blpssing will make me better and stronger still. You have told me that I am right, that God will approve me, that I shall be justified. Now bless me, and leave all the rest to God." He bowed his head ; and then arid there, touching his hair with gentle bands, and uplifting a pallid face to heaven. Master ArfoU blessed him. Worse blessings have been given, even. by Saints well known in the Calendar 1 ' CHAPTER XVn IN THE STORMY NIGHT Rohan Gwenfern's well -trained eyes had not deceived him. The bad weather wa,s coming, and that afternoon it came. Parting from Master Arfoll, who slowly retreated up to the peaceful farms among which he was then dwelling, Rohan pursued his way along the brink of the crags. Between him and the island the yellow- blossomed furze grew a tall man's height, and more than once, to find a path, he had to crawl down and IN THE STORMY NIGHT 149 creep like a fly along the very face of the crag, which was touched here and there by the sun to rosy light, with silver glimmers of mica and felspar. The solitude grew lonelier the further he went. Not a soul was to be seen on that dizzy path which wound slowly out to the gteat promontory of Pointe du Croix. The expression of his face was now tolerably calm.. The wild hunted look had vanished, to be replaced by a sad self-possession; for as the dark waves broke at his feet, as the white gulls hovered over his head, as the, goats of the crags walked slowly and fearlessly from his path, he felt the companionship of Nature, the happiness and freedom of a solitude that was not solitary, of a loneliness that was not quite alone. He had always loved such joys; now he loved them almost to madness, for he was a man against the World. He was in revolt against , his fellows. He had refused to follow the Phantom that was beckoning his generation. Instead of being bound like a a slave in. a soldier's livery and carrying a soldier's butchering load, he was free— he could move, and live as he pleased, and it necessary he could die as he pleased. Not a sea-bird on the wing, not a seal softly floating in the watery empyrean, was more .justified than his. The heart of Earth throbbed with him^he could feel it as he threw himself down on the green grass. The living waters leaped and rejoiced with him ; he could see them glancing for miles on miles with rhythmic joy. The air exulted and blew joyfully upon him ; he draink it with slow heavings of the breast, and his strength grew. It was something, after all, to be a man. It was more to be admitted to the sacrament of Nature, partaken of by all those creatures and creations which bemoan the cruelty of Men. The last touch of this sacrament came from a good Man's blessing. Before that was given he had been 150 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD weak and afraid ; now he came back to Nature, happy and resolved. Yes, momentarily happy ; for persecution brings its happiness, when it draws forth the untold treasures of courage and self-confidence that hide in a human breast. Rohan Gwenfern had always felt himself superior to his fellows ; since, let us admit it at once, he combined with his natural beneficence a fierce animal pride. He was not common, nor felt like mere slaves of the sword or the ploughs Revolt developed this pride to a passion. He loved the frightful odds against him, and he was ready to meet them. These' were the thoughts and feelings that kept his heart up for many a mile, and made him almost forget his mother and Marcelle ; but' as the afternoon darkened, and the weather began to change from sun- shine to a thin dreary rain, he began again to be conscious of desolation^ By this time he had reached the utmost verge of the promontory of Point© dii Croix. It was desolate as Death. The rain was now falling heavily. , A slate-coloured mountain of water rose over the point, turned to livid white, hovered, and broke in a fourfold cataract right over the outmost rocks. The sound was terrible, like the sound of innumerable chariot wheels, like the roar of a thousand cannen. On the extremest place of safety sat in rows hundtieds of cormorants, both black and green; and although ihi cataracts of foam broke momently close to their webbed feet, many were asleep with their heads beneath their wings. There Rohan sat and rested, far away from mortal view. The cormorants below sat within thirty yards of his feet, but none heeded him. Tw.o ravens, a male and a female, passed constantly to and fro above his head, Wheeling in beautiful circles, and hunting the cliffs Uke hawks of prey ; often they wheeled so close that he might have struck them with a stone. IN THE STORMY NIGHT 151 Presently he drew from his breast a piece of black bread, and began to eat. He looked rdund for water,' but none was near ; so he caught the rain in his hollowed hands, and drank it, and was refreshed. All this was nothing new. Hundreds of times he had done for sheer pleasure what he now did from sore necessity. Never, however, had solitude possessed so keen a zest. It was here, seated alone on the promontory of Pointe du Croix, that he conceived his plans. When he arose and walked again, his ideas were all matured, and he turned his steps eastward, to his native village. When night fell it found him walking before a wild storm of wind and rain on the desolate track of moor- land called Vilaine. Not' a habitation was to be seen, not a sigh of humanity in any form. Herds of wild cattle crouched together in the rain, and on the edges of the crags ran flocks of wild goats. Lines of menhirs ■ covered this plain, like lines of giants petrified, and as the wild rain smote upon them, and ran like dark tears down their jagged cheeks, they seemed coming to life/ and stirring in answer to the Spirit of the Storm. f Amidst these stony phantoms Rohan fled. Fortu- nately, the wind was at his back and smote him on. Sometimes he paused to shelter in the shadow of a menhir ; then after a time he hastened on again. The night grew blacker and blacker, till he could scarcely see a yard along, the plain. The rain fell in torrents and the wind shrieked. Overhead there was a confused motion and murmur — " Dant etiam sonitum patuli super squora mundi"* — the sound of the clouds roaring over the waters of the wide-spreading upper world. On his left hand, a motion and murmur no less terrible — ^that of the * Luc. De Rer. Nat. vi. ids'. 152 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD storm-vexed sea sounding upon its shores. Heaven and ocean seemed confusedly mixed together, as in the awful Promethean tempest. Woe to the traveller on the plain of Vilaine that night, if he had been any other than Rohan Gwenfern. But Rohan fought his way as if by instinct. He had more than once been on the great plain before, and he knew by the situation of many of the menhirs how to steer his course. Soaked to the skin, drenched so terribly that the wind tore off parts of his dress in strips, bareheaded and barefooted,, he rushed along, as a boat with rent sail flees before the wind." Suddeply he paused and started back. A flast-of crimson light arose from the very edge of the ocean, illuminating the darkness. At first supersitition seized him, and he shrank afraid ; but in a moment he recovered himself, crept forward, and looked again. The flash continued, now coming, now going, like the gleam of a lighthouse lamp. Suddenly, instead of turning away, he ran forward in the direction of the light. The rain fell heavily, the storm shrieked, but he saw all clearly soon — a great crimson fire burning on the very edge of the crag, and sending a wild stream of light out upon the "tempestuous sea. He crept closer, and saw distinctly, surrounding the fire,' some dozen figures running round and round like the fiends of an Inferno. An ordinary Breton would have crossed himself and flown ; and indeed such an apparition, seen in' such a solitude and on such a night, might well appal even the stoutest heart. Rohan was not so daunted. He paused and looked, and now, wafted on the wind, he distinctly heard voices. Then crouching down almost to the ground, he crept fifty yards closer still, and gazed in horror once again. • ' IN THE STORMY NIGHT 153 Close to the edge of the cliffs — held down by ropes attached to enormous stones — stood a huge cage of iiron, in which burnt a fire of bog oak, bushes of furze, and dry sods of peat ; and surrounding it, as the flame leaped and darted in the wild breath of the tempest, were seven or eight men and two or three old women. Some, running round and round the cage, momently shut out the light from the sea ; others sat on the grass glaring at theflame, their features horribly illuminated ; and one groack, or old woman, like a very Witch of Endor, was leaning- -forward over the , Hame and chattering wildly as she warmed her skinny' hands. Within a few yards pf "this group stood a low men- hir, partly sheltering them from the torrents of rain ; and crawling up close in the shadow of this, Rohan listened and watched. " Bad luck to Penruach this night !" said a voice. " It is too dark out there even to see our fire." , > " That's as St. Lok wills," croaked the old woman. " If he means to send us luck, the luck will come." Rohan shuddered. He knew his company now. The creatures on whom he gazed were fishers from Penrua^ch, whose wrecking propensities even the severe laws passed after the Revolution had never been able to extinguish, and who regarded every passing ship as legitimate plunder. This St. Lok of theirs, by whom the old crone swore, had been a wrecker too ; for, -if tradition was to be believed, he was an antique Chris- tian who spent his time in luring to destruction the ships of infidel invaders, and who was presently canonized for his pains ! Outside the point of vantage where this group gathered, stretched for miles one black neck of fatal reefs, partially covered and partially submerged. Dark as the night was, Rohan could see the flashing of foam-white breakers far out at sea ; and wherever the horrible light from the cage fell in one long stream • 154 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD across the water, it shone only on the whiteness of broken foam or on black edges of rock. Rohan hesitated. He knew and loathed the horrible work the creatures were about, but he was also cognizant of his own danger and wished to act with caution. His resolution was soon taken, and- he acted upon it at once. " Lok! Lok ! send us a ship!" cried another woman,- using the first line of an old distich. , " St. Lok is deaf, it seems !" she added bitterly. " Don't, cry so loud, rhother," cried a man. " 'Tis enough to waken the dead. Come, drink ! Luck to St. L'ok, and luck to the men of iPenruach !" A bottle was passed across to the woman, and she raised it to her lips. As she did so a wild shriek, startling and shrill, broke upon the night. All, men aitd women alike, leaped panic-stricken to their feet. , " See !" shrieked a man. " An eel du ! an eel du .'"* and he pointed at the menhir. On the very top of the stone stood a gigatitic figure waving its arms, with an unearthly scream. Its form seemed misshapen and bloody, its face glared hortibly. Elevated so "high, it seemed unspeakably terrible, and the boldest man there was p^nic-stricken. "It is St, Lok himself!*' shrieked one, flying past into the night. " An eel du ! an eel du .'" said the others, stumblin'g, shrieking, flying, scattering themselves like foam into the dafkness. i In a minute the place was deserted, and Rohan, with a wild laugh, leaped down. His stratagem had succeeded. By fixing his hands and feet in the fissures of ^ the stone, he had slowly attained its sum- mit, and emerged upon the awestruck sight of the wreckers. Not without some peril was this accom- * Breton name for the Devil. THE PRAYERS OF TWO WOMEN 155 plished, for the sea was shriekitig beneath his feet, and one false trick of the wind might have cast him over. , Springing down upon the cage, he seized it with all his strength, loosened it from its ropes and stones, and cast it over into the boiling sea. For one moment it illumined the waters, then it sank and disappeared. The darkness that followed was so complete that Rohan, whose eyes were blinded by the light, could at first distinguish nothing; and overwhelmed by the fury of the wirtd and rain, he cast himself upon the ground. Rising presently^ when his eyes were accustomed to the darkness, he silently pursued his way. ■ CHAPTER XVHI THE PRAYERS OF TWO WOMEN The drawing was over, the medical inspection had taken place, and the conscripts of Kromlaix knew their - fate. >Gildas Derval passed the inspection with' fljring colours ; and being by this time fully plied with brandy and martial inspiration, he fewaggered about like a very veteran. ■Now, it go happeried that the wish of his heart was granted, and H6el was a conscript too. Hoel had drawn " twenty-seven," and as two of those who had drawn lower numbers turned out unfit f or, service, n6t to speak of Rohan, who was non est, he was enrolled and passed am,qng the fatal twenty-five. The Corporal was in his glory, the twins full of bravado, the mtother disconsolate^ In a few days they would receive their tickets, and have to march. Meantime, the hue and cry had begun for the re- fractory "number one." 156 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD A'hody oi gendarmes from St. Gurlott, headed by old Jacques PipriaCi were scouring the village day and night, while the conscripts were aiding them as far as ay in their power. All in vain. After the first attempt made to arrest him, Rohan was invisible. " Malediction !" cried Pipriac to poor Mother Gwen- f ern one day, as for the fourth or fifth time they searched her cabin. " Coiild I but lay my hand on him, he should sweat for it. Thou hast him hidden — deny it not ! Out with him ! A thousand devils !" And they prodded the mattresses with their bayonets, and turned out cupboards- too small to conceal a dog, and looked everywhere into most ui^likely places, while Mother Gwenfern cried bitterly — " Ah, Sergeant Pipriac ! I never thought you could be so cruel to his father's son !" The Sergeant, a little one-eyed, hook-nosed martinet, very fond of the bottle, twirled his grey moustache and scowled. He'had been a great friend of her husband, and his present conduct seemed ungrateful. " Malediction ! one must do one's duty. Mother, thy son is a fool ;, and were I not after him, there would be others far worse to do the job ! Come, let. us have him, and I vow by the bones of St. Triffine , that he shall be pardoned, and become a brave soldier of the Emperor."^' ^ And, while one of the gendnvims ^pushed his head up the chimney, and another held his nose over the. black swinging-pot, as if expecting to find the fugitive there, the rnother answered — " I have told you he is not here ! I do not know where he is ! Perhaps he has found a ship, and gone to Erfgland 1" " Tous Us diahles ! to England !" " T^es, Sergeant Pipriac." " Bah ! that is hot so ' easy, and he knows better than to trust himself in a land of wild beasts. No, he is here. I know it — I smell it as a dog smells a rat. THE PRAYERS OF TWO WOMEN 157 Malediction ! that the son of,iny good comrade Raou Gwenfem should turn out a coward." The widow's pale cheek flushed. " He is no coward, Sergeant Pipriac." " He will not fight. He creeps away and hides. He- is afraid." "It is not that. My Rohan is afraid of nothing, but he will. never become a soldier." Thd old fellow snapped his fingers. " If I had him here, I would read him a lesson. Ah, if he would t)ut tajje example by his two brave cousins, Hoel and Gildas. Those are men, if you, like ! each could strangle an ox ! And their uncle, the Corporal, Mother Gwenfem — there's a man !" Turning to his file of gendarmes, he cried — " Shoulder arms ! march ! the fox is not here !"- Then turning again at the door, as if still twitted by his conscience, he cried — " Good day, mother ! but mind you, we shall come again ; it is not our fault, but the Emperor's orders. Take rny advice, .and persuade him ; in another day it will be too late. Now, then — march !" They were gone, and the widow was left to her lonely reflections. She sat silent by the fire, thinking. She was a tall woman, with ashen grey complexion and white hair. She was the half-sister of Margarid Maure, who had married the fisherman Derval, brother of the Corporal ; and being a very quiet, retiring woman, given tocher own thoughts, she had seen very little of her sister or her children. People thought her unsociable and melancholy. Indeed her whole heart was filled with her love for her only son. When she told the Sergeant that she was ignorant of Rohan's whereabouts, she only spoke the truth. She had not seen her son for several days, and she was almost hoping that he had made good his escape to some safer district. Poor woman, she little knew how thickly the country was covered with snares and 158 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD traps for deserter?, and how difficult it was to elude tlie vigilant eyes of the public officials. Fronii the beginning she had regretted Rohan's deliberate and terrible, revolt. Everybody said it was cowardly. Even his own blood relations turned against him ; the whole village talked of him in no flattering way. Twenty times in a day the gossips brought her news which frightened her, and made her poor heari beat: painfully, and her lips grow blue. No one thought Rohan could escape for long ; and when he was caught, he ■ysrould be shot like a dog. Far better, she argued, had he obeyed at' once, and trusted to the good God for help. Many had gone ; and come home safe enough ; wjtness Uncle Ewen, who was covered with old wounds. Her heart was hard against the Emperor, but only as, in days of trouble, it had been hard against God. And the Emperor was like God — so great, so very far away ! She sat listening to the wind, which was rising that afternoon, and to the rain, which was beating against the door. Crouched near to her, with itk eyes closed in the sleepy light of the fire, was Jannedik, the she- goat, her son's favourite, and now her only com- panion. It was a small foom, rudely furnished with coarse oaken table and chairs. The floor was of earth, the black' raftef s stretched overhead. On the wall hung fishing and fowling nets, a fowler's pole and' hooki etc.; and pasted near the fireplace was a coloured print similar to the painting in Notre Dame de la G^rde, representing shipwrecked sailors on a raft, kneeling all bareheaded, while a naked child, with a halo round his head, canie walking to them on the sea. The afternoon was very chilly and dreary» and where she sat she could hear tbe sea moaning as it does when stormy weather is coming. Presently Jannedik rose, pricked up her ears, and THE PRAYERS OF TWO WOMEN 159 listened. She had quick ears, had Jannedik, and would have been as good as a watch-dog, if only she could have barked her warnings. She was right ; some one was coming. Presently the latch moved. Mother Gwenfern did not turn round at first; she was too used to the neighbours coming in and out, and she thought it was one of them. But when Jannedik, as if quite satisfied, sank down aga.in on the hearth, Mother Gwenfern moved on the form, and saw her niece Marcelle, taking oiF a large black clodk which was wet with rain. They had only met once since that scene on the night of the drawing, and then Mother Gwenfern had been very angry and bitter. Seeing now whc it was, she grew pale, and her heart began to palpitate, as, with no greeting, she turned her eyes agaip upon the fire. " It is I, Aunt Loiz !" said Marcelle softly. There was no answer. The widow still felt her heart full of anger against the Dervals, and sjie was very indignant at seeing Marcelle. " I could not bear to think of thee sitting here all alone, and though niy uncle did not wish It, I have conje over. Ah, God, thou art lonely ! It is dreadful when all the world is against one's own son." The widow stirred in her chair, and said, still look- ing at the fire — " It is yet more dreadful when one's own blood rela- tions hate us most. .; It was an ill day when my^ sister Margarid married a Derval, for you are all alike, though Ewen Derval is the -^orst. Some day, when you niarry, you will know what it is to suffer like me, and you will pity me then." Hanging her cloak against the wall, Marcelle came nearer and sat down upon the form by the widow's side. The widow shrank away a little, but said nothing, Marcelle, too, fixed her eyes upon the fire, i6o THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD and leant forward, warming her hands as she con- tinued to speak. " You are unjust to jne, Aunt Loiz. I pity you now — ah, God, how I pity you ! Uncle Ewen pities you, too, and , he is so vexed and dull that he hardly tastes a morsel. Our house is nearly as sad as this, for Hoel and Gildas are both to go, and mother does nothing but cry." It was a curious sight to see those two women — one so old and grey, the other so fresh and pretty— sitting on one form side by side, not looking in each other's face, but both, whe)ther' speaking or listening, only gazing at the fire. Jannedik seemed to have her own opinions on the subject/for she rose quietly and put her large head between Marcelle's knees. There was a long silence, and the wind and the sea cried still louder outside. Finally, the widow said, in the same Tow voice — " Why have you come, child ? What has brought you here at last ?" " Ah, Aunt Loiz, can you not guess ? I came to ask after Rohan — whether he is still safe." I The answer was a short, hard, bitter laugh.. " So ! Well, he is safe, if you desire to know. You may go back to those who sent you, and tell them that much from me. Yes !" she continued, her voice rapidly rising in anger,/" I know well what you come for, Marcelle Derval. You wish tp find out where my poor boy is hidden, and then betray him to; Ewen Derval and his enetnies. You iare a fool for your pains, and may God punish you for your wickedness, though your mother was of my blood !" Marcelle was a high-spirited girl, and it is doubtful if she would have borne as much from any other woman in the world. Strange to say, she was now quite gentle, and only put her hand on her aunt's arm, saying — " Don't ! don't speak like that, for the love of God !" THE PRAYERS OF TWO WOMEN i6i Something in the tone startled the widow, and turning, she saw that Marcelle's eyes were blind with tears. She gazed in wonder, for Marcelle was not given to the melting mood. "Marcelle, what do you mean? Why do you cry?" ' The tone was sharp, but the look of the speaker's face was kinder. Marcelle rose, trembling. " Never mind ! You think I have no heart ! Well, I will go, for yoij do not trust me, sand I have no right to vex you. But if you knew ! if you knew !" She turned as if to go ; but the widow, reaching out her lean hand, restrained her. "Marcelle,, speak!" Marcelle stood moveless, and, still trembling, looked into her aunt's face. " Then Rohan has never spoken, Aunt Loiz ? Well,. I made him promise not to tell !" " I do not understand !" But the widow, from the new light on her niece's cheeks, was beginning to understand very well. " I love Rohan, Aunt Loiz ! I did not know it till lately, but now I love him dearly, and I cannot bear to hear you say such hard things of me, — for he has asked me to be his wife !" , ; The widow uttered an exclamation. The declara- tion did not surprise her So much in itself, for she had often had- her suspicions, but it was startling as coming at that moment and under those circumstances. She looked keenly for a long time at Marcelle, who hung' her head, and went alterhately red and pale.j At last she said, -in a. more gentle tone than before^ — "Sit down, Marcelle!" Marcelle again sat down by her side, comforted and strengthened in so far that her , confession was over. Then came a longer silence than ever ; for the widow was in her own mind going over the past, and wondering over many things, in a waking dream. i62 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD . Mafcelle was beginning to think her angry, when she said, in a low voice, as if talking to herself — " If you love him as ypti Sfiy, it is strange that you brought him no better luck !" This was a hdilie-thrust, for Marcelle had often thqught the same herself. " It is strarlge, as you say !" she tried. " Ah ! it was terrible' to me, for I had prayed' to draw a lucky chance. Aunt Loiz, I did it for the best. He bade me draw ; and he was not there ; and ' if none of his kin had appeared for him, the black mark would have, been put at once against his name. Uncle Ewen saved him that, for he spoke up and said he was ill. And now," Aunt Loiz, if he would only go! Uncle Eweh has influence, and Roh&n would be pardoned ; excuses cbuld be made ; ah, if he would only give himself up at once ! Hoeland Gildas are both goiijg, and he would have company. We two would pray for him night and day while he was aw^y, would we not. Aunt Loiz ? Ah, if he would be wise !" By this time the women were close together, holding each other's hands, and both were -peeping. It was blessed, the widow now felt, to weep -a little with one who loved her son, when all others were against him. But she cried, between her tears^ " No» it is impossible !" - , " If I could only see him and ^peak to him ! But he is so hard to understand. Ah, God ! to hear every one, even the children, say our Rohan is afraid — it almost breaks my heart." " He is not afraid, Marcelle !" "This is what makes it all so strange. I know he is so brave, braver than all the rest ; and y«t, look you, he does not act like a man. When the Emperor calls for his children, he stays. When all the others take their chance fairly, he keeps away. When his number is drawn, he hides — he who is so strong. What can I answer, when Gildas and Hoel say that THE PRAYERS OF TWO WOMEN 163 he is afraid, and even Unqle Ewen cries shamfi upon his name ?'' " He is so h^adstrong I and Master ArfoU has filled his brain with strange notions." " You are right," cried M^rcelle, eagerly : " it is Master ArfoH that is to blame. Ah, he is a wicked man, that, and no friend to the good Emperor, or to God." Thus the two women conversed together, till the ice between them thawed, ^nd they were quite recon- ciled. Mother Gwenfern had never doubted that Rohan was mad to resist the imperial authority, and mnch as her heart ached to think of parting with him, the dreadful uncertainty of his present fate was still more painful. About Master ArfoU, too, she was agreed, as we have seen. She could not understand that extraordinary being, and in her superstition she had often looked upon him with absolute dread. He was too clever to be a safe adviser fpr her son, and he never went to mass or confession, and men sa,id he had been guilty of strange deeds in his youth. Ah, if her poor Rohan had never met such a teacher j So thought she ; and so thpught the excited girl at her side. So by-and-by it came to pass that Mother Gwenfern was holding Marcelle's little hand between her own trembling fingers, and softly smoothing it, with tender words; "Thou -art a good girl," she said, " and I would wish no better for my daughter, if th^t could be. It was not thy fault that Rohan spoke to thee in that way, instead of first speaking tp me ; men do foolish things for a girl, and Rohan is not wise — the good God help hjm ! Oh, piy son, my son !" And she began again to weep bitterly, rocking herself to and fro, while MarpeUe tried in vain to comfort her; nay, not wholly in vain, for there was solace in the touch of the spft young hands, in the i64 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD sound of the gentle voice, in the very breathing and presence of one who loved her boy. The two hearts throbbed together, as hand clasped in hand the women w;ept together ; and presently sinking down on their knees, while Jannedik, the goat, blinked great brown eyes in astonishment, both women prayed that the man they loved might cease his mad purpose, might come in and yield to the inevitable decree, might tirust himself in the hands, of the good God, who would preserve him for them' throughout the war. By such prayer, by, the prayer of those nearest and dearest to him, is a man often softly drawn away from an immortal purpose ; where power and strength might avail nothing, tears and a little love avail much, to shake the soul's sense of some pitiless ' duty. An infant's little liands may thus draw the just man from justice, the righteous man from righteousness ; for justice and righteousness are alike awful, while to stoop and kiss is sweet. When a man's house is armed in affection against him, when, instead of help and a sword, he finds on his own hearth 'only feeble- ness and a love- that cannot understand, strong indeed must be his purppse, supreme indeed must be his faith, if he walks still onward and upward to the terrible heights of God. CHAPTER XIX DOWN BY THE SHORE When Marcelle emerged from the widow's , cottage, her tears were all dry, and she walked swiftly through' the rain in the direction of the village. The wind was still rising upon the sea, and the sea, although it was still calni, had that indescribable hollow coricussioh which is only to be heard previous to stormy weather. The fishermen were drawing their flat-bottomed boats DOWN BY THE SHORE 165 up higher, and carrying their nets and ropes_ within doors for shelter, while a few strong old men, in their nightcaps, and blue guernseys, were stolidly smoking in the rain and nodding their heads out at the sea. The tide was three-quarters flowed, and all the foun- tains were long covered. Instead of turning inland up the main street of the village, Marcelle passed along the wet . shingle, until she . had to thread her way among the caloges, or up- turned boats converted into houses and stores, which clustered on the strand just above high-water mark. Most of these caloges had iron funiaels to let out the smoke ; and on their roofs, or keels, thick slimy grass was growing, and on more than one of the rbofs goats were contentedly grazing. Many of the doors were closed, for the wind blew right into them ; but on one or two thresholds men lounged, or women sat busy knitting, or picturesque children crawled.- This was the lower village, exclusively devoted to the fishing population, and quite inferior in social status to the more solid village above. Marcelle soon found what she was seeking, — a stone cabin built just above these amphibious dwellings, and newly thatched. Here, in the shelter of the door- way, a girl sat in an old-fashioned arm-chair, busily teasing and cording wool, and singing, to herself. " Welcome, Marcelle !" she said, quietly using the usual Breton greeting, " God be with you, Guineveve !" answered Mar- celle, smiling ; then, standing in the doorway and looking down at the busy fingers, she added, ."How is. Mother Goron ?" "You would say she was ten years yoimger," answered Guineveve. " She sings about the place at her work, and she will never rest, and she prays for the Emperor every night, because he has not taken Jan away." , A faint colour came into the girl's cheeks as she i66 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD spoke, but her face, seen in its tight snowy coifj was Still very pale. As she sat there, in her dark dress with the white stomacher and sleeves, -in her blue petticoat and stockings and leather shoes with buckles, you would have said, had you been a Kromlaix man, " That is the girl I could dance with from night till dawn of day." , She was not Kromlaix born, but was a native of Bredt. \yhen she was a child only a year or twp old her parents died, and Mother Goroft, who was a distant relation, brought the little one back with her from Brest, where she had been on business concerning a pensibn she had, inherited from her husband, Jacques Goron, who had been a marine and had died in the lazaretto. From that day Mother Goron brought up Guiiieveve as her own child, with her only son Jan. " What news ?" she said, looking up quickly, after a pause. "None. Aunt Loiz.does not know where he is. He has not been near home for many nights^ and she is growing afraid." '* It is very strange." " He is quite desperate and mad. I sometimes shudder, for he may ha.Ve drowned himself in his rage. If I could' only speak with him 1" They were talking, of course, of Rohan ; but the . pfersottal pronoun was quite endugh, as the ' girl's were in each other's Confidence, .and understood one another. " Gildas is to go ?" said Guineveve presently. " Yes ; and Hoel." " Even then, your niother has Alain ,and Jaiinick ; and, then, there is Ufacle Ewen. But it is terrible for the woman who has only one. If the Emperor had taken Jan, mother would haye died." " But Aunt Loiz prays that he may go !" " That is different. Ah, she has courage ! If I had a son m}' heart would break." DOWN BY THE SHORE 167 " She is grieving, too," answered MEtrcelle, " It is the way of women. For my part, if I had a son and he was afraid, I should never love him any more. Think how terrible it would be if the good Emperor were served so by all his children, for whom' he has done so much; he would be massacred, and then what would become of France ? If Rohan were in his right senses he would not hide away." • " Perhaps he is afraid," sighed Guineveve. ' " Well, it is no wonder !" Marcelle set her white teeth together, and trembled. " If I thought it was that," she cried, " I should hatfs him for ever and ever ;. I should then die of sham^. What is a man if he has not a man's heart, Guine- veve ? He is no more tiian a fish in the sea, that flashes off if you move your hand. No, no, he is brave. But I will tell you what I think — Master Arfoll has put a charm uppn him ; he is bewitched !" Marcelle did not Speak figuratively ; she literally and simply meant that the schoolmaster had affected Rohan by some diabolical art. " But Master Arfoll is a good man 1" cried Guine- veve. " You may think that if you please, but I have my own thoughts. They say he was once a Priest, and now he is friends with no Priest but Father Rolland, who is friends with everybody. He knows cures for men and cattle, and they work like magic. I was told once up in St. Gurlott that he had the evil eye." "Guineveve shuddered, for she too had her supersti- tions, — how, indeed, cbuld she ■ avoid them, reared as she lia,d been in so , lonely and uncultivated an atmo- sphere ? So when Marcelle crossed herself, she crossed herself too ; but she looked up with a sad smile, saying— ^ " I do not believe that of Master Arfoll ; and you must not say so to Mother Goron — he' did her a great .i68 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD service long ago, and she thinks he is a saint, as pure as one of Gpd^s angels. Ah yes, he has the face of a good man !" Marcelle's eyes flashed, and she was about to repeat her charges even 'more angrily, when Jan Goron walked hurriedly up to, the door. He paused, sur- prised at seeing Marcelle there, and then turned smiling to Guineveve, whose face kindled at his coming.' " Welcome, Jan !" said Marcelle. Goron looked this way and that, as if fearing an eavesdropper ; then said in a low voice, rapidly — " I have news, Marcelle ! He is not far away !" Marcelle was aboyt tp utter a cry, when he placed his hand upon her arm. ' " Hush ! Come within, for -the rain is heavy ;" and when they were standing inside, with a full view of poof old Mother Goron bustling busily before the fire, he added, " He was seen at Ploubol yesterday, and a man recognized him, and he was nearly taken> He struck down the gendarmes, ajid that will make his case worse. There is no escape ; he must soon be caught. He was last seen goiiig in the direction of Traonili." Marcelle wrung her hands in despair. , " Ah, God, he is lost— he is mad !" . " Have you seen the proclamations ?" asked Goron in the same lo'iv voice. " Well, they are posted up along the road, atid there is one on the church gate, and another 'on your own door. They forbid one to give shelter or sliccour to any deserter on pain of death ; they say that every conscript who has not answered to his name will be shot like a dog ; there is to be no mercy, — it is tp6 late." Goron was deeply- moved, for he Was the one man in Kromlaix of whom Rohan had ever made a friend. In his character and his whole bearing there was a nobility akin to that of Rohan himself. And who that DOWN BY THE SHORE 169 saw the quiet light in his eyps as he looked at Guine- veve could doubt that he too loved and was loved in return ? When Goron mentioned the proclq^mations against deserters, Marcelle's heart went sick. He had not told her, however, of the sight' he had seen with his own eyes — old Corporal Derval himself, pipe in mouth, accompanied by the gendavme Pipriac and followed by Hoel and Gildas, strutting forth and sticking "up with his own hands the paper that was now to be seen on his own door ! Marcelle -Was not one of, those maidens who wear their hearts on their sleeves : she had martial blopd in her veins, and was quite capable, literally and figura- tively, of "standing fire." But this gnawing terror overpowered her, and she grew faint. All the memory of that happy day in the Cathedral of St. Gildas swam before her; she felt the embracing arms, the loving kiss; and then she seemed again to behold her lover as he had appeared on the night of the Conscription, wild-eyed, vehement, blaspheming all she held, holy and sublime. It was curious, as illustrating the tenacity of her character, that she still stubbornly and firmly refused to believe that Rohan, ip his extraordin- ary conduct, was actuated by the ordinary motives of cowardice and fear. She chose rather to think him the victim of some malignant fate, some diabolic spell such as " wise men " like Master Arfoll knew how to weave, than to dream that he acted under emotions which, in her simple idea, could be Only both treason- able and base. True, she remembered with a, shiver his old expressions concerning the Emperor ; but these, she always peirsuaded herself, 'were uttered when he was not in his " right mind." She did not speak now, but, leaning her forehead against tlie door, gazed drearily out into the rain. All the beautiful dream of her young love seemed blurred and blotted; out by mist and tears. ■170 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD "Marcelle,'' whispered Guinev^ve, taking her hand softly, " do not grieve ; all will be well yet !" . There was no answer, but a heavy sigh, and the •pale firm face wore an expression of despairing pain. " After all," said Goron, sympathetically, " he may be pardoned, ; for the Emperor wants men. 'If he would only come in — even now !" Marcelle was still silent, and presently she kissed Guineveve on either cheek, and held out her hands to Goron. " I must go now," she said quietly. " Mqther will wonder where I am." ' Slowly, under the rain that was ever falling heavier and heavier^ she moved through the streets of the village. She saw nothing, heard nothing — she was wrapt in a dream ; though to look upon her as she passed, with her set lips and her quiet eyes, with her cloak wrapped round her, and her foot as firm yet light upon the ground as ever, one would scarcely have thought that ^e had any care. Yet the great Sea was rising and crying behind her as she went, and before her soul a storm was spreading, more terrible than any sea. CHAPTER XX " THE POOL OP THE BLOOD OF CHRIST " A FEW d9.ys after the medical inspection of the con- scripts, the order to march arrived. They were to go from home to Traonili, from Traonili to Nantes, and thence, after having joined their regiments, right on to the Rhine ! The experiences of the previous year had not brought the Emperor wisdom, and his struggle with Destiny was about to commence on a more enormous scale than ever. The loss of 500,000 men, with all their "POOL OF THE BLOOD OF CHRlST" 171 arms, ammunition, and artillery, had not daunted or even discouraged him : for he had merely uplifted his finger, and legions had come to take their place. Mean- time, Prussia and Russia had shaken hands, and the Tugendbund had been formed, and all Germany had risen. On the i6th of March previous to the Conscrip- tion, Prussia had declared war ; and now the patriotism of the Teuton youth was bursting forth like a volcano. At the head of this host stood the bigot Blucher, pupil of the great Friedrich. As if this were not enough, Sweden too had joined the confederacy against Bona- parte. And already the French' had evacuated Berlin, and retreated on the Elbe. "-Our story at present, however, concerns not the movements of great armies, but the fortunes of humble individuals. The summons to march, had arrived, and the Derval household was as busy as it was troubled. At last came the eve of the departure, and the con- scripits were to set forth, all together, at earUest dawn. There was a btisy gathering, that night in the Cor- poral's kitchen. Sergeant Pipriac was there, his little eyes red with brandy; Mikel Grallon and several other frieinds of the twins had gathered to drink a part- ing glass. , The mother was busy upstairs, turning over and fondling for the last time, and packing up in bundles, her sons' clothes, and weeping bitterly; while Marcelle tried in vain to comfort her. In many houses that night there was such weeping. The twins sat moodily enough, depressed at heart now the time had indeed corne. Even Uncle Ewen was out of spirits ; for, after all, he knew the terrible odds of war, and he was very fond of his nephews. " One thing you will escape, mes garz," he said, puflFr ing his pipe quietly, " apd that, is, all the hard words of the drill sergeant. You are soldiers ready made ! ' Eyes right,' 'eyes left,' 'first position,' 'second posi- tion,' ' present arms ' — ^bah ! you know all that by heart, iox you were bred in a soldier's house. They 172 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD will be pleased viit)^ you for this, and you will get on, you will thrive. There is another thing you must know. When you are receiving cavalry, don't dig into your man in the old way — like this ! — but turn your elbow and give a twist of the wrist — like that !" — here the old burn-powder illustrated the action with his stick. " That is the trick of it, and you will soon learn." "I suppose so," said Gildas gloomily. "The Russians and the Prussians can play at that trick too !" " When you have once smelt powder, it will be all right," returned their uncle ; " and the best of it is, ypu will do that at once. There will be no delay, no worry — you are going straight to the Rhine — straight into the midst of the fun." " I wish I was going too !" ^sighed Alain; "it is like my luck." "Come, come," cried Hoel, "thou wast pale as death that day of the drawing, and would have given thy right arm not to go." " I did not know then that you two were going." " Thy turn will come," said the Corporal ; " and thine too, Jannick. I will give you another wrinkle, youngsters !" he continued, turning again to the others. " Make friends with the corporal, and with the ser- geant too, if you can ; a glass of brandy goes a long way, and few of them will, refuse, t Don't waste your money on the sutler women, by treating all your com- rades, like mad conscripts ; but treat the corporal if he is willing, and, look you, you will have a friend in need. Don't te frightened at first by his gruff ways — address him with humility, and he will be satisfied."' " All right, Uncle Ewen," returned Gildas, holding up a glass of brandy. " Here's his health, whoever he is!" " I myself have seen to your shoes, mes garz," con- tinued the Corporal. " Two pairs each, but neither "POOL OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST" 173 new — soft as silk tp the feet, and the best leather, I have known many a conscript go lame before he^ reached Nantes by starting in new shoes. Then there's your knapsacks! you will find them irksome at first, but the true trick is to strap them tight into the small of the back, not to let them hang loose as foolish conscripts do." Uncle Ewen gave his instructions very quietly ; for {he life of him, he could not help feeling dull. The company was all very sad, and the younger men seemed to regard the twins as lambs in fair- prospect of being slaughtered. Mikel Grallpn was the only one that laughed. Boisterously, again and iagain, he clapped the twins on the back, and offered his hand, and clinked glasses with them. But drink had no effect that night in lighting up their hearts. They knew their mother was in tears upstairs, and that Mar- celle was grieving too. They saw plainly enough that Uncle Ewen's talk was forced, and that even Sergeant Pipriac was sorry for them in his rough way, ^They were going to "glory" for the first time, aind' they would a great deal rather have stayed at home. Late that evening, while the conipany in the kitchen were drinking, smoking, and talking,' Marcelle quietly left the house and \i^alked up the road which led out of the village. The moon was at the full, but vast clouds driven by a high wind obscured its rays, and the night was very dark. Showers of rain fell from time to time, and between the showers the moon looked out with a wan wistful face. Running rather than ,walking, with nothing' but her ordinary indoor costume to shield her from the showers, Marcelle rapidly made her way up the hill, passed the church with its churchyard and calvary (in passing which she crossed herself eagerly), and then, some hundred yards further, turned out of the road across 174 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD an open heath. She was by this time breathless with speed, and her eyes looked from side- to side timidly, as she pursued her way through the darl^'ness. The path was obviously familiar to her,, and, though she tripped several times, she nev«r lost her way. Once, indeed, she stopped perplexed; but just then the moon looked out in its fullest brilliance, and she ran on again in the right direction. By this time she had left the village a mile and a half behind. She was in the midst of a lotiely heath thickly strewn with grey grknite stones, with here and there littlfe clusters of dwarf fir trees and wild fiirze. Another shower came, blotting out the light of the moon, and the wind moaned very desolately. Still, with quickly palpitating heart, Marcelle crept on. ' When the moonlight appeared again in full brightness, she had found what she sought. Towering above in the moon's rays was a colossal granite Cross, looking up to which she could see the body pf the Christ, drooping the head and gazing into the gloom. ; Clustering all belo*? it were wild shrubs, monstrous weeds, darnel and nettle and foxglove as high as a man's breast. Marcelle trembled as she gazed up, crossing herself r3.pidly. Then creeping forward to the base of the Cross, she found a basin of blood-red granite, cracked across, :but still capable of holding the rain and dew. It was brimful from the recent showers, and its con- tents resembled blood.. NoW, this solitary basib, called in the dialect' of the country the " Pool of tlie Blood of Christ," was very holy in tjie eyes of the villagers — more holy even than the wells for holy water in the church itself ; for surely as the dews of Heaven fell into that basin they pos- , sessed the property of Christ's own blood; and could heal sickness where the sick one had much faith. That was not all. It was a common superstitioa that if a man 'or woman went thither when the moon was "POOL OP THE BLOOD OF CHRIST" 175 full, and dipped into the basin any portion of any article of attire or of anything to be worn about the body, that portion of inert matter would become " blessed," and have the power of warding off danger and even death from the wearer. Only one condition was attached to this blessing— that the "dipping" must be done in complete solitude and be, kept a secret from all other living beings. Creeping forward, and kneeling on her knees, despite the rank weeds that clustered round her, Mar- celle said a short prayer; then, drawing from her breast two niedals, she passed both into her right hand, and dropped them softly into the 'granite basin. Trembling with awe, she dosed her eyes and repeated a prayer for the occaSiDn, mentioning as she did so the names of Hoel and Ca]4as. When she had finished she again slipped in her white hand and drew the medals forth. ' ' " Christ be with me !" she said in Breton^ thrusting them eagerly into her bosom. The medals were of copper, and each as large as a crown-piece. They had been given ^o her long .ago ^ by the Corporal, and she had religiously preserve4 them ; but now, when the twins were going awa.y, she meant to give them one each, without explaming, of cOurSe, that they possessed a special "charm." They were handsome perforated medals, and, attached to a String, could be bung unseen over the heart. On one side of each was the laurelled image of the Emperor ; on the oth6r, the gUmpse of a bloody battle, with the inscription^" AusTEELiTZ." Her excitement had been great, and directly her task was over she moved away. Suddenly, ere she had gone many yards, she heard a sound of footsteps behind her. She turned again isharply, h\it the darkness was great and she saw nothing. Crossing herself again, she began to run. 176 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD That moment she again heard the footsteps behind her. She stopped in terror and looked back. The moon gleamed out for an iilstant, and she could distinctly perceive a figure, earthly or unearthly, following close at her back. A less courageous girl, under the. tension of such emotions as Marcelle had felt that nigh|, would have fainted ; indeed, there was not another w;ornan, and scarcely a man, in Kromlaix who would have ventured alone at such an hour, 'as she had done, to the " Pool of the Blood of Christ." Marcelle was terror-stricken, but she still detained her senses. Seeing the figure approaching, she fled again. ' But the figure was as fleet as she,. and she heard its footsteps coming behind hef, nearer and nearer ; she ran ahdran till her breath failed; thefeet came nearer and nearer and she could hear a heavy breathing behind her back. With a tremendous effort she turned, determined to face her ghostly pursuer. Close to her, with his face gleaming white in the moon, was a man, and before she could see him clearly he spoke— in alow voice he uttered her name. ' " Marcelle !" She knew the voice instantly as that of her lover ; yet, strange to say, though she had longed and prayed for this meeting, she shrank away, and made no answer. The moon came out brightly and illumined his figured from head to foot. , Head and feet were bare, his form looked strange and distorted, the hair fell in wild masses about his face. He loorned before her like a tall phantom, and his voice sounded hollow and strange. " Marcelle ! — have you forgotten me ? Yes, it is I; ^— and you are afraid !" " I am not afraid," answered Marcelle, recovering her- self ; " but you startled me — I thought it was a ghost." "POOL OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST" 177 " I was resting yonder, and I saw you come to the ' Pool of the Blood of Christ !' " Marcelle's reply was characteristic. " You saw me 1 ■ Then you have broken my charm." " Not at all," answered Rohan, very coldly. " I do not know your errand, and I could not see you when you knelt. It is a cold night for you to be abroad. There, you shiver — hasten home." , He spoke as -if there was nothing between them, as if he were any stranger advising another ; his voice rang cold and clear. She answered in the same tone. " Hoel and Gildas are going to the wars to-morrow, and that is what brought me here. They wiU wonder why I stay so lo'ng." She made a movement as' if to go. He did not stir a step to follow her. She turned her face again. " It is strange to see you here j I thought you were far away. They are looking for you down there." Rohan nodded. " I know it." "There is a watch upon your mptter's house day and night, and upon, ours too. There are gendarmes from St. Gurlott in the village, with Pipriac at their head. There is a paper posted up on the houses^ and your name is upon it ; and there is a reward." " I know that also." Still so cold and calm. He stood moveless, looking upon her as ijf upon the tomb of a lost love. She could not bear it any longer. Casting away her mad pretence of indifference, she sprang forward and threw her arms around his neck. " Rohan ! Rohan ! why do you speak to me like that?" _ • , . He did not resist her, but softly disengaged her arms, as she continued — "We did not know what had happened — I have been heart-broken — Gildas and Hoel are going. They are mad against thee, all of them. It is terrible !" 178 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD « But thou !" The endearidg' second personal pronoun was in requisition at last. "And I— my Rohan, I have always been on tby side. They said thou wast afraid, but I told them they spoke falsely. They are aU angry with me for defending thee. Kiss, me, my Rohan! Wilt thou not kiss me?"— and after his cold lips came doyira. and were \ quite close to hers, she cried, " Ah, my Rohan, I knew thou wouldst be wise. It is not too late, and thou wilt be forgiven if thou but march^ with the rest. Come down, come down ! Ah, thank God that it is so ! Uncle Ewen will intercede, and Gildas and Hoel will shake hands ; it will be all, well !" She looked up in his face with passionate confidence and fiope, and as she finished, kissed him again with her warm ripe lips. With those white arms around his neck, with that fond bosom heaviilg against his own, he stood aghast. ' " Marcelle, Marcelle!"