el dorado-第77章

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passion；　each　ready　to　stake　his　all　for　the　satisfaction　of　his
master。　　Heron　was　the　first　to　speak。

〃Well！〃　he　said　with　a　fierce　oath；　〃what　are　we　waiting　for？　The
prisoner　knows　how　he　stands。　Now　we　can　go。〃

〃One　moment；　citizen；〃　interposed　Chauvelin；　his　quiet　manner
contrasting　strangely　with　his　colleague's　savage　mood。　〃You　have
quite　understood；　Sir　Percy；〃　he　continued；　directly　addressing
the　prisoner；　〃the　conditions　under　which　we　are　all　of　us　about
to　proceed　on　this　journey？〃

〃All　of　us？〃　said　Blakeney　slowly。　　〃Are　you　taking　it　for　granted
then　that　I　accept　your　conditions　and　that　I　am　prepared　to
proceed　on　the　journey？〃

〃If　you　do　not　proceed　on　the　journey；〃　cried　Heron　with　savage
fury；　〃I'll　strangle　that　woman　with　my　own　handsnow！〃

Blakeney　looked　at　him　for　a　moment　or　two　through　half…closed
lids；　and　it　seemed　then　to　those　who　knew　him　well；　to　those　who
loved　him　and　to　the　man　who　hated　him；　that　the　mighty　sinews
almost　cracked　with　the　passionate　desire　to　kill。　　Then　the
sunken　eyes　turned　slowly　to　Marguerite；　and　she　alone　caught　the
lookit　was　a　mere　flash；　of　a　humble　appeal　for　pardon。

It　was　all　over　in　a　second；　almost　immediately　the　tension　on　the
pale　face　relaxed；　and　into　the　eyes　there　came　that　look　of
acceptancenearly　akin　to　fatalisman　acceptance　of　which　the
strong　alone　are　capable；　for　with　them　it　only　comes　in　the　face
of　the　inevitable。

Now　he　shrugged　his　broad　shoulders；　and　once　more　turning　to
Heron　he　said　quietly：

〃You　leave　me　no　option　in　that　case。　　As　you　have　remarked
before；　citizen　Heron；　why　should　we　wait　any　longer？　Surely　we
can　now　go。〃



CHAPTER　XLIII
THE　DREARY　JOURNEY

Rain！　　Rain！　　Rain！　　Incessant；　monotonous　and　dreary！　　The　wind
had　changed　round　to　the　southwest。　　It　blew　now　in　great　gusts
that　sent　weird；　sighing　sounds　through　the　trees；　and　drove　the
heavy　showers　into　the　faces　of　the　men　as　they　rode　on；　with
heads　bent　forward　against　the　gale。

The　rain…sodden　bridles　slipped　through　their　hands；　bringing　out
sores　and　blisters　on　their　palms；　the　horses　were　fidgety；
tossing　their　heads　with　wearying　persistence　as　the　wet　trickled
into　their　ears；　or　the　sharp；　intermittent　hailstones　struck
their　sensitive　noses。

Three　days　of　this　awful　monotony；　varied　only　by　the　halts　at
wayside　inns；　the　changing　of　troops　at　one　of　the　guard…houses　on
the　way；　the　reiterated　commands　given　to　the　fresh　squad　before
starting　on　the　next　lap　of　this　strange；　momentous　way；　and　all
the　while；　audible　above　the　clatter　of　horses'　hoofs；　the
rumbling　of　coach…wheelstwo　closed　carriages；　each　drawn　by　a
pair　of　sturdy　horses；　which　were　changed　at　every　halt。　A　soldier
on　each　box　urged　them　to　a　good　pace　to　keep　up　with　the
troopers；　who　were　allowed　to　go　at　an　easy　canter　or　light
jog…trot；　whatever　might　prove　easiest　and　least　fatiguing。　And
from　time　to　time　Heron's　shaggy；　gaunt　head　would　appear　at　the
window　of　one　of　the　coaches；　asking　the　way；　the　distance　to　the
next　city　or　to　the　nearest　wayside　inn；　cursing　the　troopers；　the
coachman；　his　colleague　and　every　one　concerned；　blaspheming
against　the　interminable　length　of　the　road；　against　the　cold　and
against　the　wet。

Early　in　the　evening　on　the　second　day　of　the　journey　he　had　met
with　an　accident。　　The　prisoner；　who　presumably　was　weak　and
weary；　and　not　over　steady　on　his　feet；　had　fallen　up　against　him
as　they　were　both　about　to　re…enter　the　coach　after　a　halt　just
outside　Amiens；　and　citizen　Heron　had　lost　his　footing　in　the
slippery　mud　of　the　road。　head　came　in　violent　contact　with　the
step；　and　his　right　temple　was　severely　cut。　　Since　then　he　had
been　forced　to　wear　a　bandage　across　the　top　of　his　face；　under
his　sugar…loaf　hat；　which　had　added　nothing　to　his　beauty；　but　a
great　deal　to　the　violence　of　his　temper。　　He　wanted　to　push　the
men　on；　to　force　the　pace；　to　shorten　the　halts；　but　Chauvelin
knew　better　than　to　allow　slackness　and　discontent　to　follow　in
the　wake　of　over…fatigue。

