Chapter XXXVII: A Haunted Forest

Beyond Chalons we rode for several miles in silence, for Nicola seemed to be still displeased with me, and I felt a sadness and irresolution for which I could not account, for this girl exercised a strange and powerful fascination over me; but now, a storm which came on suddenly was the fortunate means of bringing us to a satisfactory explanation, somewhat after the fashion of the regal lovers in the Æneid, save that we conducted ourselves with much more propriety than Dido and her demigod.

About dusk we found ourselves somewhere on the borders of Lower Champagne, near a large forest, amid the dingles of which we had lost the right path; and now the darkening clouds, with the oppression of the atmosphere, forewarned us of what was approaching. No house or village appeared in sight; every way the forest tracks seemed to be lost in a wilderness of trees. On a rock overhanging the forest stood an old castle, at which we expected to find shelter or a guide; but it proved to be a roofless ruin, destroyed probably in the wars of the League: and two or three men, whom we had seen lurking near it, disappeared on our approach, and accorded no response to my shouts. This suggested the unpleasant idea of robbers; and my hitherto brave little companion grew pale as the darkness increased, and I carefully examined the pistols in my girdle and the petronels at my saddle-bow.

In her anxiety Nicola forgot her displeasure, and prattled and spoke to me again, keeping her horse close to my stirrup; for every minute my hand was required to catch her bridle, as the brambles and stones rendered the animal restive and liable to stumble.

Once a wolf bayed near us, and she uttered a faint scream. The French forests were full of those animals. De Mezeray tells us that, in 1437, wolves occasionally darted through the city barriers, and devoured children in the Rue St. Antoine at Paris; and all the world knows of 'the terrible wild beast' which appeared in the forest of Fontainebleau and ate one hundred and forty persons alive, before it was killed by M. de Brissac and twelve of the king's musketeers.*

* So lately as 1765, the forest of Soissons was full of wolves. A ordinance of Henry III. directed the lords of manors to have a general hunt every third month.

'Do not be alarmed, dear Nicola,' said I, 'for I have four bullets and my dagger at your service.'

'These will avail you little, M. Blane, against a herd of wolves.'

'Well--a herd might, perhaps, prove rather troublesome!'

'Or a band of robbers--like those of Guillirez!'

'The devil! My dear mademoiselle, do not think of such things: yet I would rather face the robbers than the wolves.'

'Indeed! do you hold your life a thing of little price?'

'Nay; I hold it, dear Nicola, exactly at the value your interest in me gives it.'

'A very pretty compliment, M. Blane; but do not press my hand so, pray: and ah, my heaven! there is lightning coming to increase our annoyances! Moreover, this forest is haunted!'

'By what?'

'A spectre.'

'The deuce, mademoiselle! a real spectre?'

'Yes.'

'Come now, Nicola!'

'A tall, lean, ghastly man with a dreadful visage.'

'With wolves, robbers, and spectres for companions--a dark forest, rain, thunder, and wind--we shall pass a pleasant night! now the torrent begins to patter on the leaves! my poor little Nicola, you will be quite drenched.'

'Mon Dieu! it was in this forest that Charles VIII. of France was warned of his approaching death,' whispered Nicola, shuddering.

'Warned--by what?'

'The spectre--the demon who haunts it.'

'Ouf! we are to have a demon too! How came it to pass?'

'Charles VIII. was marching home from the conquest of Naples, and was passing through this wood, accompanied by Anne of Brittany his queen, and the Lady Beaujeu his sister, when suddenly a tall and ghastly form like a skeleton, having a long white beard and enormous red eyes, started from among the bushes, and grasped the royal bridle, exclaiming with a shrill voice, like the whistling wind--

'"Stop! O King, whence go you?"

'"To Paris!" answered Charles, boldly; "but why?"

'"Because you are betrayed--beware of the orange-tree!" replied the spectre, and vanished, for no trace of him could be found by the King or his company. Charles therefore became alarmed, and tarried till all the Scottish Guard, under the Lord Bernard Stuart d'Aubigne came up, and with these he passed through the forest in safety; but the terrible visage of the spectre was ever before him; so that he lost his senses soon after, and died of a poisoned orange.'

Nicola also told me that, in the local superstition of the peasantry, the forest was the haunt of a malevolent female spirit known as La Bête Havette, who lived in wells and springs (like that watery spirit which haunted our friend St. Fiacre), and was wont suddenly to pour its fury upon children, drowning them, as the kelpies are said to do in Scotland. Here, too, was heard St. Hubert's hunt, when the yelling of fiendish dogs, the clank of hell-forged fetters, and mournful cries swept at midnight over the tree tops, and died away in distance, as the demons bore off the souls of the damned to punishment; for such the terrified peasantry believed the passing flocks of wild geese to be; but at last, as the darkness increased, Nicola became terrified by her own legends; she ceased to speak, and kept close to my side.