Episode 2

"Assuredly--quickly--I fly, my lord."

A dozen more lighted candles shone in the hall.The great bulk of the marquis overflowed his chair.He was dressed in fine black from head to foot save for the snowy ruffles at his wrist and throat.Even the hilt and scabbard of his sword were black.His expression was one of sneering pride.The ends of an upturned moustache reached nearly to his mocking eyes.

The lady sat motionless, and now David perceived that she was young, and possessed of pathetic and appealing beauty.He was startled from the contemplation of her forlorn loveliness by the booming voice of the marquis.

"What is your name and pursuit?"

"David Mignot.I am a poet."

The moustache of the marquis curled nearer to his eyes.

"How do you live?"

"I am also a shepherd; I guarded my father's flock," David answered, with his head high, but a flush upon his cheek.

"Then listen, master shepherd and poet, to the fortune you have blundered upon to-night.This lady is my niece, Mademoiselle Lucie de Varennes.She is of noble descent and is possessed of ten thousand francs a year in her own right.As to her charms, you have but to observe for yourself.If the inventory pleases your shepherd's heart, she becomes your wife at a word.Do not interrupt me.To-night I conveyed her to the /chateau/ of the Comte de Villemaur, to whom her hand had been promised.Guests were present; the priest was waiting;

her marriage to one eligible in rank and fortune was ready to be accomplished.At the alter this demoiselle, so meek and dutiful, turned upon me like a leopardess, charged me with cruelty and crimes, and broke, before the gaping priest, the troth I had plighted for her.

I swore there and then, by ten thousand devils, that she should marry the first man we met after leaving the /chateau/, be he prince, charcoal-burner, or thief.You, shepherd, are the first.Mademoiselle must be wed this night.If not you, then another.You have ten minutes in which to make your decision.Do not vex me with words or questions.

Ten minutes, shepherd; and they are speeding."

The marquis drummed loudly with his white fingers upon the table.He sank into a veiled attitude of waiting.It was as if some great house had shut its doors and windows against approach.David would have spoken, but the huge man's bearing stopped his tongue.Instead, he stood by the lady's chair and bowed.

"Mademoiselle," he said, and he marvelled to find his words flowing easily before so much elegance and beauty."You have heard me say I was a shepherd.I have also had the fancy, at times, that I am a poet.

If it be the test of a poet to adore and cherish the beautiful, that fancy is now strengthened.Can I serve you in any way, mademoiselle?"

The young woman looked up at him with eyes dry and mournful.His frank, glowing face, made serious by the gravity of the adventure, his strong, straight figure and the liquid sympathy in his blue eyes, perhaps, also, her imminent need of long-denied help and kindness, thawed her to sudden tears.

"Monsieur," she said, in low tones, "you look to be true and kind.He is my uncle, the brother of my father, and my only relative.He loved my mother, and he hates me because I am like her.He has made my life one long terror.I am afraid of his very looks, and never before dared to disobey him.But to-night he would have married me to a man three times my age.You will forgive me for bringing this vexation upon you, monsieur.You will, of course, decline this mad act he tries to force upon you.But let me thank you for your generous words, at least.I have had none spoken to me in so long."

There was now something more than generosity in the poet's eyes.Poet he must have been, for Yvonne was forgotten; this fine, new loveliness held him with its freshness and grace.The subtle perfume from her filled him with strange emotions.His tender look fell warmly upon her.She leaned to it, thirstily.

"Ten minutes," said David, "is given me in which to do what I would devote years to achieve.I will not say I pity you, mademoiselle; it would not be true--I love you.I cannot ask love from you yet, but let me rescue you from this cruel man, and, in time, love may come.I think I have a future; I will not always be a shepherd.For the present I will cherish you with all my heart and make your life less sad.Will you trust your fate to me, mademoiselle?"

"Ah, you would sacrifice yourself from pity!"

"From love.The time is almost up, mademoiselle."

"You will regret it, and despise me."

"I will live only to make you happy, and myself worthy of you."

Her fine small hand crept into his from beneath her cloak.

"I will trust you," she breathed, "with my life.And--and love--may not be so far off as you think.Tell him.Once away from the power of his eyes I may forget."

David went and stood before the marquis.The black figure stirred, and the mocking eyes glanced at the great hall clock.

"Two minutes to spare.A shepherd requires eight minutes to decide whether he will accept a bride of beauty and income! Speak up, shepherd, do you consent to become mademoiselle's husband?"

"Mademoiselle," said David, standing proudly, "has done me the honour to yield to my request that she become my wife."

"Well said!" said the marquis."You have yet the making of a courtier in you, master shepherd.Mademoiselle could have drawn a worse prize, after all.And now to be done with the affair as quick as the Church and the devil will allow!"

He struck the table soundly with his sword hilt.The landlord came, knee-shaking, bringing more candles in the hope of anticipating the great lord's whims."Fetch a priest," said the marquis, "a priest; do you understand? In ten minutes have a priest here, or--"

The landlord dropped his candles and flew.

The priest came, heavy-eyed and ruffled.He made David Mignot and Lucie de Verennes man and wife, pocketed a gold piece that the marquis tossed him, and shuffled out again into the night.

"Wine," ordered the marquis, spreading his ominous fingers at the host.

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