el dorado-第47节

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woman's　rough　hands　as　they　wandered　with　sureness　and　accuracy　to
the　various　pockets　and　folds　that　might　conceal　prohibited
articles。　　The　woman　did　her　work　with　peculiar　stolidity；　she　did
not　utter　a　word　when　she　found　the　tiny　steel　files　and　placed
them　on　a　table　beside　her。　　In　equal　silence　she　laid　the　little
dagger　beside　them；　and　the　purse　which　contained　twenty　gold
pieces。　　These　she　counted　in　front　of　Marguerite　and　then
replaced　them　in　the　purse。　　Her　face　expressed　neither　surprise；
nor　greed　nor　pity。　　She　was　obviously　beyond　the　reach　of　bribery
just　a　machine　paid　by　the　prison　authorities　to　do　this　unpleasant
work；　and　no　doubt　terrorised　into　doing　it　conscientiously。

When　she　had　satisfied　herself　that　Marguerite　had　nothing　further
concealed　about　her　person；　she　allowed　her　to　put　her　dress　on
once　more。　　She　even　offered　to　help　her　on　with　it。　　When
Marguerite　was　fully　dressed　she　opened　the　door　for　her。
Chauvelin　was　standing　in　the　passage　waiting　patiently。　　At　sight
of　Marguerite；　whose　pale；　set　face　betrayed　nothing　of　the
indignation　which　she　felt；　he　turned　quick；　inquiring　eyes　on　the
woman。

〃Two　files；　a　dagger　and　a　purse　with　twenty　louis；〃　said　the
latter　curtly。

Chauvelin　made　no　comment。　　He　received　the　information　quite
placidly；　as　if　it　had　no　special　interest　for　him。　　Then　he　said
quietly：

〃This　way；　citizeness！〃

Marguerite　followed　him；　and　two　minutes　later　he　stood　beside　a
heavy　nail…studded　door　that　had　a　small　square　grating　let　into
one　of　the　panels；　and　said　simply：

〃This　is　it。〃

Two　soldiers　of　the　National　Guard　were　on　sentry　at　the　door；　two
more　were　pacing　up　and　down　outside　it；　arid　had　halted　when
citizen　Chauvelin　gave　his　name　and　showed　his　tricolour　scarf　of
office。　　From　behind　the　small　grating　in　the　door　a　pair　of　eyes
peered　at　the　newcomers。

〃Qui　va　la？〃　came　the　quick　challenge　from　the　guard…room　within。

〃Citizen　Chauvelin　of　the　Committee　of　Public　Safety；〃　was　the
prompt　reply。

There　was　the　sound　of　grounding　of　arms；　of　the　drawing　of　bolts
and　the　turning　of　a　key　in　a　complicated　lock。　The　prison　was
kept　locked　from　within；　and　very　heavy　bars　had　to　be　moved　ere
the　ponderous　door　slowly　swung　open　on　its　hinges。

Two　steps　led　up　into　the　guard…room。　　Marguerite　mounted　them
with　the　same　feeling　of　awe　and　almost　of　reverence　as　she　would
have　mounted　the　steps　of　a　sacrificial　altar。

The　guard…room　itself　was　more　brilliantly　lighted　than　the
corridor　outside。　　The　sudden　glare　of　two　or　three　lamps　placed
about　the　room　caused　her　momentarily　to　close　her　eyes　that　were
aching　with　many　shed　and　unshed　tears。　　The　air　was　rank　and
heavy　with　the　fumes　of　tobacco；　of　wine　and　stale　food。　　A　large
barred　window　gave　on　the　corridor　immediately　above　the　door。

When　Marguerite　felt　strong　enough　to　look　around　her；　she　saw
that　the　room　was　filled　with　soldiers。　　Some　were　sitting；　others
standing；　others　lay　on　rugs　against　the　wall；　apparently　asleep。
There　was　one　who　appeared　to　be　in　command；　for　with　a　word　he
checked　the　noise　that　was　going　on　in　the　room　when　she　entered；
and　then　he　said　curtly：

〃This　way；　citizeness！〃

He　turned　to　an　opening　in　the　wall　on　the　left；　the　stone…lintel
of　a　door；　from　which　the　door　itself　had　been　removed；　an　iron
bar　ran　across　the　opening；　and　this　the　sergeant　now　lifted；
nodding　to　Marguerite　to　go　within。

Instinctively　she　looked　round　for　Chauvelin。

But　he　was　nowhere　to　be　seen。



CHAPTER　XXVIII
THE　CAGED　LION

Was　there　some　instinct　of　humanity　left　in　the　soldier　who
allowed　Marguerite　through　the　barrier　into　the　prisoner's　cell？
Had　the　wan　face　of　this　beautiful　woman　stirred　within　his　heart
the　last　chord　of　gentleness　that　was　not　wholly　atrophied　by　the
constant　cruelties；　the　excesses；　the　mercilessness　which　his
service　under　this　fraternising　republic　constantly　demanded　of
him？

Perhaps　some　recollection　of　former　years；　when　first　he　served
his　King　and　country；　recollection　of　wife　or　sister　or　mother
pleaded　within　him　in　favour　of　this　sorely…stricken　woman　with
the　look　of　unspeakable　sorrow　in　her　large　blue　eyes。

Certain　it　is　that　as　soon　as　Marguerite　passed　the　barrier　he　put
himself　on　guard　against　it　with　his　back　to　the　interior　of　the
cell　and　to　her。

