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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7ca7d6c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67412 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67412) diff --git a/old/67412-0.txt b/old/67412-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9db3657..0000000 --- a/old/67412-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12759 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Corsican Lovers, by Charles Felton -Pidgin - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Corsican Lovers - -Author: Charles Felton Pidgin - -Release Date: February 16, 2022 [eBook #67412] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Steve Mattern, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CORSICAN LOVERS *** - - - - - - THE CORSICAN - LOVERS - - A STORY OF THE VENDETTA - - BY - - CHARLES FELTON PIDGIN - - Author of “QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER,” “BLENNERHASSETT,” - ETC. - - [Illustration: colophon] - - NEW YORK - - GROSSET & DUNLAP - - PUBLISHERS - - - - - Copyright, 1906 - - By - - B. W. DODGE & COMPANY - - NEW YORK - - - - -CONTENTS. - - -CHAPTER PAGE - -I. BROTHERLY LOVE 1 - -II “A MAN MUST HAVE A WIFE” 8 - -III. “PYLADES AND ORESTES” 20 - -IV. “BUCKHOLME” 28 - -V. THE EARL OF NOXTON 42 - -VI. DUAL LIVES 57 - -VII. BERTHA’S ESCAPE 66 - -VIII. A SORROW AND A SOLACE 77 - -IX. NEWS OF THE FUGITIVES 83 - -X. “LA GRANDE PASSION” 91 - -XI. A CORSICAN CHANT 104 - -XII. CROMILLIAN, THE MORAL BANDIT 116 - -XIII. “TO SEE IS TO LOVE!” 124 - -XIV. A FLOWER WITH BLOOD-STAINED PETALS 141 - -XV. A DUEL IN THE DARK 149 - -XVI. ANCESTRAL PRIDE 168 - -XVII. A LIFE FOR A LIFE 173 - -XVIII. A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD 200 - -XIX. THE AVENGER OF BLOOD 205 - -XX. “WHO IS MASTER HERE?” 216 - -XXI. A BIRTHDAY PARTY 281 - -XXII. TREACHERY 242 - -XXIII. “HE IS THE MAN!” 251 - -XXIV. THE HALL OF MIRRORS 261 - -XXV. THE DUNGEON CHAMBER 278 - -XXVI. AT SALVANETRA 281 - -XXVII. TO THE RESCUE! 285 - -XXVIII. “WE WILL DIE TOGETHER!” 293 - -XXIX. A DOUBLE VENDETTA 305 - -XXX. THE GARDEN OF EDEN 311 - -XXXI. FATHER AND SON 322 - -XXXII. “MERRIE ENGLAND” 328 - - - - -THE CORSICAN LOVERS. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -BROTHERLY LOVE. - - -“You have no right, Pascal, to command me to marry a man whom I do not -love.” - -The speaker was a young girl not more than eighteen years of age. As she -spoke, the flashing of her eyes and her clenched hands betokened the -intensity of her feelings. - -The person to whom the words were addressed was a man of about forty. He -was smooth-shaven, and the black, shaggy eyebrows which met above the -bridge of his nose, gave to his face a stern and almost forbidding -expression. He did not reply to his sister’s impassioned words for some -time, but sat, apparently unconcerned, tapping lightly on the library -table with the fingers of his right hand. - -At last he spoke: “I do not command you, Vivienne; all I ask is that you -will comply with your father’s dying wish.” - -“How do you know that it was his dying wish? He was dead when found, -stabbed to the heart, as you told me, by Manuel Della Coscia--that brave -Corsican who ran away to escape the vengeance he so well deserved.” - -The man looked up approvingly. “My sister, that was spoken like a true -Batistelli. If you loved your father, as your words seem to indicate, I -do not see how you can disobey his slightest wish.” - -The girl turned upon him, that bright flash again in her eyes. “Why are -you so anxious that I should marry? Why is it that you yourself do not -marry?” - -The man’s answer came quickly: “I have sworn, and so has your brother -Julien, that we will not marry until our father’s death has been -avenged.” - -The girl placed both her hands on the edge of the table, leaned forward, -and looked into her brother’s face, as she said: “And neither will I.” - -She spoke with suppressed intensity. - -“You knew our father,” she continued; “you loved him when he was alive -and you can love him now. You have something tangible to remember; I can -only love his memory. I was but a child a few days old when he fell -beneath the knife of the assassin. I do love his memory, and I know if -he were living he would not condemn me to a loveless marriage.” - -Again that inscrutable look came upon the man’s face. He shrugged his -shoulders and the dark line of eyebrows lifted perceptibly. - -“I do not know what he would do; I only know what he did.” - -“And what did he do?” broke in Vivienne. - -The man started. The question was asked with such vehemence that for an -instant his marked self-possession was overcome. - -“What did he do?” he repeated, thus gaining time, for he wished to think -of the most forcible way in which to present the matter to his sister. -“I will tell you. I know that he talked the matter over with old Count -Mont d’Oro. The Count is dead, or there would be a living witness to the -compact. But a few days before our father’s death, in fact the very day -you were born, even while you were in your nurse’s arms, he said to me, -‘I am glad that it is a daughter. She shall be called Vivienne, and when -she grows to womanhood she shall be a countess, for I have talked the -matter over with Count Mont d’Oro, and we have both agreed that the -little Count Napier shall be the husband of my little Vivienne.’ Three -days later I looked upon his lifeless body. The words of the dead cannot -be changed.” - -It was now the young girl’s turn to think before speaking. The position -that her brother had taken seemed, for the moment at least, -unanswerable; but woman’s wisdom, like her wit, is equal to any -emergency. - -“Brother Pascal,” she began, and her voice was tremulous, “when I was -bereft of a father’s and a mother’s love, you took their place. It is to -you I have always looked for advice--both Julien and I, for you are so -much older and wiser than we are. You have taken our father’s place; his -words have become your words, but you are living and can change your -words and free me from this bondage, for I would rather die than become -the wife of Count Napier, or any other man I cannot love.” - -Pascal Batistelli set his teeth tightly together, a dark look came into -his face. “Am I to understand, then, that you absolutely refuse to marry -Count Mont d’Oro?” - -“Not only him, but any one else,” answered the girl. “I am content as I -am.” - -She turned away from the table, walked to the window, and looked out -upon the grounds which stretched far and wide from the castle walls. The -bright sunlight fell on tree and bush and on the brightly tinted -flowers. All was beauty and peace without. How could nature be so happy, -and she so miserable? Suddenly she turned and approached her brother, -who had not changed his position. - -“When did you wish this marriage to take place?” she asked, making a -vain attempt to smile. - -“On your eighteenth birthday,” he said, calmly. - -“Oh, I have some time, then, to wait,” and she gave a little laugh. -“You may tell Count Mont d’Oro that I will see him. I will tell him how -much I love him. Then----” She could say no more. With a convulsive sob -she turned and fled from the room. - -“When a woman says she won’t, she often will,” soliloquised Pascal, as -he arose and went to the window from which Vivienne had looked. “My -father left fine estates. How could a sensible man make such a foolish -will?” - -Pascal took a small silver key from his pocket, and turning to an old -escritoire, opened a drawer and took therefrom a paper. He then reseated -himself at the table. “I should not have known,” said he to himself, -“what was in my father’s will if I had not bribed the notary to break -the seals and make me a copy. It is well to know what the future has in -store for you--and for others. My father executed a document by which I -was made guardian of my brother Julien and my sister Vivienne, until -they became of age, I to supply all their wants as their father would -have done. By a strange coincidence, my brother Julien is exactly seven -years older than my sister. In a few months he will be twenty-five and -she eighteen. The will must then be opened and what I alone know--I do -not count the notary, for I have paid him his price--all will know.” -Then he read the document carefully: - -“If my daughter Vivienne marries Count Mont d’Oro’s son Napier, on or -before her eighteenth birthday, as he will be wealthy in his own right, -and I wish the marriage to be one of love, my estates shall be divided -equally between my two sons, Pascal and Julien, if both are living; if -but one be living, then to him, and if both should die and my daughter -live, all shall go to her. If she does not marry Count Mont d’Oro’s son -Napier for lack of love of him, half of my estate shall become hers. As -Pascal will have had the entire income of my estate for eighteen years, -he will be worth much, and the other half of my estate shall go to -Julien, if living; if not, all shall go to Vivienne.” - -“A very unfair will,” said Pascal, as he replaced the document in the -escritoire. “If the dead could come back, such injustice would probably -be remedied.” - -There was a tap at the door, which opened almost immediately and -Adolphe, Pascal’s valet, entered. - -“The Count Mont d’Oro.” - -“Admit him,” said Pascal, and a moment later the young Count advanced -with outstretched hand, exclaiming even before their hands met: - -“What news? What news? What does she say?” - -“Oh, the impatience of you young lovers!” cried Pascal. “I think the -leaven of love must have been left out of my composition. I have never -yet met a woman who could put such fire into my blood as there seems to -be in yours, my dear Count.” - -“No more about me. Let us speak of her. What does she say?” - -“Do not be too impatient. Even if I could repeat her very words, I could -not say them just as she did. I can but translate them into a cold, -formal phrase. She will see you.” - -“I thought she would,” cried the young Count, “and when I kneel and lay -my love at her feet, she will accept me and make me the happiest of -men.” - -“Be not too confident,” said Pascal; “she is young and wilful. You know -the Batistellis are a determined race. I did not try to plead your -cause. I am not used to love-making, and I felt that I should injure -your prospects if I spoke in your behalf. But I warn you that you must -use your eloquence and not appear too confident at the first.” - -The Count laughed. It was not an honest, sincere laugh. A good judge of -human nature would have detected in it a hollow sound--more of mockery -than of true passion. - -“One can see by looking at you, Pascal, that you are not an Adonis. You -are not to blame if you have not the graces of Apollo. I have not -descended from the ancient gods of Greece, but I have had an experience -which even they might envy. I have run the gamut of Parisian society -from the ante-chamber of royalty to the gutter, and in Paris there are -beauties to be found even in the gutter.” - -“I would not tell Vivienne that,” suggested Pascal. - -“Of course not,” said the Count; “she is young and inexperienced and -would not understand.” - -“She might not understand,” said Pascal, “but on the other hand she -might imagine more than the truth, and that would be fatal to your -prospects, for I warn you, Count, that she is a woman who will not marry -a man she does not love, and she will insist that he love her and her -only.” - -Again the Count laughed. “Why, even the King of France cannot command so -much as that. I suppose I must bury the past. She is worth it. By the -way, my dear Pascal, I think you told me that in case she marries me -before her eighteenth birthday, the estates go with her.” - -“My father made a most foolish will,” said Pascal, guardedly. - -“That is what troubles me,” said the Count. “I feel like a robber; as -though I had placed a pistol at your head and said, ‘Pascal Batistelli, -give me your sister and your estates or you are a dead man.’” Then he -added, after a moment’s thought: “I do not think that I can do it, after -all. I think I shall go back to Paris.” - -“Then you do not love my sister?” queried Pascal. He did not think the -Count meant what he said, but it suited his purpose to take the remark -seriously. - -“When I am with her, yes,” said the Count; “then your sister Vivienne -is the divine She; but, as I told you, there are beautiful women in -Paris.” - -Pascal felt the ground slipping from under his feet. “When you are -married, Count, you can go to Paris; you are not obliged to live here in -this dull place.” - -“Oh, yes, but they will know that I am married.” Then, with a conceit -which did not seem particularly offensive on account of the manner in -which it was spoken, he added: “And, you know, I am quite a catch -myself.” - -“Certainly,” said Pascal, “and when the estates of Mont d’Oro and -Batistelli are united, I have no doubt that many a fair eye in Paris -will be wet with tears.” - -“Well spoken, my dear Pascal,” cried the Count, as he threw his arm -about the neck of his prospective brother-in-law. - -Pascal did not appreciate the caress, but the urgency of the situation -prevented his refusing it. “But you will see her?” he asked. - -“Oh, yes!” cried the Count. “My father wished this marriage to take -place; my mother does not think that I am good enough for your sister. -That is one reason why I am determined to marry her. To-morrow?” - -“Yes, to-morrow,” said Pascal; “any hour in the morning. We breakfast at -eight; no earlier than that, of course.” - -“Don’t worry,” said the Count, “I do not rise until nine. By half-past -ten she may expect her ardent suitor.” He flourished his hat through the -air, bowed low to Pascal before placing it on his head, and a moment -later was gone. - -Pascal walked to the window and looked again upon the far-reaching acres -of the Batistelli estate. “She must marry him; then I shall have half. -That precious brother of mine will be killed in some drunken brawl or -die a sot, then all will be mine.” - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -“A MAN MUST HAVE A WIFE.” - - -The Countess Mont d’Oro and her son Napier sat at dinner together. They -rarely spoke on such occasions, and the meal was nearly over before the -Countess looked at him inquiringly and said: - -“I saw you go over to the Batistelli house this morning. Some business -matter, I presume.” After a pause, she asked, “Were you successful?” - -“It was connected with my own personal affairs,” replied the Count, -curtly. - -“I suppose from your answer that you mean it is none of my business.” - -“The inference is your own,” was the reply. - -Both were silent for a while, then the Countess resumed: “Did you see -Vivienne?” - -“She was in the house; you can infer again.” - -The Countess was cut by the last remark. Her manner of speaking had been -pleasant, but there was a tone in her son’s reply that fired her Italian -blood. - -“I believe I have the most impudent son in Corsica.” - -“I am sure that I have the most loving mother in all France,” said the -Count, calmly. - -To equalise a quarrel, when one of the participants is angry the other -should also be angry. It is unfair for one to remain cool, calm, and -collected, while the other is worked up to a fury of passion. If two -soldiers meet in battle, one with a sword four feet long and the other -with one but half that length, the contest is unequal; the one with the -long sword keeps the other contestant at a distance, though the latter -makes vain attacks upon his well-protected adversary. So in a lingual -battle, the one who keeps his temper, who does not allow his voice to -rise above an ordinary pitch, is the soldier with the long sword. - -It must not be supposed that Countess Mont d’Oro allowed these thoughts -to pass through her mind. She replied promptly to her son’s sarcastic -allusion to her love for him. - -“Why should I love you?” she cried. “Even when a child you had an -ungovernable temper, and since you have grown up--I will not say since -you became a man--your extravagance, your disregard of my wishes, even -the slightest of them--has driven from my heart any love that I might -have had for you. I am glad that your father lived long enough to -understand you. He did wisely in leaving all to me. I was to make you an -allowance at my discretion. I have paid your debts--gambling debts, I -suppose they were principally--until my own income is greatly impaired.” - -“And why have you been so generous?” asked her son. - -“To avoid scandal. I did not wish our family affairs to become a subject -for Parisian gossip. I do not care for what is said here in Corsica, but -such news travels fast.” - -“I presume from what you have said that you intend to cut off my -allowance?” - -“I do, as soon as you are married to Vivienne Batistelli. You must -remember that I am not yet forty--I may marry again, and I do not wish -my husband to have a dowerless bride.” - -The Count smiled grimly. “It is all right for me to become a pensioner -on my wife’s bounty?” - -“Under the circumstances, yes,” said the Countess. “She will have -enough. She will have all, and it is right she should. The property has -been in Pascal’s hands for the past eighteen years, and a man of his -disposition has not let any of it slip through his fingers, of that you -may be sure. He has enough to set up for himself, and I suppose there -are plenty of women who would have him, disagreeable as he is.” - -“Why not marry him yourself?” asked the Count. “You would then be placed -above all possible fear of want.” - -The Countess arose from her chair. She did not speak until she reached -the door of the dining-room; then she turned: “It is some time since you -asked your last question, but I suppose you would like an answer. -Considering my experience as your mother, I have no desire to become -your sister-in-law.” - -As his mother closed the door Count Napier sprang to his feet and began -whistling the melody of a French _chanson_. “I may have a bad temper, -but I think I know where I got it,” he muttered, as he made his way to -the stables. - -His favorite saddle-horse, Apollo, was soon ready, and making a cut at -the stable-boy with his whip to reward him for his tardiness, and -bestowing another upon the animal to show him that a master held the -reins, he dashed off towards Ajaccio. - -When he returned, several hours later, the fire of his mother’s wrath, -to a great extent, had burned out. She was in a more complacent mood and -asked, naturally: “Where have you been, Napier?” - -“Perhaps Apollo could tell you. I really cannot remember.” - -He went up to his room. - -The night of the same day brought little sleep to the eyes of Vivienne -Batistelli. She would doze, and in the half-sleep came unpleasant -dreams. A dozen times during the night she was led to the altar by Count -Mont d’Oro, but just as the words were to be spoken which would have -united their lives forever, he changed into the form of a dragon, or -something equally frightful, and she awoke with a scream to find -herself in bed, her heart beating violently, and the room filled with -shadows which carried almost as much terror to her heart as the visions -which she had seen in her dreams. - -At last her mental torture became unbearable. She arose and dressed -herself. Drawing aside the heavy curtains, she saw that the sun was -nearly up. She went into the garden. The dew lay thick upon the grass. -She knelt down upon the green carpet. How cool it seemed to her hands, -which were burning as with fire. She walked along one of the paths and -the cool morning breeze refreshed her. Hearing the sound of a spade -against a rock, she turned into a side path. - -“It’s early ye are in gettin’ up,” said Terence, the gardener. “Ye may -belave me or not, but whin ye turned into the path I thought the sun was -up for sure.” - -Vivienne could not help smiling. “Ah, Terence, you are a great -flatterer, like all of your countrymen. Do you say such pretty things to -Snodine, your wife?” - -“Well, I did before we wuz married and some time afther, but to spake -the truth, I sometimes think that Snodine’s good-nature sun has set and -I’m afeared it’ll never come up again.” - -“Oh,” said Vivienne, “Snodine is not such a bad wife. She has a sharp -tongue, to be sure.” - -“Ah, ah, that she has; and if she wud only use it in the garden instid -of on me, your brother would not have to buy so many spades.” - -Vivienne was not disposed to continue the conversation, and after -walking to the end of a long path, made her way back without again -coming in contact with Terence. As she approached the house she found -that her old nurse, Clarine, was up. She must have seen Vivienne, for -she threw open the window of her room, on the ground floor, and gave the -young girl a cheery good-morning. - -“May I come in?” asked Vivienne. - -Clarine ran to open the door, and as Vivienne entered she took the young -girl in her arms and kissed her. “Can you come in? You know you can. -Whenever you wish to see Clarine, you may always come without the -asking. I served your father and your grandfather, and I will serve you -as long as I live,” and the old lady made a curtsy to intensify the -effect of her words. - -“I want to talk with you, Clarine,” said Vivienne. “I am in great -trouble.” - -“Trouble!” cried Clarine. “There is enough trouble falling upon the -house of Batistelli without its being visited upon your innocent head. -What is the matter, darling?” and she drew the young girl towards her. -“But we cannot talk here. Come to my room, and we will sit down and you -can tell me all about it.” - -“Why,” exclaimed Vivienne, as they entered the room, “Old Manassa is -here.” - -“Yes,” said Clarine, “the very minute I am dressed he insists upon -coming in and sitting in that arm-chair. I suppose if I gave it to him -he would not be so anxious to visit me, but I won’t do it. It belonged -to your grandfather. I was taken sick once and he sent the chair to me -because it was so comfortable. When I got better he gave it to me and -nothing would induce me to part with it, or even let it go out of my -sight. But don’t worry about him, Vivienne, for he is sound asleep.” - -With her head pillowed upon the breast of her old nurse, who had been a -mother to her so far as it lay in her power, Vivienne told of her -interview with her brother, and how determined he was that she should -marry Count Mont d’Oro. - -“Oh, what shall I do, Clarine?” - -The old nurse pursed her lips and shook her head wisely. “Become -engaged to him. Engagements and marriages are two different things, -Vivienne.” - -“Oh, I could not do that, Clarine. I could not make a promise that I did -not intend to keep.” - -“I would not ask you to,” said Clarine. “You can intend to keep it, but -circumstances may prevent you.” - -Then Vivienne told of the fearful dreams she had had during the night. - -“Oh, I can never do it,” she cried. “I will never marry Count Mont -d’Oro. They say, do they not, Clarine, that Manuel Della Coscia killed -my father?” - -“All Corsica believes it,” said Clarine, and she crossed herself -reverently. - -“Now, listen, Clarine; if the son of Manuel Della Coscia asked my hand -in marriage, I would give it to him as soon as to Count Napier.” - -Old Manassa had been leaning upon the head of his heavy stick. It fell -from his hands to the floor with a crash. - -“Why, what was that?” he cried. “Didn’t I hear somebody talking? I -thought I heard the name of Manuel Della Coscia.” - -“Nonsense, Manassa!” cried Clarine. “You have been at your old trick of -dreaming and then waking up and thinking your dream was real. Now, go -right to sleep again. You cannot have your breakfast for an hour yet.” - -“I am sure he heard everything that we have said,” Vivienne whispered in -Clarine’s ear. - -“Oh, no, he is always like that, but even if he did hear, I will -convince him that he dreamt it.” - -“Come into the garden, Clarine. I do not wish to say anything that can -be overheard.” - -At some distance from the house they sat upon a bench beneath the -drooping branches of a tree which formed a natural arbour. - -“I have something to tell you, Vivienne,” said Clarine. “I had a dream, -too, last night, but there is a good thing about my dreams--they always -come true--and it was about you.” - -“My fate must have been pleasanter than it is likely to be,” said -Vivienne, “judging from your manner.” - -“Listen, Vivienne,” said Clarine, “you can judge for yourself. I thought -you were betrothed to a man whom you did not love and you were very -unhappy; then a stranger came; he was young and handsome and your heart -went out to him. He met Count Mont d’Oro and they quarrelled--they -fought--the Count was killed and you married the stranger.” - -“How foolish, Clarine! But you know they say dreams go by contraries.” - -As they walked back to the house, Clarine said: “Take my advice, -Vivienne, and tell the Count that you will marry him. You must trust in -the One above. Your Heavenly Father doeth all things well--if it is to -be, it will be.” - -Old Manassa had not been sleeping. He had overheard what had passed -between Vivienne and her nurse. Immediately after they had gone into the -garden, he made his way to his master’s room. He found Pascal Batistelli -alone. - -“Ah, this is a sad day for the house of Batistelli,” he cried. “She is -unworthy of the name.” - -“Why, what has happened now?” asked Pascal. - -“I heard her say it--your sister Vivienne.” - -“Heard her say what?” cried Pascal. “Why don’t you speak out and not -stand mumbling there?” - -“I heard her say that she would as soon marry the son of Manuel Della -Coscia as give her hand to Count Mont d’Oro. It is true. I heard it. I -swear I did.” - -Pascal took a silver coin from his purse and threw it towards Manassa. - -“I see, you must be out of tobacco; but keep your eyes shut and your -ears open and tell me all you hear. Is your gin bottle empty yet?” - -“Not quite,” said Manassa. - -“I am obliged to you for telling me what you heard,” said Pascal, “but -go now; I am busy.” - -The old man shambled towards the door. As he went out he muttered to -himself: “She is unworthy of the name of Batistelli.” - -Some hours later Vivienne was again walking in the garden. She knew that -the Count was coming to see her--she knew what he was going to say--she -knew what her answer was expected to be. She determined that the -interview should not take place within-doors. Since talking with -Clarine, she had prayed fervently for Heavenly guidance, and it seemed -to her that it would come more quickly, more directly, if she were in -the garden with the trees, the flowers, and the birds about her, and the -blue sky overhead. - -The greater part of Vivienne’s education had been drawn from nature. She -had learned little from books or from contact with others. Her life had -been circumscribed in many ways, and such a life makes one -introspective. The dweller in a large city who has so much to attract, -to interest him and take up his time, who gets but a glimpse of the sky -between the house-tops, becomes superficial and does little deep -thinking; but one who lives in the country, largely apart from his -fellow man, who sees the wide expanse of heaven every day, feels as -though he were closer to the Great Power--thinks more of the future and -looks searchingly into his own heart, seeking to determine his probable -fate when his good deeds and bad deeds, his sins of omission and -commission, are scanned by the great Judge. - - * * * * * - -“And how is Mademoiselle Batistelli this beautiful morning?” asked Count -Napier. - -Vivienne, startled from her reverie, quickly decided that he should not -come to the point at once. She knew his forceful manner of speech, and -determined not to allow her heart to be carried by storm. She answered: - -“I am not well--not sick, but worried. Julien was out all night. What -will the end be?” - -“Oh, he’ll get married some time and settle down.” - -“And who would have him--a drunkard? I should pity her from the bottom -of my heart.” - -“You look at the matter too seriously,” said the Count. “Most men are -drunkards--some with wine, some with women, but more with love. I was -talking to your brother Pascal yesterday about our future.” - -Vivienne clasped her hands and looked into his face, appealingly. - -“We can have no future together, Count Mont d’Oro; I do not love you.” - -“Well, as to that,” cried the Count, jauntily, “neither do I love you, -but I respect and admire you.” - -The appealing look left Vivienne’s face; in its place came an expression -of determination. - -“I wish to be loved--by my husband.” - -“You must have been reading English novels,” said the Count. “In them -you will find the word ‘home,’ but we have nothing like it in French. It -may be that the word ‘love’ has no exact counterpart in our language. -You must be content, as most Frenchwomen are, with the love of your -children.” - -“No, no,” cried Vivienne. “If they are not the offspring of love, they -will have no love. It is too great a risk.” - -“We must take risks in this life,” said the Count. “I will take you to -Paris with me. You can enjoy yourself there; it is so different from -this dull, sleepy place.” - -He had tried the old form of temptation. By it Faust had won Marguerite; -but Vivienne was made of sterner stuff. - -“I care nothing for Paris or its sinful life; your mother has told me of -it. I love my home--every stone in this old castle is dear to me, and my -heart will always be here.” - -“Ah,” said the Count, “I understand you. Your husband must be content to -live here and never go to Paris.” - -“If he loves me as I shall love him, he will be content to stay here -with me.” - -Count Napier Mont d’Oro felt sure that his mother intended to cut off -his allowance when he became the husband of Vivienne; in fact, she might -do so even if that event did not take place. Thrown upon his own -resources, he knew his only means of existence would be the -gambling-table. He was wild, ungovernable, criminal in many ways, but he -did not look forward with unmixed pleasure to a sinful life. He was -honest with himself in that he knew he thought more of the rich -Batistelli estates than of the fair young girl who bore the name. He -thoroughly believed in _laissez-faire_. His philosophy was very much -like that of Clarine; take a step that does not exactly please you and -trust that fate will so order your future that you will not be obliged -to take another like it. - -Apparently dropping conversation on the subject uppermost in their -minds, he said: “I am going back to Paris, but for a little while only. -I have some business matters there to attend to--I mean to close up. -Then I am coming back to Corsica to settle down. After all, I think you -are right; Parisian life is like fireworks--there is a snap and a go and -a very pretty sight for a few minutes, and then it is all over. But the -life of a country gentleman is solid and substantial. What more can a -man ask in this world than a faithful and trusting wife and beautiful -and loving children? As these pictures pass before my eyes, I know which -one is the best and which is better for me, but before I go I wish to -be sure of something that will overcome all temptation to stay in Paris, -something to bring me back. You know, sometimes the spirit is willing -but the flesh is weak.” - -“Your mother,” uttered Vivienne. - -“No, yourself,” cried the Count. - -“But you do not love me!” - -“I have said that I did not, but I will say more--I love no one else.” - -Vivienne was in a quandary. What should she do? Her own mind seemed -powerless to direct her, and almost in a state of despair she recalled -the advice Clarine had given. - -Forcing a smile she turned towards the Count. “If I promise to marry -you, Count, if before I become yours you see another whom you will love, -will you come to me and tell me? No, no, I will not ask that; but if I -learn that you do love some one else, it is understood and agreed that -the knowledge of that fact will free me from the carrying out of my -promise?” - -“Oh, yes,” said the Count, “I agree to that willingly; it is but fair -that I should.” He took her hand in his, raised it to his lips and -kissed it. “This is the bond,” he cried; “you are to be mine. I am the -happiest man in Corsica.” - -“Do not say that,” cried Vivienne. “You have no right to utter those -words until I look into your face and say that I am the happiest woman -in Corsica.” - -Shortly after Vivienne had given her promise to the Count, he made his -way to her brother. - -“It is all right,” he cried. “It was a hard fight, but my eloquence won; -she has promised to be my wife.” - -“But when?” asked Pascal. - -“Oh, I did not go so far as to fix the date. That is usually left to the -lady, you know.” - -“But it must be soon,” said Pascal. “There are weighty reasons.” - -The Count thought of his mother’s reference to his allowance. “Yes, -there are,” he replied. “We must use our combined eloquence to fix the -marriage for an early day.” - -In the afternoon, while walking in the garden, Pascal met Old Manassa. - -“She has promised to marry him. Manassa, you are an old fool. You should -have been in your grave long ago.” - -The old man straightened up; his eyes flashed. “I shall not die until I -see Manuel Della Coscia, who murdered your father, weltering in his own -blood.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -“PYLADES AND ORESTES.” - - -“Are you going, Vic?” - -“Of course I am going. I have been ordered to join Admiral Sir Hugh -Walter’s flagship, which sails for Halifax in a week.” - -“I do not mean that. What I want to know is whether you are going to -Buckholme with me. I met Clarence Glynne on the Strand yesterday, and he -gave me a most cordial invitation to come out. He extended it to me in -the name of his father, Miss Renville, and himself.” - -“That was more than a double-header, Jack,” said Victor; “that was three -of a kind.” - -“I hope you won’t consider me egotistical, Victor, but I really think -from what he said that she was the instigator of the invitation.” - -The one addressed as Victor was silent for a moment. He cast his eyes -downward as though thinking the matter over. At last he said: - -“Why should I go, Jack? It was you who jumped into the river and saved -her life, for she sank twice, you will remember. Besides, when she -learns that you are the Honourable John De Vinne, and likely to -become--I beg your pardon--Viscount De Vinne, what chance will there be -for me?” - -“Yes,” cried Jack, oblivious of his friend’s remark, “the whole picture -comes back to me so vividly. What an idiot that fellow was to run into -her boat--and then he was going to let her drown because he could not -swim. He was near enough to row up and pull her into his boat when she -came up the first time. Of course I had to swim for it, and dive too. I -think a man who cannot steer a boat and cannot swim should stay on -land.” - -“Those are my sentiments--exactly,” remarked Victor. - -The recalling of the event--the rescue from drowning of Miss Bertha -Renville by Mr. Jack De Vinne--had such an effect upon the young man -that he was in a very excitable condition. - -“You might have been the one, Vic, to have saved her instead of me. To -be fair about it we should have drawn lots, but, as you say, there was -no time to lose. Although the affair happened a month ago, it seems as -though it were but yesterday. It seemed a profanation, but we had to -treat her just as though she were a man instead of a woman. You ran to -get a trap and we took her to the tavern and called a doctor, then, when -she was once more herself, we drove to Buckholme with her.” - -“You’ve got it by heart,” said Victor. “Do you remember as well what -took place at Buckholme? How delighted Clarence was and the half-hearted -thanks of Mr. Glynne, Miss Renville’s guardian? What a roly-poly sort of -a man he is. - -“I was not taken with his outward appearance, and if I am any sort of a -judge of human nature, I should say that he houses a bad heart within -that portly frame.” - -“I must confess, Vic, that I did not notice the man much. I was thinking -of her; how close she had been to death, and how glad I was to have been -the means of saving her life. I will be honest with you, Vic, and own -up--I am in love with her. She is the most beautiful girl I have ever -seen and I want to ask your advice. What do you know about me, Victor?” - -Victor Duquesne leaned back in his chair and laughed. “Well, Jack, I -know that you are the second son of an earl--I really do not know his -full title--but in England, you know, the second son of an earl is a -mere nobody if his elder brother enjoys good health.” - -“You have hit it just right, Victor,” said Jack. “I am really a nobody; -that’s why I went into the Navy, but I hope you won’t take that remark -as a personal reflection. There are a great many smart men in the Navy, -and you are one of them.” - -“Thanks, Jack. We are and always have been the best of friends. I hope I -shall serve my king faithfully and well, and be worthy of your good -opinion. But I fancy you are going to tell me something about yourself, -for some reason or other known to you, but at the present time, unknown -to me.” - -“Well, listen,” said Jack. “I am the second son of the Earl of Noxton. -My father obtained considerable reputation in a political way when he -was Lord De Vinne, and although ten years have passed since he succeeded -to the Earldom, he prefers, for some reason or other, to be known as -Lord De Vinne. Even my mother thinks that ‘Lady De Vinne’ is a prouder -title than ‘Countess Noxton.’ My father’s name is Carolus. I think he -has told me at least a hundred times how one of his ancestors came over -with William of Normandy, and the name Carolus has always been borne by -the heir to the title.” - -“I agree with your father and mother,” said Victor. “I should prefer a -title which I had won or upon which I had conferred some honour, rather -than one simply bequeathed to me.” - -Jack continued: “My mother was a poor girl and, they say, very -beautiful. She can bring forward neither of her sons, however, as -evidence of that fact. Her name is Caroline. I have sometimes fancied -that its similarity to Carolus had no small influence with my father. -Now, to come to the point. My brother Carolus, who is five years older -than I, is engaged to Lady Angeline Ashmont. He has been an invalid for -some years and is now in Germany, taking the baths.” - -“A temporary illness, I hope,” said Victor. - -“I do not know,” said Jack. “He has been a great student, and instead of -riding horseback and hunting and swimming, as I have done all my life, -he stayed cooped up in his den working, I believe, on the genealogy of -the family. He is as thin as a rail and as white as a ghost.” - -“He has been overworking,” suggested Victor. - -“Perhaps so,” said Jack; “time thrown away, I have always told him. When -he inherits, which will be some years from now, for my paternal is as -tough as a knot, I suppose I shall have a small allowance from him. I -shall go into the Navy for a few years--maybe for life. I wish we could -go on the same ship.” - -“So do I,” said Victor. - -The two young men were old friends; they had attended the same schools -together, and together had received their naval training. Their regard -for each other had been so marked that their fellows had dubbed them -“Pylades and Orestes.” Neither had been called upon to suffer or die for -the other, but the tie that bound them was so strong that, had it been -put to the test, either would have proved himself worthy of his ancient -namesake. - -Jack gave a long, deep sigh. - -“What’s the matter, Jack?” asked Victor. “Are you thinking of Miss -Renville?” - -“No, Victor, of you. What happy years we have passed together; and now -our ways part. You have forged ahead of me and are now a lieutenant, -while I--poor Jack--with inferior ability, have to be content with lower -rank! You deserve the good fortune, Vic, but your friends must have -great influence with the Admiralty.” - -“I have no friends,” said Victor; “only one--you, Jack. The reason for -my appointment is as inexplicable to me as it is to you. Of course I had -a mother, but my father never spoke of her. I have not seen him for -twelve years--since I was ten years old, when he put me to school--the -one where I first met you. My expenses have been paid, but no word of -any kind has come from him.” - -“He is a man of mystery,” said Jack, “but nearly all mysteries are -cleared up in time, and I have no doubt yours will be. By the way, what -is the name of Sir Hugh’s flagship?” - -“Strange, is it not, Jack, she is called the _Orestes_; so you see I -shall have a constant reminder of our past friendship.” - -“‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot,’” hummed Jack. Then he cried: -“Come, Victor, we must go back to first principles; say yes or no--will -you come to Buckholme with me?” - -Victor hesitated. “Well--perhaps. Do you know, I have thought, Jack, -that Mr. Glynne may have spoken to the Admiralty about me. You know he -is in the iron and steel trade and is brought into business relations -with them. Yes, I will go. I will try to find out whether he had -anything to do with it. If he had, although he does remind me of a small -elephant every time I look at him, I will give him a credit mark for his -kindness.” - -The conversation just narrated took place at Victor Duquesne’s -apartments in London. As he had told Jack, his bills had been paid -regularly and his allowance had not been a niggardly one. This enabled -him to have a sitting-room and a chamber, and he could have afforded a -valet had he been so disposed. - -“You must not back out of your promise, Victor,” said Jack, as he -extended his hand; “shake! That settles it. You are booked for -Buckholme.” - -“And you for Bertha,” said Victor, and they both laughed. - -At that moment there was a light tap on the door. - -“Come in,” cried the two young men together. - -The door was opened for a short distance and the face of an untidy -maid-of-all-work, with unkempt hair, appeared. - -“Come in,” again cried Victor. - -“I don’t care to,” said the slavey. “I don’t look well enough, and Mrs. -Launders said if I dared go in she’d give it to me when I got back.” - -“What do you want?” asked Victor, somewhat impatiently. - -“I’ve got a letter for you,” said Sarah, the slavey, “and if you’ll -excuse me, I’ll throw it in and you can pick it up.” - -Suiting the action to the word, the letter flew high in the air and then -fell to the floor. Sarah slammed the door, and her heavy boots were -heard clattering upon the stairs all the way down. - -Victor sprang forward and picked up the letter. He looked first at the -postmark. “Ajaccio,” he cried. “It is from Corsica. I am not acquainted -with any person there.” He held the sealed letter in his hand and -regarded it. - -“Never fool with a letter,” cried Jack. “Cut it open, tear it open, and -know the best or worst as soon as possible. To me, a man who is afraid -to open a letter is like a gambler who is uncertain whether to stake his -last shilling or not.” - -“This is my letter, Jack, and I propose to regard the outside of it as -long as I choose before perusing its contents.” - -Although the words had a sharpness in them, there was a look in Victor’s -eye as he spoke which robbed them of any intention to offend. - -“All right, old boy,” said Jack. “Don’t let me hurry you. Why not leave -it on your table until you get back from Buckholme? My father is a man -of wisdom. He has a large correspondence, but he never gets ready to -answer his letters until they are about six months old. During that time -he says half of them have been answered by the course of events, and it -is too late to answer the others; so in that way he has not gained a -very wide reputation as a letter-writer.” - -Victor broke the seal, unfolded the sheet, and spread it carefully on -the table before him. Reading it through quickly, he cried: - -“Jack listen to this: - - “MY DEAR VICTOR: Come to Corsica at once. When you reach Ajaccio, I - will communicate with you secretly by messenger. Hear all, but say - nothing. See Admiral Enright and sail with him on the _Osprey_. - - “Your father, - “HECTOR DUQUESNE.” - -Victor laid the letter upon the table, and as he brought his hand down -forcibly upon it, he cried: “Now, what does that mean, Jack?” - -“It’s just as plain as the nose on your face, Victor. It was your father -who got the appointment for you. Tom Ratcliffe is going with Enright, -who is ordered to cruise in the Mediterranean. Corsica, unless my -geographical knowledge is twisted, is in the Mediterranean; so you see -your father has fixed things all right.” - -Victor sprang to his feet “Then I must see Enright at once. Whether I go -to Buckholme or not depends upon when he sails.” - -That evening Victor was at Jack’s rooms. - -“I have got my transfer, Jack,” he cried as he entered the room. - -“Lucky boy,” was Jack’s comment, “everything goes your way.” - -“I don’t think it would have,” said Victor, “but upon one occasion when -Admiral Enright visited the Naval Academy, he was accompanied by his -daughter, Miss Helen. For some reason or other, probably on account of -my well-known affability, I was detailed to escort her and show her the -great attractions of the Academy. I could not find him to-day at the -Admiralty and was obliged to go to his house. I met Miss Helen, and I am -sure it was her influence that carried the day. We sail on Monday. -To-day is Thursday; so you see, my dear Jack, Buckholme becomes an -impossibility.” - -“Then I must go alone,” said Jack. After another long sigh: “My fate -lies there--I love Bertha Renville, and I know, if an opportunity -offers, that I shall ask her to be my wife.” - -“Do you leave early in the morning?” asked Victor. - -“Yes, by the 7.30. I wish to get there early, for I shall ask her to go -boating with me. There is no place like a boat for propounding momentous -questions. Nobody to watch you, and only the little fishes to overhear -what you say.” - -“Well, Jack,” said Victor, as their hands met at parting, “you have my -best wishes and my sincerest hopes for your happiness and success in -life.” - -“The same to you, old boy,” cried Jack. - -They spoke no more, but when they stood by the open door, as though -prompted by some instinct which they could not resist, they threw their -arms about each other and stood for a moment in a brotherly embrace. - -Victor ran swiftly down the stairs and walked homeward so fast that his -fellow pedestrians looked after him, some with curiosity and others with -suspicion. - -Jack threw himself into an arm-chair, lighted his pipe, and smoked -unremittingly for an hour. - -The next morning he was not surprised to find that he had gone to bed -without extinguishing the gas. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -“BUCKHOLME.” - - -Jack De Vinne, with all the impatience of youth, was at the railway -station half an hour before the starting time of the train which was to -bear him to the woman he loved. He walked impatiently up and down the -platform. Finally, he accosted a guard. “When will the Reading train be -in?” he asked. - -“I don’t know,” replied the man. “Sometimes it’s early, and sometimes -it’s late, and sometimes it’s just on time.” - -Jack thanked the man for the valuable information and resumed his walk. -His next act was to buy a morning paper and tuck it beneath the straps -of his valise. Never did time pass so slowly. He was sure it must be -half-past seven, but upon looking at his watch he found that he had been -in the station only ten minutes. - -While standing uncertain, irresolute, dissatisfied, a hand was suddenly -laid upon his shoulder, and turning quickly, he met the gaze of Victor -Duquesne. - -“Why, what brought you here, old boy?” he exclaimed. - -“A fool’s errand, I suppose you will say, when I tell you what I came -for. I was up early this morning, and the thought came to me that I had -not told you to write to me if anything important occurred. Send the -letter to Ajaccio, Island of Corsica. I do not know how long we shall -stay at Malta, but from something I heard Helen say to her father, I -think there is some reason for the Admiral’s visiting Corsica as soon as -possible after his arrival in the Mediterranean. I select Ajaccio, -because the letter will go direct by French post.” - -“Glad you told me,” said Jack. “I write about two letters a year, and -the chances are I should have addressed yours care of the Mediterranean -Sea, and should have expected it to find you. I’m mighty glad to see -you, too. I feel as though I had been waiting here a couple of hours,” -he looked at his watch again, “but it has been only fifteen minutes. Ah, -here’s the train now. Well, good-bye, old boy. Remember I am always your -Pylades.” - -“And I am your Orestes,” declared Victor. “Perhaps the time may come -when one or both of us may be called upon to show the depth of -friendship that lies in him.” - -Once more the men shook hands. Then Jack grasped his luggage, which was -of small compass, and made his way to a seat in a first-class carriage. - -For some time after the train started, Jack sat pre-occupied with his -thoughts. The word “thought” would be more correct, for he had but one, -and that was of Bertha Renville. How would she receive him? Had he been -deceived by the manner in which Clarence had extended the invitation? -Did Mr. Thomas Glynne really wish him to come to Buckholme? He framed -question after question in his mind, but to none could he supply a -satisfactory answer. He pulled the morning paper from under the strap of -his valise and looked listlessly at one page after another. He was not -interested in the Court Calendar, for, beautiful as she was, he could -not expect to find Bertha’s name there. The business and the financial -columns were passed unheeded. He started to read an editorial, but after -glancing at the first few lines, crumpled the paper in his hand and -looked out of the window. - -It was a beautiful morning and nature was in her fairest garb. As the -train passed through well-known places, memories came back to him of -many happy times passed there with his friend Victor. But Jack was not -an ardent lover of nature, and he soon turned again to the newspaper. - -A headline caught his eye: “Attempted Robbery at Brixton, Strange Death -of the Burglar.” The caption was so attractive that Jack read the -article through: - - “A Mrs. Elizabeth Nason, widow, living on Oad Street, Brixton, was - awakened early yesterday morning by the loud cackling of the fowls - in her hennery, a small out-building in the rear of the house. She - lives alone, her only protector being a large mastiff, which she - kept within-doors at night. Upon hearing the commotion she went to - the window and, peeping between the curtains, saw that a man had - broken open the door of the hennery, had strangled a number of the - fowls, which lay upon the turf beside him, and was endeavouring to - secure others. She went quietly downstairs, called to the dog that - was asleep in the kitchen, and opening the side door, led him into - the garden. She bolted the door again, ran quickly upstairs, and - looked out to see what would take place. - - “The dog, knowing what was expected of him, ran towards the man, - with jaws distended. A terrific battle between man and dog then - took place, the following description of which was given to our - reporter by Mrs. Nason: - - “The man sprang to his feet, and Mrs. Nason saw, what she had not - at first observed, that he had with him a large umbrella. As the - dog sprang at him, the man grasped the umbrella by both ends and - forced it, laterally, between the dog’s jaws. True to his nature, - the dog shut his teeth firmly upon it. The man was of small - stature, slight in build, and was thrown to the ground by the - impact. That fall, undoubtedly, saved his life, for the time being, - at least, for his hand came in contact with a heavy oaken bar - which had been used to fasten the hennery door. While the dog was - busily engaged trying to disengage his teeth from the umbrella, - into which they had been firmly set, the man sprang to his feet and - dealt the dog a stunning blow with the stick. The dog soon rallied, - however, and the man, apparently fearing another attack, became - frenzied, drew from his pocket a clasp knife with a blade fully six - inches in length, and stabbed the animal viciously in both eyes. - The maddened dog rose upon his hind legs, preparatory to springing - upon his assailant, who improved the opportunity to stab the dog in - the throat. - - “Mrs. Nason could bear the scene no longer and turned from the - window. Recovering her self-possession, she looked again and saw - the man lying face downward, the body of the dog beneath him. - - “She ran from the house to that of a neighbour, a Mr. Abraham - Dowse, who, arming himself with a pitchfork, accompanied her to the - scene of the conflict. He found that both man and dog were dead. - The police were then called. - - “The man was shabbily dressed, had no money upon his person, and - the only means of identification was a letter addressed to Alberto - Cordoni. The letter was postmarked Ajaccio and was more than six - months old. It read as follows: - - “A. C. You have been in London now for more than a year, but to no - avail. If you had found any trace of Manuel Della Coscia, I would - be willing to give you ten times what you have already received; - but I shall send you no more money until you give me some proof - that you are on his track. - - “The letter itself was without date or signature. The body of the - man, who was apparently an Italian or Corsican, was taken in charge - by the police.” - -“What a bloodthirsty set those Corsicans are,” said Jack to himself. “I -wonder why Victor’s father wants him to go to that God-forsaken -country. When I get back to London I will send this paper to Victor,” -and he folded and replaced it beneath the straps of his valise. - -The train was now approaching Windsor, the abode of royalty. Although -Jack had the blood of the aristocracy in his veins, he was not -interested in either castle or park. His thoughts were several miles -beyond. - -There was one place through which he was to pass which one cannot visit -unmoved. Jack looked earnestly from the window. Yes, there it was, the -village church of Stoke Pogis, and close to it the churchyard in which -Gray wrote his immortal Elegy. - -Jack was not a great lover of poetry, for, as he had expressed himself, -“translating Greek poetry into English verse is enough to make a man -sick of it for life.” But Victor had admired the elegy and had read it -aloud several times to Jack, who now recalled one of the stanzas: - - “Full many a gem of purest ray serene - The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear; - Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, - And waste its sweetness on the desert air.” - -It is strange what unexpected comparisons lovers will make. He did not -think of Bertha as being a gem in some ocean cave, but the thought did -occur to him that it was not just the thing for so beautiful a girl to -lived unnoticed in the little town of Maidenhead when the frequenters of -London drawing-rooms would have gone wild over her and where she would -be the belle of the season. Then the thought came to him that he did not -wish her to be the belle of the season; he wished her to be his, his -only, thus adding another proof to the adage that true love is selfish, -which selfishness, carried to extremes, becomes the green-eyed monster, -jealousy. - -Jack leaned back in his seat and began wondering what his future would -be. His life could not fail to be happy if Bertha promised to be his -wife. Should he become a statesman, as had his father, or--but he would -not think of that now. - -He could see the great stone bridge which spans the Thames at -Maidenhead, forming a means of communication between the County of -Berkshire and that of Buckingham. Then he remembered that he had read of -the old wooden bridge which spanned the river, and how the Duke of -Surrey and the followers of Richard II. had at that bridge held the -soldiers of Henry IV. at bay for hours, and then made a safe retreat. - -They were nearing the station. Jack’s heart gave a great jump. Yes, that -was the place where Miss Renville’s boat had been run down and capsized, -and there she would have met her death had it not been for--yes, Fate -must have willed that he should be there in time to save her. - -Mr. Thomas Glynne, who, with his son, Clarence, a young man of -twenty-four, formed the firm known in the city as Walmonth & Company, -iron and steel merchants, was a short, thick-set man, with a round face -and an expression of the utmost geniality. While business manager for -Walmonth & Company he had lived, as he expressed it, “in smoky, dirty -London,” but after becoming head of the firm, he made up his mind to -have a country residence. He had looked North, South, East, and West -before fixing upon a location, and finally decided to make his home in -the little town of Maidenhead, the scenery surrounding which is -picturesque and beautiful. Here he built a house of the conventional -type, to which he had given the name of “Buckholme.” Had he been asked -why he had thus named it, he probably would have replied: “Do you know -anybody who has a house with that name?” - -Some fourteen years before, when Mr. Glynne was about forty, the house -of Walmonth & Company was in financial straits. Mr. Glynne, who had gone -to Paris on business connected with the firm, was suddenly recalled by -an urgent telegram, and on his return to London, the senior member of -the house, Mr. Jonas Walmonth, informed him that the firm was unable to -meet its obligations and would be forced to assign. This action was -averted, however, for by some means, unknown to Mr. Jonas Walmonth and -his brother Ezra, Mr. Glynne raised sufficient money to pay the -outstanding liabilities and thus secured a controlling interest in the -firm. The two Walmonth brothers were old bachelors, and two years after -Mr. Glynne became the “Co.,” Ezra died suddenly of heart disease, while -Jonas, broken in body and mind, was sent to a sanatorium from which he -never emerged. No heirs came to claim the third interest belonging to -the Walmonth brothers, and Mr. Glynne did not take special pains to find -any. When his son Clarence became of age he was taken into the firm. He -showed great aptitude for the business, and during the past year the -senior partner had made few visits to the city. “What’s the use?” he -said. “I have been in the traces for more than thirty years; the -business runs itself, and all that Clarence has to do is to fill orders -and collect bills. Besides, I see him once a week, and if he wants my -advice, I am always ready to give it.” - -Thomas Glynne had two passions; one was his love of flowers, and the -other, the greater one, his love of money. Amply favoured as to the -latter, he found great enjoyment in gratifying his love for -floriculture. Visitors came from far and near to view the beautiful -plants in his greenhouses and conservatory. It was a mystery to his -associates in the trade as to how he had become possessed of enough -money to buy out the Walmonth Brothers, build his beautiful house, and -spend such extravagant sums for orchids and other rare plants. - -It was no mystery to Mr. Thomas Glynne. He could have told them, had he -wished, that when in Paris, at the time the urgent telegram was sent him -by his employers, he had met with a most wonderful experience. - -An English gentleman named Oscar Renville was engaged in the iron and -steel business in Paris, and it was with him that Mr. Glynne, -representing the Walmonth Brothers, transacted a very large business and -with whom he was on most intimate terms of friendship. Mr. Renville was -a widower, as was Mr. Glynne, for both had lost their wives a few years -after marriage. Mr. Renville had one child, a beautiful little girl -named Bertha. - -One afternoon Mr. Glynne had gone to Mr. Renville’s office on business, -and found the establishment in a state of great excitement. Mr. Renville -had been stricken with apoplexy, and the clerks were debating what they -should do, at the time of Mr. Glynne’s arrival. There was nothing -undecided about Mr. Glynne. Mr. Renville was placed in a carriage and -Mr. Glynne accompanied him home; nor did he leave his friend until he -saw his body placed at rest in _Père la Chaise_. - -Shortly before his death, Mr. Renville had made and signed a will by -which Mr. Thomas Glynne was constituted the guardian of his only child -and heiress, and given full control of her property until the time of -her marriage. - -Had Mr. Glynne’s associates in trade known this fact, it would, -probably, have relieved the feeling of wonderment they entertained -concerning his financial transactions. - -It also evidences the fact that Mr. Glynne had no difficulty in -satisfying his passion for flowers. He, however, did have some -difficulty, or feared that he might have, in satisfying his love for -money. - -He knew that he was in undisputed possession of Bertha’s fortune, which -amounted to about £40,000. But what was he to do when Bertha married and -he was obliged to transfer the fortune to its rightful owner? There was -one point in his favour, and a great one. Neither Bertha nor any one -else knew that she had a fortune; but the fact might come out at some -time or other, and Thomas Glynne, being a bad man at heart, was in -wholesome fear of the law, which he knew dealt rigorously with those who -betrayed a trust such as he had accepted. - -He had formed three plans which would enable him to keep the money under -his control. The first was to bring about a marriage between Bertha and -his son Clarence. The second plan, in case the first proved impossible, -was to prevent her marrying any one else. The third plan, if she -persisted in forming a matrimonial alliance, was to keep possession of -the property in some other way, and Mr. Glynne had not decided in his -own mind just what that “other way” might be. “It would depend upon -circumstances,” he said to himself. - -Jack De Vinne thought Bertha Renville was beautiful, and she was, judged -by the English standard. She was tall and lithe, perfect in form; with -glossy hair of a golden tint; blue eyes; cheeks with a touch of pink -that enhanced their whiteness, and a Cupid’s bow of a mouth, which was -usually the home of a bewitching smile. Such a woman as men become -heroes for; such a woman, for love of whom, men have died in misery. - -When the train drew up at the little station, Jack at once caught sight -of Clarence’s smiling face, and a moment later he was the recipient of a -hearty greeting. - -“I do not usually come down until Saturday,” said Clarence, “but as I -had invited you to become our guest, I arranged matters in the City so -that I can stay with you until Monday.” - -“I am glad to hear it,” said Jack. “I am rather bashful, you know, Mr. -Glynne, and I’m afraid if you had not been here I should have felt -like--like--a cat in a strange garret, you know.” - -“That’s a very good simile,” remarked Clarence. “By comparing yourself -to a cat, I suppose you are looking for a mouse.” - -Jack smiled. What did the young man mean? Although he did not speak -outright, his looks and words seemed to indicate that he thought Jack -was interested in Miss Renville, and Jack had told Victor some things -which led him to think that the young lady was more interested in his -visit than either the young man or his father. - - * * * * * - -The night before Jack’s arrival at Buckholme, Mr. Thomas Glynne had -informed his son that he wished to have a talk with him in the library -after dinner. - -Clarence had entered the apartment smoking a cigarette. His father was -sitting at a beautifully carved and finely inlaid table. - -“Throw that horrible-smelling thing away, Clarence. You know I detest -cigarettes.” - -“I know you do,” said Clarence, “but I like them. I never smoke during -business hours and only one or two after dinner. I know it is a vice, -but it is a mild one, and everybody is cognisant of it. There are men -who have greater vices, but they conceal them from the public gaze. To -oblige you, however, I will forego the pleasure it gives me,” and he -threw it into the fireplace. - -The father lost no time in bringing the subject he had in mind to his -son’s attention. - -“You know I am a business man, Clarence, and what I’ve got to say I say -right out. I have said it before and to-night I am going to say it -again. I want you to marry Bertha Renville.” - -“There are only two objections to such a course,” said Clarence, coolly. -“In the first place, I do not love her, and in the second place I am -sure she would not have me if I did.” - -“You love money, don’t you?” asked the father, sharply. - -“Not for itself,” said Clarence. “I have no miserly instincts of which I -am aware. I will acknowledge, however, that I love what money will buy.” - -“Supposing I told you,” said the father, “that this marriage was -absolutely necessary for financial reasons; that the firm was so deeply -involved that it must assign unless more capital is secured at once; -what would you say to that?” - -Clarence smiled grimly, and there was a sarcastic turn to his lip as he -replied: “Well, father, to speak honestly, I should think you had been -reading some popular novel, and had learned that portion of it by heart -which you have just now repeated. I am led to think this to be the case -because the house of Walmonth Brothers, of which I have the honour to be -the junior partner, has ten thousand pounds in the bank, with fully -twenty thousand pounds in bills receivable, and no large bills payable. -So you see, father, the extract from the popular novel is not applicable -to our case at all.” - -Thomas Glynne arose from his chair, clasped his hands behind his back, a -favourite position of his, and walked up and down for some time without -speaking. Then he opened the door of one of the bookcases and took down -a volume which showed marks of great usage. He approached his son and -said, solemnly: - -“Clarence, this is your mother’s Bible. I am going to tell you -something, but you must swear on this book that you will keep what I am -going to say to you a secret as long as I wish you to.” - -“I dislike secrets,” said Clarence, “and I do not like to take an oath. -I will promise not to mention what you say to me, and with me such a -promise is as binding and sacred as an oath.” - -Mr. Glynne laid the book on the table. “Well, I believe you, Clarence, -but remember, I look upon your promise as though it had been an oath.” -Then after a pause, “Did I ever tell you that my ward, Bertha Renville, -is a rich woman?” - -“Well, no,” said Clarence. “You have never treated her as though she -was. Her allowance has been quite moderate and, to tell the truth, I -have given her considerable money myself when I knew that she wished -certain things, and told me that she could not afford to buy them. No, I -never had any idea that she was a rich woman. I always supposed that her -father was a poor man, but your friend, and that you, with your -well-known kindness of heart, had provided for her out of your own -bounty.” - -“Well,” said Mr. Glynne, “I am glad that has been your opinion, and I -mean that the rest of the world shall continue to think so. Now, I am -going to tell you the truth. The money with which I bought out the firm -of Walmonth Brothers--the money with which I built this house--in fact -all the money I have used to satisfy my, as you know, fastidious tastes, -in reality belongs to Miss Renville. By the terms of her father’s will, -when she marries, I must turn over the property, with accrued interest, -to her, and, of course, to her husband. Now, let me ask you the question -I asked when you first came in: Will you marry her and keep this -money in the family, or will you refuse to do so and lose -everything--business, house----” - -“Well,” said Clarence, “it seems rather a hard box to put a fellow in, -but supposing she wants to marry somebody else?” - -The father began to show signs of anger. The genial smile had vanished. -“That’s not your business, young man. If she doesn’t marry you, she -shan’t marry anybody else; I’ll look out for that.” - -“Well, then,” said Clarence, “let us leave her out of the question and -I will answer for myself. I am young and can work. I am sorry for you, -for you are getting old and it may come hard on you; but my mind is made -up. I do not love Bertha Renville, and whatever the result may be I -won’t marry her.” - -The usually genial Mr. Thomas Glynne became livid with rage. “We shall -see about that, young man. You shall go out of the firm. I will close up -the business. You are an ungrateful cub. I made life easy for you; now -go out into the world and find out how hard it is to do anything for -yourself.” - -“That’s what I said I was willing to do,” said Clarence. “But you won’t -drive me out of the firm, nor you won’t close up the business.” - -The young man arose to his feet and father and son stood glaring at each -other like two wild animals. - -“Oh, I won’t, won’t I?” snarled Mr. Glynne. “How will you keep me from -doing it?” - -“Your own good sense will keep you from doing it, father,” said the -young man, cooling down a little. “If you will keep still, I will do the -same. There is no exigency, as I see, until there is some danger of her -getting married; but if you take any steps to get me out of the firm, or -to wind up the business, I shall tell Bertha.” - -“But you promised you would not.” - -“I know I did,” said Clarence, “but there is an old saying that a bad -promise is better broken than kept. If you have told me the truth, you -are entitled to invest her money and to look after it until her -marriage. When that time comes you have either got to restore the -property to its rightful owner or keep it yourself and become a criminal -in the eyes of the law. In that case, I shall be sorry that my name is -Glynne. I hope this very uncomfortable and unpleasant interview is at an -end. May I be allowed to light another cigarette? My nerves are a -trifle shaken by this unexpected disclosure.” - -The young man suited the action to the word, blew a puff of smoke, and -then said: “I suppose this is all, father. Good-night. I will keep your -secret as long as you respect my rights.” - -When his son had gone, Thomas Glynne clenched his fists and stamped his -foot upon the library floor, but the rich Wilton was thick and gave -forth no sound. - -“Clarence is a fool. But she shall not marry any one else. If she dies, -all will be mine. I am sorry I told him, but I trust it will bring him -to terms. If he did not know it, no one would be the wiser.” - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -THE EARL OF NOXTON. - - -Saturday morning was cloudy. - -“I am so glad the sun is not shining to-day,” remarked Jack, as the -little party took their seats at the breakfast table. - -“Why so?” asked Bertha, and she cast an inquiring glance at the speaker. - -“Because it will be so much better for fishing, and I never like to fish -unless I catch something.” - -“I see,” remarked Bertha, “you are a practical angler, not a political -one.” - -“Exactly,” said Jack. “I remember reading somewhere the definition of a -person who fishes for compliments.” - -“The answer to that must be a joke,” said Clarence. - -Jack laughed. “Something near. I think it was this: A man who fishes for -compliments is one who uses himself for bait.” - -At this they laughed, Mr. Thomas Glynne the loudest of them all. - -After breakfast Bertha said: “You must come with me, Mr. De Vinne, and -see Guardy’s beautiful flowers. They say he has the finest greenhouses -and the most beautiful conservatory in this part of England--some say, -in all England.” - -As they entered the conservatory, Bertha turned towards Jack and -remarked: “I am sorry I cannot agree with you, Mr. De Vinne, but I wish -very much that the sun was shining. Flowers never look so beautiful as -when the sun falls upon them. They are always beautiful, but the -sunlight makes them more so.” - -They were alone and Jack grew venturesome. - -“There is something else that the sun has the same effect upon,” he -remarked. - -“Why, what can that be?” - -“A pretty girl,” answered Jack, with a laugh. “Especially if she -has”--he hesitated, but decided to finish his speech--“especially if she -has golden hair.” - -Bertha avoided the compliment. “I have heard that it is still more -effective when it falls upon a certain shade of red.” - -“That may be so,” said Jack, “but my acquaintance is rather limited and -I must confess I never knew a young lady with red hair.” - -They walked about, Bertha extolling the beauty of the flowers and -calling many of them by name. - -“I do not think you love flowers as I do, Mr. De Vinne.” - -“I will be honest, Miss Renville, I prefer fish. Now, could I induce you -to come with me on the river this morning?” - -“I am no great lover of Father Thames,” she replied. “I have been in his -embrace once and it was not very pleasant.” - -“They say lightning never strikes twice in the same place,” remarked -Jack, “and I don’t think you are in any danger of falling overboard -again. If you refuse I shall consider it as a personal reflection upon -my ability as a sailor.” - -“Oh, Mr. De Vinne, you must not think that I meant such a thing. It is -no lack of confidence in you; it is the other fellow who doesn’t know -how to manage a boat that I’m afraid of. I am a pretty good sailor -myself, and I could have swum ashore that day had I not been encumbered -with my dress. Women are at a great disadvantage, on account of their -dress, in all sports and games.” - -“Well,” said Jack, “if you object to a voyage on the briny deep, what do -you say to a land trip? I have no doubt Mr. Glynne has a turnout in his -stable. Do you know I am a great admirer of the poet Gray? You know he -is buried at Stoke Pogis, not very far from here. I should be delighted -to go there, and it will add greatly to my pleasure if you will -accompany me.” - -Bertha smiled archly. “I have heard that sailors make very poor landsmen -and know very little about horses.” - -“Oh, now, you’re joking me, Miss Renville.” A cloud passed over his face -and his voice grew grave. - -“Pardon me, Mr. De Vinne, I have to supply the fun for the family. -Perhaps my familiarity with those whom I meet every day has led me to be -wanting in the respect due to a stranger.” - -“How can you call me a stranger?” cried Jack. - -“Well, now,” cried Bertha, “I see that I am making a mess of it. So we -had better stop just where we are. You have asked me to go to drive with -you. I accept your invitation with pleasure.” - - * * * * * - -When they arrived at Stoke Pogis, Jack tied the horse to a convenient -hitching-post and they went into the secluded churchyard. - -As they stood by the tomb of the poet’s mother, Jack read aloud the -inscription upon it. - -“He must have loved his mother devotedly,” said Bertha. - -“All really good men love their mothers,” said Jack. “To me my mother is -the dearest creature in the world.” Then it suddenly occurred to him -that he had made two unfortunate admissions. By implication he had given -his hearer to understand that he was a really good man, and in the -second case he had told her that he loved his mother better than any -person else. “What a blundering fool I have been,” he said to himself. -“The old Greek was right when he wrote that silence is the greatest of -all virtues.” - -He had been very brave while sitting in Victor’s room, when he had -declared his fixed purpose to propose to Miss Renville at sight, but as -he gazed into her beautiful face his courage left him. - -Miss Renville, fortunately, changed the subject. “My mother died when I -was very young, and I was but six years old when I lost my father, but -Guardy has been very good to me. If my parents had lived longer, I -should have felt their loss much more than I have. Is your father -living, Mr. De Vinne?” - -“Oh, yes,” said Jack. “He is hale and hearty. They used to say that -there was no stronger, sturdier man in the House of Lords.” - -“What?” cried Bertha, with astonishment. “Is your father a peer?” - -“Why, didn’t you know?” asked Jack. “I imagined Clarence must have told -you. My father is the Earl of Noxton. My home is at Noxton Hall in -Surrey.” - -Bertha turned her face away. - -“Why, Miss Renville, are you sorry that I am the son of an earl? It does -not amount to much in my case, for I am only a second son. My brother -Carolus is the heir to the title and estates. You know there is nothing -for second sons to do in England but to go into the Army or Navy or to -enter the Church. I expect to be ordered on a cruise very shortly.” - -“I should not like that,” said Bertha. “If I were a young man, I should -look forward to a happy home life.” - -“So do I, one of these days,” said Jack. “There may be a war and I may -come home covered with glory, and perhaps Parliament will give me a -pension.” - -Then he reflected that he had made another blunder. How could he ask the -beautiful being who stood beside him to become his wife when he, of his -own accord, had said that such happiness could only come to him in the, -perhaps, far distant future. A thought came to him suddenly that sent a -cold chill through his frame. How near he had come to trespassing on his -friend’s hospitality. What right had he to ask Miss Renville to become -his wife until he had spoken to her guardian on the subject? No, he must -drop the whole matter just where it was until he had obtained an -interview with Mr. Glynne, Sr. - -The opportunity came to him that evening, for his host invited him into -the library to inspect the fine editions of rare books with which the -shelves were filled. - -While examining the flowers in the conservatory, Jack had kept his eyes -fixed, most of the time, upon Miss Renville, but in the library he -devoted his attention to the fine bindings and beautiful illustrations -rather than to his companion. - -“I suppose you smoke,” said Mr. Glynne. “I do not, and I have made it an -inflexible rule not to allow smoking in this room, but when you join my -son Clarence in the billiard room, you will have all the opportunity you -desire to indulge in your love of tobacco.” - -“All the boys at the Academy smoked,” said Jack, “and I fell into it -with the rest of them.” - -“The late Mrs. Glynne abhorred smoking,” said his host, “and I felt that -I should be untrue to her memory if I should take up the habit now. -Clarence has the most reprehensible habit of smoking cigarettes. I am -not so averse to the odour of good tobacco, but I think the odour of -burnt paper is positively vile.” - -“I agree with you,” said Jack. “When I smoke I fill my pipe and make a -business of it.” - -“Well, my advice to you, Mr. De Vinne, is to give up the habit before -it becomes too firmly fixed upon you. You will be getting married one of -these days. Perhaps your wife may not object openly to your smoking, but -secretly she will wish you did not.” - -Jack felt that Mr. Glynne had broken the ice for him. “If I can get the -girl I wish for my wife,” he said, “I will throw my pipe into the river -and the tobacco after it.” - -There was a broad smile upon Mr. Glynne’s face. “Then you have not asked -her?” - -“Oh, no,” said Jack, “there was a preliminary step that must come -first.” - -“And when will that be taken?” - -“I think now is a good time,” said Jack, in a nonchalant way. “The fact -is, Mr. Glynne, I have fallen deeply in love with your ward, Miss -Renville.” - -Mr. Glynne recoiled and would have measured his length on the floor if -Jack had not sprung forward and prevented. - -“I must have caught my boot-heel in the rug,” said Mr. Glynne, as he -recovered his physical equilibrium; his mental equilibrium, though, was -greatly out of joint. “Mr. De Vinne,” he began, “I am really surprised -at what you say. Take it altogether, you have not known the young lady -more than forty-eight hours. Of course, under the circumstances of your -first meeting, it is but natural that you should feel an interest in -her, for she is really a very beautiful girl.” - -“She is an angel,” ejaculated Jack, fervently. - -“You have done very wisely, Mr. De Vinne, in speaking to me about this -before revealing the state of your feelings to Miss Renville, and I -would advise you not to mention the subject to her until after you have -spoken to your father, the Earl. You should know the truth of the -matter. Miss Renville is beautiful, but she is poor; in fact, she is a -dependent upon my bounty. I do not grudge it to her, for her father and -I were the best of friends, and on his death-bed I promised him that I -would treat her as though she were my own daughter.” - -“That was noble of you,” cried Jack, and before Mr. Glynne could object -the young man grasped his hand and shook it warmly. - -“I do not ask any praise for my action,” said Mr. Glynne. “Bertha is the -light of our household, and I shall miss her greatly when the time -comes, if it ever does, for her to go from us. I will tell you a little -secret, but you must not mention it to my son. I had hoped in my heart -that Clarence and Bertha would fall in love with each other and in that -way I should be in no danger of losing her; but some young men are as -fickle as women, and my son does not seem to know his own heart.” He was -going to say “what is best for him,” but changed the form of the remark -just in time. - -“I do not blame you for not wishing to lose her,” said Jack. - -“I think Clarence must be waiting for you in the billiard room,” -suggested Mr. Glynne, “but before you go, Mr. De Vinne--as I stand in -the relation of a father to Miss Renville--I wish you would give me your -promise not to make any direct proposal to my ward until you have talked -the matter over with your father.” - -When Jack joined Clarence in the billiard room, the latter exclaimed: -“Where have you been, old boy?” - -“I have been having a talk with your father.” - -“Oh, yes,” said Clarence. “He has been showing you the beautiful -pictures in his library, I suppose. Well, he hung on to you longer than -he could have hung on to me.” - -“Mr. Glynne,” said Jack, “I have known you but a short time, but I want -to ask you a question.” - -“Go ahead, old fellow. If I can’t answer it, I’ll keep still.” - -“It is a serious matter,” said Jack. “You may think the inquiry is an -impertinent one and refuse to answer for that reason.” - -“Well,” said Clarence, “as you stand about four inches taller than I do, -and weigh about forty pounds more, I don’t think I shall resort to -personal violence even if my feelings are injured.” - -“Well,” said Jack, “I think we understand each other, so I will ask you -the question in the bluntest possible way. Are you in love with Miss -Renville, or are you likely to be, and is it probable that you will ever -ask her to become your wife?” - -“Well,” said Clarence, with a laugh, “that’s not one question, that’s -three, but fortunately I can answer all with one little word--No. Now, -Mr. De Vinne, will you allow me to ask you a question?” - -“Why, certainly,” said Jack, whose face showed that Clarence’s reply to -his question had greatly pleased him. - -“Well,” began Clarence, “Mr. Jack De Vinne, I would like to ask you if -you are in love with Miss Renville, or if not, are you likely to be, and -is there any probability of your ever asking her to become your wife?” - -“Fortunately,” said Jack, “I can answer you with a monosyllable--Yes.” - -Clarence extended his hand. “Shake, old boy! Go ahead and win.” - -“I have been talking to your father,” said Jack, “and although what he -told me does not lessen my love for Miss Renville in any way, it must -postpone our happiness. He says his ward is very poor.” - -Involuntarily, Clarence gave a loud whistle. - -Jack looked astonished. “What did you do that for?” he asked. - -“Oh,” said Clarence, “when the governor talks to me about his generosity -I always whistle.” - -“Pardon me, Mr. Glynne,” said Jack, “but cannot you add a word or two to -the whistle?” - -“Well,” said Clarence, “perhaps I can put in a word. A thought that -usually runs through my mind when the governor is talking to me, is, -don’t believe all he says. Take my advice, Mr. De Vinne, follow the -course your heart dictates and I believe everything will come out right -in the end. Now, I have been waiting nearly an hour for you for this -little game of billiards and I must insist upon you taking your cue.” - -It was late that night when Clarence parted from Jack at the door of the -latter’s room. Young Mr. Glynne had smoked cigarettes incessantly while -they had been playing billiards, and he felt the necessity of a walk in -the open air before going to bed. - -As he passed the door of the library, he was surprised to find it open, -for he had supposed that his father had already retired. - -“Is that you, Clarence?” - -“Yes, father. I thought you had gone to bed.” - -“Come in,” said the elder Mr. Glynne. “I want to talk to you.” - -Clarence sauntered into the room, his hands in his pockets, wondering -what was in store for him. His father shut the door and then turned upon -him sharply. - -“Clarence, what an infernal fool you were to bring that fellow down -here.” - -“On the contrary,” said Clarence, “I think it was a very gentlemanly and -courteous act, under the circumstances. He saved Bertha’s life, and I -think it was due to him to give him an opportunity to see her.” - -“Oh, yes,” snarled his father, “it is all right for him to come and see -her, but she is a silly girl. She knows how to swim and she could have -gotten ashore all right that day, but she thinks she owes her life to -him and, no doubt, if he asked her to marry him, she would be agreeable; -not because she loved him, but out of gratitude.” - -“Well,” said Clarence, “I may be the infernal fool you say I am, but I -do not think Bertha is so bereft of sense that she would marry any man -out of simple gratitude. If she loves Jack De Vinne, she will marry him -because she loves him and not for any other reason.” - -“Well,” said his father, “she shan’t marry him, and you know the reason. -I shall count upon you to help me; besides, it is for your interest to -do so. You remember I told you that, if she does not marry you, she -shall not marry any one else. If she tries to, I shall find a way to -stop it.” - -“Is that all you’ve got to say?” asked Clarence. “This conversation is -very disagreeable to me; in fact, I can’t see the point to it. If Mr. De -Vinne had asked Bertha to marry him and she had consented, there would -be an exigency for us both to face but, under the circumstances, I see -no reason why either you or I should be deprived of our night’s rest. -I’m going out for a little walk in the park. I will tell Brinkley to -wait up for me until I get back. Good-night, father, and pleasant -dreams.” - - * * * * * - -When Monday morning came and Jack’s visit was at an end, he had no -inclination to return to London. Victor had gone to join his ship. -Clarence was going to the city to attend to business, and Jack, -naturally, accompanied him. - -Mr. Glynne, Sr., invited him to come again, but there was no great -warmth in the invitation. - -Jack had hoped that he would be able to speak a few words to Bertha in -private, but Mr. Glynne was omnipresent, and beyond a shake of the hand -and a parting glance--friendly in its nature but nothing more--Jack’s -romance came to an end, for the time, at least. - -When he reached London he determined to go at once to Noxton Hall. Mr. -Glynne had advised him to talk the matter over with his father and he -had decided to do so. - -When he reached home the dogs and the stable-boys ran out to greet him. - -His father extended the fingers of a cold, clammy hand and remarked: -“Glad to see you, Jack, of course. Greatly pleased that you have passed. -Had hoped that it would have been with a higher standing, but I presume -there were many young men of exceptional ability in your class.” - -“Yes, there were,” said Jack, “and I did not belong to that class.” - -The Earl sniffed. “You have had every advantage of heredity and every -opportunity for preparation. I do not see any reason why you should not -have ranked with the highest. Being in the Navy is the same as being in -public life, and when I was in public life I always kept my eyes upon -the topmost round of the ladder.” - -“Yes,” said Jack, “and I am very proud of the fact that you finally put -your foot upon it.” - -The Earl acknowledged the compliment with a stiff bow. “I believe,” he -said, “in the transmission of ability from one generation to another. I -am proud to say that my ancestors were men of eminence. I cannot help -feeling some regret that one of my descendants----” - -Jack broke in: “But you have Carolus. All the virtues and ability of our -ancestors must descend to him. I am only a second son, and it makes -little difference what becomes of me.” - -“That is not the right way to look at it,” said the Earl, severely. “To -be sure, Carolus is heir-apparent, but in the midst of life we are in -death. You know Carolus is not in good health. If anything should happen -to him you become the heir, and you should be as well-fitted for the -position as is my elder son.” - -“Well, I’m sorry I’m not,” said Jack. “I think I could keep the stables -up to a high standard, but as regards the rest of the estate, I’m afraid -I should have to depend on the steward.” - -“I am glad you have come as you have,” said the Earl, changing the -subject. “Your mother received a letter this morning from the Countess -of Ashmont. She’s in Paris now with her daughter, Lady Angeline, who, -you know, is betrothed to your brother Carolus. They expected that -Carolus would return from the baths in Germany in time to escort them -back to London, but as he cannot do so, the Countess has written to know -if I could possibly spare time from my estates and official duties. I -really cannot do so, but I am fortunate in having a son who can perform -that pleasant duty for me and for his brother. You know, in case -anything should happen to Carolus, which Heaven forbid, I should expect -you to----” - -“To marry Lady Angeline?” asked Jack. “I really could not do that. To -tell you the truth, father, since I left the Academy I have had a most -surprising adventure. I rescued a beautiful young girl from drowning and -have fallen, in love with her.” - -“Who is she?” asked the Earl. - -“She is an orphan,” said Jack. “She is the ward of Mr. Thomas Glynne, of -Buckholme, in Berkshire.” - -“I never heard of him. What is he?” - -“He is the senior member of the firm of Walmonth and Company in London. -They are in the iron and steel business, I believe. They sell a good -deal to the Admiralty.” - -“Has she money in her own right?” - -Jack was honest; in fact, too honest for his own good. It is not always -advisable to tell all the truth upon the slightest provocation. - -“Her guardian says she is poor--in fact, entirely dependent upon his -bounty.” - -“Then,” said the Earl, “I think the sooner you go to Paris the better. -After you return with the Countess and her daughter, we are all going to -Scotland. Carolus will be back by that time, and I think the northern -air will do him good.” - -“But you say nothing about the young lady with whom I am in love,” -persisted Jack. - -“I do not see that there is anything to be said,” rejoined the Earl. -“You have told me that the young lady is penniless; for the second son -of an earl to take a penniless bride is more than foolish--it would be a -crime.” - -Jack went up to his mother’s room. His path of love was not strewn with -rose-leaves and no sunlight fell upon it. Both guardian and father were -against him. Perhaps he had been building a castle in the air, for she, -too, might refuse him after all. His brother Carolus was his father’s -pride, but his mother had always seemed to love him more than her elder -son. - -Jack felt that he must confide in her, and took the first opportunity, -after family affairs had been talked over, to tell of his adventure and -of the beautiful girl who had won his love. - -His mother proved sympathetic. “I do not see why your father should -speak as he did. I was a penniless girl, too, when he made me his bride. -We have been very happy together and he has never reproached me for my -lack of a fortune. Take courage, Jack; follow the course that the young -man whom you call Clarence advised you to take. As he said, all may come -out well in the end.” - -“But father says that if Carolus should die, he would expect me to marry -Lady Angeline.” - -“He has no right to expect any such thing,” said his mother. “He has no -right to move you about as though you were a pawn on a chess-board, and -I have too high an opinion of Lady Angeline to think that she would so -soon forget your brother Carolus, to whom she is most devoted. It is -possible that in time she might learn to love you, but if you did not -love her, why,--“and the Countess laughed,--“there is nothing more to -it, Jack, than there is to the light of the firefly. It beckons us on, -but it cannot be relied upon to lead us to our destination.” - -“I have only one ray of hope,” said Jack. “Mr. Glynne’s son made a very -strange remark, and, I nearly forgot, he gave a whistle before he -spoke.” - -“And what did he say?” asked his mother. - -“He told me not to believe all his father said.” - -“Ah!” said Lady De Vinne. “Perhaps there is a mystery there. I had a box -of books come down from Mudie’s a few days ago, and I have been reading -a novel in which a beautiful young girl, being left an orphan, was -committed to the charge of her father’s most intimate friend. She was -the rightful owner of a large fortune, but her guardian concealed that -fact from her and told everybody that she was penniless. I have not -finished the story yet, but I have no doubt that in the end the -guardian’s duplicity will be shown and that she will regain her fortune -and marry the young man whom she loves.” - -“Why,” cried Jack, “that fits the case exactly.” - -“Well, then,” said his mother, “do not lose hope,” and putting her arms -about his neck she drew him towards her and kissed him. “You know, Jack, -you have always been very dear to me and I wish you to be happy. -Whenever you need advice or consolation, always come to your mother.” - -“I will,” said Jack. - -He went downstairs feeling much happier than he had after his interview -with his father. - -He made his preparations to go to Paris, for he saw that nothing was to -be gained by refusing to comply with his father’s request. He was to -leave for London the next afternoon. - -Soon after breakfast he went to the stables. Joe Grimm, his favorite -stable-boy, had saddled his horse. - -“I am going to take a little gallop,” he said, as he threw a shilling to -the youngster. - -He came back in about an hour, looking much refreshed, with his head -clear, his mind light, and a great hope, restored by his mother’s words, -in his heart. As he dismounted, he saw Hodson coming towards him in -great haste. - -“Your father wants you at once in the library.” - -“What’s the matter?” cried Jack. “Is he ill?” - -“No,” said Hodson, “but something terrible has happened. I don’t know -what it is. He is crying. Your mother is with him, and she is crying, -too.” - -As Jack entered the room he saw that what Hodson had told him was true. -He did not know what to say, and stood expectantly waiting for his -father or mother to speak. - -His father arose and came towards him. Placing his hand on Jack’s -shoulder, he said: “What I feared has come to pass. Your brother Carolus -is dead, and you are the heir to the Earldom of Noxton and its estates. -I hope, my son, that you will prove worthy of them both.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -DUAL LIVES. - - -“Do you see that ‘that’?” - -The speaker was Mr. B. Gorham Potts, head reader for the great London -publishing firm of Johnson, Johnson, Smythe & Johnson, and as he uttered -the words he laid a page-proof upon the table before the young lady who -sat busily engaged in writing. - -Mr. Potts had been christened Benjamin Gorham, the Benjamin being in -honour of a maternal uncle who had gone to South Africa, and, rumour -said, had accumulated a large fortune. But when the said uncle died and -no news came of an inheritance for any members of the Potts family, both -father and mother agreed that a mistake had been made at the baptismal -font. No change, however, had been made in young Benjamin’s name. He -began work in a printing-office at the early age of fourteen and for a -period of sixteen years had been called “Ben” by every one in the -establishment, from the senior proprietor to the smallest errand boy. - -When at the age of thirty he secured a position in the publishing house, -in the composition of which there were so many Johnsons that he decided -a change must and should be made. - -“Maria,” he said to his wife, “I am going to work for a very large -corporation. I am to hold a dignified position and for that reason I -think I should bear a dignified name.” - -“Yes, Benny,” said his wife, in a tone full of affection. - -“That is the last time you will use that name, Maria,” he exclaimed. - -The diminutive little woman was startled by his language and the sharp -tone in which the words were uttered. She said nothing, but acted as -though she had received a blow. - -“Yes, Maria, I have decided to change my name. My old skin-flint of an -Uncle Benjamin, for whom I was named, left me nothing. I have honoured -his memory for thirty years, but in future I propose to be known as B. -Gorham Potts and to sign my name in that way.” - -The little woman took in the situation. “Yes, Gorham,” she exclaimed, -timidly. - -“Don’t you think that’s an improvement?” he asked. - -“Oh, yes!” and then with that delightful British unconsciousness of her -own joke, she exclaimed: “Let it be Gorham.” - -But to return to that “that.” - -Mr. Potts repeated his question in a more decisive manner. “Do you see -that ‘that’?” - -The young lady addressed tossed her head and pouted perceptibly. She was -a pretty little brunette. Proofreaders are made responsible for so many -errors perpetrated by others, as well as for their own shortcomings, -that they are inclined to tergiversation when matters are brought to -them for correction. She shut one eye and looked closely at the -offending word with the other. - -At last she said: “There is one ‘that,’ but I am unable to see the -second ‘that’ to which you refer.” - -Mr. Potts was thin and angular. He smiled occasionally; not all at -once--it might be said in sections--the smile moving from one feature to -another, like sunlight on a picket fence. Mr. Potts was not a -hard-hearted man and as he looked at the dainty little woman before him, -the thought came to him: “What if she were my daughter and some other -man stood in my place, under similar circumstances?” - -“Do you not see, Miss Caswell, that that ‘that’ should be a ‘than’ -instead of that ‘that’?” - -“Oh, yes,” she said, “it ought to be ‘than,’” and she turned over -quickly some galley-slips which lay beside her. - -“Well,” she said, “the author did not see it.” - -“I should think, Miss Caswell, that you had been a proof-reader long -enough to have learned that an author never sees anything,” said Mr. -Potts, contemptuously. “They are too busy with ideas to think of such -minor matters as spelling, punctuation, and grammar.” - -“That’s true of Mr. Stowell,” said Miss Caswell, “and such writing, too, -but his books sell.” - -“We have made him,” said Mr. Potts, his chest swelling. “He was an -unknown author, but we made his first book go.” - -“And he has been a go ever since,” said Miss Caswell, laughing. - -“Yes, and when Mr. Smythe rejected one of his books he took it to -another house and they are getting the benefit of all our advertising.” - -“Well, you could not expect him to throw his manuscript into the -ash-heap,” remarked Miss Caswell. - -“No, but he could have threatened to do it and Smythe would have taken -it, but authors have no tact--they are all temper--they think publishers -are their enemies instead of being their best friends.” - -Miss Caswell enjoyed the conversation; it gave her a little rest from -her very prosaic duties. She was well acquainted with the peculiarities -of Mr. Potts and knew how to extend the conversation indefinitely. - -“How about the critics?” she asked. - -“Bah!” exclaimed Mr. Potts. “They are just as bad; each one likes a -certain kind of story and he calls the rest rubbish.” - -Miss Caswell, evidently, had a feeling for the critic. “It must be -wearing to read so many books; no wonder they praise what they like.” - -“I don’t believe they read them. They get an idea of the plot from some -other paper; then they open the book, read a few pages here and there, -and then write their review. Why, I know a critic who flouted a book -because there were two ‘buts’ in the same sentence, but the joke was, -both were used correctly. We had three Oxford professors decide the -question.” - -Miss Caswell dexterously gave another turn to the conversation: “You -must get tired of reading so many stories, Mr. Potts, and in manuscript, -too.” - -“It’s a business with me; a day’s work is a day’s work. When it is over -I have my home, my wife, my little boy Jimmy, and baby Dorcas. You ought -to get married, Miss Caswell. It’s the only way to live.” - -The young girl’s face flushed. The conversation had taken an unexpected -turn. It was time to get back to business. - -“I am sorry I did not see that ‘that,’ Mr. Potts.” - -Again that thin, erratic smile on Mr. Potts’ face. “You did see ‘that,’ -Miss Caswell; please change it to ‘than.’ Had it gone to print it would -have been bad, but, as we’ve caught it, there’s no harm done. There was -never a book printed that did not have some sort of an error in it. Mr. -Smythe, a few years ago, read the proofs of one himself. He boasted that -it was perfect and that he would give a hundred pounds to any one who -found an error in it. It turned out to be such a good joke on himself -that he told it, but I don’t believe anybody got the hundred pounds.” - -“Did he find the mistake himself?” Miss Caswell asked. - -“Yes, he went into a book-shop, took up the book, and was going to tell -the proprietor that he would give him a hundred pounds if he could find -an error in it, when his eye lit on a colon that ought to have been a -comma. He did not brag so much after that and has never read the proofs -of another book since.” - -Mr. Potts walked away and Miss Caswell resumed her work. She had before -her a large pile of proofs that must be in the printer’s hands early the -next morning, and it was nearly an hour beyond the appointed time for -leaving when she arose from her table and made her way homeward. - -“Why, where in the world have you been, Mrs. Glynne?” exclaimed Mrs. -Liloquist, the landlady, as she opened the door to admit “Miss Caswell.” - -“Has my husband got home?” - -“Oh, yes, he has been here nearly an hour and has been downstairs at -least six times to ask where you were. Now, how could he expect me to -know where you were?” - -“It was very unreasonable in him,” said Mrs. Glynne, laughing, “but, you -know, men are all unreasonable.” - -“What’s the matter, Clarence?” she cried, as she burst into the room. - -Her husband, Mr. Clarence Glynne, was sitting by the window, but arose -quickly and greeted his wife with an embrace and a kiss. - -“Why are you here, Clarence? Of course I am delighted to see you, but -you told me this morning that you would have to go to Buckholme -to-night.” - -“I did intend to, Jennie, but really, I did not dare to go out there -until I knew what to do. I was going to tell you about it this morning, -but there was no time; besides, I thought I might see my way clear as to -what to do, during the day.” - -“Do not keep me waiting any longer, Clarence,” said his wife, with a -little stamp of her foot. “I am just dying to know what it is about, and -you keep talking all around it without telling me what the trouble is.” - -“Hadn’t we better have supper first?” - -“No,” cried Jennie. “I cannot wait another minute.” - -“Well, the fact is,” began Clarence, “you know all about Bertha; how the -governor keeps asking me to propose to her. Of course he does not know -that I already have a nice little wife of my own, and for that reason I -excuse him.” - -“Well, I do not,” said Jennie. “He has no business to tell you to marry -anybody. But your father will have to know about our marriage some time. -Mrs. Liloquist is very inquisitive, but she has not learned anything -from me, except that we are very poor and we both have to work for a -living. We are living dual lives, Clarence. How long shall we have to do -so?” - -“I cannot answer that question now,” said Clarence, “but what I am going -to tell you is this: Bertha has had a letter from a friend in Paris--a -lady who knew her father when he lived there. She has found out in some -way about Bertha and wishes her to come and pay her a visit.” - -“Well, I don’t see anything serious in that,” said Jennie. “When is she -going?” - -“The governor won’t let her go. It’s all my fault, too. I had a letter -from Jack De Vinne saying that his brother was dead and that he was -going to Paris to escort Lady Ashmont and her daughter home so they -could go to the funeral. The big idiot that I was, I told the governor -and he scented danger right off. You know I told you about Jack coming -to see us. Well, he was going to propose to Bertha, but thought it was -his duty to speak to his father first. Jack was only the second son of -an earl then, and father frightened him a little by telling him that -Bertha was a penniless orphan.” - -“But isn’t she?” asked Jennie. “You have always said she was.” - -“A man and his wife are one, are they not?” asked Clarence. - -“Why, you goose, of course they are.” - -“Well, then, Jennie, if I come into possession of a secret, no matter -how, and I give my solemn promise that I will not tell, am I breaking -that promise if I tell my wife?” - -“Why, of course not, Clarence. You have no right to have any secrets -from your wife. How can a man love, honour, and obey his wife if he -keeps a secret all to himself? Now, Clarence, dear, what is the secret?” - -“I will whisper it to you, Jennie. Bertha isn’t poor at all; she is -worth forty thousand pounds in her own right, but my father is her -guardian and, according to her father’s will, the governor has a right -to hold on to the property until she marries, and, of course, he does -not want her to marry any one--except me. Of course, I don’t want her, -for good and sufficient reasons which are now before me.” - -“Oh, I see,” cried Jennie. “Jack De Vinne is going to Paris, and your -father thinks that this letter business is only a scheme to enable -Bertha to go to Paris and meet Jack.” - -“You have hit it exactly, Jennie. What heads you women have!” - -“Does Bertha know Jack is there?” - -“Of course she doesn’t. She wants to go because she is tired of -Buckholme. She has been cooped up there all her life. Now she wants to -see the rest of the world.” - -“If she does meet Jack, it will come out all right, won’t it, Clarence? -Now that he is to be Earl of Noxton one of these days, with fine estates -and a big rentroll, it won’t frighten him if Bertha is poor.” - -“Not a bit,” said Clarence. “But here’s the fix I’m in. Bertha never -goes to father, but confides all her troubles to me. She expects me to -manage it in some way so that she can go. I told her I would, and I -don’t dare go to Buckholme until I can.” - -“Then it’s lucky for you, Clarence, that you have a wife with a head, as -you expressed it. If you will let me manage the affair, it will come out -all right.” - -“You can do just as you like, Jennie. How much money will you want?” - -“Oh, not a great deal. Let me see. In the first place she will wish to -take her wardrobe with her. Now, it won’t do for her to pack up her -things at Buckholme. Mrs. Liloquist was moaning to-day because she has a -vacant room next to ours. These lodging-house keepers are always in a -fret and worry. Now, I will make her happy by telling her that a cousin -of yours is coming to London from the country and wants a room for a -week at least. Now you will have to play your part, Clarence. You must -go out to Buckholme every night and be very attentive to Bertha. I won’t -be jealous. Every morning when you come in fetch in some of Bertha’s -wardrobe. I will do her packing for her, and when the important day -arrives she must tell your father that she is coming to London to do -some shopping and you must offer her your services to escort her.” - -“Well, I never heard anything like it,” cried Clarence. “You ought to be -a detective in Scotland Yard.” - -“Well, if you had read as many detective stories as I have, you would -not think I have told you much of a plot after all; however, who knows -but that it may turn out to be a big one in the end?” - -“Well,” said Clarence, “after her luggage is packed and she is here, -what are you going to do next?” - -“Why, I am going to Paris with her. I have never done anything in my -life that will please me so much as to outwit your father.” - -“He is a pretty shrewd one,” remarked Clarence. - -“I know he is,” said Jennie, “and for that reason I am going to do -something that will throw him off the track. Of course he will think -that she has gone to Dover and from there to Calais and then to Paris, -but we shall do nothing of the kind.” - -“What are you going to do?” asked her husband. - -“Well, I shan’t tell you until the very day we start. It is better that -you should not know. You are one of those men who when they have -anything on their mind everybody can see it and it makes them -inquisitive. Now you had better be fancy-free until the morning of our -departure; then I will tell you where we are going. Now, Clarence, I -want you to make me a promise. No matter what happens, you must keep -your mouth shut tight. Do not tell anybody which way we went nor where -we have gone.” - -“You’re a darling, Jennie,” he cried. “I will promise anything. Now we -must go out and get our suppers, for I’m as hungry as a bear.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -BERTHA’S ESCAPE. - - -As Jennie anticipated, Mr. Thomas Glynne was very much pleased when he -saw the growing intimacy between his son and ward. - -“It isn’t so hard, Clarence, to come out from London every night and go -back every morning as it used to be, is it?” - -Clarence, with his usual lack of tact, put his foot in it again. “Well, -governor, forty thousand pounds is not to be sneezed at.” - -“You’re right, Clarence, and I’m glad to see that you are growing -sensible. I have often wondered how you could be so foolish on a certain -point and yet be a son of mine.” - -Clarence had to tell Bertha his secret--that he was married and that it -was his inventive little wife who had thought out a plan by which her -escape from Buckholme could be managed successfully. - -“Oh, I shall be so pleased to meet her,” said Bertha. “You say she is a -little woman.” - -“Oh, yes,” said Clarence, with enthusiasm. “I can take her right in my -arms and carry her about. I don’t think she weighs more than eight stone -and perhaps not so much. But she wants to know what part of Paris your -friend lives in. She has been there and knows the city pretty well.” - -“I will let her have my new friend’s letter,” said Bertha. “It will be -safer with her anyway. Here it is,” and she took it from her bosom. “You -may read it.” - -Clarence availed himself of her permission. - - “MY DEAR LITTLE GIRL: - - “I have just learned in a roundabout way, which I shall not take - time to explain here, that the only child of one who was a very - dear friend of mine years ago, Mr. Oscar Renville, is living in - England and is a ward of Mr. Thomas Glynne, of Buckholme, in - Berkshire. I do not remember your Christian name and for that - reason have directed this letter simply to Miss Renville. I - remember you when you were a little girl; that is why I began this - letter as I have. When your father used to bring you to see me, he - called you by some pet name which might or might not have been your - own, but which, as I said before, I have forgotten. I have not - forgotten you, however. I am a widow with one son, nearly - twenty-two. I was married when quite young and am not yet forty; so - you see I am not yet an old woman and shall not be such bad - company, after all, for a young girl of eighteen. I shall be - delighted to have you come to Paris and stay with me as long as - your guardian will allow. On the outside it is a beautiful city; - under the crust there is a great deal of wickedness, but we shall - keep away from that and look for the goodness which I know, too, is - here. Give my kindest regards to Mr. Glynne, and tell him that I - shall be pleased to have him as my guest, for I presume he will - accompany you to Paris. I live at Number 22, Rue St. Francis. Every - cab-driver in Paris knows where it is and there are many people in - this city who know your loving friend, - - “MARIE, Countess Mont d’Oro.” - -The transportation of Bertha’s wardrobe from Buckholme to Clarence’s -lodgings was carried on without causing any suspicion in the mind of the -elder Mr. Glynne and a day was fixed for her departure. - -Jennie suggested that Mr. De Vinne should know that Bertha was going to -Paris. - -“He may be there now,” said her husband. “I have seen no notice in the -paper of his brother’s funeral. I will send him a wire; that’s the best -way.” - -Clarence’s message was short and to the point; it contained but five -words: “Are you there? Something important.” - -The return message was equally concise. “Funeral day after to-morrow. -Write me.” - -“Quite a coincidence,” said Jennie. “Mr. De Vinne’s brother is to be -buried on the day we have fixed for our departure. I do not think it is -best for him to meet Bertha while she is with us. She had to know our -secret, but it is not necessary that any more should be acquainted with -it just at present. You write to him to-day that we are going, and he -will probably lose no time in taking the most direct course by way of -Dover and Calais.” - -“Yes,” said Clarence, “but how are you going?” - -“We shall leave London day after to-morrow by a very early train. I’ve -got it all figured out. Bertha is coming to the city to-morrow. Of -course your father will fume and fret and wonder why you two do not -return home, but knowing that she is with you will relieve his anxiety -to a great extent.” - -“If he thought I had eloped with her, he would be perfectly satisfied,” -said Clarence. - -“No doubt, but will he be so well satisfied when he learns that she has -eloped with your wife? But you must not tell him. Give me your solemn -promise that you will not. To-morrow night I will tell you the route -which I have laid out for our flight.” - -Clarence’s conversation with his wife had taken place in the afternoon -and he returned to Buckholme that evening. He was more attentive than -ever to Bertha. The senior Mr. Glynne sought the seclusion of his -library. With his hands clasped behind him, he walked briskly up and -down the long apartment, smiling to himself and repeating in an -undertone: “That boy of mine is no fool after all; he knows on which -side his bread is buttered.” - -The next morning Clarence said: “Governor, things are moving along -faster than I expected. I have not proposed yet. I think it is best not -to hurry the matter; but I would like to have Bertha go to London with -me, as I saw a beautiful locket in a jeweller’s window in Regent Street. -I am going to take her to look at it and if she is delighted with it, as -I know she will be, I am going to buy it for her. You know there is -nothing pleases a woman as much as----” He came near saying “having her -own way,” but he bethought himself in time and finished with, “having a -nice present from a young man.” - -The senior Mr. Glynne rubbed his hands together gleefully, and patted -his son approvingly on the shoulder. His next move was to take out his -pocket-book, from which he extracted a ten-pound note which he passed to -Clarence, saying: “Get something pretty nice.” - -The evening of that day found Bertha an occupant of the room which had -remained so long empty in Mrs. Liloquist’s lodging-house. She had been -introduced as Miss Mary Barker, a cousin of Mr. Glynne’s, who was on the -way to see her brother who lived in Berwick-on-Tweed, near the Scottish -border. - -“It’s a long journey,” said Mrs. Glynne, “and I am going with her. I -told Mr. Potts--he is the head man at the place where I work--that I was -about tired out and needed a little vacation. So you see, as the old -proverb says, I am going to kill two birds with one stone.” - -Mrs. Liloquist always subdued her curiosity if she was confided in. It -was the safest way to deal with her, for if subjected to a severe -cross-examination, which was quite possible, she might tell more than -was wished, or than was desirable under the circumstances. - -When Jennie and her husband were alone in their own room, Jennie -remarked: “I think I have satisfied Mrs. Liloquist. I don’t think she -will ask you any questions.” - -“But you have not satisfied my curiosity,” said Clarence. “Now is the -accepted time; where are you going--I mean, which way are you going to -Paris?” - -“Well, sit down,” said Jennie, “and I will tell you the whole story. It -is quite a romance. I was born, as you know, in the little coast town of -Pagham in Sussex. The people make their living by fishing, and my father -was a fisherman. You know, both my father and mother are dead. If I had -not been left an orphan, I should not have come to London. I am glad I -did so, for if I had not I should never have met you; but that’s not to -the point. I have been down to Pagham. There are a good many living -there now who knew my father. One of his best friends was Captain Jacob -Carder, who now owns one of the best fishing vessels in the town. Now, -perhaps, you guess my plan. - -“Instead of taking Bertha to Paris by way of Dover and Calais, we shall -go down to Pagham and Captain Carder will take us over to France in his -schooner. He says he will land us at a place where it will be easy for -us to get a train for Paris. Your father, of course, will ask you where -Bertha is. You must say you don’t know. In such cases, white lies are -allowable. I cannot tell you what to say to your father, because, if I -do, I know you will get it all mixed up. Whatever you say you must -invent on the spur of the moment and then stick to it.” - -By half-past six the next morning Mrs. Glynne and Bertha were on their -way to Pagham. Clarence did not accompany them to the station. - -“You had better not,” said Jennie. “Your father will put detectives on -your track, and one of them will be sure to be at the station and -recognise you. I am not so well known and for that reason will be able -to escape observation. I shouldn’t wonder if your father came to London -by the first train from Buckholme.” - -Clarence arrived at his office an hour earlier than usual. His wife’s -surmise had been correct--his father was there before him. - -“Are you married, Clarence?” was the first question. - -“Why, no,” said the son, taken aback by the question. - -“Well, then, where’s Bertha? What do you mean by bringing her to the -city in such a manner? Where is she, I say?” - -The crucial moment had come. Clarence had thought of a dozen different -explanations to give, but the one he did offer was, as his wife had -advised, the inspiration of the moment. - -“I could not help it,” he said. “It was all over in a minute. It must -have been prearranged between them.” - -“Who are you talking about?” his father thundered. - -“Why, Jack De Vinne and Bertha,” said Clarence. “We drove down to Regent -Street in a four-wheeler. She was delighted with the locket and I bought -it for her. I took your ten pounds for the chain. As we came out of the -store, who should I see standing on the sidewalk but Jack De Vinne. -Bertha got into the carriage and I was on the point of following her, -when she exclaimed that she had left her parasol on the showcase. I went -back for it, but when I came out of the store the carriage was gone.” - -“What an infernal fool you were, Clarence.” - -“Why, governor, how could I help it? I had no idea that Jack De Vinne -was in London. I should have as soon expected to see the man in the -moon. I supposed that he was at Noxton Hall. I understood his brother -was to be buried yesterday. The paper said so.” - -Mr. Glynne, Sr., seemed staggered by the information. “You never do -anything, Clarence, that you don’t make a mess of it. When you get -married I have no doubt you will make a mistake and get the wrong -woman.” - -“I may be a big fool, as you say, but I don’t think I shall make that -mistake.” - -“Where do you think they have gone?” asked Mr. Glynne. - -“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Clarence. - -“Well, I have,” said his father. - -“Where?” asked Clarence. - -“I shall confide my suspicions to the detectives. I do not think you are -a safe person for confidences. I think you had better stay in London, -Clarence, until I go back to Buckholme. I will let you know when I do -so.” - -“Well, that’s over,” said Clarence to himself after his father had left -the room. “I have told more lies in the last fifteen minutes than I ever -told before in all my life; but Jennie said it was all right, and she -knows. I shall have to go up to the house this noon. Bertha had so many -things that she could not take with her, and Jennie made me promise to -pack them up and send them after her.” - -It was a huge package when complete and much too heavy for Clarence to -carry under his arm. He discovered this fact after he had walked a short -distance from his lodgings, and calling a cab, told the driver to take -him to the railway parcel office. - -Twenty minutes later, a round-faced, smoothly shaven man applied the -knocker so vigorously that Mrs. Liloquist’s face was rosy-red when she -opened the door. - -“Why, sir, you must be in a great hurry to make such a racket. Now, what -do you want, sir?” - -“Is there a young man living here named Glynne?” - -“Why, yes, sir,” said Mrs. Liloquist. “He just went out. He had a big -bundle, and I told him it was too heavy for him to carry.” - -“How soon is he coming back?” - -“Well, really, I don’t know. He usually comes home about six o’clock, -but his wife’s gone away with a friend and perhaps he’ll stay out later. -Men usually do when their wives are away.” - -“Did you say his wife had gone away? I don’t think he can be the one I -want to find. I am his uncle. I have been in South Africa and have just -got back to London. The young man I want to find is named Clarence -Glynne.” - -“Well, that’s his name,” said Mrs. Liloquist, “and his wife’s name is -Jennie. They have been living here with me nearly two years.” - -“And you say that she has gone away with a friend?” - -“Yes, a young lady named Mary Barker, who lives in Devonshire. Miss -Barker’s brother lives in Berwick-on-Tweed and Mrs. Glynne has gone -there with her.” - -“What sort of a looking person is this Miss Barker?” - -“Oh, she’s just the beautifullest girl I ever saw. I have read in books -about young ladies with blue eyes and golden hair, but she’s the first -one I ever saw that matched the story book.” - -“Well,” said the gentleman, “I will come around again about six o’clock. -Much obliged to you, ma’am, for your information. I hope my nephew has -got a good wife.” - -“Oh, she’s a fine woman,” said Mrs. Liloquist, “and very clever. She -works every day at something or other. She’s the kind of a wife for a -poor man, and I judge from what your nephew says that they would have -hard work getting along if she didn’t do something to help.” - -Clarence was surprised late that afternoon to have another visit from -his father. Mr. Glynne, Sr., was accompanied by a stalwart gentleman -with a marked professional aspect. - -“So you’ve got back again, father,” said Clarence, not suspecting the -turn which affairs had taken. “Have you found any clue?” - -“Plenty of them,” said his father, sternly. “I know the whole business. -Come into the private office with me, and you, Mr. Lake,” he said, -turning to his companion, “sit down and wait for us.” - -When they were alone together the expression on Mr. Thomas Glynne’s face -changed from one of assumed serenity to one of the deepest malignity. - -“Clarence Glynne,” said his father, “I told you this morning that you -were an infernal fool; now I know that you are an infernal liar. You -have been deceiving me for years. You are a married man, and that is the -reason why you have refused to marry my ward.” - -Clarence sank into a chair. Oh, if Jennie were only there to help him! - -“I am going to make short work of this. Do you know who that man is in -the other room?” - -Clarence shook his head. - -“He is an officer from Scotland Yard. I have lodged a complaint against -you for kidnapping my ward. Although you are my son, I shall proceed -against you as though you were an utter stranger.” - -A rat will turn when it is cornered, and Clarence felt that he must do -something, or within an hour he would be behind the bars. - -“Do you mean to have me arrested, father?” - -“Certainly, I do, and if the case goes against you, you won’t see that -wife of yours for years to come.” - -The words stung Clarence. Separated from Jennie! No, he could not stand -that. - -“Father, under the circumstances, I consider myself absolved from the -promise I made you to keep silent about Bertha’s property. If I am taken -to court I shall tell the whole story.” - -“I had supposed that you would,” said his father. “Your landlady said -that Bertha, or Miss Barker, as she called her, had gone up North, but I -know better. She is gone to Paris to meet Jack De Vinne. You can get -ready to go with the officer. We will be back for you in five minutes.” - -Clarence did not know what to do. He had lost his hold over his father. -His threat to tell the truth about Bertha’s fortune had failed to -produce any effect upon him. - -During the five minutes which had been allowed him, Clarence did nothing -but think in an aimless sort of a way of a dozen impossible courses of -action. - -The door of the private office opened and his father entered with Mr. -Lake. - -“I have decided,” said his father, “not to give you into custody until -to-morrow morning. I wish you to accompany me to Buckholme. Mr. Lake -will go with us and keep you under surveillance.” - -Clarence did not wish to sit and look at the stern face of his father, -nor the enigmatical one of Mr. Lake; nor did he wish to feel that their -eyes were fastened upon him, reading, perhaps, his inmost thoughts. He -sank into a corner of the carriage and closed his eyes, to all -appearances in a state of apathetic indifference. But his mind was busy. -What was his father about to do? Would he throw him out of the business? -Well, if he did, he made up his mind that he could make a living some -way. To be sure, he had been provided with everything that he needed at -Buckholme, but his personal share of the profits of the firm of Walmonth -& Company had been very small. It was for that reason that his wife had -obtained employment. As to his arrest for kidnapping, he cared but -little. - -Before they reached Maidenhead the tumult of his feelings had subsided, -and when they entered the house the servants could not have told from -his appearance that anything had happened. - -His father shut himself in the library. Clarence went to the billiard -room to play a game of pool solitaire, but when he found that he was -closely followed by Mr. Lake, he invited him to join in the game and -found him no mean antagonist. But while he played, outwardly calm, his -thoughts were busy, and during the evening he asked himself a hundred -times: “Have they reached Paris in safety?” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -A SORROW AND A SOLACE. - - -The next morning after breakfast, during which not a word was spoken by -either of the three gentlemen, Clarence was commanded by his father to -follow him into the library. He saw by the look on his parent’s face -that he was implacable. He would, naturally, have objected to the -mandatory tone used by his father, but decided that it was useless to -quarrel about trifles when there were such important matters to be -settled. - -Mr. Glynne, Sr., sat at the library table and Clarence sank into a chair -a few feet distant. - -“Turn your face around so that the light may fall upon it,” said his -father. “I propose to ask you a few questions and I expect you to tell -me the truth. If you lie to me, I think the light will help me to -ascertain that fact.” - -Clarence did as he was bidden. - -“Now, who is your wife and what is she?” - -“Is that material?” asked Clarence. - -“Do not bandy words; the sooner we get at the point of the matter the -better. As to its being material, I think it is; very much so.” - -“She is an orphan. She was the daughter of a fisherman, but when she -lost her parents she came to London and went to work to support herself. -She worked in our office for a while, but left because a better position -was offered her.” - -“Very good,” said his father. “You surely looked for high game and got -it.” - -“If you make any more such comments about my wife,” said Clarence, “I -will refuse to answer another question,” and there was a ring in his -voice which told the father that the son meant what he said. - -“Where did she come from?” - -“She was born at Pagham, a little village in Sussex on the English -Channel.” - -“And she is gone with Bertha as her companion?” He had intended to say -“your accomplice.” - -“Yes.” - -“Where have they gone?” - -“They are on their way to Paris. Bertha wished to visit her friend and I -thought it was all right for her to go.” - -“Then that story you told me about her going away in a carriage with -Jack De Vinne was a lie?” - -Clarence could not help smiling as he replied: “Well, I must confess it -was not a very close approach to the truth.” - -“I judged not,” said his father. “I did not believe it when you told me. -You said Bertha was going to stay with a friend in Paris. What is her -name and where does she live?” - -“She is the Countess Mont d’Oro, and she lives at 22, Rue St. Francis.” - -“Is Jack De Vinne in Paris?” - -“I presume he is at Noxton Hall,” was Clarence’s guarded reply. He did -not think it necessary or advisable to tell his father that he had -written Jack the morning that his wife and Bertha had left London that -the latter was on her way to Paris to become the guest of the Countess -Mont d’Oro. - -There was silence for some time. Clarence grew impatient and turned his -head. His father was evidently in deep thought. - -“That will do,” he said at last. “I hope you have told me the truth. If -you have not, I shall soon find out the extent of your deception. I -shall leave to-night for London and will go to Paris to-morrow morning. -Mr. Lake will be your companion until I return. If I find my ward is -still Miss Renville, and I bring her back with me, I will dismiss the -case against you. If she is married, Mr. Lake will escort you to London -and you will have to stand the consequences of your very foolish action. -I shall be obliged to take charge of my London business again, for I -shall be a comparatively poor man when Miss Renville, or Mrs. -Whatever-her-name-may-be, demands her inheritance, for, no doubt, you -have told her that she is a rich woman by right.” - -Clarence sprang to his feet. “I have not told her one word. She has -heard nothing from me.” - -Nor had she, nor did Clarence know that his wife had found the secret -too much to keep and had unbosomed herself to Bertha on the way to -Pagham. - -Just after dinner, while Mr. Glynne was busily engaged making -preparations for his journey, Brinkley, the butler, told him that a -young man who looked as though he had just come from the country wished -to see Mr. Clarence. - -“Show him into the library,” said Mr. Glynne. - -When he entered it, he found a young man standing first on one foot and -then on the other and twirling his hat nervously. - -Mr. Glynne closed the library door. “What did you wish to see my son -for?” - -“I’ve got somethin’ private to tell him.” - -“I’m sorry to say that he is very sick and can see no one. I am his -father; you can tell me, and when he is in a condition to listen, I will -communicate the intelligence to him.” - -“If he’s sick,” said the young man, “I don’t think the news I got fer -him will make him any better.” - -Mr. Glynne began to think that the young man had something of importance -to communicate. “Have a seat, sir. You can tell your story much better -sitting than you can standing.” - -The young man looked intently at the luxurious easy-chair. He was more -used to a hard bench than to upholstered furniture. He finally sat down, -but stood up again as he felt the springs give way beneath him. - -“Oh, you’ll find it all right,” said Mr. Glynne, “and very comfortable,” -and he took his accustomed position at the library table. “Now, I won’t -ask you any questions,” said he, “but will let you tell your story in -your own way.” - -The young man sidled to the edge of the chair which seemed more capable -of supporting him, and began his story: - -“My name is Silas Jubb and I live down in Pagham.” - -Mr. Glynne was all attention. - -“My chum’s name is Job Carder. He’s all knocked up and he couldn’t come, -so he sent me.” - -Mr. Glynne thought it was time to reassure the young man. “Yes,” he -said, “my son’s wife was born in Pagham. She left London yesterday -morning on her way to Paris, in company with a friend, and I understood -from my son that they were to sail from Pagham.” - -“Well, they won’t get there,” said Silas, with a shake of his head; -“that’s what I’m here for.” - -Mr. Glynne felt the blood rushing to his head, and his pulse quickened. -“There has been an accident,” he thought. But he would ask no questions. - -“Job’s father named his boat the _Dart_ cuz it was the fastest craft of -the kind in town, but it wuz run down by one of them Navy vessels in the -Channel and Job’s father and Bill Merry and George Danks and the two -women was drownded. Job was the only one picked up, and he’s ‘most dead. -You see, afore the _Dart_ set sail, the women told Job’s father to get -word to your son if they reached the other side all right. As they -didn’t, when Job came to, he thought as how you’d be anxious to know how -things wuz and that’s what he sent me up for.” - -“It was very thoughtful of him,” said Mr. Glynne, “and very kind of you -to bring us the sad news.” - -He had never felt such a strong impulse of generosity. He gave the young -man a five-pound note, saying as he did so: “You can divide with your -chum.” - -The young man had arisen and put on his hat. His hand went to the brim -by way of salute. “He’ll be glad to git it, for the loss of the boat’ll -come hard on him. I told him before I started as how I thought I’d find -you to be a gentleman, cuz the ladies wuz so fine.” - -Mr. Glynne rang for Brinkley and told him to supply the man with a -substantial meal before he started on his journey back to Pagham. - -Five pounds! But the news was surely worth that and more. - -“A great sorrow for Clarence, but such a solace for me,” was Thomas -Glynne’s uppermost thought. The fortune was now his, if Clarence would -hold his tongue. - -His son’s sickness, the grave nature of which had led him to assure Mr. -Jubb that he could not see him, did not keep Mr. Glynne from breaking -the news at the earliest opportunity. He had not anticipated the result -which followed. Perhaps, if he had, he would have told the story in a -gentler manner. - -Clarence was prostrated by the intelligence. By midnight his condition -was so alarming that Brinkley was obliged to start off in the darkness -to bring a doctor. - -Brain fever, was the physician’s decision after he had made his -diagnosis. Compared with many others, Clarence was a weak man both -physically and mentally. He had been on the rack for twenty-four hours, -and this great blow was more than he could bear. His brain gave way and -he lay there with only the ministrations of the hired nurses, growing -thinner and weaker every day. - -Did his father wish him to live? Only the Great Power that knows all -hearts could have answered that question. