297

CHAPTER XLII.

THE thought of his appointment with the beautiful girl who had taken so firm a hold of his imagination, was ever present to the mind of Frederique.

The sun had climbed but a short distance up the blue vault of Heaven, when he started off in quest of the spot in which he hoped to meet the fair vision that had blest his sight on the previous day.

Frederique was aware that the spot lay somewhere in a direction to the northward of the castle, the front of which exactly faced the west.

Keeping the morning sun, therefore, at his right, Frederique plunged into the forest, and was soon in the depths of its gloom.

The day was beautifully fine. Nature seemed attired in her gayest garments. The changing colours of the trees, from the approaching autumn, lent a pleasing variety to the scene; and as the young and noble-hearted Frederique threaded his way with a springing step amid the gigantic leafy inhabitants of the ancient forest, a healthful tinge glowed upon his cheek, and he felt that delicious sensation which can only be felt in early manhood, of strength, health, and power, which is the height of physical enjoyment, and reflects a happiness as pure as it is most beneficial and delightful to the vigorous mind.

Sometimes the gigantic trees would mingle their branches above his head,

298

and overhanging the pathway, form a verdant canopy, so thick and impenetrable as to shut out even the light of day.

Then again he would traverse sweet open glades, where the delicious greenness of the velvet grass invited to repose. Occasionally, with steady eye he would look upwards, to catch a glimpse of the blue Heavens above him, in order to be sure that amid the intricacies of the forest he had not missed his proper direction; then, dashing aside the low branches of the trees which stretched across his path, he would proceed onwards with a light and happy heart.

Youth is the season of delight�the fleeting hour of joy;�the spring of life, when the fair promise of the buds of happiness is sweeter than the reality; �the morning of existence, when even should a cloud obscure the beauty of its light, we can dream that e�er noon all will be clear and bright again.

Frederique felt all the delightful exhilaration of spirits which youth, health, and a warm imagination, could impart. An ardent admirer of the varied beauties of nature, he would now and then pause to gaze for a brief space upon some striking scene of picturesque beauty, diversified by mound and valley�thick clustering trees of different hues, and open glades, which conducted the eye far into the recesses of the forest.

The words of an old Provencal song which he had often heard sung at his father�s festive board, recurred to his imagination, and he repeated them there, amid the wrapt repose of nature: �

The sun had now nearly reached its meridian, and poured down its refulgent beams among the trees with golden beauty.

"The place," said Frederique, "should be hard by. I recollect yon gigantic fir tree which lends a gloom so far around it."

299

Passing onwards he soon espied, through an opening between the trees, the grassy bank upon which he had reposed.

His heart beat with expectations as he bounded towards the spot. In a moment he stood with a heightened colour upon the verdant mound, and cast his eyes around him with eagerness.

No one met his gaze. All was still and serene. The flutter at Frederique�s heart partly subsided.

" �Tis yet early," he said; "she will come. She will come."

He stood upon the gentle eminence for some time in patient expectation, but not a sound met his ear. All was calm and still. His very mind seemed hushed to repose, and not a leaf stirred on a tree to bread the solemn stillness of that green spot in the deep recesses of the forest.

Frederique, like most persons of warm and ardent imaginations, was of and impatient temper, and the non-appearance of the fair being with whom he supposed he had made an assignation, began to be a source of uneasiness and intense agony.

He walked to and fro upon the spot for a full hour, and still no one appeared to him. A small silver hunting horn, hung by a chain of the same metal round the neck of the young soldier, and he now placed it to his lips and blew a gentle blast, which echoed sweetly through the forest.

Hardly had the sound died away, when Frederique heard a slight rustling among the trees to his left.

The heart of the young soldier beat high with hope and blissful expectation.

"She comes! She comes!" he said. "I wronged her. She will be here. Already I feel the sweet influence of her presence."

He could now hear distinctly the tread of some one approaching upon the dry leaves, which, save on the summit on which he stood, strewed the ground so thickly as to cover every part of it.

"She comes�she comes!" he again repeated: "the grass is greener and more beautiful. The birds cease their songs in wonder at her beauty. She comes like the morning spreading beauty and gladness around her."

Now the steps came nearer and nearer. Frederique�s face became flushed with dear rapturous emotion. His heart beat wildly. A thrill of joy�intense joy pervaded his whole frame.

The boughs parted. He saw a form. He sprung forward.

"Goddess!" he cried. "More than mortal beauty�ah!�"

A tall man, enveloped in a cloak, stood before the astonished Frederique.

"I regret to interrupt your meditations, young man," said the stranger.

