Woman of Mystery — Chapter XVIII, Hill 132
HILL 132
What a ride it was!
And how gay Paul Delroze felt!
He was at last attaining his object; and this time it was not one of those hazardous enterprises which so often end in cruel disappointment, but the logical outcome and reward of his efforts.
He was beyond the reach of the least shade of anxiety.
There are victories--and his recent victory over the Emperor was one of them--which involve the disappearance of every obstacle.
Élisabeth was at Hildensheim Castle and he was on his way to the castle and nothing would stop him.
He seemed to recognize by the daylight features in the landscape which had been hidden from him by the darkness of the night before: a hamlet here, a village there, a river which he had skirted.
He saw the string of little road-side woods, and he saw the ditch by which he had fought with Karl the spy.
It took hardly more than another hour to reach the hill which was topped by the feudal fortress of Hildensheim.
It was surrounded by a wide moat, spanned by a draw-bridge.
A suspicious porter made his appearance, but a few words from the officer caused the doors to be flung open.
Two footmen hurried down from the castle and, in reply to Paul's question, said that the French lady was walking near the pond.
He asked the way and said to the officer: "I shall go alone.
We shall start very soon."
It had been raining.
A pale winter sun, stealing through the heavy clouds, lit up the lawns and shrubberies.
Paul went along a row of hot-houses and climbed an artificial rockery whence trickled the thin stream of a waterfall which formed a large pool set in a frame of dark fir trees and alive with swans and wild duck.
At the end of the pool was a terrace adorned with statues and stone benches.
And there he saw Élisabeth.
Paul underwent an indescribable emotion.
He had not spoken to his wife since the outbreak of war.
Since that day, Élisabeth had suffered the most horrible trials and had suffered them for the simple reason that she wished to appear in her husband's eyes as a blameless wife, the daughter of a blameless mother.
And now he was about to meet her again at a time when none of the accusations which he had brought against the Comtesse Hermine could be rebuffed and when Élisabeth herself had roused Paul to such a pitch of indignation by her presence at Prince Conrad's supper-party!
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But how long ago it all seemed!
And how little it mattered!
Prince Conrad's blackguardism, the Comtesse Hermine's crimes, the ties of relationship that might unite the two women, all the struggles which Paul had passed through, all his anguish, all his rebelliousness, all his loathing, were but so many insignificant details, now that he saw at twenty paces from him his unhappy darling whom he loved so well.
He no longer thought of the tears which she had shed and saw nothing but her wasted figure, shivering in the wintry wind.
He walked towards her.
His steps grated on the gravel path; and Élisabeth turned round.
She did not make a single gesture.
He understood, from the expression of her face, that she did not see him, really, that she looked upon him as a phantom rising from the mists of dreams and that this phantom must often float before her deluded eyes.
She even smiled at him a little, such a sad smile that Paul clasped his hands and was nearly falling on his knees: "Élisabeth.
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Élisabeth," he stammered.
Then she drew herself up and put her hand to her heart and turned even paler than she had been the evening before, seated between Prince Conrad and Comtesse Hermine.
The image was emerging from the realm of mist; the reality grew plainer before her eyes and in her brain.
This time she saw Paul!
He ran towards her, for she seemed on the point of falling.
But she recovered herself, put out her hands to make him stay where he was and looked at him with an effort as though she would have penetrated to the very depths of his soul to read his thoughts.
Paul, trembling with love from head to foot, did not stir.
She murmured: "Ah, I see that you love me .
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that you have never ceased to love me!
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I am sure of it now .
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She kept her arms outstretched, however, as though against an obstacle, and he himself did not attempt to come closer.
All their life and all their happiness lay in their eyes; and, while her gaze wildly encountered his, she went on: "They told me that you were a prisoner.
Is it true, then?
Oh, how I have implored them to take me to you!
How low I have stooped!
I have even had to sit down to table with them and laugh at their jokes and wear jewels and pearl necklaces which he has forced upon me.
All this in order to see you!
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And they kept on promising.
And then, at length, they brought me here last night and I thought that they had tricked me once more .
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or else that it was a fresh trap .
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or that they had at last made up their minds to kill me.
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And now here you are, here you are, Paul, my own darling!
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She took his face in her two hands and, suddenly, in a voice of despair: "But you are not going just yet?
You will stay till to-morrow, surely?
They can't take you from me like that, after a few minutes?
