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diff --git a/13909-h/13909-h.htm b/13909-h/13909-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f643c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/13909-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5960 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Mac OS X (vers 1st August 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<meta http-equiv="content-type" content= +"text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Indiscretion of the Duchess , by Anthony Hope.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + <!-- + body {font-family:Georgia,serif;margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;font-variant:small-caps;} + pre {font-family:Courier,monospaced;font-size: 0.8em;} + hr {width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + .dropcap {float: left;width:115 px;} + .cen {text-align:center;} + .hide {display: none;} + .returnTOC {text-align:right;font-size:.7em;} + .note {margin-left:10%;margin-right:10%;} + span.sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + .rgt {text-align:right;} + .cen {text-align:center;} + a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none;} + a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none;} + a:hover {color:red;} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13909 ***</div> + +<hr class="full" /> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/frontis.png"><img src= +"images/frontis.png" alt= +"A man lies dead on a beach, another falls backwards, and a third stands over them." +id="imgfrontis" name="imgfrontis" width="100%" /></a> +<p class="cen">“<em>I plucked him off the duke and flung him +on his back on the sands</em>,”</p> +</div> +<hr class="short" /> +<h1>The Indiscretion of the Duchess</h1> +<h2 style="font-variant:none;"><em>Being a Story Concerning Two +Ladies, a Nobleman, and a Necklace</em></h2> +<h6>BY</h6> +<h1>Anthony Hope</h1> +<h5>AUTHOR OF “THE PRISONER OF ZENDA,” ETC.</h5> +<h6>NEW YORK</h6> +<h4>1894</h4> +<hr /> +<h2><a id="Contents" name="Contents">Contents.</a></h2> +<ol type="I"> +<li><a href="#chap_1"><span class="sc">A Multitude of Good +Reasons</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_2"><span class="sc">The Significance of a +Supper-Table</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_3"><span class="sc">The Unexpected that Always +Happened</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_4"><span class="sc">The Duchess Defines Her +Position</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_5"><span class="sc">A Strategic +Retreat</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_6"><span class="sc">A Hint of Something +Serious</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_7"><span class="sc">Heard through the +Door</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_8"><span class="sc">I Find that I +Care</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_9"><span class="sc">An Unparalleled +Insult</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_10"><span class="sc">Left on My +Hands</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_11"><span class="sc">A Very Clever +Scheme</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_12"><span class="sc">As a Man +Possessed</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_13"><span class="sc">A Timely +Truce</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_14"><span class="sc">For an Empty +Box</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_15"><span class="sc">I Choose My +Way</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_16"><span class="sc">The Inn near +Pontorson</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_17"><span class="sc">A Reluctant +Intrusion</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_18"><span class="sc">A Strange Good +Humor</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_19"><span class="sc">Unsummoned +Witnesses</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_20"><span class="sc">The Duke’s +Epitaph</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_21"><span class="sc">A Passing +Carriage</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#chap_22"><span class="sc">From Shadow to +Sunshine</span></a></li> +</ol> +<hr class="full" /> +<h1>THE INDISCRETION OF THE DUCHESS.</h1> +<hr /> +<h2><a id="chap_1" name="chap_1">Chapter I.</a></h2> +<h4>A Multitude of Good Reasons.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/01dc.png" alt="I" id= +"img01dc" name="img01dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">I</span>n accordance with many most excellent +precedents, I might begin by claiming the sympathy due to an orphan +alone in the world. I might even summon my unguided childhood and +the absence of parental training to excuse my faults and extenuate +my indiscretions. But the sympathy which I should thus gain would +be achieved, I fear, by something very like false pretenses. For my +solitary state sat very lightly upon me—the sad events which +caused it being softened by the influence of time and +habit—and had the recommendation of leaving me, not only free +to manage my own life as I pleased, but also possessed of a +competence which added power to my freedom. And as to the +indiscretions—well, to speak it in all modesty and with a +becoming consciousness of human frailty, I think that the undoubted +indiscretions—that I may use no harder term—which were +committed in the course of a certain fortnight were not for the +most part of my doing or contriving. For throughout the +transactions which followed on my arrival in France, I was rather +the sport of circumstances than the originator of any scheme; and +the prominent part which I played was forced upon me, at first by +whimsical chance, and later on by the imperious calls made upon me +by the position into which I was thrust.</p> +<p>The same reason that absolves me from the need of excuse +deprives me of the claim to praise; and, looking back, I am content +to find nothing of which I need seriously be ashamed, and glad to +acknowledge that, although Fate chose to put me through some queer +paces, she was not in the end malevolent, and that, now the whole +thing is finished, I have no cause to complain of the ultimate +outcome of it. In saying that, I speak purely and solely for +myself. There is one other for whom I might perhaps venture to say +the same without undue presumption, but I will not; while for the +rest, it must suffice for me to record their fortunes, without +entering on the deep and grave questions which are apt to suggest +themselves to anyone who considers with a thoughtful mind the +characters and the lives of those with whom he is brought in +contact on his way through the world. The good in wicked folk, the +depths in shallow folk, the designs of haphazard minds, the +impulsive follies of the cunning—all these exist, to be dimly +discerned by any one of us, to be ignored by none save those who +are content to label a man with the name of one quality and ignore +all else in him, but to be traced, fully understood, and +intelligently shown forth only by the few who are gifted to read +and expound the secrets of human hearts. That is a gift beyond my +endowment, and fitted for a task too difficult for my hand. +Frankly, I did not, always and throughout, discern as clearly as I +could desire the springs on which the conduct of my fellow-actors +turned; and the account I have given of their feelings and their +motives must be accepted merely as my reading of them, and for +what, as such, it is worth. The actual facts speak for themselves. +Let each man read them as he will; and if he does not indorse all +my views, yet he will, I venture to think, be recompensed by a +story which even the greatest familiarity and long pondering has +not robbed of all its interest for me. But then I must admit that I +have reasons which no one else can have for following with avidity +every stage and every development in the drama, and for seeking to +discern now what at the time was dark and puzzling to me.</p> +<p>The thing began in the most ordinary way in the world—or +perhaps that is too strongly put. The beginning was ordinary +indeed, and tame, compared with the sequel. Yet even the beginning +had a flavor of the unusual about it, strong enough to startle a +man so used to a humdrum life and so unversed in anything out of +the common as I. Here, then, is the beginning:</p> +<p>One morning, as I sat smoking my after-breakfast cigar in my +rooms in St. James’ Street, my friend Gustave de Berensac +rushed in. His bright brown eyes were sparkling, his mustache +seemed twisted up more gayly and triumphantly than ever, and his +manner was redolent of high spirits. Yet it was a dull, somber, +misty morning, for all that the month was July and another day or +two would bring August. But Gustave was a merry fellow, though +always (as I had occasion to remember later on) within the limits +of becoming mirth—as to which, to be sure, there may be much +difference of opinion.</p> +<p>“Shame!” he cried, pointing at me. “You are a +man of leisure, nothing keeps you here; yet you stay in this +<em>bouillon</em> of an atmosphere, with France only twenty miles +away over the sea!”</p> +<p>“They have fogs in France too,” said I. “But +whither tends your impassioned speech, my good friend? Have you got +leave?”</p> +<p>Gustave was at this time an extra secretary at the French +Embassy in London.</p> +<p>“Leave? Yes, I have leave—and, what is more, I have +a charming invitation.”</p> +<p>“My congratulations,” said I.</p> +<p>“An invitation which includes a friend,” he +continued, sitting down. “Ah, you smile! You mean that is +less interesting?”</p> +<p>“A man may smile and smile, and not be a villain,” +said I. “I meant nothing of the sort. I smiled at your +exhilaration—nothing more, on the word of a moral +Englishman.”</p> +<p>Gustave grimaced; then he waved his cigarette in the air, +exclaiming:</p> +<p>“She is charming, my dear Gilbert!”</p> +<p>“The exhilaration is explained.”</p> +<p>“There is not a word to be said against her,” he +added hastily.</p> +<p>“That does not depress me,” said I. “But why +should she invite me?”</p> +<p>“She doesn’t invite you; she invites me to +bring—anybody!”</p> +<p>“Then she is <em>ennuyée</em>, I +presume?”</p> +<p>“Who would not be, placed as she is? He is +inhuman!”</p> +<p>“<em>M. le mari?</em>”</p> +<p>“You are not so stupid, after all! He forbids her to see a +single soul; we must steal our visit, if we go.”</p> +<p>“He is away, then?”</p> +<p>“The kind government has sent him on a special mission of +inquiry to Algeria. Three cheers for the government!”</p> +<p>“By all means,” said I. “When are you going to +approach the subject of who these people are?”</p> +<p>“You will not trust my discernment?”</p> +<p>“Alas, no! You are too charitable—to one half of +humanity.”</p> +<p>“Well, I will tell you. She is a great friend of my +sister’s—they were brought up in the same convent; she +is also a good comrade of mine.”</p> +<p>“A good comrade?”</p> +<p>“That is just it; for I, you know, suffer hopelessly +elsewhere.”</p> +<p>“What, Lady Cynthia still?”</p> +<p>“Still!” echoed Gustave with a tragic air. But he +recovered in a moment. “Lady Cynthia being, however, in +Switzerland, there is no reason why I should not go to +Normandy.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Normandy?”</p> +<p>“Precisely. It is there that the duchess—”</p> +<p>“Oho! The duchess?”</p> +<p>“Is residing in retirement in a small +<em>château</em>, alone save for my sister’s +society.”</p> +<p>“And a servant or two, I presume?”</p> +<p>“You are just right, a servant or two; for he is most +stingy to her (though not, they say, to everybody), and gives her +nothing when he is away.”</p> +<p>“Money is a temptation, you see.”</p> +<p>“<em>Mon Dieu</em>, to have none is a greater!” and +Gustave shook his head solemnly.</p> +<p>“The duchess of what?” I asked patiently.</p> +<p>“You will have heard of her,” he said, with a proud +smile. Evidently he thought that the lady was a trump card. +“The Duchess of Saint-Maclou.”</p> +<p>I laid down my cigar, maintaining, however, a calm demeanor.</p> +<p>“Aha!” said Gustave. “You will come, my +friend?”</p> +<p>I could not deny that Gustave had a right to his little triumph; +for a year ago, when the duchess had visited England with her +husband, I had received an invitation to meet her at the Embassy. +Unhappily, the death of a relative (whom I had never seen) +occurring the day before, I had been obliged to post off to +Ireland, and pay proper respect by appearing at the funeral. When I +returned the duchess had gone, and Gustave had, half-ironically, +consoled my evident annoyance by telling me that he had given such +a description of me to his friend that she shared my sorrow, and +had left a polite message to that effect. That I was not much +consoled needs no saying. That I required consolation will appear +not unnatural when I say that the duchess was one of the most +brilliant and well-known persons in French society; yes, and +outside France also. For she was a cosmopolitan. Her father was +French, her mother American; and she had passed two or three years +in England before her marriage. She was very pretty, and, report +said, as witty as a pretty woman need be. Once she had been rich, +but the money was swallowed up by speculation; she and her father +(the mother was dead) were threatened with such reduction of means +as seemed to them penury; and the marriage with the duke had +speedily followed—the precise degree of unwillingness on the +part of Mlle. de Beville being a disputed point. Men said she was +forced into the marriage, women very much doubted it; the lady +herself gave no indication, and her father declared that the match +was one of affection. All this I had heard from common friends; +only a series of annoying accidents had prevented the more +interesting means of knowledge which acquaintance with the duchess +herself would have afforded.</p> +<p>“You have always,” said Gustave, “wanted to +know her.”</p> +<p>I relit my cigar and puffed thoughtfully. It was true that I had +rather wished to know her.</p> +<p>“My belief is,” he continued, “that though she +says ‘anybody,’ she means you. She knows what friends +we are; she knows you are eager to be among her friends; she would +guess that I should ask you first.”</p> +<p>I despise and hate a man who is not open to flattery: he is a +hard, morose, distrustful, cynical being, doubting the honesty of +his friends and the worth of his own self. I leant an ear to +Gustave’s suggestion.</p> +<p>“What she would not guess,” he said, throwing his +cigarette into the fireplace and rising to his feet, “is that +you would refuse when I did ask you. What shall be the reason? +Shocked, are you? Or afraid?”</p> +<p>Gustave spoke as though nothing could either shock or frighten +him.</p> +<p>“I’m merely considering whether it will amuse +me,” I returned. “How long are we asked for?”</p> +<p>“That depends on diplomatic events.”</p> +<p>“The mission to Algeria?”</p> +<p>“Why, precisely.”</p> +<p>I put my hands in my pockets.</p> +<p>“I should certainly be glad, my dear Gustave,” said +I, “to meet your sister again.”</p> +<p>“We take the boat for Cherbourg to-morrow evening!” +he cried triumphantly, slapping me on the back. “And, in my +sister’s name, many thanks! I will make it clear to the +duchess why you come.”</p> +<p>“No need to make bad blood between them like that,” +I laughed.</p> +<p>In fine, I was pleased to go; and, on reflection, there was no +reason why I should not go. I said as much to Gustave.</p> +<p>“Seeing that everybody is going out of town and the place +will be a desert in a week, I’m certainly not wanted here +just now.”</p> +<p>“And seeing that the duke is gone to Algeria, we certainly +are wanted there,” said Gustave.</p> +<p>“And a man should go where he is wanted,” said +I.</p> +<p>“And a man is wanted,” said Gustave, “where a +lady bids him come.”</p> +<p>“It would,” I cried, “be impolite not to +go.”</p> +<p>“It would be dastardly. Besides, think how you will enjoy +the memory of it!”</p> +<p>“The memory?” I repeated, pausing in my eager walk +up and down.</p> +<p>“It will be a sweet memory,” he said.</p> +<p>“Ah!”</p> +<p>“Because, my friend, it is prodigiously unwise—for +you.”</p> +<p>“And not for you?”</p> +<p>“Why, no. Lady Cynthia—”</p> +<p>He broke off, content to indicate the shield that protected him. +But it was too late to draw back.</p> +<p>“Let it be as unwise,” said I, “as it +will—”</p> +<p>“Or as the duke is,” put in Gustave, with a knowing +twinkle in his eye.</p> +<p>“Yet it is a plan as delightful—”</p> +<p>“As the duchess is,” said Gustave.</p> +<p>And so, for all the excellent reasons which may be collected +from the foregoing conversation,—and if carefully tabulated +they would, I am persuaded, prove as numerous as weighty,—I +went.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_2" name="chap_2">Chapter II.</a></h2> +<h4>The Significance of a Supper-Table.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/02dc.png" alt="T" id= +"img02dc" name="img02dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">T</span>he Aycons of Aycon Knoll have always +been a hard-headed, levelheaded race. We have had no enthusiasms, +few ambitions, no illusions, and not many scandals. We keep our +heads on our shoulders and our purses in our pockets. We do not +rise very high, but we have never sunk. We abide at the Knoll from +generation to generation, deeming our continued existence in itself +a service to the state and an honor to the house. We think more +highly of ourselves than we admit, and allow ourselves to smile +when we walk in to dinner behind the new nobility. We grow just a +little richer with every decade, and add a field or two to our +domains once in five years. The gaps made by falling rents we have +filled by judicious purchases of land near rising towns; and we +have no doubt that there lies before us a future as long and +prosperous as our past has been. We are not universally popular, +and we see in the fact a tribute to our valuable qualities.</p> +<p>I venture to mention these family virtues and characteristics +because it has been thought in some quarters that I displayed them +but to a very slight degree in the course of the expedition on +which I was now embarked. The impression is a mistaken one. As I +have said before, I did nothing that was not forced upon me. Any of +my ancestors would, I am sure, have done the same, had they chanced +to be thrown under similar circumstances into the society of Mme. +de Saint-Maclou and of the other persons whom I was privileged to +meet; and had those other persons happened to act in the manner in +which they did when I fell in with them.</p> +<p>Gustave maintained his gayety and good spirits unabated through +the trials of our voyage to Cherbourg. The mild mystery that +attended our excursion was highly to his taste. He insisted on our +coming without servants. He persuaded me to leave no address; +obliged to keep himself within touch of the Embassy, he directed +letters to be sent to Avranches, where, he explained, he could +procure them; for, as he thought it safe to disclose when a dozen +miles of sea separated us from the possibility of curious +listeners, the house to which we were bound stood about ten miles +distant from that town, in a retired and somewhat desolate bit of +country lining the seashore.</p> +<p>“My sister says it is the most <em>triste</em> place in +the world,” said he; “but we shall change all that when +we arrive.”</p> +<p>There was nothing to prevent our arriving very soon to relieve +Mlle. de Berensac’s depression, for the middle of the next +day found us at Avranches, and we spent the afternoon wandering +about somewhat aimlessly and staring across the bay at the mass of +Mont St. Michel. Directly beneath us as we stood on the hill, and +lying in a straight line with the Mount, there was a large square +white house, on the very edge of the stretching sand. We were told +that it was a convent.</p> +<p>“But the whole place is no livelier than one,” said +I, yawning. “My dear fellow, why don’t we go +on?”</p> +<p>“It is right for you to see this interesting town,” +answered Gustave gravely, but with a merry gleam in his eye. +“However, I have ordered a carriage, so be +patient.”</p> +<p>“For what time?”</p> +<p>“Nine o’clock, when we have dined.”</p> +<p>“We are to get there in the dark, then?”</p> +<p>“What reason is there against that?” he asked, +smiling.</p> +<p>“None,” said I; and I went to pack up my bag.</p> +<p>In my room I chanced to find a <em>femme-de-chambre</em>. To her +I put a question or two as to the gentry of the neighborhood. She +rattled me off a few distinguished names, and ended:</p> +<p>“The duke of Saint-Maclou has also a small +<em>château</em>.”</p> +<p>“Is he there now?” I asked.</p> +<p>“The duchess only, sir,” she answered. “Ah, +they tell wonderful stories of her!”</p> +<p>“Do they? Pray, of what kind?”</p> +<p>“Oh, not to her harm, sir; or, at least, not exactly, +though to simple country-folk—”</p> +<p>The national shrug was an appropriate ending.</p> +<p>“And the duke?”</p> +<p>“He is a good man,” she answered earnestly, +“and a very clever man. He is very highly thought of at +Paris, sir.”</p> +<p>I had hoped, secretly, to hear that he was a villain; but he was +a good man. It was a scurvy trick to play on a good man. Well, +there was no help for it. I packed my bag with some dawning +misgivings; the chambermaid, undisturbed by my presence, went on +rubbing the table with some strong-smelling furniture polish.</p> +<p>“At least,” she observed, as though there had been +no pause, “he gives much to the church and to the +poor.”</p> +<p>“It may be repentance,” said I, looking up with a +hopeful air.</p> +<p>“It is possible, sir.”</p> +<p>“Or,” cried I, with a smile, +“hypocrisy?”</p> +<p>The chambermaid’s shake of her head refused to accept this +idea; but my conscience, fastening on it, found rest. I hesitated +no longer. The man was a cunning hypocrite. I would go on +cheerfully, secure that he deserved all the bamboozling which the +duchess and my friend Gustave might prepare for him.</p> +<p>At nine o’clock, as Gustave had arranged, we started in a +heavy carriage drawn by two great white horses and driven by a +stolid fat hostler. Slowly we jogged along under the stars, St. +Michel being our continual companion on the right hand, as we +followed the road round the bay. When we had gone five or six +miles, we turned suddenly inland. There were banks on each side of +the road now, and we were going uphill; for rising out of the plain +there was a sudden low spur of higher ground.</p> +<p>“Is the house at the top?” I asked Gustave.</p> +<p>“Just under the top,” said he.</p> +<p>“I shall walk,” said I.</p> +<p>The fact is, I had grown intolerably impatient of our slow jog, +which had now sunk to a walk.</p> +<p>We jumped out and strode on ahead, soon distancing our carriage, +and waking echoes with our merry talk.</p> +<p>“I rather wonder they have not come to meet us,” +said Gustave. “See, there is the house.”</p> +<p>A sudden turn in the road had brought us in sight of it. It was +a rather small modern Gothic <em>château</em>. It nestled +comfortably below the hill, which rose very steeply immediately +behind it. The road along which we were approaching appeared to +afford the only access, and no other house was visible. But, +desolate as the spot certainly was, the house itself presented a +gay appearance, for there were lights in every window from ground +to roof.</p> +<p>“She seems to have company,” I observed.</p> +<p>“It is that she expects us,” answered Gustave. +“This illumination is in our honor.”</p> +<p>“Come on,” said I, quickening my pace; and Gustave +burst out laughing.</p> +<p>“I knew you would catch fire when once I got you +started!” he cried.</p> +<p>Suddenly a voice struck on my ear—a clear, pleasant +voice:</p> +<p>“Was he slow to catch fire, my dear Gustave?”</p> +<p>I started. Gustave looked round.</p> +<p>“It is she,” he said. “Where is +she?”</p> +<p>“Was he slow to catch fire?” asked the voice again. +“Well, he has but just come near the flame”—and a +laugh followed the words.</p> +<p>“Slow to light is long to burn,” said I, turning to +the bank on the left side of the road, for it was thence that the +voice came.</p> +<p>A moment later a little figure in white darted down into the +road, laughing and panting. She seized Gustave’s hand.</p> +<p>“I ran so hard to meet you!” she cried.</p> +<p>“And have you brought Claire with you?” he +asked.</p> +<p>“Present your friend to me,” commanded the duchess, +as though she had not heard his question.</p> +<p>Did I permit myself to guess at such things, I should have +guessed the duchess to be about twenty-five years old. She was not +tall; her hair was a dark brown, and the color in her cheeks rich +but subdued. She moved with extraordinary grace and agility, and +seemed never at rest. The one term of praise (if it be one, which I +sometimes incline to doubt) that I have never heard applied to her +is—dignified.</p> +<p>“It is most charming of you to come, Mr. Aycon,” +said she. “I’ve heard so much of you, and you’ll +be so terribly dull!”</p> +<p>“With yourself, madame, and Mlle. de +Berensac—”</p> +<p>“Oh, of course you must say that!” she interrupted. +“But come along, supper is ready. How delightful to have +supper again! I’m never in good enough spirits to have supper +when I’m alone. You’ll be terribly uncomfortable, +gentlemen. The whole household consists of an old man and five +women—counting myself.”</p> +<p>“And are they all—?” began Gustave.</p> +<p>“Discreet?” she asked, interrupting again. +“Oh, they will not tell the truth! Never fear, my dear +Gustave!”</p> +<p>“What news of the duke?” asked he, as we began to +walk, the duchess stepping a little ahead of us.</p> +<p>“Oh, the best,” said she, with a nod over her +shoulder. “None, you know. That’s one of your proverbs, +Mr. Aycon?”</p> +<p>“Even a proverb is true sometimes,” I ventured to +remark.</p> +<p>We reached the house and passed through the door, which stood +wide open. Crossing the hall, we found ourselves in a small square +room, furnished with rose-colored hangings. Here supper was spread. +Gustave walked up to the table. The duchess flung herself into an +armchair. She had taken her handkerchief out of her pocket, and she +held it in front of her lips and seemed to be biting it. Her +eyebrows were raised, and her face displayed a comical mixture of +amusement and apprehension. A glance of her eyes at me invited me +to share the perilous jest, in which Gustave’s demeanor +appeared to bear the chief part.</p> +<p>Gustave stood by the table, regarding it with a puzzled air.</p> +<p>“One—two—three!” he exclaimed aloud, +counting the covers laid.</p> +<p>The duchess said nothing, but her eyebrows mounted a little +higher, till they almost reached her clustering hair.</p> +<p>“One—two—three?” repeated Gustave, in +unmistakable questioning. “Does Claire remain +upstairs?”</p> +<p> +Appeal—amusement—fright—shame—triumph—chased +one another across the eyes of Mme. de Saint-Maclou: each made so +swift an appearance, so swift an exit, that they seemed to blend in +some peculiar personal emotion proper to the duchess and to no +other woman born. And she bit the handkerchief harder than ever. +For the life of me I couldn’t help it; I began to laugh; the +duchess’ face disappeared altogether behind the +handkerchief.</p> +<p>“Do you mean to say Claire’s not here?” cried +Gustave, turning on her swiftly and accusingly.</p> +<p>The head behind the handkerchief was shaken, first timidly, then +more emphatically, and a stifled voice vouchsafed the news:</p> +<p>“She left three days ago.”</p> +<p>Gustave and I looked at one another. There was a pause. At last +I drew a chair back from the table, and said:</p> +<p>“If madame is ready—”</p> +<p>The duchess whisked her handkerchief away and sprang up. She +gave one look at Gustave’s grave face, and then, bursting +into a merry laugh, caught me by the arm, crying:</p> +<p>“Isn’t it fun, Mr. Aycon? There’s nobody but +me! Isn’t it fun?”</p> +<h2><a id="chap_3" name="chap_3">Chapter III.</a></h2> +<h4>The Unexpected that Always Happened.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/03dc.png" alt="E" id= +"img03dc" name="img03dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">E</span>verything depends on the point of +view and is rich in varying aspects. A picture is sublime from one +corner of the room, a daub from another; a woman’s full face +may be perfect, her profile a disappointment; above all, what you +admire in yourself becomes highly distasteful in your neighbor. The +moral is, I suppose, Tolerance; or if not that, something else +which has escaped me.</p> +<p>When the duchess said that “it”—by which she +meant the whole position of affairs—was “fun,” I +laughed; on the other hand, Gustave de Berensac, after one +astonished stare, walked to the hall door.</p> +<p>“Where is my carriage?” we heard him ask.</p> +<p>“It has started on the way back three, minutes ago, +sir.”</p> +<p>“Fetch it back.”</p> +<p>“Sir! The driver will gallop down the hill; he could not +be overtaken.”</p> +<p>“How fortunate!” said I.</p> +<p>“I do not see,” observed Mme. de Saint-Maclou, +“that it makes all that difference.”</p> +<p>She seemed hurt at the serious way in which Gustave took her +joke.</p> +<p>“If I had told the truth, you wouldn’t have +come,” she said in justification.</p> +<p>“Not another word is necessary,” said I, with a +bow.</p> +<p>“Then let us sup,” said the duchess, and she took +the armchair at the head of the table.</p> +<p>We began to eat and drink, serving ourselves. Presently Gustave +entered, stood regarding us for a moment, and then flung himself +into the third chair and poured out a glass of wine. The duchess +took no notice of him.</p> +<p>“Mlle, de Berensac was called away?” I +suggested.</p> +<p>“She was called away,” answered the duchess.</p> +<p>“Suddenly?”</p> +<p>“No,” said the duchess, her eyes again full of +complicated expressions. I laughed. Then she broke out in a +plaintive cry: “Oh! were you ever +dying—dying—dying of weariness?”</p> +<p>Gustave made no reply; the frown on his face persisted.</p> +<p>“Isn’t it a pity,” I asked, “to wreck a +pleasant party for the sake of a fine distinction? The presence of +Mlle. de Berensac would have infinitely increased our pleasure; but +how would it have diminished our crime?”</p> +<p>“I wish I had known you sooner, Mr. Aycon,” said the +duchess; “then I needn’t have asked him at +all.”</p> +<p>I bowed, but I was content with things as they were. The duchess +sat with the air of a child who has been told that she is naughty, +but declines to accept the statement. I was puzzled at the stern +morality exhibited by my friend Gustave. His next remark threw some +light on his feelings.</p> +<p>“Heavens! if it became known, what would be +thought?” he demanded suddenly.</p> +<p>“If one thinks of what is thought,” said the duchess +with a shrug, “one is—”</p> +<p>“A fool,” said I, “or—a +lover!”</p> +<p>“Ah!” cried the duchess, a smile coming on her lips. +“If it is that, I’ll forgive you, my dear Gustave. +Whose good opinion do you fear to lose?”</p> +<p>“I write,” said Gustave, with a rhetorical gesture, +“to say that I am going to the house of some friends to meet +my sister!”</p> +<p>“Oh, you write?” we murmured.</p> +<p>“My sister writes to say she is not there!”</p> +<p>“Oh, she writes?” we murmured again.</p> +<p>“And it is thought—”</p> +<p>“By whom?” asked the duchess.</p> +<p>“By Lady Cynthia Chillingdon,” said I.</p> +<p>“That it is a trick—a device—a deceit!” +continued poor Gustave.</p> +<p>“It was decidedly indiscreet of you to come,” said +the duchess reprovingly. “How was I to know about Lady +Cynthia? If I had known about Lady Cynthia, I would not have asked +you; I would have asked Mr. Aycon only. Or perhaps you also, Mr. +Aycon—”</p> +<p>“Madame,” said I, “I am alone in the +world.”</p> +<p>“Where has Claire gone to?” asked Gustave.</p> +<p>“Paris,” pouted the duchess.</p> +<p>Gustave rose, flinging his napkin on the table.</p> +<p>“I shall follow her to-morrow,” he said. “I +suppose you’ll go back to England, Gilbert?”</p> +<p>If Gustave left us, it was my unhesitating resolve to return to +England.</p> +<p>“I suppose I shall,” said I.</p> +<p>“I suppose you must,” said the duchess ruefully. +“Oh, isn’t it exasperating? I had planned it all so +delightfully!”</p> +<p>“If you had told the truth—” began +Gustave.</p> +<p>“I should not have had a preacher to supper,” said +the duchess sharply; then she fell to laughing again.</p> +<p>“Is Mlle. de Berensac irrecoverable?” I +suggested.</p> +<p>“Why, yes. She has gone to take her turn of attendance on +your rich old aunt, Gustave.”</p> +<p>I think that there was a little malice in the duchess’ way +of saying this.</p> +<p>There seemed nothing more to be done. The duchess herself did +not propose to defy conventionality to the extent of inviting me to +stay. To do her justice, as soon as the inevitable was put before +her, she accepted it with good grace, and, after supper, busied +herself in discovering the time and manner in which her guests +might pursue their respective journeys. I may be flattering myself, +but I thought that she displayed a melancholy satisfaction on +discovering that Gustave de Berensac must leave at ten +o’clock the next morning, whereas I should be left to kick my +heels in idleness at Cherbourg if I set out before five in the +afternoon.</p> +<p>“Oh, you can spend the time <em>en route</em>,” said +Gustave. “It will be better.”</p> +<p>The duchess looked at me; I looked at the duchess.</p> +<p>“My dear Gustave,” said I, “you are very +considerate. You could not do more if I also were in love with Lady +Cynthia.”</p> +<p>“Nor,” said the duchess, “if I were quite +unfit to be spoken to.”</p> +<p>“If my remaining till the afternoon will not weary the +duchess—” said I.</p> +<p>“The duchess will endure it,” said she, with a nod +and a smile.</p> +<p>Thus it was settled, a shake of the head conveying +Gustave’s judgment. And soon after, Mme. de Saint-Maclou bade +us good-night. Tired with my journey, and (to tell the truth) a +little out of humor with my friend, I was not long in seeking my +bed. At the top of the stairs a group of three girls were +gossiping; one of them handed me a candle and flung open the door +of my room with a roguish smile on her broad good-tempered +face.</p> +<p>“One of the greatest virtues of women,” said I +pausing on the threshold, “is fidelity.”</p> +<p>“We are devoted to Mme. la Duchesse,” said the +girl.</p> +<p>“Another, hardly behind it, is discretion,” I +continued.</p> +<p>“Madame inculcates it on us daily,” said she. I took +out a napoleon.</p> +<p>“Ladies,” said I, placing the napoleon in the +girl’s hand, “I am obliged for your kind attentions. +Good-night!” and I shut the door on the sound of a pleased, +excited giggling. I love to hear such sounds; they make me laugh +myself, for joy that this old world, in spite of everything, holds +so much merriment; and to their jovial lullaby I fell asleep,</p> +<p>Moreover—the duchess teaching discretion! There can have +been nothing like it since Baby Charles and Steenie conversed +within the hearing of King James! But, then discretion has two +meanings—whereof the one is “Do it not,” and the +other “Tell it not.” Considering of this ambiguity, I +acquitted the duchess of hypocrisy.</p> +<p>At ten o’clock the next morning we got rid of my dear +friend Gustave de Berensac. Candor compels me to put the statement +in that form; for the gravity which had fallen upon him the night +before endured till the morning, and he did not flinch from +administering something very like a lecture to his hostess. His +last words were an invitation to me to get into the carriage and +start with him. When I suavely declined, he told me that I should +regret it. It comforts me to think that his prophecy, though more +than once within an ace of the most ample fulfillment, yet in the +end was set at naught by the events which followed.</p> +<p>Gustave rolled down the hill, the duchess sighed relief.</p> +<p>“Now,” said she, “we can enjoy ourselves fora +few hours, Mr. Aycon. And after that—solitude!”</p> +<p>I was really very sorry for the duchess. Evidently society and +gayety were necessary as food and air to her, and her churl of a +husband denied them. My opportunity was short, but I laid myself +out to make the most of it. I could give her nothing more than a +pleasant memory, but I determined to do that.</p> +<p>We spent the greater part of the day in a ramble through the +woods that lined the slopes of the hill behind the house; and all +through the hours the duchess chatted about herself, her life, her +family—and then about the duke. If the hints she gave were to +be trusted, her husband deserved little consideration at her hands, +and, at the worst, the plea of reprisal might offer some excuse for +her, if she had need of one. But she denied the need, and here I +was inclined to credit her. For with me, as with Gustave de +Berensac before the shadow of Lady Cynthia came between, she was, +most distinctly, a “good comrade.” Sentiment made no +appearance in our conversation, and, as the day ruthlessly wore on, +I regretted honestly that I must go in deference to a +conventionality which seemed, in this case at least—Heaven +forbid that I should indulge in general theories—to mask no +reality. Yet she was delightful by virtue of the vitality in her; +and the woods echoed again and again with our laughter.</p> +<p>At four o’clock we returned sadly to the house, where the +merry girls busied themselves in preparing a repast for me. The +duchess insisted on sharing my meal.</p> +<p>“I shall go supperless to bed to-night,” said she; +and we sat down glum as two children going back to school.</p> +<p>Suddenly there was a commotion outside; the girls were talking +to one another in rapid eager tones. The duchess raised her head, +listening. Then she turned to me, asking:</p> +<p>“Can you hear what they say?”</p> +<p>“I can distinguish nothing except ‘Quick, +quick!’”</p> +<p>As I spoke the door was thrown open, and two rushed in, the +foremost saying:</p> +<p>“Again, madame, again!”</p> +<p>“Impossible!” exclaimed the duchess, starting +up.</p> +<p>“No, it is true. Jean was out, snaring a rabbit, and +caught sight of the carriage.”</p> +<p>“What carriage? Whose carriage?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Why, my husband’s,” said the duchess, quite +calmly. “It is a favorite trick of his to surprise us. But +Algeria! We thought we were safe with Algeria. He must travel +underground like a mole, Suzanne, or we should have +heard.”</p> +<p>“Oh, one hears nothing here!”</p> +<p>“And what,” said the duchess, “are we to do +with Mr. Aycon?”</p> +<p>“I can solve that,” I observed. “I’m +off.”</p> +<p>“But he’ll see you!” cried the girl. “He +is but a half-mile off.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Aycon could take the side-path,” said the +duchess.</p> +<p>“The duke would see him before he reached it,” said +the girl. “He would be in sight for nearly fifty +yards.”</p> +<p>“Couldn’t I hide in the bushes?” I asked.