Spinning-Wheel Story by Louisa M. Alcott
The Banner of Beaumanior
Larks were singing in the clear sky over Dinan, the hill-sides werewhite with hosts of blooming cherry-trees, and the valley golden withwillow blossoms. The gray tower of the good Duchess Anne was hung withgarlands of ivy and gay with tufts of fragrant wallflowers, and alongthe fosse the shadows deepened daily as the young leaves thickened onthe interlacing branches overhead. Women sang while they beat theirclothes by the pool; wooden shoes clattered to and fro as the girlsbrought water from the fountain in Place St. Louis; men, with their longhair, embroidered jackets, and baggy breeches, drank cider at the inndoors; and the great Breton horses shook their high collars till thebells rang again, as they passed along the roads that wound between widefields of colza, buckwheat, and clover.
Up at the chateau, which stood near the ruins of the ancient castle, thegreat banner streamed in the wind, showing, as its folds blew out, thedevice and motto of the Beaumanoir--two clasped hands and the legend,"_En tout chemin loyaute_."[1] In the courtyard, hounds brayed, horsespranced, and servants hurried about; for the count was going to hunt thewild boar. Presently, away they went, with the merry music of horns, theclatter of hoofs, and the blithe ring of voices, till the pleasantclamor died away in the distant woods, where mistletoe clung to thegreat oaks, and menhirs and dolmens, mysterious relics of the Druids,were to be seen.
[1] Always loyal.
From one of the windows of the chateau-tower a boy's face looked out,full of eager longing,--a fine, strong face, but sullen now, with blackbrows, dark, restless eyes, and lips set, as if rebellious thoughts werestirring in his mind. He watched the gay cavalcade disappear, until asunny silence settled over the landscape, broken only by the larks andthe sound of a girl's voice singing. As he listened, the frown smootheditself from his brow, and his eye brightened when it rested on ablue-gowned, white-capped figure, sprinkling webs of linen, spread tobleach in the green meadow by the river Rance.
"If I may not hunt, I'll away to Yvonne[2] and take a holiday. She cantell better tales than any in this weary book, the bane of my life!"
[2] Pronounced Evone.
As he spoke, the boy struck a volume that lay on the wide ledge, with apetulant energy that sent it fluttering down into the court-yard below.Half-ashamed and half-amused, young Gaston peeped to see if this randomshot had hit any one. But all was quiet and deserted now; so, with aboyish laugh and a daring glance at the dangerous descent, he said tothe doves cooing on the roof overhead: "Here's a fine pretext forescape. Being locked in, how can I get my lesson unless I fetch thebook? Tell no tales of the time I linger, and you shall be well fed, mypretty birds."
Then swinging himself out as if it were no new feat, he climbed boldlydown through the ivy that half hid the carved flowers and figures whichmade a ladder for his agile feet.
The moment he touched ground, he raced away like a hound in full scentto the meadow, where he was welcomed by a rosy, brown-eyed lass, whosewhite teeth shone as she laughed to see him leap the moat, dodge behindthe wall, and come bounding toward her, his hair streaming in the wind,and his face full of boyish satisfaction in this escapade.
"The old tale," he panted, as he threw himself down upon the grass andflung the recovered book beside him. "This dreary Latin drives me mad,and I will _not_ waste such days as this poring over dull pages like apriest, when I should be hunting like a knight and gentleman."
"Nay, dear Gaston, but you ought, for obedience is the first duty of theknight, and honor of the gentleman," answered the girl, in a soft,reproachful tone, which seemed to touch the lad, as the voice of amaster tames a high-mettled horse.
"Had Father Nevin trusted to my honor, I would not have run away; but helocked me in, like a monk in a cell, and that I will not bear. Just onehour, Yvonne, one little hour of freedom, then I will go back, elsethere will be no sport for me to-morrow," said the lad, recklesslypulling up the bluets that starred the grass about him.