You're staying, are you not?
Oh, Paul, all my courage is gone .
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don't leave me!
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She was greatly surprised to see him smile: "What's the matter?
Why, my dearest, how happy you look!"
He began to laugh and this time, drawing her to him with a masterful air that admitted of no denial, he kissed her hair and her forehead and her cheeks and her lips; and he said: "I am laughing because there is nothing to do but to laugh and kiss you.
I am laughing also because I have been imagining so many silly things.
Yes, just think, at that supper last night, I saw you from a distance .
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and I suffered agonies: I accused you of I don't know what.
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Oh, what a fool I was!"
She could not understand his gaiety; and she said again: "How happy you are!
How can you be so happy?"
"There is no reason why I should not be," said Paul, still laughing.
"Come, look at things as they are: you and I are meeting after unheard-of misfortunes.
We are together; nothing can separate us; and you wouldn't have me be glad?"
"Do you mean to say that nothing can separate us?"
she asked, in a voice quivering with anxiety.
"Why, of course!
Is that so strange?"
"You are staying with me?
Are we to live here?"
"No, not that!
What an idea!
You're going to pack up your things at express speed and we shall be off."
"Where to?"
"Where to?
To France, of course.
When you think of it, that's the only country where one's really comfortable."
And, when she stared at him in amazement, he said: "Come, let's hurry.
The car's waiting; and I promised Bernard--yes, your brother Bernard--that we should be with him to-night.
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Are you ready?
But why that astounded look?
Do you want to have things explained to you?
But, my very dearest, it will take hours and hours to explain everything that's happened to yourself and me.
You've turned the head of an imperial prince .
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and then you were shot .
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and then .
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and then .
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Oh, what does it all matter?
Must I force you to come away with me?"
All at once she understood that he was speaking seriously; and, without taking her eyes from him, she asked: "Is it true?
Are we free?"
"Absolutely free."
"We're going back to France?"
"Immediately."
"We have nothing more to fear?"
"Nothing."
The tension from which she was suffering suddenly relaxed.
She in her turn began to laugh, yielding to one of those fits of uncontrollable mirth which find vent in every sort of childish nonsense.
She could have sung, she could have danced for sheer joy.
And yet the tears flowed down her cheeks.
And she stammered: "Free!
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it's all over!
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Have I been through much?
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Not at all!
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Oh, you know that I had been shot?
Well, I assure you, it wasn't so bad as all that.
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I will tell you about it and lots of other things.
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And you must tell me, too.
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But how did you manage?
You must be cleverer than the cleverest, cleverer than the unspeakable Conrad, cleverer than the Emperor!
Oh, dear, how funny it is, how funny!
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She broke off and, seizing him forcibly by the arm, said: "Let us go, darling.
It's madness to remain another second.
These people are capable of anything.
They look upon no promise as binding.
They are scoundrels, criminals.
Let's go.
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Let's go.
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They went away.
Their journey was uneventful.
In the evening, they reached the lines on the front, facing Èbrecourt.
The officer on duty, who had full powers, had a reflector lit and himself, after ordering a white flag to be displayed, took Élisabeth and Paul to the French officer who came forward.
The officer telephoned to the rear.
A motor car was sent; and, at nine o'clock, Paul and Élisabeth pulled up at the gates of Ornequin and Paul asked to have Bernard sent for.
He met him half-way: "Is that you, Bernard?"
he said.
"Listen to me and don't let us waste a minute.
I have brought back Élisabeth.
Yes, she's here, in the car.
We are off to Corvigny and you're coming with us.
While I go for my bag and yours, you give instructions to have Prince Conrad closely watched.
He's safe, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"Then hurry.
I want to get at the woman whom you saw last night as she was entering the tunnel.
Now that she's in France, we'll hunt her down."
"Don't you think, Paul, that we should be more likely to find her tracks by ourselves going back into the tunnel and searching the place where it opens at Corvigny?"
"We can't afford the time.
We have arrived at a phase of the struggle that demands the utmost haste."
"But, Paul, the struggle is over, now that Élisabeth is saved."
"The struggle will never be over as long as that woman lives."
"Well, but who is she?"
Paul did not answer.
At ten o'clock they all three alighted outside the station at Corvigny.
There were no more trains.
Everybody was asleep.