There was, or Frederique thought there was, a slight tone of irony in the tone of the stranger�s voice, which chafed him exceedingly.

"Who are you?" he cried. "How dare you?"�

"How dare I do what? Walk in the forest?"

Frederique bit his lip, and in the midst of his passion and bitter dis-

300

appointment, he felt he had made himself very ridiculous. Moreover, there was something so truly noble, dignified, and commanding about he manner of the stranger, that Frederique felt awed in spite of himself, and he said in an under tone�

"I�I�meant not that. The forest is fair to all honest men, but�"

"But you are angry that I am not a goddess?" said the stranger, calmly. "I am really sorry, but I can�t help it."

"I expected another," said Frederique, in a tone of pique.

"May I ask whom?"

"No, sir, you may not. I answer not the questions of strangers."

"A prudent resolution," said the stranger; "perhaps I may be allowed to guess, Master Frederique?"

Frederique started at his own name coming from the lips of a man who he felt sure he had never seen before.

"I know not," he said, "how you obtained a knowledge of my name, but if you be a gentleman, you will leave this spot when I tell you I have private and special business here."

"The world used to call me a gentleman," said the stranger; "and as regards this little green spot of earth, I, too, have private and especial business here, which will not permit my leaving it."

"By Heavens, sir," cried Frederique; "one of us must go!"

"Then by Heavens you can go," replied the stranger, calmly.

"This is insolence!" cried Frederique.

The stranger merely bowed his head.

"It is not to be borne," cried the young soldier, worked up to a great pitch of passion; "Will you leave this spot instantly?"

"No;" replied the stranger.

"I have a prior claim," cried Frederique ; "I have been here an hour."

"Then I should think you have had enough of it," replied the stranger.

"Furies!" cried Frederique, laying his hand on his sword.

"Well, Furies?" said the stranger; "young man, you soar above mortality, goddesses and furies seem familiar to you."

"Defend yourself," shrieked Frederique, dragging his sword vehemently from the scabbard, and confronting the stranger.

"I will not," answered the stranger.

"Coward!"

"Not even that word shall taunt me to fight with thee," said the stranger. "I will not fight with thee."

"Then I will sacrifice thee for thy insolence."

"I will leave it," said the stranger, "to the option of Frederique, a kinsman of Sir Gaston de Beauvais, to commit a murder in cold blood upon an old man."

Frederique reddened and dropped the point of his sword.

"I�I�" he said, "was passionate and rash. Why�why did you tempt?"

301

"To note how thy noble spirit would even overcome thy anger. Frederique, I have tempted thee. Forgive me�know thee well."

"Who art thou?" said Frederique, much abashed at the calm superiority of his companion.

"I come here to meet thee," said the stranger. "The appointment was for noon."

"But," said Frederique, "I am to meet�to�to meet�"

"No one in particular," interrupted the stranger, with a smile. "Frederique, thy young warm imagination has misled thee."

"How, Sir?"

"You were requested to be here at noon, but for why, or to meet whom, you never asked."

Frederique had never in his life felt so thoroughly humiliated; he felt that what the stranger said was strictly true, and he stood self-convicted of egregious vanity, passion, violence, and self-delusion.

"Farewell, Sir," he said; "you have conquered. I leave you the field."

"Nay, pause yet awhile," said the stranger, kindly; " �tis you have conquered, my boy. Conquered man�s deadliest, strongest foe�his own passions. Your spirit is now chafed, that you should have mistaken the meaning of the maiden; but your mistake was natural."

"I pray you let me go, Sir," said Frederique. "I am wiser than I was this morning."

"The admission of that fact is its own proof," said the stranger. "But I repeat, your mistake was natural. How could you suppose the young maiden meant to send her father to meet a young cavalier instead of keeping the implied assignation with him herself?"

"Her father?" said Frederique.

"Yes, young man, her father."

"The father of�of�Constance?"

"The father of Constance," said the stranger. "Are you surprised?"

"I have no cause to be."

"And yet you are?"

"There is a mystery in the whole transaction," said Frederique, "that I cannot fathom. Have you aught for my ear, sir?"

"There is a mystery," said the stranger; "and I have something for thy ear."

"I wait your pleasure," said Frederique.

"You come here, I am told, on some design against the Baron Zindorf and the Count Durlack, who are both at present in Zindorf Castle?"

"I do," answered Frederique. "I form part of the party of Sir Gaston de Beauvais."

"What is your object particularly?"

"Pardon me," answered Frederique; "you are, sir, although your air

302

and manner proclaims you above the common race of men, yet but a stranger to me. These matters concern others as well as myself."

"Your caution is just and proper," said the stranger. "But when I confide to you who I am, you will perhaps be more explicit."

