THE GHOST OF ST.-GERY.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 3091, 7 May 1892, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE GHOST OF ST.-GERY.

. Norn. —The fn.-t tu'o eh.iptei s "f t'iis stun ore the I: 1 .-t wi-r'c i!<r:e liy (f iv lie .Mi"before hi* iiscucwti'in in an insane asylnu', whole he is a hopeless nemiae. The tliir I chapter is fioni Leu:, Kavart, who wrote it oat from his knuuledßrt of what Dj M.uipas-ant intend '1 that the conclusion of the t le should i:e. CHAPTER T. ft war; near midnight. r J hero had boon a whist, party at tlus fine old city residence of the; Marquis de l.i Tour-Ramuol, four tables, but all save two of tlirs guests had taken their leave of their aged host. Those were an army officer and a civii-servico man, both intimate friends, and the Marquis protested against their leaving so early. " Draw your chairs up in front of the fire." said he. " I have some delicious Camerabert, and will order a bottle of that rare old Amontillado to be opened. There is something strangely, mysteriously fascinating about the hour of midnight to me, and, to be honest with you, I don't care to be left alone at that hour. I'm afraid."

" Afraid, Marquis V laughed the army officer. " 1 can't believe it. You don't know the meaning of the word. You mistake the nature of the sensation. A strong and healthy man is never afraid in the face of danger. He may be agitated, excited, solicitous, but fear, bah ! that's quite another thing " " You may sneer all you choose," replied the Marquis, in his genial way, " hut I tell you I'm afraid." The army officer drew one or two deep puffs at his cigar and then broke the solemn silence which had settled upon the group by saying : — " Let me explain myself. Fear is one of the most frightful of things, a hideous sensation, as if the very soul were undergoing decomposition. It is a terrible spasm of the brain, of the heart, the very recollection of which gives one agonising shudders. But none of this is possible to the brave man, neither at the moment of attack nor when facing inevitable death, nor, in fact, in the face of any known peril. But I grant you, dear Marquis, that it might occur under extraordinary circumstances, under certain mysterious influences, when the risk is vague and undefinable. Genuine fear must be, I apprehend, something like a sudden realisation of the fantastic terrors suffered by the common people in the dark ages. A man who believes in ghosts and who firmly believes that he is gazing upon a midnight visitant from another world must experience to its full extent the frightful sensation of fear."

" And I, my friend," exclaimed the Marquis, " I once experienced that frightful sensation to such a degree that the firm earth seemed to melt beneath my feet to a single foothold and my very soul to go to pieces and to leave me to topple over into the abyss of eternal night." " Ah, a ghost story, my dear Marquis," said the civilian, laugh- " Yes, a ghost story, my friend," continued the Marquis, " and yet at heart I'm no coward. I've taken many risks in my day, run many chances of my life, fought duels and been left for dead by assassins. I was once condemned to be hanged as an insurgent in South America and on another occasion was thrown overboard on the China coast. Each and every time I gave myself up for lost, but I didn't shrink ; I faced death like a man. And yet, my friends, there was no sensation of fear in any such experience, not a tinge of it ; but, ah, it is quite different in the case which I am about to relate to you. There, it is striking midnight and, would you believe it, I never hear a clock striking that hour that there doesn't flash through my mind a remembrance of that night, although it was more than forty years ago. To my dying day I shall never quite free myself from the shock. And yet that terrible sensation lasted only a few brief minutes ; but so intense was the fear I suffered that I have never been able to rid my soul of its effect. Any sudden sound in the dead of night, any white figure dimly seen in the dark makes me start. To be perfectly honest with you, I'm afraid of the dark. When a man has passed his seventy-fifth milestone he can afford to be frank. It is permissible for a man of that age to turn pale in the face of some fantastic peril, but let the danger be real and tangible and I will meet it just as calmly as ever. To such a degree did this adventure disturb the serenity of my existence, so profound, so mysterious, was the influence which it had upon me, that from that day to this I have never spoken of it to a living soul. I stored away the secret in those depths of memory in which we hide painful secrets or secrets involving shame or dishonour, together with all the unspeakable weaknesses of our existence.

