第 47 页

"And so," said Gerard, "you won't drink a cup of tea?"

"No, it's so horrid here," she answered, while arranging her hair in

front of the looking-glass.

At that parting moment the mournfulness of this place, where she had

hoped to find such delightful memories, filled her with distress, which

was turning to positive anguish, when she suddenly heard an uproar of

gruff voices and heavy feet. People were hastening along the passage and

knocking at the doors. And, on darting to the window, she perceived a

number of policemen surrounding the chalet. At this the wildest ideas

assailed her. Had her daughter employed somebody to follow her? Did her

husband wish to divorce her so as to marry Silviane? The scandal would be

awful, and all her plans must crumble! She waited in dismay, white like a

ghost; while Gerard, also paling and quivering, begged her to be calm. At

last, when loud blows were dealt upon the door and a Commissary of Police

enjoined them to open it, they were obliged to do so. Ah! what a moment,

and what dismay and shame!

Meantime, for more than an hour, Pierre and Guillaume had been waiting

for the rain to cease. Seated in a corner of the glazed verandah they

talked in undertones of Barthes' painful affair, and ultimately decided

to ask Theophile Morin to dine with them on the following evening, and

inform his old friend that he must again go into exile.

"That is the best course," repeated Guillaume. "Morin is very fond of him

and will know how to break the news. I have no doubt too that he will go

with him as far as the frontier."

Pierre sadly looked at the falling rain. "Ah! what a choice," said he,

"to be ever driven to a foreign land under penalty of being thrust into

prison. Poor fellow! how awful it is to have never known a moment of

happiness and gaiety in one's life, to have devoted one's whole existence

to the idea of liberty, and to see it scoffed at and expire with

oneself!"

Then the priest paused, for he saw several policemen and keepers approach

the cafe and prowl round it. Having lost scent of the man they were

hunting, they had retraced their steps with the conviction no doubt that

he had sought refuge in the chalet. And in order that he might not again

escape them, they now took every precaution, exerted all their skill in

surrounding the place before venturing on a minute search. Covert fear

came upon Pierre and Guillaume when they noticed these proceedings. It

seemed to them that it must all be connected with the chase which they

had caught a glimpse of some time previously. Still, as they happened to

be in the chalet they might be called upon to give their names and

addresses. At this thought they glanced at one another, and almost made

up their minds to go off under the rain. But they realised that anything

like flight might only compromise them the more. So they waited; and all

at once there came a diversion, for two fresh customers entered the

establishment.

A victoria with its hood and apron raised had just drawn up outside the

door. The first to alight from it was a young, well-dressed man with a

bored expression of face. He was followed by a young woman who was

laughing merrily, as if much amused by the persistence of the downpour.

By way of jesting, indeed, she expressed her regret that she had not come

to the Bois on her bicycle, whereupon her companion retorted that to

drive about in a deluge appeared to him the height of idiocy.

"But we were bound to go somewhere, my dear fellow," she gaily answered.

"Why didn't you take me to see the maskers?"

"The maskers, indeed! No, no, my dear. I prefer the Bois, and even the

bottom of the lake, to them."

Then, as the couple entered the chalet, Pierre saw that the young woman

who made merry over the rain was little Princess Rosemonde, while her

companion, who regarded the mid-Lent festivities as horrible, and

bicycling as an utterly unaesthetic amusement, was handsome Hyacinthe

Duvillard. On the previous evening, while they were taking a cup of tea

together on their return from the Chamber of Horrors, the young man had

responded to the Princess's blandishments by declaring that the only form

of attachment he believed in was a mystic union of intellects and souls.

And as such a union could only be fittingly arrived at amidst the cold,

chaste snow, they had decided that they would start for Christiania on

the following Monday. Their chief regret was that by the time they

reached the fiords the worst part of the northern winter would be over.

They sat down in the cafe and ordered some kummel, but there was none,

said the waiter, so they had to content themselves with common anisette.