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -NEWS OF THE FUGITIVES. - - -“Do you think it shows a proper regard for the memory of your dead -brother to go to Paris and take part in its frivolities?” - -The question was asked by the Earl of Noxton. - -“I am not going to Paris for any such purpose, and I think it unjust to -me for you to entertain such a thought,” said Jack. “I have received a -letter which makes it absolutely necessary for me to go there; besides, -I must have a change. I feel my brother’s death much more than you -credit me with. It throws responsibilities upon me which I had never -thought to assume. I shall notify the Admiralty that I do not wish an -assignment at present.” - -“I shall close up Noxton Hall,” said the Earl, “and go to Scotland with -the Countess. Amid the solitude of our northern home we shall be much -more likely to appreciate the lesson taught us by our sad bereavement. -Both your mother and I had thought you would accompany us.” - -“My stay in Paris will be short,” said Jack, “and I will give you my -word that when my business there is attended to I will join you in -Scotland.” - -“I presume I shall have to be satisfied with that,” said the Earl. “I -have no desire to command the heir to the Earldom of Noxton, if he is -deaf to my entreaties.” - -Jack went to Paris. He had been there before when a student, and his -associates on that occasion had been those suited to his position in -life. Now all was changed. - -He had no difficulty in securing an introduction to the Countess Mont -d’Oro, for an Earl’s son and heir is always _persona grata_. He received -a warm welcome from that lady. Perhaps his greeting would not have been -so cordial if almost his first inquiry had not been, “Has Miss Renville -arrived?” - -“Why, no,” said the Countess. “I wrote and asked her to come and said -that I should be delighted to see her. You see I knew her father well. -But I have received no word from her that she intended to make the visit -at present.” - -Jack could not conceal his agitation. “There must be some mistake here,” -he cried. “Read this letter, my dear Countess, and tell me what you -think,” and he passed her Clarence’s letter. - -“I cannot understand the matter at all,” said the Countess, as she -returned the letter. “I will write to Mr. Glynne at once. Come and see -me day after to-morrow. Mr. Glynne will probably write me that her -departure was postponed for some good reason.” - -Jack forgot his promise, or rather statement, to his father, that he did -not intend to visit Paris to engage in its frivolities. In his state of -mind some distraction was absolutely necessary. “If I cannot stop -thinking I shall go mad,” he said to himself, and he at once became -immersed in the whirl of gaiety for which Paris is famous, though his -interest therein was of the head rather than of heart. - -On the appointed day he called on the Countess Mont d’Oro, but there was -no letter from England. On the third day the Countess again shook her -head, but on the fourth, in response to his inquiring glance, she said: - -“I have a letter, but I am afraid to read it to you.” - -“I can bear anything better than this suspense,” said Jack. - -Then the Countess read Mr. Glynne’s letter. - - “DEAR MADAM: - - “Your letter received. I should have answered it sooner but for the - dangerous illness of my son, who is at death’s door. In reply to - your inquiry, I can only say that I have been informed by what I - consider good authority that my ward, Miss Renville, left for - London, in company with my son’s wife, on their way to Paris, your - residence being their presumed destination. Instead of taking the - boat from Dover to Calais, which would have offered a safe and - speedy passage, for some as yet unexplained reason they chose to - make the voyage in a fishing vessel which was run down in the - Channel, and all on board, with the exception of the captain’s son, - were drowned. I regret that I cannot give you any further - particulars. If I learn anything more concerning the sad affair, I - shall be pleased to communicate with you. I have the honour to be, - dear madam, - - “Your most obedient servant, - “THOMAS GLYNNE.” - -“Drowned!” cried Jack, “and I loved her so. Oh, madam, this blow would -be easier to bear if, when I had the opportunity, I had told her that I -loved her. I think she knew it, but I did not speak. I was the second -son of an earl with no prospect but a minor position in the Navy. My -brother is dead and I am now heir to the title and estates. You knew -this, of course, before, but I tell you again to show you how foolish I -was not to speak when I had the chance. All would have come out right; -now all has gone wrong, and I am the one to blame. If I had told her -that I loved her and we had been engaged, she never would have made the -trip in this foolish way. Yes, madam, I am to blame and I shall never -forgive myself.” - -Countess Mont d’Oro was a practical, sensible woman. Instead of -expressing sympathy for the young man in his almost uncontrollable -grief, she used common sense. - -“I do not think you have any right to blame yourself in any way for this -sad affair. You were not, even in the remotest degree, the cause of it. -If she had been engaged to you and had received my letter, she would -have made the journey in just the same way, but instead of your -receiving the news of it from her guardian’s son, she would, no doubt, -have written to you herself and would have told you that she was going -to make the trip on the fishing schooner so that her guardian could not -follow her, for you remember that young Mr. Glynne says in his letter -that her guardian had refused his permission for her to visit me. Now, -we must hope for the best. Miss Renville’s guardian has the first report -of the accident. One was saved and he, naturally, thinks that the others -were lost. They may have been picked up by some vessel and we may hear -from them within a few days.” - -“You give me hope,” said Jack, “but I must confess that it is only a -faint one. Dying men clutch at straws, they say, and I will grasp what -you offer me.” - -“Come and see me every day,” said the Countess. “I am a widow with one -son about your age. I must confess that he is not a very affectionate or -dutiful young man so far as his mother is concerned. Some sons are that -way.” - -“Yes, a good many are that way,” said Jack, “when they are young, but -many of them reform when they grow older, and make up by their devotion -for their past neglect.” - -“I see,” said the Countess, “you are holding out a straw to me. I hope -yours will prove a more substantial one than mine is likely to be.” - -Jack called on the Countess every day. On one of his visits the Countess -told him that her son was betrothed to a beautiful young girl who lived -at Alfieri in Corsica. “That is my present home,” she added. “I was -born in Italy; my husband, the late Count, was a native of Corsica, -though of Italian ancestry.” - -A week passed and still no tidings. “I can bear this no longer,” said -Jack to the Countess. “My hope has died out. I know that the worst has -happened and the dream of my life is gone forever. I had intended to -stop in London and ask the Admiralty not to assign me to a post in the -Navy, but I learn there are rumours of a coming war. Russia’s -aggressions in the Crimea are resented not only by this country, but by -my own, and I heard to-day that the King of Sardinia is disposed to form -a triple alliance against the Muscovite. I shall go back to London -to-morrow and request that I be assigned at once to some position of -duty.” - -“I would advise you not to do it,” said the Countess. - -“You have been very kind to me,” said Jack. “Please make your advice -more explicit. What do you think it best for me to do?” - -“You said your father and mother were going to Scotland. What is your -address there?” - -“Cobleigh Towers. It is on the Scottish side of the Tweed, opposite -Berwick. Let me see. Oh, if my letters are sent to Carlisle they will -reach me.” - -“Well, my advice is,” said the Countess, “that you rejoin your father -and mother and be as patient as you can for the next ten days. If by -that time I receive no word, I, too, shall lose hope. I will then agree -with you that the best way to dull your sorrow will be to choose a life -of action; that and labour are the only panaceas for such grief.” - -“I will do it,” said Jack. “I will do anything to please you.” - -Another week passed. The Countess still hoped from day to day, but each -night saw no fruition. One morning, as the Countess was reclining in her -boudoir, reading the monthly report of the steward of her Corsican -estate, her maid announced that there were two young ladies in the -drawing-room who wished to see her. - -It was some time before the Countess had made the necessary change in -dress and descended to greet her visitors. She surveyed, with a look -akin to astonishment, the two very pretty young ladies who came forward -to greet her. The one with dark hair spoke first. - -“Is this Countess Mont d’Oro?” - -The Countess bowed. - -“I am Mrs. Glynne--Mrs. Clarence Glynne--and this is my friend Miss----” - -She did not have an opportunity to complete the sentence, for the -Countess stepped forward quickly and clasped the other young girl in her -arms. - -“And this is my dear little girl, Bertha Renville. I was your father’s -friend and I will be yours. But how were you saved? We heard that all on -board the fishing boat were drowned.” - -“If we had been men,” cried Jennie, “we should have been drowned too. We -were thrown into the water by the collision, but our dresses saved our -lives. They would not have done so had we remained in the water long -enough for them to get saturated, but they held us up, and we were seen -by one of the officers on Her Majesty’s frigate _Victoria_ which ran us -down. The young man who saw us was a lieutenant. He had the vessel -stopped and came to our rescue in a boat. Oh, I think he was just the -loveliest young man I ever met in my life, don’t you, Bertha?” - -“A very natural thought,” said the Countess, with a smile. “Young ladies -are very apt to fall in love with handsome young men who save their -lives.” - -Bertha flushed perceptibly. She thought of the Thames and one who had -saved her life on a previous occasion. - -“And he had such a romantic name,” said Jennie. - -“Of course I would not think of falling in love with him for I am a -married woman, but I suppose there is no harm in my falling in love with -his name--Claude Levaille, he said it was.” - -“But where have you been all this time?” asked the Countess. - -“Oh, that’s the strangest part of it,” said Jennie. “Come, Bertha, I -have done all the talking so far. You must tell the rest of the story.” - -“It is a very simple one,” said Bertha. “The frigate was bound for -Marseilles. The admiral said he would have been delighted to put us -ashore at some point near Paris, but he was under strict orders to -proceed at once to the Mediterranean.” - -“Oh, yes, I know,” said the Countess. “Mr. De Vinne told me that there -was likelihood of a war with Russia.” - -“Jack De Vinne?” cried Mrs. Glynne. “Has he been here?” - -“For a long time,” said the Countess. “He has been here every day to see -if I had any news about you. He is a very sad, unhappy young man. He has -gone to his father’s place in Scotland. I must write at once and tell -him of your safety. Perhaps, though, it would be better if Miss Renville -would write him. I will give you his address.” - -“Oh, yes, that will be much better,” said Jennie. “And now that I have -delivered you into the arms of your friend, the Countess,” she added, “I -must go right back to London. I have no doubt that my husband is -distracted.” - -“Will you excuse me, Bertha?” said the Countess. “I cannot call you Miss -Renville, it is too formal.” - -“Nor do I wish you to,” said Bertha. “No one calls me Miss Renville, -except----” - -“Mr. De Vinne,” said Jennie, with a laugh, “but he won’t much longer.” - -“Mrs. Glynne,” said the Countess, “I have something to tell you,” and -she led her into an anteroom. - -“What is it,” cried Jennie. “My husband, Clarence, is he dead?” - -“Oh, no,” said the Countess, “but his father writes me that he is very -sick, prostrated, no doubt, by the news of your supposed death. He is at -his father’s residence; I forget----” - -“Oh, I know,” said Jennie--“Buckholme. I have never been there. We were -secretly married. Perhaps you do not know, but Clarence’s father wished -him to marry Bertha, but he couldn’t because I was his wife, but his -father didn’t know that. I suppose it is all out now and I’m glad of it. -I will go to him at once.” - -Jennie hurried with all speed to London and took the first train thence -for Buckholme. The thought uppermost in her mind was as to what her -reception by Clarence’s father would be, and her first question after -greeting her husband was: - -“Where is your father, Clarence?” - -“Gone to seek Bertha, dear,” he answered, wearily, “but I hope a kind -Providence will prevent his ever finding her.” - -“Amen,” exclaimed Jennie, reverently. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -“LA GRANDE PASSION.” - - -After Jennie’s departure, the Countess gave herself up entirely to the -pleasure which she found in the company of her young guest. - -“I knew your father, Oscar Renville, I may say, intimately. It was after -the death of your mother, but my husband was then living. I was in -Corsica when your father died. I would gladly have taken you as my own, -for I must confess that when my son was born I was very sorry he was not -a daughter instead. It was only a short time ago that I learned Mr. -Glynne had adopted you.” - -“No,” said Bertha, “he never adopted me. He is, or rather was, my -guardian.” - -“Has he more than one child?” - -“Only one son, Clarence. His father wished him to marry me, but although -Clarence was always kind to me--really the best friend I had at -Buckholme--he never proposed to me. I thought several times that he was -on the point of doing so, but I can see now why he did not.” - -“I think he would have done so,” said the Countess, “if it had not been -for a previous love affair.” - -“Oh, it was not that,” cried Bertha. “He knew me long before he became -acquainted with his present wife; but it may have been so after all, for -I was only sixteen.” - - * * * * * - -If Clarence Glynne had been lukewarm in his love-making, Bertha soon -found that Count Napier Mont d’Oro was the exact reverse. On his part, -at least, it was a case of love at first sight. He declared to his -friend, the Marquis Caussade, that for the first time in his life he had -an attack of _la grande passion_. He tried in every way to make himself -agreeable to Bertha. - -“Will you go driving with me?” he asked, one morning. “Paris never -looked more beautiful than it will to-day. The environs are even more -attractive than the city itself.” - -“I will ask the Countess,” said Bertha. - -“And so my son wishes you to go driving with him, does he?” was the -Countess’s reply to Bertha’s question. “I have no right to command you, -but my advice is to refuse. Some people have told me that my son is a -very bad young man. I am not personally cognisant of his misdoings, nor -do I wish to be, but I do not think it best for you to become too well -acquainted with him.” - -“I shall certainly do as you say,” replied Bertha. - -All of the Count’s attempts to make Bertha his companion were flat -failures and he decided to adopt another course. A new opera was about -to be given. The tickets were held at extravagant figures, but the Count -secured a box. - -“Oh, you are musical!” he exclaimed, one day as he entered the -drawing-room and found Bertha seated at the piano. - -“I play a little for my own amusement,” said she. - -“Have you any objection to my listening?” - -“Oh, not at all! I trust you will not find it irksome.” - -He was extravagant in his praises of her performance, but Bertha had -learned to take his remarks at their true value. - -He did not ask Bertha to go to the opera with him, but invited his -mother instead. - -“I have a box,” he said. - -“Are you going to make up a party?” - -“Oh, no, I will go with you.” - -“Have you asked Bertha?” - -“Certainly not,” he replied. “I have asked her to accompany me on -several occasions, but she has always refused; I presume at your -instigation. To speak plainly, I do not care whether she goes with us to -the opera or not.” - -He knew that this would pique his mother. - -“Well, if Bertha cannot go, I shall not go,” said the Countess. - -“If you choose to ask her to accompany you, I certainly shall not -object, but, as I said before, I do not care whether she goes or not.” - -He did not repeat this conversation to Bertha and the Countess herself -was too politic to refer to it. - -Every day, thereafter, the Count virtually haunted the drawing-room in -the hope of finding Bertha at the piano. On one occasion he was -successful. - -“Will you not play for me?” he asked. - -“You have heard my repertoire.” - -“Do you not sing?” - -“Very little; only the simplest of English ballads.” - -He took a piece of music from the rack and placed it before her. “Can -you play that?” - -“I can try.” - -“If you will, I shall be your debtor.” - -“I cannot sing it.” - -“Excuse me,” he said, “but I did not ask you to.” - -It was a tenor song. Bertha played the prelude, but was astonished when -she struck the first note of the vocal score to hear the Count’s voice -take up the melody. He had a pure, sweet voice, and sang with great -power and expression. - -“It is a beautiful song; do you not think so?” he asked. - -“Very,” was her laconic reply. - -“Now, will you not sing for me one of those English ballads?” - -Bertha had enjoyed the Count’s song, and she felt it would be -discourteous to refuse under the circumstances. - -The piece was a solo, but when she had sung several lines the Count -joined in, singing in English. - -“Encore! Encore!!” he cried, and they sang the second stanza together. - -“You must be a good musician,” said Bertha, “to sing a part so well that -is not in the music.” - -“I am glad to hear that there is some good in me,” he remarked, gravely. -“I am a thousand times your debtor, Miss Renville, both for your singing -and your compliment, which I shall never forget.” - -The night for the opera came, and as the Count, with his dark, handsome -face, leaned forward, from time to time, to discuss the performance with -the fair-haired English girl, scores of opera-glasses were turned in -their direction. Count Napier Mont d’Oro had scored the point for which -he had been working so long--he had been seen in public with the -beautiful woman whom he loved, for the time being at least, and that -satisfied him. - -The next day the Countess was sitting in her boudoir reading the -criticisms of the opera and the performance. At the close of the article -in one of the papers were some items referring to the prominent -personages who were present on the opening night. Her own name caught -her eye, and she read an item which caused her to clench her hands until -her finger-nails almost cut into the flesh, as she exclaimed: “The -villain! I was a fool to trust him.” Then she read the item again: - -“It is rumored that a certain young Count, one of the _jeunesse dorée_, -and member of a prominent Corsican family, has become greatly enamoured -of a beautiful young English girl who is visiting here. They were seen -together at the opera, and if what was apparent in the past is an -indication of what will take place in the future, Parisian society will -be adorned, at no distant date, by another of England’s fairest -daughters.” - -Before the Countess had recovered from the vexation which the perusal of -the item had caused her, the boudoir door was suddenly opened and Bertha -ran into the room. She threw herself upon her knees, buried her face in -the Countess’s lap, and burst into a flood of tears. - -“Why, what’s the matter, my dear?” exclaimed the Countess. “What has -happened?” - -“Oh, I cannot tell you!” cried Bertha. - -“But, really, you must,” said the Countess. “Who in my house has dared -to offend you?” - -“He did not mean it as an offence--they never do--but it was so -unexpected--I have never given him any reason.” - -“Why, what are you talking about?” exclaimed the now astonished -Countess. “Do be explicit. I have just read something in the paper that -has made me very angry.” - -The girl wiped away the tears from her reddened eyes and said: “Why did -he do it?” - -“Do what?” exclaimed the Countess. “Do speak, or I shall have to cry -myself.” - -Bertha began to weep again, but through her tears she managed to say: -“Your son--the Count--asked me to be his wife.” - -“Oh, the young scapegrace!” said the Countess, jumping to her feet. -“Why, my dear, he is engaged to another woman, where we live, in -Corsica. You stay here. I will go downstairs and have a talk with him. -He shall leave the house this very day.” - -“Oh, don’t turn him out on my account,” cried Bertha. “Do not, my dear -Countess. I will go instead. This is his home and I have no right -here.” - -“Well, I have,” said the Countess, defiantly. “This is my house, and -while I live it has a mistress, but no master.” - -The Countess soon discovered that her son was in the drawing-room where -the avowal of love had been made. He was seated at the piano, touching -the keys lightly and humming an air. - -“So, my young man,” the Countess exclaimed, “you are at your old tricks -again.” - -“Yes,” said the Count. “You had me taught to play the piano, and I have -always loved it.” - -“You know that’s not what I mean. If you would give more time to music -and less to making love to people who do not appreciate it, it would be -better for yourself and for me. What did you mean by insulting my -guest?” - -“Is it an insult,” he asked, “to ask a young lady to become a Countess?” - -The Countess paused. “Perhaps not,” she said, “if you had any right to -ask her, but you have not. What would you say if I told Vivienne?” - -“I should say,” said the Count, “what would, no doubt, seem to be very -impolite.” - -“You would tell me to mind my own business, I presume,” said the -Countess; “it is not an uncommon remark with you. Well, I am going to -mind it. This is my house and I have only allowed you to remain here on -sufferance. Either you or I must go.” She thought for a moment before -she spoke again. “Yes, we will go. Bertha has never seen the world and I -will give her an opportunity. You may stay in Paris. I shall not tell -you where we are going, for, to borrow the words which you thought but -did not speak, I do not consider it is any of your affair. If you -discover where we are, and follow us, and speak a word of love to my -guest, or even hint at it, I will tell Pascal Batistelli.” - -The Countess was as good as her word. On the second day her preparations -were completed, and on the morning of the third she left Paris, without -informing her son as to her destination. - -The Count really felt his rejection severely. He had been attracted to -Bertha and as far as it lay in him to feel affection for any one, he -really loved her. Night after night of dissipation followed his -rejection and the consequent departure of Bertha from Paris. It was -nearly one o’clock when he returned home one morning. His latch-key gave -him admission to the house, and he would have gone upstairs at once to -his room if he had not noticed a long, thin ray of light coming from the -library. He went on tiptoe to the door and listened. He heard a sound -like that of a file upon metal. His first thought was that it was a -burglar. He was unarmed, but he had a sturdy frame and a pair of stout -fists. He kicked the door open violently, rushed into the room, and -pounced upon a man who was on his knees before the safe, which contained -the family papers and valuables. He caught the man by the collar and -threw him violently upon his back. - -“Ah, Jacques, it is you, is it? What the devil are you up to?” - -When the Countess left Paris, only three servants were retained. These -were Jacques, the coachman; Timothée, the butler, or _major domo_; and -Francine, the cook, who was Timothée’s fiancée. It was but natural that -Timothée should spend his evenings in the kitchen with Francine, and -this fact, the Count quickly reasoned, was what had given Jacques his -opportunity to rob the safe. - -“Why don’t you speak, you rascal?” cried the Count. “Were you trying to -rob the safe?” - -The man sat up. In one hand he held a key and in the other a small file. -“No, sir. Not quite so bad as that. I don’t suppose you will believe me, -but I will tell you the truth. Before the young lady went away she gave -me a letter and said if a certain young gentleman called for it, to give -it to him. I have carried it in my pocket so long that it was becoming -crumpled and soiled, and I thought I would put it in the safe. I had -this key and it nearly fitted; that is why I was filing it.” - -“I may believe it,” said the Count, “but I don’t think the judge will -to-morrow. But where’s the letter? You may get up.” - -Jacques passed the letter to the Count. The handwriting was Bertha’s and -it was addressed to Mr. De Vinne. - -“You may get up,” repeated the Count. “Give me that key. I will take -charge of the letter and see that it is delivered when the young -gentleman comes for it. I don’t believe a word you have told me except -that you had the letter. Thieves always leave some loophole to crawl -through.” - -The man went out. The Count examined the safe to see that it was -securely locked, and then went upstairs to his room. - -“Mr. De Vinne! I suppose he is her English lover. But why should he come -here? What a foolish question! Of course if he knew she was here he -would come. I would go to the ends of the earth to see her if I knew -where she had gone. Perhaps this letter will tell. Well, I have done -worse things than open a letter addressed to another man.” As he spoke -he broke the seal and read: - - “MY DEAR MR. DE VINNE: - - “I am very sorry to hear of the sudden death of your brother, and - you have my deepest sympathy in your affliction. I came here with - Mrs. Glynne, the wife of Mr. Clarence Glynne, the son of my - guardian. You have, no doubt, heard that our little craft was run - down in the Channel by a large vessel. By God’s providence we - escaped. The vessel was under orders to proceed at once to - Marseilles, and we could not land until they reached there. We - arrived safely in Paris and I have been the guest of Countess Mont - d’Oro. She has invited me to go with her to her estate in Corsica - and we shall leave to-morrow. She says that a letter addressed to - Alfieri, near Ajaccio, Corsica, will not fail of delivery. - - “Your friend, - “BERTHA RENVILLE.” - -“Ha!” said the Count. “A very fortunate find. So they have gone to -Corsica. Well, I have as much right to visit Corsica as they have and I -think I will go. Vivienne says that she does not love me and that if I -make love to anybody else our engagement is off; but I don’t believe it -will turn out that way. Corsican women are all jealous. If she finds -that I am flirting with some one else, she will probably begin to love -me a little, and if I keep up the affair, in time she may become madly -infatuated. By St. Christopher, what fun it will be, and how my honoured -mother will enjoy it.” - -The next day there was a violent storm of wind and rain. The Count did -not venture out. “I will get ready for my visit to Corsica,” he said to -himself. About noon he was summoned by Timothée, who said a gentleman -wished to see him in the library. - -The visitor was a stout man with a full, round face, made even fuller -and rounder by a thick beard. - -“I wish to see the Countess Mont d’Oro.” - -“I regret to say, sir, that she is absent from the city. I am Count Mont -d’Oro, her son.” - -“Is Miss Renville here?” was the next inquiry. - -“She has been my mother’s guest--they have gone together.” - -“I am sorry to hear that,” said the stout man. “I am Mr. Thomas Glynne, -of Buckholme, in Berkshire. I am the young lady’s guardian. She ran away -from home with the intention, I think, of marrying a chance -acquaintance--an unworthy young man--and I have come to Paris to take -her home with me as I have a right to do, under the law.” - -“Who is this unworthy young man?” asked the Count. - -“His name is De Vinne.” - -“I judge,” said the Count, “from something I have heard, that she is in -love with him. I know that she writes to him and that she was expecting -him here before she left Paris.” - -“Shall I presume too much upon your kindness,” said Mr. Glynne, “if I -ask you where my ward has gone?” - -The Count did not answer the question. “You say, Mr. Glynne, that your -ward and this young man were but chance acquaintances; why is he so -anxious to marry her--because she is beautiful, because she is rich, or -both?” - -Mr. Glynne thought that the truth might improve his position. “She has a -large fortune in her own right--forty thousand pounds in our money; -about a million francs in yours.” - -The Count gave a long, low whistle. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, “but that -would make a fine dowry.” - -“If Mr. De Vinne comes to Paris, I presume you will tell him where my -ward has gone?” - -“Well, really, I do not think I shall,” said the Count. “The information -came into my possession in rather a peculiar manner and I must protect -the person who gave it to me. You will be surprised, sir, at something I -am going to tell you. I have met Miss Renville and I have fallen in love -with her myself. I did not know at the time that she was wealthy, but -that makes little difference to me; in fact, no difference at all, for -I have money enough of my own and would marry her without a dowry as -soon as with one. Who has charge of her fortune?” - -“I have,” answered Mr. Glynne. - -“And no doubt you would like to keep it.” The Count smiled as he uttered -the words. The smile was contagious and one flickered across Mr. -Glynne’s fat, round face. - -“I should not be human,” he replied, “if I would not.” - -“Well,” said the Count, “two heads are better than one. I will make a -bargain with you. If you will give your consent to my marrying your -ward, and will help me to bring about that happy event, I will take her -without a dowry and you may keep the money. Is it a bargain?” - -“I must confess that such a course of action would be very agreeable to -me.” - -“Well, I shan’t tell you,” said the Count, “where your ward is. I will -take you with me, if you will go. I will leave you in a place several -miles distant from where I know she is living, and you must remain there -until I have had time to prosecute my suit. At the critical moment I -shall call upon you for your assistance. Is that plan satisfactory to -you?” - -“Perfectly,” said Mr. Glynne. - -“If Mr. De Vinne comes to Paris,” said the Count, “he will find it -difficult to ascertain your ward’s whereabouts. We shall leave for our -destination to-morrow morning; in the meantime I shall be pleased to -have you as my guest.” - -The next day the allies started upon their journey, one influenced by -thoughts of love, the other by thoughts of gold. - -It is an old saying that the devil leaves his followers half-way. Even -the most astute of men will do some foolish thing that upsets his -plans. Count Mont d’Oro was no exception to the rule. - -Jacques, the coachman, had told the truth. He was devoted to the -Countess and she trusted him implicitly. No sooner was Jacques certain -that the Count had left the house than he made his way to his master’s -rooms. He ransacked them from one end to the other. “He would not take -it with him,” he soliloquised. “Perhaps he destroyed it. I have looked -over carefully everything that came from his room, but it was not there. -He has had no fire and he could not have burned it. Ah! I have not -looked into that,” he exclaimed, as he espied a square wooden box on the -top of a chiffonier. In a moment it was in his possession. It was -locked, but Jacques had brought a screw-driver with him for possible -use, and the cover was soon wrenched off. It was full of letters. - -“He read my letter,” said Jacques, “I will read his.” There were -daintily written and perfumed epistles, love letters from ladies of the -_haut ton_, both married and single, who now wished, no doubt, that -their missives were back in their own hands or burned. Jacques threw -them aside one after another. “Bah!” he exclaimed, “what a miserable -flirt he is. I am so sorry he caught me and found out where that -beautiful young lady is gone; but the Countess will protect her.” -Suddenly he gave a cry of delight. At the bottom of the box was the -letter for which he had been searching. - -As fate willed it, on the afternoon of the same day, Mr. Jack De Vinne, -heir to the Earldom of Noxton, presented himself at the residence of -Countess Mont d’Oro in Paris. He had been to Buckholme, had seen -Clarence, and learned from his wife that Mr. Thomas Glynne had gone to -Paris in search of his ward. - -“He is gone to bring her back,” said Jennie. “I do not know whether -English law holds in France or not, but they say possession is nine -points of the law, and I am sure the Countess will not give her up if -there is any way of keeping her.” - -It so happened that it was the French Jacques who admitted the English -Jack. - -The Countess’s faithful servitor placed the letter in the hands of the -one for whom it was intended, explaining, as best he could, how it came -to be opened. - -“The Count and a big, stout man went away this very morning. They may -have gone to Corsica, but I do not know.” - -Jack felt sure that they had, and the next morning he was on his way -thither. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -A CORSICAN CHANT. - - -If one could rise in the air like a bird and look down upon the island -of Corsica, he might think that he saw before him the petrified skeleton -of some great marine monster. From north to south, through the centre of -the island, runs a ridge of mountains resembling a spinal column, while -upon either side of this central ridge branch a number of shorter -parallel ridges bearing a close resemblance to the ribs of such an -animal. In each of these valleys, near the central ridge, are the -sources of small rivers which run east or west, as the case may be, into -the Mediterranean Sea. The banks are composed of alluvial soil, and, for -that reason, near the sea the rivers widen out, covering large areas of -land which become marshes, full, at certain seasons of the year, of -pestilential vapours, the cause of disease and death among the -inhabitants. The sides of the mountains and the borders of the adjacent -ravines are covered by dense masses of shrubbery and groves or forests -of trees. In Australia, the outlaw, fleeing from justice, takes refuge -in “the bush,” from which circumstance he has derived the characteristic -name of “bushranger.” On the other hand, the Corsican outlaws or -banditti take refuge, when pursued by the officers of the law, in the -_maquis_, which, in the Corsican vernacular, has the same meaning as the -Australian “bush.” - -In one of the deepest of the ravines on the western side of the central -ridge of mountains which traverses the island of Corsica, a band of some -twenty men was assembled. They were nondescript in appearance, each -being dressed after a fashion of his own, although there was one point -of resemblance between them, for each was armed with a rifle, had a pair -of pistols in his belt, and a closer examination would have revealed a -stiletto hidden away beneath the folds of his shirt or jacket. They were -what they appeared to be--Corsican banditti or, in other words, -outlaws--men wanted by the police--chiefly for murder. - -And yet they were different from the usual banditti which infest -Corsica, as a closer acquaintance with their leader will soon determine. -He was a man of gigantic stature and the possessor of great physical -strength. He was seated apart from the members of his band in company -with his lieutenant, a man much smaller in size, but muscular and agile, -as a natural result of a continual outdoor life. - -The leader was called Cromillian. No one of his band supposed that this -was his real name, but he offered no explanation and none was asked. He -had suddenly appeared in Corsica, gathered a band of trusted followers, -and for a year had carried on a peculiar system of brigandage. As the -plan followed by him supplied his adherents with the means of -subsistence, they ventured no criticism of his peculiar manner of doing -business, although they often wondered among themselves as to what the -final outcome of it would be. - -The lieutenant’s name was Paoli, and, although next in command to -Cromillian, he had no clearer idea of his leader’s ultimate object than -had the other members of the band. The wild, roving life suited him and -he was content to remain where he was, for he had long ago forfeited his -rights as a law-abiding citizen and was a marked man in the eyes of the -emissaries of the law. - -It is a natural characteristic of some people, when they have nothing -else to do, to think of the present or to look forward to the future; -but a Corsican, when he has time for contemplation, always reverts to -the past. When he recalls it, he does not dwell upon its pleasant -features, but, if possible, fastens his thoughts upon some real or -imaginary wrong which he fancies his ancestors or his friends have -suffered. - -An American Indian, when contemplating an attack upon his enemies, -precedes active hostilities by singing a war song, and the Corsican -unconsciously resembles him by singing, or rather chanting, a recital of -past wrongs or injuries, followed by a unique vocal declaration of his -intention to secure reparation or execute vengeance for such acts. - -The Corsicans are strong partisans. They not only take part in the feuds -with which their own families are connected, but embrace the causes of -other families to which they are not related, but to which, for some -reason or other, they become attached. - -Paoli sat upon a log, his hands tightly clasped together, gazing up at -the sky through a rift in the branches of the trees. There was a wild -look in his eye, such as might be seen in those of some religious -devotee. Suddenly, as though under the influence of some magic power or -spell, he found voice. The words of his chant, or _vocero_, as it is -called by the Corsicans, certainly boded no good fortune to a person -named Vandemar, who was referred to therein: - -“Place on the wall before my bed my cross of honour well gained. To my -sons, my sons in a far country, convey my cross and bloody vest. He, my -first-born, will see the rents--for each rent, a rent in another shirt, -a wound in another’s heart! Vengeance! The hour of vengeance is nigh! -Make ready his bed in the valley of skulls. He comes, the last of his -race, but he comes to his couch with a stain on his shroud, only to die. -The vendetta, the spirit of vendetta is awake; it has slept too long. -Blood for blood! The noble house of Batistelli no longer shall bear the -dread reproach of _rimbeccare_. The stain shall now be washed away in -blood. Vandemar Della Coscia must die!” - -Cromillian’s attention had been attracted by the first words of the -chant and he listened intently to the _improvisatore_. When Paoli -ceased, he turned and approached him: - -“Thy heart rebukes thee whilst thou singest. There are whispers of other -orgies than those thou hast sung. I, too, can improvise. Now listen, -Paoli, and remember that I never chant the ancient gabble of old women -and silly girls. I will make my own songs and, better still, I will make -them come true, every word true. Listen, and be sure that you do not -forget. - -“The noble young Vandemar returns, returns to his native mountains, to -the home of his childhood, to the friends who have waited so long to -embrace him. But no sooner do his feet touch the shores, the green banks -of his early home, than the hungry vultures are on his track eager to -drink the red blood in his veins. But the eagle will turn to defend his -life. He will not die. The death song will resound for his enemies, the -vengeful tribe of the Batistellis. Even this clown, this fool Paoli, -will change the tone of his song, ere long! Ere long!!” - -Paoli took his chief’s words pleasantly. “Hold on!” he cried. “Don’t you -know that they have an adage among the French: ‘Never hit a man when he -is down’?” As he said this, he arose: - -“I am, as you well know, a descendant of the great Paoli, at whose name -all Corsica thrilled, a just man, and the most distinguished general in -the world.” - -“It is a great pity,” said Cromillian, sarcastically, “that he is not -living, and here to give advice to his kinsman. I know not whether it is -an adage, but it is a well-known fact that the sons and grandsons of -great men seldom resemble them.” - -“Your wits are too much for me,” said Paoli, “but please have the grace -to hear me out. It was a maxim of my illustrious ancestor that every -citizen should constitute himself a soldier and defend his rights by -force of arms. Not to avenge wrongs committed against one’s own blood or -that of his friends, has always been deemed by the Corsicans to denote a -coward. I am a true son of Corsica and, for that, you call me a clown, a -fool. If you and I were not sworn friends, there might be cause for a -coolness between us. Heed this now, and say whether I was right or -wrong. - -“My dearest friend, Antonio Marcelli, had a beautiful sister, Vinetta. A -man from Bastia, named Ossa d’Oria, came to Ajaccio. He was young and -handsome, and reputed to be a single man. Young Vinetta was misled by -him and, to conceal her shame, committed suicide. I wrote to Antonio, -but he was down sick with a fever and unable to return to Corsica. I -made my friend’s cause my own and went to Bastia. I found that I was to -be deprived of a sweet revenge, for the scoundrel had been drowned while -bathing. His father was dead and he had no brothers or near relatives. -But he had a wife. What was I to do?” - -“That was embarrassing,” Cromillian remarked. “What did you do?” - -“This was one of the cases,” answered Paoli, “where the flint of your -gun must serve you. I put a ball through the head of the wife. That is -what I call good old Corsican justice. Then I took to the mountains, and -here I am, a jolly bandit like yourself.” - -Cromillian turned upon him, savagely: “You call that justice? I call it -murder! Cold-blooded murder!! This savage custom of vengeance executed -upon relatives for wrongs committed by an ancestor, the lives of sons -sacrificed for fancied wrongs alleged against fathers, has been the -curse and blight of Corsica for the last five hundred years. The -vendetta, that hydra-headed monster, strikes its fangs deep into the -heart of every Corsican child before it is able to lisp its own name. -Mothers lull their babies to sleep crooning the death song, nurses -inflame their young imaginations with frightful stories of blood, -revenge, and death. It has grown with their growth, strengthened with -their strength, until to-day we stand before the world distinguished -only as being the most savage, the most barbarous people upon the face -of this fair earth.” - -“Do they say that of us?” asked Paoli. - -“Listen!” said Cromillian, “I read in an old newspaper when I was in -France that if the island of Corsica could vomit forth all the blood -which has been poured out upon its soil, in the course of time, in the -vendetta and on the field of battle, it would overwhelm its cities and -villages, drown its people, and crimson the sea from its shores to -Genoa. Six hundred and sixty-six thousand slain by the hand of the -assassin alone! Dost like the picture?” - -“Well,” said Paoli, “what are we going to do about it? We take up life -where our fathers left it.” - -“There is going to be a change, a reformation!” cried Cromillian. “I, -with my single arm, with the help of God, will commence the work. There -will, necessarily, be much bloodshed at first--there always has been in -every case where great evils were to be overcome. My life will be -sacrificed, but it will be in a good and merciful cause, and when I -shall have done my work, some other man will take it up just where I -leave it, and so it will go on until your children’s children and mine -may be able to look a civilised man in the face.” - -“Are you in earnest?” asked Paoli. “Do you mean it?” - -“Mean it!” cried Cromillian. “Why did I leave a comfortable home in -England, where I lived like a gentleman, to come here and turn bandit? -Was it to plunder, to rob, to execute vengeance? Answer me, Paoli. Why -am I a voluntary outlaw, destined to know no other home on earth but -that which the clefts in the rocks and mountains or the _maquis_ afford -me? Say, is it to rob, think you?” - -“No, no, not that, surely!” cried Paoli. “I have been with you for a -year and I know that you have only taken from the rich in order to give -to the poor. I know you have so frightened several who had declared the -vendetta and were on the tracks of their would-be victims that they have -given up the pursuit. I have seen what you have done, although I could -not understand your method. But what is to be our next work, if it is -not an impertinent question?” - -Cromillian eyed his interrogator closely: “Well,” he said finally, “you -have, undoubtedly, heard the rumour that Vandemar Della Coscia is to -visit his native land, which he has not seen since he was a child.” - -“Yes, I know that,” said Paoli, “and I know that the Batistellis will -declare the vendetta against him if he dares to come. Now, my father was -a friend of Conrad Batistelli, and I am a friend of the brothers, Pascal -and Julien. I gave my word to my father on his death-bed that I would be -true to the Batistellis, and their cause is my cause. If Pascal and -Julien declare that Vandemar must die, I shall aid them. If I do not, I -shall be false to the oath given to my father.” - -“You can do as you please,” replied Cromillian, “but, from what I have -told you, you know that I shall consider it my duty to protect Vandemar -from the Batistellis, and from you. Besides, how do you know that Manuel -Della Coscia killed Conrad Batistelli?” - -“Why, there can be no doubt of it!” cried Paoli. “Was not Conrad found -in his own field, stabbed to the heart by a stiletto, upon the handle of -which were found the initials of Manuel Della Coscia? And did he not -confess his guilt by fleeing from the island, taking his little son -with him? I cannot understand why Vandemar can have the temerity to -return to Corsica when the case against his father and himself is so -strong. He simply invites the doom which surely awaits him.” - -“I do not think he comes for any such reason,” said Cromillian. “I think -the result of his visit will be to show that his father was innocent of -that crime and that the Batistellis have no cause for enmity against -him.” - -“He will have no time to prove that,” answered Paoli. “As soon as the -Batistelli brothers know that he is in Corsica, his death will be but a -question of a few hours.” - -“But supposing they do not know him?” said Cromillian. “Supposing they -do not recognise him?” - -“I am sure that I should know him,” replied Paoli. “I knew his father -well, and the sons of Corsicans too closely resemble their fathers to -render his recognition improbable.” - -“I am not a rich man, as you know,” said Cromillian, “but I’ll wager ten -louis d’or, Paoli, that, if you saw Vandemar Della Coscia, you would not -know him.” - -“But if I do,” cried Paoli, “and I point him out to the Batistellis, do -I get the ten louis d’or?” - -“If you point him out to me first,” said Cromillian, “you will get the -ten louis d’or. If you point him out to anybody else, what you will get -will be determined hereafter. Is it a wager?” he asked. - -“It is,” cried Paoli, and the men shook hands. - -Paoli could not refrain from referring again to the vendetta between the -Batistellis and the Della Coscias. - -“The Batistellis are rich and powerful,” he began, “and who is there so -bold as to think of contending against them?” - -“I dare!” cried Cromillian. “I will shed every drop of my blood to -prevent such diabolical injustice.” - -“But not with your single arm?” questioned Paoli. “None could be found -rash enough to join you in so mad a scheme.” - -“Yes, one will,” answered Cromillian, “one who is trusty and true--my -Protector!” - -“Your Protector?” Paoli asked, inquiringly. - -“There is my Protector,” said Cromillian, pointing to his gun, “a -double-barrelled orator who preaches the gospel right into a man every -time. Of what use are the tongues of a hundred missionaries? When the -gospel is preached in Corsica to-day, it must spring from the muzzle of -a gun or the point of a stiletto; it must be forced into the people with -leaden balls or shining steel. Come to my heart, faithful guardian!” As -he spoke, he embraced his weapon with fervour: “Thou wilt be true to -poor Corsica, and to me, defender of the right, protector of the -innocent, friend of the poor, merciful to the just, who smiteth only to -bless. Dear Goddess, I love thee! Swear that thou wilt be true to me; -speak, let me hear thy voice.” Raising his weapon, he discharged both -barrels. Then he continued: “Sweeter to my ears is thy voice than the -cooing of doves.” - - * * * * * - -On the evening of the same day, and at about the same hour at which the -colloquy had taken place between Cromillian and his lieutenant, Countess -Mont d’Oro and Bertha had come to what was called, by the inhabitants of -Alfieri, Mont d’Oro Castle. - -It is usually dispiriting to arrive late in the afternoon at a house -with which you have previously been unacquainted. The glorious morning -sun is needed to bring out local beauties and points of interest which -escape the attention when day is waning. Besides, Bertha was weary and -nervous. The passage from Marseilles to Ajaccio had been made upon a -sailing vessel, the accommodations of which were far from palatial. To -add to their discomfiture, a storm had overtaken them and the qualms of -seasickness had been added to their other troubles. Again, the ride from -Ajaccio to Altieri had been made in a tumble-down vehicle over a rough -road, and the Countess declared that every bone in her body was aching -when she reached home. To this remark Bertha silently assented, for she -said to herself that if the Countess felt any worse than she did, she -must be miserable indeed. - -There being no actual head to the household during the Countess’s -absence, it was in a most disordered condition at the time of their -arrival, and considerable time passed before the energetic orders of the -mistress secured a semblance of household unity and led to the -preparation of a supper for the weary travellers. - -Bertha retired early to her room. It was comfortable, even cosey, being -located upon the third floor in one of those towers which are -characteristic features of Corsican architecture. It was with a feeling -of great relief that Bertha threw herself upon the couch; but she could -not sleep. After a long period of wakefulness and tossing, she arose and -went to the latticed window. The moon was shining brightly. She opened -the lattice and looked out upon the beautiful grounds which surrounded -the castle. - -Suddenly, she started back. A high hedge divided the grounds belonging -to the Mont d’Oro estate from that adjoining, but, from her elevated -position, she commanded a full view of the grounds of the neighboring -estate. The house was fully as imposing as that of Countess Mont d’Oro; -in fact, more so, for while the Mont d’Oro mansion was built of wood, -the one upon which she was now gazing was constructed of stone and -seemed, as it was, a much more substantial building. - -But it was not the building which had attracted her attention, although -it presented an imposing appearance, lighted by the moon, with the -portions in shadow accentuating the sharp contrasts. No, what caught -her eye and riveted her attention was the figure of a young girl dressed -in white, who, standing in the moonlight, looked like some spirit rather -than a human being. Bertha partially closed the lattice, leaving only a -narrow space through which she could watch the strange figure, which -stood motionless. She could not see the girl’s face, for it was turned -in the opposite direction and her dark hair, which was unfastened, -shrouded even the side of her face from view. - -It seemed a long time to Bertha that she sat there and watched the -motionless figure. Suddenly, the sound of a voice fell upon her ear. She -listened and, although she could not understand the words, she knew by -the melody and the manner in which the song was sung that it was a -boisterous drinking song. The voice came nearer, and soon the figure of -a man entered the grounds where the young girl stood. At sight of him, -she started forward with a glad cry which was distinctly audible to -Bertha. Had she been waiting for a lover? The figure in white approached -the man and threw her arms about his neck, but, to Bertha’s surprise, -the man repelled her advances, pushing her away from him with such -violence that she fell to the ground. - -Bertha started to her feet, full of indignation. It seemed as though she -must go to the assistance of the young girl who had been so cruelly -treated. She quickly realised the impossibility of such an action on her -part and, resuming her seat, watched to see what would happen. The young -girl rose slowly to her feet and disappeared within a doorway. The man, -whoever he was, was evidently so intoxicated as to be unable to maintain -a standing position, for, after several efforts to reach the door -through which the young girl had gone, he lost his balance and fell -prone to the ground. A few minutes later, the girl emerged from the -doorway, accompanied by an old man and an old woman, and by their -combined efforts the drunken man was taken into the house, and the door -closed behind them. - -The next morning, after breakfast, while sitting in the Countess’s -boudoir, Bertha could not refrain from giving an account of what she had -seen the previous night. - -“Oh, that is a common occurrence,” said the Countess. “The girl whom you -saw was Vivienne Batistelli. The drunken man was her younger brother, -Julien, who is going to the bad very fast, they say. Her elder brother, -Pascal, is very correct in his habits, although of a very bitter and -revengeful disposition. Julien is a happy-go-lucky sort of fellow, -intent upon having a good time. As is often the case, the sister has no -love for her elder brother, but bestows it all upon this young -profligate. I used to do the same when my son was young. - -“For a time, I thought he could do no wrong, no matter how badly he -acted, but when he showed such complete disregard for my wishes, when he -told me plainly that he intended to do as he pleased, no matter what I -said or what I wished, there came a revulsion. Although I am his mother, -I am not ashamed to say that instead of loving him, I came to hate the -sight of him, and am never happy when he is near me. He is virtually -betrothed, with the consent of her brother Pascal, to this Vivienne -Batistelli, but that would make no difference to him if he saw another -young face that pleased him. He is a consummate flirt, if no worse. - -“I sincerely hope that nothing will happen to bring him here to Corsica; -but if he does come, he will find that I am mistress of this castle, and -that he cannot remain in it, unless with my permission.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -CROMILLIAN, THE MORAL BANDIT. - - -When Cromillian uttered his fervent invocation to his gun and then -discharged both barrels into the air, he may have thought that his -lieutenant, Paoli, would have signified his allegiance to the cause, and -his endorsement of the sentiments expressed by a similar declaration, -and an equally vociferous attestation, but if such a thought was in -Cromillian’s mind, he was destined to be disappointed. The lieutenant -evinced no surprise at Cromillian’s procedure and said nothing. - -Cromillian’s next speech was a marked drop to the commonplace: - -“I wonder where Lulie is? She was to bring some food for us to this -place. If she does not come, we shall have to share with the others. -There is a savoury smell in the air, so I think we shall not go hungry.” - -Cromillian’s favourite haunt in the ravine was only about five miles -from Alfieri, but this fact was, of course, unknown to the villagers, -who seldom came in that direction. A band of four shepherds, however, in -search of some stray sheep, was unconsciously within a short distance of -Cromillian’s camp at the time he was waiting for the appearance of -Lulie. - -The search for the sheep was unsuccessful and the shepherds, inwardly -cursing their luck, were on their way homeward. - -“They are probably at the bottom of the river, or perhaps they have gone -up the mountain,” said one of the men. - -“Perhaps,” replied another; “but I am inclined to think that some of -Cromillian’s band came across them and we shall never see or hear of -them again.” - -The second speaker was right. Three of the carcasses were hanging from -the limb of a tree where Cromillian’s band was encamped, while the other -had given forth the savoury smell which had been noticed by Cromillian. - -The second speaker went on: “Corsicans used to be considered brave men, -but we might as well call ourselves cowards if we much longer allow this -Cromillian and his band to lord it over us, and tell us what we shall do -and what we shall not do.” - -“What has Cromillian done to you?” asked the first speaker. “Perhaps we -have more reason to complain than you have. I do not think I am a -coward, but when it comes to dealing with Cromillian, I think discretion -is the better part of valour. But what has he done to you?” - -“Nothing, yet,” the other replied; “but I suppose my time will come. He -knows I have some property and that when a man owes me money I follow it -up until I get it. If a man has money or property, Cromillian seems to -be his natural enemy. Why, it was only day before yesterday that old -Lamont showed me a note he had received from Cromillian. It was short -and to the point: ‘Send the Widow Nafilet a bag of flour and a quarter -of beef.’ This impudent piece of paper was signed ‘Cromillian.’” - -“What did old Lamont do?” asked the first speaker. “Did he tear the -letter in pieces and tell Cromillian to go to the devil?” - -“Hardly,” was the reply. “He did not tell me what he did, but Jean said -that within fifteen minutes after he got the letter, Lamont told him to -take the flour and beef over to the widow as soon as possible.” - -The first speaker laughed: “Yes, and I think if you had received the -letter you would have done just as old Lamont did. I had the honour, -about six months ago, to receive a note from Cromillian, commanding me -to marry a certain girl who claimed that I had wronged her. Perhaps I -had, but that was my business, was it not?” - -“Yes, yes, to be sure it was,” said the others. Then one of them asked: -“But what did you do?” - -“T married her,” was the reply. - -There was a general laugh, in which the speaker joined; then the third -shepherd said: - -“My experience with Cromillian was not a very pleasant one; in fact, I -carried about with me, for fully a week, some very uncomfortable -reminders. You see for nearly two hundred years there has been a -vendetta between my family and that of the Bendelas. The Bendelas have -all died out with the exception of the widow, whom you all know, and her -little son, who is about ten years old, I think. Less than a month ago I -happened to meet him and, having my sheep-staff with me, gave him a good -pounding from which I did not suppose he could recover. I left him in -the forest, feeling quite sure that he would die there, but as it so -happened that rascal Cromillian found him, and the boy told him that I -was the one who had struck him. Three days afterwards, as I was coming -home from Ajaccio, one dark night, Cromillian and his gang captured me. -They took me into the _maquis_, bound me to a tree, and Cromillian -himself gave me thirty sturdy whacks upon the back. Then he dismissed me -with the polite admonition that if I touched the boy again he would -shoot me at sight.” - -“Have you met the boy since?” asked one of the shepherds. - -“Oh, yes, often,” was the reply. “About a week ago I called upon the -Widow Bendela and told her that I would consider the vendetta closed and -that she need have no fear for her boy in the future. He, on his part, -promised that he would bear no ill-will against me or mine.” - -“You got off quite easily,” said the fourth shepherd. “Do you see that?” -As he spoke, he raised a matted shock of hair from the right side of his -head, disclosing the fact that his right ear had been cut off. - -“Why, how did that happen?” all three cried in unison. - -“Well, you see,” was the reply, “like my friend, I inherited a vendetta. -One day I thought I had a remarkably good chance to bring down my enemy. -I had come up behind him, and he had no idea of my presence. I am -considered a good shot, but I missed it that time. Instead of hitting -him in the back of the head, as I intended, the ball struck his right -ear and lacerated it so that the greater part of it had to be removed by -the surgeon. Somehow or other Cromillian got wind of the affair. Four of -his band caught me one day and carried me into the _maquis_. Cromillian -gave me a long lecture on the foolishness and criminality of the -vendetta and then told me he would give me something to remember his -words by; and he did, for one of the band took his stiletto and cut off -my right ear. I have only one good ear now, but I have a good memory and -I do not think I shall forget what Cromillian said on that occasion.” - -“Ha, who comes here?” cried one of the men. As he spoke a little girl, -apparently about ten years of age, and bearing a basket which seemed to -be heavily laden, approached them. - -“Ah, my little girl,” said one of them, “what’s in your basket?” As he -spoke he took it from her and tore off the cloth which covered it. “Cold -tongue, venison, bread, butter, cake, chicken pie.” - -The shepherds gathered around the basket and looked upon its contents. - -“A feast fit for an emperor,” said one. - -The little girl began to cry. “I’ll tell uncle if you don’t give me back -my basket. He is waiting for me.” - -“Who is your uncle, little girl?” was the next question. - -“Uncle Cromillian,” said Lulie. - -The four men started back, with frightened looks in their faces. “There, -we’re only fooling,” said one of them. “See, we have not touched a -thing. We were only in play, you know.” - -“Just in fun,” said another. “Here, take this,” passing her a small -coin. - -“Uncle will not allow me to take money,” said Lulie. - -“Who has the care of you, little girl?” asked one of the men. - -“Uncle Cromillian takes care of mother and me and little brother, since -father died. He is not my uncle, but he says I may call him so if I want -to, and so I do because he takes care of us.” - -“Say, friends,” said the man with one ear, “you have heard of the old -feud between the Batistellis and the Della Coscias. There will be blood -shed in Alfieri before many days have passed. Let’s find out by this -little chick which way the wind blows.” - -“No, no, no,” cried the others, “you must not question her. She will -tell her uncle.” - -“Do you take me for a fool? No, there need be no questions, but, if the -matter is talked about before her, do you see, I shall ask her to -improvise for our amusement. No doubt she chants like a thrush and may -hit the keynote for us. Come here, little girl. Now, I think you can -chant a _ballata_ for us, can you not?” - -“I have but a poor gift, but if only Chennelly Baptiste were here she -would charm you. She is called the very best _voceratrice_ in the -village. That is why she is sent for to attend all the funerals; she has -the gift, you know.” - -“But surely you can give us a few lines about something that has -happened or that is going to happen. No doubt your mother has told you -about the old corporals who lived hundreds of years ago and----” - -Suddenly, the girl cried: “Oh, I have thought of something! Hark, now: - -“The big oak has fallen by the frost and the snow, but its roots shot -forth a branch and the branch has become an oak. He now rules his -father’s house, the noble house of Della Coscia. There shall no evil -come to him, for Heaven will protect him. The wicked Batistellis shall -die if they bring any harm to Vandemar!” - -“You have sung very prettily, my little girl,” said the shepherd who had -asked her to improvise. “We are much obliged to you, but you had better -go right along, for Uncle Cromillian is waiting for his dinner.” - -The speaker looked after Lulie until she had disappeared from sight; -then, turning to the others, he said: - -“Ah! I thought so, but we shall see. If I mistake not, we are all -partisans of the Batistellis, for surely it is to our interest to be on -the side of the most powerful family in this part of Corsica. Now that -Count Mont d’Oro is dead there is no one to dispute Pascal Batistelli’s -authority in Alfieri.” - -“You forget Cromillian,” said one of the shepherds. - -“I think that Pascal Batistelli is a match for Cromillian,” was the -reply. “If Vandemar Della Coscia dares to set foot in Corsica again, -Pascal Batistelli will have his life before Uncle Cromillian has time to -interfere. Then we shall all have the laugh on Uncle Cromillian.” - - * * * * * - -It was fully a fortnight after the departure of Countess Mont d’Oro and -Bertha from Paris, that Clarence Glynne received a letter announcing -their safe arrival in Corsica. It was written by Bertha and he read it -with great interest: - - “MY DEAR KIND FRIENDS, CLARENCE AND JENNIE: - - “It is with a heart overflowing with gratitude that I address you - thus, for I seem almost lost in this great world. I have been here - only a few days, but have learned in that time that this is a very - strange country. Hate, instead of love, seems to be the ruling - passion among Corsicans. Countess Mont d’Oro hates her own son, - and, so far as I can learn, everybody hates somebody else. But - perhaps I ought not to criticise them too severely. Have you had - any word from Mr. De Vinne, or from my guardian, your father? I - know that you will send me information regarding them as soon as - possible, but the suspense in which I live from day to day is - dreadful. - - “The Mont d’Oro estate is beautiful in so far as nature can make it - so, and the one that adjoins it, owned by the Batistelli family, is - even more lovely. As the story goes, about seventeen years ago, the - father, Conrad Batistelli, was assassinated by a man named Manuel - Della Coscia. The same day that he was killed his daughter Vivienne - was born. When the mother learned of the death of her husband, she - became insane and died in that condition, leaving the little girl - fatherless and motherless. Everybody calls Manuel Della Coscia a - coward for, immediately after killing Conrad Batistelli, he left - the island secretly, taking with him his little son Vandemar, who - was about six years of age at the time, and they have not been - heard from since. Every true-hearted Corsican execrates the name of - Della Coscia, for in Corsica when a man kills his enemy he is - supposed to be brave enough to remain and give the friends of his - enemy a chance to kill him. There is a rumour that Vandemar Della - Coscia is soon to return to Corsica, and Countess Mont d’Oro tells - me that the Batistelli brothers will kill him at sight if he dares - to come. I am not acquainted with the Batistellis, nor do I wish to - become so, with the prospect of such a terrible event as the - assassination of this young man at their hands. - - “The Countess tells me that her husband and Pascal Batistelli were - very anxious that her son, Count Napier, should wed Vivienne - Batistelli; and, according to the custom of the country, they - arranged a betrothal, irrespective of the wishes of the young - people. The Countess says that Vivienne came to her one day and - told her that under no circumstances could she ever marry her son, - and it was solely for that reason the Countess induced Count Napier - to accompany her to Paris, where, as you know, he is living a wild - life. He still considers himself betrothed to Vivienne, but the - Countess hopes that he will forget her and not come back to Corsica - again. - - “With love to you both, I am yours, with great affection, - - “BERTHA RENVILLE.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -“TO SEE IS TO LOVE!” - - -The post-chaises which conveyed Count Mont d’Oro and Thomas Glynne -reached Marseilles two days sooner than did the slow-moving vehicle in -which Jack De Vinne was a passenger. The Count and his companion were -again fortunate in finding a vessel just ready to sail for Ajaccio, -while Jack was detained two days after his arrival before he could find -a vessel bound for the desired port. For these reasons, the Count and -Thomas Glynne reached Corsica some five days sooner than did Jack. - -Before their arrival the Count had decided that he would not take his -companion to the hotel in Ajaccio. He was so well known in the town that -he knew the presence of his foreign-looking companion would be sure to -cause comment. Again, what one person in Ajaccio knew, soon everybody -knew, and he did not care to have the news of his arrival reach his -mother until he was able to present himself in person. - -He was acquainted with a Corsican named Savoni, who lived upon a side -street quite a distance from the centre of the town. Savoni was a -widower with one daughter. His wife had been the victim of a vendetta, -and the daughter had come near meeting the same fate as her mother. She -had received a severe blow upon the head from which she had never fully -recovered. She was able, however, to attend to her household duties and -had the reputation of being one of the best cooks in Corsica. Count Mont -d’Oro’s life in Paris had made him a _bon vivant_, and he knew by -experience that, although the beds in the hotel at Ajaccio were clean -and comfortable, the fare was not of a high order of excellence. It was, -therefore, to Savoni’s house that he took Thomas Glynne and made -arrangements for him to remain there until he should send for him to -come to Mont d’Oro Castle. - -The second day after his arrival in Corsica, the Count suddenly made his -appearance at the home of his mother, to her great astonishment and to -the dismay of Bertha Renville. The mother uttered no word of welcome. -Her first inquiry was: “What brought you down here without an -invitation?” - -“I came as most travellers do,” was the reply, “by post-chaise from -Paris to Marseilles, by sailing vessel from Marseilles to Ajaccio, and, -to show that I am still an able-bodied young man, I came from that town -on foot. I am, naturally, somewhat tired and deucedly hungry, and so, if -you have no objection, my good mother, I will go down and get a lunch.” - -Suiting the action to the word, he bowed to the ladies, who had not yet -recovered from their astonishment, and withdrew. For several minutes -after the Count’s departure, the ladies said nothing. Then the Countess -spoke: - -“He won’t tell me what he came for, so I shall have to find it out -myself. Have you formed any opinion?” she asked, turning to Bertha. - -“Why, certainly not,” said the young girl. “But from what you have told -me, I should naturally say that he came to see his mother.” - -“As you know that is not the case,” and there was a bitter smile upon -the face of the Countess, “it must be that he came to see somebody -else.” - -Bertha may have divined the Countess’s meaning, but she did not propose -to acknowledge it, so she said: - -“Such being the case, his object is probably to see Mademoiselle -Batistelli, to whom he is betrothed.” - -“Perhaps so,” was the reply, “but we shall see,” and, by mutual consent, -the subject was dropped. - - * * * * * - -As the vessel upon which Jack De Vinne was a passenger was approaching -the quay, the young man caught sight of Mr. Thomas Glynne. His personal -appearance, despite the false beard, was not materially changed, and he -recognised him easily. - -“Will he know me?” was Jack’s first thought. - -Before leaving Paris he had procured a pair of spectacles of coloured -glass to wear during the trip from Marseilles to Ajaccio, to shade his -eyes from the glare of the sun on the water. He resolved to keep them on -as a measure of disguise. He brought his portmanteau from his cabin, but -delayed his departure from the vessel until he saw Mr. Glynne turn and -walk leisurely towards the town; then Jack landed, keeping some distance -behind him. Jack was debating in his mind whether he should go directly -to the hotel, even if Mr. Glynne was also a guest there, when he saw the -latter turn down a side street. - -When Jack reached the hotel, he decided that he would still further -conceal his identity by giving an assumed name. His command of the -French language was so good that he felt he could easily pass for a -native-born Frenchman, so, for the nonce, Jack De Vinne became Andrea -Fortier. - -The dinner was simple but substantial, and after it was over Jack went -to his room to decide upon his future course of action. It filled him -with happiness when he reflected that he could not be very far from -Bertha Renville. If it had not been for the presence of her guardian he -would have at once made inquiries as to where Countess Mont d’Oro lived, -and have gone to the house; but the fact that Mr. Glynne was in Corsica -showed that he must proceed cautiously in taking the next step. Glynne -had no doubt learned that his niece was in Corsica, and was there upon -the same errand as himself. In the afternoon the sky grew overcast, and -soon a heavy rain-storm set in; Jack decided that he would postpone -making any inquiries until the following morning. - -When the bright sun heralded the advent of a new day, it not only gave a -warm glow to the face of nature, but lighted up a scene of unwonted -activity in the harbour. Riding therein was a great vessel, one of Old -England’s invincible frigates, the port-holes indicating that it carried -an armament of fully sixty guns, while the floating pennant showed that -no less a personage than a British admiral was on board. The vessel was -the _Osprey_, commanded by Admiral Sir Gilbert Enright. Acting under -orders from the Admiralty, he had been visiting certain stations in the -Mediterranean, Ajaccio being on his list. - -The Admiral was accompanied by his only daughter, Helen. Before the -departure of the _Osprey_ from England, Miss Enright was convalescent -after a severe illness. The Admiral had desired that some one else -should be placed in command of the _Osprey_, as he did not wish to leave -his daughter, whose health was not fully restored. To his great delight, -one of the Admiralty, who was a personal friend, suggested that nothing -would do Miss Enright so much good as a sea voyage, and, at his -suggestion, permission was given by the Admiralty for the Admiral’s -daughter to accompany him on the voyage. - -Miss Enright was nearly thirty years of age, tall, thin, sallow, and -with but few claims to personal beauty. She was a character, in a way. -From her earliest years, Helen Enright had been a student. She loved to -learn, and learned to love learning for its own sake. There were no -colleges for women in those days, but her father was wealthy and she had -been supplied with competent tutors in every line of study that she -chose to undertake. She had a passion for mathematics. Her literary -recreation was history, and there were few women of her age in England -who could solve knotty mathematical problems or pass so severe an -examination as she could have done in the history of England and the -Continental countries. - -The voyage had restored her strength, and she had evinced a desire to -become acquainted with the technical details of the vessel which her -father commanded, and with the principles of navigation. Her father’s -duties were such that he could not devote the required time necessary to -give her the desired instruction, so, at her suggestion, for her father -usually allowed her to have her own way in everything, one of the -officers was detailed to act as her tutor in seamanship. That officer -was Lieutenant Victor Duquesne. - -Miss Helen, of course, had met him before at the Naval Academy and at -her father’s house, and was much pleased at his selection, for he had -impressed her as being very handsome, very polite, and very dignified, -and although she did not, as a rule, care much for the society of young -men, on one occasion she found herself lamenting the fact that he was so -young. Victor was but twenty-three. Perhaps the cause of her lamentation -was the knowledge that she was seven years older than he, which, to her -eminently practical mind, was an insuperable obstacle to an intimacy -extending beyond the limits of--friendship. - -It was late that morning when Jack arose and gazed out of his window and -found that the quay was crowded with the inhabitants of Ajaccio. Jack’s -first inclination was to join them. Then he reflected that Mr. Glynne -would undoubtedly be there, and he wished to avoid all possibility of -recognition until he had seen Bertha. He decided, therefore, to go -downstairs and see if he could learn anything about the new arrival and -the reason for the appearance of that formidable warship at that port. -He found the landlord in a state of pleasurable excitement. - -“What vessel is that in the bay?” inquired Jack. - -“That,” answered the landlord, “is the British ship _Osprey_, commanded -by Admiral Enright, and I have been notified that the Admiral, with his -daughter and one officer, will dine at the hotel and possibly pass the -night here.” - -“The _Osprey_! Admiral Enright!” exclaimed Jack, excitedly. “Why, that -is Victor’s ship. How fortunate!” - -“What’s that?” inquired the landlord. - -“Nothing,” answered Jack, abruptly. “I was only saying that I think I -know one of the officers. What a dunce!” he commented to himself as he -walked away, “but then I have been through so much since I parted from -Victor, and then to think that my quest of Bertha should bring us both -together again in this town! How strange! What a mighty little world -this is, after all.” - -He could scarcely contain himself, yet he felt that the only plan for -him would be to await the arrival of the ship’s officers and ascertain -if Victor was aboard. He did not wish to run the risk of meeting Mr. -Glynne, so he returned to his room and passed the time in gazing out of -the window toward the harbour, and in watching the crowd of people -passing to and fro. - -Towards noon a boat put off from the warship. Jack eagerly watched the -craft as it neared the shore and was lost to his sight. Shortly, the -crowd parted and three people were seen coming up the quay. One was a -stout gentleman with a very florid face, wearing the undress uniform of -a British admiral, while upon one side of him was a young lady, and on -the other side was--yes--Victor! - -Jack grabbed his hat and ran downstairs, but as he reached the veranda -he suddenly, with great restraint, subdued his intense excitement, and -as the three visitors approached, Jack stood quietly by the entrance of -the hotel, hoping thus to accentuate Victor’s surprise, and at the same -time conjuring up in his own mind the effect the meeting would have on -his bosom friend. They had just reached the steps when Victor happened -to look up and straight into the eyes of Jack! - -Victor recoiled, as from a shock, gave another earnest look, then, -neglecting all formalities, darted forward with both hands extended. -“Jack!” he exclaimed. - -“Old fellow,” cried Jack, “this _is_ a pleasure.” - -“Well, well, well!” exclaimed Victor, totally at a loss what else to -say, while in his intense gaze was a veritable compound of inquiry, -surprise, and delight. At once recollecting himself, he placed his hand -on Jack’s shoulder and turned to Admiral Enright. “Admiral Enright, -permit me the honour of presenting to you my very closest friend, Mr. -John De Vinne.” - -“Mr. De Vinne, I am most happy to make your acquaintance,” said the -Admiral, grasping Jack warmly by the hand. Then turning to his daughter, -he said: “Mr. De Vinne, permit me to present you to my daughter, Miss -Helen.” - -Miss Enright graciously acknowledged the introduction. - -The landlord now appeared and escorted the quartet to the hotel parlour, -much to the chagrin of the curious crowd that had gathered outside the -door. - -After a few generalities had been indulged in, dinner was announced. To -Jack was accorded the pleasant duty of escorting Miss Enright to dinner. -The Admiral occupied the post of honour at the head of the table, with -Victor on his left. - -After the conclusion of the meal the Admiral’s daughter excused herself -as she wished to rest for a while, and the Admiral also repaired to his -room to attend to matters in connection with his visit. This left the -young men to their own devices. - -“Come right up to my room, Vic,” exclaimed Jack. - -Slamming the door behind them, he threw his hat on the bed and motioned -Victor to a seat and said: “Now, old boy, I have got you all to myself. -How is it the fates have thrown us together?” - -“You are the one to explain,” said Victor. “I am here in obedience to my -father’s request, as you well know, but when I last saw you, you had as -much idea of coming to Ajaccio as you had of visiting Hades.” - -“Yes, I know,” exclaimed Jack. “You are right, but much has happened -since we parted, which you should understand. I am now heir to the -Earldom of Noxton.” He then, at length, made Victor acquainted with the -death and burial of his brother, the escape of Bertha from her guardian -and her flight to Corsica. “I arrived here but yesterday,” he concluded, -“and to-morrow I shall search her out. Your father lives here, I -believe,” he said. - -“I don’t know,” answered Victor. “When I arrived at Malta I received a -letter from my father forwarded to me from the Admiralty, which -requested me to announce my arrival here in a note which I was to -address to one Cromillian, my father saying that this man Cromillian was -a friend of his and would see that the message reached him. I am in a -quandary as to just what to do. I must leave early in the morning, -commissioned by the Admiral to present a letter of introduction to -Monsieur Batistelli. This will take a couple of days, for which I am -very sorry, as I should like to send this letter to Cromillian at the -earliest possible moment.” - -“I’ll tell you,” said Jack. “You write the letter, Vic, and I will -undertake to deliver it in the morning, and at the same time, possibly, -I can secure information as to the whereabouts of Countess Mont d’Oro -and, consequently, Bertha.” - -“And will you do this?” cried Lieutenant Duquesne. - -“What the ancient Pylades did for the ancient Orestes the modern Pylades -will do for you,” answered Jack warmly. - -“Thank you, my dear friend,” cried Lieutenant Duquesne, as he grasped -Jack by the hand, “I can think of no service which would be more highly -appreciated by me.” - -The two friends, as may be imagined, found plenty of topics on which to -converse, and before they parted that night Lieutenant Duquesne wrote -his note and placed it in an envelope with the name Cromillian on the -outside. “I have more time now,” he said, “than I shall have in the -morning.” - -They then bade each other good-night and Victor went to his room. - -Jack was greatly excited by the course of events and sat down by the -window. It was a bright, moonlight night. He felt that he must do -something to quiet his mental agitation. He put on his hat and walked -out of the hotel, scarcely noticing what course he was taking. He walked -on until he found himself upon the quay. The great hull of the _Osprey_ -loomed up before him, the bright rays of the moon lighting up the vessel -as if it were noonday. - -He glanced downward and saw his full-length shadow projected upon the -rough planks of the quay. The thought came to him that he did not wish -to stand out in such bold relief, and he quickly sought a part of the -quay where the shadows were almost impenetrable. - -Hardly had he done so, when he heard the plashing of oars. In a moment, -he saw a boat containing two men approaching the quay. When they reached -the wharf, they stood for several minutes without speaking, but looking -intently at the British frigate. Jack was not more than ten feet from -them and, when they did speak, every word uttered was overheard by him. - -“Just like those Englishman,” one of them said. “If they know anything, -they won’t tell you, and if they don’t, they can’t tell you, so you -learn nothing either way. I did my best to find out from that sentry -whether Lieutenant Duquesne was on board, but not a word could I get out -of him; only to come to-morrow, between eleven and twelve. But we can’t -go to-morrow, for Cromillian told me that he had some important work on -hand which would take us away to the south for a week.” - -“I don’t see that we can do any more,” said the other man, “except to -tell him that we can’t find out anything. He is a just man, is -Cromillian, and he won’t blame us if we have done all that we can do.” - -“I would go up to the hotel,” said the first speaker, “and see if this -Lieutenant is there, but the landlord knows me, and so do all the -servants, and, if I ask for the Lieutenant, they would immediately -surmise that he was connected in some way with Cromillian, and the -Captain, you know, cautioned us both to do nothing that would show that -he knew the Lieutenant or anything about him.” - -Jack waited to hear no more. The Fates had been kind. Here was his -opportunity. Without stopping to think how reckless his conduct was, he -stepped forward from his dark retreat and placed a hand on each of the -speakers. Quick as lightning, they stepped back and pulling out their -stilettos, stood facing him. Then Jack realised his narrow escape, for a -Corsican usually strikes first and asks for explanations afterwards. - -“Put up your weapons,” he said, in the mildest tone he could assume, -although his voice was agitated. “I overheard what you said, but I am a -friend.” - -“You will have to prove that before we believe it,” said one of the men, -and they still held their stilettos in position for ready use. - -“I am a friend of Lieutenant Duquesne, the man whom you seek, and also -have a letter from him which he has asked me to take to the man whose -name is Cromillian. Here, look at this and you will see that I have -spoken the truth.” - -He took the letter from his pocket and showed it to the men. - -“Is that all right?” asked one of the men, turning to the other. “You -know I cannot read.” - -The second man took the letter and scanned it closely. - -“Yes,” he said, “that’s the name on the letter--Cromillian. What do you -want us to do? To take the letter to Cromillian?” - -“No,” said Jack, “I gave my word to Lieutenant Duquesne that I would -deliver it to Cromillian myself. What better proof can you have of my -good faith than my willingness to go with you?” - -“That’s so,” said one of the men, and the other one nodded his assent. -They sheathed their stilettos. - -“When can you go?” asked one of them. - -“At once,” replied Jack. - -“Come along then,” was the command. “Are you good for a six-mile tramp -over a rough road?” - -“I have walked a much longer distance than that over worse roads than I -have seen here,” was Jack’s reply. - -“Come along then,” said one of the men. “Here, take your letter.” - -Jack put it in his coat pocket and prepared to follow the men, but they -had their ideas as to the precise manner in which the journey should be -performed. Each of the men took one of Jack’s arms within his own, and -thus, half captive and half supported, Jack began his march. - -As they walked on, he felt somewhat elated at the course which events -had taken, but his feelings of satisfaction would have given place to -others of a different nature if he could have looked behind him and seen -the figure which came stealthily forward from out a shadow as dense as -that which had enfolded Jack, and not more than twenty feet from where -the latter had stood. - -Thomas Glynne kept the trio in sight. They were not likely to look back -unless he approached them too closely, and it was easy for him to look -forward. - -“I never should have known him,” said Glynne to himself. “He seems -changed somehow, but when he spoke I recognised his voice at once. My -young man, I do not know what you are up to and the man they call -Cromillian, but you evidently do not know what you are up to any more -than I do. It is a good maxim, when you find a trail to follow it and -trust to luck for the result. I shall probably get back to town before -the Count sends for me to go to the house. I am sure he is a rascal at -heart; but, if I can’t keep her from marrying Mr. Jack De Vinne I’ll -know the reason why.” - -The next morning, Lieutenant Duquesne went to Jack’s room and knocked. -There being no response to repeated summonses of like nature, he tried -the latch, and the door yielded. He looked in, and started back in -astonishment. The bed had not been slept in, yet there was evidence that -the occupant intended to return, for his portmanteau was open and -several articles which he had taken from it were upon the table. -Lieutenant Duquesne was much excited on making this discovery. He at -once sought the landlord: - -“Did my friend, Mr. Fortier, tell you last night, before he went out, -that he was to be gone for any length of time?” - -“Gone?” queried the publican. “Has he gone?” - -“I do not know where he has gone or how long he intends to stay,” said -the Lieutenant, a little nettled, “but he did not sleep in his room last -night, which looks as though he intended to return.” - -“Well,” said the landlord, “the room is his for a week, and he can come -back when he gets ready. He paid me in advance. If he doesn’t come back -when his time is up, I shall lock up his effects and charge him for -storage until I get my money,” said the landlord. - -“No doubt but you will do that,” said the Lieutenant, “but I am a little -anxious to know what has become of him. Do you know when he went out? I -hope no harm has come to him.” - -“I went to bed early last night,” said the landlord, “but I will ask -some of the servants.” - -Inquiry failed to find any one who had seen Mr. Fortier leave the hotel, -and Lieutenant Duquesne was obliged to content himself with the -reflection that possibly the young man had started at once to perform -the mission which he had intrusted to him. Once more, he went in search -of the landlord: - -“If my friend, Mr. Fortier, doesn’t come back at the end of the week, I -wish you to lock the door, leaving the articles therein just where he -left them. I will be responsible for the rent of the room, at least -until our vessel sails.” - -“It doesn’t make any difference who pays the bills, so long as I get my -money,” said the landlord. - -Lieutenant Duquesne ascertained the shortest road which would lead him -to the Batistelli castle, and, having secured a saddle-horse, started to -perform the mission which Admiral Enright had intrusted to him--the -presentation of a letter of introduction which he bore from Lord Colton, -the Admiral’s cousin. - -Pascal Batistelli received the young man graciously. The head of the -house of Batistelli was a man about forty years of age, with a naturally -constrained expression and a forbidding manner; but he was well versed -in the requirements of polite society, and he probably remembered that, -when he had visited London, many years before, in search of Manuel Della -Coscia and his son, soon after the death of his father, he had received -many attentions and much assistance from Lord Colton, to whom he had -been introduced by the French ambassador. The time had now come for him -to reciprocate the courtesy, and he assured Lieutenant Duquesne that it -would give him great pleasure to receive Admiral Enright and his -daughter as his guests, and he added, as the thought came to him that -this young man might be a suitor, or possibly the accepted lover, of the -Admiral’s daughter: - -“It would give me additional pleasure, my dear Lieutenant, if you, also, -would accept the hospitality of my house.” - -The Lieutenant thanked him and said that, if it was the Admiral’s wish -and that of his daughter, he would be pleased to accept. The two -gentlemen parted with mutual expressions of esteem and regard, although -their acquaintance had been of very short duration, but such expressions -are a part of the social code, and may mean more or less, as the case -may be. - -As the Lieutenant left the house, he stopped to survey the magnificent -grounds which surrounded the mansion. As he walked slowly towards the -gate, outside of which he had tied his horse, his ear caught the sound -of running water. He paused at the entrance of a path which led through -a grove of trees with overhanging, interlaced branches, forming a cool -retreat. He entered, and, as he advanced, the sound grew louder and -louder. At the end of the path he came to a sudden stop, gazing with -admiration at the picture before him. - -The sound of running water had come from a little brook which, at the -end of the path, fell over a rocky ledge some six feet high, forming a -small waterfall. The bright rays of the sun fell upon the drops of water -as they descended, giving them the appearance of a shower of diamonds. -But it was not this natural beauty by which the young man’s gaze was -transfixed. Kneeling at the foot of the waterfall, a basket of freshly -plucked flowers beside her, was the most beautiful girl whom he had ever -seen. Her hair and eyes were black, while her skin had that peculiar -tint found only among the women of the southern nations of Europe. She -was young, not more than eighteen, and, as she knelt beside the brook, -dipping first one hand and then the other in the water, and sprinkling -the flowers, she formed a picture of beauty and grace sure to appeal to -an impressionable young man like Lieutenant Victor Duquesne. She had not -heard the young man approach, and kept on with her task, unmindful of -his presence. - -Her heart must have been full of happiness that morning, for she began -to sing, and the Lieutenant was sure that he had never heard a voice of -such purity and sweetness. He did not know what to do next, so he simply -stood still gazing with unfeigned pleasure upon the lovely girl before -him. Suddenly she looked up and their eyes met. She started to her feet, -with a slight cry, and then the rich blood mounted to her cheeks, -tinging them a deep red. She did not speak but her eyes asked the -question, plainly: - -“Who are you and what are you doing here?” - -Lieutenant Duquesne divined their meaning and, bowing low, said: “I beg -your pardon, mademoiselle, but I have just come from Monsieur Pascal -Batistelli, whom I visited with a message from my superior officer, when -I heard the sound of running water and, unconscious that I was guilty of -an impropriety, I came down this path to learn the cause.” - -“And you have seen my brother?” the young girl asked. - -“I have seen Monsieur Pascal Batistelli,” was the reply. “Are you a -daughter of the house?” - -The young girl dropped the large black eyes which, up to this time, had -looked frankly into his. - -“I am the only daughter,” she said. “I am Vivienne Batistelli. I have -two brothers, Pascal and Julien, but Julien is not at home. He went away -yesterday and has not come back.” - -“I regret that I did not meet him,” said the Lieutenant, politely, “but -I trust that I may yet have that pleasure. Those are beautiful flowers -which you have gathered, and the pure water that you have sprinkled upon -them has given them an added loveliness. May I ask a favour?” - -The young girl looked up and smiled. “If not too great a one,” she said. - -“To grant it,” and the young man bowed low, “will rob you of but one of -those beautiful flowers. I should like to take it with me as a souvenir -of this unexpected but very pleasant meeting.” - -“I surely shall not feel the loss of one little flower,” said she, as -she took a white rose from the basket, “and I am pleased to give it to -you if it will afford you as much pleasure as you say it will.” - -He took the flower. - -“Pardon, monsieur, but I must return to the house, or my flowers will -wilt in the hot sun despite the cool bath which I have given them.” - -Lieutenant Duquesne stepped to one side, thinking that she would go by -way of the path and would have to pass him, but she turned in an -opposite direction and quickly disappeared from sight. The Lieutenant -left the path and, reaching the brook, stood upon the same place where -she had knelt. As he did so, he saw her slight form disappear beneath a -vine-covered arbour a short distance away. A thought came into his mind -and, unconsciously, found expression in words: - -“She is beautiful,” and he started at the sound of his own voice; “she -is the most beautiful girl I ever saw. To see her is to love her!” - -He retraced his steps and entered the path again when, to his surprise, -he came face to face with a young man of about his own age, dressed in -the height of Parisian fashion, who stood regarding him with an angry -frown upon his face. - -It was the young Count Napier Mont d’Oro. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -A FLOWER WITH BLOOD-STAINED PETALS. - - -Bertha Renville was seated alone in the beautiful boudoir of Countess -Mont d’Oro. She had just received a long and interesting letter from -Mrs. Clarence Glynne, the concluding paragraph of which read: - - “My husband has almost entirely recovered from his severe illness. - Mr. Jack De Vinne wrote us a short note, merely to say that he - would start for Corsica immediately and we have not heard from him - since. He informed us that he had called at Countess Mont d’Oro’s - residence in Paris, but learned that you and the Countess had left - for some place unknown. As for Mr. Glynne, your guardian, he left - here at the time Clarence was taken ill to search for you and bring - you back. Clarence thinks he went to Paris and finding you had - accompanied the Countess Mont d’Oro to Corsica, that his father - will undoubtedly continue his quest to that place. He says his - father is a very determined man, is very angry at your - disappearance, and will certainly follow you if he can learn where - you have gone. - - “Yours very devotedly, - - “JENNIE GLYNNE. - - “P. S.--I think Mr. De Vinne knows where you are, but thought it - best for us not to know.” - -Count Napier Mont d’Oro’s experience had not been very pleasant before -his meeting with Lieutenant Duquesne. Learning from one of the servants -that his mother had gone to pay a visit to a tenant who was ill, he -made his way at once to her boudoir. Upon entering he found Bertha -seated, gazing abstractedly at the letter which she had just finished -reading. - -“Ah! My good mother is not here. I wished to speak to her. I suppose she -will return soon. Pardon me, if I wait,” and he sank into a chair. “This -is a beautiful morning, is it not, mademoiselle? And how do you like -Corsica?” - -“I have seen very little of it,” was the reply. “I have not been out of -the house since my arrival, except to take a walk in the grounds.” - -“Ah! That is a shame!” cried the Count, sympathetically. “Will you not -go driving with me this morning? Our scenery is beautiful because it is -so natural. The hand of art has not tampered with it as it has in -France.” - -“You are very kind, Count Mont d’Oro,” Bertha replied, “but your mother -said she would order the carriage this afternoon.” - -“Ah, yes,” said the Count. “I know she is afraid of a spirited horse, -and old Pierre will drive you, with a pair of horses almost as old as he -is. I have a high-stepper in the stables, a spirited beast that curvets, -prances, and amuses you with his antics.” - -“I think,” replied Bertha, “for carriage driving I should prefer the -quieter animals. I am not afraid when I am on horseback, but really I -must decline your invitation. There are reasons----” She hesitated. The -Count drew his chair closer to her. - -“And what are the reasons, do you suppose, that have caused me to give -up my pleasant life in Paris and come down here to this humdrum place?” - -Bertha felt piqued by his persistency. “To see your lady-love, I -suppose,” she said. - -“To see a lady-love, yes. Do you know her name?” - -“Mademoiselle Vivienne Batistelli, I presume,” replied Bertha, with a -tone of restraint in her voice. - -The Count laughed. “She is one of them. I suppose you may have heard -that she is my prospective bride. But a Corsican falls in love many -times before he weds.” - -“I am not used to the ways of your country,” said Bertha, “and, for that -reason, I cannot fully appreciate what you have just said.” - -“But I know a great deal about your country,” rejoined the Count. “I had -the pleasure of coming from Marseilles to Ajaccio on the same vessel -with a true friend of yours.” - -Bertha started and her cheeks flushed. Whom could he mean but Jack? He -was only teasing her after all. She must be more gracious. She turned a -smiling face towards the Count and said: - -“I have so few friends in Corsica I should be pleased to learn that I -have one more. When may I expect to see him?” - -“Well,” replied the Count, “he is not coming here until I tell him that -you are ready to receive him. He has promised to be guided by me in the -matter.” - -“That is strange. I do not understand you.” - -“Well, you will when I tell you who he is.” - -Bertha was in a quandary. What could it mean? Who would make a promise -to Count Mont d’Oro that he would not come to see her except with the -Count’s permission? It must be Jack--and yet, she hesitated to mention -his name. - -The Count thought the time had come to relieve her suspense. - -“My companion,” he said, “was your guardian, Mr. Thomas Glynne.” - -Bertha started to her feet. The smile faded from her face and a look of -apprehension, almost terror, succeeded it. - -“But you will not tell him where I am?” she cried, appealingly. - -“Oh, he knows where you are,” replied the Count, “but I imagined from -what I heard that you were not very desirous of seeing him, so I made -him promise that he would not come here until I told him he might.” - -“That was very good of you, Count. I do not wish to see him. You will do -all you can to keep him away from here, won’t you?” - -“Well, that depends,” said the Count. “I do not think I should enjoy -your society if he were here, and, if there is any prospect of our -passing some pleasant days together, you may be sure that he will not -hear from me while they last.” - -Bertha divined his purpose and her proud spirit rebelled at the virtual -threat. So this young man proposed to force himself upon her and to -oblige her to endure his society. If she did not comply, then he -intended to send for her guardian. Whatever slight feeling of respect -she may have had for him vanished at once. No wonder that his mother -hated him. What a mean-spirited young man he was! But what could she do? -Then the thought came to her that Jack was coming to Corsica. Perhaps he -had already arrived and would soon be there to protect her. She turned -to the Count. - -“It makes little difference to me, Count Mont d’Oro,” she said, “whether -my guardian comes here or not. I have other friends upon whose -protection I can rely.” - -“I know whom you mean,” said the Count, “but he will not come. You are -thinking of Monsieur De Vinne. Your guardian expected to break the sad -news to you himself, but as he is not here I will tell you what he told -me. Your young friend, Monsieur De Vinne, was, unfortunately, killed in -a fight which took place between a Frenchman and an Englishman.” - -There was a look of scorn upon Bertha’s face and a withering tone of -disdain in her voice when she spoke. “Count Mont d’Oro, what you have -just told me is a falsehood. I know that it is not true. I have a letter -from Mrs. Glynne in which she tells me that Mr. De Vinne expressed his -intention of starting for Corsica at once. If he has not already -arrived, he will be here very soon. I do not understand what your motive -has been in telling me such untruths. I do not believe that my guardian -is here or that he has made you any such promise as you say he has. -While I remain in your mother’s care, which I trust will not be for -long, I will try to be civil to you, but I do not care to have any -further conversation with you upon any subject whatever.” - -As she uttered the last words the door opened and Countess Mont d’Oro -entered. She took in the situation at a glance. Her son, as usual, was -making himself disagreeable. She had heard Bertha’s closing words and -her womanly intuition supplied the rest of the story. - -“Napier,” she said, “your presence here, as I have told you many times, -is unwelcome to me, and I know that it must be to Mademoiselle Renville, -from what I have just heard. If you insist upon remaining, it must be in -your own apartments. I will see that your meals are sent to you. Come, -mademoiselle.” - -She took Bertha’s arm and the two women left the room. - -The Count stepped out upon the terrace. The hunt was up. He had been -beaten at his own game. What a fool he had been to say anything about De -Vinne. He had gone too far, had said too much, and had lost all. Well, -there were plenty of pretty women in the world, but this fair, young -Miss Renville was so different from the others. The case was not -hopeless, after all. De Vinne had not arrived, and the guardian had. He -would see the guardian and put him on the watch. Some plan could be -formed, no doubt, by which the lovers could be kept apart. - -He descended the long flight of steps and walked towards the gateway. A -horse was fastened to a tree just outside. To whom could it belong? -Perhaps young De Vinne had arrived, his mother knew it, and had taken -Madamoiselle Renville to meet him. Hearing voices, he glanced down a -wooded path and saw a young man in naval uniform, and--he was speaking -to a young lady. Who could it be? A few quick strides down the path and -he saw that it was Vivienne Batistelli. - -Now, Count Mont d’Oro knew in his heart that he did not really love -Vivienne, but the mutual wish of his father and her brother had been -carried out so far as he was able, and he reasoned that she had no right -to love anybody else and no one else had any right to love her. Victor’s -words--“To see her is to love her”--rang in his ears. Had matters, then, -gone so far as that? A moment later the two young men stood face to -face. - -“What right have you to that flower?” demanded the Count, his voice -choked with passion. - -“The right of possession,” said Victor, quietly; “but what right have -you to ask such a question?” - -“I am Count Napier Mont d’Oro, of Alfieri,” was the reply. - -“Such extreme confidence merits reciprocity,” said Victor. “I am -Lieutenant Victor Duquesne of His Britannic Majesty’s ship _Osprey_, now -lying at anchor in the harbour of Ajaccio.” - -“Where did you get that flower?” cried the Count, at the top of his -voice, his feelings evidently becoming ungovernable. - -“It was given to me by a young lady. She said her name was Vivienne -Batistelli.” - -“Do you know who she is?” - -“I only know,” said Victor, “that she is beautiful in person and -charming in her manners. I may have been presumptuous in asking for the -flower, but she certainly excused it or she would not have given it to -me. Are you well acquainted with her?” and Victor calmly regarded the -angry face of the Count. - -“She is to be the future Countess Mont d’Oro,” was the reply. “She is -betrothed to me and has no right to give flowers or any other token to -an absolute stranger. Give me that flower.” - -“I shall do nothing of the sort,” said Victor. “If the young lady who -was so kind as to bestow it upon me asks for its return, I will give it -to her, but nothing shall force me to give it to you.” - -“We will see about that,” cried the Count, and before Victor had divined -his intention, the enraged man drew his stiletto and made a thrust at -him. Victor threw up his left hand to ward off the thrust, receiving a -severe cut which bled freely. - -Physically, Victor was much more than a match for the Count. Grasping -the latter’s wrist, he bent his right hand backward until the fingers -loosed their hold upon the stiletto and it fell to the ground. Victor -gave the weapon a vigorous kick, and it disappeared from sight in a -clump of bushes. He next gave the Count a push backward, crying as he -did so: - -“Now, let me pass!” - -But the Count had reached that stage where ungovernable fury takes the -place of reason. He aimed a blow with his fist at Victor, which the -latter parried, while with his right hand, which was tightly clenched, -he struck the Count fairly between the eyes and felled him to the -ground. - -In the struggle the white rose, which had been the cause of contention, -had fallen upon the ground. Victor picked it up, and as he did so he -noticed that its former white petals were now blood-stained. Her flower -and his blood! He unbuttoned his coat, placed the rose over his heart, -and then buttoned the garment again. - -Casting a contemptuous look at his late antagonist, who seemed to be -recovering consciousness, he retraced his steps through the wooded path, -vaulted over the low gate, mounted his horse, and rode at a rapid rate -towards Ajaccio. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -A DUEL IN THE DARK. - - -Victor’s horse was in a decidedly jaded condition when he reached the -hotel at Ajaccio. The young Lieutenant at once sought an interview with -the Admiral and his daughter, and conveyed to them, in language as -nearly approaching that used by Pascal Batistelli as he could remember, -the latter’s courteous invitation for them to become his guests at -Batistelli Castle. - -“You call it a castle,” said Miss Helen. “Does it resemble those of -mediæval times, with the moat about it, and a drawbridge and portcullis? -How decidedly romantic that will be. I shall have to send an account of -it to one of the London papers.” - -“To speak honestly, Miss Enright,” said Victor, “I am little acquainted -with the construction of mediæval castles. I have learned more from your -short description than I ever knew before.” - -“I shall be pleased to enlighten you further,” said Miss Enright. “The -moat was a deep ditch filled with water which surrounded the castle and -rendered it inaccessible. The drawbridge was what its name indicates, -and was let down across the moat in order that those who lived in the -castle could reach the mainland, or return.” - -“Ah! I see,” said Victor, “without wetting their feet.” - -“Your remark, Lieutenant Duquesne,” said Miss Enright, with a frown -which added to the classic severity of her features, “is entirely -irrelevant. Do you wish me to proceed, or shall we stop at the -drawbridge?” - -“By no means, Miss Enright. Do not leave us upon the drawbridge or we -may fall into the hands of the enemy, and I do not care to become a -prisoner.” - -“They did not take prisoners in those days,” said Miss Enright. “Dead -enemies cost nothing for the keeping. Besides, what they had on them -became lawful booty. They had not learned in those days our expensive -manner of carrying on warfare.” - -“Then so much the more reason,” said Victor, “why you should point out -some means of escape from that drawbridge.” - -“Then,” said Miss Enright, “come within the castle and we will let the -portcullis fall. Allow me to explain that the portcullis was a heavy -wooden gate or door, made of double timbers securely bolted together. It -was impervious to culverins, and it took a ponderous stone from a -catapult to shatter it.” - -“Thank you, Miss Enright,” said Victor. “Now that we are within the -castle, with the drawbridge up and the portcullis down, I beg you to let -them remain where they are.” - -“Your experiences this morning, Lieutenant Duquesne, have made you -flippant, and you know I have told you many times that I cannot endure -useless levity in a man--especially a young one. So with your kind -permission, and that of my honoured father, I will retire to my own -room.” - -“Yes, go, Helen,” said the Admiral, “and I will give him a good talking -to when you are gone. I am half inclined to cashier him and dismiss him -from the service.” - -“Oh, do not do that,” said Miss Enright, her features relaxing into a -smile in spite of her attempts to retain her stern composure. “You know -the Lieutenant and I are sworn enemies and have been since we left -Malta, where we disagreed as to the sentiments which inspired the -Knights of St. John of Jerusalem. Besides, his crime is one that calls -for education rather than condign punishment.” - -After throwing this Parthian arrow, she left the room. - -“Why do you like to plague Helen so?” asked the Admiral. - -“I don’t enjoy the plaguing part, but my jibes always stir her up, and I -cannot but admire the manner in which she conducts both attack and -defence.” - -“I have given her all the education she asked for,” said the Admiral, -“but I sometimes wonder what would become of the world if all the women -in it knew as much as Helen does.” - -“I don’t think that day will ever come,” said Victor. “If it does, women -will become the teachers and men the students.” - -“But will they ever learn to command a frigate?” asked the Admiral. - -“If women ever rule the world,” replied Victor, “there will be no need -of either frigates, or armies, or wars. All vexed questions will be -settled by diplomacy, and no male diplomat can hope to compete -successfully with a woman in that line of business.” - -“What kind of a place is it that Batistelli lives in?” asked the -Admiral. - -“Oh,” said Victor, “it is a big stone house with a large tower at each -end. The grounds are beautiful, but the interior of the house looks -cheerless from our English point of view. It lacks that cosey, -comfortable air which English homes have. But Monsieur Batistelli was -very polite, and evinced a most hospitable disposition. I have no doubt -that Miss Enright and yourself will greatly enjoy a week’s sojourn -there.” - -“I hope so,” said the Admiral. “We will go to-morrow. I am greatly -obliged to you, Lieutenant, and you may have your freedom until our -return.” - -Victor knew that, so far as the Admiral was concerned, the interview was -at an end. - -“My dear Admiral,” said he, “may I trespass on your time for a few -minutes?” - -“Why, certainly,” was the reply. “I have nothing to do until dinner -time, and there is a spare half hour.” - -“It will not take that length of time,” said Victor. “Monsieur -Batistelli extended a very polite invitation to me to become his guest, -also, but I cannot accept--so do not speak of it to your daughter.” - -“And why not?” cried the Admiral. “Helen and I would be delighted to -have you with us. I know you two quarrel, but I think you both enjoy it. -I always thought that when I am not around you make up, but, as soon as -I appear upon the scene, you feel obliged to begin your warfare again.” - -“You are not far from the truth, my dear Admiral,” said Victor. “I -should be happy to form one of your party were it not for a little -affair, in which I became involved this morning, that must claim -preference.” - -“An affair?” cried the Admiral; “not a love affair, I hope!” - -“Oh, no!” said Victor, “something much more serious--an affair of -honour!” - -He then told the Admiral of his meeting with Vivienne Batistelli and his -subsequent encounter with Count Mont d’Oro. - -“These Corsicans are a hot-blooded race, and he will surely send me a -challenge. I shall be obliged to meet him or he will hold me up as a -coward. I must secure some one to serve as second. Have I your -permission, Admiral, to ask one of my brother officers to act in that -capacity?” - -The Admiral leaned back in his chair and seemed to be considering the -question from several points of view. - -“I should say nothing about it on board ship,” he began. “Perhaps, -after all, you will not hear from him. If the matter becomes known to -any one on the vessel, all will know it; some will write home to England -about it, and it may reach the Admiralty. You do not wish that to occur, -for it would certainly retard your promotion. If the worst comes to the -worst and the fellow challenges you, I will act for you and no one on -the vessel will be the wiser.” - -At dinner both the Admiral and Victor were disposed to be contemplative, -each thinking of the prospective duel and its possible results. Victor -was also greatly disturbed at not seeing or hearing from Jack. He had -made diligent inquiries, but without success. He therefore contented -himself with the thought that Jack was pursuing his quest of Cromillian, -or Bertha, or both. - -After a long silence, Helen, who knew nothing of the impending conflict, -started a little battle on her own account by referring again to -mediæval customs. - -“I yearn,” said she, “for a return to the days of chivalry, when brave -knights fought for their lady-loves. To me, there can be no sight more -inspiring than two brave men contending for the favour of some fair -maiden worthy of their love.” - -“Perhaps the days of chivalry may return once more,” said Victor. - -“Nonsense!” cried Helen. “In these days, there are few men brave enough -to face each other in mortal combat. They are content to fire at each -other with an intervening distance of half a mile or more. Why don’t -they do as did Julius Cæsar and his Roman warriors--advance with drawn -swords and fall boldly upon their enemies? It was daring, and muscle, -and swordsmanship that won battles in those days.” - -“And now it is markmanship,” said Victor. “You know the old saying, Miss -Enright, that times change and we change with them. If we were Roman -warriors, and time could be pushed back nearly eighteen hundred years, -your sanguinary wishes might be gratified; but, as things look now, the -range of arms will increase, and armies and vessels will stay farther -apart than ever during the progress of a battle.” - -“One reason why I have wished to come to Corsica,” said Helen, “is to -learn about the vendetta. The spirit of the old knights must survive in -this island.” - -“Not at all!” cried the Admiral, taking part for the first time in the -discussion. “The miserable rascals dare not meet each other in a fair -fight, but lie in ambush and brutally assassinate their enemies. I am -surprised, Helen, that you should entertain such sentiments.” - -“You do not understand me, father,” said Helen. “What I wish to see is -individual bravery rather than collective heroism. I do not wish to -applaud a whole regiment or the entire crew of a frigate, but the one -man who, by his valiant prowess, has shown himself worthy of renown.” - -The dinner was over and the discussion also came to an end. Victor -lighted a cigar and went out upon the veranda to think over the matter -which was uppermost in his mind. Being very far-sighted, he espied, a -long distance off, an old building which had a deserted, tumble-down -appearance. He left the veranda and walked towards it, finding it much -farther away than he had anticipated. - -He opened the door and entered. It was empty. It was, in reality, a -large shed which probably had been used as a storehouse. He closed the -door and found himself in utter darkness. Although the building was old, -it was surely well constructed, for there was not a seam or break in it -through which the light of the sun could enter. He threw the door open -and carefully surveyed the interior once more. Across each corner of the -structure, some six feet from the ground, four heavy joists were placed, -but for what purpose Victor could not divine. As he stood there, a -strange thought came into his mind, and he smiled to himself with inward -satisfaction. - -On his way back to the hotel, he passed a cottage, in front of which, -seated at a grindstone, a man, evidently a woodsman, was sharpening a -number of axes. Victor stopped and regarded him. Then, he smiled again. -What he saw evidently pleased him and there must have been some -connection between the smile in the old shed and that which showed upon -his face as he stood regarding the woodsman and the implements of his -trade. - -“My good friend,” said Victor, “will you sell me a couple of those -axes--the sharpened ones, I mean?” - -“You can buy plenty of them in the town,” the man replied. - -“How much would two cost me?” asked Victor. - -The man named the price. - -“I will give you twice as much for two of yours,” said Victor, and the -bargain was soon concluded. - -The man found a piece of old cloth in which Victor could wrap up his -purchases, and he succeeded in reaching his room without his burden -meeting the eye of the inquisitive. Then he sought the Admiral and had a -short talk with him. - -“Why, bless my soul!” cried Sir Gilbert, “I never heard of such a thing -before. It is a most re-mark-a-ble idea. I suppose what Helen said at -dinner put you up to it. What fools women can make of men, to be sure. -Of course, I mean nothing personal by that, my dear Lieutenant, but I -have read history, or rather Helen has read it to me, and it seems to me -as though most of the silly things that men have done have been prompted -by a desire to please some woman.” - - * * * * * - -Victor was right when he expressed the opinion that Count Mont d’Oro -would challenge him. The next morning the card of M. François Villefort -was sent up to his room, and, when the young man had exchanged the -customary courtesies with Lieutenant Duquesne, he stated that the object -of his visit was to present a message from his lifelong friend, Count -Napier Mont d’Oro. Victor bowed, said that he had anticipated receiving -such a civility from the Count, and asked him to accompany him to the -room of his friend, Admiral Enright, who had consented to act as his -second. - -When M. Villefort and Admiral Enright were alone, the Admiral began the -conversation. - -“In my country,” said he, “the first duty of a gentleman called upon to -act in the capacity which we have assumed is to arrange, if possible, an -honourable compromise.” - -“In Corsica,” replied M. Villefort, “that matter is never considered. In -fact, as you probably well know, Corsicans never fight duels in Corsica, -but Count Mont d’Oro has lived for some time in Paris and, assuming that -Lieutenant Duquesne is conversant with the French _code duello_, the -Count has the courtesy to follow the French custom.” - -“Well,” said the Admiral, “then we will consider that part of the -subject closed. My friend, Lieutenant Duquesne, being the challenged -party, has the choice of time, place, and weapons. I conferred with him -upon the subject previous to your expected arrival, and there will, -consequently, be no delay in arranging the preliminaries.” - -“I am delighted to hear it,” said M. Villefort, “for my friend, Count -Mont d’Oro, is anxious that the insult given to him should be avenged as -soon as possible.” - -“On our part,” said the Admiral, “we shall be delighted to accommodate -you. The time fixed upon is midnight, to-morrow night; the place, a -vacant shed which is in plain sight from the veranda of the hotel, -about three-quarters of a mile distant; the weapons, woodsmen’s axes, -sharpened by a Corsican; the contest to last five minutes, and in total -darkness. At the end of that time, you and I are to enter the building -with lights and see what remains of our friends.” - -“Allow me to say that I consider such levity unbecoming a gentleman. If -your principal has given you instructions suited to an affair of honour, -I am here to receive them.” - -“Exactly! I don’t know what your customs are here, but in England we do -not repeat our conditions more than once.” - -The Corsican was evidently impressed by the bluntness and directness of -the Englishman’s speech. - -“Pardon me,” said he, “but I did not understand what weapons had been -selected by the challenged party.” - -“I thought I described them sufficiently,” said the Admiral. “I said -axes,--ordinary common woodsmen’s axes--the sharper the better.” - -“And the place?” queried M. Villefort. - -“If you will step to the window,” said the Admiral, “I will show you. Do -you see that old shed on the lefthand side of the road? That is the -place selected by Lieutenant Duquesne. Time, midnight to-morrow night, -the room to be in utter darkness, and the fight to last five minutes. Do -I make myself understood?” - -“Perfectly, monsieur,” responded M. Villefort, “but I doubt very much if -the Count will condescend to accept such ridiculous terms. Did you say -that the room was to be dark?” - -“Yes,” replied the Admiral; “the Lieutenant says the windows are boarded -up tightly and not a ray of light enters even in the daytime. I confess -that they are the most re-mark-a-ble instructions I ever received. They -quite stagger me, they do, indeed. But my principal says he will not -change them.” - -“I will report the result of my mission to Count Mont d’Oro. If he -refuses to accept the terms----” - -The Admiral broke in: “Why, then we will let the matter drop just where -it is; but Lieutenant Duquesne and myself will probably form an opinion -as to the bravery of this member of the Corsican nobility, and we may -express it to others. You might repeat to the Count what I have just -said.” - -Miss Helen Enright was both astute and acute. Her father knew that, if -he left the hotel late in the evening and did not return until after -midnight, he would be obliged to make some sort of an explanation to his -daughter. - -“Better tell a white lie than a black one,” said he to Victor. So it was -arranged that they should pay a visit to the _Osprey_ in the afternoon, -giving Helen to understand that they might not return to the hotel until -the next morning. - -The night chosen was a stormy one. Heavy black clouds shut out the light -of both moon and stars, and from them the rain descended. About eleven -o’clock, the Lieutenant and the Admiral left the _Osprey_, preceded by a -sailor carrying a ship’s lantern to light the way. When they had covered -about half the distance between the vessel and the hotel, the Admiral, -turning to the sailor, said: - -“Give me the lantern, Markland. I will carry it the rest of the way. You -can find your way back to the quay in the dark?” - -“Aye, aye, sir!” was the response. “I have been in darker places than -this and came out all right.” - -The Admiral screened the lantern and waited at the corner of the road -for Victor, who went to his room to obtain the axes. They then proceeded -on their way towards the deserted building, the rain coming down in the -proverbial torrents. - -“I shall be much cut up,” said Victor, “if this wetting gives you a -cold and an attack of rheumatism.” - -“If you don’t get cut up,” said the Admiral, “I will try to bear the -rheumatism with patience.” - -“Thank you,” said Victor; “you have always been a kind and good friend -to me. My course in this matter, no doubt, seems inexplicable to you, -but I have a reason for it which, some day, I will explain.” - -“My curiosity can wait,” said the Admiral, “but I cannot promise as much -if Helen gets wind of the affair.” - -They were the first to reach the building. They both entered and -examined it thoroughly. The Admiral screened the lantern and looked -about him. “It’s as dark as a pocket,” said he. Victor caught one of the -crossbeams with both hands and drew himself up until his chin was even -with it. Then he allowed himself to descend without attracting the -attention of the Admiral. They went outside and, standing beneath the -wide-spreading branches of a great tree, awaited the arrival of the -other party. - -About ten minutes before midnight, the sound of horses’ hoofs and -carriage wheels were heard, and, a few minutes later, Count Mont d’Oro -and M. Villefort approached the building. As they did so, the Admiral -turned the full glare of the lantern in their faces. - -The usual courtesies were exchanged and the four men stood expectantly, -the Admiral holding his watch so that the light from the lantern could -fall upon it. Suddenly, he looked up and said: - -“It is twelve o’clock, gentlemen.” - -The party entered the building, the Admiral holding up the lantern so -that the interior could be examined by the Count and his second. Next, -he took the axes from the cloth in which they had been wrapped and -passed them to M. Villefort. - -“Take your choice,” said he. “As near as I can judge, they are of the -same weight and equally sharp.” - -M. Villefort selected one which he passed to Count Mont d’Oro, while the -Admiral handed the other to Victor. The contestants were then placed in -opposite corners of the room, facing each other. - -“Are you ready?” asked the Admiral. - -The duellists signified that they were. - -“Monsieur Villefort and I will now leave you,” said the Admiral. “As -soon as we close the door, you are at liberty to change your positions, -but you must not attack each other until you hear us cry _Time_! Five -minutes thereafter, we shall open the door, and the contest must stop as -soon as you see the light.” - -In about a minute, the Admiral and M. Villefort cried in unison: - -“_TIME!_” - -Count Mont d’Oro scuffled his feet upon the floor to give his opponent -the idea that he had changed his position. Victor stood his axe up in -the corner, reached the beam above him with both hands, drew himself up -slowly, and assumed a sitting posture upon it. The Count struck out -vigorously in front and to the right and left. He then took a circuit -around the room, striking out in front, and then whirling about, he made -vicious slashes at his unseen enemy. He next swung the axe about in a -circle, but it met with no resistance. - -Victor sneezed loudly. This so startled the Count, for the sound seemed -very close to him, that he started back, coming in violent contact with -the side of the building, bruising himself quite severely. He then -advanced cautiously on tiptoe across the room. As he neared the corner -where Victor was, the latter took his hat from his head and threw it -down, necessarily at random. It chanced to strike the Count full in the -face. He started back, a cry of affright escaping from him -involuntarily. The Fates were against him. There was just one rotten -plank in the floor of the building, and upon that the Count stepped. It -broke beneath his weight. Finding himself falling, and realising that -his foot was caught in some way, he gave a violent pull and succeeded in -wrenching his ankle so badly that when he tried to stand up he was -forced to succumb to the intense pain, and fell prone upon the floor. - -Realising that his opponent had met with some misadventure, Victor -dropped from his perch, and, grasping his axe, stood upon the defensive. -At that moment, the door was pushed open and the bright light of the -lantern thrown upon the scene. - -M. Villefort espied the form of the Count upon the floor and, rushing to -him, gave him a sup of brandy from a flask which he had thoughtfully -brought with him. The Admiral paid no attention to the Count, but sought -the corner where Victor stood. - -“Bless my soul!” cried the Admiral. “Are you a whole man?” - -“I believe so, but somewhat played out,” said Victor, and he leaned -heavily upon the axe handle. - -“But are you sure that you have all your limbs about you?” - -“I think so. Two legs and two arms are the usual complement, I believe.” - -“No gashes in your head or back?” - -“No, I think not. Oh, there is my hat!” and he stepped forward and -picked it up. - -“Well,” cried the Admiral, “it is really the most re-mark-a-ble -preservation from death I ever heard of in all my life.” - -“I must trouble you, Admiral Enright,” said M. Villefort, “to assist me -in getting Count Mont d’Oro to his carriage. For reasons which you can -understand, I do not wish to call the coachman, who is unaware of the -nature of our visit here at this unseemly hour.” - -“Certainly,” said the Admiral, “in the hour of defeat, the unfortunate -can always count upon my sympathy and assistance.” - -Supported by the two men, the Count limped slowly towards the door, -evidently suffering greatly. Before he reached it, Victor stepped -forward: - -“Do you acknowledge satisfaction, Count Mont d’Oro?” - -The Count’s face was contorted with pain and, for a moment, he did not -reply. Then, he almost hissed out the words: - -“From an English point of view--yes--but not from a Corsican. We shall -meet again!” - -When the Admiral returned, he took up the lantern. - -“Are you going to take the axes?” he asked. - -“No,” said Victor, “we will leave those for the rent of the building.” - -That night, in the solitude of his own room, he took from its -hiding-place the white rose with the blood-stained petals. Her rose and -his blood! - -“Sweet emblem of peace and love, thou art my talisman against evil, and, -for her dear sake, these hands shall never be stained by the blood of -one whom she loves. I swear it!