The Romance of the Forest | Page 3

hands of justice. Yet he hardly dared to doubt the integrity
of his friend, who had been entrusted with the secret of his flight and
the plan of his route, and had procured him the carriage in which he had
escaped. "Such depravity," exclaimed La Motte, "cannot surely exist in
human nature; much less in the heart of Nemours!"
This ejaculation was interrupted by a noise in the passage leading to the

room: it approached Ñ the door was unlocked Ñ and the man who had
admitted La Motte into the house entered, leading, or rather forcibly
dragging along, a beautiful girl, who appeared to be about eighteen.
Her features were bathed in tears, and she seemed to suffer the utmost
distress. The man fastened the lock and put the key in his pocket. He
then advanced to La Motte, who had before observed other persons in
the passage, and pointing a pistol to his breast, "You are wholly in our
power," said he, "no assistance can reach you: if you wish to save your
life, swear that you will convey this girl where I may never see her
more; or rather consent to take her with you, for your oath I would not
believe, and I can take care you shall not find me again. Ñ Answer
quickly, you have no time to lose."
He now seized the trembling hand of the girl, who shrunk aghast with
terror, and hurried her towards La Motte, whom surprize still kept
silent. She sunk at his feet, and with supplicating eyes, that streamed
with tears, implored him to have pity on her. Notwithstanding his
present agitation, he found it impossible to contemplate the beauty and
distress of the object before him with indifference. Her youth, her
apparent innocence Ñ the artless energy of her manner forcibly assailed
his heart, and he was going to speak, when the ruffian, who mistook the
silence of astonishment for that of hesitation, prevented him. "I have a
horse ready to take you from hence," said he, "and I will direct you
over the heath. If you return within an hour, you die: after then, you are
at liberty to come here when you please."
La Motte, without answering, raised the lovely girl from the floor, and
was so much relieved from his own apprehensions, that he had leisure
to attempt dissipating hers. "Let us be gone," said the ruffian, "and have
no more of this nonsense; you may think yourself well off it's no worse.
I'll go and get the horse ready."
The last words roused La Motte, and perplexed him with new fears; he
dreaded to discover his carriage, left its appearance might tempt the
banditti to plunder; and to depart on horseback with this man might
produce a consequence yet more to be dreaded. Madame La Motte,
wearied with apprehension, would, probably, send for her husband to

the house, when all the former danger would be incurred, with the
additional evil of being separated from his family, and the chance of
being detected by the emissaries of justice in endeavouring to recover
them. As these reflections passed over his mind in tumultuous rapidity,
a noise was again heard in the passage, an uproar and scuffle ensued,
and in the same moment he could distinguish the voice of his servant,
who had been sent by Madame La Motte in search of him. Being now
determined to disclose what could not long be concealed, he exclaimed
aloud, that a horse was unnecessary, that he had a carriage at some
distance which would convey them from the heath, the man, who was
seized, being his servant.
The ruffian, speaking through the door, bid him be patient awhile and
he should hear more from him. La Motte now turned his eyes upon his
unfortunate companion, who, pale and exhausted, leaned for support
against the wall. Her features, which were delicately beautiful, had
gained from distress an expression of captivating sweetness: she had
"An eye
As when the blue sky trembles thro' a cloud
Of purest white."
A habit of grey camlet, with short flashed sleeves, shewed, but did not
adorn, her figure: it was thrown open at the bosom, upon which part of
her hair had fallen in disorder, while the light veil hastily thrown on,
had, in her confusion, been suffered to fall back. Every moment of
farther observation heightened the surprize of La Motte, and interested
him more warmly in her favour. Such elegance and apparent
resinement, contrasted with the desolation of the house, and the savage
manners of its inhabitants, seemed to him like a romance of
imagination, rather than an occurrence of real life. He endeavoured to
comfort her, and his sense of compassion was too sincere to be
misunderstood. Her terror gradually subsided into gratitude