Then Hyacinthe, who had been a schoolfellow of Guillaume's sons,

recognised both him and Pierre; and leaning towards Rosemonde told her in

a whisper who the elder brother was.

Thereupon, with sudden enthusiasm, she sprang to her feet: "Guillaume

Froment, indeed! the great chemist!" And stepping forward with arm

outstretched, she continued: "Ah! monsieur, you must excuse me, but I

really must shake hands with you. I have so much admiration for you! You

have done such wonderful work in connection with explosives!" Then,

noticing the chemist's astonishment, she again burst into a laugh: "I am

the Princess de Harn, your brother Abbe Froment knows me, and I ought to

have asked him to introduce me. However, we have mutual friends, you and

I; for instance, Monsieur Janzen, a very distinguished man, as you are

aware. He was to have taken me to see you, for I am a modest disciple of

yours. Yes, I have given some attention to chemistry, oh! from pure zeal

for truth and in the hope of helping good causes, not otherwise. So you

will let me call on you--won't you?--directly I come back from

Christiania, where I am going with my young friend here, just to acquire

some experience of unknown emotions."

In this way she rattled on, never allowing the others an opportunity to

say a word. And she mingled one thing with another; her cosmopolitan

tastes, which had thrown her into Anarchism and the society of shady

adventurers; her new passion for mysticism and symbolism; her belief that

the ideal must triumph over base materialism; her taste for aesthetic

verse; and her dream of some unimagined rapture when Hyacinthe should

kiss her with his frigid lips in a realm of eternal snow.

All at once, however, she stopped short and again began to laugh. "Dear

me!" she exclaimed. "What are those policemen looking for here? Have they

come to arrest us? How amusing it would be!"

Police Commissary Dupot and detective Mondesir had just made up their

minds to search the cafe, as their men had hitherto failed to find Salvat

in any of the outbuildings. They were convinced that he was here. Dupot,

a thin, bald, short-sighted, spectacled little man, wore his usual

expression of boredom and weariness; but in reality he was very wide

awake and extremely courageous. He himself carried no weapons; but, as he

anticipated a most violent resistance, such as might be expected from a

trapped wolf, he advised Mondesir to have his revolver ready. From

considerations of hierarchical respect, however, the detective, who with

his snub nose and massive figure had much the appearance of a bull-dog,

was obliged to let his superior enter first.

From behind his spectacles the Commissary of Police quickly scrutinized

the four customers whom he found in the cafe: the lady, the priest, and

the two other men. And passing them in a disdainful way, he at once made

for the stairs, intending to inspect the upper floor. Thereupon the

waiter, frightened by the sudden intrusion of the police, lost his head

and stammered: "But there's a lady and gentleman upstairs in one of the

private rooms."

Dupot quietly pushed him aside. "A lady and gentleman, that's not what we

are looking for.... Come, make haste, open all the doors, you mustn't

leave a cupboard closed."

Then climbing to the upper floor, he and Mondesir explored in turn every

apartment and corner till they at last reached the room where Eve and

Gerard were together. Here the waiter was unable to admit them, as the

door was bolted inside. "Open the door!" he called through the keyhole,

"it isn't you that they want!"

At last the bolt was drawn back, and Dupot, without even venturing to

smile, allowed the trembling lady and gentleman to go downstairs, while

Mondesir, entering the room, looked under every article of furniture, and

even peeped into a little cupboard in order that no neglect might be

imputed to him.

Meantime, in the public room which they had to cross after descending the

stairs, Eve and Gerard experienced fresh emotion; for people whom they

knew were there, brought together by an extraordinary freak of chance.

Although Eve's face was hidden by a thick veil, her eyes met her son's

glance and she felt sure that he recognised her. What a fatality! He had

so long a tongue and told his sister everything! Then, as the Count, in

despair at such a scandal, hurried off with the Baroness to conduct her

through the pouring rain to her cab, they both distinctly heard little

Princess Rosemonde exclaim: "Why, that was Count de Quinsac! Who was the

lady, do you know?" And as Hyacinthe, greatly put out, returned no

answer, she insisted, saying: "Come, you must surely know her. Who was

she, eh?"