"Ah, if I were set to such a task, I would so gladly learn it, that Imight be a fitter friend for you," said the girl, reverently turning thepages of the book she could not read.
"No need of that; I like you as you are, and by my faith, I doubt yourgreat willingness, for when I last played tutor and left you to spellout the pretty legend of St. Coventin and his little fish, I found youfast asleep with the blessed book upon the floor," laughed Gaston,turning the tables on his mentor, with great satisfaction.
The girl laughed also as she retorted, "My tutor should not have left meto play with his dogs. I bore my penance better than you, and did notrun away. Come now, we'll be merry. Will you talk, or shall I sing,while you rest this hot head, and dream of horse and hound and spearingthe wild boar?" added Yvonne, smoothing the locks of hair scattered onthe grass, with a touch as gentle as if the hand were that of a lady,and not that of a peasant, rough with hard work.
"Since I may not play a man's part yet, amuse me like a boy, with theold tales your mother used to tell, when we watched the fagots blaze inthe winter nights. It is long since I have heard one, and I am nevertired hearing of the deeds I mean to match, if not outdo, some day.
"Let me think a bit till I remember your favorites, and do you listen tothe bees above there in the willow, setting you a good example, idleboy," said Yvonne, spreading a coarse apron for his head, while she satbeside him racking her brain for tales to beguile this truant hour.
Her father was the count's forester, and when the countess had died somesixteen years before, leaving a month-old boy, good dame Gillian hadtaken the motherless baby, and nursed and reared him with her littlegirl, so faithfully and tenderly that the count never could forget theloyal service. As babies, the two slept in one cradle; as children theyplayed and quarrelled together; and as boy and girl they defended,comforted, and amused each other. But time brought inevitable changes,and both felt that the hour of separation was near; for, while Yvonnewent on leading the peasant life to which she was born, Gaston wasreceiving the education befitting a young count. The chaplain taught himto read and write, with lessons in sacred history, and a little Latin;of the forester he learned woodcraft; and his father taught himhorsemanship and the use of arms, accomplishments consideredall-important in those days.
Gaston cared nothing for books, except such as told tales of chivalry;but dearly loved athletic sports, and at sixteen rode the most fieryhorse without a fall, handled a sword admirably, could kill a boar atthe first shot, and longed ardently for war, that he might provehimself a man. A brave, high-spirited, generous boy, with a very tenderspot in his heart for the good woman who had been a mother to him, andhis little foster-sister, whose idol he was. For days he seemed toforget these humble friends, and led the gay, active life of his age andrank; but if wounded in the chase, worried by the chaplain, disappointedin any plan, or in disgrace for any prank, he turned instinctively toDame Gillian and Yvonne, sure of help and comfort for mind and body.
Companionship with him had refined the girl, and given her glimpses of aworld into which she could never enter, yet where she could follow witheager eyes and high hopes the fortunes of this dear Gaston, who was bothher prince and brother. Her influence over him was great, for she was ofa calm and patient nature, as well as brave and prudent beyond heryears. His will was law; yet in seeming to obey, she often led him, andhe thanked her for the courage with which she helped him to control hisfiery temper and strong will. Now, as she glanced at him she saw that hewas already growing more tranquil, under the soothing influences of themurmuring river, the soft flicker of the sunshine, and a blessed senseof freedom.
So, while she twisted her distaff, she told the stirring tales ofwarriors, saints, and fairies, whom all Breton peasants honor, love, andfear. But best of all was the tale of Gaston's own ancestor, Jean deBeaumanoir, "the hero of Ploermel, where, when sorely wounded andparched with thirst, he cried for water, and Geoffrey du Bois answered,like a grim old warrior as he was, 'Drink thy blood, Beaumanoir, and thethirst will pass;' and he drank, and the battle madness seized
him, andhe slew ten men, winning the fight against great odds, to hiseverlasting glory."
"Ah, those were the times to live in! If they could only come again, Iwould be a second Jean!"