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -ANCESTRAL PRIDE. - - -Ajaccio, Alfieri, and Cromillian’s camp formed the angles of an -equilateral triangle; in other words, it was about five miles from -Ajaccio to Alfieri; it was another five miles from Alfieri to -Cromillian’s camp. The two members of his band, however, who formed -Andrea Fortier’s escort, for Jack had given his assumed name to his -companions, were too well acquainted with the country and too anxious to -reach camp to travel ten miles when they knew that, by a short cut over -the mountains and up the ravine, the distance was not more than five. - -If some of the residents of Ajaccio, who had experienced a taste of -Cromillian’s justice, had known that his camp was in such close -proximity to the town, they would certainly have tried to induce the -officers of the law to attempt his capture. Yet, this would have been -hard to effect. They would have had to rely upon the _gens d’armes_ who, -although they could not shirk duty when called upon to arrest a person -within the limits of the town, were decidedly averse to invading the -_maquis_. The bandits were such good shots, had such far-reaching -rifles, and, besides, had such a way of firing from behind trees and -stone walls, that the _gens d’armes_ always scouted the idea of their -being able to capture a bandit, and their officers were not loath to -embrace the same opinion. - -It was after midnight when Jack and his escort reached Cromillian’s -camp. He was at once taken into the presence of the Chief who, seated in -a little grove, was writing by the light of a fire. Jack presented the -letter given to him by Victor, which Cromillian opened and read. - -Thomas Glynne, who had followed close upon the heels of Jack and his -companions, was very anxious to learn the reason for the young man’s -visit, under such circumstances, to this particular locality. He -approached the camp, skulking behind one tree and then another, when a -firm hand from behind grasped his coat collar, and he was hurled -violently to the ground. He attempted to rise, but found himself -surrounded by four heavily bearded, fierce-looking men, who grasped him -and, without saying a word, took him at once to the little grove where -Cromillian sat. - -Thomas Glynne looked at Jack, who returned the gaze, and instantly -recognised the man whom, of all on earth, he least desired to see. The -thought occurred at once to each, “Why is he here?” but neither could -answer the question. - -Cromillian looked up. “Monsieur Andrea Fortier,” said he, addressing -Jack, “my thanks are due you for the great service which you have -rendered one of my band. This letter, although addressed to me, is for -another person. He cannot read, but I will communicate the contents to -him and will write his reply, which you can take back to him to-morrow. -See that he has food and a bed--the best we can afford,” and Cromillian -waved his hand towards the two men who had accompanied Jack to the camp. - -As soon as Jack had departed, Cromillian turned to the four captors of -Thomas Glynne. - -“Whom have we here?” he asked. - -Glynne felt that it was a crucial time with him. He must tell a good -story, or the bandits might look upon him as a spy and treat him in a -summary manner. He was naturally bold and resourceful, and he now -summoned all his wits to his aid. - -“Will you allow me to ask a question?” he said, addressing Cromillian. - -The latter nodded. - -“What did that young man who brought the letter to you say his name -was?” - -“He gave the name of Andrea Fortier,” Cromillian replied. - -“That is not his real name,” cried Glynne. “My name is Thomas Glynne. I -am an Englishman. His name is Jack De Vinne and he, too, is an -Englishman. He caused my ward, Bertha Renville, to run away and he is -here to join her. I promised her father on his dying bed that I would be -a father to her and protect her. This Andrea Fortier, as he calls -himself, is of low origin, while she is a girl of wealth and refinement. -He seeks but her fortune, and I appeal to you for justice.” - -“Take him away,” cried Cromillian, “and bring the other man here.” - -His commands were quickly carried out and Jack, who left his supper -unfinished, once more stood before Cromillian. - -“What did you say your name was?” asked Cromillian. - -Jack, who had no idea of what had been said by Glynne in his absence, -replied: “Andrea Fortier.” - -Cromillian smiled grimly. “I mean your real name young man. I know what -it is, or I think I do.” - -It immediately dawned upon Jack that Thomas Glynne had told some sort of -a story in order to explain his presence near the bandit camp, and he -resolved to make a clean breast of it and tell the whole truth. - -“Sir,” he began, “I assumed the name of Andrea Fortier as I did not wish -my presence here to become known to the man who has just left you. This -I explained to Lieutenant Duquesne, who intrusted me with the letter -which I delivered to you. My real name is John De Vinne. I am a -Englishman. I am in love with the ward of the man Glynne. Because of -dislike and dissatisfaction she left his home, from no suggestion of -mine, as I knew nothing whatever about it until she arrived in Paris. -Her guardian is withholding from her facts relative to the wealth left -her by her father, and is using every endeavour to keep it in his own -hands. She fears her guardian, and I am here to protect her and, if -possible, make her my wife. I am well connected and am amply able to -give her the position in life to which she is entitled. This man, her -guardian, must have followed me from Ajaccio. - -“Owing to a combination of circumstances which it would take a long time -to relate, the young lady went to Paris to avail herself of the -protection of Countess Mont d’Oro, an old friend of her father’s. She is -now visiting the Countess at Alfieri. We both learned of her presence -here and each of us has come to claim her. I have not seen her as yet, -nor do I think he has. Sir, that is the whole story.” - -“I believe you have spoken the truth, young man,” said Cromillian. “The -guardian has told an entirely different story, which may or may not be -true. If yours is true, his is false. If his is true, yours is false. -When in doubt, I always settle the matter for myself. I will go to -Alfieri, see this Mademoiselle Renville and her chaperon, the Countess, -and find out which of the stories is true. In the meantime, both you and -her guardian will be obliged to remain with my band and, necessarily, -share our comforts and discomforts, the latter predominating.” - -He sent for Paoli and gave him a strict command that neither Glynne nor -Jack should be allowed to leave camp until permission name from him. - -The next morning, Paoli asked Cromillian if there was anything special -on hand for that day. - -“I have not seen my old mother for three months, and I thought, if you -could spare me, I should like to make her a visit.” - -“Go, by all means,” said Cromillian. “I know of nothing now that will -require your services, particularly. I am sorry I cannot send that young -fellow who brought the letter last night back with the answer. Can you -pick me out a good man who can disguise himself so well that the _gens -d’armes_ at Ajaccio will not recognise him? If you can, send him here. I -do not care to know who he is.” - -An hour later, an apparently old man, with long white hair, a bent -figure, and a wrinkled face, presented himself to Cromillian and said, -in a squeaky voice: - -“I was sent by Paoli.” - -Cromillian did not speak, but handed him a letter addressed to -Lieutenant Victor Duquesne, at the hotel at Ajaccio. - -“Bring back an answer,” said Cromillian. The old man bowed and withdrew. - -The bearer of the missive appeared old and decrepit until he was beyond -the borders of the camp. Then he suddenly developed an agility entirely -at variance with his aged appearance, for he ran at full speed along the -road which led to his destination. Hearing a woodsman singing at his -work, he quickly resumed the appearance of old age and maintained it -until he was out of sight of the wielder of the axe. - -When he arrived at the hotel, he learned that Lieutenant Duquesne was in -his room. He refused to state his business, saying that what he had to -deliver he must place in the Lieutenant’s hands himself. So Victor told -the servant to have him shown up to his room. - -The old man sat down while Victor read his letter. It was with -difficulty that he refrained from exhibiting physical signs of -astonishment at its contents and, on several occasions, he came near -giving audible vent to his feelings. He restrained himself, however, -and only the play of his naturally expressive features gave any -indication of what was passing in his mind. - -“There was to be an answer, to show that I delivered the letter to the -proper party,” said the old man. - -Victor wrote, folded, and sealed the missive and placed it, with a -silver coin, in the man’s hand. - -“Take it to the one who sent you,” was Victor’s parting admonition. - -The old man thanked him. Victor opened the door, and, standing at the -head of the stairs, watched the aged messenger as he went slowly down -and out into the street. Then Victor returned to his room and read and -re-read his letter until the words and the lines became blurred and he -could see no more. - -It began: - - “MY DEAR VANDEMAR: - - “You will no doubt be surprised when you see the name upon the - outside of this letter, and then compare it with the one which you - have just read, upon learning that it means one and the same - individual. You will also, no doubt, be surprised to learn that - your right name is Vandemar Della Coscia, instead of Victor - Duquesne, and that your father’s name is not, and never was, Hector - Duquesne, but the one which you will find at the end of this - letter.” - - Vandemar looked and read the name--_Manuel Della Coscia_. - - “An explanation is due you, my son. Seventeen years ago, a man - named Conrad Batistelli was found dead in one of his fields, and - the evidence pointed to me as the murderer. There was no vendetta - between our families, and I could not have pleaded that in - justification. I did not commit the deed. The one who did is dead - and cannot exonerate me. In order to save him, I consented to leave - the island and take you with me. I did not care for my own life, - but I did not wish to see yours cut short by the hand of the - assassin. - - “I have sent for you to come to Corsica because I wish to prove my - innocence and to restore to you the noble name which is your - birthright. There is no older family on the island than that of - Della Coscia, and no young Corsican can boast a prouder lineage of - noble and patriotic men. Your ancestors were Corporals, and the - honour of their names descends and rightfully belongs to you. - - “Beware of the Batistellis. They are your sworn foes, and seek your - life. Be wary and commit no indiscretion. Above all, do not allow - yourself to be entrapped. I will see you soon, but I must choose - the time and place. Do not leave Corsica until I have seen you. - Until then, - - “Your loving father, - - “MANUEL DELLA COSCIA.” - -The aged messenger who had brought the letter to Vandemar, and who had -the reply in his possession, walked slowly along the main street of -Ajaccio, accosting no one, looking neither to the right nor left. When -he reached the Batistelli castle, he made his way to the servants’ -quarters and asked to see Manassa. - -In response to his summons, a man appeared whose white hair and wrinkled -skin indicated that he was very old, but whose erect figure and -strenuous walk both seemed to deny the imputation. He was a man of great -stature, apparently still retaining marked bodily strength. He must have -been handsome in his youth, and was still attractive and commanding in -appearance. - -“I wish to see your master, Pascal Batistelli,” said the messenger. - -“He is busy in his library,” was Manassa’s reply. “Come again some other -time.” - -“Lean down and I will tell you something.” - -Manassa complied. A smile, fiendish in its nature, went over his face. -He nodded his head a dozen times, chuckling as he did so. - -“Come with me,” he said. “My master will be glad to see you.” - -“Who are you?” asked Pascal Batistelli, as Cromillian’s messenger -approached the table where he sat. - -The man looked to see if Manassa had left the room. Assuring himself of -the fact, he asked: - -“Will you keep my secret if I tell you who I am? It will pay you to do -so and will injure you if you do not.” - -“Under those circumstances, I will give you my word,” said Pascal. - -“I am Paoli, Cromillian’s lieutenant.” - -Pascal started to his feet, crying: “What are you here for? What -business have I with you or your leader’s gang of thieves and -cut-throats?” - -“Not so fast, my good sir,” said Paoli. “We may injure some, but we -benefit others, and I have come here to do you a great favour.” - -“I do not understand you,” said Pascal, “but go on,” and he sank back -into his chair. - -“You have heard, I suppose,” said Paoli, “that Vandemar Della Coscia, -whose father murdered yours, was about to be foolish enough to come back -to Corsica. What would you say if I told you that both Vandemar and his -father were now on the island.” - -“I should say that you lied!” cried Pascal. - -“Let it go that way then,” Paoli coolly replied. “I know Vandemar is -here, for I have seen him. No one who had known a Della Coscia could -mistake him. I am sure, too, that the father is here; I don’t yet know -where he is, but I shall find him. If I put you on their track, what do -I get?” - -“A hundred louis d’or for each,” cried Pascal Batistelli. - -“Will you put it in writing?” asked Paoli. - -“No,” said Pascal, “the word of a Batistelli is sufficient.” - -It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when the old man again -presented himself to Cromillian and handed him the letter which Vandemar -had written, and which he had most carelessly and incautiously addressed -to Manuel Della Coscia. - -Cromillian looked at the superscription, and then said: - -“I will see that this letter reaches the party to whom it is addressed.” - -The old man bowed once more, and soon vanished among the trees. - -Cromillian looked again at the superscription on the letter. - -“Young and thoughtless!” he ejaculated. “Headstrong and brave, too, or -he would not be true to his name.” - -He placed the letter inside of his jacket and walked briskly into the -dense wood, nor did he stop until he was fully a mile from the camp. He -then threw himself upon the turf, broke the seal, and read the -following: - - “MY DEAR FATHER: - - “I was not only surprised but delighted to receive your letter. I - have never felt that I was of French birth, and I knew I was not - English. I am glad to know that I am a Corsican. I never knew - before what ancestral pride was, but now it surges over my heart - like the waves of the ocean. Do not fear that I will leave Corsica - before we meet. If the vessel sails, I will endeavour to get a - furlough. If I cannot, I shall resign my position in the British - Navy and devote my life to proving your innocence and reclaiming my - heritage. I do not fear the Batistellis. I hear that one is a - coward and the other a drunkard, but the daughter is an angel, who - is betrothed to a devil named Count Mont d’Oro. I will keep away - from them. - - “Ever your loving and dutiful son, - - “VANDEMAR DELLA COSCIA.” - -It was long after dark when Paoli reported for duty to his chief. - -“How is your mother?” asked Cromillian. - -“But poorly,” was Paoli’s reply. “I do not think that she can live much -longer. She made me promise that I would come to see her again in a -week.” - -“And you must go,” said Cromillian. “Bad men, as well as good men, -usually have good mothers, and wickedness in a son can be atoned for -greatly by filial tenderness.” - -“How did the messenger succeed with his errand?” asked Paoli. - -“Completely,” said Cromillian. “I have had a long walk. I am tired and -footsore, for I had to go a long way from here to find the one who wrote -the letter which I sent, and to whom the reply belonged.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -A LIFE FOR A LIFE. - - -“Where were you last night?” asked Helen of her father, the morning -after the duel. “I had one of my nervous attacks and went to your room -to get the remedy which I knew was in your portmanteau. It was raining -hard. I remained in your room until half-past twelve. I slept little, -but supposed you were on the vessel. I went to your room again at four -o’clock and found the door locked. Why did you come home from the vessel -at such an unseemly hour?” - -The Admiral attempted to explain matters without disclosing the real -reason for his absence from home, but his daughter subjected him to a -line of cross-questioning which left his story, at the close, in a most -pitiable condition as regarded probability and continuity. Finally, in a -state of mental despair, the Admiral cried: - -“Well, Helen, I’ll tell you the truth. The fact is, Victor had a quarrel -with a Corsican and they fought a duel. I didn’t wish it to become known -on the ship, so I acted as his second. Now you have the whole of it, so -far as I am concerned. If you wish to know more, get it from Victor.” - -In a short time, Victor’s well-known double knock was heard at the door. -No sooner had he entered than Helen began questioning him in regard to -the duel. He did not feel disposed to disclose the real cause of his -first controversy with Count Mont d’Oro. He simply said that the Count -insulted him and he knocked him down. - -“Of course, I expected a challenge,” he continued, “and we had it out -in good old-fashioned style. I remembered what you said, Miss Helen, -about the brave old Roman soldiers, but I could not obtain any swords -used in the Gallic war, so I chose axes as being the nearest approach to -them. It is a wonder he did not cut me into pieces, for he fought like a -madman.” - -“Bless my soul!” ejaculated the Admiral. “As I told you at the time, you -had a most re-mark-a-ble escape from death.” - -Helen could not refrain from expressing her admiration for the young -sailor who had dared to meet his enemy in single combat. - -“You are a brave young man, Lieutenant Duquesne,” she exclaimed, “and -for that reason, and that only, will I forgive you for several very -sarcastic remarks which you made to me on the way from Malta to Genoa.” - -“Miss Enright,” said Victor, in the gravest possible manner, “if I were -sure that you would forgive me for all my misdeeds during my -acquaintance with you, I should not hesitate to fight a duel every day -for a week.” - -“I am not sure that such a course would balance the account,” said -Helen, “but I am very glad that I came to Corsica. It is my constant -desire to see or hear something new.” - -“Thus reassured,” said Victor, “I will take you both into my confidence. -Since my arrival here, I have learned what was, to me, a most surprising -piece of intelligence. My father, whom I have seen but once since I was -six years of age, is now in Corsica and is coming soon to Ajaccio to -meet me. If the vessel sails before his arrival, I shall have to ask -you, my dear Admiral, for a furlough. If you cannot grant it, I shall be -obliged to resign my position.” - -“Bless my soul!” cried the Admiral. “What a re-mark-a-ble idea that is -of yours. Two months still remain before I am due in England, and one -thing is certain, I shall not accept your resignation. But how did you -find out about this?” - -“I had a letter from him,” replied Victor. “He tells me I was born in -Corsica. My ancestors were Corporals.” - -“Ah, yes!” cried Helen. “I have read about them. If I remember -correctly, it was sometime in the tenth century that the people--worn -out with centuries of oppression--rose against the tyrannical feudal -barons, waged a successful war against them, set up an independent -government of their own on democratic principles, and called their -country _Terra del Commune_. The officials were all elected by the -people, and among them were _caporali_, ‘corporals’ or head men, chosen -by the ‘Fathers of the Commune’ to preside over their local assemblies, -and to represent them before the General Council; being especially -charged with the defence of the rights of the people--in fact, they were -the ‘Tribunes of the People.’ In course of time the office became -hereditary, and the Corporals became a most powerful class--I think I -have got it straight!” - -“Your account is historically correct,” said Victor, “and no wonder that -Corsicans esteem it a great honour to be descended from these ‘Tribunes -of the People,’ as you have called them. No man in Corsica has greater -cause to revere and worship his ancestors than I have.” - -“I admire the Chinese,” said Helen, “because of their devotion to the -aged and the reverence which they show for their ancestors. But I fear -it will not be many years before these twin virtues will become extinct -in European countries.” - -“There is another subject,” said Victor, “about which I wish to speak to -you, Admiral”--Helen arose from her chair--“and your daughter, too. -Please remain, Miss Enright. It is a matter in which you are fully as -much concerned as your father.” - -“Do you wish father to act as your second in another duel?” she asked. - -“The course which I have decided to follow, with your kind permission, -may lead to one, and perhaps something worse. As I told you, Admiral, -when I took Lord Colton’s letter of introduction to Monsieur Pascal -Batistelli, he not only expressed his pleasure that you and your -daughter were to become his guests, but also extended an invitation to -me to be one of the party.” - -“Oh, do come!” cried Helen, impulsively. A slight flush came to her -sallow cheeks. It was seldom that she said or did anything without due -reflection. Then, she added: “With whom can I quarrel on apparently -inconsequential points unless you accompany us?” - -“Why, bless my soul!” cried the Admiral, “what a re-mark-a-ble idea to -leave us alone in a strange country, with no one to protect us and -avenge our honour in case we are insulted.” - -“I had not intended,” said Victor, “to accept the invitation, so I asked -you not to mention it to your daughter. Upon second thoughts, which they -say are best, I have decided to go, if she be willing.” He turned to -Helen: “You have kindly settled my uncertainty on that point.” - -“We had intended to go to-day,” said the Admiral, “but Helen lost so -much sleep last night that I told the landlord we should remain another -day.” - -Why had Vandemar Della Coscia changed his mind? Since reading his -father’s letter, he had given serious thought to his present situation -and his future actions in what he had learned was his native land. If, -as his father said, the Batistellis were his sworn enemies and would -seek his life as soon as they discovered his identity, would it not be a -wise course, he argued, to visit them, now that he was unknown to them, -and learn the character of the men with whom he had to deal. - -He did not know that the story was rife throughout Corsica that -Vandemar Della Coscia would soon return, despite the threats of his -enemies, and claim his heritage. If he had known this, he probably would -not have been so self-confident and would have been satisfied to remain -in seclusion at the hotel until his father appeared. The rumour about -Vandemar’s intended return had started, as most rumours do, from -nothing. One day, while Paoli was conversing with Cromillian, he -remarked that if Manuel Della Coscia or his son Vandemar did not return -soon to Corsica and reclaim their inheritance, it would escheat to the -government, according to the law. - -“Don’t you worry yourself about that,” Cromillian replied. “Both father -and son will be in Corsica before they lose their rights.” - -The next day, Paoli told several of his companions, in strict -confidence, that he had it on the best authority that Vandemar Della -Coscia was coming back to Corsica, and on no very distant day, either. -So interesting a rumour soon spread throughout the island, and there -were hundreds of sharp eyes which inspected all strangers carefully. - -While the little party at the hotel was waiting for the time to arrive -which would mark its departure for Batistelli Castle, an interesting -event was taking place in the rather humdrum life of their prospective -host. - -Count Mont d’Oro’s coachman, who had driven him to the duel, easily -divined what had taken place in the old shed that night. Villefort had -given him a louis d’or and told him to keep his mouth shut, but the -coachman spent the louis d’or for wine at Madame Valliet’s, and when he -opened his mouth to drink the wine, he did not shut it again until he -had told all that he knew, together with some fanciful additions. Julien -Batistelli, who was a constant visitor at Madame Valliet’s _cabaret_, -heard the story, and, naturally, told it to his brother. Pascal at once -visited the Count to express his sympathy and to ask whether he could -be of any service. - -It chanced that Bertha was passing her prescribed hour with the Count, -and was reading to him when M. Batistelli was announced. She started to -leave the room, but, before she could do so, the Count introduced his -visitor and she was obliged to remain. M. Batistelli was thought to be -insensible to the charms of women, and it was for that reason, probably, -that the Count made him acquainted with Miss Renville. To the Count’s -surprise, however, Pascal entered into an animated conversation with -Bertha and made himself so agreeable and was, apparently, so regardless -of the Count’s suffering that the latter groaned loudly--not really from -pain, but actually from sheer jealousy. Before leaving, Pascal said that -he should take the opportunity to pay his respects to the Countess, -should ask her to visit them when some expected guests arrived, and he -hoped that Miss Renville would accompany her. - -The fact was that Pascal Batistelli had seen so many beautiful women -with dark hair, dark eyes, and the complexions which belong to -brunettes, that he was unable to pick out one whom he thought would be -more desirable as a wife than a dozen others. - -But Bertha Renville was a revelation to him. He had never before seen a -woman with such hair, which looked like gold when the sunlight fell upon -it, and with such white hands and cheeks, the latter tinted with a -roseate flush, and he looked forward with fond anticipation to the time -when this beautiful English girl should become his guest, and the -recipient of the palatial hospitality which he mentally resolved to -lavish upon her. - -After dinner on the day when the conversation had taken place between -Victor and the Admiral and his daughter, it suddenly occurred to the -former that he Would pay a visit to the vessel and get his -double-barreled fowling-piece. He told the Admiral of his intention, -adding: - -“You know I am very fond of shooting and, no doubt, there is plenty of -game in Corsica.” - -“I understand,” said the Admiral, “that the game most sought after by -Corsicans is human beings.” - -As he heard the remark, the thought came quickly to Victor’s mind, “I am -going into the lion’s den,” but his reply contained no indication of the -thought. - -“I trust, my dear Admiral, that we shall not be called upon to take part -in a vendetta, or be the spectators of one, during our visit.” - -The next morning, the aspect of nature and the feelings of the Admiral -and the others of his party were in accord, and, at an early hour, a -conveyance, bearing them and their luggage, was on its way to their -destination. It did not take long for the visitors to become acquainted -with the brothers, Pascal and Julien, and their sister, Vivienne. Helen -was greatly attracted by and interested in the beautiful young Corsican -girl. - -Julien, the younger brother, was a decidedly handsome fellow, and, when -sober, was engaging and witty in conversation. Some delicate sparring -took place between Helen and Julien, and the young lady found him to be -no mean antagonist in the lingual battle; but she was decidedly his -superior in historical knowledge, and poor Julien was finally -discomfited, he showing an unpardonable lack of acquaintance with the -early customs of the ancient Persians. She was not surprised to find, at -the end of several days, that Vivienne had little love for her brother -Pascal, but bestowed all her affection upon Julien. - -Victor was an interested observer of what was going on in the house and -about it. He learned that Countess Mont d’Oro lived on the adjoining -estate, and heard that Pascal Batistelli and young Count Napier were -great friends. He saw that Pascal made a daily visit to the next house, -presumably to see Count Mont d’Oro, who, he was told by one of the -Batistelli servants, had sprained his ankle in alighting from his -carriage and was confined to his room. Victor wondered whether Pascal -had made their visit a subject of conversation. If so, the Count -probably knew that his late antagonist was in close proximity. If the -Count and Pascal were friends, and either learned of his identity, they -would both be his sworn enemies. But what did that matter, after all? If -the contest was to come, it might as well take place soon as later. He, -however, remembered his father’s injunction and determined that the -disclosure should not be made by himself. When his enemies learned who -he was, the discovery must be due to their own acuteness. - -On the first and second evenings following their arrival, Julien -remained at home after dinner, and Helen and he indulged in badinage and -repartee in a manner highly entertaining to their listeners. On the -third day, however, he did not appear at dinner, nor during the evening. - -About ten o’clock, the Admiral and Helen having gone to their rooms, for -the evening had been a comparatively dull one, Victor lighted a cigar -and strolled through the grounds. As he passed the entrance to the -wooded path, he looked down, wishing, foolishly, as he acknowledged to -himself, that he might see Vivienne there, looking as beautiful as she -did on that eventful morning. He thought to himself how delightful her -company would be if they could walk through the garden which was bathed -in the soft rays of the moon. - -He had no idea how late it was when he heard, as Bertha had done during -her first night in Corsica, the singing of a band of drunken revellers -on their way homeward. He stepped into the wooded path, being thus -effectually concealed from view. The party stopped at the Batistelli -gateway and effusive good-nights and good-byes were uttered by the -members of the company, who, judging from their manner of speech, were -in varying stages of intoxication. - -The singers proceeded on their way, but one solitary figure, after -fumbling for some time at the gate, succeeded in opening it and -staggered along the pathway which led to the servants’ quarters. Then a -replica of the scene which had been viewed by Bertha was presented to -Victor’s astonished gaze. - -Vivienne, who had evidently been waiting for the return home of her -wayward brother, came out to meet him, but, as on the previous occasion, -he repulsed her offer of assistance, and, in return for her sisterly -tenderness, cursed her, and pushed her from him. - -Victor was so angry that he was on the point of rushing forward and -hurling the sot to the ground, when he reflected that the affair was no -concern of his and that he had no right to interfere. Julien’s blow, -although it staggered Vivienne, did not cause her to fall, and he reeled -forward, his sister following him at a respectful distance. A few -minutes later, the door closed after them. Victor went to his room -wondering how young men could so debase themselves with drink and, above -all, how they could act with such inhumanity towards their sisters, -whose interest in them sprang not from self-interest but from love. - -The next day after this affair, Julien was present at dinner, but did -not seem like his former self. Miss Enright’s bright sallies were -unheeded by him, so she gave up such an unprofitable game and turned her -attention to Victor, but he made only lame replies. Julien’s condition -had a depressing effect, and all were glad when the meal was over. - -Victor again lighted his cigar and found his way to the garden. There -was no moon; instead, the sky was overcast and there were evidences of -an approaching storm. Unconsciously, he entered the wooded path and -walked slowly down towards the brook where he had first seen Vivienne. -Would that beautiful picture ever fade from his memory? He thought not. -Every day that he remained in the same house with her, it came before -him and, each day, it seemed painted in stronger colors. - -He retraced his steps and, when near the entrance of the path, saw the -gleam of a lantern, its rays disclosing the fate of Julien Batistelli, -who opened the gate, crossed the road, and then took a direction which -led to the thickly wooded _maquis_ beyond. Victor was on the point of -leaving his place of retreat, when another figure came in sight. It was -that of a woman and, although he could not see her features distinctly, -he knew at once that it was Vivienne. She, too, opened the gate, crossed -the road, and proceeded in the same direction as had her brother. - -What could be her errand? There was but one explanation--she was -following her brother with the intention of trying to induce him to -return home. Remembering the occurrence of the previous evening, Victor -was filled with fears for her safety. What if her brother should give -her a violent blow, leave her senseless in the woods, and a heavy storm -should come up? - -Victor made his way quickly to his room, caught up his gun, examined it -to see if it was loaded and primed, threw a long weather-proof cloak -over his shoulders, concealing the gun beneath it, and was soon treading -the same path over which Julien and his sister had passed. - -Although Madame Valliet’s _cabaret_ could be reached by following the -road, it was much nearer if the intending visitor made a short cut -through the _marquis_. Even then, it was a rough, hard walk of at least -two miles. Julien had covered about one-half of the distance when he -came to an open space upon one side of which there were some rocky -cliffs. The place had been named the “half-way house” by the revellers, -who often stopped to rest on their way homeward at night. - -Julien put down his lantern and, taking a bottle from his pocket, -indulged in a long drink. He was not satisfied with the quality of wine -which he drank at the _cabaret_, but brought a bottle of _eau de vie_ -home with him so that he could satisfy his appetite during the day. Then -he sat down upon a projecting rock to rest for a while before proceeding -on his way. - -Suddenly, he felt a light touch upon his shoulder, and he looked up into -the face of his sister. Starting to his feet, he exclaimed angrily: - -“What! You follow me? You set yourself to spy out my actions? You dog my -footsteps?” - -“Oh, Julien!” cried Vivienne; “do not be angry with me. I knew that you -were going to Madame Valliet’s, and so I followed you. You were not -yourself at dinner, and every one noticed it. Oh, Julien, do not shame -me in the presence of our guests. Come home with me and promise to keep -away from the _cabaret_ until they have gone.” - -“Go home, Vivienne! It’s none of your business where I go.” - -“I will not leave you in this lonely place. You must come home with me, -Julien. There is going to be a storm and you will not be able to find -your way home.” - -“Oh, nonsense!” cried Julien. “I have my lantern, and some of the boys -will come home with me. They always do.” - -“But remember our guests. When they have gone, although I shall have no -peace of mind when you are away from home on such errands, I will say no -more. Come home, Julien!” - -“I say I will not!” Then, a little of the man showed itself in him. - -“But you are a good girl, Vivienne, to brave the darkness and the -danger to follow a miserable fellow like me. I sat down here to think.” - -“To think of what? Oh, tell me,” cried Vivienne. - -“Of my disgrace, for one thing. I am in debt, as usual, and this very -day Pascal called me a profligate, gambler, and drunkard, and refused to -give me any more money. Damn him!” - -“Oh, Julien! You know that Pascal has paid your debts again and again -until he is discouraged. You make promises and break them. Is it strange -that he has become incensed and has lost confidence in you? You persist -in going to that woman’s house, a vile place, a resort for gamblers.” - -“Stop that nonsense! I will go where I like. Who made you and my brother -rulers over me? He is a hard, cold, cruel, selfish beast, and you know -it! I don’t blame you, sister. You have always been kind to me, but you -think I can live upon my income. Bah! I want money! I must have it! I -will have it! The only way I can get it is by gambling, for I am always -lucky. You are a fool--clear out, I want to be alone.” - -“But your luck will turn some day,” said his sister. - -“I hope it won’t to-night. I’ll drink to my own success.” - -“No, no! Oh, Julien! you are not yourself. Give me that bottle, I beg of -you.” - -As she said this, she tried to take the bottle from him. He kept her -back with one hand, while, with the other, he put the bottle to his -mouth. Vivienne sprang forward, snatched the bottle from his grasp, and -threw it against the cliff. - -“Pascal was right!” she cried, vehemently. “You are a profligate and a -drunkard. You are here alone in this dangerous wood, and you brutalise -yourself to the point of imbecility, rendering yourself wholly incapable -of defending your sister and yourself in case we are attacked by -bandits.” - -Julien stood as if stupefied. His condition was due largely to the -quantity of brandy which he had drunk, for there was but little in the -bottle when his sister took it from him; but, despite his besotted -condition, he was really astounded at his sister’s words, for she had -never spoken in that way to him before. As Julien did not reply, -Vivienne thought she had influenced him at last, and she followed up her -presumed advantage: - -“Oh, Julien, my best beloved brother, come, come home with me!” As she -said this, she took his arm. “I cannot leave you here alone. Hear the -thunder! See, it lightens! I will sell some of my jewels, as I have many -times before. You shall have money. Oh, come! The rain will soon be upon -us.” - -Julien did not answer this impassioned appeal, but withdrew his arm from -her loving clasp, took up his lantern, and started off in the direction -which led to the _cabaret_. Vivienne lost command of herself. Never -before had he so stubbornly resisted her loving entreaties. She would -sting him into speech! - -“Stop, Julien!” she cried. “I have one word more to say to you.” - -He looked back. - -“Julien Batistelli,” cried Vivienne, “hear the last word that I have to -say to you. _Rimbecco! Rimbecco!_” - -Julien put down his lantern and rushed angrily towards her. - -“I hurl the base lie back in your teeth!” he cried. “Dear God, that I -should live to see this hour! The red stain of _Rimbecco_ stamped upon -the brow of a brave son of a noble father. You dare not repeat that -word!” - -Vivienne looked at him with flashing eyes: “I am a daughter of the noble -father whose name you have dishonoured. _Rimbecco!_ Do you hear? I have -repeated it! Every man, woman, and child in Corsica repeats it, and -you, a strong man, the son of your father, are wasting your precious -time in drinking and gambling--time that should be spent in seeking out -the man in whose veins runs the vile blood of the ruthless Della Coscia. -_Rimbecco!_” - -Hardly had that word of deepest reproach which can be uttered to a -Corsican fallen from her lips, when her brother, exerting all his brute -force, felled her to the ground. - -“You are no longer a sister of mine!” he cried. “You have insulted me -past forgiveness.” - -He turned and dashed into the dark woods beyond, forgetful of the -lantern, the rays of which shone upon the pallid face of the prostrate -girl. Vivienne was in an unconscious state. The blow had been a cruel -one, before which even a strong man would have gone down. - - * * * * * - -An old hag, bearing a bundle of fagots upon her back, was plodding -slowly homeward. She stopped when she caught sight of the lantern and, -looking about her, saw the inanimate form of a woman upon the ground, -not far distant. - -“A lantern!” the old woman muttered. “She must have brought it, but I -did not see it when she passed my house. I did not see it when she went -by in the woods, but I can see now the flash of diamonds upon her -fingers, on her neck, and in her ears. A quarrel with her lover, most -likely! More fool she to care for one who could leave her like this! -Lucky for me, though!” - -She knelt beside Vivienne, and the jewels were soon in her possession. - -“These are nice French boots, just the right size for my little girl, -and this beautiful dress will bring me a fine sum. Why should she -possess all that riches can bestow and I go about clothed in rags? It is -my right to take all that I can get. I, a bandit’s mistress--she, some -rich man’s daughter; but her head must lie as low as mine some day. That -is one comfort.” - -She proceeded deliberately to make as small a bundle as possible of the -clothing and other articles of which she had despoiled the unconscious -girl, and, having done so, put it under her arm and disappeared among -the trees. - -Hardly had she done so, when Victor, walking rapidly, carrying his gun -upon his shoulder, reached the place. He espied the lantern and, running -forward, caught it up. - -“Where can they be?” he cried. “What has happened to them?” - -He held the lantern up and peered about him. It almost fell from his -grasp at the sight which met his gaze. In an instant, he was kneeling -beside Vivienne, holding the lantern so that the light would shine full -in her face. Her eyes were closed; her form motionless. He took one of -her hands, which felt cold and dropped lifeless from his grasp. - -“My God, can she be dead?” He started to his feet and looked about him. -“Who has done this?” he cried. - -His voice must have been heard by Vivienne, for she showed signs of -returning consciousness. Victor again knelt beside her. She opened her -eyes and looked up at him. He put his arm about her and raised her to a -sitting posture. - -“What has happened?” he asked. “How came you to be in this plight?” - -Vivienne for the first time recognised her condition. She would say -nothing against her brother, so she answered: - -“I must have been attacked and robbed of my clothing.” Then the -contemplation of her situation overcame her, temporarily, and, abashed -and ashamed, she burst into tears, crying piteously: - -“What shall I do? How shall I get home?” - -Victor removed the long cloak which he wore and passed it to her. Then, -turning his face away, he said: - -“Throw that about you--it will protect you. Fear nothing, for a true -friend awaits your commands.” - -Vivienne did as he suggested, wrapping about her the great cloak, which -reached nearly to her feet. - -“Monsieur!” - -Victor turned quickly. Vivienne stood before him. Stepping back, he -regarded her. - -“Why!” he cried, “the scoundrels have taken your boots, too.” Removing -his under coat, he threw it upon the ground before her, saying as he did -so: - -“Mademoiselle, stand upon that. The ground is damp and you will get a -fever.” - -“Monsieur,” Vivienne repeated, “some good angel has guided your -footsteps to this place. Merciful God, I thank Thee. Never have I felt -the need of human sympathy as I do to-night. But for you, I must have -died in this dreary place, alone and uncared for.” - -The excitement attending her interview with her brother, the blow which -she had received, and the discovery of the loss of her jewels and -clothing, together formed the severest trial to which this delicate and -tenderly nurtured girl had ever been subjected. As she stood there, it -all came back to her, and the dreadful scene was acted over again in her -mind. The nervous tension was too great, and she fell in a dead swoon at -the feet of her rescuer. - -“She has fainted and I am powerless to help her. She may die here before -I can get assistance.” He raised her in his arms and looked tenderly at -the cold, pallid face: - -“Beloved of my soul, I may speak now that my voice cannot reach thee. I -may gaze into thy beauteous face and press thy form close to my -throbbing heart. Oh, Vivienne! Can hate dwell in a soul encased in a -form like thine--a form upon which heaven has stamped its signet seals -of beauty and love? No, no! It is impossible--and yet, I know that if my -true name were but breathed into thy ears, those lovely eyes which, but -a moment ago, were gazing into mine with such holy trust, such infinite -tenderness, would be filled with horror and dismay. I am forever -proscribed from creating any sentiment in thy heart save that of -intensest hatred and loathing. Cruel fate--ruthless destiny! Why am I to -suffer thus--to see her--to adore her--only to lose her? - -“Vivienne, dearest object of my heart, would that I could pass thus, -with my arms about thee, into that better world, where strife and hate, -vendettas and revenge, murder and death, are things unknown. There, in -the blessed company of the angels, I might teach thy pure soul to love -mine and, with thee, enjoy an eternity of blissful rest.” - -Vivienne’s lips parted and a faint touch of colour came to her cheeks. -Victor removed his cap and fanned her, vigorously. The cool, fresh air -soon revived her. As soon as she realised her position, she endeavoured -to free herself from his arms and rise to her feet, but she was too weak -and would have fallen again if he had not prevented it. Again, she tried -to free herself from him. - -“I am weak and helpless,” she cried. “How dare you!”. - -Again she strove to sustain herself without his support, but it was a -futile effort. - -“The Holy Mother of God,” cried Victor, “will bear testimony to my -sincerity when I swear to you that you have been as safe in my arms as -in those of a mother. Sacred to me is, and ever has been, the protection -of female purity and innocence. With a brother’s care you must allow me -to guard your precious life until I can restore you, unharmed, into the -keeping of those whose blessed right it is to love and protect you.” - -“I was bewildered--I knew not what I said. Forgive me,” she pleaded. - -“An angel like yourself, mademoiselle, needs not to be forgiven by a -sinful mortal like me. Only tell me how I can best serve you.” - -The storm which had long been in gathering, now burst upon them. The -rocky cliffs protected them in some degree from the violence of the -wind, but from the rain there was no escape. - -“It is your right,” said Vivienne, “to know by what strange chance I was -brought to this pass.” - -“Do not try to tell me now,” cried Victor. “I desire to hear nothing--I -will hear nothing until I see you in a place of safety. Your feet are -exposed to the wet ground, and even that thick cloak will soon be -drenched with rain. Shall you be afraid to remain here alone until I can -go back to the house for dry clothing?” - -“I shall not be afraid to remain alone,” said Vivienne, “but if others -should come, I might be afraid of them.” As she said this, she smiled -faintly. “But you do not think of yourself. The coat which you gave me -to stand upon must be wet through by this time.” - -“Oh, that is nothing,” said Victor, as he picked up the garment and put -it on. “It can hold only so much water, and it will be in no worse -condition by the time I reach your home.” - -“You are more than kind to me, monsieur. You are merciless to -yourself--you expose your life to save mine--you cover me with your -garments while you are suffering. You, who are not used to this climate, -can hardly expect to escape the effects of exposure to the damp and -chill of such a storm. Ah! Never while memory lasts will the events of -this night and your kindness be forgotten. Receive my soul’s deep -gratitude. If ever I become so ungrateful as to forget your merciful -deeds this night, may Heaven punish me!” - -She grasped both his hands, and would have fallen upon her knees before -him if he had not prevented her. - -“That vow is recorded in Heaven, and approved of saints. It was -prompted, not by the poor service which I have been so happy in -rendering, but by the transcendent impulse of a true, womanly heart. Say -it once more--you will never forget me.” - -“I will never forget thee!” - -“Now I may pour out my soul to thee, angel of goodness!” cried Victor. -“I may tell thee how dearly I--but, no--we have not yet passed Heaven’s -portals--but it seemed for a moment that earth was receding and Paradise -opening to my view. Pardon me, mademoiselle, but I begin to think that -my brain has been affected by the events of the hour. We have no time to -lose. The longer we remain here, the more uncomfortable will our -situation become.” He looked up at the rocky cliffs. “Ah! I see a wide -cleft in the rocks. Perhaps it is large enough to shield you until my -return. I will go and explore it.” - -“I will go with you,” cried Vivienne. - -He grasped his gun and led the way, she following. When Victor emerged -from the cave, he said: - -“How true it is that we often find bright spots when the way seems -darkest.” - -“And you find one there?” she asked. - -“Yes,” said Victor, joyously. “This little cave is carpeted with the -softest of green moss. How obliging Mother Nature is to her offspring. -Now, give me your hand and I will place you in your eyrie.” - -When she was seated in the cave, Victor stood at the entrance, bowed -low, and said: - -“I present my homage to the Queen of the Mountains. I am going to leave -my gun with you. If you should be in danger, can you use it?” - -“All Corsican women understand the use of firearms. You are a sailor -and, perhaps, a better marksman than I, but I doubt it. I always win the -prize in shooting with my brothers.” - -“May Heaven preserve you until we meet again,” were Victor’s last words, -and, a moment later, he was running at full speed towards Batistelli -Castle. - -As he plunged through the forest, occasionally catching his feet in the -underbrush and nearly falling headlong, he congratulated himself upon -having repressed an avowal of his love for Vivienne until a more -opportune moment arrived. He would not have ventured to breathe his love -for her, as she lay senseless in his arms, had it not been for an -incident which had occurred the day previous. In company with Vivienne, -he had walked down the wooded path until they came to the brook beside -which she had knelt when she gave him the flower. As they stood there, -the scene brought back to him the remembrance of his meeting with Count -Mont d’Oro and he, unthinkingly, asked: - -“Have you heard from Count Mont d’Oro, to-day, Mademoiselle Batistelli?” - -“No. Why should I?” and she fixed her piercing black eyes upon him. - -“Oh--I,” he began--“I heard something soon after my arrival which made -me think that you would be greatly interested in his condition.” - -“What did you hear? Please tell me.” - -Victor hesitated. Finally, he said: “Mademoiselle Batistelli, I am a -British sailor. Perhaps you have heard that British sailors, as a class, -are noted for their frankness and honesty. I will try to be worthy of -their well-earned reputation.” - -He then told her what had happened after she gave him the white rose, -and how Count Mont d’Oro had declared that she was to be the future -Countess Mont d’Oro, being already betrothed to him--but he did not -refer to the duel. - -“That betrothal,” cried Vivienne, “was the foolish fancy of an old man -who loved my father and who thought his son should love the daughter of -the man whom he loved. On the other hand, my ambitious brother, Pascal, -desires to join the two great landed estates and, at the same time, have -his sister become a countess. But none of the four ever consulted my -wish or will in the matter and, so far as I am concerned, I do not -regard anything that has been said or done as at all binding upon me.” - -A strange thrill of delight had gone through Victor’s nerves when he had -heard this declaration, and he experienced it again as he threaded his -way along the forest path. What he was doing was for Vivienne’s -sake--and she was free! If he could win her, there was no reason why she -should not be his. - -Pascal Batistelli was not at home when Victor arrived, and he was glad -that he was not obliged to explain matters to Vivienne’s brother. He -found Snodine, the housekeeper, who speedily collected the articles of -clothing that were needed, and he was soon on his way back to the cave -in the cliff. - -“I should not envy Count Mont d’Oro his feelings if he ever learns what -has taken place on this eventful night,” was Victor’s mental reflection -as he retraced his steps. - - * * * * * - -The Count was not to be envied. The doctor had told him that he would be -confined to the house for at least three weeks, and it would be three -more before he would be able to walk with his accustomed ease. One day, -when Pascal Batistelli was speaking about his English guests, the Count -asked, carelessly, as if their presence were of no particular interest -to him: - -“Who are they, Batistelli?” - -“Admiral Enright, of the British navy, his daughter Helen, who is a very -finely educated woman--and there her attractions end--and a young -lieutenant named Victor Duquesne, who may or may not be in love with the -highly educated daughter.” - -The Count said nothing, but there was an expression upon his face which -Pascal wrongly attributed to a sudden twinge of pain. It was a spasm of -jealousy. So, his rival was a guest of the Batistellis and able to see -Vivienne every day, while he was flat upon his back and could not -interfere. He could do nothing himself--but something must be done. He -sent for his friend Villefort, and gave him a large roll of gold coin -and told him what to do. - -In Villefort he had a willing slave, for the latter derived his living -principally from Count Napier’s bounty, but got nothing for which he had -not rendered some service. - - * * * * * - -Shortly after Victor’s departure the storm abated. Vivienne was very -thankful for this, for she was really solicitous regarding his exposure -to the elements. She knew that he was drenched to the skin and feared -that this fact and the long walk to and from her home might throw him -into a fever, for the river valleys in Corsica were, in those days, full -of malarial poison. She was thinking of Victor, hoping that he would -return soon, when she heard voices. She drew back as far as possible -into the cave, but listened intently in order to hear every word that -might be said. - -Two men who, in appearance, resembled those belonging to Cromillian’s -band, but who, in reality, were not connected with it, approached from -the same direction in which Victor had gone. As they came within -hearing, Vivienne heard one of them say: - -“Who in the devil left that lantern here?” - -“Are you sure you saw the fellow?” the other asked. - -“Yes, I am quite sure. He had a gun over his shoulder, but I saw no -lantern. He wore a big cloak, however, and that may have concealed it -from view.” - -“They are speaking of the Lieutenant,” thought Vivienne, and she clasped -her hands in mute terror. - -“Shall we leave the lantern where it is?” asked the second man. - -“Of course,” was the reply; “if we move it, he will suspect that -something is wrong.” - -“Don’t you think we had better hide behind those trees?” - -“No,” said the first speaker; “we have come here to meet him, and he -might as well meet us. He is somewhere about here. The lantern being -here proves that, and we shall be sure of our chance sooner or later.” - -“What are we expected to do with this fellow, anyway?” asked the second -speaker. - -“Why, when we get him,” said the other, “to carry out our agreement, we -must get into a quarrel with him and dispose of him--that’s all.” - -The shaft went home to Vivienne’s heart. “They have come here to murder -my friend in need,” she said to herself. She sank upon her knees and -raised her clasped hands. “Great God in Heaven, save him!” was her -unspoken prayer. Could she do anything to avert the danger which -threatened him? It was her duty, surely, to watch and listen. - -“What’s all the trouble about?” asked the second man. - -“What usually causes trouble--a love affair.” - -“And the woman?” - -“That Batistelli girl--Vivienne, I believe her name is. This young -Englishman met her one day and she, fool-like, gave him a flower. The -Count saw her do it, and asked the fellow to give it up. He refused and -they had it out with their fists, the Count getting the worst of it.” - -“Why didn’t he use his stiletto?” - -“He tried to, but the Englishman took it from him with one hand and -knocked him down with the other.” - -“How do you happen to know so much?” - -“Villefort told me all about it. The Count sent him with a challenge to -the Englishman, who accepted it, and they fought it out with axes in the -dark. The duel took place in an old shed, at midnight. Queer dogs, those -Englishmen!” - -“How did it end?” - -“Neither one got cut. The Count fell through a hole in the floor and -sprained his ankle. The Count’s coachman got drunk and let out the whole -story at the _cabaret_.” - -“Why doesn’t the Count drop it, if he has had satisfaction?” - -“But he isn’t satisfied. He told Villefort that he accepted the -Englishman’s terms to please him; now, he is going to do something to -please himself. The Count, naturally, would have waited until he was -able to get out again, but it so happened that the Admiral and his -daughter brought the young Englishman along with them to pay a visit to -the Batistellis.” - -“That was too much for the Count,” cried the second man, and he broke -into a loud laugh. - -“Shut up, you idiot!” said his companion. “Of course, the Count couldn’t -stand it, knowing that this young fellow was in the same house with the -girl and nothing to do but make love to her. So he sent for Villefort, -told him what he wanted done and gave him a big roll of louis d’or. -Villefort, who is a bright man, decided that we were the fellows to do -the job up in true Corsican fashion. We have got our money in advance, -and all we have to do is to settle the Englishman as soon as we meet -him.” - -Vivienne felt as though every drop of blood in her veins was turned to -ice, while her head seemed ready to burst with the intense heat. She saw -it all now--Count Mont d’Oro had hired these two bandits to pick a -quarrel with Lieutenant Duquesne and kill him. How could she warn him? -He had saved her life, for she surely would have died if she had -remained all night exposed to the storm. The account should be balanced. -It must stand, a life for a life. But how? - -Vivienne was on the point of leaving her retreat and flying to warn -Victor, but it was too late, for, as she stepped out upon the ledge, she -heard his voice calling: - -“Mademoiselle, are you there?” - -“He has come!” cried one of the men. “I think your idea of getting out -of sight for a while is a good one.” - -Suiting the action to the word, they hid themselves behind two of the -largest trees. - -Victor, with a bundle of clothing under his arm, made his way at once to -the lantern, it being his idea to take it to the cave so that Vivienne -could see what articles of clothing he had brought for her use, and it -would also light them on their way home. - -Vivienne called: “Victor! Victor!” softly, for she was afraid if the -bandits knew they were discovered that she, too, would be killed, in -which case Count Mont d’Oro and his hired assassins would escape the -hand of justice. She would have given her own life to save Victor’s, -but, if that sacrifice was impossible, she determined to avenge his -death. - -As Victor stooped to pick up the lantern, a gruff voice said: - -“Put that down! What are you going to do with my lantern?” - -Victor looked up and saw two rough-looking fellows standing before him. - -“I think you have made a mistake,” he said. “I happen to know that this -lantern is the property of Monsieur Julien Batistelli. That is not your -name, I am sure.” - -“Say, Jean,” said one of the men to his companion, “you heard him say -this isn’t my lantern?” - -“Of course it is,” growled the other. “I have seen you with it a dozen -times. Make him give it up.” - -“It will take more than two such fellows as you are to make me give it -up,” said Victor, defiantly. - -The men drew their stilettos, the bright blades of the weapons flashing -in the lantern-light. - -Victor stepped back, suddenly realising that he was unarmed. He dropped -the bundle of clothing and held up the lantern, which was his only means -of defence, so that the light fell full upon the faces of his -assailants, enabling him to see every motion made by them. - -To Vivienne, the situation seemed tragical. She could stand the suspense -no longer. Summoning all her strength, she raised to her shoulder the -gun which Victor had given her, aimed it at the men, and discharged both -barrels simultaneously. By a fortunate chance, her aim had been good. -Standing so far above those at whom she fired, the effect of the shots -was peculiar. One man received a bullet in his cheek which removed half -a dozen of his teeth and a portion of his jawbone, passing out through -his other cheek. The second man was less fortunate, for the bullet -entered his throat, cutting a large artery and causing him to bleed -profusely. - -Victor realised that it was no time to attempt to learn the extent of -his enemies’ injuries. He rushed to the foot of the cliff, crying: - -“Come, Vivienne!” - -She passed the gun down to him, and then stood irresolute. - -“Jump!” he cried. - -She instantly threw herself from the cliff, some ten feet above him, -and was caught in his powerful arms. He had braced himself for the shock -and, although he was forced backwards, he did not fall, nor did he -loosen his hold upon her until he had placed her safely upon the ground. - -He looked backward and found that his assailants had taken to the woods, -probably fearing that the gun would be reloaded and used to their -further detriment. He passed the gun to Vivienne, considering it the -easiest article for her to carry, encumbered as she was by the great -cloak. He then returned to where he had left the bundle of clothing and -the lantern and regained possession of them. - -When he rejoined Vivienne, he said: “I dare not stop to have you put on -your dry clothing here. I do not know how badly those fellows are -injured, and they may follow us. We will go a short distance and look -for some place where we can secrete ourselves. I will then reload the -gun and you can put on your boots, which you need more than anything -else. The storm has ceased and perhaps you can reach home without -stopping to change your clothing.” - -There was little danger of their being overtaken. One of the assassins -was likely to die from loss of blood, while the other was suffering so -acutely on account of his broken jaw that he could be of little service -to his companion. - -The travellers reached home without experiencing any other thrilling -adventures. Fortunately, Pascal had not yet returned. Vivienne made her -way at once to the housekeeper’s room, where she put on the dry clothing -which had been sent to her. Snodine was full of curiosity, which -Vivienne satisfied by telling her as little as possible. The next day, -she repeated to Victor enough of what his assailants had said to prove -to him that, in his list of enemies, he must include, not only the -Batistelli brothers and their adherents, but also Count Mont d’Oro and -his hired minions. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD. - - -While Victor and Vivienne were participants in the exciting events which -took place in the _maquis_, Bertha Renville was seated in the cosey -little room which had been assigned to her, and in which she had passed -many happy hours. She derived much pleasure from the thought that Jack -was on the way. She had caught Count Mont d’Oro in one falsehood and did -not believe his statement that her guardian, Thomas Glynne, was in -Corsica. Since the Count’s accident, the real cause of which was unknown -to her, for he had told a plausible story of missing his footing when -stepping from his carriage, both the Countess and Bertha had passed an -hour each day with him; for what woman is there who does not have some -compassion for so helpless and harmless a creature as a man with a -sprained ankle? - -Vivienne had not felt inclined to make a _confidante_ of Snodine, for -she knew that she was a great gossip, and that what she told her would -be retold the next day with many fanciful additions to the other -servants. But Vivienne could place implicit trust in her old nurse, -Clarine; so, the next morning, she went to her room, determined to -confide in her and to ask her what could be done, if anything, to induce -Julien to give up his evil ways. - -She was obliged to postpone her disclosures, however, to a more -opportune time, for Old Manassa had made an early morning call on -Clarine and, according to his usual custom, had fallen asleep in the -easy-chair which he considered his personal property when he paid a -visit to the old nurse. His head had fallen forward and his wrinkled -hands were clasped tightly over the huge head of the big oaken staff -which was his constant companion. He declared that he was a hundred -years old, and there was no one to gainsay his claim to that advanced -age. He had, upon several occasions, when supposed to be asleep, evinced -a comprehension of, and a marked interest in, the conversation which was -going on about him. For that reason, Vivienne thought it best to put off -giving Clarine an account of her adventures until she could speak to her -alone. - -Clarine, however, had something to say to Vivienne, being apparently -unmindful of the presence of Old Manassa, or willing to have him hear -what she said. - -“Do you know,” asked Clarine, “that in two weeks you will be eighteen -years old?” - -“I really had not thought of it,” Vivienne replied. “My birthdays have -never been occasions of particular enjoyment to me.” - -“But this one will be,” cried Clarine. “You will not be a young girl -then, but a woman, and such events are always celebrated in Corsica, and -also, I have heard, in other parts of the world. Yes,” the old nurse -repeated, “in two weeks you will be eighteen years old.” - -“How old are you, Clarine?” asked Vivienne. - -“Manassa says his mother told him that he was four years old when I was -born. If his memory can be depended upon, I am ninety-six. How well I -remember the day your grandfather brought me to the castle! I came to -nurse your grandame. Your dear sainted mother was but two weeks old when -I first saw her sweet face. How swiftly the time has sped, and you, the -little weeny baby which she laid in my arms eighteen years ago, have -been spared to bless my old age. God is good! Yes--yes.” - -“Oh, Clarine, you have acted a mother’s part to us all. We can never -repay you but by loving you dearly, as we do.” - -“I know you do, child. I know it. But how vividly the old times come -back to me to-day. For Old Manassa there once asked me to be his wife, -but I had no heart to give. It was buried, years ago, in the grave of my -husband.” - -“Dear Clarine, is love so tenacious as to wed a living heart to the -tomb?” - -“Not all hearts, dear, but mine could never love again.” - -“I suppose the times and the people have changed much since you were a -girl, Clarine.” - -“Ah, yes, child,” said the nurse. “The people most of all. I remember -when this castle was a fortress for hundreds of brave warriors and, too, -when poor refugees sought safety within its strong walls. Ah, me, those -were dreadful times. I have seen a hundred soldiers upon the ramparts, -firing upon our enemies, and many a prisoner has ended his life in the -tower dungeon.” - -“The dungeon! I never knew there was one. Do my brothers know about it?” - -“No human being but myself knows. Even Old Manassa there is ignorant of -its existence. To my hands alone was intrusted the duty of carrying food -to the poor prisoners confined there, who were destined never more to -see the light of day.” - -“Oh, Clarine, can this be true!” Vivienne cried. “You did but dream it. -You sometimes have bad dreams, you know, when you are not well.” - -“Ah, child, you will soon know whether it be a dream. Now, listen to me, -darling; don’t lose a word I say, for I am about to impart a message -from the dead.” - -“What? From the dead?” - -“Yes, from your dead father. He called me into the library two hours -before he went out for the last time alive. He shut the door, took my -hand in his, and made me promise that upon your eighteenth birthday I -would impart to you a knowledge of the existence of the dungeon, and -also give you a paper of written instructions, telling you how to open -its great door--a door which can never be unfastened but by one -possessing the secret of its complicated springs and bars.” - -“But why did my father desire this secret to be divulged to me alone? -Why not to my brothers as well?” - -“He thought, no doubt, that they might, in some emergency, make bad use -of such knowledge. He knew not how headstrong they might become, or how -fiery their passions might be when they reached manhood. He had come to -abhor the spirit of revenge and murder which pervades our country. I -will repeat to you his very words: ‘My daughter’s gentle heart will -understand my motives when you say to her from me: Never open that door -except in case of great extremity, and never reveal the secret to any -living being unless it be to save human life!” - -“To what extremity could I ever be driven which would oblige me to open -that terrible door? I shudder to think of it, Clarine.” - -“Heaven knows, child--we do not. But I believe such a time will come.” - -“What makes you think so? What good reason can you give?” - -“Your father had a presentiment that he would die a violent death when -he was a comparatively young man, and he told me that when the door was -opened by your hand, he would be there to meet you.” - -“Ah, Clarine, I think it is superstition rather than reason that leads -you to think as you do. I never saw my dear father, nor my mother to -know her, but my father’s words are sacred to me and I will be true to -the trust that he has confided to me.” - -“You had a noble father and a beautiful mother. He was brutally murdered -by an assassin. When your poor mother heard the news, just after you -were born, she went out of her mind, and a few days later we laid her -beside the one whom she had loved so well. Their blood cried aloud for -vengeance, but the murderer was a coward. He ran away from Corsica and -the curse of _Rimbecco_ still rests upon our family. But come, child, we -have talked enough about such matters. Let us go into the garden and the -bright sunshine will drive away unhappy memories.” - -When they had gone, Manassa opened his eyes, then, raising his oaken -staff, brought it down upon the floor with all the strength he -possessed. - -“They say women cannot keep a secret, but Clarine has kept that one for -nearly eighteen years. She would have made a good wife, but she wouldn’t -have me, although I was only seventy-five when I proposed to her. I -think I know where that dungeon is and I will find out how to open the -door. But when I shut it, I hope that Manuel Della Corsica and his son -Vandemar will be on the inside. When they are, I shall never try to open -the door. No, I will let them starve and die there--then no one can say -_Rimbecco_ to the Batistellis, or to their servants who love them and -will ever be faithful to them.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -THE AVENGER OF BLOOD. - - -No two individuals could be more dissimilar as regards the essentials -which enter into the composition of human character, than Helen Enright -and Vivienne Batistelli. Helen’s education had been devoted chiefly to -the head, with but little attention to the finer sensibilities, and -virtually none at all to the passions of the heart. Mrs. Inchbald and -Mary Wollstonecraft had not voiced the rights, or rather the wrongs, of -women, so that her education was the result of an individual inspiration -instead of proceeding from a preconcerted and combined movement on the -part of her sex. She was fortunate in having a father who loved her so -well that he pushed aside the conventionalities of the time and allowed -his daughter to have her own sweet will in everything which did not -interfere with his personal comfort. - -When he fully realised the extent of her acquirements, he became -intensely proud of her; but his praises in those days were more -calculated to drive away suitors than to attract them, for by the men of -that time a highly educated woman was looked upon as one to be avoided -and not likely to make, what Englishmen most desire, an obedient wife. - -On the other hand, Vivienne’s education had been almost wholly of the -heart. She could read and write the French language quite well and had -also acquired a fair knowledge of the English. If her father and mother -had lived, she would, no doubt, have been sent to France to receive -fuller instruction, but when she arrived at the age of sixteen, she -became, by her brother Pascal’s wish, and with no opposition on her -part, mistress of the house; always subject, of course, in important -matters, to the will of her elder brother, who was master in all things. - -Left fatherless and motherless within a few days of her birth, the -little Vivienne had grown up under the care of Clarine, her nurse, who -had been in the service of the Batistelli family since her mother had -been an infant. Stories about fairies, the folklore of the country, and -tales of bloody vendettas, had been poured into the child’s ears by -Clarine and Manassa. In this way her perceptive powers and sensibilities -were dominated by the physical rather than the mental. She had led a -retired life, for her brother Pascal was not social in his nature. -Julien was too much so, but his associates were never welcome to the -hospitalities of the house. If it had not been for the agreement, or -rather understanding, between the old Count Mont d’Oro and Pascal’s -father, regarding the marriage of Napier and Vivienne, the young girl -would have grown up fancy-free, so far as love of man was -concerned--meaning, of course, any particular man. - -As Vivienne, although she avoided argument upon the subject with her -brother, had given the young Count Mont d’Oro no encouragement in his -suit, having met all his advances with mock disdain or cool rebuff--and -as Helen Enright’s heart had been regarded as unassailable--the young -god Cupid and his dangerous arrows never formed the subject of -conversation between the two young ladies. Helen told Vivienne about -England, its king and princes, its nobility and gentry. Despite the -English girl’s graphic description of England’s greatness and glory, the -young Corsican girl failed to gain an adequate conception of the scenes -described to her; but when her turn came to speak, when she talked of -Corsica, its traditions, its customs, and its people, the English girl -fully understood and made copious entries in the journal which she had -kept since her departure from England. - -The two girls were naturally thrown into daily companionship. Like all -Englishwomen, Helen was fond of outdoor life, and a great lover of the -beauties of nature. Vivienne would have remained within doors, but Helen -induced her to accompany her in daily rambles, during which every part -of the extensive grounds surrounding the Batistelli mansion was visited, -and many excursions were made into the surrounding _maquis_, although -Pascal, upon one occasion, said he felt it was his duty to warn Miss -Enright, being a stranger, that she ran the risk of being captured by -banditti, carried off into the mountains, and held for a large ransom. - -One day they were walking in the grounds when Helen espied a path which, -it occurred to her, had not yet been travelled. It was very short, not -more than thirty feet in length, and seemed to end in a mass of dense -foliage. When this was reached, however, a narrower path leading to the -left was disclosed which, when followed, brought them to the foot of a -great oak tree. Helen had previously seen and admired this tree and -spoken of it to Vivienne, but as the latter had made no comment, Helen -supposed that it was inaccessible. - -“And does this grand old tree stand upon your estate?” asked Helen. - -“Yes,” was the reply, “and they say, I do not know with how much truth, -that it is three hundred years old. It is called The Tree of the -Vendetta. Clarine says her mother told her that a terrible feud existed -between two Corsican families, each of which, it so happened, had six -grown-up sons. The father of one of the families killed the father of -the other. The sons of the latter, with other relatives, at night -attacked the house in which the father and his six sons lived and set -it on fire, and as their enemies ran out to escape the flames and smoke, -shot them down, the bright light of the fire exposing them to the shots -of their adversaries, who were in the shadows, or concealed behind -trees.” - -“Oh, what barbarism!” ejaculated Helen. - -“It is the custom of the country,” Vivienne remarked, and there was a -coolness in her tone which did not escape her companion’s notice. For -several minutes neither spoke. Then Helen asked: - -“But how did the tree get its name? Was it close to the house?” - -“More barbarism followed,” Vivienne replied, with a touch of sarcasm. -“As the family was virtually extinct, the victors buried them at the -foot of this tree. You see, we do not print history in this country, but -we remember it.” - -“I hope with all my heart,” said Helen, “that you have no such memories -connected with the past.” - -“There you are wrong,” cried Vivienne, and her voice, which up to this -time had been subdued, now became strong and impassioned. “I have a sad -memory and, as what I have said to you may cause you to misunderstand my -true feeling, I will tell you all. The very day that I was born my -father became the victim of an assassin. My brothers tell me that my -father had no quarrel with the man who murdered him and he must have -been hired by some one to do the cruel deed. He was a coward, for that -very night he took his only child, a little boy six years old, and fled -from the country, so that my brothers are deprived of the opportunity of -avenging the death of our father. There are none who dare to say -_Rimbecco_ to my brothers, but many think it in their hearts.” - -“_Rimbecco!_” cried Helen. “What does that mean?” - -“_Rimbecco_,” explained Vivienne, “is a reproachful word spoken to a -member of a Corsican family by another member of the family, or one of -its adherents, because the assassination of a relative has not been -followed, within a reasonable time, by the killing of the assassin or -some member of his family. _Rimbecco_ is the worst taunt that can be -thrown in the face of a Corsican, for it is considered as declaring him -to be even baser than a coward. If Manuel Della Coscia, who murdered my -father, and his son Vandemar, who must now be twenty-four years of age, -are still living, they must remain exiles or return to Corsica and -answer with their lives for the great crime which has been committed.” - -“But you who are so kind to the unfortunate, so good to all, can you not -avert the doom which threatens an innocent victim? Young Vandemar, the -last of his race, is surely guiltless. Is it just that he should suffer -death for no fault of his own?” - -“Men are killed in war for no fault of their own,” said Vivienne. - -“Alas, yes,” replied Helen, “but that is unavoidable. Suppose that, -instead of your father becoming the victim, he had killed his -assailant?” - -Vivienne responded quickly: “It would then rest with his son, now that -he has grown to manhood, to avenge his father by killing my brothers.” - -“Oh, tell me,” cried Helen, “that you do not favour this cruel, wicked -custom! Tell me, dear friend, that you abhor it as I do!” - -“I regret the necessity,” Vivienne replied. - -“And according to the custom of your country, your elder brother must -commit this terrible deed?” - -“He must.” - -“But if he dies before accomplishing it?” asked Helen. - -“It will then devolve upon my younger brother, Julien.” - -“And in case he dies?” was Helen’s next inquiry. - -“It will then devolve upon----” - -“No, no, no. Do not speak, Vivienne! I cannot bear it! You do not mean -it. Oh, tell me that I am dreaming--that you did not mean to say----” - -“If both should die and I should live,” cried Vivienne, excitedly, “it -would be my duty to avenge my father’s death, or his blood would be upon -my own hands. Manuel Della Coscia and his son Vandemar are enemies of my -family, and if no other hand can do it, mine must send the bullet or -handle the stiletto.” - - * * * * * - -Count Mont d’Oro had so far recovered from his injury that he was able -to get about with the help of a couple of walking-sticks. His progress -was necessarily slow and any little inadvertence caused him severe pain. -On such occasions, his thoughts naturally reverted to his antagonist. He -had heard from Villefort of the ill-success of his scheme to entrap -Victor, and of the terrible fate of the would-be murderers, both of whom -had been found dead in the _maquis_. - -As soon as the Count acquired a limited degree of locomotion, he made -his way to the stables, ordered the carriage, and was driven at once to -the hotel in Ajaccio. A messenger was despatched in search of Villefort, -whose headquarters were at a _cabaret_ kept by Angelo Barbera. - -Villefort came at once in response to the summons, and was soon closeted -with the Count. - -“That young devil of an Englishman has a charmed life,” said Villefort. - -“Perhaps so,” the Count replied, “but you know there is an old saying -that the third time never fails. In order that the saying may not be -disproved, we must make sure of our game this time.” - -Wine and cigars were ordered, and the two worthies cudgelled their -brains to think of some plan by which Victor might be put in their -power. How he could be summarily disposed of was a matter which must be -decided later. - -Villefort looked up suddenly and asked: - -“What was the name of the man who killed Pascal Batistelli’s father?” - -The Count replied: “Manuel Della Coscia--his son’s name was Vandemar.” - -“Then the son’s initials would be V. D. C., would they not?” - -“Certainly, but what are you looking at so intently?” - -“By Saint Christopher!” cried Villefort, “but this is strange!” - -“What is strange? Speak up and don’t sit there with your mouth open like -a stuck pig.” - -“Spare me your compliments,” said Villefort, “or I may be forced to -demand an apology.” - -The Count laughed. “Pardon me, Villefort, but the jolting of that clumsy -carriage over that infernally rough road has filled my foot with a dozen -toothaches. But what have you found?” - -“They may mean something or nothing, but here, cut in the table, and the -cuts are fresh ones, are the initials V. D. C. They are a clue to -something--but what?” - -“Go downstairs,” said the Count, “and find out who last occupied this -room.” - -In a short time Villefort returned with the information that the room -had not been occupied since the young gentleman who was in the company -of the English admiral had left it. - -“So our man put up here,” said the Count. “But why V. D. C.?” - -“Perhaps his name is spelled D-u C-a-i-n,” suggested Villefort. - -“Guessing won’t hit the mark,” the Count cried. “Have you no wits? Five -louis d’or if you prove that Vandemar Della Coscia and the Englishman -are one and the same person! Think of something. Use the carriage if you -need it. Come back in an hour. I am going to lie down and rest to see if -I can get rid of this damnable torture. If he had given me a cut with -his axe, it would have healed long ago.” - -Villefort did not take the carriage, but walked slowly along the main -street, wondering how he could earn the promised reward. - -“The price offered is very small,” he soliloquised, “but if I succeed, I -shall make bold to suggest to the Count that he double it.” - -He stopped short and looked across the street. Right opposite stood -Barbera’s _cabaret_. A thought occurred to him. He entered the place, -and beckoning to the proprietor, they went upstairs to the latter’s -room. - -“Do you want to make a louis d’or, Barbera?” - -“I could make a good many if that English admiral would let his sailors -come ashore.” - -“Well, if you wish to earn from me what you can’t earn from the sailors, -sit down here and write a letter which I will dictate to you.” - -Villefort began: - -“Monsieur Angelo Barbera solicits an immediate visit. He has learned of -a plot against your life, but prefers to disclose particulars to you in -person. Mention this matter to no one. Bring this letter with you for -identification.” - -“Now fold it up and seal it,” said Villefort. - -“To whom shall I address it?” asked Barbera. - -“I will attend to that,” said Villefort. “Give me the letter.” - -“Where is my louis d’or?” - -“You shall have it within an hour,” said Villefort. “I will tell you -what I have been up to when I come back.” - -He snatched the letter from Barbera’s hand, ran down-stairs and made -his way quickly to the quay. He engaged a boat and soon reached the -gangway of the _Osprey_, where he was met by the marine on guard. - -“My friend, the Count Mont d’Oro, is acquainted with the Lieutenant who -is with your admiral on shore. He has purchased for him a present of -silver, of which he intends to make me the bearer, sending with it this -letter. He knows that the Lieutenant’s name is Victor Duquesne, but he -has thought that perhaps the young gentleman has another name besides -Victor, and, to speak frankly, the Count does not know exactly how to -spell his name.” - -“You have come to the right man, sir,” said the marine. “I received word -at Malta that my poor old mother was dead; that she had been buried in -God’s Acre, and that she would have to remain there unless I sent home -some money to have her laid beside my father in the village -burying-ground. I told the Lieutenant that I had drank and gambled away -all my money at Malta and he very kindly started a subscription for me, -leading the paper with a pound. I remember that I asked him if the name -he had written was his full name, and he said--yes. I have the paper in -my pocket now.” - -Villefort examined it carefully. “Victor Duquesne,” was what he saw. - -“A thousand thanks,” said he, as he returned the paper, at the same time -giving the man a silver coin. “Oblige me, and my friend the Count, by -saying nothing about this to Lieutenant Duquesne. The Count is greatly -mortified at being obliged to discover his friend’s real name in such a -roundabout way, and it would add to his chagrin if the Lieutenant should -hear about it.” - -“I understand,” said the man. “If a piece of silver is big enough, it -always closes my mouth.” - -An hour had hardly elapsed before Villefort reported his finding to the -Count. - -“I beg your pardon, Count, but in order to secure this valuable -information, which I think must convince you that Vandemar Della Coscia -is in Corsica, and a guest----” - -“What are you begging my pardon for, Villefort? I can imagine as well as -you can. What did you do to obtain this supposed valuable information?” -and the Count’s voice had a marked tinge of sarcasm in it. - -“I have promised to pay a louis d’or for valuable assistance.” - -“Well, there are your louis d’or,” said the Count. “I did not promise to -pay for assistance. Come, help me down to the carriage. I must get home, -for my foot aches worse than ever.” - -As they neared the _cabaret_, the Count said: “Villefort, have Barbera -send me out some brandy.” - -Villefort gave the order and placed the louis d’or in Barbera’s hand, -saying at the same time, as he handed back the letter: - -“I could not use it. The bird had flown. Tear it up, and may you always -earn a louis d’or as easily.” - -The Count swallowed half a tumblerful of brandy at a gulp. As they rode -on he said to himself: “What a fine piece of news it will be for Pascal -Batistelli when I tell him that his guest, the English lieutenant, is -the son of the man who murdered his father. But he shall never know it -until his sister is my wife. She hates me, but I will make her suffer -for it. If she loved me, she might marry whom she chose.” - -Countess Mont d’Oro and Bertha had been greatly pleased when the young -Count became convalescent and was able to leave his room. - -“I hope,” said the Countess, “that Napier will soon long for the -artificial delights of Paris and leave us alone to enjoy the natural -beauties of Corsica. I had intended to take you with me to visit many of -my old friends, but for this unfortunate and unforeseen accident -However, we shall begin our round of gaiety shortly, for I have to-day -received invitations for you and me to attend the party to be given in -honour of Mademoiselle Vivienne Batistelli, who will soon reach her -eighteenth birthday.” - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -“WHO IS MASTER HERE?” - - -At the Count’s request, Villefort accompanied him home and assisted him -to his room. The Count’s next desire was that he would summon the -physician who was attendant upon him, and Villefort complied, inwardly -grumbling because the carriage was not placed at his service. The doctor -was out and not expected to return for a couple of hours. Ordinarily, -under such circumstances, he would have gone back to the Count and have -informed him of the prospective delay. - -He took out the four louis d’or and looked at them: - -“How cursed mean to make me pay Barbera! I expected at least ten louis -d’or for myself besides the one for expenses. I have always said that if -he played me a mean trick, I would drop him. He has never half paid me -for what I have done.” - -Thus soliloquising, he walked on until he once more reached the -_cabaret_. Again he beckoned to Barbera to follow him to the private -room. - -“I have an explanation to make to you,” said Villefort. - -“I think it is about time,” exclaimed Barbera. “What in the devil did -you get me to write such a letter for, then bring it back and tell me to -tear it up? I thought you had something on hand that would pay us both -well.” - -“That’s what I’m going to explain,” said Villefort. “Order up a bottle -of wine. I’m cursed thirsty, for I have been walking an hour over dusty -roads, and I get nothing for my time or trouble.” - -“I thought Monsieur Villefort was too sharp-witted, and his services too -valuable, to long serve a poor paymaster.” - -“I am done with him!” cried Villefort with sudden determination, and, as -he spoke, he brought his wine-glass down upon the table with such force -as to break it into fragments. - -“Well spoken, Villefort!” cried Barbera. “You are too smart a man to -play second fiddle always.” - -“I’m coming to think so myself,” said Villefort. “Let me explain. I am -going to tell you the whole story, but you must keep your mouth shut.” - -“If I told all I knew,” said Barbera, “there would be many more widows -in Ajaccio than there are now. But go on.” - -“Well, the fact is,” began Villefort, “Vandemar Della Coscia is in -Corsica.” - -“I don’t believe it!” cried Barbera. - -“I know it,” said Villefort, “so we won’t argue the matter. That young -Englishman whom they call Victor Duquesne is really Vandemar Della -Coscia in disguise. You know all about the duel between Count Mont d’Oro -and the Englishman, so I won’t go over that again. You have heard, I -suppose, that Paoli Tarenti and Giuseppe Mondolo were found dead in the -woods.” - -“Yes!” cried Barbera. “Do you know who killed them?” - -“Yes, and I am going to tell you. I got Paoli and his friend to pick a -quarrel with the Englishman and finish him before it was over.” - -“What did you have against him?” asked Barbera. - -“Nothing, but Count Mont d’Oro wished to get him out of the way and I -did what I could to help him.” - -“For a consideration, of course,” said Barbera, smiling. - -“And a mighty poor one, too,” said Villefort. - -“Only five poor little louis d’or, and I gave you one for writing that -letter.” - -“That letter is what I wish to know about,” rejoined Barbera. - -Villefort then told how the initials “V. D. C.” were found cut into the -table, and how it had occurred to both the Count and himself that the -supposed Englishman was in reality a Corsican. - -“The Count wished me to find out whether the Lieutenant had a middle -name. When I came to you and asked you to write the letter, my idea was -to have the Englishman drugged, then send for the Count, and let him -settle the matter in his own way. On my way to the English frigate, it -occurred to me that I was getting too deeply compromised, with no -promise of reward, and, especially, nothing in advance. You see, I asked -the hotel keeper who had last occupied the room, and found it was the -Englishman; then I asked you to write the letter, and, besides, whoever -I met at the vessel would surely remember me. I knew the Count wouldn’t -give his life to save mine and I didn’t propose to give mine for -nothing. So I managed the affair in another way, found out all that I -wished to know, and that’s why I told you to destroy the letter.” - -“Well!” cried Barbera, “I wouldn’t have done that job under twenty-five -louis!” - -“I got five and had to pay you one out of it, and that’s why I’m through -with Count Mont d’Oro. I can stand anything in a man but meanness. I’ll -make him pay dearly for that louis d’or--damn me if I don’t.” - -After Villefort left the _cabaret_ his copious draughts of wine began to -take effect. - -“How shall I get even with him? By St. Christopher! I have it. He will -tell Pascal Batistelli and the old vendetta will be revived. There is -one man in Corsica who is bound to put down the vendetta. They call him -Cromillian, the moral bandit. I will go and see him. There’ll be no -money in it, but revenge is sweet, and Count Mont d’Oro and his friend -Pascal will find themselves deprived of their victim.” - - * * * * * - -As the anniversary of her birthday approached, Vivienne spent the -greater part of her time with her old nurse, Clarine. Rendered -motherless, as she had been when only a few days old, Clarine had been -both nurse and mother to her, and it was only natural that she should -pour into the ear of her only _confidante_ those troubles and secrets -which a young girl usually makes known to her mother alone. - -One morning she sat talking to Clarine, the coming birthday party being -the subject under consideration. As was his habit of late, Old Manassa -was apparently asleep in his arm-chair, but still half conscious of what -was going on. The conversation between Vivienne and her old nurse was -interrupted by the sudden entrance of Pascal, who, paying no attention -to the other occupants of the room, approached Vivienne and asked, -abruptly: - -“Have you sent out all your invitations for the party?” - -Vivienne looked up inquiringly and answered: “Yes.” - -“That is strange,” said her brother; “I saw Count Mont d’Oro this -morning and he told me that he had not received one.” - -“I did not desire his company,” Vivienne replied, “and, therefore, did -not invite him. I have asked the Countess his mother, and Miss Renville, -and that ought to satisfy you.” - -But Pascal was not satisfied. He had met the Count that morning, who had -told him that he had a most important secret to communicate, but that it -would not be proper to tell it until his sister Vivienne had become -Countess Mont d’Oro. He had added: - -“Vivienne will be a woman in a few days. Why not have the wedding occur -within a week thereafter and end all this nonsense?” - -The Count then remarked that he had not received an invitation to the -birthday party. - -Again turning to his sister, Pascal said: “I presume that you have -invited Lieutenant Duquesne.” - -“How could I omit him,” asked Vivienne, “when he is our own guest?” - -“I invited him,” said Pascal, “out of compliment to the Admiral, but did -not suppose that he would accept, nor would he have done so if he had -not met you that day in the garden.” - -“I am ashamed of you, Pascal,” cried Vivienne. “You have no right to -speak to me in that way, even if you are my brother. You have no right -to assume that Lieutenant Duquesne and I are anything more to each other -than acquaintances--no, that is not quite honest--I mean good friends.” - -“If you do not invite Count Mont d’Oro,” said Pascal, “I shall. But, -considering their enmity to each other, it would be the height of -incivility to ask both the Count and the Lieutenant. I will tell the -Englishman that his invitation has expired by limitation, or better -still, I will ask the Admiral to send him back to his ship.” - -“I have invited Admiral Enright and his daughter. It would be the height -of incivility, as you term it, not to ask Lieutenant Duquesne. You can -tell both the Count and Lieutenant Duquesne that the other is coming -and, if they do not wish to meet, both can stay away.” - -“Is that the proper way for a young lady to treat her betrothed lover?” -asked Pascal, indignantly. - -“Pascal, you have no right to dispose of my hand without consulting my -wishes, and I will not submit to it. I do not love the Count and I will -not marry him.” - -“No, no!” cried Clarine. “She shall not be compelled to marry a man whom -she does not love.” - -The interposition of Vivienne’s ally raised Pascal’s latent anger to a -high pitch. - -“Clarine,” he cried, “I command you not to meddle with matters which do -not concern you! I act in her father’s stead, and it is my right and my -duty to see her properly married and settled in life. For that reason, I -have decided that Count Mont d’Oro shall be a guest, but I will not -allow Lieutenant Duquesne to be present.” - -“You have no right, Pascal,” cried Vivienne, “to take such a course.” - -She raised her voice and cried, with all the decision of her impetuous -nature: - -“I say that Lieutenant Duquesne shall come!” - -“And I say he shall not!” thundered Pascal. - -Old Manassa, awakened by the loud voices, started to his feet. - -“What is the matter, Clarine?” he cried. “What is all this loud talk -about?” - -“Why,” said Clarine, “Vivienne has asked Lieutenant Duquesne to come to -her birthday party and Pascal says that he shall not.” - -“But I say he shall come!” cried Manassa, and he brought down his heavy -staff with a loud whack on the floor. - -“Don’t cry, little girl.” Hobbling up to Pascal, he shook his staff in -his face and exclaimed with more vehemence than before: - -“I say he shall come! Do you hear me, young man? Do you hear me, sir?” - -Pascal saw that numerically the odds were against him, for they stood -three to one. He knew from past experience that, if goaded on, he would -grow more and more intemperate in his language. He would reply to him -with dignity and keep his temper: - -“You forget yourself, Manassa. I am master here.” - -“You master here!” shouted Manassa. “Then who am I? Who am I, sir?” - -Clarine interposed: “You are only a servant, Manassa.” - -“Am I a servant, Clarine? That boy is getting impudent, extremely -impudent! I must bring him down a bit.” He shook his staff in Pascal’s -face, again saying: - -“I say he shall come. Do you hear?” - -“There, there,” said Clarine, soothingly, “you are too old to get angry. -A man a hundred years old ought to know better.” - -“Old, hey! What if I am a hundred years old? Every day I live I learn -something new. Who is this man that Vivienne wants to come to the party? -Is he a Corsican?” - -“No,” said Clarine, “he is a stranger--an Englishman--a sailor.” - -“A sailor! They are good, true men. Speaking of sailors, I remember that -soon after Manuel Della Coscia, the murderer and coward, ran away from -Corsica, taking his son with him, I had a dream. I thought that the -vessel in which he sailed, while on its way to Marseilles, was becalmed, -and as it drifted there, helplessly, the devil came up out of the sea -and, grasping the old Della Coscia and the young one, dragged them down -with him--and I have liked the devil a little ever since.” - -Even Pascal could not help smiling at this exhibition of devotion on the -part of an old servant, but he did not propose to be further humiliated. - -“Manassa,” he said, sternly, “we have had enough of this. Go to your own -room.” - -The old man grew still more incensed. “You talk as though you were my -master,” he cried, “but you are not. I am master here. How dare you vex -your sister? I say he shall come!” - -Pascal’s anger rose again: “If you do not leave the room, I will put you -out.” - -“How can you speak so,” cried Vivienne, “to a weak, foolish old man?” - -Manassa’s temper was equal to his age. “Hear him order me about, -Clarine! Is he my master? The little good-for-nothing! Say, Clarine, is -he my master?” - -“Oh, Manassa, how forgetful you are getting to be! You know you were -valet to Joseph, who had a son Conrad. This is Conrad’s son.” - -Pascal was weary of the fruitless discussion. Why continue it? He had -declared his intention of inviting Count Mont d’Oro and of requesting -Lieutenant Duquesne to leave the house, and that settled the matter. -Without replying to Manassa, he withdrew and proceeded to his library. - -Manassa went on, apparently regardless of Pascal’s departure: - -“Yes, I was Joseph’s valet. I remember now, and was I not Lady Julie’s -valet?” - -Clarine laughed. “Why, of course not. But you used sometimes to drive -her out when the coachman was sick. How you do forget!” - -“Well, whose valet am I now, Clarine?” - -“You are nobody’s valet.” - -“Is Pascal my valet?” - -“No, no, Manassa! There now, don’t ask any more questions.” - -“I do not wish to ask any more. I have heard all that I care to. I am -going into the garden to take a walk. Run into my room, Clarine, and get -me my other cane. It is not proper that the master of the house should -walk out with an old stick like this,” and he threw his oaken staff upon -the floor. - -“Do hear the man talk,” said Clarine--“as if I could run.” - -“I will go,” said Vivienne. “Sit still, Clarine.” - -When Vivienne had gone, Manassa said: “How tall she is! How she has -grown! She is almost as tall as Susette.” - -“Why, Manassa, I haven’t heard you speak Susette’s name in ever so -long,” said Clarine. - -Manassa chuckled. “Do you remember, Clarine, the minuet we had that -night over in the new barn at Prospero Point? My stars, how Susette did -throw those black eyes at me that evening! I really do believe that the -girl loved me, Clarine. Now, don’t you think she did?” - -Clarine placed her hand upon Manassa’s arm. “Why, to be sure, else why -did she marry you? For mercy’s sake! You can’t have forgotten that -Susette Cornelli became your wife!” - -Manassa rubbed his forehead meditatively. “So she did! Why, really, so -she did. Poor Susette, she’s dead. Have I got a wife now, Clarine?” - -“It beats all how you do forget. No, no, of course you have no wife, and -are not likely to have any. You would not think of marrying at your age, -I hope.” - -“So you think I am too old to have a wife. Well, I will have a wife if I -want one. Do you hear? I will have one! You are very impudent for a -servant. I will have one if I want to! You are nothing but an old woman. -What do you know about a gentleman’s affairs? Wasn’t I bodyguard to -Conrad, Pascal’s father?” - -“You mean Pascal’s grandfather, Joseph. How you do get things mixed up!” - -“Here is your cane, Manassa,” said Vivienne, softly. - -The old man took it, forgetting to thank her for her kindness, and -stamped across the floor to the door which led to the garden. With his -hand upon the latch, he turned, and casting a spiteful glance upon -Clarine, ejaculated: - -“I will have a wife if I want one!” - -Then he went out, slamming the door viciously. - - * * * * * - -Pascal made his way to the library, with the firm intention of sending -an invitation to Count Napier Mont d’Oro to become one of the guests at -the birthday party. He had hardly completed his self-appointed task when -Adolphe entered and informed him that a shepherd boy wished to see him. - -“Who is he?” asked Pascal. - -“I never saw him before,” Adolphe replied. “I think he has a letter for -you.” - -A few minutes later the boy entered. “I have a letter for Pascal -Batistelli,” he said. - -Pascal reached out his hand to receive it. - -“I was to put it into the hands of Pascal Batistelli. Are you the right -man?” - -“That is my name,” said Pascal. - -The boy handed him the letter and then retreated slowly towards the -door. Pascal threw him a small coin, which the boy deftly caught, and -then quickly withdrew. Pascal broke the seal and read: - -“I cannot give you my real name in this note, for reasons which you will -understand. I have found the man you seek. This is all I can tell you -until some arrangements are made in relation to the reward offered. I am -playing false to a friend in order to serve you--a friend who will fight -for Vandemar to the death. I am obliged to act, therefore, with the -utmost caution. I will meet you to-morrow night at twelve, precisely, in -the maple grove behind the castle.” - -“I understand,” said Pascal, as he laid down the letter. “This must come -from the man who called himself Paoli, and who said that he belonged to -Cromillian’s band. To serve me he must prove false to a friend. That -friend, I suppose, is Cromillian, and, reading between the lines, I -infer that Cromillian is a friend of Vandemar Della Coscia. So be it. -The Batistellis have friends, also, and we shall soon learn which is the -stronger party.” - -At that moment Julien entered the room. - -“Read that, Julien,” said Pascal, as he handed him the letter. - -Julien grasped it, and seating himself near his brother, read it aloud, -Pascal several times cautioning him to lower his voice. When Julien -finished reading he jumped to his feet and exclaimed excitedly: - -“At last! At last!! The hour of vengeance is near! If we find this man -Vandemar, it should not take us long to avenge the murder of our father; -then our sister will never again be able to reproach us with cowardice -or wilful delay.” - -“Be not over-confident, Julien. You know how sanguine we were when we -sent Alberto Cordoni to England in search of some trace of Manuel Della -Coscia, and you know what a large sum that effort cost us, and all for -nothing. We were duped by Cordoni! This may be nothing but a plot to -capture the reward. We must be on our guard!” - -“But you will meet this man?” queried Julien. - -“Certainly,” said his brother, “and you shall go with me. If he does -what he says he can, I shall have to pay him a hundred louis d’or, but -that is little for so much.” - -Pascal changed the subject abruptly: “Julien, I have a favour to ask of -you. Will you deliver this letter into the hands of Count Mont d’Oro?” - -“Why, of course,” said Julien, taking up the letter. “But I hope you -have not invited him to the party. Vivienne told me that she had not -sent him an invitation. She doesn’t like him, and if he comes she will -be unhappy.” - -“Thank you for your advice,” said Pascal, coldly. “I never afflict her -willingly, Julien, but brothers or sisters who do not, by their virtuous -lives and firm counsels, support the customs and dignity of their -ancestors do not deserve to bear their name. She is younger than I; it -is my right to command and hers to obey.” - -As Julien walked through the garden on his way to Mont d’Oro Castle, he -said to himself: - -“Pascal hit Vivienne and me with one stone. ‘A brother who does not by -his virtuous life----’ That was meant for me. The rest was for -Vivienne. That brother of mine is a shrewd man, very.” - - * * * * * - -Manassa’s colloquy with Pascal had left him in a very excited condition -mentally. After uttering his spiteful declaration and slamming the door, -he went into the garden prepared to be at war with all mankind. It so -chanced that the first person with whom he came in contact was Terence, -the head gardener. - -Terence Devlin held the position of head gardener at Batistelli Castle. -He had been guilty of an infraction of a law made by Englishmen for the -government of Irishmen, and had left Ireland--not for his country’s -good, but for his own personal safety. He had made his way to France, -but soon found that British spies were on his track, and he chose -Corsica as a country not likely to be very thickly populated with -British emissaries. - -“What are you doing, sir?” yelled Manassa, as he bent over the Irishman, -who was upon his knees, trimming a garden border. - -“Did yez spake to me, sor?” asked Terence, looking up. - -“Of course I did. I wished to tell you that I am greatly displeased -with your management of the grass-plots. Instead of pulling up the weeds -one by one, as you should do, you let them grow, and they are taking -deeper root every day. Why do you hire yourself out as a gardener -without understanding your business?” - -“Business, is it? And didn’t I take the full charge of the parks and -gardens of his Lordship, the Earl of Bamford, and her Ladyship, Countess -Stannerly’s gardens? No better gardener, sor, thin mesilf iver handled a -spade, sure. This blatherin’ country, sor, was born in wades, reared in -wades, and, God willin’, it will die in wades and be buried in wades. -And is it mesilf that’ll pick thim out wan by wan? Whin Terry Devlin -gets upon his knays to do the loikes o’ that, sor, you may put him down -as a brainless jackass, widout any sinse at all, at all.” - -“As I was saying when you had the impudence to interrupt me, there are -far more weeds than grass in those plots--a most heathenish and -unsightly spectacle. What did I hire you for, if not to do your work, -and do it in strict accordance with my instructions? You forget -yourself, sir!” - -“I admit, sor, that the wades have got the best of the grass, and divil -a doubt that they’ll kape it, too. They niver was known to give in if -they have a show of a chance. They are just like your counthrymen, sor. -If a poor divil is cross-eyed, they kill him, and if he is not, they -kill him all the same, sor. An’ I take the liberty to tell ye, sor, that -I resave my orders from the masther, Mr. Pashcal Batistelli, and no wan -else. Do ye moind that, now?” - -“The master!” exclaimed Manassa. “Pascal, the master! What folly! What -do you suppose the lad can know about it? Why, that boy knows no more -about gardening than a child unborn.” - -“But he is masther of the Castle, all the same, sor,” said Terence, -decidedly, “and I shall obey nobody else.” - -Manassa was thunderstruck, but he managed to ejaculate: - -“Who is master here? Who am I, sir?” - -Terence looked up, and with a slight twinkle in his eye, said: - -“Mathoosaler’s grandfather, I belave, sor!” - -Manassa struck his cane upon the ground and cried, angrily: “You are an -impudent puppy and blackguard. How dare you address me in that audacious -manner? I’m not master, eh? You won’t obey me, eh? I say you shall weed -the grass-plots! We’ll see whether you will obey or not. Clarine! -Clarine!! Where’s the jade gone? Gadding about, I suppose, as usual. I -say you shall weed the grass-plots! Now go, sir, and send Pascal to me. -We’ll see whether you will obey me!” - -Terence, who had remained upon his knees during this battle of words, -now rose to his feet and started off as though he intended to summon -Pascal Batistelli; but, instead of doing so, when he was out of sight of -his recent antagonist, he entered the arbour and sat down, filled and -lighted his pipe, and smoked contentedly. As he did so, he soliloquised: - -“A foine, healthy counthry this is to allow a man to live afther he’s -lost his wits intoirely. Faith, I belave he was a captain of the big -craft at the toime of the flood!” - -Manassa walked on through the garden paths, striking now and then with -his cane at a flaunting weed, but his mind did not run in one channel -very long and his thoughts soon reverted to the coming birthday party. - -“I shall be very busy,” he thought, “until this party is over. What -could they do without me? I am the only one who knows how things used to -be done and how they ought to be done now. I have always been used to -lords and ladies. People have no manners at the present day; even our -children, although of baronial descent, have but little idea of true -gentility. Pascal and Julien appear every day without their regalia, but -I insist upon their wearing the badge--the red rosette--when in full -evening dress. The degeneracy of the present age is truly most shocking. -Why, you would hardly believe they have not even the old coat of arms -upon their carriage, and no outriders. Even the footman is dressed like -a circus clown, and the coachman looks like an aide-de-camp. Shocking! -Shocking!! If only the barony had descended to me. I wonder if it did -descend to me.” - -Tired out mentally by his exciting controversies, and physically -fatigued by his long walk, the old man sank upon a moss-covered stone -which lay at the foot of a large tree, whose wide-spreading branches -gave a grateful shade. He leaned against the old, worm-eaten, gnarled -trunk, and was soon fast asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -A BIRTHDAY PARTY. - - -On the anniversary of her birthday, Vivienne received many -congratulatory letters, and many visits from personal friends who could -not be present to enjoy the festivities in the evening. From nearly all -of the writers or callers she received some visible tokens of love or -esteem. Vivienne was delighted with these evidences of regard, but -looked forward with intense interest to the hour when the message from -her dead father was to be placed in her hands. - -Clarine had told her that she was born at six o’clock in the afternoon, -and, as she would not be eighteen years old until that hour arrived, she -would not give her the paper until that time. Vivienne coaxed, pleaded, -and finally remonstrated, but the old nurse was inexorable. - -After the candles were lighted in the rooms which were to be used by the -guests, Clarine and Manassa made a tour of them. Manassa wished to -remain through the evening, to be sure that the festivities were carried -out in proper form. Clarine laughed and said: - -“Why, you foolish old man, you would be sound asleep by seven o’clock, -and if I stayed here to look after you, I should fall asleep, too. -Wouldn’t it be a pretty sight for the other guests to see us two old -fogies sound asleep in the corner of the room? You know you snore -terribly.” - -“No, I don’t know it,” snapped Manassa. “I never heard myself snore in -my life, and never expect to.” - -“Well,” said Clarine, “Vivienne is coming to my room, for I have -something to give her, and you must go to your own room, for, much as we -usually enjoy your company, to-night we do not care for it.” - -When Clarine and Vivienne were alone together in the nurse’s room, the -former took from her bosom a sealed packet and handed it to the young -girl. - -“When your father gave it to me, the day of his death, it was unsealed. -He told me that I might read it, and I have done so many times. Of late, -I have feared that some prying eye might discover it, so I sealed it. My -next fear was that some one might take it, and for a year I have carried -it with me while awake and have placed it under my pillow when sleeping. -I have kept the vow that I made to your dead father. Now I can die in -peace, when Heaven wills.” - -“Shall I read it now?” asked Vivienne. - -“Yes, dear, for I may be able to assist you if you do not understand -it.” - -Vivienne ran her eyes quickly over the page. The writing was in a large, -round hand, and although the paper was discoloured and the ink faded, -each word was easily deciphered. As Vivienne read, the old nurse watched -her attentively. - -“Have you come to the part where it tells how to open and close the -dungeon door?” - -“Yes,” cried Vivienne. “What wonderful mechanism! Who could have -invented it? Oh, Clarine, it makes my blood run cold to think of that -fearful dungeon shut out from the world by such demoniac ingenuity.” - -“But the Hall of Mirrors is considered the most beautiful room in the -castle,” said Clarine. - -“And so it is. Julien and I used to love to play there, for as we ran -about the room, or danced, we could see ourselves in the mirrors, and it -always seemed as though we had many visitors who were joining in our -games. We were too young to think that any of those mirrors were -hinged, and that when opened they would disclose a dungeon door behind -them. Heaven grant that I may never have cause to open that door!” - -“Never, unless in great extremity or to save human life,” said Clarine, -solemnly. “Those were your father’s words to me, and I have never -forgotten them. Now, darling, you must forget everything that will call -up unpleasant memories, and be joyous and happy. I will go with you to -your room and help you put on that beautiful dress which your brother -Pascal gave you. There will be pretty girls here to-night, but none will -be so beautiful as my little Viva.” - -What the old nurse had said was surely realised. There is no woman whose -natural beauty is so great that it cannot be enhanced by the aid of art. -Poets and painters rave over peasant girls and fisher maidens, and write -about and paint them. Near the close of the poem, however, the poet -makes a lady of his country or seaside heroine--clothes her in costly -raiment and decks her with jewels. In poetry, as in music, there must be -a _crescendo_. Again, the artist may marry an ideal face and form, but -when she has become his, he selects delicate tints and filmy garments -with which to clothe her, and his artistic sense inevitably leads him to -the conclusion that the golden or raven-black hair, parted in the -middle, with modest simplicity, should be replaced by the latest -_coiffure_. - -Beneath the dexterous hands of Clarine, who had dressed many a bride, -Vivienne was transformed, and when the young girl looked in the mirror -she started back in honest astonishment at the sight of her reflection. - -“Viva,” cried the old nurse, “you are perfect, and if I were Count Mont -d’Oro I would fall down and worship you.” - -“If you were Count Mont d’Oro,” replied Vivienne, “I would allow you, -but I shall not give the real Count any such opportunity.” - -“Well,” said Clarine, “I will not worship you, but I will give you my -blessing. May you have a long life, and health, happiness, and -prosperity be ever yours.” She kissed the young girl and the caress was -returned in manifold. “Now I will go with you to your brothers,” said -Clarine, “and introduce you, for I am sure it will be necessary.” - -“Not until I have seen Manassa,” cried Vivienne, and she made her way -quickly to the old man’s room. He sat in his chair, sound asleep, his -hands resting upon the head of the oaken staff, his head bowed upon -them. - -Vivienne touched him upon the shoulder. He slept lightly, and awoke -easily. At sight of the vision before him he started to his feet, -rubbing his eyes. - -“Beg pardon, Lady Julie,” he exclaimed, “but I did not hear your bell. -What are your commands?” - -“This is not Lady Julie,” cried Clarine; “this is our own Viva, but it -is not strange that you do not know her. She has come for your -blessing.” - -Vivienne sank upon her knees before him. The old man placed his -trembling hands upon her head. - -“May you be as happy as was the Lady Julie--she was the most beautiful -woman in Corsica, and I was her favourite servant. I saved her life one -day. I came near losing my own, but I would have given it willingly. My -dear, you are a Batistelli, but the family has fallen from its high -estate. The shame of the _Rimbecco_ is upon it. Be true to your name and -to your brothers who have sworn to remove the stigma.” - -The old man fell back heavily into his chair and covered his face with -his hands. As Vivienne and Clarine left the room they heard him say: -“_Rimbecco! Rimbecco!!_” and there were pathos, bitterness, and anger -commingled in his voice. - -The guests began to assemble. The Batistelli family had been one of the -oldest, wealthiest, and most influential in Corsica, and although its -prestige had waned, it had not wholly departed. Vivienne had spread her -invitations far and wide, and the acceptances indicated that the -gathering would include representatives from the best families in -Ajaccio and the surrounding country. - -Among the first to arrive was the Mayor of Ajaccio, accompanied by his -two daughters, Carlotta and Josefa. Count Napier Mont d’Oro escorted his -mother, the Countess, and Miss Renville. Admiral Enright was accompanied -by his daughter, Helen. Vivienne, whose quick eye saw every guest long -before he was presented to her, noticed that Lieutenant Duquesne was not -with them. The thought came to her that her brother Pascal had, without -doubt, told the young Englishman that his presence was no longer -desired, but her inward anger against her brother was far less intense -than against Count Mont d’Oro, whom she looked upon as the real cause of -the young man’s proscription. Among the late arrivals was Dr. Valentino -Procida, who was the proprietor of a private asylum for the insane at -Salvanetra, a village about five miles from Alfieri. The company grew by -constant accessions, until it became both large and brilliant, -completely filling the spacious drawing-room. - -Pascal and Julien, attired in the national costume, over which they wore -the regalia of the Batistelli family, together with the traditional red -rosette upon their left breasts, acted as ushers and presented the -guests to Vivienne, upon whose face forced smiles quickly appeared, -immediately followed by unmistakable looks of disappointment. - -At a signal from Pascal the musicians began to play, while Julien -motioned to the guests to step back, thereby leaving Vivienne standing -alone in the middle of the great room. - -Seven young and pretty girls, also wearing the national dress, entered, -one of them bearing a floral wreath containing eighteen roses, which she -placed upon Vivienne’s head. As she did so, the musicians, who were -provided with bells, rang out a silvery chime. The girls then joined -hands, formed a circle about Vivienne, while their fresh young voices -sang the Birthday Song: - - “Set the birthday bells a-ringing; - To our queen her friends are bringing - Freshest flowers of every hue, - Dripping with the evening dew. - All advancing, - We are dancing, - Bringing flowers of every hue, - Dripping with the evening dew. - Hear the ringing and the chiming - Of the merry, merry bells, - Eighteen years their story tells. - How within the heart it swells! - All advancing, - We are dancing, - To the ringing of the bells, - Merry, merry birthday bells.” - -At the close of the song they let go of each other’s hands and formed in -line, facing Vivienne. Seven young men, dressed in the costume of -peasants of the better class, next entered, and took positions behind -the row of maidens. Pascal and Julien then stepped forward and escorted -Vivienne to a rustic chair, which was covered with a profusion of -flowers and which had been reserved for her use. - -Now the musicians played some weird, peculiar dance music and the -fourteen youths and maidens took part in a wild, characteristic Corsican -dance. The steps and gestures were full of abandon, and although the -staid Miss Helen Enright was not absolutely shocked, when the dance was -over she had the impression that the conventionalities of society were -not kept within as strict lines in Corsica as they were in England. - -All sailors love to dance and to see others dance, Admiral Enright was -delighted. In the exuberance of his feelings, he grasped Pascal’s hand -and ejaculated: - -“Bless my soul! A most re-mark-a-ble performance!” He turned to his -daughter--“Helen, would it not be a grand idea to introduce so pleasant -a custom into English society?” - -Miss Enright was an adept in concealing her real thoughts--the ability -to do so is a defensive armour which education only can supply--and she -responded: - -“I fear we could never acquire the habit of doing it so gracefully, -papa.” - -Pascal bowed and replied: “I am pleased to know that you are not bored. -We are not, as a general thing, fortunate in pleasing strangers with our -manner of doing things.” - -Helen profited once more by her ability to conceal her displeasure and -express the contrary: - -“I am sure we have visited no place since we have left home that has -afforded us so much pleasure as Corsica.” - -To this commendatory remark, the Admiral added: “We shall carry with us -many happy recollections of this island, I assure you. That dance was -really re-mark-a-ble; was it not, Helen?” - -She whispered in her father’s ear: “Yes, papa, I really think it was.” - -Adolphe, clothed in the livery of the Batistellis, announced that the -birthday supper was served. - -Events proved that in Corsica, as in other countries, this announcement -was the signal for the gentleman guests to choose partners to accompany -them to the supper room. Count Mont d’Oro offered his arm to Vivienne, -who drew back with a marked gesture of refusal. Pascal saw it and, in a -low voice, commanded her to accept the courtesy and not cause a scandal. -They, accordingly, took their positions at the head of the line, being -followed by Pascal and Miss Renville, Julien and Miss Enright, while -the Admiral escorted the Countess Mont d’Oro. The musicians struck up a -march and the procession made a tour of the great room. As it was about -to enter the corridor, Lieutenant Duquesne suddenly made his appearance -in the full dress uniform of a naval lieutenant in Her Britannic -Majesty’s service. - -Vivienne turned impulsively towards him, releasing her hold upon the -Count’s arm, and the procession, necessarily, came to a standstill. - -Lieutenant Duquesne apologised to Vivienne for his late arrival, -explaining that he had been obliged to go to the ship to make his -preparations. - -“I am glad that you are in time for supper,” exclaimed Vivienne. - -He bent low and said to her in an undertone: “I shall not enjoy it -unless in your company.” - -“But I am engaged,” and Vivienne looked towards the Count, who stood -with face averted. - -“You told me you were not.” - -A hot flush mantled Vivienne’s cheek--she was not an adept in English -humour or wit. - -“You hesitate, but when we were in the forest that night you said that -you would not forget me.” - -“Neither will I,” she cried, with sudden determination. Before the Count -could recover from his astonishment sufficiently to interpose, she had -taken Victor’s arm and they proceeded to the supper room, closely -followed by the company, that regarded further delay as unnecessary. - -The Count was filled with rage at the insult which he had received, and -was deeply mortified because his discomfiture had been witnessed by so -many. He looked for some avenue of escape from further observation. -Espying a door partly open, he quickly entered the room and found -himself in the ante-chamber of the great drawing-room--from which the -singers and dancers had emerged. Under the circumstances, he could not -go to the supper room, nor would his pride allow him to leave the house -until he had received an apology and reparation for the insult. - -He finally decided to call a servant and have him summon Pascal and -Julien. They soon appeared. The Count was resourceful and able to curb -his passion when it was for his interest to do so. He began speaking in -a severely dignified manner: - -“Monsieur Pascal Batistelli, your sister has grossly insulted me in your -presence and that of your guests. I demand an apology or reparation. I -think I deserve both.” - -“My dear Count,” said Pascal, “I deeply regret this unfortunate -occurrence. My sister is self-willed, but she knows that she must -ultimately do as I wish. I cannot humiliate her before her guests -to-night. You must allow me to apologise for her rudeness, and I -promise, as reparation, that she shall become your wife before a month -has passed, and the same guests who are here to-night shall be bidden to -witness the marriage ceremony.” - -“I accept your pledge,” said the Count, “because I love your sister. -Were it not so, I should demand satisfaction from you, her elder -brother.” - -“I acknowledge your right to do so,” said Pascal. “If I fulfil my -pledge, will you be satisfied?” - -“I will exact but one simple condition,” the Count answered. - -“And that is?” Pascal queried, while Julien clutched nervously at his -sword-hilt. - -“A simple request and one easily granted,” said the Count. “It is that -Lieutenant Duquesne shall leave this house at once.” - -Julien looked at his watch. “It is beyond the hour, Pascal. If we do not -go at once we shall be too late.” - -“And you would postpone complying with my request until he has eaten -his supper and can retire gracefully?” asked the Count, sarcastically. - -“Let me explain,” cried Pascal. “You have, no doubt, heard the rumour -that Vandemar Della Coscia is in Corsica. You know what that means to -us--and to him! Julien and I have an engagement to meet a man in the -maple grove who has given us his word of honour that he can tell us -where to find this man. Come with us, Count. We are well armed--we have -our swords--and need fear no danger from a single man, who is, probably, -unarmed.” - -The Count’s first impulse was to speak and disclose what he had learned -through the strategy of Villefort. Then he reflected that if the death -of his enemy could be compassed without his complicity being apparent, -his marriage to Vivienne might not, after all, be impossible. - -On the way to the maple grove, Pascal told the Count how an old man had -called upon him and had disclosed his identity, under a pledge of -secrecy, and declared that he could point out Vandemar Della Coscia. - -“I agreed to give him one hundred louis d’or,” said Pascal, “if his -information proved to be correct. Some time passed, and I heard nothing -from him. Then he sent a letter by a messenger, who, in turn, intrusted -it to a shepherd boy to deliver to me. I saw the messenger and learned -that the possessor of the secret wished to know if the money would -surely be paid. I have it with me, and if the man puts me on the track -of Vandemar, he shall have the promised reward.” - -“I will pay half of it,” said the Count, generously, but unguardedly. - -They were now nearing the maple grove. The Count’s offer had not been -heard by Pascal, but it did not escape Julien’s quick ear. The three -men, with swords drawn, entered the grove. - -“I am here,” said Pascal, in a hoarse whisper. - -The same old man who had visited him at the castle emerged from a clump -of bushes. He carried a small lantern, which he held up so that its rays -fell on Pascal’s face and those of his companions. The man started back -with a cry of dismay. - -“We are friends,” said Pascal. “Is that you, Paoli?” - -“Hush!” growled the man. “Mention no names--the trees have ears. Have -you brought the money?” - -“I have it with me,” said Pascal. - -“Shall I come to the house and point him out, or shall I tell you how to -identify him?” asked the man. - -“Give us the name he is known by--that will be sufficient,” said Pascal. - -“He is called----” began the man. - -Before he could speak the name there came a flash and a report from -behind a clump of bushes not more than twenty feet away, and the man -fell headlong to the ground, dead! - -The three men advanced boldly towards the place from which the shot had -come. They were met by a fusilade, the bullets, fortunately, perhaps -intentionally, going over their heads. - -“It is too hot for us here,” said Pascal. “Let us go back to the house -at once, where your request, my dear Count, shall be complied with.” - -Count Napier Mont d’Oro was the only one who knew that Victor Duquesne -and Vandemar Della Coscia were one and the same person. - -“My dear young lady,” said the Count to himself, “what a sweet revenge I -shall have when I disclose my secret to your guests.