THE SECRET OF THE IVORY ROOM.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CXVI, Issue 14222, 19 November 1906, Page 10

THE SECRET OF THE IVORY ROOM.

(By MARY C. ROWSELL.) That the Chateau de Lesparro had a secret, all the world knew, as certainly as it. was beyond question that, it had . remained unfathcmed for centuries. The Chateau was a magnificent old pile of tnediffival'origin, but altered and added to in' the splendid new birth of art and architecture of the 16th century. It crowned the verge of a long range of precipitous rocks overhanging the .waters of the Seine where they widened out to the sea . below Rouen. The mystery enfolding the secret was deepened by the fact that it was known only by the women—and that but by two at a time —of the family, to wit, - the elder woman who confided it ho the chief female representative of the generation .next succeeding. That this [ woman had religiously kept the secret was considered—it need scarcely bo said—by the sterner sex to be the most astonishing and really incredible part of the matter. To be sure, an awesome'prophecy hung over its violation, to the effect that the day which should dawn on its revealing would see the chateau and all its broad domain pass into the hands of the stranger; while extremest peril, if not death itself, ■ would encompass the living representatives of the ancient race. Weighted, i however, as they were with their unspeakable burden, the ladies of the family ordinarily contrived to wear cheerful countenances, in addition to jh© rare beauty and charm distinguishing them. Few, if any, of her ancestresses could have surpassed in these respects Isapean de Lesparre, who was the sole female representative in the direct line . »f her race at the beginning of the last Secade of the 18th century, when the flays of The Terror were beginning to darken through, the length and breadth of France. Isabeau’s mother had died some three years before when Isabeau was barely seventeen, and, young as she was, lacking; any female relative of direct descent, the entire weight of the secret rested upon her. Her brother, Count Henri de Lesparre, who was an officer of the King’s Guards, was necessarily often absent from, home, and at such times Fere Michel, 'a gentleman of middle age, the cure'of the village, and Isabeau’s uncle, would leave his own little house in the care of his housekeeper, to bear Isabeau company at the chateau, passing the time' not devoted 'to their poorer neighbours in reading and gardening, and, on Isabeau’s part, at her embroidery frame when certain other affairs did not claim her attention too 1 exclusively. The chateau was a rambling old building, fortified in the more ancient parts which crowned tho rocks ; and its embattled walls and bastions, surmounted at intervals by cone-shaped towel's and tourelles, afford conspicuous landmarks for the fishermen plying their craft to and fro the Channel, and many a benison and many a prayer was put up for the rest of the soul of that goed Count Philip, he who in mediaeval days had left a oiim in perpetuity for the maintenance of the beacon-light which summer and winter was kindled at sundown in the lantern roof of the loftiest 1 and most prominent tower of 'the old battlements. This' most ancient part of the chateau .contained among other rooms a suite of chambers Which was devoted entirely to the use of the ladies of the .family. The suite terminated at the end in a tourelle that partly overhupg the river. Its exterior was round, but , within it was octagonal, shaped into the walls, which were some three or .four feet thick. It contained one ‘room only. Beneath it and the adjoining rooms lay various stone staircases and vaulted passages and recesses, used mainly for storage of fuel and agricultural tools and such-like, the stairways leading at last down to a door opening just above high-water mark of the river level. The ground-part of the chateau contained the usual apartments, including the great hall, the , chapel, library, kitchen, servants’ office* and the gtmidroom by the great gateway. _ , In addition to the magnificent land and river prospects commanded by the casements, the tourelle was within, as without, a marvel of quaint beauty. Some long dead and gone lord of the chateau had indulged his artistic bent by lining the eight-sided interior walls from the Hoar to the ceiling with exquisitely carved panels of ivory work, encased in framings of oak, which was now almost ebony black with age. One ot the panels formed the door of the room, and, being closed, its uniformity with the rest was apt to cause a momentary perplexity in the uninitiated as to the means of exit. This, however, ' was quickly removed by the sight of the lock of finely-wrought brass work, and the fastening once secured, it was hard, to conceive of anything more capable of holding its own. The terrible days, however, when nothing was to he sacred were fast looming upon France. Scarcely had intelligence of the fall of the Bastille • , reached the chateau than it was followed by that of the attempted flight of the Royal Family, and their subsequent incarceration in , the Temple. Upon the heels of those tidings _came those of the dispersion of the Royal troops, -and the.’hnrrieid departure over .the. frontiers of all accused of Royalist leanings. -Of her brother and of him who was his inseparable comrade, and .Isabeau’s betrothed husband, Count de St Ton, no tidings could be obtained; until at. last, soon after the outbreak of the counter-revolution in la Vendee, a devoted friend and adherent discovered that the two were in hiding in a wood lying a mile or two only from the chateau,' and, in peril, of course, of being run down at any moment. Scarcely had Isabeau and Fere Michel time to . confer together in a few hurried words ’ as' to the course to adopt for the pro- ' tection of the two hunted men. than they burst, into the tower-room, haying ' availed themselves of the mists.of the November night now rapidly clearing, to make for the protection of the old home. “The bloodhounds are upon us!” cried Henri de Lesparre. ■ “Fly then, Henri! Louis!” cried " Isabeau, distractedly, and looking round for Fere Michel, but the priest , had disappeared. “ Ah, fly !” “Dear child, that is easy, to say,” smiled Henri, “but whither?” “ Ah—into the dungeons ” “.Which would be the very first place they would make for. Hark!” “ Out to sea !” urged Isabeau, gazing wildly round the walls. “Away to England.” “ Nothing better. But the night is clear as day now,, and wo should at , once be.seen and fired upon and waylaid down stream.” “The secret panel. Oh! quick—behind the chapel altar. See, this way,” . and Isabeau flew to tho door. “ Eight,” nodded de Lesparre. “Come St Yon, it is our only chance.” But it was not to be accorded. A prolonged deafening peal upon the ■ gateway bell, a furious rattle upon the great nail-studded main door, followed by a crash, and upon a chorus of yells and execrations, the rabble burst in with the violence of a broken sluice, flourishing axe and sabre, pick and cudgel and bayonet, trampling down the resistance of the unprepared chateau guards and servants. “.Hark! Yes—they are upon us.

