CHAPTER XXXII.

CAN SHE ESCAPE NOW?

Ulrick entered, and, by the manner in which he closed the door and crossed the room, Gabrielle could perceive with terror (though there was no other light than those afforded by the set sun and rising moon), that he was quite intoxicated. Bad as he was, he had hitherto treated her--all things considered--with remarkable respect; and, never until this important night, had fatally dared to conceive the idea of a visit at such an hour.

Gabrielle had always thought, that, as love could not exist without a returned affection, the flame in Merodé's heart would soon expire; but the pretty casuist did not know that it was not the love of a pure heart which animated the count. Had it been so, she had long since been free.

The count wore a magnificent suit of dark blue velvet, adorned by sparkling diamond buttons and seed pearls. On his head was a montero cap with a tall feather, the quill of which was studded with diamonds. His shoulder-belt and boots were of spotless white leather, and his broad collar was of the richest lace; but cap and feather, belt and doublet, were all awry, the latter being half buttoned in the wrong holes, while his plume hung down his back.

The count was reeling; and, in the twilight, Gabrielle could perceive that his face was flushed, his eyes bloodshot, and inflamed by passion and excitement. He closed the door of the room, and, to her inexpressible alarm--locked it! He then, with a maudlin expression of admiration on his face, and with outspread arms, approached her, but she eluded him, and he sank into a chair; his cap fell off, and after several ineffectual attempts to recover it, he said, with many pauses--

"My darling must not be alarmed if I come thus to visit her at an hour so untimeous; 'tis for a moment--only for a moment--'pon my soul it is--bah! you are not angry with me, are you?"

"Will your excellency never weary of persecuting me?"

"Little rogue, you are angry!"

"Oh no! my lord, I am not," replied Gabrielle, trembling with fear and perplexity.

"How could you be angry? 'twould be very cruel; 'tis only a bridegroom's privilege, for we are to be married to-morrow by Camargo's chaplain. Der Teufel! yes--I will show you a magnificent dress which our quartermaster picked up somewhere; it is worth ten thousand ducats if it is worth a stiver! and you are to be married in that, my pretty one. It will almost stand with seed pearls and embroidery--yes, 'tis devilish fine, I assure you; and in it my little bride will look magnificent. Ah! come and give me a kiss! Do not be angry, 'tis the wine--strong wine. The dress, it belonged to the Countess of Fehmarn, old King Kit's one-eyed wife--I mean the left-hand of old King Christian. 'Tis a glorious fashion that of his, marrying one wife for love and another for money. If the emperor would only marry my sister Josephine in that way, I should be sure of my marshal's baton--but what do I care for money? We don't want it--we Merodeurs--no! we pay all our scores with a roll on the drum, or by hanging up the burgomaster. I wonder if the devil will be satisfied with a check on the same bank; but he beats a little on the drum himself, for we all know the devil's tattoo."

"Oh, what a sensual wretch is this when compared to Ian Dhu, that soul of honour!" thought Gabrielle, as Merodé rocked himself on a chair during his long and rambling speech, which was interrupted by many a hiccup.

Every moment she expected the arrival of Bernhard, and now she was locked into her chamber with her intoxicated tormentor--locked in hopelessly for the night.

"Gabrielle, Gabrielle," said the count; "dost love me any better than at first?"

"My lord," began Gabrielle (willing to humour him a little), "first love----"

"A fig for first love!" cried he, snapping his fingers, and making ineffectual efforts to rise. "'Tis all stuff, and makes a bold fellow timid and retiring--and then the girl, with her mystery, modesty, and touch-me-not face! Bah! 'tis enough to give one a fit of the spleen. Second love is founded upon judgment, and is strengthened and matured by it--yes--I am a philosopher--d--me! But if such is the case with a second or third love, what must be the strength and maturity, the fervour and ferocity of a twentieth love, like mine, for thee? Oh, Gabrielle--Gabrielle, come hither, you little devil, and kiss me!"

At that moment the shrill low whistle of Bernhard sounded beneath the window, and made Gabrielle start.

"So you will not come to me--eh? Ah--true love is always modest and retiring--it likes mystery, too! How good to think that I have had you under lock and key for so many weeks, and not one of my merry rascals--even Count John of Brisgaü or Jehan de Vart--have found you out! Come to me, I tell you, or I shall lose patience; one kiss, little one--only one."

Gabrielle remained aloof, and wept with mingled emotions of shame and mortification, then Merodé began to swear, and say some things that made the poor girl turn alternately cherry red and deadly pale. Again she heard Bernhard whistling, and her anxiety was almost insupportable.

"Der Teufel! yes--to-morrow is the happy day--and Camargo's chaplain--(Camargo's, is it not? oh, yes!)--will do the affair for us; those whom Heaven and Camargo's chaplain have put together--let no rascal put asunder. Right--Henckers! my girl, why do you spin round in that fashion?--and who is that who whistles there?--

"Three days--three days, my love will last, And--in--three days--my--love is past."

After this, a few indescribable snorts and flourishes were the only signs of life he made; his head had sunk forward on his breast, and fearfully Gabrielle approached him. He was in a profound and unmistakeable drunken sleep. Gabrielle's heart beat like lightning; she sprang to the window, and below, in the twilight, discerned the dark figure of Bernhard.

"You have appeared at last," he growled in a low voice; "I thought you were never coming."

