The Monk (13 page)

“Come, come, friend Baptiste!” cried the driver with impatience, “what are you about? Are you asleep? Or will you refuse a night’s lodging to a gentleman, whose chaise has just broken down in the forest?”

“Ah! is it you, honest Claude?” replied a man’s voice from within: “wait a moment, and the door shall be opened.”

Soon after the bolts were drawn back; the door was unclosed, and a man presented himself to us with a lamp in his hand: he gave the guide an hearty reception, and then addressed himself to me:

“Walk in, monsieur; walk in, and welcome. Excuse me for not admitting you at first; but there are so many rogues about this place that, saving your presence, I suspected you to be one.”

Thus saying, he ushered me into the room where I had observed the fire. I was immediately placed in an easy chair, which stood close to the hearth. A female, whom I supposed to be the wife of my host, rose from her seat upon my entrance, and received me with a slight and distant reverence. She made no answer to my compliment, but, immediately re-seating herself, continued the work on which she had been employed. Her husband’s manners were as friendly as hers were harsh and repulsive.

“I wish I could lodge you more conveniently, monsieur,” said he, “but we cannot boast of much spare room in this hovel. However, a chamber for yourself and another for your servant, I think, we can make shift to supply. You must content yourself with sorry fare; but to what we have, believe me, you are heartily welcome.”——Then, turning to his wife—“Why, how you sit there, Marguerite, with as much tranquillity as if you had nothing better to do! Stir about, dame! stir about! Get some supper; look out some sheets. Here, here! throw some logs upon the fire, for the gentleman seems perished with cold.”

The wife threw her work hastily upon the table, and proceeded to execute his commands with every mark of unwillingness. Her countenance had displeased me on the first moment of my examining it: yet, upon the whole, her features were handsome unquestionably; but her skin was sallow, and her person thin and meagre: a louring gloom overspread her countenance, and it bore such visible marks of rancour and ill-will, as could not escape being noticed by the most inattentive observer: her every look and action expressed discontent and impatience; and the answers which she gave Baptiste, when he reproached her good-humouredly for her dissatisfied air, were tart, short, and cutting. In fine, I conceived at first sight equal disgust for her, and prepossession in favour of her husband, whose appearance was calculated to inspire esteem and confidence. His countenance was open, sincere, and friendly; his manners had all the peasant’s honesty, unaccompanied by his rudeness: his cheeks were broad, full, and ruddy; and in the solidity of his person he seemed to offer an ample apology for the leanness of his wife’s. From the wrinkles on his brow, I judged him to be turned of sixty; but he bore his years well, and seemed still hearty and strong. The wife could not be more than thirty, but in spirits and vivacity she was infinitely older than the husband.

However, in spite of her unwillingness, Marguerite began to prepare the supper, while the woodman conversed gaily on different subjects. The postillion, who had been furnished with a bottle of spirits, was now ready to set out for Strasbourg, and enquired whether I had any further commands.

“For Strasbourg?” interrupted Baptiste; “you are not going thither to-night?”

“I beg your pardon: if I do not fetch workmen to mend the chaise, how is monsieur to proceed to-morrow?”

“That is true, as you say, I had forgotten the chaise. Well, but Claude, you may at least eat your supper here? That can make you lose very little time; and monsieur looks too kind-hearted to send you out with an empty stomach on such a bitter cold night as this is.”

To this I readily assented, telling the postillion that my reaching Strasbourg the next day an hour or two later would be perfectly immaterial. He thanked me, and then leaving the cottage with Stephano, put up his horses in the woodman’s stable. Baptiste followed them to the door, and looked out with anxiety.

“ ’Tis a sharp, biting wind,” said he: “I wonder what detains my boys so long! Monsieur, I shall shew you two of the finest lads that ever stepped in shoe of leather: the eldest is three-and-twenty, the second a year younger: their equals for sense, courage, and activity, are not to be found within fifty miles of Strasbourg. Would they were back again! I begin to feel uneasy about them.”

Marguerite was at this time employed in laying the cloth.

“And are you equally anxious for the return of your sons?” said I to her.

“Not I,” she replied peevishly; “they are no children of mine.”

