“What care I?” she replied lightly, “now I know that my husband is safe, and that I shall see him almost directly!”
“Hush!” he said in genuine alarm, for she had talked quite loudly, in the fulness of her glee, “the very walls have ears in France, these days.”
He rose quickly from the table, and walked round the bare, squalid room, listening attentively2 at the door, through which Brogard had just disappeared, and whence only muttered oaths and shuffling3 footsteps could be heard. He also ran up the rickety steps that led to the attic4, to assure himself that there were no spies of Chauvelin's about the place.
“Are we alone, Monsieur, my lacquey?” said Marguerite, gaily5, as the young man once more sat down beside her. “May we talk?”
“Faith, man! but you wear a glum8 face! As for me, I could dance with joy! Surely there is no longer any cause for fear. Our boat is on the beach, the Foam9 Crest10 not two miles out at sea, and my husband will be here, under this very roof, within the next half hour perhaps. Sure! there is naught11 to hinder us. Chauvelin and his gang have not yet arrived.”
“Nay, madam! that I fear we do not know.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was at Dover at the same time that we were.”
“Held up by the same storm, which kept us from starting.”
“Exactly. But—I did not speak of it before, for I feared to alarm you—I saw him on the beach not five minutes before we embarked12. At least, I swore to myself at the time that it was himself; he was disguised as a curé, so that Satan, his own guardian13, would scarce have known him. But I heard him then, bargaining for a vessel14 to take him swiftly to Calais; and he must have set sail less than an hour after we did.”
Marguerite's face had quickly lost its look of joy. The terrible danger in which Percy stood, now that he was actually on French soil, became suddenly and horribly clear to her. Chauvelin was close upon his heels; here in Calais, the astute15 diplomatist was all-powerful; a word from him and Percy could be tracked and arrested and . . .
Every drop of blood seemed to freeze in her veins16; not even during the moments of her wildest anguish17 in England had she so completely realised the imminence18 of the peril19 in which her husband stood. Chauvelin had sworn to bring the Scarlet20 Pimpernel to the guillotine, and now the daring plotter, whose anonymity21 hitherto had been his safeguard, stood revealed through her own hand, to his most bitter, most relentless22 enemy.
Chauvelin—when he waylaid23 Lord Tony and Sir Andrew Ffoulkes in the coffee-room of “The Fisherman's Rest”—had obtained possession of all the plans of this latest expedition. Armand St. Just, the Comte de Tournay and other fugitive24 royalists were to have met the Scarlet Pimpernel—or rather, as it had been originally arranged, two of his emissaries—on this day, the 2nd of October, at a place evidently known to the league, and vaguely25 alluded26 to as the “Père Blanchard's hut.”
Armand, whose connection with the Scarlet Pimpernel and disavowal of the brutal27 policy of the Reign28 of Terror was still unknown to his countrymen, had left England a little more than a week ago, carrying with him the necessary instructions, which would enable him to meet the other fugitives29 and to convey them to this place of safety.
This much Marguerite had fully30 understood from the first, and Sir Andrew Ffoulkes had confirmed her surmises31. She knew, too, that when Sir Percy realised that his own plans and his directions to his lieutenants32 had been stolen by Chauvelin, it was too late to communicate with Armand, or to send fresh instructions to the fugitives.
They would, of necessity, be at the appointed time and place, not knowing how grave was the danger which now awaited their brave rescuer.
Blakeney, who as usual had planned and organised the whole expedition, would not allow any of his younger comrades to run the risk of almost certain capture. Hence his hurried note to them at Lord Grenville's ball—“Start myself to-morrow—alone.”
And now with his identity known to his most bitter enemy, his every step would be dogged, the moment he set foot in France. He would be tracked by Chauvelin's emissaries, followed until he reached that mysterious hut where the fugitives were waiting for him, and there the trap would be closed on him and on them.
There was but one hour—the hour's start which Marguerite and Sir Andrew had of their enemy—in which to warn Percy of the imminence of his danger, and to persuade him to give up the foolhardy expedition, which could only end in his own death.
