CHAPTER VIFOR LIFE OR DEATH
Atthe sound of Alaine’s cry Lendert set spurs to his horse and made a dash past the on-coming rider, but there came a report of a pistol; his hold upon the bridle loosened; he reeled slightly in his saddle; the horse made a plunge forward, then stopped short, and in an instant François was alongside.
“You thought to escape me, my falconet,” he cried, “but I have the jesses ready. You do not leave my wrist again. By St. Maclovius, I was in luck to have crossed your path when I was on my way to your hiding-place.”
He seized her waist and attempted to drag her from her seat, but she clung to Lendert, down whose cheek the blood was running.
“Mynheer Verplanck,” she cried, “do not die! Do not leave me to the mercy of this man!” And she beat off with her fists the hands of the man whose hold was tightening upon her.
For a second Lendert looked around in a dazed way, then his stunned senses returned, and he gave the horse a cut which caused him to spring forward, and the suddenness of the movement dragged François from his saddle, but he clung to Alaine’s pillion, and, cat-like, scrambled up behind her. “I alsogo,” he said. “To quote your favorite Scripture, mademoiselle, ‘Whither thou goest I will go.’”
Lendert lashed at him furiously with his whip, at which François gave a low mocking laugh. “I advise you not to attempt that, monsieur,” he said; “you might also strike Mademoiselle Hervieu. So closely are we united, she and I, that what touches one touches the other. Is it not so, Mademoiselle Hervieu?”
She made him no answer, but tried to shrink away from his close embrace, and leaning forward, asked, in a low voice, “Are you hurt, Monsieur Verplanck?”
“But slightly,” he whispered back.
Alaine made a little exclamation, for at this instant François whipped out his knife to cut the belt into which Lendert’s pistols were thrust. These fell with a clatter to the ground. In one moment their owner had pulled in his horse, but to dismount meant to leave Alaine in the hands of her enemy, and he but gave note to the spot and rode on.
“We ride,” cried François, “to the devil, maybe, though I fancy your horse may grow weary if the journey be long. I am not of a great weight myself, but monsieur there is not too light, and three of us.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Yet, I do not alight while mademoiselle rides,” he continued.
Lendert gave a slow, sleepy look over his shoulder. “The mosquito is sometimes bad in the woods,” he remarked, confidentially, to Alaine. “After a whilewe are able to rid ourselves of the pest.” And he turned his horse around.
“Ah-h!” cried François, “I see your manœuvre, monsieur,” and with the quickness of a monkey he unloosed Alaine’s hands from the hold and leaped with her to the ground, crying, “Ride on, monsieur, you are well rid of the pest, eh? He will satiate himself first, this mosquito.” And again a pistol-shot rang out.
“Poltroon! villain!” cried Alaine. “You shoot a man when his back is turned.”
“I use the means the good God gives me, mademoiselle. I kill to defend myself, and who would not? I kill even you, yes, rather than that other there possess you.”
The pistol-shot had wounded Lendert in the shoulder, but he rode back over the ground at a gallop, was down from his horse in an instant, and picking up his own pistols from where they had fallen, he levelled one at François.
But without hesitation François thrust Alaine in front of him, crying, “This is a fashion of defence employed in some of your colonies, I hear. One Monsieur Bacon has adopted the measure in Virginia, and I follow this excellent American custom, good Sir Avoirdupois. Elephants are clumsy creatures, and the nimble mouse can sometimes get the better of the large beast of the long nose.”
Lendert advanced steadily upon him, but, holding Alaine still as a shield, François sprang behind atree. “A game, a merry game in the wildwood,” he cried. “Catch who can. Advance, monsieur; there are trees enough to enable us to keep up our pastime for many hours, and to resume it to-morrow, if we like. Yet, I fancy, Monsieur Le Gros, you will have lost the taste for sport by that time, judging from the amount of bloodletting I have caused you. Ah-h, mademoiselle, the toil in the fields has given you a peasant’s strength, yet it is not worth while to attempt escape; I am the stronger, you see.” For Alaine had tried, by a quick jerk, to extricate herself.