It was in 1827, in the month of, July and my regiment was stationed at Rouen. One day, while out for a walk on the quay, I met a man whose face was familiar to tne, and yet I could not exactly place him. Instinctively I came to a halt, and as I did so he stepped forward and took me by the hand. It was SaintGery, a school friend, whom I had not seen for ten years. As a boy he had been extremely plain-looking ; as a man he was repulsive. With the squatty figure of a cut-down Hercules, a neck of extraordinary thickness and a face reddened with scrofulous taint, Saint-Gery was not

a man for your soul to «o unto. Although we were of the same age he now looked ton y:;arn my senior. Hi.-; hair was prematurely grey, and his whole manner denoted a mental unrest, bordering almost upon insanity. Saint-Gery was the last of his race. I suddenly remembered that, and al-o tho fact that he owned an estate a few miles out from Itouon. In a rambling and half violent manner he informed me that he had quitted his chateau only a few days before our meeting, and that it wis his firm resolve never to enter it again, f couldn't bring myself to question him concerning this strange determination. There was something about the man that was intensely displeasing tome, and yet I must confess that this very repulsiveness someway fascinated me.

[ " Thank heaven for this meeting," saicl he, abruptly, " for I have a favour to ask of you. It is to ride out to my old home and get some papers for me. I'll tell you where to find them—in my room in my writing desk. Por certain reasons I don't want to send an ordinary messenger, but I may trust you. Here's the key to the outside door, that's the key to my room, and that to my desk. I want you to go this very afternoon. I'll give you a few lines to Roger, my man in charge of the place." My first impulse was to excuse myself ; but on second thoughts my love of the mysterious and my fondness for adventure led me to accept. Life was intolerably dull at the post, and it would be a pleasant break in the monotony. It was only ten or twelve miles to the old chateau. All I would have to do was to bring back with me two packages of letters and a third package, tied with red tape and bearing his name, all three in the top drawer to the right. "It is hardly necessary for me to tell you," he added, " that you must not examine these papers, even superficially." These words offended me and I made a motion to turn away, but Saint-Gery laid his enormous palm on my shoulder and muttered out: " Pardon me ; I didn't know what I was saying—my mind wa.4 wandering. I trust you implicitly." I half repented of my acceptance as I fixed my eyes upon that almost ogre-like countenance, but it was too la<;e now.

Something detained me at the post, and it was not until nearly sunset that I rode out of town. The weather was superb, and I was in the best of spirits as I skirted the fields at an easy lope, listening to the twittering of the birds and the measured clank of my sabre against my boot. Then the road entered a forest and I pulled my horse up to a walk. At times the branches swept my cheek. The birchen odour carried me back to my childhood, and I broke off a twig and began to chew its fragrant bark. I loitered by the way and gave myself over to an unaccountable feeling of content with life, a tumultuous upwelling of physical satisfaction, a sort of intoxication from vital strength, and in so doing I lost my way. But I didn't care. 1 was rather glad of it, for the moon rose in magnificent fullness, and it occurred to me that with the nightingales singing in the bosky undergrowths I should have a delicious canter back to the city. As I drew near to the Saint-Gery estate I fell in with a solitary rider whom, from something he let drop in the conversation, I recognised to be Roger, the man in charge of the place, and without making my errand krjown to him, I strove to draw him into conversation concerning Saint-Gery's remarkable abandonment of such a fine old chateau ; but the man was so politic a servitor and so guarded in his replies that T had only my trouble for my pains.

It svas now 10 o'clock, and my long ride hud sharpened my appetite tremendously. At my invitation Roger consented to join me with a glass of wine at the road-side inn, although he excused himself from eating anything. The table had been set on the veranda, and the night was so beautiful that we sat there smoking and chatting until after 11. Suddenly, as I drew SaintGery's letter out of my pocket to my amazement I noticed that he had sealed it. I was so surprised and irritated that I was half inclined to mount my horse and return to Rouen without the letters, but it occurred to me that such a course would not be in the best of taste. Thou again, perhaps Saint-Gery might have sealed the letter in a moment of absentmindedness. I nia&i an excuse to walk towards the park, and as we came in sight of the old chateau it was quite light enough to see that the place was sadly run down, the paths overgrown, the hedges neglected, the garden filled with weeds. Turning to Roger, I placed Saint-Gery's letter in his hand. He gave a sudden start, but as quickly recovered himself and withdrew into the gardener's lodge to read it. " Well, sir, what do you wish V' he stammered out, as he appeared at the door a moment later. " You ought to know," said I rather sharply. " I suppose you have read your master's orders, I desire to go inside the chateau ; get me a lamp at once." He caught his breath and his lips fell apart. " Into the chateau," he repeated, " into his room V' " Well," I called out angrily, fori

