el dorado-第78章
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〃heyouyou are not keeping him in irons？〃
〃No！ Oh no！〃 replied Chauvelin with perfect urbanity。 〃You see；
now that we have you； Lady Blakeney； and citizen St。 Just with us
we have no reason to fear that that elusive Pimpernel will spirit
himself away。〃
A hot retort had risen to Armand's lips。 The warm Latin blood in
him rebelled against this intolerable situation； the man's sneers
in the face of Marguerite's anguish。 But her restraining； gentle
hand had already pressed his。 What was the use of protesting； of
insulting this brute； who cared nothing for the misery which he
had caused so long as he gained his own ends？
And Armand held his tongue and tried to curb his temper； tried to
cultivate a little of that fatalism which Chauvelin had said was
characteristic of the English。 He sat beside his sister； longing
to comfort her； yet feeling that his very presence near her was an
outrage and a sacrilege。 She spoke so seldom to him； even when
they were alone； that at times the awful thought which had more
than once found birth in his weary brain became crystallised and
more real。 Did Marguerite guess？ Had she the slightest suspicion
that the awful cataclysm to which they were tending with every
revolution of the creaking coach…wheels had been brought about by
her brother's treacherous hand？
And when that thought had lodged itself quite snugly in his mind
he began to wonder whether it would not be far more simple； far
more easy； to end his miserable life in some manner that might
suggest itself on the way。 When the coach crossed one of those
dilapidated； parapetless bridges； over abysses fifty metres deep；
it might be so easy to throw open the carriage door and to take
one final jump into eternity。
So easybut so damnably cowardly。
Marguerite's near presence quickly brought him back to himself。
His life was no longer his own to do with as he pleased； it
belonged to the chief whom he had betrayed； to the sister whom he
must endeavour to protect。
Of Jeanne now he thought but little。 He had put even the memory
of her bytenderly； like a sprig of lavender pressed between the
faded leaves of his own happiness。 His hand was no longer fit to
hold that of any pure womanhis hand had on it a deep stain；
immutable； like the brand of Cain。
Yet Marguerite beside him held his hand and together they looked
out on that dreary； dreary road and listened to of the patter of
the rain and the rumbling of the wheels of that other coach on
aheadand it was all so dismal and so horrible； the rain； the
soughing of the wind in the stunted trees； this landscape of mud
and desolation； this eternally grey sky。
CHAPTER XLIV
THE HALT AT CRECY
〃Now； then； citizen； don't go to sleep； this is Crecy； our last
halt！〃
Armand woke up from his last dream。 They had been moving steadily
on since they left Abbeville soon after dawn； the rumble of the
wheels； the swaying and rocking of the carriage； the interminable
patter of the rain had lulled him into a kind of wakeful sleep。
Chauvelin had already alighted from the coach。 He was helping
Marguerite to descend。 Armand shook the stiffness from his limbs
and followed in the wake of his sister。 Always those miserable
soldiers round them； with their dank coats of rough blue cloth；
and the red caps on their heads！ Armand pulled Marguerite's hand
through his arm； and dragged her with him into the house。
The small city lay damp and grey before them； the rough pavement
of the narrow street glistened with the wet； reflecting the dull；
leaden sky overhead； the rain beat into the puddles； the
slate…roofs shone in the cold wintry light。
This was Crecy！ The last halt of the journey； so Chauvelin had
said。 The party had drawn rein in front of a small one…storied
building that had a wooden verandah running the whole length of
its front。
The usual low narrow room greeted Armand and Marguerite as they
entered； the usual mildewed walls； with the colour wash flowing
away in streaks from the unsympathetic beam above； the same
device； 〃Liberte； Egalite； Fraternite！〃 scribbled in charcoal
above the black iron stove； the usual musty； close atmosphere； the
usual smell of onion and stale cheese； the usual hard straight
benches and central table with its soiled and tattered cloth。
Marguerite seemed dazed and giddy； she had been five hours in that
stuffy coach with nothing to distract her thoughts except the
rain…sodden landscape； on which she had ceaselessly gazed since
the early dawn。
Armand led her to the bench； and she sank down on it； numb and
inert； resting her elbows on the table and her head in her hands。
〃If it were only all over！〃 she sighed involuntarily。 Armand； at
times now I feel as if I were not really saneas if my reason had
already given way！ Tell me； do I seem mad to you at times？〃
He sat down beside her and tried to chafe her little cold hands。
There was a knock at the door； and without waiting for permission
Chauvelin entered the room。
〃My humble apologies to you； Lady Blakeney；〃 he said in his usual
suave manner； 〃but our worthy host informs me that this is the
only room in which he can serve a meal。 Therefore I am forced to
intrude my presence upon you。〃
Though he spoke with outward politeness； his tone had become more
peremptory； less bland； and he did not await Marguerite's reply
before he sat down opposite to her and continued to talk airily。
〃An ill…conditioned fellow； our host；〃 he said〃quite reminds me
of our friend Brogard at the Chat Gris in Calais。 You remember
him； Lady Blakeney？〃
〃My sister is giddy and over…tired；〃 interposed Armand firmly。 〃I
pray you； citizen； to have some regard for her。〃
〃All regard in the world； citizen St。 Just；〃 protested Chauvelin
jovially。 〃Methought that those pleasant reminiscences would
cheer her。 Ah！ here comes the soup；〃 he added； as a man in blue
blouse and breeches； with sabots on his feet； slouched into the
room； carrying a tureen which he incontinently placed upon the
table。 〃I feel sure that in England Lady Blakeney misses our
excellent croutes…au…pot； the glory of our bourgeois cookeryLady
Blakeney； a little soup？〃
〃I thank you； sir；〃 she murmured。
〃Do try and eat something； little mother；〃 Armand whispered in her
ear； 〃try and keep up your strength for his sake； if not for
mine。〃
She turned a wan； pale face to him； and tried to smile。
〃I'll try； dear；〃 she said。
〃You have taken bread and meat to the citizens in the coach？〃
Chauvelin called out to the retreating figure of mine host。
〃H'm！〃 grunted the latter in assent。
〃And see that the citizen soldiers are well fed； or there will be
trouble。〃
〃H'm！〃 grunted the man again。 After which he banged the door to
behind him。
〃Citizen Heron is loath to let the prisoner out of his sight；〃
explained Chauvelin lightly； 〃now that we have reached the last；
most important stage of our journey； so he is sharing Sir Percy's
mid…day meal in the interior of the coach。〃
He ate his soup with a relish； ostentatiously paying many small
attentions to Marguerite all the time。 He ordered meat for
herbread； butterasked if any dainties could be got。 He was
apparently in the best of tempers。
After he had eaten and drunk he rose and bowed ceremoniously to
her。
〃Your pardon； Lady Blakeney；〃 he said； 〃but I must confer with the
prisoner now； and take from him full directions for the
continuance of our journey。 After that I go to the guard…house；
which is some distance from here； right at the other end of the
city。 We pick up a fresh squad here； twenty hardened troopers
from a cavalry regiment usually stationed at Abbeville。 They have
had work to do in this town； which is a hot…bed of treachery。 I
must go inspect the men and the sergeant who will be in command。
Citizen Heron leaves all these inspections to me； he likes to stay
by his prisoner。 In the meanwhile you will be escorted back to
your coach； where I pray you to await my arrival； when we change
guard first； then proceed on our way。〃
Marguerite was longing to ask him many questions； once again she
would have smothered her pride and begged for news of her husband；
but Cha