For two or three moments Lendert stood silently looking at them, then he gazed around him with a puzzled expression on his quiet heavy face.
“He is at a loss, that Monsieur Le Grand,” François whispered, leaning forward and saying the words close to Alaine’s ear. “He will presently leave us, since he does not care to have the sport prolonged. Did you think, Alaine, that I did not know the way to win a secret from Marie? Fool that she is, to be dazzled by a few paltry trinkets. I repeat, I am seldom at a loss, and she will do better the next time. You will not have a more vigilant guardian than Marie when she receives you into her keeping this evening. And to-morrow we commence our journey to Canada.”
The horses had wandered away some little distance, and were cropping the grass along the path. Toward first one and then the other Lendert advanced, slipped their bridles over their heads, andled them some little distance, where he fastened them. He next took off the deer-skin hunting-jacket which he wore and sat down upon the ground. Alaine saw that there was a deep red stain coloring the white shirt underneath. She watched him with fascinated eyes. What was he about to do? From his pocket he took his sharp hunting-knife, and, strip by strip, painfully and laboriously, he cut thongs from the deer-skin garment. It must be a painful operation, Alaine considered, for even the slightest movement of the wounded shoulder must give a pang.
“Monsieur Le Gros Cochon amuses himself,” said François. “I could compassionate him upon his lack of freedom of movement; I, too, can use but one arm, hampered as I am by the possession of this Naomi, to whom I have pledged myself, ‘Whither thou goest I will go.’”
“There is at least one place where monsieur cannot accompany me,” remarked Alaine, in cutting tones, and speaking for the first time to her captor.
“And where is that, my Mara, so bitter?”
“To heaven,” Alaine retorted.
François laughed. “Some would say otherwise, mademoiselle. I fancy those from whom you have parted company in la belle France would consign you to a more fiery abode, and since you refuse to conform, I may perhaps not be misunderstood if I employ any means which will still allow me to accompany you even to an uncomfortable place. Butwe will discuss this later. There will be time enough. At present I am rather curious to discover our large friend’s intention. It seems the work of an imbecile to cut one’s clothes to pieces, wanting something else to do. Perchance he wishes to take me off my guard and seeks to mislead me by playing the fool, so that I will release you, but I hold you fast, do I not, my falconet?”
Lendert arose to his feet. His ruddy countenance was growing strangely white; his flaxen hair was dappled with blood and his shirt was stiffened by the same, but in his blue eyes there was the steady look of obstinate resolve.
“I think we may attempt to run now, mademoiselle,” said François. “He cannot follow very fast nor very long. I regret that I cannot spare time from my devoted attention to you to reload my pistols. I may need them.”
“You will not find yourself very light of foot with a dead weight to drag behind you,” vouchsafed Alaine.
“But if I lead the chase, Monsieur Le Cochon Hollandais cannot keep up the pace for very long; he bleeds freely, the stuck pig. See, I start.” He pushed the girl behind him, clasped her arms around his waist, and, holding her hands in front of him, set off on a run.
But Alaine, as she felt his left hand fumble for his pistols, let herself drop to her knees.
At this instant there came a singing, whirringsound; a slender leather rope whizzed through the air and fell about them, tightening around the man’s shoulders with a jerk. He was brought to a standstill; then as the thongs enclosed him more securely his arms were forced back by the strain, and the girl saw her opportunity. A short struggle and she was able to make her escape. She rushed breathlessly toward Lendert. “Monsieur Verplanck, I will help you,” she cried.
