tales of trail and town- 第32部分

anything　from　the　portrait。



But　he　was　not　so　clear　about　the　young　girl。　　Her　tender；

appealing　voice；　although　he　knew　it　had　been　addressed　only　to　a

vision；　still　thrilled　his　fancy。　　The　pluck　that　had　made　her

withstand　her　fear　so　longuntil　he　had　uttered　that　dreadful

wordstill　excited　his　admiration。　　His　curiosity　to　know　what

mistake　he　had　madefor　he　knew　it　must　have　been　some　frightful

blunderwas　all　the　more　keen；　as　he　had　no　chance　to　rectify　it。

What　a　brute　she　must　have　thought　himor　DID　she　really　think　him

a　brute　even　then？for　her　look　was　one　more　of　despair　and　pity！

Yet　she　would　remember　him　only　by　that　last　word；　and　never　know

that　he　had　risked　insult　and　ejection　from　her　friends　to　carry

her　to　her　place　of　safety。　　He　could　not　bear　to　go　across　the

seas　carrying　the　pale；　unsatisfied　face　of　that　gentle　girl　ever

before　his　eyes！　　A　sense　of　delicacynew　to　Dick；　but　always　the

accompaniment　of　deep　feelingkept　him　from　even　hinting　his　story

to　his　host；　though　he　knewperhaps　BECAUSE　he　knewthat　it　would

gratify　his　enmity　to　the　family。　　A　sudden　thought　struck　Dick。

He　knew　her　house；　and　her　name。　　He　would　write　her　a　note。

Somebody　would　be　sure　to　translate　it　for　her。



He　borrowed　pen；　ink；　and　paper；　and　in　the　clean　solitude　of　his

fresh　chintz　bedroom；　indited　the　following　letter：





DEAR　MISS　FONTONELLES；Please　excuse　me　for　having　skeert　you。　　I

hadn't　any　call　to　do　it；　I　never　reckoned　to　do　itit　was　all

jest　my　derned　luck；　I　only　reckoned　to　tell　you　I　was　lostin

them　blamed　woodsdon't　you　remember？〃lost〃PERDOO！and　then

you　up　and　fainted！　　I　wouldn't　have　come　into　your　garden；　only；

you　see；　I'd　just　skeered　by　accident　two　of　your　helps；　reg'lar

softies；　and　I　wanted　to　explain。　　I　reckon　they　allowed　I　was　that

man　that　that　picture　in　the　hall　was　painted　after。　　I　reckon　they

took　ME　for　himsee？　　But　he　ain't　MY　style；　nohow；　and　I　never

saw　the　picture　at　all　until　after　I'd　toted　you；　when　you　fainted；

up　to　your　house；　or　I'd　have　made　my　kalkilations　and　acted

according。　　I'd　have　laid　low　in　the　woods；　and　got　away　without

skeerin'　you。　　You　see　what　I　mean？　　It　was　mighty　mean　of　me；　I

suppose；　to　have　tetched　you　at　all；　without　saying；　〃Excuse　me；

miss；〃　and　toted　you　out　of　the　garden　and　up　the　steps　into　your

own　parlor　without　asking　your　leave。　　But　the　whole　thing　tumbled

so　suddent。　　And　it　didn't　seem　the　square　thing　for　me　to　lite　out

and　leave　you　lying　there　on　the　grass。　　That's　why！　　I'm　sorry　I

skeert　that　old　preacher；　but　he　came　upon　me　in　the　picture　hall

so　suddent；　that　it　was　a　mighty　close　call；　I　tell　you；　to　get　off

without　a　shindy。　　Please　forgive　me；　Miss　Fontonelles。　　When　you

get　this；　I　shall　be　going　back　home　to　America；　but　you　might

write　to　me　at　Denver　City；　saying　you're　all　right。　　I　liked　your

style；　I　liked　your　grit　in　standing　up　to　me　in　the　garden　until

