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 wretchedincome, 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 vehementirritation 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
money. Besides, I dislike all traveling--and especially traveling

alone. You are an idle man. If you were a good friend, you would
offer to go with me." He added, with the delicacy which was one

of the redeeming points in his waywardcharacter. "Of course as
my guest."

I had known him long enough not to take offense at his reminding
me, in this considerate way, that I was a poor man. The proposed

change of scene tempted me. What did I care for the Channel
passage? Besides, there was the irresistibleattraction of

getting away from home. The end of it was that I accepted
Romayne's invitation.

II.
SHORTLY after noon, on the next day, we were established at

Boulogne--near Lady Berrick, but not at her hotel. "If we live in
the same house," Romayne reminded me, "we shall be bored by the

companion and the doctor. Meetings on the stairs, you know, and
exchanging bows and small talk." He hated those trivial

conventionalities of society, in which, other people delight.
When somebody once asked him in what company he felt most at

ease? he made a shocking answer--he said, "In the company of
dogs."

I waited for him on the pier while he went to see her ladyship.
He joined me again with his bitterest smile. "What did I tell

you? She is not well enough to see me to-day. The doctor looks
grave, and the companion puts her handkerchief to her eyes. We

may be kept in this place for weeks to come."
The afternoon proved to be rainy. Our early dinner was a bad one.

This last circumstance tried his tempersorely. He was no
gourmand; the question of cookery was (with him) purely a matter

of digestion. Those late hours of study, and that abuse of tea to
which I have already alluded, had sadly injured his stomach. The

doctors warned him of serious consequences to his nervous system,
unless he altered his habits. He had little faith in medical

science, and he greatly overrated the restorative capacity of his
constitution. So far as I know, he had always neglected the

doctors' advice.
The weather cleared toward evening, and we went out for a walk.

We passed a church--a Roman Catholic church, of course--the doors
of which were still open. Some poor women were kneeling at their

prayers in the dim light. "Wait a minute," said Romayne. "I am in
a vile temper. Let me try to put myself into a better frame of

mind."
I followed him into the church. He knelt down in a dark corner by

himself. I confess I was surprised. He had been baptized in the
Church of England; but, so far as outward practice was concerned,

he belonged to no religious community. I had often heard him
speak with sincerereverence and admiration of the spirit of

Christianity--but he never, to my knowledge, attended any place
of public worship. When we met again outside the church, I asked

if he had been converted to the Roman Catholic faith.
"No," he said. "I hate the inveterate striving of that priesthood

after social influence and political power as cordially as the
fiercest Protestant living. But let us not forget that the Church

of Rome has great merits to set against great faults. Its system
is administered with an admirable knowledge of the higher needs

of human nature. Take as one example what you have just seen. The
solemn tranquillity of that church, the poor people praying near

me, the few words of prayer by which I silently united myself to
my fellow-creatures, have calmed me and done me good. In _our_

country I should have found the church closed, out of service
hours." He took my arm and abruptly changed the subject. "How

will you occupy yourself," he asked, "if my aunt receives me
to-morrow?"

I assured him that I should easily find ways and means of getting
through the time. The next morning a message came from Lady

Berrick, to say that she would see her nephew after breakfast.
Left by myself, I walked toward the pier, and met with a man who

asked me to hire his boat. He had lines and bait, at my service.
Most unfortunately, as the event proved, I decided on occupying

an hour or two by sea fishing.
The wind shifted while we were out, and before we could get back