Marguerite　had　paused　on　the　threshold。

After　the　glaring　light　of　the　guard…room　the　cell　seemed　dark；
and　at　first　she　could　hardly　see。　　The　whole　length　of　the　long；
narrow　cubicle　lay　to　her　left；　with　a　slight　recess　at　its
further　end；　so　that　from　the　threshold　of　the　doorway　she　could
not　see　into　the　distant　corner。　　Swift　as　a　lightning　flash　the
remembrance　came　back　to　her　of　proud　Marie　Antoinette　narrowing
her　life　to　that　dark　corner　where　the　insolent　eyes　of　the　rabble
soldiery　could　not　spy　her　every　movement。

Marguerite　stepped　further　into　the　room。　　Gradually　by　the　dim
light　of　an　oil　lamp　placed　upon　a　table　in　the　recess　she　began
to　distinguish　various　objects：　one　or　two　chairs；　another　table；
and　a　small　but　very　comfortable…looking　camp　bedstead。

Just　for　a　few　seconds　she　only　saw　these　inanimate　things；　then
she　became　conscious　of　Percy's　presence。

He　sat　on　a　chair；　with　his　left　arm　half…stretched　out　upon　the
table；　his　bead　hidden　in　the　bend　of　the　elbow。

Marguerite　did　not　utter　a　cry；　she　did　not　even　tremble。　Just　for
one　brief　instant　she　closed　her　eyes；　so　as　to　gather　up　all　her
courage　before　she　dared　to　look　again。　Then　with　a　steady　and
noiseless　step　she　came　quite　close　to　him。　　She　knelt　on　the
flagstones　at　his　feet　and　raised　reverently　to　her　lips　the　hand
that　hung　nerveless　and　limp　by　his　side。

He　gave　a　start；　a　shiver　seemed　to　go　right　through　him；　he　half
raised　his　head　and　murmured　in　a　hoarse　whisper：

〃I　tell　you　that　I　do　not　know；　and　if　I　did〃

She　put　her　arms　round　him　and　pillowed　her　head　upon　his　breast。
He　turned　his　head　slowly　toward　her；　and　now　his　eyeshollowed
and　rimmed　with　purplelooked　straight　into　hers。

〃My　beloved；〃　he　said；　〃I　knew　that　you　would　come。〃　His　arms
closed　round　her。　　There　was　nothing　of　lifelessness　or　of
weariness　in　the　passion　of　that　embrace；　and　when　she　looked　up
again　it　seemed　to　her　as　if　that　first　vision　which　she　had　had
of　him　with　weary　head　bent；　and　wan；　haggard　face　was　not
reality；　only　a　dream　born　of　her　own　anxiety　for　him；　for　now　the
hot；　ardent　blood　coursed　just　as　swiftly　as　ever　through　his
veins；　as　if　lifestrong；　tenacious；　pulsating　lifethrobbed
with　unabated　vigour　in　those　massive　limbs；　and　behind　that
square；　clear　brow　as　though　the　body；　but　half　subdued；　had
transferred　its　vanishing　strength　to　the　kind　and　noble　heart
that　was　beating　with　the　fervour　of　self…sacrifice。

〃Percy；〃　she　said　gently；　〃they　will　only　give　us　a　few　moments
together。　　They　thought　that　my　tears　would　break　your　spirit
where　their　devilry　had　failed。〃

He　held　her　glance　with　his　own；　with　that　close；　intent　look
which　binds　soul　to　soul；　and　in　his　deep　blue　eyes　there　danced
the　restless　flames　of　his　own　undying　mirth：

〃La！　little　woman；〃　he　said　with　enforced　lightness；　even　whilst
his　voice　quivered　with　the　intensity　of　passion　engendered　by　her
presence；　her　nearness；　the　perfume　of　her　hair；　〃how　little　they
know　you；　eh？　　Your　brave；　beautiful；　exquisite　soul；　shining　now
through　your　glorious　eyes；　would　defy　the　machinations　of　Satan
himself　and　his　horde。　　Close　your　dear　eyes；　my　love。　　I　shall　go
mad　with　joy　if　I　drink　their　beauty　in　any　longer。〃

He　held　her　face　between　his　two　hands；　and　indeed　it　seemed　as　if
he　could　not　satiate　his　soul　with　looking　into　her　eyes。　　In　the
midst　of　so　much　sorrow；　such　misery　and　such　deadly　fear；　never
had　Marguerite　felt　quite　so　happy；　never　had　she　felt　him　so
completely　her　own。　　The　inevitable　bodily　weakness；　which　of
necessity　had　invaded　even　his　splendid　physique　after　a　whole
week's　privations；　had　made　a　severe　breach　in　the　invincible
barrier　of　self…control　with　which　the　soul　of　the　inner　man　was
kept　perpetually　hidden　behind　a　mask　of　indifference　and　of
irresponsibility。

And　yet　the　agony　of　seeing　the　lines　of　sorrow　so　plainly　writ　on
the　beautiful　face　of　the　woman　he　worshipped　must　have　been　the
keenest　that　the　bold　adventurer　had　ever　experienced　in　the　whole
course　of　his　reckless　life。　It　was　heand　he　alonewho　was
making　her　suffer；　her　for　whose　sake　he　would　gladly　have　shed
every　drop　of　his　blood；　endured　every　torment；　every　misery　and
every　humiliation；　her　whom　he　worshipped　only　one　degree　less
than　he　worshipped　his　honour　and　the　cause　which　he　had　made　his
own。

Yet；　in　spite　of　that　agony；　in　spite　of　the　heartrending　pathos
of　her　pale　wan　face；　and　through　the　anguish　of　seeing　her　tears；
the　ruling　passionstrong　in　deaththe　spirit　of　adventure；　the
mad；　wild；　devil…may…care　irresponsibility　was　never　wholly　absent。

〃Dear　heart；〃　he　said　with　a　quaint　sigh；　whilst　he　buried　his
face　in　the　soft　masses　of　her　hair；　〃until　you　came　I　was　so　dd
fatigued。〃

He　was　laughing；　and　the　old　look