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Marie Antoinette Romances, Vol 1: Balsamo, The Magician

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<h2>CHAPTER IV. GILBERT.</h2> The alarmed traveler closed the coach door behind him carefully, and looked wistfully round. First he saw the young man, frightened. A flash of lighting enabled him to examine him from head to foot, an operation habitual to him on seeing any new person or thing. This was a springald of sixteen, small, thin and agile; his bold black eyes lacked sweetness but not charm: shrewdness and observation were revealed in his thin, hooked nose, fine lip and projecting cheek bones, while the rounded chin stuck out in token of resolution. "Was that you screamed just now,—what for?" queried the gentleman. "The lady from the cab there rode off on the led horse." The traveler did not make any remark at this hesitating reply; not a word; he rushed to the fore part and saw by the lightning that it was empty. "Sblood!" he roared in Italian, almost like the thunder peal accompanying the oath. He looked round for means of pursuit, but one of the coach-horses in chase of Djerid would be a tortoise after a gazelle. "Still I can find out where she is," he muttered, "unless——" Quickly and anxiously he drew a small book from his vest pocket, and in a folded paper found a tress of raven hair. His features became serene, and apparently he was calmed. "All is well," he said, wiping his streaming face. "Did she say nothing when she started?" "Yes, that she quitted you not through hate but fear, as she is a Christian, while you—you are an atheist, and miscreant, to whom God sought to give a final warning by this storm." "If that is all, let us drop the subject." The last traces of disquiet and discontent fled the man's brow. The youth noticed all this with curiosity mingled with keen observation. "What is your name, my young friend?" inquired the traveler. "Gilbert." "Your Christian name, but——" "It is my whole name." "My dear Gilbert, Providence placed you on my road to save me from bother. I know your youth compels you to be obliging: but I am not going to ask anything hard of you—only a night's lodging." "This rock was my shelter." "I should like a dwelling better where I could get a good meal and bed." "We are a league and a half from Pierrefitte, the next village." "With only two horses that would take two hours. Just think if there is no refuge nearer." "Taverney Castle is at hand, but it is not an inn." "Not lived in?" "Baron Taverney lives there——" "What is he?" "Father of Mademoiselle Andrea de Taverney——" "Delighted to hear it," smilingly said the other: "but I want to know the kind of man he is." "An old nobleman who used to be wealthy." "An old story. My friend, please take me to Baron Taverney's." "He does not receive company," said the youth, in apprehension. "Not welcome a stray gentleman? He must be a bear." "Much like it. I do not advise your risking it." "Pooh! The bear will not eat me up alive." "But he may keep the door closed." "I will break it in; and unless you refuse to be my guide——" "I do not; I will show the way." The traveler took off the carriage lamp, which Gilbert held curiously in his hands. "It has no light," he said. "I have fire in my pocket." "Pretty hard to get fire from flint and steel this weather," observed the youth. But the other drew a silver case from his pocket, and opening the lid plunged a match into it; a flame sprang up and he drew out the match aflame. This was so sudden and unexpected by the youth, who only knew of tinder and the spark, and not of phosphorus, the toy of science at this period, that he started. He watched the magician restore the case to his pocket with greed. He would have given much to have the instrument. He went on before with the lighted lamp, while his companion forced the horses to come by his hand on the bridle. "You appear to know all about this Baron of Taverney, my lad!" he began the dialogue. "I have lived on his estate since a child." "Oh, your kinsman, tutor, master?" At this word the youth's cheek colored up, though usually pale, and he quivered. "I am no man's servant, sir," he retorted. "I am son of one who was a farmer for the baron, and my mother nursed Mademoiselle Andrea." "I understand; you belong to the household as foster-brother of the young lady—I suppose she is young?" "She is sixteen." He had answered only one of the two questions, and not the one personal to him. "How did you chance to be on the road in such weather?" inquired the other, making the same reflection as our own. "I was not on the road, but in the cave, reading a book called 'The Social Contract,' by one Rousseau." "Oh, found the book in the lord's library?" asked the gentleman with some astonishment. "No, I bought it of a peddler who, like others of his trade, has been hawking good books hereabouts." "Who told you 'The Contract' was a good book?" "I found that out by reading it, in comparison with some infamous ones in the baron's library." "The baron gets indecent books, always costly, in this hole?" "He does not spend money on them as they are sent him from Paris by his friend the Marshal Duke of Richelieu." "Oh! of course he does not let his daughter see such stuff?" "He leaves them about, but Mademoiselle Andrea does not read them," rejoined the youth, drily. The mocking traveler was briefly silent. He was interested in this singular character, in whom was blended good and evil, shame and boldness. "How came you to read bad books?" "I did not know what they were until read; but I kept on as they taught me what I was unaware of. But 'The Contract' told me what I had guessed, that all men are brothers, society badly arranged, and that instead of being serfs and slaves, individuals are equal." "Whew!" whistled the gentleman, as they went on. "You seem to be hungry to learn?" "Yes, it is my greatest wish to know everything, so as to rise——" "To what station?" Gilbert paused, for having a goal in his mind, he wanted to keep it hidden. "As far as man may go," he answered. "So you have studied?" "How study when I was not rich and was cooped up in Taverney? I can read and write; but I shall learn the rest somehow one of these days." "An odd boy," thought the stranger. During the quarter of an hour they had trudged on, the rain had ceased, and the earth sent up the sharp tang replacing the sulphurous breath of the thunderstorms. "Do you know what storms are?" questioned Gilbert, after deep musing. "Thunder and lightning are the result of a shock between the electricity in the air and in the earth," he said, smiling. "I do not follow you," sighed Gilbert. The traveler might have supplied a more lucid explanation but a light glimmered through the trees. "That is the carriage-gateway of Taverney," said the guide. "Open it." "Taverney gate does not open so easily as that." "Is it a fort? Knock, and louder than that!" Thus emboldened, the boy dropped the knocker and hung on to the bell, which clanged so lustily that it might be heard afar. "That is Mahon barking," said the youth. "Mahon? He names his watchdog after a victory of his friend my Lord Richelieu, I see," remarked the traveler. "I did not know that. You see how ignorant I am," sighed Gilbert. These sighs summed up the disappointments and repressed ambition of the youth. "That is the goodman Labrie coming," said the latter at the sound of footsteps within. The door opened, but at the sight of the stranger the old servant wanted to slam it. "Excuse me, friend," interposed the traveler; "don't shut the door in my face. I will risk my travel-stained garb, and I warrant you that I shall not be expelled before I have warmed myself and had a meal. I hear you keep good wine, eh? You ought to know that?" Labrie tried still to resist, but the other was determined and led the horses right in with the coach, while Gilbert closed the gates in a trice. Vanquished, the servant ran to announce his own defeat. He rushed toward the house, shouting: "Nicole Legay!" "Nicole is Mademoiselle Andrea's maid," explained the boy, as the gentleman advanced with his usual tranquility. A light appeared among the shrubbery, showing a pretty girl. "What is all this riot; what's wanted of me?" she challenged. "Quick, my lass," faltered the old domestic, "announce to master that a stranger, overtaken by the storm, seeks hospitality for the night." Nicole darted so swiftly toward the building as to be lost instantly to sight. Labrie took breath, as he might be sure that his lord would not be taken by surprise. "Announce Baron Joseph Balsamo," said the traveler; "the similarity in rank will disarm your lord." At the first step of the portal he looked round for Gilbert, but he had disappeared. <hr style="width:65%;"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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