</p> +<p>“I hate anything that looks suspicious,” remarked +the duchess, still quite calm; “and if he happened to see +you, it would look rather suspicious! And he has got eyes like a +cat’s for anything of that sort.”</p> +<p>There was no denying that it would look suspicious if I were +caught hiding in the bushes. I sat silent, having no other +suggestion to make.</p> +<p>Suzanne, with a readiness not born, I hope, of practice, came to +the rescue with a clever suggestion.</p> +<p>“The English groom whom madame dismissed a week +ago—” said she. “Why should not the gentleman +pass as the groom? The man would not take his old clothes away, for +he had bought new ones, and they are still here. The gentleman +would put them on and walk +past—<em>voilà</em>.”</p> +<p>“Can you look like a groom?” asked the duchess. +“If he speaks to you, make your French just a <em>little</em> +worse”—and she smiled.</p> +<p>They were all so calm and businesslike that it would have seemed +disobliging and absurd to make difficulties.</p> +<p>“We can send your luggage soon, you know,” said the +duchess. “You had better hide Mr. Aycon’s luggage in +your room, Suzanne. Really, I am afraid you ought to be getting +ready, Mr. Aycon.”</p> +<p>The point of view again! By virtue of the duchess’ +calmness and Suzanne’s cool readiness, the proceeding seemed +a most ordinary one. Five minutes later I presented myself to the +duchess, dressed in a villainous suit of clothes, rather too tight +for me, and wearing a bad hat rakishly cocked over one eye. The +duchess surveyed me with great curiosity.</p> +<p>“Fortunately the duke is not a very clever man,” +said she. “Oh, by the way, your name’s George Sampson, +and you come from Newmarket; and you are leaving because you took +more to drink than was good for you. Good-by, Mr. Aycon. I do hope +that we shall meet again under pleasanter circumstances.”</p> +<p>“They could not be pleasanter—but they might be more +prolonged,” said I.</p> +<p>“It was so good of you to come,” she said, pressing +my hand.</p> +<p>“The carriage is but a quarter of a mile off!” cried +Suzanne warningly.</p> +<p>“How very annoying it is! I wish to Heaven the Algerians +had eaten the duke!”</p> +<p>“I shall not forget my day here,” I assured her.</p> +<p>“You won’t? It’s charming of you. Oh, how dull +it will be now! It only wanted the arrival of—Well, +good-by!”</p> +<p>And with a final and long pressure of the duchess’ hand, +I, in the garb and personality of George Sampson, dismissed for +drunkenness, walked out of the gate of the +<em>château</em>.</p> +<p>“One thing,” I observed to myself as I started, +“would seem highly probable—and that is, that this sort +of thing has happened before.”</p> +<p>The idea did not please me. I like to do things first.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_4" name="chap_4">Chapter IV.</a></h2> +<h4>The Duchess Defines Her Position.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/04dc.png" alt="I" id= +"img04dc" name="img04dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">I</span> walked on at a leisurely pace; the +heavy carriage was very near the top of the hill. In about three +minutes’ time we met. There sat alone in the carriage a tall +dark man, with a puffy white face, a heavy mustache, and stern cold +eyes. He was smoking a cigar. I plucked my hat from my head and +made as if to pass by.</p> +<p>“Who’s this?” he called out, stopping the +carriage.</p> +<p>I began to recite my lesson in stumbling French.</p> +<p>“Why, what are you? Oh, you’re English! Then in +Heaven’s name, speak English—not that gabble.” +And then he repeated his order, “Speak English,” in +English, and continued in that language, which he spoke with stiff +formal correctness.</p> +<p>He heard my account of myself with unmoved face.</p> +<p>“Have you any writings—any testimonials?” he +asked.</p> +<p>“No, my lord,” I stammered, addressing him in style +I thought most natural to my assumed character.</p> +<p>“That’s a little curious, isn’t it? You become +intoxicated everywhere, perhaps?”</p> +<p>“I’ve never been intoxicated in my life, my +lord,” said I, humbly but firmly.</p> +<p>“Then you dispute the justice of your +dismissal?”</p> +<p>“Yes, my lord.” I thought such protest due to my +original.</p> +<p>He looked at me closely, smoking his cigar the while.</p> +<p>“You made love to the chambermaids?” he asked +suddenly.</p> +<p>“No, my lord. One evening, my lord, it was very hot, +and—and the wine, my lord—”</p> +<p>“Then you were intoxicated?”</p> +<p>I fumbled with my hat, praying that the fellow would move +on.</p> +<p>“What servants are there?” he asked, pointing to the +house.</p> +<p>“Four maids, my lord, and old Jean.”</p> +<p>Again he meditated; then he said sharply:</p> +<p>“Have you ever waited at table?”</p> +<p>We have all, I suppose, waited at table—in one sense. +Perhaps that may save my remark from untruth.</p> +<p>“Now and then, my lord,” I answered, wondering what +he would be at.</p> +<p>“I have guests arriving to-morrow,” he said. +“My man comes with them, but the work will perhaps be too +much for him. Are you willing to stay and help? I will pay you the +same wages.”</p> +<p>I could have laughed in his face; but duty seemed to point to +seriousness.</p> +<p>“I’m very sorry, my lord—” I began.</p> +<p>“What, have you got another place?”</p> +<p>“No, my lord; not exactly.”</p> +<p>“Then get up on the front seat. Or do you want your +employers to say you are disobliging as well as drunken?”</p> +<p>“But the lady sent me—”</p> +<p>“You may leave that to me. Come, jump up! Don’t keep +me waiting!”</p> +<p>Doubtfully I stood in the road, the duke glaring at me with +impatient anger. Then he leaned forward and said:</p> +<p>“You are curiously reluctant, sir, to earn your living. I +don’t understand it. I must make some inquiries about +you.”</p> +<p>I detected suspicion dawning in his eyes. He was a great man; I +did not know what hindrances he might not be able to put in the way +of my disappearance. And what would happen if he made his +inquiries? Inquiries might mean searching, and I carried a passport +in the name of Gilbert Aycon.</p> +<p>Such share had prudence; the rest must be put down to the sudden +impulse of amusement which seized me. It was but for a day or two! +Then I could steal away. Meanwhile what would not the face of the +duchess say, when I rode up on the front seat!</p> +<p>“I—I was afraid I should not give +satisfaction,” I muttered.</p> +<p>“You probably won’t,” said he. “I take +you from necessity, not choice, my friend. Up with you!”</p> +<p>And I got up beside the driver—not, luckily, the one who +had brought Gustave de Berensac and myself the day before—and +the carriage resumed its slow climb up the hill.</p> +<p>We stopped at the door. I jumped down and assisted my new +master.</p> +<p>The door was shut. Nobody was to be seen; evidently we were not +expected. The duke smiled sardonically, opened the door and walked +in, I just behind. Suzanne was sweeping the floor. With one glance +at the duke and myself, she sprang back, with a cry of most genuine +surprise.</p> +<p>“Oh, you’re mighty surprised, aren’t +you?” sneered the duke. “Old Jean didn’t scuttle +away to tell you then? You keep a good watch, young woman. Your +mistress’ orders, eh?”</p> +<p>Still Suzanne stared—and at me. The duke chuckled.</p> +<p>“Yes, he’s back again,” said he, “so you +must make the best of it, my girl. Where’s the +duchess?”</p> +<p>“In—in—in her sitting-room, M. le +Duc.”</p> +<p>“‘In—in—in,’” he echoed +mockingly. Then he stepped swiftly across the hall and flung the +door suddenly open. I believe he thought that he really had +surprised Jean’s slow aged scamper ahead of him.</p> +<p>“Silence for your life!” I had time to whisper to +Suzanne; and then I followed him. There might be more +“fun” to come.</p> +<p>The duchess was sitting with a book in her hand. I was +half-hidden by the duke, and she did not see me. She looked up, +smiled, yawned, and held out her hand.</p> +<p>“I hardly expected you, Armand,” said she. “I +thought you were in Algeria.”</p> +<p>Anybody would have been annoyed; there is no doubt that the Duke +of Saint-Maclou was very much annoyed.</p> +<p>“You don’t seem overjoyed at the surprise,” +said he gruffly.</p> +<p>“You are always surprising me,” she answered, +lifting her eyebrows.</p> +<p>Suddenly he turned round, saying “Sampson!” and then +turned to her, adding:</p> +<p>“Here’s another old friend for you.” And he +seized me by the shoulder and pulled me into the room.</p> +<p>The duchess sprang to her feet, crying out in startled tones, +“Back?”</p> +<p>I kept my eyes glued to the floor, wondering what would happen +next, thinking that it would be, likely enough, a personal conflict +with my master.</p> +<p>“Yes, back,” said he. “I am sorry, madame, if +it is not your pleasure, for it chances to be mine.”</p> +<p>His sneer gave the duchess a moment’s time. I felt her +regarding me, and I looked up cautiously. The duke still stood half +a pace in front of me, and the message of my glance sped past him +unperceived.</p> +<p>Then came what I had looked for—the gradual dawning of the +position on the duchess, and the reflection of that dawning light +in those wonderful eyes of hers. She clasped her hands, and drew in +her breath in a long “Oh!” It spoke utter amusement and +delight. What would the duke make of it? He did not know what to +make of it, and glared at her in angry bewilderment. Her quick wit +saw the blunder she had been betrayed into. She said +“Oh!” again, but this time it expressed nothing except +a sense of insult and indignation.</p> +<p>“What’s that man here for?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Because I have engaged him to assist my +household.”</p> +<p>“I had dismissed him,” she said haughtily.</p> +<p>“I must beg you to postpone the execution of your +decree,” said he. “I have need of a servant, and I have +no time to find another.”</p> +<p>“What need is there of another? Is not Lafleur +here?” (She was playing her part well now.)</p> +<p>“Lafleur comes to-morrow; but he will not be +enough.”</p> +<p>“Not enough—for you and me?”</p> +<p>“Our party will be larger to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“More surprises?” she asked, sinking back into her +chair.</p> +<p>“If it be a surprise that I should invite my friends to my +house,” he retorted.</p> +<p>“And that you should not consult your wife,” she +said, with a smile.</p> +<p>He turned to me, bethinking himself, I suppose, that the +conversation was not best suited for the ears of the groom.</p> +<p>“Go and join your fellow-servants; and see that you behave +yourself this time.”</p> +<p>I bowed and was about to withdraw, when the duchess motioned me +to stop. For an instant her eyes rested on mine. Then she said, in +gentle tones:</p> +<p>“I am glad, Sampson, that the duke thinks it safe to give +you an opportunity of retrieving your character.”</p> +<p>“That for his character!” said the duke, snapping +his fingers. “I want him to help when Mme. and Mlle. Delhasse +are here.”</p> +<p>On the words the duchess went red in the face, and then white, +and sprang up, declaring aloud in resolute, angry tones, that +witnessed the depth of her feelings in the matter:</p> +<p>“I will not receive Mlle. Delhasse!”</p> +<p>I was glad I had not missed that: it was a new aspect of my +little friend the duchess. Alas, my pleasure was short-lived! for +the duke, his face full of passion, pointed to the door, saying +“Go!” and, cursing his regard for the dignity of the +family, I went.</p> +<p>In the hall I paused. At first I saw nobody. Presently a rosy, +beaming face peered at me over the baluster halfway up the stairs, +and Suzanne stole cautiously down, her finger on her lips.</p> +<p>“But what does it mean, sir?” she whispered.</p> +<p>“It means,” said I, “that the duke takes me +for the dismissed groom—and has re-engaged me.”</p> +<p>“And you’ve come?” she cried softly, clasping +her hands in amazement.</p> +<p>“Doesn’t it appear so?”</p> +<p>“And you’re going to stay, sir?”</p> +<p>“Ah, that’s another matter. But—for the +moment, yes.”</p> +<p>“As a servant?”</p> +<p>“Why not—in such good company?”</p> +<p>“Does madame know?”</p> +<p>“Yes, she knows, Suzanne. Come, show me the way to my +quarters; and no more ‘sir’ just now.”</p> +<p>We were standing by the stairs. I looked up and saw the other +girls clustered on the landing above us.</p> +<p>“Go and tell them,” I said. “Warn them to show +no surprise. Then come back and show me the way.”</p> +<p>Suzanne, her mirth half-startled out of her but yet asserting +its existence in dimples round her mouth, went on her errand. I +leaned against the lowest baluster and waited.</p> +<p>Suddenly the door of the duchess’ room was flung open and +she came out. She stood for an instant on the threshold. She turned +toward the interior of the room and she stamped her foot on the +parqueted floor.</p> +<p>“No—no—no!” she said passionately, and +flung the door close behind her, to the accompaniment of a harsh, +scornful laugh.</p> +<p>Involuntarily I sprang forward to meet her. But she was better +on her guard than I.</p> +<p>“Not now,” she whispered, “but I must see you +soon—this evening—after dinner. Suzanne will arrange +it. You must help me, Mr. Aycon; I’m in trouble.”</p> +<p>“With all my power!” I whispered, and with a glance +of thanks she sped upstairs. I saw her stop and speak to the group +of girls, talking to them in an eager whisper. Then, followed by +two of them, she pursued her way upstairs.</p> +<p>Suzanne came down and approached me, saying simply, +“Come,” and led the way toward the servants’ +quarters. I followed her, smiling; I was about to make acquaintance +with a new side of life.</p> +<p>Yet at the same time I was wondering who Mlle. Delhasse might +chance to be: the name seemed familiar to me, and yet for the +moment I could not trace it. And then I slapped my thigh in the +impulse of my discovery.</p> +<p>“By Jove, Marie Delhasse the singer!” cried I, in +English.</p> +<p>“Sir, sir, for Heaven’s sake be quiet!” +whispered Suzanne.</p> +<p>“You are perfectly right,” said I, with a nod of +approbation.</p> +<p>“And this is the pantry,” said Suzanne, for all the +world as though nothing had happened. “And in that cupboard +you will find Sampson’s livery.”</p> +<p>“Is it a pretty one?” I asked.</p> +<p>“You, sir, will look well in it,” said she, with +that delicate evasive flattery that I love. “Would not you, +sir, look well in anything?” she meant.</p> +<p>And while I changed my traveling suit for the livery, I +remembered more about Marie Delhasse, and, among other things, that +the Duke of Saint-Maclou was rumored to be her most persistent +admirer. Some said that she favored him; others denied it with more +or less conviction and indignation. But, whatever might chance to +be the truth about that, it was plain that the duchess had +something to say for herself when she declined to receive the lady. +Her refusal was no idle freak, but a fixed determination, to which +she would probably adhere. And, in fact, adhere to it she did, even +under some considerable changes of circumstance.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_5" name="chap_5">Chapter V.</a></h2> +<h4>A Strategic Retreat.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/05dc.png" alt="T" id= +"img05dc" name="img05dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">T</span>he arrival of the duke, aided perhaps +by his bearing toward his wife and toward me, had a somewhat +curious effect on me. I will not say that I felt at liberty to fall +in love with the duchess; but I felt the chain of honor, which had +hitherto bound me from taking any advantage of her indiscretion, +growing weaker; and I also perceived the possibility of my +inclinations beginning to strain on the weakened chain. On this +account, among others, I resolved, as I sat in the pantry drinking +a glass of wine with which Suzanne kindly provided me, that my +sojourn in the duke’s household should be of the shortest. +Moreover, I was not amused; I was not a real groom; the maids +treated me with greater distance and deference than before; I lost +the entertainment of upstairs, and did not gain the interest of +downstairs. The absurd position must be ended. I would hear what +the duchess wanted of me; then I would go, leaving Lafleur to +grapple with his increased labors as best he could. True, I should +miss Marie Delhasse. Well, young men are foolish.</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” said I to myself with a sigh, +“it’s just as well.”</p> +<p>I did not wait at table that night; the duchess was shut up in +her own apartment: the duke took nothing but an omelette and a cup +of coffee; these finished, he summoned Suzanne and her assistants +to attend him on the bedroom floor, and I heard him giving +directions for the lodging of the expected guests. Apparently they +were to be received, although the duchess would not receive them. +Not knowing what to make of that situation, I walked out into the +garden and lit my pipe; I had clung to that in spite of my change +of raiment.</p> +<p>Presently Suzanne looked out. A call from the duke proclaimed +that she had stolen a moment. She nodded, pointed to the narrow +gravel path which led into the shrubbery, and hastily withdrew. I +understood, and strolled carelessly along the path till I reached +the shrubbery. There another little path, running nearly at right +angles to that by which I had come, opened before me. I strolled +some little way along, and finding myself entirely hidden from the +house by the intervening trees, I sat down on a rude wooden bench +to wait patiently till I should be wanted. For the duchess I should +have had to wait some time, but for company I did not wait long; +after about ten minutes I perceived a small, spare, +dark-complexioned man coming along the path toward me and toward +the house. He must have made a short cut from the road, escaping +the winding of the carriage-way. He wore decent but rather shabby +clothes, and carried a small valise in his hand. Stopping opposite +to me, he raised his hat and seemed to scan my neat blue +brass-buttoned coat and white cords with interest.</p> +<p>“You belong to the household of the duke, sir?” he +asked, with a polite lift of his hat.</p> +<p>I explained that I did—for the moment.</p> +<p>“Then you think of leaving, sir?”</p> +<p>“I do,” I said, “as soon as I can; I am only +engaged for the time.”</p> +<p>“You do not happen to know, sir, if the duke requires a +well-qualified indoor servant? I should be most grateful if you +would present me to him. I heard in Paris that a servant had left +him; but he started so suddenly that I could not get access to him, +and I have followed him here.”</p> +<p>“It’s exactly what he does want, I believe, +sir,” said I. “If I were you, I would go to the house +and obtain entrance. The duke expects guests to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“But yourself, sir? Are not your services sufficient for +the present?”</p> +<p>“As you perceive,” said I, indicating my attire, +“I am not an indoor servant. I am but a makeshift in that +capacity.”</p> +<p>He smiled a polite remonstrance at my modesty, adding:</p> +<p>“You think, then, I might have a chance?”</p> +<p>“An excellent one, I believe. Turn to the left, there by +the chestnut tree, and you will find yourself within a +minute’s walk of the front door.”</p> +<p>He bowed, raised his hat, and trotted off, moving with a quick, +shuffling, short-stepping gait. I lit another pipe and yawned. I +hoped the duke would engage this newcomer and let me go about my +business; and I fancied that he would, for the fellow looked +dapper, sharp, and handy. And the duchess? I was so disturbed to +find myself disturbed at the thought of the duchess that I +exclaimed:</p> +<p>“By Jove, I’d better go! By Jove, I had!”</p> +<p>A wishing-cap, or rather a hoping-cap—for if a man who is +no philosopher may have an opinion, we do not always wish and hope +for the same thing—could have done no more for me than the +chance of Fate; for at the moment the duke’s voice called +“Sampson!” loudly from the house. I ran in obedience to +his summons. He stood in the porch with the little stranger by him; +and the stranger wore a deferential, but extremely well-satisfied +smile.</p> +<p>“Here, you,” said the duke to me, “you can +make yourself scarce as soon as you like. I’ve got a better +servant, aye, and a sober one. There’s ten francs for you. +Now be off!”</p> +<p>I felt it incumbent on me to appear a little aggrieved:</p> +<p>“Am I to go to-night?” I asked. “Where can I +get to to-night, my lord?”</p> +<p>“What’s that to me? I dare say if you stand old Jean +a franc, he’ll give you a lift to the nearest inn. Tell him +he may take a farm-horse.”</p> +<p>Really the duke was treating me with quite as much civility as I +have seen many of my friends extend to their servants. I had +nothing to complain of. I bowed, and was about to turn away, when +the duchess appeared in the porch.</p> +<p>“What is it, Armand?” she asked. “You are +sending Sampson away after all?”</p> +<p>“I could not deny your request,” said he in mockery. +“Moreover, I have found a better servant.”</p> +<p>The stranger almost swept the ground in obeisance before the +lady of the house.</p> +<p>“You are very changeable,” said the duchess.</p> +<p>I saw vexation in her face.</p> +<p>“My dearest, your sex cannot have a monopoly of change. I +change a bad servant—as you yourself think him—for a +good one. Is that remarkable?”</p> +<p>The duchess said not another word, but turned into the house and +disappeared. The duke followed her. The stranger, with a bow to me, +followed him. I was left alone.</p> +<p>“Certainly I am not wanted,” said I to myself; and, +having arrived at this conclusion, I sought out old Jean. The old +fellow was only too ready to drive me to Avranches or anywhere else +for five francs, and was soon busy putting his horse in the shafts. +I sought out Suzanne, got her to smuggle my luggage downstairs, +gave her a parting present, took off my livery and put on the +groom’s old suit, and was ready to leave the house of M. de +Saint-Maclou.</p> +<p>At nine o’clock my short servitude ended. As soon as a +bend in the road hid us from the house I opened my portmanteau, got +out my own clothes, and, <em>sub æthere</em>, changed my +raiment, putting on a quiet suit of blue, and presenting George +Sampson’s rather obtrusive garments (which I took the liberty +of regarding as a perquisite) to Jean, who received them gladly. I +felt at once a different being—so true it is that the tailor +makes the man.</p> +<p>“You are well out of that,” grunted old Jean. +“If he’d discovered you, he’d have had you out +and shot you!”</p> +<p>“He is a good shot?”</p> +<p>“<em>Mon Dieu</em>!” said Jean with an +expressiveness which was a little disquieting; for it was on the +cards that the duke might still find me out. And I was not a +practiced shot—not at my fellow-men, I mean. Suddenly I +leaped up.</p> +<p>“Good Heavens!” I cried. “I forgot! The +duchess wanted me. Stop, stop!”</p> +<p>With a jerk Jean pulled up his horse, and gazed at me.</p> +<p>“You can’t go back like that,” he said, with a +grin. “You’ll have to put on these clothes +again,” and he pointed to the discarded suit.</p> +<p>“I very nearly forgot the duchess,” said I. To tell +the truth, I was at first rather proud of my forgetfulness; it +argued a complete triumph over that unruly impulse at which I have +hinted. But it also smote me with remorse. I leaped to the +ground.</p> +<p>“You must wait while I run back.”</p> +<p>“He will shoot you after all,” grinned Jean.</p> +<p>“The devil take him!” said I, picturing the poor +duchess utterly forsaken—at the mercy of Delhasses, husband, +and what not.</p> +<p>I declare, as my deliberate opinion, that there is nothing more +dangerous than for a man almost to forget a lady who has shown him +favor. If he can quite forget her—and will be so +unromantic—why, let him, and perhaps small harm done. But +almost—That leaves him at the mercy of every generous +self-reproach. He is ready to do anything to prove that she was +every second in his memory.</p> +<p>I began to retrace my steps toward the +<em>château</em>.</p> +<p>“I shall get the sack over this!” called Jean.</p> +<p>“You shall come to no harm by that, if you do,” I +assured him.</p> +<p>But hardly had I—my virtuous pride now completely +smothered by my tender remorse—started on my ill-considered +return journey, when, just as had happened to Gustave de Berensac +and myself the evening before, a slim figure ran down from the bank +by the roadside. It was the duchess. The short cut had served her. +She was hardly out of breath this time; and she appeared composed +and in good spirits.</p> +<p>“I thought for a moment you’d forgotten me, but I +knew you wouldn’t do that, Mr. Aycon.”</p> +<p>Could I resist such trust?</p> +<p>“Forget you, madame?” I cried. “I would as +soon forget—”</p> +<p>“So I knew you’d wait for me.”</p> +<p>“Here I am, waiting faithfully,” said I.</p> +<p>“That’s right,” said the duchess. “Take +this, please, Mr. Aycon.”</p> +<p>“This” was a small handbag. She gave it to me, and +began to walk toward the cart, where Jean was placidly smoking a +long black cheroot.</p> +<p>“You wished to speak to me?” I suggested, as I +walked by her.</p> +<p>“I can do it,” said the duchess, reaching the cart, +“as we go along.”</p> +<p>Even Jean took his cheroot from his lips. I jumped back two +paces.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon!” I exclaimed, “As we go +along, did you say?”</p> +<p>“It will be better,” said the duchess, getting into +the cart (unassisted by me, I am sorry to say). “Because he +may find out I’m gone, and come after us, you +know.”</p> +<p>Nothing seemed more likely; I was bound to admit that.</p> +<p>“Get in, Mr. Aycon,” continued the duchess. And then +she suddenly began to talk English. “I told him I +shouldn’t stay in the house if Mlle. Delhasse came. He +didn’t believe me; well, he’ll see now. I +couldn’t stay, could I? Why don’t you get +in?”</p> +<p>Half dazed, I got in. I offered no opinion on the question of +Mlle. Delhasse: to begin with, I knew very little about it; in the +second place there seemed to me to be a more pressing question.</p> +<p>“Quick, Jean!” said the duchess.</p> +<p>And we lumbered on at a trot, Jean twisting his cheroot round +and round, and grunting now and again. The old man’s face +said, plain as words.</p> +<p>“Yes, I shall get the sack; and you’ll be +shot!”</p> +<p>I found my tongue.</p> +<p>“Was this what you wanted me for?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Of course,” said the duchess, speaking French +again.</p> +<p>“But you can’t come with me!” I cried in +unfeigned horror.</p> +<p>The duchess looked up; she fixed her eyes on me for a moment; +her eyes grew round, her brows lifted. Then her lips curved: she +blushed very red; and she burst into the merriest fit of +laughter.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear!” laughed the duchess. “Oh, what +fun, Mr. Aycon!”</p> +<p>“It seems to me rather a serious matter,” I ventured +to observe. “Leaving out all question of—of +what’s correct, you know” (I became very apologetic at +this point), “it’s just a little risky, isn’t +it?”</p> +<p>Jean evidently thought so; he nodded solemnly over his +cheroot.</p> +<p>The duchess still laughed; indeed, she was wiping her eyes with +her handkerchief.</p> +<p>“What an opinion to have of me!” she gasped at last. +“I’m not coming with you, Mr. Aycon.”</p> +<p>I dare say my face showed relief: I don’t know that I need +be ashamed of that. My change of expression, however, set the +duchess a-laughing again.</p> +<p>“I never saw a man look so glad,” said she gayly. +Yet somewhere, lurking in the recesses of her tone—or was it +of her eyes?—there was a little reproach, a little challenge. +And suddenly I felt less glad: a change of feeling which I do not +seek to defend.</p> +<p>“Then where are you going?” I asked in much +curiosity.</p> +<p>“I am going,” said the duchess, assuming in a moment +a most serious air, “into religious retirement for a few +days.”</p> +<p>“Religious retirement?” I echoed in surprise.</p> +<p>“Are you thinking it’s not my +<em>métier</em>?” she asked, her eyes gleaming +again.</p> +<p>“But where?” I cried.</p> +<p>“Why, there, to be sure.” And she pointed to where +the square white convent stood on the edge of the bay, under the +hill of Avranches. “There, at the convent. The Mother +Superior is my friend, and will protect me.”</p> +<p>The duchess spoke as though the guillotine were being prepared +for her. I sat silent. The situation was becoming rather too +complicated for my understanding. Unfortunately, however, it was to +become more complicated still; for the duchess, turning to the +English tongue again, laid a hand on my arm and said in her most +coaxing tones:</p> +<p>“And you, my dear Mr. Aycon, are going to stay a few days +in Avranches.”</p> +<p>“Not an hour!” would have expressed the resolve of +my intellect. But we are not all intellect; and what I actually +said was:</p> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>“In case,” said the duchess, “I want you, Mr. +Aycon.”</p> +<p>“I will stay,” said I, nodding, “just a few +days at Avranches.”</p> +<p>We were within half a mile of that town. The convent gleamed +white in the moonlight about three hundred yards to the left. The +duchess took her little bag, jumped lightly down, kissed her hand +to me, and walked off.</p> +<p>Jean had made no comment at all—the duchess’ +household was hard to surprise. I could make none. And we drove in +silence into Avranches.</p> +<p>When there before with Gustave, I had put up at a small inn at +the foot of the hill. Now I drove up to the summit and stopped +before the principal hotel. A waiter ran out, cast a curious glance +at my conveyance, and lifted my luggage down.</p> +<p>“Let me know if you get into any trouble for being +late,” said I to Jean, giving him another five francs.</p> +<p>He nodded and drove off, still chewing the stump of his +cheroot.</p> +<p>“Can I have a room?” I asked, turning to the +waiter.</p> +<p>“Certainly, sir,” said he, catching up my bag in his +hand.</p> +<p>“I am just come,” said I, “from Mont St. +Michel.”</p> +<p>A curious expression spread over the waiter’s face. I +fancy he knew old Jean and the cart by sight; but he spread out his +hands and smiled.</p> +<p>“Monsieur,” said he with the incomparable courtesy +of the French nation, “has come from wherever monsieur +pleases.”</p> +<p>“That,” said I, giving him a trifle, “is an +excellent understanding.”</p> +<p>Then I walked into the <em>salle-à-manger</em>, and +almost into the arms of an extraordinarily handsome girl who was +standing just inside the door.</p> +<p>“This is really an eventful day,” I thought to +myself.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_6" name="chap_6">Chapter VI.</a></h2> +<h4>A Hint of Something Serious.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/06dc.png" alt="O" id= +"img06dc" name="img06dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">O</span>ccurrences such as this induce in a +man of imagination a sense of sudden shy intimacy. The physical +encounter seems to typify and foreshadow some intermingling of +destiny. This occurs with peculiar force when the lady is as +beautiful as was the girl I saw before me.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon, madame,” said I, with a whirl of +my hat.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon, sir,” said the lady, with an +inclination of her head.</p> +<p>“One is so careless in entering rooms hurriedly,” I +observed.</p> +<p>“Oh, but it is stupid to stand just by the door!” +insisted the lady.</p> +<p>Conscious that she was scanning my appearance, I could but +return the compliment. She was very tall, almost as tall as I was +myself; you would choose to call her stately, rather than slender. +She was very fair, with large lazy blue eyes and a lazy smile to +match. In all respects she was the greatest contrast to the Duchess +of Saint-Maclou.</p> +<p>“You were about to pass out?” said I, holding the +door.</p> +<p>She bowed; but at the moment another lady—elderly, rather +stout, and, to speak it plainly, of homely and unattractive +aspect—whom I had not hitherto perceived, called from a table +at the other end of the room where she was sitting:</p> +<p>“We ought to start early to-morrow.”</p> +<p>The younger lady turned her head slowly toward the speaker.</p> +<p>“My dear mother,” said she, “I never start +early. Besides, this town is interesting—the landlord says +so.”</p> +<p>“But he wishes us to arrive for +<em>déjeuner</em>.”</p> +<p>“We will take it here. Perhaps we will drive over in the +afternoon—perhaps the next day.”</p> +<p>And the young lady gazed at her mother with an air of +indifference—or rather it seemed to me strangely like one of +aversion and defiance.</p> +<p>“My dear!” cried the elder in consternation. +“My dearest Marie!”</p> +<p>“It is just as I thought,” said I to myself +complacently.</p> +<p>Marie Delhasse—for beyond doubt it was she—walked +slowly across the room and sat down by her mother. I took a table +nearer the door; the waiter appeared, and I ordered a light supper. +Marie poured out a glass of wine from a bottle on the table; +apparently they had been supping. They began to converse together +in low tones. My repast arriving, I fell to. A few moments later, I +heard Marie say, in her composed indolent tones:</p> +<p>“I’m not sure I shall go at all. <em>Entre +nous</em>, he bores me.”</p> +<p>I stole a glance at Mme. Delhasse. Consternation was writ large +on her face, and suspicion besides. She gave her daughter a quick +sidelong glance, and a frown gathered on her brow. So far as I +heard, however, she attempted no remonstrance. She rose, wrapping a +shawl round her, and made for the door. I sprang up and opened it; +she walked out. Marie drew a chair to the fire and sat down with +her back to me, toasting her feet—for the summer night had +turned chilly. I finished my supper. The clock struck half-past +eleven. I stifled a yawn; one smoke and then to the bed was my +programme.</p> +<p>Marie Delhasse turned her head half-round.</p> +<p>“You must not,” said she, “let me prevent you +having your cigarette. I should set you at ease by going to bed, +but I can’t sleep so early, and upstairs the fire is not +lighted.”</p> +<p>I thanked her and approached the fire. She was gazing into it +meditatively. Presently she looked up.</p> +<p>“Smoke, sir,” she said imperiously but +languidly.</p> +<p>I obeyed her, and stood looking down at her, admiring her +stately beauty.</p> +<p>“You have passed the day here?” she asked, gazing +again into the fire.</p> +<p>“In this neighborhood,” said I, with discreet +vagueness.</p> +<p>“You have been able to pass the time?”</p> +<p>“Oh, certainly!” That had not been my +difficulty.</p> +<p>“There is, of course,” she said wearily, “Mont +St. Michel. But can you imagine anyone living in such a +country?”</p> +<p>“Unless Fate set one here—” I began.</p> +<p>“I suppose that’s it,” she interrupted.</p> +<p>“You are going to make a stay here?”</p> +<p>“I am,” she answered slowly, “on my way +to—I don’t know where.”</p> +<p>I was scrutinizing her closely now, for her manner seemed to +witness more than indolence; irresolution, vacillation, discomfort, +asserted their presence. I could not make her out, but her languid +indifference appeared more assumed than real.</p> +<p>With another upward glance, she said:</p> +<p>“My name is Marie Delhasse.”</p> +<p>“It is a well-known name,” said I with a bow.</p> +<p>“You have heard of me?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“What?” she asked quickly, wheeling half-round and +facing me.</p> +<p>“That you are a great singer,” I answered +simply.</p> +<p>“Ah, I’m not all voice! What about me? A woman is +more than an organ pipe. What about me?”</p> +<p>Her excitement contrasted with the langour she had displayed +before.</p> +<p>“Nothing,” said I, wondering that she should ask a +stranger such a question. She glanced at me for an instant. I threw +my eyes up to the ceiling.</p> +<p>“It is false!” she said quietly; but the trembling +of her hands belied her composure.</p> +<p>The tawdry gilt clock on the mantelpiece by me ticked through a +long silence. The last act of the day’s comedy seemed set for +a more serious scene.</p> +<p>“Why do you ask a stranger a question like that?” I +said at last, giving utterance to the thought that puzzled me.</p> +<p>“Whom should I ask? And I like your face—no, not +because it is handsome. You are English, sir?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I am English. My name is Gilbert Aycon.”</p> +<p>“Aycon—Aycon! It is a little difficult to say it as +you say it.”</p> +<p>Her thoughts claimed her again. I threw my cigarette into the +fire, and stood waiting her pleasure. But she seemed to have no +more to say, for she rose from the seat and held out her hand to +me.</p> +<p>“Will you ‘shake hands?’” she said, the +last two words in English; and she smiled again.</p> +<p>I hastened to do as she asked me, and she moved toward the +door.</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” she said, “I shall see you +to-morrow morning.”</p> +<p>“I shall be here.” Then I added: “I could not +help hearing you talk of moving elsewhere.”</p> +<p>She stood still in the middle of the room; she opened her lips +to speak, shut them again, and ended by saying nothing more +than:</p> +<p>“Yes, we talked of it. My mother wishes it. Good-night, +Mr. Aycon.”</p> +<p>I bade her good-night, and she passed slowly through the door, +which I closed behind her. I turned again to the fire, saying:</p> +<p>“What would the duchess think of that?”</p> +<p>I did not even know what I thought of it myself; of one thing +only I felt sure—-that what I had heard of Marie Delhasse was +not all that there was to learn about her.</p> +<p>I was lodged in a large room on the third floor, and when I +awoke the bright sun beamed on the convent where, as I presume, +Mme. de Saint-Maclou lay, and on the great Mount beyond it in the +distance. I have never risen with a more lively sense of unknown +possibilities in the day before me. These two women who had +suddenly crossed my path, and their relations to the pale +puffy-cheeked man at the little <em>château</em>, might well +produce results more startling than had seemed to be offered even +by such a freak as the original expedition undertaken by Gustave de +Berensac and me. And now Gustave had fallen away and I was left to +face the thing alone. For face it I must. My promise to the duchess +bound me: had it not I doubt whether I should have gone; for my +interest was not only in the duchess.</p> +<p>I had my coffee upstairs, and then, putting on my hat, went down +for a stroll. So long as the duke did not come to Avranches, I +could show my face boldly—and was not he busy preparing for +his guests? I crossed the threshold of the hotel.