“Come, come, Marguerite!” said the husband, “do not be out of humour with the gentleman for asking a simple question: had you not looked so cross, he would never have thought you old enough to have a son of three-and-twenty; but you see how many years ill-temper adds to you!—Excuse my wife’s rudeness, monsieur; a little thing puts her out; and she is somewhat displeased at your not thinking her to be under thirty.—That is the truth, is it not, Marguerite? You know, monsieur, that age is always a ticklish subject with a woman. Come, come, Marguerite! clear up a little. If you have not sons as old, you will some twenty years hence; and I hope that we shall live to see them just such lads as Jacques and Robert.”

Marguerite clasped her hands together passionately.

“God forbid!” said she, “God forbid! If I thought it, I would strangle them with my own hands.”

She quitted the room hastily, and went up stairs.

I could not help expressing to the woodman how much I pitied him for being chained for life to a partner of such ill-humour.

“Ah, Lord! monsieur, every one has his share of grievances, and Marguerite has fallen to mine. Besides, after all, she is only cross, and not malicious: the worst is, that her affection for two children by a former husband, makes her play the step-mother with my two sons; she cannot bear the sight of them; and, by her good will, they would never set a foot within my door. But on this point I always stand firm, and never will consent to abandon the poor lads to the world’s mercy, as she has often solicited me to do. In every thing else I let her have her own way; and truly she manages a family rarely, that I must say for her.”

We were conversing in this manner, when our discourse was interrupted by a loud halloo, which rang through the forest.

“My sons, I hope!” exclaimed the woodman, and ran to open the door.

The halloo was repeated. We now distinguished the trampling of horses; and, soon after, a carriage attended by several cavaliers stopped at the cottage door. One of the horsemen enquired how far they were still from Strasbourg. As he addressed himself to me, I answered in the number of miles which Claude had told me; upon which a volley of curses was vented against the drivers for having lost their way. The persons in the coach were now informed of the distance of Strasbourg; and also that the horses were so fatigued as to be incapable of proceeding further. A lady, who appeared to be the principal, expressed much chagrin at this intelligence; but as there was no remedy, one of the attendants asked the woodman whether he could furnish them with lodging for the night.

He seemed much embarrassed, and replied in the negative; adding, that a Spanish gentleman and his servant were already in possession of the only spare apartments in his house. On hearing this, the gallantry of my nation would not permit me to retain those accommodations of which a female was in want. I instantly signified to the woodman, that I transferred my right to the lady: he made some objections, but I over-ruled them, and, hastening to the carriage, opened the door, and assisted the lady to descend. I immediately recognized her for the same person whom I had seen at the inn at Luneville. I took an opportunity of asking one of her attendants what was her name?

“The baroness Lindenberg,” was the answer.

I could not but remark how different a reception our host had given these new-comers and myself. His reluctance to admit them was visibly expressed on his countenance; and he prevailed on himself with difficulty to tell the lady that she was welcome. I conducted her into the house, and placed her in the arm-chair which I had just quitted. She thanked me very graciously, and made a thousand apologies for putting me to an inconvenience. Suddenly the woodman’s countenance cleared up.

“At last I have arranged it!” said he, interrupting her excuses. “I can lodge you and your suite, madam, and you will not be under the necessity of making this gentleman suffer for his politeness. We have two spare chambers, one for the lady, the other, monsieur, for you: my wife shall give up hers to the two waiting-women: as for the men servants, they must content themselves with passing the night in a large barn, which stands at a few yards distance from the house; there they shall have a blazing fire, and as good a supper as we can make shift to give them.”

After several expressions of gratitude on the lady’s part, and opposition on mine to Marguerite’s giving up her bed, this arrangement was agreed to. As the room was small, the baroness immediately dismissed her male domestics. Baptiste was on the point of conducting them to the barn which he had mentioned, when two young men appeared at the door of the cottage.

“Hell and furies!” exclaimed the first, starting back, “Robert, the house is filled with strangers!”

“Ha! there are my sons!” cried our host. “Why, Jacques! Robert! whither are you running, boys? There is room enough still for you.”

Upon this assurance the youths returned. The father presented them to the baroness and myself; after which he withdrew with our domestics, while, at the request of the two waiting-women, Marguerite conducted them to the room designed for their mistress.