"I may be so," answered Frederique.

"You have heard of the Chevalier D�Anville?"

"I have," answered Frederique. "A proscribed traitor!�A fugitive from his country!"

"I am he!"

"Can this be possible?"

"It is true, young man. You see I trust you."

"Chevalier!" cried Frederique, "there is a heavy price upon your head!"

"I know it," said the stranger, whom we shall henceforward call by his right name of D�Anville; "I know it, Frederique; but you are not the man to earn that price."

"You are safe from me," said Frederique.

"In saying so," replied D�Anville, you are no more generous than just; for here before High Heaven, I swear that I am as innocent as thou art, Frederique, of the foul crime laid to my charge!"

"I scarcely know what it was specifically," said Frederique.

"It was contriving the assassination of the king," said D�Anville.

"On my soul I believe you guiltless," said Frederique; "and I have of late heard Sir Gaston de Beauvais say as much."

"Heaven bless him!" cried D�Anville. "He alone of the whole court stood my friend, and declared his conviction of my innocence in the face of the most specious and damning proofs that were by artifices of the basest description brought against me."

"I do not recollect all the circumstances to which you allude, chevalier," said Frederique, "for I was young at the time, and even now (with a blush) am not competent to keep my temper before a soldier of reputation like yourself."

"Name that no more, " said D�Anville, kindly. "I take the most blame to myself, Frederique. Believe me, I would not have chafed a less noble spirit than your own, as I did yours."

"You are kind to say so, chevalier."

"I knew, Frederique, I had nothing to fear from your sword while mine hung idly by my side."

"I may thank you for bearing with me so patiently," said Frederique. "For what chance could I have had against so tried a soldier as yourself?"

"Name it no more," cried the Chevalier D�Anville. " �Twas but friendly interchange for which we both know each other better."

"I can but thank you, sir," said Frederique. "Now I may freely tell you that the Baron Zindorf and the Count Durlack are accused of many grevious crimes."

303

"Ha! say you so? Then Heaven is just."

"Upon the testimony of one Marco Bruttege, they are convicted of murder of the most foul description! Assassination seems to have been familiar to them; and even those official persons most used to the details of crime, I am told have shuddered with horror at the iniquities of these two men, the Baron Zindorf and the Count Durlack."

The Chevalier D�Anville clasped his hands, and for a few minutes paced up and down the green sward in great agitation. At length he said, taking Frederique kindly by the hand:�

"My young friend, this is a blessed meeting; the first ray of hope that has visited my breast for some years, you have brought to it. Oh, how I have languished for tidings such as these! Frederique, Frederique, you have given me a new life."

"How," said Frederique, "have I been so fortunate?"

"Where, oh where is Sir Gaston?" cried D�Anville.

"He left every one of his followers to guard Zindorf Castle, while he himself hastened to court to procure a sufficient force to drag the culprits from their stronghold."

"They meditate escape then?"

"They do."

"By Heavens! they shall walk across my prostrate body first."

"I was searching the forest," continued Frederique, "in order to discover a secret place of egress from Zindorf Castle from the vaults, of the existence of which information had reached us, when I, by a blessed chance, encountered your fair Constance."

"It was a blessed chance," said the chevalier. "The place you mention is already well guarded, Frederique."

"By friends of yours, chevalier?"

"Yes, by friends of mine, that post is amply secured. The baron cannot escape by that passage."

"I rejoice to hear it," cried Frederique; "for our force here is small, and Sir Gaston de Beauvais cannot possibly be back for some days."

"Come with me," said D�Anville, "and all that is mysterious in this matter shall be explained to you."

"And�and," �said Frederique, "I shall see�"

"Constance D�Anville," said the chevalier, with a smile.

"Chevalier," cried Frederique, "I�d follow thee to the world�s end."

"Yet not quite so far," said D�Anville. "Come on, my friend,�for such permit me to call you."

"Oh, sir, lead, and I�ll follow."

The Chevalier D�Anville drew his cloak closer around him, and plunged among the trees, followed by the enamoured Frederique, who was in raptures at the thought of once more seeing the beautiful Constance.

304

CHAPTER XLIII.

BEFORE leaving the turret chamber, the Count Durlack and the baron lifted between them the heavy weight which Claudio and Maurice had detached from the trap-door, and again suspended it in its place.

"No ordinary strength," said the baron, "could move the trap-door with the weight appended to it. We may safely leave Caroline in her old chamber, notwithstanding her knowledge of the entrance to the vaults, for it is quite out of the question that she should succeed in removing this weight, which our united strengths have been barely sufficient to put in its place."