</p> +<p>Just at the entrance stood Marie Delhasse; opposite her was a +thickset fellow, neatly dressed and wearing mutton-chop whiskers. +As I came out I raised my hat. The man appeared not to notice me, +though his eyes fell on me for a moment. I passed quickly +by—in fact, as quickly as I could—for it struck me at +once that this man must be Lafleur, and I did not want him to give +the duke a description of the unknown gentleman who was staying at +Avranches. Yet, as I went, I had time to hear Marie’s slow +musical voice say:</p> +<p>“I’m not coming at all to-day.”</p> +<p>I was very glad of it, and pursued my round of the town with a +lighter heart. Presently, after half an hour’s walk, I found +myself opposite the church, and thus nearly back at the hotel: and +in front of the church stood Marie Delhasse, looking at <em>the +façade</em>.</p> +<p>Raising my hat I went up to her, her friendliness of the evening +before encouraging me.</p> +<p>“I hope you are going to stay to-day?” said I.</p> +<p>“I don’t know.” Then she smiled, but not +mirthfully. “I expect to be very much pressed to go this +afternoon,” she said.</p> +<p>I made a shot—apparently at a venture.</p> +<p>“Someone will come and carry you off?” I asked +jestingly.</p> +<p>“It’s very likely. My presence here will be +known.”</p> +<p>“But need you go?”</p> +<p>She looked on the ground and made no answer.</p> +<p>“Perhaps though,” I continued, “he—or +she—will not come. He may be too much occupied.”</p> +<p>“To come for me?” she said, with the first touch of +coquetry which I had seen in her lighting up her eyes.</p> +<p>“Even for that, it is possible,” I rejoined.</p> +<p>We began to walk together toward the edge of the open +<em>place</em> in front of the church. The convent came in sight as +we reached the fall of the hill.</p> +<p>“How peaceful that looks!” she said; “I wonder +if it would be pleasant there!”</p> +<p>I was myself just wondering how the Duchess of Saint-Maclou +found it, when a loud cry of warning startled us. We had been +standing on the edge of the road, and a horse, going at a quick +trot, was within five yards of us. As it reached us, it was sharply +reined in. To my amazement, old Jean, the duchess’ servant, +sat upon it. When he saw me, a smile spread over his weather-beaten +face.</p> +<p>“I was nearly over you,” said he. “You had no +ears.”</p> +<p>And I am sorry to say that Jean winked, insinuating that Marie +Delhasse and I had been preoccupied.</p> +<p>The diplomacy of non-recognition had failed to strike Jean. I +made the best of a bad job, and asked:</p> +<p>“What brings you here?”</p> +<p>Marie stood a few paces off, regarding us.</p> +<p>“I’m looking for Mme. la Duchesse,” grinned +Jean.</p> +<p>Marie Delhasse took a step forward when she heard his reference +to the duchess.</p> +<p>“Her absence was discovered by Suzanne at six +o’clock this morning,” the old fellow went on. +“And the duke—ah, take care how you come near him, sir! +Oh, it’s a kettle of fish! For as I came I met that coxcomb +Lafleur riding back with a message from the duke’s guests +that they would not come to-day! So the duchess is gone, and the +ladies are not come; and the duke—he has nothing to do but +curse that whippersnapper of a Pierre who came last +night.”</p> +<p>And Jean ended in a rapturous hoarse chuckle.</p> +<p>“You were riding so fast, then, because you were after the +duchess?” I suggested.</p> +<p>“I rode fast for fear,” said Jean, with a shrewd +smile, “that I should stop somewhere on the road. Well, I +have looked in Avranches. She is not in Avranches. I’ll go +home again.”</p> +<p>Marie Delhasse came close to my side.</p> +<p>“Ask him,” she said to me, “if he speaks of +the Duchess of Saint-Maclou.”</p> +<p>I put the question as I was directed.</p> +<p>“You couldn’t have guessed better if you’d +known,” said Jean; and a swift glance from Marie Delhasse +told me that her suspicion as to my knowledge was aroused.</p> +<p>“And what will happen, Jean?” said I.</p> +<p>“The good God knows,” shrugged Jean. Then, +remembering perhaps my five-franc pieces, he said politely, +“I hope you are well, sir?”</p> +<p>“Up to now, thank you, Jean,” said I.</p> +<p>His glance traveled to Marie. I saw his shriveled lips curl; his +expression was ominous of an unfortunate remark.</p> +<p>“Good-by!” said I significantly.</p> +<p>Jean had some wits. He spared me the remark, but not the sly +leer that had been made to accompany it. He clapped his heels to +his horse’s side and trotted off in the direction from which +he had come. So that he could swear he had been to Avranches, he +was satisfied!</p> +<p>Marie Delhasse turned to me, asking haughtily:</p> +<p>“What is the meaning of this? What do you know of the Duke +or Duchess of Saint-Maclou?”</p> +<p>“I might return your question,” said I, looking her +in the face.</p> +<p>“Will you answer it?” she said, flushing red.</p> +<p>“No, Mlle. Delhasse, I will not,” said I.</p> +<p>“What is the meaning of this ‘absence’ of the +Duchess of Saint-Maclou which that man talks about so +meaningly?”</p> +<p>Then I said, speaking low and slow:</p> +<p>“Who are the friends whom you are on your way to +visit?”</p> +<p>“Who are you?” she cried. “What do you know +about it? What concern is it of yours?”</p> +<p>There was no indolence or lack of animation in her manner now. +She questioned me with imperious indignation.</p> +<p>“I will answer not a single word,” said I. +“But—you asked me last night what I had heard of +you.”</p> +<p>“Well?” she said, and shut her lips tightly on the +word.</p> +<p>I held my peace; and in a moment she went on passionately:</p> +<p>“Who would have guessed that you would insult me? Is it +your habit to insult women?”</p> +<p>“Not mine only, it seems,” said I, meeting her +glance boldly.</p> +<p>“What do you mean, sir?”</p> +<p>“Had you, then, an invitation from Mme. de +Saint-Maclou?”</p> +<p>She drew back as if I had struck her. And I felt as though I had +struck her. She looked at me for a moment with parted lips; then, +without a word or a sign, she turned and walked slowly away in the +direction of the hotel.</p> +<p>And I, glad to have something else to occupy my thoughts, +started at a brisk pace along the foot-path that runs down the hill +and meets the road which would lead me to the convent, for I had a +thing or two to say to the duchess. And yet it was not of the +duchess only that I thought as I went. There were also in my mind +the indignant pride with which Marie Delhasse had questioned me, +and the shrinking shame in her eyes at that counter-question of +mine. The Duke of Saint-Maclou’s invitation seemed to bring +as much disquiet to one of his guests as it had to his wife +herself. But one thing struck me, and I found a sort of comfort in +it: she had thought, it seemed, that the duchess was to be at +home.</p> +<p>“Pah!” I cried suddenly to myself. “If she +weren’t pretty, you’d say that made it +worse!”</p> +<p>And I went on in a bad temper.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_7" name="chap_7">Chapter VII.</a></h2> +<h4>Heard through the Door.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/07dc.png" alt="T" id= +"img07dc" name="img07dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">T</span>wenty minutes’ walking brought +me to the wood which lay between the road and the convent. I +pressed on; soon the wood ceased and I found myself on the +outskirts of a paddock of rough grass, where a couple of cows and +half a dozen goats were pasturing; a row of stunted apple trees ran +along one side of the paddock, and opposite me rose the white walls +of the convent; while on my left was the burying-ground with its +arched gateway, inscribed “<em>Mors janua +vitæ</em>.” I crossed the grass and rang a bell, that +clanged again and again in echo. Nobody came. I pulled a second +time and more violently. After some further delay the door was +cautiously opened a little way, and a young woman looked out. She +was a round-faced, red-cheeked, fresh creature, arrayed in a large +close-fitting white cap, a big white collar over her shoulders, and +a black gown. When she saw me, she uttered an exclamation of alarm, +and pushed the door to again. Just in time I inserted my foot +between door and doorpost.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon,” said I politely, “but you +evidently misunderstand me. I wish to enter.”</p> +<p>She peered at me through the two-inch gap my timely foot had +preserved.</p> +<p>“But it is impossible,” she objected. “Our +rules do not allow it. Indeed, I may not talk to you. I beg of you +to move your foot.”</p> +<p>“But then you would shut the door.”</p> +<p>She could not deny it.</p> +<p>“I mean no harm,” I protested.</p> +<p>“‘The guile of the wicked is infinite,’” +remarked the little nun.</p> +<p>“I want to see the Mother Superior,” said I. +“Will you take my name to her?”</p> +<p>I heard another step in the passage. The door was flung wide +open, and a stout and stately old lady faced me, a frown on her +brow.</p> +<p>“Madame,” said I, “until you hear my errand +you will think me an ill-mannered fellow.”</p> +<p>“What is your business, sir?”</p> +<p>“It is for your ear alone, madame.”</p> +<p>“You can’t come in here,” said she +decisively.</p> +<p>For a moment I was at a loss. Then the simplest solution in the +world occurred to me.</p> +<p>“But you can come out, madame,” I suggested.</p> +<p>She looked at me doubtfully for a minute. Then she stepped out, +shutting the door carefully behind her. I caught a glimpse of the +little nun’s face, and thought there was a look of +disappointment on it. The old lady and I began to walk along the +path that led to the burying-ground.</p> +<p>“I do not know,” said I, “whether you have +heard of me. My name is Aycon.”</p> +<p>“I thought so. Mr. Aycon, I must tell you that you are +very much to blame. You have led this innocent, though thoughtless, +child into most deplorable conduct.”</p> +<p>(“Well done, little duchess!” said I to myself; but +of course I was not going to betray her.)</p> +<p>“I deeply regret my thoughtlessness,” said I +earnestly. “I would, however, observe that the present +position of the duchess is not due to my—shall we say +misconduct?—but to that of her husband. I did not +invite—”</p> +<p>“Don’t mention her name!” interrupted the +Mother Superior in horror.</p> +<p>We had reached the arched gateway; and there appeared standing +within it a figure most charmingly inappropriate to a +graveyard—the duchess herself, looking as fresh as a daisy, +and as happy as a child with a new toy. She ran to me, holding out +both hands and crying:</p> +<p>“Ah, my dear, dear Mr. Aycon, you are the most delightful +man alive! You come at the very moment I want you.”</p> +<p>“Be sober, my child, be sober!” murmured the old +lady.</p> +<p>“But I want to hear,” expostulated the duchess. +“Do you know anything, Mr. Aycon? What has been happening up +at the house? What has the duke done?”</p> +<p>As the duchess poured out her questions, we passed through the +gate; the ladies sat down on a stone bench just inside, and I, +standing, told my story. The duchess was amused to hear of old +Jean’s chase of her; but she showed no astonishment till I +told her that Marie Delhasse was at the hotel in Avranches, and had +declined to go further on her journey to-day.</p> +<p>“At the hotel? Then you’ve seen her?” she +burst out. “What is she like?”</p> +<p>“She is most extremely handsome,” said I. +“Moreover, I am inclined to like her.”</p> +<p>The Mother Superior opened her lips—to reprove me, no +doubt; but the duchess was too quick.</p> +<p>“Oh, you like her? Perhaps you’re going to desert me +and go over to her?” she cried in indignation, that was, I +think, for the most part feigned. Certainly the duchess did not +look very alarmed. But in regard to what she said, the old lady was +bound to have a word.</p> +<p>“What is Mr. Aycon to you, my child?” said she +solemnly. “He is nothing—nothing at all to you, my +child.”</p> +<p>“Well, I want him to be less than nothing to Mlle. +Delhasse,” said the duchess, with a pout for her protector +and a glance for me.</p> +<p>“Mlle. Delhasse is very angry with me just now,” +said I.</p> +<p>“Oh, why?” asked the duchess eagerly.</p> +<p>“Because she gathered that I thought she ought to wait for +an invitation from you, before she went to your house.”</p> +<p>“She should wait till the Day of Judgment!” cried +the duchess.</p> +<p>“That would not matter,” observed the Mother +Superior dryly.</p> +<p>Suddenly, without pretext or excuse, the duchess turned and +walked very quickly—nay, she almost ran—away along the +path that encircled the group of graves. Her eye had bidden me, and +I followed no less briskly. I heard a despairing sigh from the poor +old lady, but she had no chance of overtaking us. The audacious +movement was successful.</p> +<p>“Now we can talk,” said the duchess.</p> +<p>And talk she did, for she threw at me the startling +assertion:</p> +<p>“I believe you’re falling in love with Mlle. +Delhasse. If you do, I’ll never speak to you +again!”</p> +<p>“If I do,” said I, “I shall probably accept +that among the other disadvantages of the entanglement.”</p> +<p>“That’s very rude,” observed the duchess.</p> +<p>“Nothing with an ‘if’ in it is rude,” +said I speciously.</p> +<p>“Men must be always in love with somebody,” said she +resentfully.</p> +<p>“It certainly approaches a necessity,” I +assented.</p> +<p>The duchess glanced at me. Perhaps I had glanced at her; I hope +not.</p> +<p>“Oh, well,” said she, “hadn’t we better +talk business?”</p> +<p>“Infinitely better,” said I; and I meant it.</p> +<p>“What am I to do?” she asked, with a return to her +more friendly manner.</p> +<p>“Nothing,” said I.</p> +<p>It is generally the safest advice—to women at all +events.</p> +<p>“You are content with the position? You like being at the +hotel perhaps?”</p> +<p>“Should I not be hard to please, if I +didn’t?”</p> +<p>“I know you are trying to annoy me, but you shan’t. +Mr. Aycon, suppose my husband comes over to Avranches, and sees +you?”</p> +<p>“I have thought of that.”</p> +<p>“Well, what have you decided?”</p> +<p>“Not to think about it till it happens. But won’t he +be thinking more about you than me?”</p> +<p>“He won’t do anything about me,” she said. +“In the first place, he will want no scandal. In the second, +he does not want me. But he will come over to see her.”</p> +<p>“Her” was, of course, Marie Delhasse. The duchess +assigned to her the sinister distinction of the simple pronoun.</p> +<p>“Surely he will take means to get you to go back?” I +exclaimed.</p> +<p>“If he could have caught me before I got here, he would +have been glad. Now he will wait; for if he came here and claimed +me, what he proposed to do would become known.”</p> +<p>There seemed reason in this; the duchess calculated +shrewdly.</p> +<p>“In fact,” said I, “I had better go back to +the hotel.”</p> +<p>“That does not seem to vex you much.”</p> +<p>“Well, I can’t stay here, can I?” said I, +looking round at the nunnery. “It would be irregular, you +know.”</p> +<p>“You might go to another hotel,” suggested she.</p> +<p>“It is most important that I should watch what is going on +at my present hotel,” said I gravely; for I did not wish to +move.</p> +<p>“You are the most—” began the duchess.</p> +<p>But this bit of character-reading was lost. Slow but sure, the +Mother Superior was at our elbows.</p> +<p>“Adieu, Mr. Aycon,” said she.</p> +<p>I felt sure that she must manage the nuns admirably.</p> +<p>“Adieu!” said I, as though there was nothing else to +be said.</p> +<p>“Adieu!” said the duchess, as though she would have +liked to say something else.</p> +<p>And all in a moment I was through the gateway and crossing the +paddock. But the duchess ran to the gate, crying:</p> +<p>“Mind you come again to-morrow!”</p> +<p>My expedition consumed nearly two hours; and one o’clock +struck from the tower of the church as I slowly climbed the hill, +feeling (I must admit it) that the rest of the day would probably +be rather dull. Just as I reached the top, however, I came plump on +Mlle. Delhasse, who appeared to be taking a walk. She bowed to me +slightly and coldly. Glad that she was so distant (for I did not +like her looks), I returned her salute, and pursued my way to the +hotel. In the porch of it stood the waiter—my friend who had +taken such an obliging view of my movements the night before. +Directly he saw me, he came out into the road to meet me.</p> +<p>“Are you acquainted with the ladies who have rooms on the +first floor?” he asked with an air of mystery.</p> +<p>“I met them here for the first time,” said I.</p> +<p>I believe he doubted me; perhaps waiters are bred to suspicion +by the things they see.</p> +<p>“Ah!” said he, “then it does not interest you +to know that a gentleman has been to see the young lady?”</p> +<p>I took out ten francs.</p> +<p>“Yes, it does,” said I, handing him the money. +“Who was it?”</p> +<p>“The Duke of Saint-Maclou,” he whispered +mysteriously.</p> +<p>“Is he gone?” I asked in some alarm. I had no wish +to encounter him.</p> +<p>“This half-hour, sir.”</p> +<p>“Did he see both the ladies?”</p> +<p>“No; only the young lady. Madame went out immediately on +his arrival, and is not yet returned.”</p> +<p>“And mademoiselle?”</p> +<p>“She is in her room.”</p> +<p>Thinking I had not got much, save good will, for my ten +francs—for he told me nothing but what I had expected to +hear—I was about to pass on, when he added, in a tone which +seemed more significant than the question demanded:</p> +<p>“Are you going up to your room, sir?”</p> +<p>“I am,” said I.</p> +<p>“Permit me to show you the way,” he +said—though his escort seemed to me very unnecessary.</p> +<p>He mounted before me. We reached the first floor. Opposite to +us, not three yards away, was the door of the sitting-room which I +knew to be occupied by the Delhasses.</p> +<p>“Go on,” said I.</p> +<p>“In a moment, sir,” he said.</p> +<p>Then he held up his hand in the attitude of a man who +listens.</p> +<p>“One should not listen,” he whispered, +apologetically; “but it is so strange. I thought that if you +knew the lady—Hark!”</p> +<p>I knew that we ought not to listen. But the mystery of the +fellow’s manner and the concern of his air constrained me, +and I too paused, listening.</p> +<p>From behind the door there came to our strained attentive ears +the sound of a woman sobbing. I sought the waiter’s eyes; +they were already bent on me. Again the sad sounds came—low, +swift, and convulsive. It went to my heart to hear them. I did not +know what to do. To go on upstairs to my own room and mind my own +business seemed the simple thing—simple, easy, and proper. +But my feet were glued to the boards. I could not go, with that +sound beating on my ears: I should hear it all the day. I glanced +again at the waiter. He was a kind-looking fellow, and I saw the +tears standing in his eyes.</p> +<p>“And mademoiselle is so beautiful!” he +whispered.</p> +<p>“What the devil business is it of yours?” said I, in +a low but fierce tone.</p> +<p>“None,” said he. “I am content to leave it to +you, sir;” and without more he turned and went +downstairs.</p> +<p>It was all very well to leave it to me; but what—failing +that simple, easy, proper, and impossible course of action which I +have indicated—was I to do?</p> +<p>Well, what I did was this: I went to the door of the room and +knocked softly. There was no answer. The sobs continued. I had been +a brute to this girl in the morning; I thought of that as I stood +outside.</p> +<p>“My God! what’s the matter with her?” I +whispered.</p> +<p>And then I opened the door softly.</p> +<p>Marie Delhasse sat in a chair, her head resting in her hands and +her hands on the table; and her body was shaken with her +weeping.</p> +<p>And on the table, hard by her bowed golden head, there lay a +square leathern box. I stood on the threshold and looked at +her.</p> +<p>The rest of the day did not now seem likely to be dull; but it +might prove to have in store for me more difficult tasks than the +enduring of a little dullness.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_8" name="chap_8">Chapter VIII.</a></h2> +<h4>I Find that I Care.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/08dc.png" alt="F" id= +"img08dc" name="img08dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">F</span>or a moment I stood stock still, +wishing to Heaven that I had not opened the door; for I could find +now no excuse for my intrusion, and no reason why I should not have +minded my own business. The impulse that had made the thing done +was exhausted in the doing of it. Retreat became my sole object; +and, drawing back, I pulled the door after me. But I had given +Fortune a handle—very literally; for the handle of the door +grated loud as I turned it. Despairing of escape, I stood still. +Marie Delhasse looked up with a start.</p> +<p>“Who’s there?” she cried in frightened tones, +hastily pressing her handkerchief to her eyes.</p> +<p>There was no help for it. I stepped inside, saying:</p> +<p>“I’m ashamed to say that I am.”</p> +<p>I deserved and expected an outburst of indignation. My surprise +was great when she sank against the back of the chair with a sigh +of relief. I lingered awkwardly just inside the threshold.</p> +<p>“What do you want? Why did you come in?” she asked, +but rather in bewilderment than anger.</p> +<p>“I was passing on my way upstairs, and—and you +seemed to be in distress.”</p> +<p>“Did I make such a noise as that?” said she. +“I’m as bad as a child; but children cry because they +mustn’t do things, and I because I must.”</p> +<p>We appeared to be going to talk. I shut the door.</p> +<p>“My intrusion is most impertinent,” said I. +“You have every right to resent it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, have I the right to resent anything? Did you think so +this morning?” she asked impetuously.</p> +<p>“The morning,” I observed, “is a terribly +righteous time with me. I must beg your pardon for what I +said.”</p> +<p>“You think the same still?” she retorted +quickly.</p> +<p>“That is no excuse for having said it,” I returned. +“It was not my affair.”</p> +<p>“It is nobody’s affair, I suppose, but +mine.”</p> +<p>“Unless you allow it to be,” said I. I could not +endure the desolation her words and tone implied.</p> +<p>She looked at me curiously.</p> +<p>“I don’t understand,” she said in a fretfully +weary tone, “how you come to be mixed up in it at +all.”</p> +<p>“It’s a long story.” Then I went on abruptly: +“You thought it was someone else that had entered.”</p> +<p>“Well, if I did?”</p> +<p>“Someone returning,” said I stepping up to the table +opposite her.</p> +<p>“What then?” she asked, but wearily and not in the +defiant manner of the morning.</p> +<p>“Mme. Delhasse perhaps, or perhaps the Duke of +Saint-Maclou?”</p> +<p>Marie Delhasse made no answer. She sat with her elbows on the +table, and her chin resting on the support of her clenched hands; +her lids drooped over her eyes; and I could not see the expression +of her glance, which was, nevertheless, upon me.</p> +<p>“Well, well,” I continued, “we needn’t +talk about him. Have you been doing some shopping?” And I +pointed to the red leathern box.</p> +<p>For full half a minute she sat, without speech or movement. Then +she said in answer to my question, which she could not take as an +idle one:</p> +<p>“Yes, I have been doing some bargaining.”</p> +<p>“Is that the result?”</p> +<p>Again she paused long before she answered.</p> +<p>“That,” said she, “is a trifle—thrown +in.”</p> +<p>“To bind the bargain?” I suggested.</p> +<p>“Yes, Mr. Aycon—to bind the bargain.”</p> +<p>“Is it allowed to look?”</p> +<p>“I think everything must be allowed to you. You would be +so surprised if it were not.”</p> +<p>I understood that she was aiming a satirical remark at me: I did +not mind that; she had better flay me alive than sit and cry.</p> +<p>“Then I may open the box?”</p> +<p>“The key is in it.”</p> +<p>I drew the box across, and I took a chair that stood by. I +turned the key of the box. A glance showed me Marie’s drooped +lids half raised and her eyes fixed on my face.</p> +<p>I opened the box: there lay in it, in sparkling coil on the blue +velvet, a magnificent diamond necklace; one great stone formed a +pendent, and it was on this stone that I fixed my regard. I took it +up and looked at it closely; then I examined the necklace itself. +Marie’s eyes followed my every motion.</p> +<p>“You like these trinkets?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said she, in that tone in which +“yes” is stronger than a thousand words of rapture; and +the depths of her eyes caught fire from the stones, and +gleamed.</p> +<p>“But you know nothing about them,” I pursued +composedly.</p> +<p>“I suppose they are valuable,” said she, making an +effort after <em>nonchalance</em>.</p> +<p>“They have some value,” I conceded, smiling. +“But I mean about their history.”</p> +<p>“They are bought, I suppose—bought and +sold.”</p> +<p>“I happen to know just a little about such things. In +fact, I have a book at home in which there is a picture of this +necklace. It is known as the Cardinal’s Necklace. The stones +were collected by Cardinal Armand de Saint-Maclou, Archbishop of +Caen, some thirty years ago. They were set by Lebeau of Paris, on +the order of the cardinal, and were left by him to his nephew, our +friend the duke. Since his marriage, the duchess has of course worn +them.”</p> +<p>All this I said in a most matter-of-fact tone.</p> +<p>“Do you mean that they belong to her?” asked Marie, +with a sudden lift of her eyes.</p> +<p>“I don’t know. Strictly, I should think not,” +said I impassively.</p> +<p>Marie Delhasse stretched out her hand and began to finger the +stones.</p> +<p>“She wore them, did she?”</p> +<p>“Certainly.”</p> +<p>“Ah! I supposed they had just been bought.” And she +took her fingers off them.</p> +<p>“It would take a large sum to do that—to buy them +<em>en bloc</em>,” I observed.</p> +<p>“How much?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know! The market varies so much: +perhaps a million francs, perhaps more. You can’t tell how +much people will give for such things.”</p> +<p>“No, it is difficult,” she assented, again fingering +the necklace, “to say what people will give for +them.”</p> +<p>I leaned back in my chair. There was a pause. Then her eyes +suddenly met mine again, and she exclaimed defiantly:</p> +<p>“Oh, you know very well what it means! What’s the +good of fencing about it?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know what it means,” said I. “When +have you promised to go?”</p> +<p>“To-morrow,” she answered.</p> +<p>“Because of this thing?” and I pointed to the +necklace.</p> +<p>“Because of—How dare you ask me such +questions!”</p> +<p>I rose from my seat and bowed.</p> +<p>“You are going?” she asked, her fingers on the +necklace, and her eyes avoiding mine.</p> +<p>“I have the honor,” said I, “to enjoy the +friendship of the Duchess of Saint-Maclou.”</p> +<p>“And that forbids you to enjoy mine?”</p> +<p>I bowed assent to her inference. She sat still at the table, her +chin on her hands. I was about to leave her, when it struck me all +in a moment that leaving her was not exactly the best thing to do, +although it might be much the easiest. I arrested my steps.</p> +<p>“Well,” she asked, “is not our acquaintance +ended?”</p> +<p>And she suddenly opened her hands and hid her face in them. It +was a strange conclusion to a speech so coldly and distantly +begun.</p> +<p>“For God’s sake, don’t go!” said I, +bending a little across the table toward her.</p> +<p>“What’s it to you? What’s it to +anybody?” came from between her fingers.</p> +<p>“Your mother—” I began.</p> +<p>She dropped her hands from her face, and laughed. It was a laugh +the like of which I hope not to hear again. Then she broke out:</p> +<p>“Why wouldn’t she have me in the house? Why did she +run away? Am I unfit to touch her?”</p> +<p>“If she were wrong, you’re doing your best to make +her right.”</p> +<p>“If everybody thinks one wicked, one may as well be +wicked, and—and live in peace.”</p> +<p>“And get diamonds?” I added, “Weren’t +you wicked?”</p> +<p>“No,” she said, looking me straight in the face. +“But what difference did that make?”</p> +<p>“None at all, in one point of view,” said I. But to +myself I was swearing that she should not go.</p> +<p>Then she said in a very low tone:</p> +<p>“He never leaves me. Ah! he makes everyone +think—”</p> +<p>“Let ‘em think,” said I.</p> +<p>“If everyone thinks it—”</p> +<p>“Oh, come, nonsense!” said I.</p> +<p>“You know what you thought. What honest woman would have +anything to do with me—or what honest man either?”</p> +<p>I had nothing to say about that; so I said again.</p> +<p>“Well, don’t go, anyhow.”</p> +<p>She spoke in lower tones, as she answered this appeal of +mine:</p> +<p>“I daren’t refuse. He’ll be here again; and my +mother—”</p> +<p>“Put it off a day or two,” said I. “And +don’t take that thing.”</p> +<p>She looked at me, it seemed to me, in astonishment.</p> +<p>“Do you really care?” she asked, speaking very +low.</p> +<p>I nodded. I did care, somehow.</p> +<p>“Enough to stand by me, if I don’t go?”</p> +<p>I nodded again.</p> +<p>“I daren’t refuse right out. My mother and +he—”</p> +<p>She broke off.</p> +<p>“Have something the matter with you: flutters or +something,” I suggested.</p> +<p>The ghost of a smile appeared on her face.</p> +<p>“You’ll stay?” she asked.</p> +<p>I had to stay, anyhow. Perhaps I ought to have said so, and not +stolen credit; but all I did was to nod again.</p> +<p>“And, if I ask you, you’ll—you’ll stand +between me and him?”</p> +<p>I hoped that my meeting with the duke would not be in a strong +light; but I only said:</p> +<p>“Rather! I’ll do anything I can, of +course.”</p> +<p>She did not thank me; she looked at me again. Then she +observed.</p> +<p>“My mother will be back soon.”</p> +<p>“And I had better not be here?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>I advanced to the table again, and laid my hand on the box +containing the Cardinal’s necklace.</p> +<p>“And this?” I asked in a careless tone.</p> +<p>“Ought I to send them back?”</p> +<p>“You don’t want to?”</p> +<p>“What’s the use of saying I do? I love them. +Besides, he’ll see through it. He’ll know that I mean I +won’t come. I daren’t—I daren’t show him +that!”</p> +<p>Then I made a little venture; for, fingering the box idly, I +said:</p> +<p>“It would be uncommonly handsome of you to give ‘em +to the duchess.”</p> +<p>“To the duchess?” she gasped in wondering tones.</p> +<p>“You see,” I remarked, “either they are the +duchess’, in which case she ought to have them; or, if they +were the duke’s, they’re yours now; and you can do what +you like with them.”</p> +<p>“He gave them me on—on a condition.”</p> +<p>“A condition,” said I, “no gentleman could +mention, and no law enforce.”</p> +<p>She blushed scarlet, but sat silent.</p> +<p>“Revenge is sweet,” said I. “She ran away +rather than meet you. You send her her diamonds!”</p> +<p>A sudden gleam shot into Marie Delhasse’s eyes.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said, “yes.” And stopped, +thinking, with her hands clasped.</p> +<p>“You send them by me,” I pursued, delighted with the +impression which my suggestion had made upon her.</p> +<p>“By you? You see her, then?” she asked quickly.</p> +<p>“Occasionally,” I answered. The duchess’ +secret was not mine, and I did not say where I saw her.</p> +<p>“I’ll give them to you,” said +Marie—“to you, not to the duchess.”</p> +<p>“I won’t have ‘em at any price,” said I. +“Come, your mother will be back soon. I believe you want to +keep ‘em.” And I assumed a disgusted air.</p> +<p>“I don’t!” she flashed out passionately. +“I don’t want to touch them! I wouldn’t keep them +for the world!”</p> +<p>I looked at my watch. With a swift motion, Marie Delhasse leaped +from her chair, dashed down the lid of the box, hiding the glitter +of the stones, seized the box in her two hands and with eyes +averted held it out to me.</p> +<p>“For the duchess?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, for the duchess,” said Marie, with, averted +eyes.</p> +<p>I took the box, and stowed it in the capacious pocket of the +shooting-jacket which I was wearing.</p> +<p>“Go!” said Marie, pointing to the door.</p> +<p>I held out my hand. She caught it in hers. Upon my word, I +thought she was going to kiss it. So strongly did I think it that, +hating fuss of that sort, I made a half-motion to pull it away. +However, I was wrong. She merely pressed it and let it drop.</p> +<p>“Cheer up! cheer up! I’ll turn up again soon,” +said I, and I left the room.</p> +<p>And left in the nick of time; for at the very moment when I, +hugging the lump in my coat which marked the position of the +Cardinal’s Necklace, reached the foot of the stairs Mme. +Delhasse appeared on her way up.</p> +<p>“Oh, you old viper!” I murmured thoughtlessly, in +English.</p> +<p>“Pardon, monsieur?” said Mme. Delhasse.</p> +<p>“Forgive me: I spoke to myself—a foolish +habit,” I rejoined, with a low bow and, I’m afraid, a +rather malicious smile. The old lady glared at me, bobbed her head +the slightest bit in the world, and passed me by.</p> +<p>I went out into the sunshine, whistling merrily. My good friend +the waiter stood by the door. His eyes asked me a question.</p> +<p>“She is much better,” I said reassuringly. And I +walked out, still whistling merrily.</p> +<p>In truth I was very pleased with myself. Every man likes to +think that he understands women. I was under the impression that I +had proved myself to possess a thorough and complete acquaintance +with that intricate subject. I was soon to find that my knowledge +had its limitations. In fact, I have been told more than once since +that my plan was a most outrageous one. Perhaps it was; but it had +the effect of wresting those dangerous stones from poor +Marie’s regretful hands. A man need not mind having made a +fool of himself once or twice on his way through the world, so he +has done some good by the process. At the moment, however, I felt +no need for any such apology.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_9" name="chap_9">Chapter IX.</a></h2> +<h4>An Unparalleled Insult.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/09dc.png" alt="I" id= +"img09dc" name="img09dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">I</span> was thoughtful as I walked across +the <em>place</em> in front of the church in the full glare of the +afternoon sun. It was past four o’clock; the town was more +lively, as folk, their day’s work finished, came out to take +their ease and filled the streets and the <em>cafés</em>. I +felt that I also had done something like a day’s work; but my +task was not complete till I had lodged my precious trust safely in +the keeping of the duchess.</p> +<p>There was, however, still time to spare, and I sat down at a +<em>café</em> and ordered some coffee. While it was being +brought my thoughts played round Marie Delhasse. I doubted whether +I disliked her for being tempted, or liked her for resisting at the +last; at any rate, I was glad to have helped her a little. If I +could now persuade her to leave Avranches, I should have done all +that could reasonably be expected of me; if the duke pursued, she +must fight the battle for herself. So I mused, sipping my coffee; +and then I fell to wondering what the duchess would say on seeing +me again so soon. Would she see me? She must, whether she liked it +or not; I could not keep the diamonds all night. Perhaps she would +like.</p> +<p>“There you are again!” I said to myself sharply, and +I roused myself from my meditations.</p> +<p>As I looked up, I saw the man Lafleur opposite to me. He had his +back toward me, but I knew him, and he was just walking into a shop +that faced the <em>café</em> and displayed in its windows an +assortment of offensive weapons—guns, pistols, and various +sorts of knives. Lafleur went in. I sat sipping my coffee. He was +there nearly twenty minutes; then he came out and walked leisurely +away. I paid my score and strolled over to the shop. I wondered +what he had been buying. Dueling pistols for the duke, perhaps! I +entered and asked to be shown some penknives. The shopman served me +with alacrity. I chose a cheap knife, and then I permitted my gaze +to rest on a neat little pistol that lay on the counter. My simple +<em>ruse</em> was most effective. In a moment I was being +acquainted with all the merits of the instrument, and the eulogy +was backed by the information that a gentleman had bought two +pistols of the same make not ten minutes before I entered the +shop.</p> +<p>“Really!” said I. “What for?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know, sir. It is a wise thing often to +carry one of these little fellows. One never knows.”</p> +<p>“In case of a quarrel with another gentleman?”</p> +<p>“Oh, they are hardly such as we sell for dueling, +sir.”</p> +<p>“Aren’t they?”</p> +<p>“They are rather pocket pistols—to carry if you are +out at night; and we sell many to gentlemen who have occasion in +the way of their business to carry large sums of money or valuables +about with them. They give a sense of security, sir, even if no +occasion arises for their use.”</p> +<p>“And this gentleman bought two? Who was he?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know, sir. He gave me no name.”</p> +<p>“And you didn’t know him by sight?”</p> +<p>“No, sir; perhaps he is a stranger. But indeed I’m +almost that myself: I have but just set up business +here.”</p> +<p>“Is it brisk?” I asked, examining the pistol.</p> +<p>“It is not a brisk place, sir,” the man answered +regretfully. “Let me sell you one, sir!”</p> +<p>It happened to be, for the moment, in the way of my business to +carry valuables, but I hoped it would not be for long, so that I +did not buy a pistol; but I allowed myself to wonder what my friend +Lafleur wanted with two—and they were not dueling pistols! If +I had been going to keep the diamonds—but then I was not. +And, reminded by this reflection, I set out at once for the +convent.</p> +<p>Now the manner in which the Duchess of Saint-Maclou saw fit to +treat me—who was desirous only of serving her—on this +occasion went far to make me disgusted with the whole affair into +which I had been drawn. It might have been supposed that she would +show gratitude; I think that even a little admiration and a little +appreciation of my tact would not have been, under the +circumstances, out of place. It is not every day that a lady has +such a thing as the Cardinal’s Necklace rescued from great +peril and freely restored, with no claim (beyond that for ordinary +civility) on the part of the rescuer.</p> +<p>And the cause did not lie in her happening to be out of temper, +for she greeted me at first with much graciousness, and sitting +down on the corn bin (she was permitted on this occasion to meet me +in the stable), she began to tell me that she had received a most +polite—and indeed almost affectionate—letter from the +duke, in which he expressed deep regret for her absence, but +besought her to stay where she was as long as the health of her +soul demanded. He would do himself the honor of waiting on her and +escorting her home, when she made up her mind to return to him.</p> +<p>“Which means,” observed the duchess, as she replaced +the letter in her pocket, “that the Delhasses are going, and +that if I go (without notice anyhow) I shall find them +there.”