"Pardon me--I have been watched."

"Watched--by whom?" asked Bernhard in a low whisper.

"Merodé."

"Gott in Himmel! do you say so? and he----"

"Is now asleep, as fast as wine can make him."

"Quick, then! Lower your cord, and draw up the rope, for we have not a moment to lose. If the rounds pass, they will fire, and I would not run the risk of being shot for all the women between the Elbe and the Oder."

Gabrielle lowered the silver cord, by which she had received Ernestine's letter, and thereby towed in the end of a stout rope.

"Oh, to what shall I fasten this?" she asked.

"How should I know?" growled Bernhard; "to any thing--but be quick--any thing that will cross the narrow window and sustain your weight."

The long iron tongs by which the turf was placed on the hearth now met the eye of Gabrielle; she tied the rope with her pretty and trembling hands to the centre of them, and placed them across the aperture of the narrow window, thus forming a double bar, strong enough to sustain the weight of a cuirassier armed cap-à-pee--horse and all.

"Hist!" said Bernhard, as he steadied the end of the rope; "be sure, that you have knotted it well, and fixed it crosswise, for I have no wish that you should slip and break my neck, to say nothing of your own bones. Now then, descend, if you please."

"But I must cover my poor hands, or the rope will fret them."

"Bravo! get a pair of gloves, a handkerchief, or any thing," said Bernhard, who--vagabond as he was--began to be quite charmed by the courage and foresight of this noble girl; and he felt a satisfaction in serving her. Never before had such an honest glow spread through his savage heart.

Gabrielle placed a soft handkerchief over each of her tender hands, and by the assistance of a chair, passed over the window-sole; then the night wind blew her light dress and her fair hair about, for, in her haste, hood and mantle were alike forgotten. Merodé still slept like a dormouse, and it was evident that he would continue to do so until morning; but the foreboding thought flashed upon the mind of the fugitive, that she might only be flying from one danger to fall into another.

"My God!" sighed Gabrielle; "thou wilt be kind, and protect a poor girl who cannot protect herself. Oh yes--I will confide in Thee!"

Inspired by this thought she took courage and slid in a moment to the ground, alighting with a shock which Bernhard lessened, by partly receiving her in his arms. Had she known all--or even a few of the crimes his hands had committed--she would have shrunk from their touch as from death.

She could scarcely whisper her thanks, and indeed Bernhard, who heard the tramp of the approaching rounds on the tower above, did not give her time; for, seizing her hand, he led her softly and hurriedly round an angle of the outworks, from whence, concealed by palisadoes and shrubbery, they were to creep towards the road that led by the margin of the bay towards Hesinge ......

Next morning Merodé was awakened by the quartermaster's wife, knocking at the door of Gabrielle's room. He started from his drunken slumber, and opened the door with an air of perplexity. Frail Rumple appeared with the famous pearl dress upon her arm, and with a bridal veil and chaplet in her hands; but on seeing the bewildered count, she curtsied with a waggish smile, and said that Colonel Camargo's chaplain had arrived.

"Der Teufel!" cried Merodé, as he rushed to the open window, and saw the chair, the crossed tongs, and the cord yet dangling by the wall. "Call Sergeant Swaschbückler! by the Henckers! my bird has flown!"

On one hand, favoured by the moon, which lit their devious path, and on the other, shrouded by high palisadoes painted green, and stunted trees that grew upon the peninsula, Gabrielle and her guide had rapidly and stealthily pursued their way towards a ridge, where grew a clump of trees. It was visible in dark outline between them and the last flush of dusky yellow that lingered at the horizon. The clump was about three or four miles distant; and near it, Bernhard informed Gabrielle that a party of Scottish Highlanders were halted.

As the distance increased between her and the grim tower on Helnœsland, and when she began to be more reassured, Gabrielle, who tied a handkerchief over her flowing and beautiful hair, turned from time to time, and examined the face of her guide. It was hideous! its aspect was terrible; for ignorance and crime had done every thing to destroy the intellectual, and develop the animal propensities of Bernhard, whose surname I never learned. Gabrielle observed that his stealthy eyes wore a constant expression of alarm; he seemed to be in perpetual dread of meeting some one.

Fear on her part, with anxiety and avarice on his, enabled them to walk so well, that in three quarters of an hour they were close to the thicket of trees, when a man approached them from under their very shadow. This was the first person they had met since leaving Helnœs.

Gabrielle shrunk close to the side of Bernhard, who grasped the haft of his knife; while an exclamation of rage and fear escaped his lips, on finding himself confronted by--Bandolo!

It was indeed that man, whom (of all others in the world) he dreaded most to meet at such a moment. In each hand he had a cocked pistol--the Highland tacks which he had stolen from Phadrig Mhor.

Bernhard had only his knife, and, as he unsheathed it, Bandolo swore on seeing its blue and sinister gleam. Then he uttered one of those exulting laughs, to which his ferocious character imparted a sound not unlike the growl of a panther.

"Ha! ha! ha! Well, fool--you knew not, that while you made that precious bargain at the inn-door of Hesinge, I was seated among the branches of the _Green-Tree_ above. _Maldicion de Dios!_ but this is a meeting, as unexpected to me as it seems unwelcome to you, Camarada Bernhard!"

The Spaniard and the German glared at each other like two wild-cats, and Gabrielle felt as if she was about to die with terror, between them.