The Black Robe | Page 3

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[Italics are indicatedby underscores James Rusk,
[email protected].]

THE BLACK ROBE
by Wilkie Collins

BEFORE THE STORY.
FIRST SCENE.
BOULOGNE-SUR-MER.--THE DUEL.
I.
THE doctors could do no more for the Dowager Lady Berrick.
When the medical advisers of a lady who has reached seventy years of
age recommend the mild climate of the South of France, they mean in
plain language that they have arrived at the end of their resources. Her
ladyship gave the mild climate a fair trial, and then decided (as she
herself expressed it) to "die at home." Traveling slowly, she had

reached Paris at the date when I last heard of her. It was then the
beginning of November. A week later, I met with her nephew, Lewis
Romayne, at the club.
"What brings you to London at this time of year?" I asked.
"The fatality that pursues me," he answered grimly. "I am one of the
unluckiest men living."
He was thirty years old; he was not married; he was the enviable
possessor of the fine old country seat, called Vange Abbey; he had no
poor relations; and he was one of the handsomest men in England.
When I add that I am, myself, a retired army officer, with a wretched
income, a disagreeable wife, four ugly children, and a burden of fifty
years on my back, no one will be surprised to hear that I answered
Romayne, with bitter sincerity, in these words:
"I wish to heaven I could change places with you!"
"I wish to heaven you could!" he burst out, with equal sincerity on his
side. "Read that."
He handed me a letter addressed to him by the traveling medical
attendant of Lady Berrick. After resting in Paris, the patient had
continued her homeward journey as far as Boulogne. In her suffering
condition, she was liable to sudden fits of caprice. An insurmountable
horror of the Channel passage had got possession of her; she positively
refused to be taken on board the steamboat. In this difficulty, the lady
who held the post of her "companion" had ventured on a suggestion.
Would Lady Berrick consent to make the Channel passage if her
nephew came to Boulogne expressly to accompany her on the voyage?
The reply had been so immediately favorable, that the doctor lost no
time in communicating with Mr. Lewis Romayne. This was the
substance of the letter.
It was needless to ask any more questions--Romayne was plainly on his
way to Boulogne. I gave him some useful information. "Try the
oysters," I said, "at the restaurant on the pier."
He never even thanked me. He was thinking entirely of himself.
"Just look at my position," he said. "I detest Boulogne; I cordially share
my aunt's horror of the Channel passage; I had looked forward to some
months of happy retirement in the country among my books--and what
happens to me? I am brought to London in this season of fogs, to travel
by the tidal train at seven to-morrow morning--and all for a woman

with whom I have no sympathies in common. If I am not an unlucky
man--who is?"
He spoke in a tone of vehement irritation which seemed to me, under
the circumstances, to be simply absurd. But my nervous system is not
the irritable system--sorely tried by night study and strong tea--of my
friend Romayne. "It's only a matter of two days," I remarked, by way of
reconciling him to his situation.
"How do I know that?" he retorted. "In two days the weather may be
stormy. In two days she may be too ill to be moved. Unfortunately, I
am her heir; and I am told I must submit to any whim that seizes her.
I'm rich enough already; I don't want her