</p> +<p>“I read it in the same way; but I’m not so sure that +the Delhasses are going.”</p> +<p>“You are so charitable,” said she, still quite +sweetly. “You can’t bring yourself to think evil of +anybody.”</p> +<p>The duchess chanced to look so remarkably calm and composed as +she sat on the corn bin that I could not deny myself the pleasure +of surprising her with the sudden apparition of the +Cardinal’s Necklace. Without a word, I took the case out of +my pocket, opened it, and held it out toward her. For once the +duchess sat stock-still, her eyes round and large.</p> +<p>“Have you been robbing and murdering my husband?” +she gasped.</p> +<p>With a very complacent smile I began my story. Who does not know +what it is to begin a story with a triumphant confidence in its +favorable reception? Who does not know that first terrible glimmer +of doubt when the story seems not to be making the expected +impression? Who has not endured the dull dogged despair in which +the story, damned by the stony faces of the auditors, has yet to +drag on a hated weary life to a dishonored grave?</p> +<p>These stages came and passed as I related to Mme. de +Saint-Maclou how I came to be in a position to hand back to her the +Cardinal’s Necklace. Still, silent, pale, with her lips +curled in a scornful smile, she sat and listened. My tone lost its +triumphant ring, and I finished in cold, distant, embarrassed +accents.</p> +<p>“I have only,” said I, “to execute my +commission and hand the box and its contents over to +you.”</p> +<p>And, thus speaking, I laid the necklace in its case on the corn +bin beside the duchess.</p> +<p>The duchess said nothing at all. She looked at me +once—just once; and I wished then and there that I had +listened to Gustave de Berensac’s second thoughts and left +with him at ten o’clock in the morning. Then having delivered +this barbed shaft of the eyes, the duchess sat looking straight in +front of her, bereft of her quick-changing glances, robbed of her +supple grace—like frozen quicksilver. And the necklace +glittered away indifferently between us.</p> +<p>At last the duchess, her eyes still fixed on the whitewashed +wall opposite, said in a slow emphatic tone:</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t touch it, if it were the crown of +France!”</p> +<p>I plucked up my courage to answer her. For Marie +Delhasse’s sake I felt a sudden anger.</p> +<p>“You are pharisaical,” said I. “The poor girl +has acted honorably. Her touch has not defiled your +necklace.”</p> +<p>“Yes, you must defend what you persuaded,” flashed +out the duchess. “It’s the greatest insult I was ever +subjected to in my life!”</p> +<p>Here was the second lady I had insulted on that summer day!</p> +<p>“I did but suggest it—it was her own +wish.”</p> +<p>“Your suggestion is her wish! How charming!” said +the duchess.</p> +<p>“You are unjust to her!” I said, a little +warmly.</p> +<p>The duchess rose from the corn bin, made the very most of her +sixty-three inches, and remarked:</p> +<p>“It’s a new insult to mention her to me.”</p> +<p>I passed that by; it was too absurd to answer.</p> +<p>“You must take it now I’ve brought it,” I +urged in angry puzzle.</p> +<p>The duchess put out her hand, grasped the case delicately, shut +it—and flung it to the other side of the stable, hard by +where an old ass was placidly eating a bundle of hay.</p> +<p>“That’s the last time I shall touch it!” said +she, turning and looking me in the face.</p> +<p>“But what am I to do with it?” I cried.</p> +<p>“Whatever you please,” returned Mme. de +Saint-Maclou; and without another word, without another glance, +either at me or at the necklace, she walked out of the stable, and +left me alone with the necklace and the ass.</p> +<p>The ass had given one start as the necklace fell with a thud on +the floor; but he was old and wise, and soon fell again to his +meal. I sat drumming my heels against the corn bin. Evening was +falling fast, and everything was very still. No man ever had a more +favorable hour for reflection and introspection. I employed it to +the full. Then I rose, and crossing the stable, pulled the long +ears of my friend who was eating the hay.</p> +<p>“I suppose you also were a young ass once,” said I +with a rueful smile.</p> +<p>Well, I couldn’t leave the Cardinal’s Necklace in +the corner of the convent stable. I picked up the box. Neddy thrust +out his nose at it. I opened it and let him see the contents. He +snuffed scornfully and turned back to the hay.</p> +<p>“He won’t take it either,” said I to myself, +and with a muttered curse I dropped the wretched thing back in the +pocket of my coat, wishing much evil to everyone who had any hand +in bringing me into connection with it, from his Eminence the +Cardinal Armand de Saint-Maclou down to the waiter at the +hotel.</p> +<p>Slowly and in great gloom of mind I climbed the hill again. I +supposed that I must take the troublesome ornament back to Marie +Delhasse, confessing that my fine idea had ended in nothing save a +direct and stinging insult for her and a scathing snub for me. My +pride made this necessity hard to swallow, but I believe there was +also a more worthy feeling that caused me to shrink from it. I +feared that her good resolutions would not survive such treatment, +and that the rebuff would drive her headlong into the ruin from +which I had trusted that she would be saved. Yet there was nothing +else for it. Back the necklace must go. I could but pray—and +earnestly I did pray—that my fears might not be realized.</p> +<p>I found myself opposite the gun-maker’s shop; and it +struck me that I might probably fail to see Marie alone that +evening. I had no means of defense—I had never thought any +necessary. But now a sudden nervousness got hold of me: it seemed +to me as if my manner must betray to everyone that I carried the +necklace—as if the lump in my coat stood out conspicuous as +Mont St. Michel itself. Feeling that I was doing a half-absurd +thing, still I stepped into the shop and announced that, on further +reflection, I would buy the little pistol. The good man was +delighted to sell it to me.</p> +<p>“If you carry valuables, sir,” he said, repeating +his stock recommendation, “it will give you a feeling of +perfect safety.”</p> +<p>“I don’t carry valuables,” said I abruptly, +almost rudely, and with most unnecessary emphasis.</p> +<p>“I did but suggest, sir,” he apologized. “And +at least, it may be that you will require to do so some +day.”</p> +<p>“That,” I was forced to admit, “is of course +not impossible.” And I slid the pistol and a supply of +cartridges into the other pocket of my coat.</p> +<p>“Distribute the load, sir,” advised the smiling +nuisance. “One side of your coat will be weighed down. Ah, +pardon! I perceive that there is already something in the other +pocket.”</p> +<p>“A sandwich-case,” said I; and he bowed with exactly +the smile the waiter had worn when I said that I came from Mont St. +Michel.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_10" name="chap_10">Chapter X.</a></h2> +<h4>Left on my Hands.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/10dc.png" alt="T" id= +"img10dc" name="img10dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">T</span>here is nothing else for it!” I +exclaimed, as I set out for the hotel. “I’ll go back to +England.”</p> +<p>I could not resist the conclusion that my presence in Avranches +was no longer demanded. The duchess had, on the one hand, arrived +at a sort of understanding with her husband; while she had, on the +other, contrived to create a very considerable misunderstanding +with me. She had shown no gratitude for my efforts, and made no +allowance for the mistakes which, possibly, I had committed. She +had behaved so unreasonably as to release me from any obligation. +As to Marie Delhasse, I had had enough (so I declared in the hasty +disgust my temper engendered) of Quixotic endeavors to rescue +people who, had they any moral resolution, could well rescue +themselves. There was only one thing left which I might with +dignity undertake—and that was to put as many miles as I +could between the scene of my unappreciated labors and myself. This +I determined to do the very next day, after handing back this +abominable necklace with as little obvious appearance of absurdity +as the action would permit.</p> +<p>It was six o’clock when I reached the hotel and walked +straight up to my room in sulky isolation, looking neither to right +nor left, and exchanging a word with nobody. I tossed the red box +down on the table, and flung myself into an armchair. I had half a +mind to send the box down to Marie Delhasse by the +waiter—with my compliments; but my ill-humor did not carry me +so far as thus to risk betraying her to her mother, and I perceived +that I must have one more interview with her—and the sooner +the better. I rang the bell, meaning to see if I could elicit from +the waiter any information as to the state of affairs on the first +floor and the prospect of finding Marie alone for ten minutes.</p> +<p>I rang once—twice—thrice; the third was a mighty +pull, and had at last the effect of bringing up my friend the +waiter, breathless, hot, and disheveled.</p> +<p>“Why do you keep me waiting like this?” I asked +sternly.</p> +<p>His puffs and pants prevented him from answering for a full +half-minute.</p> +<p>“I was busy on the first floor, sir,” he protested +at last. “I came at the very earliest moment.”</p> +<p>“What’s going on on the first floor?”</p> +<p>“The lady is in a great hurry, sir. She is going away, +sir. She has been taking a hasty meal, and her carriage is ordered +to be round at the door this very minute. And all the luggage had +to be carried down, and—”</p> +<p>I walked to the window, and, putting my head out, saw a closed +carriage, with four trunks and some smaller packages on the roof, +standing at the door.</p> +<p>“Where are they going?” I asked, turning round.</p> +<p>The waiter was gone! A bell ringing violently from below +explained his disappearance, but did not soothe my annoyance. I +rang my bell very forcibly again: the action was a welcome vent for +my temper. Turning back to the window, I found the carriage still +there. A second or two later, Mme. Delhasse, attended by the waiter +who ought to have been looking after me, came out of the hotel and +got into the carriage. She spoke to the waiter, and appeared to +give him money. He bowed and closed the door. The driver started +his horses and made off at a rapid pace toward the carriage-road +down the hill. I watched till the vehicle was out of sight and then +drew my head in, giving a low puzzled whistle and forgetting the +better part of my irritation in the interest of this new +development. Where was the old witch going—and why was she +going alone?</p> +<p>Again I rang my bell; but the waiter was at the door before it +ceased tinkling.</p> +<p>“Where’s she going to?” I asked.</p> +<p>“To the house of the Duke of Saint-Maclou, sir,” he +answered, wiping his brow and sighing for relief that he had got +rid of her.</p> +<p>“And the young lady—where is she?”</p> +<p>“She has already gone, sir.”</p> +<p>“Already gone!” I cried. “Gone where? Gone +when?”</p> +<p>“About two hours ago, sir—very soon after I saw you +go out, sir—a messenger brought a letter for the young lady. +I took it upstairs; she was alone when I entered. When she looked +at the address, sir, she made a little exclamation, and tore the +note open in a manner that showed great agitation. She read it; and +when she had read it stood still, holding it in her hand for a +minute or two. She had turned pale and breathed quickly. Then she +signed to me with her hand to go. But she stopped me with another +gesture, and—and then, sir—”</p> +<p>“Well, well, get on!” I cried.</p> +<p>“Then, sir, she asked if you were in the hotel, and I said +no—you had gone out, I did not know where. Upon that, she +walked to the window, and stood looking out for a time. Then she +turned round to me, and said: ‘My mother was fatigued by her +walk, and is sleeping. I am going out, but I do not wish her +disturbed. I will write a note of explanation. Be so good as to +cause it to be given to her when she wakes.’ She was calm +then, sir; she sat down and wrote, and sealed the note and gave it +to me. Then she caught up her hat, which lay on the table, and her +gloves; and then, sir, she walked out of the hotel.”</p> +<p>“Which way did she go?”</p> +<p>“She went, sir, as if she were making for the footpath +down the hill. An hour or more passed, and then madame’s bell +rang. I ran up and, finding her in the sitting room, I gave her the +note.”</p> +<p>“And what did she say?”</p> +<p>“She read it, and cried ‘Ah!’ in great +satisfaction, and immediately ordered a carriage and that the maid +should pack all her luggage and the young lady’s. Oh! she was +in a great hurry, and in the best of spirits; and she pressed us on +so that I was not able to attend properly to you, sir. And finally, +as you saw, she drove off to the house of the duke, still in high +good humor.”</p> +<p>The waiter paused. I sat silent in thought.</p> +<p>“Is there anything else you wish to know, sir?” +asked the waiter.</p> +<p>Then my much-tried temper gave way again.</p> +<p>“I want to know what the devil it all means!” I +roared.</p> +<p>The waiter drew near, wearing a very sympathetic expression. I +knew that he had always put me down as an admirer of Marie +Delhasse. He saw in me now a beaten rival. Curiously I had +something of the feeling myself.</p> +<p>“There is one thing, sir,” said he. “The +stable-boy told me. The message for Mlle. Delhasse was brought from +a carriage which waited at the bottom of the hill, out of sight of +the town. And—well, sir, the servants wore no livery; but the +boy declares that the horses were those of the Duke of +Saint-Maclou.”</p> +<p>I muttered angrily to myself. The waiter, discreetly ignoring my +words, continued:</p> +<p>“And, indeed, sir, madame expected to meet her daughter. +For I chanced to ask her if she would take with her a bouquet of +roses which she had purchased in the town, and she answered: +‘Give them to me. My daughter will like to have +them.’”</p> +<p>The waiter’s conclusion was obvious. And yet I did not +accept it. For why, if Marie were going to the duke’s, should +she not have aroused her mother and gone with her? That the duke +had sent his carriage for her was likely enough; that he would +cause it to wait outside the town was not impossible; that Marie +had told her mother that she had gone to the duke’s was also +clear from that lady’s triumphant demeanor. But that she had +in reality gone, I could not believe. A sudden thought struck +me.</p> +<p>“Did Mlle. Delhasse,” I asked, “send any +answer to the note that came from the carriage?”</p> +<p>“Ah, sir, I forgot. Certainly. She wrote an answer, and +the messenger carried it away with him.”</p> +<p>“And did the boy you speak of see anything more of the +carriage?”</p> +<p>“He did not pass that way again, sir.”</p> +<p>My mind was now on the track of Marie’s device. The duke +had sent his carriage to fetch her. She, left alone, unable to turn +to me for guidance, determined not to go; afraid to defy +him—more afraid, no doubt, because she could no longer +produce the necklace—had played a neat trick. She must have +sent a message to the duke that she would come with her mother +immediately that the necessary preparations could be made; she had +then written a note to her mother to tell her that she had gone in +the duke’s carriage and looked to her mother to follow her. +And having thus thrown both parties on a false scent, she had put +on her hat and walked quietly out of the hotel. But, then, where +had she walked to? My chain of inference was broken by that missing +link. I looked up at the waiter. And then I cursed my carelessness. +For the waiter’s eyes were no longer fixed on my face, but +were fastened in eloquent curiosity on the red box which lay on my +table. To my apprehensive fancy the Cardinal’s Necklace +seemed to glitter through the case. That did not of course happen; +but a jewel case is easy to recognize, and I knew in a moment that +the waiter discerned the presence of precious stones. Our eyes met. +In my puzzle I could do nothing but smile feebly and +apologetically. The waiter smiled also—but his was a smile of +compassion and condolence. He took a step nearer to me, and with +infinite sympathy in his tone observed:</p> +<p>“Ah, well, sir, do not despair! A gentleman like you will +soon find another lady to value the present more.”</p> +<p>In spite of my vanity—and I was certainly not presenting +myself in a very triumphant guise to the waiter’s +imagination—I jumped at the mistake.</p> +<p>“They are capricious creatures!” said I with a +shrug. “I’ll trouble myself no more about +them.”</p> +<p>“You’re right, sir, you’re right. It’s +one one day, and another another. It’s a pity, sir, to waste +thought on them—much more, good money. You will dine +to-night, sir?” and his tone took a consolatory +inflection.</p> +<p>“Certainly I will dine,” said I; and with a last nod +of intelligence and commiseration, he withdrew.</p> +<p>And then I leaped, like a wildcat, on the box that contained the +Cardinal’s Necklace, intent on stowing it away again in the +seclusion of my coat-pocket. But again I stood with it in my +hand—struck still with the thought that I could not now +return it to Marie Delhasse, that she had vanished leaving it on my +hands, and that, in all likelihood, in three or four hours’ +time the Duke of Saint-Maclou would be scouring the country and +setting every spring in motion in the effort to find the truant +lady, and—what I thought he would be at least anxious +about—the truant necklace. For to give your family heirlooms +away without recompense is a vexatious thing; and ladies who accept +them and vanish with them into space can claim but small +consideration. And, moreover, if the missing property chance to be +found in the possession of a gentleman who is reluctant to explain +his presence, who has masqueraded as a groom with intent to deceive +the owner of the said property, and has no visible business to +bring or keep him on the spot at all—when all this happens, +it is apt to look very awkward for that gentleman.</p> +<p>“You will regret it if you don’t start with +me;” so said Gustave de Berensac. The present was one of the +moments in which I heartily agreed with his prescient prophecy. +Human nature is a poor thing. To speak candidly, I cannot recollect +that, amid my own selfish perplexities, I spared more than one +brief moment to gladness that Marie Delhasse had eluded the pursuit +of the Duke of Saint-Maclou. But I spared another to wishing that +she had thought of telling me to what haven she was bound.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_11" name="chap_11">Chapter XI.</a></h2> +<h4>A Very Clever Scheme.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/11dc.png" alt="I" id= +"img11dc" name="img11dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">I</span> must confess at once that I might +easily have displayed more acumen, and that there would have been +nothing wonderful in my discerning or guessing the truth about +Marie Delhasse’s movements. Yet the truth never occurred to +me, never so much as suggested itself in the shape of a possible +explanation. I cannot quite tell why; perhaps it conflicted too +strongly with the idea of her which possessed me; perhaps it was +characteristic of a temperament so different from my own that I +could not anticipate it. At any rate, be the reason what it may, I +did not seriously doubt that Marie Delhasse had cut the cords which +bound her by a hasty flight from Avranches; and my conviction was +deepened by my knowledge that an evening train left for Paris just +about half an hour after Marie, having played her trick on her +mother and on the Duke of Saint-Maclou, had walked out of the +hotel, no man and no woman hindering her.</p> +<p>Under these circumstances, my work—imposed and voluntary +alike—was done; and the cheering influence of the dinner to +which I sat down so awoke my mind to fresh agility that I found the +task of disembarrassing myself of that old man of the sea—the +Cardinal’s Necklace—no longer so hopeless as it had +appeared in the hungry disconsolate hour before my meal. Nay, I saw +my way to performing, incidentally, a final service to Marie by +creating in the mind of the duke such chagrin and anger as would, I +hoped, disincline him from any pursuit of her. If I could, by one +stroke, restore him his diamonds and convince him, not of +Marie’s virtue, but of her faithlessness, I trusted to be +humbly instrumental in freeing her from his importunity, and of +restoring the jewels to the duchess—nay, of restoring to her +also the undisturbed possession of her home and of the society of +her husband. At this latter prospect I told myself that I ought to +feel very satisfied, and rather to my surprise found myself feeling +not very dissatisfied; for most unquestionably the duchess had +treated me villainously and had entirely failed to appreciate me. +My face still went hot to think of the glance she had given Marie +Delhasse’s maladroit ambassador.</p> +<p>After these reflections and a bottle of Burgundy (I will not +apportion the credit) I rose from the table humming a tune and +started to go upstairs, conning my scheme in a contented mind. As I +passed through the hall the porter handed me a note, saying that a +boy had left it and that there was no answer. I opened and read it; +it was very short and it ran thus:</p> +<p>I wish never to see you again. ELSA.</p> +<p>Now “Elsa” (and I believe that I have not mentioned +the fact before—an evidence, if any were needed, of my +discretion) was the Christian name of the Duchess of Saint-Maclou. +Picking up her dropped handkerchief as we rambled through the +woods, I had seen the word delicately embroidered thereon, and I +had not forgotten this chance information. But why—let those +learned in the ways of women answer if they can—why, first, +did she write at all? Why, secondly, did she tell me what had been +entirely obvious from her demeanor? Why, thirdly, did she choose to +affix to the document which put an end to our friendship a name +which that friendship had never progressed far enough to justify me +in employing? To none of these pertinent queries could I give a +satisfactory reply. Yet, somehow, that “Elsa” standing +alone, shorn of all aristocratic trappings, had a strange +attraction for me, and carried with it a pleasure that the +uncomplimentary tenor of the rest of the document did not entirely +obliterate. “Elsa” wished never to see me again: that +was bad; but it was “Elsa” who was so wicked as to wish +that: that was good. And by a curious freak of the mind it occurred +to me as a hardship that I had not received so much as a note of +one line from—“Marie.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense!” said I aloud and peevishly; and I thrust +the letter into my pocket, cheek by jowl with the Cardinal’s +Necklace. And being thus vividly reminded of the presence of that +undesired treasure, I became clearly resolved that I must not be +arrested for theft merely because the Duchess of Saint-Maclou chose +(from hurry, or carelessness, or what motive you will) to sign a +disagreeable and unnecessary communication with her Christian name +and nothing more, nor because Mlle. Delhasse chose to vanish +without a word of civil farewell. Let them go their ways—I +did not know which of them annoyed me more. Notwithstanding the +letter, notwithstanding the disappearance, my scheme must be +carried out. And then—for home! But the conclusion came glum +and displeasing.</p> +<p>The scheme was very simple. I intended to spend the hours of the +night in an excursion to the duke’s house. I knew that old +Jean slept in a detached cottage about half a mile from the +<em>château</em>. Here I should find the old man. I would +hand to him the necklace in its box, without telling him what the +contents of the box were. Jean would carry the parcel to his +master, and deliver with it a message to the effect that a +gentleman who had left Avranches that afternoon had sent the parcel +by a messenger to the duke, inasmuch as he had reason to believe +that the article contained therein was the property of the duke and +that the duke would probably be glad to have it restored to him. +The significant reticence of this message was meant to inform the +duke that Marie Delhasse was not so solitary in her flight but that +she could find a cavalier to do her errands for her, and one who +would not acquiesce in the retention of the diamonds. I imagined, +with a great deal of pleasure, what the duke’s feelings would +be in face of the communication. Thus, then, the diamonds were to +be restored, the duke disgusted, and I myself freed from all my +troubles. I have often thought since that the scheme was really +very ingenious, and showed a talent for intrigue which has been +notably wanting in the rest of my humble career.</p> +<p>The scheme once prosperously carried through, I should, of +course, take my departure at the earliest moment on the following +day. I might, or I might not, write a line of dignified +remonstrance to the duchess, but I should make no attempt to see +her; and I should most certainly go. Moreover, it would be a long +while before I accepted any of her harum-scarum invitations +again.</p> +<p>“Elsa” indeed! Somehow I could not say it with quite +the indignant scorn which I desired should be manifest in my tone. +I have never been able to be indignant with the duchess; although I +have laughed at her. Now I could be, and was, indignant with Marie +Delhasse; though, in truth, her difficult position pleaded excuses +for her treatment of me which the duchess could not advance.</p> +<p>As the clock of the church struck ten I walked downstairs from +my room, wearing a light short overcoat tightly buttoned up. I +informed the waiter that I was likely to be late, secured the loan +of a latchkey, and left my good friend under the evident impression +that I was about to range the shores of the bay in love-lorn +solitude. Then I took the footpath down the hill and, swinging +along at a round pace, was fairly started on my journey. If the +inference I drew from the next thing I saw were correct, it was +just as well for me to be out of the way for a little while. For, +when I was still about thirty yards from the main road, there +dashed past the end of the lane leading up the hill a carriage and +pair, traveling at full speed. I could not see who rode inside; but +two men sat on the box, and there was luggage on the top. I could +not be sure in the dim light, but I had a very strong impression +that the carriage was the same as that which had conveyed Mme. +Delhasse out of my sight earlier in the evening. If it were so, and +if the presence of the luggage indicated that of its owner, the +good lady, arriving alone, must have met with the scantest welcome +from the duke. And she would return in a fury of anger and +suspicion. I was glad not to meet her; for if she were searching +for explanation, I fancied, from glances she had given me, that I +was likely to come in for a share of her attention. In fact, she +might reasonably have supposed that I was interested in her +daughter; nor, indeed, would she have been wrong so far.</p> +<p>Briskly I pursued my way, and in something over an hour I +reached the turn in the road and, setting my face inland, began to +climb the hill. A mile further on I came on a bypath, and not +doubting from my memory of the direction, that this must be a short +cut to the house, I left the road and struck along the narrow +wooded track. But, although shorter than the road, it was not very +direct, and I found myself thinking it very creditable to the +topographical instinct of my friend and successor, Pierre, that he +should have discovered on a first visit, and without having been to +the house, that this was the best route to follow. With the +knowledge of where the house lay, however, it was not difficult to +keep right, and another forty minutes brought me, now creeping +along very cautiously, alertly, and with open ears, to the door of +old Jean’s little cottage. No doubt he was fast asleep in his +bed, and I feared the need of a good deal of noisy knocking before +he could be awakened from a peasant’s heavy slumber.</p> +<p>My delight was therefore great when I discovered +that—either because he trusted his fellow-men, or because he +possessed nothing in the least worth stealing—he had left his +door simply on the latch. I lifted the latch and walked in. A dim +lantern burned on a little table near the smoldering log-fire. Yet +the light was enough to tell me that my involuntary host was not in +the room. I passed across its short breadth to a door in the +opposite wall. The door yielded to a push; all was dark inside. I +listened for a sleeper’s breathing, but heard nothing. I +returned, took up the lantern, and carried it with me into the +inner room. I held it above my head, and it enabled me to see the +low pallet-bed in the corner. But Jean was not lying in the +bed—nay, it was clear that he had not lain on the bed all +that night. Yet his bedtime was half-past eight or nine, and it was +now hard on one o’clock. Jean was “making a night of +it,” that seemed very clear. But what was the business or +pleasure that engaged him? I admit that I was extremely annoyed. My +darling scheme, on which I had prided myself so much, was tripped +up by the trifling accident of Jean’s absence.</p> +<p>What in the world, I asked again, kept the old man from his bed? +It suddenly struck me that he might, by the duke’s orders, +have accompanied Mme. Delhasse back to Avranches, in order to be +able to report to his master any news that came to light there. He +might well have been the second man on the box. This reflection +removed my surprise at his absence, but not my vexation. I did not +know what to do! Should I wait? But he might not be back till +morning. Wearily, in high disgust, I recognized that the great +scheme had, for tonight at least, gone awry, and that I must tramp +back to Avranches, carrying my old man of the sea, the +Cardinal’s Necklace. For Jean could not read, and it was +useless to leave the parcel with written directions.</p> +<p>I went into the outer room, and set the lantern in its place; I +took a pull at my flask, and smoked a pipe. Then, with a last sigh +of vexation, I grasped my stick in my hand, rose to my feet, and +moved toward the door.</p> +<p>Ah! Hark! There was a footstep outside.</p> +<p>“Thank Heaven, here comes the old fool!” I +murmured.</p> +<p>The step came on, and, as it came, I listened to it; and as I +listened to it, the sudden satisfaction that had filled me as +suddenly died away; for, if that were the step of old Jean, may I +see no difference between the footfalls of an elephant and of a +ballet-dancer! And then, before I had time to form any plan, or to +do anything save stand staring in the middle of the floor, the +latch was lifted again, the door opened, and in walked—the +Duke of Saint-Maclou!</p> +<h2><a id="chap_12" name="chap_12">Chapter XII.</a></h2> +<h4>As a Man Possessed.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/12dc.png" alt="T" id= +"img12dc" name="img12dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">T</span>he dim light served no further than +to show that a man was there.</p> +<p>“Well, Jean, what news?” asked the duke, drawing the +door close behind him.</p> +<p>“I am not Jean,” said I.</p> +<p>“Then who the devil are you, and what are you doing +here?” He advanced and held up the lantern. “Why, what +are you hanging about for?” he exclaimed the next moment, +with a start of surprise.</p> +<p>“And I am not George Sampson either,” said I +composedly. I had no mind to play any more tricks. As I must meet +him, it should be in my own character.</p> +<p>The duke studied me from top to toe. He twirled his mustache, +and a slight smile appeared on his full lips.</p> +<p>“Yet I know you as George Sampson, I think, sir,” +said he, but in an altered tone. He spoke now as though to an +equal—to an enemy perhaps, but to an equal.</p> +<p>I was in some perplexity; but a moment later he relieved me.</p> +<p>“You need trouble yourself with no denials,” he +said. “Lafleur’s story of the gentleman at Avranches, +with the description of him, struck me as strange; and for the +rest—there were two things.”</p> +<p>He seated himself on a stool. I leaned against the wall.</p> +<p>“In the first place,” he continued, “I know my +wife pretty well; in the second, a secret known to four +maidservants— Really, sir, you were very +confiding!”</p> +<p>“I was doing no wrong,” said I; though not, I +confess, in a very convinced tone.</p> +<p>“Then why the masquerade?” he answered quickly, +hitting my weak point.</p> +<p>“Because you were known to be unreasonable.”</p> +<p>His smile broadened a little.</p> +<p>“It’s the old crime of husbands, isn’t +it?” he asked. “Well, sir, I’m no lawyer, and +it’s not my purpose to question you on that matter. I will +put you to no denials.”</p> +<p>I bowed. The civility of his demeanor was a surprise to me.</p> +<p>“If that were the only affair, I need not keep you ten +minutes,” he went on. “At least, I presume that my +friend would find you when he wanted to deliver a message from +me?”</p> +<p>“Certainly. But may I ask why, if that is your intention, +you have delayed so long? You guessed I was at Avranches. Why not +have sent to me?”</p> +<p>The duke tugged his mustache.</p> +<p>“I do not know your name, sir,” he remarked.</p> +<p>“My name is Aycon.”</p> +<p>“I know the name,” and he bowed slightly. +“Well, I didn’t send to you at Avranches because I was +otherwise occupied.”</p> +<p>“I am glad, sir, that you take it so lightly,” said +I.</p> +<p>“And by the way, Mr. Aycon, before you question me, +isn’t there a question I might ask you? How came you here +to-night?” And, as he spoke, his smile vanished.</p> +<p>“I have nothing to say, beyond that I hoped to see your +servant Jean.”</p> +<p>“For what purpose? Come, sir, for what purpose? I have a +right to ask for what purpose.” And his tone rose in +anger.</p> +<p>I was going to give him a straightforward answer. My hand was +actually on the way to the spot where I felt the red box pressing +against my side, when he rose from his seat and strode toward me; +and a sudden passion surged in his voice.</p> +<p>“Answer me! answer me!” he cried. “No, +I’m not asking about my wife; I don’t care a farthing +for that empty little parrot. Answer me, sir, as you value your +life! What do you know of Marie Delhasse?”</p> +<p>And he stood before me with uplifted hand, as though he meant to +strike me. I did not move, and we looked keenly into one +another’s eyes. He controlled himself by a great effort, but +his hands trembled, as he continued:</p> +<p>“That old hag who came to-night and dared to show her +filthy face here without her daughter—she told me of your +talks and walks. The girl was ready to come. Who stopped her? Who +turned her mind? Who was there but +you—you—you?”</p> +<p>And again his passion overcame him, and he was within an ace of +dashing his fist in my face.</p> +<p>My hands hung at my side, and I leaned easily against the +wall.</p> +<p>“Thank God,” said I, “I believe I stopped her! +I believe I turned her mind. I did my best, and except me, nobody +was there.”</p> +<p>“You admit it?”</p> +<p>“I admit the crime you charged me with. Nothing +more.”</p> +<p>“What have you done with her? Where is she now?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” he cried, in angry incredulity. “You +don’t know, don’t you?”</p> +<p>“And if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”</p> +<p>“I’m sure of that,” he sneered. “It is +knowledge a man keeps to himself, isn’t it? But, by Heaven, +you shall tell me before you leave this place, or—”</p> +<p>“We have already one good ground of quarrel,” I +interrupted. “What need is there of another?”</p> +<p>“A good ground of quarrel?” he repeated, in a +questioning tone.</p> +<p>Honestly I believe that he had for the moment forgotten. His +passion for Marie Delhasse and fury at the loss of her filled his +whole mind.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” he went on. “About the duchess? +True, Mr. Aycon. That will serve—as well as the +truth.”</p> +<p>“If that is not a real ground, I know none,” said +I.</p> +<p>“Haven’t you told me that you kept her from +me?”</p> +<p>“For no purposes of my own.”</p> +<p>He drew back a step, smiling scornfully.</p> +<p>“A man is bound to protest that the lady is +virtuous,” said he; “but need he insist so much on his +own virtue?”</p> +<p>“As it so happens,” I observed, “it’s +not a question of virtue.”</p> +<p>I suppose there was something in my tone that caught his +attention, for his scornful air was superseded by an intent puzzled +gaze, and his next question was put in lower tones:</p> +<p>“What did you stay in Avranches for?”</p> +<p>“Because your wife asked me,” said I. The answer was +true enough, but, as I wished to deal candidly with him, I added: +“And, later on, Mlle. Delhasse expressed a similar +desire.”</p> +<p>“My wife and Mlle. Delhasse! Truly you are a +favorite!”</p> +<p>“Honest men happen to be scarce in this +neighborhood,” said I. I was becoming rather angry.</p> +<p>“If you are one, I hope to be able to make them scarcer by +one more,” said the duke.</p> +<p>“Well, we needn’t wrangle over it any more,” +said I; and I sat down on the lid of a chest that stood by the +hearth. But the duke sprang forward and seized me by the arm, +crying again in ungovernable rage:</p> +<p>“Where is she?”</p> +<p>“She is safe from you, I hope.”</p> +<p>“Aye—and you’ll keep her safe!”</p> +<p>“As I say, I know nothing about her, except that +she’d be an honest girl if you’d let her +alone.”</p> +<p>He was still holding my arm, and I let him hold it: the man was +hardly himself under the slavery of his passion. But again, at my +words, the wonder which I had seen before stole into his eyes.</p> +<p>“You must know where she is,” he said, with a +straining look at my face, “but—but—”</p> +<p>He broke off, leaving his sentence unfinished. Then he broke out +again:</p> +<p>“Safe from me? I would make life a heaven for +her!”</p> +<p>“That’s the old plea,” said I.</p> +<p>“Is a thing a lie because it’s old? There’s +nothing in the world I would not give her—nothing I have not +offered her.” Then he looked at me, repeating again: +“You must know where she is.” And then he whispered: +“Why aren’t you with her?”</p> +<p>“I have no wish to be with her,” said I. Any other +reason would not have appealed to him.</p> +<p>He sank down on the stool again and sat in a heap, breathing +heavily and quickly. He was wonderfully transfigured, and I hardly +knew in him the cold harsh man who had been my temporary master and +was the mocking husband of the duchess. Say all that may be said +about his passion, I could not doubt that it was life and death to +him. Justification he had none; excuse I found in my heart for him, +for it struck me—coming over me in a strange sudden +revelation as I sat and looked at him—that he had given such +love to the duchess, the gay little lady would have been +marvelously embarrassed. It was hers to dwell in a radiant +mid-ether, neither to mount to heaver nor descend to hell. And in +one of theses two must dwell such feelings as the +dukes’s.