France -- History -- Henry IV, 1589-1610 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
At present that lamp, a tiny spark in the blackness, was all they saw.
They made for it through the shallows and over a bed of shingle across
which the horses clattered noisily. In haste they reached the door of
the chapel, and there in a trice--for if the thing was to be done it
must be done quickly--they aided the Abbess and the lay sister to
alight, bore in the litter with the wounded man, and closed the door
on all; this last, that the light might no longer be visible from the
ford. Then they, the men, got themselves to horse again, and away at a
round trot.
Not without repugnance on the part of several; not without regret and
misgiving. Des Ageaux's heart smote him as his horse's feet carried
him farther and farther away; it seemed so cowardly a thing to leave
women to bear in that wild and lonely place the brunt of whatever
might befall. And Charles, ready as he had been to acclaim the notion,
wondered if he had erred in leaving his sister thus lightly. But in
truth they were embarked in an enterprise whose full perils it lay
with time to disclose. And other and more pressing anxieties soon had
possession of their minds.
They had been less troubled had they been able to witness the Abbess's
demeanour in her solitude. While her companion, overcome by her fears,
sank down in a fit of hysterical weeping, Odette de Villeneuve
remained standing within the low doorway, and with head erect listened
frowning until the last sound of the horses' hoofs died to the ear.
Then she drew a deep breath, and, turning slowly, she allowed her eyes
to take stock of the place in which she so strangely found herself.
It was a tiny building of rough-hewn stones, with an altar and
crucifix, also of stone, erected at the end remote from the door.
Along either wall ran a stone bench, on one or other of which the good
fathers must have spent many a summer day watching the ford; for at a
certain point the stone was polished and worn by friction. The litter
and the wounded man filled half the open space, leaving visible only a
floor of trodden earth foul with the droppings of birds and sheep, and
betraying in other respects the results of neglect. Here and there on
some stone larger than its fellows, and particularly on the lintel, a
prentice hand had carved symbols; but, this notwithstanding, the whole
wore by the light of the smoky lamp an aspect far from sacred.
Yet the prospect of spending several hours in so poor a place did not
appear to depress the Abbess. Her inspection finished, she nodded an
answer to her thoughts, and sitting down on the bench beside the
litter, rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand, and
fixing her large dark eyes on the wounded man, gave herself up, as
completely as if she had been in her own chamber, to her thoughts.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account