They——” cried St Yon, but the words i had barely deft his lips than he fell ■ prone upon the floor In a dead faint at Isabeau’s feet, overcome by exhaustion from want of food and sleep. “ What is to be done?” moaned IsabajiH, as ebo dropped to her knees be-

side the unconscious man, and lifted his head into her anus. “ Nothing, ma scour,” said De Lesparre. “Nothing but to yield for tho hunted quarry wo are,” and folding his arms he stood silently listening to the tramp, tramp of the oncoming feet.

“ In the name of Liberty, Equality. Fraternity, or ———•” “Death! ha! ha! Death! Open—open!” hoarsely yelled the chorus, as the foremost of the.rabble began to batter thunderously upon the door panels. Do Lesparre, however, spared them further exertions by opening it himself, and stood facing the crow. “What do yon want?” demanded he, and, taken unprepared, they pulled up at a sharp halt upon the threshold, and glared with wild, haggard eyes into the room.

“What do wo want?” jeered they. “You and your friend there!” shouted on the spokesman, who was attired in tho military uniform of the Republic. “That’s what we want. Yon are cur prisoners.” “By.what authority? And upon what ground?” challenged De Lesparre.

“ On that of the Republic—One and Indivisible—and as traitors to the Republic !” “Yes—yes!” rose up the shouting chorus. “That’s it Citizen Pompilius. Now, then, forward, dogs of aristocrats that you are!”

“Yes—off quick with you !” went on tho leader. “You must accompany us to Rouen ”

