The Message | Page 3

asked for the shortest way, and
hurried through the field paths of the Bourbonnais, bearing, as it were,
a dead man on my back. The nearer I came to the Chateau de
Montpersan, the more aghast I felt at the idea of my strange
self-imposed pilgrimage. Vast numbers of romantic fancies ran in my
head. I imagined all kinds of situations in which I might find this
Comtesse de Montpersan, or, to observe the laws of romance, this
Juliette, so passionately beloved of my traveling companion. I sketched
out ingenious answers to the questions which she might be supposed to
put to me. At every turn of a wood, in every beaten pathway, I
rehearsed a modern version of the scene in which Sosie describes the
battle to his lantern. To my shame be it said, I had thought at first of
nothing but the part that I was to play, of my own cleverness, of how I
should demean myself; but now that I was in the country, an ominous
thought flashed through my soul like a thunderbolt tearing its way
through a veil of gray cloud.
What an awful piece of news it was for a woman whose whole thoughts
were full of her young lover, who was looking forward hour by hour to
a joy which no words can express, a woman who had been at a world of
pains to invent plausible pretexts to draw him to her side. Yet, after all,
it was a cruel deed of charity to be the messenger of death! So I hurried
on, splashing and bemiring myself in the byways of the Bourbonnais.
Before very long I reached a great chestnut avenue with a pile of
buildings at the further end--the Chateau of Montpersan stood out
against the sky like a mass of brown cloud, with sharp, fantastic

outlines. All the doors of the chateau stood open. This in itself
disconcerted me, and routed all my plans; but I went in boldly, and in a
moment found myself between a couple of dogs, barking as your true
country-bred animal can bark. The sound brought out a hurrying
servant-maid; who, when informed that I wished to speak to Mme. la
Comtesse, waved a hand towards the masses of trees in the English
park which wound about the chateau with "Madame is out there----"
"Many thanks," said I ironically. I might have wandered for a couple of
hours in the park with her "out there" to guide me.
In the meantime, a pretty little girl, with curling hair, dressed in a white
frock, a rose-colored sash, and a broad frill at the throat, had overheard
or guessed the question and its answer. She gave me a glance and
vanished, calling in shrill, childish tones:
"Mother, here is a gentleman who wishes to speak to you!"
And, along the winding alleys, I followed the skipping and dancing
white frill, a sort of will-o'-the-wisp, that showed me the way among
the trees.
I must make a full confession. I stopped behind the last shrub in the
avenue, pulled up my collar, rubbed my shabby hat and my trousers
with the cuffs of my sleeves, dusted my coat with the sleeves
themselves, and gave them a final cleansing rub one against the other. I
buttoned my coat carefully so as to exhibit the inner, always the least
worn, side of the cloth, and finally had turned down the tops of my
trousers over my boots, artistically cleaned in the grass. Thanks to this
Gascon toilet, I could hope that the lady would not take me for the local
rate collector; but now when my thoughts travel back to that episode of
my youth, I sometimes laugh at my own expense.
Suddenly, just as I was composing myself, at a turning in the green
walk, among a wilderness of flowers lighted up by a hot ray of sunlight,
I saw Juliette--Juliette and her husband. The pretty little girl held her
mother by the hand, and it was easy to see that the lady had quickened
her pace somewhat at the child's ambiguous phrase. Taken aback by the
sight of a total stranger, who bowed with a tolerably awkward air, she
looked at me with a coolly courteous expression and an adorable pout,
in which I, who knew her secret, could read the full extent of her
disappointment. I sought, but sought in vain, to remember any of the
elegant phrases so laboriously prepared.

This momentary hesitation gave the lady's husband time to come
forward. Thoughts by the myriad flitted through my brain. To give
myself a countenance, I got out a few sufficiently feeble inquiries,
asking whether the persons present were really M. le Comte and Mme.
la Comtesse de Montpersan. These imbecilities gave me time to form