</p> +<p>He roused himself, and leaning forward spoke to me again:</p> +<p>“You’ve lived in the same house with her and talked +to her. You swear you don’t love her? What? Has Elsa’s +little figure come between?”</p> +<p>His tone was full of scorn. He seemed angry with me, not for +presuming to love his wife (nay, he would not believe that), but +for being so blind as not to love Marie.</p> +<p>“I didn’t love her!” I answered, with a frown +on my face and slow words.</p> +<p>“You have never felt attracted to her?”</p> +<p>I did not answer that question. I sat frowning in silence till +the duke spoke again, in a low hoarse whisper:</p> +<p>“And she? What says she to you?”</p> +<p>I looked up with a start, and met his searching wrathful gaze. I +shook my head; his question was new to me—new and +disturbing.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” said I; and on that we sat in +silence for many moments.</p> +<p>Then he rose abruptly and stood beside me.</p> +<p>“Mr. Aycon,” he said, in the smoother tones in which +he had begun our curious interview, “I came near a little +while ago to doing a ruffianly thing, of a sort I am not wont to +do. We must fight out our quarrel in the proper way. Have you any +friends in the neighborhood?”</p> +<p>“I am quite unknown,” I answered.</p> +<p>He thought for an instant, and then continued:</p> +<p>“There is a regiment quartered at Pontorson, and I have +acquaintances among the officers. If agreeable to you, we will +drive over there; we shall find gentlemen ready to assist +us.”</p> +<p>“You are determined to fight?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, with a snap of his lips. “Have +we not matters enough and to spare to fight about?”</p> +<p>“I can’t of course deny that you have a +pretext.”</p> +<p>“And I, Mr. Aycon, know that I have also a cause. Will +this morning suit you?”</p> +<p>“It is hard on two now.”</p> +<p>“Precisely. We have time for a little rest; then I will +order the carriage and we will drive together to +Pontorson.”</p> +<p>“You mean that I should stay in your house?”</p> +<p>“If you will so far honor me. I wish to settle this affair +at once, so as to be moving.”</p> +<p>“I can but accept.”</p> +<p>“Indeed you could hardly get back to Avranches, if, as I +presume, you came on foot. Ah! you’ve never told me why you +wished to see Jean;” and he turned a questioning look on me +again, as he walked toward the door of the cottage.</p> +<p>“It was—” I began.</p> +<p>“Stay; you shall tell me in the house. Shall I lead the +way? Ah, but you know it!” and he smiled grimly.</p> +<p>With a bow, I preceded him along the little path where I had +once waited for the duchess, and where Pierre, the new servant, had +found me. No words passed between us as we went. The duke advanced +to the door and unlocked it. We went in, nobody was about, and we +crossed the dimly lighted hall into the small room where supper had +been laid for three (three who should have been four) on the night +of my arrival. Meat, bread, and wine stood on the table now, and +with a polite gesture the duke invited me to a repast. I was tired +and hungry, and I took a hunch of bread and poured out some +wine.</p> +<p>“What keeps Jean, I wonder?” mused the duke, as he +sat down. “Perhaps he has found her!” and a gleam of +eager hope flashed from his eyes.</p> +<p>I made no comment—where was the profit in more sparring of +words? I munched my bread and drank my wine, thinking, by a +whimsical turn of thought, of Gustave de Berensac and his horror at +the table laid for three. Soon I laid down my napkin, and the duke +held out his cigarette case toward me:</p> +<p>“And now, Mr. Aycon, if I’m not keeping you +up—”</p> +<p>“I do not feel sleepy,” said I.</p> +<p>“It is the same for both of us,” he reminded me, +shrugging his shoulders. “Well, then, if you are +willing—of course you can refuse if you choose—I should +like to hear what brought you to Jean’s quarters on foot from +Avranches in the middle of the night.”</p> +<p>“You shall hear. I did not desire to meet you, if I could +avoid it, and therefore I sought old Jean, with the intention of +making him a messenger to you.”</p> +<p>“For what purpose?”</p> +<p>“To restore to you something which has been left on my +hands and to which you have a better right than I.”</p> +<p>“Pray, what is that?” he asked, evidently puzzled. +The truth never crossed his mind.</p> +<p>“This,” said I; and I took the red leathern box out +of my pocket, and set it down on the table in front of the duke. +And I put my cigarette between my lips and leaned back in my +chair.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_13" name="chap_13">Chapter XIII.</a></h2> +<h4>A Timely Truce.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/13dc.png" alt="I" id= +"img13dc" name="img13dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">I</span> think that at first the Duke of +Saint-Maclou could not, as the old saying goes, believe his eyes. +He sat looking from me to the red box, and from the red box back to +my face. Then he stretched out a slow, wavering hand and drew the +box nearer to him till it rested in the circle of his spread-out +arm and directly under his poring gaze. He seemed to shrink from +opening it; but at last he pressed the spring with a covert timid +movement of his finger, and the lid, springing open, revealed the +Cardinal’s Necklace.</p> +<p>It seemed to be more brilliant than I had ever seen it, in the +light of the lamp that stood on the table by us; and the duke +looked at it as a magician might at the amulet which had failed +him, or a warrior at the talisman that had proved impotent. And I, +moved to a sudden anger with him for tempting the girl with such a +bribe, said bitterly and scornfully, with fresh indignation rising +in me:</p> +<p>“It was a high bid! Strange that you could not buy her +with it!”</p> +<p>He paid no visible heed to my taunt; and his tone was dull, +bewildered, and heavy as, holding the box still in his curved arm, +he asked slowly:</p> +<p>“Did she give it to you to give to me?”</p> +<p>“She gave it to me to give to your wife.” He looked +up with a start. “But your wife would not take it of her. And +when I returned from my errand she was gone—where I know not. +So I decided to send it back to you.”</p> +<p>He did not follow, or took very little interest in my brief +history. He did not even reiterate his belief that I knew +Marie’s whereabouts. His mind was fixed on another point.</p> +<p>“How did you know she had it?” he asked.</p> +<p>“I found her with it on the table before +her—”</p> +<p>“You found her?”</p> +<p>“Yes; I went into her sitting room and found her as I say; +and she was sobbing; and I got from her the story of it.”</p> +<p>“She told you that?”</p> +<p>“Yes; and she feared to send it back, lest you should come +and overbear her resistance. I supposed you had frightened her. But +neither would she keep it—”</p> +<p>“You bade her not,” he put in, in a quick low +tone.</p> +<p>“If you like, I prayed her not. Did it need much +cleverness to see what was meant by keeping it?”</p> +<p>His mouth twitched. I saw the tempest rising again in him. But +for a little longer he held it down.</p> +<p>“Do you take me for a fool?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Am I a boy—do I know nothing of women? And do I +know nothing of men?”</p> +<p>And he ended in a miserable laugh, and then fell again to +tugging his mustache with his shaking hand.</p> +<p>“You know,” said I, “what’s bad in both; +and no doubt that’s a good deal.”</p> +<p>In that very room the duchess had called Gustave de Berensac a +preacher. Her husband had much the same reproach for me.</p> +<p>“Sermons are fine from your mouth,” he muttered.</p> +<p>And then his self-control gave way. With a sweep of his arm he +drove the necklace from him, so that the box whizzed across the +table, balanced a moment on the edge, and fell crashing on the +ground, while the duke cried:</p> +<p>“God’s curse on it and you! You’ve taken her +from me!”</p> +<p>There was danger—there was something like madness—in +his aspect as he rose, and, facing me where I sat, went on in tones +still low, but charged with a rage that twisted his features and +lined his white cheeks:</p> +<p>“Are you a liar or a fool? Have you taken the game for +yourself, or are you fool enough not to see that she has despised +me—and that miserable necklace—for you—because +you’ve caught her fancy? My God! and I’ve given my life +to it for two years past! And you step in. Why didn’t you +keep to my wife? You were welcome to her—though I’d +have shot you all the same for my name’s sake. You must have +Marie too, must you?”</p> +<p>He was mad, if ever man was mad, at that moment. But his words +were strong with the force and clear with the insight of his +passion; and the rush of them carried my mind along, and swept it +with them to their own conclusion. Nay, I will not say +that—for I doubted still; but I doubted as a man who would +deny, not as one who laughs away, a thought. I sat silent, looking, +not at him, but at the Cardinal’s Necklace on the floor.</p> +<p>Then, suddenly, while I was still busy with the thought and +dazzled at the revelation, while I sat bemused, before I could +move, his fingers were on my throat, and his face within a foot of +mine, glaring and working as he sent his strength into his arms to +throttle me. For his wife—and his name—he would fight a +duel: for the sake of Marie Delhasse he would do murder on an +invited stranger in his house. I struggled to my feet, his grip on +my throat; and I stretched out my hands and caught him under the +shoulders in the armpits, and flung him back against the table, and +thence he reeled on to a large cabinet that was by the wall, and +Stood leaning against it.</p> +<p>“I knew you were a villain,” I said, “but I +thought you were a gentleman.” (I did not stop to consider +the theory implied in that.)</p> +<p>He leaned against the cabinet, red with his exertion and +panting; but he did not come at me again. He dashed his hand across +his forehead and then he said in hoarse breathless tones:</p> +<p>“You shan’t leave here alive!”</p> +<p>Then, with a start of recollection, he thrust his hand into his +pocket and brought out a key. He put it in the lock of a drawer of +the cabinet, fumbling after the aperture and missing it more than +once. Then he opened the drawer, took out a pair of dueling +pistols, and laid them on the table.</p> +<p>“They’re loaded,” he said. “Examine them +for yourself.”</p> +<p>I did not move; but I took my little friend out of my +pocket.</p> +<p>“If I’m attacked,” said I, “I shall +defend myself; but I’m not going to fight a duel here, +without witnesses, at the dead of night, in your house.”</p> +<p>“Call it what you like then,” said he; and he +snatched up a pistol from the table.</p> +<p>He was beyond remonstrance, influence, or control. I believe +that in a moment he would have fired; and I must have fired also, +or gone to my death as a sheep to the slaughter. But as he spoke +there came a sound, just audible, which made him pause, with his +right hand that held the pistol raised halfway to the level of his +shoulder.</p> +<p>Faint as the sound was, slight as the interruption it would seem +to offer to the full career of a madman’s fury, it was yet +enough to check him, to call him back to consciousness of something +else in the world than his balked passion and the man whom he +deemed to have thwarted it.</p> +<p>“What’s that?” he whispered.</p> +<p>It was the lowest, softest knock at the door—a knock that +even in asking attention almost shrank from being heard. It was +repeated, louder, yet hardly audibly. The duke, striding on the tip +of his toes, transferred the pistols from the table back to the +drawer, and stood with his hand inside the open drawer: I slid my +weapon into my pocket; and then he trod softly across the floor to +the door.</p> +<p>“One moment!” I whispered.</p> +<p>And I stooped and picked up the Cardinal’s Necklace and +put it back where it had lain before, pushing its box under the +table by a hasty movement of my foot—for the duke, after a +nod of intelligence, was already opening the door. I drew back in +the shadow behind it and waited.</p> +<p>“What do you want?” asked the duke.</p> +<p>And then a girl stepped hastily into the room and closed the +door quickly and noiselessly behind her. I saw her face: she was my +old friend Suzanne. When her eyes fell on me, she started in +surprise, as well she might; but the caution and fear, which had +made her knock almost noiseless, her tread silent, and her face all +astrain with alert alarm, held her back from any cry.</p> +<p>“Never mind him,” said the duke. “That’s +nothing to do with you. What do you want?”</p> +<p>“Hush! Speak low. I thought you would still be up, as you +told me to refill the lamp and have it burning. +There’s—there’s something going on.”</p> +<p>She spoke in a quick, urgent whisper, and in her agitation +remembered no deference in her words of address. “Going on? +Where? Do you mean here?”</p> +<p>“No, no! I heard nothing here. In the duchess’s +dressing-room: it is just under the room where I sleep. I awoke +about half an hour ago, and I heard sounds from there. There was a +sound as of muffled hammering, and then a noise, like the rasping +of a file; and I thought I heard people moving about, but very +cautiously.”</p> +<p>The duke and I were both listening attentively.</p> +<p>“I was frightened, and lay still a little; but then I got +up—for the sounds went on—and put on some clothes, and +came down—”</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you rouse the men? It must be +thieves.”</p> +<p>“I did go to the men’s room; but their door was +locked, and I could not make them hear. I did not dare to knock +loud; but I saw a light in the room, under the door; and if +they’d been awake they would have heard.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps they weren’t there,” I suggested.</p> +<p>Suzanne turned a sudden look on me. Then she said:</p> +<p>“The safe holding the jewels is fixed in the wall of the +duchess’ dressing room. And—and Lafleur knows +it.”</p> +<p>The duke had heard the story with a frowning face; but now a +smile appeared on his lips, and he said:</p> +<p>“Ah, yes! The jewels are there!”</p> +<p>“The—the Cardinal’s Necklace,” whispered +Suzanne.</p> +<p>“True,” said the duke; and his eyes met mine, and we +both smiled. A few minutes ago it had not seemed likely that I +should share a joke—even a rather grim joke—with +him.</p> +<p>“Mr. Aycon,” said he, “are you inclined to +help me to look into this matter? It may be only the girl’s +fancy—”</p> +<p>“No, no; I heard plainly,” Suzanne protested +eagerly.</p> +<p>“But one can never trust these rascally +men-servants.”</p> +<p>“I am quite ready,” said I.</p> +<p>“Our business,” said he, “will +wait.”</p> +<p>“It will be the better for waiting.”</p> +<p>He hesitated a moment; then he assented gravely:</p> +<p>“You’re right—much better.”</p> +<p>He took a pistol out of the drawer, and shut and locked the +drawer. Then he turned to Suzanne and said:</p> +<p>“You had better go back to bed.”</p> +<p>“I daren’t, I daren’t!”</p> +<p>“Then stay here and keep quiet. Mind, not a +sound!”</p> +<p>“Give me a pistol.”</p> +<p>He unlocked the drawer again, and gave her what she asked. Then +signing to me to follow him, he opened the door, and we stepped +together into the dark hall, the duke laying his hand on my arm and +whispering:</p> +<p>“They’re after the necklace.”</p> +<p>We groped slowly, with careful noiselessness, across the hall to +the foot of the great staircase. There we paused and listened. +There was nothing to be heard. We climbed the first flight of +stairs, and the duke turned sharp to the right. We were now in a +short corridor which ran north and south; three yards ahead of us +was another turn, leading to the west wing of the house. There was +a window by us; the duke gently opened it; and over against us, +across the base of the triangle formed by the building, was another +window, four or five yards away. The window was heavily curtained; +no light could be seen through it. But as we stood listening, the +sounds began—first the gentle muffled hammering, then the +sound of the file. The duke still held my arm, and we stood +motionless. The sounds went on for a while. Then they ceased. There +was a pause of complete stillness. Then a sharp, though not loud, +click! And, upon this, the duke whispered to me:</p> +<p>“They’ve got the safe open. Now they’ll find +the small portable safe which holds the necklace.”</p> +<p>And I could make out an amused smile on his pale face. Before I +could speak, he turned and began to crawl away. I followed. We +descended the stairs again to the hall. At the foot he turned +sharply to the left, and came to a standstill in a recess under the +staircase.</p> +<p>“We’ll wait here. Is your pistol all +right?”</p> +<p>“Yes, all right,” said I.</p> +<p>And, as I spoke, the faintest sound spread from the top of the +stairs, and a board creaked under the steps of a man. I was close +against the duke, and I felt him quiver with a stifled laugh. +Meanwhile the Cardinal’s Necklace pressed hard against my +ribs under my tightly buttoned coat.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_14" name="chap_14">Chapter XIV.</a></h2> +<h4>For an Empty Box.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/14dc.png" alt="W" id= +"img14dc" name="img14dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">W</span>hen I look back on the series of +events which I am narrating and try to recover the feelings with +which I was affected in its passage, I am almost amazed and in some +measure ashamed to find how faint is my abhorrence of the Duke of +Saint-Maclou. My indignation wants not the bridle but the whip, and +I have to spur myself on to a becoming vehemence of disapproval. I +attribute my sneaking kindness for him—for to that and not +much less I must plead guilty—partly indeed to the revelation +of a passion in him that seemed to leave him hardly responsible for +the wrong he plotted, but far more to the incidents of this night, +in which I was in a manner his comrade and the partner with him in +an adventure. To have stood shoulder to shoulder with a man blinds +his faults—and the duke bore himself, not merely with the +coolness and courage which I made no doubt of his displaying, but +with a readiness and zest remarkable at any time, but more striking +when they followed on the paroxysm to which I had seen him +helplessly subject. These indications of good in the man mollified +my dislike and attached me to him by a bond which begot toleration +and resists even the clearer and more piercing analysis of memory. +Therefore, when those who speak to me of what he did and sought to +do say what I cannot help admitting to be true, I hold my peace, +thinking that the duke and I have played as partners as well as on +hostile sides, and that I, being no saint, may well hold my tongue +about the faults of a fellow-sinner. Moreover,—and this is +the thing of all strongest to temper or to twist my judgment of +him,—I feel often as though it were he who laid his finger on +my blind eyes and bade me look up and see where lay my happiness. +For it is strange how long a man can go without discovering his own +undermost desire. Yet, when seen, how swift it grows!</p> +<p>Quiet and still we stood in the bay of the staircase, and the +steps over our heads creaked under the feet of the men who came +down. The duke’s hand was on my arm, restraining me, and he +held it there till the feet had passed above us and the stealthy +tread landed on the marble flagging of the hall. We thrust our +heads out and peered through the darkness. I saw the figures of two +men, one following the other toward the front door; this the first +and taller unfastened and noiselessly opened; and he and his +fellow, whom, by the added light which entered, I perceived to be +carrying a box or case of moderate size, waited for a moment on the +threshold. Then they passed out, drawing the door close after +them.</p> +<p>Still the duke held me back, and we rested where we were three +or four minutes. Then he whispered, “Come,” and we +stole across the hall after them and found ourselves outside. It +must have been about half-past two o’clock in the morning; +there was no moon and it was rather dark. The duke turned sharp to +the left and led me to the bypath, and there, a couple of hundred +yards ahead of us, we saw a cube of light that came from a dark +lantern.</p> +<p>The duke’s face was dimly visible, and an amused smile +played on his lips as he said softly:</p> +<p>“Lafleur and Pierre! They think they’ve got the +necklace!”</p> +<p>Was this the meaning of Pierre’s appearance in the role of +my successor? The idea suggested itself to me in a moment, and I +strove to read my companion’s face for a confirmation.</p> +<p>“We’ll see where they go,” he whispered, and +then laid his finger on his lips. Amusement sounded in his voice; +indeed it was impossible not to perceive the humor of the position, +when I felt the Cardinal’s Necklace against my own ribs.</p> +<p>We were walking now under cover of the trees which lined the +sides of the path, so that no backward glance could discover us to +the thieves; and I was wondering how long we were thus to dog their +steps, when suddenly they turned to the left about fifty yards +short of the spot where old Jean’s cottage stood, and +disappeared from our sight. We emerged into the path, the duke +taking the lead. He was walking more briskly now, and I saw him +examine his pistol. When we came where the fellows had turned, we +followed in their track.</p> +<p>The first distant hint of approaching morning caught the tops of +the trees above us, turning them from black to a deep chill gray, +as we paused to listen. Our pursuit had brought us directly behind +the cottage, which now stood about a hundred yards on the right; +and then we came upon them—or rather suddenly stopped and +crouched down to avoid coming upon them—where they were +squatting on the ground with a black iron box between them, and the +lantern’s light thrown on the keyhole of the box. Lafleur +held the lantern; Pierre’s hand was near the lock, and I +presumed—I could not see—that he held some instrument +with which he meant to open it. A ring of trees framed the picture, +and the men sat in a hollow, well hidden from the path even had it +been high day.</p> +<p>The Duke of Saint-Maclou touched my arm, and I leaned forward to +look in his face. He nodded, and, brushing aside the trees, we +sprang out upon the astonished fellows. Fora moment they did not +move, struck motionless with surprise, while we stood over them, +pistols in hand. We had caught them fair and square. Expecting no +interruption, they had guarded against none. Their weapons were in +their pockets, their hands busy with their job. They sprang up the +next moment; but the duke’s muzzle covered Lafleur, and mine +was leveled full at Pierre. A second later Lafleur fell on his +knees with a cry for mercy; the little man stood quite still, his +arms by his side and the iron box hard by his feet. Lafleur’s +protestations and lamentations began to flow fast. Pierre shrugged +his shoulders. The duke advanced, and I kept pace with him.</p> +<p>“Keep your eye on that fellow, Mr. Aycon,” said the +duke; and then he put his left hand in his pocket, took out a key +and flung it in Lafleur’s face. It struck him sharply between +the eyes, and he whined again.</p> +<p>“Open the box,” said the duke. “Open +it—do you hear? This instant!”</p> +<p>With shaking hands the fellow dragged the box from where it lay +by Pierre’s feet, and dropping on his knees began to fumble +with the lock. At last he contrived to unlock it, and raised the +lid. The duke sprang forward and, catching him by the nape of the +neck, crammed his head down into the box, bidding him, +“Look—look—look!” And while he said it he +laughed, and took advantage of Lafleur’s posture to give him +four or five hearty kicks.</p> +<p>“It’s empty!” cried Lafleur, surprise rescuing +him for an instant from the other emotions to which his position +gave occasion. And, as he spoke, for the first time Pierre started, +turning an eager gaze toward the box.</p> +<p>“Yes, it’s empty,” said the duke. “The +necklace isn’t there, is it? Now, tell me all about it, or +I’ll put a bullet through your head!”</p> +<p>Then the story came: disentangled from the excuses and prayers, +it was simply that Pierre was no footman but a noted +thief—that he had long meditated an attack on the +Cardinal’s Necklace; had made Lafleur’s acquaintance in +Paris, corrupted his facile virtue, and, with the aid of forged +testimonials, presented himself in the character in which I had +first made his acquaintance. The rascals had counted on the +duke’s preoccupation with Marie Delhasse for their +opportunity. The duke smiled to hear it. Pierre listened to the +whole story without a word of protest or denial; his +accomplice’s cowardly attempt to present him as the only +culprit gained no more notice than another shrug and a softly +muttered oath. “Destiny,” the little man seemed to say +in the eloquent movement of his shoulders; while the growing light +showed his beady eyes fixed, full and unfaltering, on me.</p> +<p>Lafleur’s prayers died away. The duke, still smiling, set +his pistol against the wretch’s head.</p> +<p>“That’s what you deserve,” said he.</p> +<p>And Lafleur, groveling, caught him by the knees.</p> +<p>“Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!” he +implored.</p> +<p>“Why not?” asked the duke, in the tone of a man +willing to hear the other side, but certain that he would not be +convinced by it. “Why not? We find you stealing—and we +shoot you as you try to escape. I see nothing unnatural or illegal +in it, Lafleur. Nor do I see anything in favor of leaving you +alive.”</p> +<p>And the pistol pressed still on Lafleur’s forehead. +Whether his master meant to shoot, I know not—although I +believe he did. But Lafleur had little doubt of his purpose; for he +hastened to play his best card, and, clinging still to the +duke’s knees, cried desperately:</p> +<p>“If you’ll spare me, I’ll tell you where she +is!”</p> +<p>The duke’s arm fell to his side; and in a changed voice, +from which the cruel bantering had fled, while eager excitement +filled its place, he cried:</p> +<p>“What? Where who is?”</p> +<p>“The lady—Mlle. Delhasse. A girl I know—there +in Avranches—saw her go. She is there now.”</p> +<p>“Where, man, where?” roared the duke, stamping his +foot, and menacing the wretch again with his pistol.</p> +<p>I turned to listen, forgetful of quiet little Pierre and his +alert beady eyes; yet I kept the pistol on him.</p> +<p>And Lafleur cried:</p> +<p>“At the convent—at the convent, on the shores of the +bay!”</p> +<p>“My God!” cried the duke, and his eyes suddenly +turned and flashed on mine; and I saw that the necklace was +forgotten, that our partnership was ended, and that I again, and no +longer the cowering creature before him, was the enemy. And I also, +hearing that Marie Delhasse was at the convent, was telling myself +that I was a fool not to have thought of it before, and wondering +what new impulse had seized the duke’s wayward mind.</p> +<p>Thus neither the duke nor I was attending to the business of the +moment. But there was a man of busy brain, whose life taught him to +profit by the slips of other men and to let pass no opportunities. +Our carelessness gave one now—a chance of escape, and a +chance of something else too. For, while my negligent hand dropped +to my side and my eyes were seeking to read the duke’s face, +the figure opposite me must have been moving. Softly must a deft +hand have crept to a pocket; softly came forth the hidden weapon. +There was a report loud and sudden; and then another. And with the +first, Lafleur, who was kneeling at the duke’s feet and +looking up to see how his shaft had sped, flung his arms wildly +over his head, gave a shriek, and fell dead—his head, +half-shattered, striking the iron box as he fell sideways in a heap +on the ground.</p> +<p>The duke sprang back with an oath, whose sound was engulfed in +the second discharge of Pierre’s pistol: and I felt myself +struck in the right arm; and my weapon fell to the ground, while I +clutched the wounded limb with my left hand.</p> +<p>The duke, after a moment’s hesitation and bewilderment, +raised his pistol and fired; but the active little scoundrel was +safe among the trees, and we heard the twigs cracking and the +leaves rustling as he pushed his way through the wood. He was +gone—scot free for us, but with his score to Lafleur well +paid. I swayed where I stood, to and fro: the pain was +considerable, and things seemed to go round before my eyes; yet I +turned to my companion, crying:</p> +<p>“After him! He’ll get off! I’m hit; I +can’t run!”</p> +<p>The duke stood still, frowning; then he slowly dropped his +smoking pistol into his pocket. For a moment longer he stood, and a +smile broadened on his face as he raised his eyes to me.</p> +<p>“Let him,” he said briefly; and his glance rested on +me for a moment in defiant significance. And then, without another +word, he turned on his heel. He took no heed of Lafleur’s +dead body, that seemed to fondle the box, huddling it in a ghastly +embrace, nor of me, who swayed and tottered and sank on the ground +by the corpse. With set lips and eager eyes he passed me, taking +the road by which we had come. And I, hugging my wounded arm, with +open eyes and parted lips, saw him dive in among the trees and +disappear toward the house. And I looked round on the iron box and +the dead body—two caskets robbed of all that made them more +than empty lumber.</p> +<p>Minute followed minute; and then I heard the hoofs of a horse +galloping at full speed along the road from the house toward +Avranches. Lafleur was dead and done with; Pierre might go his +ways; I lay fainting in the wood; the Cardinal’s Necklace was +still against my side. What recked the Duke of Saint-Maclou of all +that? I knew, as I heard the thud of the hoofs on the road, that by +the time the first reddening rays reached over the horizon he would +be at the convent, seeking the woman who was all the world to +him.</p> +<p>And I sat there helpless, fearful of what would befall her. For +what could a convent full of women avail against his mastering +rage? And a sudden sharp pang ran through me, startling even myself +in its intensity; so that I cried out aloud, raising my sound arm +in the air toward Heaven, like a man who swears a vow:</p> +<p>“By God, no! By God, no—no!”</p> +<h2><a id="chap_15" name="chap_15">Chapter XV.</a></h2> +<h4>I Choose my Way.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/15dc.png" alt="T" id= +"img15dc" name="img15dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">T</span>he dead man lay there, embracing the +empty box that had brought him to his death; and for many minutes I +sat within a yard of him, detained by the fascination and grim +mockery of the picture no less than by physical weakness and a +numbness of my brain. My body refused to act, and my mind hardly +urged its indolent servant. I was in sore distress for Marie +Delhasse,—my vehement cry witnessed it,—yet I had not +the will to move to her aid; will and power both seemed to fail me. +I could fear, I could shrink with horror, but I could not act; nor +did I move till the increasing pain of my wound drove me, as it +might any unintelligent creature, to scramble to my feet and seek, +half-blindly, for some place that should afford shelter and +succor.</p> +<p>Leaving Lafleur and the box where they lay, a pretty spectacle +for a moralist, I stumbled through the wood back to the path, and +stood there in helpless vacillation. At the house I should find +better attendance, but old Jean’s cottage was nearer. The +indolence of weakness gained the day, and I directed my steps +toward the cottage, thinking now, so far as I can recollect, of +none of the exciting events of the night nor even of what the +future still held, but purely and wholly of the fact that in the +cottage I should find a fire and a bed. The root-instincts of the +natural man—the primeval elementary wants—asserted +their supremacy and claimed a monopoly of my mind, driving out all +rival emotions, and with a mighty sigh of relief and content I +pushed open the door of the cottage, staggered across to the fire +and sank down on the stool by it, thanking Heaven for so much, and +telling myself that soon, very soon, I should feel strong enough to +make my way into the inner room and haul out Jean’s pallet +and set it by the fire and stretch my weary limbs, and, if the pain +of my wound allowed me, go to sleep. Beyond that my desires did not +reach, and I forgot all my fears save the one dread that I was too +weak for the desired effort. Certainly it is hard for a man to +think himself a hero!</p> +<p>I took no note of time, but I must have sat where I was for many +minutes, before I heard someone moving in the inner room. I was +very glad; of course it was Jean, and Jean, I told myself with +luxurious self-congratulation, would bring the bed for me, and put +something on my wound, and maybe give me a chink of some fine hot +cognac that would spread life through my veins. Thus I should be +comfortable and able to sleep, and forget all the shadowy +people—they seemed but shadows half-real—that I had +been troubling my brain about: the duke, and Marie, whose face +danced for a moment before my eyes, and that dead fellow who hugged +the box so ludicrously. So I tried to call to Jean, but the trouble +was too great, and, as he would be sure to come out soon, I waited; +and I blinked at the smoldering wood-ashes in the fire till my eyes +closed and the sleep was all but come, despite the smart of my arm +and the ache in my unsupported back.</p> +<p>But just before I had forgotten everything the door of the inner +room creaked and opened. My side was toward it and I did not look +round. I opened my eyes and feebly waved my left hand. Then a voice +came, clear and fresh:</p> +<p>“Jean, is it you? Well, is the duke at the +house?”</p> +<p>I must be dreaming; that was my immediate conviction, for the +voice that I heard was a voice I knew well, but one not likely to +be heard here, in Jean’s cottage, at four o’clock in +the morning. Decidedly I was dreaming, and as in order to dream a +man must be asleep, I was pleased at the idea and nodded happily, +smiling and blinking in self-congratulation. But that pleasant +minute of illusion was my last; for the voice cried in tones too +full of animation, too void of dreamy vagueness, too real and +actual to let me longer set them down as made of my own brain:</p> +<p>“Heaven! Why, it’s Mr. Aycon! How in the world do +you come here?”</p> +<p>To feel surprise at the Duchess of Saint-Maclou doing anything +which she might please to do or being anywhere that the laws of +Nature rendered it possible she should be, was perhaps a +disposition of mind of which I should have been by this time cured; +yet I was surprised to find her standing in the doorway that led +from Jean’s little bedroom dressed in a neat walking gown and +a very smart hat, her hands clasped in the surprise which she +shared with me and her eyes gleaming with an amused delight which +found, I fear, no answer in my heavy bewildered gaze.</p> +<p>“I’m getting warm,” said I at first, but then +I made an effort to rouse myself. “I was a bit hurt, you +know,” I went on; “that little villain +Pierre—”</p> +<p>“Hurt!” cried the duchess, springing forward. +“How? Oh, my dear Mr. Aycon, how pale you are!”</p> +<p>After that remark of the duchess’, I remember nothing +which occurred for a long while. In fact, just as I had apprehended +that I was awake, that the duchess was real, and that it was most +remarkable to find her in Jean’s cottage, I fainted, and the +duchess, the cottage, and everything else vanished from sight and +mind.</p> +<p>When next I became part of the waking world I found myself on +the sofa of the little room in the duke’s house which I was +beginning to know so well. I felt very comfortable: my arm was +neatly bandaged, I wore a clean shirt. Suzanne was spreading a meal +on the table, and the duchess, in a charming morning gown, was +smiling at me and humming a tune. The clock on the mantelpiece +marked a quarter to eight.</p> +<p>“Now I know all about it,” said the duchess, +perceiving my revival. “I’ve heard it all from Suzanne +and Jean—or anyhow I can guess the rest. And you +mustn’t tire yourself by talking. I had you brought here so +that you might be well looked after; because we’re so much +indebted to you, you know.”</p> +<p>“Is the duke here?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, no; it’s all right,” nodded the +duchess. “I don’t know—and I do not +care—where the duke is. Drink this milk, Mr. Aycon. Your +arm’s not very bad, you know—Jean says it isn’t, +I mean—but you’d better have milk first, and something +to eat when you feel stronger.”</p> +<p>The duchess appeared to be in excellent spirits. She caught up a +bit of toast from the table, poured out a cup of coffee, and, still +moving about, began a light breakfast, with every sign of appetite +and enjoyment.</p> +<p>“You’ve come back?” said I, looking at her in +persistent surprise.</p> +<p>Suzanne put the cushions behind my back in a more comfortable +position, smiled kindly on us, and left us.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said the duchess, “I have for the +present, Mr. Aycon.”</p> +<p>“But—but the duke—” I stammered.</p> +<p>“I don’t mind the duke,” said she. +“Besides, he may not come. It’s rather nice that +you’re just a little hurt. Don’t you think so, Mr. +Aycon? Just a little, you know.”</p> +<p>“Why?” was all I found to say. The reason was not +clear to me.</p> +<p>“Why, in the first place, because you can’t fight +till your arm’s well—oh, yes, of course Armand was +going to fight you—and, in the second place, you can and must +stay here. There’s no harm in it, while you’re ill, you +see; Armand can’t say there is. It’s rather funny, +isn’t it, Mr. Aycon?” and she munched a morsel of +toast, and leaned her elbows on the table and sent a sparkling +glance across at me, for all the world as she had done on the first +night I knew her. The cares of the world did not gall the shoulders +of Mme. de Saint-Maclou.</p> +<p>“But why are you here?” said I, sticking to my +point.</p> +<p>The duchess set down the cup of coffee which she had been +sipping.</p> +<p>“I am not particular,” said she. “But I told +the Mother Superior exactly what I told the duke. She +wouldn’t listen any more than he would. However, I was +resolved; so I came here. I don’t see where else I could go, +do you, Mr. Aycon?”</p> +<p>“What did you tell the Mother?”</p> +<p>The duchess stretched one hand across the table, clenching her +small fist and tapping gently with it on the cloth.