CHAPTER XVIITHE FLIGHT
THE journey which the fugitives had before them was one which necessarily was full of peril and difficulty and, what to Ludovic’s interest was worse, delay. For to have taken the direct road from one capital to the other would have been madness. A very few leagues would have brought their flight to an ignominious end. They would have to take an unfrequented route, to travel over by-roads, to avoid towns, to proceed warily, at least till they should have passed the boundary of the Chancellor’s net-work of spies. For this purpose chance could not have provided a better pilot than Ompertz. The wandering mercenary knew the whole region fairly well, while his campaigning experience would stand them in good stead. He had a rare eye for catching the sign of unwelcome observation, and knew every trick for avoiding it; moreover he was full of resource and took danger and difficulty less as disagreeable episodes than as matters of course.
All through the long, weary night the journey continued without break or any occurrence to interrupt the monotony of the dark hours. The Princess, now that the step was taken, had resumed her natural composure which was in strong contrast to Minna’s feverish anxiety. Their talk was disjointed and inclined to languish, since all three seemed preoccupied, and the future seemed dark as the night through which they drove. Ludovic’smind was full of serious thoughts; the stern crisis which had suddenly confronted him was absorbing enough, the more troubling that he could not share with his companions the knowledge of his position. Presently the ladies seemed inclined to sleep. Ludovic made them as comfortable as was possible, and then left them, to take his seat beside Ompertz on the box. The campaigner had plenty to say and was glad of a companion and listener. The stories of his adventures, his remarks on men and things were racy enough, but they were perhaps hardly appreciated by the man who, with pale, resolute face, sat beside him trying to pierce the future, inwardly chafing at the delay their slow progress forced upon him and keenly sensible of the momentous responsibility of the act in which they were engaged.
But at last the long night showed signs of passing; black gave way to dark grey, ever growing lighter till at length the landscape emerged from its shroud and stood half revealed in the chill mist of morning. They were still many miles from the frontier when they stopped at a small town for refreshment and change of horses. But the spirits of the little party rose with the day and at the thought that, so far, their venture was successful. Pursuit was, of course, inevitable, but the chance was that now they had a good many hours’ start, and every league they had put between them and Waldenthor would have widened the radius and so increased the difficulty of tracking them. The Princess and Minna could find consolation now for their hardships in exulting in Rollmar’s discomfiture. To have defied and checkmated the old fox was delightful to think of; they could imagine his incredulity, his rage; and laughed as they pictured his stormy interview with the Duke.
“Poor father! His dignity will be in sore straits to-day. My only hope is that by the Baron’s temper he will be goaded into taking my part. Then all may be well; for, after all, father is Duke, not Rollmar.”
It was a poor expectation, Ludovic thought pitifully, that all could be well with the elopement of a Princess with a simple Lieutenant; he longed to reveal to her his true position, but still he dared not, and so long as she continued to see things in a hopeful light, why should he? Ruperta was rejoicing in the unaccustomed sense of freedom, delicious in proportion as it had been so longed for and despaired of; the revelation could well be put off, three words would suffice when the inevitable moment came, and now every hour their partnership in this desperate venture lasted must draw tighter the bond between them. So, masking his own anxieties, he set himself to keep up her spirits, and in this Ompertz’s bright, buoyant humour was of great help.
But no time was to be wasted; after a hurried meal they had to start again; at any moment signs of hue and cry might appear, and then their difficulties would be increased a hundred-fold. So they sped on; along broken, jolting roads, sometimes across wild tracks of bare country where road there was none; up tedious hills and down some so steep as to threaten to dash the carriage to destruction, over crazy bridges, through doubtful fords, and sometimes under the depressing canopy of lonely forest tracks; all through the day, which, as it wore on, seemed more wearisome than the night, they kept on their way, wondering, doubting, half repenting, yet ever recurringly hopeful. They were young, and to youth the unknown is delightful; only to age is it a bugbear.