\he cried in a heart-broken voice. ' ^ ■ "My Rohan!" ^ " Do you not understand yet? My God, will you not understand ? It is not that — it is not that I have changed my mind. I cannot come down ; I will never give niy'self up, alive !" There were no warm arms around him now. Marcelle had drawn back amazed. " Why, then, have you come back to Kromlaix ?" " To see thee I To speak to thee once more, whether I live or die !" Trembling and crying, Marcelle took both his hands in her^. His were icy cold. "Thou wift come down! For my sake, for thy Marcelle!' Ah, do not break my heart — do not let me hear then^ call thee coward. And if not for my sake, for thine own. Thou canst iiot escape them ; they will be after, thee day and night ; thou wilt die. "POOL OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST" 179 Mother of God, Son of God ! — ^yeS, die ! My Rohan, the Emperor will be good to tt^ee — fcoine down !" " And go to the war ?" "What then? Thou wilt come back like Uncle Ewen; ail' will look up to thee, and know thee for a brave man." , " And thou ?" "Wilt be thy wife, my Rohan!. I swear it, dear. I will love thee, I will love thee." « But if I die ?" " Then I will love thee more, and I will wear crape upon my arm till I am old, and I will never wed another man. Thou wilt have died, my brave soldier, fighting for the Emperor. Thou wilt wait for me in Heaven, and 1 shall come to thee and kiss thee there." There was passion enough^ in her voice, in her words, and in hei: kiss, to have swept away like a torrent any common man's resolve. Her tones, her looks, her living frame, all spoke, all were eloquent in Love's name, as she clung around him and drew him on. He shook before her impetuous appeal ; his heart rose, his head swam, and his eyes looked wildly up tc the cloudy moonlit heaven ; but he was firm.; " Marcelle, it is impossible. I cannot go !" " Rohan, Rohan !" He tottered as if overpovfered, and held his hand upon his heart. His whole , frame trembled ; he seemed no longer a strong man, but a shivering aflfrighted creature. Before he knew it he had sunk upon his knees. " I cannot go — it is an oath. Farewell !" She looked at him fixedly, as i^ to read his very soul. A terrible thdught had flashed upon her. " Rohan, speak I for God's sake, Stand up and speak ! Is it true what they say — that you are afraid ?" He rose to his feet and looked at her strangely. i8o THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD " Speak, Rohan !" " Yes, it is true." '.' That you are afraid ! That you are a-j- " It is all true," he answered. Had it been day she .might have seen a strange smile on his tortured face. "I will not serve the Emperor, I will not go to war, because — well, becaus^e I am afraid." He did not explain his fear, for, had he done so, she could not have comphrehended.^ He continued^ — " It is best that yOu should understand at once, for ever, that I will never fight as soldiers fight ; that is against my heart ; and that I am all, perhaps, that •you say. Were it otherwise, Marcelle, I think your love might tempt me ; but I. have not the courage to do what you bid me. There, you are shivering — ^it is so cold. Hasten home !" Her heart seemed broken now. Not in anger, not in wrath, did she turn upon him; she stabbed him with the crueller pain of tears. In those regions, where physical daring is a man's mightiest dower, a coward is baser than a worm, fouller than a leper of the old times. And she had loved a coward ! Had she been wiser in the world, she might have guessed that he ;who brands himself with an ill name is not always the fittest to bear it. Biit she was not wise, "and his own confession, corroborating the assertion of her kinsmen, appalled her. Almost unconsciously, still in tears, she was creeping away. " Marcelle, will you not give me your hand again? Will you not say good-bye ?" She paused) but said nothing. He seized her hands, and kissed her softly on either cheek. " Farewell,' Marcelle I Thou canst not understand, and I. do liot blame thee ; but if evil comes to me, do not think of me in anger. Perhaps God will be good, and some day you naay think better of me. Farewell, farewell !" "POOL OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST" i8i He had turned away Sobbiiig, when she caught him by the arm, crying passionately — " They will find thee ; they will kill thee — that will be worse ! Where art thou going ? Where wilt thou fly?" " God will lielp me to a refuge, and I do not think they will find me. Keep me in thy heart !'•' Then he was gone indeed. An hour after that strange meeting Marcelle was back in the cotta,ge trying to comfort her mother. It was midnight when Hoel and Gildas got into b^d and fell into heavy sleep. They were to rise before dawn. The corporal sat by the kitchen-fire, pipe in mouth. He was to rerriain up till the hour for summoning his nephews, and theti afterwards to see them a short distance uppn the road. Meantime Rohan Gwenfern was wandering through the darkness like a dreary spirit' of the night. Shaken to the soul by that Ikst interview with her he held dearest in all the worldj yet as resolved as ever in his despairing resistance against an evil fa,te in which she seemed arrayed against him, he flitted to and fro, he scarce knew whither. The passionate love in his heart fought fiercely against the cold ideal in his soiH. He could feel Marcelle's embraces still; for kisses less sweet, he knew,, many a man would have given his salvation. He had not slept for two nights and days, during which he had been creeping back to Kromlaix. The rain was still falling, and with every shower the night seemed to~ grow darker. Sick and wearied out, he crefjt back to the Cross, and there, resting his head against the stone, partially sheltered from the rain by the stone figure above, and , entirely hidden by the weeds and furze which rose above his head, he fell into a heavy sleep. And as he slept he dreamed a dream. i82 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD CHAPTER XXI THE DREAM He seemed, in his dream, to be still lying on the spot where he had fallen asleep, with his eyes fixed on the crucified figure above him. All was very dark around , and over him ; the wind moaned, and the rain 5till fell heavily on the ground a,nd plashed drearily into the granite pool. He lay crouching among the wet weeds and grasses, watching and listening in fascination for he knew not what. His heart was beating madly, every pulse in his frame was /thrilling; for he had been startled by a strange movement above him, by a supernatural sound. He listened more intently, and this time his ears were startled by a low moan as of a human mouth. It came again ; — and behold, to his horror and terror, the figure op the Cross was moving its head from side' to side. Not as if in pain, not as if wholly in conscious- ness, but as a sleeper moves his head, slowly awaken- iftg from a heavy, sleep. , The heart of Rohan faUed within him, a sense as of death stole over him. H[e would have fled, but his limbs refused to obey his \vill. He sought to utter a cry, but the sound was frozen in his throat. For a moment, as it seemed, he became unconscious. When he looked again, the Cross above was empty, and the figure was standing at the foot ! The raiii ceased, the wind grew low, and through parting clouds the moon looked down. Black against the moonlight loomed the Cross ; while at its foot, glimmering like marble, stood the Clirist., His eyes were open now, gazing straight down at the crouching form of Rohan ; and his arms and limbs THE DREAM 183 moved, and from his lips there came a breath ; and he said in a low voice, " Rise !" The fascinated body of Rohan obeyed that diviner will, and rose at once and stood erect j and at that moment Rohan felt all his fear fall from him, and he gazed up into the Face, but spoke no word. And the Face stilled the troubled watersj of his heart with its beauty, as moonlight stills the sea. He would fain have fallen again and worshipped, not in terror now, btit in joy* ' Then the Christ said," Follow me!" As a spirit moves, scarce touching the earth, he descended from the foot o^ the Cross, and moved, silently along. As a man follows a ghost, fearful to lose the vision, yet afraid to approach too near, Rohan followed. The night was black, but a dim light ran before them on the ground. Silently they passed along, add swiftly ; for it seemed to Rohan, in his dream, that he moved with no volition of his own, but as if upborne by invisible hands that helped him on ; and the woods atid fields seemed moving by, like clouds drifting before the wind, and thp earth, beneath their feet swept past them like- a wind-blown sea. Nqw conscious, now unconscious, as it seemed,' !Rohah followed ; for at times his senses seemed flown and his eyes closed ; but ever on opening his eyes he saw the white Christ gliding on before him, pausing ever and anon to gaze round, with the pallid moon- light on His face, and with eyes divihe to bfeckon him on. Time trembles into eternity during sleep — there is no count of mundane minutes ; and Rohan, in, his dream, seemed to follow his Guide for hours and hours and hours. Through the hearts of lonely woods, over the summits of moonlit hills, past spectral rivers gleam- ing in the moon, by solitary -Waters hushed as death, i84 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD through villages asleep in the green hollows. Where- soever they went all slumbered; the eyes of all the Earth were sealed. Then they passed through the darkened streets of towns, creeping along in the house-shadows till they emerged again upon the open moonlit plains. At last, passing through the wide -paths of a culti- vated wood, ind crossing an open space where 'foun- tains wefe leaping, the Figure paused before a great building with windows of glass gleaming in the moon. All around it the greensward stretched, and flowers sprang, and fountains leaped, but it stood very cold arid still.^ The Figure passed on and stood before the door, uplifting his hand. .The door opened and he entered in, and Rohan followed close behind. The corridors were dark as death, but the strange shining lig:ht that ran before the Spirit's feet made all things Visible within. They pass,ed through many rooms— some vast and dim, tenanted only by the . solitary, moon-ray ; others dark and curtained,' full of , the low breathing of men or women in sleep — along silent passages where the wind wailed low at their coming;- up 'ghostly stairs with faces of antique paint- ing glimmering from the walls, and marbl& busts and statues -gleataing through the dusk. Nothing stirred, nothing woke ; sle^ep like moonlight ' breathed everywhere, trembling amid darkness. Aud though their feet fell on hollow corridors and empty floors, their ;^assing aWoke no reverberation ; but the dbors flew o^en silently, and the sleepers did not stir on their pillows ; and the only sound was the low cry of the winds in the silent courts. Again the dream faded, and Rohan's consciousness seemed to die away. When the eyes of his soul opened again, he was crouching in the shadow ' of a curtained door, and towering erect close to him, draw- THE DREAM J85 ing back the curtains with a white hand, stood the Christ, pointing. Before them, with his back to them, writing busily at a table, sat a .Man. The room in which he wrote was an antechamber, and through the open door of the inner room could be seen a heavily curtained bed. On the table stood a lamp, casting down the rays upon the papers before him, and leaving all the rest of the chamber dim. It seemed as if all Rohan's heart hungered to see the face of this Man ; but it remained hidden, bent over the table. Hours seemed to pass ; he did not stir. He was p&.rtly undressed for steep, but though all the world rested, he still wrote and worked. Rohan's soul sickened. It seemed terrible to behold that one Form awake and alone, while all the heart of creation was hushed and still. Again the dream faded. When Rohan looked once more the room was empty ; but the lamp still burnt on the table, though the shape of the Man was gone. He turned his eyes upward and met the divine orbs of his Guide, who pointed to the table and formed with His lips, rather than uttered with His breath, this one word, " Read !" He crossed the chamber, he bent above the table. It was covered with papers written in a clear l^and, but his eyes saw one paper only, on which the ink was sca,rcely dry, and it contained only two words, his own name — " Rohan Gwenfern." As he read, in -his dream, he felt the confused sick horror Of a man half stunned. He seemed to under- stand darkly that his name so written meant some- thing fatal and dreadful, yet he could not sufficiently grasp the sense of how or why : all he seemed to knbw was the awfulness of this one Man, awake when all creation slept, writing that name down as if for doom; 7 i86 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD ybt for what doom Rohan knew riot, any niore than he knew the likeness of the Man. Nevertheless, horror possesB€(d him, and he fell on his knees, uplpoking in the face, of his Guide, and dumbly entreating help from some calkmity he could not understand. But during a sudden flash of consciousness the Christ had passed into the inner chamber, and had drawn back the heavy . curtain of the bed therein ; andlo! Rohan saw clearly, as if in moonlight, the face of the Man, though it was now calm in sleep. He crept forward hungering, on the face; and he knew it. White as marble, with closed cold lids and the lips still firni in rest ; a stony face — such as he had often pictured it waking, such as . he had seen on coins and medals of metal, and in rude pictures hung on cottage walls ; — the face of the great Emperor. And the Emperor slept so soundly that not even his breathing could be heard iri the chamber; for as Rohan crept closer, with fascinated eyes,'the' lineaments of the face grew more fixed in their marble pallor, so that Rphan thought in his dream, " He does not sleep, but is dead." And one hand on the coverlet looked like marble too : a white h^nd like a woman's, a small hand clenched like a sleeping child's. In that moment of ■v(ronder he turned his eyes, and found himself alone. ' ■ The figure oi the, Christ had disappeared. The lamp still burned in the outer chamber, but more dimly. He was alone by the bed of the great Emperor, watching, and shivering from head to foot. Strangely enough, the supernatural presence had been a source of strength. No sooner had it disap- peared than an awful sense of terror and helplessness possessed him, dnd he would have flown ; but he could not move — he could not turn his eyes away. To be there alone with the terrible Master of his life — to be crouching there and seeing the Emperor lying as if dead — was too much for his soul to bear j he struggled THE DREAM 187 and struggled in despair and dread, and at last in the agony of his dream, he uttered a wild cry. The Emperor did not stir, but in a moment the cry was answered from distant rooms — there was a sound of voices, a ,tramp of feet, a rushing to and fro ; he tried again to fly, but was still helpless, as the feet came nearer and nearer; and while the. doors of the ante- chamber were burst open, and a haggard light of cruel faces came in, atod soldiers rushed upon him with flashing swords to take his life, he swooned a,way — and woke. He was lying where he had 'cast himself down, among the .great weeds at the Cross's foot ; the dawn was just breaking, and the air was very cold, and the stone Christ hung above hirn, drooping its heavy head, wet with the long night's rain. He was about to rise to his Ifeet and crawl away to some securer shelter, when a Sound of voices broke' upon his ears, and a tramp of coming feet. Then he remembered how near he was to the highway, and casting himself flat down among the weeds, he lay hidden and still. The feet came nearer ; the voices were singing a familiar song : " Le matin quand je m'^veille, Je vois mon Empereur, — II est doux k merveille !" Rohan shivered as he lay hidden, for he distinctly recognized the voices of Hoel and Gildas Derval. There was a pause on the road, a sudden silence ; then another voice, in the immistakable tones of the old Corporal, cried, " Forward !'' The tramp of the feet began again, the voices renewed their singing. All passed close by the Gross, but down in the hollow of the road. Rohan did not stir till every sound of foot or voice had diedi Th^ i88 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD conscripts of Kromlaix, escorted out of the village by many of their friends and fellow villagers, were on their way by dawn to join the armies of the Emperor on the banks of the far-oflf Rhine. CHAPTER XXII MIKEL GRALLON From that day forth, for many days and weeks, the fate of Rohan Gwenfern remained unknown.. Search was made for him high and low, his name was pro- claimed through every village for many miles around, blood-money was offered for his apprehension aUve' or dead, but all without avail. The last occasion on •Which he had been publicly seen was on that memor- able night of the Conscription, when he made his appeal to Father RoUand — whose opinion, by the way, was emphatically to the effect that Rohan had com- mitted suicide. Only one person perhaps knew better, and that was Marcelle Derval. Not^ one word did she breathe, however, of the meeting under the Cross on the night before the departure of the conscripts. On this subject of Rohan the Corporal was adamant, and he lost no opportunity of uttering his denunciations. Marcelle no longer protested, for she felt that all was over, since Rohan was either mad or worse than mad ; and when Uncle Ewen averred that, while all the other conscripts of Kromlaix were good men and true, Rohan Gwenfern was a wretch and a coward, she could not utter one word in answer — for had not Rohan confessed with his own lips that he was afraid,, and had she not seen in his face with her own eyes the sick horror a physical coward must feel ? It was terrible to think of— it was worse even than death itself ! Her passion had fed itself upon his. MIKELGRALLON 189 glorious manhood, on his mighty physical strength and beauty, on the power and dignity of his nature, and even on his prowess in games of skill and courage ; she had exulted in him and gloried in him as, even feeble women exult and glory in what is strong j and now! It was almost inconceivable to think that he was of despicable fibre even as compared with Hoel, who she knew was timid, and Gildas, who she con- fessed to herself was stupid. All that leonine look had meant nothing, after all ! Even a cripple on a crutch, if beckoned by the Emperor, would have beh3.ved more nobly. , Better, she thought, a thousand times better, that: Rohan had fallen from the dizziest crag of Kromlaix, and been mourned as a true man, and remembered by all the youth of these shores as " over brave." Yet frequently, as these thoughts passed through her fiery brain, Marcelle felt her own conscience pleading against her ;, for never until that last meeting had she felt so strongly the distance of Rohan's soul from her own, and never since had she failed to say to herself at times, " Perhaps I do not understand." Something in the looks, the words, made her feel, as she had often felt 'before, the influence of a strong m6ral nature asserting itself steadfastly and fearlessly, yet most lovingly, against her prejudice and her ignorance. And this feeling awoke fear and re-created love, for it reclothed Rohan in the strength that women seek. She coi^d better .bear to think him wicked and mad — to look upon him as a fierce enemy of her convic- tions, and of the great Imperial cause — than to conceive him a coward pure and simple. If the sure convic- tion of that had lasted for one whole day, we verily believe that Marcellp's love would have turned to repulsion, that her hand would almost have been ready to strike her lover down. Well, coward or chouan, or both, he had disappeared, igo ,THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD and if he lived, which many doubted, no man knew where he was hiding. The nose of Sergeant Pipriac, reddened with brandy but keen as an old hound's, could fipd no scent of the fox in or out of the village. A hundred spies were ready to claim the reward, but bo opportunity came. At Isist the curb's private sus- picions spread into general certainty, and it was everywhere averred that Rohan Gwenfern had made away with himself, either by leaping from one of the high cliffs, or by drowning himself in the sea. As weeks passed by and no traces of the fugitive were found, even Marcelle begaii to fear the worst, and her silent reproaches died away in a nameless, dread. But she had her mother to comfort — the'' work of the house to do — the Fountain to visit — and none of her hours, were idle. Had she heeu able to sit like a lady of romance, with her hands folded before her anS her eyes i&xed, in a dream, her woe would have con- sumed heir utterly ; but as it was she was saved by work. Never too sadly introspective, she now looked out upon her pain like a courageous creature. Though her cheek was pale and her eye "often dim, her step upon the , ground ■w^as firm as ever. Her heart and lips were silent of their grief. Only when she stole down to Mother Gwenfern to whisper ,of Rohan, or when she placed ter poor weeping head in the lap of Guineveve, did the trouble of her soul find relief, An irritating but salutary distraction came at this period ■ in- the conduct of Mikel Grallon. Grallon, whom she had more than once! suspected of an attach- ment for herself, began Cow to show unmistakable indications of a settled design. True, all he did was to drop in of a night and smoke T/irith the Corporal, to bring little presents of fresh fish to the widow, and to Jisten humbly hour after hour to the Corporal's stories ; but Ma.rcelle,,well skilled in the sociology of Kromlaix, knew well that such conduct meant mischief, or in Other words matrimony. It was not etiquette in MIKEL GRALLON 191 Kromlaix for a bachelor to address himself directly to the maiden of his selection ; that was the last stage of courtship, the preliminaries cor^sisting of civilities to th? eld'ers of the house, a very prosaic account of his own worldly possession's, and a close inquiry into the amount of the bride's dower. Now, Grallon was a flourishing man, belonging to a flourishing family. He was the captain of a boat of his ownj and he reaped the harvest of the sea with no common skill. His morals were unexceptionable, though morals of course were a minor matter, and he was in all other respects an eligible match. He was not a pleasant person, however, this Mikel Grallon. His thin, tight lips, his small keen eyes, his narrow forehead and eyebrows closely set together, in4icated a peculiar and acquisitive character ; his head, set on broad shoulders, was too small for symmetry ; and though his bright weather-beaten cheek betokened health and gtrerigth, he lacked the open expression of less sophisticated fishermen. . His features, indeed, resembled folded leaves rather than an open flower ; for the wind, which blows into open' bloom the faces of so many men who sail ^the sea, had only shut these lineaments tighter' together, so that no look whatever of the hidden soul shone directly out of them. He went about with a smile — the smile of secrecy, and of satisfaction that his secrets were so well kept; ' The great characteristic of the man was his silent pertinacity. In whatever he did, he spared no pains to insure success; and when he had set his heart upon an object, the peregrine in its pursuit was not more steady. And so when he began to " woo," Marcelle at once took the alarm ; and although his " wooing " consisted only of a visit two or three night's a week, ■ during which he scarcely exchanged a word with herself, she knew well what his visits portended. Every evening, 192 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD when he dropped in, she tried to make some excuse for leaving the house, and when she was constrained to stay she moved about 'in feverish malaise ; for the man's two steadfast eyes watched her with a dumb fascination, and with an admiration there was no mistaking. Jannick, who saw how matters stood, found a good butt for his jests in Grallon, and was not altogether to be subdued even by-gifts of new ribbons for t£e biniou. He loved tp tease Marcelle on the subject of the fisherman's passion. Strange to say, he no longer met with the fiery indignation which had often before been the reward of his -impertinence. Marcelle neither replied nor heeded, oiily her cheek went a little paler, he? lip quivered a little more. A weight was upon her heart, a horrible fear and despair.. She was listening for a voice -out of the sea or from the grave, and even in her sleep She listened — but the ■ voice never came. CHAPTER XXIII CORPORAL DERVAL GALLOPS HIS HOBBY Corporal Derval was smoking rapidly, his face flushed all over to the crimson of a^ cock's comb, his black eyes burning, the pulses beating in his temples like a roll of drums, and his thoiights far away. As the grey smoke rolled before his eyes it became like the smoke of cannoti, and through its mist he saw — not the interior of his Breton home, with the faces. of the astonished group around him^-but a visionary battle- plain, where a familiar figure, in weather-beaten hat and grey overcoat,, sat, with a heavy head sunk deep between his shoulders, watching the fight from his saddle with the stony calmness of an equestrian statue. DERVAL GALLOPS HIS HOBBY 193 The voice of the little curi, who was sitting at the. fireside, called him back ,to the common day. " Corporal Derval !" The Coirporal started, drew his pipe out of his mouth, and straightened himself to " attention." So doing, he became again conscious of his surroundings. . A bright fire burnt upon the hearth, and the door was carefully closed, for a wild cold wind was blowing. Mother Derval was spinning in a corner, and near her, sewing, sat Marcelle. Toasting his little fat toes by the fire sat the curi, smoking also, with his throat-band loosened, and a glass of corn brandy at his elbow. Alain and Jannick — ^the remnant of the Maccabees — were seated in various attitudes about the chamber ; and leaning against the Wall, not far from Marcelle, in his fisherman's costume, and with complexion coloured a light tobacco brown by constant exposure on the sea, was Mikel Grallbn. Though the season was early summer, they were holding a sort of veilUe, or fireside gathering, and the old Corporal, as usual, had been enacting Sir Oracle. The little cur& had drawn his pipe from his mouth, and was shrugging his shoulders in protestation. " But see, my Corporal, his treatment of our Holy Father himself, the Pope of Rome !" The Corpora.1 knitted his brows and puffed vigor- ously again; All looked at him as if curious to hear his reply, the rnother with a little doubtful sigh. The Corporal was soon prepared. " Pardon me, m'sim le cuvi, you do not understand. All that is an arrangement between the Emperor and the Holy Father ! There are some who say the Emperor threw His Holiness into a dungeon, and fed him on bread and water. Fools! — His Holiness dwelt in a palace, and fed off silver and gold, and was honoured as a saint. Do not mistake, m'sku le cure ; the Emperor is not profane. He fears God. Do I not know it, I who speak ? Have I not seen with my own 194 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD eyes, heard with my own ears ? He is God-fearing, the Emperor ; and he is sent by God to be the scourge of the enemies of France." Mikel Grallon nodded approval. " Right, Uncle Ewen !" he exclaimed : " he has made them dance, those Germans and those English!" The Corporal, without turning his head,- continued to address the' curS, who was sipping his brandy with the air of a man convinced against his will and of' tis own opinion still. But the priest, good fellpw! had few strong convictions of any kind, and hated polemics, especially at the fireside; so he contradicted no longer. " "i^ou do not know it, you others," pursued the veteran; "but it is a grand thing to look' on a man like that — to look upon him — to talk with him; — ^to feel 'his breath about you!" "As you have done, Corporal!" said the priest approvingly. Marcelle looked at her unc],e with a briglit smile of admiration. Every other eye was upon him. "As I have done!" said the veteran proudly, and ■*ith no shame in his pride. " Yes, I who stand here! I have been with him face to face, looking in his eyes, as I do now in yours, Father Rolland! First at Cismone, then twice again. I can see him now; I Can hear his voice as plain as I hear yours. Somfetimes I hear it sleeping, and , I leap up and feel for my gun, ,and look up, fancying I see the stars aboVe me out over the open camp. I think if he came and spoke again like that above me, I should waken in my grave." ' ' , His voice sank very low now, and his keen eye, sheathed like an eagle's half asleep, looked softly on the fire. The turf was bright crimson, and as it shifted and changed he saw in it forms moving and faeces flushing, like some spectral army passing in a dream. There was a pause. Presei;tly, to relieve the DERVAL GALLOPS HIS HOBBY 195 excitement of his feelings, the Coirporal took from the fire a bright "coal" of turf, and, puffing vigorously, applied it to the bowl of his pipe, which had gone out. clearing his throat and thinning with his plump little hand the cloud of smoke which he himself was blowing, the cur& spoke again — " Corporal Derval !" •■ , The veteran, still smoking, turned his' eye quietly on the speaker, and listeried attentively. " How many years ago was that Uttle affair of Cismone?" The Corporal's black eyes blazed, and a delighted smile overspread his girim features. Pausing deliber- ately, he set his pipe down upon the little chirnney- piece, close to a tiny china &,ltar and several china casts of the Saints ; next, leaning forward, he csttefuUy poked the fire with his wooden leg; and finally, turning round again to the priest, knitting his brows as if engaged in abstruse calculatiouj and rubbing his hands hard together, he replied in a voice that might have been heard by a whole regiment— " It was the night of the seventeenth of September, in the year seventeen hundred and ninety-six." If the words had been a spell, the company could not have looked more thrilled and awed. To be quite candid, we m,ust admit that the announcement was a familiar one, an(J had been made, with its accompany- ing veracious narrative, in the same spot and in the same way many and many a night before. But some stories are ever new, and this was one of them. Unc],e Ewen's delicious assumption that he was retailing a novelty, the never-failing murmurs of pleased in- credulity and astonishment for which he waited at every imjportant turn in the incidents, the enthusiasm of the speaker and the rapt attention of all present, madd the occasion always illustrious. Those who knew Uncle Ewen and ha.d not heard his anecdote of Cismone knew him but little — ^had indeed never been invited to 196 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD the confidences of his warlike bosonii Every one present that night had heard it a dozen times, yet each one present — with, the exception, perhaps, of Mikel Grallon, who looked a little bored, and kept his eyes amorously fixed on Marcelle — seemed eager to hear it again. Alain Derval listened with gloomy interest, but the face of Jannick was bright and cheerful; for he, of course, had no dread of the Conscription, which was still overshadowing the heart of his grown-uj) brother. The mother ceased her spinning. ' The little cwi nodded his head, like a water-.wagtail standing on' the ground. Marcelle dropped her 'Sewing into, her lap, and gazed, with a look of eager emotion and expecta- tion, at her uncle. The* grenadier, full of that rarest of all emotions — the pride of a prophet who is reverenced in his own country— continued clearly, and as he spoke the figures arouhd him again and again faded, and his eye searched the distance in a sort of waking dream. " We left Trent on the sixteenth. Father RoUand ; — it was in the grey of the' dawn. It was a long march, ten leagues of infernal country,; a forced move, you see. In the evening we reached a village, — the name I have forgotten, but a quaint httle village on a hill. That night we were so weary that we could not have kept awake, only the word had riin along the lines that the Emperor — ah, he was only a general then ! — that GenerBjl Bonaparte was with us. Well," we knew that it was true, for we could feel him, we could swear that he was near. In the hospitals, father, the doctor goes from bed to bed, touches the pulses — so !^and says, ' Here is fever — here is health ; here is death.' As he comes, the wounded look up and brighten; as he goes, they sink back and groan. All the wards feel him far off — every heart beats quicker at his coming, and slower at his going. Well, that is the way with fhe army; its pulses were beating all along the lines; DERVAL, GALLOPS HIS HOBBY 197 you would say, 'The General is coming — he, is near — he is here — he is gone^he is ten leagues away!'" j He paused for Jbreath, and Mother Derval heaved a heavy sigh. Poor heart ! she was not thirjking of the' Emperor, but of her two great sons, already with the army. The Corporal heard a sigh, and hurried on; — " The moon was still up when we marched again in the morning. We were in three columns like three big winds of the equinox, and we rushed- down on the Austrians, who were strongly' posted at Primolanp. My God, but we caught them napping — we cut our way into them. Mikel Grallon, you have seen a boat run down ? — Smash ! that was the style. Our cavalry cut off the retreat, and thousands laid down their arms. That would have been enough for an ordinary general, but the Little Corporal was not content. Forward ! he gave the word. Wurmser was at Bassano, and Mezaros was marching on Verona. We pushed on at bayonet point till we reached Cismone. It was night, and we were tired out ; so when we got the word to halt, it was welcome news." Here Uncle Ewen suited the action to the word, and^ halted again. The priest nodded approvingly through his cloud of 1 smoke. " Now, I had a comrade in those days — a t^U fellow, with a cast in his eye, but as good as gold — ^^and his name was Jacques Monier, and he was born inland on the Rhone. We were like brothers ; we shared bite and sup, and many a night lay in each other's arms for warmth. Well, on that night of the seventeenth, Jacques was lying with his feet to the fire we had indled on the bare ground, and I had gone to fiiid water. When I returned Jacques was standing on his feet, holding in hife hand half a loaf of black bread, and beside him, in the light of the fire, stood — whom, think you ? — the General himself. He was splashed from head to foot with rnud and rain — he looked like any comnion soldier — but I knew him at once. He was igS THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD warming his han^s over the fire, and Jacques was sayingj as he held out the loaf, 'Take it 'all, my General !' As I saw that, I looked into the General's face, and it was white as death with hunger. Think of that; it is true, foir I who tell you know What hunger is." \ , A rnurxnur of amazement ran round the room ; not that the fact was new, but that such an expression of feeling was appropriate. "Did the Emperor take the half loaf?" asked Father RoUand. , 'v ^ "'Take it all,' said Jacques; 'half a loaf is not much.' Well, you should have seen the General, smile. He did not answer, but he took the bread Mnto his hands, and broke off a motsel and began to eat, handing Jacques back the rest. "Then came my turn 1 I held in niy hand the little tin pot half full of water, and I emptied into it a little brandy that I had saved in my flask, and I handed the pot to the General. Here it is-^the same — I keep it still as a souvenir;" So saying, he detached from a hook over the fire the canteen, whiph Father Rolland examined over and oyer, and under and under, in hoijest admiration. . " ' Drink, my General,' sg.id I, saluting. Ah, I had courage in those days I He drank, and when he tasted the brandy he smiled again ! Then he asked us our names, and we told him. Then he lookefi hard at us over and over again, wrapped his cloak around him^ and went away. So Jacques and I sat down by the fire, and finished the bread and the brandy and water, and tallied of the Emperor till we fell to sleep." "That was an adventure, worth having!" observed the curS. "And the General remembered you for that service, no doubt ?" The, Corporal nodded, i; " The General remembers everythiug," he replied. " Nine years afterwards he had not forgotten !" DERVAL GALLOPS HIS HOBBY 199 " Nine years 1" ejaculated the ctirS. " It was a long time to wait, Corporal. Did he give you no reward ?" Uncle Ewen turned rather red, but answered promptly — ' " What reward would you give for a crust cif bread and a drop of brandy, which any one would give to the beggar at his door ? Besides, the General had more to think of, and it all passed hke a dream. Not that we missed our reward at last. When the time came he remembered well." * "That is certain," said Mikel Grallon, who had often heard the story. • "Tell Father RoUand," cried Marcelle; "he does not know." The Corporal hesitated, smiling. ^ " Yes, yes, let us hear all about it !" cried Father Rolland. " It was in the year 1805, at the camp of Boulogne. Great changes' had taken place, the Little Corporal had been declared hereditary Etaperor of France, but Jacques Mohier an(i' I were still in the ranks. We thought the General had forgotten all about us, and what wonder if he had, seeing how busy he had been knocking off the crowns of your Kings ? The grand army was there, and we of the grenadiers were to the front. That day of the coronation was fixed for a general distribution of crosses and medals. Such a day ! The mist was corning in from the sea like smoke froni a cannon's mouth. On the rising -ground above the town was a throne — the great iron chair of the mighty King Dagobert ; arid all below the throne were the camps of the great armies, and right befpre the throne was the sea. When the Emperor sat down on the throne, our cry was enough to make the sky fall — vive I'Empereur !■ — yx)u would have said it was the waves of the sea roaring. But look you, at that very moment the smoke of the sea parted, and the sun glanced out : — you would have said because h6 waved 200 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD his i hand ! Ah, God ! such a waving of baiiners, glittering of bayonets, flashing of swords. Such a sight is seen Sutonce'in a lifetime ; I should have to talk all night to tell you a tenth of the wonders of that day. ButT am going, to tell you what happened, to Jacques Monier and myself. - When the Emperor was passing by — we were in the front ranks, you observe — he stopped short, like fhis ! Then he took a huge pinch of snuff froni his waistcoat pocket, with his head on one side, like this, studying our ,faces ; and then his face lighted up, and he came quite' near. This is what he said — ah, that I could give you his voice ! ' Come, I have not forgotten Cisrnone, nor the taste of that black bread and brandy and water.' Then he turned laughingly and spoke rapidly to Marshal Ney, who stood close byhim ; and Ney laughed, and showed his white teeth, looking in our direction. Well, then/ the great Emperor turned to us, and gave us each the Cross from his own hand, and saluted us as Corporals. I will tell yau this — my eyes were dini — I could have cried like a girl ; but before we could know whether we stood on our heads 'or our feet, he was gone !" , Corporal Derval brushed his sleeve a,cross his eyes, which were dim again with the very memory of that interview and its accompanying honours. He stooped over the fire and fidgeted with his little finger in the bowl of his pipe, while a subdued murmur ran round the apartment. " The Emperor has a good head to remember," ob- served the little curi. " I have been told that a good shepherd can tell the faces of every one of his flock, but this is more wonderful still. How long, do you say, had elapsed after Cismone, before you met again?" " Nine years," answered th'e Corporal " Nine years !" repCfited the cur^. " And in those nine years, my Corporal, what battles; what thoughts, what confusion of faces !t— how much to do, how much to think of ! Ah, he is a great man ! And was DERVAL GALLOPS HIS HOBBY 201 that the last time," he added, after a pause, "that your eyes beheld him ?" "I saw him once more," said the Corporal, "only once." , "And then-?" " It was only a month or two later — tl;e first day of December. It was the eve of the glorious battle of Austerlitz." A thrill ran through the assembly at the mention of the magic name. The Corporal lifted his head erect, and looked absolutely Napoleonic as he towered above his hearers. The curi started. Mother Derval heaved a heavy sigh, and glanced at the Corporal's wooden leg. Alain and Jannick grew serious. Mifcel Grallon gazed curiously at Marcelle, whose pale face wore a strange smile. The Corporal proceeded — " We were erouche"d, seventy or eighty thousand of us, watching and waiting, when some one' remembered that just a year ago that night the Little Corporal had been crowned Emperor. The word ran round. We gathered sticks and bundles of straw for joy-fires, and set them blazing to the tune of vive I'Empereur. It was . pitch-dark, but our fires were crimson. In the middle of it all- 1 saw him riding past. The cry ran along the camps like flame, but he passed by like a ghost, his head sunk 'down between his shoulders, his eyes looking neither to the left nor right. He rode a white, ^orse, and Jacques said he looked like the white Death riding to devour the Russians ! Poor Jacques ! He got his last furlough next day, and I, my marshal's baton !" So saying, the veteran struck out his wooden leg, and regarded it with a look half plaintive, half comic. The irreverent Jannick giggled — not at the joke, which was a too familiar one. " And you never saw him again," said the c«y| ; that was the last time ?" 202 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD The Corporal nodded his head slowly and repeatedly, in the manner of a " Chinese mandarin" at a tea- dealer's door. He was about to speak again, when the door was suddenly dashed open, and Sergeant Pipriac, followed by four or five gendarmes, rushed into the room. , CHAPTER XXIV "a terrible death" Sergeant Pipriac was ghastly pale, and in the midst of his face shone with baleful light his bright Bar- dolphian nose, while his one eye glared horribly, like the eye of a Cyclops. His voice shook, partly with deep' potations, partly with nervous agitation, ^nd his legs flew this way and that with frantic excitenjent. His men were pale too', but much less moved. \ " Soul of a crow !" cried the Corporal, " what iS the ■ matter?" The curS rose from his seat by the fire, " One would say," he exclaimed, " that the good Sergeant had seen a ghost I" Sergeant Pipriac glared at the Corporal, then at the mri, then all round the room, until he at last' found voice. " And one would say rightly !" he gasped. " Male- , diction ! one would not be far wrong. Look how I shake still, — I, Pipriac, who would not fear the devil - himself. A glass of water, mother, — for as I liVe, I choke." The Corporal stumped^over to the table and poured out a little glass of brandy. " Take that, comrade," he said with a nod ; " it is better than water. And now," he co'ntinued, when Pipriac had swallowed the liquor, " what is all this about ? and who is this that you have seen ?" " I will tell you," said Pipriac, wiping his brow with "A TERRIBLE DEATH" 203 a great cotton pocket-handkerchief brilliantly orna- mented with a portrait of Marshal Ney on his war steed. " What have I seen ? A thousand devils ! Well, I have seen your own infernal chquan of a nephew !" " Rohan ?" ejaculated the Corporal in a voice of thunder, while the women started up in terror and horror, and the little curf lifted his hands in astonish- ment. " Yes, Rohan Gwenfern^the man or , the man's ghost, it is equal. Is there ever a soul here can swear to the man's clothes, for, look you, we have nigh stripped him clean ? An eel may slip from his skin, they say ; well, so can he of whom I speak. Pierre ! Andre ! who has the plunder ?" The last words were addressed to his gendarmes, one of whom now stood forward carrying a peasant's jacket, and another a broad^brimmed peass^nt's hat. " If a ghost can wear clothes, these belorjg to him. Well, it is all the same now ; he will never need them more." • The articled of attire were paSsed from hand to hand, but there was nothing to distipguish them specially as the jiroperty of the fugitive. The coat was lorn down the back, as if in' a severe Scuffle. Sinking into a seat by the fire, Pipriac sat until he had recovered breath, a consummation not to be achieved until he drank another glass of his favourite stimulant. Then he said grimly, looking at the Cor- poral — " His blood be on his own head. It is no fault of mine," The fierce frown which the Corporal's face had worn at the mention of Rohan's name had relaxed. He was about to speak, when Marcelle, White as death, came between him and Pipriac. " What do you mean ?" she cried. " You have not " 204 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD Without completing the sentence, she cast at the bayonets of the gendarmes a look of horror that could not be mistaken. Pipriac shook his head. " It is not that," he answered. " Old Pipriac is bad, but not so bad as that, my dear. Malediction ! is he not his father's son, and were not Raoul Gwen- fern and Pen Pipriac comrades together? By the bbdy of the Emperor, I have not hurt a hair of the villain's head." ■' " Thank God !" cried the little curl. " Then he has escaped ?" Pipriac screwed up his eye into something very like a significant wink, meant to be sympathetic, but only succeeding' in being horrible. " I will tell you all about it," he said ; " you and the Corporal and all here. You know, we had given him up as dead ; we had searched heaven and earth and hell for him without avail ; there seemed no place left for him but the bottom, of the sea. Well, you may guess it was on quite different business I was prowling about to-night with my men ; but that is neither here nor there : we were coming along by the ' great stone up yonder — returning from a visit we had made to a little farnl where there is good, brandy " — here Pipriac w;inked diabolically again — "when we saw close to us in the moonlight, with his back to us, a man. I knew him in a moment, though I could not see his face ; but I will tell you frankly, this — when he turned round and looked at us I -thought it was his ghost, for I had really believed him dead; Poor devil, he looked thin and lean as a spectre, and white as death, in the moon. Corporal, it was your nephew, Rohan Gwenfern." " He is no nephew of mine," growled the veteran, but his voice trembled. " I don't know how it happened, but we were upon him in a moment — I, Andr6, Pierre, and the others. Andrd was the only one that got a hold ; he shook off "A TERRIBLE DEATH" 205 the rest like so many mice. Befqre we knew it he was twenty yards away, dragging Andre with him towards the jedge of the cliff. Diahle ! it was like a lion of Algiers carrying dff a man. Andr6 had dropped his gun, and his hat had fallen off, and he was scream- ing to us to help him ; the deserter could not shake him off. We fixed our bayonets, and after him we went."" In the excitement of his narrative, Sergeant Pipriac had risen to his feet, and he was now surrounded by all the eager circle of hearers. Marcelle clung to her uncle's arm and listened with cheeks like marble, her large eyes fixed on the speaker's face. , " ' No violence,' I shrieked out ; ' a thousand devils, take him alive !' When we seized hini again, we were not ten yards from the edge of the great crag — you. knpw it — it is like a wall. The tide was in, high spring tide, and the water was black far down below. We fell upon him, 'all six of us, and soon had him down ; it took all our strength, I can* tell you. Well, we had him safe and he could not stir." " Bravo 1" said Mikel Grallon. " It is all very well to cry ' Bravo !' " said the irascible Sergeant, " but let me tell you the devil himself could not hold him 1 He lay for a minute quite still, and then he began to wriggle. You are a fisherman, and have tried to hold a conger eel ; well, it was like that. Before we knew what he was about, he had wriggled almost to the very edge of-the cliff!" A low cry from Marcelle; a nervous movement among the men. Then Pipriac continued — " We were six to one, I say, but for all that we could npt stop him. I held on like Death, with my two hands twisted in his jacket; the others gripped his arms and legs. But when I saw what he was about — when I heard the black sea roaring right under uS — my heart went cold. I saw there was but one way, and I loosened one hand and seized the bayonet 2o6 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD from Andr6 ; it was unscrewed, and held in his hand ready to stab. Then I shrieked out, 'A thousand ,devils, keep still, or I shall bleed you 1' He looked up at me with his white face, and set his teeth together. In a moment he had rolled round on his belly, slipped himself out of his jacket, torn himself loose, and was on the very edge of the crag. Heaven, you should have been there I The loose earth on' the edge broke beneath his feet; we all stood back, not daring to venture another step, and before we could draw a breath he was gone down." . A loud wail came from the mouth of Mother Deryal^ mingled with prayers and s6bs, and the widow sank on her knees terror-stricken. But Marcelle ^till stood firm, frozen, motionless. The old ; Corporal Idoked pale and conscience-stricken; while, the little cur& lifted up his hands, crying — " Horrible ! Dowp the precipice ?" " Right over," exclaimed Pipriac. " It was a horrible moment; all was pitch-dark below, and we could see nothing. But we listened, and we heard a sound below us — faint, like the smashing of an egg." "Did he speak? Did he scream?" cried seveiral voices. " Npt he-^he had no breath left in liim for that ; he went down to his death as straight as a stone, and if he escaped the rpckp he was drowned in the sea. Corporal Derval, dori't say it was any fault of old Pipriac's ! I wanted to save him, damn him ! but he wouldn't be saved. In the scufHe I touched him ; ,but that was an accident, and I wanted to keep him from his death. Hither with the jacket, Pierre — shpw it to Corporal Derval and the company 1" The gendaime called Pierre held up the jacketj, while the Sergeant proceeded — " There is a cut here, through the right sleeve — it is gashed right through ; and the left sleeve is wet, see you : that is where I hurt him in the struggle." "A TERRIBLE DEATH" 207 " God help us !" cried the cuv&, horror-stricken. " My poor Rohan !" . , " Bah ! Why did he not give in, then ?" growled Pipriac. " But let no man say it was old Pipriao that killed him. He was bent on murdering himself, and perhaps some of its — that, I tell you, was his game. For aU that, I am sorry I wounded him. This upon the jacket must be blood. AndrS. let me see thy bayonet." The gendarme . caWeA Andr6 stepped forwatd, and held up hjis glittering weapon, now fixed upon his gvn. " Holy Virgin, look there 1" cried Pipriac. " Yes, it is blood!" < All crowded round looking upon the weapon, all save the Widow Derval, who still kept upon her knees and wailed to God in the low monotonous 'fashion of mourning women in Brittany. " Yes, it is blood !" said one voice and another. Among the faces that concentrated their gaze on the sight was that of Marcelle. The girl still stood firm, her lipS set tdgether, her eyes wide open in horrid fascination. She could see the shining blade glittering in the light— then the dark red stains glim- mering upon it — but even then she did not swoon. " It is the last you will see of Rohan Gwenfern in this world," said Pipriac, after, a pause. " Yes, it is blood, and no mistake !" So saying, he wetted hisforefinger with his lips and drew it deliberately down the bayonet's ^lade ; then he held' his finger up to the light, and showed it moist and red. A murmur of horror ran round the room, while Marcelle, without uttering a sound, dropped down as if dead upon the floor. Early the next -morning, when it was morte mev, or dead low water, a crowd of villagers gathered right 268 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD under the enormous crag on the summit of .which stood the colbssal Menhir. Looking up, they, saw a precipitous wall of conglomerate and granite, only , accessible to the feet of a goat, which was feeding far up on scanty herbage, and moving cautiously a,long the minute crevices of stone. It was Jannfedik, with whose form the reader is already familiar. Lgoking down from time to time from her dizzy eminence, she inspected the chattering throng below, and then pro- ! ceeded leisurely with her refreshment. Right at the fopt of the crag lay fragments of loose earth and rock, recently detached from above, but of the body of Rohan Gwenfern there was no trace. At high water, however, the tide washed right up against the foot of the crag, and the waters there were swift and deep ; so the presumption seemed to be that Rohan, after falling prone into the sea, had been washed away with the ebb. Pipriac and his satellites, accompanied by Corporal Deryal, inspected every nook and cranny of the shore, poked with stick and bayonet into, every place likely and unlikely, swore infinitely, and did their duty altogether to their own satisfaction. The womeii gathered in knots and wailed. The villagers, with Mikel Grallon and Alain and Jannick Derval, gaped, speculated, and talked in monosyllables. Several boats were busy searching out oh the sea, which was dead calm. Sustained by the, unusual courage of her tempera- ment, Marcelle came down, with all her hidden agony in her heart, and her face tortured with tearleSs grief. Since she had swooned the gight before—and never before had she so lost consciousness, for she was of no " fainting ", breed — she, had wept very little, and uttered scarcely a word. Too great a horror was still upon her; and she could not yet realize the extent of her woe. She had scarcely even breathed a prayer. The decision of 'the men assembled was unanimous. "A TERRIBLE DEATH" 209 Rohan must have been killed by the fall before he reached the sea ; on reaching it, his body had in all probability sunk, and then been sucked by 'slow, degrees out into the deep water. There was very little chance of finding it for some days ; and, indeed, it might never rise to the surface or be recovered at all. > "And between ourselves," said Pipriac, winking grimly, "he is as well where he is, down there, as buried up yonder with a bullet in his heart. He would "have been shot, you see, and he knew that. Don't say old Pipriac killed him, however — it was no fault of mine ; but duty is duty after all> ' Mikel Grallon, to whom these remarks were ad- dressed, quite concurred. Honest Mikel was inde- fatigable 'in all respects — both in aiding the general search, and in convincing Marcelle that her cousin could by no possibility have escaped. He was if any- thing a, little too zealous, and, taking into considera- tion the nature of the cat3,strophe which had just occurred, several degrees too buoyant in his spirits. Levying the crowd at the foot of the crag, Marcelle walked slowly along the shore in the direction "of Mother Gwenfetn's cottage. The sun was shining on the sea, and in her own sweet face, but she was con- scious of nothing save a heavy load upon her heart. Lifting "the cottage latch, she. entered in, and found the widow seated in her usual- upright attitude before the fire, her grey face rigid and tearless, her lips set tight together. Standing close to the fire was J^n Goron, who; was speaking in a low voice as she appeared, but grew silent as she entered in. It was very strange, but the widow showed no sign of absolutely overwhelming grief; her face rather betokened an intense resolve and despair. The news of the extraordinary, catastrophe had not struck her to the ground ; perhaps its very horror upheld her for the titpe being. 