</p> +<p>“There is one thing that I will not do, Mr. Aycon,” +said she, a touch of red coming in her cheeks and her lips set in +obstinate lines. “I don’t care whether the house is my +house or anybody else’s house, or an inn—yes, or a +convent either. But I will not be under the same roof with Marie +Delhasse.”</p> +<p>And her declaration finished, the duchess nodded most +emphatically, and turned to her cup again.</p> +<p>The name of Marie Delhasse, shot forth from Mme. de +Saint-Maclou’s pouting lips, pierced the cloud that had +seemed to envelop my brain. I sat up on the sofa and looked eagerly +at the duchess.</p> +<p>“You saw her, then, at the convent?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, I met her in the chapel. Really, I should have +expected to be safe from her there. And the Mother would not turn +her out!” And then the duchess, by a sudden transition, said +to me, with a half-apologetic, half challenging smile: “You +got my note, I suppose, Mr. Aycon?”</p> +<p>For a minute I regarded the duchess. And I smiled, and my smile +turned to a laugh as I answered:</p> +<p>“Oh, yes! I got the note.”</p> +<p>“I meant it,” said she. “But I suppose I must +forgive you now. You’ve been so brave, and you’re so +much hurt.” And the duchess’ eyes expressed a +gratifying admiration of my powers.</p> +<p>I fingered my arm, which lay comfortably enough in the bandages +and the sling that Suzanne’s care had provided for it. And I +rose to my feet.</p> +<p>“Oh, you mustn’t move!” cried the duchess, +rising also and coming to where I stood.</p> +<p>“By Jove, but I must!” said I, looking at the clock. +“The duke’s got four hours’ start of +me.”</p> +<p>“What do you want with my husband now?” she asked. +“I don’t see why you should fight him; anyhow, you +can’t fight him till your arm is well.”</p> +<p>The duchess’ words struck on my ear and her dainty little +figure was before my eyes, but my thoughts were absent from +her.</p> +<p>“Don’t go, Mr. Aycon,” said she.</p> +<p>“I must go,” I said. “By this time he’ll +be at the convent.”</p> +<p>A frown gathered on the duchess’ face.</p> +<p>“What concern is it of yours?” she asked. +“I—I mean, what good can you do?”</p> +<p>“I can hardly talk to you about it—” I began +awkwardly; but the duchess saved me the trouble of finishing my +sentence, for she broke in angrily:</p> +<p>“Oh, as if I believe that! Mr. Aycon, why are you +going?”</p> +<p>“I’m going to see that the duke +doesn’t—”</p> +<p>“Oh, you are very anxious—and very good, +aren’t you? Yes, and very chivalrous! Mr. Aycon, I +don’t care what he does;” and she looked at me +defiantly.</p> +<p>“But I do,” said I, and seeing my hat on the cabinet +by the wall, I walked across the room and stretched out my hand for +it. The duchess darted after me and stood between my hat and +me.</p> +<p>“Why do you care?” she asked, with a stamp of her +small foot.</p> +<p>There were, no doubt, many most sound and plausible reasons for +caring—reasons independent of any private feelings of my own +in regard to Marie Delhasse; but not one of them did I give to the +duchess. I stood before her, looking, I fear, very embarrassed, and +avoiding her accusing eyes.</p> +<p>Then the duchess flung her head back, and with passionate scorn +said to me:</p> +<p>“I believe you’re in love with the woman +yourself!”</p> +<p>And to this accusation also I made no reply.</p> +<p>“Are you really going?” she asked, her voice +suddenly passing to a note of entreaty.</p> +<p>“I must go,” said I obstinately, callously, +curtly.</p> +<p>“Then go!” cried the duchess. “And never let +me see you again!”</p> +<p>She moved aside, and I sprang forward and seized my hat. I took +no notice of the duchess, and, turning, I walked straight toward +the door. But before I reached it the duchess flung herself on the +sofa and buried her face in the cushions. I would not leave her +like that, so I stood and waited; but my tongue still refused to +find excuses, and still I was in a fever to be off.</p> +<p>But the duchess rose again and stood upright. She was rather +pale and her lips quivered, but she held out her hand to me with a +smile. And suddenly I understood what I was doing, and that for the +second time the proud little lady before me saw herself left and +neglected for the sake of that woman whose presence made even a +convent uninhabitable to her; and the bitter wound that her pride +suffered was declared in her bearing and in the pathetic effort at +dignity which she had summoned up to hide her pain. Yet, although +on this account I was sorry for her, I discerned nothing beyond +hurt pride, and was angry at the pride for the sake of Marie +Delhasse, and when I spoke it was in defense of Marie Delhasse, and +not in comfort to the duchess.</p> +<p>“She is not what you think,” I said.</p> +<p>The duchess drew herself up to her full height, making the most +of her inches.</p> +<p>“Really, Mr. Aycon,” said she, “you must +forgive me if I do not discuss that.” And she paused, and +then added, with a curl of her lip: “You and my husband can +settle that between you;” and with a motion of her hand she +signed to me to leave her.</p> +<p>Looking back on the matter, I do not know that I had any reason +to be ashamed or to feel myself in any sort a traitor to the +duchess. Yet some such feelings I had as I backed out of the room +leaving her standing there in unwonted immobility, her eyes haughty +and cold, her lips set, her grace congealed to stateliness, her gay +agility frozen to proud stiffness.</p> +<p>And I left her thus standing in obedience to the potent yet +still but half-understood spell which drew me from her side and +would not suffer me to rest, while the Duke of Saint-Maclou was +working his devices in the valley beneath the town of +Avranches.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_16" name="chap_16">Chapter XVI.</a></h2> +<h4>The Inn near Pontorson.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/16dc.png" alt="T" id= +"img16dc" name="img16dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">T</span>he moment I found myself outside the +house—and I must confess that, for reasons which I have +indicated, it was a relief to me to find myself there—I +hastened to old Jean’s cottage. The old man was eating his +breakfast; his stolidity was unshaken by the events of the night; +he manifested nothing beyond a mild satisfaction that the two +rascals had justified his opinion of them, and a resigned regret +that Pierre had not shared the fate of Lafleur. He told me that his +inquiries after Marie Delhasse had been fruitless, and added that +he supposed there would be a police inquiry into the attempted +robbery and the consequent death of Lafleur; indeed he was of +opinion that the duke had gone to Avranches to arrange for it as +much as to prosecute his search for Marie. I seized the opportunity +to suggest that I should be a material witness, and urged him to +give me one of the duke’s horses to carry me to Avranches. He +grumbled at my request, declaring that I should end by getting him +into trouble; but a few francs overcame his scruples, and he +provided me with a sturdy animal, which I promised to bring or send +back in the course of the day.</p> +<p>Great as my impatience was, I was compelled to spend the first +hour of my arrival at Avranches under the doctor’s hands. He +discovered to my satisfaction that the bullet had not lodged in my +arm and that my hurt was no more than a flesh-wound, which would, +if all went well, heal in a few days. He enjoined perfect rest and +freedom from worry and excitement. I thanked him, bowed myself out, +mounted again, and rode to the hotel, where I left my horse with +instructions for its return to its owner. Then, at my best speed, I +hastened down the hill again, reached the grounds of the convent, +and approached the door. Perfect rest and freedom from excitement +were unattainable until I had learned whether Marie Delhasse was +still safe within the old white walls which I saw before me; for, +though I could not trace how the change in me had come, nor track +its growth, I knew now that if she were there the walls held what +was of the greatest moment to me in all the world, and that if she +were not there the world was a hell to me until I found her.</p> +<p>I was about to ring the bell, when from the gate of the +burial-ground the Mother Superior came at a slow pace. The old +woman was frowning as she walked, and her frown deepened at sight +of me. But I, caring nothing for what she thought, ran up to her, +crying before I had well reached her:</p> +<p>“Is Marie Delhasse still here?”</p> +<p>The Mother stopped dead, and regarded me with +disapprobation.</p> +<p>“What business is it of yours, sir, where the young woman +is?” she asked.</p> +<p>“I mean her no harm,” I urged eagerly. “If she +is safe here, I ask to know no more; I don’t even ask to see +her. Is she here? The Duchess of Saint-Maclou told me that you +refused to send her away.”</p> +<p>“God forbid that I should send away any sinner who will +find refuge here,” she said solemnly. “You have seen +the duchess?”</p> +<p>“Yes; she is at home. But Mlle. Delhasse?”</p> +<p>But the old woman would not be hurried. She asked again:</p> +<p>“What concern have you, sir, with Marie +Delhasse?”</p> +<p>I looked her in the face as I answered plainly:</p> +<p>“To save her from the Duke of Saint-Maclou.”</p> +<p>“And from her own mother, sir?”</p> +<p>“Yes, above all from her own mother.”</p> +<p>The old woman started at my words; but there was no change in +the level calm of her voice as she asked:</p> +<p>“And why would you rescue her?”</p> +<p>“For the same reason that any gentleman would, if he +could. If you want more—”</p> +<p>She held up her hand to silence me; but her look was gentler and +her voice softer, as she said:</p> +<p>“You, sir, cannot save, and I cannot save, those who will +not let God himself save them.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” I cried in a frenzy of fear and +eagerness.</p> +<p>“I had prayed for her, and talked with her. I thought I +had seen grace in her. Well, I know not. It is true that she acted +as her mother bade her. But I fear all is not well.”</p> +<p>“I pray you to speak plainly. Where is she?”</p> +<p>“I do not know where she is. What I know, sir, you shall +know, for I believe you come in honesty. This morning—some +two hours ago—a carriage drove from the town here. Mme. +Delhasse was in it, and with her the Duke of Saint-Maclou. I could +not refuse to let the woman see her daughter. They spoke together +for a time; and then they called me, and Marie—yes, Marie +herself—begged me to let her see the duke. So they came here +where we stand, and I stood a few yards off. They talked earnestly +in low tones. And at last Marie came to me (the others remaining +where they were), and took my hand and kissed it, thanking me and +bidding me adieu. I was grieved, sir, for I trusted that the girl +had found peace here; and she was in the way to make us love her. +‘Does your mother bid you go?’ I asked, ‘And will +she save you from all harm?’ And she answered: ‘I go of +my own will, Mother; but I go hoping to return.’ ‘You +swear that you go of your own will?’ I asked. ‘Yes, of +my own will,’ she said firmly; but she was near to weeping as +she spoke. Yet what could I do? I could but tell her that our +door—God’s door—was never shut. That I told her; +and with a heavy heart, being able to do nothing else, I let her +go. I pray God no harm come of it. But I thought the man’s +face wore a look of triumph.”</p> +<p>“By Heaven,” I cried, “it shall not wear it +for long! Which way did they go?”</p> +<p>She pointed to the road by the side of the bay, leading away +from Avranches.</p> +<p>“That way. I watched the carriage and its dust till I saw +it no more, because of the wood that lies between here and the +road. You pursue them, sir?”</p> +<p>“To the world’s end, madame, if I must.”</p> +<p>She sighed and opened her lips to speak, but no words came; and +without more, I turned and left her, and set my face to follow the +carriage. I was, I think, half-mad with anger and bewilderment, for +I did not think that it would be time well spent to ascend to the +town and obtain a vehicle or a horse; but I pressed on afoot, weary +and in pain as I was, along the hot white road. For now indeed my +heart was on fire, and I knew that beside Marie Delhasse everything +was nothing. So at first imperceptibly, slowly, and unobserved, but +at the last with a swift resistless rush, the power of her beauty +and of the soul that I had seemed to see in her won upon me; and +that moment, when I thought that she had yielded to her enemy and +mine, was the flowering and bloom of my love for her.</p> +<p>Where had they gone? Not to the duke’s house, or I should +have met them as I rode down earlier in the morning. Then where? +France was wide, and the world wider: my steps were slow. Where lay +the use of the chase? In the middle of the road, when I had gone +perhaps a mile, I stopped dead. I was beaten and sick at heart, and +I searched for a nook of shade by the wayside, and flung myself on +the ground; and the ache of my arm was the least of my pain.</p> +<p>As I lay there, my eye caught sight of a cloud of dust on the +road. For a moment I scanned it eagerly, and then fell back with a +curse of disappointment. It was caused by a man on a +horse—and the man was not the duke. But in an instant I was +sitting up again—for as the rider drew nearer, trotting +briskly along, his form and air was familiar to me; and when he +came opposite to me, I sprang up and ran out to meet him, crying +out to him:</p> +<p>“Gustave! Gustave!”</p> +<p>It was Gustave de Berensac, my friend. He reined in his horse +and greeted me—and he greeted me without surprise, but not +without apparent displeasure.</p> +<p>“I thought I should find you here still,” said he. +“I rode over to seek you. Surely you are not at the +duchess’?”</p> +<p>His tone was eloquent of remonstrance.</p> +<p>“I’ve been staying at the inn.”</p> +<p>“At the inn?” he repeated, looking at me curiously. +“And is the duchess at home?”</p> +<p>“She’s at home now. How come you here?”</p> +<p>“Ah, my friend, and how comes your arm in a sling? Well, +you shall have my story first. I expect it will prove shorter. I am +staying at Pontorson with a friend who is quartered +there.”</p> +<p>“But you went to Paris.”</p> +<p>Gustave leaned clown to me, and spoke in a low impressive +tone:</p> +<p>“Gilbert,” said he, “I’ve had a blow. +The day after I got to Paris I heard from Lady Cynthia. She’s +going to be married to a countryman of yours.”</p> +<p>Gustave looked very doleful. I murmured condolence, though in +truth I cared, just then, not a straw about the matter.</p> +<p>“So,” he continued, “I seized the first +opportunity for a little change.”</p> +<p>There was a pause. Gustave’s mournful eye ranged over the +landscape. Then he said, in a patient, sorrowful voice:</p> +<p>“You said the duchess was at home?”</p> +<p>“Yes, she’s at home now.”</p> +<p>“Ah! I ask again, because as I passed the inn on the way +between here and Pontorson I saw in the courtyard—”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, what?” cried I in sudden eagerness.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, man? I saw a carriage with some +luggage on it, and it looked like the duke’s, +and—Hallo! Gilbert, where are you going?”</p> +<p>“I can’t wait, I can’t wait!” I called, +already three or four yards away.</p> +<p>“But I haven’t heard how you got your +arm—”</p> +<p>“I can’t tell you now. I can’t +wait!”</p> +<p>My lethargy had vanished; I was hot to be on my way again.</p> +<p>“Is the man mad?” he cried; and he put his horse to +a quick walk to keep up with me.</p> +<p>I stopped short.</p> +<p>“It would take all day to tell you the story,” I +said impatiently.</p> +<p>“Still I should like to know—”</p> +<p>“I can’t help it. Look here, Gustave, the duchess +knows. Go and see her. I must go on now.”</p> +<p>Across the puzzled mournful eyes of the rejected lover and +bewildered friend I thought I saw a little gleam.</p> +<p>“The duchess?” said he.</p> +<p>“Yes, she’s all alone. The duke’s not +there.”</p> +<p>“Where is the duke?” he asked; but, as it struck me, +now rather in precaution than in curiosity.</p> +<p>“That’s what I’m going to see,” said +I.</p> +<p>And with hope and resolution born again in my heart I broke into +a fair run, and, with a wave of my hand, left Gustave in the middle +of the road, staring after me and plainly convinced that I was mad. +Perhaps I was not far from that state. Mad or not, in any case +after three minutes I thought no more of my good friend Gustave de +Berensac, nor of aught else, save the inn outside Pontorson, just +where the old road used to turn toward Mont St. Michel. To that +goal I pressed on, forgetting my weariness and my pain. For it +might be that the carriage would still stand in the yard, and that +in the house I should come upon the object of my search.</p> +<p>Half an hour’s walk brought me to the inn, and there, to +my joy, I saw the carriage drawn up under a shed side by side with +the inn-keeper’s market cart. The horses had been taken out; +there was no servant in sight. I walked up to the door of the inn +and passed through it. And I called for wine.</p> +<p>A big stout man, wearing a blouse, came out to meet me. The inn +was a large one, and the inn-keeper was evidently a man of some +consideration, although he wore a blouse. But I did not like the +look of him, for he had shifty eyes and a bloated face. Without a +word he brought me what I ordered and set it down in a little room +facing the stable yard.</p> +<p>“Whose carriage is that under your shed?” I asked, +sipping my wine.</p> +<p>“It is the carriage of the Duke of Saint-Maclou, +sir,” he answered readily enough.</p> +<p>“The duke is here, then?”</p> +<p>“Have you business with him, sir?”</p> +<p>“I did but ask you a simple question,” said I. +“Ah! what’s that? Who’s that?”</p> +<p>I had been looking out of the window, and my sudden exclamation +was caused by this—that the door of a stable which faced me +had opened very gently, and but just wide enough to allow a face to +appear for an instant and then disappear. And it seemed to me that +I knew the face, although the sight of it had been too short to +make me sure.</p> +<p>“What did you see, sir?” asked the inn-keeper. (The +name on his signboard was Jacques Bontet.)</p> +<p>I turned and faced him full.</p> +<p>“I saw someone look out of the stable,” said I.</p> +<p>“Doubtless the stable-boy,” he answered; and his +manner was so ordinary, unembarrassed, and free from alarm, that I +doubted whether my eyes had not played me a trick, or my +imagination played one upon my eyes.</p> +<p>Be that as it might, I had no time to press my host further at +that moment; for I heard a step behind me and a voice I knew +saying:</p> +<p>“Bontet, who is this gentleman?”</p> +<p>I turned. In the doorway of the room stood the Duke of +Saint-Maclou. He was in the same dress as when he had parted from +me; he was dusty, his face was pale, and the skin had made bags +under his eyes. But he stood looking at me composedly, with a smile +on his lips.</p> +<p>“Ah!” said he, “it is my friend Mr. Aycon. +Bontet, bring me some wine, too, that I may drink with my +friend.” And he added, addressing me: “You will find +our good Bontet most obliging. He is a tenant of mine, and he will +do anything to oblige me and my friends. Isn’t it so, +Bontet?”</p> +<p>The fellow grunted a surly and none too respectful assent, and +left the room to fetch the duke his wine. Silence followed on his +departure for some seconds. Then the duke came up to where I stood, +folded his arms, and looked me full in the face.</p> +<p>“It is difficult to lose the pleasure of your company, +sir,” he said.</p> +<p>“If you will depart from here alone,” I retorted, +“you shall find it the easiest thing in the world. For, in +truth, it is not desire for your society that brings me +here.”</p> +<p>He lifted a hand and tugged at his mustache.</p> +<p>“You have, perhaps, been to the convent?” he +hazarded.</p> +<p>“I have just come from there,” I rejoined.</p> +<p>“I am not an Englishman,” said he, curling the end +of the mustache, “and I do not know how plain an intimation +need be to discourage one of your resolute race. For my part, I +should have thought that when a lady accepts the escort of one +gentleman, it means that she does not desire that of +another.”</p> +<p>He said this with a great air and an assumption of dignity that +contrasted strongly with the unrestrained paroxysms of the night +before. I take it that success—or what seems such—may +transform a man as though it changed his very skin. But I was not +skilled to cross swords with him in talk of that kind, so I put my +hands in my pockets and leaned against the shutter and said +bluntly:</p> +<p>“God knows what lies you told her, you see.”</p> +<p>His white face suddenly flushed; but he held himself in and +retorted with a sneer:</p> +<p>“A disabled right arm gives a man fine courage.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense!” said I. “I can aim as well with my +left;” and that indeed was not very far from the truth. And I +went on: “Is she here?”</p> +<p>“Mme. and Mlle. Delhasse are both here, under my +escort.”</p> +<p>“I should like to see Mlle. Delhasse,” I +observed.</p> +<p>He answered me in low tones, but with the passion in him closer +to the surface now and near on boiling up through the thin film of +his self-restraint:</p> +<p>“So long as I live, you shall never see her.”</p> +<p>But I cared not, for my heart leaped in joy at his words. They +meant to me that he dared not let me see her; that, be the meaning +of her consent to go with him what it might, yet he dared not match +his power over her against mine. And whence came the power he +feared? It could be mine only if I had touched her heart.</p> +<p>“I presume she may see whom she will,” said I still +carelessly.</p> +<p>“Her mother will protect her from you with my +help.”</p> +<p>There was silence for a minute. Then I said:</p> +<p>“I will not leave here without seeing her.”</p> +<p>And a pause followed my words till the duke, fixing his eyes on +mine, answered significantly:</p> +<p>“If you leave here alive to-night, you are welcome to take +her with you.”</p> +<p>I understood, and I nodded my head.</p> +<p>“My left arm is as sound as yours,” he added; +“and, maybe, better practiced.”</p> +<p>Our eyes met again, and the agreement was sealed. The duke was +about to speak again, when a sudden thought struck me. I put my +hand in my pocket and drew out the Cardinal’s Necklace. And I +flung it on the table before me, saying:</p> +<p>“Let me return that to you, sir.”</p> +<p>The duke stood regarding the necklace for a moment, as it lay +gleaming and glittering on the wooden table in the bare inn parlor. +Then he stepped up to the table, but at the moment I cried:</p> +<p>“You won’t steal her away +before—before—”</p> +<p>“Before we fight? I will not, on my honor.” He +paused and added: “For there is one thing I want more even +than her.”</p> +<p>I could guess what that was.</p> +<p>And then he put out his hand, took up the necklace, and thrust +it carelessly into the pocket of his coat. And looking across the +room, I saw the inn-keeper, Jacques Bontet, standing in the doorway +and staring with all his eyes at the spot on the table where the +glittering thing had for a moment lain; and as the fellow set down +the wine he had brought for the duke, I swear that he trembled as a +man who has seen a ghost; for he spilled some of the wine and +chinked the bottle against the glass. But while I stared at him, +the duke lifted his glass and bowed to me, saying, with a smile and +as though he jested in some phrase of extravagant friendship for +me:</p> +<p>“May nothing less than death part you and me?”</p> +<p>And I drank the toast with him, saying “Amen.”</p> +<h2><a id="chap_17" name="chap_17">Chapter XVII.</a></h2> +<h4>A Reluctant Intrusion.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/17dc.png" alt="A" id= +"img17dc" name="img17dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">A</span>s Bontet the inn-keeper set the wine +on the table before the Duke of Saint-Maclou, the big clock in the +hall of the inn struck noon. It is strange to me, even now when the +story has grown old in my memory, to recall all that happened +before the hands of that clock pointed again to twelve. And last +year when I revisited the neighborhood and found a neat new house +standing on the site of the ramshackle inn, I could not pass by +without a queer feeling in my throat; for it was there that the +results of the duchess’ indiscretion finally worked +themselves out to their unexpected, fatal, and momentous ending. +Seldom, as I should suppose, has such a mixed skein of good and +evil, of fatality and happiness, been spun from material no more +substantial than a sportive lady’s idle freak.</p> +<p>“By the way, Mr. Aycon,” said the duke, after we had +drunk our toast, “I have had a message from the magistrate at +Avranches requesting our presence to-morrow morning at eleven +o’clock. An inquiry has to be held into the death of that +rascal Lafleur, and our evidence must be taken. It is a mere +formality, the magistrate is good enough to assure me, and I have +assured him that we shall neither of us allow anything to interfere +with our waiting on him, if we can possibly do so.”</p> +<p>“I could have sent no other message myself,” said +I.</p> +<p>“I will also,” continued the duke, “send word +by Bontet here to those two friends of mine at Pontorson. It would +be dull for you to dine alone with me, and, as the evening promises +to be fine, I will ask them to be here by five o’clock, and +we will have a stroll on the sands and a nearer look at the Mount +before our meal. They are officers who are quartered +there.”</p> +<p>“Their presence,” said I, “will add greatly to +the pleasure of the evening.”</p> +<p>“Meanwhile, if you will excuse me, I shall take an hour or +two’s rest. We missed our sleep last night, and we should +wish to be fresh when our guests arrive. If I might advise +you—”</p> +<p>“I am about to breakfast, after that I may follow your +advice.”</p> +<p>“Ah, you’ve not breakfasted? You can’t do +better, then. <em>Au revoir</em>;” and with a bow he left me, +calling to Bontet to follow him upstairs and wait for the note +which was to go to the officers at Pontorson. It must be admitted +that the duke conducted the necessary arrangements with much +tact.</p> +<p>In a quarter of an hour my breakfast was before me, and I seated +myself with my back to the door and my face to the window. I had +plenty to think about as I ate; but my chief anxiety was by some +means to obtain an interview with Marie Delhasse, not with a view +to persuading her to attempt escape with me before the +evening—for I had made up my mind that the issue with the +duke must be faced now, once for all—but in the hope of +discovering why she had allowed herself to be persuaded into +leaving the convent. Until I knew that, I was a prey to wretched +doubts and despondency, which even my deep-seated confidence in her +could not overcome. Fortunately I had a small sum of money in my +pocket, and I felt sure that Bontet’s devotion to the duke +would not be proof against an adequate bribe: perhaps he would be +able to assist me in eluding the vigilance of Madame Delhasse and +obtaining speech with her daughter.</p> +<p>Bontet, detained as I supposed by the duke, had left a +kitchen-girl to attend on me; but I soon saw him come out into the +yard, carrying a letter in his hand. He walked slowly across to the +stable door, at which the face, suddenly presented and withdrawn, +had caught my attention. He stopped before the door a moment, then +the door opened. I could not see whether he opened it or whether it +was unlocked from within, for his burly frame obstructed my view; +but the pause was long enough to show that more than the lifting of +a latch was necessary. And that I thought worth notice. The door +closed after Bontet. I rose, opened my window and listened; but the +yard was broad and no sound reached me from the stable.</p> +<p>I waited there five minutes perhaps. The inn-keeper did not +reappear, so I returned to my place. I had finished my meal before +he came out. This time I was tolerably sure that the door was +closed behind him by another hand, and I fancied that I heard the +click of a lock. Also I noticed that the letter was no longer +visible—of course, he might have put it in his pocket. +Jumping up suddenly as though I had just chanced to notice him, I +asked him if he were off to Pontorson, or, if not, had he a moment +for conversation.</p> +<p>“I am going in a few minutes, sir,” he answered; +“but I am at your service now.”</p> +<p>The words were civil enough, but his manner was surly and +suspicious. Lighting a cigarette, I sat down on the window-sill, +while he stood just outside.</p> +<p>“I want a bedroom,” said I. “Have you one for +me?”</p> +<p>“I have given you the room on the first floor, immediately +opposite that of the duke.”</p> +<p>“Good. And where are the ladies lodged?”</p> +<p>He made no difficulty about giving me an answer.</p> +<p>“They have a sitting room on the first floor,” he +answered, “but hitherto they have not used it. They have two +bedrooms, connected by an interior door, on the second floor, and +they have not left them since their arrival.”</p> +<p>“Has the duke visited them there?”</p> +<p>“I don’t think he has seen them. They had a +conversation on their arrival;” and the fellow grinned.</p> +<p>Now was my time. I took a hundred-franc note out of my pocket +and held it in my hand so that he could see the figures on it. I +hoped that he would not be exorbitant, for I had but one more and +some loose napoleons in my pocket.</p> +<p>“What was the conversation about?” I asked.</p> +<p>He put out his hand for the note; but I kept my grasp on it. +Honesty was not written large—no, nor plain to read—on +Bontet’s fat face.</p> +<p>“I heard little of it; but the young lady said, as they +hurried upstairs: ‘Where is he? Where is +he?’”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes!”</p> +<p>And I held out the note to him. He had earned it. And greedily +he clutched it, and stowed it in his breeches pocket under his +blouse.</p> +<p>“I heard no more; they hurried her up; the old lady had +her by one arm and the duke by the other. She looked +distressed—why, I know not; for I suppose”—here a +sly grin spread over the fellow’s face—“that the +pretty present I saw is for her.”</p> +<p>“It’s the property of the duke,” I said.</p> +<p>“But gentlemen sometimes make presents to ladies,” +he suggested.</p> +<p>“It may be his purpose to do so. Bontet, I want to see the +young lady.”</p> +<p>He laughed insolently, kicking his toe against the wall.</p> +<p>“What use, unless you have a better present, sir? But +it’s nothing to me. If you can manage it, you’re +welcome.”</p> +<p>“But how am I to manage it? Come, earn your money, and +perhaps you’ll earn more.”</p> +<p>“You’re liberal, sir;” and he stared at me as +though he were trying to look into my pocket and see how much money +was there. I was glad that his glance was not so penetrating. +“But I can’t help you. Stay, though. The old lady has +ordered coffee for two in the sitting-room, and bids me rouse the +duke when it is ready: so perhaps the young lady will be left alone +for a time. If you could steal up—”</p> +<p>I was not in the mood to stand on a punctilio. My brain was +kindled by Marie’s words, “Where is he?” Already +I was searching for their meaning and finding what I wished. If I +could see her, and learn the longed-for truth from her, I should go +in good heart to my conflict with the duke.</p> +<p>“Go to your room,” said Bontet, whom my prospective +<em>largesse</em> had persuaded to civility and almost to +eagerness, “and wait. If madame and the duke go there, +I’ll let you know. But you must risk meeting them.”</p> +<p>“I don’t mind about that,” said I; and, in +truth, nothing could make my relations with the pair more hostile +than they were already.</p> +<p>My business with Bontet was finished; but I indulged my +curiosity for a moment.</p> +<p>“You have a good stable over there, I see,” I +remarked. “How many horses have you there?”</p> +<p>The fellow turned very red: all signs of good humor vanished +from his face; my bribe evidently gave me no right to question him +on that subject.</p> +<p>“There are no horses there,” he grunted. “The +horses are in the new stable facing the road. This one is +disused.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I saw you come out from there, and I +thought—”</p> +<p>“I keep some stores there,” he said sullenly.</p> +<p>“And that’s why it’s kept locked?” I +asked at a venture.</p> +<p>“Precisely, sir,” he replied. But his uneasy air +confirmed my suspicions as to the stable. It hid some secret, I was +sure. Nay, I began to be sure that my eyes had not played me false, +and that I had indeed seen the face I seemed to see. If that were +so, friend Bontet was playing a double game and probably enjoying +more than one paymaster.</p> +<p>However, I had no leisure to follow that track, nor was I much +concerned to attempt the task. The next day would be time—if +I were alive the next day: and I cared little if the secret were +never revealed. It was nothing to me—for it never crossed my +mind that fresh designs might be hatched in the stable. Dismissing +the matter, I did as Bontet advised, and walked upstairs to my +room; and as luck would have it, I met Mme. Delhasse plump on the +landing, she being on her way to the sitting room. I bowed low. +Madame gave me a look of hatred and passed by me. As she displayed +no surprise, it was evident that the duke had carried or sent word +of my arrival. I was not minded to let her go without a word or +two.</p> +<p>“Madame—” I began; but she was too quick for +me. She burst out in a torrent of angry abuse. Her resentment, +dammed so long for want of opportunity, carried her away. To speak +soberly and by the card, the woman was a hideous thing to see and +hear; for in her wrath at me, she spared not to set forth in +unshamed plainness her designs, nor to declare of what rewards, +promised by the duke, my interference had gone near to rob her and +still rendered uncertain. Her voice rose, for all her efforts to +keep it low, and she mingled foul words of the duchess and of me +with scornful curses on the virtue of her daughter. I could say +nothing; I stood there wondering that such creatures lived, amazed +that Marie Delhasse must call such an one her mother.</p> +<p>Then in the midst of her tirade, the duke, roused without +Bontet’s help, came out of his room, and waited a moment +listening to the flow of the torrent. And, strange as it seemed, he +smiled at me and shrugged his shoulders, and I found myself smiling +also; for disgusting as the woman was, she was amusing, too. And +the duke went and caught her by the shoulder and said:</p> +<p>“Come, don’t be silly, mother. We can settle our +accounts with Mr. Aycon in another way than this.”</p> +<p>His touch and words seemed to sober her—or perhaps her +passion had run its course. She turned to him, and her lips parted +with a smile, a cunning and—if my opinion be +asked—loathsome smile; and she caressed the lapel of his coat +with her hand. And the duke, who was smoking, smoked on, so that +the smoke blew in her face, and she coughed and choked: whereat the +duke also smiled. He set the right value on his instrument, and +took pleasure in showing how he despised her.</p> +<p>“My dear, dear duke, I have such news for you—such +news?” she said, ignoring, as perforce she must, his +rudeness. “Come in here, and leave that man.”</p> +<p>At this the duke suddenly bent forward, his scornful, insolent +toleration giving place to interest.</p> +<p>“News?” he cried, and he drew her toward the door to +which she had been going, neither of them paying any more attention +to me. And the door closed upon them.</p> +<p>The duke had not needed Bontet’s rousing. I did not need +Bontet to tell me that the coast was clear. With a last alert +glance at the door, I trod softly across the landing and reached +the stairs by which Mlle. Delhasse had descended. Gently I mounted, +and on reaching the top of the flight found a door directly facing +me. I turned the handle, but the door was locked. I rattled the +handle cautiously—and then again, and again. And presently I +heard a light, timid, hesitating step inside; and through the door +came, in the voice of Marie Delhasse:</p> +<p>“Who’s there?”</p> +<p>And I answered at once, boldly, but in a low voice:</p> +<p>“It is I. Open the door.”</p> +<p>She, in her turn, knew my voice; for the door was opened, and +Marie Delhasse stood before me, her face pale with weariness and +sorrow, and her eyes wide with wonder. She drew back before me, and +I stepped in and shut the door, finding myself in a rather large, +sparely furnished room. A door opposite was half-open. On the bed +lay a bonnet and a jacket which certainly did not belong to +Marie.</p> +<p>Most undoubtedly I had intruded into the bedchamber of that +highly respectable lady, Mme. Delhasse. I can only plead that the +circumstances were peculiar.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_18" name="chap_18">Chapter XVIII.</a></h2> +<h4>A Strange Good Humor.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/18dc.png" alt="F" id= +"img18dc" name="img18dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">F</span>or a moment Marie Delhasse stood +looking at me; then she uttered a low cry, full of relief, of +security, of joy; and coming to me stretched out her hands, +saying:</p> +<p>“You are here then, after all!”</p> +<p>Charmed to see how she greeted me, I had not the heart to tell +her that her peril was not past; nor did she give me the +opportunity, for went on directly:</p> +<p>“And you are wounded? But not badly, not badly, Mr. +Aycon?”</p> +<p>“Who told you I was wounded?”</p> +<p>“Why, the duke. He said that you had been shot by a thief, +and were very badly hurt; and—and—” She stopped, +blushing.</p> +<p>(“Where is he?” I remembered the words; my forecast +of their meaning had been true.)</p> +<p>“And did what he told you,” I asked softly, +“make you leave the convent and come to find me?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” she answered, taking courage and meeting my +eyes. “And then you were not here, and I thought it was a +trap.”</p> +<p>“You were right; it was a trap. I came to find you at the +convent, but you were gone: only by the chance of meeting with a +friend who saw the duke’s carriage standing here have I found +you.”</p> +<p>“You were seeking for me?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I was seeking for you.”</p> +<p>I spoke slowly, as though hours were open for our talk; but +suddenly I remembered that at any moment the old witch might +return. And I had much to say before she came.</p> +<p>“Marie—” I began eagerly, never thinking that +the name she had come to bear in my thoughts could be new and +strange from my lips. But the moment I had uttered it I perceived +what I had done, for she drew back further, gazing at me with +inquiring eyes, and her breath seemed arrested. Then, answering the +question in her eyes, I said simply:</p> +<p>“For what else am I here, Marie?” and I caught her +hand in my left hand.