the trampling of the lilies-第1章

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The　Trampling　of　the　Lilies

by　Rafael　Sabatini






CONTENTS



PART　I

THE　OLD　RULE


CHAPTER

　　　　I。　　MONSIEUR　THE　SECRETARY

　　　II。　　LORDS　OF　LIFE　AND　DEATH

　　III。　　THE　WORD　OF　BELLECOUR

　　　IV。　　THE　DISCIPLES　OF　ROUSSEAU



PART　II

THE　NEW　RULE


　　　　V。　　THE　SHEEP　TURNED　WOLVES

　　　VI。　　THE　CITIZEN　COMMISSIONER

　　VII。　　LA　BOULAYE　DISCHARGES　A　DEBT

　VIII。　　THE　INVALIDS　AT　BOISVERT

　　　IX。　　THE　CAPTIVES

　　　　X。　　THE　BAISER　LAMOURETTE

　　　XI。　　THE　ESCAPE

　　XII。　　THE　AWAKENING

　XIII。　　THE　ROAD　TO　LIEGE

　　XIV。　　THE　COURIER

　　　XV。　　LA　BOULAYE　BAITS　HIS　HOOK



PART　III

THE　EVERLASTING　RULE


　　XVI。　　CECILE　DESHAIX

　XVII。　　LA　BOULAYE'S　PROMISE

XVIII。　　THE　INCORRUPTIBLE

　　XIX。　　THE　THEFT

　　　XX。　　THE　GRATITUDE　OF　OMBREVAL

　　XXI。　　THE　ARREST

　XXII。　　THE　TRIBUNAL

XXIII。　　THE　CONCIERGERIE




PART　I

THE　OLD　RULE

These　are　they
Who　ride　on　the　court　gale；　control　its　tides；

***

Whose　frown　abases　and　whose　smile　exalts。
They　shine　like　any　rainbow　…　and；　perchance；
Their　colours　are　as　transient。

　　　Old　Play



CHAPTER　I

MONSIEUR　THE　SECRETARY


It　was　spring　at　Bellecour　…　the　spring　of　1789；　a　short　three　months
before　the　fall　of　the　Bastille　came　to　give　the　nobles　pause；　and
make　them　realise　that　these　new　philosophies；　which　so　long　they
have　derided；　were　by　no　means　the　idle　vapours　they　had　deemed　them。

By　the　brook；　plashing　its　glittering　course　through　the　park　of
Bellecour；　wandered　La　Boulaye；　his　long；　lean；　figure　clad　with　a
sombreness　that　was　out　of　harmony　in　that　sunlit；　vernal　landscape。
But　the　sad…hued　coat　belied　that　morning　a　heart　that　sang　within
his　breast　as　joyously　as　any　linnet　of　the　woods　through　which　he
strayed。　　That　he　was　garbed　in　black　was　but　the　outward　indication
of　his　clerkly　office；　for　he　was　secretary　to　the　most　noble　the
Marquis　de　Fresnoy　de　Bellecour；　and　so　clothed　in　the　livery　of
the　ink　by　which　he　lived。　　His　face　was　pale　and　lean　and　thoughtful；
but　within　his　great；　intelligent　eyes　there　shone　a　light　of
new…born　happiness。　　Under　his　arm　he　carried　a　volume　of　the　new
philosophies　which　Rousseau　had　lately　given　to　the　world；　and　which
was　contributing　so　vastly　to　the　mighty　change　that　was　impending。
But　within　his　soul　there　dwelt　in　that　hour　no　such　musty　subject
as　the　metaphysical　dreams　of　old　Rousseau。　　His　mood　inclined
little　to　the　〃Discourses　upon　the　Origin　of　Inequality〃　which　his
elbow　hugged　to　his　side。　　Rather　was　it　a　mood　of　song　and　joy　and
things　of　light；　and　his　mind　was　running　on　a　string　of　rhymes
which　mentally　he　offered　up　to　his　divinity。　　A　high…born　lady　was
she；　daughter　to　his　lordly　employer；　the　most　noble　Marquis　of
Bellecour。　　And　he　a　secretary；　a　clerk！　　Aye；　but　a　clerk　with　a
great　soul；　a　secretary　with　a　great　belief　in　the　things　to　come；
which　in　that　musty　tome　beneath　his　arm　were　dimly　prophesied。

And　as　he　roamed　beside　the　brook；　his　feet　treading　the　elastic；
velvety　turf；　and　crushing　heedlessly　late　primrose　and　stray　violet；
his　blood　quickened　by　the　soft　spring　breeze；　fragrant　with　hawthorn
and　the　smell　of　the　moist　brown　earth；　La　Boulaye's　happiness
gathered　strength　from　the　joy　that　on　that　day　of　spring　seemed　to
invest　all　Nature。　　An　old…world　song　stole　from　his　firm　lips…at
first　timidly；　like　a　thing　abashed　in　new　surroundings；　then　in
bolder　tones　that　echoed　faintly　through　the　trees

　　〃Si　le　roi　m'avait　donne
　　　Paris；　sa　grande　ville；
　　　Et　qui'il　me　fallut　quitter
　　　L'amour　de　ma　mie；
　　　Je　dirais　au　roi　Louis
　　　Reprenez　votre　Paris。
　　　J'aime　mieux　ma　mie；　O　gai！
　　　J'aime　mieux　ma　mie！〃

How　mercurial　a　thing　is　a　lover's　heart！　　Here　was　one　whose　habits
were　of　solemnity　and　gloomy　thought　turned；　so　joyous　that　he　could
sing　aloud；　alone　in　the　midst　of　sunny　Nature；　for　no　better　reason
than　that　Suzanne　de　Bellecour　had　yesternight　smiled　as　…　for　some
two　minutes　by　the　clock　…　she　had　stood　speaking　with　him。