was now thoroughly out of pationci). '• do you prc-smuu lo qiiosMou mo V " "Oh, no—no, .sir," hfi a'tu »at gulped, " only it is imp jsyibk l Tho placo is looked, doubly lnekcl and ban-Oil; I am p nvorlcss t-j act; Monsieur has t.lu! keys." '' You are wrong I hav.i th' Mii, ' said I, cnliny but linnly : li Civ! n>" a lamp at once and loa I tho way to the door.'" Tlio mail seoinod to V Liboti: i under snmo dreadful anxiety, but I took but little note of his manner. I was well armed and kept my eye on him. As I advanced to set the key in the door he plunked up courage to make a last attempt to stay my progress, but this opposition on Ilia part now roilod mo to such aa extent that, taking the lamp out of the man's hands, I pushed him violently. He staggered back, utterly limp and helpless, his face as I imagined, blanched with anger, I discovered that I had entered the house by the kitchen, which I traversed, then two small living apartments in the nature of a servauts' hall. This bronght me into the main hallway and as rapidly as I could, for the lamp was of bronze and extremely heavy, _ I made my way up the grand staircase of the chateau and had no difficulty in recognising the door which Saint-Gery had described to me. I unlocked it as calmly as if it were the door of my quarters at Bouen, pushed it open, walked in and set the lamp on the heavy oak centre table. As I did so, the clock in the neighbouring chapel struck the hour of midnight, but I scarcely noted it, save to enjoy tho mysterious sweetness of the tones as they broke tho midnight stillness of the place. The room was large and square and had about it that close and musty odour of an unused apartment —an odour straDgely like that which you so often notice in a death chamber. In one corner stood a hugo mahogany bedstead richly carved and surmounted with a canopy. The heary silk curtains were drawn aside disclosing mattrosses and pillows, but no sheets. There was an evident impress of a human figure upon the side away from the wall. I could see that the room was more or less in disorder and that there was one door opening, as I imagine, into a closet. My first thought was to throw open a window and let the cool, fresh night air into the place to chase out its smell of mould and mist, but so rusted were the fastenings that although I made use of my safe as a lever I couldn't start theai.

After several attempts I gave it up, and sat down on a sofa in front of the writing desk, with the intention of hurrying through the task assigned me and ot making my escape. Everything was as St. Gery had described it to me, and in a moment or so I had found all but the last of the three packages indicated, but I thought I heard or rathor felt the rustle of a woman's skirts behind me, but I was too busy to pay any attention to it. In fact it half occurred to me that the breeze had blown in from the hillway and stirred a bit of paper on the floor or caused the hangings to give forth a rustling sound. But in a moment the same sound caught my ear, and this time it sent a disagreeable, crawling feeling over my skin. It seemed so silly to me to take any note of such a thing that my self-respect would not allow me to look round. I had now come upon the third of the packages which Saint-Gery had commissioned me to obtain for him, and had just thrust it into my pooketwhen a deep long-drawn sigh, which naught but human lips could have sent forth, escaped Almost against my check. With one wild spring I landed several feet away, and almost instinctively my hand clutched my sabrebelt. Had I not done so I should have dashed like a coward out of tnat dimly-lighted room. A tall woman, wearing a travelling gown of white gossamer with angel sleeves, her face whiter than her raiment, was standing behind the sofa with eyes that seemed lighted with unearthly glow fixed sadly and tenderly upon me. Over her shoulders, reaching almost to her feet, hung a wonderful growth of hair, covering her, enveloping her like a living veil. By the lamp's light, as she raised her hand and put back these glorious tresses, I could see that they had a golden sheen, which gave her the appearance of being literally wrapt in a mysterious fire that glowed without consuming. She was wonderfully but fearfully beautiful and unearthly. I was stricken with such a tremor that my body swayed, and only by the greatest effort could I save myßelf from pitching over backward.

Nobody, unless lie has been stricken by it, can have any idea of this awful and senseless terror. You feel your soul slipping away like escaping vapor, your heart came to a dead standstill, your whole body stands inert and limp and, like an empty tenement, its walls seem, ready to collapse upon the void. Oh, no, I didn't believe in ghosts. I knew, like all the rest of you, that the dead never come from their graves to walk the cold, damp earth again, but yet this senseless fear of them came upon mG nevertheless ; this fair apparition was hideous to mo, and in those few instants I suffered, oh, I suffered more of irresistible agony, more of awful dread of the supernatural than in my whole life put together. (To be continued,J