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -TREACHERY. - - -Thomas Glynne and Jack De Vinne found life in the bandits’ camp very -irksome. They were not exposed to physical danger, for they were not -called upon to accompany any of the bands which left camp on what they -supposed to be predatory excursions. - -Neither had forgotten the object of his visit to Corsica. Each wished to -continue the search for Bertha Renville and be the first one to meet -her; but they knew they were closely watched, and that any attempt to -leave camp without Cromillian’s consent would be resisted by force, and -their careers cut short, perhaps, by rifle-bullets. So they were forced, -against their wills, to remain “lookers-on in Vienna,” and bide their -time. The life they led was as enervating as it would have been in -prison. Each asked for something to do to pass away the time, and it was -arranged that Jack should keep the camp supplied with fresh water, while -Glynne felled trees and cut the firewood. - -They were kept in a state of nervous excitement, for they expected any -day that they might be called before Cromillian to learn the decision to -which he had come after visiting Bertha. Each naturally felt that his -claim was the stronger and would be respected. Glynne considered that -his rights as guardian were paramount, while Jack thought, if Bertha -acknowledged her love for him, as he felt sure she would, that the -verdict would be in his favour. - -After leaving Barbera’s _cabaret_, Villefort had started off with the -fixed intention of finding Cromillian and divulging Count Mont d’Oro’s -plot against Vandemar Della Coscia, for he felt sure that his discovery -of the dual identity of Victor Duquesne would be fully substantiated. - -Villefort did not know where to find Cromillian. He had heard rumours of -the location of the bandits’ camp--but camps can be easily changed from -one place to another. They are like song-birds, or one’s good luck--here -to-day and gone to-morrow. - -He had heard that “All roads lead to Rome,” and it was equally true that -all the roads in Corsica, within twenty miles, at least, led to Ajaccio. -He knew that Cromillian’s emissaries came to town, usually disguised, -and to do this they must follow the roads, or one of them. - -By chance, for fortune favours wicked people as often as it does good -ones, Villefort took the most direct road to Cromillian’s camp. After a -long and weary tramp, he came to a small cottage, where he determined to -ask for food and an opportunity to rest. As he neared the house, a girl -about ten years of age opened the door and started to run down the path -which led to the roadway, but, seeing Villefort, she stopped suddenly. - -“Who lives here?” he asked. - -“My mother,” said Lulie, for it was she. - -“Yes, I suppose so,” remarked Villefort, “but what is your father’s -name?” - -“My father is dead: my mother is called the Widow Nafilet.” - -Villefort started. He had heard that name before--but in what -connection? He stood in deep thought, Lulie regarding him attentively, -wondering, childlike, what the object of his visit could be, for few -strangers were seen in that out-of-the-way locality. As the result of -his deliberation, Villefort gave up for a time, at least, his intention -of asking for food, and said: - -“I want to find a man named Cromillian. Do you know him?” - -“What--Uncle Cromillian?” asked the child. “He is the best friend we -have--mother and I.” - -“Where can I find him?” persisted Villefort. - -“Are you alone?” queried Lulie. - -Villefort nodded. - -“I see you have no gun. Is there a pistol or a stiletto inside your -jacket?” - -Villefort threw it open. “I am unarmed,” he said. “Come and see if I do -not speak the truth.” - -Lulie approached, and her bright eyes searched him from head to foot. - -“Clasp your hands behind you,” said she. “I will take your arm and lead -you to him. But if you unclasp your hands, I shall give the danger -signal and Uncle Cromillian will shoot you dead with his rifle.” - -The fact was that Cromillian went often to the Widow Nafilet’s house. -Although he usually lived upon it for weeks at a time, he did not relish -the coarse food rudely prepared by his men, and for that reason had -arranged with the Widow Nafilet to cook and send his meals to him when -his camp was within a reasonable distance, Lulie being the messenger. -Cromillian had accounts to keep and letters to write. In camp, the -facilities for such work were very poor, and he found that a snug room -and large table, a high-backed chair and a bright wood fire were much -better suited to his wants and comfort than the arbour in the woods -which he was obliged to use in an emergency. - -Lulie led Villefort into the kitchen, where her mother was at work. - -“Mother,” she cried, “keep your eye on this man! If he unclasps his -hands, give the signal and Uncle Cromillian will come out with his -rifle.” - -Lulie entered an adjoining room, closing the door quickly. The widow -Nafilet kept on with her work, but one eye or the other was fastened on -Villefort who, apparently at his ease, was considering the best manner -in which to open his conversation with the redoubtable bandit, at the -mere mention of whose name citizens of Ajaccio and the surrounding -country trembled with an inexplicable fear. He had not harmed them as -yet, but they did not know what he might do if his demands were not -promptly satisfied. - -Lulie opened the door and beckoned to Villefort. “Come in--he will see -you,” she said. - -Cromillian was seated at the table, which was covered with documents and -letters, when Villefort entered. - -“And what does Monsieur Villefort wish from me?” were Cromillian’s first -words. - -“You know me, then?” asked Villefort. - -“Yes, and but little to your credit. You are the hired minion of young -Count Mont d’Oro, who is a spendthrift and a profligate. I have an open -account, which I shall settle with him soon.” - -“Perhaps I can aid you to get what is due you,” said Villefort, for he -thought that he must improve his standing with the bandit as soon as -possible. - -“Perhaps you can,” cried Cromillian, “but I shall pay you nothing if you -do.” - -“I do not ask for any reward.” - -“I understand,” said Cromillian. “You two rascals have fallen out. He -has wronged you, or you think he has, and you have come to me to betray -him--in other words, you wish to get even with him through my kind -offices.” - -Villefort felt that the situation was critical. He must come at once to -the point. - -“You know, of course, that Vandemar Della Coscia is in Corsica.” - -In spite of his great power of self-command, Cromillian gave an -involuntary start. Villefort perceived his advantage and went on: - -“You know, of course, that Count Mont d’Oro fought a duel with a -Lieutenant Duquesne, who is attached to the British frigate now at -Ajaccio.” - -Cromillian nodded. Villefort nerved himself for the coming ordeal. - -“Count Mont d’Oro put me on the track of the young Englishman and I have -discovered that he is no Englishman at all, but that he is a Corsican, -and his right name is Vandemar Della Coscia!” - -Cromillian’s face was unmoved. “Does the Count know this?” he asked. - -“Yes,” said Villefort; “he hired me to follow the man and, when he paid -me, he cheated me out of a louis d’or which I had to give to Barbera for -writing a letter.” - -“But what matters all this to me?” asked Cromillian. - -Villefort reflected before answering. Was Cromillian really ignorant, or -was he only trying to draw him out before saying anything himself? Then -Villefort, as many other rascals have done under similar circumstances, -having told what he felt to be the truth, decided to rely in future upon -invention. Cromillian had turned his face away and was gazing intently -at the blazing wood fire in the fireplace. - -“I suppose you know,” Villefort went on, and he watched Cromillian -closely to see the effect of his words, “that Manuel Della Coscia is -also in Corsica under an assumed name.” - -Cromillian turned his head and looked Villefort squarely in the face. - -“Under what name did you say?” he asked. - -Villefort was dumfounded. This was asking too much--more than he had -bargained for. He felt that he must fall back upon the truth, so he -replied: - -“I do not know.” - -“Can you tell me anything more that you do know?” - -“I can relate some suspicious circumstances,” said Villefort. - -“Go on!” - -“I am well acquainted with the Batistelli servants. Adolphe is easily -bribed; Snodine is a woman to whom a secret is of no value unless she -can tell it; while Manassa is a garrulous old fool who will tell all he -knows for nothing.” - -“What have you found out?” This question was uttered in a tone that was -sharp and commanding. - -“Just this,” said Villefort, and he adopted a confidential manner; “you -see, I am well acquainted at the hotel, and hotel servants are very -observing--and very communicative under certain circumstances. It seems -that one day an old man--no one at the hotel knew who he was--brought a -letter from somebody for Lieutenant Duquesne. After reading this letter, -probably, he cut his initials--V. D. C.--into the table. Those initials -gave me my first clue.” - -“But what about the old man?” asked Cromillian, for the first time -showing some interest in what was being told to him. - -“All right, I’ll tell you all I know,” said Villefort, still more -confidentially than before. “One of the hotel servants had occasion to -walk up the road and saw the old man going into the Batistelli castle. I -learned from Adolphe, for a consideration, that he listened and heard -Pascal Batistelli tell the man that he would give him a hundred louis -d’or for something, but Adolphe could not hear just what it was. Several -days ago, a shepherd boy brought a letter to Pascal Batistelli. Adolphe -followed the boy and saw him give something to a man who was in the -maple grove--but Adolphe says he was not the old man who first came to -see Pascal. Two things Adolphe noticed--that the man wore a red vest -under his jacket, and that he had lost the thumb and forefinger of his -right hand.” - -Cromillian brought his hand down upon the table with such force that -Villefort recoiled in astonishment. The bandit then set his teeth -tightly together and his brows were knit. He was recalling some -circumstances, and the memories were evidently unpleasant. - -Paoli had wished to go and see his mother and had sent a man in his -place to carry that letter to Lieutenant Duquesne. Paoli had asked to go -again to see his mother, when he had wished him to go to Ajaccio. This -time Paoli had supplied another substitute--a man wearing a red vest, -who had lost the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. - -Cromillian arose, went to a heavy oaken chest, unlocked it, and took out -a bag in which the coins clinked as he dropped it upon the table. He -counted out eleven louis d’or. - -“Here,” he said, pushing it toward Villefort, “is the louis d’or which -Count Mont d’Oro should have paid you; here are ten more for the -information which you have given me, which may or may not prove -valuable. Be discreet, learn all you can, and your reward will be -doubled. Money comes easily to me and I consider it my duty to keep it -moving. Go, now! I will attend to Count Mont d’Oro and those who are -aiding him.” - -The next morning, Cromillian returned early to his camp. Hardly had he -reached it, when Paoli came to him and announced, with tears in his -eyes, that his mother was dead and that he wished a furlough for several -days in which to attend to her burial and to secure the little -inheritance which was to come to him. - -“I shall be busy for a while,” said Cromillian, “but I will soon send -for you and hear your report on what has taken place during the three -days I have been away. After that, you may go.” - -As Paoli was walking away, Cromillian cried: - -“Ah, Paoli, by mistake, I left something at the Widow Nafilet’s. Send -Borteno here. Since he lost his thumb and forefinger in that last -scrimmage with the _gens d’armes_ his fighting days are over, for he -cannot pull a trigger; but he will make a good messenger, for his legs -are sturdy and he can keep a secret.” - -Borteno soon appeared. - -“Tell Londora and Fabria that I wish to see them.” - -In a short time Borteno returned, accompanied by the two men. - -The arbour used by Cromillian for what might be called his private -office, ended at the base of a high hill, being, in reality, a -_cul-de-sac_. - -“Go to the farther end of the arbour,” said Cromillian to Borteno. “I -wish to speak to you.” - -After he had gone, Cromillian said in an undertone to the two men: - -“If any one attempts to leave the arbour before I do, shoot him down.” - -He turned and entered the grove, finding Borteno at the farthest -extremity. - -“Borteno,” said he, “I am going to ask you a question, and whether you -live or die within the hour depends upon your answer.” - -The man dropped his eyes and trembled visibly. - -“My question,” said Cromillian, “has two parts to it, but it will take -but few words to answer both.” - -Borteno made a strenuous effort to regain his composure, and partly -succeeded. “You are my chief, and your word is law,” he replied. - -“Then listen,” said Cromillian. “On what night, and at what hour, will -Pascal Batistelli be in the maple grove behind his castle, and who of my -followers will meet him there to get a hundred louis d’or? Mind you, I -do not ask for what, for I already know.” - -The man’s eyes almost started from their sockets--but he could not -speak. - -“I do not blame you,” said Cromillian, “for you but obeyed orders, but -you must answer my questions.” - -With trembling voice Borteno said: “To-morrow night, at nine o’clock.” - -Cromillian approached the man and they stood face to face, eye to eye. - -“What more?” - -Borteno uttered but one word--“Paoli!” - -“It is well,” said Cromillian. “Come with me.” - -When they reached the entrance to the grove, Londora and Fabria stood -there, rifles in hand. Borteno was in the advance. Suddenly, Cromillian -grasped him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him backward. - -“I had almost forgotten,” he muttered. To the two sentinels, he said: - -“Bind him and gag him, and let no one approach him until I give you -orders.” - - * * * * * - -On the night of Vivienne’s birthday party, Cromillian, accompanied by -Londora, Fabria, and six more of his trusted men, made their way to -Alfieri and concealed themselves in the maple grove. - -As Paoli opened his mouth to tell Pascal Batistelli that Lieutenant -Victor Duquesne was in reality Vandemar Della Coscia, a leaden messenger -from Cromillian’s rifle entered his brain. - -After the fusilade, which caused the Batistelli brothers and Count Mont -d’Oro to retreat to the Castle, Cromillian turned to his men and said: - -“There is but one proper reward for treachery--and that is death! Reload -and follow me! We shall have more and heavier work shortly.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -“HE IS THE MAN!” - - -Count Mont d’Oro, Pascal, and Julien did not loiter on their return to -the castle. An unseen enemy is always more terrible than one who stands -out in plain view, and although the three men were not devoid of -physical courage, and possessed the natural pride of their race, they -felt greatly relieved and breathed much easier when they reached the -reception room of the castle, which they had left such a short time -before on what had proved to be a dangerous and fruitless errand. - -They found the place empty, for the guests had not yet returned from the -supper room. They could hear the hum of voices, and occasionally one -broke into a song, the refrain of which was taken up by the company at -the table, while at intervals the music of the orchestra could be heard. - -“Who could have fired that shot?” asked Julien. - -“It was Cromillian,” replied Pascal. “The man who was on the point of -disclosing the identity of Vandemar Della Coscia was Paoli, Cromillian’s -lieutenant. That moral bandit, as they call him, is a devil. I shall -send to France for authority to hunt him down and kill him, as a foe to -society. Vandemar has escaped us, but Cromillian shall not!” - -“Vandemar has not escaped us,” said the Count. “It is unfortunate that -Paoli was killed, but I possess the secret which he would have -disclosed.” - -“You!” cried Pascal and Julien, astonished. “Who is he? Where is he?” - -“Let us seek some other room,” suggested the Count. “The guests will -soon return.” - -They passed into the adjoining ante-chamber. When there, Count Mont -d’Oro told of the discovery made by Villefort, but took all the credit -to himself. - -“You have a double claim upon our gratitude,” said Pascal. “Your -forbearance under the insult to which you were subjected this evening by -our sister, and the great service which you say you can render our -family in enabling us to remove the stain of _Rimbecco_ from our name, -will make us your friends for life. The boon you ask--the hand of our -sister--is a compliment to us rather than a reward to you. - -“Go, Julien,” he cried, “and acquaint Vivienne of our discovery. Then -see that the ladies remain in the supper room, for this affair shall be -settled within the walls of the castle. Vandemar shall not leave this -house alive. The Count and I will send word to our retainers and -friends, so that they may be witnesses of this act of justice.” - -Julien sent Adolphe to summon Vivienne to the ante-chamber. She came -immediately, for the disappearance of Count Mont d’Oro and her brothers, -together with their long absence, filled her with indefinable fear. - -“What is it, Julien?” she cried. “Why have you sent for me? What has -happened?” - -“We have made a most miraculous discovery,” he answered, and Vivienne -judged from the expression on his face that whatever it might be, the -knowledge gave him great pleasure. - -“Tell me,” said Vivienne. “I hope it is something that I can enjoy as -well as you. Now, Julien, was not that a selfish remark?” and she -laughed at her own desire to be pleased. - -“We have learned,” said Julien, and he lowered his voice, “that this -so-called Englishman, this Lieutenant Duquesne, is the enemy of our -family--Vandemar Della Coscia!” - -For a second it seemed to Vivienne as though the blood ceased to move in -her veins, and that her heart stood still, but she summoned courage. - -“Who told you this?” she gasped. - -“Count Mont d’Oro.” - -“A miserable plot!” she exclaimed. “He looks upon Lieutenant Duquesne as -a rival and has hatched up this story to compass his death. How can men -be so base?” - -“You have answered your own question,” said Julien. “For the love of a -woman man can make himself either a hero or a villain. But think, -Vivienne, when this man is dead, no one can point the finger of scorn at -us, or couple the word _Rimbecco_ with our family name.” - -“But it is a wicked plot,” cried Vivienne. “The Count has no proof. He -could easily invent such a story as he told you. The night I followed -you to the woods, Julien, I was robbed of my clothing and jewels and -left to die in the storm. Lieutenant Duquesne saved my life. Then I -saved his, for it was I who killed the two men who had been hired by -Count Mont d’Oro to murder the man who, he now says, is Vandemar Della -Coscia. How plain this all is! It is strange that you cannot see it, -Julien. You and Pascal may do as you will, but I shall warn Lieutenant -Duquesne so that he may escape. He is unarmed, and cannot defend himself -against you all.” - -Julien grasped his sister by the arm, but she broke away. Breathing -heavily, and with wild, staring eyes, she rushed into the reception -room, to the great astonishment of the assembled guests. - -Before she could speak, other voices were heard. They were the voices of -men, and they chanted the words which had so often preceded the death of -some man or woman doomed by the vendetta: - - “Place on the wall before my bed - My cross of honour well gained. - To my sons, my sons, in a far country, - Convey my cross and bloody vest. - He, my first born, will see the rents. - For each rent, a rent in another shirt, - A wound in another heart. Vengeance! - The hour for vengeance is nigh. - Make ready his bed in the valley of skulls; - He comes, the last of his race, but he - Comes to his couch with a stain on his shroud, - Only to die; the vendetta, the spirit of the vendetta - Is awake; it has slept too long. Blood for blood! - The noble house of Batistelli no longer shall - Bear the dread reproach of _Rimbeccare_; the stain - Shall now be washed away in blood. - Vandemar must die!” - -“Bless my soul!” ejaculated Admiral Enright. “A most re-mark-a-ble -serenade. What does it mean?” - -The question was answered by the Mayor of Ajaccio: “It is the chant of -the Death Brothers.” - -“The Death Brothers?” asked Helen. “But this is a birthday fête, not a -funeral.” - -“In Corsica,” said the Mayor, “one is often followed by the other.” - -“But,” cried the Admiral, “cannot you as mayor, order them away?” - -“I am unarmed,” was the reply, “and have no _posse_ with me.” - -“But you represent the law,” cried Helen. - -“I do,” said the Mayor, “but the vendetta is above the law. I can deal -with the offenders afterwards, when known, but it is impossible to -prevent the tragedy.” - -So saying, he beckoned to one of the gentlemen present and they left the -room together. - -While this conversation was going on, Vivienne had eagerly scanned the -faces of the guests, but Victor was not there. Where could he be? Had -they already killed him? Were the Death Brothers chanting over his dead -body? Had Pascal and the Count met him in the garden and wreaked their -double vengeance upon him? - -At that moment Victor entered, escorting the Countess Mont d’Oro and -Miss Renville. Conducting them to chairs, he made his way at once to -Vivienne. - -“Pardon me,” he said, “but after I was forsaken by you, I discovered -that the Countess and her friend had been deserted by their cavaliers, -and I proffered myself as escort.” - -Vivienne moved to a part of the room where there were fewer listeners. -Then she said in suppressed tones: - -“You must leave the castle at once, Lieutenant Duquesne. You are in -danger. The Count wishes your life. It is my fault, for I insulted him -grievously, and now you must suffer. Oh, leave the castle before they -come back. Go to your ship--that is your only place of safety. I will -have a horse saddled and you can escape easily.” - -Vivienne did not mention that he was suspected of being Vandemar Della -Coscia. She did not believe the story, and why should she speak of it? -If she did, he might think that she, too, believed it; so she simply -warned him, in order to keep her word. - -Victor stood irresolute. He was unarmed, and knew the Count to be a -vindictive, revengeful enemy, but he certainly would not murder him in -cold blood in the presence of so many witnesses. He turned to Vivienne: - -“Let the Count do his worst! I shall remain!” - -The chanting of the _Rimbeccare_ had ceased, but it was followed by -shouts and cries which portended death to the object of the Death -Brothers’ vengeance. The sound of moving men was heard; then Count Mont -d’Oro, followed by Pascal, Julien, and the Death Brothers, entered the -room, the startled and affrighted guests making way for them. The Count -advanced towards Victor, who stood beside Vivienne. He pointed his -finger at Victor and cried: - -“He is the man!” - -Then, turning to the guests, he said, in his most polite manner: - -“I beg the pardon of the ladies and gentlemen present for what is about -to occur. I would advise the ladies to leave the room, for the scene -which is to follow is not one they should look upon. It will be an act -of justice long delayed.” - -The Mayor of Ajaccio, who had returned and heard the Count’s words, -stepped forward, and said, in firm tones: - -“If it is an act of justice, I represent the law and will see that it is -administered.” - -“It is an act of justice,” cried Pascal; “but it is more. It is -something that affects the honour and good name of the Batistellis, and -that is beyond your jurisdiction. Speak up, Count Mont d’Oro, and let -all listen.” - -“Before you all,” cried the Count, “I declare that the man standing -there,” and he again pointed his finger at Victor, “is masquerading -under an assumed name. He is not the one he seems to be. He is not an -Englishman, but a Corsican. His name is not Victor Duquesne, but -Vandemar Della Coscia!” - -“It is false, good friends,” cried Vivienne. “The Count does not -contemplate an act of justice, but one of vengeance.” - -“It is true,” cried Pascal. “He is a son of the man who murdered my -father, and by our unwritten law, handed down to us for hundreds of -years, his death is but a poor requital for his father’s crime.” - -Count Mont d’Oro unsheathed his sword and addressed Pascal: - -“It is my right to secure satisfaction for the insult given me before -your guests to-night. If in doing this I avenge your wrongs, so much the -better.” - -As Count Mont d’Oro, with drawn sword, advanced towards Victor, who, -unarmed, looked at him proudly and defiantly, loud cries burst from many -of the ladies, who averted or covered their faces, while some of the -gentlemen exclaimed: - -“It is not the Count’s right. It belongs to Pascal and Julien.” - -Vivienne turned an entreating face towards Admiral Enright. Would he do -nothing to save his friend and brother officer? Then she noticed for the -first time that the Admiral’s sword hung by his side. She leaped towards -him, grasped the hilt, drew the weapon from its scabbard and, an instant -later, placed it in Victor’s hand. Then she reeled, and would have -fallen had not the Admiral and his daughter supported her. - -Victor was an adroit swordsman. He was cool and collected, while his -antagonist was angry and over-confident. Victor felt that the contest -meant death to one of them. He loved, and he wished to live. The Count’s -passion made him almost a madman, and the fight was of long duration. - -“Bless my soul!” cried the Admiral. “That is the most re-mark-a-ble bit -of fencing I ever saw.” - -But the end came. For an instant the Count was off his guard. Victor saw -his opportunity and sent his blade through the Count’s sword-arm. - -Pascal, sword in hand, rushed forward and joined in the attack. At the -same moment Julien signalled with his sword to the Death Brothers, who, -with stilettos, gathered about the contestants. - -“Bless my soul!” cried the Admiral. “This is murder.” - -Pascal was not a good swordsman, and his advent disconcerted rather than -aided the Count, who struck wildly, putting at defiance both science and -skill. Victor did not wish to injure Pascal, but he had no compunctions -as regarded the Count. Although opposed by two men, he changed his -tactics from the defensive to the aggressive. Using a trick which he had -learned from his French fencing-master, he disarmed Pascal, sending his -sword flying into the air. As it fell the hilt struck the Count upon the -head. Bewildered by the blow, he dropped his sword-point so low that it -left the upper part of his body unguarded, and the next moment Victor -ran him through. - -The Count dropped his weapon and threw both hands into the air. The -horrified spectators expected to see him reel and fall backwards, but, -instead, he placed both hands upon his chest, as though striving to -check the stream of blood which welled forth. His strength soon failed -him; he sank upon his knees, then fell prone upon his face. - -Pascal regained his sword and was joined by Julien. Victor was now -confronted by the brothers of the woman whom he loved. The situation was -a terrible one. His first thought was to throw down his sword and let -them wreak their vengeance upon him. But life is sweet, and love is -sweeter. Perhaps he could disarm them both, for even together they were -not his equal in swordplay. - -At that moment a loud report was heard outside, and a rifle bullet -struck Victor’s wrist. It did not pass through it, but, momentarily, -paralysed his sword-arm and the weapon fell from his nerveless grasp. -Victor retreated several paces--he must gain time. He soon felt the -strength returning to his arm, but how could he regain possession of his -sword? Pascal and Julien were advancing towards him, when Vivienne threw -herself upon her knees, and grasping her brothers, prevented their -onward movement. - -“Traitress!” cried Pascal. “Get out of the way. You are no longer a -Batistelli.” - -Releasing her hold, Vivienne accomplished her purpose. Reaching behind -her brother Julien, she secured Victor’s sword. Then, leaping to her -feet, she cried: - -“You may kill him, but you shall not murder him.” - -Armed again, Victor faced his opponents, but the apparently unequal -hand-to-hand conflict was over. With howls like those of a pack of -hungry wolves, Cromillian, followed by his moral bandits--who, in fact, -looked more like a band of ragged rascals--burst into the room, and the -tide of battle was turned. As Cromillian reached the body of the Count, -he stooped and picked up the sword, at the same time dropping his rifle -upon the floor. It was he who had fired the shot which had been intended -for Pascal or Julien, not for Victor. The uncertain movements of the -swordplayers had affected his usual unerring aim. - -“Two against two is fair fighting,” he cried. “Come on, you noble sons -of Batistelli, or I will cry _Rimbecco_ so that all can hear it.” - -Stung to the quick by this, to them, insulting bravado, they rushed -forward. Despite the injury to his arm, Victor, encouraged by the -presence of Cromillian, repeated the trick, and once more sent Pascal’s -sword flying through the air. But Julien’s fate was more serious. He was -a better swordsman than his brother, but he could not withstand the -furious onslaught of Cromillian, who battered down his guard time after -time, and finally gave him a mortal wound. - -Vivienne had watched the fight in every detail. She saw her brother -Pascal disarmed and at Victor’s mercy--but she had no feeling of sorrow -at his impending fate. Then she saw her brother Julien fall and, still, -there was no pang of regret. Her thoughts were of Victor, and of him -alone. - -The Death Brothers were cowed, for the muzzles of the bandits’ rifles -covered them. Vivienne grasped Victor’s arm. - -“Come with me,” she whispered, “and I will lead you to a place of -safety.” - -He obeyed without a word. She pulled aside some tapestry, opened a door -which had been concealed by it, and a moment later he was following her -down a long passageway, so dark that he was unable to discern the -outlines of her form. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -THE HALL OF MIRRORS. - - -Cromillian’s keen eye had seen Vivienne approach Victor. She could not -have said much to him, for, an instant later, she disappeared from the -room. Cromillian looked at Pascal, but the latter did not seem inclined -to measure swords with him, so he glanced once more at the spot where -Vivienne had stood, and found that Victor, too, was gone. - -The object of his visit to the Batistelli castle had been attained--in -fact, he had done more than he had intended, for the killing of either -Pascal or Julien had not been premeditated. - -One of his objects had been to punish treachery--and Paoli was dead; -another had been to protect Victor from the vendetta--and that, too, had -doubtless been accomplished, and Victor was probably now on his way to -his ship, beyond the reach of his enemies. - -As active hostilities seemed to be at an end, Cromillian quickly came to -the decision that he and his men would be more at home in the _maquis_ -than in the Batistelli reception room. - -When they reached the door, they found their way barred by a body of -_gens d’armes_. The Mayor of Ajaccio had dispatched a special messenger -to summon them, and, as usual, they had arrived after the trouble was -over. Neither Cromillian nor his men feared the _gens d’armes_. With -loud yells, they rushed forward, scattering the police as though they -had been puppets. - -After Cromillian and his bandits had left the castle, the _gens -d’armes_ recovered from their surprise and, with commendable courage, -started in pursuit of the outlaws. Half an hour later they returned, and -the leader reported to the Mayor that their search had been fruitless. -That official provided them with a task much more to their liking--to -act as his escort back to Ajaccio. - -Dr. Procida came forward at once to see if he could be of assistance to -the wounded men. After examining the Count’s body, he looked up and -found Pascal regarding him attentively. The doctor shook his head, -ruefully: “He is past human aid.” He then turned his attention to -Julien, making his examination much more thorough. Again, he looked -up--Pascal still stood regarding him fixedly. - -“Nothing can be done,” he said; “he is dead.” - -The evening which had opened so pleasantly had ended tragically. The -guests expressed their sympathy to Pascal and to Countess Mont d’Oro, -then departed quickly for their homes. - -A messenger was sent to summon the servants of the Countess Mont d’Oro, -and the body of the young Count was conveyed to his mother’s house. - -During the evening, Miss Enright had become acquainted with the Countess -and Bertha. At the latter’s suggestion, the Countess invited the Admiral -and his daughter to return home with her, as it would be almost -impossible to reach their vessel at that late hour, and the invitation -was gladly accepted. After what had taken place, a longer residence at -the Batistelli castle would have been intolerable to Helen. Her father, -used to scenes of blood, would not have been so sensitive about the -matter, although he warmly resented the treatment which his lieutenant -had received. - -“This is a most re-mark-a-ble country,” he said to his daughter, as they -were on their way to the Countess Mont d’Oro’s. “I thought you said the -Corsicans were noted for their hospitality, and that the person of a -guest was sacred.” - -“So it is,” replied Helen, “until it comes in conflict with the -vendetta, whose demands are superior to custom and to all law, whether -human or divine.” - -“Bless my soul! What a swordsman Victor is! I’ll have him made a captain -as soon as I get back to England.” - -Before retiring, Bertha went to the Countess’s boudoir to express her -sympathy for her great affliction. - -“It is a terrible blow to have lost your only son.” - -The Countess’s eyes were tearless. - -“He has lost more than I have,” she said. “He was never a good son to -me. I would have been a good mother to him, but he spurned my advice and -cursed me when I reproved him for his folly or his wickedness. His life -has been cut short, and so have his sins.” - -Manassa had been awakened by the shouts and the firing of the gun which -had wounded Victor, and made his way to the reception room. He knelt -beside the body of Julien, alternately weeping for the dead Batistelli -and cursing the Della Coscias. - -Pascal reasoned that Victor had not escaped from the castle, but had -been taken by Vivienne to some hiding-place within. Bidding the Death -Brothers follow him, he searched every nook and corner of room after -room, without success, until only one remained--the Hall of Mirrors. - -At the top of the large square tower of Batistelli Castle was the -dungeon chamber mentioned in the letter left by Vivienne’s father. That -letter, together with the instructions for opening the dungeon door, had -been given to Vivienne that evening by Clarine. They were too precious -to be trusted even to the guardianship of lock and key, and Vivienne had -concealed them in the bosom of her dress. - -In front of the dungeon chamber was the Hall of Mirrors, so called -because the four sides were covered by large mirrors which extended from -floor to ceiling. One unacquainted with the fact would never have -imagined that the four mirrors, covering the walls in which was the door -leading to the dungeon chamber, were hinged. When these four mirrors, -which opened like doors, were thrown back, a new surprise greeted the -eye. Upon the wall was painted a picture--the subject being the Garden -of Eden. In the foreground stood Adam and Eve, while a short distance -from them was a tree, among the leaves of which the body of a serpent -could be seen. - -On this fatal night, the mirrors concealing the dungeon door were -closed, as they had been for a score of years, at least. How often -Conrad Batistelli had visited it during his lifetime, no one knew. But, -some twenty years before, Clarine had told Manassa that she had seen the -master coming down the long flight of stone steps that led to the Hall -of Mirrors. After making him promise not to reveal what she should say, -she told him that the master’s face was white as a sheet; that he had -sent her for some wine, and that when she went into his room an hour -later, the bottle was empty. - -“And you know, Manassa,” she had said, “he has never been a drinking -man. Something must have frightened him. I wonder what there is in that -old tower.” - -And Manassa, who had a poor opinion of women, had replied, sneeringly: - -“If there is anything mysterious up there, you will probably find out -what it is before you are satisfied. In woman, curiosity takes the place -of courage.” - -On the evening of the birthday anniversary, Pascal had given orders that -every candle in the castle should be lighted, and when Vivienne and -Victor entered the Hall of Mirrors they found them burning brightly in -the sconces on the wall between the mirrors, and in the candelabra. - -“You are safer here than outside,” said Vivienne. “I will let you know -when the castle is clear, and then there will, no doubt, be a chance for -you to escape, and if you will allow me to advise you, monsieur, I -should say leave Corsica--for a season at least. No doubt, you and your -friends will be glad to turn your backs upon a nation which you must -henceforth consider as inhabited by barbarians.” - -“Not at all, dear friend! There are some here, mademoiselle, whom I -shall greatly esteem while life lasts.” - -“Try to forgive my brothers, if you can; they have been fearfully -misled.” - -“I would forgive any whom you love, mademoiselle, even though they -subjected me to the keenest torture, but never can I feel greater -remorse than I do at this moment.” - -“Remorse--and for what?” cried Vivienne. - -Victor was obliged to strain a point in order to supply a suitable -explanation of his feelings. He remembered that Vivienne had told him -that she did not love Count Mont d’Oro, and would never marry him. -Victor knew that Vivienne was his friend, or she would not have twice -placed a weapon in his hand to enable him to defend himself. He had -never declared his love for her, and he had no right to presume that she -was in love with him. He felt that she would not have aided him had she -known him to be a Della Coscia. Then Miss Enright had told him that -Corsican women were passionate--adding that passionate women were -usually fickle. Did Vivienne love him? He would test her. - -“My remorse,” he said, “is due to the fact that I have caused the death -of Count Mont d’Oro. Do you remember the flower you gave me the morning -that we first met? Here it is. I have it with me always.” and he held -up the white rose with blood-stained petals. “I had sworn by this little -flower never to injure any whom you loved, even to save my own life. And -now, God forgive me! I have killed one dearer to you than a brother. I -dare not ask your pardon for the rash act--I can only plead with Heaven -to soften your heart towards me.” - -“I do not understand you,” said Vivienne. “The Count dearer to me than a -brother? Did I not tell you----” - -Victor persisted: - -“How can I hope for pardon from you, his betrothed wife!” He looked at -the flower: “On each tiny petal I read a lesson--peace and love. I have -proved recreant to my vow, sweet emblem. I am unworthy of a gift so -pure. Die, then, with the fondest hopes my heart ever cherished. I crush -both beneath my feet!” - -He threw the flower upon the floor and raised his foot---- - -“No, you shall not!” cried Vivienne. “Do not destroy it!” As she spoke, -she knelt and picked up the flower. “There is a magic charm hidden -within its petals. The assassin’s steel could not pierce the breast upon -which it reposed. Would you, then, throw away so powerful a talisman?” - -“Assassin? You do not mean----” - -“Yes, Count Mont d’Oro was no better than an assassin. Three times he -sought your life, not because you had injured him, but because you stood -in his path.” - -“Then you did not love him?” - -“I hated--I abhorred him! I honour the hand that struck him down.” She -took Victor’s right hand in hers: “This is the hand, and to its keeping -I intrust, once more, this little, faded flower. Keep it as a memento of -me, and when you are far away, look at it sometimes and remember that -you left one true friend in Corsica.” - -Victor took the flower and pressed it to his lips: - -“It shall never leave me more! Vivienne, you have saved my life, not -only once, but twice, at the risk of your own. I must--I will speak, now -that we are about to part forever. I must tell you that the life you -saved is henceforth worthless to me unless blest by your love. Oh, you -could not have avoided seeing my struggle, even while it seemed most -hopeless. My future happiness is in your keeping. A word from your lips -will forever seal the fate of one who loves you with a devotion second -only to that which we owe to God. Speak, Vivienne! But, remember, you -hold my life and its dearest hopes in your keeping. One word will bid me -live and hope, or blast forever the fondest dream of my life!” - -Vivienne was unconventional. She lifted her luminous black eyes and -looked straight into his. There was no time for idle sentiment. The -happiness of two lives, the fate of one, hung upon her answer. - -“If, indeed, it rests with me, then I bid you live and be happy, as I -shall be.” - -Vivienne extended her hand, which Victor took and held for one brief -moment. It was with difficulty that he restrained the impulse to clasp -her in his arms and kiss her sweet lips, which had so frankly confessed -her love for him. But Victor had a chivalric nature and he knew that, -considering the avowal that must be made, such an act would be -ungenerous. Hard as it was to utter the words which would part them -forever, he realised that they must be spoken. Victor flung her hand -from him, and cried: - -“You love me, rash girl! I see it in the soft tenderness of your eyes--I -felt it in the fervent pressure of your hand. No, no, you must not! -Speak but one kind word to me and you outrage every inherent principle -of your race! Dare even to regard me with pity and you forfeit every -right to your boasted name and lineage! Oh, I cannot--will not--deceive -you, even to win your matchless heart. You shall know me as I am, and -then I will die at your feet!” - -He passed her the sword, the blade still reddened with the blood of -Count Mont d’Oro. He sank upon his knees, threw his coat wide open, -baring his chest for the expected blow, and cried: - -“Strike, for I am Vandemar!” - -Vivienne started back, gazing at him with horror-stricken eyes. She -raised the sword as if to strike--then it fell from her hand, clanging -loudly upon the stone. She staggered, and leaned for support against one -of the mirrors, which reflected her shrinking form, her death-white -face, and closed eyes. She had shut them tightly, for before her had -risen the picture of Vandemar lying dead at her feet, she standing over -him, the sword, dripping with his blood, in her hands. - -Vandemar saw her distress and, arising, said: - -“You are suffering. Let me assist you.” - -“Stand back! Do not touch me!” and Vivienne retreated towards the door -which led from the room. - -“What was that?” She bent low and listened. It was the sound of many -feet on the stairway. They came nearer and nearer; then there were -shouts and cries. - -Summoning all her strength, she shot the rusty bolt into place. Some one -tried to open the door, but it resisted his efforts. Then heavy blows -rained upon it and a voice cried: - -“Open the door! You cannot escape! We have you safely cornered.” - -There was a lull for a moment, then Vivienne heard her brother’s voice: - -“Vivienne, I command you to open the door. If you do not, it will be -broken down.” - -Vivienne heard the command, but she did not obey it; instead, she turned -a pleading face to Vandemar. - -“I will open it,” he said, and placed his hand upon the bolt. - -She grasped his hand and pulled it away. “Come with me,” she said, in a -hoarse whisper. He followed her, wondering what the meaning of this new -move might be. - -“You are mad!” she cried. “They would have pierced your defenceless -breast with a dozen stilettos if you had opened that door.” - -“As well now as later; it is only the difference of a few minutes.” - -Vivienne paced back and forth, apparently in great distress of mind, as -if hesitating between love and duty. Again, the cries were heard -outside: - -“Open the door, or we shall break it in! Vandemar must die! Blood for -blood!” - -The assailants had secured possession of a heavy piece of timber, for it -was heard to crash against the stout oaken door. - -Vivienne clasped her hands and stood as if praying: - -“‘Never open that door except it be in case of great extremity, and -never divulge the secret unless it be to save human life.’ Father, thou -knowest that the hour of extremity has come, and that a life, dearest to -me of all on earth, must be saved.” - -Again the battering-ram struck against the door, and Vivienne felt that -it would not long resist such terrific blows. She drew a paper from her -bosom and rapidly scanned it, repeating the words to fix them in her -memory. The hinged mirrors were thrown back and the wonderful picture of -the Garden of Eden was revealed. Hidden springs were quickly touched, -and soon the massive dungeon door creaked, and flew open without the aid -of human hands. A noisome vapour came from the dungeon chamber and all -looked black within. Vivienne pointed to the open door: - -“It is your only chance for life. You must go in!” - -Vandemar looked in, then turned away. - -“It is a tomb!” he cried. “I would rather meet my fate here at once, -than to suffer slow torture from starvation, and perish at last in a -loathsome vault. I will not enter!” - -“You do not value your life,” cried Vivienne. “If you will not save it -for your own sake, I entreat you that you will do it for mine. If I -live, I will release you.” - -Vandemar gave her a questioning look--he did not dare to believe what he -had heard. - -“You hesitate! You do not believe me!” and there was a plaintive -entreaty in her words. “Look in my face and see whether I could -treacherously consign you to a death so terrible!” - -Vandemar took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. -“Vivienne,” he said, slowly, “I would trust you though all the demons of -hell were combined to tempt you.” - -He threw his arms about her--he might never see her again. Perhaps this -was their last farewell. He drew her close to him and kissed her upon -brow, cheek, and lips. With all the contrariness of woman, even at this -crucial moment, she clung to him, for he was the first love of her young -life--and this love was so sweet--how could she ever forget those -kisses? - -Again, with a terrible crash, the battering-ram was brought against the -door, impelled by a dozen strong arms and hands. One more such blow and -it must give way. - -Vivienne threw her arms about Vandemar’s neck, but he gently freed -himself from her loving embrace. He pulled the dungeon door to after -him, but it was still ajar. Vivienne threw herself against it, and the -hidden bolts sprang into their places. Vandemar was safe! - -It was with difficulty that she reached the centre of the great room. -She knew that she was alone, but, as she looked from side to side, it -seemed as though the room was full of weeping women, unhappy as she was -herself. - -Once more the dull thud of the ram as it struck the oaken door! The iron -bolt was torn from its fastenings and the door fell inward. Loud cries -of exultation were heard as Pascal, followed by his retainers and the -Death Brothers, burst into the room and rushed towards Vivienne. - -Pascal grasped her arm roughly: - -“You conspire against the honour of your family, faithless girl! -Ingrate!! Tell me where you have hidden this villain--the son of him who -killed our father.” - -Vivienne released herself from her brother’s hold and looked at him -defiantly: - -“Pascal, remember that I am your sister. Our father was a gentleman. Do -not forget that you are his son.” - -“Stop!” shouted Pascal. “You are not worthy to speak his name. Tell me -where you have hidden this sneaking lover of yours, for, by Heaven, you -shall deliver him to us or it will be the worse for you. It was for him, -the coward, coming here under a false name, that you trampled upon the -love of an honest man and set my wishes at defiance. You false-hearted -liar! You are no sister of mine! Hypocrite! Now speak!” - -“You see he is not here.” - -“But you know where he is!” - -“I swear to you, Pascal, that I know not at this moment whether he be an -inhabitant of earth or heaven. It does not require much time to waft a -spirit to the skies.” - -Her brother’s eye caught sight of the blood-stained sword upon the -floor: - -“Have you killed him? Where is he? I will not believe it until I see his -dead body.” - -“That time may come soon,” she replied. She was thinking of Vandemar in -the dark dungeon behind her. Then she wondered if the mirrors had been -closed. If not, Pascal would see the picture and discover her secret. -She could not resist the impulse to turn and look at the dungeon door. - -Pascal had waited for her to say more. When she did not, he cried: - -“This is but a weak attempt at evasion. You have become an adept in -trickery and deception. Now, hear me, Vivienne, and be warned in time. I -shall ask you but once more--where is Vandemar?” - -Vivienne realised that her entreaties, no matter how strong or how -persistent they might be, would have no effect upon her brother, who was -animated by the spirit of his race--the spirit of the vendetta--which -demands a victim, a sacrifice, an atonement. In her veins flowed the -blood of the Batistellis. Now that Vandemar was beyond their reach, she -became strong, self-reliant, courageous. - -“Find him, if you think I have hidden him! You have the keys of the -castle, and see,” pointing to the men, sneeringly, “your friends are -here to help you; and when you have found him, let your band of Death -Brothers chant his dirge.” - -Pascal advanced towards her, his sword raised in a threatening manner. - -“I will have no more of this insolence,” he cried. “You shall answer, or -I will strike you down!” - -His anger was so intense that he might have carried his threat into -execution if his followers had not interposed. - -“No, no!” cried one, grasping his arm. “Bethink you, sir. Bethink you, -sir, she is a defenceless woman. You must not strike.” - -Then a chorus of voices arose: “She is your sister. You must not -strike.” - -Pascal let his sword-point fall, but there was no hope of mercy in his -voice when he spoke. He evidently had a new project in mind, and was -determined to carry it out. - -“I will not kill you,” he exclaimed, “but he shall die!” - -Then he beckoned to one of the men: - -“Go tell Doctor Procida to come here at once.” - -At the mention of the doctor’s name, Vivienne’s thoughts reverted to -Julien: - -“Pascal, tell me of Julien! Oh, tell me, is he dead?” - -Pascal did not answer. Vivienne appealed to the men: “You will tell me. -Is my brother----” - -One of the men bowed his head, and she knew the worst. - -“Oh Pascal!” she cried, “how can you think of murder, of revenge, when -Julien is dead?” - -“Your tears are out of place. Why should you weep for one whom you have -insulted by unjustly taunting him with cowardice and delay of duty? Have -you not reproached him often for not killing the very man whom you now -screen from justice?” - -Vivienne, who had felt no sorrow at the death of Count Mont d’Oro, now -wept unrestrainedly when she learned that her beloved brother Julien was -no more. - -“I have, I have! Heaven forgive me! I will go to him. I must look into -his face again. I will beg him to forgive me. You say he is dead, but -when I speak to him, he will come back to life and forgive me, for I -loved him, and he loved me.” - -Pascal smiled grimly, and touched his forehead significantly. To one of -the men, he said in an undertone: “She has lost her reason.” - -Vivienne was determined to see Julien. She started towards the door, but -Pascal grasped her arm and drew her back: - -“Stay! You shall not insult him with your presence.” - -At that moment, Dr. Procida entered. He was a dapper little man, with -small, beady eyes, and was clad in a suit of black. His voice was soft -and apologetic, his manners suave; he approached Pascal, bowing low: - -“How can I serve you?” - -“My worst fears are realised, Doctor,” said Pascal. “My poor sister is -mad.” - -The doctor rubbed his hands together--professionally, it seemed to those -who saw him; in reality, gleefully--for he was saying to himself: “A -thousand francs in my pocket, at least.” - -“I am not surprised,” said the doctor. “The events of the evening have -been too much for her sensitive nature, but we will soon have her cured, -Monsieur Batistelli. What she needs, and must have, is retirement--rest. -Our private asylum at Salvanetra offers the first, and I will see that -she gets the other.” - -“Stop, sir!” cried Vivienne, addressing the doctor. Turning to her -brother, she said: - -“You cannot mean it! You cannot be so cruel, so utterly heartless, as to -carry out such a farce as this! I must be dreaming!” - -The doctor nodded his head. Pascal saw the movement and understood. - -“I know, I know, my dear,” said the doctor. “Yes, it is a dream, but you -will be much better when you awake to-morrow. You will get up looking as -fresh as a rose, and you shall have a nice drive with my wife. Would you -not like to go with me to Salvanetra and see the pretty house in which I -live?” - -Vivienne turned her face away. She could not answer, for she already -loathed the man. - -“Doctor,” said Pascal, “I wish her to have the best of care.” - -“All my patients get that,” the doctor replied, blandly. - -“She is in good bodily health,” Pascal continued. “Give her no nostrums. -I do not believe in them.” - -“Neither do I,” said the doctor. Until his patients were under his -charge, he always agreed with the ideas of their relatives and friends. -There is a saying that some persons are “All things to all men,” and -there are none who so fully exemplify it as those who have charge of the -insane. - -“Pascal,” cried Vivienne, “you mistake me much if you think I will -tamely submit to this terrible outrage. I will die first!” - -“Ah, monsieur, do not answer her,” said the doctor. “She is becoming -excited, a condition to be avoided if possible, at least until she is in -more suitable quarters.” - -“I will order the closed carriage, Doctor,” said Pascal, “and my -servants, who will accompany you, can drive it back to-morrow morning. -Come along!” he said to Vivienne, and he attempted to grasp her hand. - -Vivienne recoiled: “Now? To-night? You cannot mean to-night, Pascal?” - -“I mean now, at once,” he cried. “Come!” - -“Better try gentleness before using force,” Dr. Procida suggested. - -“Force? You would not force me from this room? Oh, Pascal, shut me in -here, give me bread and water, and naught but the cold stones to lie -upon, and I will bless you!” - -Pascal turned to Dr. Procida: “Better take her at once.” - -Then Vivienne appealed to the doctor. “No, no! For the love of Heaven, -tell him to leave me here! I shall go mad, indeed, if you take me from -the castle.” - -She threw herself at her brother’s feet: “Here upon my knees, I beg that -you will not send me away from the dear home I love, to live, and eat, -and sleep with lunatics. Oh, God! Suffer not a thing so horrible! -Torture me, Pascal. I will endure anything at your hands if you will but -let me remain here!” - -Dr. Procida placed his hand on Pascal’s arm: “Gently, monsieur.” - -Pascal raised Vivienne, and adopted the doctor’s suggestion: - -“It is for your good, sister. I will come to Salvanetra in two weeks. If -your health is restored, you shall come back with me.” - -“Two weeks! Two weeks!! Oh Heaven! Doctor, tell me, tell me, can one -live two weeks without food or drink, without the light of the sun, or -moon, or stars?” - -“You shall have all you want,” the doctor replied, irrelevantly. - -“Stop!” she cried; “your voice is like the doom of hell in my ears!” - -Pascal and the Doctor each grasped a hand, Vivienne struggling violently -to free herself, and they were obliged to let go their hold. - -“Oh, Pascal, one word--one word more--one last appeal! Let me see -Clarine for one minute, just one! Let me breathe but one word into her -ear, and I will go with you quietly. Oh, you will not refuse this, my -last request? Say I may, dear brother, oh, say I may!” - -The thought had come to her that if she could see her old nurse, tell -her where Vandemar was and give her the paper, he might yet escape. -Clarine knew all the secret passages in the old castle. Hope still -remained. Was the paper safe? Yes, it was there. The poor girl was -nervous, excited, almost distracted. When she withdrew her hand from her -bosom, she unknowingly brought the paper with it. It fluttered a moment -on the air, and then fell to the floor. - -Pascal had been watching her closely. Her action had disclosed the -hiding-place of her secret. By this paper, she knew how to open the -dungeon door--and now it was in his possession. A look of almost -fiendish exultation came into his face. He tore the paper in pieces, -threw the fragments upon the floor, and stepped upon them. - -Vivienne had seen the paper in Pascal’s hands. - -“Oh my God!” she had thought, “he will open the dungeon door and kill -him!” - -With a wild, despairing cry, she threw up her hands, and was falling, -senseless, to the stone floor, when the doctor sprang forward and caught -her in his arms. - -Pascal signed to one of the men to assist the doctor. “Order the -carriage,” he said to another; then he added: “Go, all of you! I will -meet you soon in the reception room. I have something for you to do -to-morrow. Manassa, put out the lights.” - -As he descended the long, steep stairway, he soliloquised: - -“It is just as well; it will be a slow and lingering death, while my -sword or stiletto would have ended his pain at once. ’Tis better thus, -for we shall not have to bury him.” - -Manassa had heard the last words uttered by Vivienne. Before snuffing -the candles, he picked up the pieces of paper and put them in his -pocket. When he reached his room, he locked the door. - -An hour later, he looked up with a satisfied smile. - -“It is all here!” he exclaimed. “I have the secret of the dungeon door. -Vandemar shall die by my hand. I will avenge the wrongs of the -Batistellis!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -THE DUNGEON CHAMBER. - - -No sooner did Vandemar hear the door of the dungeon chamber close behind -him than there came a revulsion of feeling. The conviction forced itself -strongly upon him that he was the victim of a plot which had been -successful. - -He looked about him, but could see nothing. Then he remembered that he -had come quickly from a brightly lighted room into a dark one, and it -was only natural that his vision should be affected. He must wait until -his eyes accommodated themselves to the darkness. No, he would not wait. -He would leave the place at once. He turned and retraced his steps, as -he supposed, towards the door, but when he reached the wall he could not -find it. He followed the seams between the stones with his fingers. The -horizontal ones were much longer than those which ran perpendicularly, -but they were all too short to indicate the presence of a door. Almost -frenzied, he continued the search until his finger-nails were broken and -torn by conflict with the rough stones. Still he kept on until the skin -was torn from his finger-tips and they were covered with blood. Finally, -his search was rewarded, for he came upon a seam which, beginning at the -floor, extended higher than he could reach. To make sure, he sought for -the hinges, but there were none. Then he remembered that he had read -about dungeon doors which swung upon pivots. Perhaps, if he exerted all -his strength, he might move it; but he soon desisted, nearly exhausted. - -Perhaps she could hear his voice, so he called out: - -“Vivienne! Vivienne!” - -His voice echoed and re-echoed from the walls of the great room. -Startled by the unaccustomed noise, several bats, as he supposed they -were, flew back and forth, flapping their wings. The sound was not so -unpleasant after all. It gave him satisfaction to know that in this dark -and noisome dungeon even such unpleasant companions as bats could live. -If they could survive, perhaps he could, until his friends rescued him. -This thought went through his mind with the rapidity of lightning. He -called the name Vivienne a dozen times, but there was no response. Then -he beat upon the door with his clenched fists. The blows made no -appreciable sound, but he experienced sharp thrills of pain from the -concussion. - -“Vivienne!” he cried, “give me my sword. If they come to kill me I am -unarmed. Give me back my sword so that I may defend myself.” - -He listened, but there was no sound excepting that produced by the -flapping of the bats’ wings as they circled about the room. Then all his -doubts came back. - -“She is faithless! She would not kill me with my own sword when I -offered it to her. No, that would have been too easy a death. Both she -and her brother decided that my death by starvation would be more to -their liking. It would be such a sweet revenge to know that I was dying -by inches. Oh, Vivienne, why does God put such fiendish hearts into such -angelic forms?” - -Man, in his direst distress, always accommodates himself to -circumstances and his environment. Thoroughly convinced that his -duration of life depended wholly upon himself, and that he could hope -for no outside assistance, Vandemar determined to make the best of his -condition. Beginning at the door, he followed the wall until he came -back to it. He learned that it was rectangular in shape, fully twice as -long as it was wide. He proved this by pacing the two distances. Then he -walked back and forth, covering the length of the room, groping with his -hands in the hope of finding a chair or cot upon which he could rest, -but there was no article of furniture in the room. - -During his monotonous trips, he made an important discovery. In one -corner of the dungeon, far above his reach, was a small window. He -imagined that the moon must have been obscured when he entered the -dungeon, for when its rays fell upon the window, he had discovered -it--but, alas, there was no hope of escape, for it was closely barred. -Even if he could wrench those bars from their fastenings, it would avail -him nothing, for the dungeon was in the uppermost part of the tower, and -he had no rope or other means of descending to the ground. - -At last, faint with the loss of blood from his wounds, and overcome by -exhaustion and despair, he threw himself upon the cold, damp stones, and -was soon lost to consciousness. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -AT SALVANETRA. - - -Terence Devlin, who had charge of the Batistelli grounds, was an early -riser, as all conscientious gardeners should be. Smoking his pipe, with -his spade resting upon his shoulder, he stood regarding an old withered -tree. - -“Not wan drap av rain finds its way to the roots av this ould giant -tree. I do believe it’s full nine hundred years ould.” - -“Terence!” - -The gardener turned when he heard his name called, and saw his wife, -Snodine, running towards him; if the movement of a woman weighing nearly -three hundred pounds could be called running. - -“What the divil’s the matter?” was the husband-like salutation which -greeted her when she met him. - -As soon as she could speak, Snodine said: “I’ve been up to the castle, -an’ sure it’s bad off they be up there. Young Master Julien is as dead -as was Father Francis when they took him out of the river where he’d -been slapin’ for a wake, and the Blessed Virgin prasarve us, it’s now -goin’ on two days since the poor mad craythur was taken away. Pray -Heaven the docthors may cure her, for a swater lady niver walked the -earth.” - -“Ah, Snodine, it’s a broken heart she has--and whin they tell her the -Count is dead----” - -“An’ do ye think they’ll tell her that same? Sure, they’d not be such a -pack o’ fools.” - -“‘Twas hard enough to lose the brother, poor lad! But the swateheart, -Snodine; and they to be marrit so soon, too. Oh, Lord help the poor mad -lady! She loved the Count dearly, they tell me. An’ whin is the wake to -be for the poor lad, Snodine?” - -“To-morrow night. He’ll have been dead two days thin.” - -“It’s hard for the livin’ brother. An’ how does he bear it, Snodine?” - -“As he does everything else. Divil a tear, Clarine tould me.” - -“Well, it’s hard to understand the loikes of him.” - -“It’s right ye are,” said Snodine. “Niver a tear for the poor mad -sister, nor even a wan for the dead brother have he shed yet.” - -“Just you wait, me darlint, ’til the kayner strikes up the mournin’. -It’s many a dry eye I’ve seen over the dead ’til the kayners opened the -heart, and thin, faith, the tears came fast enough.” - -“It’s a hard world, indade--a botherin’ world,” said Snodine, wiping her -eyes, sympathetically, with the back of her hand, although there were no -tears in them. - -“I’m thinkin’ that now,” said Terence. “Now yer go back, and mind the -childer and don’t be afther botherin’ me whin it’s workin’ I am.” - -With these lover-like words Terence again shouldered his spade and -walked off towards the maple grove, while Snodine made her way homeward -to extend her motherly care to her family of nine, which, when stood in -a row according to age, made one think of a flight of stairs. - - * * * * * - -And what of the mad lady? - -Vivienne was borne from the castle in a deep swoon. The events of the -evening had been too much for her frail, nervous organisation, and she -had succumbed. She was placed in a close carriage, and Dr. Procida took -a seat beside her. They were driven rapidly to Salvanetra. The doctor -wet Vivienne’s lips with brandy, which, together with the cool evening -air, that blew in through the open carriage window, soon revived her; -but she did not speak. When they reached the doctor’s house she was too -much exhausted to walk. He called two of his attendants, and she was -borne into the house and placed upon a bed in one of the rooms. A nurse -was sent to attend her, but she refused her ministrations and was -finally left alone. A single candle upon the table gave a flickering -light, and filled the room with strange shadows. She heard the bolt slip -into place and knew that she was not only a patient but a prisoner. - -She passed the most terrible night in her young life. Picture after -picture came before her eyes, though she shut them tightly, hoping to -escape the phantoms. One by one they followed each other--her friends, -with a wreath of roses emblematic of her age--then the music, and -singing, and dancing--next, the arrival of Victor and the pleasant -conversation they had had at the supper table. So far all was joy and -gladness. Then came visions of gloom and misery; the attack upon -Victor--his valiant defence--the death of the Count and her brother -Julien--the discovery that Victor was Vandemar, the son of the man who -had murdered her father--Vandemar in the dungeon chamber, where he must -die from starvation unless she could escape and rescue him--her own -terrible position, shut off from communication with her friends, on the -supposition that she was mad. Could she live through it and not grow mad -in reality? - -She arose from her bed, took up the sputtering candle, which had burned -low, and made a tour of the room--floor and walls of stone, impregnable -to any strength which she could exert--windows small, high from ground, -and guarded by heavy iron bars--the door of oaken timber, thickly -studded with bosses of iron. From such a prison there could be no -escape. Strong men might attempt it, but there was no hope for one so -physically weak as she. Vandemar in his dungeon chamber was not more -completely isolated from the world. She threw herself upon the bed, and -the nurse found her there the next morning, sleeping the sleep which -kindly comes to save the worn-out mind and body when their limit of -resistance has been reached. - - * * * * * - -The body of Count Mont d’Oro had been taken to his mother’s house and, -on the second day after the double tragedy, the remains of Julien -Batistelli were placed in the crypt beneath the castle, and those of -Count Mont d’Oro, followed by his mother, Miss Renville, and a few -friends, were deposited beside the body of his father in the little -burying-ground used by the gentry of Alfieri and vicinity. - -The night after the funeral, Bertha Renville wrote a long letter to -Jennie Glynne. She recounted, in detail, the terrible scenes through -which she had passed, and expressed the hope that something would occur -to take her away from the terrible place. - -“I know that my guardian and Jack,” she had written, “both came to -Corsica, but I have not seen them. Perhaps they have met and, in the -heat of passion, have fought. It may be that either Jack or Mr. Glynne -is dead, and sometimes the horrible thought comes to me that their last -meeting ended in the death of both. I am filled with a dread which I -cannot express. The Countess is kind to me, but we two weak women are -virtually defenceless. Oh, my dear, good friend, will this terrible -uncertainty ever end? Has the future any happiness in store for me?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -TO THE RESCUE! - - -The next morning Dr. Procida came to see Vivienne. On her bended knees -she implored him to let her go home. She told him that Vandemar was in -the dungeon chamber, and that he would die unless she opened the door. -She felt in her bosom for the paper and, finding it was gone, burst into -hysterical exclamations. The doctor, who was a friend of Pascal, said: - -“My poor young lady, you are labouring under an hallucination. You must -take a sedative, or you will break down entirely.” He placed a bottle -upon the table, saying: “I will send the nurse to administer it.” - -No sooner had he left the room than Vivienne threw the bottle upon the -stone floor. “It is a drug,” she cried, “and I will not take it.” - -Dr. Procida told Madeline Villefort, his head nurse, to give the -medicine to Vivienne. “I am going away for the day,” he continued, “as I -have to see a patient in Ajaccio. I shall not be back until late this -afternoon.” - -The nurse went to Vivienne’s room. The young girl was strangely calm. - -“The doctor has been called away for the day,” said Madeline, “and left -you in my charge. Where is the medicine?” - -Vivienne pointed to the floor. - -“You are a rash girl,” said the nurse. “When I tell the doctor what you -have done, he will put you in a strait-jacket or tie you to your bed.” - -Vivienne did not notice the woman’s words; in fact, she appeared -unconscious of her presence, and seemed lost in thought. Finally, she -said in an undertone: - -“What a terrible thing is the vendetta!” - -“Terrible,” cried Madeline, who had overheard her, “I think it is -glorious.” She drew a stiletto from the bosom of her dress. “Do you see -that? I mean it for the woman who stole my husband. Villefort was a -fool--I can forgive that--most men are. But she hated me and I hate her. -I will kill her if we ever meet.” - -Vivienne appeared interested. The woman held up the stiletto, looking at -the glistening blade and sharp point. Vivienne arose from her chair, -walked slowly to the barred window, and looked out. The nurse was too -busy with thoughts of prospective vengeance to notice her movements. -Vivienne retraced her steps, noiselessly, until she stood behind the -chair where Madeline sat. Reaching over suddenly, she grasped the hilt -of the stiletto and, with the strength of desperation, tore it from the -woman’s hand. - -“Do not move!” cried Vivienne. “I am going to leave this room and this -house.” Madeline attempted to rise from her chair. “If you move, I will -kill you,” cried Vivienne. “His life is everything to me--yours is as -nothing.” - -The nurse had left the door ajar. With a bound, Vivienne reached it, -threw it open, and closed it quickly behind her. Then she remembered -that the bolt was on the outside, and she pushed it into place. She -heard Madeline’s cries as she ran down the corridor, and sent back a -mocking laugh in response. She saw a side door opening into the -garden--perhaps the front door was guarded--she would run no risks. -Keeping her hand upon the hilt of the stiletto, she made her way through -the garden, for she saw the _maquis_ beyond. If she could reach that, -she might rest until able to go on. - -In the heart of the forest she sank down, exhausted; but the young -recuperate quickly, and she was soon up and again on her way, towards -Ajaccio she hoped. She had never studied astronomy, but from the -position of the sun she reasoned that she must go in a certain -direction, and events proved that her intuition was correct. She soon -came to a narrow cross-road, which she followed, and in a short time -found herself on what she thought must be the main street of Salvanetra. - -Vivienne would have turned back from the travelled thoroughfare and -tried to make her way through the paths in the _maquis_, but for two -reasons: She was afraid she might be captured by a party of bandits who, -knowing that her brother was wealthy, would hold her for a large ransom; -again, she was faint and almost exhausted, for she had refused to eat -anything while in Dr. Procida’s asylum. She stood irresolute for a -while; then soliloquised: - -“I must gain strength so that I may get back in time to save Vandemar; -and to gain strength I must have food.” - -She walked on, scanning carefully each house that she passed, yet -undecided as to which she should apply for assistance. Espying in the -road a small branch of a tree, which had probably been used by some -carter as a whip, she picked it up, and using it as a staff, got on her -way much faster. - -She saw that she was nearing a line of houses and felt that she must put -pride away and make her appeal. She tapped lightly upon a door with her -staff. It was opened by a woman, whose face had a sharp, shrewish -expression. Vivienne’s first impulse was to turn away, but summoning all -her strength and courage, she said: - -“Will you be so kind, madame, as to give me a piece of bread? I am so -tired and faint, for I have eaten nothing since yesterday.” - -“Who are you?” - -“Oh, do not ask me my name. I am not a beggar. Believe me, I am not what -I seem. Only give me a crust and I will go.” - -“Honest people are not afraid to tell their names,” said the woman, and -her voice was harsh and repellent. - -“It is because I am honest that I do not tell you my name. I might give -you one easily, but it would not be my own.” - -“Then go away!” cried the woman. “No doubt you have been turned away -from some farmhouse for drunkenness, theft, or something of that sort. -Be off with you!” and she slammed the door. - -Vivienne had on the simplest and coarsest dress that belonged to her. -Her brother Pascal had thoughtfully sent some of her clothing in the -carriage, and although he had not made the selections his sister would -have wished, yet he could not have done better, for Vivienne had -determined, from the first, to escape from the asylum, and the -unpretending costume which she wore served her purpose much better than -the one in which she had looked so beautiful at her birthday party would -have done. - -Vivienne turned away from the door sick at heart. “Oh, Pascal, I could -wish you no greater punishment for your sin against your wretched sister -than for you to have heard those terrible words.” - -Her head was aching and she pressed both hands upon her forehead: - -“No, I must not sink down here in the street; they would shut me up in -the jail. I will--I must obtain food. Even a morsel would give me -strength to reach him. Why should I die with the cool fresh air about -me, and the sun giving me light, while he is shrouded in darkness and -dying from hunger and thirst in a living tomb? Oh, Vandemar, Vandemar, I -will not die! There is a kind soul in this house, for I hear the -laughter of children. A mother’s heart is always open to pity.” - -A man servant appeared at the door. “What is your business here, my good -woman?” - -“Oh, sir, I am very hungry. Give me some food and Heaven will bless -you!” - -“My mistress is sick,” said the man, “but I will send the housekeeper to -you.” - -“Thank you; you are very kind.” Vivienne leaned against the door-post. -“I--I cannot stand; my strength is deserting me.” As she sank on the -doorstep, a woman appeared. - -“Well, what is wanted?” was her query. “Begging, I suppose.” - -“I wish only for a piece of bread, madame. You will surely not refuse -me. I have walked so far and I am faint and tired--oh, so very tired. I -pray that you will give me something, even the poorest crust from your -table.” - -“I understand it all--you have escaped from the asylum. Where are you -going?” - -“To my home at Ajaccio,” Vivienne answered. “Oh, madame, do not question -me, but give me food. I--I feel strangely--I am----” - -“She is fainting,” said the man; “I will bring her a glass of water.” - -The woman looked at Vivienne closely and said: - -“Your pretty face ought to win you bread, if not jewels. You are a fool -to go begging, with such beauty as yours. If I had your face and form I -would ride in my carriage. There would be no more house drudgery for -me.” - -Vivienne drank the water, which was cool and refreshing. A little girl, -who had been regarding her from the opposite side of the road, came -running across and said: - -“Come with me, poor woman. My mamma is away, but cook will give you -something to eat. She is good to everybody, and so is my mamma. Come!” - -“Bless you, sweet child!” said Vivienne, rising. - -The woman resented the child’s interference: “You are a forward little -minx! As though I would refuse her food! Come in, and I will give you -all you want.” - -Vivienne looked at the woman, her great black eyes full of the loathing -she felt. - -“After what you have said? No, madame, food from your hands would choke -me.” - -Vivienne turned away, took the little girl’s hand, and they walked -slowly towards the pretty little cottage to which the child pointed, -saying over and over again: “That’s where mamma lives.” - -Vivienne had no sooner reached the house where she had been promised -food and rest than her head swam, she lost consciousness, and fell -helpless upon the floor. When she revived she heard the sound of voices. -She opened her eyes and saw that she was in a darkened room. An old -gentleman sat beside her, while a lady, with a kind, motherly look upon -her face, stood at the foot of the bed regarding her. - -“You are better, my dear. The doctor, here, said that if you awoke in -your right mind all would be well. You are better, are you not?” - -Vivienne could not resist answering a question put so pleasantly. - -“I am feeling quite well, madame,” she replied. Then in an instant all -came back to her. She raised herself in bed and cried: - -“Where am I? Have I been sick? For God’s sake, dear lady, tell me how -long I have been here.” - -“My little daughter brought you here three days ago,” was the answer. - -“Three days! Three days!!” moaned Vivienne. “It is too late now. He is -dead--dead!” - -“But you are living,” said the doctor. “Who is dead? I do not understand -you.” - -“Oh,” cried Vivienne, “I must tell you all, for I know that I can trust -you. If I do not, you will not know what I mean. I am Vivienne -Batistelli, of Alfieri.” - -“I thought so,” said the lady in an undertone. - -“You know of the vendetta between the Batistellis and the Della -Coscias?” - -The doctor nodded. - -“Vandemar Della Coscia came back to Corsica. His identity was discovered -by my brother Pascal. Vandemar has been in the dungeon chamber for five -days without food or drink. I am the only one who can open the dungeon -door and release him. I must go to him at once. Help me! Help me!! He -must not die!” - -“What can we do, Doctor?” asked the lady. - -“My horse and carriage are at the door. My dear young lady, get ready at -once, and I will take you to Alfieri.” - -When Vivienne reached the castle, she at once sought Clarine, who was -overjoyed at seeing her again. - -“Where have you been?” she asked, excitedly. - -“I cannot stop to tell you now,” said Vivienne. “Where is my brother -Pascal?” - -“That I do not know,” was the reply. “He has gone away.” - -“Oh, Clarine,” said Vivienne, “I must open the door of the dungeon -chamber, but I have lost the paper that you gave me. Have you found it?” - -“Why, no,” said Clarine, “but I surmise, from what he has let drop, that -Manassa knows something about it.” - -“Where can I find him?” asked Vivienne. - -“I do not know,” said Clarine, “but if he has it he will not give it to -you. He says you are no longer a Batistelli--that you love a Della -Coscia and have disgraced your name.” - -“Oh, Clarine, I shall pray to God to give me back my memory, so that I -may open that door and save his life----” and she ran from the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -“WE WILL DIE TOGETHER!” - - -Vivienne went from room to room, calling loudly for Manassa, but there -was no answer. Espying Terence at work in the garden, she asked him if -he had seen Manassa. He answered her politely in the negative, but said, -in an undertone: - -“No, the old omadhaun; an’ may the divil fly away wid him before I do.” - -At last Vivienne reached the foot of the long flight of stone steps that -led to the Hall of Mirrors. She sank down exhausted; she was unused to -such great physical exertion, besides being almost mentally distracted -when she thought how powerless she was to save Vandemar without the help -of one who, she knew, hated him as intensely as did her own brother. - -At length, she arose and, going to an open window, again called loudly -for Manassa; but there was no response. Sick at heart, she turned away -from the window and went slowly up the steps. - -At sight of the closed door of the dungeon chamber, her forced composure -gave way. She ran to it and beat wildly against it until the blood oozed -through the tender skin; then she sank upon her knees. She raised her -clasped hands to Heaven and cried: - -“Oh, _mon Dieu_! Give me back my memory but for one moment. Pardon me, -_mon Dieu_, not for what I say, but for the way I say it. I learned the -instructions in the paper by heart, but they called me mad, and I have -forgotten them. Then I fell sick, and all is a blank. Oh, _mon Dieu_, -give me back my memory, that I may save a precious life. Oh, my dear -father in heaven, entreat the good God, who is God of Love and Mercy, to -help me!” - -Full of her simple faith, she arose and stood before the door, as though -expecting to see it open of its own accord; but there it stood, -immovable, relentless, merciless. She regarded it for a time with a -helpless, dazed look. Then there came a revulsion, and the weak woman, -with a feeble voice, was transformed into a new creature; for the time -being she was mad, and, with that madness came the fictitious physical -and mental strength, the showing of which deceives all but those who are -acquainted with such manifestations of mania. - -“I must open it,” she cried; “I will! I will!! Oh, father! father!! -Clarine! Clarine!! Where are you? Where is Manassa? He is lost--lost! -Come listen, Clarine--come! Five days, Clarine, five long days and -nights! Dear God, one long night--one hundred and twenty hours of -darkness; no food, no drink, and naught but the cold stones to lie upon. - -“I see him now, with his eyes turned towards that merciless door; -watching, praying for the ray of light that never comes; waiting for the -sound of the voice that promised to save him; listening for the step he -can never hear. - -“Oh, I shall go mad! Mad!! Vandemar! Vandemar!! It is I, Vivienne. I -have come to save you, but the cruel walls will not let me in. Speak to -me, Vandemar. Tell me that you live. I am coming--coming!” - -Again she struck the wall, frantically, with her bleeding hands: - -“He is dead! I see him--I see the black, crawling things--they are -fighting over him--they are feeding upon his forehead--back, back, back! -Back, I say! They are tearing his flesh--hark! They are feasting -royally. No, no, no! Spare him--spare him! He is mine, mine!” - -She stamped her feet upon the stone floor: “I will crush you, you -ravenous reptiles, despoilers of the dead; cold, venomous worms! Brush -them away, Vandemar! Keep them back, beloved, for I am coming--coming to -save you.” - -Again, as though under the influence of an ungovernable passion, she -struck the wall until the sense of intense pain obliged her to desist. -Then came another revulsion. From a state of exaltation, she fell into -one approaching stupor, and for some time seemed unconscious of her -surroundings, of time, and of the terrible errand which had brought her -there. Was this condition of quietude to be followed by another outburst -of passion, or was she so exhausted that further effort would be -impossible? - -Suddenly, she awoke from her lethargy and listened intently. No, yes it -was--she could not be mistaken--the sound of footsteps upon the stone -stairway. Hope revived. Clarine had found Manassa and had sent him to -open the door for her. But would he? He hated Vandemar. Perhaps he was -coming only for the purpose of finding out if his enemy were dead. -Madness always engenders suspicion. She would be cautious. If he opened -the door, she would force him to let her in. She would fly to -Vandemar--nothing should prevent her. - -Behind one of the mirrors which, when thrown back, exposed the door of -the dungeon chamber, Vivienne hid herself. - - * * * * * - -Pascal Batistelli was a brave man. He preferred to carry out his -purposes by diplomacy rather than warfare, but it was only natural, -after the tragic events which had deprived him of both a friend and a -brother, that his heart should be filled with thoughts of -vengeance--and, to a Corsican, vengeance and death are closely related -terms. Vandemar was in the dungeon chamber and his death from starvation -was certain. Vivienne was securely locked up in a madhouse and could not -interfere with his plans. But there was one man, still living, who must -die before his vengeance would be complete, so he gathered a large body -of his adherents and started out in quest of Cromillian. - -Old Manassa was a curious individual. At times, he seemed to be in his -dotage, his memory gone, while his words were often childish and, more -often, foolish. At other times, he seemed to have recovered all his -youthful shrewdness and sagacity. He constantly bewailed the passing of -the “good old times,” and often declared himself more worthy to be the -head of the Batistelli family than Pascal, whom he looked upon as the -degenerate son of a noble sire. - -Now that Pascal was away, Manassa assumed all the airs, and, also, the -powers of the lord of the manor. He considered that the honour of the -Batistelli family was in his keeping and gloried in the fact that his -enemy was in the dungeon chamber, condemned to a slow and horrible death -from starvation. - -Manassa was not only revengeful, but vindictive. He was not satisfied to -allow his enemy to die in peace, even by slow torture. No, he would -tempt him, taunt him, and then revile him. These acts would make his -vengeance more satisfactory. So, he filled a basket with the most -enticing food that he could find, put in a bottle of choice wine, and -then made his way to the Hall of Mirrors. - - * * * * * - -Vivienne could hardly refrain from uttering an exclamation of delight -when she saw him bearing the basket of food. Manassa was a good man, he -was merciful, he had relented, and Vandemar was saved! She would have -sprung forward and embraced him, so great was her joy, but there was a -look on his face which chilled her blood, and she stood as if frozen to -the spot. His expression was demoniac--but for what purpose had he -brought the food? With every sense alert, Vivienne watched and listened. - -Manassa placed the basket upon the floor, then took a piece of paper -from his pocket--the instructions for opening the door of the dungeon -chamber! Should she rush from her hiding-place, tear it from him, and -open the door herself? No, she would let him do that. She would save -what strength she had for what might come afterward. - -With much difficulty, Manassa succeeded in opening the door: - -“Vandemar! Vandemar Della Coscia! I have brought you some food and a -nice bottle of wine. You must be hungry. Come and eat.” The words were -spoken in a taunting tone, which belied their meaning. There was no -response, and the old man laughed, mockingly. - -“If I were not so old,” said he, “I would bring it to you; but, if you -cannot come for it, you will have to go without it. I am so sorry, my -good Vandemar, for I am sure you must be very hungry.” - -After hearing these sarcastic words and, again, that horrible, mocking -laugh, Vivienne could restrain herself no longer. With a cry like that -of a tigress, she leaped upon old Manassa and hurled him to the floor. -He was stunned by the fall and lay motionless. Vivienne took up the -basket of food and tried to carry it, but her strength failed her and -she was obliged to put it down upon the floor again. Then she grasped -one side of it and was pulling it towards the dungeon door, when Manassa -revived and saw who his assailant had been. He quickly divined her -evident purpose to take the food to Vandemar. He did not try to regain -his feet, but crawled upon his hands and knees until he was able to -grasp the other side of the basket. - -It was literally a contest for life or death--to Vandemar. Manassa was -the stronger, and Vivienne felt herself being drawn slowly away from the -dungeon door. In her fury, she drew from her bosom the stiletto which -she had taken from Madeline Villefort and, making a desperate lunge, -stabbed Manassa in the arm. With a cry of pain, he released his hold -upon the basket. Vivienne, full of exultation, dragged it along the -stone floor and pulled it into the dungeon chamber. - -Manassa scrambled to his feet and stood, for a moment, uncertain what -course to pursue. Then that look of demoniac wickedness, which had so -startled Vivienne, came into his face again. He chuckled--a savage, -unearthly sound: - -“She loves her enemy. She is no longer a Batistelli, but a Della -Coscia--and she shall die with him!” - -Summoning all his strength, he closed the great door, and then, with the -blood streaming from his wound, shambled from the room. Again that -mocking laugh and those revengeful words: - -“She is no longer a Batistelli--she is a Della Coscia. She shall die -with him!” - - * * * * * - -When Vivienne entered the dungeon chamber, her thoughts were of -Vandemar, and of him alone. Was he alive or dead? The darkness was so -intense that she could discern nothing. Where was he? She listened for -some sound which might indicate in what part of the room he was. When -the great door was closed behind her by Manassa, she had not heard. She -stood irresolute, not knowing in which direction to proceed. Her eyes -becoming accustomed to the darkness, she perceived a faint ray of light -piercing the gloom. - -“Vandemar,” she cried, “are you there, near the light?” - -Although there was no response to her question, she made her way towards -the beam of light, the only sign of hope in what she feared--and that -fear made her hold her breath--was the chamber of death. - -Suddenly, her foot struck against something. She reached down and placed -her hand upon it. It was the body of a man--it must be that of Vandemar. -She longed to give relief to her pent-up feelings--she could have -screamed with delight at finding him--but no, that would do no good. If -he were alive, he must have wine and food. - -She placed her hand upon his heart; it was beating, though but faintly. -She knelt--she could feel his breath upon her cheek--he was alive! With -a loud cry of joy which she could not repress, she leaped to her feet. -Wandering aimlessly for a while, she sought ineffectually for the basket -of food. Again guided by the ray of light, she made her way back to -where Vandemar lay. Following along by the wall, which she touched -lightly with her hands, she came to the corner opposite the small -window. Still keeping close to the wall, she reached the dungeon door. -There she stopped to collect her thoughts; but, even then, it did not -occur to her that the door was closed; and, if it had, her memory would -not have told her that there was no way of opening it from the inside. - -In her mind there was but one thought, one desire--to find the food and -wine. Although Manassa had brought it only to tantalise the helpless -prisoner, in her heart she almost forgave him, for it meant life--and -with life would come safety--for Vandemar, her beloved. - -Feeling that every moment was precious, she resumed her search and soon -stumbled over the basket, which she had left not ten feet from the door. -Keeping her eyes upon the ray of light, which was her guiding star, she -pulled the basket across the stone floor until she once more came in -contact with the almost lifeless form. - -She remembered that she had read somewhere that but little food, at -first, should be given to starving persons, but the wine--there was life -in that! The bottle was tightly corked and she could not open it. She -struck it against the stone wall and the neck fell to the floor. She -dipped her fingers in the wine and wet Vandemar’s lips with it. There -was bread in the basket. She moistened it with the wine and, raising his -head from the floor, fed him as she would have a child. - -Vivienne could not see his face, for the ray of light did not reach the -dark corner beneath the window, but the bread and wine did their good -work, and Vandemar, reviving, heard the soft tones of a woman’s voice--a -voice which kept repeating: - -“Vandemar, come back to me. Vandemar, you are saved. It is I, Vivienne.” - -There was more inspiration, more strength, in that voice than bread or -wine could give. - -“Vivienne? Is it really you, Vivienne? Have the guests all left the -castle? May I go now? The Admiral and his daughter and I are going back -to the ship to-night. What time is it? I must have fallen asleep. I -tried to keep awake because you said you would come for me.” - -“I have come, as I promised I would,” she said. “I have brought you wine -and food. You must drink some of the wine and, when you feel stronger, -you may have something to eat; but not very much, for your fast has been -a long one and it would not be safe to eat too heartily.” - -The stimulant warmed him and sent the life-blood coursing through his -veins. He sat upright, without support, and when he spoke, his voice was -stronger and fuller. Then he seemed to remember what he had at first -forgotten--that many days, and not one night, had elapsed since he had -entered the dungeon. - -“Oh,” he said, “I have had both food and drink. I have not suffered for -want of either. My wound gave me a fever. That is what has made me so -weak, but I shall soon be well, and we will leave this place.” - -“Yes, Vandemar, we will go. But tell me, for I cannot understand, how -did you get both food and drink?” - -“I have not been alone,” said Vandemar. “I have had some good friends. -They came at night--it has been all night here--and fetched me kernels -of corn--and once they brought an egg. That saved my life. They were so -tame, too. It was so dark they could not see me. Perhaps they thought I -was one of them--so old and feeble that I could not go with them to the -kitchen to get my own food.” - -“But the drink?” cried Vivienne. “How did you get anything to drink? The -rats could not bring water to you.” - -“No,” said Vandemar, “I had to get that myself, and that was much -harder. It rained one night and some drops were blown in at the window -and fell upon me. I was feverish and knew that I must have water. I tore -my sword scarf into strips and knotted them together. Then I tied one -end to the sleeve of my coat and finally succeeded in throwing it so -that it lodged between the window-bars. When it was saturated, I pulled -it down, wrung it and drank my fill.” - -“Do you feel stronger?” asked Vivienne. - -“Why, yes. I am almost as good as ever. I must have been asleep when you -came in. I had a bad dream. I thought your brother sent you away from -the Castle so that you could not come and let me out.” - -“He did,” cried Vivienne, “and for that I shall never forgive him. He -told Doctor Procida that I was mad, and they took me to the lunatic -asylum at Salvanetra, but I escaped the next day. Then I fell ill and, -for three days, I knew nothing. To-day is the fifth day and I thought -you must be dead, for I had not faith enough in God to believe that He -would send His dumb creatures to feed you and rain from Heaven for you -to drink. I have been so wicked--but now that God in His mercy has -brought us together again, we will be good--will we not, Vandemar?” - -“Give me more of that wine, Vivienne. It is very good, and you are the -best woman I ever knew. With good wine and a good woman, no man should -be bad.” - -“Hush, Vandemar,” said Vivienne; “do not speak so. We should be good -because we ought to be and not because we get what we wish for. Come, -come, let us be going. My brother is away and you must get to a place of -safety before he returns. Give me your hand. I will lead you, for I know -how to find the door.” - -When they reached it, the terrible truth dawned upon her. She stood -rooted to the spot--she could not speak. - -“Open the door quickly, Vivienne,” he said, and he had never spoken so -gently before. “This has been a long night, Vivienne, and my couch was -not a soft one. Open the door, for I yearn to see the blue sky, the -trees, and the flowers, and hear the songs of birds. Then, too, I would -look out upon the water and see my good ship riding at anchor. How glad -the Admiral will be to see me, and how interested Helen will be to hear -of my adventures--and how Heaven sent my good angel to rescue me and -make me happy for life. I will take you to England, Vivienne, where -there is no cruel vendetta--but why do you not open the door?” - -“My God!” she cried, and her voice was tense with pain, “I cannot.” - -“Let me try,” he said, “I am stronger than you are. Tell me how to open -it.” - -“We are lost!” she moaned. “I had forgotten--the door cannot be opened -from the inside.” - -“What? You forgot? We are lost?” There was passion, suspicion, despair, -in the words. - -“I left it open when I came in. Some one must have closed it.” - -“Some one must have closed it?” His voice was harsh, and there was -unbelief in the question. “Speak, Vivienne, who could have closed it? -Who was with you? You said your brother had gone away, and even he would -not close a dungeon door upon his only sister.” - -“I will tell you all,” she said, piteously. - -“I think the time has come,” was the stern reply. - -“Pascal took the paper from me, which told how to open the door, and -tore it in pieces. I had learned the instructions by heart before they -took me to the asylum, but when I came back my memory was gone. I should -have died outside the door, and you would have perished in here, had not -Old Manassa brought a basket of food. He did not mean to give it to you, -for he hates you because you are a Della Coscia. He came to taunt you, -but I sprang upon him and stabbed him with my stiletto. I wrenched the -basket from him. After I came in, he must have closed the door. Oh, -Vandemar! After all our pain and suffering, to have it end thus!” - -There was silence for a time, then Vandemar spoke, but there were no -love tones in his voice: - -“Does no one know that you are here? Did you not tell some one that you -were coming to release me?” - -“As I came through the garden, some one called my name, but I do not -know who it was. I did not look. I thought only of you, I wished only to -see you, for I would give my life to save you, Vandemar--but you do not -believe me, you do not trust me, you do not love me----” - -Vandemar put his arms about the weeping girl and drew her close to him. - -“Forgive me, Vivienne; I am racked in mind and body, and am not myself. -What I said just now was unjust and unkind to you. Believe me, dear one, -the Vandemar that was, would never have harboured a thought or spoken a -word to bring tears to those sweet eyes. I cannot see them, but I know -they are filled with the love-light which neither time nor death can -dim. Do you not believe, Vivienne, that, if God wishes us to live and be -happy together in this world, He will send us help?” - -“I do,” said Vivienne. “We will hope on, will we not, Vandemar? We have -food and wine, your little friends will bring us corn and eggs, and the -good God will send us rain that we may drink. I am with you, and you -with me. We can love each other as well in this dark dungeon as we could -if we sat beneath the trees, with the birds singing above us. That love -will bless us, and if no one comes to save us, you will kiss me for the -last time, tell me that you love me, and, clasped in each other’s arms, -we will die together!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -A DOUBLE VENDETTA. - - -Pascal Batistelli and his adherents were unsuccessful in their search -for Cromillian and his moral bandits. If they had not been looking for -each other, they might have met, for while Pascal sought for Cromillian -in the _maquis_, the bandit chief, with a picked body of men, Jack De -Vinne being one of the company, was on his way to Batistelli Castle with -the fixed determination of finding Vandemar, or of exacting stern -retribution if the young man had been foully dealt with. - -Pascal dismissed his followers, telling them that they must go home and -take needed rest, for he should soon call upon them again. He maintained -his usual composure before them, but, after their departure, in the -solitude of his library, he felt utterly disheartened. Then his thoughts -turned to Manassa, and he sent Adolphe to summon his old retainer. - -“What is the matter?” cried Pascal, as the old man entered. “What has -happened to you? Why is your arm bound up? There is blood upon your -clothing.” He paused. “Has Vandemar escaped? Sit down, Manassa, and tell -me who did this.” - -The old man seated himself. - -“Vandemar has not escaped,” he began. “He is safe in the dungeon--” he -gave a low chuckle--“but he is not alone.” - -“Not alone?” cried Pascal. “Who is with him? Come, quick, tell me all,” -and, unthinkingly, he grasped Manassa’s wounded arm, making him wince -with pain. - -“It is a long story,” said Manassa, “and I don’t know just how to put it -together. I thought that Vandemar might be hungry, having had nothing -to eat for five days, so I took him a basket of food and a bottle of -good wine.” - -“You fool!” cried Pascal. Then he remembered. “What was there in that? -You could not open the dungeon door.” - -“Oh, yes, I could.” The old man chuckled again. “I was in the Hall of -Mirrors when you tore up that paper. After all of you were gone, before -I put out the lights, I picked up the pieces and pasted them together. -Nobody knows I have it but Vivienne.” - -“Vivienne? How could she know anything about it, locked up at -Salvanetra?” - -“Yes, she was locked up,” mused the old man. “I don’t know how she got -away, but she did.” - -Pascal started to his feet. “Vivienne here? Where is she? Did you give -her the food to take to Vandemar? I thought you were a friend to the -Batistellis.” - -“I didn’t mean to give it to her,” and Manassa wrung his hands, -apologetically; “I didn’t mean to give it to him. I had opened the door, -was telling him what nice things I had for him,--just to make him feel -hungrier than ever,--when Vivienne came from behind one of the mirrors -and caught at the basket. Just as I was getting it away from her, she -drew a stiletto and stabbed me here,” and he placed his hand upon his -wounded arm. “I fell, and before I could get up again, she had dragged -the basket of food into the dungeon chamber.” - -“What did you do then?” asked Pascal, excitedly. - -“I did as I thought you would have done--I shut the door and left them -there together. She is no longer a Batistelli--she is a Della Coscia. -Let them die together!” - -“You were right, Manassa. I should have done as you did. But where is -the paper?” - -“Here it is,” and Manassa passed it to him. - -“Come with me, Manassa,” said Pascal. “She is my sister--a poor, weak, -foolish woman. It is my duty to give her one more chance to repent of -her folly, and I must have a witness.” - - * * * * * - -“Vivienne, are you there?” - -There were tones in her brother’s voice which the young girl could not -mistake. The prisoners had gone back to the corner beneath the window, -for the friendly ray of light made the dungeon seem less like a tomb. - -Vivienne sprang to her feet. “Yes, Pascal, I am here,” she cried, -joyfully, “and Vandemar is so strong now that he can walk.” - -“Come here to the door,” said Pascal. - -“What is it?” she asked, when she reached it. - -“Come with me,” said her brother. - -“I will bring Vandemar.” - -“No,” said Pascal, “if you come out you shall come alone. You must -renounce that man.” - -“Then I will not come,” said Vivienne, positively. “I love him. We will -either live together or die together.” - -“Is that your final answer?” questioned Pascal, angrily. - -“It is,” she said. - -He drew his stiletto. - -“I do not fear that,” she cried. “You may kill me, but I will give you -no other answer. I will not leave here without Vandemar.” - -While they had been talking Pascal had stepped within the dungeon door, -still holding the paper. - -“So be it!” he cried. - -An instant later the door was closed and Vivienne knew that she and -Vandemar were doomed to a lingering death. - -Manassa had been an interested observer: “I was right, was I not, -master? She is no longer a Batistelli--she is a Della Coscia. Let them -die together.” - -“Let them die together,” echoed Pascal, but although he spoke the words, -he knew that they did not come from his heart. - -“Master, where is the paper?” - -Pascal searched his garments; then they both looked in every direction, -but it could not be found. A feeling of remorse seized Pascal. He had -not meant to go so far. He knew that they had food and he would have -come again. He wished for Vandemar’s death, but if he did not love her, -he was proud of his sister. Now she must die, and by his hand. - -“Have you found the paper?” the old man asked again. - -“I must have dropped it as I came out of the dungeon, and the great door -closed over it.” - -“That is good,” said Manassa. “Then the vendetta is ended. A life for a -life. Two Della Coscias for one Batistelli--for she is no longer a -Batistelli.” - -“Come, Manassa, you will bear witness that I gave her a chance for -life.” - -As Pascal turned to leave the Hall of Mirrors, to his surprise he was -confronted by Cromillian. Pascal was filled with fury at the sight of -him. - -“What brings you here, robber, murderer?” he demanded. - -Cromillian replied coolly: “Well, I don’t mind telling you I have come -on a tour of investigation. You asked me a question and I have answered -it. Now I will match yours with another. Where is Vandemar?” - -Pascal dissembled: “I cannot be expected to know the whereabouts of all -those who have been my guests.” - -“Your guest!” said Cromillian, sneeringly. “I have my suspicions that he -has been foully dealt with. He has not been seen since you and your host -of ruffians that are called Death Brothers attacked him here in your own -house. The world has been able to give us credit but for one thing--that -is, the virtue of hospitality; that law has ever been held sacred by -Corsicans, as you well know. You have basely violated it, and thereby -brought dishonour and shame upon your countrymen. By all that is holy, -when Cromillian brutalises his manhood to that extent, may the very -heavens fall and crush him!” - -Pascal drew his stiletto. “You murdered my brother, villain, and you -dare preach to me!” - -“You lie! I but defended an innocent life. Your brother fell by his own -rashness. It is one thing to assassinate your enemy--that requires -little bravery; it is another to face your foe like a man and give him a -chance for his life. My sword is longer than your stiletto, and I could -murder you easily.” - -He unbuckled his sword belt and threw it with the sword and scabbard -upon the stone floor. Then he drew his stiletto, and the two men stood -facing each other, for each knew that but one of them could leave that -room alive. - -Cromillian was the stronger man, but much heavier and slower in his -movements than Pascal, who was muscular and agile. For a time it was a -drawn battle. Skill parried strength, and strength overcame skill. Then -happened that which has happened so often before--it was a question of -endurance, and the stronger man could endure the most. Pascal lost his -head and struck wildly, aimlessly. - -“I could kill you now,” said Cromillian, “but I will spare your life if -you will tell me where I can find Vandemar.” - -Pascal pointed to the dungeon door. “He is there with my sister -Vivienne. She loves him, and I have given her to him.” - -“She is no longer a Batistelli,” croaked Old Manassa; “she is a Della -Coscia. Let them die together.” - -“Open that door,” said Cromillian, with an air of command. - -“You forget,” said Pascal, “that this is my castle. I am master here and -take orders from no one.” - -“I forget nothing,” replied Cromillian. “I know that you are a -heartless, inhuman wretch, and the would-be murderer of two innocent -hearts. I say to you again, open that door.” - -“I would not if I could,” was Pascal’s defiant response; “but the -instructions for opening the dungeon door have been lost--the door can -never be opened.” - -To Cromillian’s mighty strength was now added the fury of despair. “I do -not believe you!” he cried. “You shall die with that lie upon your -lips.” - -There were a few hurried passes, an intertwining and glistening of the -sharp blades, and that of Cromillian pierced Pascal’s heart. As -Cromillian started to leave the room, his eyes fell upon Manassa. - -“I ought to send you to join your master, for I believe you are as -wicked at heart as he was, but you are an old man and powerless to -defend yourself. It would be murder to kill you. But they shall be -saved.” He pointed to the dungeon door. “I shall come back with my men. -We will pull this castle down; I will not leave one stone standing upon -another.” - -After Cromillian bad gone, Manassa picked up the sword and buckled the -belt about his waist. What he did next would have surprised Cromillian -if he had seen it. The old man took up the dead body of his master, -clasped it firmly in his arms, and carried it slowly, step by step, down -the long stone stairway, then farther down until he reached the library. -Placing the body upon a low couch, he fell upon his knees beside it. -Raising his right hand, he cursed the Della Coscias, he cursed -Cromillian, and swore vengeance against him who had caused his master’s -death. - -“The Della Coscias are dead--so are the Batistellis. I am master now!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -THE GARDEN OF EDEN. - - -Thomas Glynne knew that Jack De Vinne had gone with Cromillian and his -party, though he did not know for what purpose. Doubt engenders -suspicion, and he came to the conclusion that Cromillian had decided to -espouse Jack’s cause, and had taken him to Ajaccio so that he could meet -with Bertha. - -Glynne was well provided with money, and it was in that shape which -passes current in all lands--honest gold coins; he did not have to look -far before he found one of the bandits who was willing to make an -exchange, and Glynne soon learned what he most wished to know--the -shortest and safest road to Ajaccio. - -One night, Glynne, at his purchased friend’s suggestion, was put on -guard. While his companions were sleeping soundly, in supposed safety, -Glynne stole away in the darkness. - -It was not quite daylight when he came suddenly upon Cromillian’s party, -encamped in the _maquis_. A sleepy guard called to him, but receiving no -reply, and still hearing the noise of his approach, fired in his -direction. There was the sound of a falling body, then all was still. -The sentry shortly reconnoitred and came upon the body of Thomas Glynne, -who had been shot through the heart. He resumed his post, and it was not -until morning that he informed his fellow bandits that he had called to -the person, and, receiving no answer, supposed he was a spy, and had -fired in his direction, as it proved, with unerring aim. - -Among those to whom he told his story was Jack De Vinne, whose -curiosity led him to look upon the supposed spy. He was startled beyond -measure when he found that it was Bertha’s guardian, Thomas Glynne. - -Jack was brave and resolute, but he could not look upon that still form -with complacency. Bertha was deprived of her appointed protector. What -would she say when she learned the truth? Jack thought that the least he -could do was to give the body a decent burial and, with the assistance -of some of the band, Thomas Glynne was interred near where he had been -shot. Before this was done Jack took such papers as Glynne had upon him, -thinking possibly there might be something of value to Bertha. Nor was -he mistaken. To his surprise, he found the last will and testament of -Oscar Renville and what he opined were other valuable papers in -reference to her estates. - -He went at once to the leader of the band, one Giuseppe Pisano, who had -been appointed in place of the recreant Paoli, and explained the matter -to him. - -“I must go to Ajaccio,” said Jack, “and take this document to the dead -man’s ward. It is of great importance, and it is my duty to take it at -once. I know our good Captain would agree to it if he were here.” - -Lieutenant Pisano gave him permission to go to Ajaccio, first exacting a -promise that after having performed his mission, he would report to -Cromillian, who was encamped in the _maquis_ near Alfieri. - -It would be hard to explain Jack’s feelings. They were an admixture of -remorse, fear, hope, and love. He was sorry that Bertha’s guardian had -been killed, even though he might be a villain and false to the trust -imposed on him by Bertha’s father, and he was sorry for Clarence. - -As a lover, his heart was full of happiness, for was he not to see -Bertha after a separation which had seemed almost an eternity? He -concealed the papers about his person, and set out with a light heart -to find Bertha, vowing that they never should be parted again. - - * * * * * - -After Cromillian had killed Pascal, he declared his intention of -demolishing the Batistelli castle if there were no other means of -rescuing Vandemar and Vivienne. To do this, he must have the assistance -of his followers, who were encamped in the _maquis_ about a mile from -the village. - -Before entering the castle, he had hidden his rifle in the shrubbery, -for, if possible, he wished to make his visit a peaceful one. For this -reason, he had come alone to see Pascal, hoping to induce him to release -Vandemar and, perhaps, bring about a truce, thus preventing more -bloodshed. In this he had failed. Vandemar and Vivienne were in the -dungeon chamber, and the demolition of the castle seemed to be the only -way in which their lives could be saved. - -Cromillian walked along, his rifle over his shoulder, unconscious of -imminent danger. He was thinking of the most expeditious manner in which -the walls of the castle could be so breached as to make the rescue of -the lovers possible, when he felt a stinging, smarting sensation between -his shoulders. Instantly his throat filled with blood, he choked, a -momentary weakness overcame him, and he fell to the ground; but he was a -man of large stature and great muscular strength. With the revulsion -that followed such a severe physical shock, came the desire to be -revenged upon his assailant, for he knew that an attempt had been made -to assassinate him. - -Grasping his rifle, which had fallen from his hand, he gave a quick, -energetic lurch to his body, which enabled him to face in the opposite -direction to that in which he had been walking. Not twenty feet from -him, Cromillian saw an old man, with long white hair, who was -brandishing a sword--his own sword, for there was not another like it in -Corsica--it was old Manassa! - -“A life for a life!” he cried. “The Batistellis are avenged!” - -The old man turned and, with surprising agility, ran in the direction of -a thick grove of trees. A moment later he would have vanished from -sight. With an almost superhuman effort, Cromillian raised his rifle and -fired. A yell of pain was proof that the bullet had struck, but the -wound was not a mortal one. Old Manassa kept on and disappeared among -the trees. - -The exertion was too much for Cromillian; his throat again filled with -blood and, weakened by its loss, consciousness left him. - - * * * * * - -Shortly after the meeting between Cromillian and Pascal, during which -the latter was killed, the Countess and Bertha, with their guests, -Admiral Enright and his daughter Helen, were seated together in the -library of the Castle Mont d’Oro. Suddenly, the conversation was -interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who said: - -“Adolphe, Monsieur Pascal Batistelli’s valet, wishes to speak with you, -madame.” - -The Countess arose. “I will go and see him. No; let him come in. We are -all friends, and equally interested to hear what he may have to say.” - -Adolphe entered shortly and told his story, somewhat disjointedly, but -from it his hearers learned that a fight had taken place between -Cromillian and Pascal, in which the latter had been killed; that Manassa -had told him that Vandemar and Vivienne were in the dungeon chamber and -that there they must die, for the paper telling how to open the door had -been lost; that Manassa had gone, no one knew whither, and that his -master lay unburied. “There is no head to the house, and I know not what -to do,” he exclaimed. “I have come to you, Madame _la Comtesse_, for -advice.” - -The Countess turned to Bertha. “What can we say?” she asked, her voice -trembling with excitement. - -“We must leave it all to the Admiral,” replied Bertha. - -Turning to the Admiral, the Countess said: “I am sorry, my dear Admiral, -to thus burden you, but there is no one but you to whom we may turn in -this dreadful dilemma.” - -Thus summoned to take the leading part in the affair, the Admiral at -once displayed that great faculty in grasping details and organising -action, which had made him famous. - -“Go home, young man,” he said to Adolphe, “and tell the nurse, Clarine I -believe you called her, to prepare your master’s body for burial. I will -come to the castle soon and tell you what to do next.” - -After Adolphe had gone, the Admiral turned to the Countess and said: “It -is our duty to go at once to the castle. That poor girl hasn’t a -relative in the world. Nor the boy either. Not a soul to take charge of -an effort for their liberation but ourselves. It is horrible. They shall -be freed, and it devolves upon us to do it.” - -“I agree with you, Admiral,” said the Countess, “but I do not think it -safe for us to do so unless we are accompanied by a proper guard.” - -“Have no fear,” said the Admiral; “fortunately, that is provided for. I -am momentarily expecting the arrival of a detachment of sailors and -marines from the ship, for whom I have sent to protect myself and -daughter until we are safe again on board our vessel. When they arrive, -we will see what strong hands and willing hearts can do in so worthy a -cause. Let us make preparations to go at once.” - -The Countess left the room to give an order to her male retainers to -accompany them. - -Both the Countess and Bertha were greatly interested in the terrible -condition and probable fate of Vandemar and Vivienne. The Countess had -known Manuel Della Coscia and remembered the pretty little boy who had -now grown to man’s estate. Then, too, she had thought a great deal of -Vivienne, but had not allowed her interest to go beyond a certain point. -She knew that the girl was lovable, but she felt that if she betrayed -her own affection, it might lead her to encourage the Count in his -attentions to Mlle. Batistelli. In her heart she knew that her son would -never make Vivienne a good husband, and she was too honest and sincere a -woman to wish to secure her own happiness by making another unhappy. - -Bertha’s feelings were prompted by the natural sympathy of youth for -youth. This sympathy was intensified by the fact that her own love -affair was in a similar condition. To be sure, she did not feel that her -life was in danger, but she did not know but that Jack was already dead. -Were not Vandemar and Vivienne happier than she? They were together and, -if they could not be saved, they could die in each other’s arms. If Jack -were dead and she thus left alone, what possible hope of future -happiness could there be for her? - -“My dear,” said the Countess, as she re-entered the room, “there is a -messenger downstairs who wishes to see you on very important business.” - -“A messenger?” exclaimed Bertha, and her cheek paled. “Why, who can it -be? I know no one in Corsica----” - -“He would tell me nothing except that he came from your guardian.” - -“My guardian!” cried Bertha, and her pale face grew still whiter. “I -will not see him.” - -“I think it best that you should,” said the Countess, decidedly. - -Bertha thought for a moment: “I will go down, if you will come with me.” - -“I think it best that you should go alone,” the Countess rejoined. - -When Bertha reached the room, a man who had been seated at the farther -end arose and came towards her. He was heavily bearded and Bertha -considered him to be a stranger to her. She lowered her eyes. - -“You have come from my guardian?” she asked, in a voice hardly audible. - -“Yes--he is dead.” - -“Dead?” cried Bertha. She knew her thoughts were wicked, but the words -gave her a sense of relief. - -“How--” she had wished to ask--“How did it happen?” but she could utter -only the monosyllable. - -“He was killed by one of Cromillian’s band, who mistook him for a spy.” - -Something in the man’s voice caused her to gaze at him intently, -searchingly. - -“Jack!”--and with a glad cry Bertha sprang forward and threw her arms -about the young man’s neck. - -“Forgive me--that beard--I did not know you--and your voice--I am so -glad that you are safe”--and she laid her head upon his shoulder. - -“I am sorry for him. He may be better off,” said Jack. “Here are some -valuable papers that he had on him wholly relating to yourself, and -which you should guard carefully.” - -“I hope this is the end, Jack,” she breathed, softly. - -“I hope so--of our troubles,” he answered, “but others are in trouble. I -must get help for a man whom I found in the road, shot through the -lungs. I was not strong enough to carry him. Where is Count Mont d’Oro?” - -“He, too, is dead,” said Bertha. “Perhaps Admiral Enright can help -you--but what is that?” she cried. - -They listened. - -“It sounds like the beating of a drum,” said Jack, and he ran to the -window. “Come here, Bertha. There is a body of sailors--English sailors, -I think--and marines in front of the house.” - -“Yes, I know,” said Bertha. “Admiral Enright sent to his ship for them, -and now let us seek him out and also the Countess Mont d’Oro, who will -be glad you are come, for everything here in Corsica seems to be at -sixes and sevens.” - -The Admiral greeted Jack with the utmost cordiality. “I knew that your -good friend, and my Lieutenant, Victor Duquesne, was very much worried -because of your absence, and I am glad you have returned to give a good -account of yourself.” - -Jack gave a brief recital of his wanderings since he left the hotel at -Ajaccio, and also explained the condition of the wounded man, upon -hearing which the Admiral immediately detailed four sailors to accompany -Jack on his humane errand. - -“My dear Countess,” said the Admiral, “our young friend has gone to save -one life; it is now our duty to see if we can save two.” - -It was a strange procession that left the house of the Countess Mont -d’Oro and, escorted by the sailors and marines, soon reached the -Batistelli castle. The Admiral and his daughter were in advance, while -close behind them were the Countess Mont d’Oro, and Bertha who insisted -upon accompanying them, declaring that nothing would induce her to -remain at home alone. - -Adolphe and Clarine stood in the open doorway waiting to receive them, -and led the party through rooms and corridors, and up the steep stone -stairway to the Hall of Mirrors. The picture they formed, transferred to -canvas, would have won fame and fortune for the artist. There was the -Admiral in the handsome uniform of his rank; the Countess dressed in the -latest Parisian style, and Helen and Bertha in plain and simple attire, -forming a marked contrast with the uniforms of the jack-tars and -marines. The company was not very large, but its numbers were, -apparently, multiplied by the mirrors on the walls, and it seemed as -though a vast concourse was present. - -The Admiral studied carefully the picture disclosed by the parting of -the hinged mirrors. All could see that the artist had depicted a -well-known incident in the garden of Eden. - -“Does any one here know aught about the dungeon?” inquired the Admiral. - -Adolphe led the old nurse, Clarine, forward. “I am the only one who -knows,” she said. Clarine then told what she knew of the history of the -dungeon chamber, the paper left by Vivienne’s father, how she had given -it to the young girl on her birthday, and how it had disappeared, no one -knew how or where. - -“I understand,” said Admiral Enright. “There is no key to the door, nor -handle, so it must be opened from the outside, by some ingenious -concealed mechanism. To state the problem is easy, but I fear it will be -hard to solve it. My dear,” turning to his daughter Helen, “you are well -versed in regard to the castles of olden times and their dungeons. Have -you learned, in all your studies of them, anything which may aid us in -the present case?” - -Helen had been standing apart from the rest, eagerly scanning the -picture before her. At her father’s words she came forward and lightly -touched the picture at different points with her finger. - -“May one of your men assist me?” she asked, turning to the Admiral. - -The Admiral motioned for one of the sailors to come forward. - -“There must be some connection, father,” she said, “between the picture -and what we may call the lock, which, in cases I have read of, is formed -of bolts held in place by certain springs acted upon in a way which we -must ascertain. You see, here are Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, -standing beneath a tree, and above them the wicked serpent with -glistening eyes. There is the apple in Eve’s hand. Now, if we follow the -story as it is written, the serpent tempted Eve and Eve tempted Adam, -who ate the apple. Now, supposing your man will place the forefinger of -his right hand on the eye of the serpent and keep it there. Now, place -the forefinger of your left hand on the stem of the apple. Now, press -hard.” Suddenly there was a sound--a grating sound--like the moving of -one metallic surface upon another; yet there was no movement of the -door. - -“Not quite,” exclaimed Helen, excitedly, “but thank God we must be -nearing the solution. Now place a finger upon Eve’s mouth; now on Adam’s -ear. Now, press hard.” - -Again the grating sound, but still the doors did not open. - -Helen now gazed long at the picture, while all present watched her in -tense silence. - -“Two of the bolts have been shot, father,” she said at last, “but there -must be a third, and possibly more. Ah!” she exclaimed, as a sudden -thought seemed to strike her, no doubt impelled by the idea of pushing -Adam out of the garden of Eden, “press with all your might upon Adam’s -chest!” - -The sailor sprang forward to obey her command. Again the grating sound; -this time much louder. There was a creaking noise, and the door opened -slowly, as though pushed from within by invisible hands. - -A wild shout of delight arose from the company, for there, standing side -by side, were Vandemar and Vivienne. They had heard the grating and -creaking and knew that the hour of their deliverance had come. All stood -awe-hushed as Vandemar, seemingly the shadow of his former self, and -Vivienne, with tear-stained face and pallid cheek, came forth. - -“Bless--my--soul! Re-mark-a-ble!” exclaimed the Admiral, and he ran -forward and grasped the young man’s hand. - -The strong-armed sailor started to lend his support to Victor, but he -was abruptly put aside by a young man, who now rushed through the crowd -and helped lead Victor forward. It was Jack, who had performed his -errand of humanity, and had arrived just in time to witness the release -of his friend. - -Pylades and Orestes were again reunited. - -Simultaneously Vivienne was clasped in the arms of Clarine, who had been -as a mother to her and had loved her all her life. With the assistance -of the Countess and Bertha, Vivienne was led to a chair. Her first words -were: - -“Where is my brother Pascal?” - -“He is dead,” cried Clarine. “Cromillian killed him. You are the last of -the Batistellis.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -FATHER AND SON. - - -While the company had been at the Batistelli castle, Jack had performed -the task intrusted to him. Cromillian had been brought in, a doctor -called, and the flow of blood stanched. He was in a high state of fever -and was delirious. He kept calling for his men to follow him and save -Vandemar and Vivienne by tearing down the castle walls. “It is the only -way,” he cried time after time, and after each exertion would fall into -a stupor. - -The next morning, when the doctor came, he was rational. He had been -told that Vandemar and Vivienne had been liberated, and the intelligence -had produced a most quieting effect. - -“What is my real condition, Doctor?” he asked. “Tell me the truth. I can -bear it. I have a duty to perform and wish to know whether there is -time.” - -“Well, sir,” said the doctor, “your wound is a mortal one. You are a -very strong man and have great vitality. You will live another day, -perhaps two, but I can offer you no hope beyond that.” - -“Thank you,” said Cromillian. “I knew as much. I wish to see Vandemar. -Let him come to me at once and have him bring two witnesses. I have -something to tell him about his father.” - -It was not long before Vandemar appeared, accompanied by the Admiral and -Countess Mont d’Oro. Vandemar’s first words were: - -“They said you could tell me something of my father. Where can I find -him?” - -“You will not have to go far. I am he--I am called Cromillian, but my -right name is Manuel Della Coscia.” - -His hearers were astonished, Vandemar most of all. Could this bandit be -the father whom he had so longed to see? - -“I do not expect you to love me, my son. It is unnatural that you -should, for we have never been close to each other. But, before I die, I -must remove a stigma from our family name. You are the last of the line, -Vandemar, and should know the truth. Let your friends draw near, for my -story is a long one and I am weaker than I thought. - -“Vandemar and friends, as sure as there is a God in Heaven, I did not -kill Conrad Batistelli. The old Count Mont d’Oro and Conrad Batistelli -had a dispute about some land, for you know their estates adjoin. Pardon -me, lady, for what I am forced to say, but it is the truth. - -“One day, I met the old Count, who asked me if I had my stiletto with -me. He had left home without his, and as he was going to examine his -estate and might meet Batistelli, he was afraid that an altercation -might ensue, when he, being unarmed, would be at a disadvantage. That -evening I went to the Count’s house to get back my stiletto, for it was -a valuable one and bore my initials. To my horror, I learned that he had -killed Conrad Batistelli with it and, unthinkingly, had left the weapon -beside the dead body of his victim. - -“I was a widower; you were a little boy of six. The Batistellis were -powerful, and I knew that our lives would be forfeited if we remained in -Corsica. The Count gave me all the money he had in his possession, and a -letter of credit for a large sum. I took you, mounted a fleet horse -supplied by the Count, and made my way to Ajaccio. I obtained a disguise -and, a few days later, secured a passage to France. I made my way at -once to England, where I placed you at school. The Count sent me more -money, from time to time, and I lived the life of a man of leisure; but -when you were old enough to enter the Navy, my occupation was gone. I -had taken the name of Hector Duquesne, and had given you that of Victor. - -“I wearied of my quiet, do-nothing life, and decided to come back to -Corsica. But what could I do here? If I returned under my own name, -although I was an innocent man, the vendetta would claim me as a victim. -I assumed the name of Cromillian and organised my company of moral -bandits, pledged to do all they could to discountenance the practice of -the vendetta. - -“But I yearned to see you, and wrote to you, telling you who you were -and why you had been banished from your native land, though I did not -tell you when and where you could see me. I had hoped to meet you in -some way, look upon your face for the last time, and then warn you to -leave Corsica forever. You must do it now. My life will soon pay the -forfeit, and yours will if you remain here. The vendetta never dies -while food for the stiletto or the rifle remains alive.” - -The Countess was deeply affected by Cromillian’s story. She had never -dreamed that her husband was connected in any way with such a tragedy. -What a whirligig of fate it was which had brought the father and son -together under her roof. Cromillian must have divined what was passing -in the Countess’s mind. - -“My dear lady,” he said, “do not worry about what I have told you. The -Corsicans are born murderers. If your husband had not killed Conrad -Batistelli, he would have lost his own life. Is Pascal dead?” - -“Yes,” said Vandemar, “he is to be buried to-morrow.” - -“I shall soon follow him. Have they found old Manassa? I fired at him -after he shot me, and then he ran for the woods.” - -“We shall have a search made for him,” said Vandemar. - -Father and son were left together. Each was at the portal of a new life. -One was to go--he knew not where; the other looked forward to a life of -happiness with the woman he loved. - -As the Admiral and the Countess left the room, the former asked: - -“Have you ever found anything among your husband’s papers bearing on -this affair of the vendetta? I believe this man’s story, but even the -truth should be verified.” - -“No,” the Countess replied; “since my husband died in Paris, I have -visited Corsica only when it was absolutely necessary to learn from my -steward the condition of my affairs. The Count’s private papers are -here, but they have never been disturbed since his death.” - -“Suppose we look at them now,” suggested the Admiral. - -A careful search disclosed a sealed packet, endorsed “Manuel Della -Coscia. Statement of Account.” Below was written in a trembling hand, -“Closed.” It was opened by the Admiral, and found to contain, among -other papers, a signed statement corroborating in every particular the -story told by Cromillian. The writer expressed his regret that he could -not make a more adequate return for the great service rendered him by -Manuel Della Coscia. - -Vandemar’s father was sinking rapidly. The Countess and her guests were -gathered at his bedside, and she had informed him of the finding of the -paper, among her late husband’s effects, which entirely exonerated the -Della Coscias from all complicity in the murder. A look of pleasure -overspread the face of the wounded man as he motioned for Vandemar and -Vivienne to approach. He joined their hands. - -“Thus ends a Corsican vendetta,” he said, solemnly; then, seeing Jack -and Bertha, he smiled faintly and added: “And an English family feud.” - -His passing was painless and peaceful. At his request, his gravestone -bore but one word--CROMILLIAN. - -The searching party that had been sent out to look for Old Manassa -returned and reported that they had scoured the _maquis_, but could see -no trace of him. His body was never found. - -Admiral Enright at last received the orders from London for which he had -been waiting so long. He told his hostess that he must join his ship and -proceed at once to Portsmouth. - -“Young man,” he said, turning to Vandemar, “you ought to go with me. On -Mademoiselle Batistelli’s account, however, I will allow you to reach -Portsmouth by way of Paris.” - -“You will find me there waiting for you,” said Vandemar Della Coscia. - -“And what am I to do?” asked Jack, turning to Bertha. - -“You have neglected your duties as heir of the Earl of Noxton,” broke in -the Admiral, with mock severity, “and you have added to your -responsibilities by that neglect.” - -Jack looked disturbed. - -“I know, my dear Admiral, I have been very remiss, but you must own -there have been extenuating circumstances.” - -“Oh, yes,” said Admiral Enright, “I see her,”--and he looked at Bertha, -who blushed prettily. - -“No doubt we all wish to leave these scenes,” said the Countess. “I -shall return eventually, but for the present I shall open my Paris -residence, where, with Bertha, we shall be pleased to welcome you as our -guests so long as you can find it convenient to stay.” - -On the afternoon preceding the day of departure, a solemn conclave was -held in the library of the Mont d’Oro castle. - -“Mademoiselle Batistelli,” said the Admiral, turning to Vivienne, “is it -your intention to return to the Batistelli castle eventually, or----” - -“Never!” broke in Vivienne. “I shall never step within its doors again. -I couldn’t. Nothing but distressing memories are connected with its -walls, and I never wish to set foot in Corsica again.” - -“I had thought as much,” remarked the Countess, “and had so expressed -myself to Admiral Enright. As it adjoins my estate, I will make you a -proposition. With your consent--and also that of your future husband--I -will purchase the Batistelli castle and grounds at their proper -valuation. Should this offer prove acceptable, it is my intention to -raze the castle to the ground, and remove the hedge which has divided -the estates for so many years. Thus all unpleasant memories will be -banished. I shall be glad, for Paris is too noisy, and I shall have this -castle to be the shelter of my declining years.” - -This plan proved agreeable, and it was arranged that some of the -Batistelli servants, including Clarine, should be added to the Mont -d’Oro household; the others were dismissed with gratuities. - -The next day the _Osprey_ set sail from Ajaccio, bearing the Admiral and -his daughter. It was arranged that Vandemar and Vivienne, and Jack and -Bertha, accompanied by the Countess Mont d’Oro, should go at once to -Paris. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -“MERRIE ENGLAND.” - - -Vivienne had wished Clarine to accompany her to England, for Vandemar -had expressed his intention of making that country his future home. - -“No, my darling,” said the old nurse, “I would like to go with you, but -those whom I have served, and all, whom I have loved, excepting -yourself, are dead and buried here in Corsica. Until within a short -time, you have loved me better than any one else in the world, but now -your love--all your love--belongs to another, and old Clarine will not -ask you to divide it. I have not long to stay--you will not blame me, I -know--but when I die, I wish to be buried in my native land. I could not -die happy if I were to be laid away in that far off country, so far from -those I----” Here the old nurse’s feelings overcame her, and her voice -was so choked with sobs that she could not speak. Vivienne comforted her -as best she could, and told her that she would write to her regularly, -and that some day she might come with her husband to pay her a visit. - -“Countess Mont d’Oro has agreed to take you into her household, Clarine. -If she had not done so, I should have insisted upon your going with me, -but with her I know that you will be well treated, and if you are sick -you will have the best of care. She has promised me as much.” - -Vandemar had a conversation with Admiral Enright before the sailing of -the _Osprey_. - -“My duty is to join my ship at once,” the young man had said. - -“Young people do not see their duty sometimes as clearly as do their -elders,” the Admiral had replied. “The time you spent in that dungeon -has broken you down physically--I will not say mentally--as much as a -three years’ cruise would have done. I am commander of the ship and I -know that my action will be sustained by the Admiralty. I grant you a -furlough of thirty days. If you cannot make Mademoiselle Batistelli your -wife and join me at Portsmouth by the end of that time, you deserve to -be court-martialled, and I will see that you are.” - - * * * * * - -Never had the mansion of the Countess Mont d’Oro been so ablaze with -light as on the evening when she, accompanied by her guests, arrived in -Paris. She had previously sent word as to what preparations she wished -made for their coming. She had no sooner stepped over the threshold than -she turned, and, with a blending of French fervour and Italian grace, -with both hands extended, welcomed her guests. - -“This is my city home,” she cried. “It shall be yours as long as you -wish to stay. I have been mistress here for so long that it will be a -pleasure for me to take orders from others. Command me, and I will -obey.” - -Vivienne had never been outside of Corsica and she viewed with wonder -the beauties of the great city. It was the time of the Second Empire, -and the Prince-President, on assuming the crown, had determined to make -the people of Paris happy. He knew that Paris was France, and that if -Parisians were happy the rest of the country would be tranquil. - -During Bertha’s previous stay in the city, she had seen but few of its -attractions, for she had declined to accompany Count Mont d’Oro, and had -gone out very seldom with the Countess. - -Vandemar and Vivienne, and Jack and Bertha, made a happy party and -there were no restrictions upon their enjoyment. When asked to accompany -them the Countess had replied: - -“I have had my day as an active participant; I take the most pleasure -now in seeing others enjoy themselves.” - -Twenty days of Lieutenant Victor Duquesne’s furlough had expired. In his -intercourse with the outside world, he still retained the name by which -he was known in the Navy. - -“When my name is changed upon the Navy roster,” he told the Countess, “I -shall feel as though I had some legal right to it.” - -“You will have to claim a legal right to it before then,” said the -Countess. “You have no father nor mother, and I feel it is my duty to -act towards you in place of both. Your friend, Mr. De Vinne, has a -father and a mother living, and can take Miss Renville to his own home. -You, at present, have no home, and as your combined father and mother, -and as the combined father and mother of Mademoiselle Batistelli, you -must take your choice between becoming the husband of Vivienne within -the next ten days, or you will be obliged to leave her here in Paris. -You careless, thoughtless, headstrong young men are very apt to forget -the proprieties. You think that Vivienne belongs to you, and that nobody -else has any interest in her, but, young man, bear in mind that until -you legally and lawfully make her your wife, she is mine. You remember I -lived next door to her in Corsica.” - -Vandemar took Jack into his confidence. - -“What am I to do, old man? Here’s the Countess says that I must marry -Vivienne or she can’t let her go to England with me. She says you have a -home to take your lady-love to, while I have none. I intend to make one, -though.” - -“The Countess is right,” said Jack, “and do you know I have been -thinking that the best way to overcome possible objection is to render -it futile.” - -“Well, I can’t say that I follow you,” remarked Vandemar. - -“Well, you will understand me,” said Jack, “when I express my -determination of following you.” - -Still Vandemar did not understand. “Why, of course,” said he, “we always -intended to go to England together.” - -“Yes,” said Jack. “Our original intention was to go as four separate -individuals, but as the Fates seem to have decided that you and Vivienne -must go as a couple, I am more than willing to take time by the forelock -and, with Bertha’s kind co-operation, make another couple.” - -Vandemar grasped Jack’s hand. “From the time we first met until to-day, -Jack, I’ve never got into any kind of trouble, any sort of a dilemma, -that you did not contrive some way of getting me out of it.” - -“Well, you know,” said Jack, “that somehow or other we neither of us -have forgotten the old story of Pylades and Orestes.” - -“And I hope we never shall,” said Vandemar, fervently. - -A sudden thought came to Jack. “Well, I may have kept faith with you and -done part, if not all that I should have done in your behalf, but there -is one poor fellow whom I have entirely forgotten, so fully have I been -carried away by my own happiness.” - -“Clarence?” queried Vandemar. - -“Yes,” said Jack. “No news comes from that out-of-the-way place from -which we have providentially escaped with our lives, and what is worth -more, our wives to-be. Poor Clarence does not yet know of the death of -his father. I will go and talk the whole matter over with Bertha, and we -will decide what is best to write him.” - -Clarence Glynne’s recovery had been rapid after the arrival of his wife. -He had not been affected so much by the exhibit of his father’s enmity -towards him as he was by the supposed loss of his wife, whom he dearly -loved. The departure of his father in quest of Bertha made him virtual -master of Buckholme, and he lost no time in installing his wife as its -mistress. He had explained matters to Mr. Lake, giving him a most -liberal _douceur_, and had received the detective’s promise that no -publicity would be given to the affair of Glynne _vs._ Glynne. - -Clarence resumed his position as head of the mercantile house of -Walmonth & Company, and everything moved along much more smoothly and -happily than it had before. - -“The day of reckoning will come some time,” he said to his wife, one -morning at breakfast. - -“Well, Clarence,” she replied, “there is an old adage about not -borrowing trouble. When the day of reckoning comes, we will figure up -both sides of the account and see to whom the balance is due. I know you -will pardon me when I say that I think your father has been playing a -deep game. So far as you are concerned, there is no reason why the truth -should not be known, but I don’t think he will be willing to have it -divulged. In such a case the balance will be on your side. You suspect -what the truth is, and if you should mention your suspicions to the -authorities, the truth would have to come out.” - -“That may be so,” said Clarence, “but a man doesn’t like to get his -father in a hole, and then shake a stick at him and tell him he can’t -come out unless he pays up.” - -“I don’t say, Clarence, but that you are indebted to your father for -your existence, but I really think you owe him very little love, and I -am sure I have never had any for him, nor he for me.” - -Jennie might have said more, but conversation was cut short by the -entrance of Brinkley with the morning mail. - -Clarence was so busily engaged with his breakfast that Jennie took the -letters. She glanced over them quickly, throwing them, one by one, upon -the table. The postmark of the last one she regarded attentively. - -“Why, here’s one from Paris,” she exclaimed. - -“From father?” asked her husband, still intent upon his bacon and eggs. - -“No,” said she. “I will open it and read it to you.” - -Womanlike she looked at the end of the letter first. - -“Why, Clarence,” she exclaimed, “it’s from Jack De Vinne.” - -“Go on,” said her husband, as he buttered a muffin, “let’s hear what he -says,” and Jennie read: - - “MY DEAR CLARENCE: - - “I have been very remiss in my duty to you. I should have written - to you long before this and conveyed to you some intelligence which - you will find of the greatest importance. Let me give you my excuse - first. I cannot tell you the whole story now, for I am not an adept - at letter-writing, and usually confine my communications to a - statement of bald facts. Well, the facts are these. By a curious - coincidence I met my dear friend Victor Duquesne in Corsica. Bertha - had gone there with the Countess Mont d’Oro, and I, as you know, - followed her. Admiral Enright’s ship, upon which Victor was a - lieutenant, came to Ajaccio shortly after I arrived, so we met. - Your father followed Bertha to Corsica, intending to prevent my - meeting with her. She was not poor, as your father had told me, but - possesses a fortune in her own right. Your father was to be her - guardian until the day of her marriage, when, by her father’s will, - she was to be put in possession of her fortune. You see now why - your father wished you to marry her and why he did not want her to - marry anybody else.” - -“We knew all that before, didn’t we, Clarence?” exclaimed Jennie. - -“Yes,” said her husband, as he buttered a third muffin. “Go on, he’s got -something more to tell. I know Jack; he writes just as he talks.” - - “I cannot tell you all now, Clarence, all the terrible things that - occurred in Corsica while we were there. The vendetta is the - national pastime. We all got mixed up in it, and fortunate are we - that we escaped with our lives; many did not. But Bertha and I, and - Victor and his lady-love, a beautiful young Corsican girl named - Vivienne Batistelli, and our mutual friend, Countess Mont d’Oro, - are all safe now in Paris. I have written all this, Clarence, in - the vain hope that I should find some way of breaking sad news to - you in such a manner as not to give you too sudden a shock.” - -Clarence dropped his knife and fork and looked intently at his wife. “I -told you so, Jennie. I knew he was holding something back. But read on; -it cannot be any worse than I think it is. I imagined while you were -reading that something had happened, for how could Jack know about -Bertha’s fortune?” - -“You are right,” said his wife, who had been reading ahead while he had -been talking; “you are right, Clarence, your father is gone. Jack says -he was made captive by one party of bandits while your father was a -captive with another band. Your father escaped with the evident -intention of following Jack, but when challenged by the guard he did not -answer quickly enough and was shot down. Jack saw that he was buried, -and took possession of the papers upon him. He says that one of those -papers was the will of Oscar Renville, and he took the liberty of giving -it to Bertha, who read it. Those are not his own words,” said Jennie. “I -will read it just as it is here, if you wish, Clarence.” - -“Is there any more?” he asked. - -“Oh, yes, another page.” - - “Bertha wishes me to say to you that if your father, in the - performance of his duty as guardian, has invested a part of her - fortune in the business of Walmonth & Company, she has no desire to - withdraw it at present. She is willing to make an arrangement by - which a suitable interest may be paid her upon the amount. If it - has all been invested in the business, a share in the profits, she - thinks, would be more equitable. But all can be arranged when we - arrive in England. Trusting that you and your wife are enjoying - good health, and with kind regards from Bertha and myself, I am, - - “Sincerely yours, - - “JOHN DE VINNE.” - -“I cannot give you a royal wedding,” said the Countess Mont d’Oro, “but -I am willing and able to make it a princely one.” - -Both the young ladies protested against such extravagance. - -“I have no one else to squander my money upon,” said the Countess. “Just -think of it, you, Bertha, are going to be a countess, and probably -Vivienne will one day hear her future husband addressed as Admiral.” - -“Yes,” cried Bertha, “but both of those events are likely to be far in -the future. I do not wish my presumptive father-in-law to die, and I -know that it is long, in times of peace, before a lieutenant becomes an -Admiral.” - -“But these are not times of peace,” cried the Countess. “There is going -to be a war. A friend of mine who is intimate at Court says that it will -not be many months before France will declare war against Russia. It is -something about the Crimea, but what that is I really do not know.” - -“Why, that’s part of Russia,” cried Bertha. “Or perhaps the Russians -wish to add it to their Empire. I remember reading about Peter the Great -and how he founded the city of St. Petersburg. The book said that one -hundred thousand men lost their lives from fever and other forms of -disease while the city was being built.” - -“Yes,” said the Countess, sharply, “these rulers are always willing to -sacrifice the lives of their subjects if they can add thereby to their -own power. I am a lover of peace.” - -“So am I,” said Vivienne, “but are there not times when an honourable -war is better than a dishonourable peace?” - -The Countess did not answer the question, but said, gaily: “We are not -here to discuss war, but an honourable peace. You two young ladies have -capitulated, and the victors demand their booty--I should have said -beauty.” - -“Let it be a quiet wedding,” said Bertha, “with as few people present as -possible.” - -“That’s my idea, exactly,” said Vivienne. - -“Well, you may have your own way so far as the marriage itself is -concerned,” said the Countess. “About one part of the festivities -though, I shall insist upon having my own way. After the marriage we -will have a reception, and I shall claim the right to invite to that -whom I please, and as many as I please.” - - * * * * * - -The wedding reception was over and the last guest had departed. - -“This is the happiest day I have ever passed in this house,” said the -Countess. “I am glad that my last days in it have been connected with -such a series of happy events.” - -“Why,” cried Vivienne, “are you not going to live in Paris?” - -“No,” said the Countess, “I have already made arrangements to sell the -house. I am going back to Corsica to live. I may never see you again, -but you must write and tell me how happy you are, and your letters will -be a great solace to me.” - -“But you must come and see us,” said Bertha, “after we settle down in -England.” - -“No,” said the Countess, decidedly, “after I go back to Corsica I shall -never leave it again. But we must not talk any more about my travels, -which are of little consequence. The carriage will be here in half an -hour to take you to the station. Lieutenant Della Coscia’s furlough -expires day after to-morrow, and he must be in Portsmouth to meet the -Admiral. Is it not so, Monsieur Lieutenant?” - -“You have spoken the truth, Countess,” said Vandemar. “We have had our -days of pleasure, and now for me come days of duty.” - -The Countess did not break down when the moment for parting came. “You -have my blessing,” she said, almost gaily; “life is bright for you, and -I feel glad that I have in some small degree contributed to your -happiness. Don’t forget to write to me,” were her last words as they -descended the steps to enter the waiting carriage. - -When Lieutenant and Madame Della Coscia and Mr. and Mrs. John De -Vinne--or as we should have said Lord and Lady De Vinne--arrived at -Portsmouth they learned that Admiral Enright was away on leave. About a -fortnight previous to their arrival, the Admiral, accompanied by his -daughter, had gone to his estate in Devonshire. - -An officer of the _Osprey_, who was staying at the same hotel with the -married couples, informed Vandemar and Jack that the Admiral’s leave -would expire in three days, and that he would surely return by that -time. - -The young gentlemen and their wives were on their honeymoons, and the -delay made little difference to them. - -A week elapsed before Vandemar, who was in the smoking room, espied the -Admiral’s genial face as he alighted from a carriage. In a moment -Vandemar was with him and, arm in arm, they went back to the smoking -room, where cigars were lighted. - -“What is the matter?” asked Vandemar. “I hope your daughter is not sick. -She is not with you. What caused your delay?” - -The Admiral laughed immoderately; finally he ejaculated: “Bless my soul! -A most re-mark-a-ble affair.” - -“Tell me all about it,” cried Vandemar. “Madame Della Coscia is out -driving with Mr. and Mrs. De Vinne and I am lonesome.” - -“I hardly know where to begin,” said the Admiral, and again he laughed -heartily. - -“Why not at the beginning?” queried Vandemar. - -“That’s not a bad idea,” said the Admiral. “Well, you know Doctor John -Frobisher, who was surgeon on the _Osprey_?” - -“Remember Jack Frobisher?” broke in Vandemar. “Of course I do! A mighty -good fellow. Hard to get acquainted with, though. Bashful or diffident, -I don’t know which.” - -“You haven’t got the right word,” said the Admiral. “He was jealous.” - -“Jealous!” cried Vandemar. “Of whom?” - -“I think,” said the Admiral, “that it must have been a certain -lieutenant attached to the _Osprey_, who was, I judge from what you have -told me, lately married in Paris to a beautiful young Corsican lady.” - -“Whew!” exclaimed Vandemar. “What possible proof can you have for such a -ridiculous statement?” - -“Well,” remarked the Admiral, “if you will let me go on with my story, I -think I can make it as plain to you as it is to me.” - -“Proceed, my dear Admiral,” said Vandemar, “but when you are through you -will have to undergo a cross-examination.” - -“My estate,” the Admiral began, “is a good five miles from the nearest -village. When we left the mailcoach my own carriage was waiting for -us--I ordered it ahead--but it was nine o’clock at night, and dark at -that. I was for staying over night, but as we had a guest with us, Helen -was for pushing on--and on we pushed.” - -Vandemar forgot himself: “A guest?--Excuse me, Admiral.” - -“Oh, that’s all right I ought to have told you that Doctor Frobisher was -with us. He’s an orphan or something of that sort and had no place to -go. Well, we had covered about two miles when we heard a pistol-shot -close behind us, and Chudleigh, our driver, pulled up the horses with a -jerk. Jack jumped out to see what the matter was. His feet had no sooner -touched the ground than he saw a pistol pointed at him. Bless my soul! -We were at the mercy of a highwayman, the worst of all land sharks. The -fellow made me get out next, but Helen refused to move. She argued with -the highwayman, telling him that his calling was nefarious and that he -would surely end his days on the scaffold. The fellow reached in, caught -hold of Helen, and tried to pull her out of the carriage. That was more -than Jack could stand. He jumped upon the rascal and down they went. -That fencing of yours was fine--the best I ever saw--but in a -rough-and-tumble fight I think Jack can hold his own with the best of -them. When Jack got through with the highwayman, we left him to sleep -off his troubles.” - -“Good for Jack!” Vandemar exclaimed, involuntarily. - -“You are right,” said the Admiral. “You know how fond Helen is of -personal bravery? Well, she was delighted, and she told John so. Either -the scuffle or her praise unlimbered his tongue, and while I was asleep -in a corner of the carriage, he had the audacity to propose and was -accepted. A most re-mark-a-ble affair. They were married a week ago. I -couldn’t get away any sooner.” - -At that moment the driving party returned, and all joined in -congratulating the Admiral in saving his money from the highwayman and -securing so desirable a son-in-law. - -“Now, Admiral,” said Vandemar, “you can help us. The two husbands and -wives now before you have no place to call their own in which they can -lay their heads. We are willing to buy or lease. Where can we go?” - -“I know just the place,” cried the Admiral. “It was made for you. It is -called Crow Lodge, and is about a quarter of a mile from my own place.” - -“I should change the name at once,” said Vivienne. - -“And what would you call it?” asked Vandemar. - -“I should name it after our best friend,” she replied, “Countess Mont -d’Oro--Marie Lodge. Would not that be a pretty name? It is to her more -than to any one else that we owe our present happiness, and I am going -to name everything I can after her.” - -The Admiral looked up, and with a roguish twinkle in his eye, asked: -“Even----” - -Vivienne blushed rosy red; the others laughed, but she answered stoutly: -“Yes, even!” - - * * * * * - -Jack and Bertha had been guests at Marie Lodge but a few days when an -urgent summons came from his mother, the Countess. Before leaving -Portsmouth, Jack had wired his father of his intended visit to -Devonshire, and had given his address. The summons was in the form of a -telegram. It read: “Come home at once. Your father is at the point of -death.” - -“You must come with me, Bertha,” said Jack. “Your place is by my side. I -know my mother will receive you as a daughter. If my father has any -objections to our marriage, it is too late to prevent it, but I wish his -forgiveness, if he thinks such an act necessary, before he dies.” - -The Earl of Noxton’s illness had not been of long duration, but he had -suffered intense pain. Nature, at last, had succumbed in so far as to -offer no further resistance to the inroads of disease; instead, there -had come that physical peace and that lucid interval which so often -precede dissolution. - -As Jack had presaged, the Countess welcomed Bertha warmly. - -“She is beautiful, is she not, mother?” asked Jack when they were alone. - -“Yes,” said the Countess, “and she is poor. When I was married to your -father he said I was beautiful, and I was poor.” - -“You are beautiful now, mother,” said Jack, as he embraced her. “But -Bertha is not poor. I thought she was, for her guardian told me so, but -it turns out that she is rich.” - -The three sat by the bedside of the dying man. The Earl of Noxton fixed -his eyes intently upon Bertha. - -“Who is she, John?” he asked, in a faint voice. - -“She is my wife, father.” - -“Ah, I remember, you told me about her. You said she was beautiful. I -can see that for myself, but you also told me that she was poor. Well, -your mother was both beautiful and poor when I married her, and I have -never regretted that I made her a Countess. I hope you will not.” - -Jack’s mother led Bertha away. “You must not mind his last words,” she -said. “We knew that John had gone in search of you and we imagined what -the end would be. The Earl’s father was opposed to our marriage, but -Carolus was determined that I should be his wife, and I knew that John -was like his father. My only wish is that the Earl could have lived to -have seen you both happy.” - -Jack stood by the bedside and took his father’s wasted hand in his. -“Have I your forgiveness, father?” - -The thin fingers closed upon his own; then he heard the words: “It runs -in the blood; like father, like son.” - -Both Vandemar and Clarence were soon in receipt of letters informing -them of the death and burial of the Earl of Noxton. They read, too, in -the papers, of the demise of Lord Carolus De Vinne, Earl of Noxton, and -the announcement of the accession of his son John De Vinne to the title. -The item contained the information that the young Earl had been married -while in Paris to Miss Bertha Renville, daughter of the late Oscar -Renville, who had left her a large fortune which would go to swell the -revenues of the young Earl. The item further stated that the young -Countess of Noxton was a beautiful English girl, and when the period of -retirement was over she would, no doubt, prove a great acquisition to -London society. - -As Countess Mont d’Oro foretold, the war cloud grew black, and England, -France, and Sardinia made a triple alliance against the aggressions of -Russia in the Crimea. - -“Admiral,” said Vandemar, “I am going to London to ask the Admiralty for -active service.” - -“Nonsense,” cried the Admiral. “You stay at home and look after your -wife. This is not to be a naval war; this affair is to be fought out on -land, and a sailor on land is of no more use than a turtle on its back. -Besides,” the Admiral added, “I have arranged matters with the -Admiralty. I am ordered to duty at Portsmouth, and I have requested that -you should be with me.” - -Vandemar saw that it was in vain to protest. - -“We shall be very comfortably situated,” said the Admiral. “My -son-in-law has resigned his position in the Navy and will at once take -up general practice. Our doctor here is too old to go out nights, and -John is to step into his shoes. Of course, after getting the best of the -highwayman, John will not be afraid to go out late at night, and then, -you see, Vandemar, we can run back and forth, and if we have to remain -away from home any length of time, Vivienne can stay with Helen. If you -are not satisfied with that arrangement, I must say I am.” - -As the Admiral had said, the issues of the Crimean war were settled by -the Army and not by the Navy. The battle of the Alma; the famous charge -of Lord Raglan at Balaklava; the battle of Inkermann, on the night -before which ten thousand British soldiers joined in singing “Annie -Laurie,” and the siege and fall of Sebastopol followed each other, but -not in as quick succession as have the battles in more modern warfare. - - “Queen Victoria’s very sick; - Napoleon’s got the measles; - Sebastopol’s not taken yet, - Pop go the weasels.” - -The words were those of a popular song; they were sung in a childish -treble by a young blue-eyed and fair-haired boy who was playing on the -terrace of Noxton Hall. The singer was Victor, the son and heir of John, -Earl of Noxton. - -“Why don’t you sing, Marie?” asked the boy, addressing a little girl -with dark hair and dark eyes, who sat beside him. - -“I don’t like to,” said little Miss Della Coscia. “I don’t think the -words are pretty.” - -“Well, I do,” rejoined Victor. “Papa says the English fought the -Roosians and he says they beat them, too. Come, let’s fight. You be -Roosian and I’ll be English.” He started towards the little girl, who -turned and fled, screaming at the top of her voice. - -“Why, what’s the matter, children?” - -The speaker was Countess Mont d’Oro, who had been prevailed upon to -visit England. She had resisted all entreaties until a picture had been -sent her of her namesake, the little Marie. Then there had come to her -heart a desire to see Vivienne’s child, which she could not repress. The -Earl had heard of her visit to Marie Lodge, and had insisted that -Vandemar and his family, and the Countess, should pay them a visit at -Noxton Hall. - -Before the Countess could ascertain the reason for Marie’s alarm, her -loud cries had summoned Jack and Bertha, and Vandemar and Vivienne, to -the terrace. - -“What’s the trouble, Victor?” asked his father. - -“Nothing, only I wanted to play war, and Marie was Roosian and I was -English, but when I showed fight she ran away and made lots of noise.” - -That evening after dinner Jack and Vandemar sat in the smoking room. As -is often the custom with fond parents, who are good friends, they -praised each other’s children. - -“I am proud of my namesake,” said Vandemar; “he is a handsome, manly -little fellow.” - -“And I think,” said Jack, “that Marie, when she grows up, will be as -beautiful as her mother. Who knows but that if my boy and your girl grow -up together, she may, one day, be the Countess of Noxton?” - -“Yes,” said Vandemar, with feeling, “if their hearts so decide, and not -our wills. Neither you nor I, Jack, will ever interfere with the -love-making of our children. Surely we have had enough of plots and -counter-plots.” - -“Yes,” said Jack, “if an obdurate guardian had prevailed, Bertha would -not now be Countess of Noxton.” - -“Yes,” spoke up Vandemar, “and if the Corsican vendetta had claimed its -last victim, Vivienne would not now be the wife of Vandemar Della -Coscia. By the way, Jack, what do you suppose the Countess told Vivienne -to-day?” - -“That she is going to sell her estates in Corsica and take up her -residence in Paris once more.” - -“The first part of your guess is correct,” said Vandemar, “but she is -not going to live in Paris. She told Vivienne--I think I can repeat her -very words, ‘My past troubles are buried in Corsica, and my joys are yet -to come with you and Merrie England.’” - - -THE END. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CORSICAN LOVERS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Corsican Lovers</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Charles Felton Pidgin</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 16, 2022 [eBook #67412]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Steve Mattern, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CORSICAN LOVERS ***</div> -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="c"> -<a href="images/cover.jpg"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" height="500" alt="[The -image of the book's cover is unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_i" id="page_i">{i}</a></span>  </p> - -<div class="bbox1"> -<div class="bbox1"> -<h1><b>THE CORSICAN<br /> -LOVERS</b></h1> -</div> - -<div class="bbox2"> -<p class="c">  <br /><b>A STORY OF THE VENDETTA</b><br /><br /><br /> -BY<br /><br /> -CHARLES FELTON PIDGIN<br /><br /> -<small>Author of “QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER,” “BLENNERHASSETT,” -ETC.</small><br /><br /><br /> -<img src="images/colophon.png" -width="30" -alt="" /> -<br />  -</p> -</div> - -<div class="bbox2"> - -<p class="c"><span class="smcap">New York</span><br /> -GROSSET & DUNLAP<br /> -<span class="smcap">Publishers</span> -</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_ii" id="page_ii">{ii}</a></span></p> - -<p class="c"><small>Copyright, 1906<br /> -By<br /> -B. W. DODGE & COMPANY<br /> -<span class="smcap">New York</span></small></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iii" id="page_iii">{iii}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table cellpadding="3"> - -<tr><td class="rt"><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td>  </td> -<td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#I">I.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#I">Brotherly Love</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1">1</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#II">II.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#II">“A Man Must Have a Wife</a>”</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_8">8</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#III">III.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#III">“Pylades and Orestes</a>”</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_20">20</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#IV">IV.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#IV">“Buckholme</a>”</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_28">28</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#V">V.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#V">The Earl of Noxton</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_42">42</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#VI">VI.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#VI">Dual Lives</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_57">57</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#VII">VII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#VII">Bertha’s Escape</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_66">66</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#VIII">VIII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#VIII">A Sorrow and a Solace</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_77">77</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#IX">IX.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#IX">News of the Fugitives</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_83">83</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#X">X.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#X">“La Grande Passion</a>”</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_91">91</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XI">XI.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XI">A Corsican Chant</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_104">104</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XII">XII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XII">Cromillian, the Moral Bandit</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_116">116</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XIII">XIII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XIII">“To See is to Love!</a>”</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_124">124</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XIV">XIV.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XIV">A Flower with Blood-stained Petals</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_141">141</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XV">XV.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XV">A Duel in the Dark</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_149">149</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XVI">XVI.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XVI">Ancestral Pride</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_168">168</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XVII">XVII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XVII">A Life for a Life</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_173">173</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XVIII">XVIII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XVIII">A Message from the Dead</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_200">200</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XIX">XIX.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XIX">The Avenger of Blood</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_205">205</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XX">XX.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XX">“Who is Master Here?</a>”</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_216">216</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXI">XXI.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXI">A Birthday Party</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_281">281</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXII">XXII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXII">Treachery</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_242">242</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXIII">XXIII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXIII">“He is the Man!</a>”</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_251">251</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXIV">XXIV.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXIV">The Hall of Mirrors</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_261">261</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXV">XXV.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXV">The Dungeon Chamber</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_278">278</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iv" id="page_iv">{iv}</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXVI">XXVI.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXVI">At Salvanetra</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_281">281</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXVII">XXVII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXVII">To the Rescue!</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_285">285</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXVIII">XXVIII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXVIII">“We Will Die Together!</a>”</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_293">293</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXIX">XXIX.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXIX">A Double Vendetta</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_305">305</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXX">XXX.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXX">The Garden of Eden</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_311">311</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXXI">XXXI.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXXI">Father and Son</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_322">322</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#XXXII">XXXII.</a></td><td class="pdd"><a href="#XXXII">“Merrie England</a>”</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_328">328</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1">{1}</a></span></p> - -<h1>THE CORSICAN LOVERS.</h1> - -<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /><br /> -<small>BROTHERLY LOVE.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">“You</span> have no right, Pascal, to command me to marry a man whom I do not -love.”</p> - -<p>The speaker was a young girl not more than eighteen years of age. As she -spoke, the flashing of her eyes and her clenched hands betokened the -intensity of her feelings.</p> - -<p>The person to whom the words were addressed was a man of about forty. He -was smooth-shaven, and the black, shaggy eyebrows which met above the -bridge of his nose, gave to his face a stern and almost forbidding -expression. He did not reply to his sister’s impassioned words for some -time, but sat, apparently unconcerned, tapping lightly on the library -table with the fingers of his right hand.</p> - -<p>At last he spoke: “I do not command you, Vivienne; all I ask is that you -will comply with your father’s dying wish.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know that it was his dying wish? He was dead when found, -stabbed to the heart, as you told me, by Manuel Della Coscia—that brave -Corsican who ran away to escape the vengeance he so well deserved.”</p> - -<p>The man looked up approvingly. “My sister, that was spoken like a true -Batistelli. If you loved your father, as your words seem to indicate, I -do not see how you can disobey his slightest wish.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2">{2}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>The girl turned upon him, that bright flash again in her eyes. “Why are -you so anxious that I should marry? Why is it that you yourself do not -marry?”</p> - -<p>The man’s answer came quickly: “I have sworn, and so has your brother -Julien, that we will not marry until our father’s death has been -avenged.”</p> - -<p>The girl placed both her hands on the edge of the table, leaned forward, -and looked into her brother’s face, as she said: “And neither will I.”</p> - -<p>She spoke with suppressed intensity.</p> - -<p>“You knew our father,” she continued; “you loved him when he was alive -and you can love him now. You have something tangible to remember; I can -only love his memory. I was but a child a few days old when he fell -beneath the knife of the assassin. I do love his memory, and I know if -he were living he would not condemn me to a loveless marriage.”</p> - -<p>Again that inscrutable look came upon the man’s face. He shrugged his -shoulders and the dark line of eyebrows lifted perceptibly.</p> - -<p>“I do not know what he would do; I only know what he did.”</p> - -<p>“And what did he do?” broke in Vivienne.</p> - -<p>The man started. The question was asked with such vehemence that for an -instant his marked self-possession was overcome.</p> - -<p>“What did he do?” he repeated, thus gaining time, for he wished to think -of the most forcible way in which to present the matter to his sister. -“I will tell you. I know that he talked the matter over with old Count -Mont d’Oro. The Count is dead, or there would be a living witness to the -compact. But a few days before our father’s death, in fact the very day -you were born, even while you were in your nurse’s arms, he said to me, -‘I am glad that it is a daughter. She shall be called Vivienne, and when -she grows to womanhood she shall be a countess, for I have talked the -matter over<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3">{3}</a></span> with Count Mont d’Oro, and we have both agreed that the -little Count Napier shall be the husband of my little Vivienne.’ Three -days later I looked upon his lifeless body. The words of the dead cannot -be changed.”</p> - -<p>It was now the young girl’s turn to think before speaking. The position -that her brother had taken seemed, for the moment at least, -unanswerable; but woman’s wisdom, like her wit, is equal to any -emergency.</p> - -<p>“Brother Pascal,” she began, and her voice was tremulous, “when I was -bereft of a father’s and a mother’s love, you took their place. It is to -you I have always looked for advice—both Julien and I, for you are so -much older and wiser than we are. You have taken our father’s place; his -words have become your words, but you are living and can change your -words and free me from this bondage, for I would rather die than become -the wife of Count Napier, or any other man I cannot love.”</p> - -<p>Pascal Batistelli set his teeth tightly together, a dark look came into -his face. “Am I to understand, then, that you absolutely refuse to marry -Count Mont d’Oro?”</p> - -<p>“Not only him, but any one else,” answered the girl. “I am content as I -am.”</p> - -<p>She turned away from the table, walked to the window, and looked out -upon the grounds which stretched far and wide from the castle walls. The -bright sunlight fell on tree and bush and on the brightly tinted -flowers. All was beauty and peace without. How could nature be so happy, -and she so miserable? Suddenly she turned and approached her brother, -who had not changed his position.</p> - -<p>“When did you wish this marriage to take place?” she asked, making a -vain attempt to smile.</p> - -<p>“On your eighteenth birthday,” he said, calmly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I have some time, then, to wait,” and she gave<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">{4}</a></span> a little laugh. -“You may tell Count Mont d’Oro that I will see him. I will tell him how -much I love him. Then——” She could say no more. With a convulsive sob -she turned and fled from the room.</p> - -<p>“When a woman says she won’t, she often will,” soliloquised Pascal, as -he arose and went to the window from which Vivienne had looked. “My -father left fine estates. How could a sensible man make such a foolish -will?”</p> - -<p>Pascal took a small silver key from his pocket, and turning to an old -escritoire, opened a drawer and took therefrom a paper. He then reseated -himself at the table. “I should not have known,” said he to himself, -“what was in my father’s will if I had not bribed the notary to break -the seals and make me a copy. It is well to know what the future has in -store for you—and for others. My father executed a document by which I -was made guardian of my brother Julien and my sister Vivienne, until -they became of age, I to supply all their wants as their father would -have done. By a strange coincidence, my brother Julien is exactly seven -years older than my sister. In a few months he will be twenty-five and -she eighteen. The will must then be opened and what I alone know—I do -not count the notary, for I have paid him his price—all will know.” -Then he read the document carefully:</p> - -<p>“If my daughter Vivienne marries Count Mont d’Oro’s son Napier, on or -before her eighteenth birthday, as he will be wealthy in his own right, -and I wish the marriage to be one of love, my estates shall be divided -equally between my two sons, Pascal and Julien, if both are living; if -but one be living, then to him, and if both should die and my daughter -live, all shall go to her. If she does not marry Count Mont d’Oro’s son -Napier for lack of love of him, half of my estate shall become hers. As -Pascal will have had the entire income of my estate for eighteen years, -he will<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">{5}</a></span> be worth much, and the other half of my estate shall go to -Julien, if living; if not, all shall go to Vivienne.”</p> - -<p>“A very unfair will,” said Pascal, as he replaced the document in the -escritoire. “If the dead could come back, such injustice would probably -be remedied.”</p> - -<p>There was a tap at the door, which opened almost immediately and -Adolphe, Pascal’s valet, entered.</p> - -<p>“The Count Mont d’Oro.”</p> - -<p>“Admit him,” said Pascal, and a moment later the young Count advanced -with outstretched hand, exclaiming even before their hands met:</p> - -<p>“What news? What news? What does she say?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the impatience of you young lovers!” cried Pascal. “I think the -leaven of love must have been left out of my composition. I have never -yet met a woman who could put such fire into my blood as there seems to -be in yours, my dear Count.”</p> - -<p>“No more about me. Let us speak of her. What does she say?”</p> - -<p>“Do not be too impatient. Even if I could repeat her very words, I could -not say them just as she did. I can but translate them into a cold, -formal phrase. She will see you.”</p> - -<p>“I thought she would,” cried the young Count, “and when I kneel and lay -my love at her feet, she will accept me and make me the happiest of -men.”</p> - -<p>“Be not too confident,” said Pascal; “she is young and wilful. You know -the Batistellis are a determined race. I did not try to plead your -cause. I am not used to love-making, and I felt that I should injure -your prospects if I spoke in your behalf. But I warn you that you must -use your eloquence and not appear too confident at the first.”</p> - -<p>The Count laughed. It was not an honest, sincere laugh. A good judge of -human nature would have detected in it a hollow sound—more of mockery -than of true passion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6">{6}</a></span></p> - -<p>“One can see by looking at you, Pascal, that you are not an Adonis. You -are not to blame if you have not the graces of Apollo. I have not -descended from the ancient gods of Greece, but I have had an experience -which even they might envy. I have run the gamut of Parisian society -from the ante-chamber of royalty to the gutter, and in Paris there are -beauties to be found even in the gutter.”</p> - -<p>“I would not tell Vivienne that,” suggested Pascal.</p> - -<p>“Of course not,” said the Count; “she is young and inexperienced and -would not understand.”</p> - -<p>“She might not understand,” said Pascal, “but on the other hand she -might imagine more than the truth, and that would be fatal to your -prospects, for I warn you, Count, that she is a woman who will not marry -a man she does not love, and she will insist that he love her and her -only.”</p> - -<p>Again the Count laughed. “Why, even the King of France cannot command so -much as that. I suppose I must bury the past. She is worth it. By the -way, my dear Pascal, I think you told me that in case she marries me -before her eighteenth birthday, the estates go with her.”</p> - -<p>“My father made a most foolish will,” said Pascal, guardedly.</p> - -<p>“That is what troubles me,” said the Count. “I feel like a robber; as -though I had placed a pistol at your head and said, ‘Pascal Batistelli, -give me your sister and your estates or you are a dead man.’<span class="lftspc">”</span> Then he -added, after a moment’s thought: “I do not think that I can do it, after -all. I think I shall go back to Paris.”</p> - -<p>“Then you do not love my sister?” queried Pascal. He did not think the -Count meant what he said, but it suited his purpose to take the remark -seriously.</p> - -<p>“When I am with her, yes,” said the Count; “then<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">{7}</a></span> your sister Vivienne -is the divine She; but, as I told you, there are beautiful women in -Paris.”</p> - -<p>Pascal felt the ground slipping from under his feet. “When you are -married, Count, you can go to Paris; you are not obliged to live here in -this dull place.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, but they will know that I am married.” Then, with a conceit -which did not seem particularly offensive on account of the manner in -which it was spoken, he added: “And, you know, I am quite a catch -myself.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” said Pascal, “and when the estates of Mont d’Oro and -Batistelli are united, I have no doubt that many a fair eye in Paris -will be wet with tears.”</p> - -<p>“Well spoken, my dear Pascal,” cried the Count, as he threw his arm -about the neck of his prospective brother-in-law.</p> - -<p>Pascal did not appreciate the caress, but the urgency of the situation -prevented his refusing it. “But you will see her?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes!” cried the Count. “My father wished this marriage to take -place; my mother does not think that I am good enough for your sister. -That is one reason why I am determined to marry her. To-morrow?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, to-morrow,” said Pascal; “any hour in the morning. We breakfast at -eight; no earlier than that, of course.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry,” said the Count, “I do not rise until nine. By half-past -ten she may expect her ardent suitor.” He flourished his hat through the -air, bowed low to Pascal before placing it on his head, and a moment -later was gone.</p> - -<p>Pascal walked to the window and looked again upon the far-reaching acres -of the Batistelli estate. “She must marry him; then I shall have half. -That precious brother of mine will be killed in some drunken brawl or -die a sot, then all will be mine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">{8}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /><br /> -<small>“A MAN MUST HAVE A WIFE.”</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Countess Mont d’Oro and her son Napier sat at dinner together. They -rarely spoke on such occasions, and the meal was nearly over before the -Countess looked at him inquiringly and said:</p> - -<p>“I saw you go over to the Batistelli house this morning. Some business -matter, I presume.” After a pause, she asked, “Were you successful?”</p> - -<p>“It was connected with my own personal affairs,” replied the Count, -curtly.</p> - -<p>“I suppose from your answer that you mean it is none of my business.”</p> - -<p>“The inference is your own,” was the reply.</p> - -<p>Both were silent for a while, then the Countess resumed: “Did you see -Vivienne?”</p> - -<p>“She was in the house; you can infer again.”</p> - -<p>The Countess was cut by the last remark. Her manner of speaking had been -pleasant, but there was a tone in her son’s reply that fired her Italian -blood.</p> - -<p>“I believe I have the most impudent son in Corsica.”</p> - -<p>“I am sure that I have the most loving mother in all France,” said the -Count, calmly.</p> - -<p>To equalise a quarrel, when one of the participants is angry the other -should also be angry. It is unfair for one to remain cool, calm, and -collected, while the other is worked up to a fury of passion. If two -soldiers meet in battle, one with a sword four feet long and the other -with one but half that length, the contest is unequal; the one with the -long sword keeps the other contestant at a distance, though the latter -makes vain attacks upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">{9}</a></span> his well-protected adversary. So in a lingual -battle, the one who keeps his temper, who does not allow his voice to -rise above an ordinary pitch, is the soldier with the long sword.</p> - -<p>It must not be supposed that Countess Mont d’Oro allowed these thoughts -to pass through her mind. She replied promptly to her son’s sarcastic -allusion to her love for him.</p> - -<p>“Why should I love you?” she cried. “Even when a child you had an -ungovernable temper, and since you have grown up—I will not say since -you became a man—your extravagance, your disregard of my wishes, even -the slightest of them—has driven from my heart any love that I might -have had for you. I am glad that your father lived long enough to -understand you. He did wisely in leaving all to me. I was to make you an -allowance at my discretion. I have paid your debts—gambling debts, I -suppose they were principally—until my own income is greatly impaired.”</p> - -<p>“And why have you been so generous?” asked her son.</p> - -<p>“To avoid scandal. I did not wish our family affairs to become a subject -for Parisian gossip. I do not care for what is said here in Corsica, but -such news travels fast.”</p> - -<p>“I presume from what you have said that you intend to cut off my -allowance?”</p> - -<p>“I do, as soon as you are married to Vivienne Batistelli. You must -remember that I am not yet forty—I may marry again, and I do not wish -my husband to have a dowerless bride.”</p> - -<p>The Count smiled grimly. “It is all right for me to become a pensioner -on my wife’s bounty?”</p> - -<p>“Under the circumstances, yes,” said the Countess. “She will have -enough. She will have all, and it is right she should. The property has -been in Pascal’s hands for the past eighteen years, and a man of his -dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">{10}</a></span>position has not let any of it slip through his fingers, of that you -may be sure. He has enough to set up for himself, and I suppose there -are plenty of women who would have him, disagreeable as he is.”</p> - -<p>“Why not marry him yourself?” asked the Count. “You would then be placed -above all possible fear of want.”</p> - -<p>The Countess arose from her chair. She did not speak until she reached -the door of the dining-room; then she turned: “It is some time since you -asked your last question, but I suppose you would like an answer. -Considering my experience as your mother, I have no desire to become -your sister-in-law.”</p> - -<p>As his mother closed the door Count Napier sprang to his feet and began -whistling the melody of a French <i>chanson</i>. “I may have a bad temper, -but I think I know where I got it,” he muttered, as he made his way to -the stables.</p> - -<p>His favorite saddle-horse, Apollo, was soon ready, and making a cut at -the stable-boy with his whip to reward him for his tardiness, and -bestowing another upon the animal to show him that a master held the -reins, he dashed off towards Ajaccio.</p> - -<p>When he returned, several hours later, the fire of his mother’s wrath, -to a great extent, had burned out. She was in a more complacent mood and -asked, naturally: “Where have you been, Napier?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps Apollo could tell you. I really cannot remember.”</p> - -<p>He went up to his room.</p> - -<p>The night of the same day brought little sleep to the eyes of Vivienne -Batistelli. She would doze, and in the half-sleep came unpleasant -dreams. A dozen times during the night she was led to the altar by Count -Mont d’Oro, but just as the words were to be spoken which would have -united their lives forever, he changed into the form of a dragon, or -something equally frightful,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">{11}</a></span> and she awoke with a scream to find -herself in bed, her heart beating violently, and the room filled with -shadows which carried almost as much terror to her heart as the visions -which she had seen in her dreams.</p> - -<p>At last her mental torture became unbearable. She arose and dressed -herself. Drawing aside the heavy curtains, she saw that the sun was -nearly up. She went into the garden. The dew lay thick upon the grass. -She knelt down upon the green carpet. How cool it seemed to her hands, -which were burning as with fire. She walked along one of the paths and -the cool morning breeze refreshed her. Hearing the sound of a spade -against a rock, she turned into a side path.</p> - -<p>“It’s early ye are in gettin’ up,” said Terence, the gardener. “Ye may -belave me or not, but whin ye turned into the path I thought the sun was -up for sure.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne could not help smiling. “Ah, Terence, you are a great -flatterer, like all of your countrymen. Do you say such pretty things to -Snodine, your wife?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I did before we wuz married and some time afther, but to spake -the truth, I sometimes think that Snodine’s good-nature sun has set and -I’m afeared it’ll never come up again.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Vivienne, “Snodine is not such a bad wife. She has a sharp -tongue, to be sure.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, ah, that she has; and if she wud only use it in the garden instid -of on me, your brother would not have to buy so many spades.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne was not disposed to continue the conversation, and after -walking to the end of a long path, made her way back without again -coming in contact with Terence. As she approached the house she found -that her old nurse, Clarine, was up. She must have seen Vivienne, for -she threw open the window of her room, on the ground floor, and gave the -young girl a cheery good-morning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">{12}</a></span></p> - -<p>“May I come in?” asked Vivienne.</p> - -<p>Clarine ran to open the door, and as Vivienne entered she took the young -girl in her arms and kissed her. “Can you come in? You know you can. -Whenever you wish to see Clarine, you may always come without the -asking. I served your father and your grandfather, and I will serve you -as long as I live,” and the old lady made a curtsy to intensify the -effect of her words.</p> - -<p>“I want to talk with you, Clarine,” said Vivienne. “I am in great -trouble.”</p> - -<p>“Trouble!” cried Clarine. “There is enough trouble falling upon the -house of Batistelli without its being visited upon your innocent head. -What is the matter, darling?” and she drew the young girl towards her. -“But we cannot talk here. Come to my room, and we will sit down and you -can tell me all about it.”</p> - -<p>“Why,” exclaimed Vivienne, as they entered the room, “Old Manassa is -here.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Clarine, “the very minute I am dressed he insists upon -coming in and sitting in that arm-chair. I suppose if I gave it to him -he would not be so anxious to visit me, but I won’t do it. It belonged -to your grandfather. I was taken sick once and he sent the chair to me -because it was so comfortable. When I got better he gave it to me and -nothing would induce me to part with it, or even let it go out of my -sight. But don’t worry about him, Vivienne, for he is sound asleep.”</p> - -<p>With her head pillowed upon the breast of her old nurse, who had been a -mother to her so far as it lay in her power, Vivienne told of her -interview with her brother, and how determined he was that she should -marry Count Mont d’Oro.</p> - -<p>“Oh, what shall I do, Clarine?”</p> - -<p>The old nurse pursed her lips and shook her head<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">{13}</a></span> wisely. “Become -engaged to him. Engagements and marriages are two different things, -Vivienne.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I could not do that, Clarine. I could not make a promise that I did -not intend to keep.”</p> - -<p>“I would not ask you to,” said Clarine. “You can intend to keep it, but -circumstances may prevent you.”</p> - -<p>Then Vivienne told of the fearful dreams she had had during the night.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I can never do it,” she cried. “I will never marry Count Mont -d’Oro. They say, do they not, Clarine, that Manuel Della Coscia killed -my father?”</p> - -<p>“All Corsica believes it,” said Clarine, and she crossed herself -reverently.</p> - -<p>“Now, listen, Clarine; if the son of Manuel Della Coscia asked my hand -in marriage, I would give it to him as soon as to Count Napier.”</p> - -<p>Old Manassa had been leaning upon the head of his heavy stick. It fell -from his hands to the floor with a crash.</p> - -<p>“Why, what was that?” he cried. “Didn’t I hear somebody talking? I -thought I heard the name of Manuel Della Coscia.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, Manassa!” cried Clarine. “You have been at your old trick of -dreaming and then waking up and thinking your dream was real. Now, go -right to sleep again. You cannot have your breakfast for an hour yet.”</p> - -<p>“I am sure he heard everything that we have said,” Vivienne whispered in -Clarine’s ear.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, he is always like that, but even if he did hear, I will -convince him that he dreamt it.”</p> - -<p>“Come into the garden, Clarine. I do not wish to say anything that can -be overheard.”</p> - -<p>At some distance from the house they sat upon a bench beneath the -drooping branches of a tree which formed a natural arbour.</p> - -<p>“I have something to tell you, Vivienne,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">{14}</a></span> Clarine. “I had a dream, -too, last night, but there is a good thing about my dreams—they always -come true—and it was about you.”</p> - -<p>“My fate must have been pleasanter than it is likely to be,” said -Vivienne, “judging from your manner.”</p> - -<p>“Listen, Vivienne,” said Clarine, “you can judge for yourself. I thought -you were betrothed to a man whom you did not love and you were very -unhappy; then a stranger came; he was young and handsome and your heart -went out to him. He met Count Mont d’Oro and they quarrelled—they -fought—the Count was killed and you married the stranger.”</p> - -<p>“How foolish, Clarine! But you know they say dreams go by contraries.”</p> - -<p>As they walked back to the house, Clarine said: “Take my advice, -Vivienne, and tell the Count that you will marry him. You must trust in -the One above. Your Heavenly Father doeth all things well—if it is to -be, it will be.”</p> - -<p>Old Manassa had not been sleeping. He had overheard what had passed -between Vivienne and her nurse. Immediately after they had gone into the -garden, he made his way to his master’s room. He found Pascal Batistelli -alone.</p> - -<p>“Ah, this is a sad day for the house of Batistelli,” he cried. “She is -unworthy of the name.”</p> - -<p>“Why, what has happened now?” asked Pascal.</p> - -<p>“I heard her say it—your sister Vivienne.”</p> - -<p>“Heard her say what?” cried Pascal. “Why don’t you speak out and not -stand mumbling there?”</p> - -<p>“I heard her say that she would as soon marry the son of Manuel Della -Coscia as give her hand to Count Mont d’Oro. It is true. I heard it. I -swear I did.”</p> - -<p>Pascal took a silver coin from his purse and threw it towards Manassa.</p> - -<p>“I see, you must be out of tobacco; but keep your<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">{15}</a></span> eyes shut and your -ears open and tell me all you hear. Is your gin bottle empty yet?”</p> - -<p>“Not quite,” said Manassa.</p> - -<p>“I am obliged to you for telling me what you heard,” said Pascal, “but -go now; I am busy.”</p> - -<p>The old man shambled towards the door. As he went out he muttered to -himself: “She is unworthy of the name of Batistelli.”</p> - -<p>Some hours later Vivienne was again walking in the garden. She knew that -the Count was coming to see her—she knew what he was going to say—she -knew what her answer was expected to be. She determined that the -interview should not take place within-doors. Since talking with -Clarine, she had prayed fervently for Heavenly guidance, and it seemed -to her that it would come more quickly, more directly, if she were in -the garden with the trees, the flowers, and the birds about her, and the -blue sky overhead.</p> - -<p>The greater part of Vivienne’s education had been drawn from nature. She -had learned little from books or from contact with others. Her life had -been circumscribed in many ways, and such a life makes one -introspective. The dweller in a large city who has so much to attract, -to interest him and take up his time, who gets but a glimpse of the sky -between the house-tops, becomes superficial and does little deep -thinking; but one who lives in the country, largely apart from his -fellow man, who sees the wide expanse of heaven every day, feels as -though he were closer to the Great Power—thinks more of the future and -looks searchingly into his own heart, seeking to determine his probable -fate when his good deeds and bad deeds, his sins of omission and -commission, are scanned by the great Judge.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>“And how is Mademoiselle Batistelli this beautiful morning?” asked Count -Napier.</p> - -<p>Vivienne, startled from her reverie, quickly decided<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">{16}</a></span> that he should not -come to the point at once. She knew his forceful manner of speech, and -determined not to allow her heart to be carried by storm. She answered:</p> - -<p>“I am not well—not sick, but worried. Julien was out all night. What -will the end be?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he’ll get married some time and settle down.”</p> - -<p>“And who would have him—a drunkard? I should pity her from the bottom -of my heart.”</p> - -<p>“You look at the matter too seriously,” said the Count. “Most men are -drunkards—some with wine, some with women, but more with love. I was -talking to your brother Pascal yesterday about our future.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne clasped her hands and looked into his face, appealingly.</p> - -<p>“We can have no future together, Count Mont d’Oro; I do not love you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, as to that,” cried the Count, jauntily, “neither do I love you, -but I respect and admire you.”</p> - -<p>The appealing look left Vivienne’s face; in its place came an expression -of determination.</p> - -<p>“I wish to be loved—by my husband.”</p> - -<p>“You must have been reading English novels,” said the Count. “In them -you will find the word ‘home,’ but we have nothing like it in French. It -may be that the word ‘love’ has no exact counterpart in our language. -You must be content, as most Frenchwomen are, with the love of your -children.”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” cried Vivienne. “If they are not the offspring of love, they -will have no love. It is too great a risk.”</p> - -<p>“We must take risks in this life,” said the Count. “I will take you to -Paris with me. You can enjoy yourself there; it is so different from -this dull, sleepy place.”</p> - -<p>He had tried the old form of temptation. By it Faust had won Marguerite; -but Vivienne was made of sterner stuff.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">{17}</a></span></p> - -<p>“I care nothing for Paris or its sinful life; your mother has told me of -it. I love my home—every stone in this old castle is dear to me, and my -heart will always be here.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said the Count, “I understand you. Your husband must be content to -live here and never go to Paris.”</p> - -<p>“If he loves me as I shall love him, he will be content to stay here -with me.”</p> - -<p>Count Napier Mont d’Oro felt sure that his mother intended to cut off -his allowance when he became the husband of Vivienne; in fact, she might -do so even if that event did not take place. Thrown upon his own -resources, he knew his only means of existence would be the -gambling-table. He was wild, ungovernable, criminal in many ways, but he -did not look forward with unmixed pleasure to a sinful life. He was -honest with himself in that he knew he thought more of the rich -Batistelli estates than of the fair young girl who bore the name. He -thoroughly believed in <i>laissez-faire</i>. His philosophy was very much -like that of Clarine; take a step that does not exactly please you and -trust that fate will so order your future that you will not be obliged -to take another like it.</p> - -<p>Apparently dropping conversation on the subject uppermost in their -minds, he said: “I am going back to Paris, but for a little while only. -I have some business matters there to attend to—I mean to close up. -Then I am coming back to Corsica to settle down. After all, I think you -are right; Parisian life is like fireworks—there is a snap and a go and -a very pretty sight for a few minutes, and then it is all over. But the -life of a country gentleman is solid and substantial. What more can a -man ask in this world than a faithful and trusting wife and beautiful -and loving children? As these pictures pass before my eyes, I know which -one is the best and which is better for me, but before I go I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">{18}</a></span> wish to -be sure of something that will overcome all temptation to stay in Paris, -something to bring me back. You know, sometimes the spirit is willing -but the flesh is weak.”</p> - -<p>“Your mother,” uttered Vivienne.</p> - -<p>“No, yourself,” cried the Count.</p> - -<p>“But you do not love me!”</p> - -<p>“I have said that I did not, but I will say more—I love no one else.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne was in a quandary. What should she do? Her own mind seemed -powerless to direct her, and almost in a state of despair she recalled -the advice Clarine had given.</p> - -<p>Forcing a smile she turned towards the Count. “If I promise to marry -you, Count, if before I become yours you see another whom you will love, -will you come to me and tell me? No, no, I will not ask that; but if I -learn that you do love some one else, it is understood and agreed that -the knowledge of that fact will free me from the carrying out of my -promise?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said the Count, “I agree to that willingly; it is but fair -that I should.” He took her hand in his, raised it to his lips and -kissed it. “This is the bond,” he cried; “you are to be mine. I am the -happiest man in Corsica.”</p> - -<p>“Do not say that,” cried Vivienne. “You have no right to utter those -words until I look into your face and say that I am the happiest woman -in Corsica.”</p> - -<p>Shortly after Vivienne had given her promise to the Count, he made his -way to her brother.</p> - -<p>“It is all right,” he cried. “It was a hard fight, but my eloquence won; -she has promised to be my wife.”</p> - -<p>“But when?” asked Pascal.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I did not go so far as to fix the date. That is usually left to the -lady, you know.”</p> - -<p>“But it must be soon,” said Pascal. “There are weighty reasons.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">{19}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>The Count thought of his mother’s reference to his allowance. “Yes, -there are,” he replied. “We must use our combined eloquence to fix the -marriage for an early day.”</p> - -<p>In the afternoon, while walking in the garden, Pascal met Old Manassa.</p> - -<p>“She has promised to marry him. Manassa, you are an old fool. You should -have been in your grave long ago.”</p> - -<p>The old man straightened up; his eyes flashed. “I shall not die until I -see Manuel Della Coscia, who murdered your father, weltering in his own -blood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">{20}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /><br /> -<small>“PYLADES AND ORESTES.”</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">“Are</span> you going, Vic?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I am going. I have been ordered to join Admiral Sir Hugh -Walter’s flagship, which sails for Halifax in a week.”</p> - -<p>“I do not mean that. What I want to know is whether you are going to -Buckholme with me. I met Clarence Glynne on the Strand yesterday, and he -gave me a most cordial invitation to come out. He extended it to me in -the name of his father, Miss Renville, and himself.”</p> - -<p>“That was more than a double-header, Jack,” said Victor; “that was three -of a kind.”</p> - -<p>“I hope you won’t consider me egotistical, Victor, but I really think -from what he said that she was the instigator of the invitation.”</p> - -<p>The one addressed as Victor was silent for a moment. He cast his eyes -downward as though thinking the matter over. At last he said:</p> - -<p>“Why should I go, Jack? It was you who jumped into the river and saved -her life, for she sank twice, you will remember. Besides, when she -learns that you are the Honourable John De Vinne, and likely to -become—I beg your pardon—Viscount De Vinne, what chance will there be -for me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” cried Jack, oblivious of his friend’s remark, “the whole picture -comes back to me so vividly. What an idiot that fellow was to run into -her boat—and then he was going to let her drown because he could not -swim. He was near enough to row up and pull her into<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">{21}</a></span> his boat when she -came up the first time. Of course I had to swim for it, and dive too. I -think a man who cannot steer a boat and cannot swim should stay on -land.”</p> - -<p>“Those are my sentiments—exactly,” remarked Victor.</p> - -<p>The recalling of the event—the rescue from drowning of Miss Bertha -Renville by Mr. Jack De Vinne—had such an effect upon the young man -that he was in a very excitable condition.</p> - -<p>“You might have been the one, Vic, to have saved her instead of me. To -be fair about it we should have drawn lots, but, as you say, there was -no time to lose. Although the affair happened a month ago, it seems as -though it were but yesterday. It seemed a profanation, but we had to -treat her just as though she were a man instead of a woman. You ran to -get a trap and we took her to the tavern and called a doctor, then, when -she was once more herself, we drove to Buckholme with her.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve got it by heart,” said Victor. “Do you remember as well what -took place at Buckholme? How delighted Clarence was and the half-hearted -thanks of Mr. Glynne, Miss Renville’s guardian? What a roly-poly sort of -a man he is.</p> - -<p>“I was not taken with his outward appearance, and if I am any sort of a -judge of human nature, I should say that he houses a bad heart within -that portly frame.”</p> - -<p>“I must confess, Vic, that I did not notice the man much. I was thinking -of her; how close she had been to death, and how glad I was to have been -the means of saving her life. I will be honest with you, Vic, and own -up—I am in love with her. She is the most beautiful girl I have ever -seen and I want to ask your advice. What do you know about me, Victor?”</p> - -<p>Victor Duquesne leaned back in his chair and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">{22}</a></span> laughed. “Well, Jack, I -know that you are the second son of an earl—I really do not know his -full title—but in England, you know, the second son of an earl is a -mere nobody if his elder brother enjoys good health.”</p> - -<p>“You have hit it just right, Victor,” said Jack. “I am really a nobody; -that’s why I went into the Navy, but I hope you won’t take that remark -as a personal reflection. There are a great many smart men in the Navy, -and you are one of them.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, Jack. We are and always have been the best of friends. I hope I -shall serve my king faithfully and well, and be worthy of your good -opinion. But I fancy you are going to tell me something about yourself, -for some reason or other known to you, but at the present time, unknown -to me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, listen,” said Jack. “I am the second son of the Earl of Noxton. -My father obtained considerable reputation in a political way when he -was Lord De Vinne, and although ten years have passed since he succeeded -to the Earldom, he prefers, for some reason or other, to be known as -Lord De Vinne. Even my mother thinks that ‘Lady De Vinne’ is a prouder -title than ‘Countess Noxton.’ My father’s name is Carolus. I think he -has told me at least a hundred times how one of his ancestors came over -with William of Normandy, and the name Carolus has always been borne by -the heir to the title.”</p> - -<p>“I agree with your father and mother,” said Victor. “I should prefer a -title which I had won or upon which I had conferred some honour, rather -than one simply bequeathed to me.”</p> - -<p>Jack continued: “My mother was a poor girl and, they say, very -beautiful. She can bring forward neither of her sons, however, as -evidence of that fact. Her name is Caroline. I have sometimes fancied -that its similarity to Carolus had no small influence with my father. -Now, to come to the point. My brother<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">{23}</a></span> Carolus, who is five years older -than I, is engaged to Lady Angeline Ashmont. He has been an invalid for -some years and is now in Germany, taking the baths.”</p> - -<p>“A temporary illness, I hope,” said Victor.</p> - -<p>“I do not know,” said Jack. “He has been a great student, and instead of -riding horseback and hunting and swimming, as I have done all my life, -he stayed cooped up in his den working, I believe, on the genealogy of -the family. He is as thin as a rail and as white as a ghost.”</p> - -<p>“He has been overworking,” suggested Victor.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps so,” said Jack; “time thrown away, I have always told him. When -he inherits, which will be some years from now, for my paternal is as -tough as a knot, I suppose I shall have a small allowance from him. I -shall go into the Navy for a few years—maybe for life. I wish we could -go on the same ship.”</p> - -<p>“So do I,” said Victor.</p> - -<p>The two young men were old friends; they had attended the same schools -together, and together had received their naval training. Their regard -for each other had been so marked that their fellows had dubbed them -“Pylades and Orestes.” Neither had been called upon to suffer or die for -the other, but the tie that bound them was so strong that, had it been -put to the test, either would have proved himself worthy of his ancient -namesake.</p> - -<p>Jack gave a long, deep sigh.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, Jack?” asked Victor. “Are you thinking of Miss -Renville?”</p> - -<p>“No, Victor, of you. What happy years we have passed together; and now -our ways part. You have forged ahead of me and are now a lieutenant, -while I—poor Jack—with inferior ability, have to be content with lower -rank! You deserve the good fortune, Vic, but your friends must have -great influence with the Admiralty.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">{24}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I have no friends,” said Victor; “only one—you, Jack. The reason for -my appointment is as inexplicable to me as it is to you. Of course I had -a mother, but my father never spoke of her. I have not seen him for -twelve years—since I was ten years old, when he put me to school—the -one where I first met you. My expenses have been paid, but no word of -any kind has come from him.”</p> - -<p>“He is a man of mystery,” said Jack, “but nearly all mysteries are -cleared up in time, and I have no doubt yours will be. By the way, what -is the name of Sir Hugh’s flagship?”</p> - -<p>“Strange, is it not, Jack, she is called the <i>Orestes</i>; so you see I -shall have a constant reminder of our past friendship.”</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Should auld acquaintance be forgot,’<span class="lftspc">”</span> hummed Jack. Then he cried: -“Come, Victor, we must go back to first principles; say yes or no—will -you come to Buckholme with me?”</p> - -<p>Victor hesitated. “Well—perhaps. Do you know, I have thought, Jack, -that Mr. Glynne may have spoken to the Admiralty about me. You know he -is in the iron and steel trade and is brought into business relations -with them. Yes, I will go. I will try to find out whether he had -anything to do with it. If he had, although he does remind me of a small -elephant every time I look at him, I will give him a credit mark for his -kindness.”</p> - -<p>The conversation just narrated took place at Victor Duquesne’s -apartments in London. As he had told Jack, his bills had been paid -regularly and his allowance had not been a niggardly one. This enabled -him to have a sitting-room and a chamber, and he could have afforded a -valet had he been so disposed.</p> - -<p>“You must not back out of your promise, Victor,” said Jack, as he -extended his hand; “shake! That settles it. You are booked for -Buckholme.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">{25}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“And you for Bertha,” said Victor, and they both laughed.</p> - -<p>At that moment there was a light tap on the door.</p> - -<p>“Come in,” cried the two young men together.</p> - -<p>The door was opened for a short distance and the face of an untidy -maid-of-all-work, with unkempt hair, appeared.</p> - -<p>“Come in,” again cried Victor.</p> - -<p>“I don’t care to,” said the slavey. “I don’t look well enough, and Mrs. -Launders said if I dared go in she’d give it to me when I got back.”</p> - -<p>“What do you want?” asked Victor, somewhat impatiently.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got a letter for you,” said Sarah, the slavey, “and if you’ll -excuse me, I’ll throw it in and you can pick it up.”</p> - -<p>Suiting the action to the word, the letter flew high in the air and then -fell to the floor. Sarah slammed the door, and her heavy boots were -heard clattering upon the stairs all the way down.</p> - -<p>Victor sprang forward and picked up the letter. He looked first at the -postmark. “Ajaccio,” he cried. “It is from Corsica. I am not acquainted -with any person there.” He held the sealed letter in his hand and -regarded it.</p> - -<p>“Never fool with a letter,” cried Jack. “Cut it open, tear it open, and -know the best or worst as soon as possible. To me, a man who is afraid -to open a letter is like a gambler who is uncertain whether to stake his -last shilling or not.”</p> - -<p>“This is my letter, Jack, and I propose to regard the outside of it as -long as I choose before perusing its contents.”</p> - -<p>Although the words had a sharpness in them, there was a look in Victor’s -eye as he spoke which robbed them of any intention to offend.</p> - -<p>“All right, old boy,” said Jack. “Don’t let me<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">{26}</a></span> hurry you. Why not leave -it on your table until you get back from Buckholme? My father is a man -of wisdom. He has a large correspondence, but he never gets ready to -answer his letters until they are about six months old. During that time -he says half of them have been answered by the course of events, and it -is too late to answer the others; so in that way he has not gained a -very wide reputation as a letter-writer.”</p> - -<p>Victor broke the seal, unfolded the sheet, and spread it carefully on -the table before him. Reading it through quickly, he cried:</p> - -<p>“Jack listen to this:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">My Dear Victor</span>: Come to Corsica at once. When you reach Ajaccio, I -will communicate with you secretly by messenger. Hear all, but say -nothing. See Admiral Enright and sail with him on the <i>Osprey</i>.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span style="margin-right: 20%;">“Your father,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Hector Duquesne</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>Victor laid the letter upon the table, and as he brought his hand down -forcibly upon it, he cried: “Now, what does that mean, Jack?”</p> - -<p>“It’s just as plain as the nose on your face, Victor. It was your father -who got the appointment for you. Tom Ratcliffe is going with Enright, -who is ordered to cruise in the Mediterranean. Corsica, unless my -geographical knowledge is twisted, is in the Mediterranean; so you see -your father has fixed things all right.”</p> - -<p>Victor sprang to his feet “Then I must see Enright at once. Whether I go -to Buckholme or not depends upon when he sails.”</p> - -<p>That evening Victor was at Jack’s rooms.</p> - -<p>“I have got my transfer, Jack,” he cried as he entered the room.</p> - -<p>“Lucky boy,” was Jack’s comment, “everything goes your way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">{27}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think it would have,” said Victor, “but upon one occasion when -Admiral Enright visited the Naval Academy, he was accompanied by his -daughter, Miss Helen. For some reason or other, probably on account of -my well-known affability, I was detailed to escort her and show her the -great attractions of the Academy. I could not find him to-day at the -Admiralty and was obliged to go to his house. I met Miss Helen, and I am -sure it was her influence that carried the day. We sail on Monday. -To-day is Thursday; so you see, my dear Jack, Buckholme becomes an -impossibility.”</p> - -<p>“Then I must go alone,” said Jack. After another long sigh: “My fate -lies there—I love Bertha Renville, and I know, if an opportunity -offers, that I shall ask her to be my wife.”</p> - -<p>“Do you leave early in the morning?” asked Victor.</p> - -<p>“Yes, by the 7.30. I wish to get there early, for I shall ask her to go -boating with me. There is no place like a boat for propounding momentous -questions. Nobody to watch you, and only the little fishes to overhear -what you say.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Jack,” said Victor, as their hands met at parting, “you have my -best wishes and my sincerest hopes for your happiness and success in -life.”</p> - -<p>“The same to you, old boy,” cried Jack.</p> - -<p>They spoke no more, but when they stood by the open door, as though -prompted by some instinct which they could not resist, they threw their -arms about each other and stood for a moment in a brotherly embrace.</p> - -<p>Victor ran swiftly down the stairs and walked homeward so fast that his -fellow pedestrians looked after him, some with curiosity and others with -suspicion.</p> - -<p>Jack threw himself into an arm-chair, lighted his pipe, and smoked -unremittingly for an hour.</p> - -<p>The next morning he was not surprised to find that he had gone to bed -without extinguishing the gas.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">{28}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /><br /> -<small>“BUCKHOLME.”</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jack De Vinne</span>, with all the impatience of youth, was at the railway -station half an hour before the starting time of the train which was to -bear him to the woman he loved. He walked impatiently up and down the -platform. Finally, he accosted a guard. “When will the Reading train be -in?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” replied the man. “Sometimes it’s early, and sometimes -it’s late, and sometimes it’s just on time.”</p> - -<p>Jack thanked the man for the valuable information and resumed his walk. -His next act was to buy a morning paper and tuck it beneath the straps -of his valise. Never did time pass so slowly. He was sure it must be -half-past seven, but upon looking at his watch he found that he had been -in the station only ten minutes.</p> - -<p>While standing uncertain, irresolute, dissatisfied, a hand was suddenly -laid upon his shoulder, and turning quickly, he met the gaze of Victor -Duquesne.</p> - -<p>“Why, what brought you here, old boy?” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“A fool’s errand, I suppose you will say, when I tell you what I came -for. I was up early this morning, and the thought came to me that I had -not told you to write to me if anything important occurred. Send the -letter to Ajaccio, Island of Corsica. I do not know how long we shall -stay at Malta, but from something I heard Helen say to her father, I -think there is some reason for the Admiral’s visiting Corsica as soon as -possible after his arrival in the Mediterranean. I select<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">{29}</a></span> Ajaccio, -because the letter will go direct by French post.”</p> - -<p>“Glad you told me,” said Jack. “I write about two letters a year, and -the chances are I should have addressed yours care of the Mediterranean -Sea, and should have expected it to find you. I’m mighty glad to see -you, too. I feel as though I had been waiting here a couple of hours,” -he looked at his watch again, “but it has been only fifteen minutes. Ah, -here’s the train now. Well, good-bye, old boy. Remember I am always your -Pylades.”</p> - -<p>“And I am your Orestes,” declared Victor. “Perhaps the time may come -when one or both of us may be called upon to show the depth of -friendship that lies in him.”</p> - -<p>Once more the men shook hands. Then Jack grasped his luggage, which was -of small compass, and made his way to a seat in a first-class carriage.</p> - -<p>For some time after the train started, Jack sat pre-occupied with his -thoughts. The word “thought” would be more correct, for he had but one, -and that was of Bertha Renville. How would she receive him? Had he been -deceived by the manner in which Clarence had extended the invitation? -Did Mr. Thomas Glynne really wish him to come to Buckholme? He framed -question after question in his mind, but to none could he supply a -satisfactory answer. He pulled the morning paper from under the strap of -his valise and looked listlessly at one page after another. He was not -interested in the Court Calendar, for, beautiful as she was, he could -not expect to find Bertha’s name there. The business and the financial -columns were passed unheeded. He started to read an editorial, but after -glancing at the first few lines, crumpled the paper in his hand and -looked out of the window.</p> - -<p>It was a beautiful morning and nature was in her fairest garb. As the -train passed through well-known<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">{30}</a></span> places, memories came back to him of -many happy times passed there with his friend Victor. But Jack was not -an ardent lover of nature, and he soon turned again to the newspaper.</p> - -<p>A headline caught his eye: “Attempted Robbery at Brixton, Strange Death -of the Burglar.” The caption was so attractive that Jack read the -article through:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“A Mrs. Elizabeth Nason, widow, living on Oad Street, Brixton, was -awakened early yesterday morning by the loud cackling of the fowls -in her hennery, a small out-building in the rear of the house. She -lives alone, her only protector being a large mastiff, which she -kept within-doors at night. Upon hearing the commotion she went to -the window and, peeping between the curtains, saw that a man had -broken open the door of the hennery, had strangled a number of the -fowls, which lay upon the turf beside him, and was endeavouring to -secure others. She went quietly downstairs, called to the dog that -was asleep in the kitchen, and opening the side door, led him into -the garden. She bolted the door again, ran quickly upstairs, and -looked out to see what would take place.</p> - -<p>“The dog, knowing what was expected of him, ran towards the man, -with jaws distended. A terrific battle between man and dog then -took place, the following description of which was given to our -reporter by Mrs. Nason:</p> - -<p>“The man sprang to his feet, and Mrs. Nason saw, what she had not -at first observed, that he had with him a large umbrella. As the -dog sprang at him, the man grasped the umbrella by both ends and -forced it, laterally, between the dog’s jaws. True to his nature, -the dog shut his teeth firmly upon it. The man was of small -stature, slight in build, and was thrown to the ground by the -impact. That fall, undoubtedly, saved his life, for the time being, -at least, for his hand came in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">{31}</a></span> contact with a heavy oaken bar -which had been used to fasten the hennery door. While the dog was -busily engaged trying to disengage his teeth from the umbrella, -into which they had been firmly set, the man sprang to his feet and -dealt the dog a stunning blow with the stick. The dog soon rallied, -however, and the man, apparently fearing another attack, became -frenzied, drew from his pocket a clasp knife with a blade fully six -inches in length, and stabbed the animal viciously in both eyes. -The maddened dog rose upon his hind legs, preparatory to springing -upon his assailant, who improved the opportunity to stab the dog in -the throat.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Nason could bear the scene no longer and turned from the -window. Recovering her self-possession, she looked again and saw -the man lying face downward, the body of the dog beneath him.</p> - -<p>“She ran from the house to that of a neighbour, a Mr. Abraham -Dowse, who, arming himself with a pitchfork, accompanied her to the -scene of the conflict. He found that both man and dog were dead. -The police were then called.</p> - -<p>“The man was shabbily dressed, had no money upon his person, and -the only means of identification was a letter addressed to Alberto -Cordoni. The letter was postmarked Ajaccio and was more than six -months old. It read as follows:</p> - -<p>“A. C. You have been in London now for more than a year, but to no -avail. If you had found any trace of Manuel Della Coscia, I would -be willing to give you ten times what you have already received; -but I shall send you no more money until you give me some proof -that you are on his track.</p> - -<p>“The letter itself was without date or signature. The body of the -man, who was apparently an Italian or Corsican, was taken in charge -by the police.”</p></div> - -<p>“What a bloodthirsty set those Corsicans are,” said Jack to himself. “I -wonder why Victor’s father wants<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">{32}</a></span> him to go to that God-forsaken -country. When I get back to London I will send this paper to Victor,” -and he folded and replaced it beneath the straps of his valise.</p> - -<p>The train was now approaching Windsor, the abode of royalty. Although -Jack had the blood of the aristocracy in his veins, he was not -interested in either castle or park. His thoughts were several miles -beyond.</p> - -<p>There was one place through which he was to pass which one cannot visit -unmoved. Jack looked earnestly from the window. Yes, there it was, the -village church of Stoke Pogis, and close to it the churchyard in which -Gray wrote his immortal Elegy.</p> - -<p>Jack was not a great lover of poetry, for, as he had expressed himself, -“translating Greek poetry into English verse is enough to make a man -sick of it for life.” But Victor had admired the elegy and had read it -aloud several times to Jack, who now recalled one of the stanzas:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Full many a gem of purest ray serene<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>It is strange what unexpected comparisons lovers will make. He did not -think of Bertha as being a gem in some ocean cave, but the thought did -occur to him that it was not just the thing for so beautiful a girl to -lived unnoticed in the little town of Maidenhead when the frequenters of -London drawing-rooms would have gone wild over her and where she would -be the belle of the season. Then the thought came to him that he did not -wish her to be the belle of the season; he wished her to be his, his -only, thus adding another proof to the adage that true love is selfish, -which selfishness, carried to extremes, becomes the green-eyed monster, -jealousy.</p> - -<p>Jack leaned back in his seat and began wondering what his future would -be. His life could not fail to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">{33}</a></span> be happy if Bertha promised to be his -wife. Should he become a statesman, as had his father, or—but he would -not think of that now.</p> - -<p>He could see the great stone bridge which spans the Thames at -Maidenhead, forming a means of communication between the County of -Berkshire and that of Buckingham. Then he remembered that he had read of -the old wooden bridge which spanned the river, and how the Duke of -Surrey and the followers of Richard II. had at that bridge held the -soldiers of Henry IV. at bay for hours, and then made a safe retreat.</p> - -<p>They were nearing the station. Jack’s heart gave a great jump. Yes, that -was the place where Miss Renville’s boat had been run down and capsized, -and there she would have met her death had it not been for—yes, Fate -must have willed that he should be there in time to save her.</p> - -<p>Mr. Thomas Glynne, who, with his son, Clarence, a young man of -twenty-four, formed the firm known in the city as Walmonth & Company, -iron and steel merchants, was a short, thick-set man, with a round face -and an expression of the utmost geniality. While business manager for -Walmonth & Company he had lived, as he expressed it, “in smoky, dirty -London,” but after becoming head of the firm, he made up his mind to -have a country residence. He had looked North, South, East, and West -before fixing upon a location, and finally decided to make his home in -the little town of Maidenhead, the scenery surrounding which is -picturesque and beautiful. Here he built a house of the conventional -type, to which he had given the name of “Buckholme.” Had he been asked -why he had thus named it, he probably would have replied: “Do you know -anybody who has a house with that name?”</p> - -<p>Some fourteen years before, when Mr. Glynne was about forty, the house -of Walmonth & Company was in financial straits. Mr. Glynne, who had gone -to Paris<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">{34}</a></span> on business connected with the firm, was suddenly recalled by -an urgent telegram, and on his return to London, the senior member of -the house, Mr. Jonas Walmonth, informed him that the firm was unable to -meet its obligations and would be forced to assign. This action was -averted, however, for by some means, unknown to Mr. Jonas Walmonth and -his brother Ezra, Mr. Glynne raised sufficient money to pay the -outstanding liabilities and thus secured a controlling interest in the -firm. The two Walmonth brothers were old bachelors, and two years after -Mr. Glynne became the “Co.,” Ezra died suddenly of heart disease, while -Jonas, broken in body and mind, was sent to a sanatorium from which he -never emerged. No heirs came to claim the third interest belonging to -the Walmonth brothers, and Mr. Glynne did not take special pains to find -any. When his son Clarence became of age he was taken into the firm. He -showed great aptitude for the business, and during the past year the -senior partner had made few visits to the city. “What’s the use?” he -said. “I have been in the traces for more than thirty years; the -business runs itself, and all that Clarence has to do is to fill orders -and collect bills. Besides, I see him once a week, and if he wants my -advice, I am always ready to give it.”</p> - -<p>Thomas Glynne had two passions; one was his love of flowers, and the -other, the greater one, his love of money. Amply favoured as to the -latter, he found great enjoyment in gratifying his love for -floriculture. Visitors came from far and near to view the beautiful -plants in his greenhouses and conservatory. It was a mystery to his -associates in the trade as to how he had become possessed of enough -money to buy out the Walmonth Brothers, build his beautiful house, and -spend such extravagant sums for orchids and other rare plants.</p> - -<p>It was no mystery to Mr. Thomas Glynne. He could<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">{35}</a></span> have told them, had he -wished, that when in Paris, at the time the urgent telegram was sent him -by his employers, he had met with a most wonderful experience.</p> - -<p>An English gentleman named Oscar Renville was engaged in the iron and -steel business in Paris, and it was with him that Mr. Glynne, -representing the Walmonth Brothers, transacted a very large business and -with whom he was on most intimate terms of friendship. Mr. Renville was -a widower, as was Mr. Glynne, for both had lost their wives a few years -after marriage. Mr. Renville had one child, a beautiful little girl -named Bertha.</p> - -<p>One afternoon Mr. Glynne had gone to Mr. Renville’s office on business, -and found the establishment in a state of great excitement. Mr. Renville -had been stricken with apoplexy, and the clerks were debating what they -should do, at the time of Mr. Glynne’s arrival. There was nothing -undecided about Mr. Glynne. Mr. Renville was placed in a carriage and -Mr. Glynne accompanied him home; nor did he leave his friend until he -saw his body placed at rest in <i>Père la Chaise</i>.</p> - -<p>Shortly before his death, Mr. Renville had made and signed a will by -which Mr. Thomas Glynne was constituted the guardian of his only child -and heiress, and given full control of her property until the time of -her marriage.</p> - -<p>Had Mr. Glynne’s associates in trade known this fact, it would, -probably, have relieved the feeling of wonderment they entertained -concerning his financial transactions.</p> - -<p>It also evidences the fact that Mr. Glynne had no difficulty in -satisfying his passion for flowers. He, however, did have some -difficulty, or feared that he might have, in satisfying his love for -money.</p> - -<p>He knew that he was in undisputed possession of Bertha’s fortune, which -amounted to about £40,000. But what was he to do when Bertha married and -he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">{36}</a></span> was obliged to transfer the fortune to its rightful owner? There was -one point in his favour, and a great one. Neither Bertha nor any one -else knew that she had a fortune; but the fact might come out at some -time or other, and Thomas Glynne, being a bad man at heart, was in -wholesome fear of the law, which he knew dealt rigorously with those who -betrayed a trust such as he had accepted.</p> - -<p>He had formed three plans which would enable him to keep the money under -his control. The first was to bring about a marriage between Bertha and -his son Clarence. The second plan, in case the first proved impossible, -was to prevent her marrying any one else. The third plan, if she -persisted in forming a matrimonial alliance, was to keep possession of -the property in some other way, and Mr. Glynne had not decided in his -own mind just what that “other way” might be. “It would depend upon -circumstances,” he said to himself.</p> - -<p>Jack De Vinne thought Bertha Renville was beautiful, and she was, judged -by the English standard. She was tall and lithe, perfect in form; with -glossy hair of a golden tint; blue eyes; cheeks with a touch of pink -that enhanced their whiteness, and a Cupid’s bow of a mouth, which was -usually the home of a bewitching smile. Such a woman as men become -heroes for; such a woman, for love of whom, men have died in misery.</p> - -<p>When the train drew up at the little station, Jack at once caught sight -of Clarence’s smiling face, and a moment later he was the recipient of a -hearty greeting.</p> - -<p>“I do not usually come down until Saturday,” said Clarence, “but as I -had invited you to become our guest, I arranged matters in the City so -that I can stay with you until Monday.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad to hear it,” said Jack. “I am rather bashful, you know, Mr. -Glynne, and I’m afraid if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">{37}</a></span> had not been here I should have felt -like—like—a cat in a strange garret, you know.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a very good simile,” remarked Clarence. “By comparing yourself -to a cat, I suppose you are looking for a mouse.”</p> - -<p>Jack smiled. What did the young man mean? Although he did not speak -outright, his looks and words seemed to indicate that he thought Jack -was interested in Miss Renville, and Jack had told Victor some things -which led him to think that the young lady was more interested in his -visit than either the young man or his father.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>The night before Jack’s arrival at Buckholme, Mr. Thomas Glynne had -informed his son that he wished to have a talk with him in the library -after dinner.</p> - -<p>Clarence had entered the apartment smoking a cigarette. His father was -sitting at a beautifully carved and finely inlaid table.</p> - -<p>“Throw that horrible-smelling thing away, Clarence. You know I detest -cigarettes.”</p> - -<p>“I know you do,” said Clarence, “but I like them. I never smoke during -business hours and only one or two after dinner. I know it is a vice, -but it is a mild one, and everybody is cognisant of it. There are men -who have greater vices, but they conceal them from the public gaze. To -oblige you, however, I will forego the pleasure it gives me,” and he -threw it into the fireplace.</p> - -<p>The father lost no time in bringing the subject he had in mind to his -son’s attention.</p> - -<p>“You know I am a business man, Clarence, and what I’ve got to say I say -right out. I have said it before and to-night I am going to say it -again. I want you to marry Bertha Renville.”</p> - -<p>“There are only two objections to such a course,” said Clarence, coolly. -“In the first place, I do not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">{38}</a></span> love her, and in the second place I am -sure she would not have me if I did.”</p> - -<p>“You love money, don’t you?” asked the father, sharply.</p> - -<p>“Not for itself,” said Clarence. “I have no miserly instincts of which I -am aware. I will acknowledge, however, that I love what money will buy.”</p> - -<p>“Supposing I told you,” said the father, “that this marriage was -absolutely necessary for financial reasons; that the firm was so deeply -involved that it must assign unless more capital is secured at once; -what would you say to that?”</p> - -<p>Clarence smiled grimly, and there was a sarcastic turn to his lip as he -replied: “Well, father, to speak honestly, I should think you had been -reading some popular novel, and had learned that portion of it by heart -which you have just now repeated. I am led to think this to be the case -because the house of Walmonth Brothers, of which I have the honour to be -the junior partner, has ten thousand pounds in the bank, with fully -twenty thousand pounds in bills receivable, and no large bills payable. -So you see, father, the extract from the popular novel is not applicable -to our case at all.”</p> - -<p>Thomas Glynne arose from his chair, clasped his hands behind his back, a -favourite position of his, and walked up and down for some time without -speaking. Then he opened the door of one of the bookcases and took down -a volume which showed marks of great usage. He approached his son and -said, solemnly:</p> - -<p>“Clarence, this is your mother’s Bible. I am going to tell you -something, but you must swear on this book that you will keep what I am -going to say to you a secret as long as I wish you to.”</p> - -<p>“I dislike secrets,” said Clarence, “and I do not like to take an oath. -I will promise not to mention what you say to me, and with me such a -promise is as binding and sacred as an oath.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">{39}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Mr. Glynne laid the book on the table. “Well, I believe you, Clarence, -but remember, I look upon your promise as though it had been an oath.” -Then after a pause, “Did I ever tell you that my ward, Bertha Renville, -is a rich woman?”</p> - -<p>“Well, no,” said Clarence. “You have never treated her as though she -was. Her allowance has been quite moderate and, to tell the truth, I -have given her considerable money myself when I knew that she wished -certain things, and told me that she could not afford to buy them. No, I -never had any idea that she was a rich woman. I always supposed that her -father was a poor man, but your friend, and that you, with your -well-known kindness of heart, had provided for her out of your own -bounty.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Glynne, “I am glad that has been your opinion, and I -mean that the rest of the world shall continue to think so. Now, I am -going to tell you the truth. The money with which I bought out the firm -of Walmonth Brothers—the money with which I built this house—in fact -all the money I have used to satisfy my, as you know, fastidious tastes, -in reality belongs to Miss Renville. By the terms of her father’s will, -when she marries, I must turn over the property, with accrued interest, -to her, and, of course, to her husband. Now, let me ask you the question -I asked when you first came in: Will you marry her and keep this money -in the family, or will you refuse to do so and lose -everything—business, house——”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Clarence, “it seems rather a hard box to put a fellow in, -but supposing she wants to marry somebody else?”</p> - -<p>The father began to show signs of anger. The genial smile had vanished. -“That’s not your business, young man. If she doesn’t marry you, she -shan’t marry anybody else; I’ll look out for that.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then,” said Clarence, “let us leave her out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">{40}</a></span> the question and -I will answer for myself. I am young and can work. I am sorry for you, -for you are getting old and it may come hard on you; but my mind is made -up. I do not love Bertha Renville, and whatever the result may be I -won’t marry her.”</p> - -<p>The usually genial Mr. Thomas Glynne became livid with rage. “We shall -see about that, young man. You shall go out of the firm. I will close up -the business. You are an ungrateful cub. I made life easy for you; now -go out into the world and find out how hard it is to do anything for -yourself.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I said I was willing to do,” said Clarence. “But you won’t -drive me out of the firm, nor you won’t close up the business.”</p> - -<p>The young man arose to his feet and father and son stood glaring at each -other like two wild animals.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I won’t, won’t I?” snarled Mr. Glynne. “How will you keep me from -doing it?”</p> - -<p>“Your own good sense will keep you from doing it, father,” said the -young man, cooling down a little. “If you will keep still, I will do the -same. There is no exigency, as I see, until there is some danger of her -getting married; but if you take any steps to get me out of the firm, or -to wind up the business, I shall tell Bertha.”</p> - -<p>“But you promised you would not.”</p> - -<p>“I know I did,” said Clarence, “but there is an old saying that a bad -promise is better broken than kept. If you have told me the truth, you -are entitled to invest her money and to look after it until her -marriage. When that time comes you have either got to restore the -property to its rightful owner or keep it yourself and become a criminal -in the eyes of the law. In that case, I shall be sorry that my name is -Glynne. I hope this very uncomfortable and unpleasant interview is at an -end. May I be allowed to light another cigarette? My<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">{41}</a></span> nerves are a -trifle shaken by this unexpected disclosure.”</p> - -<p>The young man suited the action to the word, blew a puff of smoke, and -then said: “I suppose this is all, father. Good-night. I will keep your -secret as long as you respect my rights.”</p> - -<p>When his son had gone, Thomas Glynne clenched his fists and stamped his -foot upon the library floor, but the rich Wilton was thick and gave -forth no sound.</p> - -<p>“Clarence is a fool. But she shall not marry any one else. If she dies, -all will be mine. I am sorry I told him, but I trust it will bring him -to terms. If he did not know it, no one would be the wiser.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">{42}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /><br /> -<small>THE EARL OF NOXTON.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Saturday</span> morning was cloudy.</p> - -<p>“I am so glad the sun is not shining to-day,” remarked Jack, as the -little party took their seats at the breakfast table.</p> - -<p>“Why so?” asked Bertha, and she cast an inquiring glance at the speaker.</p> - -<p>“Because it will be so much better for fishing, and I never like to fish -unless I catch something.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” remarked Bertha, “you are a practical angler, not a political -one.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly,” said Jack. “I remember reading somewhere the definition of a -person who fishes for compliments.”</p> - -<p>“The answer to that must be a joke,” said Clarence.</p> - -<p>Jack laughed. “Something near. I think it was this: A man who fishes for -compliments is one who uses himself for bait.”</p> - -<p>At this they laughed, Mr. Thomas Glynne the loudest of them all.</p> - -<p>After breakfast Bertha said: “You must come with me, Mr. De Vinne, and -see Guardy’s beautiful flowers. They say he has the finest greenhouses -and the most beautiful conservatory in this part of England—some say, -in all England.”</p> - -<p>As they entered the conservatory, Bertha turned towards Jack and -remarked: “I am sorry I cannot agree with you, Mr. De Vinne, but I wish -very much that the sun was shining. Flowers never look so beauti<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">{43}</a></span>ful as -when the sun falls upon them. They are always beautiful, but the -sunlight makes them more so.”</p> - -<p>They were alone and Jack grew venturesome.</p> - -<p>“There is something else that the sun has the same effect upon,” he -remarked.</p> - -<p>“Why, what can that be?”</p> - -<p>“A pretty girl,” answered Jack, with a laugh. “Especially if she -has”—he hesitated, but decided to finish his speech—“especially if she -has golden hair.”</p> - -<p>Bertha avoided the compliment. “I have heard that it is still more -effective when it falls upon a certain shade of red.”</p> - -<p>“That may be so,” said Jack, “but my acquaintance is rather limited and -I must confess I never knew a young lady with red hair.”</p> - -<p>They walked about, Bertha extolling the beauty of the flowers and -calling many of them by name.</p> - -<p>“I do not think you love flowers as I do, Mr. De Vinne.”</p> - -<p>“I will be honest, Miss Renville, I prefer fish. Now, could I induce you -to come with me on the river this morning?”</p> - -<p>“I am no great lover of Father Thames,” she replied. “I have been in his -embrace once and it was not very pleasant.”</p> - -<p>“They say lightning never strikes twice in the same place,” remarked -Jack, “and I don’t think you are in any danger of falling overboard -again. If you refuse I shall consider it as a personal reflection upon -my ability as a sailor.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. De Vinne, you must not think that I meant such a thing. It is -no lack of confidence in you; it is the other fellow who doesn’t know -how to manage a boat that I’m afraid of. I am a pretty good sailor -myself, and I could have swum ashore that day had I not been encumbered -with my dress. Women are at a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">{44}</a></span> great disadvantage, on account of their -dress, in all sports and games.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Jack, “if you object to a voyage on the briny deep, what do -you say to a land trip? I have no doubt Mr. Glynne has a turnout in his -stable. Do you know I am a great admirer of the poet Gray? You know he -is buried at Stoke Pogis, not very far from here. I should be delighted -to go there, and it will add greatly to my pleasure if you will -accompany me.”</p> - -<p>Bertha smiled archly. “I have heard that sailors make very poor landsmen -and know very little about horses.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, now, you’re joking me, Miss Renville.” A cloud passed over his face -and his voice grew grave.</p> - -<p>“Pardon me, Mr. De Vinne, I have to supply the fun for the family. -Perhaps my familiarity with those whom I meet every day has led me to be -wanting in the respect due to a stranger.”</p> - -<p>“How can you call me a stranger?” cried Jack.</p> - -<p>“Well, now,” cried Bertha, “I see that I am making a mess of it. So we -had better stop just where we are. You have asked me to go to drive with -you. I accept your invitation with pleasure.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>When they arrived at Stoke Pogis, Jack tied the horse to a convenient -hitching-post and they went into the secluded churchyard.</p> - -<p>As they stood by the tomb of the poet’s mother, Jack read aloud the -inscription upon it.</p> - -<p>“He must have loved his mother devotedly,” said Bertha.</p> - -<p>“All really good men love their mothers,” said Jack. “To me my mother is -the dearest creature in the world.” Then it suddenly occurred to him -that he had made two unfortunate admissions. By implication he had given -his hearer to understand that he was a really good man, and in the -second case he had told<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">{45}</a></span> her that he loved his mother better than any -person else. “What a blundering fool I have been,” he said to himself. -“The old Greek was right when he wrote that silence is the greatest of -all virtues.”</p> - -<p>He had been very brave while sitting in Victor’s room, when he had -declared his fixed purpose to propose to Miss Renville at sight, but as -he gazed into her beautiful face his courage left him.</p> - -<p>Miss Renville, fortunately, changed the subject. “My mother died when I -was very young, and I was but six years old when I lost my father, but -Guardy has been very good to me. If my parents had lived longer, I -should have felt their loss much more than I have. Is your father -living, Mr. De Vinne?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Jack. “He is hale and hearty. They used to say that -there was no stronger, sturdier man in the House of Lords.”</p> - -<p>“What?” cried Bertha, with astonishment. “Is your father a peer?”</p> - -<p>“Why, didn’t you know?” asked Jack. “I imagined Clarence must have told -you. My father is the Earl of Noxton. My home is at Noxton Hall in -Surrey.”</p> - -<p>Bertha turned her face away.</p> - -<p>“Why, Miss Renville, are you sorry that I am the son of an earl? It does -not amount to much in my case, for I am only a second son. My brother -Carolus is the heir to the title and estates. You know there is nothing -for second sons to do in England but to go into the Army or Navy or to -enter the Church. I expect to be ordered on a cruise very shortly.”</p> - -<p>“I should not like that,” said Bertha. “If I were a young man, I should -look forward to a happy home life.”</p> - -<p>“So do I, one of these days,” said Jack. “There may be a war and I may -come home covered with glory, and perhaps Parliament will give me a -pension.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">{46}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Then he reflected that he had made another blunder. How could he ask the -beautiful being who stood beside him to become his wife when he, of his -own accord, had said that such happiness could only come to him in the, -perhaps, far distant future. A thought came to him suddenly that sent a -cold chill through his frame. How near he had come to trespassing on his -friend’s hospitality. What right had he to ask Miss Renville to become -his wife until he had spoken to her guardian on the subject? No, he must -drop the whole matter just where it was until he had obtained an -interview with Mr. Glynne, Sr.</p> - -<p>The opportunity came to him that evening, for his host invited him into -the library to inspect the fine editions of rare books with which the -shelves were filled.</p> - -<p>While examining the flowers in the conservatory, Jack had kept his eyes -fixed, most of the time, upon Miss Renville, but in the library he -devoted his attention to the fine bindings and beautiful illustrations -rather than to his companion.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you smoke,” said Mr. Glynne. “I do not, and I have made it an -inflexible rule not to allow smoking in this room, but when you join my -son Clarence in the billiard room, you will have all the opportunity you -desire to indulge in your love of tobacco.”</p> - -<p>“All the boys at the Academy smoked,” said Jack, “and I fell into it -with the rest of them.”</p> - -<p>“The late Mrs. Glynne abhorred smoking,” said his host, “and I felt that -I should be untrue to her memory if I should take up the habit now. -Clarence has the most reprehensible habit of smoking cigarettes. I am -not so averse to the odour of good tobacco, but I think the odour of -burnt paper is positively vile.”</p> - -<p>“I agree with you,” said Jack. “When I smoke I fill my pipe and make a -business of it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, my advice to you, Mr. De Vinne, is to give<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">{47}</a></span> up the habit before -it becomes too firmly fixed upon you. You will be getting married one of -these days. Perhaps your wife may not object openly to your smoking, but -secretly she will wish you did not.”</p> - -<p>Jack felt that Mr. Glynne had broken the ice for him. “If I can get the -girl I wish for my wife,” he said, “I will throw my pipe into the river -and the tobacco after it.”</p> - -<p>There was a broad smile upon Mr. Glynne’s face. “Then you have not asked -her?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no,” said Jack, “there was a preliminary step that must come -first.”</p> - -<p>“And when will that be taken?”</p> - -<p>“I think now is a good time,” said Jack, in a nonchalant way. “The fact -is, Mr. Glynne, I have fallen deeply in love with your ward, Miss -Renville.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Glynne recoiled and would have measured his length on the floor if -Jack had not sprung forward and prevented.</p> - -<p>“I must have caught my boot-heel in the rug,” said Mr. Glynne, as he -recovered his physical equilibrium; his mental equilibrium, though, was -greatly out of joint. “Mr. De Vinne,” he began, “I am really surprised -at what you say. Take it altogether, you have not known the young lady -more than forty-eight hours. Of course, under the circumstances of your -first meeting, it is but natural that you should feel an interest in -her, for she is really a very beautiful girl.”</p> - -<p>“She is an angel,” ejaculated Jack, fervently.</p> - -<p>“You have done very wisely, Mr. De Vinne, in speaking to me about this -before revealing the state of your feelings to Miss Renville, and I -would advise you not to mention the subject to her until after you have -spoken to your father, the Earl. You should know the truth of the -matter. Miss Renville is beautiful, but she is poor; in fact, she is a -dependent upon my bounty. I do not grudge it to her, for her father and -I were the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">{48}</a></span> best of friends, and on his death-bed I promised him that I -would treat her as though she were my own daughter.”</p> - -<p>“That was noble of you,” cried Jack, and before Mr. Glynne could object -the young man grasped his hand and shook it warmly.</p> - -<p>“I do not ask any praise for my action,” said Mr. Glynne. “Bertha is the -light of our household, and I shall miss her greatly when the time -comes, if it ever does, for her to go from us. I will tell you a little -secret, but you must not mention it to my son. I had hoped in my heart -that Clarence and Bertha would fall in love with each other and in that -way I should be in no danger of losing her; but some young men are as -fickle as women, and my son does not seem to know his own heart.” He was -going to say “what is best for him,” but changed the form of the remark -just in time.</p> - -<p>“I do not blame you for not wishing to lose her,” said Jack.</p> - -<p>“I think Clarence must be waiting for you in the billiard room,” -suggested Mr. Glynne, “but before you go, Mr. De Vinne—as I stand in -the relation of a father to Miss Renville—I wish you would give me your -promise not to make any direct proposal to my ward until you have talked -the matter over with your father.”</p> - -<p>When Jack joined Clarence in the billiard room, the latter exclaimed: -“Where have you been, old boy?”</p> - -<p>“I have been having a talk with your father.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Clarence. “He has been showing you the beautiful -pictures in his library, I suppose. Well, he hung on to you longer than -he could have hung on to me.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Glynne,” said Jack, “I have known you but a short time, but I want -to ask you a question.”</p> - -<p>“Go ahead, old fellow. If I can’t answer it, I’ll keep still.”</p> - -<p>“It is a serious matter,” said Jack. “You may<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">{49}</a></span> think the inquiry is an -impertinent one and refuse to answer for that reason.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Clarence, “as you stand about four inches taller than I do, -and weigh about forty pounds more, I don’t think I shall resort to -personal violence even if my feelings are injured.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Jack, “I think we understand each other, so I will ask you -the question in the bluntest possible way. Are you in love with Miss -Renville, or are you likely to be, and is it probable that you will ever -ask her to become your wife?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Clarence, with a laugh, “that’s not one question, that’s -three, but fortunately I can answer all with one little word—No. Now, -Mr. De Vinne, will you allow me to ask you a question?”</p> - -<p>“Why, certainly,” said Jack, whose face showed that Clarence’s reply to -his question had greatly pleased him.</p> - -<p>“Well,” began Clarence, “Mr. Jack De Vinne, I would like to ask you if -you are in love with Miss Renville, or if not, are you likely to be, and -is there any probability of your ever asking her to become your wife?”</p> - -<p>“Fortunately,” said Jack, “I can answer you with a monosyllable—Yes.”</p> - -<p>Clarence extended his hand. “Shake, old boy! Go ahead and win.”</p> - -<p>“I have been talking to your father,” said Jack, “and although what he -told me does not lessen my love for Miss Renville in any way, it must -postpone our happiness. He says his ward is very poor.”</p> - -<p>Involuntarily, Clarence gave a loud whistle.</p> - -<p>Jack looked astonished. “What did you do that for?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Clarence, “when the governor talks to me about his generosity -I always whistle.”</p> - -<p>“Pardon me, Mr. Glynne,” said Jack, “but cannot you add a word or two to -the whistle?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">{50}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Clarence, “perhaps I can put in a word. A thought that -usually runs through my mind when the governor is talking to me, is, -don’t believe all he says. Take my advice, Mr. De Vinne, follow the -course your heart dictates and I believe everything will come out right -in the end. Now, I have been waiting nearly an hour for you for this -little game of billiards and I must insist upon you taking your cue.”</p> - -<p>It was late that night when Clarence parted from Jack at the door of the -latter’s room. Young Mr. Glynne had smoked cigarettes incessantly while -they had been playing billiards, and he felt the necessity of a walk in -the open air before going to bed.</p> - -<p>As he passed the door of the library, he was surprised to find it open, -for he had supposed that his father had already retired.</p> - -<p>“Is that you, Clarence?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, father. I thought you had gone to bed.”</p> - -<p>“Come in,” said the elder Mr. Glynne. “I want to talk to you.”</p> - -<p>Clarence sauntered into the room, his hands in his pockets, wondering -what was in store for him. His father shut the door and then turned upon -him sharply.</p> - -<p>“Clarence, what an infernal fool you were to bring that fellow down -here.”</p> - -<p>“On the contrary,” said Clarence, “I think it was a very gentlemanly and -courteous act, under the circumstances. He saved Bertha’s life, and I -think it was due to him to give him an opportunity to see her.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” snarled his father, “it is all right for him to come and see -her, but she is a silly girl. She knows how to swim and she could have -gotten ashore all right that day, but she thinks she owes her life to -him and, no doubt, if he asked her to marry him, she would be agreeable; -not because she loved him, but out of gratitude.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">{51}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Clarence, “I may be the infernal fool you say I am, but I -do not think Bertha is so bereft of sense that she would marry any man -out of simple gratitude. If she loves Jack De Vinne, she will marry him -because she loves him and not for any other reason.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said his father, “she shan’t marry him, and you know the reason. -I shall count upon you to help me; besides, it is for your interest to -do so. You remember I told you that, if she does not marry you, she -shall not marry any one else. If she tries to, I shall find a way to -stop it.”</p> - -<p>“Is that all you’ve got to say?” asked Clarence. “This conversation is -very disagreeable to me; in fact, I can’t see the point to it. If Mr. De -Vinne had asked Bertha to marry him and she had consented, there would -be an exigency for us both to face but, under the circumstances, I see -no reason why either you or I should be deprived of our night’s rest. -I’m going out for a little walk in the park. I will tell Brinkley to -wait up for me until I get back. Good-night, father, and pleasant -dreams.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>When Monday morning came and Jack’s visit was at an end, he had no -inclination to return to London. Victor had gone to join his ship. -Clarence was going to the city to attend to business, and Jack, -naturally, accompanied him.</p> - -<p>Mr. Glynne, Sr., invited him to come again, but there was no great -warmth in the invitation.</p> - -<p>Jack had hoped that he would be able to speak a few words to Bertha in -private, but Mr. Glynne was omnipresent, and beyond a shake of the hand -and a parting glance—friendly in its nature but nothing more—Jack’s -romance came to an end, for the time, at least.</p> - -<p>When he reached London he determined to go at once to Noxton Hall. Mr. -Glynne had advised him to talk<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">{52}</a></span> the matter over with his father and he -had decided to do so.</p> - -<p>When he reached home the dogs and the stable-boys ran out to greet him.</p> - -<p>His father extended the fingers of a cold, clammy hand and remarked: -“Glad to see you, Jack, of course. Greatly pleased that you have passed. -Had hoped that it would have been with a higher standing, but I presume -there were many young men of exceptional ability in your class.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, there were,” said Jack, “and I did not belong to that class.”</p> - -<p>The Earl sniffed. “You have had every advantage of heredity and every -opportunity for preparation. I do not see any reason why you should not -have ranked with the highest. Being in the Navy is the same as being in -public life, and when I was in public life I always kept my eyes upon -the topmost round of the ladder.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Jack, “and I am very proud of the fact that you finally put -your foot upon it.”</p> - -<p>The Earl acknowledged the compliment with a stiff bow. “I believe,” he -said, “in the transmission of ability from one generation to another. I -am proud to say that my ancestors were men of eminence. I cannot help -feeling some regret that one of my descendants——”</p> - -<p>Jack broke in: “But you have Carolus. All the virtues and ability of our -ancestors must descend to him. I am only a second son, and it makes -little difference what becomes of me.”</p> - -<p>“That is not the right way to look at it,” said the Earl, severely. “To -be sure, Carolus is heir-apparent, but in the midst of life we are in -death. You know Carolus is not in good health. If anything should happen -to him you become the heir, and you should be as well-fitted for the -position as is my elder son.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53">{53}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m sorry I’m not,” said Jack. “I think I could keep the stables -up to a high standard, but as regards the rest of the estate, I’m afraid -I should have to depend on the steward.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad you have come as you have,” said the Earl, changing the -subject. “Your mother received a letter this morning from the Countess -of Ashmont. She’s in Paris now with her daughter, Lady Angeline, who, -you know, is betrothed to your brother Carolus. They expected that -Carolus would return from the baths in Germany in time to escort them -back to London, but as he cannot do so, the Countess has written to know -if I could possibly spare time from my estates and official duties. I -really cannot do so, but I am fortunate in having a son who can perform -that pleasant duty for me and for his brother. You know, in case -anything should happen to Carolus, which Heaven forbid, I should expect -you to——”</p> - -<p>“To marry Lady Angeline?” asked Jack. “I really could not do that. To -tell you the truth, father, since I left the Academy I have had a most -surprising adventure. I rescued a beautiful young girl from drowning and -have fallen, in love with her.”