François bowed himself and fiercely tore at the slender deer-skin thongs, and at last, running backward, was able to slacken the cord and to wriggle himself out of its hold. A moment more and his pistol was ready in his hand. Alaine foresaw his intention, and before he could fire she sprang before her deliverer, who had sunk upon his knees and was leaning heavily against a tree, all his strength gone from this last effort. “Monsieur,” cried the girl, “it is an American custom, you say, to use a woman as a shield. Monsieur Verplanck has proved that it is false, and that it is but the makeshift of a coward. Yet,because you have shown me how powerful a shield a woman can be, I stand here.” She gave a quick glance at the fainting figure before which she stood; then she lifted her head high and faced François. “I defy you, monsieur,” she said.
He rushed at her blind with rage. “I will kill you before you shall escape me!” he cried.
“Kill me if you will. I have warned you that where I go you cannot follow. Do you think me sogreat a coward as to be afraid to die?” she asked, with a mocking look in her great eyes. “Death comes to all, and what matter when or where? Shall I be worse off in that other world because you choose to be the means of sending me there before God wills it so? Or shall you be better off here when I am gone, and after, when you go to face God’s judgment of you? Take my life? You cannot; it is God’s, who gave it, and it is for the life eternal. Kill me if you will; you lose all if you do and I gain everything.”
Twice he lifted his pistol; twice it dropped to his side. “I will wait till your friend is dead,” he said at last, in sinister tones. “’Twill not be long. I will wait, mademoiselle. It is sometimes better to endure patiently, say you Huguenots, therefore I follow your example. A dead man needs no shield, and, also, can tell no tales.”
Alaine cast a frightened glance at the drooping figure behind her. “Monsieur Verplanck,” she cried, in dread, “if I but dared to turn my back, but yonder wretch has no conscience, and he would finish the work he has begun. I must keep my face toward him to watch him, but I will try to stanch your wound.” She took the kerchief from her neck, and without exposing him to the possible attack from François, managed to twist a tourniquet above the place which bled the most freely, after which she arose to her feet, and stood again defiant, determined. The eyes of her enemy were bentfixedly upon her. She closed her own and began to sing one of the familiar psalms.
“Aux paroles que je veux dire,Plaise toi l’oreille prester:Et à cognoistre t’arrester,Pourquoi, mon cœur, pense et soupire,Souverain Sire,”
“Aux paroles que je veux dire,Plaise toi l’oreille prester:Et à cognoistre t’arrester,Pourquoi, mon cœur, pense et soupire,Souverain Sire,”
“Aux paroles que je veux dire,
Plaise toi l’oreille prester:
Et à cognoistre t’arrester,
Pourquoi, mon cœur, pense et soupire,
Souverain Sire,”
rang out the plaintive voice in the still forest. “Sovereign Sire” came the echo. Was it an echo? Alaine’s dark eyes grew more intense as she listened. Faintly upon the air came the second stanza of the psalm,—
“Enten à la voix très ardente,De ma clameur, mon Dieu, mon Roy,Veu que tant seulement à toiMa supplication présenteJ’offre et présente.”
“Enten à la voix très ardente,De ma clameur, mon Dieu, mon Roy,Veu que tant seulement à toiMa supplication présenteJ’offre et présente.”
“Enten à la voix très ardente,
De ma clameur, mon Dieu, mon Roy,
Veu que tant seulement à toi
Ma supplication présente
J’offre et présente.”
Nearer and nearer came the voice, and with all her heart in her singing Alaine continued, but before she had finished the third stanza the song ended suddenly, and her glad cry was, “Pierre! Here, Pierre, mon ami! Praise to the good God, thou art come!” Then from the greenwood strode Pierre Boutillier, who stopped in amazement at the sight of Alaine standing guard over a prostrate man, while the form of François Dupont retreated down the path into the forest beyond.
“Pierre, Pierre, hasten! I dare not move. Secureyonder man.” Alaine’s trembling finger pointed to François.
Pierre rushed forward. François raised his pistol and half turned in his flight, but before he was able to fire he stumbled and fell forward on his face.