210 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD Silent as a ghost, Marcelle crossed th,e room, and sat down before the fire. , " There is no hope," she said in a low voice ; ." it is all as they said. Aunt Loiz." No wail .came from the lips of the widow, only a deep shivering sigh. Goron, whose whple manner betokened intense nervous agitation, looked keenly at Marcelle, and said— > ^ , " I was there this niprning jjefore them all ; I could not find a trace. It is a terrible death." CHAPTER XXV TB;E JUNE FESTIVAL— AN APPARITION A MONTH had passed since that memorable night of the struggle on the cliffs, and it was the morning of the June Festival. The sea-pink was blooming, the lavender was in flower, the corn had thrust its greeB fingers from the sweet-soiled earth; and the fields behind the crag were fragrant with the breath of thyme. Heaven was a golden dome, the sea was a glassy mirror, the barth was a living form with a beat- ing heart. In that season to live at all was pleasant, but to live and be young was paradis6. There was a green dell in the meadows behind the' cliffs, apid in this green dell Were the ruins of adolmen, and to this dolmen they flocked from Kromlaix, with music and singing, happy as shepherds in the golden climes of'Arcady. Young men, maidens, and children came gathering merrily together ; foriiiere in Kromlaix the usual Breton custom, which excludes from the festival young people under the age di sixteen, was never enforced, and indeed scarcely known. The only members of the population rigorously excluded were the married of both sexes. The feast was the THE JUNE FESTIVAL 211 feast of youth and virginity, and no sooner did a man or maid pass the portal of Hymen than his or her festal days were over for ever. Every youth that could play an instrument was in requisition. Alain Derval was there with a new black flute bought lately in St. Gurlott, and Jannick was to the fore with his biniou ; but besides these there were half a dozen other Unions, and innumerable whistles both of tin and wood ; and, to crown all, the larks of the air, maddened with rivalry, sang their wildest and loudest overhead. Around the ruined dolmen, clad in all colours of the rainbow, were groups of sunburnt girls and lads ; some romping and rolling, some gather- ing cowslips and twining daisy-chains, some running and shouting, while voices babbled and the medley of music rose. In the broad hat of every man or lad was a blade of corn, and on the breast of every girl was a flower of flax, with or without an accompaniment of I wild heath and flowers. \ Presently, approaching these groups from the direc- tion of Kromlaix, came a little procession, such as might hav6 been seen of old during the Thalysia, and sung in Divine numbers by Theocritus. A flock of little children ran first, their voices singing, their hands full of flowers ; and behind them came a group of young men, bearing on their arms a kind of fustic chair, in which, with her lap full of buttercups and flowers of flax, sat Guineveve. By her side, laughing and talking and flourishing his stick, trotted Father RoUand, as eager as any there. Strange to say, his presence scarcely disturbed the idyllic and antique beauty of the picture ; for his black coat was scarcely rroticeable in the gleam of colours surrounding him, and he carried his hat in his hand, and his round face was brown as a satyr's,, and he was joining with all his lungs and thToat in the choric song. The little cuy& Was no killjoy, and he had enough Greek spirit in his veins to fprget for the 212 ,THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD nonce that skulls were ever shaven or sackcloth and ashes ever worn. It was; however, an almost unprecedented thing to behold Father RoUand at such a gathering. The feast was of Pagan origin, discountenanced in many parishes, especially by priests of the new Napoleonic dispensation, and Father RoUand, although he was not bigot enough to interfere with the innocent happiness of the day, had never before been present on such an occasion. His coming was not altogether unexpected^, however, and he was greeted on every side with a pastoii'al welcome. Coming close up to the Druidic stone of the dolmen, - the men set down their burthen, while Father RoUand stood byj wiping his brow with a silk pocket-hand- kerchief. Then Jan Goron, who had been one of the bearers, lifted Guineveve in his arms and placed her on a knoll among a group of girls, who greeted her by name and made room for her beside them. The eyes of Guineveve were sparkling brightly, and she spoke rapidly to her comrades in Brezonec ; — it was some- thing amusing, for they aU laughed and clapped their hands. At that moment, howeyer. Father RoUand raised his hand. The music and laughter ceased, every face was turned one way, and all 'became quite still : only the larks kept singing Overhead in a very ecstasy of triumph at having (as they imagined) beaten and silenced all other competitors. Father RoUand's face was very grave. Every face around him suddenly grew grave too. " Boys and girls," he said in Brezonec, " do you know what has brought me here ? You cannot guess — so I will tell you. It is simple enough and very sad. It is right for you ,to make merry, mes garz, because you are young, • and because there will be a good ' harvest ; but it is also right to remember the dead." Here the little cure crossed himself rapidly, and all the THE JUNE FESTIVAL 213 other members of ,the gathering crossed themselves too. " Sad events have taken place since last you gathered here; many have been taken away by the Conscription, some have died and been buried, and some are sick ; but it is not of any of those that I want to speak, but of the poor garz who was your patron last year, and who is now— ah, God ! where is he now ? Let us hope at the feet of holy St. Gildas himself and of the Blessed Virgin !" Again, autorhatically, they made the sign of the cross, even little children joining. Some looked sad, others careless and indifferent, but aJl knew the little cftre spoke of Rohan Gwenfern. It was the custom ' every year for the young people to choose among them- selves a sort of king, and queen, who led the sports and reigned for the day, and last year Rohan had been king' and Marcelle had been queen — or, to translate the dialect of the country, " patron " and " patroness." " I am not going to praise or blame him who is gone; he was foolish, perhaps, and wrong; though for all that he came of a fine family, and was a pleasure to look at for strength. Well, he is dead, and there is an end^peace to bis soul! Now that you are so merry, don't forget him altogether, nor poor Marcelle Derval, who was his patroness last year, and is too heart-broken, I am sure, to join you to-day." Here the little curi was greeted with a loud murmur from all his hearers; and all heads were turned, looking away from him. Then, to his amaze, he saw Marcelle herself rise up and approach him. She wore no mourning but a saffron hood ; her dress was dark and unadorned, and her face was pallid and subdued. " I am here. Father RoUand," she said, as she met his eye.; " Blessed saints !" ejaculated the cure. " Well, my child, thou art right to cast off care ; it is courageous, and I am* pleased." Nevertheless the priest looked very serious. In hig 214 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD own heart he thought Marcelle rather unfeeling, and would have been better satisfied to hear that she had stayed away. v "I did not think of coming at first," she said, approaching close, "but Guineveve begged me, and at last I consented. It is for Guineveve's sake. I came, and for Jin Goron's. My cousin Rohan is not here tp-day, and will never be here again, but I know what would have been his wish. He would have wished Jan Gorop to be patron, and Guineveve to be patroness ; and that is my wish, too." There was a moment's silence, then came a loud crying and clappitig of hands. "Yes, yes !" cried the groups of men and girls, only a few dissentient voices crying, " No, no !" But the affair had been settled lotig before; and that was why Goron had escorted Guineveve thither. " The blessings of the saints be upon you, Marcelle Derval," said the curS, "tor you have a kind heart; though, for that matter, Guineveve is a girl in a thousand. Well, boys and girls, is that your choice?" The answer was unmistakable, the consent almost unanimous.' And already, seated on a knoll in the midst of a garland of girls, Guineveve was enjoying her sovereignty with supreme and perfect happiness,^' light in her face, joy in her heart, flowers on her breast and in her lap ; while Goron, clad brightly as a bridegroom, stood over her, looking down into her eyes with perfect admiration and love. ' Marcelle saw it all — the bright, the happy smiling faces^ — ^and her thoughts went back to last year, when she and Rohan, then almost unconscious of passion, were inerrymaking in the same place. Her chgek grew whiter, and for a mornent all she saw went dim. Then she thought to herself, "No one must know I I will creep away as soon as I can, .for it all seems dreadful now Rohan is dead." , After a few more words, Father RoUand lifted up THE JUNP FESTIVAL 215 his hands to pronounce a blessing ; and all knelt down on the grass around him in silence as he prayed.' It was done in a minute, and before they could all rise up again the priest was trotting away back to the village. The pipes and binious struck up again, sports and rompings began, all voices chattered at once like the voices of innumerable birds, and great grew the fun of the feast. It was the custom for the new patron and patroness to lead off the gavotte, or country ' dance ; so Goron led out Guineveve, and the dance began. One after another couple joined, all uniting hand iij hand, till they formed one long chain of shining, glancing bodies, leaping, crying, intertwining, interturning, performing the most extraordinary steps, with heel and toe, till the eyes grew dizzy tO' lopk at them. " T^arcelle, will you not dance?" said a Voice in her ear. She was standing looking on like one in a dreani when she heard the voice, and she did not tUrn round, \ for the tones were familiar. " I shall not dance to-day, Mikel Grallon." , " That is a pity," said Mikel quietly, fbr he was too ■shrewd to show his annoyance. " One turn — come !" " No, I am going home." " Going home, and the sport has only just com- menced 1 But you will try your charm on the love- stone before you go-?" It was the custom on fihat day for every single ■woman to leave a flower of flax, and every single man a blade of corn, on the. stone of the dolmen. So long as flower and blade keep their freshness the hearts of their depositors are faithful ; if they wither before the week is out, all will go wrong. So Marcelle answered — '_' I have brought no posy, and I shall try no charm. It i^ all foolish, and I shall not stay." Attd truly, in a little time she had slipped away from the company, whose merry latighter sounded in the 2i6 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD distance behind her, and was hastening heart-broken homeward. She walked fast, for she was trying in vain to shake off Mikel Grallon, who followed close to her, talking volubly. " You shall not soil your fingers or carry a load — no, not even a dtop of water from the Fountain ; and I shall take you sometimes to Brest to visit my uncle \yho keeps the cabaret, axid you shall haye shoes and new gowHs from Nantes. And if the good God sends, us children, one of the boys shall be made a priest." This was plain speaking for a wooer, but Mafcelle was not shocked. The height of a Breton mother's ambition is to have a son in the priesthood, and Marcelle was by no means insensible to the proinise, especially as she knew that the speaker, had means enough to carry it out. . ' " I shall never marry," she replied vaguely, ' " Nonsense, Marcelle,! The good Corporal and thy mother wish it, and I will take you without a dower. ■■ It is yourself that I wish, fpr I have enough of my own. I have set my heart upon it. . . . You should see the ■ great press of linen my mother has prepared for the home-coming : soft as silk and white as snow — it would do your -heart good, it smells so kindly." Ma,rcelle glanced at him sidelong, almost angrily. " I have told you twenty times that I will not hive you. If you speak to me of it again, I shall hate you, Mikel Grallon." Mikel scowled — he could not help it ; his brows were knitted involuntarilyj and an ugly light shot out of his eyes. He took a false step, and lost his temper. " I know why you treat me so. You are thinking of that chouan of a cousin !" Marcelle turned upon him suddenly. " If he was a chouan,ybn are worse. He is dead — his soul is with God : and it is like you to speak of him so." THE JUNE FESTIVAL 217 Mikel saw his blunder, and hastened to retrieve it, if possible. " Do not be angry, fbr I did not mean' it. Rohan Gwenfern was a good fellow ; but, loojc you, he is dead — beside you were cousins, and the Bishop might not haVe been willing. • Drowned man can't marry dry maid,' says the proverb. Look you again, Rohan was poor ; my little finger is worth more silver than his whole body. I am a warm man, I, though I say it that should not." ' ' More he uttered in similiar strain, but all to the same effect. At last he left her and returned to the gathering, angry with himself, with her, with all creation. For her last words to him were, as she passed down into the village, " Go back and choose a better ; I shall never marry but one man, and that man is lying dead at the bottom of the sea." That night a singular circumstance occurred, which was remembered for many a long year afterwards by the superstitious in Kromlai^t. A party of fishermen, returning home late after lobster trawling, a,nd rowing on the glassy sea close under the shadow of the gigantic cliff, suddenly beheld an apparition. There was no moon, and, although it was summer- tide, a black veil covered the sky. Under the cliff- shadow all was black and still, save for the solemn crying of the unseen birds and the moaning of the sea on rock and sand. There was not a breath of wind, and the men were rowing wearily home, with sails furled and masts .lowered, when their eyes were dazzled by a sudden ray of brilliance streaming out of the- Gate of the Cathedral of St. Gildas. Now, as we have seen before, the Cathedral was well known to be haunted, and there was scarcely one man in Kromlaix who would have entered it, sailing or a,foot, after sunset. On the present occasion it was 8 2i8 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD ' high water, and the Cathedral was floored with the liquid nialachite of the sea. Abreast of the Gate before they perceived the light, they raised their terrified eyes and looked in, each man crossing hiniiself and murmuring a prayer, for the very spot was perilous. In a moment they were petrified by feat, — for the vast Cathedral was illu- minated, and high up on the mossy' altar stood a. gigantic figure holdijig a torch of crimson fire ! The light illumed the face of the cliff behind him, save where his colossal shade trembled, reaching up to heaven.' His shape was dark and ' distorted, his face alrnpst indistinguishable, but every man ,who gazed, when he came to compare his impression with that of his companions, agreed that the apparition was that of the blessed St. Gildas. , , The view was only momentary, but before it ceased another terror was added. Crouched at the feet of the Saint was a dark figurej only the head of which was perceptible, and this head, ornamented with hideous horns atid With, eyes of horrible lustre, was gazing up' awe-stricken in the face of Gildas. The men covered their eyes in- horror, and uttered a low cry of terror.' Instantly the , light Was extinguished, the figures .vanished, and the whole Cathedril yra.s in pitch darkness. ' Sick, horrified, praying, and half swooning, the fishernien rowed madly away. They had seen enough ; for in that moment of horror they had not only perceived the terrible Sain,t • so near to God, but had recognized in the figure at his feet, which was doubtless doing some dreadful penance for iniquities to mankind, thfe horrid linea- ments of the Evil One hipself 1 GRALLON MAKES A DISCOVERY 219 CHAPTER XXVI MIKEL GRALLON MAKES A DISCOVERY The day after the miraculous vision in the Cathedral of St. Gildas all Krot&laix was ringing with the tale. No one questioned for a moment the veracity of the eye-witnesses ; indeed, everybody was only too ready to accept without question anything supernatural, and the present account possessed every attraction the most superstitious individual cquld desire. There might have been a certain commonplace about the appearance of the Saint himself-^he had often been-' seen revisiting the glimpses of the moon ; but he, had never before, within the memory of the oldest inhabi- tant, been beheld actually in the company of " Master Roberd," the horned one of Sata,nic fame. Success emboldens the most tiniid tale-teller, and the eyei- witnesses, finding their hearers ready to accept any and every embellishment, gave full liberty to their superstitious imaginations. " He had two great eyes, each as red as a boat lantern," said one of tjiese- worthies, an aged fisher- man ; " and they looked up in the blessed Sairil's face all bloodshot and glittering — one flash of them would have withered up a mortal man; but the blessed Saint held up his torch, and made him go through his confession like any good Christian, word after word." The speaker was lying on the shingle surrounded by a' group of men and boys, among whom was Mikel Grallon. • , , "Made him go tlirough his confession?" echoed one of the group. " How do yoij know that, old Evran ? You could not hear ?" The first speaker nodded his head sagaciously. 220 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD " Ask Penmarch ! question Gwesklen ! They were thera l^or my own part, I believe, ' Master Roberd ' was repeating the blessed Litany, and God knows he would rather burn for a hundred hundred years than be made to do so. One thing is certain — here stood the blessed Saint, and there knelt the Black One ; ^d every one knows that is the sort of penance the Saint puts upon him whenever he catches him on holy ground." - A murmur of wonder went round. Then Mikel Grallon said, knitting his brows heavily — " It is strange enough. A torch in his hand, you said ?" "A torch, A great wild light like a comet, Mikel Grallon. It made us nearly blind to look." "And the Saintr-^you saw him quite plain ?" " Am I blind, Mikel Grallon ? There he stood : you would have said it was an angel from heaven. Gwesklen says he had great wings ; for my own part, I did not see the wings, but I will tell you wh^t I did see — the devil's feet, and they were great cloven hoofs, horrible to behold." There was a long pause. Presently Mikel Grallon muttered, ,as if communing to himself— " Suppose, after all, it had been a man !" The old fisherman stared at Grallon with prolonged and stupefied amazement. " A man !" he echoed. " Holy saints keep us, a man !" The others repeated the words after him, staring at Grallon as if he had been guilty of some horrible blasphemy. "A man in the Cathedral of St. Gildas at dead of night !" he , exclaimed, with a contemptuous laugh. '' A man as tall as a tree, shining like moonlight, and with wjngs, with wings ! A man teaching ' Master Roberd ' )jip confession ! Mikel Grallon, art thou mad ?■' GRALLON MAKES A DISCOVERY 221 Grallon was in a minority. Less grossly super- stitious than many of his fellow-villagers, and disposed to inquire in his own rude manner into matters they took on hearsay, he was regarded by a goodly number of .his neighbours as officious and impertinent. For all that, he bore the character of a pious man, and did not care to lose it. " Oh, I say nothing !" he observed. " Such things have been, and the Cathedral is a dreadful place. But is it not, strange that the Saint should carry a light?" ' " Strang^ ?" grunted the fisherman. " And what is strange in that, Mikel Grallon? Was it not blacTc- dark with never a peep of moon or star, and how should the blessed Saint see his way withoiit a torch of fire to light him ? Strange — ugh ! It would have been strange if the blessed one had been standing there with ' Master Roberd ' in the dark, like a miser- able mortal man." This answer was so conclusive that not another word was possible ; and, indeed, Mikel Grallon seemed to think he had Committed a blunder in making so very absurd a suggestion. This was decidedly the opinion of his hearers, for as Grallon walked away into the village, leaving the group behind him, the old s^lt observed, shrugging his shoulders — " Mikel Grallon used to be a sensible man ; but he is in love, you see, and perhaps that is why he talks like a fool." Here, doubtless, the weather-wise worthy was at falult, for Mikel Grallon was no fool ; he was only a very suspicious - man, who never took anything for granted, always excepting, of course,, the dogmas of that religion wherein he had. been born and bred. Physically, he was timid ; intellectually, he was bold. Had he been one of the original witnesses' of the vision in the Cathedral, he would possibly have shared the terror of his comrades to the "full, and brought 222 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD away as exaggerated a narrative; but receiving the account coolly in the troad light of day, reading it in the light of recent events, weighing it in the scales of ■ his judgment against his knowledge of the folly, and stupidity of those who brought it, he, had--^almost involuntarily, for with such men' suspicion is rather an instinct than a process of thought — come to a conclu- sion startlingly at variance with the conclusions of the general populace. What that conclusion was remains to be seen ; meantime, he kept it carefully to himself. His time was fully occupied in prosecuting his suit with Marcelle Derval. Now, he had not exaggerated in the least when he had said that that suit had been favourably heard by the heads of the Derval household. By means of innumerable little attentions, not the least of which lay in his power of listening withont apparent weari- ness to tales that were repeated over and over, again, and which had invariably the same Imperial centre of interest, he had quite succeeded in winning the heart of the Corporal ; while in the eyes of Motheij Derval he was a low-spoken, pious person, of excellent family, well able to maintain a wife, and well worthy of a virtuous girl's esteem. As to Alain and Jannick, he found in them tolerable allies so long as he plied them particularly the wicked humourist Jannick — with little presents such as youths love. He might, therefore, be said with justice to be already an approved suitor in the eyes of the whole family. Had Marcelle been a girl of a different stamp, more submissive and less headstrong, the betrothal would have been as good as concluded. Unfortunately for the suit, hoWever, the chief party concerned was reso- lute in. resistance, and, they knew her character too well to use harsh measures. The etiquette for a Kroplaix maiden under .such circumstances was to take unhesitatingly the good or bad fortune which her guardians selected'for her, to leave all the preliminaries GRALLON MAKES A DISCOVERY 223 in their hands, and only at the last moihent to come forward and behold t^e pbject of the family choice. Marcelle, however, had a way of following' her own inclinations, a!nd was not likely to alter her habits when choosing a husband. * . Jiist then the very thought of love was terrible to het. No sooner did she feel assured that Rohan was dead, than all her old passion sprang up twentyfold, and she began to b^the the bitter basUrpot of memory with secret and nightly tears. She forgot all his revolt,' all his outrage against the' Emperor ; nay, the Emperor himself was forgotten in the sudden inspira- tion of her new and passionate grief. " I have kUled him !" she cried to herself again and again. " Had I not drawn th^ fatal number he might be living yet ; but he is dead, and I have killed him ; and would that I might die too !" , In this mood she assumed mourning — a saffron coif, dress of a dark , and sombre dye :. there were young widows in the place- who did not wear so much. Nor did, she now conceal from any one the secret of her loss. " Tell them all, mother ; I do, not , care. I loved my cousin Rohan ; I shall love him till I die." In due time, of course, this travelled to the ears of Mikel Grallon. Strange to say, honest Mikel, so far from persisting under the circumstances, delicately withdrew into the background; and ceased to thrust his attentions on Marcelle. ' This conduct was so singular in a being so pertinacious that it .even awakened amazement in the Corporal. " Soul of a crow !" he said, "have you no courage ? She sees you too Uttle — let her know that you mean to win. Girls' hearts are taken by storm ; Isut you have not the spirit of a fly." Mikel Grallon sighed. " It is no use. Uncle Ewen. She is thinking too much of one that is dgad." 224 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD Corporal Derval scowled, but replied not ; he knew well to whom Grallon was referring, and having latterly thought more teridqrly and pityingly of his unfortunate! nephew, not without certain sharp twinges of the conscience, he did not care to discuss the sub- ject. Under any other circumstances he would have been savage with Marcelle for having formed her secret attachment to her cousin ; but the bloodhounds of the Conscription had been unleashed, and the man, his own flesh and blood, had been hunted down to death,^and now, after all, silence was best. It cannot be denied that at this period the Corporal showed an uneasiness under fire un-syorthy of such a veteran. He who would have cheerfully led a forlorn hope, or marched up to the very jaws of a cannon, now fidgeted uneasily in his chimney corner whenever the great silent eyes of his niece were quietly fixed upon him. He felt guilty; awkward, almost cowardly, and was glad even of Mikel Grallon to keep him company. But, as we have already hinted, Grallon's attentions began to fall off rapidly soon after that memorable vision of the fishermen at the Gate of St. Gildas. You would have said, observing him closely, that the man was the victim of some tormenting grief. He became secret and mysterious in his ways, fond of solitude, more than ever reticent in his speech ; his 'days were often passed in solitary rambles among the cliffs, his nights in lonely sails upon the sea ; and from the cliffs he brought no burthen of weed or samphire, fronij the sea no fish. He, naturally a busy man, became pfeternaturally idle. There could scarcely be found a finer example, to all appearance, of melan- cholia, induced by unsuccessful love. It was one wet day, during one of his long rambles, that, suddenly approaching the Ladder of St. Triffine, he found himself face to face with a woman who leant upon a staff and carried a basket. She was very pale, and breathing hard from the ascent, but when she GRALLON MAKES A DISCOVERY 225 encountered him her hpg went quite blue and a dull colour came into her cheeks. " What, Mother Gwenfern !" he exclaimed ; " you are the last woman one would have thought of meeting in such weathei;. Shall I carry your basket for you ? You must be tired." As he held out his hand to take her burthen from her, she drew back shivering. A thick misfy rain was falling, and her cloak \yas dripping wet. " God's mercy, mother ! you are pale as death — you have caught fever, perhaps, and will be ill." As he spoke, he watched her with a look of extra- ordinary penetration, which strongly contradicted the simplicity of his manner.' She had been struggling all this time for breath, and at last she found her ' speech. " I have been gathering dulsp. You are right, Mikel ; it is a long journey, and I should not have come so far," " It is not good for old limbs to be so fatigued," replied Grallon simply ; " at your age, mother, you should, rest. Look you, that is what all the neigh- . bours say is strange." '> What is strange ?" asked the woman sharply. " A little while ago you were for ever sitting by. the fire or busy in th& cottage ; not even on a holiday did you cross the door ; -and we all thought it was your sickness and were sorry. Yet since you have lost your son — amen to his soul l^you are never content at home; you are for ever wandering up and down as if you could not rest in peace." " That is true," exclaimed Mother Gwenfern, looking at him fixedly with her cold scared eyes ; " I cannot rest since " — she paused a moment shivering — " since they killed my boy." "Ah, yes," said Grallon, forcing into his face a look of sympathy. " But, mother, in such weather !" " When one has a broken heart, wind and rain 226 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD cannot niake it better or worse. Good day, Mikel Grallon." Asthe tall figure of the old woman disappeared in the direction of the village, Grallon watched it TVith a strange and cunning look. When it was ' quite invisible, he quietly descended the Ladder to the sea- shore, walked quickly along thp beach,' and canie as close as possible to the Cathedral ; but the tide was too high for a passage round to the Gate. So he .stood on the vyater's edge, like one in profound medi- tation ; then, as if an idea bad suddenly, occurred to him, he b^gan curiously to examine the shingly shore. He Soon came upon traces of human feet, just where the retiring tide left the shingle Still dark and wet ;' the heavy mark% of wooden shoes were numerous and unmistakable — Mother Gwenfern had been wandering to and fro on. the water's edge. ' All at ' once Grallon stooped eagerly down over a patch of sand, soft as wax to take any impression left upon it ; and there, clear and unmistakable, was the print of a naked human foot. ' • With a patient curiosity worthy of some investigator of natural science, some ^hort-sighted ponderer over " common objects of the sea-shore," Mikel Grailon examined this footprint in every possible way and" light — spanned and measured it lengthways and across, stooped down close over it with an extra- ordinary fascination. Not, the immortal Crusoe, dis- covering his Strange footprint on the savage shore, was more curious. Having completed his examina- tion, Mikel Grallon smiled. It was not a nice smile, that of Mikel Grallon ; rather the smile of Reynard the Fox or Peepiiig Tom of Coventry — the smile of some sly and cruel creature when some other weaker creature lies at its mercy, though mercy it has none. With -this smile upou'his face, Mikel reascended the steps and returned quietly ^nd peacefully to liis virtuous home. GRALLON MAKES A DISCOVERY 227 From that day forth his conduct became more peculiar than ever ; his monomania so possessing, him that he neglected proper sustenance and lost his natural rest. Curiously enough, he had now so great a fascination for Mother Gwenfern's cottage that' he kept it all day in his sight, and when night came was not far frorii the door. , It thus happened that the widow, whenever she crossed her threshold, was almost certain to encounter honest Mikel, who followed her persistently with expressions of sympathy and offers of service ; so that, to escape his company, she would return again into her cottage, looking wearied out and palfe as death. And whenever he slept, some other pair of eyes was on .-the watdi ; for he had a confidant, some nature silent as his own. , « , Whatever thought was in his mind it nevier got abroad. *Like one that prepares a hidden powder mine, cajrefully laying the train for some terrible dxplosion, he occupied himself night and.dayj bugging his secret — if secret he had — to bis bosom, with the characteristic vulpine smile. Whenever he found himself in tlje company of Marcelle, this vulpine look was exchanged for one of pensive condolence, as if he knew her sorrow and sympathized— under gentle protest, however — with its cause. A little later on, Mikel Grallon had another adven- ture which, however triflirlg in itself, interested him exceedingly, and led at last to eventful consequences. He was moving one Evening along the cliffs, not far from the scene of the fatal struggle between Rohan Gwenfern and the gendarmes, and he tvas very stealthily observing the green tract between him and the village, when he suddenly became aware of a figure moving close by him and towards the verge of the , crags. Now, it had grown quite late, and the moon had not yet risen, but there was light enough in the summer twilight to discern a shape with its face turned upon his and moving backward Uke a ghost. *For a moment 228 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD ■his heart failed him, for he was superstitious ; but recovering himself, he sprang forward to accost the shape. Too late; it had disappeared, as if over the very face of the cliff — as if straight down to the terrible spot where the traces of death had been found some weeks before. Straoge to say, this time also, but not until he had recovered from the first nervous shock of the meeting, Mikel Grallon smiled. After that, his watchings and wanderings grew more numerous than ever;, and his reputation as a confirmed night-bird spread far and wide. " I will tell you this," said one gossip to another ; " Mikel Grallon has some- thing on his mind, and he is thinking far too much, of the old Corporal's niece." Even the announcement of the arrival of the mackerel did not alter him ; for, instead of taking his seat as captain of his own boat, he put another man in his place, and received only his one share as owner of the boat. He had the air of a man for ever on the watch — a contraband air, as of one ever expecting to sui;prise or be surprised. Jkx last, one day, final and complete success having crowned his endeavours, he walked quietly into the Corporal's kitchen, where the family was gathered at the midday meal, and said in a low voice, after passing the usual salutations — " 1 bring news, Rohan Gwenfern is not dead : he is hiding in the Cathedral of St. Gildas." CHAPTER XXVn THE HUE AND CRX Alain and Jannick were out at the fishing, and the only members of the faniily present were the Corporal, Mother Derval, and Marcelle. The Corporal fell back in his chair aghast, gazing wildly at Mikel ; Mother THE HUE AND CRY 229 Derval, accustomed to surprises, only dropped her arms by her side and utttered a deep , moan ; but Mat celle, . springing up, with characteristic presence of mind ran to the door, which had been left wide open, and locked it quickly — then, returning white as death, with her large eyes fixed on Mikel,, she murmured' — ' " Speak low, Mikel Grallon ! for the love of God, speak lowi" " It is true," said Grallon in a thick whisper ; " he lives, and I have discovered it by the merest chance. True, I have suspected it for a long time, 'but now I know it for a certainty." " Holy Mother, protect us I" cried the widow. " Rohan— alive !" By this time the Corporal had recovered from his stupor, and advancing on Grallon before Marcelle could utter another word, he exclaimed — "Are you drunk, Mikel Grallcin, or are you -come here sober to outrage us with a lie ? Soul of a crow ! take care, or you will see me angry, and then we shall quarrel in good earnest, mon garz." "Speak lower !" said Marcelle, with her hand upon her uncle's, arm. "If the neighbours should hear !" " What I say is the truth," responded Mikel, looking very white round the edges of his lips ; " and I swear by the blessed bones of St Gildas himself, that Rohaa is alive. I know his hiding-place, and I have seen him with my own eyes." "His spirit perhaps!" groaned the widow. "Ah, God! he died a violent death, and his poor spirit cannot rest." Mikel Grallon cast a contemptuous look in the widow's direction, and faintly shrugged his shoulders. " I am not one of those who go about seeing ghosts, mother ; and I know the difference between sjJirits of air and men of flesh and blood. Go to I This is gospel that I am telling you, and Rohan is hiding in the great Cathedral, as I said." » 230 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD " In the Cathedral !" echoed the Corporal. " There^ or close at hand ;. of that I am certain. I have tracked him thrice, and thrice he has disappeared into the Cathedral ; but I was alone, see you, and I did not care to follow too close, for he is desperate. I should have put my hand upon him once, but he, walks the cliffs like a goat, and he went where 1 could not follow,'' The news, though thus quietly announced, fell like a thunderbolt on the hearth of the Corporal, and perfect consternation followed. 4? for Uncle E wen, he was completely Overpowered, for the annpuncement of his nephew's death had been pleasant compared with the announcement that he was not dead at all ; since to be alive was still to be in open arms against the Emperpr, to be still a miserable "deserter," worthy the contempt and hate of all good patriots ; to be, last and worst; a doomed man, who might be seized andshot like a dog at any moment. ' Uncle Ew;en was horror-' stricken,' Of late he had been conscious-twinged on account of Rohan, and had secretly reproached him- self for undue harshness and severity ; and in his own stern way he had thought very softly of the gentle dead, so that more than once his rough sleeve had been brushed across his wet eyes ; but now to hear all at once that his sorrow Had been wasted, and that the spectre of family shame was still hailnting the village, was simply overwhelming. Marcelle, for her part, rose to the occasion < instead of sinking, under it. She was one of those unique women who feel rather than think, arid whose feeling at once assumes the form of rapid action. With her eyes so steadily and qu'estioningly fixed on his face that GralloO became quite tremulous and un- comfortable, she seeriied oqcUpied for a brief space , in reading the honest man's very soul ; but speedily satisfying herself that she had ■ completely mastered that not very abstruse problem, she said with decision — THE HUE AND CRY 231 " Tell the truth, Mikel Grallon ! Have you spoken of this to any other living, soul ?" Mikel stammered and looked confused ; he replied, however, in the negative. " If you have not spoken, then remember— his life is in your hands, and, if he is discovered through you, his blood will be upon your head, and the just God will punish you." Mikel stammered again, saying — " Others may have also seen him ; nay, I have heard Pipriac himself say that he suspects ! Look you, you must not blame me if he is found, for other men have eyes as well as I. Ever since that night of the vision in the 'Cathedral, they have been on the watch ; for it is clepj now that it was not the blessed Saiilt at all, but a mortal man, Rohan Gwenfern himself." This was said with such manifest confusion and hesitation, and accompanied with so guilty a lowering of the vulpine eyes, that Marcelle leaped at once to a coiiclusion fatal to honest Mikel's honour. She fixed her gaze again upon him, so searchingly and so terribly, that he began bitterly to reproach himself for having brought his information in person at all. The truth is, he had expected a wrathful explosion on the part of the Corporal, and had calculated, under cover of that explosion, on playing the part of an innocent and sympathetic friend of the family ; but finding that all looked at him with suspicion and horror, as on one who had conjured up some terrible phantom, atid who was responsible for all the consequences of the fact he had announced, he lost courage and betrayed too clearly that his conduct ha,d not been altogether disinterested. At last Uncle Ewen began to find his tongue. " But it is incredible !" he exclaimed. " Out there among the cliffs, with no one to bear him food, a man would starve /" "One would think so," said Grallon ; " but I have 232 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD seen his mother wandering thither with her basket, and the basket, 'be sure, was never ernpty. Then Rohan was not like others ; -he is well used to living out among the sea-birds and the rock-^pigeons. At all events, there he is, and the next thing to ask is. What is to be done ?" ' The Corporal did not reply ; but Marpelle, now pale as death, drew from her breast a small cross of blaek, bog oak, and holding it out to Mikel, said, still with her large eyes fixed on his : , "Willyou swear upon the Blessed Cross, Mikel Grallon, that you have kept the secret ,?" Mikel looked amazed, even hurt, at the sugges- tion. " Have I not just discovered it, and to whom should I speak ? If you wish it, I will swear !" Providence, however, had not arranged that Mikel Grallon was to commit formal perjury ; for at that moment some one wa^ heard fingering the latch, and when the door did not open there came a succession of heavy knocks. " Open !" cried'a voice. , Even the Corporal went pale, while the mother sank on her knees close to the spinning-wheel in the comer, and Marcelle held her hand upon her heart. "Holy Virgin! who can it. be?" whispered Marcelle. " Perhaps* it is only one of the neighbours," re- sponded Mikel, who nevertheless looked as startled as the rest. " Open !" .said the ^oice; and heavy blows on the door followed^ " Who is there'?" cried Marcelle, running over to the door wit-h her hand upon the key. " In the name of the Emperor !" was the reply. She threw open the door, and in ran Pipriac, armed, and followed by a file of gendarmes with fixed bayonets. His Bardolphian nose was purple with excitement, his THE HUE AND CRY 233 lit^e eye was twinkling fiercely, his short legs were quiTCring and stamping on the ground. " 7"o«s ks diahles I" he cried, " why is your door locked at midday, I ask you, you who are honest people,? Do you not see I am in haste? Where is Corpoi^l Derval ?" " Here," answered the old man, straightening him- self to '\attention," but trembling with excitement, " It is strange news I bring you — neWs that will make yon jump in your skins ; I cannot linger, but I was passiijg the door, and I. thought you would like to hear. Ahi Mother Derval, good morrow ! — Ah, Mikel Grallon ! lihave a message for you ; you must come -with us and have some talk." ".What IS the matter, comrade ?" asked the Corporal in a husky voice. " This^-the dead has risen ; ha, ha! what think you of that ? — the'' dead has risen ! It is more wonderful than you can conceive, comrade, and you will not know whether to be sorry or glad ; but yoiu: nephew, the deserter, is not killed, — corbku, he is like a cat or an eel, and I defy you to kill him ! ^yell, he is alive, and that is why we are here again 1" During this little scene Marcelle had scarcely once taken her eyes off Mikel Grallon, who showed more and more traces of confusion ; but now she advanced to the Sergeant and said in a low voice yet quick with agony — " How dq you know he is alive ? Have you seen him with your eyes ?" " Not I," answered Pipriac ; " but others have seen, and it is on their information I come. Malediction ! how the girl stares ! She's as pale as a ghost." "Marcelle!" cried the widow, still upon her. knees. But Marcelle paid no heed; white as a marble woman, she gazefd in the irascible face of the little Sergeant. 234 THE' SHADOW OF THE SWORD " You have had information !" she echoed in the same low voice. " Tous les diaUes I yes. Is that so strange ? Some honest rascal "—here the Sergeant glanced rapidly at Mikel Grallon — " has seen the poor devil in his hiding- place, and'has sent us word. If you askme who has informed, I answer— That is our business ; though he were the fiend himself he will get the reward. Don't blame old Pipriac for doing his duty, that is all. It is no fault of mine, comrades. 6ut I must not linger — Right about face, march !-;-apd, Mikel Gralbn, a word with you." The gendarmes iiled put of the cottage, and Pipriac, with a fierce ndd to the assembled company, followed. Mikel Grallon was quietly crossing over to the door,, when Marcelle intercepted him. " Stayj Mikel Grallon !" The fisherrrian stood still, not meeting the angify eyes of the girl, but glancing nervously at the Corporal, who had sunk into a chair and was holding his hand to his head as if in stupor. ' ",I understand all now, Mikel Grallon,"- siid Marcelle in a clear voice, " and you cannot deceive me any rnore. Go 1 You are an ingrate^ — you are a wretch — you are not fit to live." 'Mikel, thus addressed, even by the woman he professed to love, , gave the snarl of all low curs in extremity, and showed his, teeth with a ttialicious expression, but he quailed before the eye^ that were burning upon him. ' " You have watched night and day, you have hunted him down, and you will have this blood-money when he is found. Yes, you have betrayed him, and you have come here to deceive my uncle with a lie, that your wickedness might not be krtowri. God will punish you !-^may it be soon !" " It is false [" cried Mikel, scowling wildly. " It is you that are false ; false to my uncle, to niy ON THE CLIFFS 235 poor cousin, to me. I always hated you, Mikel Grallon, but now I would like to be your death. If I were a man I would &7/ you ! Go!" With a fierce look and an angry shrug of the shoulders the man passed out, quite cowed by the looks and gestures of the angry girl. It was charac- teristic of Marcelle that she could bear great agony in silence and in reticence, but that she could not bear the storm of her own passionate nature when once it rose. As Mikel disappeared, she uttered a wild cry, threw her arms up in the air, and then, for the second time in her life, swooned suddenly away. CHAPTER XXVIII ON THE CLIFI'S Out there among the cliffs, midway between the top of the precipice above and the wave-washed rocks below, a man is crouching, so still, so moveless, he seems a portion of the crag. It is one of those dark summer afternoons, whien the heavens are misted with their own breath, and a cold blue-grey broods upon the sea, and there is no stir at all, either of sunshine, or wind, or wave. The roar of the sea can be heard miles away inland : all is so very still ; and there is something startling in the shrill minute-cry of the great blue-backed gull, as -it sails slowly along the water's edge, predatory as a raven, yet wliite and beautiful as a dove.- Where the man sits, there is a niche in the cliff; a dizzy path leads to the rocks below, but Overhead the precipice overhangs and is utterly inaccessible. Not one hundred yards away stands, roofless under heaven, the great natural Cathedral, and the man from where he sits can see the gleaming of its emerald iloor, formed now by the risen tide. Over the Cathedral 236 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD flocks of kittiwake gulls are hovering like white butterflies, uttering Ipw cries which are quite drowned in the heavy cannonade of the sea. The sun is invisible, but the sullen purple which suffuses the western horizon shows that he is sinking to his set-ting ; and far out upon the water the fishing- boats are crawling like black specks to the night's harvest. It is the dark end of a dark day, a day of warm yet sunless calm. The man has been crouching in his niche for hours, listening and waiting. At last he stirs, throwing up his head like some startled ^nimal, and his eyeg, wild and eager, look up to the dizzy cliffs above his head. Sometljing flutters far above him, like a seagull flying, or like a handkerchief waving ; and directly he per- ceives it he rises erect,, puts his finger and thumb between his teeth, and gives a shrill whistle. ' Could any mortal eyes behold him now, it would look with pity; for he is bareheaded, his beard has grown wild and long, his features are darkened and' distorted with exposure to the elements, and the clothes he wears — a coloured shirt and bmgou-bras — are almost in rags. His shirt is torn open at the shoulder, and his feet are bare. Altogether, he resembles some wild, hunted being, some wretched type of the primaeval woods, rather than a rational and a peaceful man. ' Looking up again eagerly, he sees something descending rapidly from the top of the cliff. It is a small basket, attached to a long and slender cord. As it desfcends, he stretches out his hands eagerly, and when it reaches him he pulls gently at the cord, as a signal to the persdn who stands above. Then taking from the basket some black bread, some coarse cheese, and a small flask containing brandy, he places them on the rock beside him, and pulls again softly at : the cord, when the basket, thus emptied of its contents, rapidly re-ascends. His niche in the crag -is a dizzy one, fitter for the ON THE CLIFFS 237 feet of eagle or raven than those of a man ; but crouching close against the face of the crag, with his feet set firm, he proceeds rapidly, yet methodically, to satisfy his appetite. He is doubtless too hungry to delay ; his eyes, at least, have the eager gleam of famished animals. When his meal is over, he care- fully gathers together what remains, and wraps it in a kerchief, which he unloosens from his neck. The brandy is his honne-houche, aijd he sips that slowly, drop by drop, as if every drop is, precious; and so indeed it is, for already it lights his finished cheek with a new and more lustrous life. He sips only a portion, then thrusts the flask into his breast. - Even now he seems in no hurry to go, but takes his siesta, watching the purple darkness deepen across the sea. There is a strange, far-away look in his eyes, which are gentle still, despite the worn and savage lineaments of his face. The smoke of the waters which break far beneath him rises up to his seat, and the great roar is in his ears, but he is too familiar with these things to heed them now ; he is occupied with his own thoughts, and half unconscious of ex- ternal sights and sounds. But suddenly, as a hare starts in his form, the man stirs again — stands erects — looks up»-listens ; and now he hears above him a sound more startling than the sea — the sound of human voices. A sick horror over- spreads his features, and he begins, with swift and stealthy feet, to descend the dangerous path which 'leads to the shore; but, as he does so, he is arrested by a cry far overhead. > Looking up, he sees the gleam of. human faces overhanging . the gulf and glaring down upon him. He staggers for a moment and grows dizzy, but recovering himself in time, glides rapidly on ; as he goes, the wild cry rises again faintly overhead, and he knows that his pursuers have at last discovered him. an^ are again upon his track. 