Gaston sprung to his feet as he spoke, all aglow with the warlike ardorof his race, and Yvonne looked up at him, sure that he would provehimself a worthy descendant of the great baron and his wife, thedaughter of the brave Du Guesclin.
"But you shall not be treacherously killed, as he was; for I will saveyou, as the peasant woman saved poor Giles de Bretagne when starving inthe tower, or fight for you, as Jeanne d'Arc fought for her lord,"answered Yvonne, dropping her distaff to stretch out her hand to him;for she, too, was on her feet.
Gaston took the faithful hand, and pointing to the white banner floatingover the ruins of the old castle, said heartily: "We will always standby one another, and be true to the motto of our house till death."
"We will!" answered the girl, and both kept the promise loyally, as weshall see.
Just at that moment the sound of hoofs made the young enthusiasts startand look toward the road that wound through the valley to the hill. Anold man on a slowly pacing mule was all they saw, but the change thatcame over both was comical in its suddenness; for the gallant knightturned to a truant school-boy, daunted by the sight of his tutor, whilethe rival of the Maid of Orleans grew pale with dismay.
"I am lost if he spy me, for my father vowed I should not hunt againunless I did my task. He will see me if I run, and where can I hide tillhe has past?" whispered Gaston, ashamed of his panic, yet unwilling topay the penalty of his prank.
But quick-witted Yvonne saved him; for lifting one end of the long webof linen, she showed a hollow whence some great stone had been removed,and Gaston slipped into the green nest, over which the linen laysmoothly when replaced.
On came the chaplain, glancing sharply about him, being of an austereand suspicious nature. He saw nothing, however, but the peasant girl inher quaint cap and wooden sabots, singing to herself as she leanedagainst a tree, with her earthen jug in her hand. The mule paused in thelight shadow of the willows, to crop a mouthful of grass before climbingthe hill, and the chaplain seemed glad to rest a moment, for the day waswarm and the road dusty.
"Come hither, child, and give me a draught of water," he called, and thegirl ran to fill her pitcher, offering it with a low reverence.
"Thanks, daughter! A fine day for the bleaching, but over warm for muchtravel. Go to your work, child; I will tarry a moment in the shadebefore I return to my hard task of sharpening a dull youth's wit," saidthe old man when he had drunk; and with a frowning glance at the roomwhere he had left his prisoner, he drew a breviary from his pocket andbegan to read, while the mule browsed along the road-side.
Yvonne went to sprinkling the neglected linen, wondering with mingledanxiety and girlish merriment how Gaston fared. The sun shone hotly onthe dry cloth, and as she approached the boy's hiding-place, a stirwould have betrayed him had the chaplain's eyes been lifted.
"Sprinkle me quickly; I am stifling in this hole," whispered animploring voice.
"Drink thy blood, Beaumanoir, and the thirst will pass," quoted Yvonne,taking a naughty satisfaction in the ignominious captivity of the wilfulboy. A long sigh was the only answer he gave, and taking pity on him,she made a little hollow in the linen where she knew his head lay, andpoured in water till a choking sound assured her Gaston had enough. Thechaplain looked up, but the girl coughed loudly, as she went to refillher jug, with such a demure face that he suspected nothing, andpresently ambled away to seek his refractory pupil.
The moment he disappeared, a small earthquake seemed to take place underthe linen, for it flew up violently, and a pair of long legs wavedjoyfully in the air as Gaston burst into a ringing laugh, which Yvonneechoed heartily. Then, springing up, he said, throwing back his wet hairand shaking his finger at her: "You dared not betray me, but you nearlydrowned me, wicked girl. I cannot stop for vengeance now; but I'll tossyou into the river some day, and leave you to get out as you can."
Then he was off as quickly as he came, eager to reach his prison againbefore the chaplain came to hear the unlearned lesson. Yvonne watchedhim till he climbed safely in at the high window and disappeared with awave of the hand, when she, too, went back to her work, little dreamingwhat brave parts both were to play in dangers and captivities of whichthese youthful pranks and perils were but a foreshadowing.