The two new-comers were tall, stout, well-made young men, hard-featured, and very much sun-burnt. They paid their compliments to us in few words, and acknowledged Claude, who now entered the room, as an old acquaintance. They then threw aside their cloaks in which they were wrapped up, took off a leathern belt to which a large cutlass was suspended, and each drawing a brace of pistols from his girdle laid them upon a shelf.

“You travel well armed,” said I.

“True, monsieur,” replied Robert.—“We left Strasbourg late this evening, and ’Tis necessary to take precautions at passing through this forest after dark; it does not bear a good repute, I promise you.”

“How?” said the baroness, “are there robbers hereabout?”

“So it is said, madame: for my own part, I have travelled through the wood at all hours, and never met with one of them.”

Here Marguerite returned. Her step-sons drew her to the other end of the room, and whispered her for some minutes. By the looks which they cast towards us at intervals, I conjectured them to be enquiring our business in the cottage.

In the mean while, the baroness expressed her apprehensions that her husband would be suffering much anxiety upon her account. She had intended to send on one of her servants to inform the baron of her delay; but the account which the young men gave of the forest rendered this plan impracticable. Claude relieved her from her embarrassment: he informed her, that he was under the necessity of reaching Strasbourg that night; and that, would she trust him with a letter, she might depend upon its being safely delivered.

“And how comes it,” said I, “that you are under no apprehension of meeting these robbers?”

“Alas! monsieur, a poor man with a large family must not lose certain profit because ’Tis attended with a little danger; and perhaps my lord the baron may give me a trifle for my pains: besides, I have nothing to lose except my life, and that will not be worth the robbers taking.”

I thought his arguments bad, and advised his waiting till the morning; but, as the baroness did not second me, I was obliged to give up the point. The baroness Lindenberg, as I found afterwards, had long been accustomed to sacrifice the interests of others to her own, and her wish to send Claude to Strasbourg blinded her to the danger of the undertaking. Accordingly, it was resolved that he should set out without delay. The baroness wrote her letter to her husband; and I sent a few lines to my banker, apprising him that I should not be at Strasbourg till the next day. Claude took our letters, and left the cottage.

The lady declared herself much fatigued by her journey: besides having come from some distance, the drivers had contrived to lose their way in the forest. She now addressed herself to Marguerite, desiring to be shewn to her chamber, and permitted to take half an hour’s repose. One of the waiting-women was immediately summoned; she appeared with a light, and the baroness followed her up stairs. The cloth was spreading in the chamber where I was, and Marguerite soon gave me to understand that I was in her way. Her hints were too broad to be easily mistaken; I therefore desired one of the young men to conduct me to the chamber where I was to sleep, and where I could remain till supper was ready.

“Which chamber is it, mother?” said Robert.

“The one with green hangings,” she replied. “I have just been at the trouble of getting it ready, and have put fresh sheets upon the bed: if the gentleman chooses to lollop and lounge upon it, he may make it again himself, for me.”

“You are out of humour, mother; but that is no novelty. Have the goodness to follow me, monsieur.”

He opened the door, and advanced towards a narrow stair-case.

“You have got no light,” said Marguerite; “is it your own neck or the gentleman’s that you have a mind to break?”

She crossed by me, and put a candle into Robert’s hand; having received which, he began to ascend the stair-case. Jacques was employed in laying the cloth, and his back was turned towards me. Marguerite seized the moment when we were unobserved: she caught my hand, and pressed it strongly.

“Look at the sheets!” said she as she passed me, and immediately resumed her former occupation.

Startled by the abruptness of her action, I remained as if petrified. Robert’s voice desiring me to follow him recalled me to myself. I ascended the stair-case. My conductor ushered me into a chamber where an excellent wood fire was blazing upon the hearth. He placed the light upon the table, enquired whether I had any further commands, and, on my replying in the negative, left me to myself. You may be certain, that the moment when I found myself alone, was that on which I complied with Marguerite’s injunction. I took the candle hastily, approached the bed, and turned down the coverture. What was my astonishment, my horror, at finding the sheets crimsoned with blood!