2j8 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD CHAPTER XXIX ,1 THE FACES IN THE CAVE Leaving Kromlaix with his gendartrtes, Sergeant Pipriac at once made his wa,y up ito the great Menhir, and thence along the green plateau above the cliffs.' In eager conversation with him walked Mikel Grallon, and behind them came excjted groups of the popula- tion — men, women, and children — all in high excite- ment now th^ "hue and cry" had again begun. They had not proceeded far when they encountered Mother Gwenfern,/ creeping slowly along with her basket on her arm, and looking gaunt and pale as any ghost. Never' one who stood upon much ceremony, Pipriac pounced upon the old woman with savage eagerness, and roundly announced his errand. " Aha ! and have we .discovered you at last, Mother Loiz ? Tous les diahles I Has old Pipriac found you out, though: you thought him so blind, so stupid?: What have you got in your basket — tell me that? Where do you come from ? where- are you going ? Malediction ! stand and listen. Come, answer, where is he ? The Enxperor is anxious about his health ; quick — spit it out !" The old Woman, now white as death, and with her lips quite blue, looked fixedly in the Sergeant's face, but made no reply. "So you are dumb, mother! — well, we shall find you a tongue. It is your own fault if old Pipriac is severe, mind that ; for you have not treated him fairly — you have led him up and dpwn like a fool. Things like that cannot go on for ever ; the Emperor has a long nose to scent out deserters. Malediction !" he added, with mock irascibility, "did you think to deceive the Emperor ?" Despite his air of cruelty and brutality, Pipriac lyas THE FACES IN THE CAVE 239 not altogether bad-heai;ted, and just then he could not quietly bear the steady reproach of the widow's, face, which remained frozen in one terrible loot, half agony, half defiance ; so there was more pity than unkindness in his heart when he took the basket from her, grumbled a minute over its emptiness, and then, with a comical frown, handed it back. All the time Mother Gwen- fern kept silence, with an unearthly expression of pain in her pale grey eyes ; and when Pipriac swaggered away at the head of his myrmidons, and women from the village came up garrulously and joined her, ■ she moved on in their midst with scarcely a word. All her soul was busy praying that the good God, who had assisted Rohan so well up to that hour, might still rerriain his friend, and preserve him again in the " hour of his extremity. , Leaving the majority of the stragglers behind them, and accompanied only by Mikel Grallon and a few men and youths of the village, Pipriac and the gen- darmes pursued their way rapidly along the edges, of the cliffs, now pausing to converse in hurried whispers and to gaze down the great granite precipices which lay beneath their feet, again hurrying on like hounds excited by a fresh scent. The party consisted of some twenty in all, and among them there could be counted no friend to the hunted man ; indeed, who would have dared, in those days of short shrift and speedy doom, to avow friendship for any opponent of that fatal system whict Napoleon was btiilding up'bn the ashes of the Revolution ? In strict truth, there was little oi: no sympathy for Rohan, now that it was discovered that he still lived ; for the old prejudice against him had arisen tenfold, and not one man there, except perhaps Mikel Grallon, believed he was anything more than a feeble and effeminate coward ; unless, indeed, as Pipriac individually was inclined to affirm, he was simply a dangerous maniac, not jiroperly responsible' for his own actions. 240 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD Never had the gigantic pliffs and crags, always lonely and terrible, looked so forbidding as on that day ; for the sullen, rayless sunset, and the dead, life- less calm, deepened the effect of desolation. Rent as by earthquake and fanta,stically shapened by the sea, the vast columns and monoliths of crimson granite glimmered teneath like the fragments of some extinct world; so that walking on the grass above, and peeping dizzily over, one seemed surveying a place of colossal tombs; and on these tombs the. moss and lichen drew their tracery of grey and gold, and out of their niches grew long scrunnel grass and rock ferns, and on them, silent, sat the raven and the speckled hawk of the crags, while the face of the cliff far under was still snowed with the darkening legions of the herring-gull. Whenever old Pipriac looked over, his head, un- accustomed to such depths, went round like a wheel, and he drew back with an expletive.' Mikel Grallon, more experienced, took the survey coolly enough, biit even he was careful not -to approach too near to the edge. Here and there the sides were so worn away that ' close approach was highly dangerous ; on the very brink the stones had 'detached and crumbled down, the rocks were loosening, and the grass was slippery as ice. . Presently Mikel lifted up his hand and called a halt. They were standing on a portion of the cliffs which ran out, by h. green ascent, to a sort of proraontory. . " Listen," said Mikel. " The Cathedral is right under us, and I will peep over and l^ry if anything is to be seen." So saying, he cautiously approached the cliff, but when he was within some yards of it, he threw him- self upon his stomach and crawled forward upon the ground until his face hung over the edge. He re- mained so long in this attitude that Pipriac grew impatient, and was growling out a remonstranfce, THE FACES IN THE CAVE 241 when Mikel turned slowly round, beckoned, and pointed downward. He had gone as white as a sheet. . Instantly, Pipriac and two or three of the gendarhfes set down their guns, took off their cocked hats,, approached, threw themselves on their stomachs, and crawled forward as Mikel Grallon had done. " Is it he ?" growled Pipriac, as he reached the edge. " Look !" said Mikel Grallon. In a moment all their heads were hanging over the precipice, and all their faces, eager and open-mouthed, glaring wildly down. At first, all was dizzy and indis- tinct — a frightful gulf, at the foot of which crawled the sea, too far away for its thunder to be heard ; a gulf across which a solitary sea-gull flashed now and again, like a flake of wavering snow. Right under them, the precipice yawned inward, so that they hung sheer over the void of air. • Beneath them, but some distance to the left, they saw the roofless walls of the Cathedral of. St. Gildas stretching' right out into the sea: but these walls, which to one belqw would seem so gigantic, seemed dwarfed by distance to comparative insignificance, lying as they did far below the heights of the inaccessible crags. " Where ? where ?" murmured Pipriac, with a face as red as crimson. "Right under, with his face looking down upon the sea." At that moment Rohan Gwenfern, startled by the voice, stirred and gazed up, and all simultaneously littered a cry. Seen from above, he seemed of pigmy size, and to be walking on places where there was jiot foothold for a fly; and the cry that followed, when he staggered and looked up again, was one of horror and amaze. When Pipriac and the rest crawled back and rose to their feet, every face exhibited consternation ; and the voice of Pipriac shook. ' He is the Devil !" said the Sergeant. " No man 242 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD could walk where he has walked, and not >be smashed like an egg." "It was horrible to look at!" said the gendarme Pierre. i , " No man can follow him," said AndrS. " Nonsense," cried Mikel Grallon. " He knows the. cliffs better than Others, that is all, and he is like a. goat on his feet. You can guess now how he saved his neck that night when you fancied, he was killed; Well, he will soon be taken, and there will be an end of his pranks." "We are wasting time," exclaimed Pipriac, who had been glaring with no very amiable light in his one eye at Mikel Grallon, " We must descend and follow, down the Stairs of St. Triffine ; but you four — Nicole,' Jan, Bertram, Hoel — will stay above and keep watch on all we do. But mind, no bloodshed ! If he should ascend, take him alive." , " But if he should resist ?" said one of the men. " Malediction ! you are four to one|, You .others> march! Coriie, Mikel Grallon !" ■ Leaving the four men behind, the others hastened on. They had not proceeded far when Pipriac uttered an exclamation and started back ; for suddenly, emerg- ing from the gulfs below, a living thing sprang up before them and stood on the very edge of the cliff, gazing at them with large startled ^ eyes. It was ' Jaiinedik. " Mother of God !" cried Pipriac, " my breath is taken away ; — yet it is only a goat." , " It belongs to the mother of the deserter," said Grallon ; " it is a vicious beast, and as ctmning as the Black Fiend. I have often longed to cut its throat with my knife, when I have seen Rohan Gwenfern fondling it as if it weraa good Christian." Having recovered from her first ''surprise, Jannedik had slowly approached, and passed by the group with supreme unconcern. For a moment she seemed dis- THE FACES IN THE CAVE 243 posed to butt with her horned head at the gpidartnes, who poked at her grimly with their shining bayonets, but after a moment's reflection over the odds, iwhich were decidedly against her, she gave a scornful toss of. Ijer head and walked away. They had now reached the Ladder of St.- TrifSne ; and, slowly following the steps cut in the solid rock, they descended until they emerged upon the shore. Looking lap when they reached ithe bottom, they saw Jannedik standing far up against the sky, on the very edge' of the chasm, and tranquilly gazing down. By this time it was growing quite dark in the shadow of the cliffs, and Wherever they searched, under the eager guidance of Mikel Grallon, they found no traces of the fugitive. Grallon himself, at considerable risk, ascended part of the cliff down the face of which Rohan had so recently descended ; but after he had reached ^height of some fifty or sixty feet, he very prudently rejoined his coqipanipns on the solid shingle below. " If one had the feet of a fly," ginlmbled Pipriac, " one might follow him, but he walks where no man ever walked before." " He cannot be far away," said Mikel. " Out that way beyond the Cathfedral there is no path even for a goat to cfawl. It is in the Cathedral we must search, and fortunately the tide has begun to ebb out of the Gate." Another hour had elapsed, however, before the passage was practicable, and when, wading round the outlying wall which projected into the Sea, they passed in under the Gate, the vast place was wrapped in blackness, and the early stars were twinkling above its roofless walls. Even Pipriac, neither by nature nor by education a superstitious man, felt awed and chilled. A dreadful stillness reigned, only broken by the dripping of the water down the sides of the furrowed rock's, by the low eerie cries of seabirds stirring among 244 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD the crags, by the rapid whirr of wings passing to and fro in the darkness. Nothing was perceptible ; Night there had coqipletely assumed her throne, and the only lights were the rayless lights of heaven far above. Ranged in rows along the walls sat numbers of cor- morants, unseen, but ever and anon fluttering their heavy pinions as the strange footsteps startled them from sleep. , The men spoke in whispers, and crept on timidly, " If we had brought a torch !" said Pierre. " One would say the Devil was here in the darkness," growled Pipriac. ' ' Mikel Grallon made the sign of the cross. "The blessed St. Gildas forbid," he murmured. " Hark, what is that ?" There was a rush, a whirr, and a flock of doves, emerging from some dark cave, crossed the blue space overhead; " It is an accursed spot," said Pipriac ; " one cannot^ see well an inch before one's nose. Malediction ! one might as well look for a needle in the great sea. If God bad made me a goat or an owl I might thrive at this work, but to grope about in a dungeon is to waste time." So the retreat was sounded in a whisper, and the party soon retraced their steps from the Cathedral^ and were standing in the lighter atmosphere of the' neighbouring shore. Total darkness now wrapped the cliffs on every side. A long parley ensued, throughout which Mikel Grallon protested vehemently that Rohan could not be far away, and that if watch were kept all night he could not possibly escape. ' " Otherwise," averred the spy, " he will creep away directly the coast is clear and fly to some other part of the cliffs. My life upon it, he is even now watching to see tis go. If he is to escape, good and well' — I say nothing — I. have done my duty like a good citizen; THE FACES IN THE CAVE 245 but if he is to be caught you must keep your eyes wi.de open till day." In honest truth, Pipriac would gladly have with- drawn for the night and returned to the pursuit in the morning; for, after all, though he was zealous in his duty, he. would just as soon have given' the deserter another/ chance. Something in Grallon's manner, however, warned him that the man was a spy in more senses than one, and that any want of energy just then, if followed by the escape of Rohan, might be rnisrepre- sented at headquarters. So it was decided that the C-athedral of St. Gildas, with all the circumjacent cliffs, should be kept under surveillance till day- break. Despatching two more members of his force to join the others on the cliff, and scattering his own force well over the seashore and under the face of the crags, he lit his pipe and proceeded to keep watch. The night passed quietly enough, despite some false alarms. At last, when every man was savage and wearied out, the dawn came, with a rising wind from the sea and heavy showers of rain. All the villagers, save only Mikel Grallon, had returned to their homes, shrugging their shoulders over what they deemed a veritable wild-goose chase. Once more, for the tide had again ebbed, Grallon led the way round under the Gate, and the lone Cathedral echoed with the sound of voices. Great black cormorants were still sitting moveless in the walls ; some floundered away to the water with angry wings, but many remained moveless within a few yards of the soldiers' bayonets. All now was bright and visible : the crimson granite walls stretching out from the mighty cliff, the Gate hung with dripping moss as green as grass, the fantastic niches with their traceries of lichen green and red, the blocks upon the floor like black tombs, slimy with the oozy kisses of the salt tide, and- the mighty architraves and minarets 246 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD ,» 1 far above the roof of the Cathedral, and forming part of the overhajigiiig crag. ' The men moved about like jpigmies on the shingly floor, searching the nooks e.nd crannies in the wadls, prying this vfay and that way like men very ill-used, but finding no trace of any living thing. At every step he took Pipriac grew more irritated, for he was sorely missing his morning dram of brandy, and the gendafmes shared his irritation. "TotirS les diahles-l" he cried, "one might come here hunting ioi cva^jos or shell-fish, but I see no hiding- place for anything bigger than a bird. Look you here ! The high tide fills this accursed place whenever it enters : there is the mark all round, as high as my hand , can reach ; and as for hiding up t^iere in the- walls, why only a limpet could do that, for they are as slippery as grass. Malediction! let us depart. There is no deserter here. March !" « Stay," said Mikel Grallon.' " Pipriac turned upon hina with a savage scowl. " Perdition ! what next ?" " You have not searched everywhere." Pipriac uttered an oath ; his one eye glittered in a perfect fury, " You are an ass for your pains ! Where else shall we search ? , Down thy throat, fisherman ?" " No," answered Grallbn with a sickly smile ; " up yonder !" and he poiiited with his hand. " Where ?" "UpintheTfow.'" The great Alt9,r of the Cathedral, which we have alreddy described to the reader as consisting of a lovely curtain of tiioss covering the cliff for about fifty square feet, was glimniering with its innumerable jewels of prismatic and ever-fchanging dew ; and just above it was the dark blot on which Marcelle had gazed in terror when she stood before the Altar with Rohan. THE FACES IN THE CAVE 247 High as the gallery of some cathedral, the Trou, or Cave, out of the hekrt of which the mystic water flowed, loomed remote, and to all seemed inaccessible. As Pipriac gazed up, a flocl? of pigeons passed over- head and plunged info the Cave, but instantly emerging again, they scattered swiftly and disappeared over the Cathedral -viralls. ' ', "Did you mark that?" said Grallon, sinking his voice. ' ' ' Pipriac, who was gazing up with a disgusted ' ex- pression, scowled unamiably. " Wh^t, fisherman ?" ^ " Thp blue doves. They entered the Trou, but no sooner did they disappear than they returned again." 1 "And then?" " The Cave is not enipty, that is all." Pipriac uttered an exclamation, and a.1\ the men looked in stupefaction at one another, while Grallon smiled complacently and cruelly to himself. " But it is impossible," exclaimed the Sergeant at last. "Look I The walls are as straight as rny hand ; and the moss is so slippery and soft that no man could climb ; and as to entering from above: — why, see how the crags overhang. If he is there, he is the Devil ; if he is the Devil, we shall never lay hands upon hirn. ' Malediction !" ' It certainly did seem incredible at first sight that any human being could have reached the Cave — if Cave it was^from above or from under, unassisted by a ladder or a rope. Mikel Grallon, however, being well acquainted with the place, soon demonstrated that asceijt," though difficult and perilous in the extreme, was not altogether impossible. ' In the ex- treme corner of the Cathedral, close to what we have termed the Altar, the cliff was hard and dry, and here and there were interstices into which a climber might press his hands and feet, and so crawl tediously Upward. " I tell you this," said Mikel whispering, " it cars 248 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD be done, for I have seen the man himself do it. You have but to irisert toes and fingers thus " — here he illustrated his words by climbing a few yards^" and up you go." "Good," said Pipriac grimly; "I see you are a clever fellow, and understand the trick of it. Lead the way, and by the soul of the Emperor we will follow !"' Mikel Grallon grew quite white with annoyance and mortification. " I tell you he is there." ^ " And I tell you we will follow if you will show us how to climb. Malediction ! do you think old Pipriac is afraid ? Come, forward 1 What, you refuse ? Well, I do not blame you ; for I have said it, only the Devil could climb there." Turning to iis men, however, he continued in a louder voice — " Nevertheless, we will astonish the birds. Pierre, takp aim at the Trou yonder.- Fire !" The gendarme levelled his piece at the dark hole far above him and fired. There was a crash, a roar, a murmur of innumerable echoes, and suddenjly, over- head, hovered countless gulls, shriekipg and flying, attracted by the report. For a moment, it seemed as if- the very crags would fall and crush the pigniy shapes below. "Again!" said Pipriac, signalling to another of his- men. The concussion was repeated ; fresh myriads of gulls ' shut out tjie ^ky like a blinding snow, and shrieked their protestations ; but there came no other sign. " One would say the very skies were failing," growled Pipriac, " Bah ! he is not there." At that moment, the gendarmes, who were still gazing eagerly upward, uttered an exclamation of wonder.' A head was thrust out of the Trou, and two large ey^a were eagerly gazing down. THE FACES IN THE CAVE 249 The exclamation of wonder was speedily, followed by one of anger and disappointnaent ;, for the head was not that of a human being but that of a goat ; no other, iijdeed, than our old friend Jannedik, who, with her two fore-feet on the> edge of the Cave, and her great grave face gleaming far up in the mocning, fight, seemed quietly demanding the reason of that un- mannerly tumult. Mikel Grallon ground his teeth and called a thousand curses on the unfortunate animal, while the gendarme Pierre, cocking his piece with a look at his Sergeant, deemed disposed to give Jannedik short shrift. But Pipriac, with a fierce wave of the hand, b^de the gendarme desist, and warned his men generally tg let Jannedik alone ; then turning to Mikel Grallon, he continued sneeringly — - " So this js your deserter, fisherman ? — a poor wretch' of a goat, wit^ a beard and horns ! Did I not say you were an ass for your pains ? Malediction ! the very beast is laughing at you ; I can see the sliining of her white teeth." "Since the brute is yonder," answered Grallon angrily, "the master is not far away. If we had but a ladder ! You' would see, you would see !" "Bah!" , And Pipriac turned his back upon Grallon in disgust, and signalled to his men to depart. , " Then if he escapes, do not say that I am to blame," cried the fisherman, still in a low voice. " I would wager my boat, my nets, ail I have, that he hides in yonder, and is afraid to show his face. Is not the goat his, and what is the goat doing up in the Trou ? Ahi I tell you that you are wrong, Sergeant Pipriacs! I have watched for nights and nights, and I know well where he hides. I did not come to you before I had made certain. As sure as I am a living man, as sure as I have a soul to be saved, he is up yonder, up in the Trou ! 9 25© THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD Despite the intensity and evident honesty of this assertion, Pipriac did not vouchsafe any further reply; and he and his men h4d turned their sullen faces towards the Gate, when a voice far above them said, in low clear tones, which made them start and turn suddenly in a wild amaze — " Yes, Mikel Grallon, I am here." CHAPTER "XXX A PARLEY All looked up ; and there, standing high above them at the mouth of the Cave, with dishevelled hair and a beard of many weeks' growth, was the man they sought — so, worn and torn, so wild and ragged, that only his great stature made hitp recognizable. The goat had disappeared, either into the Cave or up the face of the fcliff, and Rohan was alone, his whole figure exposed to the view of his pursuers. Standing there in the morning light, with his naked neck and arms, his ruined garment, his uncovered head, his features distorted and full of the quick-panting in- tensity of a hunted animal, he showed the traces alike of great mental agony and physical suffering ; but over and beyond its predominant look of pain, his face dis- played another passion, akin to hate in its quick and dangerous intensity, and his eyes, which were fixed on Mikel Grallon, burnt with a fieiroe fire. At first, indeed, it seemed as if he would precipitate himself > .like an enraged beast prone down upon the spy, — but such an act would have been certain and immediate d^ath, so great was the height at which he stood. He remained at the mouth of the Cave, panting and watch- ing. As to Grallon j he almost crouched in his sudden consternation and fear ; while Pipriacand the gendarmes stared up at the vision, too stupefied at first to utter a word. A PARLEY 251 " Holy Virgra ?" cried Pipriac at kst, " it is he •"•— then he added with a fierce nod and at the pitch of his voice, " So ! you are there, mon gars: t" '' Rohan made no reply, but kept his eyes fixed on Mikel Grallon. Kpriap pursued his speeeli uneasily, likp one that felt the awkwardness of the situation. " Wei have 'been -waiting a long time, but now we are glad to find you at home. What are you doing up there, so high, in the air? DidbU, one might as well fly like a bird ! W^ell, there is no time to lose, and now that we have found you, ' yoU had better come down at once. Come, surjreilder ! In the name of the Emperor !" At these words the gendarmes gripped their guns and fell back in military line, looking up at the Trou and ready to fire at the word of oommamd. The situation was an exciting one, but Rohan merely put up his hand to throw back his hair from his eyes, smiled, and waited. " Comq, do you hear ?" proceeded Pipriac. " J shall not waste words, mark you, if you dday too long. The game is up ; — we have trumped your last card, and you will gain little by stopping up there like a' bird on iljs nest. Descend, Rohan Gwenfernj descend and surrender, that we may lose no time." The voice of the old martinet rang loudly through the hollow walls of the Cathedral, and died away among the lonely cliffs above. All below was in shadow, but overhead on the cliff the chill light was gleami^ as on a polished mirror, and one lonely suH- beam, severed as it were " from its companions, was glimmering right down upon the inaccessible Trou and on the figure of Rohaii. So the man stood dimly illumed, in all his raggedness and physical desolation ; and the light touched his matted golden hair, and stole down and glared upon his feet, which were quite naked. " What do you want ?" he asked in o, hollow voice., 252 THE SHADQW OF THE SWORD The irascible Sergeant shook his fist. , '"Want? . . . Hear him! . .. Well, you ! Diable, have we not been searching up and down, the earth until our souls Are sick of searching ? It is a good joke, to^ask what we want; you are laughing at us, fox that you are. Surrender, I repeat! In the name of the Emperor I" Then, as if carried away by a common iuspiration, all the gendarmes -brandished their weapons; echoing "Surrender!" The Cathedral rang with the cry. Aft^r a pause, the answer came from above, in a low yet clear and decided voicle— r " You are wasting your time. I will never be taken alive." Pipriac glared up in astonishment ; and now, for the first time, Mikel Grallon looked ,up too, still with sensations the reverse of comfortable, for the figure of the hunted man seemed terrible as that of some wild beast at bay. The black mouth of the Cave was now illutninated, and far overhead clouds of guUfe were hovering like flakes of snow in the morniiig light ; but the floor and roofless walls of the Cathedral, liever lit unless the sun was straight above them in the zenith,, were untouched by the goldeii gleam. " No nonsense !" shrieked Pipriac. " Come down ! Come, or " — here the speaker glared imbecilely ujj the inaccessible wa}ls^"or we shall! come and t^e you." " Come !" said Rohan. ' Pipriac was a man who, although his blustering: and savage manners concealed a certain fundanlental good-nature, could never bear to be openly thwarted or placed in a ridiculous position ; and now a corh- ' plication of sentiments iriade him unusually irritable- In the first place, he would much rather have never discovered the deserter at all ; for, after all, he pitied the man and remembered that he was the son of an old firiend. Again, he had, he considered, behaved , throughout' the whole pursuit with extraordiciary A PARLEY 253 sympathy and forbearance, and had thereby almost laid himself open to the suspicion of lacking " zeal." Lastly — and this feeling was perhaps the most power- ful and predominant at the moment — he had been up all night, without a drop of liquor to wet his lips, and insomuch as that Bardolphian nose of his was a £ame that, when not fed with natural stimulants, preyed fiercely on "the temper of its owner, he was in no mood to be crossed^especiaUy by one who had so stupidly , allowed himself to be discovered. So he took fire instantly at Rohan's taunt, and -snatching from one of the gendarmes his loaded gun, he cocked it rapidly. ' " I will give you one minute," he cried, "then, if you do not remember, I shall fire. Do you hear that, deserter? Come, escape is useless — da not be a fodl, for I mean what I say ; I will pick you off from your perch as if you were a crow." After a pause, he added, " Are you ready ? time is up !" Rohan had not stirred from his position ; but now, with a strange smile on his face, he, stood looking down at his tormentors. Standing thus, with his tall frame fully exposed, he presented an easy mark for a bullet. , , " Once more, are you ready ? In the name of the Ernperor !" ^ , Rohan replied quietly, without stirring — " I will never surrender." In a moment there was a flash, a roar, and Sergeant Pipriac had fired. But when the smoke cleared away they saw Rohan still standing uninjured at the mouth of the Cave, tranquilly looking down as if nothing, whatever had occurred, ^he bullet had struck and been flattened against the rock in his close vicinity, but whether Pipriac had really taken aim at his person, or had simply fi;red off the weapon with the view of intimidating him, is a question that cannot easily be answered. If intimidation was his object, »54 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD he reckoned without his man, for Rohan Gwenfern was the last person in the world to be scared inta submission by any such means. .No sooner was it discovered that Pipriac's bnllet had missed his mark than all the other gendetymis had their weapons cocked and ready to fire also, but the Sergeant immediately interposed, wiih a savage growlj " Halt, arms ! Tous ks didbles, he who fires before I tell him shall smart for his pains ;" then, once more addressing Rohan, he cried, " Well, yoii are still alive ! Perhaps, then, after all you will be rational, and come qiiietly down and trust to the mercy of the Emptor. Look you, I promise nothing, but I will do my best. In any case, you will be dope for if yop stay up there, for you cannot ©scape dsj that is certain^ Now then ! I am giving you another chance. Which is it to be ?" " I will never become a soldier." " tt is too late for that/' said Mikel Grallon, speak* ing for the first tlttie and addressing Pipriac. " Besides, look yoia, he is a coward." , Rohan, who heard every syllable, so clearly and audibly did soubd travel among those silent cliffs, gazed down at the spy with a fierce look, and seeined once more.prepared to hurl himself bodily from the height where he stood. Recovering himself, he again addressed his speech to Pipriac. " I tell you, you are. wasting time. Perhaps I am a cowafd, as Mikel Grallon sayg; but onje thing is certain, that I will never go to war, and that I will never give myself up alive." " Alive or dead, we shall have you— there is no escape." " Perhaps." " Up yonder my men are on the watch ; this way, that way, all ways they are posted. Take old Pipriac's Word for it, and give in like a sensible man ;— you are surrounded." " That is true." A PARLEY 255 " Ha, ha, then yoa admit that I am teaching you good sense. Very well I If evil happens, don't |Say old Pipriac did not warn you I Come along !" The answer from above was a quick spasmodic laugh, full of the hollow ring of a bitter and despairing heart. Leaning over front the mouth of thfe Cave, Rohan . pointed quietly out at the pate of St. Gildas, saying— " If I am surrounded, so are you. Lpok !" Pipriac turned involuntarily, as did all the other membeirs of the group. The first man to understand the true position of affairs was Mikel Grallon, who, the moment his eyes glanted through the Gate, uttered the exclamation— " Holy Virgin, he is right — it is the tide J" Sure enough, the sea had turned and was foaming whitely just beyond the Gate. A few minutes more, and it would enter the Cathedral, when retreat would be impossible. Grallon rushed towards the Gate, crying, "Follow! there is npt a moment to lose;" but Pipriac, who, though irascible under slight provo- cation, never lost his head in an emergency, stood his ground and looked up at the Cave, Rohan, however, was no longer visible. " Diabli r cried the Sergeant, shaking his iist up at the spot where the deserter had just been standing, «' Never mind ! Give him a volley !" In a moment the gendarmes ha.d discharged their pieces right into the mouth of the Cave ; there was a horrible concussion, and thunder rfsverbprating far up among the cliffs. Then all fled for their lives. They were just in time; but passing round the point of land which led. to the safe shingle beyoiul the Cathedral, they had to waide to the waist, for it was a high spring tide. The retreat was decidedly igno- mmious, and little calculated to improve the temper of Pipriac and his troop. Coming round to the dry 256 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD laad immediately under the Ladder of Sf. Triffine, thiey found a great gathering from the village, men , and women, ypung and old, waiting, chattering, won- dering. Among them were Alain and Jannick Derval, with their sister Marcelle. ' ' "The horrible fascination to see and know the worst had been too great for Marcelle to resist, and she had been drawn thither with the rest, almost against her Will. Descending the Ladder, she had found the tide rising round the point which led to the Cathedral, and had crouched down, wildly listening, when the reports from the neighbouring Gate broke upon her ear. What could those shots mean? Had they discovered him — was he fighting for his life, and were they shoot- ing him down? Her face grew like a murdered woman's as she waited, with the hum of voices around her sounding as in a dream. Then as the gendarmes appeared wading round to shore with shouldered muskets, she had sprung to her feet, eagerly perusing their faces as they came. Others flocked around them too, with eager questions. But Pipriac, cursing not loud but deep, pushed his way through 'the crowd followed by his men, neither of whom qttered'a word. Mikel Grallon was following when }ie felt his arm fiercely seized ; he was about to shake off the offend- ing grip, when turniiig slightly, he recognized Marcelle. " Speak, Mikel Grallon !" said the girl, her large eyes burning \yith an unnatural light. " What have they done ? Have they found him ? Is he killed ?" Honest Mikel shook his head, with what was meant to be a reassurinig smile. " He is safe — yonder in the Cathedral of St. Gildas." " In the Cathedral ?" " Up in the Trou I" There was a general murmur, for, although the words were specially addressed to Marcelle, an eager throng had caught the news. Marcelle released her spasmodic hold, and Grallon passed on up to the A PARLEY, 257 shore, rejoining Pipriac and his' satellites, who stood cphsulting together in a group. And now, like a fountain that is suddenly unfrozen from its prison in the ground, the long-suppressed love of Marcelle Derval rose murmuring Virithin her heart. All things were fotgotten save that Rohan lived, and that he was engaged against overwhelming odds in a frightful fight for life; not even the Emperor was remembered, nor the fact that it was against the Emperor tliat Rohan stood in revolt ; it was enough for the time, being to feel that Rohan had arisen, and with him her old passionate dream. Only a few, hours before she had moved about like a shadow,- certain of nothing save of a great void within her soul, of a great ■unutterable > losS and pain ; then had come Mikel Grallon's discovery — then the sound of the hue and cry ; so that, indeed, she had scarcely had time to collect- her thoughts, rightly, and to ^look her fate in the face. Despair had been easy ; hop^ the faint wild hope' that had now come, was not so easy. She had kept still and dead amid the -frost of her great grief, but when the ,light came, and the winds and rains were loosened, she bent like a tree before the storm. Not without pride did she now reinember her lover's strength, and observe how it had hit^herto conquered and been successful. He was there, unarmed, within a little distance, and yet he had escaped his enemies again, as he had' often escaped them before; indeed, there "seemed a charm upon his life, and perhaps the gooji God lov«d him after all ! Gradually, from group to, group the intelligence spread that Rohan Gwenfern had, ensconced himself up in the Trou a Gildas, the black and "terrible abyss into which few feet save his own had ever passed ; and that there, night after night, he hid alone, com- muning perhaps with . ghastly spirits of the darkness. Foi: the place, all folk knew, was -haunted, and few 258 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD men there would hav6 cared to pass along that strange Cathedral-floor at dead of night. Did not the phantonjs of the evil monks still wander, moaning for. mercy to the pitiless Saint who cast them into eternal chains ? Had not the awful Saint himself been seen, again and again, holding spectral vigil, while the seals came creeping about his knees, ^nd the great cormorants sat. gazing silently at him from the dripping walls ? The place was terrible, curst for the living till endless time. He who lingered there safely must either have made an unholy pact with the Prince of Evil, or be under the special protection of the Saint of God. As to this last point, opinion was divided. A few grim' pessimists bfeld firmly that Rohan had sold himself body and soul to " Master Roberd," who, in his turn, had carried him safely through so many dangers, and, was now watching over him carefully in his " devil's nest," up in the Trou. The majority,' however, were inclined to think that a good Spirit,- not a bad, had taken the matter in hand, and that 'this good Spirit might 'be the blessed St. Gildas himself. There was a strong undercurrent of anti- Imperial feeling, which speedily resolved itself into an unmistakable sympathy with the deserter, and a belief that he was uiider Divine protection. After a rapid consultation with his subordinates Pipriac determined to despatch a messenger, to St. G.urlott for more assistance, and meantime to keep a careful watch from every side on the now inundated Cathedral, Of one thing he was assured, that escape out of the Cave was impossible, so long as the cliffs above and the shore below were carefully guarded, j There was no secret way -vv^hich the fugitive might take ; he must either, at the almost certain risk of life, creep right upward along the nearly inaccessiblsi face of the trag, or he must swim out to sea, or he must pass round to the' shore by the way the others , h&d gone and come. Further away in the direction IN THE CAVE , 359 of the village, a great precipitous headland pf , " Tous les diahles I It is a wpman 1" The speaker is Pipriac, and he stands in the, stern of the pinnace, glaring over at Marcelle. " The lantern ! let us see her face !" Some one lifts a lighted lantern from the bottom of the boat and flashes its rays right into the face of Marcelle. She is soon recognized; and then the same proceeding is gone through with Goron, whose identity is hailed with a volley of expletives. ' " Is this treason ?" cries Pipriac. " Malediction ! answer, one or both. What the foql fiend are you. doing out here by the Gate at such an hour? Do you know what will be the consequence if you are discovered aiding and abetting th^ deserter? Well, it will be death ! — death^ look you — even for you, Mar- celle Derval, though you are only a girl and a child !" Marcelle answers with determination, though her h^art is sick with apprehension lest her errand i§ dis- covered — "Surely one may row upon the water without offence. Sergeant Pipriac." ' " Ah, bah ! tell that to the fishes ; old Pipriac is not so stupid. Here, one of you, search the boat." 10 28fe THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD A man leaps, lanter'ti in hand, from the larger boat into the smaller, seardhes it, and finds nothing : at which Pipriac shakes his heiad and ^owls. It is characteristic of Pi'priac that when he is least really angry he vociferates and objurgates the most; when naost suladued he is most dangerous. On the ipreisent occasion his language is quite unquotable. When 'hi ' has finished, one of the men inquires quietly if Marcellfe, and Goron are to He arrested or suffered to go about their business. " Curves Opon them, let them go ; but we must keep our eyes open henceforth. Jan Goron, I stispect.you — be warned, and take no mdre moohlight excursions. Marcelle, yoil too ate -Warned ; you come of a good stock, and I should be sorry to see you get into trouble.^ Now, away with yon ! — Hoftie, like lighthJfag ! And, hark you, 'when next you conle Out here by night you will find it go hard wifti you indeed. Begone !" So Marcelle and Goron go free — partly, perlijips, through the secret good-nature of the Sergeant. Goron pulls rapidly fdr the village, and soon his boat touches the shore imtaediately beileiai:h the cottage of Mother Gwenfern. Meantime Pipriac has peei'ed through the Gate intb the Cathedral ; seeing all quiet arid in darkness, he gives the order to depa:rt, aind so his boat, too, dis- appears from the sceile.- No Sdoner has 'the sound of Jbis oars quite died aWay in the distance than a dark figure begins to descend from the CaVe ; hanging by feet ahdhalnds to creep down from crevice to crevice of the dangerous wall, until it reaches the space of shingle beneath; thfere it 'finds the bhrthen which Marcelle brought, which it secures carefully before again climbing ; then, even more rapidly than it carrie do"4?n, it proceeds "to fe-a^cend,'and, ere 'Idng, in 'perfect- safety, it returns to the mouth of the 'Cave. So RohaSi 'Gwenfern "is 'saved from faniine for the time being. A FOUR-FQOTEn CHRISTIAN 283 CHAPTER XXXIV A J^OUR-TOOTED CHRISTIAN The siege has lasted nearly a fortnight, and still the deserter seems as far off from surreiidering ^s ever. It is inscrutable, incpncpiyabl^ ; for every avenue of aid is now blocked, ^pd there is no known njearis by which a human being could bring him hplp, either by land or sea. Save for the fapt that from time td time glimpses are caught of his person, and indications given of his existencp, one would imagine the deserter to be dead. Yet he is hot dead ; and he does not offer to surrender ; and, indeed, he is tiresomely on the alert. Naturally, the patienpe of his pursuers is exhausted; but they do not neglect their' usual pre- cautions. Pipriac, in his secret mind (where he is superstitious), begins to think he is deaUng with a ghost , after all ; for surely po hurfi£|,n being, single- handed, could SQ CDPsummately and so calmly set aX defiance all the forces of the law, of Pipriac, and of the great Emperor. Of one thing Pipriac is certain, that no human hand brings the deserter food ; and yet he lives ; and to live h$ must eat ! and how all the devils does he provide the wherewithal ? Unless he is mys- teriously fed by an ^.ngel, or (which is far more prob- able in Pipriac's opinion^ by a spirit of a darker order, he must himself be something rnqre than hunian : in ■which case affairs look grim, and yet ridiculous indeed. Food does not — at least in these degenerate days — drop from heaven ; nor does it, \^ a form suitable for human sustengjice, grow in rocks ancl caves of the sea. How thpn by all that is diabolic does' the deserter procure that food which is so terrible 4n(i coftjmon- place a human necessity ? It pu;5zles thjp^ing. ^ , What the open-minded and irascible sglHie/^ tj^o fair and too fiery fgr subtle su^fiipjons, f^l^ ^itc»^et|'ej 284 . THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD to discover, is finally, after many nights and days, rooted out and brought to light by the mole-like burrower in mean soil,, Mikel Grallon. Honest Mikel has been all this time, more or less, a hanger-on to the skirts of the besieging party : coming and going at irregular intervals, but never quite abandoning . his functions as scout and spy in general. Him Pipriac ever regards with a malignant and baleful eye, but to Pipriac's dislike he is skin-proof. His business now is to ascertain by what secret means the deserter sets his enemies at defiance and cannot even be starved out of, or in, his citadel. Here Grallon, unlike the Sergeant, has no superstitions ; he is convinced, with all his crafty mind, that there are sound physical reasons for all that is taking place : Rohan Gwenfern is receiving ordinary sustenance — but how ? It comes upon Grallon in- one illuminating flash, as he stands, not far from P^ipriac, at the foot of the Stairs of St. Triffine, looking upward* Westward, on the cliff's face, not far from the Cathedral, something is moving, walking with sure footsteps on paths in- accessible to man : it pauses ever and anon, gazing round with quiet unconcern ; then it leisurely moves on ; nor does it halt until it has descended the green side in the very neighbourhood, of Rohan's Trou. Great inspirations come suddenly ; to Grallon it seems " as if a star, has burst within his brain." He runs up to Pipriac, who is sullenly sitting on a rock with a group of his men around him. " Look, Sergeant, look !" , • Arid he points at the object in the distance. Pipriac rolls his One eye round in no amiable fashion, and demands by all the devils what Mikel Grallon means. " Look '"^repeats Mikel. " The.goat !" ' "And what of the goat, fisherman ?" " Only this : it is going to the Trou, and it goes there by day and night to feed its master: now at the cottage, then at the cave. What fools we have been !" A FOUR-FOOTED CHRISTIAN 285 Here Grallon chuckles silently, much to the anger of the Sergeant. " Cease grimacing, and explain !" cries Pipriac. « Well ?" " I have my suspicions — nay, am I not certain ? — that Madame Longbeard yonder is in the plot. Is she not ever wandering to and frp upon the cliffs, and will she not come to the deserter's call, and would it not be easy to conceal food about her body? — no matter how little ; a crust will keep life alive. Look! she descends — she is out of sight;, she is going straight down to the Cave !" Pipriac. keeps his live-coal, of an eye fixed on Grallon's, looking through rather^ than upon him, in a grim abstraction ; then he rises, growling, to his feet, and calls a consultation, the result of which is that the goat shall be strictly watched. The morning after Jannedik is intercepted as she emerges on the cliff, surrounded, and " searched," but, nothing being discovered, she is suffered to go. The morning afterwards, however, Pipriac is more fortu- nate ; for he finds, 'carefully buried among the long hair of the> goat's throat, and suspended by a strong cord round the neck — a small basket of woven reeds containing black bread and strong cheese. It is now clear enough that Jannedik has been the bearer of supplies from time to time. " It would be only just," says one of the gendarmts, " to shoot her for treason against the Emperor." Pipriac scowled. " No, let her go," he cried, " the beast knows no better ;" and as Jannedik leapt away without the load, and began descending the cliffs in the direction of the ■, Cathedral, he muttered, " She will not be so welcome to-day as usual, without her little present." So the gendarmes eat the bread and cheese, and laugh as they reflect that Rohan is circumvented at last ; 286 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORt) while Pipriac paces up and down, in no lamb-like mood, for he is secretly ashamed of the whole business. Still, duty is dilty, and the Siergeant, with dogged per- tinacity, means to periform his. Henceforth all efforts to use Jannedik as the bearer of supplies are unavailing ; — a gmAdVme is posted at the widow's door night and dayj with, strict orders to watch the whole family, especially the goat. He notices that Jannedik seldom goes and comes ai all, and never stays long out of doors; for lying on the hearth within she has a little kid, who requires con- stant maternal attention. When one iiight, the kid dies and Jannedik is left lamenting^ the gendarme regards the affeir as of no importance ; but he is Wroflg. More days t)aste, and still the deserter, is not dead but liveth. Wild winds blow with rain and hail, the , sea roars night and day, the besiegers have a hard time of it and are growing fiiriousi How the fierce rains lash the cliff I how the spindrift flies in froni the foaming waters ! — -and yet screened firom all this sits the deserter, while the servants ' of the Emperor are dripping like drdwned rats. Hours of storm, when Pipriac's loudest ftialediction is faint as the scratch of a pin, unbeeded and scarce heard! Is this to last for ever ? • To Pipriac and the test, pacing there in mist and cloud, peeping, mufHed to the throatj there come from time to time tidings from the far-off seat of war. The great Empeiror has met with slight reverses, and some of his old friends are falling away from him ; indeed, if Pipriac Cotild ofaly digc^m it, the 'cloud Wo bigger than a prophet's han'd is already looming on the German Rhine. The gendarmes laugh apd ^uote the bulletins as th'ey tramji dp ahd down. They are amused at the folly of those who have fallen off from the Emperor, and look idiwkiA for the news bf French victory which is to conie soon ! A FOUrR-FOQTED CHRISTIAN 2.87 Onpe more,^ as; they. st^(L h^lpw the, cljifej IM^^eL Grallou ppiobiwpwaxd, c^Utog the attention pf I'ji.p^.c. 'Cc Welt ?" soaps the Sergeant. '-'.That accwrsed goat; it goes to the Tff^ pftepjer thajo, ever." " What then ? It goes empty, fisherman — we Igke care oJ that Pshaw, yoi* are an. ass !" Mike! trembles and quivers spitefully as he repU.es — "I will tell you one thing, that you have overlooked, clever as you think yourself ; if you had thought of it you would never inave le,t the goat go." "Well?" " The goat is in, feall suck, though her kid is dead ; and a mouth draws her ^ijk each day, 1" Pipriac utters an exclamation ; here is a new ligh,t with a vengeance ! " Is this, true ?" he growls, glaring round. " Male- diction! but this Mikel GraJlon is the devil! After all, a man cannot live on the milk of a goat." " It may. suffice for a time," says Mikeli Grallon ; '.' there, is life in it. Curses on the beast ! If I were one of youj I would soon, settle its busings^." As he speaks the goat is passing overhead, at a dis- tance of several hundred yards, leisurely pausing ever and anon, and crppping the thin herbage as she goes. A diabolical twinkle comes into the Sergeant's eye. " Can you shoot, fishernian ?" he asks. " 1 can hit a mark," is the reply. " I will wager a hottle of good brandy yon could not hit a barn-door at a hundred yards ! Nevertheless — Hoelj give him "your gun." The gendq,rme hands his weapon to lyiikel Grallon, who takes it silently, with a look pf interrogation at Pipriac. " Now, fire I" -'U "At what?" -l**'- " Malediction! at ^he goat ! let us see yfh&\ you are made of. Fire.Tr-an.d, wiss !" 288 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD The thin lips of Mikel Grallon are pressed tight together, and his brow comes down over his eyes. His hand does not tremble as, kneeling down on one knee, he steadies the piece and takes aim. Up above him Jahnedik, with her side presented full to him, pauses unconscious. He is so long in taking aim that Pipriac swears. " Malediction \—fiye /" There is a flash, a report, and the bullet flies on to its mark above. For a moment it appears to have missed, for the goat, though it seemed to start at the sound, still stands in the same position, scarcely stirring; and Hoel is snatching his gun back with a cpntemptuous laugh, when Pipriac, pointing upwards, cries — " Tous Us diables /—she is hit ; she is coming down !" But the niche where the goat stands is broad and safe, and she has only fallen forward on her knees ; it is obvious she is hurt, for she quakes and seems about to roll over; restraining herself, however, she staggers to her legs, and then, as if partially recovered, s^ie runs rapidly along the cliffs in the direction of the Cave. CHAPTER XXXV VIGIL For a second time Mikel Grallon, with the cunning of his class, had guessed correctly ; apd for two long days and nights Rohan Gwenfern had received no other sustenance than the milk of the goat. At firsts after the death of her kid, Janpedik had been running about the cliffs distracted, burthened with the weight of the milk the little l;ps could no longer draw,; and the famished man in the Cave, finding in her discomfort his bodily salvation, had in direst extremity put his mouth t6 her teeming udder and. drunk. From that VIGIL 289 moment forth Jannedik returned many times a day to be relieved or her painful burthen ; and the more relief came the freer the milk flowed — a vital and an invigorating stream. But by this time the struggle was well-nigh over, and Rohan Gwenfern knew well that the end was near. The hand of Death seemed upon him, the wholesome flesh had worn from off his bones, and his whole frame was shrunken and famine-stricken. No eye undimmed with tears could have seen him there, crouching like a starved wolf upon his dark bed, with wild eyes glaring oiit through hair unkempt, his checks sunken j his jaw dropping in exhaustion and despair. From time to time he wailed out to God inarticulate sounds of miseiry : and often his head grew light, and he saw strange visions flitting about him in the gloom: But always, when there came any sound from below, he was ready, with all his fierce instinct upon him, to watch and to resist. He was sitting thus towards evening, while the tide was full and the waves were roaring in stprm under- neath the Cave, when the entrance was darkened, and Jannedik crept in, and passing across the damp and slimy floor, lay down at his bed. For a time he scarcely noticed her, for he was light-headed, muttering and murmuring to himself; but presently his attention was attracted by the rough tongue licking his hand. Turning his hollow eyes upon her, he murmured her name and touched her softly, at whiph she stirred, looking up into his face and uttering a low cry of pain ; and then, quivering from head to foot in agony, she rolled over at his feet. He then saw, with horror', that she was suffering from a terrible wound in the side, some distance behihd the shoulder; and from that wound her life's blood was ebbing" fast. Pitiful — even more pitiful than the pain of human beings whose lips can speak^are the fatal pangs of poor beasts that the good God made dumb. By an ?9o THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD ' ipstipct (liviHff tham our reaspn they kaov/ ajai fiear tlj© ^ippcpac^ of 4eatlb an4 soi^etipies they seeni to }ov§ life welli^so weli, they, dt^fig not die. ghall we weep by mortal deathbeds and keep dry eyes by these ? Qf shall we not rather deem that the Shadow that darkens our hearts is terrible to theirs, and that the blessing we ask upon our lg,st sleep sbQifld be spoken op their§, a.s well i with the same hope (?f ^wakening, with the sg-m^ pogr gle^m of comfort, with the same faith borp of 4esiiajr in the presence of that grea,t darknfesg we cannot understand ? To Rohan, this poor goat had bepn, more th3.n guccour and solace : she had beeij a friend and a corn- panion, almost human in the gomfort she brought. So long as she came to him, with or without tidings frpni the world, he 4id not speip quite deserted, hj§ di4 not feel quite heart-broken. Several times he had 3ung his arms ground her neck, apd almost wept, as he thought of the loving ones from whom she came ; arid hgr familiar presence, seen from dfiy to d;^y, had made 1 th§ dflrk cave almost like h^me', And now she lay at his feet panting, dying, her large eyes upturned beseechingly to his, He uttered 3. wild groan, a,pd knelt beside het. " Jaanedik J Jannedik !" ' * The poor beast knew her name and licked th§ hand of her master ; then, with one last quiver of the bleed- ing frame, she dropped her gentle head, and died. Darkness came, land found Rphap Gwenfern stUl kneeling by the side of his dead friend, his face white, as death and lit with frenzy, his frame trembling froip head to foot. All his own physical troubles were fpr^ gotten for the time, in this new surprise and pain ; he gazed on the dead goat 4S on a murdered man, innocent yet martyred ; and ag^n and again he called his heart's curse on the hand that struck her low. A sick horror posgessgd him : he could not ri§e nor stir, ViGIL igi but the wild thoughts coutsed across Ms btain like clouds acrbss the sky^ The moon rose in the high heavens, but th6 w'ittd had not abated, apd the sea Was still thundeHng oh the shore. It was' One of those wild auttkmii liights wiien there is' a great shining in the upper air, with a sti*ai^e trouble and conflict of the forces below; when the moon and stars fulfil their ministrEttions to an earth that trembles in darktieSS and a 6^ that moans in pain ; a night of -elemental contradictions ; vast calin in the heavens, but mighty tumult under the lieavens ; the clouds drifting luminously yet softly overhead, but the Nbrth-Wesf Wind gdibs forth tumultuo'usiy below, with his fcibt bn the n&k bi the Deep. The cold rhoonlight f-rbm the sky crept into the Cave and touched the dead gbat, and trembled on 'Rbhah's fac6 and hattds as if in benediction ; but no benediction came ; and the inan's heart was fierce as a beast's within him, and thfe man's brain was mad. As a wild bfeast broods in its cave, gaziiig but through the lu,nar sheen with glazed "and rnindless pyes, Rohan crouched in his place in a sort of savage trance. Dne hour — two — J)assed thus. He seemed scarcely to see of hear. Meanwhile the fbaihing, siirging tide had drifted out through the Gate, and the tomblike rocks and stones were again visible on the weedy, shingly shore. The sea roared fa;rtheir off, beyond the Gate, but its roar wafe still deafening. 