“But, gentlemen—men—” entreated Isabeau, pointing down to tho unconscious man in her arms, “ have you no consideration—no pity?” The grinning mockery of the hloodsmeared, dust-stained faces confronting her did not bespeak any superfluity of compassion, and the derision swelled to a screech of impatience, which sank suddenly to a dismal howling moan, indicating that the Sans-Culottes might be human in so far as their own individual discomfort was concerned; for many of them, bruised, battered and scratched witn their frantic quest in the pathless depths of the woods, sank staggering and stumbling hither and thither about the floor, and upon tho dainty silken chairs and couches of the room, imprinting the grime and blood stains of their clutching fingers as they fell. “ Fools! Idiots! Milksops 1” roared their leader, turning savagely upon them; but an angry discord of growls and objurgations was all the response. Nature had proved herself even more powerful than the Republic. This huo and cry after the Royalists had lasted for some days without 1 intermission. Many of the pursuers had fallen hours ago by the wayside as they ran, end these last had succumbed as it were, under the re-action of the end of their chase. Their leader included, not one had broken fast that day. “Take breathing time,” adjured De Lesparre, gazing not without compassion upon the fallen, famished crew, “ If not for your own sakes, for Franca I beg you—you whose health is so indispensable to her welfare. Spare yourselves a' little. Madame—--pardon, Citizeness la Guillotine can wait awhile well nourished as she is; she will not starve till morning, while yon— —” and he.broke off, and turned to bid some of the half-scared servants and castle-folk, who had pressed on after tho rabble, set meat and drink before them.

Citizen Pompilius, whose complexion embodied a well-accentuated combination of the national colours in his nose and cheeks and eyes, was not proof against this temptation te allay inward pangs. He hesitated one instant, then grabbing at a knife and a fork, he attacked a cold roast capon, and, hewing it apart, deposited considerably the larger half of it on a plate, and fell to work, explaining, as he did so, as well as his preoccupied jaws permitted, that he consented to partake for the sake of his faithful followers. “'For their sakes,” he said, “so that justice can be done.”

“Precisely,” assented De Lesparro, “ but that would bo more effectually carried out below in tho dining-half; since space and table arrangements here are too limited for your friends. In. this small apartment there is, as you see, scarcely room to swing a patr—no matter—but in the hall you will find ample accommodation.” ■ “Not forgetting the wine—eh? The wine,” put in more than one chuckling voice. • .

“Certainly not,” said De Lesparre, “ The wine by all means. There you will find a small door that communicates direct with the cellars,” and as he spoke a gleam of hopeful speculation shot into De Lespnrre’s eyes. ' “A la bonheur! Oh, yes,” sardonically grinned Citizen Pompilius. .“Ha, Ho! An excellent job that would he, wouldn’t it? and leave you here meantime. of course?” “ Why not?”

Why not? Because it ie not our way to wing birds, to let them fly away again. Hein? Not exactly.” “ Flight would be difficult, I imagine, from this room,” calmly replied De Lesparre, pointing to the window near which they were standing. . “ Oh, yes—-that is all very well,” said Pompilius, opening the lattice and peering down upon the rushing water far below; “but you see——”

“ And flight in any- case under my friend’s circumstances ’/ —De Lesparre paused, and gazed in bitter despair at St Yon, who was slowly recovering consciousness in Isabeau’s arms.

“ All very well, no doubt, ae I say,” went on Pompilius, “ but there is also a door to this delightful apartment. \ou spoke?” demanded he after a momentary silence, of Isabeau, whose breath struck his ear coming thick and cabohingly in spite of her endeavour to repress it. “ Oh, no,” said she.

You are scarcely likely to leave the door unguarded,” commented De Lesparre in tones of the weary nonchalance engendered by despair. “ Place us where you think proper,” he went on, “ but in the old times, when what you call the aristocrats had their innings at this kind of thing, this turretchamber was held to bo the strongest part of the chateau !” “Yes, indeed,” asseverated Isabeau. “And that is true enough, as they say,” put in a patriot born and bred in the village, “ how many a time have I not heard that said? Its walls are feet and feet thick, and its door, pretty as it is, would take, a Samson to break in. Examine for yourself!” Pompilius falling in with the suggestion, prodded tho frames all about with the point of his sabre, and then sounded the walls with his huge clenched fists. “ What about these?” he demanded suspiciously; but they gave back no hollow sound. “What about these?” he demanded again; <r not riddled with eliding panels, eh?” “ Not to my knowledge.” “ A real mousetrap?” he grinned, turning to- Isabeau.