But there was that one hour.
“Chauvelin knows of this inn, from the papers he stole,” said Sir Andrew, earnestly, “and on landing will make straight for it.”
“He has not landed yet,” she said, “we have an hour's start on him, and Percy will be here directly. We shall be mid-Channel ere Chauvelin has realised that we have slipped through his fingers.”
She spoke34 excitedly and eagerly, wishing to infuse into her young friend some of that buoyant hope which still clung to her heart. But he shook his head sadly.
“Silent again, Sir Andrew?” she said with some impatience35. “Why do you shake your head and look so glum?”
“Faith, Madame,” he replied, “'tis only because in making your rose-coloured plans, you are forgetting the most important factor.”
“What in the world do you mean?—I am forgetting nothing. . . . What factor do you mean?” she added with more impatience.
“It stands six foot odd high,” replied Sir Andrew, quietly, “and hath name Percy Blakeney.”
“I don't understand,” she murmured.
“Do you think that Blakeney would leave Calais without having accomplished36 what he set out to do?”
“You mean . . . ?”
“There's the old Comte de Tournay . . .”
“The Comte . . . ?” she murmured.
“And St. Just . . . and others . . .”
“My brother!” she said with a heart-broken sob37 of anguish. “Heaven help me, but I fear I had forgotten.”
“Fugitives as they are, these men at this moment await with perfect confidence and unshaken faith the arrival of the Scarlet Pimpernel, who has pledged his honour to take them safely across the Channel.”
Indeed, she had forgotten! With the sublime38 selfishness of a woman who loves with her whole heart, she had in the last twenty-four hours had no thought save for him. His precious, noble life, his danger—he, the loved one, the brave hero, he alone dwelt in her mind.
“My brother!” she murmured, as one by one the heavy tears gathered in her eyes, as memory came back to her of Armand, the companion and darling of her childhood, the man for whom she had committed the deadly sin, which had so hopelessly imperilled her brave husband's life.
“Sir Percy Blakeney would not be the trusted, honoured leader of a score of English gentlemen,” said Sir Andrew, proudly, “if he abandoned those who placed their trust in him. As for breaking his word, the very thought is preposterous39!”
There was silence for a moment or two. Marguerite had buried her face in her hands, and was letting the tears slowly trickle40 through her trembling fingers. The young man said nothing; his heart ached for this beautiful woman in her awful grief. All along he had felt the terrible impasse41 in which her own rash act had plunged42 them all. He knew his friend and leader so well, with his reckless daring, his mad bravery, his worship of his own word of honour. Sir Andrew knew that Blakeney would brave any danger, run the wildest risks sooner than break it, and, with Chauvelin at his very heels, would make a final attempt, however desperate, to rescue those who trusted in him.
“Faith, Sir Andrew,” said Marguerite at last, making brave efforts to dry her tears, “you are right, and I would not now shame myself by trying to dissuade43 him from doing his duty. As you say, I should plead in vain. God grant him strength and ability,” she added fervently44 and resolutely45, “to outwit his pursuers. He will not refuse to take you with him, perhaps, when he starts on his noble work; between you, you will have cunning as well as valour! God guard you both! In the meanwhile I think we should lose no time. I still believe that his safety depends upon his knowing that Chauvelin is on his track.”
“Undoubtedly. He has wonderful resources at his command. As soon as he is aware of his danger he will exercise more caution: his ingenuity46 is a veritable miracle.”
“Then, what say you to a voyage of reconnaissance in the village whilst I wait here against his coming!—You might come across Percy's track and thus save valuable time. If you find him, tell him to beware!—his bitterest enemy is on his heels!”
“But this is such a villainous hole for you to wait in.”
“Nay, that I do not mind!—But you might ask our surly host if he could let me wait in another room, where I could be safer from the prying47 eyes of any chance traveller. Offer him some ready money, so that he should not fail to give me word the moment the tall Englishman returns.”