"Oh! nobody. Some woman or other," he ended by replying.

Pierre, who had understood the truth, turned his eyes away to hide his

embarrassment. But all at once the scene changed. At the very moment when

Commissary Dupot and detective Mondesir came downstairs again, after

vainly exploring the upper floor, a loud shout was raised outside,

followed by a noise of running and scrambling. Then Gascogne, the Chief

of the Detective Force, who had remained in the rear of the chalet,

continuing the search through the outbuildings, made his appearance,

pushing before him a bundle of rags and mud, which two policemen held on

either side. And this bundle was the man, the hunted man, who had just

been discovered in the coach-house, inside a staved cask, covered with

hay.

Ah! what a whoop of victory there was after that run of two hours'

duration, that frantic chase which had left them all breathless and

footsore! It had been the most exciting, the most savage of all sports--a

man hunt! They had caught the man at last, and they pushed him, they

dragged him, they belaboured him with blows. And he, the man, what a

sorry prey he looked! A wreck, wan and dirty from having spent the night

in a hole full of leaves, still soaked to his waist from having rushed

through a stream, drenched too by the rain, bespattered with mire, his

coat and trousers in tatters, his cap a mere shred, his legs and hands

bleeding from his terrible rush through thickets bristling with brambles

and nettles. There no longer seemed anything human about his face; his

hair stuck to his moist temples, his bloodshot eyes protruded from their

sockets; fright, rage, and suffering were all blended on his wasted,

contracted face. Still it was he, the man, the quarry, and they gave him

another push, and he sank on one of the tables of the little cafe, still

held and shaken, however, by the rough hands of the policemen.

Then Guillaume shuddered as if thunderstruck, and caught hold of Pierre's

hand. At this the priest, who was looking on, suddenly understood the

truth and also quivered. Salvat! the man was Salvat! It was Salvat whom

they had seen rushing through the wood like a wild boar forced by the

hounds. And it was Salvat who was there, now conquered and simply a

filthy bundle. Then once more there came to Pierre, amidst his anguish, a

vision of the errand girl lying yonder at the entrance of the Duvillard

mansion, the pretty fair-haired girl whom the bomb had ripped and killed!

Dupot and Mondesir made haste to participate in Gascogne's triumph. To

tell the truth, however, the man had offered no resistance; it was like a

lamb that he had let the police lay hold of him. And since he had been in

the cafe, still roughly handled, he had simply cast a weary and mournful

glance around him.

At last he spoke, and the first words uttered by his hoarse, gasping

voice were these: "I am hungry."

He was sinking with hunger and weariness. This was the third day that he

had eaten nothing.

"Give him some bread," said Commissary Dupot to the waiter. "He can eat

it while a cab is being fetched."

A policeman went off to find a vehicle. The rain had suddenly ceased

falling, the clear ring of a bicyclist's bell was heard in the distance,

some carriages drove by, and under the pale sunrays life again came back

to the Bois.

Meantime, Salvat had fallen gluttonously upon the hunk of bread which had

been given him, and whilst he was devouring it with rapturous animal

satisfaction, he perceived the four customers seated around. He seemed

irritated by the sight of Hyacinthe and Rosemonde, whose faces expressed

the mingled anxiety and delight they felt at thus witnessing the arrest

of some bandit or other. But all at once his mournful, bloodshot eyes

wavered, for to his intense surprise he had recognised Pierre and

Guillaume. When he again looked at the latter it was with the submissive

affection of a grateful dog, and as if he were once more promising that

he would divulge nothing, whatever might happen.

At last he again spoke, as if addressing himself like a man of courage,

both to Guillaume, from whom he had averted his eyes, and to others also,

his comrades who were not there: "It was silly of me to run," said he. "I

don't know why I did so. It's best that it should be all ended. I'm

ready."

V. THE GAME OF POLITICS

ON reading the newspapers on the following morning Pierre and Guillaume

were greatly surprised at not finding in them the sensational accounts of