The Midnight Queen [116]
and
admiring the beauties of sunrise. He had seen Sir Norman in
conversation with a strange female, and not much liking his near
proximity to the plague-pit, was rather impatient for it to come
to an end; but when he saw the tragic manner in which it did end,
his consternation was beyond all bounds. Sir Norman, in his
horrified flight, would have fairly passed him unnoticed, had not
George arrested him by a loud shout.
"I beg your pardon, Sir Norman," he exclaimed, as that gentleman
turned his distracted face; "but, it seems to me, you are running
away. Here is your horse; and allow me to say, unless we hurry
we will scarcely reach the count by sunrise."
Sir Norman leaned against his horse, and shaded his eyes with his
hand, shuddering like one in an ague.
"Why did that woman leap into the plague-pit?" inquired George,
looking at him curiously. "Was it not the sorceress, La Masque?"
"Yes, yes. Do not ask me any questions now," replied Sir Norman,
in a smothered voice, and with an impatient wave of his hand.
"Whatever you please, sir," said George, with the flippancy of
his class; "but still I must repeat, if you do not mount
instantly, we will be late; and my master, the count, is not one
who brooks delay."
The young knight vaulted into the saddle without a word, and
started off at a break-neck pace into the city. George, almost
unable to keep up with him, followed instead of leading, rather
skeptical in his own mind whether he were not riding after a
moon-struck lunatic. Once or twice he shouted out a sharp-toned
inquiry as to whether he knew where he was going, and that they
were taking the wrong way altogether; to all of which Sir Norman
deigned not the slightest reply, but rode more and more
recklessly on. There were but few people abroad at that hour;
indeed, for that matter, the streets of London, in the dismal
summer of 1665, were, comparatively speaking, always deserted;
and the few now wending their way homeward were tired physicians
and plague-nurses from the hospitals, and several hardy country
folks, with more love of lucre than fear of death bending their
steps with produce to the market-place. These people, sleepy and
pallid in the gray haze of daylight, stared in astonishment after
the two furious riders; and windows were thrown open, and heads
thrust out to see what the unusual thunder of horses' hoofs at
that early hour meant. George followed dauntlessly on,
determined to do it or die in the attempt; and if he had ever
heard of the Flying Dutchman, would undoubtedly have come to the
conclusion that he was just then following his track on dry land.
But, unlike the hapless Vanderdecken, Sir Norman came to a halt
at last, and that so suddenly that his horse stood on his beam
ends, and flourished his two fore limbs in the atmosphere. It
was before La Masque's door; and Sir Norman was out of the saddle
in a flash, and knocking like a postman with the handle of his
whip on the door. The thundering reveille rang through the
house, making it shake to its centre, and hurriedly brought to
the door, the anatomy who acted as guardian-angel of the
establishment.
"La Masque is not at home, and I cannot admit you," was his sharp
salute.
"Then I shall just take the trouble of admitting myself," said
Sir Norman, shortly.
And without further ceremony, he pushed aside the skeleton and
entered. But that outraged servitor sprang in his path,
indignant and amazed.
"No, sir; I cannot permit it. I do not know you; and it is
against all orders to admit strangers in La Masque's absence."
"Bah! you old simpleton!" remarked Sir Norman, losing his
customary respect for old age in his impatience, "I have La
Masque's order for what I am about to do. Get along with you
directly, will you? Show me to her private room, and no
nonsense!"
He tapped his sword-hilt significantly as
admiring the beauties of sunrise. He had seen Sir Norman in
conversation with a strange female, and not much liking his near
proximity to the plague-pit, was rather impatient for it to come
to an end; but when he saw the tragic manner in which it did end,
his consternation was beyond all bounds. Sir Norman, in his
horrified flight, would have fairly passed him unnoticed, had not
George arrested him by a loud shout.
"I beg your pardon, Sir Norman," he exclaimed, as that gentleman
turned his distracted face; "but, it seems to me, you are running
away. Here is your horse; and allow me to say, unless we hurry
we will scarcely reach the count by sunrise."
Sir Norman leaned against his horse, and shaded his eyes with his
hand, shuddering like one in an ague.
"Why did that woman leap into the plague-pit?" inquired George,
looking at him curiously. "Was it not the sorceress, La Masque?"
"Yes, yes. Do not ask me any questions now," replied Sir Norman,
in a smothered voice, and with an impatient wave of his hand.
"Whatever you please, sir," said George, with the flippancy of
his class; "but still I must repeat, if you do not mount
instantly, we will be late; and my master, the count, is not one
who brooks delay."
The young knight vaulted into the saddle without a word, and
started off at a break-neck pace into the city. George, almost
unable to keep up with him, followed instead of leading, rather
skeptical in his own mind whether he were not riding after a
moon-struck lunatic. Once or twice he shouted out a sharp-toned
inquiry as to whether he knew where he was going, and that they
were taking the wrong way altogether; to all of which Sir Norman
deigned not the slightest reply, but rode more and more
recklessly on. There were but few people abroad at that hour;
indeed, for that matter, the streets of London, in the dismal
summer of 1665, were, comparatively speaking, always deserted;
and the few now wending their way homeward were tired physicians
and plague-nurses from the hospitals, and several hardy country
folks, with more love of lucre than fear of death bending their
steps with produce to the market-place. These people, sleepy and
pallid in the gray haze of daylight, stared in astonishment after
the two furious riders; and windows were thrown open, and heads
thrust out to see what the unusual thunder of horses' hoofs at
that early hour meant. George followed dauntlessly on,
determined to do it or die in the attempt; and if he had ever
heard of the Flying Dutchman, would undoubtedly have come to the
conclusion that he was just then following his track on dry land.
But, unlike the hapless Vanderdecken, Sir Norman came to a halt
at last, and that so suddenly that his horse stood on his beam
ends, and flourished his two fore limbs in the atmosphere. It
was before La Masque's door; and Sir Norman was out of the saddle
in a flash, and knocking like a postman with the handle of his
whip on the door. The thundering reveille rang through the
house, making it shake to its centre, and hurriedly brought to
the door, the anatomy who acted as guardian-angel of the
establishment.
"La Masque is not at home, and I cannot admit you," was his sharp
salute.
"Then I shall just take the trouble of admitting myself," said
Sir Norman, shortly.
And without further ceremony, he pushed aside the skeleton and
entered. But that outraged servitor sprang in his path,
indignant and amazed.
"No, sir; I cannot permit it. I do not know you; and it is
against all orders to admit strangers in La Masque's absence."
"Bah! you old simpleton!" remarked Sir Norman, losing his
customary respect for old age in his impatience, "I have La
Masque's order for what I am about to do. Get along with you
directly, will you? Show me to her private room, and no
nonsense!"
He tapped his sword-hilt significantly as