Ompertz never let his spirits flag through the long hours, nor was it his fault if depression came upon the others. He sang merrily, and, when he had a companion, chatted gaily; he was quick of observation, and had a fund of curious knowledge to illustrate nearly every object he pointed out. It was a happy moment when he shouted that they were crossing the frontier, unchallenged, unnoticed, for they had left the road and taken a rough and devious way between the frontier villages. So theyslipped across and pursued their journey with a feeling something like relief now that they were beyond Rollmar’s jurisdiction. But when would safety be reached? Could they hope ever to be safe, struggling as they were in the toils of an international policy? Theirs was the security of the mouse with which the cat is playing. But Ruperta would not allow herself to admit this. She was reckless, as strong characters bent on desperate enterprises ever will be. To hesitate, to look back and calculate the chances, when once the boats are burnt, is the last thing a resolute mind will do; madness or not, it must be gone through with; what the future has in store is to be met boldly when it comes, but not anticipated.
When the journey was roughest, the scene most dismal, and Minna’s sinking heart forced an exclamation of despair, “It is better than Krell,” Ruperta said resolutely, and that seemed enough. Behind her was a prison, or at least the hateful monotony of a coerced, circumscribed existence, in front were liberty and love, room for soul expansion, sympathy, humanity, everything for which she hungered. And so even the drear landscape, the fatigues and terrors of the journey, should never for an instant damp her spirits or make her regret what she had undertaken. For freedom of soul and body she had thrown every other consideration to the winds. If she had fallen from her high estate, smirched her reputation in the eyes of all Europe, she was content so that it freed her from a hateful bondage, a loathed marriage and gave her to the man she loved. And him she trusted with her whole soul, so that she saw no shame in sharing his desperate flight, in facing the world and danger and death with him.
Evening drew on, and no untoward sign had come to rouse their fears. But now the character of their route was changing; they were entering the wild forest and mountainous country which lay like a great rampartfrowning them back from their destination. The high road, upon which they dared not venture, ran miles away south-west, cutting boldly through the forest, and that was rugged and gloomy enough. Ompertz, who knew the district, was confident that he could find his way across by little used roads where they would be practically safe from pursuit. The entry to this gloomy region was enough to send a chill to the travellers’ hearts, and, as though to enhance its forbidding characteristics, the wind had begun to rise and moan through the trees and rocky fissures, and the sky to darken with the signs of a coming storm. Depressing as the prospect was, no turning back was to be thought of, the environment had to be ignored and the journey pushed on. Luckily the fresh horses they had lately taken were strong and used to the rough work they had before them. So they went sturdily forward, their driver’s spirits seeming in no wise to be damped by the gloom that had surrounded them.
For a while they would drive through the forest so thick and dark as to seem impenetrable, the road strewn with a carpet of moss and pine needles, so that they glided along without noise, the great trees in their serried myriads seeming to close in upon them with an oppressiveness which threatened to shut out air as well as light. The silence was supreme, appalling, in its dominating intensity; it seemed to enforce itself upon every living intruder on its domain, even Ompertz’s singing was hushed. Then the wall of trees would open out, the air would grow lighter, fresher, and the track would pass out upon an amphitheatre of towering rocks, grim, frowning, majestic, beyond which the outlet was a defile roofed by the overhanging cliffs so as to resemble the mouth of a cavern. The terrors of that natural tunnel made Minna cover her face with her hands and sob for very despair; Ruperta sat with pale face and compressed lips, keeping her fears at least from utterance. Ludovic leaned forward and touched her hand. She looked upquickly with a little shiver, then, as her eyes met his, he saw what told him she would be brave to the end. Ah, that end! How far off it was yet, and every tedious minute seemed, instead of bringing it nearer, to push it farther still. Soon the long archway was passed, to be succeeded by the steep ascent of a wooded gorge leading to the very heart of the mountains. Now the storm was beginning to break over them in its fury. The gale howled and roared in the chasms and ravines, sweeping with it the rain in blinding scuds. At one moment it would be light enough just to make out the way, in the next a pall of blackness would cover them so that even the great walls of rock on either side could not be seen. They were forced to halt, and Ompertz, still cheery, dismounted and held counsel with Ludovic.
“We cannot go on through this, Lieutenant,” he declared ruefully, “at least not up this track. I know these mountain storms too well, we are comparatively sheltered here, but at every step we take upwards its fury will increase. We must turn aside and make at all hazards for the main road. Yes, it is a risk, but it is either that or staying here all night.”