“ H would seem so,” assented she. "Well—be it so,” said Ponipilius, “as well here perhaps, or bettor .than anywhere else. But,” he wont on, still keeping his eyes on Isa beau, “ we’ll not lose sight of the pretty aristocrat here, by your leave. There’s nothing like bright eyes for good company,” and gripping her by the elbow, Foinpilinci propelled her before him towards the door. ■ “ She can leave the task of completing this gentleman’s recovery to you,” grinned on Ponipilius, addressing De Lcsparre; “ it will amuse the tedium; and the young woman will be better employed indicating to us the nearest way to the wine-cellar. is’ow

Citizeness, forward with you. As much despatch as you can find.” “Harm her at your peril,” said De Lesparre with clicking utterance. “Oh—she shall bo treated like a suckling—or—a queen,” laughed'Pompilius. “It is the drink, man, the drink. Supposing,” he went on, suddenly breaking off and addressing Isaboau, “that you make your adieus now to these gentlemen, in case, yon know, that you should not meet again. Como quick, then. I can’t wait here all night!” “Henri!” cried Isabeau in agony, casting herself upon her brother’s bosom, and, flinging her arms about his neck, she broke into low, murmuring sobs. • “ Adieu, my sister,” said De Lesparre with a sad smile, as he kissed her fondly. “ Only for a little while,” murmured

she. . , “ Yes, sister mine,” he rejoined, - 1 will trust, as you do, that there is a better world.” “ An revoir, then,” she said, pressing his hand. ’ He turned from her, overwhelmed with the- bitterness of his feelings, while Isabeau approached her lover, who had staggered, .still halfdazed, to his feet, and lifted her lace to his. “Come —come —Citizeness. to time for cooing now—nor whisperings neither.” . „ , But she had whispered m ot ions ear just one word, and that was “Courage.” . . . ‘ Ay—mon amour,’ he rejoined, in life jiml death,” and she turned and hastened, after the retiring mob. Leaving four of his following in the turret-room, each armed with sabre and bayonet and well supplied with food and drink, Pompilius posted four more outside the door, equally well provided, with the wherewithal to appease their wolfish hunger. “ Safe bind, safe find,” said Pompilius, as he stepped out into the gallery, and pulling the door to with a pretentious bang locked it with a loud clatter, and put the key in his pocket. “Now, Citizen-ess,” ho went on to Isabeau. “ Have with you. The cellar keys at your most obliging convenience. Quick—then,” die growled' on, no playing with a thirsty man. Oh, I could swill up the yellow old Seine down there; I am so dry. After yon. Yes, place to the weaker sex,” and following Isabeau down to the great hall, he waved back his ragged regiment pressing after him, to the small door in the wainscotting that gave access to tho wine cellars, and descended alone with her by the light of a small lantern which he took from one of his mon.

Such. Torkay and Burgundy and Champagne as those cellars contained were, not to be surpassed in all France; and Citizen Pompilius, who made it a matter of conscience never to stir abroad without his little pewter pocket tumbler, lost no time in testing the quality of every bottle which Isabeau brought from its obscurity. A fAir quantity of wine, or even of spirits, was needed to make headway with Pompilius; but on this occasion he neglected to take into the very • necessary account the special conditions of his long fast and still barely appeased hunger, and the unusual potency of the wine began speedily to overpower his brains and disturb his equilibrium, to the extent rendering him absolutely incapable, so that somehow—though to his dying day ho never could understand it—-his foot, or rather both feet, slipped on the dark, dank cellar flooring, and tho lantern got entangled in his legs, or his sabre, or the streaming ends of' his tri-coloured sash, or something of the sort, and he fell pron'e and sprawling, and In his fruitless endeavour to pick himself up lie contrived., to extinguish the -lantern, and bow'long he lay his length helpless and heavy as a log he never quite knew—never knew anything beyond a fancy that he heard the turn of the cellar key in its lock. And that must have been a fact, because when some twenty-four hours later h© tried to call attention at the top of ..his stentorian tones to his situation there was no small difficulty and delay before the key was forthcoming upon certain humiliating conditions from trusty hands to release him. And meanwhile now, above stairs the darkness has deepened into a misty moonlight night, heavy with shadows, and profound 'silence reigns in the cha teau ; for one by one the tongues of the noisy revellers in the hall have subsided like their superior in the cellar, in drunken sleep, while the guards of the turret-chamber, within as.without, have succumbed also to the influence of wine and fatigue so utterly that they lie stretched upon the floor, having rolled off the couches on which they originally settled themselves comfortably in the assurance that their imposed duty was a ,-sinecure, and without, compunction they have yielded themselves to heavy sleep. • And for the two prisoners, each wrapped in his despairing reflections, wore ever duller dogs?-—-and so when the great belfry clock clangs out nine, not a sound but the never ceasing plash of the river-tide about the base of the walls is to be heard.