Two years later, in the month of March, 1793, the insurrection broke outin Vendee, and Gaston had his wish; for the old count had been anofficer of the king's household, and hastened to prove his loyalty.Yvonne's heart beat high with pride as she saw her foster-brother ridegallantly away beside his father, with a hundred armed vassals behindthem, and the white banner fluttering above their heads in the freshwind.
She longed to go with him; but her part was to watch and wait, to hopeand pray, till the hour came when she, like many another woman in thosedays, could prove herself as brave as a man, and freely risk her lifefor those she loved.
Four months later the heavy tidings reached them that the old count waskilled and Gaston taken prisoner. Great was the lamentation among theold men, women, and children left behind; but they had little time forsorrow, for a band of the marauding Vendeans burned the chateau, andlaid waste the Abbey.
"Now, mother, I must up and away to find and rescue Gaston. I promised,and if he lives, it shall be done. Let me go; you are safe now, andthere is no rest for me till I know how he fares," said Yvonne, when theraid was over, and the frightened peasants ventured to return from theneighboring forests, whither they had hastily fled for protection.
"Go, my girl, and bring me news of our young lord. May you lead himsafely home again to rule over us," answered Dame Gillian, devotedstill,--for her husband was reported dead with his master, yet she lether daughter go without a murmur, feeling that no sacrifice was toogreat.
So Yvonne set out, taking with her Gaston's pet dove and the little sumof money carefully hoarded for her marriage portion. The pretty wingedcreature, frightened by the destruction of its home, had flown to herfor refuge, and she had cherished it for its master's sake. Now, when itwould not leave her, but came circling around her head a league awayfrom Dinan, she accepted the good omen, and made the bird the companionof her perilous journey.
There is no room to tell all the dangers, disappointments, and fatiguesendured before she found Gaston; but after being often misled by falserumors, she at last discovered that he was a prisoner in FortPenthievre. His own reckless courage had brought him there; for in oneof the many skirmishes in which he had taken part, he ventured too faraway from his men, and was captured after fighting desperately to cuthis way out. Now, alone in his cell, he raged like a caged eagle,feeling that there was no hope of escape; for the fort stood on aplateau of precipitous rock washed on two sides by the sea. He had heardof the massacre of the royalist emigrants who landed there, and tried toprepare himself for a like fate, hoping to die as bravely as youngSombreuil, who was shot with twenty others on what was afterward namedthe "_Champ des Martyrs_."[3] His last words, when ordered by theexecutioner to kneel, were, "I do it; but one knee I bend for my God,the other for my king."
[3] The Field of Martyrs.
Day after day Gaston looked down from his narrow window, past which thegulls flew screaming, and watched the fishers at their work, the womengathering sea-weed on the shore, and the white sails flitting across thebay of Quiberon. Bitterly did he regret the wilfulness which brought himthere, well knowing that if he had obeyed orders he would now be free tofind his father's body and avenge his death.
"Oh, for one day of liberty, one hope of escape, one friend to cheerthis dreadful solitude!" he cried, when weeks had passed and he seemedutterly forgotten.
As he spoke, he shook the heavy bars with impotent strength, then benthis head as if to hide even from himself the few hot tears wrung fromhim by captivity and despair.
Standing so, with eyes too dim for seeing, something brushed against hishair, and a bird lit on the narrow ledge. He thought it was a gull, andpaid no heed; but in a moment a soft coo started him, and looking up,he saw a white dove struggling to get in.
"Blanchette!" he cried, and the pretty creature flew to his hand,pecking at his lips in the old caressing way he knew so well.
"My faithful bird, God bless thee!" exclaimed the poor lad, holding thedove close against his cheek to hide the trembling of his lip,--sotouched, so glad was he to find in his dreary prison even a dumb friendand comforter.
But Blanchette had her part to play, and presently fluttered back to thewindow ledge, cooing loudly as she pecked at something underneath herwing.