</p> +<p>She stood motionless, still silently asking what I would. And I +kissed her hand. And again the low cry, lower still—half a +cry and half a sigh—came from her, and she drew timidly +nearer to me; and I drew her yet nearer, whispering, in a broken +word or two, that I loved her.</p> +<p>But she, still dazed, looked up at me, whispering, “When, +when?”</p> +<p>And I could not tell her when I had come to love her, for I did +not know then—nor can I recollect now; nor have I any opinion +about it, save that it speaks ill for me that it was not when first +I set my eyes upon her. But she doubted, remembering that I had +seemed fancy-struck with the little duchess, and cold, maybe stern, +to her; and because, I think, she knew that I had seen her tempted. +And to silence her doubts, I kissed her lips. She did not return my +kiss, but stood with wondering eyes. Then in an instant a change +came over her face. I felt her press my hand, and for an instant or +two her lips moved, but I heard no words, nor do I think that the +unheard words were for my ear; and I bowed my head.</p> +<p>Yet time pressed. Again I collected my thoughts from this sweet +reverie—wherein what gave me not least joy was the perfect +trust she showed in me, for that is perhaps the one thing in this +world that a man may be proud to win—and said to her:</p> +<p>“Marie, you must listen. I have something to tell +you.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you’ll take me away from them?” she +cried, clutching my hand in both of hers.</p> +<p>“I can’t now,” I answered. “You must be +brave. Listen: if I try to take you away now, it may be that I +should be killed and you left defenseless. But this evening you can +be safe, whatever befalls me.”</p> +<p>“Why, what should befall you?” she asked, with a +swift movement that brought her closer to me.</p> +<p>I had to tell her the truth, or my plan for her salvation would +not be carried out.</p> +<p>“To-night I fight the duke. Hush! hush! Yes, I must fight +with the duke—yes, wounded arm, my darling, notwithstanding. +We shall leave here about five and go down to the bay toward the +Mount, and there on the sands we shall fight. And—listen +now—you must follow us, about half an hour after we have +gone.”</p> +<p>“But they will not let me go.”</p> +<p>“Go you must. Marie, here is a pistol. Take it; and if +anyone stops you, use it. But I think none will; for the duke will +be with me, and I do not think Bontet will interfere.”</p> +<p>“But my mother?”</p> +<p>“You are as strong as she.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, I’ll come. You’ll be on the sands; +I’ll come!” The help she had found in me made her brave +now.</p> +<p>“You will get there as we are fighting or soon after. Do +not look for me or for the duke, but look for two gentlemen whom +you do not know, they will be there—French officers—and +to their honor you must trust.”</p> +<p>“But why not to you?”</p> +<p>“If I am alive and well, I shall not fail you; but if I +come not, go to them and demand their protection from the duke, +telling them how he has snared you here. And they will not suffer +him to carry you off against your will. Do you see? Do you +understand?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I see. But must you fight?”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear, I must fight. The duke will not trouble you +again, I think, before the evening; and if you remember what I have +told you, all will be well.”</p> +<p>So I tried to comfort her, believing as I did that no two French +gentlemen would desire or dare to refuse her their protection +against the duke. But she was clinging to me now, in great distress +that I must fight—and indeed I had rather have fought at +another time myself—and in fresh terror of her mother’s +anger, seeing that I should not be there to bear it for her.</p> +<p>“For,” she said, “we have had a terrible +quarrel just before you came. I told her that unless I saw you +within an hour nothing but force should keep me here, and that if +they kept me here by force, I would find means to kill myself; and +that I would not see nor speak to the duke unless he brought me to +you, according to his promise; and that if he sent his necklace +again—for he sent it here half an hour ago—I would not +send it back as I did then, but would fling it out of the window +yonder into the cattle pond, where he could go and fetch it out +himself.”</p> +<p>And my dearest Marie, finding increased courage from reciting +her courageous speech, and from my friendly hearing of it, raised +her voice, and her eyes flashed, so that she looked yet more +beautiful; and again did I forget inexorable time. But it struck me +that there was small wonder that Mme. Delhasse’s temper had +not been of the best nor calculated to endure patiently such a +vexatious encounter as befell her when she ran against me on the +landing outside her door.</p> +<p>Yet Marie’s courage failed again; and I told her that +before we fought I would tell my second of her state, so that if +she came not and I were wounded (of worse I did not speak), he +would come to the inn and bring her to me. And this comforted her +more, so that she grew calmer, and, passing from our present +difficulties, she gave herself to persuading me (nor would the poor +girl believe that I needed no persuading) that in no case would she +have yielded to the duke, and that her mother had left her in wrath +born of an utter despair that Marie’s will in the matter +could ever be broken down.</p> +<p>“For I told her,” Marie repeated, “that I +would sooner die!”</p> +<p>She paused, and raising her eyes to mine, said to me (and here I +think courage was not lacking in her):</p> +<p>“Yes, although once I had hesitated, now I had rather die. +For when I hesitated, God sent you to my door, that in love I might +find salvation.”</p> +<p>Well, I do not know that a man does well to describe all that +passes at times like this. There are things rather meet to be left +dwelling in his own heart, sweetening all his life, and causing him +to marvel that sinners have such joys conceded to them this side of +Heaven; so that in their recollection he may find, mingling with +his delight, an occasion for humility such as it little harms any +of us to light on now and then.</p> +<p>Enough then—for the telling of it; but enough in the +passing of it there was not nor could be. Yet at last, because +needs must when the devil—or a son—aye, or an elderly +daughter of his—drives, I found myself outside the door of +Mme. Delhasse’s room. With the turning of the lock Marie +whispered a last word to me, and full of hope I turned to descend +the stairs. For I had upon me the feeling which, oftener perhaps +than we think, gave to the righteous cause a victory against odds +when ordeal of battle held sway. Now, such a feeling is, I take it, +of small use in a court of law.</p> +<p>But Fortune lost no time in checking my presumption by an +accident which at first gave me great concern. For, even as I +turned away from the door of the room, there was Mme. Delhasse +coming up the stairs. I was fairly caught, there was no doubt about +it; and for Marie’s sake I was deeply grieved, for I feared +that my discovery would mean another stormy scene for her. +Nevertheless, to make the best of it, I assumed a jaunty air as I +said to Mlle. Delhasse:</p> +<p>“The duke will be witness that you were not in your room, +madame. You will not be compromised.”</p> +<p>I fully expected that an outburst of anger would follow on this +pleasantry of mine—which was, I confess, rather in the taste +best suited to Mme. Delhasse than in the best as judged by an +abstract standard—but to my surprise the old creature did +nothing worse than bestow on me a sour grin. Apparently, if I were +well-pleased with the last half-hour, she had found time pass no +less pleasantly. All traces of her exasperation and ill humor had +gone, and she looked as pleased and contented as though she had +been an exemplary mother, rewarded (as such deserve to be) by +complete love and peace in her family circle.</p> +<p>“You’ve been slinking in behind my back, have +you?” she asked, but still with a grin.</p> +<p>“It would have been rude to force an entrance to your +face,” I observed.</p> +<p>“And I suppose you’ve been making love to the +girl?”</p> +<p>“At the proper time, madame,” said I, with much +courtesy, “I shall no doubt ask you for an interview with +regard to that matter. I shall omit no respect that you +deserve.”</p> +<p>As I spoke, I stood on one side to let her pass. I cannot make +up my mind whether her recent fury or her present good humor +repelled me more.</p> +<p>“You’d have a fine fool for a wife,” said she, +with a jerk of her thumb toward the room where the daughter +was.</p> +<p>“I should be compensated by a very clever +mother-in-law,” said I.</p> +<p>The old woman paused for an instant at the top of the stairs, +and looked me up and down.</p> +<p>“Aye,” said she, “you men think yourselves +mighty clever, but a woman gets the better of you all now and +then.”</p> +<p>I was utterly puzzled by her evident exultation. The duke could +not have consented to accept her society in place of her +daughter’s; but I risked the impropriety and hazarded the +suggestion to Mme. Delhasse. Her face curled in cunning wrinkles. +She seemed to be about to speak, but then she shut her lips with a +snap, and suspicion betrayed itself again in her eyes. She had a +secret—a fresh secret—I could have sworn, and in her +triumph she had come near to saying something that might have cast +light on it.</p> +<p>“By the way,” I said, “your daughter did not +expect my coming.” It was perhaps a vain hope, but I thought +that I might save Marie from a tirade.</p> +<p>The old woman shrugged her shoulders, and observed +carelessly:</p> +<p>“The fool may do what she likes;” and with this she +knocked at the door.</p> +<p>I did not wait to see it opened—to confess the truth, I +felt not sure of my temper were I forced to see her and Marie +together—but went downstairs and into my own room. There I +sat down in a chair by the window close to a small table, for I +meant to write a letter or two to friends at home, in case the +duke’s left hand should prove more skillful than mine when we +met that evening. But, finding that I could hardly write with my +right hand and couldn’t write at all with the other, I +contented myself with scrawling laboriously a short note to Gustave +de Berensac, which I put in my pocket, having indorsed on it a +direction for its delivery in case I should meet with an accident. +Then I lay back in my chair, regretting, I recollect, that, as my +luggage was left at Avranches, I had not a clean shirt to fight in; +and then, becoming drowsy, I began to stare idly along the road in +front of the window, rehearsing the events of the last few days in +my mind, but coming back to Marie Delhasse.</p> +<p>So an hour passed away. Then I rose and stretched myself, and +gave a glance out of the window to see if we were likely to have a +fine evening for our sport, for clouds had been gathering up all +day. And when I had made up my mind that the rain would hold off +long enough for our purpose, I looked down at the road again, and +there I saw two figures which I knew. From the direction of +Pontorson came Jacques Bontet the inn-keeper, slouching along and +smoking a thin black cigar.</p> +<p>“Ah! he has been to deliver the note to our friends the +officers,” said I to myself.</p> +<p>And then I looked at the other familiar figure, which was that +of Mme. Delhasse. She wore the bonnet and cloak which had been +lying on the bed in her room at the time of my intrusion. She was +just leaving the premises of the inn strolling, nay dawdling, +along. She met Bontet and stopped for a moment in conversation with +him. Then she pursued her leisurely walk in the direction of +Pontorson, and I watched her till she was about three hundred yards +off. But her form had no charms, and, growing tired of the +prospect, I turned away remarking to myself:</p> +<p>“I suppose the old lady wants just a little stroll before +dinner.”</p> +<p>Nor did I see any reason to be dissatisfied with either of my +inferences—at the moment. So I disturbed myself no more, but +rang the bell and ordered some coffee and a little glass of the +least bad brandy in the inn. For it could not be long before I was +presented with the Duke of Saint-Maclou’s compliments and an +intimation that he would be glad to have my company on a walk in +the cool of the evening.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_19" name="chap_19">Chapter XIX.</a></h2> +<h4>Unsummoned Witnesses.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/19dc.png" alt="S" id= +"img19dc" name="img19dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">S</span>lowly the afternoon wore away. My +content had given place to urgent impatience, and I longed every +moment for the summons to action. None came; and a quarter to five +I went downstairs, hoping to find some means of whiling away the +interval of time. Pushing open the door of the little +<em>salle-à-manger</em>, I was presented with a back view of +my host M. Bontet, who was leaning out of the window. Just as I +entered, he shouted “Ready at six!” Then he turned +swiftly round, having, I suppose, heard my entrance; at the same +moment, the sound of a door violently slammed struck on my ear +across the yard. I moved quickly up to the window. The stable door +was shut; and Bontet faced me with a surly frown on his brow.</p> +<p>“What is to be ready at six?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Some refreshments for Mme. Delhasse,” he answered +readily.</p> +<p>“You order refreshments from the stable?”</p> +<p>“I was shouting to the scullery: the door is, as you will +perceive, sir, there to the left.”</p> +<p>Now I knew that this was a lie, and I might very likely have +said as much, had not the Duke of Saint-Maclou at this moment come +into the room. He bowed to me, but addressed himself to Bontet.</p> +<p>“Well, are the gentlemen to be here at five?” he +asked.</p> +<p>Bontet, with an air of relief, began an explanation. One of the +gentlemen—M. de Vieuville, he believed—had read out the +note in his presence, and had desired him to tell the duke that he +and the other gentleman would meet the duke and his friend on the +sands at a quarter to six. They would be where the road ceased and +the sand began at that hour.</p> +<p>“He seems to think,” Bontet explained, “that +less attention would thus be directed to the affair.”</p> +<p>The precaution seemed wise enough; but why had M. de Vieuville +taken Bontet so much into his confidence? The same thought struck +the duke, for he asked sharply:</p> +<p>“Why did he read the note to you?”</p> +<p>“Oh, he thought nothing of that,” said Bontet +easily. “The gentlemen at Pontorson know me very well: +several affairs have been arranged from this house.”</p> +<p>“You ought to keep a private cemetery,” said the +duke with a grim smile.</p> +<p>“The sands are there,” laughed the fellow, with a +wave of his hand.</p> +<p>Nobody appeared to desire to continue this cheerful +conversation, and silence fell upon us for some moments. Then the +duke observed:</p> +<p>“Bontet, I want you for a few minutes. Mr. Aycon, shall +you be ready to start in half an hour? Our friends will probably +bring pistols: failing that, I can provide you, if you have no +objection to using mine.”</p> +<p>I bowed, and they left me alone. And then, having nothing better +to do, I lit a cigar, vaulted out of the window, and strolled +toward the stable. My curiosity about the stable had been growing +rapidly. I cast a glance round, and saw nobody in the yard. Then, +with a careless air, I turned the handle of the door. Nothing +occurred. I turned it more violently; still nothing happened. I +bent down suddenly and looked through the keyhole. And I +saw—not a key, but—an eye! And for ten seconds I looked +at the eye. Then the eye disappeared; and I heard that little +unmistakable “click.” The eye had a pistol—and +had cocked it! Was that because it saw through the keyhole strange +garments, instead of the friendly bright blue of Bontet’s +blouse? And why had the eye such a dislike to strangers? I +straightened myself again and took a walk along the length of the +stable, considering these questions and, incidentally, looking for +a window; but the only window was a clear four feet above my +head.</p> +<p>I am puzzled even now to say whether I regret not having +listened to the suspicion that was strong in my breast. Had I +forecast, in the least degree, the result of my neglecting to pay +heed to its warning, I should not have hesitated for a moment. But +in the absence of such a presage, I felt rather indifferent about +the matter. My predominant desire was to avoid the necessity of +postponing the settlement of the issue between the duke and myself; +and a delay to that must needs follow, if I took action in regard +to the stable. Moreover, why should I stir in the matter? I had a +right to waive any grievance of my own; for the rest, it seemed to +me that justice was not much concerned in the matter; the merits or +demerits of the parties were, in my view, pretty equal; and I +questioned the obligation to incur, not only the delay which I +detested, but, in all probability, a very risky adventure in a +cause which I had very little at heart.</p> +<p>If “the eye” could, by being “ready at +six,” get out of the stable while the duke and I were engaged +otherwise and elsewhere, why—“Let him,” said I, +“and go to the devil his own way. He’s sure to get +there at last!” So I reasoned—or perhaps, I should +rather say, so I felt; and I must repeat that I find it difficult +now to be very sorry that my mood was what it was.</p> +<p>My half hour was passing. I crossed back to the window and got +in again. The duke, whose impatience rivaled my own, was waiting +for me. A case of pistols lay on the table and, having held them up +for me to see, he slipped them inside his coat.</p> +<p>“Are you ready, sir?” he asked. “We may as +well be starting.”</p> +<p>I bowed and motioned him to precede me. He also, in spite of his +impatience, seemed to me to be in a better humor than earlier in +the day. The interview with Mme. Delhasse must have been +satisfactory to both parties. Had not his face showed me the +improvement in his temper, his first words after we left the +premises of the inn (at a quarter past five exactly) would have +declared it; for he turned to me and said:</p> +<p>“Look here, Mr. Aycon. You’re running a great risk +for nothing. Be a sensible man. Go back to Avranches, thence to +Cherbourg, and thence to where you live—and leave me to +settle my own affairs.”</p> +<p>“Before I accept that proposal,” said I, “I +must know what ‘your own affairs’ include.”</p> +<p>“You’re making a fool of yourself—or being +made a fool of—which you please,” he assured me; and +his face wore for the moment an almost friendly look. I saw clearly +that he believed he had won the day. The old lady had managed to +make him think that—by what artifice I knew not. But what I +did know was that I believed not a jot of the insinuation he was +conveying to me, and had not a doubt of the truth, and sincerity of +Marie Delhasse.</p> +<p>“The best of us do that sometimes,” I answered. +“And when one has begun, it is best to go through.”</p> +<p>“As you please. Have you ever practiced with your left +hand?”</p> +<p>“No,” said I.</p> +<p>“Then,” said he, “you’ve not long to +live.”</p> +<p>To do him justice, he said it in no boasting way, but like a man +who would warn me, and earnestly.</p> +<p>“I have never practiced with my right either,” I +remarked. “I think I get rather a pull by the +arrangement.”</p> +<p>He walked on in silence for a few yards. Then he asked:</p> +<p>“You’re resolved on it?”</p> +<p>“Absolutely,” I returned. For I understood that he +did but offer the same terms as before—terms which included +the abandonment of Marie Delhasse.</p> +<p>On we went, our faces set toward the great Mount, and with the +sinking sun on our left hands. We met few people, and as we reached +the sands yet fewer. When we came to a stand, just where the +causeway now begins (it was not built then), nobody was in sight. +The duke took out his watch.</p> +<p>“We are punctual to the minute,” said he. “I +hope those fellows won’t be very late, or the best of the +light will be gone.”</p> +<p>There were some large flat blocks of stone lying by the +roadside, and we sat down on them and waited. We were both smoking, +and we found little to say to one another. For my part, I thought +less of our coming encounter than of the success of the scheme +which I had laid for Marie’s safety. And I believe that the +duke, on his part, gave equally small heed to the fight; for the +smile of triumph or satisfaction flitted now and again across his +face, called forth, I made no doubt, by the pleasant conviction +which Mlle. Delhasse had instilled into his mind, and which had +caused him to dub me a fool for risking my life in the service of a +woman who had promised all he asked of her.</p> +<p>But the sun sank; the best of the light went; and the officers +from Pontorson did not come. It was hard on six.</p> +<p>“If we fight to-night, we must fight now!” cried the +duke suddenly. “What the plague has become of the +fellows?”</p> +<p>“It’s not too dark for me,” said I.</p> +<p>“But it soon will be for me,” he answered. +“Come, are we to wait till to-morrow?”</p> +<p>“We’ll wait till to-morrow,” said I, “if +you’ll promise not to seek to see or speak to Mlle. Delhasse +till to-morrow. Otherwise we’ll fight tonight, seconds or no +seconds, light or no light!”</p> +<p>I never understood perfectly the temper of the man, nor the +sudden gusts of passion to which, at a word that chanced to touch +him, he was subject. Such a storm caught him now, and he bounded up +from where he sat, cursing me for an insolent fellow who dared to +put him under terms—for a fool who flattered himself that all +women loved him—and for many other things which it is not +well to repeat. So that at last I said:</p> +<p>“Lead the way, then: you know the best place, I +suppose.”</p> +<p>Still muttering in fury, cursing now me, now the neglectful +seconds, he strode rapidly on to the sands and led the way at a +quick pace, walking nearly toward the setting sun. The land trended +the least bit outward here, and the direction kept us well under +the lee of a rough stone wall that fringed the sands on the +landward side. Stunted bushes raised their heads above the wall, +and the whole made a perfect screen. Thus we walked for some ten +minutes with the sun in our eyes and the murmur of the sea in our +ears. Then at a spot where the bushes rose highest the duke +abruptly stopped, saying, “Here,” and took the case of +pistols out of his pocket. He examined the loading, handing each in +turn to me. While this was being done neither of us spoke. Then he +held them both out, the stocks towards me; and I took the one +nearest to my hand. The duke laid the other down on the sands and +motioned me to follow his example; and he took his handkerchief out +of his pocket and wound it round his right hand, confining the +fingers closely.</p> +<p>“Tie the knot, if you can,” said he, holding out his +hand thus bound.</p> +<p>“So far I am willing to trust you,” said I; but he +bowed ironically as he answered:</p> +<p>“It will be awkward enough anyhow for the one of us that +chances to kill the other, seeing that we have no seconds or +witnesses; but it would look too black against me, if my right hand +were free while yours is in a sling. So pray, Mr. Aycon, do not +insist on trusting me too much, but tie the knot if your wounded +arm will let you.”</p> +<p>Engrossed with my thoughts and my schemes, I had not dwelt on +the danger to which he called my attention, and I admit that I +hesitated.</p> +<p>“I have no wish to be called a murderer,” said I. +“Shall we not wait again for M. de Vieuville and his +friend?”</p> +<p>“Curse them!” said he, fury in his eye again. +“By Heavens, if I live, I’ll have a word with them for +playing me such a trick! The light is all but gone now. Come, take +your place. There is little choice.”</p> +<p>“You mean to fight, then?”</p> +<p>“Not if you will leave me in peace: but if +not—”</p> +<p>“Let us go back to the inn and fight to-morrow: and +meanwhile things shall stand as they are,” said I, repeating +my offer, in the hope that he would now be more reasonable.</p> +<p>He looked at me sullenly; then his rage came again upon him, and +he cried:</p> +<p>“Take your place: stand where you like, and, in +God’s name, be quick!” And he paused, and then added: +“I cannot live another night—” And he broke off +again, and finished by crying: “Quick! Are you +ready?”</p> +<p>Seeing there was no help for it, I took up a position. No more +words passed between us, but with a gesture he signed to me to move +a little: and thus he adjusted our places till we were opposite one +another, about two yards between us, and each presenting his side +direct to the sun, so that its slanting rays troubled each of us +equally, and that but little. Then he said:</p> +<p>“I will step back five paces, and do you do the like. When +we are at the distance, do you count slowly, +‘One—two—three,’ and at ‘Three’ +we will fire.”</p> +<p>I did not like having to count, but it was necessary that one of +us should; and he, when I pressed him, would not. Therefore it was +arranged as he said. And I began to step back, but for an instant +he stayed me. He was calm now, and he spoke in quiet tones.</p> +<p>“Even now, if you will go!” said he. “For the +girl is mine; and I think that, and not my life or death, is what +you care about.”</p> +<p>“The girl is not yours and never will be,” said I. +But then I remembered that, the seconds not having come, my scheme +had gone astray, and that if he lived in strength, Marie would be +well-nigh at his mercy. And on that I grew stern, and the desire +for his blood came on me; and he, I think, saw it in my face, for +he smiled, and without more turned and walked to his place. And I +did the like; and we turned round again and stood facing one +another.</p> +<p>All this time my pistol had hung in the fingers of my right +hand. I took it now in my left, and looked to it, and cried to the +duke:</p> +<p>“Are you ready?”</p> +<p>And he answered easily:</p> +<p>“Yes, I’m ready.”</p> +<p>Then I raised my arm and took my aim,—and if the aim were +not true on his heart, my hand and not my will deserves the praise +of Mercy,—and I cried aloud:</p> +<p>“One!” and paused; and cried “Two!”</p> +<p>And as the word left my lips—before the final fatal +“Three!” was so much as ready to my tongue—while +I yet looked at the duke to see that I was not taking him +unawares—loud and sharp two shots rang out at the same +instant in the still air: I felt the whizz of a bullet, as it +shaved my ear; and the duke, without a sound, fell forward on the +sands, his pistol exploding as he fell.</p> +<p>After all we had our witnesses!</p> +<h2><a id="chap_20" name="chap_20">Chapter XX.</a></h2> +<h4>The Duke’s Epitaph.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/20dc.png" alt="F" id= +"img20dc" name="img20dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">F</span>or a moment I stood in amazement, +gazing at my opponent where he lay prostrate on the sands. Then, +guided by the smoke which issued from the bushes, I darted across +to the low stone wall and vaulted on to the top of it. I dived into +the bushes, parting them with head and hand: I was conscious of a +man’s form rushing by me, but I could pay no heed to him, for +right in front of me, in the act of re-loading his pistol, I saw +the burly inn-keeper Jacques Bontet. When his eyes fell on me, as I +leaped out almost at his very feet, he swore an oath and turned to +run. I raised my hand and fired. Alas! the Duke of Saint-Maclou had +been justified in his confidence; for, to speak honestly, I do not +believe my bullet went within a yard of the fugitive. Hearing the +shot and knowing himself unhurt, he halted and faced me. There was +no time for re-loading. I took my pistol by the muzzle and ran at +him. My right arm was nearly useless; but I took it out of the +sling and had it ready, for what it was worth. I saw that the +fellow’s face was pale and that he displayed no pleasure in +the game. But he stood his ground; and I, made wary by the +recollection of my maimed state, would not rush on him, but came to +a stand about a yard from him, reconnoitering how I might best +spring on him. Thus we rested for a moment till remembering that +the duke, if he were not already dead, lay at the mercy of the +other scoundrel, I gathered myself together and threw myself at +Jacques Bontet. He also had clubbed his weapon, and he struck +wildly at me as I came on. My head he missed, and the blow fell on +my right shoulder, settling once for all the question whether my +right arm was to be of any use or not. Yet its uselessness mattered +not, for I countered his blow with a better, and the butt of my +pistol fell full and square on his forehead. For a moment he stood +looking at me, with hatred and fear in his eyes: then, as it seemed +to me, quite slowly his knees gave way under him; his face dropped +down from mine; he might have been sinking into the ground, till at +last, his knees being bent right under him, uttering a low groan, +he toppled over and lay on the ground.</p> +<p>Spending on him and his state no more thought that they +deserved, I snatched his pistol from him (for mine was broken at +the junction of barrel and stock), and, without waiting to load +(and indeed with one hand helpless and in the agitation which I was +suffering it would have taken me more than a moment), I hastened +back to the wall, and, parting the bushes, looked over. It was a +strange sight that I saw. The duke was no longer prone on his face, +as he had fallen, but lay on his back, with his arms stretched out, +crosswise; and by his side knelt a small spare man, who searched, +hunted, and rummaged with hasty, yet cool and methodical, touch, +every inch of his clothing. Up and down, across and across, into +every pocket, along every lining, aye, down to the boots, ran the +nimble fingers; and in the still of the evening, which seemed not +broken but rather emphasized by the rumble of the tide that had +begun to come in over the sands from the Mount, his passionate +curses struck my ears. I recollect that I smiled—nay, I +believe that I laughed—for the man was my old acquaintance +Pierre—and Pierre was still on the track of the +Cardinal’s Necklace; and he had not doubted, any more than I +had doubted, that the duke carried it upon his person. Yet Pierre +found it not, for he was growing angry now; he seemed to worry the +still body, pushing it and tossing the arms of it to and fro as a +puppy tosses a slipper or a cushion. And all the while the +unconscious face of the Duke of Saint-Maclou was turned up to +heaven, and a stiff smile seemed to mock the baffled plunderer. And +I also wondered where the necklace was.</p> +<p>Then I let myself down on to the noiseless sands and stole +across to the spot where the pair were. Pierre’s hands were +searching desperately and wildly now; he no longer expected to +find, but he could not yet believe that the search was in very +truth in vain. Absorbed in his task, he heard me not; and coming up +I set my foot on the pistol that lay by him, and caught him, as the +duke had caught Lafleur his comrade, by the nape of the neck, and +said to him, in a bantering tone:</p> +<p>“Well, is it not there, my friend?”</p> +<p>He wriggled; but the strength of the little man in a struggle at +close quarters was as nothing, and I held him easily with my one +sound hand. And I mocked him, exhorting him to look again, telling +him that everything was not to be seen from a stable, and bidding +him call Lafleur from hell to help him. And under my grip he grew +quiet and ceased to search; and I heard nothing but his quick +breathing. And I laughed at him as I plucked him off the duke and +flung him on his back on the sands, and stood looking down on him. +But he asked no mercy of me; his small eyes answered defiance back +to me, and he glanced still wistfully at the quiet man beside +us.</p> +<p>Yet he was to escape me—with small pain to me, I confess. +For at the moment a cry rang loud in my ear: I knew the voice; and +though I kept my foot on Pierre’s pistol, yet I turned my +head. And on the instant the fellow sprang to his feet, and, with +an agility that I could not have matched, started running across +the sands toward the Mount. Before I had realized what he was +about, he had thirty yards’ start of me. I heard the water +rushing in now; he must wade deep, nay, he must swim to win the +Mount. But from me he was safe, for I was no such runner as he. +Yet, had he and I been alone, I would have pursued him. But the cry +rang out again, and, giving no more thought to him, I turned +whither Marie Delhasse, come in pursuance of my directions, stood +with a hand pointed in questioning at the duke, and the pistol that +I had given her fallen from her fingers on the sand. And she swayed +to and fro, till I set my arm round her and steadied her.</p> +<p>“Have you killed him?” she asked in a frightened +whisper.</p> +<p>“I did not so much as fire at him,” I answered. +“We were attacked by thieves.”</p> +<p>“By thieves?”</p> +<p>“The inn-keeper and another. They thought that he carried +the necklace, and tracked us here.”</p> +<p>“And did they take it?”</p> +<p>“It was not on him,” I answered, looking into her +eyes.</p> +<p>She raised them to mine and said simply:</p> +<p>“I have it not;” and with that, asking no more, she +drew near to the duke, and sat down by him on the sand, and lifted +his head on to her lap, and wiped his brow with her handkerchief, +saying in a low voice, “Is he dead?”</p> +<p>Now, whether it be, as some say, that the voice a man loves will +rouse him when none else will, or that the duke’s swoon had +merely come to its natural end, I know not; but, as she spoke, he, +who had slept through Pierre’s rough handling, opened his +eyes, and, seeing where he was, tried to raise his hand, groping +after hers: and he spoke, with difficulty indeed, yet plainly +enough, saying:</p> +<p>“The rascals thought I had the necklace. They did not know +how kind you had been, my darling.”</p> +<p>I started where I stood. Marie grew red and then white, and +looked down at him no longer with pity, but with scorn and anger on +her face.</p> +<p>“I have it not,” she said again. “For all +heaven, I would not touch it!”</p> +<p>And she looked up to me as she said it, praying me with her eyes +to believe.</p> +<p>But her words roused and stung the duke to an effort and an +activity that I thought impossible to him; for he rolled himself +from her lap, and, raising himself on his hand, with half his body +lifted from the ground, said in a loud voice:</p> +<p>“You have it not? You haven’t the necklace? Why, +your message told me that you would never part from it +again?”</p> +<p>“I sent no message,” she answered in a hard voice, +devoid of pity for him; how should she pity him? “I sent no +message, save that I would sooner die than see you +again.”</p> +<p>Amazement spread over his face even in the hour of his +agony.</p> +<p>“You sent,” said he, “to say that you would +await me to-night, and to ask for the necklace to adorn yourself +for my coming.”</p> +<p>Though he was dying, I could hardly control myself to hear him +speak such words. But Marie, in the same calm scornful voice +asked:</p> +<p>“By whom did the message come?”</p> +<p>“By your mother,” said he, gazing at her eagerly. +“And I sent mine—the one I told you—by her. +Marie, was it not true?” he cried, dragging himself nearer to +her.</p> +<p>“True!” she echoed—and no more.</p> +<p>But it was enough. For an instant he glared at her; then he +cried:</p> +<p>“That old fiend has played a trick on me! She has got the +necklace!”</p> +<p>And I began to understand the smile that I had seen on Mme. +Delhasse’s face, and her marvelous good humor; and I began to +have my opinion concerning her evening stroll to Pontorson. Bontet +and Pierre had been matched against more than they thought.</p> +<p>The duke, painfully supported on his hand, drew nearer still to +Marie; but she rose to her feet and retreated a pace as he +advanced. And he said:</p> +<p>“But you love me, Marie? You would have—”</p> +<p>She interrupted him.</p> +<p>“Above all men I loathe you!” she said, looking on +him with shrinking and horror in her face.</p> +<p>His wound was heavy on him—he was shot in the stomach and +was bleeding inwardly—and had drawn his features; his pain +brought a sweat on his brow, and his arm, trembling, scarce held +him. Yet none of these things made the anguish in his eyes as he +looked at her.</p> +<p>“This is the man I love,” said she in calm +relentlessness.</p> +<p>And she put out her hand and took mine, and drew me to her, +passing her arm through mine. The Duke of Saint-Maclou looked up at +us; then he dropped his head, heavily and with a thud on the sand, +and so lay till we thought he was dead.</p> +<p>Yet it might be that his life could be saved, and I said to +Marie:</p> +<p>“Stay by him, while I run for help.”</p> +<p>“I will not stay by him,” she said.</p> +<p>“Then do you go,” said I. “Stop the first +people you meet; or, if you see none, go to the inn. And bid them +bring help to carry a wounded man and procure a doctor.”</p> +<p>She nodded her head, and, without a glance at him, started +running along the sands toward the road. And I, left alone with +him, sat down and raised him, as well as I could, turning his face +upward again and resting it on my thigh. And I wiped his brow. And, +after a time, he opened his eyes.</p> +<p>“Help will be here soon,” I said. “She has +gone to bring help.”</p> +<p>Full ten minutes passed slowly; he lay breathing with +difficulty, and from time to time I wiped his brow. At last he +spoke.</p> +<p>“There’s some brandy in my pocket. Give it +me,” he said.</p> +<p>I found the flask and gave him some of its contents, which kept +the life in him for a little longer. And I was glad to feel that he +settled himself, as though more comfortably, against me.</p> +<p>“What happened?” he asked very faintly.</p> +<p>And I told him what had happened, as I conceived it—how +that Bontet must have given shelter to Pierre, till such time as +escape might be possible; but how that, when Bontet discovered that +the necklace was in the inn, the two scoundrels, thinking that they +might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb, had determined +to make another attempt to secure the coveted spoil; how, in +pursuance of this scheme, Bontet had, as I believed, suppressed the +duke’s message to his friends at Pontorson, with the intent +to attack us, as they had done, on the sands; and I added that he +himself knew, better than I, what was likely to have become of the +necklace in the hands of Mme. Delhasse.</p> +<p>“For my part,” I concluded, “I doubt if Madame +will be at the inn to welcome us on our return.”