Delay, which could in any way be avoided, was not to be thought of. And, indeed, if they were to take to the high road now, the sooner they struck it the better for their chances of proceeding unmolested. But how were they to make their way out of that rocky maze? Never admitting the difficulty, Ompertz turned the horses and made for a cross road he had noticed some distance back. This proved, when he turned into it, to be rough and almost impossible for a vehicle to traverse. Nothing daunted, Ompertz stuck to his task, and, his horses being willing and sure-footed, the carriage made some progress through the roaring tempest. The track, as Ompertz had expected, led gradually downwards; he was confident that a couple of leagues should bring themto the road, and then all they would have to fear would be Rollmar’s pursuit.
But now their first serious mishap was to occur. The mountain road, which seemed to be getting smoother so that the horses could increase their pace, dipped unexpectedly in its winding course, just as a great squall of wind and rain came roaring over the mountain. Aided by the declivity, the carriage was now rolling down at a dangerous pace. Blinded for the moment by the squall, Ompertz was unable to check or even guide the horses. The carriage swerved from side to side, to crash at last into a projecting corner of rock, the impact splintering a wheel and so bringing their progress to an end. With a cry of discomfiture, Ompertz leapt down and satisfied himself that no one was hurt.
“Unlucky wretch that I am!” he cried in an agony of regret. “I have ruined everything now.”
Ludovic, taking in the cause of the accident, was far from blaming him.
“No fault of yours, my friend. Who could hope to drive down such a place in a night like this?”
As the clouds were swept across the sky, alternating darkness penetrable and impenetrable, the rain would cease fitfully, and then pour down and, caught by the wind, sweep horizontally through the gorge. The carriage certainly afforded shelter, but to Ludovic the idea of having to stay there all night was maddening. It seemed the very ruin of their enterprise.
“Stay you with the ladies,” said Ompertz, “while I go and reconnoitre.”
The idea of finding an inn or another carriage in that wild spot seemed hopeless enough; still, anything was better than inaction.
Chafing with impatience as he was, Ludovic tried to dissuade him. “You can do nothing till the storm passes, except to get a wet skin, my dear Captain.”
Ompertz’s only argument was to wrap his cloak tightly round him and start off on his forlorn hope.
The accident seemed to have strengthened rather than damped Ruperta’s spirit; it was as though nothing could matter now. So they talked almost cheerfully, as the wind shrieked round them and the rain lashed the panes.
Minna was resigned now to her fate; she could laugh with the recklessness of despair; all hope in her was shattered with the wheel. Happily, the storm seemed inclined to abate something of its fury; the rain beat less savagely; the intervals of comparative light lasted longer. It was but a short half-hour from Ompertz’s departure, when his voice hailing them sent a thrill of expectation to their hearts. In an instant Ludovic was outside. Ompertz clambered breathless down the steep wall of rock.
“There is a great Schloss not a quarter of an hour from here,” he cried. “We are in luck! There will at least be shelter and food, perhaps a carriage. Come! The weather is abating. I will show you the place. Man, you cannot leave the ladies, and one a Princess, out here all night, and such a night, with a fine house but a few minutes away,” he protested, as he saw Ludovic hesitate.
A short consultation brought them to the conclusion that something must be risked. In that wild, desolate place they were not likely to be recognized, while shelter and rest were urgent, since their progress was stopped. Wrapping the Princess and Minna in their cloaks, the two men helped them up the craggy side of the ravine where they could strike across to the Schloss.
To bring the horses up was a more formidable business, but Ompertz, whose experience had fitted him for coping with most practical difficulties, accomplished this without mishap, and the party pushed forward through the storm. The way was difficult enough; amid rocks and pit-falls, they had in the darkness to proceed with the greatestcare. After nearly an hour’s walking, they entered a valley running through a vast pine forest which rose and stretched away on either hand, a weird expanse of impenetrable blackness. At the top of a slight ascent Ompertz cried, “Look!”
They could see, a short way before them, a light shining out of the intense darkness, as through a hole in a black curtain, and when they had gone a few steps further along the now descending road, the passing away of a dark cloud brought dimly out against the sky the turrets of the castle.