'The wihd, moreover, was yet rising, and thfere was a halo- like Saturn's ring round the vitreous Moon. All at once Rbhaft leapt to his feet and listened ; for, above the toar of the sea and the shriek of the wind, he heard a startling sbuhd. , In a moment he sprang to the mouth of the Cave — and not too soon ; for the Cathedral was full of men, and wild faces were moving up froth beneath towards his hiding-place. Ladders had at last been procured, and, lashed 292 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD together, placed against the dripping Altar. Up these ladders men were clambering. But when Rohan appeared like a ghost aboVe them in the moonlight, they shrank back with a loud cry. Only for an instant : then they begdn to swarm up again. CHAPTER XXXVI VICTORY It was the work of a moment for Rohan, exerting all his extraordinary strength, to hurl back the two ladders, the highest rungs of which rested against the foot of the Trou. Fortunately those upon them had not climbed far, and fell backwards shrieking, but little harmed ; while, urged to fretizy by the appearance of the besieging crowd, Rohan Straightway commenced to hurl down upon the mass the ponderous fragments of rock wh^ch he had placed, ready for use, at the Cave's mouth. Shrieks, cries, oaths arose : and the men withdrew, tumultuously out of reach. Then a voice shrieked " Fire !" and a shower of bullets rained round the deserter's form ; bjit all missed their mark^ It was now quite clear that Pipriac, weary of so long waiting, had made up his martial mind to carry the position by storm. Under cover of the firing a number of gendarmes advanced again, and the ladders were once more placed against the dripping wall of the " Altar"; but in another moment the besiegers were again baffled and driven back by terrible showers of rocks and stones. More like a wild bekst than a human creature, Rohan flitted above in the dark mouth of the Ca,ve : silen,tly, with mad outreaching arms, gathering and dischargifig his rude ammunition ; gazing hungrily and fiercely down on the cruel faces congregated below ,him ; taking no more heed of the bullets pouring around VICTORY 293 him than he might have done of falling rain or hail. In their excitement and fury the men aimed wildly and at random ; so thg,!, although his body was a con- stant target for their bullets, the deserter remained unharmed. Presently, discovering all attempts to be unavailing, the gefidarmes withdrew out of reach in eager consulta- tion. Behind them, filling the aperture of the Gate, gathered villagers of both sexes, from whose lips from time to time came low cries of terror, and amaze. Findirjg the position his own and his security no longer assailed, Rohan withdrew back into the Cave. But the patience of the besiegers had been long ex- hausted, and the suspension of attack was not destined to last long. Now that they possessed scaling ladders and other implements of attack ready to their hand, they were determined, at any risk, to uneaith the creature who had resisted them so calmly for so pro- longed a period. Dead or alive, fhey would secure him ; and that night. The storm which was raging all around did not interfere with their mancEuvres ; on the contrary, it facilitated them ; and from time to time, when the moon was veiled under the clouds and all was darkness and cpnfusion, the assault seemed easy. Under cover of a sharp fire of bullets given by a file of gendarmes told off for that purpose, a number of men again advanced to the attack. Lying flat on his face, Rohan kept himself well concealed behind the heap of rocks and stones which he had accumulated at the mouth of the Cave ; so that, although he presented no mark for thebullets, his arms were ready to ptecipitate his heavy missiles on those below. So soon as the advance was made, and the ladders were rested against the face of the cliff, the defence began anew. Showers of rocks, great and small, rolled down from the Trou. Had some of the larger missiles struck their mark the result would speedily have been fatal ; but the 394 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD besiegers, were wasy, and by their rapid moveipentp, escaped iRuch ojf Rphap's ppint-blatjk fire.. Frop^ time to time, indeed, there ^as a yell of fury whefj ^ stray stone struck home and caused soijje furious besieger to limp or crawl back to his comrades in the safe part of the Cathedral ; hut as yet np, .majj was daugeroiisly hurt, and ere long the ladders were again safely plaped agaiqst the cliff, and men began rapidly, to ascend. It was now that Rohan, springmg erect, and holdiio^g high in the air a huge fragment of rock, dashed it dfiw?i with incredible force and fury on one of the ladders, f prfiinately, qo human being ha4 reached the point where the rock struck ; Isut the rungs of the ladder §i)apped like dry faggots, ajid amid a yell pf execration, the entire ladder itself cPllai)s.e4, and those who were climbing fell back heavily, bleeding and half stunned. '■' Fiife 1 fir© !" shrieked Pipriac, pointing at the figflre of Rpbai. whigh was now (distinctly yisibLe above him in the moonlight. Before the command oQuld be obeyed Rohan had crouched down under shelter, and the burets rained harmlessly round the spot where he had just stood. " Devil ! deserter ; chouan I" yelied the .iofuriate.d Sergeant, shaking his fist iqifpoteiitly at thq Trou,. " We will have you alive pr dead !"— -and tvirning again to his men, he criedj " Forward again ! to the attack !" Again the body of men moyed forward under cover of fire, and again the extraordinary cqntest was renewed. > It was a scene to be remembered. The darlf rnasses moving and CFying in the Cathedral, with glistening of bayonets arid flashing of guns ; the wild astonishqd groups of villagers congregated at the Qate^ f^ without which the sea was roaring aijd giea.niing in farious storm; the great black clifis abP^e, je^ching up as it were iiitQ the very heaven, a^d ever; apd again VICTORY 295 gleaming like- sheet-lightning tinder the sudden illu- tnination of the tnooij ; and high up above the Cathe- dral floor the lonely Cave, with the wild figure of a man Cbming and going across it like a ghost. To the' cannonade of wipd and sea, before which the mighty crags seemed to shake to their foundations^ ihere was added the sharp sound of the muskets and the hoarse roaring from the throats of men ; but at intervals, when all sounds ceased for an i!nstant, both the roar of the elements and the disturbing cries of mortals, the stillness Was deathlike though momentary, and you could distinctly hear the cry of some disturbed sea-bird far up among the crags. • The conflict grew tumultuous. As a succession of huge clouds came Up obscuring the moon for many minutes together, there was -fretjueatly ' almost total darkness. ' Only the extraordinary impregnability of Rohan's position prevented it from being carried twenty tirties Over ; for as the time flew, and the attack coatinued unabated, the man's strength began t£> fail him. Hours passed, and he still sjicceeded in keeping his enemies at bajr ; but his hands wete bleeding from the sharp rocks, his head seemed whirling round, his eyes were blinded with fatigue, and he heard rather than saw the crowd that raged and climbed beileath his feet. For, remember, he was spent with hunger^ worn with long watching and waitings fend he possessed only a tithe of his old gigantic strength. Again and agfein the besiegers were repulsed'; more than one was wotmded amd had crept away ; but the shower of rocks continued terrific whenever they approached again. Over all the other tumult rose the voice of Pipriac urging on his men. Had the gendarmes been marksmen Rohan would have fallen early in the fight ; but partly from want of skill, and partly from excessive excitement, they fired 1 at ralidom, until their ammunition was almost spent. 296 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD Many hours had passed away when the besiegers made a iinal attack, more desperate than any that had taken place before. Advancing under cover of dark- ness, they set their ladder against the cliff, while their comrades covered the mouth of the Cave with their guns. In a moment Rohan had sprung up again, and had hurled back the ladder with tremendous strength. There was a flash — a roar — and once more the bullets rained round him. He drew back stalrtled, and. before he could recover himself the assault was renewed. Simultaneously with the central attack two gendarmes, taking off their shoes and holding their bayonets be- tween their teeth, began, completely unseen and un- suspected, to make their way upward by the fissures in the rock at the side of tfie " Altar." Rohan had twice again hurled back the ladder, and was in the act of discharging a fresh volley of stones, when he was startled by the apparition of two human faces rising at his feet and glaring upward. A wild exclama- tion butst froin hjs lips, and, stooping down, he loosened from the rock at his feet two convulsive human hands. With a shrill cry, thp man fell backward into the crowd below ; fortunately, his fall was broken by the moving, heaving mass, and although he was half stunned, and half stunned several others, he was not killed. Meantime his companion, fearful of meeting the same fate, had rapidly descended. But in the meantime the ladder was again fixed, and held firmly down against the cliff, while more men were climbing. By this time Rohan was well- nigh exhausted and yielding rapidly to a species of vertigo. He no longer saw his enemies ; but, seizing rock after rock, hurled them down furiously into the darkness ! Suddenly, however, he became conscious of dark figures rising to him from below. His head swam round. Uplifting with all his strength a gigantic fragment of rock, almost the last remaining of his store, he poised it for one moment over his head, and VICTORY 297 then, with a wild cry, hurled it downward at the shapes he saw approaching. There was a crash, a shriek; under the frightful weight of the rock the ladder yielded, and the figures upon it shrank groan- ing down ; horrible cries followed, of agony and terror ; — and then, overcome by his excitement and fatigue, Rohan swooned away. How long he lay unconscious he could not tell ; but when he opened his eyes he was lying unmolested in the mouth of the Cave^ The wind was still crying arfd the sea was still roaring, but all other sounds were silent ; and when, remembering his recent peril, and half expecting to find himself face to face with his enemies, he started up and gazed around him, he saw no sign of any human being. The. moon was out withoiat a cloud, her beams were flooding the Cathe- dral of St. Gildas ; and lo 1 the foaming' tide had entered the Gate and was rapidly creeping nearer and nearer to the great Altar. The silence was now explained. The' besiegers had withdrawn, as before, at the tide's approach, and left him master of the situation. Peering over into the gloom he saw the shingle below thickly strewn with huge rocks and stones, the dibris of the recent struggle, but of any lingering human being there was no sign. Indeed, for any one remain- ing in the Cathedral, and lacking the skill or power to ascend to the Cave, there would only have been one doom — a swift death in the cruel, crawling tide. Inch by inch, foot by foot, the stormy waters were coming in, and already the great Cathedral floor was half paved with the liquid, shimmering pools. Well, the battle was over, and he had conquered ; and indeed properly provisioned for the purpose, and duly recovered from the effects of his long privation, he could have held the position for an indefinite period against hundreds of men. But now, alas ! all his force 2^8 THE SHADOW 6F f HE SWORD had gbrie from him. tltiti^fer H&d. cSid hkd ddne theiir workj and thci last Citadel bi his bodily sti'efagth seemed overe&aJe. Trelmbling and Shivering he Ibokfed around him, conscioiis of no feeling save a sense of utter desolation aiid despair. He tad held out bravely, but he ffclt tha-t he c6uld hold but rip longer ; he wis safe for a little space, but he knew that his persecutors " woculd soon return ; and altogether both man and God . seenked against hitli, as he had feared and believed from the beginning. The Gate of the Cathedral was ndW full of the bail- ing, rilshing, whirling waves, and the floor was more than tWb-thir^s cbvered. A roar like thunder was in , the air, and the salt flakes of foanl were blown by the wind up into his very fdice. As he stooped again, gazed d<3wh, he beheld fof the first time, right under him ifl the ndobnlight, something which riveted his attention, 8#fti6tMhg dark and mo.veless, extended on the shihgle iiiimfediMely below the Cave, and towards which the tide was ^apdly rushing, with ivhite lips ready to touch and tfeaf ! ' Hei gitfced on for some riiortients in silent fascina- tion, his heart quite cold and sick with dread ; then, eager td satisfy a wild curiosity, he prepdted to descend the face of the cliff. CHAt'TER XXXVII THE MlRAGE Dt LElP'SiC Slowly, swinging in the darkness, Rohan descended the face of the cliff lantil he reached the narrow place of shingle below, on which the troubled tide was taomentarily creeping ; and suddenly the thoonlight came out anew upon the Cathedral, flooding its. Weedy walls and Watery floor with streams of liqilid silver. The wind still shrieked -and moaned, and the THE MIRAGE OF LEIPSIC 299 sea roared terribly withput the Gate ; hut -ylrithin the Cathedral there was a solemi^ cal&i, as in some conse- crated temple made by hands. Slipping down upon the wet shingle, and involun- tarily looking from side to side in dread of a pursuer, Rohan saw the ^ea rughing in through the Gate with a roar like thunder, and a snow-white flash of foam ; and the waters as they entered boiled in eddies, whirling round and round, while the great far-away heart of the ocean uplifted them in one throbbing pulsation till they washed and splashed wildly against the dripping walls. Overhead the moving heavens, roofing the great Cathedral, were sailing past^ drifting and changing, brightening and darkening, in one wild rush of wavelike shades and gleams. So loud was the tumult that it -vffould have drowned a strong man's shriek as easily as an infant's cry. But the light of the moon increased, illuniing the boiling surge, within the Gate and creeping onward until it toifched the yery feet, of the fugitive. Rohan Shivered, as if a cold hand had been laid on his shoulder j for the rays fell luminously on spmething horrible— ^on a white face upturned to' the sky. He drew back with a shiiddei;. After a moment he looked again. The face was still l:here, touched by the glimmering fingers of the moon ; and half resting on the shingle, half' submerged in the waters of the still rising tide, was the body of a man. One of the great rocks hurled down by Rohan in his mad fury had struck the creature down ; hence, doubtless, that wild shriek of horror which had arisen from his pursuers before they fled. The rock still lay upon the man's crushed breast, for death had been instantaneous. One white hand gUmmered from beneath, while the awful faog looked with open eyes at heaven. Words cannot depict, human language is tOQ weak to represent, the feelings which at that moment iiUed 300 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD the soul of Rohan Gwenfern. A dull,-dumb sensa- tion, morally the analogue of the physical feeling of intense cold, numbed and for the time being paralysed his faculties ; so that he staggered and almost fell ; and his own heart seemed crushed under a load like the rock upon the dead. man's breast. Fire flashed before his eyes, with a horrid glimmer of blood. He was compelled to lean> his head against the crag, breathing hard like a thing in mortal pain. His first wild emotions of wrath and bloodthirst had worn away, now that his enemies were no longer near to fan the fierce flames to fury. The Battle was over, and he was the Victor, standing alone upon the field; and at his feet, the Slain. If at that moment his persecutors had ' returned he might have renewed the fray, have struck again, and have been thenceforth insensible to blood ;, but it had been so willed that his victory should be complete as ' well as single ; his energies would not return that night, and they had left behind them, glimmering, solitary in the moonlight, their dead ! Bear in mind that Rohan, like all men of his race and religion, had been familiar with Death before, under other and more beautiful conditions. The gentle sleep of men and women dying in their beds ; the low farewell of wearied-out old age, blest by the Church and consecrated by the priest — these he knew well ; and he had loved to hear the solemn rnusic of the Celtic dirge sung round the shrouded forms of those who had passed away under nati;iral circum- stances. His hands were bloodless then. He had now to realize, under the fullest and most terrible of conditions, the presence of the cold Phantom as it appears to the eyes of murderers and of uninitiated men upon the battle-field. He had now to conceive, with a horrible and sickening fascination, that his hands had destroyed that strangest and solemnest of mysteries — a breathing, moving human life. THE MIRAGE OF LEIPSIC 391 True, he was vindicated by the circumstance that he had merely stricken in self-defence ; but what is circuiilstance to one whose soul, like Rohan Gwen- fern's, is fashioned of stuff as sensitive as the feelers of the gleaming medusae of the ocean ? For him there was but one perception. A blinding white light of agony arose before him. He, whose heart was framed of gentleness, whose nature was born and bred in love and kindness, he out of whose hand thie lamb ate and the dove fed, who had never before destroyed any creature with life, not even the helpless sea-birds of the crags, had now done dreadful murder, had hurried into eternity the miserable soul of a fellow man. For him, for Rohan Gwpnfern, there was no vindication: Life was poisoned to him; the air he, breathed was sick and sacrificial. This, then, was the end of all his dreams of love and peace ! > The clouds drifted above him w;ith flying gleams of moonlight, the wind shrieked and the sea roared with hollow cannonade beyond the Gate, as, partially recovering his self-possession, he stooped down to gaze at the face of the murdered man. In his terror he was praying that he might recognize ' some bitter enemy — Mikel Grallori, for example, — and thus dis- cover a partial justification for his own deed. The first look made him despair. The man wore uniform, and his hair and beard were quite white. It was Pipriac himself, gazing with a bloodless face at heaven ! Strangely enough, he had never, although Pipriac led the besieging party, looked upon him in the light of a deadly foe. He had been his father's boon- comrade; under all his fierce swash-buckler air, there had ever existed a certain rude generosity and bon- homie ; and after all he had only been doing his duty in attempting to secure a deserter dead or alive. In his own mind, moreover, Rohan knew that Pipriac would cheerfully have winked at his escape, had such escape been possible. 302 THE SHAOOW OF tHE SWORD b^tlk gives straage dignity to the commoneBt of ffeces, and the features of the old Sergeant look solemn an,d venisrable in their fixed and awful pallor.. The tnoon rises high over the Cathedral, within which the tide has how grown calm j but the waters, the , defep ululatibn of which fi'llis the air, have now reached to Rohan's ffeet. Above, the mighty crags rise black as jet, save where at intetvais sothe space of moist granite flashes in the chahgbfiii light. . . . Rohan listens. Far pverhead there is a sound like human voices, dyiiig ; feiritly away. And now, old Pipralic-, all thy grirti jokes and oaths ar;e ovet, ail thy voice is' hushed for ever, and the frame that once strutted in the Sunshine floats idly as a weed in the shallows «iif the tide. Bottle of ted wine 'or flask of coirh bfa,hdy will never delight thee more. Thou, too, hast fallen at thy post with many a thousand better men, in the eaiise of the gteat Colossus -Who' bestrides the' World-; and though thy fiall has been inglorious 'a'nd far away from all the splendours of the busy field, thou hast fulfilled thiiie allotted task, my veteran, as truly as any of the rest. After all, thou Wast a gdod fellow, and thy hpftrt wks kindly, though thy tbiigue "was rough. S6 at le^st thinks Rohkn Gwenfern, as he bends above thee, looking sadly in thy face. Ah God, to kill! — to qftfehth the living sp&irk in howsoever base a heart it burns ! Tb strike down the quivering life, to let Ibttse the s&. There is other neWs," said Goroti, anxious to change the sad subject. <' The King of Saiony has deserted the Emperor, and the armies of France have* fallen back on Leipsic. Some say the Emperor is meeting his match at last, and that all the Kings are I now aga,inst hini. "Well, he has eaten half a dozen Kings for breakfast before now, and will do so again." At another time these tidings would have greatly excited Marcelle Derval i but now they seemed almost devoid of interest. The fortunes of France and the Empjbror were utterly forgotten in her individual trphble. However, she shrugged her pretty shoulders incredulously when Goron hmted at defeat, and said listlessly— «' At Leipsic, say you ? — both Hoel and Gildas will be there." And she added in a low weary voice, '^ We had a letter from Gildas last week, and he has been three times under fire without so much as a scratch or a burn. ' He has seen the Emperor quite close, and he says he is looking' very old. Hoel, too, is well. . . . Ah, God, if my cdusin Rohan were with them as he might have been, happy and well and strpngjfighting for the Emperor !" As she spoke her tears burst forth again, and Mother Gwenfern answered her with a bitter wail. Yes, this doubtless was the bitterest of iall: the feeling that Rohan had beeti madly flying from a mere phantom, and that, had he quietly accepted his fa;te, he would still have bepn living honoured and happy, like- Hoel and Gildas. By doing his duty and becoming a brave soldier, he would have avoidted alLthat series of troubles and sins which had' been the consequenbe of his resis- tance. Bloqid hs might have shed, but only the blood of enemies ; which, as all good patriots knew, would have been of small consequence! It was not for " THEIR WARRrnd tear, dropped down to his side, and his eyes rolled wildly on the speaker. Gradually the feline expression faded from his face, but,. the woe- begone light remaiiied. " Master Arfoll!" It was indeed the itinerant schoolmaster, little changed, though somiewhat greyer and sadder than when we last saw him. He stretched out his armSj and with both hands grasped the right hand of Rohalii, looking tenderly into his face. Not a word more was uttered for some minutes, but the powerful frame i of Rohan shook with agitation. "You livel you live!" at last exclaimed Master Arfoll. " Over there, at Travnik, there was a report that yoii were dead, but I did "not believe it, and I hoped on. Thank God, you live J" "A CHAPEL OF HATE" 323 Such life as lingered in that tormented frame seemed scarce worth thanking God for, Better to have died, one would have thought, than to have grown into this "A shadow, Upon the skirts of human nature dwelling." rAll wild and persecuted things are pitiful to look on, but there is no sadder sight on earth thah the facp of a hunted man. Presently, Master ArfoU spoke again. " I was going through Kromlaix, and I came hither to shelter from the storm. Of all the places on the earth to find you here ! Ah, God, it is an evil place, and tliose yfho come here have evil hearts. What were you doing, my Rohan ? Praying ?^To Notre Dame de la Haine !" Rohan, whose eyes haejub^en fixed upon the ground, Iqeked up quickly and answered, "Yes!" " Ah, you have great wrongs, and youp, enemies have been cruel indeed. May God help you, my poor Rohan!" ^ ' , A sharp expression of scorn and semi-delirium passed over Jiohaii's face* " It ;s not God I ask," he answered in a hollow voice, " not God, but her ! None can help me now if she cannot. Look you, I have prayed here again and again. I h^ve torn my heart, out in prayer against' the Emperor — ^in curses on his head, that she may hunt him down." Suddenly' turning to the altar, and stretching out his hands,' he' cried, "Mother of God, hear me ! Mother of Hate, listen ! Within a year, within a year !" A new access of passion possessed him; his face flashed white as death, and he seemed abput to cast himself again on the stones before the altar. But Malster Arfoll stretched out his hands again,' ^nd touched |iim gently on the -shoulder. 324 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD " Let us sit down and talk together," he said softly. " There is news. I have bread in my wallet and a little red wine ; — let us eat and drink together as in old times, and you shall hear all I know." Something in the manner of the speaker subdued and 'soothed Rohan, who suffered himself to, be led across the Chapel to the stone seat close to the door. Here the two men sat down side by side. By this time the chapel had grown quite dark, but, although the wind blew more furiously than ever, the rain had almost ceased to fall.' Little by little, the excitement of Rohan was subdued. -Gently pressed to eat, he did so automatically, and it was evident l:hat he was sadly in need of sustenance. Then Master ArfoU dre'v? forth a leathern bottle, which had been filled with wine that morning by a farmer's wife whose children he had^been- teaching. Rohan drank, and his pale cheek kindled;; but by this time all his passion had departed, and h6 was docile as a child. Gradually Master Arfoll elicited from him, many particiilars of his position. After several days passed in the open plains and among the great salt marshes, he had at last returned again to the Cave of St.Gildas, - whence, in a sort of dglirium, he had issued that day to pray, or rather to curse, in the Chapel of Hate. " If they should return to seek me," he said, " I have discovered a way. The Cave is an outlet which they will never find, and which I only learned by chance." He paused a moment ; then in answer to Master ArfoU's questioning look, he proceeded : " You know the great Cave ? Ah, no ; but it is vast, like the Cathedral at St., Emlett, and no man except myself has ever searched it through. After I had killed Pipriac I returned, for all other places were dangerous ; and as I entfered Pipriac stood before me as if in . lije, with his great wounds bleeding, and his eyes looking at me. That was only for a moment,' thp;? hp wag gone ; but he came to me again and again «'A CHAPEL OF HATE" 325 till I was sick with fear. Master ArfoU, it is terrible to have shed blood, and old Pipriac was a good fellow after all — besides, he was my father's friend, and that is worse. Mother of God, what a death ! I think of it always, and it gives me no peace !" As he spoke, his former manner returned, and he shivered through and throiigh as if with violent cold ; bul^the touch of Master ArfoU's hand again calmed him, and he proceeded : " Well, at last, one night, when there was a black storm, I could bear it no 'longer, and I struck a light with flint and steel, and I lit my torch, and to. pass away the hours I began measuring round and round the walls with my feet, counting the paces. It was then I discovered, in the far darkness of the great. Cave, a hole through which a man niight crawl, a hole like a black stain ;> one inight search for days and not find it out. I crawled through on my hands and knees, and a little^ way in I found another Cave, nearly as large as the first. Then I thought,' ' Let them come when they like, I shall be safe ; I can cr3.wl in here.' That was not all, for I soon found that the cliffs were hollowed out like a great honey-comb, and whichever way I searched there were stone passages winding into the heart of the earth." "It is the same along there at La Vilaine," said Master Arfoll ; " the entrances are known, but no men have searched the caverns through, for they believe them haunted. Some say the Romans made them long ago. But who can tell?" Rohan did not reply, but seemed to have fallen again into a sort of waking trance. At last he looked up, and pointing at the window of the Chapel, said quietly : " See, the rain is over, and the moon is up." ' The rain had indeed ceased, and through the cloudy rack above a stormy moon was rising and pouring her vitreous rays on a raging surf of cloud. The wind, so far from abating, roared more wildly than 326 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD ever, and the face of heaven was as a human face convulsed with torturing passion and illumed by its own mad light. ' ~ -Master ArfoU gazed upwards for some moments' in silence ; then he said quietly ; "And now what will you do? Ah, that I could help you ! but I am so feeble and so poori Have you no other friend ?" |> " Yes, one^-J^n Goron. But for him I should have died." " Go4 reward him !" ' "Three times since Piptiac died Jin has hidden fbod under the dolmen in the Field of the Festival ; and my mother has made torches of tallow and pitch, that I might not go mad in the dark; and besides these I have a lantern and oil. Jan hides them and I find them, under the dolmen." Master Ai^foll again took the outcast's hands between his own, and pressed ihem affectionately. " God hats given ' you great courage) and where another man's heart Vvould have broken, you have lived. Have courage Still, my poor Rohan — there is hope yet. Do you know,, there has been a great battle, and the Emperor has lost." That word " Emperor" seemed enough to conjure up all the niadliess in Rohan's braih. He rose to his feet, reaching, out his arms to the altar of the chapel, while Master ArfoH continued — " There are wild sayings afloat. Some say the Emperor is a prisoner in Germany, others that he has tried to kill himself : but all say, and it is certain, that he has been beaten as he was never beaten before, and that he is in full retreat. The world has arisen' against him at last." An hour later the two men stood together at the Chapel door. " I shall. visit your uncle's house," said the itinerant. INTRODUCES A SCARECROW 327 " and I shall see your coysin Marcellei. Shall I give her any message ?" Rohan treimbled, but answered quietly : " Tell her to comfort • my mother— rshe has no one else left in the world." Then the men embraced, and Master Arfoll walked away into the night. For a §pace Rohan stood, in the chapel , entrance, watching the figure until it dis- appeared ; then, throwing up his arms with- a bitter pry, he too fled from the place, like a man flying from some evil thing. CHAPTER XL INTRODUCES A SCARECROW OF GLORY Early the next day, as the Derval household were assembled at their morning mdal. Master Arfoll entered the quaint old kitchen, and with the quiet salutation of the country — " God save all here !"^ took his seat uninvited by the fire. The Corporal -nodded his head coldly, Alain and Jannick > smiled, and the women paurniured the customary " welcome "; byt an awkward silence followed, and it was clear that the entrance of Master Arfoll caused' a certain constraint. Indeed, the Corporal had just been engaged, spectacles on nose, in deciphering aloud a bulletin from the seat of war — one of those fanciful documents on which Bonaparte was accustomed to , expend aU the splepdour of a mendacious irhagination. But even Bonaparte, on this occasion, was unable to concoct a narrative totally misleading as to the true state of the situation. Amid all his pottip of sounding words, and all his flourish of misleading falsehoods, there peeped out the skeleton fact that the imperial army had been terribly and almost conclusively beaten, and that it had been compelled to give up all 328 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD its dreams of conquest, and to retreat (" confusedly," as old stage directions have it) back to the frontiei:. Now, the Corporal was no fbol, and in reality his heart ^was very sore for the sake of his favourite ; but he wa,s not the man to admit the fact to unsym- pathetic outsiders. So when Master ArfoU entered he became silent, and stumping over to the fireside, bfegan to fill his pipe. , " You have news, I see," said the itinerant, after a long pause. " Is it true, then. Corporal Derval ?" The Corporal scowled down from his height of six feet, demanding — . " Is what true. Master ArfoU ?" " At)out the great battle, and the retreat. Is not the Emperor still marching on France, as they say ?" The Corporal gave a fierce snort, and crammed the tobacco dpwn savagely in the bowl of his pipe. " As they say ?" he repeatedj contemptuously. " As the geese say' Master ArfoU ! Ah ! if you were an old soldier, and if you knew the Emperor as I know. him, you would not talk about retreating.' Soul of k crow, does a., spider ' retreat ' into his hole when he is trying to coax the flies? Does a hawk ' retreat ' into the sky when he, is looking out for sparrows ? I will tell you this, Master ArfoU : when the Little Corporal plays at ' retreating,' his enemies may keep their eyes open like the owls ; for just as they are laughing and running after him, as they Ihink, up he will pop in their midst and at their backs, ready to eat them up !' The itinerant saw how the land lay, and offered no contradiction ; only he said after a little, looking at the fire : " Before Leipsic, it was terrible. Is it not true that fifty thousand Frenchmen fell?" The Corporal had, now lighted his pipe, and was puffing furiously. Master ArfoU's quiet questions irritated him, and he glared round at his nephews. INTRODUCES A SCARECROW 329 and down at the visitor, with a face as red as the bowl of his own pipe. " I do not know," he replied, " and I do not care. You are a scholar, Master Arfoll, and you know a good deal of books, but I will tell you frankly, you do not understand war. A great general does not count these things ; fifty men killed or fifty thousand^ it is all- the same ; he may lose twice as many men as the enemy, and yet he may have won the, victory for all that. Fifty thousand men, bah ! If it were twice fifty thousand it would be all the same. Go to ! the Emperor knows what he is about." "But' your own -nephews," said Master Arfoll, " they, at least, are safe ?" The Corporal cast an uneasy glance at the widow, who had lifted' her white face eagerly' at Master ArfoU's Tfroirds, then he smiled grimly. " Good lads, good lads !-^yes ; when we last heard from them they were safe and well. Gildas wrote for botji ; as you know, he writes a brave hand, and he was in high spirits, I can tell you. He had a little scratch, and was nursed at the hospital for a month, but he was soon all right again, and merry as a cricket. Ah I it is a brave life, he says : plenty to eat and drink; and money to spend ; that is the way, too, one sees the world." " Were your nephews in the great battle. Corporal Derv^l?" With another uneasy glance at the widow, the Corporal snorted a reply : " I do not know ; powers of heaven, I cannot tell, for we have 'not heard since ; but this I know. Master Arfoll, wherever the Emperor pointed with his finger, and said to them ' Go,' Hoel and Gildas were there." " Then you are not sure that they survive ?" said Master Arfoll", sinking his voice. The white face of the widow was uplifted again, and' the Corporal's voice trembled as he replied : 1 ' 330 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD " They are in God's hands, and God will preserve them. They are doing their dufy like brave meif in a glorious service, and He will not desert them ; and of this I am sure, — that we shall hear from them soon." [But ah, my Corporal, what of the fifty thousand who fell on Leipsic field ? Were they all in God's hands too, and did He desert- iA«« ?, Each hearth for its own; and from fifty thous3.nd went up a prayer, and from fifty thousand thg'same fond cry, " We shall hear from them soon !"] , As the Corporal ceased to speak, the company became conscious of the figure of a. man, which had entered quietly at the open "door, and now stood regarding them. A pitiful object, indeed, and grim as pitiful 1 His face was dirty' and unshaven, and round his head was twisted a coloured handkerchief instead of hat 6x cap. A ragged great-coat reached to his knees ; beneath -it dangled ragged ends of trousers ; , the feet were bare, and one was wrapped up in a bloody handkerchief. He leant upon a stick, survey- ing the circle, and on his face there an expression of rakish wretchedness, siich as might be remarked in a very old jackdaw in the last stage of moulting and uncldanliness. " God save all here !" he said in, a shrill voice. " Welcome, good man !" said the Corporal, motion-, ing the mendicant — for si;ch he seemed — to a seat by the fire. , The newcomer did not stir, bift, leaning on his staff, wagged his head from side to side with a diabolical grin at Mareelle, and then winked frightfully at Alain and Jannick. The widow sprang up with a scream. " Mother of God, it is Gildas !" All started in amazement: the boys from their §eats at the table, Mareelle from her spinning-wheel, while the Ccarporal dropped his pipe and gazed. In INTRODUCES A SCARECROW 331 anothet moment Mother DerVal had eihbtaced the apparition, and was crying' over him', and liissitig his hands. ' 1 It was, indeed, Gildas Derval^ — but so worni and tbril, and stained with travel, so begriiiied with dust of the road, and so burnt and blistered with the sun, that only his great height made him tecogniZHble. His face was 'covered with a sprouting beards and over his right eye he had a hideous scar. A more disreputable scarecrow never Stood in a green field, or darkened a respectable door. Before another word could be said the mother screamed again./ " Mother of God, he has lost an arm !" It was but too true. Froin the soldier's left side dangled an empty ragged sleeve. There was aiiother Wkil froth the mother, but Gildas only laughed and; nodded knoiyingly^t his uncle. Then Marcelle came up and embraced him ; then Jannick and Alain ; and fiijally, the Corporal, with flaming face and kitidling eye, slapped Gildas on the back, wrung hiip by the hand, and kissed him on both cheeks. The poor mother, fluttering like some poor bird about her young, was the first to think of the fledgling who was far away. When Gildas was ensconced in the greai chair, with Mother Derval kneeling at his , feet, arid resting~her arms on his knees, while Marcelle vvas hanging over him and kissing him again, came the question, — " And Hoel ? where have you left Hogl ?" Gildas stretched out his glreat hand and patted his mother on the head. In every gesture of the man there was a swaggering patronage quite difierent to his former stolid manner, and he was obviously on the best terms with himself and with the world. " Hoel is all tight, mother, and sends his lovej Ah, ^e has never had a scratch, while I, look you, have had my old luck." Turning toiMastef Atfoll, who 332 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD still sat in the ingle, he continued, "You see I am invalided, worse luck, just as the fun is beginning. A bullet wound, uncle, and they thpught at first I should not be maimed ; /but when I was lying in the hospital, well content, in comes the surgeon-major with his saw — grrr!" (Here he ground his teeth to imitate the instrument at work)— ^' and before I could squeal, off it came, and left me as you see !" As he spoke, his mother trembled, half fainting, and the boys looked ,at hiip in admiration. The Corporal nodded his head approvingly, as much as to say " Good ! this is a small matter ; but the boy has come through it well." " Where did you get your wound ?" asked Master Arfoll. "Before Dresden," replied the, soldier, "on the second day; then I was carried in the ambulance to Leipsic; and when I was strong, I received my dis- charge. I had a government pass as far as ]fiantes, and plenty of good company ; after that, I and a com- rade tramped to St. Gurlott, where we parted, and I came home. Well, here I am at home, and that's the way of the world — ups and downs, ups and downs !" By this time the Corporal had brought out a bottle, and was filling out little glasses of corn brandy. " Drink, mon garz !" he said. Gildas tipped off his glass, and then held it out to be refilled, while the mother, with many sighs and ejaculations to herself, was furtively taking stock of his jdilapidated "attire. When her eyes fell upon his bandaged foot, she wept, quietly drying her eyes with her apron. " It is not bad stuff," said the hero. " To you all !" He tossed off the fiery fluid without winking ; then looking up at Marcelle, , who was still ' bending over hini, he said roguishly, with the air of a veteran — " I will tell you this, little one. The German girls INTRODUCES A SCARECROW 333 are like their own hogsheads, and I have not seen as pretty a face as yours since I left Fra.nce. They are greedy, too, these fat frauleins, and will rob a soldier of his skin." Marcelle Stooped down and whispered a question in his ear ; whereat he smiled and nodded, and quietly opening the breast of his shirt, showed her, still hanging by a Yibbon round his neck, one of the medals she had dipped before his departure in the Pool of the Blood of Christ. Marcelle kissed him again, and raised her eyes to heaven, confident now that her charm had wrought his preservation. Unwilling to intrude longer on the family circle, Master Arfoll rose, arid again felicitating Gildas on his safe return, took his departure. Left to them- selves, the excited family eagerly surrounded the hero> and I, plied him with question after question, all of which he answered rather by imagination than by strict matter of fact. Scarecrow as he was, he was surrounded in their eyes by a halo of military glory, and by his side even the Corporal, with his stale - associations, seemed insignificant. Indeed, he patro- nized his uncle like the rest, in a style worthy of an old veteran : and, brimful of his new and raw experi- ence, quietly pooh-poohed the other's > old-fashioned opinions. '^ And you have seen the Emperor, mon garz ?" said the Corporal. "You have seen him with your own eyes ?" Gildas nodded his " I believe you," and then said, with his head, cocked on one side, in his uncle's own fashion — " I saw him last at Dresden. It was raining cats and dogSj and the little man was like a drowned rat ; his great coat soaked, and his hat drawn over his eyes, and lining like a spout'. DiabU I how he galloped about — ^you would have said it was an old woman on horseback, riding straddle-legged to market. He may 334 THE SHADOW OF, THE SWORD be a great geiiera,!, I adipit," added the irreverent novice, "but he dpes not know how to ride." " Not knowhowto ride ! the Emperor 1" ejaculated the Corporal, aghast. In his days such criticisrti would have been treated as blasphemy ; but now, when misfortunes we^re beginning, the rawest recruit passed judgment on his leader. ' " He sits hunched up in a lump — like tli^s," said Gildas, suiting the action to the word, "and no rascally recruit from the Vosges is iftore shabby. You would not say he was the Emperor at all, but a beggar who had stolen a horse to ride on. Ah, if you want son^e- thirig like a general to look at, you should see Marshal NeyT", " ^Jarsh^l Ney !" echoed the Corporal with a con- temptuous snort. "He dresses himself for battle as if he were going to a ball, and his hair is all oiled and perfumed^ and hp has rings on his fingers, and his hgrse ^s all silver and gold and crimson like himself. And then, if ^you please, he can ride like an angel ! I^is horse obeys hiin l^ke a pretty partner, and he whirls and curvets and dances till your eyes are dazzled." " Eah, I" cried the Corporal. " The great doll !" \i is, ju?t possible that the veteran and his nephew might have com^ to words on the subject of their favourites ; only just then the mother brought warm water to bathe the soldier's sore feet, and, with a look at ber brother-in-law to deprecate further argument, ,, knelt down and unrolled the bandage from the foot that was cut and lame. With many loving murmurs she then bathed the feet, and anointed then? with sweet oil, while Marcplle, prepared cleai^ , linen for Gildas to wear. "To-morrow," thought the widow, "littlb Plouet shall cQrri,e in to trim his hair and shave his beard, and then he .will look /my own handsome boy again." Plouet was an individual who to his other avocations added the duties of village barber, INTRODUCES A SCARECROW 335 atid wielded the rdzor, to use the popular expression, " like an anget" Happy is he, however lowly, to whom loving hands minister, and who has such a home to receive and shelter him in his hour of need ! Gildas riiighi com- plain of his bad luck, but. in his' heart he knew that he was a fortunate fellow. From a stranger's point of view, just then, |ie was ceirtainly as disreputable a looking object as could be found in a day's tnarch. Long before the widow had dried his aching feet, he had Collapsed in his chair, and' was snoring lustily. With his chin sunk deep into his great coat, his matted hair escaping from the coloured handkerchief which covered his head, his empty sleeve dangling, and his two ragged legs outstretching, he looked- more and more a scarecrow, more and more capable of frighten- ing off the small birds of his village from the paths of glory. But to the trembling mother he was beautiful, aiid her heart yearned out to hiiri with unutterable pity and affection. He had come back to her in life, though sadly, marred, and, like Bottom, " marvellously transformed ;" but he had paid his contribution to glory, and, come what riiight, he could never go to, war agaii;. ' CHAPTER XLI GLIMPSES OF A DEAD ■ man gdm ?" " If it is the Souls of the Dead !" The old Corporal made a gesture of reverence, and, ttirning his face round, looked at the fire. Several minutes passed in uneasy silence. Then suddenly, without warning of any kind the house shook again ! This time it did not seem as if stricken by wind; but there came to both Gildas and the .Corporal that strange unconscious sickening dread which is the invariable accompaniment of earthquake. The sound, like the sensation, was only momentary, but as it ceased, the men looked aghast at one another. "It is dreadful," said the Corporal. "Soul of a crow ! why does the woman linger ?" With a suddenness which started Gildas and niade him growl in nervous irritation, the little trap-door ot the Dutch clock sprang open, and the wooden cuckoo sprang but, uttering his name twelve .times, and pro- claiming the hour ! . - . . Midnight ! The Corporal, full of a nameless uneasiness, could no longer restrain himself. "It is udaccountablei" he exclaimed. "I will go again and see." Before Gildas could interpose he had wrapped his coat once more about him and sallied forth into the night. Through the heavy murmuring of the rain and the rushing of the waterspouts and streams Gildas eoi^ld hear the " clop clop " of the wooden leg dying up the street : then all was silenca Of all 'situations this was the one Gildas was least fitted to face with advantage. He was not deficient in brute courage, and in good company he •'THE NIGHT OF THE DEAD" 353 might have faced even a visitor from another world ; but his little, " campaign " had disturbed his nervous system, and thal^night of all nights in the year he did not care to be left alone. And, indeed, a far more enlightened being would, under the circumstances, have shared his trepidation. The air was full of a sick uncomfortable silence, broken only by the "plopping" and "pinging" of the heavy metallic rain, and ever and anon, when the house trembled with those mysterious blasts, the effect was simply paralytic. Gildas stood at the door, looking out into the rain. The darkness was complete, but the light from the chamber glistened on a perfect stream of black rain running down the street. As he stood there listening, mysterious hands seemed outstretched to touch him, cold breaths blew upon his cheek, and there was a sound all round him as of the wailing dead. Lights burned in the windows down the street, and many doors stood open like his own, but theire was no sign of any human being. Re-entering th& kitchen, he approached the wooden stairs, and called gruffly — " Marcelle ! Marcelle !" There was, no answer. " Marcelle ! are you asleep ?" The door of the room above opened, and Marcelle's voice replied — " Is it my uncle?" " No, it is I^ — Gildas. Are you abed ?" • " I am undressed, and was half asleep. What is it ?" Gilda's did not care to confess that he was afraid, and wantfed company ; so he growled — " Oh, it is nothing ! Mother has not come home yet, that is all ; but my uncle has gone to' look after her. It is raining cats and dogs !" " She told me she would not return till midnight, and she has the boys. Good- night again, Gildas !" 