The　soldiers　were　always　well　rested　and　well　fed；　and　though　the
delay　caused　by　long　and　frequent　halts　must　have　been　just　as
irksome　to　him　as　it　was　to　Heron；　yet　he　bore　it　imperturbably；
for　he　would　have　had　no　use　on　this　momentous　journey　for　a
handful　of　men　whose　enthusiasm　and　spirit　had　been　blown　away　by
the　roughness　of　the　gale；　or　drowned　in　the　fury　of　the　constant
downpour　of　rain。

Of　all　this　Marguerite　had　been　conscious　in　a　vague；　dreamy　kind
of　way。　　She　seemed　to　herself　like　the　spectator　in　a　moving
panoramic　drama；　unable　to　raise　a　finger　or　to　do　aught　to　stop
that　final；　inevitable　ending；　the　cataclysm　of　sorrow　and　misery
that　awaited　her；　when　the　dreary　curtain　would　fall　on　the　last
act；　and　she　and　all　the　other　spectatorsArmand；　Chauvelin；
Heron；　the　Soldierswould　slowly　wend　their　way　home；　leaving　the
principal　actor　behind　the　fallen　curtain；　which　never　would　be
lifted　again。

After　that　first　halt　in　the　guard…room　of　the　Rue　Ste。　Anne　she
had　been　bidden　to　enter　a　second　hackney　coach；　which；　followed
the　other　at　a　distance　of　fifty　metres　or　so；　and　was；　like　that
other；　closely　surrounded　by　a　squad　of　mounted　men。

Armand　and　Chauvelin　rode　in　this　carriage　with　her；　all　day　she
sat　looking　out　on　the　endless　monotony　of　the　road；　on　the　drops
of　rain　that　pattered　against　the　window…glass；　and　ran　down　from
it　like　a　perpetual　stream　of　tears。

There　were　two　halts　called　during　the　dayone　for　dinner　and　one
midway　through　the　afternoonwhen　she　and　Armand　would　step　out
of　the　coach　and　be　ledalways　with　soldiers　close　around
themto　some　wayside　inn；　where　some　sort　of　a　meal　was　served；
where　the　atmosphere　was　close　and　stuffy　and　smelt　of　onion　soup
and　of　stale　cheese。

Armand　and　Marguerite　would　in　most　cases　have　a　room　to
themselves；　with　sentinels　posted　outside　the　door；　and　they　would
try　and　eat　enough　to　keep　body　and　soul　together；　for　they　would
not　allow　their　strength　to　fall　away　before　the　end　of　the
journey　was　reached。

For　the　night　haltonce　at　Beauvais　and　the　second　night　at
Abbevillethey　were　escorted　to　a　house　in　the　interior　of　the
city；　where　they　were　accommodated　with　moderately　clean　lodgings。
Sentinels；　however；　were　always　at　their　doors；　they　were
prisoners　in　all　but　name；　and　had　little　or　no　privacy；　for　at
night　they　were　both　so　tired　that　they　were　glad　to　retire
immediately；　and　to　lie　down　on　the　hard　beds　that　had　been
provided　for　them；　even　if　sleep　fled　from　their　eyes；　and　their
hearts　and　souls　were　flying　through　the　city　in　search　of　him　who
filled　their　every　thought。

Of　Percy　they　saw　little　or　nothing。　　In　the　daytime　food　was
evidently　brought　to　him　in　the　carriage；　for　they　did　not　see　him
get　down；　and　on　those　two　nights　at　Beauvais　and　Abbeville；　when
they　caught　sight　of　him　stepping　out　of　the　coach　outside　the
gates　of　the　barracks；　he　was　so　surrounded　by　soldiers　that　they
only　saw　the　top　of　his　head　and　his　broad　shoulders　towering
above　those　of　the　men。

Once　Marguerite　had　put　all　her　pride；　all　her　dignity　by；　and
asked　citizen　Chauvelin　for　news　of　her　husband。

〃He　is　well　and　cheerful；　Lady　Blakeney；〃　he　had　replied　with　his
sarcastic　smile。　　〃Ah！〃　he　added　pleasantly；　〃those　English　are
remarkable　people。　　We；　of　Gallic　breed；　will　never　really
understand　them。　　Their　fatalism　is　quite　Oriental　in　its　quiet
resignation　to　the　decree　of　Fate。　　Did　you　know；　Lady　Blakeney；
that　when　Sir　Percy　was　arrested　he　did　not　raise　a　hand。　　I
thought；　and　so　did　my　colleague；　that　he　would　have　fought　like　a
lion。　And　now；　that　he　has　no　doubt　realised　that　quiet　submission
will　serve　him　best　in　the　end；　he　is　as　calm　on　this　journey　as　I
am　myself。　　In　fact；〃　he　concluded　complacently；　〃whenever　I　have
succeeded　in　peeping　into　the　coach　I　have　invariably　found　Sir
Percy　Blakeney　fast　asleep。〃

He〃　she　murmured；　for　it　was　so　difficult　to　speak　to　this
callous　wretch；　who　was　obviously　mocking　her　in　her　misery
〃heyouyou　are　not　keeping　him　in　irons？〃

〃No！　　Oh　no！〃　replied　Chauvelin　with　perfect　urbanity。