“God have mercy!” cried Alaine. “Pierre, have you killed him?”
He stooped and turned over the body of the man at his feet. “No, he lives. It was his own pistol gave the hurt; it went off as his foot struck the root of this tree where he fell.”
“God have mercy!” again whispered Alaine. “Then, Pierre, we have two of them wounded. And how did you find me? And is this not a terrible thing, all this? Have you some spirits? Monsieur Verplanck has fainted. Is it not strange that I am not dead? I thought my last hour had come. And you, Pierre, you are not hurt?”
He assured her that he was untouched, and then busied himself in ministering to Lendert while Alaine poured forth her story.
“We have been scouring the woods,” Pierre told her, “and I took this direction, and when I heard your voice I knew the good God had put my feet upon the right path. Gerard is not far away. I think I can summon him. We were to meet at the end of this path when the sun was noon high. There, your friend is recovering; he opens his eyes.”
“You are better, monsieur,” said Alaine, softly, kneeling down by him. “Now, pray you, Pierre,see to that other unfortunate. One would not have the blood even of an enemy upon his head; but, Pierre, I advise you to secure him that he does not move. He is possessed of the very evil one for strategy. Yet he spared me,” she murmured. “If you find you can restore him, go you and find Gerard, and I will wait here. I am no longer afraid.” She raised her lovely eyes to his, and Pierre with a swift movement caught her hands.
“I thought you dead, Alaine,” he said, brokenly. “I thought I should see you nevermore in this world.”
Lendert lay watching them. He stirred slightly, and Alaine with a soft flush on her cheek bent over him solicitously. “We are safe,” she told him. “My good friend Pierre Boutillier, who has been out with a search-party looking for me, has arrived and goes for succor.”
“And the Frenchman?” said Lendert, feebly.
“He is wounded sorely by a shot from his own pistol. He is not able to move, and can do no one harm for some time to come. We will take you to our home and nurse you well, monsieur.” She nodded brightly as he shook his head. “’Tis no more than our right, since you were hurt in my service. But for me you might now be safe and unhurt. Will you not allow me to pay my debt? Mère Michelle is a famous nurse, and can make you strengthening soups such as you never ate, and will have you up and about in no time. I think you willallow it is best, M. Verplanck. Besides,” she lowered her voice, “it would not do to let it be known that Monsieur Bayard abides so near. I would not bring trouble upon him and madame, his wife, and so—— No, no, it is not that Pierre and Gerard and Papa Louis would try to do evil to one who had befriended me, but it might be inconvenient for them to know where hides Monsieur Bayard. Is it not so? You agree?”
“I agree,” he answered; “though I do not wish to give you the trouble of nursing me.”
Alaine had cut away the sleeve and was carefully examining the wound. “It is not severe, I think. You will not be very long an invalid. The loss of blood has weakened you. I ought to go to yonder man now.”
Lendert looked at her in surprise.
“He is my enemy, yes, but one ought to do good to one’s enemy,” she said, simply. “I will first bind up your wound with these bandages steeped in the wine which Pierre has brought, and you will feel better.”
But she was spared the necessity of giving attention to François, for Pierre and Gerard were soon with him. Alaine threw herself into Gerard’s arms. “My brother,” she cried, “I am here! Is it not wonderful that I am here? And you have been all night seeking me. I am thankful that you have found me; you do not know how thankful I am that Pierre came at that moment. You did not receivemy message, for you have not been at home, and for that I am also thankful. All is well, very well, save that M. Verplanck is suffering for his defence of me. As for that other, he is punished for his wickedness. M. Verplanck does not deserve punishment, and yet he has it.”
“We all deserve punishment,” said Pierre, solemnly.
“That may be,” returned Alaine, “but for me, I do not wish to say why one should suffer for his good deeds. No doubt the good God knows, but still I say if M. Verplanck suffers it may be for his good, but not because he deserves punishment. For what should he, Pierre, when he has but defended me?”