354 THE SHADOW 01*' THE SWORD *' Good-night !" muttered the hero of Dresden ; then just as the door above was closing he' called, "Marcellel" " Yes." " You — you need not close your door — I may want to speak to you again." ( : "Very well." There was silence again, and Gildas returned to the fireside. As he did so the cottage again trembled as before. He 'drew back to the foot of the staircase. " Marcelle !" he cried. " Yes," answered the voice, this time obviously from between the sheets^ " Did you hear that ?" " The noise ? Ah yes ; it is Only the wind." *' It is only the Devil," muttered Gildas to himself, and, inwardly cursing Mkrcelle's coolness, he stepped again to the street door and looked out. A bl^.ck wall of rain and darkness still stared him in the face. He 'ystood for some minutes in agitation, -yvith the cold drops splashing into his face. There was not a breath of wind, and by listening closely he could distinctly hear the murmur of the sea. Suddenly his ears were startled by a sound which made his heart leap into his mouth and his blood run cold. From inland, frotn the direction of the chajSel, there came a murinur, a roar, as if the sea lay that way, and was rising in storm. Before he could gather his wits together there rose far away a sound like a human shriek, and all at ■ once, through the dreary moaning of the rain, came the rapid tolling of a bell. Simultaneously he saw dark figures rushing rapidly up the street from the direction of the sea shore. Though he called to them they did not reply. Yes, there could be no mistake. A bell was tolling faintly in the distance ; doubtless the chapel bell itself. Something Unusual was happening — what, it was im- possible to guess. "THE NIGHT OF THE DEAD" 355 Two or three more figures passed rapidly, and he again demanded what was the matter. This time a voice answered, but only with a frightened cry — " This way, for your life !" Anything was better than to stand there in suspense ; so without a moment's r.eflection Gildas ran after the others up the street. There had been rain for weeks, and the valleys inland were already half floeded ; but to-night it poured still as if all the vials of the aqueous heavens h&,d been opened. Well might the ground tremble and the hidden River roar I At last, as if at a precon- certed signal, the elements awoke in concert, and sounded the signal of storm. .The sea rose high on the shorb, the wind began to blow, the River rose blackly in its bed,, and, most terrible of all, the pent- up floods burst their barriers among the hills. With the natural position of Kromlaix our reatiers are already familiar. Situated in the gap of the great sea-wall, and lying at the mouth of a narrow valley, it Was equally at the mercy of inundations from inland and of inundations from the ocean. Rocked, as it were, upon the waves of the sea which crawled in beneath it to" meet the subterranean river, it had nevertheless endured from generation to generation. Only once in the memory of the oldest inhabitant had destruction come. That was many years ago, so far back in time that it seemed an old man's tale to be heard and forgotten. Yet there had been warnings enough of danger during this same .autumn of i'8i3. Never for many a loilg year had there been such a rainfall ; never had there been such storrfas to mark the period . of the autumnal equinox. Night after night the hidden river had given its warning, so that sometimes the very earth seemed shaken by its cry. The spring-tides, too, were higher than they had been for many seasons past. 356 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD And now, on this Night of the Dead, when earth, air, and sea were covered with ghastly processions trooping to their homes, when the little churches all along the coast were lighted up, and death-Hghts were placed in every house, the waters rose and rushed down upon their prey. Dqwn through the narrow valleys above the village came, -v^iththe fury of a torrent, the ragjng Flood, filling the narrow chasm of the valley, and bearing everything before it towards " the sea. It came in darkness, so that only its voice could be heard ; but could the eye of man have beheld it as it came, it would have been seen covered with floating prey of all kinds — with trees uprooted from the ground, fences and palings torn away, thatched roofs of houses, and even enormous stones. Well might those shriek who heard it come ! Faster than a man might gallop on the fleetest horse, swifter than a man might sail in the swiftest ship, it rolled upon its way, fed by innuhierable tributary torrents rushing down from the hills on either side, and gathering power and volume as it approached.' But when it reached the dreary tarns of Ket L6on some miles above the village, it hesitated an hour, as if prepared to sink into the earth like the River which there ends ' his course; then, recruited by new floods from the hillsides, and from the overflowing tarns them- selves, it rushed onward, and the fate of Kromlaix was sealed. , During that brief space of indecision up among the tarns, the farmer of Ker L6on, a brave man, had leapt upon his horse without stopping to use saddle . or bridle, and galloped down tp Kromlaix, shrieking warning as he went. At midnight . he reached the cliapel on the hill-side, and without ceremony, wet, dripping, and as white as a ghost from the dead, delivered his, . awful news. Fortunately the large portion of the population was still in the chapel. Shrieks and wails arose. ^ "THE NIGHT OF THE DEAD" 357 " Sound the alarm !" cried Father Rolland ; and the chapel bell began to toll. It was at this moment that the old Corporal, soaking and out of temper, arrived at the chapel door,' and found the widow and his two nephews just ready to return home. He passed through the wailing groups of men and women, and accosted the farmer himself. , " Perhaps, after all, it will not come so far," he 6rie4 ; " the pools of Ker L,eon are deep." The answer came, but not from the farmer ; the roajr of the waters themselves coming wildly down the v&,lley. "To the hill-sides!" cried Father Rolland. "For your lives !',' Through the pitch darkness, struggling, screaming, stumbling, fled the crowd, leaving the chapel behind them illumined but deserted. The rain still fell in torrents. Guided by a few spirits more cool and courageous than the rest, the miserable crowd rushed towards the ascents which clbsed the valley on either side,' and which fortunately were not far distant. The old Corporal caught the general panic, and with eager hands helped on his affrighted sister-in-law. They had not gone far when a voice cried in the darkness close by — " Motlier ! uncle !" " It is Gildas, and alone," cried Mother Derval. " Almighty Gbd ! where is Marcelle ?'' The voice, of Gildas replied — " I left her in the house below. But what is the matter? Are you all mad ?" A wild shriek from the panic-stricken creatures around was the only answer. " The Flood ! the FI004 !" they cried, flying for their lives; and, indeed, the imminent hour had come, for the lights of the chapel behind them were already extinguished in the raging waters, and the flood was rushing down on Kronilaix with a fatal roar, answered by a", fainter murmur from the rising Sea. 358 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD CHAPTER XLIV DELUGE After emerging into the great water cave and cling- ing to its walls as the furious torreflts came boiling down to mingle with the sea, Rohan Gwenfern paused for some minutes, awestricken and amazed ; for it seemed as if the very bosom of the Earth had burst and all the dark streams of it?s heart were pouring forth. The tumult Was deafening, the concussida terrific, and it was with difficulty that Rohan kept his place on the slippery ledge above the water. When his first surprise had abated he left the cawe and ascended to his aerial home on the face of the cliff. All there was dark, for night had now fallen. Lean- ing forth through the crarmy which served him as a window, he saw only a great wall of blackness, heard only the heavy murmur of torrents of rain. There was no wind, and the leaden drops were pattering like bullets into the sea, in straight perpendicular lines. , . ' He sat for a time in the darki;iess, pondering on the discoveries tha;t he had made. Although his brain was to a certain extent deranged by the agonies he • had undergone, and although he was subject to alarm- ing cerebral seizures during which he was scarcely accountable for what he thought or did, the general current of his ideas was still clear, and his powers of observation and reflection remained intact. He was perfectly able, therefore, to perceive the obvious ex- planation of what he had seen and discovered. The subterranean cave- and its passage communication\ with the sea formed an enotmous Aqueduct, fashioned, doubtless, for the purpose of letting the QverfiowLng- waters escape ip times of flood. He had read of similar contrivances, and he knew that an aqueduct DELUGE 359 had been excavated not many leagues ,away, beyond La Vilaine. In fashioning the extraordinary place advantage had doubtless beeU taken of natural passages which had 'existed there from time im- memorial ; but how the work was effected was a . question impossible to answer, unless on the supposi- ' tion that the Roman colonists had possessed an engineering skill little short of miraculous. ■ ' He remembered now all the old stories he had heard concerning former submersions of his native village, as well as the popular tradition that the buried Roman city had been itself jiestroyed by inundations. Was it possible,' then, that the river which he had discovered crawling through the hea;rt of the cliffs was the same river which plunged into the earth among the tarns of Ker Le6n, and which, after winding for miles, eventually crept under Kromlaix and poured itself into the sea ? If this was the case, all -the phenomena were intelligible. The Roman colonists, fearful of floods and of thp rising of the river, had con- structed the Aqueduct for purposes of overfloWj so that when the hour came the angry waters, before reaching their City, might be partially diverted into the great water cave, and thence through " Hell's Mouth" to the open ocean. How carefully the hands of man had worked ! How grandly, under the inspiration of that dead Caesar whbse marble shadow still stood below, the mind of man had. planned and wrought the Aqueduct ! Yet all had been of no avail. At last the finger of God had been lifted, and the shining City by the sea was seen no mojre. Real and simple as seemed the explanation, the fact of the discovery was nevertheless awful and stupefying. It seemed no less a dream than Rohan's other dreams. He saw the ghost of a buried world, and his heart went sick with awe. As he sat thinking he suddenly remembered that that night was the Night of the Dead. 36o THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD No sooner had the remembrance come than . a nameless uneasiness took possession of him, and, approaching the loophole, he gazed forth again. And now to his irritated vision there seemed faint lights here and there upon the black waste of waters. • He listened intently. Again and again amid the heavy murmur of the rain there came a sound like far-off voices. And yonder in Kromlaix the mass was being spoken and the white boards were being spread,, for the. Souls which were flocking from all quarters of the earth that night. He lit his lantern, and sait for some time in its beam; but the dull dim light only made his situation more desolately sad. Pacing up and down the cave in agijtation, and pausing again and again to listen to the. sounds without, he waited on. The darkness grew more intense, the sound of the rain more oppres- sively sad. Repeatedly, from far beneath him, he heard a thunderous roar, which he knew came from the waters rushing into the great ocean-cave. As the hours crept on there came upon his soul a great hunger to be near his fello^i^-bdngs, to escape from the frightful solitude which seemed driving him to despair. In the dense darkness of that night he would be. safe anywhere.- As for the rain, he heeded it not. There was a fire in his heart which seemed to destroy all sense of wet or cold. At last, yielding to his uncontrollable impulse, he groped his way slowly downward through the natural passage and caves, until he emerged at the great, Trou of St. Gildas. Here he paused until his eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness,. and at last'he was able dimly to discern the outline of the vast natural Cathedral.' It was nine X)'clock, and the tide had scarcely three parts flowed, so that not a drop had yet touched the Cathedral floor, and egress through the Gate was still possible. Descehding rapidly in his customary fashion, -he DELUGE 361 reached the shingle below. Familiar even in darkness with every footstep of the way, he passed out through the Gate and waded round the promontory,' where the water was only knee deep, until he reached the shore beyond. The rain was still falling'in torrents, and he was soaking to the skin ; but, totally indififerent to the elements, he proceeded on his way. Yet he was bare- headed, and the ragged clothes he wore were only enough to cover his nakedness. Accustomed to ex- posure and to hardships of all kinds, he did not feel cold; it would be time enough for that when wiiiter came. Crossing the desolate shingle, he ascended the Ladder of St. Jriffine. At midnight Rohan Gwenfern stood leaning against the Menhir, and gazing down into tlj6 blackness where Kromlaix lay. The rain still continued^ and the night was pitch-dark ; but he could see the blood-red gleam of the window lights and the faint flickering^ of lanterns carried to and fro. Inland, in the direction of St. Gurlott, streamed glittering rays from the windows of Father Holland's chapel. Listening in- tently he could hear at times the cry of a human voice. ' It was the Night of the Dead, and he knew that in every house that night the board would be left spread with remnants that the dead might enter and eat. Less houseless and less outcast than himself, they were welcome, that night at least, wherever they chose to knock : while he, condemned to a daily living death, only creeping forth from his tomb in the cliffs like any other wandering and restless ghost, dare not even at such a time approach close to any human hearth. He had resisted " even unto blood," and Cain's mark was upon him. For him there was nia welcome ; be was outcast for evermore. As h^ stood thus, watching and thinking, the bell of the chapel began to peal violently. The sound, coming thus unexpectedly from the darkness, was as 362 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD- the sudden lea!ping of a pulse in the wrist of a dead man. Almost simultaneously Rohan heard a faint far off human scream. At first, ,with the superstitious instinct that had been bred in him and had not yet altogether forsaken him, he thought of the poor out- cast ghosts peopling the rdiny night, and wondered if the sounds he heard were not wholly supernatural"- whether dead hands were not touching the ropes of the chapel bell, while corpses gathered round the belfry, and wailed a weary echo to the sound. But the bell ' pealed on, and more human cries followed. Something terrible was happening, and the alarm was being given. He had not long to wait for an explanation. Soon, from inland, came a roariftg like the sea, as the mighty torrents japproacHed ; shrieks arose from the gulf, on which the black rain still poured; and lights flitted this way and that, moving rapidly along the ground. He heard voices sounding clearer, as the flitting lights came nearer, and on the hill-side opposite lights were moving too. Rohan understood adl in a moment. The inundation was coming, aild those who had been warned were taking to the heights. It was now past midnight, and with the rising of the high tide there had risen a faint wind, which, as if to deepen the horror of the catastrophe, now blew back ^the clouds covering the moon, then at the full. Although the rain continued to fall in torrents, the air was suddenly flooded with a watery gleam, and the village stood revealed in silhouette, with the black tide ' glistening coldly at its feet ; and above it, approaching with terrific "rapidity from the inland, valley, and tower- jng up like a great *rall, rollfcd the Flood. Simul- taneously, from a hundred throats, rose horror-stricken screams J and Rohan distinctly beheld, on the slope beneath him, the humkh figures clustering and looking down. M eantime, all seemed quiet down in the village ' itself: the lights gleamed faintly in the windows, and DELUGE 363 the moonlight lay on the dark roofs, on the empty streets, on the caloges close to the water's edge, and on the black line of snaacks and skiffs which now floated, as if at anchor, on the high tide. Again the clouds covered the inoon, and the picturq of Kromlaix was hidden. Amidst the darkness, with , a roaring like that of a strong s^a, the Flood entered the villagel and began its dreadful work of destruction and of death. It was dreadful to stand up there on the hill-side, and to hear the unseen waters struggling in the black gulf, like a snake strangling its victim and stifling his dying cries.. The tumult continued, deadened to a heavy roar, through the heart of which pierced sharp shrieks and piteous calls for help. One by one the lights were extinguished. Like a Thug strangler crawling and killing in the night, Jthe waters ran from place to place, feeling for their ptey. When the clouds again drifted off the face of the moon, and things were again dimly visible, the Flood had met the Tide, and wherever the eye fell a black waste of water surrounded the houses, many of which were flooded to the roofs ; the main street' was' a brawling river, and the lanes on all sides were its tributary streams ; many of the boats had driven from store and were rocking up and down as if on a stormy sea : and there was a sound in the air as of an earthi quakei broken only by frantic human cries. The desolation was complete, but the destruction had only just begun. From the inland valley fresh torrents were tumultuously flowing to recruit the floods ; so that the waters were every moment rising ; and the tide, flowing into the streets, mingled with the rivers of rain. Under the fury of the first attack many buildings had fallen, and the fierce washing of the waters was rapidly undermining others. And still there was no sign of the cessation of the rain. Deluge was pouring upon deluge. It seemed as if the wrath of Heaven had only just begtm. 364 THE SHADOW OP THE SWORD , CHAPTER XLV " MID WATERS WILD " Situated apart, some distance from the 'main village, and built close upon-the sea-shore under the shelter of the eastern crag, the house of Mother Gwenfern stood, with several other scattered abo|les, far out of danger. The only peril which seemed to threaten it came from the high tide, which that night rose tiearly to the threshold, and, augmented by the rains of the flood, surged threateningly close upon it; Leading from the cottage to the heights above was a rocky path, and on this, gazing awe-stricken' in the direction of the village, stood Mother Gwenferij, gaunt as a spelctre in the flying gleams of moonlight. Around her gE^thered several neighbours, chiefly women and children,; the latter crying in terror, the former crouching on the ground. Hard by was a group of men, including Mikel Grallon. Little had "been said ; the situation was too appalling for words. While the flood played tiger-like with his victim, the women prayed wildly and the men crossed themselves again and again. From time to time an exclamation arose when the moon looked out and showed how the york of destruction was progressing.^ " Holy Virgin! old Plouet's house is down!!' " Look — there was a light in the cabaret, but now it is all black!" " They^are screaming out yonder !" " Harl^ there ! — it is another roof falling !" " Merciful God ! how black it is ! One would say it was the Last Judgment !" The heights on each side of the village were now dotted with black figures, many carrying lights. It was clear that, owing to the superstitious customs of the night, many of the population had made good their " Mil? WATERS WILD " • . 365 escape. It was no less certain, however, that many others must have perished, or be perishing, amid the raging waters or in the submerged dwellings. Hope of escape or rescue there seemed none. Until the flood abated nothing could be saved. The group of men on the face of the cliff continued to gaze on and mutter among themselves. "The tide is still rising," said Mikel Grallon, in a low voice. He was comparatively calm, for his house, being; situated apart from the main village, had so far escaped the fury of the inundation. " It has nearly an hour yet to flow !" said another of the men. "And then!" cried Grallon, significantly. All the men crossed themselves. Another hour of destruction, and what would then be left of Kromlaix and of those poor souls who still lingered within it ? As they stood whispering a figure rapidly descended the path from the heights above them^ and, joining the group, called out the name of Mikel Grallon. The moon was once more hidden, and it was inqiossible to distinguish faces. 1 " Who wants Mikel Grallqn ? I am here !" The new comer replied in a voice full of excitement and terror : "It is I, Gildas Derval ! Mikel, we are in despair. The old one and all the rest are safe up there : all of our family are safe but my sister Marcelle. Holy Virgin protect her, but she is in the house, out yonder amid the flood. My imcle is mad, and we are heart- broken. Can she not be sayed ?" " She is in God's hands," cried an old man. " No man can help her now." Gildas uttered a moan of misery, for he was really fond of his sister. Mother Gwenferhj who stood close by and had heard the conversation, now approached, and demanded in her cold, clear voice — " Can nothing b"e done ? Are there no boats ?" 366 TIJE SHAP9W OF THE SWORD "Boats!" echoed -Mikel Grallon. " One might as well go to sea in a shell as face the flood in any boat this night ; but, for all that, boats there are none. They are all out yonder, where the flood meets the tide, save those that are already carried out to sea." : The Isridow raised her wild arms to heaven, murmur- ing Marcelle's name aloud. Gildas Derval almost began to blubber in the futy of his grief, " Ah God ! that I should come back from the great wars to see such a night as this 1 I have always had bad luck, but this is the worst. My poor Marcelle! Look you, before I went away she tied a holy medal around my neck, and it kept me from harm, " Ah, she was a good little thing ! and must she' die ?" " Thie blessed Virgin keep her !" cried Mikel Grallon ; " what can we do ?" " It is not only Marcelle Derval," said the old man who had already spoken; "it is not only one, but many, that shall be taken this night. God be, praised I have neither wife nor child to die so sad a death." As the speaker' finished and reverently crossed his breast, another voice broke the silence. "Who says thefe are no boats?" it demanded in strange sharp tones. "I," answered Mikel Grallon. " Who speaks ?" There was no ireply, but a dark figure, pushing through the group of men, rapidly descended the crag iri the direction of the sea. " Mother of God !" whispered Grallon, as if struck by a sudden thought, " it is Gwpnfem.'' Immediately severkl voices cried aloud, '' Is it thou, Rohan Gwenfern ?" and Rohan — for it was he — answered' from the dairkness, " Yes ; come this way !" In the great terror and solemnity of the moment no one seemed astonished at Rohan's appearance, and, strange to gay, no one, with the exception perhaps of Mikel Grallon, dreamed of laying hands jan -the deserter. The apparition of the hunted and desperate "MID WATERS WILD "^ 367 man seemed perfectly in keeping with all the horrors of that night. Silently the men followed tim down to the shore. The tide was now lapping at the very door of his mother's cottage. He paused, looking down at the "water, and surrounded by the men. " Where are all the rafts ?" he asked. "The rafts! What ;;aft could live out yonder?" cried Gildas Derval ; and he added, in a whisper to Mikel Grallon, "My cousin is mad." At that moment Rohan's fopt struck against a black mass washing pn the very edge of the sea. Stooping (down he discovered, by touch rather than by eye-sight, that it was one of those smaller rafts which were rudely constructed at that seaso'n of the year, for the .purpose of gathering the goemon or seal- wrack from the reefe. It consisted of steveral trunks of trees knd tree branches, crossed with fragments of old barrels, and lashed together, with thick slippery ropes twisted out of ocean-tanglc!. A man might safely in dead calm ■Breather pilot such a raft when loaded, letting it dyift with the tide or pushing it with a pole along the shallows ; and 'that it had quite recently been in use was clear frqm the fact that it was still partially loaded and kept under water by clinging masses of slippery weed. As Rohan bent over the raft the moon shone out in full brilliancy, and the village was again illumined. The flood roared loudly as ever, and the black waters of the sea seeined nearly level with the roofs of the most low-lying dwellings. Upon the edge where flood and sea mpt, the 'waters boiled like a cauldron, and d&hris of all dfescriptions came rushing down in the arms of the rivers of rain. There wsis another heavy crash, as of houses falling in. As if the terror had ' reached its completion, the rain now ceased, and the moon continued visible for many minutes together. " Q|uick ! bring me a pole or an o^r !" cried Rohan, turning to his companions, 368 THE Shadow of the sword Several men ran rapidly along the beach in quest of what he sought ; for though they did not quite under- stand how he intended to act, and although, moreover, they believed that to launch forth on the raft was to put his life in jeopardy, they were under the spell of his stronger nature, and offered neither suggestion nor opposition. \ '5 Rohan ! my son !" cried Mother Gwenfern, creep- ing down and holding him by the hand ; " what are you going to do ?" " I am going to Marcelle Derval !" " But you will die ! you will perish in the waters !" In the excitement of the moment Mother Gwenfern, likp all the rest, forgot the man's actual relation to society, forgot that his life was forfeited, and that all hands woiild have been ready, under other circum- stances, to drag him to the guillotine. All she re- membered was his present dauger ; that he was going to certain death. In answer, Rohan only laughed strangely. Seizing ■ a large oar from Gildas Derval, who ran up with it at that moment, he sprang on the raft and pushed from shore. Under his weight, the raft swayed violently and sank almost under water. " Come back ! come back !" criedMother Gwenfern ; but, with vigorous pushes of the oar, which he thnjst to the bottom and used as a pole, Rohan moved rapidly away. For better security, since the raft seemed in danger of capsizing, he sank on his knees, and thus, partially immersed in the cold waters that flowed over the slippery planks, he disappeared into the darkness. The men look;ed at one another shuddering. , " As well die that way," muttered Mikel Grallon, " as another J" MARCELLE 3^9 CHAPTER XLVI MARCELLE The wind had risen, and was blowing gently oiF the land ; and the sea, at the confluence of flood and tide, was broken into white waves. As Rohan approached the vicinity of the submerged village his situation became perilous, , for it was quite clear that the raft could not live long in those angry waters. ' Neverthe- less, fearlessly, and with a certain fury, he forced the raft on by rowing, now at one side, now at another- Though the work was tedious, it was work in which he was well skilled, and he was soon tossing in the broken water below the village. The tide all round him was strewn with dibris of all kinds — trunks of trees, fragments of wooden furniture, bundles of straw, thatch from sunken roofs — and it required no little care to avoid perilous collisions. The moon was shining clearly, so that he had now an opportunity of perceiving the extent of the disaster. The houses and caloges lying just above high- water mark were covered to the very roofs, and all around them the sea itsdf was purging and boiling ; while above them the buildings of the main village loomed disastrously amid a gleaming waste of boiling pools ; , muddy rivers'and streams, and stagnant canals. Many -dwellings, undermined by the washing of the torrents, had fallen in, and others were tottering, > . A heavy roar still came from the direction whence the flood had issued, but it was clear that the full fury of the inundation had ceased. Nevertheless, it being scarcely high tide, it was impossible to tell what horrors were yet in store ; for though the rivers of rain in the main streets were growing still, the water was working subtly and terribly at the foundations of the houses. • . 37q THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD How many living sotals had perished could not yet be told. Some, doubtless, dwelling in one-storied buildipgs, had been found in their beds and quietly smothered, almost before thpy could utter a cry. Fortunately, however, the greater portion of the population had been astir, and had been able to escape a calamity which would otherwise have been universal. , Eighty or a, hundred yards from shore a crowd of unwieldy vessels, with masts lowered, tossed at anchor ; others had floated off the land and were being blown farther and farther out to sea ; and here and there in the waters around w^re drifting nfets which had been swept away from the stakes where they had been left to dry. More than once the raft struck against dead sheep and cattle, floating partially submerge^ and' as it drifted past the nets Rohan saw, deep down in the tangled folds, something which glimmered like a human face; ; , Once amdng the troubled waters, hp found it quite impossible to navigatp the raft. The waters pouring downward drove it back towards the floating craft and threatened to carry it out to sea. At last, to crown all, the rotten ropes of tangle gave way, the trunks and staves fell apg,rt, apd Rohan foutad himself struggling- among the troubled waves of the tide. He was a strong swimmer, but his strength had been terribly reduced by trouble and privation. , Grasping the oar with one hand and partially sup- porting himself by its aid, he struck out to the nearest of the deserted fishing craft ; reaching which, he clung on to the bowsprit chain and drew his body partially out of the water. As he did so, he espiedt floating a fe,w yards distant, at the stern of a smack, a small boat like a ship's " dingy." To swim to the boat, an4 to drag himself into it by main force, was the work of only a few minutes. He then discovered, to his joy that it contained a pair of MARCELLE 371 paddles. Unfortunately, however, it was so leaky and so full of water that his weight brought it dowti almost to the gunwale, and threatened to sink it altogether. Every r^oment was precious. Seizing the rope by which the boat was attached to the smack, he climbed up over the stern of the latter, and searching in its hold found a rusty iron pot. With this he in a few minutes baled out the punt ; then seizing the paddles, he pulled wildly towards the shore. The work was easy until he again reached the con- fluefnce of flood and tide. Here the waters were pour- ing down so rapidly, and were moreover ' so strewn with dangerous debris, that he was again and again in jimminent danger. Exerting all his extraordinary strength, he forced the boat between the roofs of the caloges, and launched out into the stream of the main river pouring from the village. Swept back against a nearly covered caloge,. he was almost capsized ; but, leaping out on the roof, he rapidly baled his- boat, which was already filling with water. Fortunately the flood was decreasing in violence and the tide had turned, but it neverthe- less, seemed a mad a.nd hopeless task to force the frail boat further in the face of such obstacles. The main street was a rapid river, filled with great boulders washed down from the valley, and with flotsam and jetsam of all kinds. To row against it was utterly impossible ; the moment he endeavoured to do so he was swept back and almost swamped. Another man, even if he had possessed the fool- hardiness to venture so far, would now have turned and fled. But perhaps because his forfeited life was no longer a precious thing to him, perhaps because his strength and courage always increased with opposi- tion, perhaps because he had determined once and for ever to show how a " coward " could act when brave men were quaking in, their shoes, Rohkn Gwenfem gathered all his strength together for a mighty effort. 372 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD , Rowing to the side of the river, he threw down his oars and clutched hold of the solid masonry of a house ; and then dragging the boat along by main force from wall to wall, he rapidly accomplished a distance of fifteen or twenty yards. Pausing then, and. keeping firm hold of the projecting angle of a roof, while the flood was boiling past, he beheld floating among the other dibm, the body of a child. Repeating the same manoeuvre, he again dragged the boat on ; again rested ; again renewed his toil ; until he h3,d reached the very heart of the village. Here fortunately the waters Were less rapid, and he could force his way along with greater ease. But at every yard of the way the picture grew more pitiful, the feeling of devastation more complete. The lower houses were submerged, and some of the larger ones had fallen. On many of .the roofs were gathered groups of human beings, kneeling and stretching out their hands to heaven. " Help ! hdp !" they shrieked, as Gwenfern appeared; but he only w'aved his hand and passed on. . At last, reaching the narrow street in which stood the Coj:pora,l's dwelling, he discovered to his joy that the hduse was still intact. The flood here was very swift and terrible, so that at first it almost swept him away. He now to his horror perceived, floating sea- ward, many almost naked corpses. Opposite to: the Corporal's house a large barn had fallen, and within the walls numbers of cattle were floating dead. The Corporal's house consisted, as the reader is aware, of two stories, the upper forming a sort of attic in the gable of the roof. The waters had risen - so high that the door and windows of the lower story were entirely hidden, and a powerful current was sweeping along right under the window of the little Upper room where Marcelle sjept. Ah God ! if she did not live ! If the cruel flood had found her below, and before she could escape had MARCELLE 373 seized her and destroyed her like so many of the rest ! The house v as still some twenty yards away and very difficult co reach. Clinging with one hand to the window-frame of one of the houses below, Rohan gathered all his strength, baled out his boat, and then prepared to drag it on. • To add to the danger of his positioni the wind had now grown quite violent, blowing with the current and in the direction of the sea. If once his strength failed, and he was swept into the full fury of the mid- current, the result must be almost certain death. With the utmost difficulty he managed to row the boat to the window of a cottage two doors from that of the Corporal ; here, finding further progress by water impracticable, for the current was quite irre- sistible, he managed to clamber up to the roof, and, clutching in his hand the rope of the boat, which was fortunately long, to scramble desperately on. At this point his skill as a cragsman stood him in good stead. At last, after extraordinary exertions, he reached the very ga,ble of the house he sought, and, standing erect' in the boat, clutched at the window-sill. In a tnoment the boat was swept from beneath his feet, and ha found himself dangling by his hands, while his feet trailed in the water under him. Still retaining, wound round one wrist, the end of the rope which secured the boat, he hung for a few seconds suspended ; theij putting out his strength and performing a trick in which he was expert, he drew himself bodily up until one knee rested on the sill. In another moment he was safe. On either side of the window were clumsy iron hooks, used for keeping the casement open when it was thrown back. Secur- ing the rope to one of these by a few rapid turns, te dashed the casement open and sprang into the room. "Marcelle! Marcelle!" He was answered instantly by an eager cry. Mar- 374 THE SHADOW OF THE gWORD celle, who had b^en on her knees in the middle of the room, rose almost in terror. Surprised in her sleep, she had given, herself up for lost, but^vith her charac- teristic presence of mind she had hurriedly donned a portion of her attire. Her feet, armSj and neck were bare, and her hair fell loose upon her shoulders. "It is I^R6hg,n! I have come to save you,, and there is no tinle to lose. Conle away !'' While he spoke the house trembled violently, as if shaken to its foundations. MarceUe gazed on her lover as if stupefied, his appearance seemed unaccount- able and preternatural. Stepping across the roonj, the flopr^ of which seemed to quake beneath his feet, he threw his arms round her and drew her towards the window. " Do not be afraid !" he said, iii a hollow voice. " You will be saved yet, Marcelle. Coine !" He did not attempt any fonder greeting;) his whole manner was that of a man burthened by the danger of the hour. But Marcelle, whom recent events had made somewhat hysterical, clung to him wildly and lifted up her white fjice to his. ^ " Is it thou, indeed ? When the flood came I was dreaming of thee, and when I went to the window and saw the great waters and heard the screaming of the folk I knelt and prayed to the good God. Rohan I Rohan!" ' " Come away ! there is no time to lose." " How didst, thou come ? One would 'say thou hadst fallen from heaven. Ah, thou hast, courage, and the people lie I" He drew her to the window, and pointed down to the boat which still swung below t;he sill Then in hurried whispers he besought her to gather all her strength and to act implicitly as he bade her, that her life might be saved. Seizing t^e rope with his left hand, he drew, the boat towards him until it swung dose under the MARCEHLE 375 ^ndow. He then assisted her through the window, and bade her cling to his right arm with both hands while he let her down into the boat. Fearful but firm, she obeyedj and in another minute had dropped safely down. Loosening the rope and still keeping it in his hand, he leapt after her. In another instant they were drifting seaward on the :flood. It was like a ghastly dream. Swept along on the turbid stream, amid floating trees, dead cattle and sheep, flotsamaruiietsam of all kinds, Marcelle saw the houses flit by her in the rnoonlight, and heard troubled voicps crying for help. Seated before her, Rohan managed the paddles, restraining as far as possible the impetuous progress of the bdat. Again and again they were in imminent peril from collision, and as they proceeded the boat rapidly filled. Under Rohan's directions, - however, Marcelle baled out the water, while he piloted the miserable craft with the oars. At last they swept out into the open sea, where the tide, beaten by the wind and meeting with the flood, was " chopping" and boiling in short sharp waves. The danger was now almost over. With rapid strokes Rohan rowed in the direction of the shore whence he bad started on the raft. Gathered there ito receive him, with flashing torches and gleaming lanterns, was a crowd of women and men. After a moment's hesitation he ran the boat in upon the strand. . " Leap out !" he cried to his companion. Springing on the- shore, Marcelle was almost im- mediately clasped in the arms of her inother, who was eagerly giving thanks to God, Amazed and aghast, the Corporal stood by with his nephews, gazing out at the dark figure of Rohan. Before a word could be Said Rohan had pushed off again. , " Stay, Rohan Gwenfern !" said a voice, Rohan stood up erect in the boa,ti 376 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD "Are there no men among you," he cried, " that you stand there useless and afraid? There are more perishing out there, women and children. Jan Goron !" " Here," answered a voice. "The flood is going down, but the houses are still falling in, and lives are being lost. Come with me, and we wUl find boats." " I will come," said Jan Goron ; and wading up to the waist, he climbeld into the boat with Rohan. Mar- ' celle uttered a low cry as the two pushed off in the direction of the village, " God forgive me {" murmured the Corporal. "He is a bra,ve man !" The tide was now ebbing rapidly ; and though the village was still subnierged, the floods were no longer rising. Nevertheless, the devastation to a certain extent continued, and every moment added to the peril of- those survivors who remained in the village. Aided by Jan Goioon, Rohan soon discovered, among the cluster of boats at anchor, several large fishing skiffs. Springing into one, arid abandoning the small boat, the two men managed with the aid of the paddles to row to the shore, towing astern another skiS sirnilar to the one in whiih they sat. A loud shout greeted them as they ran into land. Totally forgetful of his pergonal position, Rohan now rapidly addressed the men in tones of command. Oars 'wer6 found, and brought, and soon both skiffs were manned by powerful crews and pulling in the direction of the village. In the stern of one stood Rohan, guiding and inspiring his companions. What followed was only a repetition of Rohan's forrner adventure, shorn of much of its danger and excitement. The inundation was now comparatively- subdued, and the men found little difficulty in rowing their boats through the streets. Soon the skiffs, were full of women and children, half fainting and still moaning with fear. After depositing these in safety, MARCELLE 377 the rescuing party returned to the village and con- tinued their work of mercy. It was weary work, and it lasted for hours. As the night advanced other boats appeared, some from neighbouring villages, and moved with gashing lights about the dreary ,waste of waters. It was found necessary again and again to enter the houses and to search the upper portions for paralyzed women and helpless children ; and at great peril many creatures were rescued thus. Where the peril was greatest, Rohan Gwenfern led ; he seemed, indeed, to know no fear. At last, when the first peep of dawn came, air the good work was done, and not a living soul remained to be saved: As the dim chill light rose on the scene of desolation, showing more clearly the flooded village . with its broken gables and ruined walls, Rohan stepped on the shore close to his mother's cottage, and found himself almost immediately surrounded by an excited crowd. Now for the first time the full sense of his extraordinary position came upon him, and he drew back like a man expecting violence. Ragged, half naked, haggard, ghastly, and dripping wet, he looked a strange spectacle. Murmurs of wonder and pity arose as he gazed^ on the people. A woman whose two children he had saved that night rushed forward, and with many appeals to the Virgin kissed his hands. He saw the Corporal standing by, pale and troubled, looking on the ground ; and near to him Marcelle, with her passionate shining white face towards him. Half stupefied, he moved up the strand. The crowd parted, to let him' pass. " In the name of the Emperor !" cried a voice. A hand was placed' upon his arm. Turning quickly, he encountered the eyes of Mikel Grallon. Grallon's interference was greeted with angry murmiirs, for the popular sympathy was all with the hero of the night, 13 378 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD «' Stapd tack, Mikpl GrsJloq !" crie4 many vpices, " It is the deserter !" said Grallon, stubborply ; and h^ repeated, " In the name of the Emperor !" .Before he could utter another word he found him-, self seized in a pair of powerful arms and hurled to the ground. Rohan Gwepfern himself had not lifted a finger. The attack come from quite another quarter. The old Corporal, red with rage, had sprung upon ' Grallon, apd was fiercely holding him down. Scarcely paying any attention, Rohan passed quietly through the ctowd and rapidly ascended the .cliff. Pausing on the summit, he looked down quietly for sorne seconds ; then he disappeared* But the Corporal still held Mikel Grallon down, shaking him as a furious old hound shakes a rat. "In the name of the Emperor!" he cried, angrily echoing the prostrate man's own words. " Beast, lie still L" CHAPTER XLVII THE GROWING OF THE CLOUD And now the darkness of winter fell, and days and weeks and moiiths passed anxiously away. Down at lonely Kromlaix, by the sea, things were sadder than tliey had been for many winters past. When the flood subsided, and the full extent of the desolation could be apprehended; it was found that more lives had been lost than had at first been calculated. Many poor ^ouls had perished quietly in their beds ; others, while endeavouring to escape, had been crushed under the ruins of their crumbling hotties. The mortality was chiefly among women and little children. Although the greater part of the corpses were recovered and buried with holy rites in the little churchyard, some had beeq carried out to W.E GROWING OP THE CLOUD iyg the bottom oi thd deeij) oceatl and wfer^ never seen again. When the Cotpdtal went down to take Stock of his dwelling, he found that a -portibfl of the walls had yielded, and that some of th6 f oof had fallen in ; so' that Marcelle, had shd remained a little longer in the house on that fatal night, wduld most certainly have encountered a tet rible and cruel death. It took many a long day to rebuild the ruined portion of the dwellihg, and to make good the grievous loss in dainaged house- hold goods ; and not until the new year had come boisterously in, was the place dedently habitablej again. Meantime, Famine had been crawling about the village, hand in hand with Death, for much grain had been destroyed, — and when grain fails,, the poor must starve and die. And then, following close upon the flood, had come the news of the new conscription of 300,000 men, of which little Kromlailc had again to supply its share. Well might the poor sbtils think that God was against them, ancl that there was neither hope nbr comfort anywhere under Heaven. Over all these troubles we let the curtain fall. Our purpose in these pages is not to harrow up the hedrt with pictures of human totture — whether caused by the cruelty of Nature or the tyranny of Man — nor to light up with a lurid pen thfe darkness of unrecorded sorrows. It is rather our wish, while telling a tale of human patience and endurance, to reveal from time to time those higher spiritual issues which fdrtify the thoughts of those Who love their kiiid, and which make poetry possible in a world whbse Simple prftse is misery and despair. Let us, therrfcire, for a time darken the stage on which our actors come and go. When the curtain arises again, it is to the stillen music of the great Itivasion of 1814. Like hungry wolves the Grand Army was being driven back before the scourges of avenging aaticJtls, 38o THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD For many a long year France had sent forth her legions to feed upon and destroy other lands ; now it was her turn to taste the cup she had so freely given. Across her troubled plains, moving this way and that, and shrieking to that Saifuoi/ who seemed at last to have deserted him, flew Bonaparte. Already in out- lying districts arose the old spectre of the White, causing foolish enthusiasts to trample on the tricolor. Mysterious voices were heard again in old chateaux, down in lonely Brittany. Loyalists and Republicans alike were beginning to cry out aloud even in the public ways, despite the decree of death on all those who should express Bourbon sympathies or give assistance to the Allies. Duras had armed ToUrainp, and the Abb6 Jacquilt was busy in La Vendee. Meantime, to those honest people who hated strife, the terror deepened. While the log blazed upon the hearth and the cold winds blew without, those who sat within listened anxiously and started at every sound; for there was no saying in what district the ubiquitous and child-eating Cossack (savage fprerunnei' of the irrepressible Uhlan of a later and wickeder ilivasion) might appear next, pricking on his pigmy steed. The name of Blucher became a household word, and men were learning another name, — that of Wellington. The hour came when Bonaparte, surrounded and in tribulation, might have saved his Imperial Crown by assenting to the treaty of Chatillon ; but, over- mastered by faith in his destiny, and a prey, moreover, to the most violent passions, he let the saving hour glide by, and manoeuvred until it was too late. By the treaty of March, 1814, Austria, Russia, Prussia, and England bound themselves individually to keep up an army of 150,000 men, until France was reduced Within her ancient limits ; and by the same treaty, and for the same purpose, that of carrying on the war, four millioils were advanced by the " shopkeepers " of England. Nevertheless, the Emperor, still trusting THE GROWING OF THE CLOUD 381 in his lurid star, continued to insist on the imperial boundaries. So insisting, he marched upon Bluqher at Soissons, and began the last act of the war. Thus the terrible winter passed away. Spring came, and brought the violet ; but the' fields and lanes were still darkened with strife, and all over France still lay the Shadow of the Sword. Meantime, what had become of Rohan Gwenfern ? After that night., of the great flood he made no' sign, and all search for him virtually ceased. It was clearly impossible that he could be still in hiding out among the cliffs, for the severe wegither had set in : no man could have lived through it under such conditions. That Rohan was not dead Marcelle knew from various sources, although she had no idea where he was to be found : and she blessed the good God, who had preserved him so far^ and who Would perhaps forgive all his wild revolt, for the sake of the good dedds that he had done on the terrible Night of the Dead. Doubtless some dark roof was sheltering him now, and, fortunately, men were too full of affairs to think much about a solitary revolter. , Ah, if he had not killed Pipriac ! If the guilt of blood were off his hands .'^ Then the good Emperor might have forgiven him and taken him back, like the prodigal son. In one respect, at least, Marcelle was happy. She no, longer lay under the reproach of having loved a coward ; her lov^r had justified himself and her ; and he had vindiiiated his courage in a way which it was impossible to mistake. Ah, yes, he was brave ! and if Master ArfoU and other wicked counsellors had not put a spell upon him, he would have shown his bravery on the battle-field 1 It was still utterly inscrutable to her that Rohan should have acted as he did. General principles she could not understand, and any abstract proposition concerning the wicked- ness and cowardice of War itself would have been as |8? THE SHAPOW OF THE gWOBD incomprehensible to ber as a pfoblein ip trigonometry or a page of Spinosa. J«War Was one of the institutions of the wprld — " It had been pince the world began, And would be till its close." It was as nluch a thing of course as getting married or going to confession ; and it was, moreover, one of the noble professions in which brave men, like her uncle, might serve their ruler and the State. Although it was now subtly qualified by anxiety for her lover's fate, her enthusiasm in the Imperial cause did not in any degree abate. Marcelle was one of those women who cling the more tenaciously to a belief the more it is questioned and decried, and the more it approaches the state of a forlorn faith ; so that as the Emperor's star declined, and people began to look forward eagerly for its setting, her adoration rpse, approaching fanaticism in its intensity. It was just the same with Corporal Derval, All through that winter the Corporal suffered untold agonies, but his confidence and his /aith rose with the darkening of the Imperial sphere. Night after night he perused ithe bulletins, eagerly construing them to his master's triumph and glory. His voice was loud in its fulmina- tions against the Allies, especially against the English. He kept the Napoleonic pose- more habitually than, ever — and he prophesied ; but, alas ! his voice now was as the voice of one crying in the wilderness, and there were none to hearken. For, as we have already more than once hinted, JCromlaix was too hear to the chS.teaux not to keep within it many sparks of J-,egitimi§t flame ready tq burn iforth brilliantljr at any naoment ; and although (porporal Derval bad beeii a local ppFer, be had ruled mor§ by fear tbaij by love, receiving little opposition because opppgition was scarcely §ale. When, boiy- ^yer, jhe tide t;^gan to turn, he fpund, like his m,aster, tHE GROWING OF TH£ CLOUt) 385 that he had bfeen niis6iiitcillating the true feelings of his neighbours. Again and again he was operily con- tradicted arid tallied down. Whefl he spoke of "the Emperor,"' others began to speak boldly of "the King." He heard daily, in his walks and calls, enough " blasphemy " to make his hair stand on end, and to make him think with horror of another Delifge.^ One' evening, walking by the sea, he saw several Bonfires blirning up on the hill-sides. The same night he heard that the Due de Berri had landed in Jersey. Among those who seemed quietly turning their coats from parti-red to white was Mikel Qrallon ; and, indeed, we doubt not that honest Mikel would have turned his skin also, if t^at were possible, and if it' could be shown' to be profitable. He seemed now to have abandoned the idea of marrying Marcelle, but he none the less bitterly resented her fidelity to his rival. As soon as the tideiof popular feehng was fairly turned against Napoleon, Grallon quietly rahged himself on the winning side, secretly poisoning the public mind againsit the Corporal, in whom, ere long, people began to see the incarnation of all they most detested and feared. Things grew, until Corporal Derval, so far frotn possessing any of his old influence, became the most unpopular man in Kromlaix. He represented the fading superstition, which was already beginning to be regarded with abhorrence. The torporars~heal|:h had failed a little that winter, and these changes preyed painfully on his mind. He began to show unniistakable signs of advancing ^ge : his Voice lost much of its old ring and volume, his eyes grew dimmer, his step less firm. ■ It required vast quantities of tobacco to soothe the trouble of his heart, and he Would sit whole evenings silent iti the kitchen, smoking and looking' at the fire. When he toentioned Rohan's name, which was but seldom, it was with a certain gentleness very unusual to him ; and it seemed to Marcelle, watching him, that ho 384 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD quietly reproached himself with having been unjust to his unfortunate nephew. " I am, sure uncle is not well," Marcelle said in a low voice, glancing across at the Corporal sitting by the fire. "There is, only one thing that can cure him," said Gildas, whom she addressed, "and that is, a great Victory." CHAPTER XLVni " VIVE LE ROI !" While the great campaign was proceeding in the interior, and the leaders of the allied armies were hesi- tating and deliberating, a hand was waving signals from Paris and beckoning the invaders on. So little confidence had they in their own puissance, and so great, despite their successes, continued their dread of falling into one of those traps which Bonaparte was 90 ciinning in prepating, that they would doubtless have' committed fatal delays but for encouragement from within the (?ity. " You venture nought, when you might venture all I Venture again !" wrote this hand to the Emperor Alexander. The hand was that of Talleyrand. So it came to pass, late in the month of March, that crowds of affrighted peasants, driving before them their carts and horses and their flocks and herds, and leading their wives and children, flocked into Paris, crying that the invadersi were approaching on Paris in countless hosts. The alarum sounded, the great City poured out its swarms into the streets, and all eyes , were gazing in the direction of Montmartre. Vigorous preparations were made to withstand a siege — Joseph " VIVE LE ROI !" 