Paul refused to be put off, went to the military guard, woke up the adjutant, sent for the station-master, sent for the booking-clerk and, after a minute inquiry, succeeded in establishing the fact that on that same Monday morning a woman supplied with a pass in the name of Mme.
Antonin had taken a ticket for Château-Thierry.
She was the only woman traveling alone.
She was wearing a Red Cross uniform.
Her description corresponded at all points with that of the Comtesse Hermine.
"It's certainly she," said Paul, when they had taken their rooms for the night at the hotel near the station.
"There's no doubt about it.
It's the only way she could go from Corvigny.
And it's the way that we shall go to-morrow morning, at the same time that she did.
I hope that she will not have time to carry out the scheme that has brought her to France.
In any case, this is a great opportunity; and we must make the most of it."
"But who is the woman?"
Bernard asked again.
"Who is she?
Ask Élisabeth to tell you.
We have an hour left in which to discuss certain details and then we must go to bed.
We need rest, all three of us."
They started on the Tuesday morning.
Paul's confidence was unshaken.
Though he knew nothing of the Comtesse Hermine's intentions, he felt sure that he was on the right road.
And, in fact, they were told several times that a Red Cross nurse, traveling first-class and alone, had passed through the same stations on the day before.
They got out at Château-Thierry late in the afternoon.
Paul made his inquiries.
On the previous evening, the nurse had driven away in a Red Cross motor car which was waiting at the station.
This car, according to the papers carried by the driver, belonged to one of the ambulances working to the rear of Soissons; but the exact position of the ambulance was not known.
This was near enough for Paul, however.
Soissons was in the battle line.
"Let's go to Soissons," he said.
The order signed by the commander-in-chief which he had on him gave him full power to requisition a motor car and to enter the fighting zone.
They reached Soissons at dinner-time.
The outskirts, ruined by the bombardment, were deserted.
The town itself seemed abandoned for the greater part.
But as they came nearer to the center a certain animation prevailed in the streets.
Companies of soldiers passed at a quick pace.
Guns and ammunition wagons trotted by.
In the hotel to which they went on the Grande Place, a hotel containing a number of officers, there was general excitement, with much coming and going and even a little disorder.
Paul and Bernard asked the reason.
They were told that, for some days past, we had been successfully attacking the slopes opposite Soissons, on the other side of the Aisne.
Two days before, some battalions of light infantry and African troops had taken Hill 132 by assault.
On the following day, we held the positions which we had won and carried the trenches on the Dent de Crouy.
Then, in the course of the Monday night at a time when the enemy was delivering a violent counter-attack, a curious thing happened.
The Aisne, which was swollen as the result of the heavy rains, overflowed its banks and carried away all the bridges at Villeneuve and Soissons.
The rise of the Aisne was natural enough; but, high though the river was, it did not explain the destruction of the bridges; and this destruction, coinciding with the German counter-attack and apparently due to suspect reasons which had not yet been cleared up, had complicated the position of the French troops by making the dispatch of reinforcements almost impossible.
Our men had held the hill all day, but with difficulty and with great losses.
At this moment, a part of the artillery was being moved back to the right bank of the Aisne.
Paul and Bernard did not hesitate in their minds for a second.
In all this they recognized the Comtesse Hermine's handiwork.
The destruction of the bridges, the German attacks, those two incidents which happened on the very night of her arrival were, beyond a doubt, the outcome of a plan conceived by her, the execution of which had been prepared for the time when the rains were bound to swell the river and proved the collaboration existing between the countess and the enemy's staff.
Besides, Paul remembered the sentences which she had exchanged with Karl the spy outside the door of Prince Conrad's villa: "I am going to France .
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everything is ready.
The weather is in our favor; and the staff have told me.
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So I shall be there to-morrow evening; and it will only need a touch of the thumb.
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She had given that touch of the thumb.
All the bridges had been tampered with by Karl or by men in his pay and had now broken down.
"It's she, obviously enough," said Bernard.
"And, if it is, why look so anxious?
You ought to be glad, on the contrary, because we are now positively certain of laying hold of her."
"Yes, but shall we do so in time?
When she spoke to Karl, she uttered another threat which struck me as much more serious.
As I told you, she said, 'Luck is turning against us.
If I succeed, it will be the end of the run on the black.'
And, when the spy asked her if she had the Emperor's consent, she answered that it was unnecessary and that this was one of the undertakings which one doesn't talk about.