Pierre shook his head. “I cannot say, Alaine.”
“And you, Gerard, is it punishment, think you?”
Gerard laughed. “To stop here in the forest to discuss a theological question when two suffering men are to be removed to a more comfortable place seems unnecessary. If you and Pierre must debate let it be on the way home. If your friend there can ride let him mount his horse, and I will take the other steed and bear the more injured one upon it. You and Pierre can walk, unless Pierre would prefer to be guard for M. Dupont.”
But here Lendert interposed. “Why cannot Mlle. Mercier travel with me the same as before, on my horse?”
Alaine looked at Lendert and then at Pierre. “Iwill walk till I am tired,” she gave her decision, “and then, M. Verplanck, I will ride.”
The tedious journey came to an end when the little hamlet of New Rochelle was reached that afternoon. Papa Louis was overtaken before they had come to the edge of the woods. “A pretty plot for a romance,” he exclaimed, after clasping Alaine and kissing her on each cheek; “a lost ward returning with four attendant knights, and some of them wounded in the fray? Who are these, my daughter?”
“These, Papa Louis? Ah, it is a long story! I will walk with you and tell you my romance, as you call it; a strange one, indeed. Captured by Indians, rescued by yonder gentleman, wrested from him by the other, so sorely hurt. Am I not the heroine of a romance? Yet it has been a sad time for me, and I would rather the humdrum of every day so I be safe with you and Mère Michelle.”
“And for what was it all?” asked Papa Louis, knitting his brows as Alaine went into the particulars of her experience.
“That I cannot altogether tell. I half doubt M. Dupont’s words, though he acts the distracted lover, he who has seen me but two or three times.”
Papa Louis shook his head. “It will be for Michelle to unravel it. She is very acute, is my Michelle, and though she has not the learning from books, she has a penetration unexcelled. She is distracted, the poor one; she one moment thinks youdestroyed by wolves, the next drowned in the waters of the sound, and again she declares you have been carried away by savages. She has not slept, neither has she eaten a mouthful. As for the neighbors, they have sent out search-parties in all directions. The news of your return must be given and the signal-fire lighted.”
And, indeed, there was a great running to doors and windows and a great bustle in the street when the little procession wended its way through the village. Mère Michelle, weeping, fell on Alaine’s neck. “She that was lost is found! Helas! my Alainette, how I have grieved for thee! On my knees all night, save when I watched from the window, prying into the darkness for a torch-light which might tell of your safe return.” But here the good woman’s attention was distracted by the sight of the two patients. Gerard and Pierre bore the unconscious François into the house and laid him on one of the beds, and Papa Louis assisted Lendert with much show of concern. Lendert protested, but was made to occupy the other bed, and this strange situation brought a grim smile to Pierre’s lips.
Michelle, running from one to the other, directing, exclaiming, rejoicing, grieving, had her hands full. “Heat me a kettle of water, Louis. Ah, mon cœur, but he is badly hurt, this wicked one. Thank heaven! you escaped, my Alaine. Yet see your best silk gown, a rag, a fringe, and your buckles gone from your shoes, which are fit only for burning,so skinned and torn are they, and where will you get another pair? Alas! you come back poorer than you went. A stoup of wine, Gerard, for this gentleman grows faint. He is of good stuff, for he has not flinched, and his shoulder must be very painful. Steep the bandages well, Gerard. Art better, monsieur? There, I think we must keep you very quiet. The other is of no weight. I could lift him myself, but he is the color of wax. He is not fit to die, the miserable, and we must save him for God knows what, yet we cannot let even an enemy go directly to burn in hell, as he surely would.”
The eyes of the sufferer opened slowly; they caught sight of Alaine. “Whither thou goest,” the white lips murmured, and Alaine, bravely as she had endured everything else, now burst into tears, and sobbed inconsolably upon Papa Louis’s shoulder.