385 Bonaparte encouraging the people by assurances that the Emperor would soon be at hand. " It is a bad look-out for tlie enemy," said Corporal Derval nervously, when this news reacTled him. " Every step towards Paris is a step further away from their supplies. Do you think the Emperor does not know what he is about ? It is a trap, and Paris will swallow them like a great mouth — snap! one bite, and tliey are gone. Wait." , A few days later came the nejvs of the flight of the Empress. 'The Corporal turped livid, but forced a laugh. " Women are in the way when there is to be fight- ing. Eesides, she does not want to see her relations, the Austrians, eaten up alive." The next day came the terrible announcement that Paris was taken. The Corporal started up as if a knife had entered his heart. " The enemy in Paris !" he gasped. " Where is the Emperor-?" Ah, where indeed ? For once in his life Bonaparte had fallen into a trap ' himself, and while Paris was being taken, had teen lured towards the frontier out of tjie way. li was useless' now to rush, almost soli- _tary, to the rescue ; yet the Emperor, seated in his carriage, rolled towards the metropolis, far in advance I of his army.. His generals met him in the environs, and warned him back. He shrieked, threatened, im- plored ; but it was too late. He then heard with horror that the authorities had welcomed the invaders, and that the Imperial government was virtually over- thrown. Heart-sick and mad, he rushed to Fpn- tainebleau. To the old Corporal, sitting by his fireside, this news came also in due time. Father Rolland was there whep it came, and he shook his head solemnly. " The allied sovereigns refuse to treat with the Emperor," he read aloud. "Well, well !" ~ . 386, TI^E SHADOW OF THE SWORD This " well, well " might mean either wonder, or sympathy,- or approval, just as the hearer felt inclined to construe it ; for Father Rolland was a philosopher, and took things calmly as they came. Even a miracle done in broad day would not have astonished him mtich; to his simple mind, all human affairs were miraculous, and miracalously tommonplace. But the veteran whom he had, addressed was not so calm. He trembled, and tried to storm. ' " They refuse !" he cried, with a feeble attempt at his old manner. "You will say next that the mice refuse to treat with the lion. Soul of a crow ! what are these emperors and kings? Go to! The Little Corporal has unmade kings by the dozen, and he has eaten empires for breakfast. I tell you, in a little while the Emperor Alexander will be glad enough to kiss his feet. As for the Emperor of Austria, his conduct is shameful, for is he not our Emperor's kith and kin?" ' ':' Do you think there will be more fighting, my. Corporal ?" demanded the little priest. The Corporal set his lips tight togeth,er, and nodded his head automatically. , " It is easipr to put your hand in the lion's mouth than to ' pull it out again. When the Emperor is desperate, hfe is terrible — all the world knows that; and now that he has been trampled upon and insulted, he is not likely to rest till he. has obliterated these canaille from the face of the earth." " I heard news to-day," observed Gildag, looking up firom his place in the i^gle, and joining in the con- versation for the first time. " They say that' Due de Berri has landed again in Jersey, and that the King " Before he could complete the sentehce, his uncle uttered a cry of rage ajid protestation. " The King ! Malediction ! Wtat king ?" Gildas grinped awkwardly. ' "VIVE LE ROI !" 387 " King Louis, of course P' A has U Bouvhon /" thundered the Corporal, pale as death, and trembling with rage from head to foot. " Never name him, Gildas Derval ! King Louis ! King Capet J" The little cur^ rose quietly and put on his hat. "I must go," hei said; "but let me tell you, my Corporal, that your language is too violent. The !Bour- bons were our kings by divine right, and they were good friends to the Church ; and if they should return to prosperity, I, for one, will give therii my allegiance.'* So saying, Father RoUatid saluted the household and quietly took his departure. The Corporal sank trembling into a chair. " If they should return !" he muttered. " Ah, \vell, there is no danger of that so long as the Little Corporal is alive !" Corporal Derval was wrong. A fapatic to the heart's core, he did not at all comprehend the true fatality of the situation ; and although his thoughts were full of secret alarm, he hoped, believed, and trusted still. The idea of the total overthrow of the god of his faith never occurred to him at all ; as easily might the conception of the fall of Mahomet have entered the brain of a proselytizing Mussulman. As for the return pi the exiled family — why, that, on the very face of it, was too ridiculous ! He was, of course, well acquainted withth^ state of popular sentiment, and he . knew how strong the Legitimist party was even in his own village. Here, too, was little Father RoUand, who ha:d no political feelings to speak of, and who- had served under the Emperor so long, beginning to side with the enemies of truth and justice ! The priest was a good fellow, but to hear him talk about " divine right " was irritating. As if there was any right more divine thaq the sovereignty of the Emperor ! ' 388 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD A few mornings afterwards, , as the Corporal was preparing to sally forth, he was stopped by Marcelle. " Where are you going ?" she said, placing herself in his way. She was very pale, and there was a red mark around her eyes as if she had been crying. " I am going down to old Plouet to get shaved," said the Corporal, " and I shall hear the news. Soul of a crow ! what is the matter with the girl ? Why do you look at me like that ?" Marcelle, without replying, gazed itnploringly at her mother and at Gildas, who were standing on the hearth— rthe former agitated, like her daughter, the latter phlegmatically chewing a straw. Wheeling round to them, the Corporal continued — " Is there anything wrong ? Speak, if that is so !" " There is bad news," answered the widow, in a low voice. " About Hoel !" The widow shook her head. " Do not go out this morning," said Marcelle, crossing the Ifitchen and quietly closing the door. As she did so, there came from without a loud sound of voices cheering, and simvdtaneously there was ■ a clatter as of feet running down the road. "What is that?" cried the Corporal. "Somethiiig has' happened. Speak ! do not keep me in suspense." He stood pale and trembling; and as he stood the finger of age was heavy upon him, marking every line and wrinkle in his powerful face, making his cheeks more sunken, his eyes more darkly dim. A proud man, he had suffered tormenting humiliations of late, and had missed much of the respect and sense of power which had formerly made his life worth having. Add to this, the fact already alluded to, that his ■physical health had been quietly breaking, and it is easy to understand why he looked the ghost of his old self. "VIVE LE ROI!" 389 But the veteran's nature was aquiline j and an eagle, even in sickness and amid evil fori une, is an eagle still. " Speak, Gildas !" he said. " You are a man, and these are only women. What is the meaning of all this ? Why do they seek to detain me in the house ?" I Gildas mumbled something inarticulate, and nudged his mother with his elbow. At that moment the cheering was repeated. Some gleam of the truth must have flashed upon the Corporal, for ha grew still paler and increased his-expression of nervous dread. " I will tell you, uncle," cried Marcelle, " if you will not go out. They are proclaiming the King !" Proclaiming the King ? So far as the Corporal is concerned they might almost as well proclaim a new God. Have the heavens fallen ? Sits the sun still in his sphere ? The Corporal stared and tottered like a man stupefied. Then, setting his lips tight together, he strode towards the door. " Uncle !" cried Marcelle, interposing. " Stand aside !" he cried in a husky voice. " Don't make me angry, you women. I am not a child, and I must see for rjiyself. God in Heaven 1 I think the world is coming to an end." Throwing the door wide open, he, walked into the street. It was a bright spring morning, much such a morn- ing as when, about a year before, he had cheerily sallied forth at the head of the conscripts! The village, long since recovered from the effects of the inii'ndation, sparkled in the sunshine. The street was quite empty, and there was no sign of any neighbour bustling about, but as. he paused at the door he again heard the sound of shouting far up the village. Determined to make a personal survey of the state of affairs, Derval stumped up the street, followed closely by Gildas, whom the women had besought 390 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD to see that his uncle did not get into trouble. In a few minutes they came in sight of a crowd of people of tioth sexes, who were moving hither and thither as if under the influence of violent excitement.. In their, ■ midst stood several men, strangers to the Corporal, who were busily d^stribUting white cockades to the men and white rosettes to the girls. These men were well dressed, and one had the air of a gentleman : and indeed he was Le Sieur Marraont, proprietor of a neighbouring chateau, but long an absentee from his possessions. ^ , ' Then Derval distinctly heard the odious cry, again ~ arid again repeated — " Vive k Rot ! Vivi le Rot /" The nobleman, -who was elegantly clad in a rich suit of white and blue, had hi? swerd drawn : his wrinkled face was full of enthusiasm. ^' Vive le Roi ! Vive^ le Sieur Marmont !" cried the voices. , Among the crowd were many who merely looked on si^iling, and a few who frowned darkly); but it was clear that the Bonapartists were in a terrible minority. However, the business that was gtoing forward was quite informal — a mere piece of • preparatory incen- diarism on the part of Marmont and his friends. News had just come of the Royalist rising in Paris, and the white rose had already begun to blossom in every town. " What is all this 1" growled the Corporal, elbowing his way into the crowd. " Soul of a crow ! what does it mean?" ,y|;,, " Have you not heard the news?" Shrieked a woman. " The Emperor is dead, and the King is risen." The nobleman, whose Jceen eye observed Derval in a moment, stuck a cockade of white cotton on the point of his sword, and pushed it over politely across the intervening heads. " Our friend has not heard," he said with a wicked grin. " See, old fellow, here is a little present. It is "VIVE LE ROI!" 3§I not true that the usurper is dead, hut he is dethroned — so we are crying ' Vive le Roi.' " Many voices shouted again ; and now the Corporal recognized, talking to a tall priestrlike man in black who kept close to Marmont, his little friend the curL " It «5, a LIE !" he cried, fixing his eye tipon Marmont. "A has Us Bourbons! & has les emigres /" The nobleman's face flushed, and his eye gleamed fiercely. . " What man is this ?" he asked between his set teeth. "Corporal Derval !" cried, several voices simul- taneously. The tall priest, after- a word from Father RoUand, whispered to Marmont, who curled his lips ■ and smiled contemptuously. "If the old fool were not, in his dotage," he said, "he would deserve to be whipped; but we waste our time with such canaille ! Come, my friends, to the chapel — let us offer a prayer to Our Blessed Lady, who is bringing, the good King back," The Corporal, who would have joined issue with the very fiend when his blbod was up, uttered a great oath, and flourishing his stick, approached the noble" man., The villagers fell back on either side, and in a moment the two were face, to face. "A has le Roi!" thundered the Corporal. *'A has les emigres . I" Marmont was quite pale now, with anger, not fear. Drawing hinjself up indignantly, he pointed his sword at the Corporal's heart. " Keep back, old man, or I shall hurt you !" But before another syllable could be uttered the Corporal, with a sabre-cut of his heavy stick, had struck the blade with such force that it was broken. "A bos le Roi!" he cried, purple with passion. " Vive I'Empereur '" This was the signal for general confusion. The Royalist, furious at the insult, endeavoured to precipi- tate himself on his assailant, but was withheld by his 392 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD companions, who eagerly besought him to be calm ; while the Corporal, on his sidei found himself the centre of a shrieking throng of villagers, some of whom aimed savage blows at his unlucky head. It would doubtless have gone ill with Hm had not Gildas and several other strong fellows fought their way to his side and diligently taken his part. A mMee ensued. Other Bonapartiste sided with the minority ; blows were freely given and taken ; cockades were torn off and trampled on the ground. Fortunately, the combatants were not armed with any dangerous weapons, and few suffered any serious injuries. At the end of some minutes the Corporal found himself standing half stunned, surrounded by his little party, while the crowd of Royalist sympathizeirs, headed by Marmont, was proceeding up the road iii the direction of the Chapel. When the Corporal recovered from the full violence of his indignation his heart was very sad. The sight of the nobleman and his friends was ominous, for he , knew that these gay-plumaged birds only came out when the air wasvivery loyal indeed. He knew, too, that Marmont, although part of his estate had been restored to the family by the Etnperor, had long jjeen a suspected resident abroad ; and it was quite certain that his presence there nieant that the Bonapartist cause had reached its lowest ebb. Hastening down into the village, and into the house • of Plouet the barber, the veteran eagerly seized the journals, and found there such confirmation of his , fears as turned his heart sick and made his poor head whirl wildly round. Tears stood in his old eyes as he read, so that the old horn-spectacles were again and again misted o'er. " My Emperor ! my Master !" he murmured; adding to himself, in much the same words that the great heart-broken King of Israel used of old, " Would to God I might die for thee !" THE CORPORAL'S CUP IS FULL 393 CHAPTER XLIX THE corporal's CUP IS FULL About the beginning of the month of April a strange rumour spread over France, causing simple folk to -gaze at each other aghast, as if the sun were falling out of heaven. It was reported, on good authority, that the Emperor had attempted suicide. The rumour was immediately contradicted, but not Before it had caused grievous heart-ache to, many a hero-worshipper, and, among others, to our Corporal. It seemed so terfible that he who had but lately ruled the destinies of Europe should' now be a miserable being anxious to quit a world of which he was weary, that to some minds it was simply inconceivable. If this thing was true, if indeed Bonaparte was at last impotent, and upon his knees, then nothing was safe-^ neither the stars in their spheres, nor the solid earth revolving in its place — for Chaos was come. How strange, and yet how brief had been the glory of the man ! It seemed but the other day that he was a young general, with all his laurels to win. ^ What a Drama had been enacted in the few, short hours since then ! And already the last scene was being played^ or nearly the last. It seemed, however, as if the Earth, relesised from an intolerable burthen, had begun to smile and rejoice; for the primrose had arisen, and the wild roses were lighting their red lamps at the sun, and the birds were come back . again to build along the great sea-wall. Clear were the days and bright, with cool winds and sweet rains ; so that Leipsic and many a smaller battle- field, well manured by the dead, were growing rich and green, with tlje promise of abundant harvest. On such a day of spring Corporal Derval sat on the cliflFs overlooking the sea, with a distant view of Krom- 394 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD laix jbasking in the light. By his side, distaff in hand, sat Marcelle, a clean white coif upon her head and shoes on her Shapely feet. She had coaxed her uncle out that day to smell the fresh air and to sit in the sun, for he had been very frail and irritable of late, and had become a prey to the most violent despon- dency. He was not one of those men who love Nature, even in a dumb unconscious animal way, and, although the scene around him was very fair, he did not gladden.' Sweeter to him the sound of fifes and drums than the , soft singing of the thrush ! As fqr prbspectSj if he fcould only have seen, coming down the valley, the gleam of bayonets and darkness of artillery, that would have been a prospect indeed ! He was very silent, gazing moodily down at the village and over the sea, while Marcelle watched him gently, only now and then saying a few; commonplace words. They had sat thus for hours, when suddenly the Corporal started as ' if he had been shot, and pointed up the valley. "Look! what's that?" , " Marcelle gazed in l;he direction indicated, but saw nothing unusual. She turned questioningly to her Uncle. ' " There ! at the Chapel," he cried, with peevish irritation. " Do you not see something white ?" She gazed again, and her keen eyes at once dete^cted — what his feebler vision had only dimly, guessed — . that a flag was flying from a pole planted above the belfry of the little building. A Flag, and, white! She knew in a moment what it betokened, and, though ' a sharp pain ran through her hfeart, her first fear was for her uncle. She trembled, but did not answer. The old man, violently agitated, rose to iiis feet, gazing at the Chapel as at some frightful vision. ',' Look again 1" he cried. " Can you not see ? What is it, Marcelle ?" Marcelle rose, arid, still trembling, gazed piteousty THE CORPORAL'S CUP IS FULL 395 into his face. Her eyes were dry, her lips set firm, her cheeks pale as death. She touched her uncle on the arm, a,nd said in a low voice — " Come, uncle ; let us go home." He did not stir, but drawing himself to his height and shading his eyes fronj the sun, he looked again with a face as grimly set as if he were performing some tefyible military duty. ■ " It is white, and it looks like a flag," he muttered, as if talking to himself. " Yes, it is a flag, and it stirs in the wind." He added after a minute, "It is the White Flag ! — some villain has set "it there !" Just then there rose Upon the air the sound of voic^ cheering, followed by a short report as of guns firing. Then he distinguished, flocking on the road near the , Chapel, a dark crowd of people moving rapidly hither and thither. It was clear that ^mething extraordinkry had occurred ; ^d, indeed, Marcelle knew perfectly the true state of affairs, and had for that reason among others coaxed the veteran out/ of harm's way. That •very morning orders had arriyed from St. Gurlott to hoist the Bourbon ^««^ de lys on the chapels of Krorii- laix. Bonaparte's last stake was lost, and the heir of legitimate Kings was hourly expected in Paris. Corporal Derval had known that it was coming — the' last scene, the wreck of all his hope ; but his faith had kept firm to the last, and he had listened eagerly for the sign that the lion had burst the net and that the enemies of France — for such he held all the enemies of the Emperor — were overthrown. He was not a praying man, but he had prayed a good deal of late ; prayed indeed that God might perfect a miracle and " resurrect " the Empire. So the sight of the emblem of despair, which it certainly was to him, caused a great shock to his troubled heart. He stood ' gazing and panting and listening, while Marcelle again sought to lead him away. " A has U Bowrbon /" he growled mechanically ; then 396 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD shaking his hand menacingly at the flag, he said, " If there is no other man to tear thee dowli, / will do it, for the Emperor's sake. I will trample on thee as the Emperor will trample on the King, thy mastef !" Marcelle did not often cry, but her eyes were wet now : even wrath was forgotten in pity for the idol of her faith. Despite her uncle's fierce words she saw that his spirit was utterly crushed, that his breast was heaving convulsively, and that his voice was broken. She bade him lean upon her arm to descend the hill ; but, trembling and in silence, he sat down again on the green grass. Just then, however, they heard foot- steps behind them, and Marcelle, looking over her shoulder, recognized no other than Master Arfoll. Now, if at that moment she would have avoided one man more than another, that man was the itine- rant schoolmaster. His opinions were notorious, and he was associated in her mind with revolt and irreverence of the most offensive kind. His appear- ance at that particular time was specially startling and painful. . He seemed come for the purpose of saying, " I prophesied these things, and you see tl}ey have come true." Marcelle would gladly have escaped, but Master Arfoll was close upon them. Just as the Corporal, noticing her manner, turned and saw who was follow-' ing, Master Arfoll came up quietly with the usual salutation. He seemed paler and more spectre-like than evdr, and his face scarcely lighted up into its usual smile. As he recognized him, the veteran frowned. He too felt constrained and vexed at the schoolmaster's presence. Just then the sound of shouting and firing again rose upon his ears. A constrained silence ensued, which was at last broken again by Master ArfoU's voice. " Great chapges are taking place, my Corporal. THE CORPORAL'S CUP IS FULL 397 Here you live so far out of the world that much escapes you, and the journals are full of lies. It is, certain, however, that the Emperor has abdicated." Marcelle turned an appealing look on the speakeir, as if beseeching him to be silent, for she feared some outburst on the part of the Corporal. Derval, how- ever, was very quiet; he sat still, with lip§ set tight together, and eyes fixed on the ground. At last he sai4 grimly, fixing his hawk-like eye on ArfoU — "Yes, there are great changes; and you ... do you too wear the white cockade ?" Master* Arfoll shook his head; , " I am no Royalist," he replied ; " I have seen too much of Eings for that. The return of the Bourbon will be the return of all the reptiles whom the Goddess of Liberty drove out of France ; we shall be the sport \ oi parvemts and the prey of priests ; there will be peace, but it will be ignominious, and we shall still ask in vain for the Rights of Man." The Corporal's eye kindled, his whole look expressed astonishment. After all, then. Master Arfoll was not such a fool as had been supposed; if he could not appreciate the Emperor, he could at least despise King Louis. Without expressing surprise in any direct way, Derval said, as if wishirig to change the subject — "You have been a great stranger. Master Arfoll. It is many months since you dropped in." " I have been ifar away," returned the itinerant, seating himself by the Corporal's side. "You will wonder when I tell you that I have been to the great 'City itself." " To Paris !" ejaculated the Corporal, while Mar- celle looked as astonished as if Master Arfoll had said that he had visited the next world. " I have a kinsman at Meaux, and I was sent for to close his eyes : he had no other friend on earth. While I was there, the Allies marched on Paris, and I beheld all the horrors of the war. My Corporal, it 398 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD was a war of (ievils ; both sides fought like fiends, and between them both the country was laid waste. The poor peasants^ fled .to the woods, and hid themselves in caves, and the churches were full of women and children. You could see the fires of towns and villages burning day and night. No man had any pity for his neighbour, and the French conscripts were as criiel to thfeir own countrymen as if they themselves were Cossacks or Croats. Fields and farms, the abodes of man and beast, all were laid waste, a'nd in the night great troops of hungry wolves came out and fed on the dead." "That is war," said the^Corporal, nodding his head phlegmatically, for he was well used to such little incidents. . " At last, with many thousands more!, I found my way into the great City, and there , I remained thoughout the siege. Those were days of horror ! While the defenders were busy fighting, the outcasts of the earth came out of their dark dens and filled the streets, shrieking, for bread ; they were as thick and . loathsome as vermin crawling on a corpse ; and when they were denied, murder was often done. Ah, God ! they were mad ! I have seen a mother, maniacal with starvation, dash out her babe's brains on the pavement of the street ! Well, it was soon over, and I saw the great aMied aripies march in, , Oar, people cheered and embraced them as they (entered-— many fell upon their knees and blessed them — and some strewed flowers." ", Candilh !" hissed the Corporal between his teeth, which he ground together viciously. " Poor wretches, they knew no better, and if they were wrong, God will not blame them. But all this is not what I wished to tell you ; it is something which will interest you more. I saw the Emperor— at Fon- tainebleau." " The Emperor !" repeated Derval in a low voice. THE CORPORAL'S CUP IS FULL 399 not lifting his eyes. His face was very pale, ^nd during the description of the siege he had with difficulty suppressed his agitation. For all this Sorrow and desolation nieant only one thing to him — his Idol was overthrown. The entry of the Allies into Paris, and their welcome by the excit,ed populace, was only a' final proof of human perfidy — of national treachery to the greatest and noblest of beings. All had fallen away from the " Little Corporal " ; all but those who, like Derval, were impotent to help him; Yet the sun still shone. Yet the heavens were still blue, the earth still green ! And there — ah, God of Battles ! — they were upraising the White Lily, the abominable Fleuy de lys ! By this time Marcelle, too, was seated on the sward close to her uncle's feet, and her eyes were raised half eagerly, half iinploringly, to Master Arfoll's face. Very beautiful indeed she looked that day, though paler and somewhat thinner than on the day, about a year before, when she had first heard Rohan Gwen- fern's confession of love. She, too, was eager to hear what an eye-witness had to say of him whom she still passionately adored. " It was a memorable day," said Master Arfoll ; " the day of his adieu to the Old Guard." He paused a moment, gazing sadly and thoughtfully out seaward, while the Corporal's heart began to beat violently as at the roll-call of drums. The very, name of the Imperial Guard touched the fountain of tears deep hidden in his breast. , His bronzed cheek flushed, his lips trembled. Quietly, almost unconsciously, Marcelle slipped her hand into his, and he held it softly as he listened on. " I will tell you the truth, my Corporal. When I saw tha Guard called out, I was grieved, for they were a sorry show ; many were quite ragged, and others were sick and ill. They were drawn up in a line close to the Palace, and they waited a long time 400 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD before he appeared. At last he came, oh horseback, with the brave Macdonald by his side, and other generals following ; and at his appearance there was so great a shout it seemed bringing dovtn the skies. He came up slowly, and dismounted; then he held up his hand ; and there was dead silence. You could have heard a pin drop. ^ He wore his old overcoat and cocked hat ; I should have known him anywhere, from the pictures." < " How did he look ?" asked the Corporal. *' 111 ? Pale ? — but there, he was always that !" " I was very close, and I could see his face ; it was quite yellow, and the ' cheeks hung heavily^ and the eyes were leaden-coloured and sad. But when he approached the rank^ he smiled, and yqu would have thought his face made of sunshine ! I never saw such a smile before-:-it was god-like! ^I say this, though he was never god of mine. Then he began to speak, and his voice was broken, arid the tears rolled down his cheeks." " And he said ?,-T-he said ?" gasped the Corporal, his voice choked with emotion. "What he said you have perhaps , read in the journals, Tiut words cannot convey the,l6ok, the tone. He said that France had chosen another ruler, and that he was content, since his i only prayer was for France ; that some day perhaps, he would write down the story of his battles for the world to read. Then he embraced Macdonald, and called aloud for the Imperial Eagle ; and when the standard was brought he kissed it a hundred times. . . . Corporal, my heart was changed at that moment, and I felt that I could have died to serve him. He is a great man ! . . . A wail rose from the throats of the Guard, and every face was drowned in tears ; old men wept like little children ; many cast themselves upon their knees imploring him not to forsake them. The ranks broke like waves of the sea. Marshal Macdonald hid his THE CORPORAL'S CUP IS FULL 401 I face in his hands and almost sobbed aloud, and 'several generals drew their 'swords, and shouted like men possessed, Vive I'Empeymr ! This lasted only for a little ; then it was all over. He mounted his horse, and rode slowly and silently away." Master ArfoU added in a solemn v^ice — " That night he left his palace, never to return." Silence ensued; then suddenly Marcelle, who had been sitting spell-bound listening, uttered a wild cry, with her eyes fixed in terror on her uncle. As she did so, the Corporal, without a word or a sign, dropped his chin upon his breast, and fell forward upon his face. " He is dead ! he is dead !" cried Marcelle, as Master ArfoU raised the insensible form in his arms. And indeed the hue of death was on the Corporal's cheeks, and his features were drawn and fixed as if after the last agony. Casting herself on her knees, and chafing his hand in hers, Marcelle called upon him passionately and in despair. Many minutes elapsed, however, before there came any change. At last, he stirred, moaned feebly, and opened his eyes. When he did so his look was vacant, and he seemed like one who talks in sleep. ' " It is an epilepsy," said Master Arfoll gently ; ■ " we must try to get him home." " Who's there ?" murmured the old man, speaking articulately for the first time. " Is it thou, Jalcques ?" Then he muttered as if to himself, " It is the Em- peror's orders — to-morrow we march." Gradually, however, recognition came back, and he attempted in vain to struggle up to his feet. Looking round him wildly, he saw Marcelle's face full of tender solicitude. " Is it thou, Marcelle ?" he asked. " What is wrong ?" " Nothing is wrong," she answered, " but you have 402 THE SHADOW OP THE sWoMt) not been well. Ah God, but you are bsttef now. Master ArfoU, help him to rise." With some difficulty the Corporal was assisted to his feet ; even then he would have staggered and fallen but for Master Arfoll's help. Dazed and confused, he Was led slowly down the hill towards his own house, which was fortunately not far away. As he went; the sound of firing and cheering again rose on his ear^ He drew himself tip Suddenly arid listened^ " What's that ?" he said sharply. " It is nothing," answered ArfoU. " It is the enemy beginning the attack," said the Corporal in a low voice. . " Hark again !" " Uncle ! uncle !" cried Marcelle. / " His thoughts are far away," observed Master Arfoll, " and perhaps it is better so." They walked oa without interruption till they reached the cottage ; enteriUg which, they placed the Corporal in the great wooden arm-chair, where he sat like one in a dream. While the widow brought vinegar to wet his hands and forehead, Marcelle' turned eagerly .to Arfoll, and sought his advice as to the course next to be taken. " If something is not done soon, he will surely die." " There is but one , way," said the schoolmaster ; " he must be bled at once." Ten minutes later PIbuet, the village barber, who -^dded to his 'other avocations that of village surgeon ' and leech, .came briskly up the street with lance and basin, and having procured clean linen from the widoWj proceeded dexterously to open a vein. Plouet, a little weazel-like man of fifty, was an old crony of the Corporal, and attended to the case con amore. " I have said always," he explained, as the blood was flowing gently into his basin, "that the Corporal was , too full-blooded ; bfesides, lie is a man of passion, lopk you, and pd^spion is dangerous, for it mounts to the brain. But see, he Stirs alteady;" .. . And, itideed. THE CORPORAL'S CUP IS FUL^ 403 before an ounce of the vital stream had been taken away, the Cprporal drew E^ gfeat breath, and lool|ce4 around him with quite a different expression, recog- nizing everyboely and understanding the situation. With the assistance of Plouet, he was got to bed ; and when there he soon sank into a heavy slumber. "Let- him not be disturbed," said the phlebotomist, as he washed his hands. " The sounder he sleeps the better, and I will look round and see him in the morning." ***** '' His heart ^s broken !" cried Marcelle, weeping on ' her mother's bosom. " He will die 1" " lie thinks too much of the Emperor," said Glides, " but the Emperor would pot fret for him, let nie tell you. Eniperor or King, it is one to me ; but I knew it was all up when he lost Marshal Ney." They were alone in the kitchen, talkirig jn whispers. Night had come, and beyond the vUlage were burning large bonfires, the signals for general rejoicing,. They h?id no lamp, for the Corporal lay in the lit clos in the corner, and they were afraid of dazzling his eyes and disturbing his rest. Ever and anon they heard the sound of footsteps hastening lip or down the street, sometimes accompanied wita shouting and singing ; and it was clear that the village was full of excitement. " They are keeping it up,'' said Gildas ; and, after fidgeting uneasily for some time, he took his hat and sauntered forth. He knew one or two choice spirits who might be disposed to be convivial, and he had no objection to join thiem. An hour passed on. The sounds continued, but. still the Corporal slept peaqejfully. ^t last Marcelle rose with a weary sigh. " I cannot rest," she sai4. " You will not want me, mother, anid I will go and see what they are dping." _ ^^ §Q saying, after one l^st loving look at her uncle, to 404 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD see that he was quite at rest, she drew her cloak round her, and softly opening the door, slipped out into the iiig]it. CHAPTER L THE HERO OF THE HOUR The Chapel was illuminated; all along the hillsides bonfires were burning, and at thp mast-heads of many of the fishing boats in the bay swung coloured lamps. The ccAxwet was crammed fiyl of those thirsty souls who find in any public event, glad or sad, an excuse for moistening their throats and muddling their brains. The white flag still waved on the Chapel, and the crimson rays issuing from the windows lit up its golden flem de lys. The street was quite deserted as Marcelle stepped forth. The. night wind blew coldly, and a fresh scent swept in from the sea. For some minutes she; stood outside the door, gazing out towards the dark ocean; then, with a soft sigh, she walked up the street. Her heart was very heavy that night,'for all things seemed against her. The great good Emperor had fallen firom his throne, and fickle men, forgetful of all Tiis great- ness, were already proclaiming a new King; while here at Kromlaix, on her own hearth, the shadow of doom had also fallen, and her lincl^ had been stricken down. God seertied against her and her' house! It was like the Day of Judgment ; only the wicked were not being judged, and the good were being punished instead of the bad.' Curiosity drew her towards the Chapel, in the neighbourhood of which there seemed most noise and bustle. As she approached she found straggling groups of men and women upon the road, but it was too dark for anyone to recognize her. Most were talking and laughing merrily, and from time to time she heard THE HERO OF THE HOUR 405 cries of " Vive le Roi/" Each cry went through her heart like the stab of a knife. She had never felt so deserted and forlorn. Ever since she could remember well, the Emperor had been .as the sun in heaven, gradually arising higher and higher until he reached the Imperial zenith ; and though his glory had been far away, some of it had always reached her uncle's house, with a sort of reflected splendour which grew with years. Ever since she could remember, her uncle had been an authority in the place, honoured as well as feared ; though a poor man, he had seemed "clothed on " with a glory surpassing riches. And now all was changed. The sun had set in blood, and night had come indeed ; and the old veteran, forlornly clinging to an old faith, was ignominiously and miserably cast down. If she had only been born a man-child, as Uncle Ewen often said she should have been ! If, as it was, she could only do something, however little, to help the good Emperor, and to heal her uncle's heart! Ah, God! that she had a man's hand to tear thaj white abomination down ! . . . She could dirtily see the flag lying against the dark blue heaven, and her heart heaved with a fiisrce passion inherited from her father. Creeping along from group to grOup she came to the graveyard of the Chapel, and to her astonishment found it filled with an excited crowd. Great streams of light flowed from the Chapel windows, but many men held torches which threw a lurid glare on the upturned faces. ■ Something particular was taking place, and some one' was addressing the people in a loud voice. As she stood at the gate Marc^Ue beheld, standing on a high green mound in the centre of the crowd, a group of men, chief of whom was the Sieur Marmont. Marmont was- the speaker, and his face flashed wildly in the light of the torches. Some gentlemen surrounding him, who looked like officers, had drawn 40& 'the shadow of 'tHE SWORD their swords, and were waving them in the air, applauding his words ; and among them were several iPriests. In fide eyes of Marcelle, this Marmont.seenied a wretch unfit tp live ; for she remembered his terrible rencontre witt, her uncle, and his wicked seditious words. As for^ the triests, surely God had cast them out, and filled them with a devilish ingratitude,, other- wise they would temember how good the Emperor had been tp them, sind how he had called them- back to France, like the holy ipan he was, when the atheists would have banished them for ever. Entering the graveyard, and advancing nearer, she ' saw, standing near to Marmont, but on the lower ground, so that his head only reached to the other's outstretched hands, the figure of ^ man. His back was turned to Marcelle, and he was looking up at the speaker. " Listen, then !" she heard Marmont saying in a ringing voice. " Listen, all you who fear God and love the King ; and if there be bne among you whp blames the man, let him stand fcwward and give me the lie. I say the man was justified. He refused to draw sword , for the Usurper : for this alone he was hunted down, eveq as the wolves of the woods are hunted ; and if in th^ despair of his heart he shed blood, I say he was again justified. Look at the man ! God above, who sees all things, could tell you what he has sufFeted^ since God only has preserved him as a testimony and a sign against the dynasty which has fallen for ever. Look at him — his famished cheeks, his wasted form^ his eyes still wild witt hunger and despair. -You tell me he has slain a man ; I tell you tlie Emperor who made hirri what he is has slain thousands upon thousands. You tell me he is a deserter 'and a revoUer; 1 tell you that he is a hero and a martyr." He added with an eager cry, '' Embrace him, my brothers I" THE HERO OF THE HOUR 407 The figure so referred to di4 not stir ; and could Marcelle have seen the expression of his face, she would, have noticet} only a ^trange and vacant indiffer- epce. But suddeply, with a common impulse, the crowd began to cheer, hysterical women began to sob,' and the man was surrounded by a surging riiass of living beings, all stretching out arms to reach him. As if to avoid their touch, he stepped up on the mound beside Marmont, and turned his face towards Marcelle. " Rohan Gwenfern ! Rohan Gwenfern !" they cried. It was Rohan, little less wretched apd ragged than when Marcelle last beheld him on the nigTit of the flood. He gazed out op the crowd like one in a dream ; and when the Sifeur Marmont and the Priests flocked around him and grasped his hands, he did not seem to respond to their enthusiasm. Perhaps he estimated that enthjisiasm at its worth, and knew that Marmont and his friends were only too glad to avail themselves of any circumstance which would cast discredit on the fallen Empire. Perhaps he knew also that the crowd was merely yielding to an excited impulse, and Would have been ap ready to tear him to pieces if Marmont's speech had pointed in that direction. He did not utter a word, but, after gazing down in silence, he descended the mound, and made his, way straight to, the spot where Marcelle stood. The crowd parted to make way for him, but continued to cheer and call his name. Almost immediately he was face to face with Marcelle, and his eyes were fixed on hers. -, " Come, Marcelle !" he said quietly, with no pther word of greeting, and exhibiting no surprise at her presence. Stretching out his hand he took hers. feeing this, and recognizing Marcelle, seVeral began to groan. " It is the Corporal's niece ! A has le Caporal /" 4o8 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD "Silence!" cried the voice of theSieur Marmont. " Let the man depart in peace." Trembling and stupefied, Marcelle suflFered herself to be led out of the chur.chyard.- The apparition of Rohan, under thos^ circumstances, had been paiiiful beyond measure; for, although her first impulse had been one of jby at seeing him alive and strong, she had almost immediately shrunk shuddering away. In the lurid light of that scene she beheld, not the playmate of hef childhood and the lover of her yoiith, but the murderer of Pipriac and the enemy of the Emperor. Honoured by those who hated her idol, wislcomed and applauded by those who had broken her uncle's heart, he could not have come back under Circum- stances less auspicious and sympathetic. Despite all that he had suffered, hef heart hardened against him. She almost forgot for the moment that she had loved him, and that she owed him her life, in the horror of seeing him again in the ranks of the abominable. Nevertheless, in a sort of .stupor, she walked on by his side down the dark r(Jad» until they were quite alone. He did not say a word, and the silence at last became so painful to her that she trembled through and through Then she drew away her hand, and he did not attempt to' detain it. It was not often that Marcelle felt. hysterical^— she was woven of too soldier- like a stuff, but shfe certainly did so on the- present occasion. Her feelings had been strung up, so terribly before the meeting, that they threatened now to over- conje her, i It was a dim starlight night, and she could just see the glimmer of her companion's face. At last, when the silence had become unbearable, he broke it suddenly with a laugh, so wild and unearthly that it made her frightened heart leap within her ; a laugh with no joy in it, but full of an unnatural excitement. Then, turning his eyes upon her, and putting his hand upon her arm, he said in a hoarse voice — THE HERO OF THE HOUR 409 ■ " Well, it is all-over, and I have come home. But where is yowr welcome, Marcelle ?" His voice sounded so strangely that she looked at him in terror ; then, clinging to his arm and yielding to the tremor of her heart, she cried wildly — " Oh, Rohan, Rohan,* do not think I am not glad! We scarcely thought to see you alive, again, and I have prayed for you every night as if your soul was with God, and I have sat with your mother and talked about you when all the others thought I was asleep. But all is changed, and the Emperor is taken prisoner, and Uncle Ewen's heart is brokeii, and we are all miserable, miserable, and all this night I have prayed ■ to die, to die !" Entirely losing her self-command, she hid her face upon his arm and sobbed aloud. Strange, to say, Rohan showed no agitation whatever, but watched her quietly till the storm of her pain was over, when he said in the same peculiar tones — "Why do you weep, Marcelle? Because the Emperor is hunted down ?" She did not answer, but sobbed on. With the sharp fierce laugh that had startled her before, Rohan continued — " When I found that Christ would not help me, I went to Notre Dame de la Haine, and for a long time I thought she was deaf too. But I prayed, and my prayers have come to pass — she heard me ! — within a year, within a year !" Recalled to herself either by the violence of his tones or the strangeness of his words, Marcelle drew back and looked aghast in the speaker's face, which seemed wild and excited in the dim light. " Alniighty God !" she murmured, " what are you -saying, Rohan?" Rohan continued in a lower voice, as if talking to himself — " I did not expect it so soon, but I knew it must 14 4ib THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD cdtHe at last ; did Pipt fury of the waves, and driven like a straw downward by the force of the torrents, it had at last paused here, wedged in between the narrow walls. Black and silent it lay, still green and slimy with the moisture of centuries, still hideous and deformed. Ave Ccesay Impevatov ! As he fell in whose likeness thou wast fashioned, so didst thou too fall at last ! Sooner or later the great waters would have th'ee, would tear thee from thy place, and wash thee away towards the great sea. Even so they destroy Man and all his works. Sooner or later all shall vanish like footprints on the shore of that Ocean of Eternity where wander ^ for ever, shadows that seem to live ! ' As Rohan bent over the cast-down Image, did he think for a moment Of that other Image whom men were endeavouring to uplift • to its old Imperial pedestal? Did he see in the black bull-like head of the fallen Statue any far-off likeness of one who was rising out yonder in the world, crowned with horrible laurel, and shod with, sandals of blood ! One might have thought so ; for he bent over it in fascination, dirhly tracing its lineaments in the feeble green light that trembled from the Water-cave. It was shapen like a colossal human thing, and one niight almost have regarded it as the corpse of what once was a man — ^nay, an Emperor ! But, thank God, the breath of life could never fill those marble veins, the light of power could never gleam upon that pitiless carven face ! , When he came out into the open air, it was sunset, and the light dazzled and blinded him. The cold and mildew and darkness of that dead world still lay upon him, and he shivered from head to foot. Passing out by the Cathedral, and ascen,ding the stairs of St. Trif- THE LAST CHANCE 429 fine, he made his way slowly along the summit of the crags. The western sky was purple-red and dashed with shadows of the bluff March wind that was to blow next morrow ; but now, all was still as a summer eve. A thick carpet of gold and green was spread beneath his feet, the broom was blazing golden on every side, and one early star, like a primrose, was already blossoming in the still cool pastures of Heaven. He seemed to have arisen from the tomb, and to be floating in divine air. That dead world was, he knew ; no less surely did he know that this living world is too — " A calm, a happy, and a holy world 1" If He who inakes the tiger makes the lamb, and the one strange Hand that set that star up yonder, and wrote of the human breast, " Love one another," moulded the iron hearts of a hundred Caesars, and once more liberated Bonaparte. CHAPTER LIV THE LAST CHANCE As he passed the door of the Chapel of Notre Dame de la Garde, a figure emerged, and turned upon him a face full of horror and despair. It was his mother ; gaunt, white, terror-stricken, she looked fearfully around her and clijtched him by the arm. He saw her message in her face before she spoke. " Fly, Rohan," she cried ; " they are out after thee again, and they are searching from house to house. There is terrible news. The Emperor is in Paris, and war is proclaimed." The world darkened — he staggered and held his hand upon his heart. He had expeqted this, but it 430 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD nevertheless came upon him as the lightning from Heaven. "Come iato the Chapel !" he cried, suiting the action to the word. Crossing the threshold they found the little building already full of the evening shadows. All was as it had been not long ago, when the lovers, after first plighting their happy trdth, knelt before the altar. The fi'^pure of the Virgin stood at the altar, and the votive gifts still lay undisturbed at her feet ; the sailors in the picture still drifted upon their rstft, kneeling and fixing eyes on the luminous apparition that rose from the waters. In a few rapid sentences, Mother Gwenfern ga,ve further particulars of the SMWafion : — The village was in a state of disturbance, th6 news of the Emperor's complete triumph not bding yet accepted by the Royalists iii the neighbourhood ; but a file of gen- darmes from St. Gurlott ha-d already appeared htinfing up deserters " in the ,name of the Emperor." Yes, that was certain, for they had searched her own house. The death of Pipriac was remembered, and was to be avenged. , . In a few brief moments was undone the gentle work of months. The same light which Marcelle paw and feared in Rohan's face that night when he returned home, thei sariie light wMch she had dreaded often since, when her lover was' uiider the influence of strong excitement, now appeared there and shone with a lurid flame. The man's brain! was burning ; his heart seemed bursting. 