</p> - -<p>“Who is she?” asked the Earl.</p> - -<p>“She is an orphan,” said Jack. “She is the ward of Mr. Thomas Glynne, of -Buckholme, in Berkshire.”</p> - -<p>“I never heard of him. What is he?”</p> - -<p>“He is the senior member of the firm of Walmonth and Company in London. -They are in the iron and steel business, I believe. They sell a good -deal to the Admiralty.”</p> - -<p>“Has she money in her own right?”</p> - -<p>Jack was honest; in fact, too honest for his own good. It is not always -advisable to tell all the truth upon the slightest provocation.</p> - -<p>“Her guardian says she is poor—in fact, entirely dependent upon his -bounty.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54">{54}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Then,” said the Earl, “I think the sooner you go to Paris the better. -After you return with the Countess and her daughter, we are all going to -Scotland. Carolus will be back by that time, and I think the northern -air will do him good.”</p> - -<p>“But you say nothing about the young lady with whom I am in love,” -persisted Jack.</p> - -<p>“I do not see that there is anything to be said,” rejoined the Earl. -“You have told me that the young lady is penniless; for the second son -of an earl to take a penniless bride is more than foolish—it would be a -crime.”</p> - -<p>Jack went up to his mother’s room. His path of love was not strewn with -rose-leaves and no sunlight fell upon it. Both guardian and father were -against him. Perhaps he had been building a castle in the air, for she, -too, might refuse him after all. His brother Carolus was his father’s -pride, but his mother had always seemed to love him more than her elder -son.</p> - -<p>Jack felt that he must confide in her, and took the first opportunity, -after family affairs had been talked over, to tell of his adventure and -of the beautiful girl who had won his love.</p> - -<p>His mother proved sympathetic. “I do not see why your father should -speak as he did. I was a penniless girl, too, when he made me his bride. -We have been very happy together and he has never reproached me for my -lack of a fortune. Take courage, Jack; follow the course that the young -man whom you call Clarence advised you to take. As he said, all may come -out well in the end.”</p> - -<p>“But father says that if Carolus should die, he would expect me to marry -Lady Angeline.”</p> - -<p>“He has no right to expect any such thing,” said his mother. “He has no -right to move you about as though you were a pawn on a chess-board, and -I have too high an opinion of Lady Angeline to think that she would so -soon forget your brother Carolus, to whom she<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55">{55}</a></span> is most devoted. It is -possible that in time she might learn to love you, but if you did not -love her, why,—“and the Countess laughed,—“there is nothing more to -it, Jack, than there is to the light of the firefly. It beckons us on, -but it cannot be relied upon to lead us to our destination.”</p> - -<p>“I have only one ray of hope,” said Jack. “Mr. Glynne’s son made a very -strange remark, and, I nearly forgot, he gave a whistle before he -spoke.”</p> - -<p>“And what did he say?” asked his mother.</p> - -<p>“He told me not to believe all his father said.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Lady De Vinne. “Perhaps there is a mystery there. I had a box -of books come down from Mudie’s a few days ago, and I have been reading -a novel in which a beautiful young girl, being left an orphan, was -committed to the charge of her father’s most intimate friend. She was -the rightful owner of a large fortune, but her guardian concealed that -fact from her and told everybody that she was penniless. I have not -finished the story yet, but I have no doubt that in the end the -guardian’s duplicity will be shown and that she will regain her fortune -and marry the young man whom she loves.”</p> - -<p>“Why,” cried Jack, “that fits the case exactly.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then,” said his mother, “do not lose hope,” and putting her arms -about his neck she drew him towards her and kissed him. “You know, Jack, -you have always been very dear to me and I wish you to be happy. -Whenever you need advice or consolation, always come to your mother.”</p> - -<p>“I will,” said Jack.</p> - -<p>He went downstairs feeling much happier than he had after his interview -with his father.</p> - -<p>He made his preparations to go to Paris, for he saw that nothing was to -be gained by refusing to comply with his father’s request. He was to -leave for London the next afternoon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56">{56}</a></span></p> - -<p>Soon after breakfast he went to the stables. Joe Grimm, his favorite -stable-boy, had saddled his horse.</p> - -<p>“I am going to take a little gallop,” he said, as he threw a shilling to -the youngster.</p> - -<p>He came back in about an hour, looking much refreshed, with his head -clear, his mind light, and a great hope, restored by his mother’s words, -in his heart. As he dismounted, he saw Hodson coming towards him in -great haste.</p> - -<p>“Your father wants you at once in the library.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” cried Jack. “Is he ill?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Hodson, “but something terrible has happened. I don’t know -what it is. He is crying. Your mother is with him, and she is crying, -too.”</p> - -<p>As Jack entered the room he saw that what Hodson had told him was true. -He did not know what to say, and stood expectantly waiting for his -father or mother to speak.</p> - -<p>His father arose and came towards him. Placing his hand on Jack’s -shoulder, he said: “What I feared has come to pass. Your brother Carolus -is dead, and you are the heir to the Earldom of Noxton and its estates. -I hope, my son, that you will prove worthy of them both.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57">{57}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /><br /> -<small>DUAL LIVES.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">“Do</span> you see that ‘that’?”</p> - -<p>The speaker was Mr. B. Gorham Potts, head reader for the great London -publishing firm of Johnson, Johnson, Smythe & Johnson, and as he uttered -the words he laid a page-proof upon the table before the young lady who -sat busily engaged in writing.</p> - -<p>Mr. Potts had been christened Benjamin Gorham, the Benjamin being in -honour of a maternal uncle who had gone to South Africa, and, rumour -said, had accumulated a large fortune. But when the said uncle died and -no news came of an inheritance for any members of the Potts family, both -father and mother agreed that a mistake had been made at the baptismal -font. No change, however, had been made in young Benjamin’s name. He -began work in a printing-office at the early age of fourteen and for a -period of sixteen years had been called “Ben” by every one in the -establishment, from the senior proprietor to the smallest errand boy.</p> - -<p>When at the age of thirty he secured a position in the publishing house, -in the composition of which there were so many Johnsons that he decided -a change must and should be made.</p> - -<p>“Maria,” he said to his wife, “I am going to work for a very large -corporation. I am to hold a dignified position and for that reason I -think I should bear a dignified name.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Benny,” said his wife, in a tone full of affection.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58">{58}</a></span></p> - -<p>“That is the last time you will use that name, Maria,” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>The diminutive little woman was startled by his language and the sharp -tone in which the words were uttered. She said nothing, but acted as -though she had received a blow.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Maria, I have decided to change my name. My old skin-flint of an -Uncle Benjamin, for whom I was named, left me nothing. I have honoured -his memory for thirty years, but in future I propose to be known as B. -Gorham Potts and to sign my name in that way.”</p> - -<p>The little woman took in the situation. “Yes, Gorham,” she exclaimed, -timidly.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think that’s an improvement?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes!” and then with that delightful British unconsciousness of her -own joke, she exclaimed: “Let it be Gorham.”</p> - -<p>But to return to that “that.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Potts repeated his question in a more decisive manner. “Do you see -that ‘that’?”</p> - -<p>The young lady addressed tossed her head and pouted perceptibly. She was -a pretty little brunette. Proofreaders are made responsible for so many -errors perpetrated by others, as well as for their own shortcomings, -that they are inclined to tergiversation when matters are brought to -them for correction. She shut one eye and looked closely at the -offending word with the other.</p> - -<p>At last she said: “There is one ‘that,’ but I am unable to see the -second ‘that’ to which you refer.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Potts was thin and angular. He smiled occasionally; not all at -once—it might be said in sections—the smile moving from one feature to -another, like sunlight on a picket fence. Mr. Potts was not a -hard-hearted man and as he looked at the dainty little woman before him, -the thought came to him: “What if she were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59">{59}</a></span> my daughter and some other -man stood in my place, under similar circumstances?”</p> - -<p>“Do you not see, Miss Caswell, that that ‘that’ should be a ‘than’ -instead of that ‘that’?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” she said, “it ought to be ‘than,’<span class="lftspc">”</span> and she turned over -quickly some galley-slips which lay beside her.</p> - -<p>“Well,” she said, “the author did not see it.”</p> - -<p>“I should think, Miss Caswell, that you had been a proof-reader long -enough to have learned that an author never sees anything,” said Mr. -Potts, contemptuously. “They are too busy with ideas to think of such -minor matters as spelling, punctuation, and grammar.”</p> - -<p>“That’s true of Mr. Stowell,” said Miss Caswell, “and such writing, too, -but his books sell.”</p> - -<p>“We have made him,” said Mr. Potts, his chest swelling. “He was an -unknown author, but we made his first book go.”</p> - -<p>“And he has been a go ever since,” said Miss Caswell, laughing.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and when Mr. Smythe rejected one of his books he took it to -another house and they are getting the benefit of all our advertising.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you could not expect him to throw his manuscript into the -ash-heap,” remarked Miss Caswell.</p> - -<p>“No, but he could have threatened to do it and Smythe would have taken -it, but authors have no tact—they are all temper—they think publishers -are their enemies instead of being their best friends.”</p> - -<p>Miss Caswell enjoyed the conversation; it gave her a little rest from -her very prosaic duties. She was well acquainted with the peculiarities -of Mr. Potts and knew how to extend the conversation indefinitely.</p> - -<p>“How about the critics?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Bah!” exclaimed Mr. Potts. “They are just as bad; each one likes a -certain kind of story and he calls the rest rubbish.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60">{60}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Miss Caswell, evidently, had a feeling for the critic. “It must be -wearing to read so many books; no wonder they praise what they like.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe they read them. They get an idea of the plot from some -other paper; then they open the book, read a few pages here and there, -and then write their review. Why, I know a critic who flouted a book -because there were two ‘buts’ in the same sentence, but the joke was, -both were used correctly. We had three Oxford professors decide the -question.”</p> - -<p>Miss Caswell dexterously gave another turn to the conversation: “You -must get tired of reading so many stories, Mr. Potts, and in manuscript, -too.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a business with me; a day’s work is a day’s work. When it is over -I have my home, my wife, my little boy Jimmy, and baby Dorcas. You ought -to get married, Miss Caswell. It’s the only way to live.”</p> - -<p>The young girl’s face flushed. The conversation had taken an unexpected -turn. It was time to get back to business.</p> - -<p>“I am sorry I did not see that ‘that,’ Mr. Potts.”</p> - -<p>Again that thin, erratic smile on Mr. Potts’ face. “You did see ‘that,’ -Miss Caswell; please change it to ‘than.’ Had it gone to print it would -have been bad, but, as we’ve caught it, there’s no harm done. There was -never a book printed that did not have some sort of an error in it. Mr. -Smythe, a few years ago, read the proofs of one himself. He boasted that -it was perfect and that he would give a hundred pounds to any one who -found an error in it. It turned out to be such a good joke on himself -that he told it, but I don’t believe anybody got the hundred pounds.”</p> - -<p>“Did he find the mistake himself?” Miss Caswell asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes, he went into a book-shop, took up the book, and was going to tell -the proprietor that he would give him a hundred pounds if he could find -an error in it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61">{61}</a></span> when his eye lit on a colon that ought to have been a -comma. He did not brag so much after that and has never read the proofs -of another book since.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Potts walked away and Miss Caswell resumed her work. She had before -her a large pile of proofs that must be in the printer’s hands early the -next morning, and it was nearly an hour beyond the appointed time for -leaving when she arose from her table and made her way homeward.</p> - -<p>“Why, where in the world have you been, Mrs. Glynne?” exclaimed Mrs. -Liloquist, the landlady, as she opened the door to admit “Miss Caswell.”</p> - -<p>“Has my husband got home?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, he has been here nearly an hour and has been downstairs at -least six times to ask where you were. Now, how could he expect me to -know where you were?”</p> - -<p>“It was very unreasonable in him,” said Mrs. Glynne, laughing, “but, you -know, men are all unreasonable.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, Clarence?” she cried, as she burst into the room.</p> - -<p>Her husband, Mr. Clarence Glynne, was sitting by the window, but arose -quickly and greeted his wife with an embrace and a kiss.</p> - -<p>“Why are you here, Clarence? Of course I am delighted to see you, but -you told me this morning that you would have to go to Buckholme -to-night.”</p> - -<p>“I did intend to, Jennie, but really, I did not dare to go out there -until I knew what to do. I was going to tell you about it this morning, -but there was no time; besides, I thought I might see my way clear as to -what to do, during the day.”</p> - -<p>“Do not keep me waiting any longer, Clarence,” said his wife, with a -little stamp of her foot. “I am just dying to know what it is about, and -you keep talking all around it without telling me what the trouble is.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62">{62}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Hadn’t we better have supper first?”</p> - -<p>“No,” cried Jennie. “I cannot wait another minute.”</p> - -<p>“Well, the fact is,” began Clarence, “you know all about Bertha; how the -governor keeps asking me to propose to her. Of course he does not know -that I already have a nice little wife of my own, and for that reason I -excuse him.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I do not,” said Jennie. “He has no business to tell you to marry -anybody. But your father will have to know about our marriage some time. -Mrs. Liloquist is very inquisitive, but she has not learned anything -from me, except that we are very poor and we both have to work for a -living. We are living dual lives, Clarence. How long shall we have to do -so?”</p> - -<p>“I cannot answer that question now,” said Clarence, “but what I am going -to tell you is this: Bertha has had a letter from a friend in Paris—a -lady who knew her father when he lived there. She has found out in some -way about Bertha and wishes her to come and pay her a visit.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t see anything serious in that,” said Jennie. “When is she -going?”</p> - -<p>“The governor won’t let her go. It’s all my fault, too. I had a letter -from Jack De Vinne saying that his brother was dead and that he was -going to Paris to escort Lady Ashmont and her daughter home so they -could go to the funeral. The big idiot that I was, I told the governor -and he scented danger right off. You know I told you about Jack coming -to see us. Well, he was going to propose to Bertha, but thought it was -his duty to speak to his father first. Jack was only the second son of -an earl then, and father frightened him a little by telling him that -Bertha was a penniless orphan.”</p> - -<p>“But isn’t she?” asked Jennie. “You have always said she was.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63">{63}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“A man and his wife are one, are they not?” asked Clarence.</p> - -<p>“Why, you goose, of course they are.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, Jennie, if I come into possession of a secret, no matter -how, and I give my solemn promise that I will not tell, am I breaking -that promise if I tell my wife?”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course not, Clarence. You have no right to have any secrets -from your wife. How can a man love, honour, and obey his wife if he -keeps a secret all to himself? Now, Clarence, dear, what is the secret?”</p> - -<p>“I will whisper it to you, Jennie. Bertha isn’t poor at all; she is -worth forty thousand pounds in her own right, but my father is her -guardian and, according to her father’s will, the governor has a right -to hold on to the property until she marries, and, of course, he does -not want her to marry any one—except me. Of course, I don’t want her, -for good and sufficient reasons which are now before me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I see,” cried Jennie. “Jack De Vinne is going to Paris, and your -father thinks that this letter business is only a scheme to enable -Bertha to go to Paris and meet Jack.”</p> - -<p>“You have hit it exactly, Jennie. What heads you women have!”</p> - -<p>“Does Bertha know Jack is there?”</p> - -<p>“Of course she doesn’t. She wants to go because she is tired of -Buckholme. She has been cooped up there all her life. Now she wants to -see the rest of the world.”</p> - -<p>“If she does meet Jack, it will come out all right, won’t it, Clarence? -Now that he is to be Earl of Noxton one of these days, with fine estates -and a big rentroll, it won’t frighten him if Bertha is poor.”</p> - -<p>“Not a bit,” said Clarence. “But here’s the fix I’m in. Bertha never -goes to father, but confides all her troubles to me. She expects me to -manage it in some<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64">{64}</a></span> way so that she can go. I told her I would, and I -don’t dare go to Buckholme until I can.”</p> - -<p>“Then it’s lucky for you, Clarence, that you have a wife with a head, as -you expressed it. If you will let me manage the affair, it will come out -all right.”</p> - -<p>“You can do just as you like, Jennie. How much money will you want?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, not a great deal. Let me see. In the first place she will wish to -take her wardrobe with her. Now, it won’t do for her to pack up her -things at Buckholme. Mrs. Liloquist was moaning to-day because she has a -vacant room next to ours. These lodging-house keepers are always in a -fret and worry. Now, I will make her happy by telling her that a cousin -of yours is coming to London from the country and wants a room for a -week at least. Now you will have to play your part, Clarence. You must -go out to Buckholme every night and be very attentive to Bertha. I won’t -be jealous. Every morning when you come in fetch in some of Bertha’s -wardrobe. I will do her packing for her, and when the important day -arrives she must tell your father that she is coming to London to do -some shopping and you must offer her your services to escort her.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I never heard anything like it,” cried Clarence. “You ought to be -a detective in Scotland Yard.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if you had read as many detective stories as I have, you would -not think I have told you much of a plot after all; however, who knows -but that it may turn out to be a big one in the end?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Clarence, “after her luggage is packed and she is here, -what are you going to do next?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I am going to Paris with her. I have never done anything in my -life that will please me so much as to outwit your father.”</p> - -<p>“He is a pretty shrewd one,” remarked Clarence.</p> - -<p>“I know he is,” said Jennie, “and for that reason<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65">{65}</a></span> I am going to do -something that will throw him off the track. Of course he will think -that she has gone to Dover and from there to Calais and then to Paris, -but we shall do nothing of the kind.”</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do?” asked her husband.</p> - -<p>“Well, I shan’t tell you until the very day we start. It is better that -you should not know. You are one of those men who when they have -anything on their mind everybody can see it and it makes them -inquisitive. Now you had better be fancy-free until the morning of our -departure; then I will tell you where we are going. Now, Clarence, I -want you to make me a promise. No matter what happens, you must keep -your mouth shut tight. Do not tell anybody which way we went nor where -we have gone.”</p> - -<p>“You’re a darling, Jennie,” he cried. “I will promise anything. Now we -must go out and get our suppers, for I’m as hungry as a bear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66">{66}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /><br /> -<small>BERTHA’S ESCAPE.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">As</span> Jennie anticipated, Mr. Thomas Glynne was very much pleased when he -saw the growing intimacy between his son and ward.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t so hard, Clarence, to come out from London every night and go -back every morning as it used to be, is it?”</p> - -<p>Clarence, with his usual lack of tact, put his foot in it again. “Well, -governor, forty thousand pounds is not to be sneezed at.”</p> - -<p>“You’re right, Clarence, and I’m glad to see that you are growing -sensible. I have often wondered how you could be so foolish on a certain -point and yet be a son of mine.”</p> - -<p>Clarence had to tell Bertha his secret—that he was married and that it -was his inventive little wife who had thought out a plan by which her -escape from Buckholme could be managed successfully.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I shall be so pleased to meet her,” said Bertha. “You say she is a -little woman.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Clarence, with enthusiasm. “I can take her right in my -arms and carry her about. I don’t think she weighs more than eight stone -and perhaps not so much. But she wants to know what part of Paris your -friend lives in. She has been there and knows the city pretty well.”</p> - -<p>“I will let her have my new friend’s letter,” said Bertha. “It will be -safer with her anyway. Here it is,” and she took it from her bosom. “You -may read it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67">{67}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Clarence availed himself of her permission.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind">“<span class="smcap">My Dear Little Girl</span>:</p> - -<p>“I have just learned in a roundabout way, which I shall not take -time to explain here, that the only child of one who was a very -dear friend of mine years ago, Mr. Oscar Renville, is living in -England and is a ward of Mr. Thomas Glynne, of Buckholme, in -Berkshire. I do not remember your Christian name and for that -reason have directed this letter simply to Miss Renville. I -remember you when you were a little girl; that is why I began this -letter as I have. When your father used to bring you to see me, he -called you by some pet name which might or might not have been your -own, but which, as I said before, I have forgotten. I have not -forgotten you, however. I am a widow with one son, nearly -twenty-two. I was married when quite young and am not yet forty; so -you see I am not yet an old woman and shall not be such bad -company, after all, for a young girl of eighteen. I shall be -delighted to have you come to Paris and stay with me as long as -your guardian will allow. On the outside it is a beautiful city; -under the crust there is a great deal of wickedness, but we shall -keep away from that and look for the goodness which I know, too, is -here. Give my kindest regards to Mr. Glynne, and tell him that I -shall be pleased to have him as my guest, for I presume he will -accompany you to Paris. I live at Number 22, Rue St. Francis. Every -cab-driver in Paris knows where it is and there are many people in -this city who know your loving friend,</p> - -<p class="r"> -“<span class="smcap">Marie</span>, Countess Mont d’Oro.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>The transportation of Bertha’s wardrobe from Buckholme to Clarence’s -lodgings was carried on without causing any suspicion in the mind of the -elder Mr. Glynne and a day was fixed for her departure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68">{68}</a></span></p> - -<p>Jennie suggested that Mr. De Vinne should know that Bertha was going to -Paris.</p> - -<p>“He may be there now,” said her husband. “I have seen no notice in the -paper of his brother’s funeral. I will send him a wire; that’s the best -way.”</p> - -<p>Clarence’s message was short and to the point; it contained but five -words: “Are you there? Something important.”</p> - -<p>The return message was equally concise. “Funeral day after to-morrow. -Write me.”</p> - -<p>“Quite a coincidence,” said Jennie. “Mr. De Vinne’s brother is to be -buried on the day we have fixed for our departure. I do not think it is -best for him to meet Bertha while she is with us. She had to know our -secret, but it is not necessary that any more should be acquainted with -it just at present. You write to him to-day that we are going, and he -will probably lose no time in taking the most direct course by way of -Dover and Calais.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Clarence, “but how are you going?”</p> - -<p>“We shall leave London day after to-morrow by a very early train. I’ve -got it all figured out. Bertha is coming to the city to-morrow. Of -course your father will fume and fret and wonder why you two do not -return home, but knowing that she is with you will relieve his anxiety -to a great extent.”</p> - -<p>“If he thought I had eloped with her, he would be perfectly satisfied,” -said Clarence.</p> - -<p>“No doubt, but will he be so well satisfied when he learns that she has -eloped with your wife? But you must not tell him. Give me your solemn -promise that you will not. To-morrow night I will tell you the route -which I have laid out for our flight.”</p> - -<p>Clarence’s conversation with his wife had taken place in the afternoon -and he returned to Buckholme that evening. He was more attentive than -ever to Bertha. The senior Mr. Glynne sought the seclusion of his -li<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69">{69}</a></span>brary. With his hands clasped behind him, he walked briskly up and -down the long apartment, smiling to himself and repeating in an -undertone: “That boy of mine is no fool after all; he knows on which -side his bread is buttered.”</p> - -<p>The next morning Clarence said: “Governor, things are moving along -faster than I expected. I have not proposed yet. I think it is best not -to hurry the matter; but I would like to have Bertha go to London with -me, as I saw a beautiful locket in a jeweller’s window in Regent Street. -I am going to take her to look at it and if she is delighted with it, as -I know she will be, I am going to buy it for her. You know there is -nothing pleases a woman as much as——” He came near saying “having her -own way,” but he bethought himself in time and finished with, “having a -nice present from a young man.”</p> - -<p>The senior Mr. Glynne rubbed his hands together gleefully, and patted -his son approvingly on the shoulder. His next move was to take out his -pocket-book, from which he extracted a ten-pound note which he passed to -Clarence, saying: “Get something pretty nice.”</p> - -<p>The evening of that day found Bertha an occupant of the room which had -remained so long empty in Mrs. Liloquist’s lodging-house. She had been -introduced as Miss Mary Barker, a cousin of Mr. Glynne’s, who was on the -way to see her brother who lived in Berwick-on-Tweed, near the Scottish -border.</p> - -<p>“It’s a long journey,” said Mrs. Glynne, “and I am going with her. I -told Mr. Potts—he is the head man at the place where I work—that I was -about tired out and needed a little vacation. So you see, as the old -proverb says, I am going to kill two birds with one stone.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Liloquist always subdued her curiosity if she was confided in. It -was the safest way to deal with her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70">{70}</a></span> for if subjected to a severe -cross-examination, which was quite possible, she might tell more than -was wished, or than was desirable under the circumstances.</p> - -<p>When Jennie and her husband were alone in their own room, Jennie -remarked: “I think I have satisfied Mrs. Liloquist. I don’t think she -will ask you any questions.”</p> - -<p>“But you have not satisfied my curiosity,” said Clarence. “Now is the -accepted time; where are you going—I mean, which way are you going to -Paris?”</p> - -<p>“Well, sit down,” said Jennie, “and I will tell you the whole story. It -is quite a romance. I was born, as you know, in the little coast town of -Pagham in Sussex. The people make their living by fishing, and my father -was a fisherman. You know, both my father and mother are dead. If I had -not been left an orphan, I should not have come to London. I am glad I -did so, for if I had not I should never have met you; but that’s not to -the point. I have been down to Pagham. There are a good many living -there now who knew my father. One of his best friends was Captain Jacob -Carder, who now owns one of the best fishing vessels in the town. Now, -perhaps, you guess my plan.</p> - -<p>“Instead of taking Bertha to Paris by way of Dover and Calais, we shall -go down to Pagham and Captain Carder will take us over to France in his -schooner. He says he will land us at a place where it will be easy for -us to get a train for Paris. Your father, of course, will ask you where -Bertha is. You must say you don’t know. In such cases, white lies are -allowable. I cannot tell you what to say to your father, because, if I -do, I know you will get it all mixed up. Whatever you say you must -invent on the spur of the moment and then stick to it.”</p> - -<p>By half-past six the next morning Mrs. Glynne and Bertha were on their -way to Pagham. Clarence did not accompany them to the station.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71">{71}</a></span></p> - -<p>“You had better not,” said Jennie. “Your father will put detectives on -your track, and one of them will be sure to be at the station and -recognise you. I am not so well known and for that reason will be able -to escape observation. I shouldn’t wonder if your father came to London -by the first train from Buckholme.”</p> - -<p>Clarence arrived at his office an hour earlier than usual. His wife’s -surmise had been correct—his father was there before him.</p> - -<p>“Are you married, Clarence?” was the first question.</p> - -<p>“Why, no,” said the son, taken aback by the question.</p> - -<p>“Well, then, where’s Bertha? What do you mean by bringing her to the -city in such a manner? Where is she, I say?”</p> - -<p>The crucial moment had come. Clarence had thought of a dozen different -explanations to give, but the one he did offer was, as his wife had -advised, the inspiration of the moment.</p> - -<p>“I could not help it,” he said. “It was all over in a minute. It must -have been prearranged between them.”</p> - -<p>“Who are you talking about?” his father thundered.</p> - -<p>“Why, Jack De Vinne and Bertha,” said Clarence. “We drove down to Regent -Street in a four-wheeler. She was delighted with the locket and I bought -it for her. I took your ten pounds for the chain. As we came out of the -store, who should I see standing on the sidewalk but Jack De Vinne. -Bertha got into the carriage and I was on the point of following her, -when she exclaimed that she had left her parasol on the showcase. I went -back for it, but when I came out of the store the carriage was gone.”</p> - -<p>“What an infernal fool you were, Clarence.”</p> - -<p>“Why, governor, how could I help it? I had no idea that Jack De Vinne -was in London. I should<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72">{72}</a></span> have as soon expected to see the man in the -moon. I supposed that he was at Noxton Hall. I understood his brother -was to be buried yesterday. The paper said so.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Glynne, Sr., seemed staggered by the information. “You never do -anything, Clarence, that you don’t make a mess of it. When you get -married I have no doubt you will make a mistake and get the wrong -woman.”</p> - -<p>“I may be a big fool, as you say, but I don’t think I shall make that -mistake.”</p> - -<p>“Where do you think they have gone?” asked Mr. Glynne.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Clarence.</p> - -<p>“Well, I have,” said his father.</p> - -<p>“Where?” asked Clarence.</p> - -<p>“I shall confide my suspicions to the detectives. I do not think you are -a safe person for confidences. I think you had better stay in London, -Clarence, until I go back to Buckholme. I will let you know when I do -so.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s over,” said Clarence to himself after his father had left -the room. “I have told more lies in the last fifteen minutes than I ever -told before in all my life; but Jennie said it was all right, and she -knows. I shall have to go up to the house this noon. Bertha had so many -things that she could not take with her, and Jennie made me promise to -pack them up and send them after her.”</p> - -<p>It was a huge package when complete and much too heavy for Clarence to -carry under his arm. He discovered this fact after he had walked a short -distance from his lodgings, and calling a cab, told the driver to take -him to the railway parcel office.</p> - -<p>Twenty minutes later, a round-faced, smoothly shaven man applied the -knocker so vigorously that Mrs. Liloquist’s face was rosy-red when she -opened the door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73">{73}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Why, sir, you must be in a great hurry to make such a racket. Now, what -do you want, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Is there a young man living here named Glynne?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, sir,” said Mrs. Liloquist. “He just went out. He had a big -bundle, and I told him it was too heavy for him to carry.”</p> - -<p>“How soon is he coming back?”</p> - -<p>“Well, really, I don’t know. He usually comes home about six o’clock, -but his wife’s gone away with a friend and perhaps he’ll stay out later. -Men usually do when their wives are away.”</p> - -<p>“Did you say his wife had gone away? I don’t think he can be the one I -want to find. I am his uncle. I have been in South Africa and have just -got back to London. The young man I want to find is named Clarence -Glynne.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s his name,” said Mrs. Liloquist, “and his wife’s name is -Jennie. They have been living here with me nearly two years.”</p> - -<p>“And you say that she has gone away with a friend?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, a young lady named Mary Barker, who lives in Devonshire. Miss -Barker’s brother lives in Berwick-on-Tweed and Mrs. Glynne has gone -there with her.”</p> - -<p>“What sort of a looking person is this Miss Barker?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, she’s just the beautifullest girl I ever saw. I have read in books -about young ladies with blue eyes and golden hair, but she’s the first -one I ever saw that matched the story book.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the gentleman, “I will come around again about six o’clock. -Much obliged to you, ma’am, for your information. I hope my nephew has -got a good wife.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, she’s a fine woman,” said Mrs. Liloquist, “and very clever. She -works every day at something or other. She’s the kind of a wife for a -poor man, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74">{74}</a></span> judge from what your nephew says that they would have -hard work getting along if she didn’t do something to help.”</p> - -<p>Clarence was surprised late that afternoon to have another visit from -his father. Mr. Glynne, Sr., was accompanied by a stalwart gentleman -with a marked professional aspect.</p> - -<p>“So you’ve got back again, father,” said Clarence, not suspecting the -turn which affairs had taken. “Have you found any clue?”</p> - -<p>“Plenty of them,” said his father, sternly. “I know the whole business. -Come into the private office with me, and you, Mr. Lake,” he said, -turning to his companion, “sit down and wait for us.”</p> - -<p>When they were alone together the expression on Mr. Thomas Glynne’s face -changed from one of assumed serenity to one of the deepest malignity.</p> - -<p>“Clarence Glynne,” said his father, “I told you this morning that you -were an infernal fool; now I know that you are an infernal liar. You -have been deceiving me for years. You are a married man, and that is the -reason why you have refused to marry my ward.”</p> - -<p>Clarence sank into a chair. Oh, if Jennie were only there to help him!</p> - -<p>“I am going to make short work of this. Do you know who that man is in -the other room?”</p> - -<p>Clarence shook his head.</p> - -<p>“He is an officer from Scotland Yard. I have lodged a complaint against -you for kidnapping my ward. Although you are my son, I shall proceed -against you as though you were an utter stranger.”</p> - -<p>A rat will turn when it is cornered, and Clarence felt that he must do -something, or within an hour he would be behind the bars.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to have me arrested, father?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, I do, and if the case goes against<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75">{75}</a></span> you, you won’t see that -wife of yours for years to come.”</p> - -<p>The words stung Clarence. Separated from Jennie! No, he could not stand -that.</p> - -<p>“Father, under the circumstances, I consider myself absolved from the -promise I made you to keep silent about Bertha’s property. If I am taken -to court I shall tell the whole story.”</p> - -<p>“I had supposed that you would,” said his father. “Your landlady said -that Bertha, or Miss Barker, as she called her, had gone up North, but I -know better. She is gone to Paris to meet Jack De Vinne. You can get -ready to go with the officer. We will be back for you in five minutes.”</p> - -<p>Clarence did not know what to do. He had lost his hold over his father. -His threat to tell the truth about Bertha’s fortune had failed to -produce any effect upon him.</p> - -<p>During the five minutes which had been allowed him, Clarence did nothing -but think in an aimless sort of a way of a dozen impossible courses of -action.</p> - -<p>The door of the private office opened and his father entered with Mr. -Lake.</p> - -<p>“I have decided,” said his father, “not to give you into custody until -to-morrow morning. I wish you to accompany me to Buckholme. Mr. Lake -will go with us and keep you under surveillance.”</p> - -<p>Clarence did not wish to sit and look at the stern face of his father, -nor the enigmatical one of Mr. Lake; nor did he wish to feel that their -eyes were fastened upon him, reading, perhaps, his inmost thoughts. He -sank into a corner of the carriage and closed his eyes, to all -appearances in a state of apathetic indifference. But his mind was busy. -What was his father about to do? Would he throw him out of the business? -Well, if he did, he made up his mind that he could make a living some -way. To be sure, he had been provided<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76">{76}</a></span> with everything that he needed at -Buckholme, but his personal share of the profits of the firm of Walmonth -& Company had been very small. It was for that reason that his wife had -obtained employment. As to his arrest for kidnapping, he cared but -little.</p> - -<p>Before they reached Maidenhead the tumult of his feelings had subsided, -and when they entered the house the servants could not have told from -his appearance that anything had happened.</p> - -<p>His father shut himself in the library. Clarence went to the billiard -room to play a game of pool solitaire, but when he found that he was -closely followed by Mr. Lake, he invited him to join in the game and -found him no mean antagonist. But while he played, outwardly calm, his -thoughts were busy, and during the evening he asked himself a hundred -times: “Have they reached Paris in safety?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77">{77}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /><br /> -<small>A SORROW AND A SOLACE.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next morning after breakfast, during which not a word was spoken by -either of the three gentlemen, Clarence was commanded by his father to -follow him into the library. He saw by the look on his parent’s face -that he was implacable. He would, naturally, have objected to the -mandatory tone used by his father, but decided that it was useless to -quarrel about trifles when there were such important matters to be -settled.</p> - -<p>Mr. Glynne, Sr., sat at the library table and Clarence sank into a chair -a few feet distant.</p> - -<p>“Turn your face around so that the light may fall upon it,” said his -father. “I propose to ask you a few questions and I expect you to tell -me the truth. If you lie to me, I think the light will help me to -ascertain that fact.”</p> - -<p>Clarence did as he was bidden.</p> - -<p>“Now, who is your wife and what is she?”</p> - -<p>“Is that material?” asked Clarence.</p> - -<p>“Do not bandy words; the sooner we get at the point of the matter the -better. As to its being material, I think it is; very much so.”</p> - -<p>“She is an orphan. She was the daughter of a fisherman, but when she -lost her parents she came to London and went to work to support herself. -She worked in our office for a while, but left because a better position -was offered her.”</p> - -<p>“Very good,” said his father. “You surely looked for high game and got -it.”</p> - -<p>“If you make any more such comments about my<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78">{78}</a></span> wife,” said Clarence, “I -will refuse to answer another question,” and there was a ring in his -voice which told the father that the son meant what he said.</p> - -<p>“Where did she come from?”</p> - -<p>“She was born at Pagham, a little village in Sussex on the English -Channel.”</p> - -<p>“And she is gone with Bertha as her companion?” He had intended to say -“your accomplice.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Where have they gone?”</p> - -<p>“They are on their way to Paris. Bertha wished to visit her friend and I -thought it was all right for her to go.”</p> - -<p>“Then that story you told me about her going away in a carriage with -Jack De Vinne was a lie?”</p> - -<p>Clarence could not help smiling as he replied: “Well, I must confess it -was not a very close approach to the truth.”</p> - -<p>“I judged not,” said his father. “I did not believe it when you told me. -You said Bertha was going to stay with a friend in Paris. What is her -name and where does she live?”</p> - -<p>“She is the Countess Mont d’Oro, and she lives at 22, Rue St. Francis.”</p> - -<p>“Is Jack De Vinne in Paris?”</p> - -<p>“I presume he is at Noxton Hall,” was Clarence’s guarded reply. He did -not think it necessary or advisable to tell his father that he had -written Jack the morning that his wife and Bertha had left London that -the latter was on her way to Paris to become the guest of the Countess -Mont d’Oro.</p> - -<p>There was silence for some time. Clarence grew impatient and turned his -head. His father was evidently in deep thought.</p> - -<p>“That will do,” he said at last. “I hope you have told me the truth. If -you have not, I shall soon find out the extent of your deception. I -shall leave to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79">{79}</a></span>-night for London and will go to Paris to-morrow morning. -Mr. Lake will be your companion until I return. If I find my ward is -still Miss Renville, and I bring her back with me, I will dismiss the -case against you. If she is married, Mr. Lake will escort you to London -and you will have to stand the consequences of your very foolish action. -I shall be obliged to take charge of my London business again, for I -shall be a comparatively poor man when Miss Renville, or Mrs. -Whatever-her-name-may-be, demands her inheritance, for, no doubt, you -have told her that she is a rich woman by right.”</p> - -<p>Clarence sprang to his feet. “I have not told her one word. She has -heard nothing from me.”</p> - -<p>Nor had she, nor did Clarence know that his wife had found the secret -too much to keep and had unbosomed herself to Bertha on the way to -Pagham.</p> - -<p>Just after dinner, while Mr. Glynne was busily engaged making -preparations for his journey, Brinkley, the butler, told him that a -young man who looked as though he had just come from the country wished -to see Mr. Clarence.</p> - -<p>“Show him into the library,” said Mr. Glynne.</p> - -<p>When he entered it, he found a young man standing first on one foot and -then on the other and twirling his hat nervously.</p> - -<p>Mr. Glynne closed the library door. “What did you wish to see my son -for?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got somethin’ private to tell him.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry to say that he is very sick and can see no one. I am his -father; you can tell me, and when he is in a condition to listen, I will -communicate the intelligence to him.”</p> - -<p>“If he’s sick,” said the young man, “I don’t think the news I got fer -him will make him any better.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Glynne began to think that the young man had something of importance -to communicate. “Have a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80">{80}</a></span> seat, sir. You can tell your story much better -sitting than you can standing.”</p> - -<p>The young man looked intently at the luxurious easy-chair. He was more -used to a hard bench than to upholstered furniture. He finally sat down, -but stood up again as he felt the springs give way beneath him.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’ll find it all right,” said Mr. Glynne, “and very comfortable,” -and he took his accustomed position at the library table. “Now, I won’t -ask you any questions,” said he, “but will let you tell your story in -your own way.”</p> - -<p>The young man sidled to the edge of the chair which seemed more capable -of supporting him, and began his story:</p> - -<p>“My name is Silas Jubb and I live down in Pagham.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Glynne was all attention.</p> - -<p>“My chum’s name is Job Carder. He’s all knocked up and he couldn’t come, -so he sent me.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Glynne thought it was time to reassure the young man. “Yes,” he -said, “my son’s wife was born in Pagham. She left London yesterday -morning on her way to Paris, in company with a friend, and I understood -from my son that they were to sail from Pagham.”</p> - -<p>“Well, they won’t get there,” said Silas, with a shake of his head; -“that’s what I’m here for.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Glynne felt the blood rushing to his head, and his pulse quickened. -“There has been an accident,” he thought. But he would ask no questions.</p> - -<p>“Job’s father named his boat the <i>Dart</i> cuz it was the fastest craft of -the kind in town, but it wuz run down by one of them Navy vessels in the -Channel and Job’s father and Bill Merry and George Danks and the two -women was drownded. Job was the only one picked up, and he’s ‘most dead. -You see, afore the <i>Dart</i> set sail, the women told Job’s father to get -word to your son if<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81">{81}</a></span> they reached the other side all right. As they -didn’t, when Job came to, he thought as how you’d be anxious to know how -things wuz and that’s what he sent me up for.”</p> - -<p>“It was very thoughtful of him,” said Mr. Glynne, “and very kind of you -to bring us the sad news.”</p> - -<p>He had never felt such a strong impulse of generosity. He gave the young -man a five-pound note, saying as he did so: “You can divide with your -chum.”</p> - -<p>The young man had arisen and put on his hat. His hand went to the brim -by way of salute. “He’ll be glad to git it, for the loss of the boat’ll -come hard on him. I told him before I started as how I thought I’d find -you to be a gentleman, cuz the ladies wuz so fine.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Glynne rang for Brinkley and told him to supply the man with a -substantial meal before he started on his journey back to Pagham.</p> - -<p>Five pounds! But the news was surely worth that and more.</p> - -<p>“A great sorrow for Clarence, but such a solace for me,” was Thomas -Glynne’s uppermost thought. The fortune was now his, if Clarence would -hold his tongue.</p> - -<p>His son’s sickness, the grave nature of which had led him to assure Mr. -Jubb that he could not see him, did not keep Mr. Glynne from breaking -the news at the earliest opportunity. He had not anticipated the result -which followed. Perhaps, if he had, he would have told the story in a -gentler manner.</p> - -<p>Clarence was prostrated by the intelligence. By midnight his condition -was so alarming that Brinkley was obliged to start off in the darkness -to bring a doctor.</p> - -<p>Brain fever, was the physician’s decision after he had made his -diagnosis. Compared with many others, Clarence was a weak man both -physically and mentally. He had been on the rack for twenty-four hours, -and this great blow was more than he could bear. His brain<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82">{82}</a></span> gave way and -he lay there with only the ministrations of the hired nurses, growing -thinner and weaker every day.</p> - -<p>Did his father wish him to live? Only the Great Power that knows all -hearts could have answered that question.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83">{83}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /><br /> -<small>NEWS OF THE FUGITIVES.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">“Do</span> you think it shows a proper regard for the memory of your dead -brother to go to Paris and take part in its frivolities?”</p> - -<p>The question was asked by the Earl of Noxton.</p> - -<p>“I am not going to Paris for any such purpose, and I think it unjust to -me for you to entertain such a thought,” said Jack. “I have received a -letter which makes it absolutely necessary for me to go there; besides, -I must have a change. I feel my brother’s death much more than you -credit me with. It throws responsibilities upon me which I had never -thought to assume. I shall notify the Admiralty that I do not wish an -assignment at present.”</p> - -<p>“I shall close up Noxton Hall,” said the Earl, “and go to Scotland with -the Countess. Amid the solitude of our northern home we shall be much -more likely to appreciate the lesson taught us by our sad bereavement. -Both your mother and I had thought you would accompany us.”</p> - -<p>“My stay in Paris will be short,” said Jack, “and I will give you my -word that when my business there is attended to I will join you in -Scotland.”</p> - -<p>“I presume I shall have to be satisfied with that,” said the Earl. “I -have no desire to command the heir to the Earldom of Noxton, if he is -deaf to my entreaties.”</p> - -<p>Jack went to Paris. He had been there before when a student, and his -associates on that occasion had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84">{84}</a></span> those suited to his position in -life. Now all was changed.</p> - -<p>He had no difficulty in securing an introduction to the Countess Mont -d’Oro, for an Earl’s son and heir is always <i>persona grata</i>. He received -a warm welcome from that lady. Perhaps his greeting would not have been -so cordial if almost his first inquiry had not been, “Has Miss Renville -arrived?”</p> - -<p>“Why, no,” said the Countess. “I wrote and asked her to come and said -that I should be delighted to see her. You see I knew her father well. -But I have received no word from her that she intended to make the visit -at present.”</p> - -<p>Jack could not conceal his agitation. “There must be some mistake here,” -he cried. “Read this letter, my dear Countess, and tell me what you -think,” and he passed her Clarence’s letter.</p> - -<p>“I cannot understand the matter at all,” said the Countess, as she -returned the letter. “I will write to Mr. Glynne at once. Come and see -me day after to-morrow. Mr. Glynne will probably write me that her -departure was postponed for some good reason.”</p> - -<p>Jack forgot his promise, or rather statement, to his father, that he did -not intend to visit Paris to engage in its frivolities. In his state of -mind some distraction was absolutely necessary. “If I cannot stop -thinking I shall go mad,” he said to himself, and he at once became -immersed in the whirl of gaiety for which Paris is famous, though his -interest therein was of the head rather than of heart.</p> - -<p>On the appointed day he called on the Countess Mont d’Oro, but there was -no letter from England. On the third day the Countess again shook her -head, but on the fourth, in response to his inquiring glance, she said:</p> - -<p>“I have a letter, but I am afraid to read it to you.”</p> - -<p>“I can bear anything better than this suspense,” said Jack.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85">{85}</a></span></p> - -<p>Then the Countess read Mr. Glynne’s letter.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Madam</span>:</p> - -<p>“Your letter received. I should have answered it sooner but for the -dangerous illness of my son, who is at death’s door. In reply to -your inquiry, I can only say that I have been informed by what I -consider good authority that my ward, Miss Renville, left for -London, in company with my son’s wife, on their way to Paris, your -residence being their presumed destination. Instead of taking the -boat from Dover to Calais, which would have offered a safe and -speedy passage, for some as yet unexplained reason they chose to -make the voyage in a fishing vessel which was run down in the -Channel, and all on board, with the exception of the captain’s son, -were drowned. I regret that I cannot give you any further -particulars. If I learn anything more concerning the sad affair, I -shall be pleased to communicate with you. I have the honour to be, -dear madam,</p> - -<p class="r"><span style="margin-right: 20%"> -“Your most obedient servant,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Thomas Glynne</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>“Drowned!” cried Jack, “and I loved her so. Oh, madam, this blow would -be easier to bear if, when I had the opportunity, I had told her that I -loved her. I think she knew it, but I did not speak. I was the second -son of an earl with no prospect but a minor position in the Navy. My -brother is dead and I am now heir to the title and estates. You knew -this, of course, before, but I tell you again to show you how foolish I -was not to speak when I had the chance. All would have come out right; -now all has gone wrong, and I am the one to blame. If I had told her -that I loved her and we had been engaged, she never would have made the -trip in this foolish way. Yes, madam, I am to blame and I shall never -forgive myself.”</p> - -<p>Countess Mont d’Oro was a practical, sensible woman.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86">{86}</a></span> Instead of -expressing sympathy for the young man in his almost uncontrollable -grief, she used common sense.</p> - -<p>“I do not think you have any right to blame yourself in any way for this -sad affair. You were not, even in the remotest degree, the cause of it. -If she had been engaged to you and had received my letter, she would -have made the journey in just the same way, but instead of your -receiving the news of it from her guardian’s son, she would, no doubt, -have written to you herself and would have told you that she was going -to make the trip on the fishing schooner so that her guardian could not -follow her, for you remember that young Mr. Glynne says in his letter -that her guardian had refused his permission for her to visit me. Now, -we must hope for the best. Miss Renville’s guardian has the first report -of the accident. One was saved and he, naturally, thinks that the others -were lost. They may have been picked up by some vessel and we may hear -from them within a few days.”</p> - -<p>“You give me hope,” said Jack, “but I must confess that it is only a -faint one. Dying men clutch at straws, they say, and I will grasp what -you offer me.”</p> - -<p>“Come and see me every day,” said the Countess. “I am a widow with one -son about your age. I must confess that he is not a very affectionate or -dutiful young man so far as his mother is concerned. Some sons are that -way.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, a good many are that way,” said Jack, “when they are young, but -many of them reform when they grow older, and make up by their devotion -for their past neglect.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” said the Countess, “you are holding out a straw to me. I hope -yours will prove a more substantial one than mine is likely to be.”</p> - -<p>Jack called on the Countess every day. On one of his visits the Countess -told him that her son was betrothed to a beautiful young girl who lived -at Alfieri<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87">{87}</a></span> in Corsica. “That is my present home,” she added. “I was -born in Italy; my husband, the late Count, was a native of Corsica, -though of Italian ancestry.”</p> - -<p>A week passed and still no tidings. “I can bear this no longer,” said -Jack to the Countess. “My hope has died out. I know that the worst has -happened and the dream of my life is gone forever. I had intended to -stop in London and ask the Admiralty not to assign me to a post in the -Navy, but I learn there are rumours of a coming war. Russia’s -aggressions in the Crimea are resented not only by this country, but by -my own, and I heard to-day that the King of Sardinia is disposed to form -a triple alliance against the Muscovite. I shall go back to London -to-morrow and request that I be assigned at once to some position of -duty.”</p> - -<p>“I would advise you not to do it,” said the Countess.</p> - -<p>“You have been very kind to me,” said Jack. “Please make your advice -more explicit. What do you think it best for me to do?”</p> - -<p>“You said your father and mother were going to Scotland. What is your -address there?”</p> - -<p>“Cobleigh Towers. It is on the Scottish side of the Tweed, opposite -Berwick. Let me see. Oh, if my letters are sent to Carlisle they will -reach me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, my advice is,” said the Countess, “that you rejoin your father -and mother and be as patient as you can for the next ten days. If by -that time I receive no word, I, too, shall lose hope. I will then agree -with you that the best way to dull your sorrow will be to choose a life -of action; that and labour are the only panaceas for such grief.”</p> - -<p>“I will do it,” said Jack. “I will do anything to please you.”</p> - -<p>Another week passed. The Countess still hoped from day to day, but each -night saw no fruition. One morning, as the Countess was reclining in her -boudoir, reading the monthly report of the steward of her Cor<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88">{88}</a></span>sican -estate, her maid announced that there were two young ladies in the -drawing-room who wished to see her.</p> - -<p>It was some time before the Countess had made the necessary change in -dress and descended to greet her visitors. She surveyed, with a look -akin to astonishment, the two very pretty young ladies who came forward -to greet her. The one with dark hair spoke first.</p> - -<p>“Is this Countess Mont d’Oro?”</p> - -<p>The Countess bowed.</p> - -<p>“I am Mrs. Glynne—Mrs. Clarence Glynne—and this is my friend Miss——”</p> - -<p>She did not have an opportunity to complete the sentence, for the -Countess stepped forward quickly and clasped the other young girl in her -arms.</p> - -<p>“And this is my dear little girl, Bertha Renville. I was your father’s -friend and I will be yours. But how were you saved? We heard that all on -board the fishing boat were drowned.”</p> - -<p>“If we had been men,” cried Jennie, “we should have been drowned too. We -were thrown into the water by the collision, but our dresses saved our -lives. They would not have done so had we remained in the water long -enough for them to get saturated, but they held us up, and we were seen -by one of the officers on Her Majesty’s frigate <i>Victoria</i> which ran us -down. The young man who saw us was a lieutenant. He had the vessel -stopped and came to our rescue in a boat. Oh, I think he was just the -loveliest young man I ever met in my life, don’t you, Bertha?”</p> - -<p>“A very natural thought,” said the Countess, with a smile. “Young ladies -are very apt to fall in love with handsome young men who save their -lives.”</p> - -<p>Bertha flushed perceptibly. She thought of the Thames and one who had -saved her life on a previous occasion.</p> - -<p>“And he had such a romantic name,” said Jennie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_89" id="page_89">{89}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Of course I would not think of falling in love with him for I am a -married woman, but I suppose there is no harm in my falling in love with -his name—Claude Levaille, he said it was.”</p> - -<p>“But where have you been all this time?” asked the Countess.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s the strangest part of it,” said Jennie. “Come, Bertha, I -have done all the talking so far. You must tell the rest of the story.”</p> - -<p>“It is a very simple one,” said Bertha. “The frigate was bound for -Marseilles. The admiral said he would have been delighted to put us -ashore at some point near Paris, but he was under strict orders to -proceed at once to the Mediterranean.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I know,” said the Countess. “Mr. De Vinne told me that there -was likelihood of a war with Russia.”</p> - -<p>“Jack De Vinne?” cried Mrs. Glynne. “Has he been here?”</p> - -<p>“For a long time,” said the Countess. “He has been here every day to see -if I had any news about you. He is a very sad, unhappy young man. He has -gone to his father’s place in Scotland. I must write at once and tell -him of your safety. Perhaps, though, it would be better if Miss Renville -would write him. I will give you his address.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, that will be much better,” said Jennie. “And now that I have -delivered you into the arms of your friend, the Countess,” she added, “I -must go right back to London. I have no doubt that my husband is -distracted.”</p> - -<p>“Will you excuse me, Bertha?” said the Countess. “I cannot call you Miss -Renville, it is too formal.”</p> - -<p>“Nor do I wish you to,” said Bertha. “No one calls me Miss Renville, -except——”</p> - -<p>“Mr. De Vinne,” said Jennie, with a laugh, “but he won’t much longer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90">{90}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Glynne,” said the Countess, “I have something to tell you,” and -she led her into an anteroom.</p> - -<p>“What is it,” cried Jennie. “My husband, Clarence, is he dead?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no,” said the Countess, “but his father writes me that he is very -sick, prostrated, no doubt, by the news of your supposed death. He is at -his father’s residence; I forget——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know,” said Jennie—“Buckholme. I have never been there. We were -secretly married. Perhaps you do not know, but Clarence’s father wished -him to marry Bertha, but he couldn’t because I was his wife, but his -father didn’t know that. I suppose it is all out now and I’m glad of it. -I will go to him at once.”</p> - -<p>Jennie hurried with all speed to London and took the first train thence -for Buckholme. The thought uppermost in her mind was as to what her -reception by Clarence’s father would be, and her first question after -greeting her husband was:</p> - -<p>“Where is your father, Clarence?”</p> - -<p>“Gone to seek Bertha, dear,” he answered, wearily, “but I hope a kind -Providence will prevent his ever finding her.”</p> - -<p>“Amen,” exclaimed Jennie, reverently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91">{91}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>CHAPTER X.<br /><br /> -<small>“LA GRANDE PASSION.”</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">After</span> Jennie’s departure, the Countess gave herself up entirely to the -pleasure which she found in the company of her young guest.</p> - -<p>“I knew your father, Oscar Renville, I may say, intimately. It was after -the death of your mother, but my husband was then living. I was in -Corsica when your father died. I would gladly have taken you as my own, -for I must confess that when my son was born I was very sorry he was not -a daughter instead. It was only a short time ago that I learned Mr. -Glynne had adopted you.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Bertha, “he never adopted me. He is, or rather was, my -guardian.”</p> - -<p>“Has he more than one child?”</p> - -<p>“Only one son, Clarence. His father wished him to marry me, but although -Clarence was always kind to me—really the best friend I had at -Buckholme—he never proposed to me. I thought several times that he was -on the point of doing so, but I can see now why he did not.”</p> - -<p>“I think he would have done so,” said the Countess, “if it had not been -for a previous love affair.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it was not that,” cried Bertha. “He knew me long before he became -acquainted with his present wife; but it may have been so after all, for -I was only sixteen.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>If Clarence Glynne had been lukewarm in his love-making, Bertha soon -found that Count Napier Mont<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92">{92}</a></span> d’Oro was the exact reverse. On his part, -at least, it was a case of love at first sight. He declared to his -friend, the Marquis Caussade, that for the first time in his life he had -an attack of <i>la grande passion</i>. He tried in every way to make himself -agreeable to Bertha.</p> - -<p>“Will you go driving with me?” he asked, one morning. “Paris never -looked more beautiful than it will to-day. The environs are even more -attractive than the city itself.”</p> - -<p>“I will ask the Countess,” said Bertha.</p> - -<p>“And so my son wishes you to go driving with him, does he?” was the -Countess’s reply to Bertha’s question. “I have no right to command you, -but my advice is to refuse. Some people have told me that my son is a -very bad young man. I am not personally cognisant of his misdoings, nor -do I wish to be, but I do not think it best for you to become too well -acquainted with him.”</p> - -<p>“I shall certainly do as you say,” replied Bertha.</p> - -<p>All of the Count’s attempts to make Bertha his companion were flat -failures and he decided to adopt another course. A new opera was about -to be given. The tickets were held at extravagant figures, but the Count -secured a box.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you are musical!” he exclaimed, one day as he entered the -drawing-room and found Bertha seated at the piano.</p> - -<p>“I play a little for my own amusement,” said she.</p> - -<p>“Have you any objection to my listening?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, not at all! I trust you will not find it irksome.”</p> - -<p>He was extravagant in his praises of her performance, but Bertha had -learned to take his remarks at their true value.</p> - -<p>He did not ask Bertha to go to the opera with him, but invited his -mother instead.</p> - -<p>“I have a box,” he said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93">{93}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Are you going to make up a party?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, I will go with you.”</p> - -<p>“Have you asked Bertha?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly not,” he replied. “I have asked her to accompany me on -several occasions, but she has always refused; I presume at your -instigation. To speak plainly, I do not care whether she goes with us to -the opera or not.”</p> - -<p>He knew that this would pique his mother.</p> - -<p>“Well, if Bertha cannot go, I shall not go,” said the Countess.</p> - -<p>“If you choose to ask her to accompany you, I certainly shall not -object, but, as I said before, I do not care whether she goes or not.”</p> - -<p>He did not repeat this conversation to Bertha and the Countess herself -was too politic to refer to it.</p> - -<p>Every day, thereafter, the Count virtually haunted the drawing-room in -the hope of finding Bertha at the piano. On one occasion he was -successful.</p> - -<p>“Will you not play for me?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“You have heard my repertoire.”</p> - -<p>“Do you not sing?”</p> - -<p>“Very little; only the simplest of English ballads.”</p> - -<p>He took a piece of music from the rack and placed it before her. “Can -you play that?”</p> - -<p>“I can try.”</p> - -<p>“If you will, I shall be your debtor.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot sing it.”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me,” he said, “but I did not ask you to.”</p> - -<p>It was a tenor song. Bertha played the prelude, but was astonished when -she struck the first note of the vocal score to hear the Count’s voice -take up the melody. He had a pure, sweet voice, and sang with great -power and expression.</p> - -<p>“It is a beautiful song; do you not think so?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Very,” was her laconic reply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94">{94}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Now, will you not sing for me one of those English ballads?”</p> - -<p>Bertha had enjoyed the Count’s song, and she felt it would be -discourteous to refuse under the circumstances.</p> - -<p>The piece was a solo, but when she had sung several lines the Count -joined in, singing in English.</p> - -<p>“Encore! Encore!!” he cried, and they sang the second stanza together.</p> - -<p>“You must be a good musician,” said Bertha, “to sing a part so well that -is not in the music.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad to hear that there is some good in me,” he remarked, gravely. -“I am a thousand times your debtor, Miss Renville, both for your singing -and your compliment, which I shall never forget.”</p> - -<p>The night for the opera came, and as the Count, with his dark, handsome -face, leaned forward, from time to time, to discuss the performance with -the fair-haired English girl, scores of opera-glasses were turned in -their direction. Count Napier Mont d’Oro had scored the point for which -he had been working so long—he had been seen in public with the -beautiful woman whom he loved, for the time being at least, and that -satisfied him.</p> - -<p>The next day the Countess was sitting in her boudoir reading the -criticisms of the opera and the performance. At the close of the article -in one of the papers were some items referring to the prominent -personages who were present on the opening night. Her own name caught -her eye, and she read an item which caused her to clench her hands until -her finger-nails almost cut into the flesh, as she exclaimed: “The -villain! I was a fool to trust him.” Then she read the item again:</p> - -<p>“It is rumored that a certain young Count, one of the <i>jeunesse dorée</i>, -and member of a prominent Corsican family, has become greatly enamoured -of a beautiful young English girl who is visiting here. They were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_95" id="page_95">{95}</a></span> seen -together at the opera, and if what was apparent in the past is an -indication of what will take place in the future, Parisian society will -be adorned, at no distant date, by another of England’s fairest -daughters.”</p> - -<p>Before the Countess had recovered from the vexation which the perusal of -the item had caused her, the boudoir door was suddenly opened and Bertha -ran into the room. She threw herself upon her knees, buried her face in -the Countess’s lap, and burst into a flood of tears.</p> - -<p>“Why, what’s the matter, my dear?” exclaimed the Countess. “What has -happened?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I cannot tell you!” cried Bertha.</p> - -<p>“But, really, you must,” said the Countess. “Who in my house has dared -to offend you?”</p> - -<p>“He did not mean it as an offence—they never do—but it was so -unexpected—I have never given him any reason.”</p> - -<p>“Why, what are you talking about?” exclaimed the now astonished -Countess. “Do be explicit. I have just read something in the paper that -has made me very angry.”</p> - -<p>The girl wiped away the tears from her reddened eyes and said: “Why did -he do it?”</p> - -<p>“Do what?” exclaimed the Countess. “Do speak, or I shall have to cry -myself.”</p> - -<p>Bertha began to weep again, but through her tears she managed to say: -“Your son—the Count—asked me to be his wife.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the young scapegrace!” said the Countess, jumping to her feet. -“Why, my dear, he is engaged to another woman, where we live, in -Corsica. You stay here. I will go downstairs and have a talk with him. -He shall leave the house this very day.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t turn him out on my account,” cried Bertha. “Do not, my dear -Countess. I will go instead. This is his home and I have no right -here.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_96" id="page_96">{96}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Well, I have,” said the Countess, defiantly. “This is my house, and -while I live it has a mistress, but no master.”</p> - -<p>The Countess soon discovered that her son was in the drawing-room where -the avowal of love had been made. He was seated at the piano, touching -the keys lightly and humming an air.</p> - -<p>“So, my young man,” the Countess exclaimed, “you are at your old tricks -again.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said the Count. “You had me taught to play the piano, and I have -always loved it.”</p> - -<p>“You know that’s not what I mean. If you would give more time to music -and less to making love to people who do not appreciate it, it would be -better for yourself and for me. What did you mean by insulting my -guest?”</p> - -<p>“Is it an insult,” he asked, “to ask a young lady to become a Countess?”</p> - -<p>The Countess paused. “Perhaps not,” she said, “if you had any right to -ask her, but you have not. What would you say if I told Vivienne?”</p> - -<p>“I should say,” said the Count, “what would, no doubt, seem to be very -impolite.”</p> - -<p>“You would tell me to mind my own business, I presume,” said the -Countess; “it is not an uncommon remark with you. Well, I am going to -mind it. This is my house and I have only allowed you to remain here on -sufferance. Either you or I must go.” She thought for a moment before -she spoke again. “Yes, we will go. Bertha has never seen the world and I -will give her an opportunity. You may stay in Paris. I shall not tell -you where we are going, for, to borrow the words which you thought but -did not speak, I do not consider it is any of your affair. If you -discover where we are, and follow us, and speak a word of love to my -guest, or even hint at it, I will tell Pascal Batistelli.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_97" id="page_97">{97}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>The Countess was as good as her word. On the second day her preparations -were completed, and on the morning of the third she left Paris, without -informing her son as to her destination.</p> - -<p>The Count really felt his rejection severely. He had been attracted to -Bertha and as far as it lay in him to feel affection for any one, he -really loved her. Night after night of dissipation followed his -rejection and the consequent departure of Bertha from Paris. It was -nearly one o’clock when he returned home one morning. His latch-key gave -him admission to the house, and he would have gone upstairs at once to -his room if he had not noticed a long, thin ray of light coming from the -library. He went on tiptoe to the door and listened. He heard a sound -like that of a file upon metal. His first thought was that it was a -burglar. He was unarmed, but he had a sturdy frame and a pair of stout -fists. He kicked the door open violently, rushed into the room, and -pounced upon a man who was on his knees before the safe, which contained -the family papers and valuables. He caught the man by the collar and -threw him violently upon his back.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Jacques, it is you, is it? What the devil are you up to?”</p> - -<p>When the Countess left Paris, only three servants were retained. These -were Jacques, the coachman; Timothée, the butler, or <i>major domo</i>; and -Francine, the cook, who was Timothée’s fiancée. It was but natural that -Timothée should spend his evenings in the kitchen with Francine, and -this fact, the Count quickly reasoned, was what had given Jacques his -opportunity to rob the safe.</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you speak, you rascal?” cried the Count. “Were you trying to -rob the safe?”</p> - -<p>The man sat up. In one hand he held a key and in the other a small file. -“No, sir. Not quite so bad as that. I don’t suppose you will believe me, -but I will<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_98" id="page_98">{98}</a></span> tell you the truth. Before the young lady went away she gave -me a letter and said if a certain young gentleman called for it, to give -it to him. I have carried it in my pocket so long that it was becoming -crumpled and soiled, and I thought I would put it in the safe. I had -this key and it nearly fitted; that is why I was filing it.”</p> - -<p>“I may believe it,” said the Count, “but I don’t think the judge will -to-morrow. But where’s the letter? You may get up.”</p> - -<p>Jacques passed the letter to the Count. The handwriting was Bertha’s and -it was addressed to Mr. De Vinne.</p> - -<p>“You may get up,” repeated the Count. “Give me that key. I will take -charge of the letter and see that it is delivered when the young -gentleman comes for it. I don’t believe a word you have told me except -that you had the letter. Thieves always leave some loophole to crawl -through.”</p> - -<p>The man went out. The Count examined the safe to see that it was -securely locked, and then went upstairs to his room.</p> - -<p>“Mr. De Vinne! I suppose he is her English lover. But why should he come -here? What a foolish question! Of course if he knew she was here he -would come. I would go to the ends of the earth to see her if I knew -where she had gone. Perhaps this letter will tell. Well, I have done -worse things than open a letter addressed to another man.” As he spoke -he broke the seal and read:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind"> -“<span class="smcap">My dear Mr. De Vinne</span>:</p> - -<p>“I am very sorry to hear of the sudden death of your brother, and -you have my deepest sympathy in your affliction. I came here with -Mrs. Glynne, the wife of Mr. Clarence Glynne, the son of my -guardian. You have, no doubt, heard that our little craft was run -down<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_99" id="page_99">{99}</a></span> in the Channel by a large vessel. By God’s providence we -escaped. The vessel was under orders to proceed at once to -Marseilles, and we could not land until they reached there. We -arrived safely in Paris and I have been the guest of Countess Mont -d’Oro. She has invited me to go with her to her estate in Corsica -and we shall leave to-morrow. She says that a letter addressed to -Alfieri, near Ajaccio, Corsica, will not fail of delivery.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span style="margin-right: 20%">“Your friend,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Bertha Renville</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>“Ha!” said the Count. “A very fortunate find. So they have gone to -Corsica. Well, I have as much right to visit Corsica as they have and I -think I will go. Vivienne says that she does not love me and that if I -make love to anybody else our engagement is off; but I don’t believe it -will turn out that way. Corsican women are all jealous. If she finds -that I am flirting with some one else, she will probably begin to love -me a little, and if I keep up the affair, in time she may become madly -infatuated. By St. Christopher, what fun it will be, and how my honoured -mother will enjoy it.”</p> - -<p>The next day there was a violent storm of wind and rain. The Count did -not venture out. “I will get ready for my visit to Corsica,” he said to -himself. About noon he was summoned by Timothée, who said a gentleman -wished to see him in the library.</p> - -<p>The visitor was a stout man with a full, round face, made even fuller -and rounder by a thick beard.</p> - -<p>“I wish to see the Countess Mont d’Oro.”</p> - -<p>“I regret to say, sir, that she is absent from the city. I am Count Mont -d’Oro, her son.”</p> - -<p>“Is Miss Renville here?” was the next inquiry.</p> - -<p>“She has been my mother’s guest—they have gone together.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100">{100}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry to hear that,” said the stout man. “I am Mr. Thomas Glynne, -of Buckholme, in Berkshire. I am the young lady’s guardian. She ran away -from home with the intention, I think, of marrying a chance -acquaintance—an unworthy young man—and I have come to Paris to take -her home with me as I have a right to do, under the law.”</p> - -<p>“Who is this unworthy young man?” asked the Count.</p> - -<p>“His name is De Vinne.”</p> - -<p>“I judge,” said the Count, “from something I have heard, that she is in -love with him. I know that she writes to him and that she was expecting -him here before she left Paris.”</p> - -<p>“Shall I presume too much upon your kindness,” said Mr. Glynne, “if I -ask you where my ward has gone?”</p> - -<p>The Count did not answer the question. “You say, Mr. Glynne, that your -ward and this young man were but chance acquaintances; why is he so -anxious to marry her—because she is beautiful, because she is rich, or -both?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Glynne thought that the truth might improve his position. “She has a -large fortune in her own right—forty thousand pounds in our money; -about a million francs in yours.”</p> - -<p>The Count gave a long, low whistle. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, “but that -would make a fine dowry.”</p> - -<p>“If Mr. De Vinne comes to Paris, I presume you will tell him where my -ward has gone?”</p> - -<p>“Well, really, I do not think I shall,” said the Count. “The information -came into my possession in rather a peculiar manner and I must protect -the person who gave it to me. You will be surprised, sir, at something I -am going to tell you. I have met Miss Renville and I have fallen in love -with her myself. I did not know at the time that she was wealthy, but -that makes little<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101">{101}</a></span> difference to me; in fact, no difference at all, for -I have money enough of my own and would marry her without a dowry as -soon as with one. Who has charge of her fortune?”</p> - -<p>“I have,” answered Mr. Glynne.</p> - -<p>“And no doubt you would like to keep it.” The Count smiled as he uttered -the words. The smile was contagious and one flickered across Mr. -Glynne’s fat, round face.</p> - -<p>“I should not be human,” he replied, “if I would not.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the Count, “two heads are better than one. I will make a -bargain with you. If you will give your consent to my marrying your -ward, and will help me to bring about that happy event, I will take her -without a dowry and you may keep the money. Is it a bargain?”</p> - -<p>“I must confess that such a course of action would be very agreeable to -me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I shan’t tell you,” said the Count, “where your ward is. I will -take you with me, if you will go. I will leave you in a place several -miles distant from where I know she is living, and you must remain there -until I have had time to prosecute my suit. At the critical moment I -shall call upon you for your assistance. Is that plan satisfactory to -you?”</p> - -<p>“Perfectly,” said Mr. Glynne.</p> - -<p>“If Mr. De Vinne comes to Paris,” said the Count, “he will find it -difficult to ascertain your ward’s whereabouts. We shall leave for our -destination to-morrow morning; in the meantime I shall be pleased to -have you as my guest.”</p> - -<p>The next day the allies started upon their journey, one influenced by -thoughts of love, the other by thoughts of gold.</p> - -<p>It is an old saying that the devil leaves his followers half-way. Even -the most astute of men will do some<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102">{102}</a></span> foolish thing that upsets his -plans. Count Mont d’Oro was no exception to the rule.</p> - -<p>Jacques, the coachman, had told the truth. He was devoted to the -Countess and she trusted him implicitly. No sooner was Jacques certain -that the Count had left the house than he made his way to his master’s -rooms. He ransacked them from one end to the other. “He would not take -it with him,” he soliloquised. “Perhaps he destroyed it. I have looked -over carefully everything that came from his room, but it was not there. -He has had no fire and he could not have burned it. Ah! I have not -looked into that,” he exclaimed, as he espied a square wooden box on the -top of a chiffonier. In a moment it was in his possession. It was -locked, but Jacques had brought a screw-driver with him for possible -use, and the cover was soon wrenched off. It was full of letters.</p> - -<p>“He read my letter,” said Jacques, “I will read his.” There were -daintily written and perfumed epistles, love letters from ladies of the -<i>haut ton</i>, both married and single, who now wished, no doubt, that -their missives were back in their own hands or burned. Jacques threw -them aside one after another. “Bah!” he exclaimed, “what a miserable -flirt he is. I am so sorry he caught me and found out where that -beautiful young lady is gone; but the Countess will protect her.” -Suddenly he gave a cry of delight. At the bottom of the box was the -letter for which he had been searching.</p> - -<p>As fate willed it, on the afternoon of the same day, Mr. Jack De Vinne, -heir to the Earldom of Noxton, presented himself at the residence of -Countess Mont d’Oro in Paris. He had been to Buckholme, had seen -Clarence, and learned from his wife that Mr. Thomas Glynne had gone to -Paris in search of his ward.</p> - -<p>“He is gone to bring her back,” said Jennie. “I do not know whether -English law holds in France or not, but they say possession is nine -points of the law, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103">{103}</a></span> am sure the Countess will not give her up if -there is any way of keeping her.”</p> - -<p>It so happened that it was the French Jacques who admitted the English -Jack.</p> - -<p>The Countess’s faithful servitor placed the letter in the hands of the -one for whom it was intended, explaining, as best he could, how it came -to be opened.</p> - -<p>“The Count and a big, stout man went away this very morning. They may -have gone to Corsica, but I do not know.”</p> - -<p>Jack felt sure that they had, and the next morning he was on his way -thither.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104">{104}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br /><br /> -<small>A CORSICAN CHANT.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">If</span> one could rise in the air like a bird and look down upon the island -of Corsica, he might think that he saw before him the petrified skeleton -of some great marine monster. From north to south, through the centre of -the island, runs a ridge of mountains resembling a spinal column, while -upon either side of this central ridge branch a number of shorter -parallel ridges bearing a close resemblance to the ribs of such an -animal. In each of these valleys, near the central ridge, are the -sources of small rivers which run east or west, as the case may be, into -the Mediterranean Sea. The banks are composed of alluvial soil, and, for -that reason, near the sea the rivers widen out, covering large areas of -land which become marshes, full, at certain seasons of the year, of -pestilential vapours, the cause of disease and death among the -inhabitants. The sides of the mountains and the borders of the adjacent -ravines are covered by dense masses of shrubbery and groves or forests -of trees. In Australia, the outlaw, fleeing from justice, takes refuge -in “the bush,” from which circumstance he has derived the characteristic -name of “bushranger.” On the other hand, the Corsican outlaws or -banditti take refuge, when pursued by the officers of the law, in the -<i>maquis</i>, which, in the Corsican vernacular, has the same meaning as the -Australian “bush.”</p> - -<p>In one of the deepest of the ravines on the western side of the central -ridge of mountains which traverses the island of Corsica, a band of some -twenty men was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105">{105}</a></span> assembled. They were nondescript in appearance, each -being dressed after a fashion of his own, although there was one point -of resemblance between them, for each was armed with a rifle, had a pair -of pistols in his belt, and a closer examination would have revealed a -stiletto hidden away beneath the folds of his shirt or jacket. They were -what they appeared to be—Corsican banditti or, in other words, -outlaws—men wanted by the police—chiefly for murder.</p> - -<p>And yet they were different from the usual banditti which infest -Corsica, as a closer acquaintance with their leader will soon determine. -He was a man of gigantic stature and the possessor of great physical -strength. He was seated apart from the members of his band in company -with his lieutenant, a man much smaller in size, but muscular and agile, -as a natural result of a continual outdoor life.</p> - -<p>The leader was called Cromillian. No one of his band supposed that this -was his real name, but he offered no explanation and none was asked. He -had suddenly appeared in Corsica, gathered a band of trusted followers, -and for a year had carried on a peculiar system of brigandage. As the -plan followed by him supplied his adherents with the means of -subsistence, they ventured no criticism of his peculiar manner of doing -business, although they often wondered among themselves as to what the -final outcome of it would be.</p> - -<p>The lieutenant’s name was Paoli, and, although next in command to -Cromillian, he had no clearer idea of his leader’s ultimate object than -had the other members of the band. The wild, roving life suited him and -he was content to remain where he was, for he had long ago forfeited his -rights as a law-abiding citizen and was a marked man in the eyes of the -emissaries of the law.</p> - -<p>It is a natural characteristic of some people, when they have nothing -else to do, to think of the present<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106">{106}</a></span> or to look forward to the future; -but a Corsican, when he has time for contemplation, always reverts to -the past. When he recalls it, he does not dwell upon its pleasant -features, but, if possible, fastens his thoughts upon some real or -imaginary wrong which he fancies his ancestors or his friends have -suffered.</p> - -<p>An American Indian, when contemplating an attack upon his enemies, -precedes active hostilities by singing a war song, and the Corsican -unconsciously resembles him by singing, or rather chanting, a recital of -past wrongs or injuries, followed by a unique vocal declaration of his -intention to secure reparation or execute vengeance for such acts.</p> - -<p>The Corsicans are strong partisans. They not only take part in the feuds -with which their own families are connected, but embrace the causes of -other families to which they are not related, but to which, for some -reason or other, they become attached.</p> - -<p>Paoli sat upon a log, his hands tightly clasped together, gazing up at -the sky through a rift in the branches of the trees. There was a wild -look in his eye, such as might be seen in those of some religious -devotee. Suddenly, as though under the influence of some magic power or -spell, he found voice. The words of his chant, or <i>vocero</i>, as it is -called by the Corsicans, certainly boded no good fortune to a person -named Vandemar, who was referred to therein:</p> - -<p>“Place on the wall before my bed my cross of honour well gained. To my -sons, my sons in a far country, convey my cross and bloody vest. He, my -first-born, will see the rents—for each rent, a rent in another shirt, -a wound in another’s heart! Vengeance! The hour of vengeance is nigh! -Make ready his bed in the valley of skulls. He comes, the last of his -race, but he comes to his couch with a stain on his shroud, only to die. -The vendetta, the spirit of vendetta is awake; it has slept too long. -Blood for blood! The noble house of Batis<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107">{107}</a></span>telli no longer shall bear the -dread reproach of <i>rimbeccare</i>. The stain shall now be washed away in -blood. Vandemar Della Coscia must die!”</p> - -<p>Cromillian’s attention had been attracted by the first words of the -chant and he listened intently to the <i>improvisatore</i>. When Paoli -ceased, he turned and approached him:</p> - -<p>“Thy heart rebukes thee whilst thou singest. There are whispers of other -orgies than those thou hast sung. I, too, can improvise. Now listen, -Paoli, and remember that I never chant the ancient gabble of old women -and silly girls. I will make my own songs and, better still, I will make -them come true, every word true. Listen, and be sure that you do not -forget.</p> - -<p>“The noble young Vandemar returns, returns to his native mountains, to -the home of his childhood, to the friends who have waited so long to -embrace him. But no sooner do his feet touch the shores, the green banks -of his early home, than the hungry vultures are on his track eager to -drink the red blood in his veins. But the eagle will turn to defend his -life. He will not die. The death song will resound for his enemies, the -vengeful tribe of the Batistellis. Even this clown, this fool Paoli, -will change the tone of his song, ere long! Ere long!!”</p> - -<p>Paoli took his chief’s words pleasantly. “Hold on!” he cried. “Don’t you -know that they have an adage among the French: ‘Never hit a man when he -is down’?” As he said this, he arose:</p> - -<p>“I am, as you well know, a descendant of the great Paoli, at whose name -all Corsica thrilled, a just man, and the most distinguished general in -the world.”</p> - -<p>“It is a great pity,” said Cromillian, sarcastically, “that he is not -living, and here to give advice to his kinsman. I know not whether it is -an adage, but it is a well-known fact that the sons and grandsons of -great men seldom resemble them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108">{108}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Your wits are too much for me,” said Paoli, “but please have the grace -to hear me out. It was a maxim of my illustrious ancestor that every -citizen should constitute himself a soldier and defend his rights by -force of arms. Not to avenge wrongs committed against one’s own blood or -that of his friends, has always been deemed by the Corsicans to denote a -coward. I am a true son of Corsica and, for that, you call me a clown, a -fool. If you and I were not sworn friends, there might be cause for a -coolness between us. Heed this now, and say whether I was right or -wrong.</p> - -<p>“My dearest friend, Antonio Marcelli, had a beautiful sister, Vinetta. A -man from Bastia, named Ossa d’Oria, came to Ajaccio. He was young and -handsome, and reputed to be a single man. Young Vinetta was misled by -him and, to conceal her shame, committed suicide. I wrote to Antonio, -but he was down sick with a fever and unable to return to Corsica. I -made my friend’s cause my own and went to Bastia. I found that I was to -be deprived of a sweet revenge, for the scoundrel had been drowned while -bathing. His father was dead and he had no brothers or near relatives. -But he had a wife. What was I to do?”</p> - -<p>“That was embarrassing,” Cromillian remarked. “What did you do?”</p> - -<p>“This was one of the cases,” answered Paoli, “where the flint of your -gun must serve you. I put a ball through the head of the wife. That is -what I call good old Corsican justice. Then I took to the mountains, and -here I am, a jolly bandit like yourself.”</p> - -<p>Cromillian turned upon him, savagely: “You call that justice? I call it -murder! Cold-blooded murder!! This savage custom of vengeance executed -upon relatives for wrongs committed by an ancestor, the lives of sons -sacrificed for fancied wrongs alleged against fathers, has been the -curse and blight of Corsica for the last five hundred years. The -vendetta, that hydra-<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109">{109}</a></span>headed monster, strikes its fangs deep into the -heart of every Corsican child before it is able to lisp its own name. -Mothers lull their babies to sleep crooning the death song, nurses -inflame their young imaginations with frightful stories of blood, -revenge, and death. It has grown with their growth, strengthened with -their strength, until to-day we stand before the world distinguished -only as being the most savage, the most barbarous people upon the face -of this fair earth.”</p> - -<p>“Do they say that of us?” asked Paoli.</p> - -<p>“Listen!” said Cromillian, “I read in an old newspaper when I was in -France that if the island of Corsica could vomit forth all the blood -which has been poured out upon its soil, in the course of time, in the -vendetta and on the field of battle, it would overwhelm its cities and -villages, drown its people, and crimson the sea from its shores to -Genoa. Six hundred and sixty-six thousand slain by the hand of the -assassin alone! Dost like the picture?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Paoli, “what are we going to do about it? We take up life -where our fathers left it.”</p> - -<p>“There is going to be a change, a reformation!” cried Cromillian. “I, -with my single arm, with the help of God, will commence the work. There -will, necessarily, be much bloodshed at first—there always has been in -every case where great evils were to be overcome. My life will be -sacrificed, but it will be in a good and merciful cause, and when I -shall have done my work, some other man will take it up just where I -leave it, and so it will go on until your children’s children and mine -may be able to look a civilised man in the face.”</p> - -<p>“Are you in earnest?” asked Paoli. “Do you mean it?”</p> - -<p>“Mean it!” cried Cromillian. “Why did I leave a comfortable home in -England, where I lived like a gentleman, to come here and turn bandit? -Was it to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110">{110}</a></span> plunder, to rob, to execute vengeance? Answer me, Paoli. Why -am I a voluntary outlaw, destined to know no other home on earth but -that which the clefts in the rocks and mountains or the <i>maquis</i> afford -me? Say, is it to rob, think you?”</p> - -<p>“No, no, not that, surely!” cried Paoli. “I have been with you for a -year and I know that you have only taken from the rich in order to give -to the poor. I know you have so frightened several who had declared the -vendetta and were on the tracks of their would-be victims that they have -given up the pursuit. I have seen what you have done, although I could -not understand your method. But what is to be our next work, if it is -not an impertinent question?”</p> - -<p>Cromillian eyed his interrogator closely: “Well,” he said finally, “you -have, undoubtedly, heard the rumour that Vandemar Della Coscia is to -visit his native land, which he has not seen since he was a child.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know that,” said Paoli, “and I know that the Batistellis will -declare the vendetta against him if he dares to come. Now, my father was -a friend of Conrad Batistelli, and I am a friend of the brothers, Pascal -and Julien. I gave my word to my father on his death-bed that I would be -true to the Batistellis, and their cause is my cause. If Pascal and -Julien declare that Vandemar must die, I shall aid them. If I do not, I -shall be false to the oath given to my father.”</p> - -<p>“You can do as you please,” replied Cromillian, “but, from what I have -told you, you know that I shall consider it my duty to protect Vandemar -from the Batistellis, and from you. Besides, how do you know that Manuel -Della Coscia killed Conrad Batistelli?”</p> - -<p>“Why, there can be no doubt of it!” cried Paoli. “Was not Conrad found -in his own field, stabbed to the heart by a stiletto, upon the handle of -which were found the initials of Manuel Della Coscia? And did he not -confess his guilt by fleeing from the island, taking his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111">{111}</a></span> little son -with him? I cannot understand why Vandemar can have the temerity to -return to Corsica when the case against his father and himself is so -strong. He simply invites the doom which surely awaits him.”</p> - -<p>“I do not think he comes for any such reason,” said Cromillian. “I think -the result of his visit will be to show that his father was innocent of -that crime and that the Batistellis have no cause for enmity against -him.”</p> - -<p>“He will have no time to prove that,” answered Paoli. “As soon as the -Batistelli brothers know that he is in Corsica, his death will be but a -question of a few hours.”</p> - -<p>“But supposing they do not know him?” said Cromillian. “Supposing they -do not recognise him?”</p> - -<p>“I am sure that I should know him,” replied Paoli. “I knew his father -well, and the sons of Corsicans too closely resemble their fathers to -render his recognition improbable.”</p> - -<p>“I am not a rich man, as you know,” said Cromillian, “but I’ll wager ten -louis d’or, Paoli, that, if you saw Vandemar Della Coscia, you would not -know him.”</p> - -<p>“But if I do,” cried Paoli, “and I point him out to the Batistellis, do -I get the ten louis d’or?”</p> - -<p>“If you point him out to me first,” said Cromillian, “you will get the -ten louis d’or. If you point him out to anybody else, what you will get -will be determined hereafter. Is it a wager?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“It is,” cried Paoli, and the men shook hands.</p> - -<p>Paoli could not refrain from referring again to the vendetta between the -Batistellis and the Della Coscias.</p> - -<p>“The Batistellis are rich and powerful,” he began, “and who is there so -bold as to think of contending against them?”</p> - -<p>“I dare!” cried Cromillian. “I will shed every drop of my blood to -prevent such diabolical injustice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112">{112}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“But not with your single arm?” questioned Paoli. “None could be found -rash enough to join you in so mad a scheme.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, one will,” answered Cromillian, “one who is trusty and true—my -Protector!”</p> - -<p>“Your Protector?” Paoli asked, inquiringly.</p> - -<p>“There is my Protector,” said Cromillian, pointing to his gun, “a -double-barrelled orator who preaches the gospel right into a man every -time. Of what use are the tongues of a hundred missionaries? When the -gospel is preached in Corsica to-day, it must spring from the muzzle of -a gun or the point of a stiletto; it must be forced into the people with -leaden balls or shining steel. Come to my heart, faithful guardian!” As -he spoke, he embraced his weapon with fervour: “Thou wilt be true to -poor Corsica, and to me, defender of the right, protector of the -innocent, friend of the poor, merciful to the just, who smiteth only to -bless. Dear Goddess, I love thee! Swear that thou wilt be true to me; -speak, let me hear thy voice.” Raising his weapon, he discharged both -barrels. Then he continued: “Sweeter to my ears is thy voice than the -cooing of doves.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>On the evening of the same day, and at about the same hour at which the -colloquy had taken place between Cromillian and his lieutenant, Countess -Mont d’Oro and Bertha had come to what was called, by the inhabitants of -Alfieri, Mont d’Oro Castle.</p> - -<p>It is usually dispiriting to arrive late in the afternoon at a house -with which you have previously been unacquainted. The glorious morning -sun is needed to bring out local beauties and points of interest which -escape the attention when day is waning. Besides, Bertha was weary and -nervous. The passage from Marseilles to Ajaccio had been made upon a -sailing vessel, the accommodations of which were far from palatial. To -add to their discomfiture, a storm had over<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113">{113}</a></span>taken them and the qualms of -seasickness had been added to their other troubles. Again, the ride from -Ajaccio to Altieri had been made in a tumble-down vehicle over a rough -road, and the Countess declared that every bone in her body was aching -when she reached home. To this remark Bertha silently assented, for she -said to herself that if the Countess felt any worse than she did, she -must be miserable indeed.</p> - -<p>There being no actual head to the household during the Countess’s -absence, it was in a most disordered condition at the time of their -arrival, and considerable time passed before the energetic orders of the -mistress secured a semblance of household unity and led to the -preparation of a supper for the weary travellers.</p> - -<p>Bertha retired early to her room. It was comfortable, even cosey, being -located upon the third floor in one of those towers which are -characteristic features of Corsican architecture. It was with a feeling -of great relief that Bertha threw herself upon the couch; but she could -not sleep. After a long period of wakefulness and tossing, she arose and -went to the latticed window. The moon was shining brightly. She opened -the lattice and looked out upon the beautiful grounds which surrounded -the castle.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, she started back. A high hedge divided the grounds belonging -to the Mont d’Oro estate from that adjoining, but, from her elevated -position, she commanded a full view of the grounds of the neighboring -estate. The house was fully as imposing as that of Countess Mont d’Oro; -in fact, more so, for while the Mont d’Oro mansion was built of wood, -the one upon which she was now gazing was constructed of stone and -seemed, as it was, a much more substantial building.</p> - -<p>But it was not the building which had attracted her attention, although -it presented an imposing appearance, lighted by the moon, with the -portions in shadow<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114">{114}</a></span> accentuating the sharp contrasts. No, what caught -her eye and riveted her attention was the figure of a young girl dressed -in white, who, standing in the moonlight, looked like some spirit rather -than a human being. Bertha partially closed the lattice, leaving only a -narrow space through which she could watch the strange figure, which -stood motionless. She could not see the girl’s face, for it was turned -in the opposite direction and her dark hair, which was unfastened, -shrouded even the side of her face from view.</p> - -<p>It seemed a long time to Bertha that she sat there and watched the -motionless figure. Suddenly, the sound of a voice fell upon her ear. She -listened and, although she could not understand the words, she knew by -the melody and the manner in which the song was sung that it was a -boisterous drinking song. The voice came nearer, and soon the figure of -a man entered the grounds where the young girl stood. At sight of him, -she started forward with a glad cry which was distinctly audible to -Bertha. Had she been waiting for a lover? The figure in white approached -the man and threw her arms about his neck, but, to Bertha’s surprise, -the man repelled her advances, pushing her away from him with such -violence that she fell to the ground.</p> - -<p>Bertha started to her feet, full of indignation. It seemed as though she -must go to the assistance of the young girl who had been so cruelly -treated. She quickly realised the impossibility of such an action on her -part and, resuming her seat, watched to see what would happen. The young -girl rose slowly to her feet and disappeared within a doorway. The man, -whoever he was, was evidently so intoxicated as to be unable to maintain -a standing position, for, after several efforts to reach the door -through which the young girl had gone, he lost his balance and fell -prone to the ground. A few minutes later, the girl emerged from the -doorway, accompanied by an old man and an old woman, and by their -combined<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115">{115}</a></span> efforts the drunken man was taken into the house, and the door -closed behind them.</p> - -<p>The next morning, after breakfast, while sitting in the Countess’s -boudoir, Bertha could not refrain from giving an account of what she had -seen the previous night.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that is a common occurrence,” said the Countess. “The girl whom you -saw was Vivienne Batistelli. The drunken man was her younger brother, -Julien, who is going to the bad very fast, they say. Her elder brother, -Pascal, is very correct in his habits, although of a very bitter and -revengeful disposition. Julien is a happy-go-lucky sort of fellow, -intent upon having a good time. As is often the case, the sister has no -love for her elder brother, but bestows it all upon this young -profligate. I used to do the same when my son was young.</p> - -<p>“For a time, I thought he could do no wrong, no matter how badly he -acted, but when he showed such complete disregard for my wishes, when he -told me plainly that he intended to do as he pleased, no matter what I -said or what I wished, there came a revulsion. Although I am his mother, -I am not ashamed to say that instead of loving him, I came to hate the -sight of him, and am never happy when he is near me. He is virtually -betrothed, with the consent of her brother Pascal, to this Vivienne -Batistelli, but that would make no difference to him if he saw another -young face that pleased him. He is a consummate flirt, if no worse.</p> - -<p>“I sincerely hope that nothing will happen to bring him here to Corsica; -but if he does come, he will find that I am mistress of this castle, and -that he cannot remain in it, unless with my permission.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116">{116}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br /><br /> -<small>CROMILLIAN, THE MORAL BANDIT.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Cromillian uttered his fervent invocation to his gun and then -discharged both barrels into the air, he may have thought that his -lieutenant, Paoli, would have signified his allegiance to the cause, and -his endorsement of the sentiments expressed by a similar declaration, -and an equally vociferous attestation, but if such a thought was in -Cromillian’s mind, he was destined to be disappointed. The lieutenant -evinced no surprise at Cromillian’s procedure and said nothing.</p> - -<p>Cromillian’s next speech was a marked drop to the commonplace:</p> - -<p>“I wonder where Lulie is? She was to bring some food for us to this -place. If she does not come, we shall have to share with the others. -There is a savoury smell in the air, so I think we shall not go hungry.”</p> - -<p>Cromillian’s favourite haunt in the ravine was only about five miles -from Alfieri, but this fact was, of course, unknown to the villagers, -who seldom came in that direction. A band of four shepherds, however, in -search of some stray sheep, was unconsciously within a short distance of -Cromillian’s camp at the time he was waiting for the appearance of -Lulie.</p> - -<p>The search for the sheep was unsuccessful and the shepherds, inwardly -cursing their luck, were on their way homeward.</p> - -<p>“They are probably at the bottom of the river, or perhaps they have gone -up the mountain,” said one of the men.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” replied another; “but I am inclined to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117">{117}</a></span> think that some of -Cromillian’s band came across them and we shall never see or hear of -them again.”</p> - -<p>The second speaker was right. Three of the carcasses were hanging from -the limb of a tree where Cromillian’s band was encamped, while the other -had given forth the savoury smell which had been noticed by Cromillian.</p> - -<p>The second speaker went on: “Corsicans used to be considered brave men, -but we might as well call ourselves cowards if we much longer allow this -Cromillian and his band to lord it over us, and tell us what we shall do -and what we shall not do.”</p> - -<p>“What has Cromillian done to you?” asked the first speaker. “Perhaps we -have more reason to complain than you have. I do not think I am a -coward, but when it comes to dealing with Cromillian, I think discretion -is the better part of valour. But what has he done to you?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, yet,” the other replied; “but I suppose my time will come. He -knows I have some property and that when a man owes me money I follow it -up until I get it. If a man has money or property, Cromillian seems to -be his natural enemy. Why, it was only day before yesterday that old -Lamont showed me a note he had received from Cromillian. It was short -and to the point: ‘Send the Widow Nafilet a bag of flour and a quarter -of beef.’ This impudent piece of paper was signed ‘Cromillian.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“What did old Lamont do?” asked the first speaker. “Did he tear the -letter in pieces and tell Cromillian to go to the devil?”</p> - -<p>“Hardly,” was the reply. “He did not tell me what he did, but Jean said -that within fifteen minutes after he got the letter, Lamont told him to -take the flour and beef over to the widow as soon as possible.”</p> - -<p>The first speaker laughed: “Yes, and I think if you had received the -letter you would have done just as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118">{118}</a></span> old Lamont did. I had the honour, -about six months ago, to receive a note from Cromillian, commanding me -to marry a certain girl who claimed that I had wronged her. Perhaps I -had, but that was my business, was it not?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, to be sure it was,” said the others. Then one of them asked: -“But what did you do?”</p> - -<p>“T married her,” was the reply.</p> - -<p>There was a general laugh, in which the speaker joined; then the third -shepherd said:</p> - -<p>“My experience with Cromillian was not a very pleasant one; in fact, I -carried about with me, for fully a week, some very uncomfortable -reminders. You see for nearly two hundred years there has been a -vendetta between my family and that of the Bendelas. The Bendelas have -all died out with the exception of the widow, whom you all know, and her -little son, who is about ten years old, I think. Less than a month ago I -happened to meet him and, having my sheep-staff with me, gave him a good -pounding from which I did not suppose he could recover. I left him in -the forest, feeling quite sure that he would die there, but as it so -happened that rascal Cromillian found him, and the boy told him that I -was the one who had struck him. Three days afterwards, as I was coming -home from Ajaccio, one dark night, Cromillian and his gang captured me. -They took me into the <i>maquis</i>, bound me to a tree, and Cromillian -himself gave me thirty sturdy whacks upon the back. Then he dismissed me -with the polite admonition that if I touched the boy again he would -shoot me at sight.”</p> - -<p>“Have you met the boy since?” asked one of the shepherds.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, often,” was the reply. “About a week ago I called upon the -Widow Bendela and told her that I would consider the vendetta closed and -that she need have no fear for her boy in the future. He, on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119">{119}</a></span> part, -promised that he would bear no ill-will against me or mine.”</p> - -<p>“You got off quite easily,” said the fourth shepherd. “Do you see that?” -As he spoke, he raised a matted shock of hair from the right side of his -head, disclosing the fact that his right ear had been cut off.</p> - -<p>“Why, how did that happen?” all three cried in unison.</p> - -<p>“Well, you see,” was the reply, “like my friend, I inherited a vendetta. -One day I thought I had a remarkably good chance to bring down my enemy. -I had come up behind him, and he had no idea of my presence. I am -considered a good shot, but I missed it that time. Instead of hitting -him in the back of the head, as I intended, the ball struck his right -ear and lacerated it so that the greater part of it had to be removed by -the surgeon. Somehow or other Cromillian got wind of the affair. Four of -his band caught me one day and carried me into the <i>maquis</i>. Cromillian -gave me a long lecture on the foolishness and criminality of the -vendetta and then told me he would give me something to remember his -words by; and he did, for one of the band took his stiletto and cut off -my right ear. I have only one good ear now, but I have a good memory and -I do not think I shall forget what Cromillian said on that occasion.”</p> - -<p>“Ha, who comes here?” cried one of the men. As he spoke a little girl, -apparently about ten years of age, and bearing a basket which seemed to -be heavily laden, approached them.</p> - -<p>“Ah, my little girl,” said one of them, “what’s in your basket?” As he -spoke he took it from her and tore off the cloth which covered it. “Cold -tongue, venison, bread, butter, cake, chicken pie.”</p> - -<p>The shepherds gathered around the basket and looked upon its contents.</p> - -<p>“A feast fit for an emperor,” said one.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120">{120}</a></span></p> - -<p>The little girl began to cry. “I’ll tell uncle if you don’t give me back -my basket. He is waiting for me.”</p> - -<p>“Who is your uncle, little girl?” was the next question.</p> - -<p>“Uncle Cromillian,” said Lulie.</p> - -<p>The four men started back, with frightened looks in their faces. “There, -we’re only fooling,” said one of them. “See, we have not touched a -thing. We were only in play, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Just in fun,” said another. “Here, take this,” passing her a small -coin.</p> - -<p>“Uncle will not allow me to take money,” said Lulie.</p> - -<p>“Who has the care of you, little girl?” asked one of the men.</p> - -<p>“Uncle Cromillian takes care of mother and me and little brother, since -father died. He is not my uncle, but he says I may call him so if I want -to, and so I do because he takes care of us.”</p> - -<p>“Say, friends,” said the man with one ear, “you have heard of the old -feud between the Batistellis and the Della Coscias. There will be blood -shed in Alfieri before many days have passed. Let’s find out by this -little chick which way the wind blows.”</p> - -<p>“No, no, no,” cried the others, “you must not question her. She will -tell her uncle.”</p> - -<p>“Do you take me for a fool? No, there need be no questions, but, if the -matter is talked about before her, do you see, I shall ask her to -improvise for our amusement. No doubt she chants like a thrush and may -hit the keynote for us. Come here, little girl. Now, I think you can -chant a <i>ballata</i> for us, can you not?”</p> - -<p>“I have but a poor gift, but if only Chennelly Baptiste were here she -would charm you. She is called the very best <i>voceratrice</i> in the -village. That is why she is sent for to attend all the funerals; she has -the gift, you know.”</p> - -<p>“But surely you can give us a few lines about some<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121">{121}</a></span>thing that has -happened or that is going to happen. No doubt your mother has told you -about the old corporals who lived hundreds of years ago and——”</p> - -<p>Suddenly, the girl cried: “Oh, I have thought of something! Hark, now:</p> - -<p>“The big oak has fallen by the frost and the snow, but its roots shot -forth a branch and the branch has become an oak. He now rules his -father’s house, the noble house of Della Coscia. There shall no evil -come to him, for Heaven will protect him. The wicked Batistellis shall -die if they bring any harm to Vandemar!”</p> - -<p>“You have sung very prettily, my little girl,” said the shepherd who had -asked her to improvise. “We are much obliged to you, but you had better -go right along, for Uncle Cromillian is waiting for his dinner.”</p> - -<p>The speaker looked after Lulie until she had disappeared from sight; -then, turning to the others, he said:</p> - -<p>“Ah! I thought so, but we shall see. If I mistake not, we are all -partisans of the Batistellis, for surely it is to our interest to be on -the side of the most powerful family in this part of Corsica. Now that -Count Mont d’Oro is dead there is no one to dispute Pascal Batistelli’s -authority in Alfieri.”</p> - -<p>“You forget Cromillian,” said one of the shepherds.</p> - -<p>“I think that Pascal Batistelli is a match for Cromillian,” was the -reply. “If Vandemar Della Coscia dares to set foot in Corsica again, -Pascal Batistelli will have his life before Uncle Cromillian has time to -interfere. Then we shall all have the laugh on Uncle Cromillian.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>It was fully a fortnight after the departure of Countess Mont d’Oro and -Bertha from Paris, that Clarence Glynne received a letter announcing -their safe arrival in Corsica. It was written by Bertha and he read it -with great interest:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122">{122}</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="nind"> -“<span class="smcap">My Dear Kind Friends, Clarence and Jennie</span>:<br /> -</p> - -<p>“It is with a heart overflowing with gratitude that I address you -thus, for I seem almost lost in this great world. I have been here -only a few days, but have learned in that time that this is a very -strange country. Hate, instead of love, seems to be the ruling -passion among Corsicans. Countess Mont d’Oro hates her own son, -and, so far as I can learn, everybody hates somebody else. But -perhaps I ought not to criticise them too severely. Have you had -any word from Mr. De Vinne, or from my guardian, your father? I -know that you will send me information regarding them as soon as -possible, but the suspense in which I live from day to day is -dreadful.</p> - -<p>“The Mont d’Oro estate is beautiful in so far as nature can make it -so, and the one that adjoins it, owned by the Batistelli family, is -even more lovely. As the story goes, about seventeen years ago, the -father, Conrad Batistelli, was assassinated by a man named Manuel -Della Coscia. The same day that he was killed his daughter Vivienne -was born. When the mother learned of the death of her husband, she -became insane and died in that condition, leaving the little girl -fatherless and motherless. Everybody calls Manuel Della Coscia a -coward for, immediately after killing Conrad Batistelli, he left -the island secretly, taking with him his little son Vandemar, who -was about six years of age at the time, and they have not been -heard from since. Every true-hearted Corsican execrates the name of -Della Coscia, for in Corsica when a man kills his enemy he is -supposed to be brave enough to remain and give the friends of his -enemy a chance to kill him. There is a rumour that Vandemar Della -Coscia is soon to return to Corsica, and Countess Mont d’Oro tells -me that the Batistelli brothers will kill him at sight if he dares -to come. I am not acquainted with the Batistellis, nor do I wish to -become so, with the prospect of such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123">{123}</a></span> terrible event as the -assassination of this young man at their hands.</p> - -<p>“The Countess tells me that her husband and Pascal Batistelli were -very anxious that her son, Count Napier, should wed Vivienne -Batistelli; and, according to the custom of the country, they -arranged a betrothal, irrespective of the wishes of the young -people. The Countess says that Vivienne came to her one day and -told her that under no circumstances could she ever marry her son, -and it was solely for that reason the Countess induced Count Napier -to accompany her to Paris, where, as you know, he is living a wild -life. He still considers himself betrothed to Vivienne, but the -Countess hopes that he will forget her and not come back to Corsica -again.</p> - -<p>“With love to you both, I am yours, with great affection,</p> - -<p class="r"> -“<span class="smcap">Bertha Renville</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124">{124}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br /><br /> -<small>“TO SEE IS TO LOVE!”</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> post-chaises which conveyed Count Mont d’Oro and Thomas Glynne -reached Marseilles two days sooner than did the slow-moving vehicle in -which Jack De Vinne was a passenger. The Count and his companion were -again fortunate in finding a vessel just ready to sail for Ajaccio, -while Jack was detained two days after his arrival before he could find -a vessel bound for the desired port. For these reasons, the Count and -Thomas Glynne reached Corsica some five days sooner than did Jack.</p> - -<p>Before their arrival the Count had decided that he would not take his -companion to the hotel in Ajaccio. He was so well known in the town that -he knew the presence of his foreign-looking companion would be sure to -cause comment. Again, what one person in Ajaccio knew, soon everybody -knew, and he did not care to have the news of his arrival reach his -mother until he was able to present himself in person.</p> - -<p>He was acquainted with a Corsican named Savoni, who lived upon a side -street quite a distance from the centre of the town. Savoni was a -widower with one daughter. His wife had been the victim of a vendetta, -and the daughter had come near meeting the same fate as her mother. She -had received a severe blow upon the head from which she had never fully -recovered. She was able, however, to attend to her household duties and -had the reputation of being one of the best cooks in Corsica. Count Mont -d’Oro’s life in Paris had made him a <i>bon vivant</i>, and he knew by -experience that, al<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125">{125}</a></span>though the beds in the hotel at Ajaccio were clean -and comfortable, the fare was not of a high order of excellence. It was, -therefore, to Savoni’s house that he took Thomas Glynne and made -arrangements for him to remain there until he should send for him to -come to Mont d’Oro Castle.</p> - -<p>The second day after his arrival in Corsica, the Count suddenly made his -appearance at the home of his mother, to her great astonishment and to -the dismay of Bertha Renville. The mother uttered no word of welcome. -Her first inquiry was: “What brought you down here without an -invitation?”</p> - -<p>“I came as most travellers do,” was the reply, “by post-chaise from -Paris to Marseilles, by sailing vessel from Marseilles to Ajaccio, and, -to show that I am still an able-bodied young man, I came from that town -on foot. I am, naturally, somewhat tired and deucedly hungry, and so, if -you have no objection, my good mother, I will go down and get a lunch.”</p> - -<p>Suiting the action to the word, he bowed to the ladies, who had not yet -recovered from their astonishment, and withdrew. For several minutes -after the Count’s departure, the ladies said nothing. Then the Countess -spoke:</p> - -<p>“He won’t tell me what he came for, so I shall have to find it out -myself. Have you formed any opinion?” she asked, turning to Bertha.</p> - -<p>“Why, certainly not,” said the young girl. “But from what you have told -me, I should naturally say that he came to see his mother.”</p> - -<p>“As you know that is not the case,” and there was a bitter smile upon -the face of the Countess, “it must be that he came to see somebody -else.”</p> - -<p>Bertha may have divined the Countess’s meaning, but she did not propose -to acknowledge it, so she said:</p> - -<p>“Such being the case, his object is probably to see Mademoiselle -Batistelli, to whom he is betrothed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126">{126}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps so,” was the reply, “but we shall see,” and, by mutual consent, -the subject was dropped.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>As the vessel upon which Jack De Vinne was a passenger was approaching -the quay, the young man caught sight of Mr. Thomas Glynne. His personal -appearance, despite the false beard, was not materially changed, and he -recognised him easily.</p> - -<p>“Will he know me?” was Jack’s first thought.</p> - -<p>Before leaving Paris he had procured a pair of spectacles of coloured -glass to wear during the trip from Marseilles to Ajaccio, to shade his -eyes from the glare of the sun on the water. He resolved to keep them on -as a measure of disguise. He brought his portmanteau from his cabin, but -delayed his departure from the vessel until he saw Mr. Glynne turn and -walk leisurely towards the town; then Jack landed, keeping some distance -behind him. Jack was debating in his mind whether he should go directly -to the hotel, even if Mr. Glynne was also a guest there, when he saw the -latter turn down a side street.</p> - -<p>When Jack reached the hotel, he decided that he would still further -conceal his identity by giving an assumed name. His command of the -French language was so good that he felt he could easily pass for a -native-born Frenchman, so, for the nonce, Jack De Vinne became Andrea -Fortier.</p> - -<p>The dinner was simple but substantial, and after it was over Jack went -to his room to decide upon his future course of action. It filled him -with happiness when he reflected that he could not be very far from -Bertha Renville. If it had not been for the presence of her guardian he -would have at once made inquiries as to where Countess Mont d’Oro lived, -and have gone to the house; but the fact that Mr. Glynne was in Corsica -showed that he must proceed cautiously in taking the next step. Glynne -had no doubt learned that his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127">{127}</a></span> niece was in Corsica, and was there upon -the same errand as himself. In the afternoon the sky grew overcast, and -soon a heavy rain-storm set in; Jack decided that he would postpone -making any inquiries until the following morning.</p> - -<p>When the bright sun heralded the advent of a new day, it not only gave a -warm glow to the face of nature, but lighted up a scene of unwonted -activity in the harbour. Riding therein was a great vessel, one of Old -England’s invincible frigates, the port-holes indicating that it carried -an armament of fully sixty guns, while the floating pennant showed that -no less a personage than a British admiral was on board. The vessel was -the <i>Osprey</i>, commanded by Admiral Sir Gilbert Enright. Acting under -orders from the Admiralty, he had been visiting certain stations in the -Mediterranean, Ajaccio being on his list.</p> - -<p>The Admiral was accompanied by his only daughter, Helen. Before the -departure of the <i>Osprey</i> from England, Miss Enright was convalescent -after a severe illness. The Admiral had desired that some one else -should be placed in command of the <i>Osprey</i>, as he did not wish to leave -his daughter, whose health was not fully restored. To his great delight, -one of the Admiralty, who was a personal friend, suggested that nothing -would do Miss Enright so much good as a sea voyage, and, at his -suggestion, permission was given by the Admiralty for the Admiral’s -daughter to accompany him on the voyage.