Tho t wo- men have scarcely -stirred, sitting -motionless as statues in the gloom illumined only by the light of a couple of dark lanterns. It is Louis do St Yon who first becomes conscious of some new silent shadowy presence in the room, and he springs to his feet. “Isabeau!” he calls in a loud whisper. Ah no—impossible—it is fancy—he is dreaming—it is her wraith advancing towards him in the dark fringe of the moonlight radiance.

“Isabeau!” echoes De Lesparre, roused by the touch of St Yon, on his shoulder to look up. Ah!—but tho warm' pressure of her finger-tips on their lips silences them, and tells that it is the living Isabeau indeed. Her eyes fixed on the sleeping guard, one hand uplifted to enforce silence, she beckons thorn to a spot sire lias reached fronting the door. “Come,” she whispers as they obey—“ There is no time to lose—but the way is clear ” “ But- ” “ Come,” and then her hand, reaching behind her as she speaks—to the framework of tho door on. the side opposite the lock, her fingers, white as the ivory gleaming in the dusky moonrays, touches one of the oaken bosses some half-way up the framework. Smoothly and soundlessly it falls open, and the two men, waiting for no further sign from her, step over tho threshold into- the space beyond. Beside them in the thickness of the wall, which is' pannelled with oak, yawns a cavity giving upon a narrow winding stone stairway, and the two, obedient to a gesture from their conductress, step within, followed by Isabeau, who stays only to draw the panel back into its frame, after watching the door fall noiselessly and speedily, as it opened, back into its place. Lighted only by the moonbeams penetrating through a few loopholes in the wall, they descend, to catch ere many moments have passed, the sound of Pore Michel’s voice. .

“ Heaven be praised,” fervently says the priest, as ho reaches them a helping hand, “ you are saved!” And still passing down and down, they all reach thej stair foot, which is* wet with the water of the river as it hurries past the iron grating opening sheer upon it. “ I fi all ready?” asks Pere Michel in a hushed voice. All is ready,” comes the reply. The boat is held by strong, steady hands, and the four step in, and away under cover of the rock shadows, the fugitives with their deliverers are gliding away rapidly to the open sea-—to

freedom and to life—sale from pursuit; for it was to bo hours yet ere their escape was discovered, and but a brief while after tho sodden laggards in the chateau began to recover their senses, tho feet of the fugitives pressed English soil.

Tho prophecy fulfilled itself, for in their rage and fear of the vengeance of their Republican rulers, the man in charge of the prisoners ect fire to the Ivory Room, declaring it to have been done by some unseen Royalist band from without, and with it some portion of the chateau was also destroyed. Maddened, moreover, with the loss of their prey, mystified and furious, they fell upon each other almost to the death, each accusing his fellow of treachery, their very rage thus frustrating the possibility of discovering the means of escape. The secret, one so pimple when it was known, just a curious piece of mechanism —that ivorypannelled door, designed by tho ingenuity of a craftsman who- loved his craft ns once upon a time men were wont to prize their calling. The door' locking only to one side, was fashioned to open on cither side, by tho manipulation which mas not more, than a pressure of one particular bo?s of the many carved into the oaken framework of tho carving. Tho pressure lifted the hinges from their holdings, and, thus released, the door opened upon grooves catching it on the opposite side, and vice versa. The imposing lock was' virtually, therefore, little more than an empty show. In happier days l —and they came soon’ after the* passing o-f the Terror to the Count de Lesparre, and the Count and Countess de St Yon, and te' all concerned in facilitating their escape, not forgetting Pore Michel, who- had been the” head and front of it—Madame St Yon would smile when pressed to- give the reason -for the imposed secrecy. “ I cannot tell you,” she would pay, “unless it was to try whether a woman could keep a secret. But you see it is clear that .she, cannot, for did not I reveal it to Pore Michel?” “ Under the seal —my child ” says Pore Michel with a smile, as he kieses her hands.