Stray Pearls: Memoirs of Margaret De Ribaumont, Viscountess of Bellaise by Yonge (summer reads txt) 📕

which I was received by two strong arms; a handkerchief was thrown over my mouth to stop my screams, and though the inside of the coach was already darkened, my hands were tied and my eyes blinded as I was placed on the seat far in the corner; the door banged fast, and we drove swiftly away.

At first I was exhausted with my struggles, and in an agony of suffocation with the gag, which hindered me from getting my breath. I fancy I must have made some sound which showed my captors that unless they relieved me, I should perish in their hands. So the handkerchief was removed, and while I was panting, a voice said:

‘It shall not be put on again, if Madame will give her word not to cry out.’

‘It is of no use at present,’ I gasped out, and they let me alone. I thought I knew that threats and entreaties could avail me little in the existing circumstances, and I thought it wiser to rally my forces for the struggle that no doubt was impending; so I sat as still as I could, and was rewarded by finding my hands unbound, when I tried to raise one to my face, and again the voice said:

‘Believe us, Madame, you are with friends who would not hurt you for the universe.’

I made no answer. Perhaps it was in the same mood in which, when I was a child at home and was in a bad temper, I might be whipped and shut up in a dark room, but nothing would make me speak. Only now I said my prayers, and I am sure I never did so in those old days. We went on and on, and I think I must have dozed at last, for I actually thought myself wearied out with kicking, scratching, and screaming on the floor of the lumber-room at Walwyn, and that I heard the dear grandmother’s voice saying:

‘Eh! quoi! she is asleep; the sullen had stopped, and with the words, ‘Pardon me, Madame,’ I was lifted out, and set upon my feet; but my two hands were taken, and I was led along what seemed to be endless passages, until at length my hands were released, and the same voice said:

‘Madame will be glad of a few moments to arrange her dress. She will find the bandage over her eyes easy to remove.’

Before, however, I could pull it away, my enemy had shut the door from the outside, and I heard the key turn in it. I looked about me; I was in a narrow paved chamber, with one small window very high up, through which the sunbeams came, chequered by a tall tree, so high that I knew it was late in the day, and that we must have driven far. There was the frame of a narrow bedstead in one corner, a straw chair, a crucifix, and an empty cell in a deserted convent; but there was a stone table projecting from the wall, on which had been placed a few toilette necessaries, and a pitcher of water stood on the floor.

I was glad to drink a long draught, and then, as I saw there was no exit, I could not but make myself more fit to be seen, for my hair had been pulled down and hung on my shoulders, and my face—ah! it had never looked anything like that, save on the one day when Eustace and I had the great battle, and our grand-mother punished us both by bread and water for a week.

After I had made myself look a little more like a respectable widow, I knelt down before the crucifix to implore that I might be defended, and not be wanting to my son or myself. I had scarcely done so, however, when the door was opened, and as I rose to my feet I beheld my brother-in-law, d’Aubepine.

‘Armand, brother,’ I cried joyfully, ‘are you come to my rescue? Did you meet my sister?’

For I really thought she had sent him, and I readily placed my hand in his as he said: ‘It depends only on yourself to be free.’ Even then I did not take alarm, till I found myself in a little bare dilapidated chapel, but with the altar hastily decked, a priest before it in his stole, whom I knew for the Abbe de St. Leu, one of the dissipated young clergy about Court, a familiar of the Conde clique, and, prepared to receive me, Monsieur de Lamont, in a satin suit, lace collar and cuffs, and deep lace round his boots.

I wrenched my hand from M. d’Aubepine, and would have gone back, but three or four of the soldiers came between me and the door. They were dragoons of the Conde regiment; I knew their uniform. Then I turned round and reproached d’Aubepine with his wicked treachery to the memory of the man he had once loved.

Alas! this moved him no longer. He swore fiercely that this should not be hurled at his head again, and throughout the scene, he was worse to me than even M. de Lamont, working himself into a rage in order to prevent himself from being either shamed or touched.

They acted by the will and consent of the Prince, they told me, and it was of no use to resist it. The Abbe, whom I hated most of all, for he had a loathsome face, took out a billet, and showed it to me. I clearly read in the large straggling characters—‘You are welcome to a corporal’s party, if you can by no other means reduce the pride of the little droll.—L. DE B.’

‘Your Prince should be ashamed of himself,’ I said. ‘I shall take care to publish his infamy as well as yours.’

The gentlemen laughed, the Abbe the loudest, and told me I was quite welcome; such victories were esteemed honourable.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘for a short time, among cowards and rogues.’

Armand howled at the word cowards.

‘Cowards, yes,’ I said, ‘who must needs get a company of soldiers to overcome one woman.’

I saw a good long scratch on Lamont’s face just then, and I flattered myself that it was due to Nan’s nails. They all beset me, Lamont at my feet, pleading the force of his passion, entreating with all the exaggeration of the current language; the Abbe arguing about the splendid position I should secure for my son and myself, and the way I should be overthrown if I held out against the Prince; d’Aubepine raging and threatening. I had lost myself already, by my absence and goings on, the estate; the Prince had but to speak the word, and I should be in the Bastille.

‘Let him,’ I said.

‘It is of no use to dally with her,’ cried Armand. ‘I will hold her while the rite is performed.’

I looked at him. I was quite as tall as he, and, I believe, quite as strong; at any rate he quailed, and called out:

‘Have you any spirit, Lamont? Here, one of you fellows, come and help to hold her.’

‘At your peril!’ I said. ‘Gentlemen, I am the widow of your brave officer, Captain de Bellaise, killed at Freibourg. Will you see this wrong done?’

‘I command you, as your officer—forward!’ he said; and though one wavered, the others stepped forward.