</p> - -<p>Miss Enright was nearly thirty years of age, tall, thin, sallow, and -with but few claims to personal beauty. She was a character, in a way. -From her earliest years, Helen Enright had been a student. She loved to -learn, and learned to love learning for its own sake. There were no -colleges for women in those days, but her father was wealthy and she had -been supplied with competent tutors in every line of study that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128">{128}</a></span> -chose to undertake. She had a passion for mathematics. Her literary -recreation was history, and there were few women of her age in England -who could solve knotty mathematical problems or pass so severe an -examination as she could have done in the history of England and the -Continental countries.</p> - -<p>The voyage had restored her strength, and she had evinced a desire to -become acquainted with the technical details of the vessel which her -father commanded, and with the principles of navigation. Her father’s -duties were such that he could not devote the required time necessary to -give her the desired instruction, so, at her suggestion, for her father -usually allowed her to have her own way in everything, one of the -officers was detailed to act as her tutor in seamanship. That officer -was Lieutenant Victor Duquesne.</p> - -<p>Miss Helen, of course, had met him before at the Naval Academy and at -her father’s house, and was much pleased at his selection, for he had -impressed her as being very handsome, very polite, and very dignified, -and although she did not, as a rule, care much for the society of young -men, on one occasion she found herself lamenting the fact that he was so -young. Victor was but twenty-three. Perhaps the cause of her lamentation -was the knowledge that she was seven years older than he, which, to her -eminently practical mind, was an insuperable obstacle to an intimacy -extending beyond the limits of—friendship.</p> - -<p>It was late that morning when Jack arose and gazed out of his window and -found that the quay was crowded with the inhabitants of Ajaccio. Jack’s -first inclination was to join them. Then he reflected that Mr. Glynne -would undoubtedly be there, and he wished to avoid all possibility of -recognition until he had seen Bertha. He decided, therefore, to go -downstairs and see if he could learn anything about the new arrival and -the reason for the appearance of that formidable warship at that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129">{129}</a></span> port. -He found the landlord in a state of pleasurable excitement.</p> - -<p>“What vessel is that in the bay?” inquired Jack.</p> - -<p>“That,” answered the landlord, “is the British ship <i>Osprey</i>, commanded -by Admiral Enright, and I have been notified that the Admiral, with his -daughter and one officer, will dine at the hotel and possibly pass the -night here.”</p> - -<p>“The <i>Osprey</i>! Admiral Enright!” exclaimed Jack, excitedly. “Why, that -is Victor’s ship. How fortunate!”</p> - -<p>“What’s that?” inquired the landlord.</p> - -<p>“Nothing,” answered Jack, abruptly. “I was only saying that I think I -know one of the officers. What a dunce!” he commented to himself as he -walked away, “but then I have been through so much since I parted from -Victor, and then to think that my quest of Bertha should bring us both -together again in this town! How strange! What a mighty little world -this is, after all.”</p> - -<p>He could scarcely contain himself, yet he felt that the only plan for -him would be to await the arrival of the ship’s officers and ascertain -if Victor was aboard. He did not wish to run the risk of meeting Mr. -Glynne, so he returned to his room and passed the time in gazing out of -the window toward the harbour, and in watching the crowd of people -passing to and fro.</p> - -<p>Towards noon a boat put off from the warship. Jack eagerly watched the -craft as it neared the shore and was lost to his sight. Shortly, the -crowd parted and three people were seen coming up the quay. One was a -stout gentleman with a very florid face, wearing the undress uniform of -a British admiral, while upon one side of him was a young lady, and on -the other side was—yes—Victor!</p> - -<p>Jack grabbed his hat and ran downstairs, but as he reached the veranda -he suddenly, with great restraint, subdued his intense excitement, and -as the three vis<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130">{130}</a></span>itors approached, Jack stood quietly by the entrance of -the hotel, hoping thus to accentuate Victor’s surprise, and at the same -time conjuring up in his own mind the effect the meeting would have on -his bosom friend. They had just reached the steps when Victor happened -to look up and straight into the eyes of Jack!</p> - -<p>Victor recoiled, as from a shock, gave another earnest look, then, -neglecting all formalities, darted forward with both hands extended. -“Jack!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Old fellow,” cried Jack, “this <i>is</i> a pleasure.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well, well!” exclaimed Victor, totally at a loss what else to -say, while in his intense gaze was a veritable compound of inquiry, -surprise, and delight. At once recollecting himself, he placed his hand -on Jack’s shoulder and turned to Admiral Enright. “Admiral Enright, -permit me the honour of presenting to you my very closest friend, Mr. -John De Vinne.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. De Vinne, I am most happy to make your acquaintance,” said the -Admiral, grasping Jack warmly by the hand. Then turning to his daughter, -he said: “Mr. De Vinne, permit me to present you to my daughter, Miss -Helen.”</p> - -<p>Miss Enright graciously acknowledged the introduction.</p> - -<p>The landlord now appeared and escorted the quartet to the hotel parlour, -much to the chagrin of the curious crowd that had gathered outside the -door.</p> - -<p>After a few generalities had been indulged in, dinner was announced. To -Jack was accorded the pleasant duty of escorting Miss Enright to dinner. -The Admiral occupied the post of honour at the head of the table, with -Victor on his left.</p> - -<p>After the conclusion of the meal the Admiral’s daughter excused herself -as she wished to rest for a while, and the Admiral also repaired to his -room to attend to matters in connection with his visit. This left the -young men to their own devices.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131">{131}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Come right up to my room, Vic,” exclaimed Jack.</p> - -<p>Slamming the door behind them, he threw his hat on the bed and motioned -Victor to a seat and said: “Now, old boy, I have got you all to myself. -How is it the fates have thrown us together?”</p> - -<p>“You are the one to explain,” said Victor. “I am here in obedience to my -father’s request, as you well know, but when I last saw you, you had as -much idea of coming to Ajaccio as you had of visiting Hades.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know,” exclaimed Jack. “You are right, but much has happened -since we parted, which you should understand. I am now heir to the -Earldom of Noxton.” He then, at length, made Victor acquainted with the -death and burial of his brother, the escape of Bertha from her guardian -and her flight to Corsica. “I arrived here but yesterday,” he concluded, -“and to-morrow I shall search her out. Your father lives here, I -believe,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” answered Victor. “When I arrived at Malta I received a -letter from my father forwarded to me from the Admiralty, which -requested me to announce my arrival here in a note which I was to -address to one Cromillian, my father saying that this man Cromillian was -a friend of his and would see that the message reached him. I am in a -quandary as to just what to do. I must leave early in the morning, -commissioned by the Admiral to present a letter of introduction to -Monsieur Batistelli. This will take a couple of days, for which I am -very sorry, as I should like to send this letter to Cromillian at the -earliest possible moment.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you,” said Jack. “You write the letter, Vic, and I will -undertake to deliver it in the morning, and at the same time, possibly, -I can secure information as to the whereabouts of Countess Mont d’Oro -and, consequently, Bertha.”</p> - -<p>“And will you do this?” cried Lieutenant Duquesne.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132">{132}</a></span></p> - -<p>“What the ancient Pylades did for the ancient Orestes the modern Pylades -will do for you,” answered Jack warmly.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, my dear friend,” cried Lieutenant Duquesne, as he grasped -Jack by the hand, “I can think of no service which would be more highly -appreciated by me.”</p> - -<p>The two friends, as may be imagined, found plenty of topics on which to -converse, and before they parted that night Lieutenant Duquesne wrote -his note and placed it in an envelope with the name Cromillian on the -outside. “I have more time now,” he said, “than I shall have in the -morning.”</p> - -<p>They then bade each other good-night and Victor went to his room.</p> - -<p>Jack was greatly excited by the course of events and sat down by the -window. It was a bright, moonlight night. He felt that he must do -something to quiet his mental agitation. He put on his hat and walked -out of the hotel, scarcely noticing what course he was taking. He walked -on until he found himself upon the quay. The great hull of the <i>Osprey</i> -loomed up before him, the bright rays of the moon lighting up the vessel -as if it were noonday.</p> - -<p>He glanced downward and saw his full-length shadow projected upon the -rough planks of the quay. The thought came to him that he did not wish -to stand out in such bold relief, and he quickly sought a part of the -quay where the shadows were almost impenetrable.</p> - -<p>Hardly had he done so, when he heard the plashing of oars. In a moment, -he saw a boat containing two men approaching the quay. When they reached -the wharf, they stood for several minutes without speaking, but looking -intently at the British frigate. Jack was not more than ten feet from -them and, when they did speak, every word uttered was overheard by him.</p> - -<p>“Just like those Englishman,” one of them said. “If<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133">{133}</a></span> they know anything, -they won’t tell you, and if they don’t, they can’t tell you, so you -learn nothing either way. I did my best to find out from that sentry -whether Lieutenant Duquesne was on board, but not a word could I get out -of him; only to come to-morrow, between eleven and twelve. But we can’t -go to-morrow, for Cromillian told me that he had some important work on -hand which would take us away to the south for a week.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see that we can do any more,” said the other man, “except to -tell him that we can’t find out anything. He is a just man, is -Cromillian, and he won’t blame us if we have done all that we can do.”</p> - -<p>“I would go up to the hotel,” said the first speaker, “and see if this -Lieutenant is there, but the landlord knows me, and so do all the -servants, and, if I ask for the Lieutenant, they would immediately -surmise that he was connected in some way with Cromillian, and the -Captain, you know, cautioned us both to do nothing that would show that -he knew the Lieutenant or anything about him.”</p> - -<p>Jack waited to hear no more. The Fates had been kind. Here was his -opportunity. Without stopping to think how reckless his conduct was, he -stepped forward from his dark retreat and placed a hand on each of the -speakers. Quick as lightning, they stepped back and pulling out their -stilettos, stood facing him. Then Jack realised his narrow escape, for a -Corsican usually strikes first and asks for explanations afterwards.</p> - -<p>“Put up your weapons,” he said, in the mildest tone he could assume, -although his voice was agitated. “I overheard what you said, but I am a -friend.”</p> - -<p>“You will have to prove that before we believe it,” said one of the men, -and they still held their stilettos in position for ready use.</p> - -<p>“I am a friend of Lieutenant Duquesne, the man<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134">{134}</a></span> whom you seek, and also -have a letter from him which he has asked me to take to the man whose -name is Cromillian. Here, look at this and you will see that I have -spoken the truth.”</p> - -<p>He took the letter from his pocket and showed it to the men.</p> - -<p>“Is that all right?” asked one of the men, turning to the other. “You -know I cannot read.”</p> - -<p>The second man took the letter and scanned it closely.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, “that’s the name on the letter—Cromillian. What do you -want us to do? To take the letter to Cromillian?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Jack, “I gave my word to Lieutenant Duquesne that I would -deliver it to Cromillian myself. What better proof can you have of my -good faith than my willingness to go with you?”</p> - -<p>“That’s so,” said one of the men, and the other one nodded his assent. -They sheathed their stilettos.</p> - -<p>“When can you go?” asked one of them.</p> - -<p>“At once,” replied Jack.</p> - -<p>“Come along then,” was the command. “Are you good for a six-mile tramp -over a rough road?”</p> - -<p>“I have walked a much longer distance than that over worse roads than I -have seen here,” was Jack’s reply.</p> - -<p>“Come along then,” said one of the men. “Here, take your letter.”</p> - -<p>Jack put it in his coat pocket and prepared to follow the men, but they -had their ideas as to the precise manner in which the journey should be -performed. Each of the men took one of Jack’s arms within his own, and -thus, half captive and half supported, Jack began his march.</p> - -<p>As they walked on, he felt somewhat elated at the course which events -had taken, but his feelings of satisfaction would have given place to -others of a different nature if he could have looked behind him and seen -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135">{135}</a></span> figure which came stealthily forward from out a shadow as dense as -that which had enfolded Jack, and not more than twenty feet from where -the latter had stood.</p> - -<p>Thomas Glynne kept the trio in sight. They were not likely to look back -unless he approached them too closely, and it was easy for him to look -forward.</p> - -<p>“I never should have known him,” said Glynne to himself. “He seems -changed somehow, but when he spoke I recognised his voice at once. My -young man, I do not know what you are up to and the man they call -Cromillian, but you evidently do not know what you are up to any more -than I do. It is a good maxim, when you find a trail to follow it and -trust to luck for the result. I shall probably get back to town before -the Count sends for me to go to the house. I am sure he is a rascal at -heart; but, if I can’t keep her from marrying Mr. Jack De Vinne I’ll -know the reason why.”</p> - -<p>The next morning, Lieutenant Duquesne went to Jack’s room and knocked. -There being no response to repeated summonses of like nature, he tried -the latch, and the door yielded. He looked in, and started back in -astonishment. The bed had not been slept in, yet there was evidence that -the occupant intended to return, for his portmanteau was open and -several articles which he had taken from it were upon the table. -Lieutenant Duquesne was much excited on making this discovery. He at -once sought the landlord:</p> - -<p>“Did my friend, Mr. Fortier, tell you last night, before he went out, -that he was to be gone for any length of time?”</p> - -<p>“Gone?” queried the publican. “Has he gone?”</p> - -<p>“I do not know where he has gone or how long he intends to stay,” said -the Lieutenant, a little nettled, “but he did not sleep in his room last -night, which looks as though he intended to return.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the landlord, “the room is his for a week, and he can come -back when he gets ready. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136">{136}</a></span> paid me in advance. If he doesn’t come back -when his time is up, I shall lock up his effects and charge him for -storage until I get my money,” said the landlord.</p> - -<p>“No doubt but you will do that,” said the Lieutenant, “but I am a little -anxious to know what has become of him. Do you know when he went out? I -hope no harm has come to him.”</p> - -<p>“I went to bed early last night,” said the landlord, “but I will ask -some of the servants.”</p> - -<p>Inquiry failed to find any one who had seen Mr. Fortier leave the hotel, -and Lieutenant Duquesne was obliged to content himself with the -reflection that possibly the young man had started at once to perform -the mission which he had intrusted to him. Once more, he went in search -of the landlord:</p> - -<p>“If my friend, Mr. Fortier, doesn’t come back at the end of the week, I -wish you to lock the door, leaving the articles therein just where he -left them. I will be responsible for the rent of the room, at least -until our vessel sails.”</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t make any difference who pays the bills, so long as I get my -money,” said the landlord.</p> - -<p>Lieutenant Duquesne ascertained the shortest road which would lead him -to the Batistelli castle, and, having secured a saddle-horse, started to -perform the mission which Admiral Enright had intrusted to him—the -presentation of a letter of introduction which he bore from Lord Colton, -the Admiral’s cousin.</p> - -<p>Pascal Batistelli received the young man graciously. The head of the -house of Batistelli was a man about forty years of age, with a naturally -constrained expression and a forbidding manner; but he was well versed -in the requirements of polite society, and he probably remembered that, -when he had visited London, many years before, in search of Manuel Della -Coscia and his son, soon after the death of his father, he had received -many attentions and much assistance<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137">{137}</a></span> from Lord Colton, to whom he had -been introduced by the French ambassador. The time had now come for him -to reciprocate the courtesy, and he assured Lieutenant Duquesne that it -would give him great pleasure to receive Admiral Enright and his -daughter as his guests, and he added, as the thought came to him that -this young man might be a suitor, or possibly the accepted lover, of the -Admiral’s daughter:</p> - -<p>“It would give me additional pleasure, my dear Lieutenant, if you, also, -would accept the hospitality of my house.”</p> - -<p>The Lieutenant thanked him and said that, if it was the Admiral’s wish -and that of his daughter, he would be pleased to accept. The two -gentlemen parted with mutual expressions of esteem and regard, although -their acquaintance had been of very short duration, but such expressions -are a part of the social code, and may mean more or less, as the case -may be.</p> - -<p>As the Lieutenant left the house, he stopped to survey the magnificent -grounds which surrounded the mansion. As he walked slowly towards the -gate, outside of which he had tied his horse, his ear caught the sound -of running water. He paused at the entrance of a path which led through -a grove of trees with overhanging, interlaced branches, forming a cool -retreat. He entered, and, as he advanced, the sound grew louder and -louder. At the end of the path he came to a sudden stop, gazing with -admiration at the picture before him.</p> - -<p>The sound of running water had come from a little brook which, at the -end of the path, fell over a rocky ledge some six feet high, forming a -small waterfall. The bright rays of the sun fell upon the drops of water -as they descended, giving them the appearance of a shower of diamonds. -But it was not this natural beauty by which the young man’s gaze was -transfixed. Kneeling at the foot of the waterfall, a basket of freshly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138">{138}</a></span> -plucked flowers beside her, was the most beautiful girl whom he had ever -seen. Her hair and eyes were black, while her skin had that peculiar -tint found only among the women of the southern nations of Europe. She -was young, not more than eighteen, and, as she knelt beside the brook, -dipping first one hand and then the other in the water, and sprinkling -the flowers, she formed a picture of beauty and grace sure to appeal to -an impressionable young man like Lieutenant Victor Duquesne. She had not -heard the young man approach, and kept on with her task, unmindful of -his presence.</p> - -<p>Her heart must have been full of happiness that morning, for she began -to sing, and the Lieutenant was sure that he had never heard a voice of -such purity and sweetness. He did not know what to do next, so he simply -stood still gazing with unfeigned pleasure upon the lovely girl before -him. Suddenly she looked up and their eyes met. She started to her feet, -with a slight cry, and then the rich blood mounted to her cheeks, -tinging them a deep red. She did not speak but her eyes asked the -question, plainly:</p> - -<p>“Who are you and what are you doing here?”</p> - -<p>Lieutenant Duquesne divined their meaning and, bowing low, said: “I beg -your pardon, mademoiselle, but I have just come from Monsieur Pascal -Batistelli, whom I visited with a message from my superior officer, when -I heard the sound of running water and, unconscious that I was guilty of -an impropriety, I came down this path to learn the cause.”</p> - -<p>“And you have seen my brother?” the young girl asked.</p> - -<p>“I have seen Monsieur Pascal Batistelli,” was the reply. “Are you a -daughter of the house?”</p> - -<p>The young girl dropped the large black eyes which, up to this time, had -looked frankly into his.</p> - -<p>“I am the only daughter,” she said. “I am Vivi<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139">{139}</a></span>enne Batistelli. I have -two brothers, Pascal and Julien, but Julien is not at home. He went away -yesterday and has not come back.”</p> - -<p>“I regret that I did not meet him,” said the Lieutenant, politely, “but -I trust that I may yet have that pleasure. Those are beautiful flowers -which you have gathered, and the pure water that you have sprinkled upon -them has given them an added loveliness. May I ask a favour?”</p> - -<p>The young girl looked up and smiled. “If not too great a one,” she said.</p> - -<p>“To grant it,” and the young man bowed low, “will rob you of but one of -those beautiful flowers. I should like to take it with me as a souvenir -of this unexpected but very pleasant meeting.”</p> - -<p>“I surely shall not feel the loss of one little flower,” said she, as -she took a white rose from the basket, “and I am pleased to give it to -you if it will afford you as much pleasure as you say it will.”</p> - -<p>He took the flower.</p> - -<p>“Pardon, monsieur, but I must return to the house, or my flowers will -wilt in the hot sun despite the cool bath which I have given them.”</p> - -<p>Lieutenant Duquesne stepped to one side, thinking that she would go by -way of the path and would have to pass him, but she turned in an -opposite direction and quickly disappeared from sight. The Lieutenant -left the path and, reaching the brook, stood upon the same place where -she had knelt. As he did so, he saw her slight form disappear beneath a -vine-covered arbour a short distance away. A thought came into his mind -and, unconsciously, found expression in words:</p> - -<p>“She is beautiful,” and he started at the sound of his own voice; “she -is the most beautiful girl I ever saw. To see her is to love her!”</p> - -<p>He retraced his steps and entered the path again<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140">{140}</a></span> when, to his surprise, -he came face to face with a young man of about his own age, dressed in -the height of Parisian fashion, who stood regarding him with an angry -frown upon his face.</p> - -<p>It was the young Count Napier Mont d’Oro.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141">{141}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br /><br /> -<small>A FLOWER WITH BLOOD-STAINED PETALS.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Bertha Renville</span> was seated alone in the beautiful boudoir of Countess -Mont d’Oro. She had just received a long and interesting letter from -Mrs. Clarence Glynne, the concluding paragraph of which read:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“My husband has almost entirely recovered from his severe illness. -Mr. Jack De Vinne wrote us a short note, merely to say that he -would start for Corsica immediately and we have not heard from him -since. He informed us that he had called at Countess Mont d’Oro’s -residence in Paris, but learned that you and the Countess had left -for some place unknown. As for Mr. Glynne, your guardian, he left -here at the time Clarence was taken ill to search for you and bring -you back. Clarence thinks he went to Paris and finding you had -accompanied the Countess Mont d’Oro to Corsica, that his father -will undoubtedly continue his quest to that place. He says his -father is a very determined man, is very angry at your -disappearance, and will certainly follow you if he can learn where -you have gone.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span style="margin-right: 20%">“Yours very devotedly,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Jennie Glynne</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>“P. S.—I think Mr. De Vinne knows where you are, but thought it -best for us not to know.”</p></div> - -<p>Count Napier Mont d’Oro’s experience had not been very pleasant before -his meeting with Lieutenant Duquesne. Learning from one of the servants -that his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142">{142}</a></span> mother had gone to pay a visit to a tenant who was ill, he -made his way at once to her boudoir. Upon entering he found Bertha -seated, gazing abstractedly at the letter which she had just finished -reading.</p> - -<p>“Ah! My good mother is not here. I wished to speak to her. I suppose she -will return soon. Pardon me, if I wait,” and he sank into a chair. “This -is a beautiful morning, is it not, mademoiselle? And how do you like -Corsica?”</p> - -<p>“I have seen very little of it,” was the reply. “I have not been out of -the house since my arrival, except to take a walk in the grounds.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! That is a shame!” cried the Count, sympathetically. “Will you not -go driving with me this morning? Our scenery is beautiful because it is -so natural. The hand of art has not tampered with it as it has in -France.”</p> - -<p>“You are very kind, Count Mont d’Oro,” Bertha replied, “but your mother -said she would order the carriage this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes,” said the Count. “I know she is afraid of a spirited horse, -and old Pierre will drive you, with a pair of horses almost as old as he -is. I have a high-stepper in the stables, a spirited beast that curvets, -prances, and amuses you with his antics.”</p> - -<p>“I think,” replied Bertha, “for carriage driving I should prefer the -quieter animals. I am not afraid when I am on horseback, but really I -must decline your invitation. There are reasons——” She hesitated. The -Count drew his chair closer to her.</p> - -<p>“And what are the reasons, do you suppose, that have caused me to give -up my pleasant life in Paris and come down here to this humdrum place?”</p> - -<p>Bertha felt piqued by his persistency. “To see your lady-love, I -suppose,” she said.</p> - -<p>“To see a lady-love, yes. Do you know her name?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143">{143}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle Vivienne Batistelli, I presume,” replied Bertha, with a -tone of restraint in her voice.</p> - -<p>The Count laughed. “She is one of them. I suppose you may have heard -that she is my prospective bride. But a Corsican falls in love many -times before he weds.”</p> - -<p>“I am not used to the ways of your country,” said Bertha, “and, for that -reason, I cannot fully appreciate what you have just said.”</p> - -<p>“But I know a great deal about your country,” rejoined the Count. “I had -the pleasure of coming from Marseilles to Ajaccio on the same vessel -with a true friend of yours.”</p> - -<p>Bertha started and her cheeks flushed. Whom could he mean but Jack? He -was only teasing her after all. She must be more gracious. She turned a -smiling face towards the Count and said:</p> - -<p>“I have so few friends in Corsica I should be pleased to learn that I -have one more. When may I expect to see him?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” replied the Count, “he is not coming here until I tell him that -you are ready to receive him. He has promised to be guided by me in the -matter.”</p> - -<p>“That is strange. I do not understand you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you will when I tell you who he is.”</p> - -<p>Bertha was in a quandary. What could it mean? Who would make a promise -to Count Mont d’Oro that he would not come to see her except with the -Count’s permission? It must be Jack—and yet, she hesitated to mention -his name.</p> - -<p>The Count thought the time had come to relieve her suspense.</p> - -<p>“My companion,” he said, “was your guardian, Mr. Thomas Glynne.”</p> - -<p>Bertha started to her feet. The smile faded from her face and a look of -apprehension, almost terror, succeeded it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144">{144}</a></span></p> - -<p>“But you will not tell him where I am?” she cried, appealingly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he knows where you are,” replied the Count, “but I imagined from -what I heard that you were not very desirous of seeing him, so I made -him promise that he would not come here until I told him he might.”</p> - -<p>“That was very good of you, Count. I do not wish to see him. You will do -all you can to keep him away from here, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Well, that depends,” said the Count. “I do not think I should enjoy -your society if he were here, and, if there is any prospect of our -passing some pleasant days together, you may be sure that he will not -hear from me while they last.”</p> - -<p>Bertha divined his purpose and her proud spirit rebelled at the virtual -threat. So this young man proposed to force himself upon her and to -oblige her to endure his society. If she did not comply, then he -intended to send for her guardian. Whatever slight feeling of respect -she may have had for him vanished at once. No wonder that his mother -hated him. What a mean-spirited young man he was! But what could she do? -Then the thought came to her that Jack was coming to Corsica. Perhaps he -had already arrived and would soon be there to protect her. She turned -to the Count.</p> - -<p>“It makes little difference to me, Count Mont d’Oro,” she said, “whether -my guardian comes here or not. I have other friends upon whose -protection I can rely.”</p> - -<p>“I know whom you mean,” said the Count, “but he will not come. You are -thinking of Monsieur De Vinne. Your guardian expected to break the sad -news to you himself, but as he is not here I will tell you what he told -me. Your young friend, Monsieur De Vinne, was, unfortunately, killed in -a fight which took place between a Frenchman and an Englishman.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145">{145}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>There was a look of scorn upon Bertha’s face and a withering tone of -disdain in her voice when she spoke. “Count Mont d’Oro, what you have -just told me is a falsehood. I know that it is not true. I have a letter -from Mrs. Glynne in which she tells me that Mr. De Vinne expressed his -intention of starting for Corsica at once. If he has not already -arrived, he will be here very soon. I do not understand what your motive -has been in telling me such untruths. I do not believe that my guardian -is here or that he has made you any such promise as you say he has. -While I remain in your mother’s care, which I trust will not be for -long, I will try to be civil to you, but I do not care to have any -further conversation with you upon any subject whatever.”</p> - -<p>As she uttered the last words the door opened and Countess Mont d’Oro -entered. She took in the situation at a glance. Her son, as usual, was -making himself disagreeable. She had heard Bertha’s closing words and -her womanly intuition supplied the rest of the story.</p> - -<p>“Napier,” she said, “your presence here, as I have told you many times, -is unwelcome to me, and I know that it must be to Mademoiselle Renville, -from what I have just heard. If you insist upon remaining, it must be in -your own apartments. I will see that your meals are sent to you. Come, -mademoiselle.”</p> - -<p>She took Bertha’s arm and the two women left the room.</p> - -<p>The Count stepped out upon the terrace. The hunt was up. He had been -beaten at his own game. What a fool he had been to say anything about De -Vinne. He had gone too far, had said too much, and had lost all. Well, -there were plenty of pretty women in the world, but this fair, young -Miss Renville was so different from the others. The case was not -hopeless, after all. De Vinne had not arrived, and the guardian had.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146">{146}</a></span> He -would see the guardian and put him on the watch. Some plan could be -formed, no doubt, by which the lovers could be kept apart.</p> - -<p>He descended the long flight of steps and walked towards the gateway. A -horse was fastened to a tree just outside. To whom could it belong? -Perhaps young De Vinne had arrived, his mother knew it, and had taken -Madamoiselle Renville to meet him. Hearing voices, he glanced down a -wooded path and saw a young man in naval uniform, and—he was speaking -to a young lady. Who could it be? A few quick strides down the path and -he saw that it was Vivienne Batistelli.</p> - -<p>Now, Count Mont d’Oro knew in his heart that he did not really love -Vivienne, but the mutual wish of his father and her brother had been -carried out so far as he was able, and he reasoned that she had no right -to love anybody else and no one else had any right to love her. Victor’s -words—“To see her is to love her”—rang in his ears. Had matters, then, -gone so far as that? A moment later the two young men stood face to -face.</p> - -<p>“What right have you to that flower?” demanded the Count, his voice -choked with passion.</p> - -<p>“The right of possession,” said Victor, quietly; “but what right have -you to ask such a question?”</p> - -<p>“I am Count Napier Mont d’Oro, of Alfieri,” was the reply.</p> - -<p>“Such extreme confidence merits reciprocity,” said Victor. “I am -Lieutenant Victor Duquesne of His Britannic Majesty’s ship <i>Osprey</i>, now -lying at anchor in the harbour of Ajaccio.”</p> - -<p>“Where did you get that flower?” cried the Count, at the top of his -voice, his feelings evidently becoming ungovernable.</p> - -<p>“It was given to me by a young lady. She said her name was Vivienne -Batistelli.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know who she is?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147">{147}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I only know,” said Victor, “that she is beautiful in person and -charming in her manners. I may have been presumptuous in asking for the -flower, but she certainly excused it or she would not have given it to -me. Are you well acquainted with her?” and Victor calmly regarded the -angry face of the Count.</p> - -<p>“She is to be the future Countess Mont d’Oro,” was the reply. “She is -betrothed to me and has no right to give flowers or any other token to -an absolute stranger. Give me that flower.”</p> - -<p>“I shall do nothing of the sort,” said Victor. “If the young lady who -was so kind as to bestow it upon me asks for its return, I will give it -to her, but nothing shall force me to give it to you.”</p> - -<p>“We will see about that,” cried the Count, and before Victor had divined -his intention, the enraged man drew his stiletto and made a thrust at -him. Victor threw up his left hand to ward off the thrust, receiving a -severe cut which bled freely.</p> - -<p>Physically, Victor was much more than a match for the Count. Grasping -the latter’s wrist, he bent his right hand backward until the fingers -loosed their hold upon the stiletto and it fell to the ground. Victor -gave the weapon a vigorous kick, and it disappeared from sight in a -clump of bushes. He next gave the Count a push backward, crying as he -did so:</p> - -<p>“Now, let me pass!”</p> - -<p>But the Count had reached that stage where ungovernable fury takes the -place of reason. He aimed a blow with his fist at Victor, which the -latter parried, while with his right hand, which was tightly clenched, -he struck the Count fairly between the eyes and felled him to the -ground.</p> - -<p>In the struggle the white rose, which had been the cause of contention, -had fallen upon the ground. Victor picked it up, and as he did so he -noticed that its former white petals were now blood-stained. Her flower<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148">{148}</a></span> -and his blood! He unbuttoned his coat, placed the rose over his heart, -and then buttoned the garment again.</p> - -<p>Casting a contemptuous look at his late antagonist, who seemed to be -recovering consciousness, he retraced his steps through the wooded path, -vaulted over the low gate, mounted his horse, and rode at a rapid rate -towards Ajaccio.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149">{149}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br /><br /> -<small>A DUEL IN THE DARK.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Victor’s</span> horse was in a decidedly jaded condition when he reached the -hotel at Ajaccio. The young Lieutenant at once sought an interview with -the Admiral and his daughter, and conveyed to them, in language as -nearly approaching that used by Pascal Batistelli as he could remember, -the latter’s courteous invitation for them to become his guests at -Batistelli Castle.</p> - -<p>“You call it a castle,” said Miss Helen. “Does it resemble those of -mediæval times, with the moat about it, and a drawbridge and portcullis? -How decidedly romantic that will be. I shall have to send an account of -it to one of the London papers.”</p> - -<p>“To speak honestly, Miss Enright,” said Victor, “I am little acquainted -with the construction of mediæval castles. I have learned more from your -short description than I ever knew before.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be pleased to enlighten you further,” said Miss Enright. “The -moat was a deep ditch filled with water which surrounded the castle and -rendered it inaccessible. The drawbridge was what its name indicates, -and was let down across the moat in order that those who lived in the -castle could reach the mainland, or return.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! I see,” said Victor, “without wetting their feet.”</p> - -<p>“Your remark, Lieutenant Duquesne,” said Miss Enright, with a frown -which added to the classic severity of her features, “is entirely -irrelevant. Do you wish me to proceed, or shall we stop at the -drawbridge?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150">{150}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“By no means, Miss Enright. Do not leave us upon the drawbridge or we -may fall into the hands of the enemy, and I do not care to become a -prisoner.”</p> - -<p>“They did not take prisoners in those days,” said Miss Enright. “Dead -enemies cost nothing for the keeping. Besides, what they had on them -became lawful booty. They had not learned in those days our expensive -manner of carrying on warfare.”</p> - -<p>“Then so much the more reason,” said Victor, “why you should point out -some means of escape from that drawbridge.”</p> - -<p>“Then,” said Miss Enright, “come within the castle and we will let the -portcullis fall. Allow me to explain that the portcullis was a heavy -wooden gate or door, made of double timbers securely bolted together. It -was impervious to culverins, and it took a ponderous stone from a -catapult to shatter it.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Miss Enright,” said Victor. “Now that we are within the -castle, with the drawbridge up and the portcullis down, I beg you to let -them remain where they are.”</p> - -<p>“Your experiences this morning, Lieutenant Duquesne, have made you -flippant, and you know I have told you many times that I cannot endure -useless levity in a man—especially a young one. So with your kind -permission, and that of my honoured father, I will retire to my own -room.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, go, Helen,” said the Admiral, “and I will give him a good talking -to when you are gone. I am half inclined to cashier him and dismiss him -from the service.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do not do that,” said Miss Enright, her features relaxing into a -smile in spite of her attempts to retain her stern composure. “You know -the Lieutenant and I are sworn enemies and have been since we left -Malta, where we disagreed as to the sentiments which inspired the -Knights of St. John of Jerusalem. Besides, his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151">{151}</a></span> crime is one that calls -for education rather than condign punishment.”</p> - -<p>After throwing this Parthian arrow, she left the room.</p> - -<p>“Why do you like to plague Helen so?” asked the Admiral.</p> - -<p>“I don’t enjoy the plaguing part, but my jibes always stir her up, and I -cannot but admire the manner in which she conducts both attack and -defence.”</p> - -<p>“I have given her all the education she asked for,” said the Admiral, -“but I sometimes wonder what would become of the world if all the women -in it knew as much as Helen does.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think that day will ever come,” said Victor. “If it does, women -will become the teachers and men the students.”</p> - -<p>“But will they ever learn to command a frigate?” asked the Admiral.</p> - -<p>“If women ever rule the world,” replied Victor, “there will be no need -of either frigates, or armies, or wars. All vexed questions will be -settled by diplomacy, and no male diplomat can hope to compete -successfully with a woman in that line of business.”</p> - -<p>“What kind of a place is it that Batistelli lives in?” asked the -Admiral.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Victor, “it is a big stone house with a large tower at each -end. The grounds are beautiful, but the interior of the house looks -cheerless from our English point of view. It lacks that cosey, -comfortable air which English homes have. But Monsieur Batistelli was -very polite, and evinced a most hospitable disposition. I have no doubt -that Miss Enright and yourself will greatly enjoy a week’s sojourn -there.”</p> - -<p>“I hope so,” said the Admiral. “We will go to-morrow. I am greatly -obliged to you, Lieutenant, and you may have your freedom until our -return.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152">{152}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Victor knew that, so far as the Admiral was concerned, the interview was -at an end.</p> - -<p>“My dear Admiral,” said he, “may I trespass on your time for a few -minutes?”</p> - -<p>“Why, certainly,” was the reply. “I have nothing to do until dinner -time, and there is a spare half hour.”</p> - -<p>“It will not take that length of time,” said Victor. “Monsieur -Batistelli extended a very polite invitation to me to become his guest, -also, but I cannot accept—so do not speak of it to your daughter.”</p> - -<p>“And why not?” cried the Admiral. “Helen and I would be delighted to -have you with us. I know you two quarrel, but I think you both enjoy it. -I always thought that when I am not around you make up, but, as soon as -I appear upon the scene, you feel obliged to begin your warfare again.”</p> - -<p>“You are not far from the truth, my dear Admiral,” said Victor. “I -should be happy to form one of your party were it not for a little -affair, in which I became involved this morning, that must claim -preference.”</p> - -<p>“An affair?” cried the Admiral; “not a love affair, I hope!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” said Victor, “something much more serious—an affair of -honour!”</p> - -<p>He then told the Admiral of his meeting with Vivienne Batistelli and his -subsequent encounter with Count Mont d’Oro.</p> - -<p>“These Corsicans are a hot-blooded race, and he will surely send me a -challenge. I shall be obliged to meet him or he will hold me up as a -coward. I must secure some one to serve as second. Have I your -permission, Admiral, to ask one of my brother officers to act in that -capacity?”</p> - -<p>The Admiral leaned back in his chair and seemed to be considering the -question from several points of view.</p> - -<p>“I should say nothing about it on board ship,” he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153">{153}</a></span> began. “Perhaps, -after all, you will not hear from him. If the matter becomes known to -any one on the vessel, all will know it; some will write home to England -about it, and it may reach the Admiralty. You do not wish that to occur, -for it would certainly retard your promotion. If the worst comes to the -worst and the fellow challenges you, I will act for you and no one on -the vessel will be the wiser.”</p> - -<p>At dinner both the Admiral and Victor were disposed to be contemplative, -each thinking of the prospective duel and its possible results. Victor -was also greatly disturbed at not seeing or hearing from Jack. He had -made diligent inquiries, but without success. He therefore contented -himself with the thought that Jack was pursuing his quest of Cromillian, -or Bertha, or both.</p> - -<p>After a long silence, Helen, who knew nothing of the impending conflict, -started a little battle on her own account by referring again to -mediæval customs.</p> - -<p>“I yearn,” said she, “for a return to the days of chivalry, when brave -knights fought for their lady-loves. To me, there can be no sight more -inspiring than two brave men contending for the favour of some fair -maiden worthy of their love.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps the days of chivalry may return once more,” said Victor.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense!” cried Helen. “In these days, there are few men brave enough -to face each other in mortal combat. They are content to fire at each -other with an intervening distance of half a mile or more. Why don’t -they do as did Julius Cæsar and his Roman warriors—advance with drawn -swords and fall boldly upon their enemies? It was daring, and muscle, -and swordsmanship that won battles in those days.”</p> - -<p>“And now it is markmanship,” said Victor. “You know the old saying, Miss -Enright, that times change and we change with them. If we were Roman -warriors, and time could be pushed back nearly eighteen hundred<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154">{154}</a></span> years, -your sanguinary wishes might be gratified; but, as things look now, the -range of arms will increase, and armies and vessels will stay farther -apart than ever during the progress of a battle.”</p> - -<p>“One reason why I have wished to come to Corsica,” said Helen, “is to -learn about the vendetta. The spirit of the old knights must survive in -this island.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all!” cried the Admiral, taking part for the first time in the -discussion. “The miserable rascals dare not meet each other in a fair -fight, but lie in ambush and brutally assassinate their enemies. I am -surprised, Helen, that you should entertain such sentiments.”</p> - -<p>“You do not understand me, father,” said Helen. “What I wish to see is -individual bravery rather than collective heroism. I do not wish to -applaud a whole regiment or the entire crew of a frigate, but the one -man who, by his valiant prowess, has shown himself worthy of renown.”</p> - -<p>The dinner was over and the discussion also came to an end. Victor -lighted a cigar and went out upon the veranda to think over the matter -which was uppermost in his mind. Being very far-sighted, he espied, a -long distance off, an old building which had a deserted, tumble-down -appearance. He left the veranda and walked towards it, finding it much -farther away than he had anticipated.</p> - -<p>He opened the door and entered. It was empty. It was, in reality, a -large shed which probably had been used as a storehouse. He closed the -door and found himself in utter darkness. Although the building was old, -it was surely well constructed, for there was not a seam or break in it -through which the light of the sun could enter. He threw the door open -and carefully surveyed the interior once more. Across each corner of the -structure, some six feet from the ground, four heavy joists were placed, -but for what purpose Victor could<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155">{155}</a></span> not divine. As he stood there, a -strange thought came into his mind, and he smiled to himself with inward -satisfaction.</p> - -<p>On his way back to the hotel, he passed a cottage, in front of which, -seated at a grindstone, a man, evidently a woodsman, was sharpening a -number of axes. Victor stopped and regarded him. Then, he smiled again. -What he saw evidently pleased him and there must have been some -connection between the smile in the old shed and that which showed upon -his face as he stood regarding the woodsman and the implements of his -trade.</p> - -<p>“My good friend,” said Victor, “will you sell me a couple of those -axes—the sharpened ones, I mean?”</p> - -<p>“You can buy plenty of them in the town,” the man replied.</p> - -<p>“How much would two cost me?” asked Victor.</p> - -<p>The man named the price.</p> - -<p>“I will give you twice as much for two of yours,” said Victor, and the -bargain was soon concluded.</p> - -<p>The man found a piece of old cloth in which Victor could wrap up his -purchases, and he succeeded in reaching his room without his burden -meeting the eye of the inquisitive. Then he sought the Admiral and had a -short talk with him.</p> - -<p>“Why, bless my soul!” cried Sir Gilbert, “I never heard of such a thing -before. It is a most re-mark-a-ble idea. I suppose what Helen said at -dinner put you up to it. What fools women can make of men, to be sure. -Of course, I mean nothing personal by that, my dear Lieutenant, but I -have read history, or rather Helen has read it to me, and it seems to me -as though most of the silly things that men have done have been prompted -by a desire to please some woman.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>Victor was right when he expressed the opinion that Count Mont d’Oro -would challenge him. The next<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156">{156}</a></span> morning the card of M. François Villefort -was sent up to his room, and, when the young man had exchanged the -customary courtesies with Lieutenant Duquesne, he stated that the object -of his visit was to present a message from his lifelong friend, Count -Napier Mont d’Oro. Victor bowed, said that he had anticipated receiving -such a civility from the Count, and asked him to accompany him to the -room of his friend, Admiral Enright, who had consented to act as his -second.</p> - -<p>When M. Villefort and Admiral Enright were alone, the Admiral began the -conversation.</p> - -<p>“In my country,” said he, “the first duty of a gentleman called upon to -act in the capacity which we have assumed is to arrange, if possible, an -honourable compromise.”</p> - -<p>“In Corsica,” replied M. Villefort, “that matter is never considered. In -fact, as you probably well know, Corsicans never fight duels in Corsica, -but Count Mont d’Oro has lived for some time in Paris and, assuming that -Lieutenant Duquesne is conversant with the French <i>code duello</i>, the -Count has the courtesy to follow the French custom.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the Admiral, “then we will consider that part of the -subject closed. My friend, Lieutenant Duquesne, being the challenged -party, has the choice of time, place, and weapons. I conferred with him -upon the subject previous to your expected arrival, and there will, -consequently, be no delay in arranging the preliminaries.”</p> - -<p>“I am delighted to hear it,” said M. Villefort, “for my friend, Count -Mont d’Oro, is anxious that the insult given to him should be avenged as -soon as possible.”</p> - -<p>“On our part,” said the Admiral, “we shall be delighted to accommodate -you. The time fixed upon is midnight, to-morrow night; the place, a -vacant shed which is in plain sight from the veranda of the hotel,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157">{157}</a></span> -about three-quarters of a mile distant; the weapons, woodsmen’s axes, -sharpened by a Corsican; the contest to last five minutes, and in total -darkness. At the end of that time, you and I are to enter the building -with lights and see what remains of our friends.”</p> - -<p>“Allow me to say that I consider such levity unbecoming a gentleman. If -your principal has given you instructions suited to an affair of honour, -I am here to receive them.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly! I don’t know what your customs are here, but in England we do -not repeat our conditions more than once.”</p> - -<p>The Corsican was evidently impressed by the bluntness and directness of -the Englishman’s speech.</p> - -<p>“Pardon me,” said he, “but I did not understand what weapons had been -selected by the challenged party.”</p> - -<p>“I thought I described them sufficiently,” said the Admiral. “I said -axes,—ordinary common woodsmen’s axes—the sharper the better.”</p> - -<p>“And the place?” queried M. Villefort.</p> - -<p>“If you will step to the window,” said the Admiral, “I will show you. Do -you see that old shed on the lefthand side of the road? That is the -place selected by Lieutenant Duquesne. Time, midnight to-morrow night, -the room to be in utter darkness, and the fight to last five minutes. Do -I make myself understood?”</p> - -<p>“Perfectly, monsieur,” responded M. Villefort, “but I doubt very much if -the Count will condescend to accept such ridiculous terms. Did you say -that the room was to be dark?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied the Admiral; “the Lieutenant says the windows are boarded -up tightly and not a ray of light enters even in the daytime. I confess -that they are the most re-mark-a-ble instructions I ever received. They -quite stagger me, they do, indeed. But my principal says he will not -change them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158">{158}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I will report the result of my mission to Count Mont d’Oro. If he -refuses to accept the terms——”</p> - -<p>The Admiral broke in: “Why, then we will let the matter drop just where -it is; but Lieutenant Duquesne and myself will probably form an opinion -as to the bravery of this member of the Corsican nobility, and we may -express it to others. You might repeat to the Count what I have just -said.”</p> - -<p>Miss Helen Enright was both astute and acute. Her father knew that, if -he left the hotel late in the evening and did not return until after -midnight, he would be obliged to make some sort of an explanation to his -daughter.</p> - -<p>“Better tell a white lie than a black one,” said he to Victor. So it was -arranged that they should pay a visit to the <i>Osprey</i> in the afternoon, -giving Helen to understand that they might not return to the hotel until -the next morning.</p> - -<p>The night chosen was a stormy one. Heavy black clouds shut out the light -of both moon and stars, and from them the rain descended. About eleven -o’clock, the Lieutenant and the Admiral left the <i>Osprey</i>, preceded by a -sailor carrying a ship’s lantern to light the way. When they had covered -about half the distance between the vessel and the hotel, the Admiral, -turning to the sailor, said:</p> - -<p>“Give me the lantern, Markland. I will carry it the rest of the way. You -can find your way back to the quay in the dark?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye, sir!” was the response. “I have been in darker places than -this and came out all right.”</p> - -<p>The Admiral screened the lantern and waited at the corner of the road -for Victor, who went to his room to obtain the axes. They then proceeded -on their way towards the deserted building, the rain coming down in the -proverbial torrents.</p> - -<p>“I shall be much cut up,” said Victor, “if this<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159">{159}</a></span> wetting gives you a -cold and an attack of rheumatism.”</p> - -<p>“If you don’t get cut up,” said the Admiral, “I will try to bear the -rheumatism with patience.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said Victor; “you have always been a kind and good friend -to me. My course in this matter, no doubt, seems inexplicable to you, -but I have a reason for it which, some day, I will explain.”</p> - -<p>“My curiosity can wait,” said the Admiral, “but I cannot promise as much -if Helen gets wind of the affair.”</p> - -<p>They were the first to reach the building. They both entered and -examined it thoroughly. The Admiral screened the lantern and looked -about him. “It’s as dark as a pocket,” said he. Victor caught one of the -crossbeams with both hands and drew himself up until his chin was even -with it. Then he allowed himself to descend without attracting the -attention of the Admiral. They went outside and, standing beneath the -wide-spreading branches of a great tree, awaited the arrival of the -other party.</p> - -<p>About ten minutes before midnight, the sound of horses’ hoofs and -carriage wheels were heard, and, a few minutes later, Count Mont d’Oro -and M. Villefort approached the building. As they did so, the Admiral -turned the full glare of the lantern in their faces.</p> - -<p>The usual courtesies were exchanged and the four men stood expectantly, -the Admiral holding his watch so that the light from the lantern could -fall upon it. Suddenly, he looked up and said:</p> - -<p>“It is twelve o’clock, gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>The party entered the building, the Admiral holding up the lantern so -that the interior could be examined by the Count and his second. Next, -he took the axes from the cloth in which they had been wrapped and -passed them to M. Villefort.</p> - -<p>“Take your choice,” said he. “As near as I can<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160">{160}</a></span> judge, they are of the -same weight and equally sharp.”</p> - -<p>M. Villefort selected one which he passed to Count Mont d’Oro, while the -Admiral handed the other to Victor. The contestants were then placed in -opposite corners of the room, facing each other.</p> - -<p>“Are you ready?” asked the Admiral.</p> - -<p>The duellists signified that they were.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Villefort and I will now leave you,” said the Admiral. “As -soon as we close the door, you are at liberty to change your positions, -but you must not attack each other until you hear us cry <i>Time</i>! Five -minutes thereafter, we shall open the door, and the contest must stop as -soon as you see the light.”</p> - -<p>In about a minute, the Admiral and M. Villefort cried in unison:</p> - -<p>“<i>TIME!</i>”</p> - -<p>Count Mont d’Oro scuffled his feet upon the floor to give his opponent -the idea that he had changed his position. Victor stood his axe up in -the corner, reached the beam above him with both hands, drew himself up -slowly, and assumed a sitting posture upon it. The Count struck out -vigorously in front and to the right and left. He then took a circuit -around the room, striking out in front, and then whirling about, he made -vicious slashes at his unseen enemy. He next swung the axe about in a -circle, but it met with no resistance.</p> - -<p>Victor sneezed loudly. This so startled the Count, for the sound seemed -very close to him, that he started back, coming in violent contact with -the side of the building, bruising himself quite severely. He then -advanced cautiously on tiptoe across the room. As he neared the corner -where Victor was, the latter took his hat from his head and threw it -down, necessarily at random. It chanced to strike the Count full in the -face. He started back, a cry of affright escaping from him -involuntarily. The Fates were against him. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161">{161}</a></span> was just one rotten -plank in the floor of the building, and upon that the Count stepped. It -broke beneath his weight. Finding himself falling, and realising that -his foot was caught in some way, he gave a violent pull and succeeded in -wrenching his ankle so badly that when he tried to stand up he was -forced to succumb to the intense pain, and fell prone upon the floor.</p> - -<p>Realising that his opponent had met with some misadventure, Victor -dropped from his perch, and, grasping his axe, stood upon the defensive. -At that moment, the door was pushed open and the bright light of the -lantern thrown upon the scene.</p> - -<p>M. Villefort espied the form of the Count upon the floor and, rushing to -him, gave him a sup of brandy from a flask which he had thoughtfully -brought with him. The Admiral paid no attention to the Count, but sought -the corner where Victor stood.</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul!” cried the Admiral. “Are you a whole man?”</p> - -<p>“I believe so, but somewhat played out,” said Victor, and he leaned -heavily upon the axe handle.</p> - -<p>“But are you sure that you have all your limbs about you?”</p> - -<p>“I think so. Two legs and two arms are the usual complement, I believe.”</p> - -<p>“No gashes in your head or back?”</p> - -<p>“No, I think not. Oh, there is my hat!” and he stepped forward and -picked it up.</p> - -<p>“Well,” cried the Admiral, “it is really the most re-mark-a-ble -preservation from death I ever heard of in all my life.”</p> - -<p>“I must trouble you, Admiral Enright,” said M. Villefort, “to assist me -in getting Count Mont d’Oro to his carriage. For reasons which you can -understand, I do not wish to call the coachman, who is unaware of the -nature of our visit here at this unseemly hour.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162">{162}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” said the Admiral, “in the hour of defeat, the unfortunate -can always count upon my sympathy and assistance.”</p> - -<p>Supported by the two men, the Count limped slowly towards the door, -evidently suffering greatly. Before he reached it, Victor stepped -forward:</p> - -<p>“Do you acknowledge satisfaction, Count Mont d’Oro?”</p> - -<p>The Count’s face was contorted with pain and, for a moment, he did not -reply. Then, he almost hissed out the words:</p> - -<p>“From an English point of view—yes—but not from a Corsican. We shall -meet again!”</p> - -<p>When the Admiral returned, he took up the lantern.</p> - -<p>“Are you going to take the axes?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Victor, “we will leave those for the rent of the building.”</p> - -<p>That night, in the solitude of his own room, he took from its -hiding-place the white rose with the blood-stained petals. Her rose and -his blood!</p> - -<p>“Sweet emblem of peace and love, thou art my talisman against evil, and, -for her dear sake, these hands shall never be stained by the blood of -one whom she loves. I swear it!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163">{163}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br /><br /> -<small>ANCESTRAL PRIDE.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Ajaccio</span>, Alfieri, and Cromillian’s camp formed the angles of an -equilateral triangle; in other words, it was about five miles from -Ajaccio to Alfieri; it was another five miles from Alfieri to -Cromillian’s camp. The two members of his band, however, who formed -Andrea Fortier’s escort, for Jack had given his assumed name to his -companions, were too well acquainted with the country and too anxious to -reach camp to travel ten miles when they knew that, by a short cut over -the mountains and up the ravine, the distance was not more than five.</p> - -<p>If some of the residents of Ajaccio, who had experienced a taste of -Cromillian’s justice, had known that his camp was in such close -proximity to the town, they would certainly have tried to induce the -officers of the law to attempt his capture. Yet, this would have been -hard to effect. They would have had to rely upon the <i>gens d’armes</i> who, -although they could not shirk duty when called upon to arrest a person -within the limits of the town, were decidedly averse to invading the -<i>maquis</i>. The bandits were such good shots, had such far-reaching -rifles, and, besides, had such a way of firing from behind trees and -stone walls, that the <i>gens d’armes</i> always scouted the idea of their -being able to capture a bandit, and their officers were not loath to -embrace the same opinion.</p> - -<p>It was after midnight when Jack and his escort reached Cromillian’s -camp. He was at once taken into the presence of the Chief who, seated in -a little grove,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164">{164}</a></span> was writing by the light of a fire. Jack presented the -letter given to him by Victor, which Cromillian opened and read.</p> - -<p>Thomas Glynne, who had followed close upon the heels of Jack and his -companions, was very anxious to learn the reason for the young man’s -visit, under such circumstances, to this particular locality. He -approached the camp, skulking behind one tree and then another, when a -firm hand from behind grasped his coat collar, and he was hurled -violently to the ground. He attempted to rise, but found himself -surrounded by four heavily bearded, fierce-looking men, who grasped him -and, without saying a word, took him at once to the little grove where -Cromillian sat.</p> - -<p>Thomas Glynne looked at Jack, who returned the gaze, and instantly -recognised the man whom, of all on earth, he least desired to see. The -thought occurred at once to each, “Why is he here?” but neither could -answer the question.</p> - -<p>Cromillian looked up. “Monsieur Andrea Fortier,” said he, addressing -Jack, “my thanks are due you for the great service which you have -rendered one of my band. This letter, although addressed to me, is for -another person. He cannot read, but I will communicate the contents to -him and will write his reply, which you can take back to him to-morrow. -See that he has food and a bed—the best we can afford,” and Cromillian -waved his hand towards the two men who had accompanied Jack to the camp.</p> - -<p>As soon as Jack had departed, Cromillian turned to the four captors of -Thomas Glynne.</p> - -<p>“Whom have we here?” he asked.</p> - -<p>Glynne felt that it was a crucial time with him. He must tell a good -story, or the bandits might look upon him as a spy and treat him in a -summary manner. He was naturally bold and resourceful, and he now -summoned all his wits to his aid.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165">{165}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Will you allow me to ask a question?” he said, addressing Cromillian.</p> - -<p>The latter nodded.</p> - -<p>“What did that young man who brought the letter to you say his name -was?”</p> - -<p>“He gave the name of Andrea Fortier,” Cromillian replied.</p> - -<p>“That is not his real name,” cried Glynne. “My name is Thomas Glynne. I -am an Englishman. His name is Jack De Vinne and he, too, is an -Englishman. He caused my ward, Bertha Renville, to run away and he is -here to join her. I promised her father on his dying bed that I would be -a father to her and protect her. This Andrea Fortier, as he calls -himself, is of low origin, while she is a girl of wealth and refinement. -He seeks but her fortune, and I appeal to you for justice.”</p> - -<p>“Take him away,” cried Cromillian, “and bring the other man here.”</p> - -<p>His commands were quickly carried out and Jack, who left his supper -unfinished, once more stood before Cromillian.</p> - -<p>“What did you say your name was?” asked Cromillian.</p> - -<p>Jack, who had no idea of what had been said by Glynne in his absence, -replied: “Andrea Fortier.”</p> - -<p>Cromillian smiled grimly. “I mean your real name young man. I know what -it is, or I think I do.”</p> - -<p>It immediately dawned upon Jack that Thomas Glynne had told some sort of -a story in order to explain his presence near the bandit camp, and he -resolved to make a clean breast of it and tell the whole truth.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” he began, “I assumed the name of Andrea Fortier as I did not wish -my presence here to become known to the man who has just left you. This -I explained to Lieutenant Duquesne, who intrusted me with the letter -which I delivered to you. My real name is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166">{166}</a></span> John De Vinne. I am a -Englishman. I am in love with the ward of the man Glynne. Because of -dislike and dissatisfaction she left his home, from no suggestion of -mine, as I knew nothing whatever about it until she arrived in Paris. -Her guardian is withholding from her facts relative to the wealth left -her by her father, and is using every endeavour to keep it in his own -hands. She fears her guardian, and I am here to protect her and, if -possible, make her my wife. I am well connected and am amply able to -give her the position in life to which she is entitled. This man, her -guardian, must have followed me from Ajaccio.</p> - -<p>“Owing to a combination of circumstances which it would take a long time -to relate, the young lady went to Paris to avail herself of the -protection of Countess Mont d’Oro, an old friend of her father’s. She is -now visiting the Countess at Alfieri. We both learned of her presence -here and each of us has come to claim her. I have not seen her as yet, -nor do I think he has. Sir, that is the whole story.”</p> - -<p>“I believe you have spoken the truth, young man,” said Cromillian. “The -guardian has told an entirely different story, which may or may not be -true. If yours is true, his is false. If his is true, yours is false. -When in doubt, I always settle the matter for myself. I will go to -Alfieri, see this Mademoiselle Renville and her chaperon, the Countess, -and find out which of the stories is true. In the meantime, both you and -her guardian will be obliged to remain with my band and, necessarily, -share our comforts and discomforts, the latter predominating.”</p> - -<p>He sent for Paoli and gave him a strict command that neither Glynne nor -Jack should be allowed to leave camp until permission name from him.</p> - -<p>The next morning, Paoli asked Cromillian if there was anything special -on hand for that day.</p> - -<p>“I have not seen my old mother for three months,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167">{167}</a></span> and I thought, if you -could spare me, I should like to make her a visit.”</p> - -<p>“Go, by all means,” said Cromillian. “I know of nothing now that will -require your services, particularly. I am sorry I cannot send that young -fellow who brought the letter last night back with the answer. Can you -pick me out a good man who can disguise himself so well that the <i>gens -d’armes</i> at Ajaccio will not recognise him? If you can, send him here. I -do not care to know who he is.”</p> - -<p>An hour later, an apparently old man, with long white hair, a bent -figure, and a wrinkled face, presented himself to Cromillian and said, -in a squeaky voice:</p> - -<p>“I was sent by Paoli.”</p> - -<p>Cromillian did not speak, but handed him a letter addressed to -Lieutenant Victor Duquesne, at the hotel at Ajaccio.</p> - -<p>“Bring back an answer,” said Cromillian. The old man bowed and withdrew.</p> - -<p>The bearer of the missive appeared old and decrepit until he was beyond -the borders of the camp. Then he suddenly developed an agility entirely -at variance with his aged appearance, for he ran at full speed along the -road which led to his destination. Hearing a woodsman singing at his -work, he quickly resumed the appearance of old age and maintained it -until he was out of sight of the wielder of the axe.</p> - -<p>When he arrived at the hotel, he learned that Lieutenant Duquesne was in -his room. He refused to state his business, saying that what he had to -deliver he must place in the Lieutenant’s hands himself. So Victor told -the servant to have him shown up to his room.</p> - -<p>The old man sat down while Victor read his letter. It was with -difficulty that he refrained from exhibiting physical signs of -astonishment at its contents and, on several occasions, he came near -giving audible vent to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168">{168}</a></span> his feelings. He restrained himself, however, -and only the play of his naturally expressive features gave any -indication of what was passing in his mind.</p> - -<p>“There was to be an answer, to show that I delivered the letter to the -proper party,” said the old man.</p> - -<p>Victor wrote, folded, and sealed the missive and placed it, with a -silver coin, in the man’s hand.</p> - -<p>“Take it to the one who sent you,” was Victor’s parting admonition.</p> - -<p>The old man thanked him. Victor opened the door, and, standing at the -head of the stairs, watched the aged messenger as he went slowly down -and out into the street. Then Victor returned to his room and read and -re-read his letter until the words and the lines became blurred and he -could see no more.</p> - -<p>It began:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind">“<span class="smcap">My Dear Vandemar</span>:</p> - -<p>“You will no doubt be surprised when you see the name upon the -outside of this letter, and then compare it with the one which you -have just read, upon learning that it means one and the same -individual. You will also, no doubt, be surprised to learn that -your right name is Vandemar Della Coscia, instead of Victor -Duquesne, and that your father’s name is not, and never was, Hector -Duquesne, but the one which you will find at the end of this -letter.”</p> - -<p>Vandemar looked and read the name—<i>Manuel Della Coscia</i>.</p> - -<p>“An explanation is due you, my son. Seventeen years ago, a man -named Conrad Batistelli was found dead in one of his fields, and -the evidence pointed to me as the murderer. There was no vendetta -between our families, and I could not have pleaded that in -justification. I did not commit the deed. The one who did is dead -and cannot exonerate me. In order to save him, I consented to leave -the island and take you with me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169">{169}</a></span> I did not care for my own life, -but I did not wish to see yours cut short by the hand of the -assassin.</p> - -<p>“I have sent for you to come to Corsica because I wish to prove my -innocence and to restore to you the noble name which is your -birthright. There is no older family on the island than that of -Della Coscia, and no young Corsican can boast a prouder lineage of -noble and patriotic men. Your ancestors were Corporals, and the -honour of their names descends and rightfully belongs to you.</p> - -<p>“Beware of the Batistellis. They are your sworn foes, and seek your -life. Be wary and commit no indiscretion. Above all, do not allow -yourself to be entrapped. I will see you soon, but I must choose -the time and place. Do not leave Corsica until I have seen you. -Until then,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span style="margin-right: 20%">“Your loving father,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Manuel Della Coscia</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>The aged messenger who had brought the letter to Vandemar, and who had -the reply in his possession, walked slowly along the main street of -Ajaccio, accosting no one, looking neither to the right nor left. When -he reached the Batistelli castle, he made his way to the servants’ -quarters and asked to see Manassa.</p> - -<p>In response to his summons, a man appeared whose white hair and wrinkled -skin indicated that he was very old, but whose erect figure and -strenuous walk both seemed to deny the imputation. He was a man of great -stature, apparently still retaining marked bodily strength. He must have -been handsome in his youth, and was still attractive and commanding in -appearance.</p> - -<p>“I wish to see your master, Pascal Batistelli,” said the messenger.</p> - -<p>“He is busy in his library,” was Manassa’s reply. “Come again some other -time.”</p> - -<p>“Lean down and I will tell you something.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170">{170}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Manassa complied. A smile, fiendish in its nature, went over his face. -He nodded his head a dozen times, chuckling as he did so.</p> - -<p>“Come with me,” he said. “My master will be glad to see you.”</p> - -<p>“Who are you?” asked Pascal Batistelli, as Cromillian’s messenger -approached the table where he sat.</p> - -<p>The man looked to see if Manassa had left the room. Assuring himself of -the fact, he asked:</p> - -<p>“Will you keep my secret if I tell you who I am? It will pay you to do -so and will injure you if you do not.”</p> - -<p>“Under those circumstances, I will give you my word,” said Pascal.</p> - -<p>“I am Paoli, Cromillian’s lieutenant.”</p> - -<p>Pascal started to his feet, crying: “What are you here for? What -business have I with you or your leader’s gang of thieves and -cut-throats?”</p> - -<p>“Not so fast, my good sir,” said Paoli. “We may injure some, but we -benefit others, and I have come here to do you a great favour.”</p> - -<p>“I do not understand you,” said Pascal, “but go on,” and he sank back -into his chair.</p> - -<p>“You have heard, I suppose,” said Paoli, “that Vandemar Della Coscia, -whose father murdered yours, was about to be foolish enough to come back -to Corsica. What would you say if I told you that both Vandemar and his -father were now on the island.”</p> - -<p>“I should say that you lied!” cried Pascal.</p> - -<p>“Let it go that way then,” Paoli coolly replied. “I know Vandemar is -here, for I have seen him. No one who had known a Della Coscia could -mistake him. I am sure, too, that the father is here; I don’t yet know -where he is, but I shall find him. If I put you on their track, what do -I get?”</p> - -<p>“A hundred louis d’or for each,” cried Pascal Batistelli.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171">{171}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Will you put it in writing?” asked Paoli.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Pascal, “the word of a Batistelli is sufficient.”</p> - -<p>It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when the old man again -presented himself to Cromillian and handed him the letter which Vandemar -had written, and which he had most carelessly and incautiously addressed -to Manuel Della Coscia.</p> - -<p>Cromillian looked at the superscription, and then said:</p> - -<p>“I will see that this letter reaches the party to whom it is addressed.”</p> - -<p>The old man bowed once more, and soon vanished among the trees.</p> - -<p>Cromillian looked again at the superscription on the letter.</p> - -<p>“Young and thoughtless!” he ejaculated. “Headstrong and brave, too, or -he would not be true to his name.”</p> - -<p>He placed the letter inside of his jacket and walked briskly into the -dense wood, nor did he stop until he was fully a mile from the camp. He -then threw himself upon the turf, broke the seal, and read the -following:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="nind"> -“<span class="smcap">My Dear Father</span>:<br /> -</p> - -<p>“I was not only surprised but delighted to receive your letter. I -have never felt that I was of French birth, and I knew I was not -English. I am glad to know that I am a Corsican. I never knew -before what ancestral pride was, but now it surges over my heart -like the waves of the ocean. Do not fear that I will leave Corsica -before we meet. If the vessel sails, I will endeavour to get a -furlough. If I cannot, I shall resign my position in the British -Navy and devote my life to proving your innocence and reclaiming my -heritage. I do not fear the Batistellis. I hear that one is a -coward<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172">{172}</a></span> and the other a drunkard, but the daughter is an angel, who -is betrothed to a devil named Count Mont d’Oro. I will keep away -from them.</p> - -<p class="r"><span style="margin-right: 20%"> -“Ever your loving and dutiful son,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Vandemar Della Coscia</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>It was long after dark when Paoli reported for duty to his chief.</p> - -<p>“How is your mother?” asked Cromillian.</p> - -<p>“But poorly,” was Paoli’s reply. “I do not think that she can live much -longer. She made me promise that I would come to see her again in a -week.”</p> - -<p>“And you must go,” said Cromillian. “Bad men, as well as good men, -usually have good mothers, and wickedness in a son can be atoned for -greatly by filial tenderness.”</p> - -<p>“How did the messenger succeed with his errand?” asked Paoli.</p> - -<p>“Completely,” said Cromillian. “I have had a long walk. I am tired and -footsore, for I had to go a long way from here to find the one who wrote -the letter which I sent, and to whom the reply belonged.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173">{173}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br /><br /> -<small>A LIFE FOR A LIFE.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">“Where</span> were you last night?” asked Helen of her father, the morning -after the duel. “I had one of my nervous attacks and went to your room -to get the remedy which I knew was in your portmanteau. It was raining -hard. I remained in your room until half-past twelve. I slept little, -but supposed you were on the vessel. I went to your room again at four -o’clock and found the door locked. Why did you come home from the vessel -at such an unseemly hour?”</p> - -<p>The Admiral attempted to explain matters without disclosing the real -reason for his absence from home, but his daughter subjected him to a -line of cross-questioning which left his story, at the close, in a most -pitiable condition as regarded probability and continuity. Finally, in a -state of mental despair, the Admiral cried:</p> - -<p>“Well, Helen, I’ll tell you the truth. The fact is, Victor had a quarrel -with a Corsican and they fought a duel. I didn’t wish it to become known -on the ship, so I acted as his second. Now you have the whole of it, so -far as I am concerned. If you wish to know more, get it from Victor.”</p> - -<p>In a short time, Victor’s well-known double knock was heard at the door. -No sooner had he entered than Helen began questioning him in regard to -the duel. He did not feel disposed to disclose the real cause of his -first controversy with Count Mont d’Oro. He simply said that the Count -insulted him and he knocked him down.</p> - -<p>“Of course, I expected a challenge,” he continued,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174">{174}</a></span> “and we had it out -in good old-fashioned style. I remembered what you said, Miss Helen, -about the brave old Roman soldiers, but I could not obtain any swords -used in the Gallic war, so I chose axes as being the nearest approach to -them. It is a wonder he did not cut me into pieces, for he fought like a -madman.”</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul!” ejaculated the Admiral. “As I told you at the time, you -had a most re-mark-a-ble escape from death.”</p> - -<p>Helen could not refrain from expressing her admiration for the young -sailor who had dared to meet his enemy in single combat.</p> - -<p>“You are a brave young man, Lieutenant Duquesne,” she exclaimed, “and -for that reason, and that only, will I forgive you for several very -sarcastic remarks which you made to me on the way from Malta to Genoa.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Enright,” said Victor, in the gravest possible manner, “if I were -sure that you would forgive me for all my misdeeds during my -acquaintance with you, I should not hesitate to fight a duel every day -for a week.”</p> - -<p>“I am not sure that such a course would balance the account,” said -Helen, “but I am very glad that I came to Corsica. It is my constant -desire to see or hear something new.”</p> - -<p>“Thus reassured,” said Victor, “I will take you both into my confidence. -Since my arrival here, I have learned what was, to me, a most surprising -piece of intelligence. My father, whom I have seen but once since I was -six years of age, is now in Corsica and is coming soon to Ajaccio to -meet me. If the vessel sails before his arrival, I shall have to ask -you, my dear Admiral, for a furlough. If you cannot grant it, I shall be -obliged to resign my position.”</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul!” cried the Admiral. “What a re-mark-a-ble idea that is -of yours. Two months still re<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175">{175}</a></span>main before I am due in England, and one -thing is certain, I shall not accept your resignation. But how did you -find out about this?”</p> - -<p>“I had a letter from him,” replied Victor. “He tells me I was born in -Corsica. My ancestors were Corporals.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes!” cried Helen. “I have read about them. If I remember -correctly, it was sometime in the tenth century that the people—worn -out with centuries of oppression—rose against the tyrannical feudal -barons, waged a successful war against them, set up an independent -government of their own on democratic principles, and called their -country <i>Terra del Commune</i>. The officials were all elected by the -people, and among them were <i>caporali</i>, ‘corporals’ or head men, chosen -by the ‘Fathers of the Commune’ to preside over their local assemblies, -and to represent them before the General Council; being especially -charged with the defence of the rights of the people—in fact, they were -the ‘Tribunes of the People.’ In course of time the office became -hereditary, and the Corporals became a most powerful class—I think I -have got it straight!”</p> - -<p>“Your account is historically correct,” said Victor, “and no wonder that -Corsicans esteem it a great honour to be descended from these ‘Tribunes -of the People,’ as you have called them. No man in Corsica has greater -cause to revere and worship his ancestors than I have.”</p> - -<p>“I admire the Chinese,” said Helen, “because of their devotion to the -aged and the reverence which they show for their ancestors. But I fear -it will not be many years before these twin virtues will become extinct -in European countries.”</p> - -<p>“There is another subject,” said Victor, “about which I wish to speak to -you, Admiral”—Helen arose from her chair—“and your daughter, too. -Please remain, Miss Enright. It is a matter in which you are fully as -much concerned as your father.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176">{176}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Do you wish father to act as your second in another duel?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“The course which I have decided to follow, with your kind permission, -may lead to one, and perhaps something worse. As I told you, Admiral, -when I took Lord Colton’s letter of introduction to Monsieur Pascal -Batistelli, he not only expressed his pleasure that you and your -daughter were to become his guests, but also extended an invitation to -me to be one of the party.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do come!” cried Helen, impulsively. A slight flush came to her -sallow cheeks. It was seldom that she said or did anything without due -reflection. Then, she added: “With whom can I quarrel on apparently -inconsequential points unless you accompany us?”</p> - -<p>“Why, bless my soul!” cried the Admiral, “what a re-mark-a-ble idea to -leave us alone in a strange country, with no one to protect us and -avenge our honour in case we are insulted.”</p> - -<p>“I had not intended,” said Victor, “to accept the invitation, so I asked -you not to mention it to your daughter. Upon second thoughts, which they -say are best, I have decided to go, if she be willing.” He turned to -Helen: “You have kindly settled my uncertainty on that point.”</p> - -<p>“We had intended to go to-day,” said the Admiral, “but Helen lost so -much sleep last night that I told the landlord we should remain another -day.”</p> - -<p>Why had Vandemar Della Coscia changed his mind? Since reading his -father’s letter, he had given serious thought to his present situation -and his future actions in what he had learned was his native land. If, -as his father said, the Batistellis were his sworn enemies and would -seek his life as soon as they discovered his identity, would it not be a -wise course, he argued, to visit them, now that he was unknown to them, -and learn the character of the men with whom he had to deal.</p> - -<p>He did not know that the story was rife throughout<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177">{177}</a></span> Corsica that -Vandemar Della Coscia would soon return, despite the threats of his -enemies, and claim his heritage. If he had known this, he probably would -not have been so self-confident and would have been satisfied to remain -in seclusion at the hotel until his father appeared. The rumour about -Vandemar’s intended return had started, as most rumours do, from -nothing. One day, while Paoli was conversing with Cromillian, he -remarked that if Manuel Della Coscia or his son Vandemar did not return -soon to Corsica and reclaim their inheritance, it would escheat to the -government, according to the law.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you worry yourself about that,” Cromillian replied. “Both father -and son will be in Corsica before they lose their rights.”</p> - -<p>The next day, Paoli told several of his companions, in strict -confidence, that he had it on the best authority that Vandemar Della -Coscia was coming back to Corsica, and on no very distant day, either. -So interesting a rumour soon spread throughout the island, and there -were hundreds of sharp eyes which inspected all strangers carefully.</p> - -<p>While the little party at the hotel was waiting for the time to arrive -which would mark its departure for Batistelli Castle, an interesting -event was taking place in the rather humdrum life of their prospective -host.</p> - -<p>Count Mont d’Oro’s coachman, who had driven him to the duel, easily -divined what had taken place in the old shed that night. Villefort had -given him a louis d’or and told him to keep his mouth shut, but the -coachman spent the louis d’or for wine at Madame Valliet’s, and when he -opened his mouth to drink the wine, he did not shut it again until he -had told all that he knew, together with some fanciful additions. Julien -Batistelli, who was a constant visitor at Madame Valliet’s <i>cabaret</i>, -heard the story, and, naturally, told it to his brother. Pascal at once -visited the Count to express<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178">{178}</a></span> his sympathy and to ask whether he could -be of any service.</p> - -<p>It chanced that Bertha was passing her prescribed hour with the Count, -and was reading to him when M. Batistelli was announced. She started to -leave the room, but, before she could do so, the Count introduced his -visitor and she was obliged to remain. M. Batistelli was thought to be -insensible to the charms of women, and it was for that reason, probably, -that the Count made him acquainted with Miss Renville. To the Count’s -surprise, however, Pascal entered into an animated conversation with -Bertha and made himself so agreeable and was, apparently, so regardless -of the Count’s suffering that the latter groaned loudly—not really from -pain, but actually from sheer jealousy. Before leaving, Pascal said that -he should take the opportunity to pay his respects to the Countess, -should ask her to visit them when some expected guests arrived, and he -hoped that Miss Renville would accompany her.</p> - -<p>The fact was that Pascal Batistelli had seen so many beautiful women -with dark hair, dark eyes, and the complexions which belong to -brunettes, that he was unable to pick out one whom he thought would be -more desirable as a wife than a dozen others.</p> - -<p>But Bertha Renville was a revelation to him. He had never before seen a -woman with such hair, which looked like gold when the sunlight fell upon -it, and with such white hands and cheeks, the latter tinted with a -roseate flush, and he looked forward with fond anticipation to the time -when this beautiful English girl should become his guest, and the -recipient of the palatial hospitality which he mentally resolved to -lavish upon her.</p> - -<p>After dinner on the day when the conversation had taken place between -Victor and the Admiral and his daughter, it suddenly occurred to the -former that he Would pay a visit to the vessel and get his -double-bar<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179">{179}</a></span>reled fowling-piece. He told the Admiral of his intention, -adding:</p> - -<p>“You know I am very fond of shooting and, no doubt, there is plenty of -game in Corsica.”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” said the Admiral, “that the game most sought after by -Corsicans is human beings.”</p> - -<p>As he heard the remark, the thought came quickly to Victor’s mind, “I am -going into the lion’s den,” but his reply contained no indication of the -thought.</p> - -<p>“I trust, my dear Admiral, that we shall not be called upon to take part -in a vendetta, or be the spectators of one, during our visit.”</p> - -<p>The next morning, the aspect of nature and the feelings of the Admiral -and the others of his party were in accord, and, at an early hour, a -conveyance, bearing them and their luggage, was on its way to their -destination. It did not take long for the visitors to become acquainted -with the brothers, Pascal and Julien, and their sister, Vivienne. Helen -was greatly attracted by and interested in the beautiful young Corsican -girl.</p> - -<p>Julien, the younger brother, was a decidedly handsome fellow, and, when -sober, was engaging and witty in conversation. Some delicate sparring -took place between Helen and Julien, and the young lady found him to be -no mean antagonist in the lingual battle; but she was decidedly his -superior in historical knowledge, and poor Julien was finally -discomfited, he showing an unpardonable lack of acquaintance with the -early customs of the ancient Persians. She was not surprised to find, at -the end of several days, that Vivienne had little love for her brother -Pascal, but bestowed all her affection upon Julien.</p> - -<p>Victor was an interested observer of what was going on in the house and -about it. He learned that Countess Mont d’Oro lived on the adjoining -estate, and heard that Pascal Batistelli and young Count Napier were -great friends. He saw that Pascal made a daily<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180">{180}</a></span> visit to the next house, -presumably to see Count Mont d’Oro, who, he was told by one of the -Batistelli servants, had sprained his ankle in alighting from his -carriage and was confined to his room. Victor wondered whether Pascal -had made their visit a subject of conversation. If so, the Count -probably knew that his late antagonist was in close proximity. If the -Count and Pascal were friends, and either learned of his identity, they -would both be his sworn enemies. But what did that matter, after all? If -the contest was to come, it might as well take place soon as later. He, -however, remembered his father’s injunction and determined that the -disclosure should not be made by himself. When his enemies learned who -he was, the discovery must be due to their own acuteness.</p> - -<p>On the first and second evenings following their arrival, Julien -remained at home after dinner, and Helen and he indulged in badinage and -repartee in a manner highly entertaining to their listeners. On the -third day, however, he did not appear at dinner, nor during the evening.</p> - -<p>About ten o’clock, the Admiral and Helen having gone to their rooms, for -the evening had been a comparatively dull one, Victor lighted a cigar -and strolled through the grounds. As he passed the entrance to the -wooded path, he looked down, wishing, foolishly, as he acknowledged to -himself, that he might see Vivienne there, looking as beautiful as she -did on that eventful morning. He thought to himself how delightful her -company would be if they could walk through the garden which was bathed -in the soft rays of the moon.</p> - -<p>He had no idea how late it was when he heard, as Bertha had done during -her first night in Corsica, the singing of a band of drunken revellers -on their way homeward. He stepped into the wooded path, being thus -effectually concealed from view. The party stopped at the Batistelli -gateway and effusive good-nights and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181">{181}</a></span> good-byes were uttered by the -members of the company, who, judging from their manner of speech, were -in varying stages of intoxication.</p> - -<p>The singers proceeded on their way, but one solitary figure, after -fumbling for some time at the gate, succeeded in opening it and -staggered along the pathway which led to the servants’ quarters. Then a -replica of the scene which had been viewed by Bertha was presented to -Victor’s astonished gaze.</p> - -<p>Vivienne, who had evidently been waiting for the return home of her -wayward brother, came out to meet him, but, as on the previous occasion, -he repulsed her offer of assistance, and, in return for her sisterly -tenderness, cursed her, and pushed her from him.</p> - -<p>Victor was so angry that he was on the point of rushing forward and -hurling the sot to the ground, when he reflected that the affair was no -concern of his and that he had no right to interfere. Julien’s blow, -although it staggered Vivienne, did not cause her to fall, and he reeled -forward, his sister following him at a respectful distance. A few -minutes later, the door closed after them. Victor went to his room -wondering how young men could so debase themselves with drink and, above -all, how they could act with such inhumanity towards their sisters, -whose interest in them sprang not from self-interest but from love.</p> - -<p>The next day after this affair, Julien was present at dinner, but did -not seem like his former self. Miss Enright’s bright sallies were -unheeded by him, so she gave up such an unprofitable game and turned her -attention to Victor, but he made only lame replies. Julien’s condition -had a depressing effect, and all were glad when the meal was over.</p> - -<p>Victor again lighted his cigar and found his way to the garden. There -was no moon; instead, the sky was overcast and there were evidences of -an approaching storm. Unconsciously, he entered the wooded path and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182">{182}</a></span> -walked slowly down towards the brook where he had first seen Vivienne. -Would that beautiful picture ever fade from his memory? He thought not. -Every day that he remained in the same house with her, it came before -him and, each day, it seemed painted in stronger colors.</p> - -<p>He retraced his steps and, when near the entrance of the path, saw the -gleam of a lantern, its rays disclosing the fate of Julien Batistelli, -who opened the gate, crossed the road, and then took a direction which -led to the thickly wooded <i>maquis</i> beyond. Victor was on the point of -leaving his place of retreat, when another figure came in sight. It was -that of a woman and, although he could not see her features distinctly, -he knew at once that it was Vivienne. She, too, opened the gate, crossed -the road, and proceeded in the same direction as had her brother.</p> - -<p>What could be her errand? There was but one explanation—she was -following her brother with the intention of trying to induce him to -return home. Remembering the occurrence of the previous evening, Victor -was filled with fears for her safety. What if her brother should give -her a violent blow, leave her senseless in the woods, and a heavy storm -should come up?</p> - -<p>Victor made his way quickly to his room, caught up his gun, examined it -to see if it was loaded and primed, threw a long weather-proof cloak -over his shoulders, concealing the gun beneath it, and was soon treading -the same path over which Julien and his sister had passed.</p> - -<p>Although Madame Valliet’s <i>cabaret</i> could be reached by following the -road, it was much nearer if the intending visitor made a short cut -through the <i>marquis</i>. Even then, it was a rough, hard walk of at least -two miles. Julien had covered about one-half of the distance when he -came to an open space upon one side of which there were some rocky -cliffs. The place had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183">{183}</a></span> named the “half-way house” by the revellers, -who often stopped to rest on their way homeward at night.</p> - -<p>Julien put down his lantern and, taking a bottle from his pocket, -indulged in a long drink. He was not satisfied with the quality of wine -which he drank at the <i>cabaret</i>, but brought a bottle of <i>eau de vie</i> -home with him so that he could satisfy his appetite during the day. Then -he sat down upon a projecting rock to rest for a while before proceeding -on his way.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, he felt a light touch upon his shoulder, and he looked up into -the face of his sister. Starting to his feet, he exclaimed angrily:</p> - -<p>“What! You follow me? You set yourself to spy out my actions? You dog my -footsteps?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Julien!” cried Vivienne; “do not be angry with me. I knew that you -were going to Madame Valliet’s, and so I followed you. You were not -yourself at dinner, and every one noticed it. Oh, Julien, do not shame -me in the presence of our guests. Come home with me and promise to keep -away from the <i>cabaret</i> until they have gone.”</p> - -<p>“Go home, Vivienne! It’s none of your business where I go.”</p> - -<p>“I will not leave you in this lonely place. You must come home with me, -Julien. There is going to be a storm and you will not be able to find -your way home.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nonsense!” cried Julien. “I have my lantern, and some of the boys -will come home with me. They always do.”</p> - -<p>“But remember our guests. When they have gone, although I shall have no -peace of mind when you are away from home on such errands, I will say no -more. Come home, Julien!”</p> - -<p>“I say I will not!” Then, a little of the man showed itself in him.</p> - -<p>“But you are a good girl, Vivienne, to brave the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184">{184}</a></span> darkness and the -danger to follow a miserable fellow like me. I sat down here to think.”</p> - -<p>“To think of what? Oh, tell me,” cried Vivienne.</p> - -<p>“Of my disgrace, for one thing. I am in debt, as usual, and this very -day Pascal called me a profligate, gambler, and drunkard, and refused to -give me any more money. Damn him!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Julien! You know that Pascal has paid your debts again and again -until he is discouraged. You make promises and break them. Is it strange -that he has become incensed and has lost confidence in you? You persist -in going to that woman’s house, a vile place, a resort for gamblers.”</p> - -<p>“Stop that nonsense! I will go where I like. Who made you and my brother -rulers over me? He is a hard, cold, cruel, selfish beast, and you know -it! I don’t blame you, sister. You have always been kind to me, but you -think I can live upon my income. Bah! I want money! I must have it! I -will have it! The only way I can get it is by gambling, for I am always -lucky. You are a fool—clear out, I want to be alone.”</p> - -<p>“But your luck will turn some day,” said his sister.</p> - -<p>“I hope it won’t to-night. I’ll drink to my own success.”</p> - -<p>“No, no! Oh, Julien! you are not yourself. Give me that bottle, I beg of -you.”</p> - -<p>As she said this, she tried to take the bottle from him. He kept her -back with one hand, while, with the other, he put the bottle to his -mouth. Vivienne sprang forward, snatched the bottle from his grasp, and -threw it against the cliff.</p> - -<p>“Pascal was right!” she cried, vehemently. “You are a profligate and a -drunkard. You are here alone in this dangerous wood, and you brutalise -yourself to the point of imbecility, rendering yourself wholly incapable -of defending your sister and yourself in case we are attacked by -bandits.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185">{185}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Julien stood as if stupefied. His condition was due largely to the -quantity of brandy which he had drunk, for there was but little in the -bottle when his sister took it from him; but, despite his besotted -condition, he was really astounded at his sister’s words, for she had -never spoken in that way to him before. As Julien did not reply, -Vivienne thought she had influenced him at last, and she followed up her -presumed advantage:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Julien, my best beloved brother, come, come home with me!” As she -said this, she took his arm. “I cannot leave you here alone. Hear the -thunder! See, it lightens! I will sell some of my jewels, as I have many -times before. You shall have money. Oh, come! The rain will soon be upon -us.”</p> - -<p>Julien did not answer this impassioned appeal, but withdrew his arm from -her loving clasp, took up his lantern, and started off in the direction -which led to the <i>cabaret</i>. Vivienne lost command of herself. Never -before had he so stubbornly resisted her loving entreaties. She would -sting him into speech!</p> - -<p>“Stop, Julien!” she cried. “I have one word more to say to you.”</p> - -<p>He looked back.</p> - -<p>“Julien Batistelli,” cried Vivienne, “hear the last word that I have to -say to you. <i>Rimbecco! Rimbecco!</i>”</p> - -<p>Julien put down his lantern and rushed angrily towards her.</p> - -<p>“I hurl the base lie back in your teeth!” he cried. “Dear God, that I -should live to see this hour! The red stain of <i>Rimbecco</i> stamped upon -the brow of a brave son of a noble father. You dare not repeat that -word!”</p> - -<p>Vivienne looked at him with flashing eyes: “I am a daughter of the noble -father whose name you have dishonoured. <i>Rimbecco!</i> Do you hear? I have -repeated it! Every man, woman, and child in Corsica repeats<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186">{186}</a></span> it, and -you, a strong man, the son of your father, are wasting your precious -time in drinking and gambling—time that should be spent in seeking out -the man in whose veins runs the vile blood of the ruthless Della Coscia. -<i>Rimbecco!</i>”</p> - -<p>Hardly had that word of deepest reproach which can be uttered to a -Corsican fallen from her lips, when her brother, exerting all his brute -force, felled her to the ground.</p> - -<p>“You are no longer a sister of mine!” he cried. “You have insulted me -past forgiveness.”</p> - -<p>He turned and dashed into the dark woods beyond, forgetful of the -lantern, the rays of which shone upon the pallid face of the prostrate -girl. Vivienne was in an unconscious state. The blow had been a cruel -one, before which even a strong man would have gone down.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>An old hag, bearing a bundle of fagots upon her back, was plodding -slowly homeward. She stopped when she caught sight of the lantern and, -looking about her, saw the inanimate form of a woman upon the ground, -not far distant.</p> - -<p>“A lantern!” the old woman muttered. “She must have brought it, but I -did not see it when she passed my house. I did not see it when she went -by in the woods, but I can see now the flash of diamonds upon her -fingers, on her neck, and in her ears. A quarrel with her lover, most -likely! More fool she to care for one who could leave her like this! -Lucky for me, though!”</p> - -<p>She knelt beside Vivienne, and the jewels were soon in her possession.</p> - -<p>“These are nice French boots, just the right size for my little girl, -and this beautiful dress will bring me a fine sum. Why should she -possess all that riches can bestow and I go about clothed in rags? It is -my right to take all that I can get. I, a bandit’s mistress<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187">{187}</a></span>—she, some -rich man’s daughter; but her head must lie as low as mine some day. That -is one comfort.”</p> - -<p>She proceeded deliberately to make as small a bundle as possible of the -clothing and other articles of which she had despoiled the unconscious -girl, and, having done so, put it under her arm and disappeared among -the trees.</p> - -<p>Hardly had she done so, when Victor, walking rapidly, carrying his gun -upon his shoulder, reached the place. He espied the lantern and, running -forward, caught it up.</p> - -<p>“Where can they be?” he cried. “What has happened to them?”</p> - -<p>He held the lantern up and peered about him. It almost fell from his -grasp at the sight which met his gaze. In an instant, he was kneeling -beside Vivienne, holding the lantern so that the light would shine full -in her face. Her eyes were closed; her form motionless. He took one of -her hands, which felt cold and dropped lifeless from his grasp.</p> - -<p>“My God, can she be dead?” He started to his feet and looked about him. -“Who has done this?” he cried.</p> - -<p>His voice must have been heard by Vivienne, for she showed signs of -returning consciousness. Victor again knelt beside her. She opened her -eyes and looked up at him. He put his arm about her and raised her to a -sitting posture.</p> - -<p>“What has happened?” he asked. “How came you to be in this plight?”</p> - -<p>Vivienne for the first time recognised her condition. She would say -nothing against her brother, so she answered:</p> - -<p>“I must have been attacked and robbed of my clothing.” Then the -contemplation of her situation overcame her, temporarily, and, abashed -and ashamed, she burst into tears, crying piteously:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188">{188}</a></span></p> - -<p>“What shall I do? How shall I get home?”</p> - -<p>Victor removed the long cloak which he wore and passed it to her. Then, -turning his face away, he said:</p> - -<p>“Throw that about you—it will protect you. Fear nothing, for a true -friend awaits your commands.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne did as he suggested, wrapping about her the great cloak, which -reached nearly to her feet.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur!”</p> - -<p>Victor turned quickly. Vivienne stood before him. Stepping back, he -regarded her.</p> - -<p>“Why!” he cried, “the scoundrels have taken your boots, too.” Removing -his under coat, he threw it upon the ground before her, saying as he did -so:</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle, stand upon that. The ground is damp and you will get a -fever.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur,” Vivienne repeated, “some good angel has guided your -footsteps to this place. Merciful God, I thank Thee. Never have I felt -the need of human sympathy as I do to-night. But for you, I must have -died in this dreary place, alone and uncared for.”</p> - -<p>The excitement attending her interview with her brother, the blow which -she had received, and the discovery of the loss of her jewels and -clothing, together formed the severest trial to which this delicate and -tenderly nurtured girl had ever been subjected. As she stood there, it -all came back to her, and the dreadful scene was acted over again in her -mind. The nervous tension was too great, and she fell in a dead swoon at -the feet of her rescuer.</p> - -<p>“She has fainted and I am powerless to help her. She may die here before -I can get assistance.” He raised her in his arms and looked tenderly at -the cold, pallid face:</p> - -<p>“Beloved of my soul, I may speak now that my voice cannot reach thee. I -may gaze into thy beauteous face and press thy form close to my -throbbing heart. Oh,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189">{189}</a></span> Vivienne! Can hate dwell in a soul encased in a -form like thine—a form upon which heaven has stamped its signet seals -of beauty and love? No, no! It is impossible—and yet, I know that if my -true name were but breathed into thy ears, those lovely eyes which, but -a moment ago, were gazing into mine with such holy trust, such infinite -tenderness, would be filled with horror and dismay. I am forever -proscribed from creating any sentiment in thy heart save that of -intensest hatred and loathing. Cruel fate—ruthless destiny! Why am I to -suffer thus—to see her—to adore her—only to lose her?</p> - -<p>“Vivienne, dearest object of my heart, would that I could pass thus, -with my arms about thee, into that better world, where strife and hate, -vendettas and revenge, murder and death, are things unknown. There, in -the blessed company of the angels, I might teach thy pure soul to love -mine and, with thee, enjoy an eternity of blissful rest.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne’s lips parted and a faint touch of colour came to her cheeks. -Victor removed his cap and fanned her, vigorously. The cool, fresh air -soon revived her. As soon as she realised her position, she endeavoured -to free herself from his arms and rise to her feet, but she was too weak -and would have fallen again if he had not prevented it. Again, she tried -to free herself from him.</p> - -<p>“I am weak and helpless,” she cried. “How dare you!”.</p> - -<p>Again she strove to sustain herself without his support, but it was a -futile effort.</p> - -<p>“The Holy Mother of God,” cried Victor, “will bear testimony to my -sincerity when I swear to you that you have been as safe in my arms as -in those of a mother. Sacred to me is, and ever has been, the protection -of female purity and innocence. With a brother’s care you must allow me -to guard your precious life until I can<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190">{190}</a></span> restore you, unharmed, into the -keeping of those whose blessed right it is to love and protect you.”</p> - -<p>“I was bewildered—I knew not what I said. Forgive me,” she pleaded.</p> - -<p>“An angel like yourself, mademoiselle, needs not to be forgiven by a -sinful mortal like me. Only tell me how I can best serve you.”</p> - -<p>The storm which had long been in gathering, now burst upon them. The -rocky cliffs protected them in some degree from the violence of the -wind, but from the rain there was no escape.</p> - -<p>“It is your right,” said Vivienne, “to know by what strange chance I was -brought to this pass.”</p> - -<p>“Do not try to tell me now,” cried Victor. “I desire to hear nothing—I -will hear nothing until I see you in a place of safety. Your feet are -exposed to the wet ground, and even that thick cloak will soon be -drenched with rain. Shall you be afraid to remain here alone until I can -go back to the house for dry clothing?”</p> - -<p>“I shall not be afraid to remain alone,” said Vivienne, “but if others -should come, I might be afraid of them.” As she said this, she smiled -faintly. “But you do not think of yourself. The coat which you gave me -to stand upon must be wet through by this time.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that is nothing,” said Victor, as he picked up the garment and put -it on. “It can hold only so much water, and it will be in no worse -condition by the time I reach your home.”</p> - -<p>“You are more than kind to me, monsieur. You are merciless to -yourself—you expose your life to save mine—you cover me with your -garments while you are suffering. You, who are not used to this climate, -can hardly expect to escape the effects of exposure to the damp and -chill of such a storm. Ah! Never while memory lasts will the events of -this night and your kindness be forgotten. Receive my soul’s deep -grati<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191">{191}</a></span>tude. If ever I become so ungrateful as to forget your merciful -deeds this night, may Heaven punish me!”</p> - -<p>She grasped both his hands, and would have fallen upon her knees before -him if he had not prevented her.</p> - -<p>“That vow is recorded in Heaven, and approved of saints. It was -prompted, not by the poor service which I have been so happy in -rendering, but by the transcendent impulse of a true, womanly heart. Say -it once more—you will never forget me.”</p> - -<p>“I will never forget thee!”</p> - -<p>“Now I may pour out my soul to thee, angel of goodness!” cried Victor. -“I may tell thee how dearly I—but, no—we have not yet passed Heaven’s -portals—but it seemed for a moment that earth was receding and Paradise -opening to my view. Pardon me, mademoiselle, but I begin to think that -my brain has been affected by the events of the hour. We have no time to -lose. The longer we remain here, the more uncomfortable will our -situation become.” He looked up at the rocky cliffs. “Ah! I see a wide -cleft in the rocks. Perhaps it is large enough to shield you until my -return. I will go and explore it.”</p> - -<p>“I will go with you,” cried Vivienne.</p> - -<p>He grasped his gun and led the way, she following. When Victor emerged -from the cave, he said:</p> - -<p>“How true it is that we often find bright spots when the way seems -darkest.”</p> - -<p>“And you find one there?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Victor, joyously. “This little cave is carpeted with the -softest of green moss. How obliging Mother Nature is to her offspring. -Now, give me your hand and I will place you in your eyrie.”</p> - -<p>When she was seated in the cave, Victor stood at the entrance, bowed -low, and said:</p> - -<p>“I present my homage to the Queen of the Mountains. I am going to leave -my gun with you. If you should be in danger, can you use it?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192">{192}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“All Corsican women understand the use of firearms. You are a sailor -and, perhaps, a better marksman than I, but I doubt it. I always win the -prize in shooting with my brothers.”</p> - -<p>“May Heaven preserve you until we meet again,” were Victor’s last words, -and, a moment later, he was running at full speed towards Batistelli -Castle.</p> - -<p>As he plunged through the forest, occasionally catching his feet in the -underbrush and nearly falling headlong, he congratulated himself upon -having repressed an avowal of his love for Vivienne until a more -opportune moment arrived. He would not have ventured to breathe his love -for her, as she lay senseless in his arms, had it not been for an -incident which had occurred the day previous. In company with Vivienne, -he had walked down the wooded path until they came to the brook beside -which she had knelt when she gave him the flower. As they stood there, -the scene brought back to him the remembrance of his meeting with Count -Mont d’Oro and he, unthinkingly, asked:</p> - -<p>“Have you heard from Count Mont d’Oro, to-day, Mademoiselle Batistelli?”</p> - -<p>“No. Why should I?” and she fixed her piercing black eyes upon him.</p> - -<p>“Oh—I,” he began—“I heard something soon after my arrival which made -me think that you would be greatly interested in his condition.”</p> - -<p>“What did you hear? Please tell me.”</p> - -<p>Victor hesitated. Finally, he said: “Mademoiselle Batistelli, I am a -British sailor. Perhaps you have heard that British sailors, as a class, -are noted for their frankness and honesty. I will try to be worthy of -their well-earned reputation.”</p> - -<p>He then told her what had happened after she gave him the white rose, -and how Count Mont d’Oro had declared that she was to be the future -Countess Mont<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193">{193}</a></span> d’Oro, being already betrothed to him—but he did not -refer to the duel.</p> - -<p>“That betrothal,” cried Vivienne, “was the foolish fancy of an old man -who loved my father and who thought his son should love the daughter of -the man whom he loved. On the other hand, my ambitious brother, Pascal, -desires to join the two great landed estates and, at the same time, have -his sister become a countess. But none of the four ever consulted my -wish or will in the matter and, so far as I am concerned, I do not -regard anything that has been said or done as at all binding upon me.”</p> - -<p>A strange thrill of delight had gone through Victor’s nerves when he had -heard this declaration, and he experienced it again as he threaded his -way along the forest path. What he was doing was for Vivienne’s -sake—and she was free! If he could win her, there was no reason why she -should not be his.</p> - -<p>Pascal Batistelli was not at home when Victor arrived, and he was glad -that he was not obliged to explain matters to Vivienne’s brother. He -found Snodine, the housekeeper, who speedily collected the articles of -clothing that were needed, and he was soon on his way back to the cave -in the cliff.</p> - -<p>“I should not envy Count Mont d’Oro his feelings if he ever learns what -has taken place on this eventful night,” was Victor’s mental reflection -as he retraced his steps.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>The Count was not to be envied. The doctor had told him that he would be -confined to the house for at least three weeks, and it would be three -more before he would be able to walk with his accustomed ease. One day, -when Pascal Batistelli was speaking about his English guests, the Count -asked, carelessly, as if their presence were of no particular interest -to him:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194">{194}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Who are they, Batistelli?”</p> - -<p>“Admiral Enright, of the British navy, his daughter Helen, who is a very -finely educated woman—and there her attractions end—and a young -lieutenant named Victor Duquesne, who may or may not be in love with the -highly educated daughter.”</p> - -<p>The Count said nothing, but there was an expression upon his face which -Pascal wrongly attributed to a sudden twinge of pain. It was a spasm of -jealousy. So, his rival was a guest of the Batistellis and able to see -Vivienne every day, while he was flat upon his back and could not -interfere. He could do nothing himself—but something must be done. He -sent for his friend Villefort, and gave him a large roll of gold coin -and told him what to do.</p> - -<p>In Villefort he had a willing slave, for the latter derived his living -principally from Count Napier’s bounty, but got nothing for which he had -not rendered some service.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>Shortly after Victor’s departure the storm abated. Vivienne was very -thankful for this, for she was really solicitous regarding his exposure -to the elements. She knew that he was drenched to the skin and feared -that this fact and the long walk to and from her home might throw him -into a fever, for the river valleys in Corsica were, in those days, full -of malarial poison. She was thinking of Victor, hoping that he would -return soon, when she heard voices. She drew back as far as possible -into the cave, but listened intently in order to hear every word that -might be said.</p> - -<p>Two men who, in appearance, resembled those belonging to Cromillian’s -band, but who, in reality, were not connected with it, approached from -the same direction in which Victor had gone. As they came within -hearing, Vivienne heard one of them say:</p> - -<p>“Who in the devil left that lantern here?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195">{195}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Are you sure you saw the fellow?” the other asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am quite sure. He had a gun over his shoulder, but I saw no -lantern. He wore a big cloak, however, and that may have concealed it -from view.”</p> - -<p>“They are speaking of the Lieutenant,” thought Vivienne, and she clasped -her hands in mute terror.</p> - -<p>“Shall we leave the lantern where it is?” asked the second man.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” was the reply; “if we move it, he will suspect that -something is wrong.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think we had better hide behind those trees?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said the first speaker; “we have come here to meet him, and he -might as well meet us. He is somewhere about here. The lantern being -here proves that, and we shall be sure of our chance sooner or later.”</p> - -<p>“What are we expected to do with this fellow, anyway?” asked the second -speaker.</p> - -<p>“Why, when we get him,” said the other, “to carry out our agreement, we -must get into a quarrel with him and dispose of him—that’s all.”</p> - -<p>The shaft went home to Vivienne’s heart. “They have come here to murder -my friend in need,” she said to herself. She sank upon her knees and -raised her clasped hands. “Great God in Heaven, save him!” was her -unspoken prayer. Could she do anything to avert the danger which -threatened him? It was her duty, surely, to watch and listen.</p> - -<p>“What’s all the trouble about?” asked the second man.</p> - -<p>“What usually causes trouble—a love affair.”</p> - -<p>“And the woman?”</p> - -<p>“That Batistelli girl—Vivienne, I believe her name is. This young -Englishman met her one day and she, fool-like, gave him a flower. The -Count saw her do it, and asked the fellow to give it up. He refused and -they<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196">{196}</a></span> had it out with their fists, the Count getting the worst of it.”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t he use his stiletto?”</p> - -<p>“He tried to, but the Englishman took it from him with one hand and -knocked him down with the other.”</p> - -<p>“How do you happen to know so much?”</p> - -<p>“Villefort told me all about it. The Count sent him with a challenge to -the Englishman, who accepted it, and they fought it out with axes in the -dark. The duel took place in an old shed, at midnight. Queer dogs, those -Englishmen!”</p> - -<p>“How did it end?”</p> - -<p>“Neither one got cut. The Count fell through a hole in the floor and -sprained his ankle. The Count’s coachman got drunk and let out the whole -story at the <i>cabaret</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Why doesn’t the Count drop it, if he has had satisfaction?”</p> - -<p>“But he isn’t satisfied. He told Villefort that he accepted the -Englishman’s terms to please him; now, he is going to do something to -please himself. The Count, naturally, would have waited until he was -able to get out again, but it so happened that the Admiral and his -daughter brought the young Englishman along with them to pay a visit to -the Batistellis.”</p> - -<p>“That was too much for the Count,” cried the second man, and he broke -into a loud laugh.</p> - -<p>“Shut up, you idiot!” said his companion. “Of course, the Count couldn’t -stand it, knowing that this young fellow was in the same house with the -girl and nothing to do but make love to her. So he sent for Villefort, -told him what he wanted done and gave him a big roll of louis d’or. -Villefort, who is a bright man, decided that we were the fellows to do -the job up in true Corsican fashion. We have got our money in advance, -and all we have to do is to settle the Englishman as soon as we meet -him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197">{197}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Vivienne felt as though every drop of blood in her veins was turned to -ice, while her head seemed ready to burst with the intense heat. She saw -it all now—Count Mont d’Oro had hired these two bandits to pick a -quarrel with Lieutenant Duquesne and kill him. How could she warn him? -He had saved her life, for she surely would have died if she had -remained all night exposed to the storm. The account should be balanced. -It must stand, a life for a life. But how?</p> - -<p>Vivienne was on the point of leaving her retreat and flying to warn -Victor, but it was too late, for, as she stepped out upon the ledge, she -heard his voice calling:</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle, are you there?”</p> - -<p>“He has come!” cried one of the men. “I think your idea of getting out -of sight for a while is a good one.”</p> - -<p>Suiting the action to the word, they hid themselves behind two of the -largest trees.</p> - -<p>Victor, with a bundle of clothing under his arm, made his way at once to -the lantern, it being his idea to take it to the cave so that Vivienne -could see what articles of clothing he had brought for her use, and it -would also light them on their way home.</p> - -<p>Vivienne called: “Victor! Victor!” softly, for she was afraid if the -bandits knew they were discovered that she, too, would be killed, in -which case Count Mont d’Oro and his hired assassins would escape the -hand of justice. She would have given her own life to save Victor’s, -but, if that sacrifice was impossible, she determined to avenge his -death.</p> - -<p>As Victor stooped to pick up the lantern, a gruff voice said:</p> - -<p>“Put that down! What are you going to do with my lantern?”</p> - -<p>Victor looked up and saw two rough-looking fellows standing before him.</p> - -<p>“I think you have made a mistake,” he said. “I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198">{198}</a></span> happen to know that this -lantern is the property of Monsieur Julien Batistelli. That is not your -name, I am sure.”</p> - -<p>“Say, Jean,” said one of the men to his companion, “you heard him say -this isn’t my lantern?”</p> - -<p>“Of course it is,” growled the other. “I have seen you with it a dozen -times. Make him give it up.”</p> - -<p>“It will take more than two such fellows as you are to make me give it -up,” said Victor, defiantly.</p> - -<p>The men drew their stilettos, the bright blades of the weapons flashing -in the lantern-light.</p> - -<p>Victor stepped back, suddenly realising that he was unarmed. He dropped -the bundle of clothing and held up the lantern, which was his only means -of defence, so that the light fell full upon the faces of his -assailants, enabling him to see every motion made by them.</p> - -<p>To Vivienne, the situation seemed tragical. She could stand the suspense -no longer. Summoning all her strength, she raised to her shoulder the -gun which Victor had given her, aimed it at the men, and discharged both -barrels simultaneously. By a fortunate chance, her aim had been good. -Standing so far above those at whom she fired, the effect of the shots -was peculiar. One man received a bullet in his cheek which removed half -a dozen of his teeth and a portion of his jawbone, passing out through -his other cheek. The second man was less fortunate, for the bullet -entered his throat, cutting a large artery and causing him to bleed -profusely.</p> - -<p>Victor realised that it was no time to attempt to learn the extent of -his enemies’ injuries. He rushed to the foot of the cliff, crying:</p> - -<p>“Come, Vivienne!”</p> - -<p>She passed the gun down to him, and then stood irresolute.</p> - -<p>“Jump!” he cried.</p> - -<p>She instantly threw herself from the cliff, some ten<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199">{199}</a></span> feet above him, -and was caught in his powerful arms. He had braced himself for the shock -and, although he was forced backwards, he did not fall, nor did he -loosen his hold upon her until he had placed her safely upon the ground.</p> - -<p>He looked backward and found that his assailants had taken to the woods, -probably fearing that the gun would be reloaded and used to their -further detriment. He passed the gun to Vivienne, considering it the -easiest article for her to carry, encumbered as she was by the great -cloak. He then returned to where he had left the bundle of clothing and -the lantern and regained possession of them.</p> - -<p>When he rejoined Vivienne, he said: “I dare not stop to have you put on -your dry clothing here. I do not know how badly those fellows are -injured, and they may follow us. We will go a short distance and look -for some place where we can secrete ourselves. I will then reload the -gun and you can put on your boots, which you need more than anything -else. The storm has ceased and perhaps you can reach home without -stopping to change your clothing.”</p> - -<p>There was little danger of their being overtaken. One of the assassins -was likely to die from loss of blood, while the other was suffering so -acutely on account of his broken jaw that he could be of little service -to his companion.</p> - -<p>The travellers reached home without experiencing any other thrilling -adventures. Fortunately, Pascal had not yet returned. Vivienne made her -way at once to the housekeeper’s room, where she put on the dry clothing -which had been sent to her. Snodine was full of curiosity, which -Vivienne satisfied by telling her as little as possible. The next day, -she repeated to Victor enough of what his assailants had said to prove -to him that, in his list of enemies, he must include, not only the -Batistelli brothers and their adherents, but also Count Mont d’Oro and -his hired minions.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200">{200}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /><br /> -<small>A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">While</span> Victor and Vivienne were participants in the exciting events which -took place in the <i>maquis</i>, Bertha Renville was seated in the cosey -little room which had been assigned to her, and in which she had passed -many happy hours. She derived much pleasure from the thought that Jack -was on the way. She had caught Count Mont d’Oro in one falsehood and did -not believe his statement that her guardian, Thomas Glynne, was in -Corsica. Since the Count’s accident, the real cause of which was unknown -to her, for he had told a plausible story of missing his footing when -stepping from his carriage, both the Countess and Bertha had passed an -hour each day with him; for what woman is there who does not have some -compassion for so helpless and harmless a creature as a man with a -sprained ankle?