The Knight of Malta. Эжен Сю

Чтение книги онлайн.

      “Ah, how thankful I will be, Master Peyrou!” said the young girl, as she assisted him to rise, for he walked with considerable pain.

      The old man went into his cabin, took a little bag covered with cabalistic signs and gave it to Stephanette, instructing her to order Luquin to conform scrupulously to the directions he would find in it.

      “How good you are, Master Peyrou! How shall I reward – ”

      “By promising me, my child, henceforth to allow Bernard’s bouquets to dry on the bars of your window, – then, believe me, there will be no more of them, because a bouquet that is watered makes many others grow. Ah! and you must promise me, too, not to encourage pilot Terzarol’s fishing, because to please you he would destroy all the fish in the bay, and he would finish by being called before the overseer fishers, and I would be obliged to condemn him. By the way, how goes on the discussion between monseigneur and the consuls, on the right of fishing in the cove, – does Raimond V. still keep his seines there?”

      “Yes, Master Peyrou, and he will not take them away; he says that the right of fishing there belongs to him up to the rocks of Castrembaou, and that he will not yield that right to anybody.”

      “Listen, Stephanette: your mistress has her father’s ear; do you persuade her to counsel him to arrange it amicably with the consuls: that will be the best for all parties.”

      “Yes, Master Peyrou, make yourself easy about it, I will mention it to Mlle. Reine.”

      “Very well, my child, – good-bye, and above all, no more coquetry, – do you promise me that?”

      “Yes, Master Peyrou, only – only – ”

      “Well, say it”

      “Only, you see, Master Peyrou, I would not like to make Bernard and Terzarol despair entirely, – not on my own account, Our Lady, no, but on account of Luquin, because I must have some means of keeping him in port, in case of great danger, you see, Master Peyrou, – and for that purpose, jealousy is worth more than all the anchors of his ship.”

      “That is right,” said the watchman, with a significant smile, “you must think of Luquin above all things.”

      The young girl dropped her eyes and smiled, then said: “Ah, I was about to forget, Master Peyrou, to ask you if you thought that monsieur, the commander, and the Reverend Father Elzear would arrive here for the Christmas holidays, as the baron hopes. He is so anxious to see his two brothers again – do you know that Christmas has been twice celebrated at Maison-Forte without them?”

      At the mention of the commander, the face of the watchman took on an expression of profound melancholy.

      “If God grants my most earnest prayers, my child, they will both come, but, alas, Father Elzear has gone to redeem captives in Algiers, as a worthy and courageous brother of mercy, and the faith of those Barbary people is perfidious!”

      “Yes, Master Peyrou, as Father Elzear learned by experience when he was kept in the convict-prison among slaves for one year! At his age, too, to suffer so much!”

      “And without a murmur, – without losing his adorable saintliness – ”

      “Speaking of them, Master Peyrou, why is the commander’s galley, instead of being white and gold like the gallant galleys of the king, and of monseigneur, the Duke of Guise, always painted in black like a coffin? Why are its sails and masts black? Really, nothing looks more solemn, and his sailors and his soldiers, they look as hard and severe as Spanish monks; and then the commander himself looks so sad. I never saw a smile on his pale face but once, and that was when he arrived at Maison-Forte and embraced monseigneur and my mistress. Yet, my God, what a melancholy smile! Is it not strange, Master Peyrou, and all the more so because Luquin told me, the other day, that when he was artilleryman on board La Guisarde, the admiral’s galley, in the waters of the Levant, many a time he has seen the commanders and captains of Malta at Naples, and notwithstanding the severity of their order, they were as merry as other officers.”

      The watchman for some moments seemed as if he no longer heard the girl; his head had fallen upon his breast, he was lost in profound meditation, and when Stephanette bade him farewell, he responded only by an affectionate gesture of the hand. Some time after the departure of the young girl, he went into his cabin, opened the carved ebony box he found there, sprung the secret lock of a double bottom, and took out of it a little casket chased with silver; an embassed Maltese cross ornamented its cover.

      For a long time he gazed at this casket with sorrowful attention; the sight of it seemed to awaken the most bitter memories. Then, assuring himself that this mysterious trust was still intact, he shut the doors of the ebony chest and, like a dreamer, returned to his seat at the door of his cabin.

      CHAPTER V. THE BETROTHED

      Stephanette left the watchman with a light heart She was just about to quit the esplanade, when she saw, on the last steps of the stairway, the tall figure of Captain Luquin Trinquetaille. With an imperative sign the young girl ordered him to return by the way he had come.

      The sailor showed an exemplary submission; he stopped, made a right-about, with the quickness and precision of a German grenadier, and gravely descended the steps he had just mounted.

      Had the meeting been arranged by the lovers? We do not know, but certain it was that Stephanette, preceded by her obedient adorer, descended the narrow, winding flight of steps which conducted to the watchman’s cabin, with the lightness of a gazelle.

      Many times Luquin turned his head, to catch a sight of the neat ankle and little foot, which cleared the rough rocks so nimbly, but Stephanette, with a threatening gesture, and queen-like dignity, arrested the curiosity of the ex-artilleryman, who was compelled to accelerate his gait in obedience to the oft-repeated words:

      “Go on, Luquin, go on!”

      While the lovers are descending the escarpment of the cape of l’Aigle, we will say a few words about Luquin Trinquetaille. He was a robust fellow of thirty years, brown and sunburnt. He had a manly figure, a frank, ingenuous manner, somewhat vain; he wore a costume which marked both the soldier and the sailor, – a military coat, and Provencal breeches, fastened around his waist by the belt which held his broadsword.

      The air was cold, and over his coat he wore a mantle, the seams of which were braided in red and blue wool; the hood half covered his forehead, and under it could be seen a forest of black curls.

      When they had reached the foot of the mountain, Stephanette, in spite, of her agility, felt the need of rest.

      Luquin, delighted with an opportunity for conversation, carefully sought a spot where she could be comfortably seated.

      When he had found it, he gallantly took off his mantle and spread it out on the rock, so that Stephanette could have a seat with a back; then, crossing his hands on the head of his cane, and leaning his chin on his hands, he contemplated Stephanette with a calm and happy adoration.

      When she had recovered from the effects of her precipitous descent, Stephanette turned to Luquin, and said, with the air of a spoiled child, and a woman sure of her despotic domination:

      “Why, Luquin, did you come to the watchman’s cabin for me, when I told you to wait for me at the foot of the mountain?”

      Luquin, preoccupied with admiration for Stephanette’s fine colour, which the walk had imparted, did not reply.

      “Did СКАЧАТЬ