'He did not speak, but laughed strangely to himself— hysterically, indeed; if we may apply the term to one of the male sex ; but in his laugh there was something more than hysteria, than mere nervous teiSsion : there w^ the sign of an incipient madness which threatened to overthrow the reason and wreck the soul. •' Roha*'! Rohan!" cfied t-he terrified woman, cling- THE LAST CHANCE 431 ing to him, " speak ! Do not look like that ! They shall not take you, my Rohan !" He looked at her without replying, and laughed ^ain. Terrified at the expression in his face she burst into sobs and moans. Late at night Corporal Derval sat at his own hearth and read the journals to the widow and Marcelle. He was excited with the great news that had just come from Pg,ris — that Europe refused to treat on amicable terms with the Usurper, and that the mighty hosts of the Great Powers were again rising like great clouds on the frontier. The Allied Congress sat at Frankfort, directing, as from the centre of a web, the movenients of a million men. The JEmperors of Russia and Austria, with the King of Prussia, had again taken the field. England had given her charac- teristic help in the shap^ of thirty-six millions of money, to say nothing of the small contingent of eighty thousand men, under the Duke of Wellington. " The cowards !" hissed the Corporal between his clenched teeth. " A million of men against France and the Little Corporal; but you shall see, he will make them skip. I ^have seen a little fellow of a drummer thrash a great grenadier, and it will be like that !" " There will be more war ?" murmured the widow questioningly. And her poor heart was beating to the tune of one sad word, her son's name, " Hoel ! Hopl !" ff It is a fight for life, little woman," said Uncle Ewen with solemnity. "The Emperor must either kill these r^sc^ls, or himself be killed. Soul of a crow ! tfiere will be no quarter ! They are fortifying Paris so that the enemy may never take it again by any stratagem. In a few days the Emperor -will take the field." He added, with a smack of the lips, " It sounds like old times !" Enter Glides the one-armed, with his habitual 432 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD military swagger. He had been quenching his thirst down at the cabaret (it was ,wonderful how thirsty a mortal he had become since his brief military experi- ence), and his eyes were rather bloodshot. "Has anyone seien Rohan?" he said, standing before the fireplace. " They are after him out there !" ' He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the door, which he had left open. With an uneasy glance at Marcelle, who sat pale and trembling, the Corporal replied — " They called here, and I told them it would be all right. Rohan can redeem his credit now and for ever, and save his skin at the same time. There is but one plan, and he had better take it without delay." Marcelle looks up eagerly, " And what is that, Uncle Ewen ?" " Soul of a crow | it is simple. The Emperor is in need of men — all the wolves of the world are against him — and he who helps him now, in time of need, "will make amends for al the past. Let Rohan go to him, or, what is the same thing, -to the nearest station of the grand army, saying, 'I am re^dy now to fight against the enemies of France ;' let him take his place in the ranks like a brave man,— and all will be for- given." " I am not so sure," observed Gildas. " I have ibeen having a glass with the gendarme Penvenn, old Pipriac's friend, and he says that Rohan will be shot in spite of his teeth •; if so, it is a shame." Uncle Ewen, shifted nervously in his chair, and scowled at his nephew. " Penvenn is an ass for his pains ; do . you think I have no influence with the Emperor ? I tell you he will be pardoned if he will figTit. What.sayest thou, little one ?", he continued, turning to Marcelle,' who seemed plunged in deep thqught. " Oi^ is thy lover smmldche?" • " Uncle !" she cried with trembling lips. THE LAST CHANCE 433 " You are right, Marcelle, and I did him wrong ; I forgot myself, and he is a brave man. But ;if he should fail us now ! now when Providence itself oiFers" him a way to save himself, and to wipe the stain off the name he bears! — now when the Little Corporal needs his telp, and would welcome him, like the Prodigal Son, into the ranks of the Brave !" As Uncle Ewen ceased, MarcesJle sprang to her feet with an exclamation : for there, standing in the chamber and listening to the speech, was Rohan him- self:r-so changed already that he looked like an old man. It seemed as if the sudden shock had had the power to transform him to his former likeness of a' famished hunted animal ; to make his physical appear- ance a direct image of his tortured moral being. Gaunt and wild, with great hungry-looking eyes gazing from one to another of the startled group, he stood in perfect silence. " It is himself 1" cried the Corporal, gasping for breath. " Gildas, close the door." It was done, and, to make all secure, Gildas drew the bolt. The two women were soon by the side of Rohan ; the widow weeping, Marcelle white and tearless. Uncle Ewen rose to his feet, and some- what tremulously approached his nephew. " Do not be afraid, mon garz," he exclaimed ; " they are after you, but I will make it all right, never fear. You have been refractory, but they will forgive all that when you step forward like a man. There is no time to lose. Cross the great marsh, and you will be at St. Gurlott before them. Go straight to the Rue Rose, and ask for the Capitaine Figuier, and tell him from me-^Mother of God !" cried the old man, pausing in his hurried instructions, " is the man mad ?" Indeed the question seemed a very pertinent one, for Rohan, without seeming to hear a word of what was being said, was gazing wildly at the air and ^34 THE SHAQQW OF THE SWORD ^tterlng that strapge unearthly laugh which had more than onfcfe before appalled Marcelie. Trembling with terror, the girl was' clinging to his arm, and looldng into his face. "Rohan! Po you not understand! they are Iqoldng for you, aftd if you do not go in first, you will be killed." Turning his eyes upon her, he asked calmly enough, but in a stfange hard voice — 'f If I surrender, what then ?" " Why then," broke in the Corporal, " it will be all forgotten. They will just give you your gun and knapsack, and you will, join the grand army, and cover yourself with glory ; and then, when the war is over — which will be very soon — back you will come like a brave man, and £nd my little Marcelle waiting for you, ready and willing to keep her troth," The old man spoke eagerly, and with a cheerftjl- ness th^t l^e was fit feoqi feeling, for. the look upon the other's face positively appalled him. Still with his eyes fixed on Marcelle, Rohan £^ked again : " If I do not surrender, what then ?" " You will be shot," answered the Corp^wal, " like a dbg J but there — God knows you will not be bq insane ! You will give yourself up, like a wise man and a bjrave." " Is there no other way ?" asked Rohan, still watching Marcelle. " None 1 none I You waste time, mon gdrz I" " Yes, there is another/' said Rohan, in the same hard voice, with the same look. Then, when all eyes' were questiqningly turned towards him, he con- tinued^ f If the Empejror should himself die ! If he should be killed !" Uncle Ewen started bapk in terror. <' Saints of Heaven forbid ! The very thought is treason !" he cried, treml^ing fuid frowning. THE LAST CHANCE 4J5 Without heeding his uncle, Rohan, who had never withdrawn his eyes one hionieiit from Marcelle's, said in a whisper, as if addressing her solely, and yet communicating mysteriously with hiiilself, in a sort of dream — " If one were to find hirri sleeping in this ddtktifes's alone, it would be a good deed ! It wotild be diie life instead of thousandsj and then, look ydti, thb world would be at peace !" " Rohan !" cried Marcelle. " For the love of God !" WfeU might she shrink frotti him in hdtrdr and agony, for the light of Murdbr was in his eyes. His fdCe was distoirtfed, and his hands clutched aS at an invisible knife. The Corpoiral gazed Ori fetup'dfidd. He heard and dimly understood Rohan'fe words; They seeriied too ekeCfablfe and avfrfdl to be tHd WoMs bf aiiybhfe but d ravihg madman. " BoniB^ of St. Triffiiib !" murmured Gildih, " he l4 speaking of the Empeirot !" "Come from his Mde," cried the Cbfporal to Marcelle ; '' he blasphemes — he is ddngerous !" Rohaii turned his whitb faCe on the spekkeh "That is truej bilt I shall not harni her, dt kny hbre. Good iiight, Uhcle Ewen — I am gdihg." And he rtidved slowly towards the door. " Stay, Rohan 1" cried Marcelle, clutching his attn. "Whitker are yoii gdihg ?" Without replying, he shook off hfer hdld, and turned to the door, and in diiother monient he was gone. The Corporal uttered a despairing exclama- tion, and sank intd his chair ; Gildas gave out a prolonged whistle, expressive of deep surprise ; the widow threw her apron oVer her head, atid Sobbed ; and Marcelle stood Ranting with hei: lipS asiifader; and her hand pressed hard ujJoii hdr heart. So he left them, pksBiilg likfe a ^K'ost but df sigHt. Atid Wken da^n c5.nlfe; arid thd einigfearies bf Bdiiajiarte were S^archuig high and loMr; bo trkcH of him wUs td h& idMsL 436 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD CHAPTER LV THE BEGINNING OF THE END The scene changes for a moment. Instead of the arid cliffs and green pastures of Kromlaix, scented with springtide and shining calmly by the side of the summei: sea, we behold a dim prospect far inland, darkened with the drifting clbuds of the rain. Through these clouds glide moving lights and shadows, passing slowly along the great highways : long processions that seem endless — columns of men that tramp wearily afoot, bodies of cavalry that move more lightly along, heavy masses of artillery, baggage- waggons, flotsam and jetsam of a great host. The air is full of a~3eep, . sea-like spund, broken at times by a rapid word of command, or a heavy roll of drums. All day the processions pass on, and when night comes they are still passing. Sqmewhere in the midst of them hovers the Spirit of all, silent and unseen as Death on his white steed. The Grand Army is moving towards the frontier, and wherever it goes the fields of growing grain are darkened, and no song of the birds of spring is heard. The road is worn into deep ruts by the heavy wheels of cannon. In the village streets halt the cavalry, picketing their horses in the open sqiiare. The land is full of that deep murmur which announces and accom- panies war. : Slowly, league by league, the gleaming columns advance, obedient to the lifted finger that is pointing them on. In their rear, when the main body has passed by, flock swarms of human kites and crows — all those wretches who hover in the track of armies, seeking what refuse they may find to devbur. Among those who linger here and there in the track of the advancing columns, is a man who, to judge from his appearance, seems to have emerged from the THE BEGINNING OF THE END 437 very dregs of human wretchedness; a gaunt, wild, savage, neglected-looking creature, who seems to have neither home nor kindred ; and who, as a hooded crow follows huntsmen from hill to hill, watching for any prey they may overlook or cast aside, follows the dark procession moving forward to the seat of war. His hair hangs over his shoulders, his beard is long and matted, his feet and arms are bare, and the remainder of his body is wretchedly covered. Night after night he sleeps out in the open air, or in the shelter of barns and farm outbuildings, whence he is often driven by savage dogs and more savage men. He speaks. French at times, but for the most part he mutters to himself in a sort ol patois which few inhabitants of these districts can understand ; and ever for those whom he accosts he has but one question : " Where is the Em- peror ? Will he pass this way ?" All who see him treat him as a maniac, and mad indeed lie is, or seems. Dazed by the vast swarms that surround him and ever pass him by; swept this way and that by their violence as they flow' like great rivers through the heart of the land ; ever perceiving with wild, anxious eyes the living torrents of faces that rush by him on their headlong course, he wanders stupefied from day to day. That he has some distinct object is clear from the firm-set face and fixed deter- mined eyes ; but wafted backward and forward by the stream of life, he appears helpless and irresponsible. How he lives, it is difficult to tell. He never begs, but many out of pity give him bread, and sometimes the officers. throw hirti small coins as they ride by, radiant and full of hope. He looks famished, but it is spiritual famine, not physical, that is wearing him away. More than once he is seized for theft, and then driven away with blows. On one occasion he is taken as a spy, his hands are tied behind him, and he is driven into the presence of a grizzly commander, who 43,8 THP SHAD©W OF THE SWORE! stands smoking by a bivouac fire. fJqstily condpmned tp he shot, be gives so strange a laugh that the. closer a^tentipn of his paptors is attracted to his conditiop, and finally, with scornful pity, he is set at liberty to rpam where he will. As the armies advance, be advances, but laggping ejvejr in the rear. Still his face looks, backward, and he whispers — "The Emperor— when will he come?" How golden waves tl^e corn in the^e peaceful Belgium fields ! How sweet smells the hay dpwn there in the flat meads through which the silverp river runs, lined on each side by bright gree|i pollard trees ! How deep and cpol lie the woods pn the bill- 5i4e^, overhung with lilac and the wild rose, and fcarpeted with hyacinths and violets, blue as Heaven ! HpVy quietly the wind-ijiills turn, with their long arms against the hlue sky ! But what is that gleaming in the distance there, under the village spire ! tt seerns like a pool shining in the sun, but it is the clustered helmets of Prussian cuirassiers. And what is that dark mass moving like a ^b^dpw between the fields of wheat ? It is a body of Prussian infantry, advancing slpwly alpng the dusty way. Add hark now ! — from the distai^ce comes a murmur like the sound of an advancing sea, an4 from the direction whence it comes, light cavalry trot i^p cp^staijtly, and solitary tnessengers gallop at fuji speed- The ' allied forces have already qpiejtiy occupied Belgium, and the French host at last is coming up. ' It approaches and spreads out upon the fertile earth with some portion of its old strength. Sharp sound; of firing, and white wreaths of sijaoke rising here and there in the hollows, show that skirmishing has begun. The contending arniies survey eaph other, like yrild beasts preparing to spring apd grapple- tlifi BEGINlSIlMci Oii' THJE ENl) 43^ All round them hover the human birds of prey, watchful and ex|iectaht, but the villages are deserted, the wind-tnills cease to turn, and the happy sounds of pastoral industry are heard db moire. Tnl ctops grow unwatched, and the cattle wander untended ; only the chapel bell is sortietimes heaird^ sounding the Angelus over deserted valleys. Hush ! far away in the direction of Quitre Bras sounds the heaVy boom of cannon — thunder follows thunder deep as the, roar of the sea. Part of, the . armies have met, and a terrible struggle is beginning ; cuirafesiets gallop hither ahd thither along the roads. Groups of peasants gather here and there, jlrdparing for flight and listening tb the terrific sounds. At the top of a woody hill' stands the same woeful figure ttiat we have seen before in the track of the Grand Army. Wild and haggard he seems still, like some pcSor wretch whom the fatal fires have burnied out of house and home. He stands listehin^, and gazing at the toad which winds through the V^ifey beneath him. The rain is &lling heavily, biit he does not heed. Suddenly, through the vaporous mist, appeMs the gleam of helms and lances rapidly advkikcing ; then the man discerns a solitary Figure on torseback coming at full gallop, followed by a groiip of mounted officers ; behind these rolls a travelling carriage drawn by four horses'. After pausing for a moment at /the foot of the hill, the Figure gallops upward, followed by the others. Quietly and silently the man creeps back iiito the shadow of the •vfsrood. 440 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD CHAPTER LVI UNCLE EWEN GETS HIS FURLOUGH " Uncle ! uqclp ! look up, listen — there is brave news — there has been a battle and the Emperor is victorious — look up ! It is I— Marcelle !" The Corporal lay in his arm-chair as if asleep, but his eyes were wide open and he was breathing heavily. Coming hastily in one afternoon with the journal in her hand, Marcelle found him so, and, thinking at first that he slept, shook him gently. Then she screamed, perceiving that he, was senseless and ill. The widow,, hastily descending frqm upstairs where she had been busy, cametrembhng to her assistance. They chafed his palms, threw cold water on his face, moistened' his lips with brandy, but it was of no avail. " He will die !" cried Marcelle, wringing her hands. "It is one of the old attacks, but worse than ever. Mother, hasten down and bring Plouet — he must be bled at once — Master ArfoU said that was the only way." The widow hesitated : then she cried — " Had I not better run for the Priest ?" Poor soul, her first fear was that her brother-in-law might be hurried into the presence of his Maker before he could . be properly blest and " anointed." But 1 Marcelle, more worldly and practical, insisted that Ploupt should be first sent for ; it would ' be tinie enough to prepare for the next world when all hopes of preserving him for this one were fled. In a very short time the little barber appeared, armed with all the implements of office, and performed with his usual skill the solemn mystery of bleeding. The operation over, he shook his head. " The blood flows feebly," he said; "he is very weak, and it is doubtful if he will recover." UNCLE EWEN GETS HIS FURLOUGH 441 Not until he was ubdressed and placed in bed, did the Corporal open his eyfes and look around him. He nodded to Plouet, and tried to force a smile, but it was sad work. When ^arcelle knelt weeping by his bedi- side, he put his hand gently on her head, while the tears rose in his eyes and made them dim. " Cheer "up, neighbour!" said Plouet. "How are we now ? Better, eh ? — well, I will tSll you something' that will do you good. Our advanced guard has met the Prussians at Charleroi, and has thrashed tbem within an inch of their lives." . Uncle Ewen's eye kindled, and his lips uttered an inarticulate sound. " It is true, Uncle Ewen !" sobbed Marcelle, looking fondly at him. " That is good- news," he murmured presently, in a faint voice ; then he sank back upon his pillow and closed his eyes, with a heavy sigh.' The excitement of the last few weeks had been too much for him. Day after day he had overstrained his strength, stumping up and down the village, and assuming to a certain extent his old sWay. Do what he might, he -could not remain calm. His pulse kept throbbing like a roll of drums, and his ears were pricked up as if to listen for trumpet sounds in the distance. All the world was against the " Little Corporal," and the " Little Corporal," God willing, was about to beat all the world ! His own pride and expectation were at stake in the matter, for with the fortunes of the Emperor his own fortunes rose and fell. When his master was a despised prisoner, he too was despised — his occupation gone, his life a burthen to him, since he covieted respect in his sphere and could not endure contradiction.' It had almost broken his heart. But when the Emperor re-emerged, like the sun from a cloud, Uncle Ewen partook his glory, and recovered caste and position; men were afraid then to give him the lie, and to deny those things 15 442 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD which he deemed holy. Proud and happy, he resumed his sceptre, though with a feebler hand, and waved doyvn all opposition both at home and at the cabaret. Joy, however, is " dangerous " in more senses than one, and the excess of his exultation had. only heightened that constitutional malady to which he was a martyr. In the agony of this new sorrow, Marcelle almost forgot the anxiety which had been weighing on her heart for many days. Nothing had been heard of Rohan since fiis departure, ' and no man could tell whether he was living or dead ; so her mind was tortured on his account, and her nights were broken, and her days were full of pain. All she could do was to pray that the good God would guard her lover's person and bring him back to his right mind. From this ^last attack Uncle Ewen did not emerge- as freely as oh former occasions. He kept his bed for days and seemed hovering on the brink of death. He would not hear, however, of seiading for Father Rolland, whose Royalist proclivities had aroused his strongest indignation. However much he* had liked the little cur& personally, he^ felt that he lyas unfaithful to a great cajise, and that in his heart he hated the Emperor. ' Even while in bed he persisted in having the journals read to him ; fortunately for him, they contained only " good news." When, about a week after his first attack, he was able to be dressed and to sit by the fireside, he still sent diligently to inquire after the latest bulletins from the seat of war. To him, ad he sat thus, entered one day Master Arfoll. At first, Marcelle, who sat by, trembled to see him, but Uncle Ewen seemed so pleased at his appearance that her fears wfere speedily dispelled. She watched, him anxiously, howeyer, ready to warn him should he touch on forbidden topics. But Master Arfpll was not the man to cause any fellow- creature UNCLE EWEN GETS HIS FURLOUGH 443 unnecessary pain,, and he knew well how to humour the fancies of the Corporal, ' When he went away that day Uncle Ewen said quietly, as if speakihg to himself — " I was unjust: he is a. sensible fellow." Next day Master Arfoll came again, and sat, for a long time chatting. 1 Presently the conversation turned on politics, and Uncle Ewen, feeble as he was, began to mount his hobby. So far from contradicting hun, Master .Arfoll assented to all his- propositions. Only a great man, he admitted, could win so much love and kindle so much enthusiasm. He himself had seen the Emperor, and no longer wondered at the affection men felt for him. Ah, yes, he was a great man ! Marcelle scarcely knew how it came to pass, but that day Master Arfoll was reading aloud to Uncle Ewen out of the Bible whiqh he used for teaching purposes; and reading out of the New Testament, not the Old. Uncle Ewen would doubtless have relished to hear the recital of, some of those martial episodes which fill the Old Books, but, nevertheless, the quiet peaceful parables of Jesus pleased him well. "After all," said Master Arfoll as he closed the Book, " War is a terrible thing, and Peace is best." "Thd,t is quite true," replied the Corporal; "but War, look you, is a necessity." " Not if men would love one another." Uncle Ewen smiled grimly, the very ghost of his old smile. " Soul of a crow ! how can one love one's'enemies ? . . . Those Prussians ! those English !" And he ground his teeth angrily, as if he would' have liked to worry and tear them. Master Arfoll sighed and quietly dropped the subject. When he had said an revoir and passed across the threshold, he heard Marcelle's voice close behind him. " Master Arfoll," said the girl in a quick low voice, " do you think he will die ?" 444 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD " I cannot tell. . . . He is very ill !" '' But will he recover ?" ' . The schoolmaster paused in thought before he replied. " He is not a young ipan, and such shocks are cruel. I do not think he will live long." He added gently, " There is no word of your cousin ?" She answered in the negative', and sadly returned ipto the house. That very night there was considerable excitement inf the village; groups of Bonapartist enthusiasts paced up and down the streets, singing and shout- ing. News had come -of the battle of Ligny, and the triumph of the French arms now seemed certain. " It is true, unele," said Gildas; enteritig tipsily into the kitchen. " The little one has thrashed those brutes of Prussians at last, and he will next devour those accursed English." "Where is the journal?" asked Uncle Ewen, trembling from head to foot and reaching out his hands. Gildas handed it over, and the Corporal, putting on his horn spectacles, began to read it through. But the letters swam before his eyes, and he was compelled to entrust the task to Marcelle, who in a clear voice read the news aloud. When she had done, his eyes were dini with joy and pride. That night he could not sleep, and before dawn he began to wandfer. It was clear that Some great change for the worse had taken place. He tossed upon his pillow, talked to himself, mentioned the names of old comrades, and spoke frequently of the Emperor. Suddenly he sprang up, and began scrambling out of bpd. " It is the rtveille I" he cried, gazing vacantly around him. The voice of Marcelle, who was up and watching. UNCLE EWEN GETS HIS FURLOUGH 445 seemed to recall him partially to himself, and he sank back quietly upon his pillow; Ever and anon after that he would start up nervously, as if at a sudden call. Early in the morning Master ArfoU came and sat by his side, but he did not recognize him. The schoolmaster, who had no little skill in such cases, pronounced his condition to / be critical, and, upon hearing this, Mother Derval .persisted in sending for the priest. When Father RoUand arrived he found Uncle Ewen quite incapable of profiting by any holy offices. " I fear he is dying," said Master ArfoU. " And without the last sacrament," moaned the widow. " He- shall have it," said Father RoUand, "if he will only understand. Look up, my Corporal. It is I, !Father RoUand !" But Uncle Ewen's soul was far away — out on a great battle-field, in sight of smoking villages and fiery towns, watching the great columns of armies moving to and fro, while a familiar figure in cocked hat and grey overcoat sat silent as stone on horseback, watch- ing from an eminence! Over and over again he repeated in his mind that wonderful episode of Cis- mone. He talked of Jacques Monier, and, stretching out his open hands over the coverlet, fancied he was warming them over the bivouac fire. Some- times his face fiashed, as he fancied himself in the grand mtUe of battle, and he cried out in a loud voice, " No quarter !" The summer sun shone brightly in upon him, as he lay thus full of his ruling passion. Marcelle, quite heart-broken, sobbed at his bedside, while the widow spent all her minutes in fervent prayer. Gildas stood on the. hearth quite subdued, and ready to blubber like a great boy. On one side of the bed sat Master ArfoU ; on the other, the little Priest. 446 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD " He has been a brave man," said Father RoUand, " but an enthusiast, look you, aiiii this affair of Ligay has got into his head. He has been a good servant to the Emperof and to France !" It seemed as if the very name of the Emperor had a spell to draw the Corporal from his swoon, for all at once he ijlpened his eyes, and looked straight at the Priest. He did not seem quite to recognize him, and turning his face towards Master Arfoll, he smiled — so faintly, so sadly, that it tore Marcelle's heart to see him. " Uncle Ewen ! Uncle lESven 1" she sobbed, holding his hand. " Is it thou, little one ?" he' murmured faintly. " What was it that thou wast reading about a great Battle?" ' ' She could not answer for sobs, and Father Rolland interppsed, speaking rapidly — " It is no time to think of .battles now, my Corporal, ' for you are very ill and will soon be in the presence of your God. I have come to give you the last sacra- ment to prepare your soul for the change that is about to come upon it. There is no time to lose. Make your peace with Heaven !" Quietly all withdrew from the kitchen, leaving the, little cure alone with his sick charge. There was a long interval, during which the hearts of the tWo women were sick with aiixiety ; then Father Rolland called them all back into the chamben . Uncle Ewen was lying quietly on his pillow with his eyes half closed, and on the bed beside him lay the crucifix and the priest's breviary. ' "It is finished," said the little cur& ; "he is not quite clear in his head, and' he did not- recognize mp, but God is good, and it will suffice. His mind is now , calm, and he is prepared to approach, in a humble and peaceful spirit, the presence of his Maker j" " Anaen," cried the widow, with a, great load off her mind. BONAPARTE 4.1.7 At that moment, while they were approaching the bedside, the Corporal opened ,his eyes and gazed around him. His look was no longer vacant, but quite collected. Suddenly his eyes fell upon the face of Father Rolland ; now, for the first time, he recpgnized him, and a faint flush came into his dying face — '■ ' "A las le Bourbon !" he cried, " Vive l'Empereur !" And with that war-cry upon his lips he drifted out to join the great bivouac of the armies of the dead. ' ■ CHAPTER LVII BONAPARTE Come back now to the golden valley's where the bloody struggle of armies is ; beginning ; to the verge of the dark wood into which crept that pitiable outcast man. As the man retreats into hiding, the figur& on horse- back reaches the hill summit, dismounts, and stands looking in the direction of Ligny. The rain pours down upon him, but he too is heedless of the rain. ■Spurred and booted, wrapt in an old grey overCoat, and wearing a cocked hat from which the rain drips' heavily, he stands wrapt in thought, posed, with his hands clasped behind his back, his head sunk deep between his shoulders. His staff follow, and stand in groups behind him and close to h^pi. The heavy sound of cannon continues, rolling in the far distance. > Presently it ceases, and the Figure is still there, looking in the direction whence it comes. He paces up and down impatiently, but his eyes are fixed now on the rainy road. Suddenly on the road appears the figure of a mounted officer, galloping bare- headed as if for dear life. He sees the group on the height above him and gallops up. In a few minutes he is in the presence of the Emperor. 448 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD ■ Bonaparte sees good tidings in the officer's face, but he opens and reads the despatch which he brings; then he smiles, and speaks rapidly to those surround- ing him ; in another moment he is encircled by a flash of swords, and there is a cry of Vive I'Empereur I The Prussians are iii retreat from Ligny ; the first blow of the war is victory ! Without attemping to mount again, .the Emperor walks down the hill. , . . . . . When all again is still, the man creeps out of the wood ; he is trembling now and shivering, and his eyes are more wild and hungry than ever. He hastens along like an animal that keeps close to the ground. He sees the bright group moving along the foot of the hill, but he creeps along the summit. The rain pours down in torrents, and the prospect is darkening towards fall of night. ' Still following the line of the wooded hill-tops, the man runs, now fleet as a deer, through the shadows of the deepening darkness. He meets no human soul. At last he pauses, close to a large building erected on the hill-side and looking down on long reaches of fertile pasture and yellow corn. It is one of those antique farms so common in Belgium — a quaintly gabled dwelling surrounded by barns, byres, and fruit gardens. But no light burns in any of the -yvindows, , and it seems temporarily deserted, save for a great starved dog that prowls around it, and flies moaning at the man's approacla. The man pauses at the open door and looks down the hill. Suddenly he is startled by th& sound of horses' feet rapidly approaching ; there is a flash, a gleam ill the darkness, and a body of cavalry gallop up: Before they reach the door, he has plunged across the threshold. Within all is dark, but he gropes his way across the great kitchen/ and into a large inner chamber dimly lit by two great window-casernents. In the centre stands BONAPARTE 449 a ladder leading, to a small dark; Kay- loft, but the roon> is comfortably furnished with rude old-fashioned chairs and table, and has in one corner a great fire-place of quaintly carved oak. It is obvious that the place has been lately occupied, for on the table is a portion of a loaf with some coarse cheese. Great black rafters stretch overhead, and above them is the openipg of the loft. There is a tramp of feet and a sound of voices ; the soldiers are entering the house, and approaching the room. , Swift as thought th^ man runs up the ladder, and disappears in the darkness of the loft above. An officer enters, followed by attendants bearing a lamp. He looks round the empty room, takes up the fragment of bread, and laughs ; then he gives some orders rapidly, and in a few moments they bring in an armful of wood and kindle a fire on the hearth. As they do so, their soaking clothes steam. Suddenly there comes from without the sound of more horses galloping, of voices rapidly givifig , the word of com- mand. The farm is surrounded < on every side by troops, and the rooms within begin to fill ' The fire burns up on the hearth of the large inner chamber, and the air becomes full of a comfortable glow. Mean- time the rain falls in torrents, with occasional gleams of summer lightning. Entering bareheaded, attendants now place on the; table a small silvern lamp, and draw close the great moth-eaten curtaiins'which cover the two antique case- ments. They speak low,, as if in awe of some superior presence. All at once, through the open dbor, comes a familiar Figure, who wears his cocked hat on his head, and has his grey overcoat still wrapt around him. It is the Emperor of France. He casts off the dripping overcoat 1 and stands in simple general's uniform, warming his hands at the fire. They bring in plain bread and wine, which they set before him on the table. He breaks a little of the 450 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD bread , and drinks some of the wine ; then he speak? 'rapidly in a clear low voice, and, glancing round the chamber, motions his attendahts to withdraw. They do so deferentially, closing the door.softly behind them. He is left entirely alone. Alone in the great chamber, with the black rafters stretching over his. head dimly illumed by the red glare of the fire and the faint gleam of the lamp. All is so silent that he can hear the pattering of, the rain- drops on the! great casements, arid on the roof above. Although the place is surrounded by troops theii? movements are very hushed and still, and, save for a low murmur of voices from the outer rooms, there is no human sound. ' But overhead, buried in the black- ness, a wild face watches and looks down. Slowly, with chin drooping forward on his breast, and hands clasped upon his back, he paces, up and down. The sentinel pacing to and fro beyond the window is not more methodical in his niarch than he. The rain pours without, and the wind moans, but he hears nothing; he is too attentively listening to the sound oif his own thoughts. What sees he ? — what hears he ? Before i his soul's vision great armies pass in black procession, moving like storm-clouds on to some bourne of the ine^xorable will ; burniiig cities rise in the distance, like the ever-burning towers of Hell ; and the roar qf far-off cannon mingles with the sound of the breakers of Eternity thundering on a starry shore. For this night, look you, of all nights, the voice of God is with the man, bringing dark prescience of some approaching doom. Mark how the firelight plays upon his cheeks, which are livid as those of a corpse ! See how the eagle eye sheathes itself softly, as if to close upon the sorrow pent within ! It is night, and he is aloh& — alone with the shadows of Sleep and Death. Though he- knows his creatures are waking in the chambers beyond, and that his armies are stretching all, around him on the rainy plain, he is BONAPARTE' 451 nevertheless supremely solitary. The darkness seems a cage, from which his fretful mind would willingly escape ; he paces up and down, eager for the darkness to uplift and disclose the storniy dawn. All his plans are matured, all his orders are given ; he is but restitig for a few brief hours before he takes the victory for which his soul so long has waited. Victory ? — ah, yes, that is certain ! — his lurid star will not fail at last to dart blinding beams into the eyes of his enemies! — like a, destroying angel he will arise, more mighty and terrible than he ever yet has been ! — they think they have him in a net, but they shp,il see ! He walks to tihe window, and peers out into the night. Although it is summer, all is dark and cold and chili As he stands for a moment gazing fortU, he hears low sounds from the darkness around him ; sounds as of things stirring in sleep. The measured foot-falls of the sentries, the tramp of horses' feet, the cry of voices giving and receiving the password of the night, all come upon' his ear like murmurs in a dream. He draw6 the curtain, and comes forward again into the firelight, which wraps him from head to foot like a robe of blood. The great black rafters of the roof stretch overhead, and as something stirs among them, his dead- white face looks up. ... A rat cirawling from its hole and running along the beani — that is all. Again he begins his monotonous march up and down. There is a knock at the door. " Enter," he says, in a low clear voice; and an aide-de-camp enters, bareheaded, with a despatch. He tears it open, runs his eye over it, and casts it aside without a word. As the aide-de-camp is returning he calls him back. Unless important despatches arrive let no one disturb him for the next twb hours ; for he will sleep. The door is gently closed, and he is again alone in the chamber. He stands upon the hearth, and for 452 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD a long time seems plunged in deep reflection — ^his lips firmly set, his brow knitted. Presently he approaches the table, again takes up the despatch, looks it through, then once more places it aside. Unloosening his neckerchief from his throat he approaches the old arm- chair of oak, which is set before the fire. And now — merciful God ! what is this ? He has sunk upon his knees. To pray? He? Yes"; here, in the loneliness of the night, quite unconscious that he is watched by any human eyes, he secretly kneels, covers his eyes, and prays. Not for long ; after a minute he rises, and his face is wonder- fully changed — softened and sweetened by the religious light that has shone ujion it for a little space. No little child rising from saying " Our Father" by an innocent bedside, could look more calm ; yet doubtless he prayed for " victory," that his enemies might be blotted from the face of the earth, that God might once more cement his throne with blood and forge his sceptre of , fire. " The pity of it, I ago j oh ! the pity, of it!" Wise was he who said that "the wicked are only poor blind children, who know not what they do." At last, throwing himself, into the arm-chair, he lies back, and quietly closes his eyes. To sleep ? Can he, on whose head rests the fate of ' empires, sleep this night ? As easily and as soundly as a little child ! The constant habit of seeking slumber under all sorts of conditions^ — out in the dark rain, on the bare ground, in the saddle, in the travelling- carriage — has made sleep his slave. Scarcely has he closed his eyes y^hen tlie blessed dew falls upon them. And yet, O God, at this very hour, how many good men are praying for rest that will not come ! As' he sits there with his chin drooping upon his breast, his jaw falling heavily, and his eyes half open yet glazed and sightless, one might fancy him a corpse — so livid is his cheek, so wan and wild his look. All BONAPARTE 453 the- dark passions of the man, his buried cares and sorrows, which the 'svaking will crushed down, now flow up to the surface and tremble there in ghastly lights and shades. He seems to have cast off his strength, like a raiment only worn by day. Great God, how old he looks ! how pitiably old and human ! One sees now, or one might see, that his hair is tinged with grey ; it falls in thin straggling lines upon his forehead, which is marked deep with weary lines. This is he who to half a weeping world has seemed .like God; who has let loose the angels of his wrath, swift as the four winds, to devastate the earth ; who has stood as a shadow between man's soul and the sun which God set up in heaven in the beginning, 'and who has swept as lightning to scorch up the realms of emperors and kings. God "giveth His beloved sleep !" And to those He loves not ? — Sleep too ! This is Napoleon — a weary man, grey-haired and very pale ; he sluinbers sound, and scarcely seems to dream. All over the earth lie poor guilty wretches wailing miserably, conscience-stricken because they have taken life — in passion, in cruelty, in wrath ; the Eye is looking at them as it looked at Cain, and they cannot sleep. This man has waded in blood up to his arinpits; yea, the blood he has shed is as a river rushing up to stain the footstool of the Throne of God. Yet he slumbers like a child ! The fire burns low, but it still fills the room with a dim light, which mingles with the rays of the lamp upon the table. Up among the black rafters aU is dark ; but what is that stirring there and gazing down ? The bla:ck loft looms above, and the ladder rests against the topmost beams. Something moves up there, a shadow among the shadows. Swift as light- ning, and as silent, something descends ; — ^it is the figure of a man. 454 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD CHAPTER LVni " SIC SEMPER TYRANNUS " i The Emperor moans in his sleep, which is easily- disturbed,, but he does not quite waken. The figure crouches, for a moment in the centre of the floor; then crawling forward, and turning towards the sleeper, it approaches him without a sound, for its feet are naked. It rises erect, revealing a face so wild and strange as to seem scarcely human, but rather t6 resemble the lineaments of an apparition. The hair, thickly spwn with .white, streams down over half- naked shoulders; the chdeks are sunken as with famine or disease ; the lips lie apart, like the mouth of some panting wild animal. 'The form seems gigantic, looming in the dim light of the lamp- — and it is wrapt from head to foot in hideous ragst As ' the creature, crawls towards the sleeping Emperor, soniething gleams in his hands ; it is a long bayonet-like knife, such as hupters use in the Forest of Ardennes. His eyes bum with strange light, fixing themselves upon the sleeper. If this is an assassin^ , then surely that sleeper's time is come ! And now, knife in hand, he stands close to the Emperor, looking upon his face, and reading it line by line ; as he does so, his own gleams spectre-like and wild and mad. His gaze is full of spiritual famine ; he seems as he looks to satisfy some passionate hunger. His eyes come closer and closer, charmed towafds the object on which they gaze, until his breath could almost be felt upon the cold white cheek. Simul- taneously the knife is raised, as if to strike home to the sleeper's heart. , At this moment the sleeper stirs, but still does not waken, for he is thoroughly exhausted with many hours of vigil, and his sleep is unusually heavy. If he " SIC SEMPER TYRAN'NUS " 455 but ki^w how near his, sleep is to death! He has climbed to the summit of earthly glory; he has chained to the footstool of his thrpiie all the kings of the earth; and is this to be the end? To be slaughtered miserably at midnight by an assassin's steel. ; There is a niovementas of feet in the outer chamber; then the voice of the sentry is heard cr3dng " Qui vive ?" and all is still again. The wild figure pauses listen- ing, still with large eyes fixed upon the sleeper's face . . : , Still stars of eternity, gleaming overhead in the azure arch of heaven, look down this night through the, mundane mist and fain, and behold, face to face, these two creatures whom God made. Spirit of Life, that movest upon the air and upon the deep, enwrap them with the, mystery of Thy breath; for out of Thee each came, and unto Thee each shall return ! Which is Imperial now ? The gigantic creature towering there with wild face in all the power of maniac strength, or the feeble form that lies open to the fatal blow that is to come ? Behold these two' children of primaeval Adam, each with the flesh, blood, heart, and soul of a man ; each miraculously made^ breathing the same air, feeding on the same earthly food ; and say, which is Abel ? which is Cain ? The look of Cain is on the face of him who stands erect and grips the knife — the look of Cain when he overthrew the altar and prepg,red to strike dpwn his lamb-like brother in God's sight, , . . Yet so surely as those stars shine in heaven, it is the wretched Abel who hath arisen, snatching, mad with despair, the fratricidal knife ! , Feature by feature, line by line, he reads the Emperor's face. His gaze, is fixed and awful, his face still preserves its ashen pallor. His maniacal abstrac- tion is ho less startling than his frightful physical strength. He hears a^Bentry approach the window and pause for a moment, and the knife is lifted 456 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD mechanically as if to strike : but the sentry peteses by, and the knife is dropped. Then he again catches a movement from the antechamber. ' Perhaps they have heard sounds, and are approaching. No; all again is still. ^ How sotjndly the Emperor sleeps ! The lamplight Villumes tis face and marks its weary lines, while the firelight casts, a red glow round his reclining form. There is no Imperial grandeur here — only a weary wight, tired, like any peasant dozing by the hearth ; only a weak, sallow, sickly, creature, whom a strong man could crush down with a blow of the hand. One hand lies on the arm of the chair— it is white and small like a woman's or a child's; yet is it not the hand that has struck down Christ and the Saints, and cast blood upon the shrines of God? Is it not the hand of Cain, who slew his brother ? ^ And now, O assassiti, since such thou art, strike home! It is thy turn now. Thou hast waited and watched on wearily for this — thou hast prayed madly to God and to Our Lady of Hate that this moment might cbme-^and lo ! the Lord has put thine enemy, the enemy of thee and of thy kind, into thy hand. Kill, kill, kill ! This is Napoleon, whose spirit has gone forth, like Cain's, to blight and make bloody the happy homes of earth, who has wandered from east to West knee-deep in blood, who has set on every land his seal of flame, who has cast on every field, where once the white wheat grew, the bones of Famine and the ashes of Fire. Remember D'Enghien, Pichegru, Palm ; and kill ! Remember Jena, Eylau ; and kill Dost ,thou hesitate? Then, remember Moscow! Remember the Beresina, choked up with its forty thousand dead! Remember the thousands upon thousands sleeping in the great snows! — and kill,' kill, kill! Dost thou doubt that this is he, that thoii hesitatest so long ? Thy face is tortured, and thy hand trembles. " blC SEMPER TYRANNUS " > 457 and thy soul is faint. Thou earnest hither to behold a Shadow, an Image, a thing like that Form of black marble set up as a symbol in the dark earth. Far away the Emperor seemed colossal, unreal, inhuman ; a portent with the likeness of a fiend. To that thou didst creep, thinking to grapple with the Execrable. And now thou art disarmed, because thou seest only a poor pale weary Man ! Think of thy weary nights and famished days ; and kill ! Think of the darkness that has come upon thy life, of the sorrow that has separated thee from all thou lovest best — think too of the millions who have cried even as sheep driven to the slaughter ; and kill ! He had no pity ; do thou have none. Remember, it is this one life against the peace and happiness of Earth. •Obliterate this creature, and Man, perhaps is saved. If he awakens again, war will awaken ! — Fire, Famine, and Slaughter, will awaken too ! Kill, kill ! . . . ... The sleeper stirs once more, his glazed eyes half open, and his head rolls to one side. His face preserves a marble pallor, but is lit by a strange sad smile. He murmurs to himself, and his small hands open and shut — like the child's little hand that chitches at the butterfly in sleep, wheif — " One little wandering arm is thrown At random on the counterpane, . And oft the fingers close in haste As if their childish owner chased The butterfly again." A crown or a butterfly ! — is not all one ? And in God's eyes, perchance, he who sleeps here is only a poor foolish child ! Be that as it may, God has drawn round the sleeper's form a circle which thou canst not pass. Thine indeed is not the stuff of which savage assassins are made, and though there is madness in thy brain, there is still love in thine heart. Kill thou canst not 458 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD flow, thpugh thou earnest to kill. Lost as thou art, thou feelest no hate even for thine enemy, now ; thou knowest indeed how poor and frail a creature thou hast been fearing and hating so long. God made him and God sent him : bloody as he is, he too is God's child. Perhaps if he had not pvayti before he slept it might have been easier; but he di4 pray, and his face became beautiful for the momeht-, and fearlessly as a child he' sank to rest. , Wilt thou kill what God has sanctified with His slee|) ? Because this creature has 'broken the sacrament of Nature, wilt tfiou become as he ? No ; thou hast seen him and thou knowest him — that is enough^— thou wilt leave him in the hands of God. ... . Amen ! Safely and justly mayest thou so leave him, for the vengeance of God is sure as the mercy of God is deep. One spectre of a slain man comes to thee nightly in dream ; how many come to him ? Perhaps not one, t^hough at his bidding thousands upon thousands have been miserably slain. Yet be thou, assured,' though no ghosts rise, the Spirit of ]!^ife will demand an account. Look again at the closed Imperial eyes!* Seethe cold light sleeping deep arid pitiless on that face that ruled a world ! To those dead eyes, cold as a statue's stony orbs, thou, poor wretch, hast beep offered up by" a world grown mad like thee. As an Idol on a pedestal, as an ' Idol of stone with dull dumb stare surveying its worshippers, this- man has stood- aloft supremely crowned. Not while, he stood up there, could the 'Spirit of Life find him ; not till the hands of man have cast him down, shall the spirit of Love chasten him and turn him back to flesh . . . When men go by the place where the Idol is lying low, and murmur, beholding it bjroken upon the ground, " This was Napoleon ! the thing we wondered at and worshipped for a time J" and smiling turn away, ihcn perhaps in the cold breast " SIC SEMPER TYRANNtIS " 459 the human heart shall beat more freely, humbled and awe-stricken before its Maker. . . . . . . Turn, poor wretch, ere. thou goest, and look , again. There sleeps on that Imperial face no loving Jiving light, but an inward eating fire — a fire con- suming and destroying and redeeming in its own despite the soul on which it feeds. He who hath had no mercy for mankind shall learn the bitter lesson of self-mercy, and, realizing his own utter loneliness and pain yearn outward to the woes of all the world. And in that hour this cold light thou beholdest shall spread through all his spirit, and become as that mad sorrow and despair which lights now those wretched .eyes of thine. Leave him then to God, and go thy way. ... . . . The man no longer holds the -knife. On silent naked feet he has withdrawn back towards the great inner casement of the' chamber, For a moment 'he pauses with one last look— trembling like one who, having plunged into a raging sea, is suddenly uplifted by the hair, and gazing with wild eyes and quivering lips on the" pale Imperial face. Then he draws back the heavy curtain, and, dashing open the great window, leaps out into the darkness. There is a loud cry in the distance, then the sound of shots, then a tramp of feet, — and silence. The man has disappeared as he came, like a ghost of the night. Meanwhile, the sleeper, startled by the sounds, has sprung up in his chair. A.s he stands trembling and looking round him, there lies in the gloom at his feet a huge naked knife, such as hunters use ; but he sees it not, and little dreams that' such a weapon only a few minutes since was pointed at his own heart.^ His attendants enter anxiously and find the window open, but no clue as to what hand threw it wide; The hero of a hundred battles shivers, for he is superstitious, but he cannot help them to an explanation. But now — to, horse ! He has rested too long, and it 46p THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD will soon be dawn, . . . Drums beat and trumpets , sound, as he rides on through the dark night, his heavy travelling carriage, surrounded by lancers, lumbering behind. Leave him still to God. . . . CJose before him, clouding the lurid star of his destiny, rises the blood-red shadow — Waterloo. EPILOGUE A YEAR has passed away. The yellow lamps of the broom are again burning on the crags ; The flocks "of sea-birds have come from the South to whiten the great sea-wall ; the corn is growing golden inland, and thp lark, poised over the murmuring farms, is singing loud ; while the jilvern harvest of the deep is 'growing too, and the fishermen creep from calm to calm, gathering it up in their brown nets. The sea is calm as glass, and every crag is mirrored in it from base to brow. It is the anniversary of the great battle which decided fatally the destinies of Bonaparte. On the summit of the cliff immediately overlooking - the Cathedral of St. Gildas sit two figures, gazing downward. . Far below thetn, over the roofless .Cathedral wall, hover flocks of gulls, and the still green sea, faintly edged with foam that does not seem to stir, is approaching the red granite Gate of St. Gildas. Away beyond, further than eyes can see, stretches the Ocean, faintly shaded by the soft grey mists of Heaven. I One figure, very gaunt and tall, sits like a statue, vdth large grey eyes turned seaward ; his hair is quite grey and flows on to his shoulders, his face is marked with strange furrows, left by some terrible sorrow or terror that has passed away. The other figure, that of a beautiful young girl, sits just below him, holding his hand and looking up into his face. She EPILOGUE 461 wears a dark dress and saffron coif, both signs of mourning, and her face is very pale. Day after day, in the golden summer weather, the two come here and sit for hours in silence and in peace. Day by day the girl watches for the passing away of the cloud which obscures the soul of her companion. He seems — why, she knows not — ^to derive a strange solace from merely sitting here, holding her hand, and contemplating the waters. His eyes seem vacant, but strange spiritual light still j survives in their depths. To-day he speaks, not turning his gaze from the Sea. " Marcelle !'* « Yes, Rohan !" " If one could sail, and sail, and sail, out there, one would come to the rock where he is sitting, with the waves all round him. Sometimes I see him yonder, looking over the black waters. He is by himself, and his face looks white as it did when I saw it, before the great battle was fought !" She gazes at him in troubled tenderness, her eyes dim with tears. " Rohan, dear ! of whom do you speak ?" He smiles but does not answer. Hig words are a mystery to her. Since the day when, after long months of absende, he returned home a broken man, he has often spoken of wondrous things — of battles, of the Emperor, of strange meetings, but it has all seemed like witless wandering. She has been waiting wearily till the cloud should lift and all become clear ; and there seems hope, for day by day he has grown more peaceful and gentle, and now he can be guided like a child. He is silent, still gazing seaward. Behind him rises the great Menhir, with the village lying far beneath. The sunlight falls above him and around him, clothing as with a white veil his figure and that of the gentle girl. All is not lost, for with 462 THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD his desolatioh her love has grown,- and she herself remains to him, chastened, subdued, faithful unto death. . . . . . . But he does not rave when he speaks of one who lingers in the waste out yonder. Far away, under a solitary palm-tree, ,sits another Form, waiting, watching, and dreaming, while the waters of the deep, sad and strange as the waters of Eternity, stretch measureless around, and break with weary murmurs at his feet. "So sitthose twain, thousands of miles apart, Each cheek, on band, gazing upon the Sea !" THE END PRINTED BY BILLING AND S6nS,' LTD. GUtLDF-OSD