Then Gaston remembered how he used to send messages to Yvonne by thiscarrier-dove, and with a thrill of joy looked for the token, hardlydaring to hope that any would be found. Yes! there, tied carefully amongthe white feathers, was a tiny roll of paper, with these words rudelywritten on it:--
"Be ready; help will come. Y."
"The brave girl! the loyal heart! I might have known she would keep herpromise, and come to save me;" and Gaston dropped on his knees ingratitude.
Blanchette meantime tripped about the cell on her little rosy feet, atea few crumbs of the hard bread, dipped her beak in the jug of water,dressed her feathers daintily, then flew to the bars and called him. Hehad nothing to send back by this sure messenger but a lock of hair, andthis he tied with the same thread, in place of the note. Then kissingthe bird he bade it go, watching the silver wings flash in the sunshineas it flew away, carrying joy with it and leaving hope behind.
After that the little courier came often unperceived, carrying lettersto and fro; for Yvonne sent bits of paper, and Gaston wrote his answerswith his blood and a quill from Blanchette's wing. He thus learned howYvonne was living in a fisher's hut on the beach, and working for hisrescue as well as she dared. Every day she might be seen gatheringsea-weed on the rocks or twirling her distaff at the door of thedilapidated hut, not as a young girl, but as an old woman; for she hadstained her fair skin, put on ragged clothes, and hidden her fresh faceunder the pent-house cap worn by the women of Quiberon. Her neighborsthought her a poor soul left desolate by the war, and let her liveunmolested. So she worked on secretly and steadily, playing her partwell, and biding her time till the long hempen rope was made, the sharpfile procured unsuspected, and a boat ready to receive the fugitives.
Her plan was perilously simple, but the only one possible; for Gastonwas well guarded, and out of that lofty cell it seemed that no prisonercould escape without wings. A bird and a woman lent him those wings, andhis daring flight was a nine days' wonder at the fort. Only a youthaccustomed to feats of agility and strength could have safely made thatdangerous escape along the face of the cliff that rose straight up fromthe shore. But Gaston was well trained, and the boyish pranks that usedto bring him into dire disgrace now helped to save his life.
Thus, when the order came, written in the rude hand he had taught Yvonnelong ago, "Pull up the thread which Blanchette will bring at midnight.Watch for a light in the bay. Then come down, and St. Barbe protectyou," he was ready; for the tiny file of watch-spring, brought by thebird, had secretly done its work, and several bars were loose. He knewthat the attempt might cost him his life, but was willing to gainliberty even at that price; for imprisonment seemed worse than death tohis impatient spirit. The jailer went his last round, the great bellstruck the appointed hour, and Gaston stood at the window, straining hiseyes to catch the first ray of the promised light, when the soft whir ofwings gladdened his ear, and Blanchette arrived, looking scared and wetand weary, for rain fell, the wind blew fitfully, and the poor bird wasunused to such wild work as this. But obedient to its training, it flewto its master; and no angel could have been more welcome than thestorm-beaten little creature as it nestled in his bosom, while heuntangled the lengths of strong thread wound about one of its feet.
He knew what to do, and tying a bit of the broken bar to one end, as aweight, he let it down, praying that no cruel gust would break or blowit away. In a moment a quick jerk at the thread bade him pull again. Acord came up, and when that was firmly secured, a second jerk was thesignal for the last and most important haul. Up came the stout rope,knotted here and there to add safety and strength to the hands and feetthat were to climb down that frail ladder, unless some cruel fate dashedthe poor boy dead upon the rocks below. The rope was made fast to aniron staple inside, the bars were torn away, and Gaston crept throughthe narrow opening to perch on the ledge without, while Blanchette flewdown to tell Yvonne he was coming.
