It Began in Vauxhall Gardens - Plaidy Jean - Страница 30

• Предыдущая
• 30/94
• Следующая

She obeyed. None tried to stop her. Fermor was facing the crowd with that arrogant insolence which they knew so well and which they had respected and obeyed all their lives.

"How dare you!" Fermor was shouting. "How dare you molest a lady!"

He had backed away from them and in a second or so he had leaped into his saddle.

The crowd had moved forward in that brief time; their mood was angry. Fermor was gentry, but foreign gentry. These people had seen the blood of a felon in the streets that day; they had been disturbed while they were tormenting Anna Quale. They were protesting against interference. There was too much interference. Bodmin was trying to take from them what was theirs by right; should they be interrupted at their pleasures by foreigners . . . even if those foreigners were of the gentry! It was only the presence of known gentry—-John Collings and Caroline Trevenning—that prevented them from acting in unison against the arrogant strangers who had dared interfere; as it was, some were for pressing forward, others for holding back.

Someone caught at Fermor's leg and was kicked and sent sprawling for his pains.

"Stop this!" cried John Collings. "What the devil . . ."

"Tar and feather the foreigners!" cried a voice in the crowd. "Chain 'em up with the mad *un . . . since they do like her so much."

Meanwhile Fermor had gripped the bridle of Melisande's horse and was forcing a way through the crowd.

"Come on!" he urged. "We must get away . . . with all speed."

And as he with all his might forced the two horses against the surly people, they broke through and, once free of the pressure, the horses were trotting, then galloping across the market square, out and away.

After some minutes Melisande cried: "Stop! Stop! The others are not with us."

He laughed but did not draw rein.

"I said the others are not with us," she repeated.

He continued to ride on for a few minutes. Then he stopped. "Did they not follow us?" he asked. Then he laughed loudly. "Out of evil cometh good."

"What ... do you mean?"

They had left the town well behind, and he looked back towards it. "It was a damned ugly crowd," he said. "Their blood was up. They did not like us, Mademoiselle. They liked neither you nor me. Tasteless oafs . . . don't you think?"

"It was my fault."

"Ah, Melisande, you have a lot to answer for."

"What shall we do now?"

"There are several things we might do. First look for an inn and quench our thirsts. That was a thirsty job. Then look for the others. ... Or congratulate ourselves."

"Congratulate?"

"On at last finding ourselves alone."

"Is that then a matter for congratulation?"

"I think so. I was hoping you would too. I at least feel a little gratitude towards the crowd. Let's ride on. I should not like to be overtaken by them."

"But . . . John Collings and Caroline . . . they will be looking for us."

"Don't let's worry about them. They'll be all right. John will look after Caroline."

"But we've left them there . . . with those people."

"They were only annoyed with us, you know."

"But you must be anxious . . . about Caroline."

"She's all right. Those people won't hurt their own. They have a hatred for those they consider strangers. You're one and I'm one . . . I no less than you. We're strangers in a strange land. We ought to console one another." He took her hand and kissed it. "I beg of you, smile. Be gay. I like to see you gay. Come on. We've escaped. Let us be gay."

"I am sorry. I am afraid of what they might do to Caroline."

"Why? She's safe. She'll be glad we've got away. It would have been very awkward if we'd stayed . . . very difficult! And Caroline

does not like difficult situations. Let us find a tavern, shall we? Come on."

"No. We must go back."

"What! Back to those howling hooligans! By the way, you haven't said thank you. It is customary, you know, when people save your life."

"I do thank you."

"Are you truly grateful?"

"I am afraid I have caused much trouble."

"You're bound to cause trouble, Melisande. Merely by existing you would cause trouble. So a little more, such as we have had to-day, hardly makes any difference."

"You are not being very serious, I think. We should try to find the others. Of that I am sure."

"That would make you happy?"

"Yes please."

"As ever I am at your service. Come."

"Is this the way?"

"This is the way."

They rode on, and after a while Melisande cried: "Are you sure this is the way?"

"This is the way," he assured her again.

The mist had cleared considerably and she saw the moor about them, the heather glistening, little streams tumbling over the stones; the grey tors reminded her of poor Anna Quale, for they were like tormented beings.

"I have so long wanted to talk to you alone," said Fermor.

"Of what did you wish to talk?"

"I believe you know. You must know. You must realize that ever since I met you I have wanted to be . . . your friend."

"You have been very friendly, very kind. I thank you."

"I would be kinder than anyone has ever been. I would be the greatest friend you have ever had. Shall we pull up here and give the horses a rest?"

"But do they need a rest? They were watered and fed at the inn where we had the pasties. And I think we should get back to Treven-ning. Caroline will be very anxious if we are not there when she returns."

"But I want to talk to you, and it is difficult talking as we go along."

"Then perhaps we should talk some other time."

"What other time? It is very rarely that we get away from them all. Here there is no one to be seen. Look about you. You and I . . . are alone up here. We could not be more alone than this, could we?"

He brought his horse close to hers and suddenly stretching out an

arm caught her and kissed her violently. Her horse moved restively and she broke free.

She said breathlessly: "Please, do not. I wish to go back at once. This must not be. I do not believe we are on the right road."

"You and I are on the right road, Melisande. What other road matters ?"

"I do not understand you."

"You know that is not true. I thought you were a truthful young lady."

"I cannot believe . . . that you mean what ..."

"What you think I mean? Why should you not? You must know how damnably attractive you are."

She was trembling. She wanted to hate him. She thought of the hurt to Caroline. Yet she could not hate him. She could not keep in mind his unkindness to Caroline, his careless indifference to the suffering of others; she could only think of his singing along the road the sad song about the miller's daughter, the merry one about the gipsy and the earl; she could only think of his blazing blue eyes when he had caught her horse by its bridle and forced a way for them through the crowd.

"Dear little Melisande," he was saying now, and again he tried to put an arm about her shoulder. As she eluded him he laughed, and she realized that it was that sudden laughter which disarmed her criticism. "This is an awkward position!" he cried. "Damme if I ever was in such an awkward one . . . and never did I so long to be on my own two feet. But what if I dismount? I believe you'd gallop away and leave me standing here. Shall I chance it? Shall I dismount? Shall I make you do the same? Shall I carry you to the grass there and make a couch for us among the bracken?"

• Предыдущая
• 30/94
• Следующая