you　had　your　say；　when　you　thought　I　was　the　Lord　knows　what

though　I　never　understood　a　word　you　got　offnot　knowing　French。

But　it's　all　the　same　now。　　Say！　　I've　got　your　rose！



Yours　very　respectfully；



RICHARD　FOUNTAINS。





Dick　folded　the　epistle　and　put　it　in　his　pocket。　　He　would　post　it

himself　on　the　morning　before　he　left。　　When　he　came　downstairs　he

found　his　indefatigable　host　awaiting　him；　with　the　report　of　the

veterinary　blacksmith。　　There　was　nothing　seriously　wrong　with　the

mustang；　but　it　would　be　unfit　to　travel　for　several　days。　　The

landlord　repeated　his　former　offer。　　Dick；　whose　money　was　pretty

well　exhausted；　was　fain　to　accept；　reflecting　that　SHE　had　never

seen　the　mustang　and　would　not　recognize　it。　　But　he　drew　the　line

at　the　sombrero；　to　which　his　host　had　taken　a　great　fancy。　　He　had

worn　it　before　HER！



Later　in　the　evening　Dick　was　sitting　on　the　low　veranda　of　the

cafe；　overlooking　the　white　road。　　A　round　white　table　was　beside

him；　his　feet　were　on　the　railing；　but　his　eyes　were　resting　beyond

on　the　high；　mouldy　iron　gates　of　the　mysterious　park。　　What　he　was

thinking　of　did　not　matter；　but　he　was　a　little　impatient　at　the

sudden　appearance　of　his　hostwhom　he　had　evaded　during　the

afternoonat　his　side。　　The　man's　manner　was　full　of　bursting

loquacity　and　mysterious　levity。



Truly；　it　was　a　good　hour　when　Dick　had　arrived　at　Fontonelles；

〃just　in　time。〃　　He　could　see　now　what　a　world　of　imbeciles　was

France。　　What　stupid　ignorance　ruled；　what　low　cunning　and　low　tact

could　achieve；in　effect；　what　jugglers　and　mountebanks；

hypocritical　priests　and　licentious　and　lying　noblesse　went　to　make

up　existing　society。　　Ah；　there　had　been　a　fine　excitement；　a

regular　coup　d'theatre　at　Fontonelles；the　chateau　yonder；　here　at

the　village；　where　the　news　was　brought　by　frightened　grooms　and

silly　women！　　He　had　been　in　the　thick　of　it　all　the　afternoon！　　He

had　examined　it；interrogated　them　like　a　juge　d'instruction；

winnowed　it；　sifted　it。　　And　what　was　it　all？　　An　attempt　by　these

wretched　priests　and　noblesse　to　revive　in　the　nineteenth　century

the　age　of　electricity　and　Pullman　carsa　miserable　mediaeval

legend　of　an　apparition；　a　miracle！　　Yes；　one　is　asked　to　believe

that　at　the　chateau　yonder　was　seen　last　night　three　times　the

apparition　of　Armand　de　Fontonelles！



Dick　started。　　〃Armand　de　Fontonelles！〃　　He　remembered　that　she　had

repeated　that　name。



〃Who's　he？〃　he　demanded　abruptly。



〃The　first　Comte　de　Fontonelles！　　When　monsieur　knows　that　the

first　comte　has　been　dead　three　hundred　years；　he　will　see　the

imbecility　of　the　affair！〃



〃Wot　did　he　come　back　for？〃　growled　Dick。



〃Ah！　it　was　a　legend。　　Consider　its　artfulness！　　The　Comte　Armand

had　been　a　hard　liver；　a　dissipated　scoundrel；　a　reckless　beast；

but　a　mighty　hunter　of　the　stag。　　It　was　said　that　on　one　of　these

occasions　he　had　been　warned　by　the　apparition　of　St。　Hubert；　but