</p> +<p>“She came to me and told me that Marie would give all I +asked, and I gave her the necklace to give to Marie; and believing +what she told me, I was anxious not to fight you, for I thought you +had nothing to gain by fighting. Yet you angered me, so I resolved +to fight.”</p> +<p>He seemed to have strength for nothing more; yet at the end, +before life left him, one strange last change came over him. Both +his rough passion and the terrible abasement of defeat seemed to +leave him, and his face became again the face of a well-bred, +self-controlled man. There was a helpless effort at a shrug of his +shoulders, a scornful slight smile on his lips, and a look of +recognition, almost of friendliness, almost of humor, in his eyes, +as he said to me, who still held his head:</p> +<p>“<em>Mon Dieu</em>, but I’ve made a mess of it, Mr. +Aycon!”</p> +<p>And I do not know that anyone could better this epitaph which +the Duke of Saint-Maclou composed for himself in the last words he +spoke this side the grave.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_21" name="chap_21">Chapter XXI.</a></h2> +<h4>A Passing Carriage.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/21dc.png" alt="W" id= +"img21dc" name="img21dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">W</span>hen I saw that the Duke of +Saint-Maclou was dead, I laid him down on the sands, straightening +him into a seemly posture; and I closed his eyes and spread his +handkerchief over his face. Then I began to walk up and down with +folded arms, pondering over the life and fate of the man and the +strange link between us which the influence of two women had +forged. And I recognized also that an hour ago the greater +likelihood had been that I should be where he lay, and he be +looking down on me. <em>Dis aliter visum.</em> His own sin had +stretched him there, and I lived to muse on the wreck—on the +“mess” as he said in self-mockery—that he had +made of his life. Yet, as I had felt when I talked to him before, +so I felt now, that his had been the hand to open my eyes, and from +his mighty but base love I had learned a love as strong and, as I +could in all honesty say, more pure.</p> +<p>The sun was quite gone now, the roll of the tide was nearer, and +water gleamed between us and the Mount. But we were beyond its +utmost rise, save at a spring tide, and I waited long, too +engrossed in my thoughts to be impatient for Marie’s return. +I did not even cross the wall to see how Bontet fared under the +blow I had given him—whether he were dead, or lay still +stunned, or had found life enough to crawl away. In truth, I cared +not then.</p> +<p>Presently across the sands, through the growing gloom, I saw a +group approaching me. Marie I knew by her figure and gait and saw +more plainly, for she walked a little in front as though she were +setting the example of haste. The rest followed together; and, +looking past them, I could just discern a carriage which had been +driven some way on to the sands. One of the strangers wore +top-boots and the livery of a servant. As they approached, he fell +back, and the remaining two—a man and a woman on his +arm—came more clearly into view. Marie reached me some twenty +yards ahead of them.</p> +<p>“I met no one till I was at the inn,” she said, +“and then this carriage was driving by; and I told them that +a gentleman lay hurt on the sands, and they came to help you to +carry him up.”</p> +<p>I nodded and walked forward to meet them; for by now I knew the +man, yes, and the woman, though she wore a veil. And it was too +late to stop their approach. Uncovering my head, I stepped up to +them, and they stopped in surprise at seeing me. For the pair were +Gustave de Berensac and the duchess. He had gone, as he told me +afterward, to see the duchess, and they had spent the afternoon in +a drive, and she was going to set him down at his friend’s +quarters in Pontorson, when Marie met them, and not knowing them +nor they her (though Gustave had once, two years before, heard her +sing) had brought them on this errand.</p> +<p>The little duchess threw up her veil. Her face was pale, her +lips quivered, and her eyes asked a trembling question. At the +sight of me I think she knew at once what the truth was: it needed +but the sight of me to let light in on the seemingly obscure story +which Marie had told, of a duel planned, and then interrupted by a +treacherous assault and attempted robbery. With my hand I signed to +the duchess to stop; but she did not stop, but walked past me, +merely asking:</p> +<p>“Is he badly hurt?”</p> +<p>I caught her by the arm and held her.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said I, “badly;” and I felt her +eyes fixed on mine.</p> +<p>Then she said, gently and calmly:</p> +<p>“Then he is dead?”</p> +<p>“Yes, he is dead,” I answered, and loosed her +arm.</p> +<p>Gustave de Berensac had not spoken: and he now came silently to +my side, and he and I followed a pace or two behind the duchess. +The servant had halted ten or fifteen yards away. Marie had reached +where the duke lay and stood now close by him, her arms at her side +and her head bowed. The duchess walked up to her husband and, +kneeling beside him, lifted the handkerchief from his face. The +expression wherewith he had spoken his epitaph—the summary of +his life—was set on his face, so that he seemed still to +smile in bitter amusement. And the little duchess looked long on +the face that smiled in contempt on life and death alike. No tears +came in her eyes and the quiver had left her lips. She gazed at him +calmly, trying perhaps to read the riddle of his smile. And all the +while Marie Delhasse looked down from under drooping lids.</p> +<p>I stepped up to the duchess’ side. She saw me coming and +turned her eyes to mine.</p> +<p>“He looked just like that when he asked me to marry +him,” she said, with the simple gravity of a child whose +usual merriment is sobered by something that it cannot +understand.</p> +<p>I doubted not that he had. Life, marriage, death—so he had +faced them all, with scorn and weariness and +acquiescence—all, save that one passion which bore him beyond +himself.</p> +<p>The duchess spread the handkerchief again over the dead +man’s face, and rose to her feet. And she looked across the +dead body of the duke at Marie Delhasse. I knew not what she would +say, for she must have guessed by now who the girl was that had +brought her to the place. Suddenly the question came in a tone of +curiosity, without resentment, yet tinctured with a delicate scorn, +as though spoken across a gulf of difference:</p> +<p>“Did you really care for him at all?”</p> +<p>Marie started, but she met the duchess’ eyes and answered +in a low voice with a single word:</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Ah, well!” said the little duchess with a sigh; +and, if I read aright what she expressed, it was a pitying +recognition of the reason in that answer: he could not have +expected anyone to love him, she seemed to say. And if that were +so, then indeed had the finger of truth guided the duke in the +penning of his epitaph.</p> +<p>We three, who were standing round the body, seemed sunk in our +own thoughts, and it was Gustave de Berensac who went to the +servant and bade him bring the carriage nearer to where we were; +and when it was come, they two lifted the duke in and disposed his +body as well as they could. The man mounted the box, and at a +foot-pace we set out. The duchess had not spoken again, nor had +Marie Delhasse; but when I took my place by Marie the duchess +suffered Gustave to join her, and in this order we passed along. +But before we had gone far, when indeed we had but just reached the +road, we met four of the police hurrying along; and before they +came to us or saw what was in the carriage, one cried:</p> +<p>“Have you seen a small spare man pass this way lately? He +would be running perhaps, or walking fast.”</p> +<p>I stepped forward and drew them aside, signing the carriage to +go on and to the others to follow it.</p> +<p>“I can tell you all there is to be told about him, if you +mean the man whom I think you mean,” said I. “But I +doubt if you will catch him now.”</p> +<p>And with that I told them the story briefly, and so far as it +affected the matter they were engaged upon; and they heard it with +much astonishment. For they had tracked Pierre (or Raymond Pinceau +as they called him, saying it was his true name) to Bontet’s +stable, on the matter of the previous attempt on the necklace and +the death of Lafleur, and on no other, and did not think to hear +such a sequel as I unfolded to them.</p> +<p>“And if you will search,” said I, “some six +yards behind the wall, and maybe a quarter of a mile from the road, +I fancy you will find Bontet; he may have crawled a little way, but +could not far, I think. As for the Duke of Saint-Maclou, gentlemen, +his body was in the carriage that passed you this moment. And I am +at your service, although I would desire, if it be possible, to be +allowed to follow my friends.”</p> +<p>There being but four of them and their anxiety being to achieve +the capture of Pierre, they made no difficulty of allowing me to go +on my way, taking from me my promise to present myself before the +magistrate at Avranches next day; and leaving two to seek for +Bontet, the other two made on, in the hope of finding a boat to +take them to the Mount, whither they conceived the escaped man must +have directed his steps.</p> +<p>Thus delayed, I was some time behind the others in reaching the +inn, and I found Gustave waiting for me in the entrance. The body +of the duke had been carried to his own room and a messenger sent +to procure a proper conveyance. Marie Delhasse was upstairs, and +Gustave’s message to me was that the duchess desired to see +me.</p> +<p>“Nay,” said I, “there is one thing I want to +do before that;” and I called to a servant girl who was +hovering between terror and excitement at the events of the +evening, and asked her whether Mme. Delhasse had returned.</p> +<p>“No, sir,” she answered. “The lady left word +that she would be back in half an hour, but she has not yet +returned.”</p> +<p>Then I said to Gustave de Berensac, laying my hand on his +shoulder:</p> +<p>“When I am married, Gustave, you will not meet my +mother-in-law in my house;” and I left Gustave staring in an +amazement not unnatural to his ignorance. And I allowed myself to +be directed by the servant girl to where the duchess sat.</p> +<p>The duchess waited till the door was shut, and then turned to me +as if about to speak, but I was beforehand with her; and I +began:</p> +<p>“Forgive me for speaking of the necklace, but I fear it is +still missing.”</p> +<p>The duchess looked at me scornfully.</p> +<p>“He gave it to the girl again, I suppose?” she +asked.</p> +<p>“He gave it,” I answered, “to the girl’s +mother, and she, I fear, has made off with it;” and I told +the duchess how Mme. Delhasse had laid her plot. The duchess heard +me in silence, but at the end she remarked:</p> +<p>“It does not matter. I would never have worn the thing +again; but it was a pretty plot between them.”</p> +<p>“The duke had no thought,” I began, “but +that—”</p> +<p>“Oh, I meant between mother and daughter,” said the +duchess. “The mother gets the diamonds from my husband; the +daughter, it seems, Mr. Aycon, is likely to get respectability from +you; and I suppose they will share the respective benefits when +this trouble has blown over.”</p> +<p>It was no use to be angry with her; to confess the truth, I felt +that anger would come ill from me. So I did but say very +quietly:</p> +<p>“I think you are wrong. Mlle. Delhasse knew nothing of her +mother’s device.”</p> +<p>“You do not deny all of what I say,” observed the +duchess.</p> +<p>“Mlle. Delhasse,” I returned, “is in no need +of what you suggest; but I hope that she will be my +wife.”</p> +<p>“And some day,” said the duchess, “you will +see the necklace—or perhaps that would not be safe. Madame +will send the money.”</p> +<p>“When it happens,” said I, “on my honor, I +will write and tell you.”</p> +<p>The duchess, with a toss of her head which meant “Well, +I’m right and you’re wrong,” rose from her +seat.</p> +<p>“I must take poor Armand home,” said she. “M. +de Berensac is going with me. Will you accompany us?”</p> +<p>“If you will give me a delay of one hour, I will most +willingly.”</p> +<p>“What have you to do in that hour, Mr. Aycon?”</p> +<p>“I purpose to escort Mlle. Delhasse back to the convent +and leave her there. I suppose we shall all have to answer some +questions in regard to this sad matter, and where can she stay near +Avranches save there?”</p> +<p>“She certainly can’t come to my house,” said +the duchess.</p> +<p>“It would be impossible under the circumstances,” I +agreed.</p> +<p>“Under any circumstances,” said the duchess +haughtily.</p> +<p>By this time a covered conveyance had been procured, and when +the duchess, having fired her last scornful remark at me, walked to +the door of the inn, the body of the duke was being placed in it. +Gustave de Berensac assisted the servant, and their task was just +accomplished when Jacques Bontet was carried by two of the police +to the door. The man was alive and would recover, they said, and be +able to stand his trial. But as yet no news had come of the fortune +that attended the pursuit of Raymond Pinceau, otherwise known as +Pierre. It was conjectured that he must have had a boat waiting for +him at or near the Mount, and, gaining it, had for the moment at +least made good his escape.</p> +<p>“But we shall find about that from Bontet,” said one +of them, with a complacent nod at the fellow who lay still in a +sort of stupor, with blood-stained bandages round his head.</p> +<p>I stood by the door of the duchess’ carriage, in which she +and Gustave were to follow the body of the duke, and when she came +to step in I offered her my hand. But she would have none of it. +She got in unassisted, and Gustave followed her. They were about to +move off, when suddenly, running from the house in wild dismay, +came Marie Delhasse, and caring for none of those who stood round, +she seized my arm, crying:</p> +<p>“My mother is neither in the sitting room nor in her +bedroom! Where is she?”</p> +<p>Now I saw no need to tell Marie at that time what had become of +Mme. Delhasse. The matter, however, was not left in my hands; no, +nor in those of Gustave de Berensac, who called out hastily to the +driver, “Ready! Go on, go on!” The duchess called +“Wait!” and then she turned to Marie Delhasse and said +in calm cold tones:</p> +<p>“You ask where your mother is. Well, then, where is the +necklace?”</p> +<p>Marie drew back as though she had been struck; yet her grip did +not leave my arm, but tightened on it.</p> +<p>“The necklace?” she gasped.</p> +<p>And the duchess, using the most scornful words she knew and +giving a short little laugh, said.</p> +<p>“Your mother has levanted with the necklace. Of course you +didn’t know!”</p> +<p>Thus, if Marie Delhasse had been stern to the Duke of +Saint-Maclou when he lay dying, his wife avenged him to the full +and more. For at the words, at the sight of the duchess’ +disdainful face and of my troubled look, Marie uttered a cry and +reeled and sank half-fainting in my arms.</p> +<p>“Oh, drive on!” said the Duchess of Saint-Maclou in +a wearied tone.</p> +<p>And away they drove, leaving us two alone. Nor did Marie speak +again, unless it were in distressed incoherent protests, till, an +hour later, I delivered her into the charge of the Mother Superior +at the convent by the side of the bay. And the old lady bade me +wait till she saw Marie comfortably bestowed, and then she returned +to me and we walked side by side for a while in the little +burying-ground, she listening to an outline of my story. Perhaps I, +in a lover’s zeal, spoke harshly of the duchess; for the old +lady put her hand upon my arm and said to me:</p> +<p>“It was not for losing the diamonds that her heart was +sore—poor silly child!”</p> +<p>And, inasmuch as I doubted whether my venerable friend thought +that it was for the loss of her husband either, I held my +peace.</p> +<h2><a id="chap_22" name="chap_22">Chapter XXII.</a></h2> +<h4>From Shadow to Sunshine.</h4> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<div class="dropcap"><img src="images/22dc.png" alt="T" id= +"img22dc" name="img22dc" width="100%" /></div> +<p><span class="hide">T</span>here remains yet one strange and +terrible episode of which I must tell, though indeed, I thank God, +I was in no way a witness of it. A week after the events which I +have set down, while Marie still lay prostrate at the convent, and +I abode at my old hotel in Avranches, assisting to the best of my +power in the inquiry being held by the local magistrate, an officer +of police arrived from Havre; and when the magistrate had heard his +story, he summoned me from the ante-room where I was waiting, and +bade me also listen to the story. And this it was:</p> +<p>At the office where tickets were taken for a ship on the point +to make the voyage to America, among all the crowd about to cross, +it chanced that two people met one another—an elderly woman +whose face was covered by a thick veil, and a short spare man who +wore a fair wig and large red whiskers. Yet, notwithstanding these +disguises, the pair knew one another. For at first sight of the +woman, the man cowered away and tried to hide himself; while she, +perceiving him, gave a sudden scream and clutched eagerly at the +pocket of her dress.</p> +<p>Seeing himself feared, the ruffian took courage, his quick brain +telling him that the woman also was seeking to avoid recognition. +And when she had taken her ticket, he contrived to see the book +and, finding a name which he did not know as hers, he tracked her +to the inn where she was lodging till the vessel should start. When +he walked into the inn, she shrank before him and turned +pale—for he caught her with the veil off her face—and +again she clutched at her pocket. He sat down near her: for a while +she sat still; then she rose and walked out into the air, as though +she went for a walk. But he, suspecting rightly that she would not +return, tracked her again to another inn, meaner and more obscure +than the first, and, walking in, he sat down by her. And again the +third time this was done: and there were people who had been at +each of the inns to speak to it: and those at the third inn said +that the woman looked as though Satan himself had taken his place +by her—so full of helplessness and horror was she; while the +man smiled under alert bright eyes that would not leave her face, +except now and again for a swift watchful glance round the room. +For he was now hunter and hunted both; yet, like a dog that will be +slain rather than loose his hold, he chose to risk his own life, if +by that he might not lose sight of the unhappy woman. Two lives had +been spent already in the quest: a third was nought to him; and the +woman’s air and clutching of her pocket had set an idea +afloat in his brain. The vessel was to sail at six the next +morning; and it was eight in the evening when the man sat down +opposite the woman in the third inn they visited—it was no +better than a drinking shop near the quays. For half an hour they +sat, and there was that in their air that made them observed. +Suddenly the man crossed over to the woman and whispered in her +ear. She started, crying low yet audibly, “You lie!” +But he spoke to her again; and then she rose and paid her score and +walked out of the inn on to the quays, followed by her unrelenting +attendant. It was dark now, or quite dusk; and a loiterer at the +door distinguished their figures among the passing crowd but for a +few yards: then they disappeared; and none was found who had seen +them again, either under cover or in the open air, that night.</p> +<p>And for my part, I like not to think how the night passed for +that wretched old woman; for at some hour and in some place, near +by the water, the man found her alone, and ran his prey to the +ground before the bloodhounds that were on his track could come up +with them.</p> +<p>Indeed he almost won safety, or at least respite; for the ship +was already moving when she was boarded by the police, who, +searching high and low, came at last on the spare man with the red +whiskers; these an officer rudely plucked off and the fair wig with +them, and called the prisoner by the name of Pinceau. The little +man made one rush with a knife, and, foiled in that, another for +the side of the vessel. But his efforts were useless. He was +handcuffed and led on shore. And when he was searched, the stones +which had gone to compose the great treasure of the family of +Saint-Maclou—the Cardinal’s Necklace—were found +hidden here and there about him; but the setting was gone.</p> +<p>And the woman? Let me say it briefly. Great were her sins, and +not the greatest of them was the theft of the Cardinal’s +Necklace. Yet the greater that she took in hand to do was happily +thwarted; and I pray that she found mercy when the deep dark waters +of the harbor swallowed her on that night, and gave back her body +to a shameful burial.</p> +<hr /> +<p>In the quiet convent by the shores of the bay the wind of the +world, with its burden of sin and sorrow, blows faintly and with +tempered force: the talk of idle, eager tongues cannot break across +the comforting of kind voices and the sweet strains of quiet +worship. Raymond Pinceau was dead, and Jacques Bontet condemned to +lifelong penal servitude; and the world had ceased to talk of the +story that had been revealed at the trial of these men, +and—what the world loved even more to discuss—of how +much of the story had not been revealed.</p> +<p>For although M. de Vieuville, President of the Court which tried +Bontet, and father of Alfred de Vieuville, that friend of the +duke’s who was to have acted at the duel, complimented me on +the candor with which I gave my evidence, yet he did not press me +beyond what was strictly necessary to bring home to the prisoners +the crimes of murder and attempted robbery with which they were +charged. Not till I knew the Judge, having been introduced to him +by his son, did he ask me further of the matter; and then, sitting +on the lawn of his country-house, I told him the whole story, as it +has been set down in this narrative, saving only sundry matters +which had passed between the duchess and myself on the one hand, +and between Marie Delhasse and myself on the other. Yet I do not +think that my reticence availed me much against an acumen trained +and developed by dialectic struggles with generations of criminals. +For the first question which M. de Vieuville put to me was +this:</p> +<p>“And what of the girl, Mr. Aycon? She has suffered indeed +for the sins of others.”</p> +<p>But young Alfred, who was standing by, laid a hand on his +father’s shoulder and said with a laugh:</p> +<p>“Father, when Mr. Aycon leaves us tomorrow, it is to visit +the convent at Avranches.” And the old man held out his hand +to me, saying:</p> +<p>“You do well.”</p> +<p>To the convent at Avranches then I went one bright morning in +the spring of the next year; and again I walked with the stately +old lady in the little burial ground. Yet she was a little less +stately, and I thought that there was what the profane might call a +twinkle in her eye, as she deplored Marie’s disinclination to +become a permanent inmate of the establishment over which she +presided. And on her lips came an indubitable smile when I leaped +back from her in horror at the thought.</p> +<p>“There would be none here to throw her troubles in her +teeth,” pursued the Mother Superior, smiling still. +“None to remind her of her mother’s shame; none to lay +snares for her; none to remind her of the beauty which has brought +so much woe on her; no men to disturb her life with their angry +conflicting passions. Does not the picture attract you, Mr. +Aycon?”</p> +<p>“As a picture,” said I, “it is almost perfect. +There is but one blemish in it.”</p> +<p>“A blemish? I do not perceive it.”</p> +<p>“Why, madame, I cannot find anywhere in your canvas the +figure of myself.”</p> +<p>With a laugh she turned away and passed through the arched +gateway. And I saw my friend, the little nun who had first opened +the door to me when I came seeking the duchess, pass by and pause a +moment to look at me. Then I was left alone till Marie came to me +through the gateway: and I sprang up to meet her.</p> +<p>I have been candid throughout, and I will be candid +now—even though my plain speaking strikes not at myself, but +at Marie, who must forgive me as best she may. For I believe she +meant to marry me from the very first; and I doubt whether if I had +taken the dismissal she gave, I should have been allowed to go far +on my solitary way. Indeed I think she did but want to hear me say +how that all she urged was lighter than a feather against my love +for her, and, if that were her desire, she was gratified to the +full; seeing that for a moment she frightened me, and I outdid +every lover since the world began (it cannot be that I deceive +myself in thinking that) in vehemence and insistence. So that she +reproved me, adding:</p> +<p>“You can hardly speak the truth in all that you say: for +at first, you know, you were more than half in love with the +Duchess of Saint-Maclou.”</p> +<p>For a moment I was silenced. Then I looked at Marie: and I found +in her words no more a rebuke, but a provocation—aye, a +challenge to prove that by no possibility could I, who loved her so +passionately, ever have been so much as half in love with any woman +in the whole world, the Duchess of Saint-Maclou not excepted. And +prove it I did that morning in the burial ground of the convent, to +my own complete satisfaction, and thereby overcame the last doubts +which afflicted Marie Delhasse.</p> +<p>And if, in spite of that most exhaustive and satisfactory proof, +the thing proved remained not much more true than the thing +disproved—why, it is not my fault. For Love has a virtue of +oblivion—yes, and a better still: that which is past he, +exceeding in power all Olympus besides, makes as though it had +never been, never could have been, and was from the first entirely +impossible, absurd, and inconceivable. And for an instance of what +I say—if indeed a further example than my own be needed, +which should not be the case—let us look at the Duchess of +Saint-Maclou herself.</p> +<p>For, if I were half in love with the duchess, which I by no +means admit, modesty shall not blind me from holding that the +duchess was as good a half in love with me. Yet, when I had been +married to Marie Delhasse some six months, I received a letter from +my good friend Gustave de Berensac, informing me of his approaching +union with Mme. de Saint-Maclou. And, if I might judge from +Gustave’s letter, he repudiated utterly the idea which I have +ventured to suggest concerning the duchess.</p> +<p>Two other facts Gustave mentioned—both of them, I think, +with a touch of apology. The first was that the duchess, being +unable to endure the horrible associations now indissolubly +connected with the Cardinal’s Necklace, of which she had +become owner for the term of her life—</p> +<p>“What? Won’t she wear it?” asked my wife at +this point: she was (as wives will) leaning over my shoulder as I +read the letter.</p> +<p>It was what I also had expected to read; but what I did read was +that the duchess, ingeniously contriving to save both her feelings +and her diamonds, had caused the stones to be set in a +tiara—“which,” continued Gustave (I am sure he +was much in love) “will not have any of the unpleasant +associations connected with the necklace.”</p> +<p>And the second fact? It was this—just this, though it was +wrapped up in all the roundabout phrases and softened by all the +polite expressions of friendship of which Gustave was +master,—yet just this,—that he was not in a position to +invite myself and my wife to the wedding! For the little duchess, +consistent to the end, in spite of his entreaties and protests, had +resolutely and entirely declined to receive Mrs. Aycon!</p> +<p>I finished the letter and looked up at Marie. And Marie, looking +thoughtfully down at the paper, observed:</p> +<p>“I always told you that she was fond of you, you +know.”</p> +<p>But, for my part, I hope that Marie’s explanation is not +the true one. I prefer to attribute the duchess’ +refusal—in which, I may state, she steadily persists—to +some mistaken and misplaced sense of propriety; or, if that fails +me, then I will set it down to the fact that Marie’s presence +would recall too many painful and distressing scenes, and be too +full of unpleasant associations. Thus understood, the +duchess’ refusal was quite natural and agreed completely with +what she had done in respect of the necklace—for it was out +of the question to turn the edge of the difficulty by converting +Marie into a tiara!</p> +<p>So the duchess will not receive my wife. But I forgive +her—for, beyond doubt, but for the little duchess and that +indiscretion of hers, I should not have received my wife +myself!</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p class="cen"><em>Ninth Edition</em>.</p> +<h3>THE PRISONER OF</h3> +<h2 style="font-size:300%;">ZENDA.</h2> +<h4>By ANTHONY HOPE.</h4> +<h5>16mo, buckram, gilt top, with frontispiece, 75 cents.</h5> +<p>“The ingenious plot, the liveliness and spirit of the +narrative, and its readable style.”—<em>Atlantic +Monthly</em>.</p> +<p>“A glorious story, which cannot be too warmly recommended +to all who love a tale that stirs the blood. Perhaps not the least +among its many good qualities is the fact that its chivalry is of +the nineteenth, not of the sixteenth century; that it is a tale of +brave men and true, and of a fair woman of to-day. The Englishman +who saves the king … is as interesting a knight as was +Bayard…. The story holds the reader’s attention from +first to last.”—<em>Critic</em>.</p> +<p>“The dash and galloping excitement of this rattling +story.”—<em>London Punch</em>.</p> +<p>“A more gallant, entrancing story has seldom been +written.”—<em>Review of Reviews</em>.</p> +<p>“It is not often that such a delightful novel falls into +the reviewer’s hands.”—<em>London +Athæneum</em>.</p> +<p>“A rattling good romance.”—<em>N.Y. +Times</em>.</p> +<p>“The plot is too original and audacious to be spoiled for +the reader by outlining it. 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Mr. Hope, being disinclined to +follow any of the beaten tracks of romance writing, is endowed with +exceeding originality.”—<em>New York Times</em>.</p> +<p>“The tragic undercurrent but increases the charm of the +pervading wit and humor of the tale, which embodies a study of +character as skillful and true as anything we have lately had, but +at the same time so simple and unpretentious as to be very welcome +indeed amid the flood of inartistic analysis which we are compelled +to accept in so many recent novels.”—<em>Philadelphia +Times</em>.</p> +<hr /> +<h5 style="text-align:left;">SECOND EDITION OF</h5> +<h2>QUAKER IDYLS.</h2> +<h4>By Mrs. S.M.H. GARDNER.</h4> +<h5>Narrow 16mo, buckram. 75 cents.</h5> +<p>“Fiction, if this be altogether fiction, can hardly be +better employed than when it makes such sweet, simple earnestness +real to us.”—<em>Public Opinion</em>.</p> +<p>“Her accounts of these (an anti-slavery fair and the trial +of a fugitive slave) seem to be descriptions of actual happenings, +and she describes men and incidents vividly, but with no straining +after effect…. A book to be welcomed.”—<em>New +York Times</em>.</p> +<p>“No greater contrast could be imagined than that of these +quiet but deep tales and the shallow passions of much contemporary +fiction.”—<em>Literary World.</em></p> +<h5>HENRY HOLT & CO., 29 WEST 23D STREET, NEW YORK.</h5> +<hr /> +<h3>BUCKRAM SERIES.</h3> +<h5>Small 16mo, buckram, with frontispieces. 75 cents each.</h5> +<h4>THE DOLLY DIALOGUES.</h4> +<p class="note">By <span class="sc">Anthony Hope</span>. Pronounced +by George Meredith the best examples of modern dialogue.</p> +<h4>THE INDISCRETION OF THE DUCHESS.</h4> +<p class="note">By <span class="sc">Anthony Hope</span>. A romance +of adventure in modern France.</p> +<h4>JACK O’DOON.</h4> +<p class="note">By <span class="sc">Maria Beale</span>. A dramatic +story of the North Carolina coast.</p> +<p class="note"><em>Fourth edition.</em></p> +<h4>A CHANGE OF AIR.</h4> +<p class="note">By <span class="sc">Anthony Hope</span>. The +adventures of a young poet in Market Denborough. With a portrait +and account of the author.</p> +<p class="note"><em>Eighth edition.</em></p> +<h4>THE PRISONER OF ZENDA.</h4> +<p class="note">By <span class="sc">Anthony Hope</span>. A stirring +romance of to-day.</p> +<p class="note"><em>Second edition.</em></p> +<h4>QUAKER IDYLS.</h4> +<p class="note">By <span class="sc">By Mrs. S.M.H. Gardner</span>. +Sympathetic, often humorous, and sometimes exciting character +sketches.</p> +<p class="note"><em>Third edition.</em></p> +<h4>A SUBURBAN PASTORAL.</h4> +<p class="note">By <span class="sc">Henry A. Beers</span>. Six +modern American stories and two old English legends.</p> +<p class="note"><em>Third edition.</em></p> +<h4>JOHN INGERFIELD.</h4> +<p class="note">By <span class="sc">Jerome K. Jerome</span>. A love +tragedy of old London (half the book) and four short tales.</p> +<h5>HENRY HOLT & CO.,</h5> +<h6>29 WEST 23D STREET, NEW YORK.</h6> +<hr /> +<h3>THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING.</h3> +<h4>A NOVEL.</h4> +<h3>By PAUL LEICESTER FORD. 12mo.</h3> +<p><em>This is pre-eminently a story of American character and +American issues. The hero, though a New Yorker engaged in Sixth +Ward politics, keeps his friends true to him, and his record clean. +Gotham’s Irish politician is vividly characterized, though +the “boss” is treated rather leniently. A +“Primary,” which to most voters is utterly unknown from +actual experience, is truthfully described. But the book is far +from being all politics, for both self-sacrifice and love are +prominent factors.</em></p> +<h3>JACK O’DOON.</h3> +<h3>An American Novel by MARIA BEALE.</h3> +<h5>16mo, (uniform with the <em>Prisoner of Zenda</em>) gilt top, +with frontispiece. 75 cents.</h5> +<p><em>The story of a great sacrifice. Quick in action, with +stirring episodes on land and sea. The scene is laid on the coast +of North Carolina. The picture of the profane old sea +captain’s peculiar household is new in fiction. The tragic +climax is original and impressive.</em></p> +<h5>HENRY HOLT & CO.,</h5> +<h6>29 WEST 23D STREET, NEW YORK.</h6> +<hr class="full" /> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13909 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/13909-h/images/01dc.png b/13909-h/images/01dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5cc658 --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/01dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/02dc.png b/13909-h/images/02dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a972ae --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/02dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/03dc.png b/13909-h/images/03dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f59c339 --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/03dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/04dc.png b/13909-h/images/04dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1e242a --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/04dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/05dc.png b/13909-h/images/05dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2333953 --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/05dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/06dc.png b/13909-h/images/06dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5bcf191 --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/06dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/07dc.png b/13909-h/images/07dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b1870c --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/07dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/08dc.png b/13909-h/images/08dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..77307cc --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/08dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/09dc.png b/13909-h/images/09dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f85d5c --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/09dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/10dc.png b/13909-h/images/10dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca681df --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/10dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/11dc.png b/13909-h/images/11dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..50d3a16 --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/11dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/12dc.png b/13909-h/images/12dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..43ad483 --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/12dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/13dc.png b/13909-h/images/13dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..70ff40a --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/13dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/14dc.png b/13909-h/images/14dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d45c6b5 --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/14dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/15dc.png b/13909-h/images/15dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d778f47 --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/15dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/16dc.png b/13909-h/images/16dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e3155ad --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/16dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/17dc.png b/13909-h/images/17dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..53c8408 --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/17dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/18dc.png b/13909-h/images/18dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d6160b --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/18dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/19dc.png b/13909-h/images/19dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ba2c2b --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/19dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/20dc.png b/13909-h/images/20dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a066edf --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/20dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/21dc.png b/13909-h/images/21dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..63a47ff --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/21dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/22dc.png b/13909-h/images/22dc.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..19b14d3 --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/22dc.png diff --git a/13909-h/images/frontis.png b/13909-h/images/frontis.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f47ac5 --- /dev/null +++ b/13909-h/images/frontis.png |
