the dissatisfaction of the English with the royal family; the difference between the discontent at home and in France.
“We are of a different temperament,” he said. I don’t think it could come to revolution in England. There are the differences between rich and poor, there are the resentments; there are the occasional riots . but the atmosphere is quite different. It’s coming here, Minella.
You can feel it . right overhead . about to break. “
He knew a great deal about the situation and it was ironical that I should learn more from him than from anyone else. He was the looker-on who saw the best of the game. Moreover he was astute, politically-minded and shrewd.
Louis is the worst kind of king for his times,” he said.
“It’s sad because he is a good man. But he’s weak. He wants to be good. He sympathizes with the people but he is too lethargic. He believes all men are as well-meaning as himself. Alas for France! And the Queen, poor Marie Antoinette. She was too young to have so much thrust upon her. Oh, she has been guilty of great extravagance. But she was only a child. Imagine her coming from the stem rigid rule of her indomitable mother to be the petted darling of the dissolute
The Reign of Terror Court of France. Naturally it went to her head and she was too feather-brained to understand what damage she was doing. What is coming is inevitable and it will bring no good to France. The mob will have the heads of all the aristocrats it can lay its hands on-no matter whether they are its enemies or not. There has been injustice and that should be abolished, but the greatest passion in the world is envy and soon the rabble in its rags will be on the march against the nobleman in his castle. “
It was uncomfortable hearing, and all the time I was thinking of the Comte.
Joel liked to walk with me after dark so that he could show me the stars in the sky-the lustre of Arcturus and Capella twinkling there, and when he pointed to Mars, conspicuously red on the horizon, it seemed ominous.
I recaptured the pleasure of being with him. He was never dull. We could discuss and disagree with the utmost amity.
The Reign of Terror
I
It was afternoon, just after the midday meal. The household was always sleepy at this time. Most took a siesta, a habit I had never fallen into.
There was a tap on my door, for I was in my bedroom, and when I opened it Armand the groom stood there.
“Mademoiselle,” he said, I have received a message from my master.”
His master? The Comte of course. Hadn’t Armand come with us from the chateaw? Yes, Armand? “
“Monsieur Ie Comte wants you to meet him, and I am to take you to him.”
“When?”
“Now, Mademoiselle. He wants us to leave as quietly as possible. He does not want anyone to know that he is in the neighbourhood.”
“He is in Grasseville?”
“Just beyond the town. Mademoiselle. He is waiting for you there. I have saddled your horse and she is ready in the stables.”
“Give me a moment then and I will change into my riding habit.”
“Yes, Mademoiselle, but I beg of you be quick and let no one know where you are going. These are the Comte’s orders.”
“You can rely on me,” I said, excitement rising within me.
He went. I locked the door and changed hastily. I was lucky and saw no one on the way down to the stables.
Armand looked relieved when he saw me.
“I trust, Mademoiselle …”
“It’s all right,” I said. I saw no one. “
That is well. “
He helped me into the saddle and very soon we were riding out together.
We skirted the town. I scarcely noticed the way we were going, so excited was I at the prospect of seeing the Comte. All my probing into the future of the last few days was being turned topsy-turvy just at the prospect of being with him. How could I possibly contemplate marrying one man when the thought of another set my mind whirling in excitement.
We rode on. I had never been in this direction before. The nature of the countryside had changed. It was hilly and we made our way through rough woodland. Once or twice Armand pulled up sharply. I stopped with him.
He appeared to be listening. There was no sound in the wood but the gentle trickle of a stream somewhere near and the sudden buzz of a bee as it flew past.
Armand nodded, appearing satisfied and prodded his horse.
We came to a small house in the wood. Its stone walls were covered in creeper, and the garden about it was a jungle of overgrown weeds and bushes.
“Is this our destination?” I asked in surprise.
Armand said it was.
“Follow me. Mademoiselle. Well take the horses to the back of the house and tether them there.”
We went round to the back. Whoever lived here could not have tended the garden for more than a year. I looked about for the Comte’s horse, for it must be here since he had chosen it for a rendezvous, but I could see nothing.
It was a gloomy spot and instinctively I shrank from alighting.
“Why,” I asked, ‘did the Comte choose such a place? “
Armand lifted his shoulders as though to say it was not for him to question the Comte’s commands, only to obey them.
He tethered his horse and came to help me alight. I felt a sudden inclination to spur my horse and gallop away from this place. There was something evil about it. Was it because for the last days I had been thinking about the peace of Derringham?
Armand was tying my horse beside his.
“Armand,” I said, “you will come in there with me?”
“But certainly. Mademoiselle.”
It’s such an . unpleasant little place. “
“It is because the overgrown bushes and shrubs make it dark. It is different inside.”
“Whose house is it?”
“It belongs to the Comte Fontaine Delibes, Mademoiselle.”
“How strange that he should own a house here. It is not on his estate.”
“It was a hunting lodge at one time. He has such places all over the country.”
I looked away to the right where a mound of earth rose up from the ground.
“Someone has been digging here recently,” I said.
“I do not know. Mademoiselle. But. look. “
“Oh, it would seem so. Let us go inside.”
“But I want to see this. Look, there’s a hole. It looks-‘ a cold shiver seized me ‘it looks like a grave.”
“Perhaps someone wanted to bury a dog.”
“It is rather big for a dog,” I said.
Armand had taken my arm and drew me to the door. He took a key from his pocket and, opening the door, gave me a gentle push. I was standing in a hall which was dark and a terrible foreboding came to me.
The door shut and I said: “Armand, surely the Comte would not come to a place like this. Where was his horse? If he is already here…”
“It may be that he has not arrived yet.”
I turned to look at him sharply. A subtle change had come over him. I had never taken much notice of Armand before. He had merely been the groom who had come with us from the chateau. Now he looked uneasy . furtive even. Nonsense! I thought quickly. Imagination! He had been in the Comte’s service for many years. It had once been said in Margot’s presence and she had not denied it. He was the Comte’s good servant. It was the atmosphere of this place which was doing something to my imagination. Then that hole outside which had looked like a grave. Someone had been here recently to dig it, I should discover.
Armand had gripped my arm as though he feared I would try to escape.