The moment the distant spark appeared, he bestirred himself, set histeeth, and boldly began the dangerous descent. Rain blinded him, thewind beat him against the rock, bruising hands and knees, and the wayseemed endless, as he climbed slowly down, clinging with the clutch of adrowning man, and blessing Yvonne for the knots that kept him fromslipping when the gusts blew him to and fro. More than once he thoughtit was all over; but the good rope held fast, and strength and couragenerved heart and limbs. One greater than St. Barbe upheld him, and hedropped at last, breathless and bleeding, beside the faithful Yvonne.
There was no time for words, only a grasp of the hand, a sigh ofgratitude, and they were away to the boat that tossed on the wild waterwith a single rower in his place.
"It is our Hoel. I found him looking for you. He is true as steel. In,in, and off, or you are lost!" whispered Yvonne, flinging a cloak aboutGaston, thrusting a purse, a sword, and a flask into his hand, andholding the boat while he leaped in.
"But you?" he cried; "I cannot leave you in peril, after all you havedared and done for me."
"No one suspects me; I am safe. Go to my mother; she will hide you, andI will follow soon."
Waiting for no further speech, she pushed the boat off, and watched itvanish in the darkness; then went away to give thanks, and rest afterher long work and excitement.
Gaston reached home safely, and Dame Gillian concealed him in the ruinsof the Abbey, till anxiety for Yvonne drove him out to seek and rescuein his turn. For she did not come, and when a returning soldier broughtword that she had been arrested in her flight, and sent to Nantes,Gaston could not rest, but disguising himself as a peasant, went to findher, accompanied by faithful Hoel, who loved Yvonne, and would gladlydie for her and his young master. Their hearts sunk when they discoveredthat she was in the Boufflay, an old fortress, once a royal residence,and now a prison, crowded with unfortunate and innocent creatures,arrested on the slightest pretexts, and guillotined or drowned by theinfamous Carrier. Hundreds of men and women were there, sufferingterribly, and among them was Yvonne, brave still, but with no hope ofescape; for few were saved, and then only by some lucky accident. Like asister of mercy she went among the poor souls crowded together in thegreat halls, hungry, cold, sick, and despairing, and they clung to heras if she were some strong, sweet saint who could deliver them or teachthem how to die.
After some weeks of this terrible life, her name was called onemorning, on the list for that day's execution, and she rose to join thesad procession setting forth.
"Which is it to be?" she asked, as she passed one of the men who guardedthem, a rough fellow, whose face was half hidden by a shaggy beard.
"You will be drowned; we have no time to waste on women;" was the brutalanswer; but as the words passed his lips, a slip of paper was pressedinto her hand, and these words breathed into her ear by a familiarvoice: "I am here!"
It was Gaston, in the midst of enemies, bent on saving her at the riskof his life, remembering all he owed her, and the motto of his race. Theshock of this discovery nearly betrayed them both, and turned her sowhite that the woman next her put her arm about her, saying sweetly:--
"Courage, my sister; it is soon over."
"I fear nothing now!" cried Yvonne, and went on to take her place in thecart, looking so serene and happy that those about her thought heralready fit for heaven.
No need to repeat the dreadful history of the Noyades; it is enough tosay that in the confusion of the moment Yvonne found opportunity to readand destroy the little paper, which said briefly:--
"When you are flung into the river, call my name and float. I shall benear."
She understood, and being placed with a crowd of wretched women on theold vessel which lay in the river Loire, she employed every moment inloosening the rope that tied her hands, and keeping her eye on thetall, bearded man who moved about seeming to do his work, while hisblood boiled with suppressed wrath, and his heart ached with unavailingpity. It was dusk before the end came for Yvonne, and she was allunnerved by the sad sights she had been forced to see; but when rudehands seized her, she made ready for the plunge, sure that Gaston would"be near." He was, for in the darkness and uproar, he could leap afterher unseen, and while she floated, he cut the rope, then swam down theriver with her hand upon his shoulder till they dared to land. Both werenearly spent with the excitement and exertion of that dreadful hour; butHoel waited for them on the shore and helped Gaston carry poor Yvonneinto a deserted house, where they gave her fire, food, dry garments, andthe gladdest welcome one human creature ever gave to another.