he　had　laughed；for；　observe；　HE　always　jeered　at　the　priests　too；

hence　this　story！and　had　declared　that　the　flaming　cross　seen

between　the　horns　of　the　sacred　stag　was　only　the　torch　of　a

poacher；　and　he　would　shoot　it！　　Good！　the　body　of　the　comte；　dead；

but　without　a　wound；　was　found　in　the　wood　the　next　day；　with　his

discharged　arquebus　in　his　hand。　　The　Archbishop　of　Rouen　refused

his　body　the　rites　of　the　Church　until　a　number　of　masses　were　said

every　year　andpaid　for！　　One　understands！　one　sees　their　'little

game；'　the　count　now　appears；he　is　in　purgatory！　　More　masses；

more　money！　　There　you　are。　　Bah！　　One　understands；　too；　that　the

affair　takes　place；　not　in　a　cafe　like　this；not　in　a　public

place；but　at　a　chateau　of　the　noblesse；　and　is　seen　by〃the

proprietor　checked　the　characters　on　his　fingersTWO　retainers；

one　young　demoiselle　of　the　noblesse；　daughter　of　the　chatelaine

herself；　and；　my　faith；　it　goes　without　saying；　by　a　fat　priest；

the　Cure！　　In　effect；　two　interested　ones！　　And　the　priest；his

lie　is　magnificent！　　Superb！　　For　he　saw　the　comte　in　the　picture…

gallery；in　effect；　stepping　into　his　frame！〃



〃Oh；　come　off　the　roof；〃　said　Dick　impatiently；　〃they　must　have

seen　SOMETHING；　you　know。　　The　young　lady　wouldn't　lie！〃



Monsieur　Ribaud　leaned　over；　with　a　mysterious；　cynical　smile；　and

lowering　his　voice　said：



〃You　have　reason　to　say　so。　　You　have　hit　it；　my　friend。　　There　WAS

a　something！　　And　if　we　regard　the　young　lady；　you　shall　hear。　　The

story　of　Mademoiselle　de　Fontonelles　is　that　she　has　walked　by

herself　alone　in　the　garden；you　observe；　ALONEin　the　moonlight；

near　the　edge　of　the　wood。　　You　comprehend？　　The　mother　and　the

Cure　are　in　the　house；for　the　time　effaced！　　Here　at　the　edge　of

the　woodthough　why　she　continues；　a　young　demoiselle；　to　the　edge

of　the　wood　does　not　make　itself　clearshe　beholds　her　ancestor；

as　on　a　pedestal；　young；　pale；　but　very　handsome　and　exalte；

pardon！〃



〃Nothing；〃　said　Dick　hurriedly；　〃go　on！〃



〃She　beseeches　him　why！　　He　says　he　is　lost！　　She　faints　away；　on

the　instant；　thereregard　me！ON　THE　EDGE　OF　THE　WOOD；　she　says。

But　her　mother　and　Monsieur　le　Cure　find　her　pale；　agitated；

distressed；　ON　THE　SOFA　IN　THE　SALON。　　One　is　asked　to　believe　that

she　is　transported　through　the　airlike　an　angelby　the　spirit　of

Armand　de　Fontonelles。　　Incredible！〃



〃Well；　wot　do　YOU　think？〃　said　Dick　sharply。



The　cafe　proprietor　looked　around　him　carefully；　and　then　lowered

his　voice　significantly：



〃A　lover！〃



〃A　what？〃　said　Dick；　with　a　gasp。



〃A　lover！〃　repeated　Ribaud。　　〃You　comprehend！　　Mademoiselle　has　no

dot；the　property　is　nothing；the　brother　has　everything。　　A

Mademoiselle　de　Fontonelles　cannot　marry　out　of　her　class；　and　the

noblesse　are　all　poor。　　Mademoiselle　is　young；pretty；　they　say；

of　her　kind。　　It　is　an　intolerable　life　at　the　old　chateau；

mademoiselle　consoles　herself！〃



Monsieur　Ribaud　never　knew　how　near　he　was　to　the　white　road　below

the　raili