She spoke quite calmly, even cheerfully now, thinking out her plans, ready for the worst if need be; she would show no more weakness, she would prove herself worthy48 of him, who was about to give his life for the sake of his fellow-men.
Sir Andrew obeyed her without further comment. Instinctively49 he felt that hers now was the stronger mind; he was willing to give himself over to her guidance, to become the hand, whilst she was the directing head.
He went to the door of the inner room, through which Brogard and his wife had disappeared before, and knocked; as usual, he was answered by a salvo of muttered oaths.
“Hey! friend Brogard!” said the young man peremptorily50, “my lady would wish to rest here awhile. Could you give her the use of another room? She would wish to be alone.”
He took some money out of his pocket, and allowed it to jingle51 significantly in his hand. Brogard had opened the door, and listened, with his usual surly apathy52, to the young man's request. At sight of the gold, however, his lazy attitude relaxed slightly; he took his pipe from his mouth and shuffled53 into the room.
“Nothing could be better,” said Marguerite in English; she at once realised the advantages such a position hidden from view would give her. “Give him the money, Sir Andrew; I shall be quite happy up there, and can see everything without being seen.”
She nodded to Brogard, who condescended55 to go up to the attic, and to shake up the straw that lay on the floor.
“May I entreat6 you, madam, to do nothing rash,” said Sir Andrew, as Marguerite prepared in her turn to ascend56 the rickety flight of steps. “Remember this place is infested57 with spies. Do not, I beg of you, reveal yourself to Sir Percy, unless you are absolutely certain that you are alone with him.”
Even as he spoke, he felt how unnecessary was this caution: Marguerite was as calm, as clear-headed as any man. There was no fear of her doing anything that was rash.
“Nay,” she said with a slight attempt at cheerfulness, “that can I faithfully promise you. I would not jeopardise my husband's life, nor yet his plans, by speaking to him before strangers. Have no fear, I will watch my opportunity, and serve him in the manner I think he needs it most.”
Brogard had come down the steps again, and Marguerite was ready to go up to her safe retreat.
“I dare not kiss your hand, madam,” said Sir Andrew, as she began to mount the steps, “since I am your lacquey, but I pray you be of good cheer. If I do not come across Blakeney in half an hour, I shall return, expecting to find him here.”
“Yes, that will be best. We can afford to wait for half an hour. Chauvelin cannot possibly be here before that. God grant that either you or I may have seen Percy by then. Good luck to you, friend! Have no fear for me.”
Lightly she mounted the rickety wooden steps that led to the attic. Brogard was taking no further heed58 of her. She could make herself comfortable there or not as she chose. Sir Andrew watched her until she had reached the loft59 and sat down upon the straw. She pulled the tattered60 curtains across, and the young man noted61 that she was singularly well placed there, for seeing and hearing, whilst remaining unobserved.
He had paid Brogard well; the surly old innkeeper would have no object in betraying her. Then Sir Andrew prepared to go. At the door he turned once again and looked up at the loft. Through the ragged62 curtains Marguerite's sweet face was peeping down at him, and the young man rejoiced to see that it looked serene63, and even gently smiling. With a final nod of farewell to her, he walked out into the night.
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1
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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glum
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| adj.闷闷不乐的，阴郁的 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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imminence
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| n.急迫，危急 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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anonymity
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| n.the condition of being anonymous | |
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relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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23
waylaid
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| v.拦截，拦路( waylay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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30
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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surmises
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的第三人称单数 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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lieutenants
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| n.陆军中尉( lieutenant的名词复数 )；副职官员；空军；仅低于…官阶的官员 | |
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33
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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34
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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35
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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36
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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40
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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impasse
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| n.僵局；死路 | |
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42
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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43
dissuade
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| v.劝阻，阻止 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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47
prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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48
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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50
peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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51
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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52
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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53
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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54
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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55
condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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56
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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57
infested
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| adj.为患的，大批滋生的（常与with搭配）v.害虫、野兽大批出没于( infest的过去式和过去分词 )；遍布于 | |
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58
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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59
loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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60
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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61
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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62
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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