〃Presumptuous　that　I　am；〃　said　he　to　the　rivulet；　to　contradict
himself　the　next　moment。　　〃But　no；　the　times　are　changing。　　Soon　we
shall　be　equals　all；　as　the　good　God　made　us；　and　…　〃

He　paused；　and　smiled　pensively。　　And　as　again　the　memory　of　her
yesternight's　kindness　rose　before　him；　his　smile　broadened；　it
became　a　laugh　that　went　ringing　down　the　glade；　scaring　a　noisy
thrush　into　silence　and　sending　it　flying　in　affright　across　the
scintillant　waters　of　the　brook。　　Then　that　hearty　laugh　broke
sharply　off；　as；　behind　him；　the　sweetest　voice　in　all　the　world
demanded　the　reason　of　this　mad…sounding　mirth。

La　Boulaye's　breath　seemed　in　that　instant　to　forsake　him　and　he
grew　paler　than　Nature　and　the　writer's　desk　had　fashioned　him。
Awkwardly　he　turned　and　made　her　a　deep　bow。

〃　Mademoiselle！　　You　…　you　see　that　you　surprised　me！〃　he　faltered；
like　a　fool。　　For　how　should　he；　whose　only　comrades　had　been　books；
have　learnt　to　bear　himself　in　the　company　of　a　woman；　particularly
when　she　belonged　to　the　ranks　of　those　whom　…　despite　Rousseau　and
his　other　dear　philosophers　…　he　had　been　for　years　in　the　habit　of
accounting　his　betters？

〃　Why；　then；　I　am　glad；　Monsieur；　that　I　surprised　you　in　so　gay　a
humour　…　for；　my　faith；　it　is　a　rare　enough　thing。〃

〃True；　lady；〃　said　he　foolishly；　yet　politely　agreeing　with　her；
〃it　is　a　rare　thing。〃　　And　he　sighed　…　〃Helas！〃

At　that　the　laughter　leapt　from　her　young　lips；　and　turned　him　hot
and　cold　as　be　stood　awkwardly　before　her。

〃I　see　that　we　shall　have　you　sad　at　the　thought　of　how　rare　is
happiness；　you　that　but　a　moment　back　were　…　or　so　it　seemed　…　so
joyous。　　Or　is　it　that　my　coming　has　overcast　the　sky　of　your　good
humour？〃　she　demanded　archly。

He　blushed　like　a　school…girl；　and　strenuously　protested　that　it　was
not　so。　　In　his　haste　he　fell　headlong　into　the　sin　of　hastiness　…
as　was　but　natural　…　and　said　perhaps　too　much。

〃Your　coming；　Mademoiselle？〃　he　echoed。　　〃Nay　but　even　had　I　been
sad；　your　coming　must　have　dispelled　my　melancholy　as　the　coming　of
the　sun　dispels　the　mist　upon　the　mountains。〃

〃A　poet？〃　　She　mocked　him　playfully；　with　a　toss　of　black　curls　and
a　distracting　glance　of　eyes　blue　as　the　heavens　above　them。　〃A
poet；　Monsieur；　and　I　never　suspected　it；　for　all　that　I　held　you　a
great　scholar。　　My　father　says　you　are。〃

〃Are　we　not　all　poets　at　some　season　of　our　lives？〃　quoth　he；　for
growing　accustomed　to　her　presence　…　ravished　by　it；　indeed　…　his
courage　was　returning　fast　and　urging　him　beyond　the　limits　of
discretion。

〃And　in　what　season　may　this　rhyming　fancy　touch　us？〃　she　asked。
〃Enlighten　me；　Monsieur。〃

He　smiled；　responsive　to　her　merry　mood；　and　his　courage　ever
swelling　under　the　suasion　of　it；　he　answered　her　in　a　fearless；
daring　fashion　that　was　oddly　unlike　his　wont。　　But　then；　he　was
that　day　a　man　transformed。

〃　It　comes；　Mademoiselle；　upon　some　spring　morning　such　as　this　…
for　is　not　spring　the　mating　season；　and　have　not　poets　sung　of　it；
inspired　and　conquered　by　it？　　It　comes　in　the　April　of　life；　when
in　our　hearts　we　bear　the　first　fragrant　bud　of　what　shall　anon
blossom　into　a　glorious　summer　bloom　red　as　is　Love's　livery　and
perfumed　beyond　all　else　that　God　has　set　on　earth　for　man's　delight
and　thankfulness。〃

The　intensity　with　which　he　spoke；　and　the　essence　of　the　speech
itself；　left　her　a　moment　dumb　with　wonder　and　with　an
incomprehensible　consternation；　born　of　some　intuition　not　yet
understood。

〃And　so；　Monsieur；　the　Secretary；〃　said　she　at　last；　a　nervous
laugh　quivering　in　her　first　words；　〃from　all　this　wondrous　verbiage
I　am　to　take　it　that　you　love？〃

〃Aye；　that　I　love；　dear　lady；〃　he　cried；　his　eyes　so　intent　upon　her
that　her　glance　grew　timid　and　fell　before　them。　And　then；　a　second
later；　she　could　have　screamed　aloud　in　apprehension；　for　the　book
of　Jean　Jacques　Rousseau　lay　tumbled　in　the　grass　where　he　had　flung
it；　even　as　he　flung　himself　upon　his　knees　before　her。　　〃You　may
take　it　indeed　that　I　love　…　that　I　love　you；　Mademoiselle。〃

The　audacious　words　being　spoken；　his　co