Being a robust peasant, the girl came safely through hardships thatwould have killed or crazed a frailer creature; and she was soon able torejoice with the brave fellows over this escape, so audaciously plannedand so boldly carried out. They dared stay but a few hours, and beforedawn were hastening through the least frequented ways toward home,finding safety in the distracted state of the country, which madefugitives no unusual sight, and refugees plentiful. One more adventure,and that a happy one, completed their joy, and turned their flight intoa triumphant march.
Pausing in the depths of the great forest of Hunaudaye to rest, the twoyoung men went to find food, leaving Yvonne to tend the fire and makeready to cook the venison they hoped to bring. It was nightfall, andanother day would see them in Dinan, they hoped; but the lads hadconsented to pause for the girl's sake, for she was worn out with theirrapid flight. They were talking of their adventures in high spirits,when Gaston laid his hand on Hoel's mouth and pointed to a green slopebefore them. An early moon gave light enough to show them a dark formmoving quickly into the coppice, and something like the antlers of astag showed above the tall brakes before they vanished. "Slip around anddrive him this way. I never miss my aim, and we will sup royallyto-night," whispered Gaston, glad to use the arms with which they hadprovided themselves.
Hoel slipped away, and presently a rustle in the wood betrayed thecautious approach of the deer. But he was off before a shot could befired, and the disappointed hunters followed long and far, resolved notto go back empty-handed. They had to give it up, however, and werepartially consoled by a rabbit, which Hoel flung over his shoulder,while Gaston, forgetting caution, began to sing an old song the women ofBrittany love so well:--
"Quand vous etiez, captif, Bertrand, fils de Bretagne, Tous les fuseaux tournaient aussi dans la campagne."
He got no further, for the stanza was finished by a voice that had oftenjoined in the ballad, when Dame Gillian sang it to the children, as shespun:--
"Chaque femme apporte son echeveau de lin; Ce fut votre rancon, Messire du Guesclin."
Both paused, thinking that some spirit of the wood mocked them; but aloud laugh, and a familiar "Holo! holo!" made Hoel cry, "The forester!"while Gaston dashed headlong into the thicket whence the sound came,there to find the jolly forester, indeed, with a slain deer by his side,waiting to receive them with open arms.
"I taught you to stalk the deer, and spear the boar, not to hunt yourfellow-creatures, my lord. But I forgive you, for it was well done, andI had a hard run to escape," he said, still laughing.
"But how came you here?" cried both the youths, in great excitement; forthe good man was supposed to be dead, with his old master.
"A long tale, for which I have a short and happy answer. Come home tosupper with me, and I'll show you a sight that will gladden hearts andeyes," he answered, shouldering his load and leading the way to adeserted hermitage, which had served many a fugitive for a shelter. Asthey went, Gaston poured out his story, and told how Yvonne was waitingfor them in the wood.
"Brave lads! and here is your reward," answered the forester, pushingopen the door and pointing to the figure of a man, with a pale face andbandaged head, lying asleep beside the fire.
It was the count, sorely wounded, but alive, thanks to his devotedfollower, who had saved him when the fight was over; and after weeks ofconcealment, suffering, and anxiety, had brought him so far toward home.
No need to tell of the happy meeting that night, nor of the glad return;for, though the chateau was in ruins and lives were still in danger,they all were together, and the trials they had passed through only madethe ties of love and loyalty between high and low more true and tender.Good Dame Gillian housed them all, and nursed her master back to health.Yvonne and Hoel had a gay wedding in the course of time, and Gaston wentto the wars again. A new chateau rose on the ruins of the old, and whenthe young lord took possession, he replaced the banner that was lostwith one of fair linen, spun and woven by the two women who had been sofaithful to him and his, but added a white dove above the clasped handsand golden legend, never so true as now,--
"En tout chemin loyaute."