</p> - -<p>Vivienne had not felt inclined to make a <i>confidante</i> of Snodine, for -she knew that she was a great gossip, and that what she told her would -be retold the next day with many fanciful additions to the other -servants. But Vivienne could place implicit trust in her old nurse, -Clarine; so, the next morning, she went to her room, determined to -confide in her and to ask her what could be done, if anything, to induce -Julien to give up his evil ways.</p> - -<p>She was obliged to postpone her disclosures, however, to a more -opportune time, for Old Manassa had made an early morning call on -Clarine and, according to his usual custom, had fallen asleep in the -easy-chair<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201">{201}</a></span> which he considered his personal property when he paid a -visit to the old nurse. His head had fallen forward and his wrinkled -hands were clasped tightly over the huge head of the big oaken staff -which was his constant companion. He declared that he was a hundred -years old, and there was no one to gainsay his claim to that advanced -age. He had, upon several occasions, when supposed to be asleep, evinced -a comprehension of, and a marked interest in, the conversation which was -going on about him. For that reason, Vivienne thought it best to put off -giving Clarine an account of her adventures until she could speak to her -alone.</p> - -<p>Clarine, however, had something to say to Vivienne, being apparently -unmindful of the presence of Old Manassa, or willing to have him hear -what she said.</p> - -<p>“Do you know,” asked Clarine, “that in two weeks you will be eighteen -years old?”</p> - -<p>“I really had not thought of it,” Vivienne replied. “My birthdays have -never been occasions of particular enjoyment to me.”</p> - -<p>“But this one will be,” cried Clarine. “You will not be a young girl -then, but a woman, and such events are always celebrated in Corsica, and -also, I have heard, in other parts of the world. Yes,” the old nurse -repeated, “in two weeks you will be eighteen years old.”</p> - -<p>“How old are you, Clarine?” asked Vivienne.</p> - -<p>“Manassa says his mother told him that he was four years old when I was -born. If his memory can be depended upon, I am ninety-six. How well I -remember the day your grandfather brought me to the castle! I came to -nurse your grandame. Your dear sainted mother was but two weeks old when -I first saw her sweet face. How swiftly the time has sped, and you, the -little weeny baby which she laid in my arms eighteen years ago, have -been spared to bless my old age. God is good! Yes—yes.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Clarine, you have acted a mother’s part to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202">{202}</a></span> us all. We can never -repay you but by loving you dearly, as we do.”</p> - -<p>“I know you do, child. I know it. But how vividly the old times come -back to me to-day. For Old Manassa there once asked me to be his wife, -but I had no heart to give. It was buried, years ago, in the grave of my -husband.”</p> - -<p>“Dear Clarine, is love so tenacious as to wed a living heart to the -tomb?”</p> - -<p>“Not all hearts, dear, but mine could never love again.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose the times and the people have changed much since you were a -girl, Clarine.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes, child,” said the nurse. “The people most of all. I remember -when this castle was a fortress for hundreds of brave warriors and, too, -when poor refugees sought safety within its strong walls. Ah, me, those -were dreadful times. I have seen a hundred soldiers upon the ramparts, -firing upon our enemies, and many a prisoner has ended his life in the -tower dungeon.”</p> - -<p>“The dungeon! I never knew there was one. Do my brothers know about it?”</p> - -<p>“No human being but myself knows. Even Old Manassa there is ignorant of -its existence. To my hands alone was intrusted the duty of carrying food -to the poor prisoners confined there, who were destined never more to -see the light of day.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Clarine, can this be true!” Vivienne cried. “You did but dream it. -You sometimes have bad dreams, you know, when you are not well.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, child, you will soon know whether it be a dream. Now, listen to me, -darling; don’t lose a word I say, for I am about to impart a message -from the dead.”</p> - -<p>“What? From the dead?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, from your dead father. He called me into the library two hours -before he went out for the last time alive. He shut the door, took my -hand in his, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203">{203}</a></span> made me promise that upon your eighteenth birthday I -would impart to you a knowledge of the existence of the dungeon, and -also give you a paper of written instructions, telling you how to open -its great door—a door which can never be unfastened but by one -possessing the secret of its complicated springs and bars.”</p> - -<p>“But why did my father desire this secret to be divulged to me alone? -Why not to my brothers as well?”</p> - -<p>“He thought, no doubt, that they might, in some emergency, make bad use -of such knowledge. He knew not how headstrong they might become, or how -fiery their passions might be when they reached manhood. He had come to -abhor the spirit of revenge and murder which pervades our country. I -will repeat to you his very words: ‘My daughter’s gentle heart will -understand my motives when you say to her from me: Never open that door -except in case of great extremity, and never reveal the secret to any -living being unless it be to save human life!”</p> - -<p>“To what extremity could I ever be driven which would oblige me to open -that terrible door? I shudder to think of it, Clarine.”</p> - -<p>“Heaven knows, child—we do not. But I believe such a time will come.”</p> - -<p>“What makes you think so? What good reason can you give?”</p> - -<p>“Your father had a presentiment that he would die a violent death when -he was a comparatively young man, and he told me that when the door was -opened by your hand, he would be there to meet you.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, Clarine, I think it is superstition rather than reason that leads -you to think as you do. I never saw my dear father, nor my mother to -know her, but my father’s words are sacred to me and I will be true to -the trust that he has confided to me.”</p> - -<p>“You had a noble father and a beautiful mother. He was brutally murdered -by an assassin. When your<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204">{204}</a></span> poor mother heard the news, just after you -were born, she went out of her mind, and a few days later we laid her -beside the one whom she had loved so well. Their blood cried aloud for -vengeance, but the murderer was a coward. He ran away from Corsica and -the curse of <i>Rimbecco</i> still rests upon our family. But come, child, we -have talked enough about such matters. Let us go into the garden and the -bright sunshine will drive away unhappy memories.”</p> - -<p>When they had gone, Manassa opened his eyes, then, raising his oaken -staff, brought it down upon the floor with all the strength he -possessed.</p> - -<p>“They say women cannot keep a secret, but Clarine has kept that one for -nearly eighteen years. She would have made a good wife, but she wouldn’t -have me, although I was only seventy-five when I proposed to her. I -think I know where that dungeon is and I will find out how to open the -door. But when I shut it, I hope that Manuel Della Corsica and his son -Vandemar will be on the inside. When they are, I shall never try to open -the door. No, I will let them starve and die there—then no one can say -<i>Rimbecco</i> to the Batistellis, or to their servants who love them and -will ever be faithful to them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205">{205}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br /><br /> -<small>THE AVENGER OF BLOOD.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">No</span> two individuals could be more dissimilar as regards the essentials -which enter into the composition of human character, than Helen Enright -and Vivienne Batistelli. Helen’s education had been devoted chiefly to -the head, with but little attention to the finer sensibilities, and -virtually none at all to the passions of the heart. Mrs. Inchbald and -Mary Wollstonecraft had not voiced the rights, or rather the wrongs, of -women, so that her education was the result of an individual inspiration -instead of proceeding from a preconcerted and combined movement on the -part of her sex. She was fortunate in having a father who loved her so -well that he pushed aside the conventionalities of the time and allowed -his daughter to have her own sweet will in everything which did not -interfere with his personal comfort.</p> - -<p>When he fully realised the extent of her acquirements, he became -intensely proud of her; but his praises in those days were more -calculated to drive away suitors than to attract them, for by the men of -that time a highly educated woman was looked upon as one to be avoided -and not likely to make, what Englishmen most desire, an obedient wife.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, Vivienne’s education had been almost wholly of the -heart. She could read and write the French language quite well and had -also acquired a fair knowledge of the English. If her father and mother -had lived, she would, no doubt, have been sent to France to receive -fuller instruction, but when she<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206">{206}</a></span> arrived at the age of sixteen, she -became, by her brother Pascal’s wish, and with no opposition on her -part, mistress of the house; always subject, of course, in important -matters, to the will of her elder brother, who was master in all things.</p> - -<p>Left fatherless and motherless within a few days of her birth, the -little Vivienne had grown up under the care of Clarine, her nurse, who -had been in the service of the Batistelli family since her mother had -been an infant. Stories about fairies, the folklore of the country, and -tales of bloody vendettas, had been poured into the child’s ears by -Clarine and Manassa. In this way her perceptive powers and sensibilities -were dominated by the physical rather than the mental. She had led a -retired life, for her brother Pascal was not social in his nature. -Julien was too much so, but his associates were never welcome to the -hospitalities of the house. If it had not been for the agreement, or -rather understanding, between the old Count Mont d’Oro and Pascal’s -father, regarding the marriage of Napier and Vivienne, the young girl -would have grown up fancy-free, so far as love of man was -concerned—meaning, of course, any particular man.</p> - -<p>As Vivienne, although she avoided argument upon the subject with her -brother, had given the young Count Mont d’Oro no encouragement in his -suit, having met all his advances with mock disdain or cool rebuff—and -as Helen Enright’s heart had been regarded as unassailable—the young -god Cupid and his dangerous arrows never formed the subject of -conversation between the two young ladies. Helen told Vivienne about -England, its king and princes, its nobility and gentry. Despite the -English girl’s graphic description of England’s greatness and glory, the -young Corsican girl failed to gain an adequate conception of the scenes -described to her; but when her turn came to speak, when she talked of -Corsica, its traditions, its customs, and its people, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207">{207}</a></span> English girl -fully understood and made copious entries in the journal which she had -kept since her departure from England.</p> - -<p>The two girls were naturally thrown into daily companionship. Like all -Englishwomen, Helen was fond of outdoor life, and a great lover of the -beauties of nature. Vivienne would have remained within doors, but Helen -induced her to accompany her in daily rambles, during which every part -of the extensive grounds surrounding the Batistelli mansion was visited, -and many excursions were made into the surrounding <i>maquis</i>, although -Pascal, upon one occasion, said he felt it was his duty to warn Miss -Enright, being a stranger, that she ran the risk of being captured by -banditti, carried off into the mountains, and held for a large ransom.</p> - -<p>One day they were walking in the grounds when Helen espied a path which, -it occurred to her, had not yet been travelled. It was very short, not -more than thirty feet in length, and seemed to end in a mass of dense -foliage. When this was reached, however, a narrower path leading to the -left was disclosed which, when followed, brought them to the foot of a -great oak tree. Helen had previously seen and admired this tree and -spoken of it to Vivienne, but as the latter had made no comment, Helen -supposed that it was inaccessible.</p> - -<p>“And does this grand old tree stand upon your estate?” asked Helen.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” was the reply, “and they say, I do not know with how much truth, -that it is three hundred years old. It is called The Tree of the -Vendetta. Clarine says her mother told her that a terrible feud existed -between two Corsican families, each of which, it so happened, had six -grown-up sons. The father of one of the families killed the father of -the other. The sons of the latter, with other relatives, at night -attacked the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208">{208}</a></span> house in which the father and his six sons lived and set -it on fire, and as their enemies ran out to escape the flames and smoke, -shot them down, the bright light of the fire exposing them to the shots -of their adversaries, who were in the shadows, or concealed behind -trees.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, what barbarism!” ejaculated Helen.</p> - -<p>“It is the custom of the country,” Vivienne remarked, and there was a -coolness in her tone which did not escape her companion’s notice. For -several minutes neither spoke. Then Helen asked:</p> - -<p>“But how did the tree get its name? Was it close to the house?”</p> - -<p>“More barbarism followed,” Vivienne replied, with a touch of sarcasm. -“As the family was virtually extinct, the victors buried them at the -foot of this tree. You see, we do not print history in this country, but -we remember it.”</p> - -<p>“I hope with all my heart,” said Helen, “that you have no such memories -connected with the past.”</p> - -<p>“There you are wrong,” cried Vivienne, and her voice, which up to this -time had been subdued, now became strong and impassioned. “I have a sad -memory and, as what I have said to you may cause you to misunderstand my -true feeling, I will tell you all. The very day that I was born my -father became the victim of an assassin. My brothers tell me that my -father had no quarrel with the man who murdered him and he must have -been hired by some one to do the cruel deed. He was a coward, for that -very night he took his only child, a little boy six years old, and fled -from the country, so that my brothers are deprived of the opportunity of -avenging the death of our father. There are none who dare to say -<i>Rimbecco</i> to my brothers, but many think it in their hearts.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Rimbecco!</i>” cried Helen. “What does that mean?”</p> - -<p>“<i>Rimbecco</i>,” explained Vivienne, “is a reproachful<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209">{209}</a></span> word spoken to a -member of a Corsican family by another member of the family, or one of -its adherents, because the assassination of a relative has not been -followed, within a reasonable time, by the killing of the assassin or -some member of his family. <i>Rimbecco</i> is the worst taunt that can be -thrown in the face of a Corsican, for it is considered as declaring him -to be even baser than a coward. If Manuel Della Coscia, who murdered my -father, and his son Vandemar, who must now be twenty-four years of age, -are still living, they must remain exiles or return to Corsica and -answer with their lives for the great crime which has been committed.”</p> - -<p>“But you who are so kind to the unfortunate, so good to all, can you not -avert the doom which threatens an innocent victim? Young Vandemar, the -last of his race, is surely guiltless. Is it just that he should suffer -death for no fault of his own?”</p> - -<p>“Men are killed in war for no fault of their own,” said Vivienne.</p> - -<p>“Alas, yes,” replied Helen, “but that is unavoidable. Suppose that, -instead of your father becoming the victim, he had killed his -assailant?”</p> - -<p>Vivienne responded quickly: “It would then rest with his son, now that -he has grown to manhood, to avenge his father by killing my brothers.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, tell me,” cried Helen, “that you do not favour this cruel, wicked -custom! Tell me, dear friend, that you abhor it as I do!”</p> - -<p>“I regret the necessity,” Vivienne replied.</p> - -<p>“And according to the custom of your country, your elder brother must -commit this terrible deed?”</p> - -<p>“He must.”</p> - -<p>“But if he dies before accomplishing it?” asked Helen.</p> - -<p>“It will then devolve upon my younger brother, Julien.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210">{210}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“And in case he dies?” was Helen’s next inquiry.</p> - -<p>“It will then devolve upon——”</p> - -<p>“No, no, no. Do not speak, Vivienne! I cannot bear it! You do not mean -it. Oh, tell me that I am dreaming—that you did not mean to say——”</p> - -<p>“If both should die and I should live,” cried Vivienne, excitedly, “it -would be my duty to avenge my father’s death, or his blood would be upon -my own hands. Manuel Della Coscia and his son Vandemar are enemies of my -family, and if no other hand can do it, mine must send the bullet or -handle the stiletto.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>Count Mont d’Oro had so far recovered from his injury that he was able -to get about with the help of a couple of walking-sticks. His progress -was necessarily slow and any little inadvertence caused him severe pain. -On such occasions, his thoughts naturally reverted to his antagonist. He -had heard from Villefort of the ill-success of his scheme to entrap -Victor, and of the terrible fate of the would-be murderers, both of whom -had been found dead in the <i>maquis</i>.</p> - -<p>As soon as the Count acquired a limited degree of locomotion, he made -his way to the stables, ordered the carriage, and was driven at once to -the hotel in Ajaccio. A messenger was despatched in search of Villefort, -whose headquarters were at a <i>cabaret</i> kept by Angelo Barbera.</p> - -<p>Villefort came at once in response to the summons, and was soon closeted -with the Count.</p> - -<p>“That young devil of an Englishman has a charmed life,” said Villefort.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps so,” the Count replied, “but you know there is an old saying -that the third time never fails. In order that the saying may not be -disproved, we must make sure of our game this time.”</p> - -<p>Wine and cigars were ordered, and the two worthies cudgelled their -brains to think of some plan by which<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211">{211}</a></span> Victor might be put in their -power. How he could be summarily disposed of was a matter which must be -decided later.</p> - -<p>Villefort looked up suddenly and asked:</p> - -<p>“What was the name of the man who killed Pascal Batistelli’s father?”</p> - -<p>The Count replied: “Manuel Della Coscia—his son’s name was Vandemar.”</p> - -<p>“Then the son’s initials would be V. D. C., would they not?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, but what are you looking at so intently?”</p> - -<p>“By Saint Christopher!” cried Villefort, “but this is strange!”</p> - -<p>“What is strange? Speak up and don’t sit there with your mouth open like -a stuck pig.”</p> - -<p>“Spare me your compliments,” said Villefort, “or I may be forced to -demand an apology.”</p> - -<p>The Count laughed. “Pardon me, Villefort, but the jolting of that clumsy -carriage over that infernally rough road has filled my foot with a dozen -toothaches. But what have you found?”</p> - -<p>“They may mean something or nothing, but here, cut in the table, and the -cuts are fresh ones, are the initials V. D. C. They are a clue to -something—but what?”</p> - -<p>“Go downstairs,” said the Count, “and find out who last occupied this -room.”</p> - -<p>In a short time Villefort returned with the information that the room -had not been occupied since the young gentleman who was in the company -of the English admiral had left it.</p> - -<p>“So our man put up here,” said the Count. “But why V. D. C.?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps his name is spelled D-u C-a-i-n,” suggested Villefort.</p> - -<p>“Guessing won’t hit the mark,” the Count cried. “Have you no wits? Five -louis d’or if you prove that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212">{212}</a></span> Vandemar Della Coscia and the Englishman -are one and the same person! Think of something. Use the carriage if you -need it. Come back in an hour. I am going to lie down and rest to see if -I can get rid of this damnable torture. If he had given me a cut with -his axe, it would have healed long ago.”</p> - -<p>Villefort did not take the carriage, but walked slowly along the main -street, wondering how he could earn the promised reward.</p> - -<p>“The price offered is very small,” he soliloquised, “but if I succeed, I -shall make bold to suggest to the Count that he double it.”</p> - -<p>He stopped short and looked across the street. Right opposite stood -Barbera’s <i>cabaret</i>. A thought occurred to him. He entered the place, -and beckoning to the proprietor, they went upstairs to the latter’s -room.</p> - -<p>“Do you want to make a louis d’or, Barbera?”</p> - -<p>“I could make a good many if that English admiral would let his sailors -come ashore.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if you wish to earn from me what you can’t earn from the sailors, -sit down here and write a letter which I will dictate to you.”</p> - -<p>Villefort began:</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Angelo Barbera solicits an immediate visit. He has learned of -a plot against your life, but prefers to disclose particulars to you in -person. Mention this matter to no one. Bring this letter with you for -identification.”</p> - -<p>“Now fold it up and seal it,” said Villefort.</p> - -<p>“To whom shall I address it?” asked Barbera.</p> - -<p>“I will attend to that,” said Villefort. “Give me the letter.”</p> - -<p>“Where is my louis d’or?”</p> - -<p>“You shall have it within an hour,” said Villefort. “I will tell you -what I have been up to when I come back.”</p> - -<p>He snatched the letter from Barbera’s hand, ran<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213">{213}</a></span> down-stairs and made -his way quickly to the quay. He engaged a boat and soon reached the -gangway of the <i>Osprey</i>, where he was met by the marine on guard.</p> - -<p>“My friend, the Count Mont d’Oro, is acquainted with the Lieutenant who -is with your admiral on shore. He has purchased for him a present of -silver, of which he intends to make me the bearer, sending with it this -letter. He knows that the Lieutenant’s name is Victor Duquesne, but he -has thought that perhaps the young gentleman has another name besides -Victor, and, to speak frankly, the Count does not know exactly how to -spell his name.”</p> - -<p>“You have come to the right man, sir,” said the marine. “I received word -at Malta that my poor old mother was dead; that she had been buried in -God’s Acre, and that she would have to remain there unless I sent home -some money to have her laid beside my father in the village -burying-ground. I told the Lieutenant that I had drank and gambled away -all my money at Malta and he very kindly started a subscription for me, -leading the paper with a pound. I remember that I asked him if the name -he had written was his full name, and he said—yes. I have the paper in -my pocket now.”</p> - -<p>Villefort examined it carefully. “Victor Duquesne,” was what he saw.</p> - -<p>“A thousand thanks,” said he, as he returned the paper, at the same time -giving the man a silver coin. “Oblige me, and my friend the Count, by -saying nothing about this to Lieutenant Duquesne. The Count is greatly -mortified at being obliged to discover his friend’s real name in such a -roundabout way, and it would add to his chagrin if the Lieutenant should -hear about it.”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” said the man. “If a piece of silver is big enough, it -always closes my mouth.”</p> - -<p>An hour had hardly elapsed before Villefort reported his finding to the -Count.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214">{214}</a></span></p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, Count, but in order to secure this valuable -information, which I think must convince you that Vandemar Della Coscia -is in Corsica, and a guest——”</p> - -<p>“What are you begging my pardon for, Villefort? I can imagine as well as -you can. What did you do to obtain this supposed valuable information?” -and the Count’s voice had a marked tinge of sarcasm in it.</p> - -<p>“I have promised to pay a louis d’or for valuable assistance.”</p> - -<p>“Well, there are your louis d’or,” said the Count. “I did not promise to -pay for assistance. Come, help me down to the carriage. I must get home, -for my foot aches worse than ever.”</p> - -<p>As they neared the <i>cabaret</i>, the Count said: “Villefort, have Barbera -send me out some brandy.”</p> - -<p>Villefort gave the order and placed the louis d’or in Barbera’s hand, -saying at the same time, as he handed back the letter:</p> - -<p>“I could not use it. The bird had flown. Tear it up, and may you always -earn a louis d’or as easily.”</p> - -<p>The Count swallowed half a tumblerful of brandy at a gulp. As they rode -on he said to himself: “What a fine piece of news it will be for Pascal -Batistelli when I tell him that his guest, the English lieutenant, is -the son of the man who murdered his father. But he shall never know it -until his sister is my wife. She hates me, but I will make her suffer -for it. If she loved me, she might marry whom she chose.”</p> - -<p>Countess Mont d’Oro and Bertha had been greatly pleased when the young -Count became convalescent and was able to leave his room.</p> - -<p>“I hope,” said the Countess, “that Napier will soon long for the -artificial delights of Paris and leave us alone to enjoy the natural -beauties of Corsica. I had intended to take you with me to visit many of -my old friends, but for this unfortunate and unforeseen acci<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215">{215}</a></span>dent -However, we shall begin our round of gaiety shortly, for I have to-day -received invitations for you and me to attend the party to be given in -honour of Mademoiselle Vivienne Batistelli, who will soon reach her -eighteenth birthday.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216">{216}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br /><br /> -<small>“WHO IS MASTER HERE?”</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">At</span> the Count’s request, Villefort accompanied him home and assisted him -to his room. The Count’s next desire was that he would summon the -physician who was attendant upon him, and Villefort complied, inwardly -grumbling because the carriage was not placed at his service. The doctor -was out and not expected to return for a couple of hours. Ordinarily, -under such circumstances, he would have gone back to the Count and have -informed him of the prospective delay.</p> - -<p>He took out the four louis d’or and looked at them:</p> - -<p>“How cursed mean to make me pay Barbera! I expected at least ten louis -d’or for myself besides the one for expenses. I have always said that if -he played me a mean trick, I would drop him. He has never half paid me -for what I have done.”</p> - -<p>Thus soliloquising, he walked on until he once more reached the -<i>cabaret</i>. Again he beckoned to Barbera to follow him to the private -room.</p> - -<p>“I have an explanation to make to you,” said Villefort.</p> - -<p>“I think it is about time,” exclaimed Barbera. “What in the devil did -you get me to write such a letter for, then bring it back and tell me to -tear it up? I thought you had something on hand that would pay us both -well.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I’m going to explain,” said Villefort. “Order up a bottle -of wine. I’m cursed thirsty, for I have been walking an hour over dusty -roads, and I get nothing for my time or trouble.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217">{217}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I thought Monsieur Villefort was too sharp-witted, and his services too -valuable, to long serve a poor paymaster.”</p> - -<p>“I am done with him!” cried Villefort with sudden determination, and, as -he spoke, he brought his wine-glass down upon the table with such force -as to break it into fragments.</p> - -<p>“Well spoken, Villefort!” cried Barbera. “You are too smart a man to -play second fiddle always.”</p> - -<p>“I’m coming to think so myself,” said Villefort. “Let me explain. I am -going to tell you the whole story, but you must keep your mouth shut.”</p> - -<p>“If I told all I knew,” said Barbera, “there would be many more widows -in Ajaccio than there are now. But go on.”</p> - -<p>“Well, the fact is,” began Villefort, “Vandemar Della Coscia is in -Corsica.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe it!” cried Barbera.</p> - -<p>“I know it,” said Villefort, “so we won’t argue the matter. That young -Englishman whom they call Victor Duquesne is really Vandemar Della -Coscia in disguise. You know all about the duel between Count Mont d’Oro -and the Englishman, so I won’t go over that again. You have heard, I -suppose, that Paoli Tarenti and Giuseppe Mondolo were found dead in the -woods.”</p> - -<p>“Yes!” cried Barbera. “Do you know who killed them?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and I am going to tell you. I got Paoli and his friend to pick a -quarrel with the Englishman and finish him before it was over.”</p> - -<p>“What did you have against him?” asked Barbera.</p> - -<p>“Nothing, but Count Mont d’Oro wished to get him out of the way and I -did what I could to help him.”</p> - -<p>“For a consideration, of course,” said Barbera, smiling.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218">{218}</a></span></p> - -<p>“And a mighty poor one, too,” said Villefort.</p> - -<p>“Only five poor little louis d’or, and I gave you one for writing that -letter.”</p> - -<p>“That letter is what I wish to know about,” rejoined Barbera.</p> - -<p>Villefort then told how the initials “V. D. C.” were found cut into the -table, and how it had occurred to both the Count and himself that the -supposed Englishman was in reality a Corsican.</p> - -<p>“The Count wished me to find out whether the Lieutenant had a middle -name. When I came to you and asked you to write the letter, my idea was -to have the Englishman drugged, then send for the Count, and let him -settle the matter in his own way. On my way to the English frigate, it -occurred to me that I was getting too deeply compromised, with no -promise of reward, and, especially, nothing in advance. You see, I asked -the hotel keeper who had last occupied the room, and found it was the -Englishman; then I asked you to write the letter, and, besides, whoever -I met at the vessel would surely remember me. I knew the Count wouldn’t -give his life to save mine and I didn’t propose to give mine for -nothing. So I managed the affair in another way, found out all that I -wished to know, and that’s why I told you to destroy the letter.”</p> - -<p>“Well!” cried Barbera, “I wouldn’t have done that job under twenty-five -louis!”</p> - -<p>“I got five and had to pay you one out of it, and that’s why I’m through -with Count Mont d’Oro. I can stand anything in a man but meanness. I’ll -make him pay dearly for that louis d’or—damn me if I don’t.”</p> - -<p>After Villefort left the <i>cabaret</i> his copious draughts of wine began to -take effect.</p> - -<p>“How shall I get even with him? By St. Christopher! I have it. He will -tell Pascal Batistelli and the old vendetta will be revived. There is -one man in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219">{219}</a></span> Corsica who is bound to put down the vendetta. They call him -Cromillian, the moral bandit. I will go and see him. There’ll be no -money in it, but revenge is sweet, and Count Mont d’Oro and his friend -Pascal will find themselves deprived of their victim.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>As the anniversary of her birthday approached, Vivienne spent the -greater part of her time with her old nurse, Clarine. Rendered -motherless, as she had been when only a few days old, Clarine had been -both nurse and mother to her, and it was only natural that she should -pour into the ear of her only <i>confidante</i> those troubles and secrets -which a young girl usually makes known to her mother alone.</p> - -<p>One morning she sat talking to Clarine, the coming birthday party being -the subject under consideration. As was his habit of late, Old Manassa -was apparently asleep in his arm-chair, but still half conscious of what -was going on. The conversation between Vivienne and her old nurse was -interrupted by the sudden entrance of Pascal, who, paying no attention -to the other occupants of the room, approached Vivienne and asked, -abruptly:</p> - -<p>“Have you sent out all your invitations for the party?”</p> - -<p>Vivienne looked up inquiringly and answered: “Yes.”</p> - -<p>“That is strange,” said her brother; “I saw Count Mont d’Oro this -morning and he told me that he had not received one.”</p> - -<p>“I did not desire his company,” Vivienne replied, “and, therefore, did -not invite him. I have asked the Countess his mother, and Miss Renville, -and that ought to satisfy you.”</p> - -<p>But Pascal was not satisfied. He had met the Count that morning, who had -told him that he had a most important secret to communicate, but that it -would not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220">{220}</a></span> be proper to tell it until his sister Vivienne had become -Countess Mont d’Oro. He had added:</p> - -<p>“Vivienne will be a woman in a few days. Why not have the wedding occur -within a week thereafter and end all this nonsense?”</p> - -<p>The Count then remarked that he had not received an invitation to the -birthday party.</p> - -<p>Again turning to his sister, Pascal said: “I presume that you have -invited Lieutenant Duquesne.”</p> - -<p>“How could I omit him,” asked Vivienne, “when he is our own guest?”</p> - -<p>“I invited him,” said Pascal, “out of compliment to the Admiral, but did -not suppose that he would accept, nor would he have done so if he had -not met you that day in the garden.”</p> - -<p>“I am ashamed of you, Pascal,” cried Vivienne. “You have no right to -speak to me in that way, even if you are my brother. You have no right -to assume that Lieutenant Duquesne and I are anything more to each other -than acquaintances—no, that is not quite honest—I mean good friends.”</p> - -<p>“If you do not invite Count Mont d’Oro,” said Pascal, “I shall. But, -considering their enmity to each other, it would be the height of -incivility to ask both the Count and the Lieutenant. I will tell the -Englishman that his invitation has expired by limitation, or better -still, I will ask the Admiral to send him back to his ship.”</p> - -<p>“I have invited Admiral Enright and his daughter. It would be the height -of incivility, as you term it, not to ask Lieutenant Duquesne. You can -tell both the Count and Lieutenant Duquesne that the other is coming -and, if they do not wish to meet, both can stay away.”</p> - -<p>“Is that the proper way for a young lady to treat her betrothed lover?” -asked Pascal, indignantly.</p> - -<p>“Pascal, you have no right to dispose of my hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221">{221}</a></span> without consulting my -wishes, and I will not submit to it. I do not love the Count and I will -not marry him.”</p> - -<p>“No, no!” cried Clarine. “She shall not be compelled to marry a man whom -she does not love.”</p> - -<p>The interposition of Vivienne’s ally raised Pascal’s latent anger to a -high pitch.</p> - -<p>“Clarine,” he cried, “I command you not to meddle with matters which do -not concern you! I act in her father’s stead, and it is my right and my -duty to see her properly married and settled in life. For that reason, I -have decided that Count Mont d’Oro shall be a guest, but I will not -allow Lieutenant Duquesne to be present.”</p> - -<p>“You have no right, Pascal,” cried Vivienne, “to take such a course.”</p> - -<p>She raised her voice and cried, with all the decision of her impetuous -nature:</p> - -<p>“I say that Lieutenant Duquesne shall come!”</p> - -<p>“And I say he shall not!” thundered Pascal.</p> - -<p>Old Manassa, awakened by the loud voices, started to his feet.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter, Clarine?” he cried. “What is all this loud talk -about?”</p> - -<p>“Why,” said Clarine, “Vivienne has asked Lieutenant Duquesne to come to -her birthday party and Pascal says that he shall not.”</p> - -<p>“But I say he shall come!” cried Manassa, and he brought down his heavy -staff with a loud whack on the floor.</p> - -<p>“Don’t cry, little girl.” Hobbling up to Pascal, he shook his staff in -his face and exclaimed with more vehemence than before:</p> - -<p>“I say he shall come! Do you hear me, young man? Do you hear me, sir?”</p> - -<p>Pascal saw that numerically the odds were against him, for they stood -three to one. He knew from past<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222">{222}</a></span> experience that, if goaded on, he would -grow more and more intemperate in his language. He would reply to him -with dignity and keep his temper:</p> - -<p>“You forget yourself, Manassa. I am master here.”</p> - -<p>“You master here!” shouted Manassa. “Then who am I? Who am I, sir?”</p> - -<p>Clarine interposed: “You are only a servant, Manassa.”</p> - -<p>“Am I a servant, Clarine? That boy is getting impudent, extremely -impudent! I must bring him down a bit.” He shook his staff in Pascal’s -face, again saying:</p> - -<p>“I say he shall come. Do you hear?”</p> - -<p>“There, there,” said Clarine, soothingly, “you are too old to get angry. -A man a hundred years old ought to know better.”</p> - -<p>“Old, hey! What if I am a hundred years old? Every day I live I learn -something new. Who is this man that Vivienne wants to come to the party? -Is he a Corsican?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Clarine, “he is a stranger—an Englishman—a sailor.”</p> - -<p>“A sailor! They are good, true men. Speaking of sailors, I remember that -soon after Manuel Della Coscia, the murderer and coward, ran away from -Corsica, taking his son with him, I had a dream. I thought that the -vessel in which he sailed, while on its way to Marseilles, was becalmed, -and as it drifted there, helplessly, the devil came up out of the sea -and, grasping the old Della Coscia and the young one, dragged them down -with him—and I have liked the devil a little ever since.”</p> - -<p>Even Pascal could not help smiling at this exhibition of devotion on the -part of an old servant, but he did not propose to be further humiliated.</p> - -<p>“Manassa,” he said, sternly, “we have had enough of this. Go to your own -room.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223">{223}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>The old man grew still more incensed. “You talk as though you were my -master,” he cried, “but you are not. I am master here. How dare you vex -your sister? I say he shall come!”</p> - -<p>Pascal’s anger rose again: “If you do not leave the room, I will put you -out.”</p> - -<p>“How can you speak so,” cried Vivienne, “to a weak, foolish old man?”</p> - -<p>Manassa’s temper was equal to his age. “Hear him order me about, -Clarine! Is he my master? The little good-for-nothing! Say, Clarine, is -he my master?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Manassa, how forgetful you are getting to be! You know you were -valet to Joseph, who had a son Conrad. This is Conrad’s son.”</p> - -<p>Pascal was weary of the fruitless discussion. Why continue it? He had -declared his intention of inviting Count Mont d’Oro and of requesting -Lieutenant Duquesne to leave the house, and that settled the matter. -Without replying to Manassa, he withdrew and proceeded to his library.</p> - -<p>Manassa went on, apparently regardless of Pascal’s departure:</p> - -<p>“Yes, I was Joseph’s valet. I remember now, and was I not Lady Julie’s -valet?”</p> - -<p>Clarine laughed. “Why, of course not. But you used sometimes to drive -her out when the coachman was sick. How you do forget!”</p> - -<p>“Well, whose valet am I now, Clarine?”</p> - -<p>“You are nobody’s valet.”</p> - -<p>“Is Pascal my valet?”</p> - -<p>“No, no, Manassa! There now, don’t ask any more questions.”</p> - -<p>“I do not wish to ask any more. I have heard all that I care to. I am -going into the garden to take a walk. Run into my room, Clarine, and get -me my other cane. It is not proper that the master of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224">{224}</a></span> house should -walk out with an old stick like this,” and he threw his oaken staff upon -the floor.</p> - -<p>“Do hear the man talk,” said Clarine—“as if I could run.”</p> - -<p>“I will go,” said Vivienne. “Sit still, Clarine.”</p> - -<p>When Vivienne had gone, Manassa said: “How tall she is! How she has -grown! She is almost as tall as Susette.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Manassa, I haven’t heard you speak Susette’s name in ever so -long,” said Clarine.</p> - -<p>Manassa chuckled. “Do you remember, Clarine, the minuet we had that -night over in the new barn at Prospero Point? My stars, how Susette did -throw those black eyes at me that evening! I really do believe that the -girl loved me, Clarine. Now, don’t you think she did?”</p> - -<p>Clarine placed her hand upon Manassa’s arm. “Why, to be sure, else why -did she marry you? For mercy’s sake! You can’t have forgotten that -Susette Cornelli became your wife!”</p> - -<p>Manassa rubbed his forehead meditatively. “So she did! Why, really, so -she did. Poor Susette, she’s dead. Have I got a wife now, Clarine?”</p> - -<p>“It beats all how you do forget. No, no, of course you have no wife, and -are not likely to have any. You would not think of marrying at your age, -I hope.”</p> - -<p>“So you think I am too old to have a wife. Well, I will have a wife if I -want one. Do you hear? I will have one! You are very impudent for a -servant. I will have one if I want to! You are nothing but an old woman. -What do you know about a gentleman’s affairs? Wasn’t I bodyguard to -Conrad, Pascal’s father?”</p> - -<p>“You mean Pascal’s grandfather, Joseph. How you do get things mixed up!”</p> - -<p>“Here is your cane, Manassa,” said Vivienne, softly.</p> - -<p>The old man took it, forgetting to thank her for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225">{225}</a></span> her kindness, and -stamped across the floor to the door which led to the garden. With his -hand upon the latch, he turned, and casting a spiteful glance upon -Clarine, ejaculated:</p> - -<p>“I will have a wife if I want one!”</p> - -<p>Then he went out, slamming the door viciously.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>Pascal made his way to the library, with the firm intention of sending -an invitation to Count Napier Mont d’Oro to become one of the guests at -the birthday party. He had hardly completed his self-appointed task when -Adolphe entered and informed him that a shepherd boy wished to see him.</p> - -<p>“Who is he?” asked Pascal.</p> - -<p>“I never saw him before,” Adolphe replied. “I think he has a letter for -you.”</p> - -<p>A few minutes later the boy entered. “I have a letter for Pascal -Batistelli,” he said.</p> - -<p>Pascal reached out his hand to receive it.</p> - -<p>“I was to put it into the hands of Pascal Batistelli. Are you the right -man?”</p> - -<p>“That is my name,” said Pascal.</p> - -<p>The boy handed him the letter and then retreated slowly towards the -door. Pascal threw him a small coin, which the boy deftly caught, and -then quickly withdrew. Pascal broke the seal and read:</p> - -<p>“I cannot give you my real name in this note, for reasons which you will -understand. I have found the man you seek. This is all I can tell you -until some arrangements are made in relation to the reward offered. I am -playing false to a friend in order to serve you—a friend who will fight -for Vandemar to the death. I am obliged to act, therefore, with the -utmost caution. I will meet you to-morrow night at twelve, precisely, in -the maple grove behind the castle.”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” said Pascal, as he laid down the letter. “This must come -from the man who called<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226">{226}</a></span> himself Paoli, and who said that he belonged to -Cromillian’s band. To serve me he must prove false to a friend. That -friend, I suppose, is Cromillian, and, reading between the lines, I -infer that Cromillian is a friend of Vandemar Della Coscia. So be it. -The Batistellis have friends, also, and we shall soon learn which is the -stronger party.”</p> - -<p>At that moment Julien entered the room.</p> - -<p>“Read that, Julien,” said Pascal, as he handed him the letter.</p> - -<p>Julien grasped it, and seating himself near his brother, read it aloud, -Pascal several times cautioning him to lower his voice. When Julien -finished reading he jumped to his feet and exclaimed excitedly:</p> - -<p>“At last! At last!! The hour of vengeance is near! If we find this man -Vandemar, it should not take us long to avenge the murder of our father; -then our sister will never again be able to reproach us with cowardice -or wilful delay.”</p> - -<p>“Be not over-confident, Julien. You know how sanguine we were when we -sent Alberto Cordoni to England in search of some trace of Manuel Della -Coscia, and you know what a large sum that effort cost us, and all for -nothing. We were duped by Cordoni! This may be nothing but a plot to -capture the reward. We must be on our guard!”</p> - -<p>“But you will meet this man?” queried Julien.</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” said his brother, “and you shall go with me. If he does -what he says he can, I shall have to pay him a hundred louis d’or, but -that is little for so much.”</p> - -<p>Pascal changed the subject abruptly: “Julien, I have a favour to ask of -you. Will you deliver this letter into the hands of Count Mont d’Oro?”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course,” said Julien, taking up the letter. “But I hope you -have not invited him to the party. Vivienne told me that she had not -sent him an invita<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227">{227}</a></span>tion. She doesn’t like him, and if he comes she will -be unhappy.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you for your advice,” said Pascal, coldly. “I never afflict her -willingly, Julien, but brothers or sisters who do not, by their virtuous -lives and firm counsels, support the customs and dignity of their -ancestors do not deserve to bear their name. She is younger than I; it -is my right to command and hers to obey.”</p> - -<p>As Julien walked through the garden on his way to Mont d’Oro Castle, he -said to himself:</p> - -<p>“Pascal hit Vivienne and me with one stone. ‘A brother who does not by -his virtuous life——’ That was meant for me. The rest was for -Vivienne. That brother of mine is a shrewd man, very.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>Manassa’s colloquy with Pascal had left him in a very excited condition -mentally. After uttering his spiteful declaration and slamming the door, -he went into the garden prepared to be at war with all mankind. It so -chanced that the first person with whom he came in contact was Terence, -the head gardener.</p> - -<p>Terence Devlin held the position of head gardener at Batistelli Castle. -He had been guilty of an infraction of a law made by Englishmen for the -government of Irishmen, and had left Ireland—not for his country’s -good, but for his own personal safety. He had made his way to France, -but soon found that British spies were on his track, and he chose -Corsica as a country not likely to be very thickly populated with -British emissaries.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing, sir?” yelled Manassa, as he bent over the Irishman, -who was upon his knees, trimming a garden border.</p> - -<p>“Did yez spake to me, sor?” asked Terence, looking up.</p> - -<p>“Of course I did. I wished to tell you that I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228">{228}</a></span> greatly displeased -with your management of the grass-plots. Instead of pulling up the weeds -one by one, as you should do, you let them grow, and they are taking -deeper root every day. Why do you hire yourself out as a gardener -without understanding your business?”</p> - -<p>“Business, is it? And didn’t I take the full charge of the parks and -gardens of his Lordship, the Earl of Bamford, and her Ladyship, Countess -Stannerly’s gardens? No better gardener, sor, thin mesilf iver handled a -spade, sure. This blatherin’ country, sor, was born in wades, reared in -wades, and, God willin’, it will die in wades and be buried in wades. -And is it mesilf that’ll pick thim out wan by wan? Whin Terry Devlin -gets upon his knays to do the loikes o’ that, sor, you may put him down -as a brainless jackass, widout any sinse at all, at all.”</p> - -<p>“As I was saying when you had the impudence to interrupt me, there are -far more weeds than grass in those plots—a most heathenish and -unsightly spectacle. What did I hire you for, if not to do your work, -and do it in strict accordance with my instructions? You forget -yourself, sir!”</p> - -<p>“I admit, sor, that the wades have got the best of the grass, and divil -a doubt that they’ll kape it, too. They niver was known to give in if -they have a show of a chance. They are just like your counthrymen, sor. -If a poor divil is cross-eyed, they kill him, and if he is not, they -kill him all the same, sor. An’ I take the liberty to tell ye, sor, that -I resave my orders from the masther, Mr. Pashcal Batistelli, and no wan -else. Do ye moind that, now?”</p> - -<p>“The master!” exclaimed Manassa. “Pascal, the master! What folly! What -do you suppose the lad can know about it? Why, that boy knows no more -about gardening than a child unborn.”</p> - -<p>“But he is masther of the Castle, all the same, sor,” said Terence, -decidedly, “and I shall obey nobody else.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229">{229}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Manassa was thunderstruck, but he managed to ejaculate:</p> - -<p>“Who is master here? Who am I, sir?”</p> - -<p>Terence looked up, and with a slight twinkle in his eye, said:</p> - -<p>“Mathoosaler’s grandfather, I belave, sor!”</p> - -<p>Manassa struck his cane upon the ground and cried, angrily: “You are an -impudent puppy and blackguard. How dare you address me in that audacious -manner? I’m not master, eh? You won’t obey me, eh? I say you shall weed -the grass-plots! We’ll see whether you will obey or not. Clarine! -Clarine!! Where’s the jade gone? Gadding about, I suppose, as usual. I -say you shall weed the grass-plots! Now go, sir, and send Pascal to me. -We’ll see whether you will obey me!”</p> - -<p>Terence, who had remained upon his knees during this battle of words, -now rose to his feet and started off as though he intended to summon -Pascal Batistelli; but, instead of doing so, when he was out of sight of -his recent antagonist, he entered the arbour and sat down, filled and -lighted his pipe, and smoked contentedly. As he did so, he soliloquised:</p> - -<p>“A foine, healthy counthry this is to allow a man to live afther he’s -lost his wits intoirely. Faith, I belave he was a captain of the big -craft at the toime of the flood!”</p> - -<p>Manassa walked on through the garden paths, striking now and then with -his cane at a flaunting weed, but his mind did not run in one channel -very long and his thoughts soon reverted to the coming birthday party.</p> - -<p>“I shall be very busy,” he thought, “until this party is over. What -could they do without me? I am the only one who knows how things used to -be done and how they ought to be done now. I have always been used to -lords and ladies. People have no manners at the present day; even our -children, although of baronial<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230">{230}</a></span> descent, have but little idea of true -gentility. Pascal and Julien appear every day without their regalia, but -I insist upon their wearing the badge—the red rosette—when in full -evening dress. The degeneracy of the present age is truly most shocking. -Why, you would hardly believe they have not even the old coat of arms -upon their carriage, and no outriders. Even the footman is dressed like -a circus clown, and the coachman looks like an aide-de-camp. Shocking! -Shocking!! If only the barony had descended to me. I wonder if it did -descend to me.”</p> - -<p>Tired out mentally by his exciting controversies, and physically -fatigued by his long walk, the old man sank upon a moss-covered stone -which lay at the foot of a large tree, whose wide-spreading branches -gave a grateful shade. He leaned against the old, worm-eaten, gnarled -trunk, and was soon fast asleep.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231">{231}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br /><br /> -<small>A BIRTHDAY PARTY.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">On</span> the anniversary of her birthday, Vivienne received many -congratulatory letters, and many visits from personal friends who could -not be present to enjoy the festivities in the evening. From nearly all -of the writers or callers she received some visible tokens of love or -esteem. Vivienne was delighted with these evidences of regard, but -looked forward with intense interest to the hour when the message from -her dead father was to be placed in her hands.</p> - -<p>Clarine had told her that she was born at six o’clock in the afternoon, -and, as she would not be eighteen years old until that hour arrived, she -would not give her the paper until that time. Vivienne coaxed, pleaded, -and finally remonstrated, but the old nurse was inexorable.</p> - -<p>After the candles were lighted in the rooms which were to be used by the -guests, Clarine and Manassa made a tour of them. Manassa wished to -remain through the evening, to be sure that the festivities were carried -out in proper form. Clarine laughed and said:</p> - -<p>“Why, you foolish old man, you would be sound asleep by seven o’clock, -and if I stayed here to look after you, I should fall asleep, too. -Wouldn’t it be a pretty sight for the other guests to see us two old -fogies sound asleep in the corner of the room? You know you snore -terribly.”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t know it,” snapped Manassa. “I never heard myself snore in -my life, and never expect to.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Clarine, “Vivienne is coming to my<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232">{232}</a></span> room, for I have -something to give her, and you must go to your own room, for, much as we -usually enjoy your company, to-night we do not care for it.”</p> - -<p>When Clarine and Vivienne were alone together in the nurse’s room, the -former took from her bosom a sealed packet and handed it to the young -girl.</p> - -<p>“When your father gave it to me, the day of his death, it was unsealed. -He told me that I might read it, and I have done so many times. Of late, -I have feared that some prying eye might discover it, so I sealed it. My -next fear was that some one might take it, and for a year I have carried -it with me while awake and have placed it under my pillow when sleeping. -I have kept the vow that I made to your dead father. Now I can die in -peace, when Heaven wills.”</p> - -<p>“Shall I read it now?” asked Vivienne.</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear, for I may be able to assist you if you do not understand -it.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne ran her eyes quickly over the page. The writing was in a large, -round hand, and although the paper was discoloured and the ink faded, -each word was easily deciphered. As Vivienne read, the old nurse watched -her attentively.</p> - -<p>“Have you come to the part where it tells how to open and close the -dungeon door?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” cried Vivienne. “What wonderful mechanism! Who could have -invented it? Oh, Clarine, it makes my blood run cold to think of that -fearful dungeon shut out from the world by such demoniac ingenuity.”</p> - -<p>“But the Hall of Mirrors is considered the most beautiful room in the -castle,” said Clarine.</p> - -<p>“And so it is. Julien and I used to love to play there, for as we ran -about the room, or danced, we could see ourselves in the mirrors, and it -always seemed as though we had many visitors who were joining in our -games. We were too young to think that any of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233">{233}</a></span> those mirrors were -hinged, and that when opened they would disclose a dungeon door behind -them. Heaven grant that I may never have cause to open that door!”</p> - -<p>“Never, unless in great extremity or to save human life,” said Clarine, -solemnly. “Those were your father’s words to me, and I have never -forgotten them. Now, darling, you must forget everything that will call -up unpleasant memories, and be joyous and happy. I will go with you to -your room and help you put on that beautiful dress which your brother -Pascal gave you. There will be pretty girls here to-night, but none will -be so beautiful as my little Viva.”</p> - -<p>What the old nurse had said was surely realised. There is no woman whose -natural beauty is so great that it cannot be enhanced by the aid of art. -Poets and painters rave over peasant girls and fisher maidens, and write -about and paint them. Near the close of the poem, however, the poet -makes a lady of his country or seaside heroine—clothes her in costly -raiment and decks her with jewels. In poetry, as in music, there must be -a <i>crescendo</i>. Again, the artist may marry an ideal face and form, but -when she has become his, he selects delicate tints and filmy garments -with which to clothe her, and his artistic sense inevitably leads him to -the conclusion that the golden or raven-black hair, parted in the -middle, with modest simplicity, should be replaced by the latest -<i>coiffure</i>.</p> - -<p>Beneath the dexterous hands of Clarine, who had dressed many a bride, -Vivienne was transformed, and when the young girl looked in the mirror -she started back in honest astonishment at the sight of her reflection.</p> - -<p>“Viva,” cried the old nurse, “you are perfect, and if I were Count Mont -d’Oro I would fall down and worship you.”</p> - -<p>“If you were Count Mont d’Oro,” replied Vivienne,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234">{234}</a></span> “I would allow you, -but I shall not give the real Count any such opportunity.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Clarine, “I will not worship you, but I will give you my -blessing. May you have a long life, and health, happiness, and -prosperity be ever yours.” She kissed the young girl and the caress was -returned in manifold. “Now I will go with you to your brothers,” said -Clarine, “and introduce you, for I am sure it will be necessary.”</p> - -<p>“Not until I have seen Manassa,” cried Vivienne, and she made her way -quickly to the old man’s room. He sat in his chair, sound asleep, his -hands resting upon the head of the oaken staff, his head bowed upon -them.</p> - -<p>Vivienne touched him upon the shoulder. He slept lightly, and awoke -easily. At sight of the vision before him he started to his feet, -rubbing his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Beg pardon, Lady Julie,” he exclaimed, “but I did not hear your bell. -What are your commands?”</p> - -<p>“This is not Lady Julie,” cried Clarine; “this is our own Viva, but it -is not strange that you do not know her. She has come for your -blessing.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne sank upon her knees before him. The old man placed his -trembling hands upon her head.</p> - -<p>“May you be as happy as was the Lady Julie—she was the most beautiful -woman in Corsica, and I was her favourite servant. I saved her life one -day. I came near losing my own, but I would have given it willingly. My -dear, you are a Batistelli, but the family has fallen from its high -estate. The shame of the <i>Rimbecco</i> is upon it. Be true to your name and -to your brothers who have sworn to remove the stigma.”</p> - -<p>The old man fell back heavily into his chair and covered his face with -his hands. As Vivienne and Clarine left the room they heard him say: -“<i>Rimbecco! Rimbecco!!</i>” and there were pathos, bitterness, and anger -commingled in his voice.</p> - -<p>The guests began to assemble. The Batistelli family<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235">{235}</a></span> had been one of the -oldest, wealthiest, and most influential in Corsica, and although its -prestige had waned, it had not wholly departed. Vivienne had spread her -invitations far and wide, and the acceptances indicated that the -gathering would include representatives from the best families in -Ajaccio and the surrounding country.</p> - -<p>Among the first to arrive was the Mayor of Ajaccio, accompanied by his -two daughters, Carlotta and Josefa. Count Napier Mont d’Oro escorted his -mother, the Countess, and Miss Renville. Admiral Enright was accompanied -by his daughter, Helen. Vivienne, whose quick eye saw every guest long -before he was presented to her, noticed that Lieutenant Duquesne was not -with them. The thought came to her that her brother Pascal had, without -doubt, told the young Englishman that his presence was no longer -desired, but her inward anger against her brother was far less intense -than against Count Mont d’Oro, whom she looked upon as the real cause of -the young man’s proscription. Among the late arrivals was Dr. Valentino -Procida, who was the proprietor of a private asylum for the insane at -Salvanetra, a village about five miles from Alfieri. The company grew by -constant accessions, until it became both large and brilliant, -completely filling the spacious drawing-room.</p> - -<p>Pascal and Julien, attired in the national costume, over which they wore -the regalia of the Batistelli family, together with the traditional red -rosette upon their left breasts, acted as ushers and presented the -guests to Vivienne, upon whose face forced smiles quickly appeared, -immediately followed by unmistakable looks of disappointment.</p> - -<p>At a signal from Pascal the musicians began to play, while Julien -motioned to the guests to step back, thereby leaving Vivienne standing -alone in the middle of the great room.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236">{236}</a></span></p> - -<p>Seven young and pretty girls, also wearing the national dress, entered, -one of them bearing a floral wreath containing eighteen roses, which she -placed upon Vivienne’s head. As she did so, the musicians, who were -provided with bells, rang out a silvery chime. The girls then joined -hands, formed a circle about Vivienne, while their fresh young voices -sang the Birthday Song:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Set the birthday bells a-ringing;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">To our queen her friends are bringing<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Freshest flowers of every hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Dripping with the evening dew.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">All advancing,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">We are dancing,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Bringing flowers of every hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Dripping with the evening dew.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Hear the ringing and the chiming<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Of the merry, merry bells,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Eighteen years their story tells.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">How within the heart it swells!<br /></span> -<span class="i1">All advancing,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">We are dancing,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">To the ringing of the bells,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Merry, merry birthday bells.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>At the close of the song they let go of each other’s hands and formed in -line, facing Vivienne. Seven young men, dressed in the costume of -peasants of the better class, next entered, and took positions behind -the row of maidens. Pascal and Julien then stepped forward and escorted -Vivienne to a rustic chair, which was covered with a profusion of -flowers and which had been reserved for her use.</p> - -<p>Now the musicians played some weird, peculiar dance music and the -fourteen youths and maidens took part in a wild, characteristic Corsican -dance. The steps and gestures were full of abandon, and although the -staid Miss Helen Enright was not absolutely shocked, when the dance was -over she had the impression that the conventionalities of society were -not kept within as strict lines in Corsica as they were in England.</p> - -<p>All sailors love to dance and to see others dance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237">{237}</a></span> Admiral Enright was -delighted. In the exuberance of his feelings, he grasped Pascal’s hand -and ejaculated:</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul! A most re-mark-a-ble performance!” He turned to his -daughter—“Helen, would it not be a grand idea to introduce so pleasant -a custom into English society?”</p> - -<p>Miss Enright was an adept in concealing her real thoughts—the ability -to do so is a defensive armour which education only can supply—and she -responded:</p> - -<p>“I fear we could never acquire the habit of doing it so gracefully, -papa.”</p> - -<p>Pascal bowed and replied: “I am pleased to know that you are not bored. -We are not, as a general thing, fortunate in pleasing strangers with our -manner of doing things.”</p> - -<p>Helen profited once more by her ability to conceal her displeasure and -express the contrary:</p> - -<p>“I am sure we have visited no place since we have left home that has -afforded us so much pleasure as Corsica.”</p> - -<p>To this commendatory remark, the Admiral added: “We shall carry with us -many happy recollections of this island, I assure you. That dance was -really re-mark-a-ble; was it not, Helen?”</p> - -<p>She whispered in her father’s ear: “Yes, papa, I really think it was.”</p> - -<p>Adolphe, clothed in the livery of the Batistellis, announced that the -birthday supper was served.</p> - -<p>Events proved that in Corsica, as in other countries, this announcement -was the signal for the gentleman guests to choose partners to accompany -them to the supper room. Count Mont d’Oro offered his arm to Vivienne, -who drew back with a marked gesture of refusal. Pascal saw it and, in a -low voice, commanded her to accept the courtesy and not cause a scandal. -They, accordingly, took their positions at the head of the line, being -followed by Pascal and Miss Renville,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238">{238}</a></span> Julien and Miss Enright, while -the Admiral escorted the Countess Mont d’Oro. The musicians struck up a -march and the procession made a tour of the great room. As it was about -to enter the corridor, Lieutenant Duquesne suddenly made his appearance -in the full dress uniform of a naval lieutenant in Her Britannic -Majesty’s service.</p> - -<p>Vivienne turned impulsively towards him, releasing her hold upon the -Count’s arm, and the procession, necessarily, came to a standstill.</p> - -<p>Lieutenant Duquesne apologised to Vivienne for his late arrival, -explaining that he had been obliged to go to the ship to make his -preparations.</p> - -<p>“I am glad that you are in time for supper,” exclaimed Vivienne.</p> - -<p>He bent low and said to her in an undertone: “I shall not enjoy it -unless in your company.”</p> - -<p>“But I am engaged,” and Vivienne looked towards the Count, who stood -with face averted.</p> - -<p>“You told me you were not.”</p> - -<p>A hot flush mantled Vivienne’s cheek—she was not an adept in English -humour or wit.</p> - -<p>“You hesitate, but when we were in the forest that night you said that -you would not forget me.”</p> - -<p>“Neither will I,” she cried, with sudden determination. Before the Count -could recover from his astonishment sufficiently to interpose, she had -taken Victor’s arm and they proceeded to the supper room, closely -followed by the company, that regarded further delay as unnecessary.</p> - -<p>The Count was filled with rage at the insult which he had received, and -was deeply mortified because his discomfiture had been witnessed by so -many. He looked for some avenue of escape from further observation. -Espying a door partly open, he quickly entered the room and found -himself in the ante-chamber of the great drawing-room—from which the -singers and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239">{239}</a></span> dancers had emerged. Under the circumstances, he could not -go to the supper room, nor would his pride allow him to leave the house -until he had received an apology and reparation for the insult.</p> - -<p>He finally decided to call a servant and have him summon Pascal and -Julien. They soon appeared. The Count was resourceful and able to curb -his passion when it was for his interest to do so. He began speaking in -a severely dignified manner:</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Pascal Batistelli, your sister has grossly insulted me in your -presence and that of your guests. I demand an apology or reparation. I -think I deserve both.”</p> - -<p>“My dear Count,” said Pascal, “I deeply regret this unfortunate -occurrence. My sister is self-willed, but she knows that she must -ultimately do as I wish. I cannot humiliate her before her guests -to-night. You must allow me to apologise for her rudeness, and I -promise, as reparation, that she shall become your wife before a month -has passed, and the same guests who are here to-night shall be bidden to -witness the marriage ceremony.”</p> - -<p>“I accept your pledge,” said the Count, “because I love your sister. -Were it not so, I should demand satisfaction from you, her elder -brother.”</p> - -<p>“I acknowledge your right to do so,” said Pascal. “If I fulfil my -pledge, will you be satisfied?”</p> - -<p>“I will exact but one simple condition,” the Count answered.</p> - -<p>“And that is?” Pascal queried, while Julien clutched nervously at his -sword-hilt.</p> - -<p>“A simple request and one easily granted,” said the Count. “It is that -Lieutenant Duquesne shall leave this house at once.”</p> - -<p>Julien looked at his watch. “It is beyond the hour, Pascal. If we do not -go at once we shall be too late.”</p> - -<p>“And you would postpone complying with my re<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240">{240}</a></span>quest until he has eaten -his supper and can retire gracefully?” asked the Count, sarcastically.</p> - -<p>“Let me explain,” cried Pascal. “You have, no doubt, heard the rumour -that Vandemar Della Coscia is in Corsica. You know what that means to -us—and to him! Julien and I have an engagement to meet a man in the -maple grove who has given us his word of honour that he can tell us -where to find this man. Come with us, Count. We are well armed—we have -our swords—and need fear no danger from a single man, who is, probably, -unarmed.”</p> - -<p>The Count’s first impulse was to speak and disclose what he had learned -through the strategy of Villefort. Then he reflected that if the death -of his enemy could be compassed without his complicity being apparent, -his marriage to Vivienne might not, after all, be impossible.</p> - -<p>On the way to the maple grove, Pascal told the Count how an old man had -called upon him and had disclosed his identity, under a pledge of -secrecy, and declared that he could point out Vandemar Della Coscia.</p> - -<p>“I agreed to give him one hundred louis d’or,” said Pascal, “if his -information proved to be correct. Some time passed, and I heard nothing -from him. Then he sent a letter by a messenger, who, in turn, intrusted -it to a shepherd boy to deliver to me. I saw the messenger and learned -that the possessor of the secret wished to know if the money would -surely be paid. I have it with me, and if the man puts me on the track -of Vandemar, he shall have the promised reward.”</p> - -<p>“I will pay half of it,” said the Count, generously, but unguardedly.</p> - -<p>They were now nearing the maple grove. The Count’s offer had not been -heard by Pascal, but it did not escape Julien’s quick ear. The three -men, with swords drawn, entered the grove.</p> - -<p>“I am here,” said Pascal, in a hoarse whisper.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241">{241}</a></span></p> - -<p>The same old man who had visited him at the castle emerged from a clump -of bushes. He carried a small lantern, which he held up so that its rays -fell on Pascal’s face and those of his companions. The man started back -with a cry of dismay.</p> - -<p>“We are friends,” said Pascal. “Is that you, Paoli?”</p> - -<p>“Hush!” growled the man. “Mention no names—the trees have ears. Have -you brought the money?”</p> - -<p>“I have it with me,” said Pascal.</p> - -<p>“Shall I come to the house and point him out, or shall I tell you how to -identify him?” asked the man.</p> - -<p>“Give us the name he is known by—that will be sufficient,” said Pascal.</p> - -<p>“He is called——” began the man.</p> - -<p>Before he could speak the name there came a flash and a report from -behind a clump of bushes not more than twenty feet away, and the man -fell headlong to the ground, dead!</p> - -<p>The three men advanced boldly towards the place from which the shot had -come. They were met by a fusilade, the bullets, fortunately, perhaps -intentionally, going over their heads.</p> - -<p>“It is too hot for us here,” said Pascal. “Let us go back to the house -at once, where your request, my dear Count, shall be complied with.”</p> - -<p>Count Napier Mont d’Oro was the only one who knew that Victor Duquesne -and Vandemar Della Coscia were one and the same person.</p> - -<p>“My dear young lady,” said the Count to himself, “what a sweet revenge I -shall have when I disclose my secret to your guests.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242">{242}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br /><br /> -<small>TREACHERY.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Thomas Glynne</span> and Jack De Vinne found life in the bandits’ camp very -irksome. They were not exposed to physical danger, for they were not -called upon to accompany any of the bands which left camp on what they -supposed to be predatory excursions.</p> - -<p>Neither had forgotten the object of his visit to Corsica. Each wished to -continue the search for Bertha Renville and be the first one to meet -her; but they knew they were closely watched, and that any attempt to -leave camp without Cromillian’s consent would be resisted by force, and -their careers cut short, perhaps, by rifle-bullets. So they were forced, -against their wills, to remain “lookers-on in Vienna,” and bide their -time. The life they led was as enervating as it would have been in -prison. Each asked for something to do to pass away the time, and it was -arranged that Jack should keep the camp supplied with fresh water, while -Glynne felled trees and cut the firewood.</p> - -<p>They were kept in a state of nervous excitement, for they expected any -day that they might be called before Cromillian to learn the decision to -which he had come after visiting Bertha. Each naturally felt that his -claim was the stronger and would be respected. Glynne considered that -his rights as guardian were paramount, while Jack thought, if Bertha -acknowledged her love for him, as he felt sure she would, that the -verdict would be in his favour.</p> - -<p>After leaving Barbera’s <i>cabaret</i>, Villefort had started<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243">{243}</a></span> off with the -fixed intention of finding Cromillian and divulging Count Mont d’Oro’s -plot against Vandemar Della Coscia, for he felt sure that his discovery -of the dual identity of Victor Duquesne would be fully substantiated.</p> - -<p>Villefort did not know where to find Cromillian. He had heard rumours of -the location of the bandits’ camp—but camps can be easily changed from -one place to another. They are like song-birds, or one’s good luck—here -to-day and gone to-morrow.</p> - -<p>He had heard that “All roads lead to Rome,” and it was equally true that -all the roads in Corsica, within twenty miles, at least, led to Ajaccio. -He knew that Cromillian’s emissaries came to town, usually disguised, -and to do this they must follow the roads, or one of them.</p> - -<p>By chance, for fortune favours wicked people as often as it does good -ones, Villefort took the most direct road to Cromillian’s camp. After a -long and weary tramp, he came to a small cottage, where he determined to -ask for food and an opportunity to rest. As he neared the house, a girl -about ten years of age opened the door and started to run down the path -which led to the roadway, but, seeing Villefort, she stopped suddenly.</p> - -<p>“Who lives here?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“My mother,” said Lulie, for it was she.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I suppose so,” remarked Villefort, “but what is your father’s -name?”</p> - -<p>“My father is dead: my mother is called the Widow Nafilet.”</p> - -<p>Villefort started. He had heard that name before—but in what -connection? He stood in deep thought, Lulie regarding him attentively, -wondering, childlike, what the object of his visit could be, for few -strangers were seen in that out-of-the-way locality. As the result of -his deliberation, Villefort gave up for a time, at least, his intention -of asking for food, and said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244">{244}</a></span></p> - -<p>“I want to find a man named Cromillian. Do you know him?”</p> - -<p>“What—Uncle Cromillian?” asked the child. “He is the best friend we -have—mother and I.”</p> - -<p>“Where can I find him?” persisted Villefort.</p> - -<p>“Are you alone?” queried Lulie.</p> - -<p>Villefort nodded.</p> - -<p>“I see you have no gun. Is there a pistol or a stiletto inside your -jacket?”</p> - -<p>Villefort threw it open. “I am unarmed,” he said. “Come and see if I do -not speak the truth.”</p> - -<p>Lulie approached, and her bright eyes searched him from head to foot.</p> - -<p>“Clasp your hands behind you,” said she. “I will take your arm and lead -you to him. But if you unclasp your hands, I shall give the danger -signal and Uncle Cromillian will shoot you dead with his rifle.”</p> - -<p>The fact was that Cromillian went often to the Widow Nafilet’s house. -Although he usually lived upon it for weeks at a time, he did not relish -the coarse food rudely prepared by his men, and for that reason had -arranged with the Widow Nafilet to cook and send his meals to him when -his camp was within a reasonable distance, Lulie being the messenger. -Cromillian had accounts to keep and letters to write. In camp, the -facilities for such work were very poor, and he found that a snug room -and large table, a high-backed chair and a bright wood fire were much -better suited to his wants and comfort than the arbour in the woods -which he was obliged to use in an emergency.</p> - -<p>Lulie led Villefort into the kitchen, where her mother was at work.</p> - -<p>“Mother,” she cried, “keep your eye on this man! If he unclasps his -hands, give the signal and Uncle Cromillian will come out with his -rifle.”</p> - -<p>Lulie entered an adjoining room, closing the door quickly. The widow -Nafilet kept on with her work,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245">{245}</a></span> but one eye or the other was fastened on -Villefort who, apparently at his ease, was considering the best manner -in which to open his conversation with the redoubtable bandit, at the -mere mention of whose name citizens of Ajaccio and the surrounding -country trembled with an inexplicable fear. He had not harmed them as -yet, but they did not know what he might do if his demands were not -promptly satisfied.</p> - -<p>Lulie opened the door and beckoned to Villefort. “Come in—he will see -you,” she said.</p> - -<p>Cromillian was seated at the table, which was covered with documents and -letters, when Villefort entered.</p> - -<p>“And what does Monsieur Villefort wish from me?” were Cromillian’s first -words.</p> - -<p>“You know me, then?” asked Villefort.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and but little to your credit. You are the hired minion of young -Count Mont d’Oro, who is a spendthrift and a profligate. I have an open -account, which I shall settle with him soon.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I can aid you to get what is due you,” said Villefort, for he -thought that he must improve his standing with the bandit as soon as -possible.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you can,” cried Cromillian, “but I shall pay you nothing if you -do.”</p> - -<p>“I do not ask for any reward.”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” said Cromillian. “You two rascals have fallen out. He -has wronged you, or you think he has, and you have come to me to betray -him—in other words, you wish to get even with him through my kind -offices.”</p> - -<p>Villefort felt that the situation was critical. He must come at once to -the point.</p> - -<p>“You know, of course, that Vandemar Della Coscia is in Corsica.”</p> - -<p>In spite of his great power of self-command, Cromillian gave an -involuntary start. Villefort perceived his advantage and went on:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246">{246}</a></span></p> - -<p>“You know, of course, that Count Mont d’Oro fought a duel with a -Lieutenant Duquesne, who is attached to the British frigate now at -Ajaccio.”</p> - -<p>Cromillian nodded. Villefort nerved himself for the coming ordeal.</p> - -<p>“Count Mont d’Oro put me on the track of the young Englishman and I have -discovered that he is no Englishman at all, but that he is a Corsican, -and his right name is Vandemar Della Coscia!”</p> - -<p>Cromillian’s face was unmoved. “Does the Count know this?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Villefort; “he hired me to follow the man and, when he paid -me, he cheated me out of a louis d’or which I had to give to Barbera for -writing a letter.”</p> - -<p>“But what matters all this to me?” asked Cromillian.</p> - -<p>Villefort reflected before answering. Was Cromillian really ignorant, or -was he only trying to draw him out before saying anything himself? Then -Villefort, as many other rascals have done under similar circumstances, -having told what he felt to be the truth, decided to rely in future upon -invention. Cromillian had turned his face away and was gazing intently -at the blazing wood fire in the fireplace.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you know,” Villefort went on, and he watched Cromillian -closely to see the effect of his words, “that Manuel Della Coscia is -also in Corsica under an assumed name.”</p> - -<p>Cromillian turned his head and looked Villefort squarely in the face.</p> - -<p>“Under what name did you say?” he asked.</p> - -<p>Villefort was dumfounded. This was asking too much—more than he had -bargained for. He felt that he must fall back upon the truth, so he -replied:</p> - -<p>“I do not know.”</p> - -<p>“Can you tell me anything more that you do know?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247">{247}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“I can relate some suspicious circumstances,” said Villefort.</p> - -<p>“Go on!”</p> - -<p>“I am well acquainted with the Batistelli servants. Adolphe is easily -bribed; Snodine is a woman to whom a secret is of no value unless she -can tell it; while Manassa is a garrulous old fool who will tell all he -knows for nothing.”</p> - -<p>“What have you found out?” This question was uttered in a tone that was -sharp and commanding.</p> - -<p>“Just this,” said Villefort, and he adopted a confidential manner; “you -see, I am well acquainted at the hotel, and hotel servants are very -observing—and very communicative under certain circumstances. It seems -that one day an old man—no one at the hotel knew who he was—brought a -letter from somebody for Lieutenant Duquesne. After reading this letter, -probably, he cut his initials—V. D. C.—into the table. Those initials -gave me my first clue.”</p> - -<p>“But what about the old man?” asked Cromillian, for the first time -showing some interest in what was being told to him.</p> - -<p>“All right, I’ll tell you all I know,” said Villefort, still more -confidentially than before. “One of the hotel servants had occasion to -walk up the road and saw the old man going into the Batistelli castle. I -learned from Adolphe, for a consideration, that he listened and heard -Pascal Batistelli tell the man that he would give him a hundred louis -d’or for something, but Adolphe could not hear just what it was. Several -days ago, a shepherd boy brought a letter to Pascal Batistelli. Adolphe -followed the boy and saw him give something to a man who was in the -maple grove—but Adolphe says he was not the old man who first came to -see Pascal. Two things Adolphe noticed—that the man wore a red vest -under his jacket, and that he had lost the thumb and forefinger of his -right hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248">{248}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Cromillian brought his hand down upon the table with such force that -Villefort recoiled in astonishment. The bandit then set his teeth -tightly together and his brows were knit. He was recalling some -circumstances, and the memories were evidently unpleasant.</p> - -<p>Paoli had wished to go and see his mother and had sent a man in his -place to carry that letter to Lieutenant Duquesne. Paoli had asked to go -again to see his mother, when he had wished him to go to Ajaccio. This -time Paoli had supplied another substitute—a man wearing a red vest, -who had lost the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.</p> - -<p>Cromillian arose, went to a heavy oaken chest, unlocked it, and took out -a bag in which the coins clinked as he dropped it upon the table. He -counted out eleven louis d’or.</p> - -<p>“Here,” he said, pushing it toward Villefort, “is the louis d’or which -Count Mont d’Oro should have paid you; here are ten more for the -information which you have given me, which may or may not prove -valuable. Be discreet, learn all you can, and your reward will be -doubled. Money comes easily to me and I consider it my duty to keep it -moving. Go, now! I will attend to Count Mont d’Oro and those who are -aiding him.”</p> - -<p>The next morning, Cromillian returned early to his camp. Hardly had he -reached it, when Paoli came to him and announced, with tears in his -eyes, that his mother was dead and that he wished a furlough for several -days in which to attend to her burial and to secure the little -inheritance which was to come to him.</p> - -<p>“I shall be busy for a while,” said Cromillian, “but I will soon send -for you and hear your report on what has taken place during the three -days I have been away. After that, you may go.”</p> - -<p>As Paoli was walking away, Cromillian cried:</p> - -<p>“Ah, Paoli, by mistake, I left something at the Widow Nafilet’s. Send -Borteno here. Since he lost<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249">{249}</a></span> his thumb and forefinger in that last -scrimmage with the <i>gens d’armes</i> his fighting days are over, for he -cannot pull a trigger; but he will make a good messenger, for his legs -are sturdy and he can keep a secret.”</p> - -<p>Borteno soon appeared.</p> - -<p>“Tell Londora and Fabria that I wish to see them.”</p> - -<p>In a short time Borteno returned, accompanied by the two men.</p> - -<p>The arbour used by Cromillian for what might be called his private -office, ended at the base of a high hill, being, in reality, a -<i>cul-de-sac</i>.</p> - -<p>“Go to the farther end of the arbour,” said Cromillian to Borteno. “I -wish to speak to you.”</p> - -<p>After he had gone, Cromillian said in an undertone to the two men:</p> - -<p>“If any one attempts to leave the arbour before I do, shoot him down.”</p> - -<p>He turned and entered the grove, finding Borteno at the farthest -extremity.</p> - -<p>“Borteno,” said he, “I am going to ask you a question, and whether you -live or die within the hour depends upon your answer.”</p> - -<p>The man dropped his eyes and trembled visibly.</p> - -<p>“My question,” said Cromillian, “has two parts to it, but it will take -but few words to answer both.”</p> - -<p>Borteno made a strenuous effort to regain his composure, and partly -succeeded. “You are my chief, and your word is law,” he replied.</p> - -<p>“Then listen,” said Cromillian. “On what night, and at what hour, will -Pascal Batistelli be in the maple grove behind his castle, and who of my -followers will meet him there to get a hundred louis d’or? Mind you, I -do not ask for what, for I already know.”</p> - -<p>The man’s eyes almost started from their sockets—but he could not -speak.</p> - -<p>“I do not blame you,” said Cromillian, “for you but obeyed orders, but -you must answer my questions.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250">{250}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>With trembling voice Borteno said: “To-morrow night, at nine o’clock.”</p> - -<p>Cromillian approached the man and they stood face to face, eye to eye.</p> - -<p>“What more?”</p> - -<p>Borteno uttered but one word—“Paoli!”</p> - -<p>“It is well,” said Cromillian. “Come with me.”</p> - -<p>When they reached the entrance to the grove, Londora and Fabria stood -there, rifles in hand. Borteno was in the advance. Suddenly, Cromillian -grasped him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him backward.</p> - -<p>“I had almost forgotten,” he muttered. To the two sentinels, he said:</p> - -<p>“Bind him and gag him, and let no one approach him until I give you -orders.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>On the night of Vivienne’s birthday party, Cromillian, accompanied by -Londora, Fabria, and six more of his trusted men, made their way to -Alfieri and concealed themselves in the maple grove.</p> - -<p>As Paoli opened his mouth to tell Pascal Batistelli that Lieutenant -Victor Duquesne was in reality Vandemar Della Coscia, a leaden messenger -from Cromillian’s rifle entered his brain.</p> - -<p>After the fusilade, which caused the Batistelli brothers and Count Mont -d’Oro to retreat to the Castle, Cromillian turned to his men and said:</p> - -<p>“There is but one proper reward for treachery—and that is death! Reload -and follow me! We shall have more and heavier work shortly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251">{251}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.<br /><br /> -<small>“HE IS THE MAN!”</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Count Mont d’Oro</span>, Pascal, and Julien did not loiter on their return to -the castle. An unseen enemy is always more terrible than one who stands -out in plain view, and although the three men were not devoid of -physical courage, and possessed the natural pride of their race, they -felt greatly relieved and breathed much easier when they reached the -reception room of the castle, which they had left such a short time -before on what had proved to be a dangerous and fruitless errand.</p> - -<p>They found the place empty, for the guests had not yet returned from the -supper room. They could hear the hum of voices, and occasionally one -broke into a song, the refrain of which was taken up by the company at -the table, while at intervals the music of the orchestra could be heard.</p> - -<p>“Who could have fired that shot?” asked Julien.</p> - -<p>“It was Cromillian,” replied Pascal. “The man who was on the point of -disclosing the identity of Vandemar Della Coscia was Paoli, Cromillian’s -lieutenant. That moral bandit, as they call him, is a devil. I shall -send to France for authority to hunt him down and kill him, as a foe to -society. Vandemar has escaped us, but Cromillian shall not!”</p> - -<p>“Vandemar has not escaped us,” said the Count. “It is unfortunate that -Paoli was killed, but I possess the secret which he would have -disclosed.”</p> - -<p>“You!” cried Pascal and Julien, astonished. “Who is he? Where is he?”</p> - -<p>“Let us seek some other room,” suggested the Count. “The guests will -soon return.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252">{252}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>They passed into the adjoining ante-chamber. When there, Count Mont -d’Oro told of the discovery made by Villefort, but took all the credit -to himself.</p> - -<p>“You have a double claim upon our gratitude,” said Pascal. “Your -forbearance under the insult to which you were subjected this evening by -our sister, and the great service which you say you can render our -family in enabling us to remove the stain of <i>Rimbecco</i> from our name, -will make us your friends for life. The boon you ask—the hand of our -sister—is a compliment to us rather than a reward to you.</p> - -<p>“Go, Julien,” he cried, “and acquaint Vivienne of our discovery. Then -see that the ladies remain in the supper room, for this affair shall be -settled within the walls of the castle. Vandemar shall not leave this -house alive. The Count and I will send word to our retainers and -friends, so that they may be witnesses of this act of justice.”</p> - -<p>Julien sent Adolphe to summon Vivienne to the ante-chamber. She came -immediately, for the disappearance of Count Mont d’Oro and her brothers, -together with their long absence, filled her with indefinable fear.</p> - -<p>“What is it, Julien?” she cried. “Why have you sent for me? What has -happened?”</p> - -<p>“We have made a most miraculous discovery,” he answered, and Vivienne -judged from the expression on his face that whatever it might be, the -knowledge gave him great pleasure.</p> - -<p>“Tell me,” said Vivienne. “I hope it is something that I can enjoy as -well as you. Now, Julien, was not that a selfish remark?” and she -laughed at her own desire to be pleased.</p> - -<p>“We have learned,” said Julien, and he lowered his voice, “that this -so-called Englishman, this Lieutenant Duquesne, is the enemy of our -family—Vandemar Della Coscia!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253">{253}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>For a second it seemed to Vivienne as though the blood ceased to move in -her veins, and that her heart stood still, but she summoned courage.</p> - -<p>“Who told you this?” she gasped.</p> - -<p>“Count Mont d’Oro.”</p> - -<p>“A miserable plot!” she exclaimed. “He looks upon Lieutenant Duquesne as -a rival and has hatched up this story to compass his death. How can men -be so base?”</p> - -<p>“You have answered your own question,” said Julien. “For the love of a -woman man can make himself either a hero or a villain. But think, -Vivienne, when this man is dead, no one can point the finger of scorn at -us, or couple the word <i>Rimbecco</i> with our family name.”</p> - -<p>“But it is a wicked plot,” cried Vivienne. “The Count has no proof. He -could easily invent such a story as he told you. The night I followed -you to the woods, Julien, I was robbed of my clothing and jewels and -left to die in the storm. Lieutenant Duquesne saved my life. Then I -saved his, for it was I who killed the two men who had been hired by -Count Mont d’Oro to murder the man who, he now says, is Vandemar Della -Coscia. How plain this all is! It is strange that you cannot see it, -Julien. You and Pascal may do as you will, but I shall warn Lieutenant -Duquesne so that he may escape. He is unarmed, and cannot defend himself -against you all.”</p> - -<p>Julien grasped his sister by the arm, but she broke away. Breathing -heavily, and with wild, staring eyes, she rushed into the reception -room, to the great astonishment of the assembled guests.</p> - -<p>Before she could speak, other voices were heard. They were the voices of -men, and they chanted the words which had so often preceded the death of -some man or woman doomed by the vendetta:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254">{254}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Place on the wall before my bed<br /></span> -<span class="i1">My cross of honour well gained.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">To my sons, my sons, in a far country,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Convey my cross and bloody vest.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">He, my first born, will see the rents.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">For each rent, a rent in another shirt,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">A wound in another heart. Vengeance!<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The hour for vengeance is nigh.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Make ready his bed in the valley of skulls;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">He comes, the last of his race, but he<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Comes to his couch with a stain on his shroud,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Only to die; the vendetta, the spirit of the vendetta<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Is awake; it has slept too long. Blood for blood!<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The noble house of Batistelli no longer shall<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Bear the dread reproach of <i>Rimbeccare</i>; the stain<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Shall now be washed away in blood.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Vandemar must die!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>“Bless my soul!” ejaculated Admiral Enright. “A most re-mark-a-ble -serenade. What does it mean?”</p> - -<p>The question was answered by the Mayor of Ajaccio: “It is the chant of -the Death Brothers.”</p> - -<p>“The Death Brothers?” asked Helen. “But this is a birthday fête, not a -funeral.”</p> - -<p>“In Corsica,” said the Mayor, “one is often followed by the other.”</p> - -<p>“But,” cried the Admiral, “cannot you as mayor, order them away?”</p> - -<p>“I am unarmed,” was the reply, “and have no <i>posse</i> with me.”</p> - -<p>“But you represent the law,” cried Helen.</p> - -<p>“I do,” said the Mayor, “but the vendetta is above the law. I can deal -with the offenders afterwards, when known, but it is impossible to -prevent the tragedy.”</p> - -<p>So saying, he beckoned to one of the gentlemen present and they left the -room together.</p> - -<p>While this conversation was going on, Vivienne had eagerly scanned the -faces of the guests, but Victor was not there. Where could he be? Had -they already killed him? Were the Death Brothers chanting over<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255">{255}</a></span> his dead -body? Had Pascal and the Count met him in the garden and wreaked their -double vengeance upon him?</p> - -<p>At that moment Victor entered, escorting the Countess Mont d’Oro and -Miss Renville. Conducting them to chairs, he made his way at once to -Vivienne.</p> - -<p>“Pardon me,” he said, “but after I was forsaken by you, I discovered -that the Countess and her friend had been deserted by their cavaliers, -and I proffered myself as escort.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne moved to a part of the room where there were fewer listeners. -Then she said in suppressed tones:</p> - -<p>“You must leave the castle at once, Lieutenant Duquesne. You are in -danger. The Count wishes your life. It is my fault, for I insulted him -grievously, and now you must suffer. Oh, leave the castle before they -come back. Go to your ship—that is your only place of safety. I will -have a horse saddled and you can escape easily.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne did not mention that he was suspected of being Vandemar Della -Coscia. She did not believe the story, and why should she speak of it? -If she did, he might think that she, too, believed it; so she simply -warned him, in order to keep her word.</p> - -<p>Victor stood irresolute. He was unarmed, and knew the Count to be a -vindictive, revengeful enemy, but he certainly would not murder him in -cold blood in the presence of so many witnesses. He turned to Vivienne:</p> - -<p>“Let the Count do his worst! I shall remain!”</p> - -<p>The chanting of the <i>Rimbeccare</i> had ceased, but it was followed by -shouts and cries which portended death to the object of the Death -Brothers’ vengeance. The sound of moving men was heard; then Count Mont -d’Oro, followed by Pascal, Julien, and the Death Brothers, entered the -room, the startled and affrighted<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256">{256}</a></span> guests making way for them. The Count -advanced towards Victor, who stood beside Vivienne. He pointed his -finger at Victor and cried:</p> - -<p>“He is the man!”</p> - -<p>Then, turning to the guests, he said, in his most polite manner:</p> - -<p>“I beg the pardon of the ladies and gentlemen present for what is about -to occur. I would advise the ladies to leave the room, for the scene -which is to follow is not one they should look upon. It will be an act -of justice long delayed.”</p> - -<p>The Mayor of Ajaccio, who had returned and heard the Count’s words, -stepped forward, and said, in firm tones:</p> - -<p>“If it is an act of justice, I represent the law and will see that it is -administered.”</p> - -<p>“It is an act of justice,” cried Pascal; “but it is more. It is -something that affects the honour and good name of the Batistellis, and -that is beyond your jurisdiction. Speak up, Count Mont d’Oro, and let -all listen.”</p> - -<p>“Before you all,” cried the Count, “I declare that the man standing -there,” and he again pointed his finger at Victor, “is masquerading -under an assumed name. He is not the one he seems to be. He is not an -Englishman, but a Corsican. His name is not Victor Duquesne, but -Vandemar Della Coscia!”</p> - -<p>“It is false, good friends,” cried Vivienne. “The Count does not -contemplate an act of justice, but one of vengeance.”</p> - -<p>“It is true,” cried Pascal. “He is a son of the man who murdered my -father, and by our unwritten law, handed down to us for hundreds of -years, his death is but a poor requital for his father’s crime.”</p> - -<p>Count Mont d’Oro unsheathed his sword and addressed Pascal:</p> - -<p>“It is my right to secure satisfaction for the insult<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257">{257}</a></span> given me before -your guests to-night. If in doing this I avenge your wrongs, so much the -better.”</p> - -<p>As Count Mont d’Oro, with drawn sword, advanced towards Victor, who, -unarmed, looked at him proudly and defiantly, loud cries burst from many -of the ladies, who averted or covered their faces, while some of the -gentlemen exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“It is not the Count’s right. It belongs to Pascal and Julien.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne turned an entreating face towards Admiral Enright. Would he do -nothing to save his friend and brother officer? Then she noticed for the -first time that the Admiral’s sword hung by his side. She leaped towards -him, grasped the hilt, drew the weapon from its scabbard and, an instant -later, placed it in Victor’s hand. Then she reeled, and would have -fallen had not the Admiral and his daughter supported her.</p> - -<p>Victor was an adroit swordsman. He was cool and collected, while his -antagonist was angry and over-confident. Victor felt that the contest -meant death to one of them. He loved, and he wished to live. The Count’s -passion made him almost a madman, and the fight was of long duration.</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul!” cried the Admiral. “That is the most re-mark-a-ble bit -of fencing I ever saw.”</p> - -<p>But the end came. For an instant the Count was off his guard. Victor saw -his opportunity and sent his blade through the Count’s sword-arm.</p> - -<p>Pascal, sword in hand, rushed forward and joined in the attack. At the -same moment Julien signalled with his sword to the Death Brothers, who, -with stilettos, gathered about the contestants.</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul!” cried the Admiral. “This is murder.”</p> - -<p>Pascal was not a good swordsman, and his advent disconcerted rather than -aided the Count, who struck wildly, putting at defiance both science and -skill. Vic<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258">{258}</a></span>tor did not wish to injure Pascal, but he had no compunctions -as regarded the Count. Although opposed by two men, he changed his -tactics from the defensive to the aggressive. Using a trick which he had -learned from his French fencing-master, he disarmed Pascal, sending his -sword flying into the air. As it fell the hilt struck the Count upon the -head. Bewildered by the blow, he dropped his sword-point so low that it -left the upper part of his body unguarded, and the next moment Victor -ran him through.</p> - -<p>The Count dropped his weapon and threw both hands into the air. The -horrified spectators expected to see him reel and fall backwards, but, -instead, he placed both hands upon his chest, as though striving to -check the stream of blood which welled forth. His strength soon failed -him; he sank upon his knees, then fell prone upon his face.</p> - -<p>Pascal regained his sword and was joined by Julien. Victor was now -confronted by the brothers of the woman whom he loved. The situation was -a terrible one. His first thought was to throw down his sword and let -them wreak their vengeance upon him. But life is sweet, and love is -sweeter. Perhaps he could disarm them both, for even together they were -not his equal in swordplay.</p> - -<p>At that moment a loud report was heard outside, and a rifle bullet -struck Victor’s wrist. It did not pass through it, but, momentarily, -paralysed his sword-arm and the weapon fell from his nerveless grasp. -Victor retreated several paces—he must gain time. He soon felt the -strength returning to his arm, but how could he regain possession of his -sword? Pascal and Julien were advancing towards him, when Vivienne threw -herself upon her knees, and grasping her brothers, prevented their -onward movement.</p> - -<p>“Traitress!” cried Pascal. “Get out of the way. You are no longer a -Batistelli.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259">{259}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Releasing her hold, Vivienne accomplished her purpose. Reaching behind -her brother Julien, she secured Victor’s sword. Then, leaping to her -feet, she cried:</p> - -<p>“You may kill him, but you shall not murder him.”</p> - -<p>Armed again, Victor faced his opponents, but the apparently unequal -hand-to-hand conflict was over. With howls like those of a pack of -hungry wolves, Cromillian, followed by his moral bandits—who, in fact, -looked more like a band of ragged rascals—burst into the room, and the -tide of battle was turned. As Cromillian reached the body of the Count, -he stooped and picked up the sword, at the same time dropping his rifle -upon the floor. It was he who had fired the shot which had been intended -for Pascal or Julien, not for Victor. The uncertain movements of the -swordplayers had affected his usual unerring aim.</p> - -<p>“Two against two is fair fighting,” he cried. “Come on, you noble sons -of Batistelli, or I will cry <i>Rimbecco</i> so that all can hear it.”</p> - -<p>Stung to the quick by this, to them, insulting bravado, they rushed -forward. Despite the injury to his arm, Victor, encouraged by the -presence of Cromillian, repeated the trick, and once more sent Pascal’s -sword flying through the air. But Julien’s fate was more serious. He was -a better swordsman than his brother, but he could not withstand the -furious onslaught of Cromillian, who battered down his guard time after -time, and finally gave him a mortal wound.</p> - -<p>Vivienne had watched the fight in every detail. She saw her brother -Pascal disarmed and at Victor’s mercy—but she had no feeling of sorrow -at his impending fate. Then she saw her brother Julien fall and, still, -there was no pang of regret. Her thoughts were of Victor, and of him -alone.</p> - -<p>The Death Brothers were cowed, for the muzzles of the bandits’ rifles -covered them. Vivienne grasped Victor’s arm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260">{260}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Come with me,” she whispered, “and I will lead you to a place of -safety.”</p> - -<p>He obeyed without a word. She pulled aside some tapestry, opened a door -which had been concealed by it, and a moment later he was following her -down a long passageway, so dark that he was unable to discern the -outlines of her form.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261">{261}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.<br /><br /> -<small>THE HALL OF MIRRORS.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Cromillian’s</span> keen eye had seen Vivienne approach Victor. She could not -have said much to him, for, an instant later, she disappeared from the -room. Cromillian looked at Pascal, but the latter did not seem inclined -to measure swords with him, so he glanced once more at the spot where -Vivienne had stood, and found that Victor, too, was gone.</p> - -<p>The object of his visit to the Batistelli castle had been attained—in -fact, he had done more than he had intended, for the killing of either -Pascal or Julien had not been premeditated.</p> - -<p>One of his objects had been to punish treachery—and Paoli was dead; -another had been to protect Victor from the vendetta—and that, too, had -doubtless been accomplished, and Victor was probably now on his way to -his ship, beyond the reach of his enemies.</p> - -<p>As active hostilities seemed to be at an end, Cromillian quickly came to -the decision that he and his men would be more at home in the <i>maquis</i> -than in the Batistelli reception room.</p> - -<p>When they reached the door, they found their way barred by a body of -<i>gens d’armes</i>. The Mayor of Ajaccio had dispatched a special messenger -to summon them, and, as usual, they had arrived after the trouble was -over. Neither Cromillian nor his men feared the <i>gens d’armes</i>. With -loud yells, they rushed forward, scattering the police as though they -had been puppets.</p> - -<p>After Cromillian and his bandits had left the castle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262">{262}</a></span> the <i>gens -d’armes</i> recovered from their surprise and, with commendable courage, -started in pursuit of the outlaws. Half an hour later they returned, and -the leader reported to the Mayor that their search had been fruitless. -That official provided them with a task much more to their liking—to -act as his escort back to Ajaccio.</p> - -<p>Dr. Procida came forward at once to see if he could be of assistance to -the wounded men. After examining the Count’s body, he looked up and -found Pascal regarding him attentively. The doctor shook his head, -ruefully: “He is past human aid.” He then turned his attention to -Julien, making his examination much more thorough. Again, he looked -up—Pascal still stood regarding him fixedly.</p> - -<p>“Nothing can be done,” he said; “he is dead.”</p> - -<p>The evening which had opened so pleasantly had ended tragically. The -guests expressed their sympathy to Pascal and to Countess Mont d’Oro, -then departed quickly for their homes.</p> - -<p>A messenger was sent to summon the servants of the Countess Mont d’Oro, -and the body of the young Count was conveyed to his mother’s house.</p> - -<p>During the evening, Miss Enright had become acquainted with the Countess -and Bertha. At the latter’s suggestion, the Countess invited the Admiral -and his daughter to return home with her, as it would be almost -impossible to reach their vessel at that late hour, and the invitation -was gladly accepted. After what had taken place, a longer residence at -the Batistelli castle would have been intolerable to Helen. Her father, -used to scenes of blood, would not have been so sensitive about the -matter, although he warmly resented the treatment which his lieutenant -had received.</p> - -<p>“This is a most re-mark-a-ble country,” he said to his daughter, as they -were on their way to the Countess Mont d’Oro’s. “I thought you said the -Corsicans were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263">{263}</a></span> noted for their hospitality, and that the person of a -guest was sacred.”</p> - -<p>“So it is,” replied Helen, “until it comes in conflict with the -vendetta, whose demands are superior to custom and to all law, whether -human or divine.”</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul! What a swordsman Victor is! I’ll have him made a captain -as soon as I get back to England.”</p> - -<p>Before retiring, Bertha went to the Countess’s boudoir to express her -sympathy for her great affliction.</p> - -<p>“It is a terrible blow to have lost your only son.”</p> - -<p>The Countess’s eyes were tearless.</p> - -<p>“He has lost more than I have,” she said. “He was never a good son to -me. I would have been a good mother to him, but he spurned my advice and -cursed me when I reproved him for his folly or his wickedness. His life -has been cut short, and so have his sins.”</p> - -<p>Manassa had been awakened by the shouts and the firing of the gun which -had wounded Victor, and made his way to the reception room. He knelt -beside the body of Julien, alternately weeping for the dead Batistelli -and cursing the Della Coscias.</p> - -<p>Pascal reasoned that Victor had not escaped from the castle, but had -been taken by Vivienne to some hiding-place within. Bidding the Death -Brothers follow him, he searched every nook and corner of room after -room, without success, until only one remained—the Hall of Mirrors.</p> - -<p>At the top of the large square tower of Batistelli Castle was the -dungeon chamber mentioned in the letter left by Vivienne’s father. That -letter, together with the instructions for opening the dungeon door, had -been given to Vivienne that evening by Clarine. They were too precious -to be trusted even to the guardianship of lock and key, and Vivienne had -concealed them in the bosom of her dress.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264">{264}</a></span></p> - -<p>In front of the dungeon chamber was the Hall of Mirrors, so called -because the four sides were covered by large mirrors which extended from -floor to ceiling. One unacquainted with the fact would never have -imagined that the four mirrors, covering the walls in which was the door -leading to the dungeon chamber, were hinged. When these four mirrors, -which opened like doors, were thrown back, a new surprise greeted the -eye. Upon the wall was painted a picture—the subject being the Garden -of Eden. In the foreground stood Adam and Eve, while a short distance -from them was a tree, among the leaves of which the body of a serpent -could be seen.</p> - -<p>On this fatal night, the mirrors concealing the dungeon door were -closed, as they had been for a score of years, at least. How often -Conrad Batistelli had visited it during his lifetime, no one knew. But, -some twenty years before, Clarine had told Manassa that she had seen the -master coming down the long flight of stone steps that led to the Hall -of Mirrors. After making him promise not to reveal what she should say, -she told him that the master’s face was white as a sheet; that he had -sent her for some wine, and that when she went into his room an hour -later, the bottle was empty.</p> - -<p>“And you know, Manassa,” she had said, “he has never been a drinking -man. Something must have frightened him. I wonder what there is in that -old tower.”</p> - -<p>And Manassa, who had a poor opinion of women, had replied, sneeringly:</p> - -<p>“If there is anything mysterious up there, you will probably find out -what it is before you are satisfied. In woman, curiosity takes the place -of courage.”</p> - -<p>On the evening of the birthday anniversary, Pascal had given orders that -every candle in the castle should be lighted, and when Vivienne and -Victor entered the Hall of Mirrors they found them burning brightly in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265">{265}</a></span> -the sconces on the wall between the mirrors, and in the candelabra.</p> - -<p>“You are safer here than outside,” said Vivienne. “I will let you know -when the castle is clear, and then there will, no doubt, be a chance for -you to escape, and if you will allow me to advise you, monsieur, I -should say leave Corsica—for a season at least. No doubt, you and your -friends will be glad to turn your backs upon a nation which you must -henceforth consider as inhabited by barbarians.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all, dear friend! There are some here, mademoiselle, whom I -shall greatly esteem while life lasts.”</p> - -<p>“Try to forgive my brothers, if you can; they have been fearfully -misled.”</p> - -<p>“I would forgive any whom you love, mademoiselle, even though they -subjected me to the keenest torture, but never can I feel greater -remorse than I do at this moment.”</p> - -<p>“Remorse—and for what?” cried Vivienne.</p> - -<p>Victor was obliged to strain a point in order to supply a suitable -explanation of his feelings. He remembered that Vivienne had told him -that she did not love Count Mont d’Oro, and would never marry him. -Victor knew that Vivienne was his friend, or she would not have twice -placed a weapon in his hand to enable him to defend himself. He had -never declared his love for her, and he had no right to presume that she -was in love with him. He felt that she would not have aided him had she -known him to be a Della Coscia. Then Miss Enright had told him that -Corsican women were passionate—adding that passionate women were -usually fickle. Did Vivienne love him? He would test her.</p> - -<p>“My remorse,” he said, “is due to the fact that I have caused the death -of Count Mont d’Oro. Do you remember the flower you gave me the morning -that we first met? Here it is. I have it with me always.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266">{266}</a></span>” and he held -up the white rose with blood-stained petals. “I had sworn by this little -flower never to injure any whom you loved, even to save my own life. And -now, God forgive me! I have killed one dearer to you than a brother. I -dare not ask your pardon for the rash act—I can only plead with Heaven -to soften your heart towards me.”</p> - -<p>“I do not understand you,” said Vivienne. “The Count dearer to me than a -brother? Did I not tell you——”</p> - -<p>Victor persisted:</p> - -<p>“How can I hope for pardon from you, his betrothed wife!” He looked at -the flower: “On each tiny petal I read a lesson—peace and love. I have -proved recreant to my vow, sweet emblem. I am unworthy of a gift so -pure. Die, then, with the fondest hopes my heart ever cherished. I crush -both beneath my feet!”</p> - -<p>He threw the flower upon the floor and raised his foot——</p> - -<p>“No, you shall not!” cried Vivienne. “Do not destroy it!” As she spoke, -she knelt and picked up the flower. “There is a magic charm hidden -within its petals. The assassin’s steel could not pierce the breast upon -which it reposed. Would you, then, throw away so powerful a talisman?”</p> - -<p>“Assassin? You do not mean——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Count Mont d’Oro was no better than an assassin. Three times he -sought your life, not because you had injured him, but because you stood -in his path.”</p> - -<p>“Then you did not love him?”</p> - -<p>“I hated—I abhorred him! I honour the hand that struck him down.” She -took Victor’s right hand in hers: “This is the hand, and to its keeping -I intrust, once more, this little, faded flower. Keep it as a memento of -me, and when you are far away, look at it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267">{267}</a></span> sometimes and remember that -you left one true friend in Corsica.”</p> - -<p>Victor took the flower and pressed it to his lips:</p> - -<p>“It shall never leave me more! Vivienne, you have saved my life, not -only once, but twice, at the risk of your own. I must—I will speak, now -that we are about to part forever. I must tell you that the life you -saved is henceforth worthless to me unless blest by your love. Oh, you -could not have avoided seeing my struggle, even while it seemed most -hopeless. My future happiness is in your keeping. A word from your lips -will forever seal the fate of one who loves you with a devotion second -only to that which we owe to God. Speak, Vivienne! But, remember, you -hold my life and its dearest hopes in your keeping. One word will bid me -live and hope, or blast forever the fondest dream of my life!”</p> - -<p>Vivienne was unconventional. She lifted her luminous black eyes and -looked straight into his. There was no time for idle sentiment. The -happiness of two lives, the fate of one, hung upon her answer.</p> - -<p>“If, indeed, it rests with me, then I bid you live and be happy, as I -shall be.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne extended her hand, which Victor took and held for one brief -moment. It was with difficulty that he restrained the impulse to clasp -her in his arms and kiss her sweet lips, which had so frankly confessed -her love for him. But Victor had a chivalric nature and he knew that, -considering the avowal that must be made, such an act would be -ungenerous. Hard as it was to utter the words which would part them -forever, he realised that they must be spoken. Victor flung her hand -from him, and cried:</p> - -<p>“You love me, rash girl! I see it in the soft tenderness of your eyes—I -felt it in the fervent pressure of your hand. No, no, you must not! -Speak but one kind word to me and you outrage every inherent prin<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_268" id="page_268">{268}</a></span>ciple -of your race! Dare even to regard me with pity and you forfeit every -right to your boasted name and lineage! Oh, I cannot—will not—deceive -you, even to win your matchless heart. You shall know me as I am, and -then I will die at your feet!”</p> - -<p>He passed her the sword, the blade still reddened with the blood of -Count Mont d’Oro. He sank upon his knees, threw his coat wide open, -baring his chest for the expected blow, and cried:</p> - -<p>“Strike, for I am Vandemar!”</p> - -<p>Vivienne started back, gazing at him with horror-stricken eyes. She -raised the sword as if to strike—then it fell from her hand, clanging -loudly upon the stone. She staggered, and leaned for support against one -of the mirrors, which reflected her shrinking form, her death-white -face, and closed eyes. She had shut them tightly, for before her had -risen the picture of Vandemar lying dead at her feet, she standing over -him, the sword, dripping with his blood, in her hands.</p> - -<p>Vandemar saw her distress and, arising, said:</p> - -<p>“You are suffering. Let me assist you.”</p> - -<p>“Stand back! Do not touch me!” and Vivienne retreated towards the door -which led from the room.</p> - -<p>“What was that?” She bent low and listened. It was the sound of many -feet on the stairway. They came nearer and nearer; then there were -shouts and cries.</p> - -<p>Summoning all her strength, she shot the rusty bolt into place. Some one -tried to open the door, but it resisted his efforts. Then heavy blows -rained upon it and a voice cried:</p> - -<p>“Open the door! You cannot escape! We have you safely cornered.”</p> - -<p>There was a lull for a moment, then Vivienne heard her brother’s voice:</p> - -<p>“Vivienne, I command you to open the door. If you do not, it will be -broken down.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_269" id="page_269">{269}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Vivienne heard the command, but she did not obey it; instead, she turned -a pleading face to Vandemar.</p> - -<p>“I will open it,” he said, and placed his hand upon the bolt.</p> - -<p>She grasped his hand and pulled it away. “Come with me,” she said, in a -hoarse whisper. He followed her, wondering what the meaning of this new -move might be.</p> - -<p>“You are mad!” she cried. “They would have pierced your defenceless -breast with a dozen stilettos if you had opened that door.”</p> - -<p>“As well now as later; it is only the difference of a few minutes.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne paced back and forth, apparently in great distress of mind, as -if hesitating between love and duty. Again, the cries were heard -outside:</p> - -<p>“Open the door, or we shall break it in! Vandemar must die! Blood for -blood!”</p> - -<p>The assailants had secured possession of a heavy piece of timber, for it -was heard to crash against the stout oaken door.</p> - -<p>Vivienne clasped her hands and stood as if praying:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Never open that door except it be in case of great extremity, and -never divulge the secret unless it be to save human life.’ Father, thou -knowest that the hour of extremity has come, and that a life, dearest to -me of all on earth, must be saved.”</p> - -<p>Again the battering-ram struck against the door, and Vivienne felt that -it would not long resist such terrific blows. She drew a paper from her -bosom and rapidly scanned it, repeating the words to fix them in her -memory. The hinged mirrors were thrown back and the wonderful picture of -the Garden of Eden was revealed. Hidden springs were quickly touched, -and soon the massive dungeon door creaked, and flew open without the aid -of human hands. A noisome vapour came from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_270" id="page_270">{270}</a></span> the dungeon chamber and all -looked black within. Vivienne pointed to the open door:</p> - -<p>“It is your only chance for life. You must go in!”</p> - -<p>Vandemar looked in, then turned away.</p> - -<p>“It is a tomb!” he cried. “I would rather meet my fate here at once, -than to suffer slow torture from starvation, and perish at last in a -loathsome vault. I will not enter!”</p> - -<p>“You do not value your life,” cried Vivienne. “If you will not save it -for your own sake, I entreat you that you will do it for mine. If I -live, I will release you.”</p> - -<p>Vandemar gave her a questioning look—he did not dare to believe what he -had heard.</p> - -<p>“You hesitate! You do not believe me!” and there was a plaintive -entreaty in her words. “Look in my face and see whether I could -treacherously consign you to a death so terrible!”</p> - -<p>Vandemar took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. -“Vivienne,” he said, slowly, “I would trust you though all the demons of -hell were combined to tempt you.”</p> - -<p>He threw his arms about her—he might never see her again. Perhaps this -was their last farewell. He drew her close to him and kissed her upon -brow, cheek, and lips. With all the contrariness of woman, even at this -crucial moment, she clung to him, for he was the first love of her young -life—and this love was so sweet—how could she ever forget those -kisses?</p> - -<p>Again, with a terrible crash, the battering-ram was brought against the -door, impelled by a dozen strong arms and hands. One more such blow and -it must give way.</p> - -<p>Vivienne threw her arms about Vandemar’s neck, but he gently freed -himself from her loving embrace. He pulled the dungeon door to after -him, but it was still ajar. Vivienne threw herself against it, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_271" id="page_271">{271}</a></span> -hidden bolts sprang into their places. Vandemar was safe!</p> - -<p>It was with difficulty that she reached the centre of the great room. -She knew that she was alone, but, as she looked from side to side, it -seemed as though the room was full of weeping women, unhappy as she was -herself.</p> - -<p>Once more the dull thud of the ram as it struck the oaken door! The iron -bolt was torn from its fastenings and the door fell inward. Loud cries -of exultation were heard as Pascal, followed by his retainers and the -Death Brothers, burst into the room and rushed towards Vivienne.</p> - -<p>Pascal grasped her arm roughly:</p> - -<p>“You conspire against the honour of your family, faithless girl! -Ingrate!! Tell me where you have hidden this villain—the son of him who -killed our father.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne released herself from her brother’s hold and looked at him -defiantly:</p> - -<p>“Pascal, remember that I am your sister. Our father was a gentleman. Do -not forget that you are his son.”</p> - -<p>“Stop!” shouted Pascal. “You are not worthy to speak his name. Tell me -where you have hidden this sneaking lover of yours, for, by Heaven, you -shall deliver him to us or it will be the worse for you. It was for him, -the coward, coming here under a false name, that you trampled upon the -love of an honest man and set my wishes at defiance. You false-hearted -liar! You are no sister of mine! Hypocrite! Now speak!”</p> - -<p>“You see he is not here.”</p> - -<p>“But you know where he is!”</p> - -<p>“I swear to you, Pascal, that I know not at this moment whether he be an -inhabitant of earth or heaven. It does not require much time to waft a -spirit to the skies.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_272" id="page_272">{272}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Her brother’s eye caught sight of the blood-stained sword upon the -floor:</p> - -<p>“Have you killed him? Where is he? I will not believe it until I see his -dead body.”</p> - -<p>“That time may come soon,” she replied. She was thinking of Vandemar in -the dark dungeon behind her. Then she wondered if the mirrors had been -closed. If not, Pascal would see the picture and discover her secret. -She could not resist the impulse to turn and look at the dungeon door.</p> - -<p>Pascal had waited for her to say more. When she did not, he cried:</p> - -<p>“This is but a weak attempt at evasion. You have become an adept in -trickery and deception. Now, hear me, Vivienne, and be warned in time. I -shall ask you but once more—where is Vandemar?”</p> - -<p>Vivienne realised that her entreaties, no matter how strong or how -persistent they might be, would have no effect upon her brother, who was -animated by the spirit of his race—the spirit of the vendetta—which -demands a victim, a sacrifice, an atonement. In her veins flowed the -blood of the Batistellis. Now that Vandemar was beyond their reach, she -became strong, self-reliant, courageous.</p> - -<p>“Find him, if you think I have hidden him! You have the keys of the -castle, and see,” pointing to the men, sneeringly, “your friends are -here to help you; and when you have found him, let your band of Death -Brothers chant his dirge.”</p> - -<p>Pascal advanced towards her, his sword raised in a threatening manner.</p> - -<p>“I will have no more of this insolence,” he cried. “You shall answer, or -I will strike you down!”</p> - -<p>His anger was so intense that he might have carried his threat into -execution if his followers had not interposed.</p> - -<p>“No, no!” cried one, grasping his arm. “Bethink<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_273" id="page_273">{273}</a></span> you, sir. Bethink you, -sir, she is a defenceless woman. You must not strike.”</p> - -<p>Then a chorus of voices arose: “She is your sister. You must not -strike.”</p> - -<p>Pascal let his sword-point fall, but there was no hope of mercy in his -voice when he spoke. He evidently had a new project in mind, and was -determined to carry it out.</p> - -<p>“I will not kill you,” he exclaimed, “but he shall die!”</p> - -<p>Then he beckoned to one of the men:</p> - -<p>“Go tell Doctor Procida to come here at once.”</p> - -<p>At the mention of the doctor’s name, Vivienne’s thoughts reverted to -Julien:</p> - -<p>“Pascal, tell me of Julien! Oh, tell me, is he dead?”</p> - -<p>Pascal did not answer. Vivienne appealed to the men: “You will tell me. -Is my brother——”</p> - -<p>One of the men bowed his head, and she knew the worst.</p> - -<p>“Oh Pascal!” she cried, “how can you think of murder, of revenge, when -Julien is dead?”</p> - -<p>“Your tears are out of place. Why should you weep for one whom you have -insulted by unjustly taunting him with cowardice and delay of duty? Have -you not reproached him often for not killing the very man whom you now -screen from justice?”</p> - -<p>Vivienne, who had felt no sorrow at the death of Count Mont d’Oro, now -wept unrestrainedly when she learned that her beloved brother Julien was -no more.</p> - -<p>“I have, I have! Heaven forgive me! I will go to him. I must look into -his face again. I will beg him to forgive me. You say he is dead, but -when I speak to him, he will come back to life and forgive me, for I -loved him, and he loved me.”</p> - -<p>Pascal smiled grimly, and touched his forehead sig<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_274" id="page_274">{274}</a></span>nificantly. To one of -the men, he said in an undertone: “She has lost her reason.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne was determined to see Julien. She started towards the door, but -Pascal grasped her arm and drew her back:</p> - -<p>“Stay! You shall not insult him with your presence.”</p> - -<p>At that moment, Dr. Procida entered. He was a dapper little man, with -small, beady eyes, and was clad in a suit of black. His voice was soft -and apologetic, his manners suave; he approached Pascal, bowing low:</p> - -<p>“How can I serve you?”</p> - -<p>“My worst fears are realised, Doctor,” said Pascal. “My poor sister is -mad.”</p> - -<p>The doctor rubbed his hands together—professionally, it seemed to those -who saw him; in reality, gleefully—for he was saying to himself: “A -thousand francs in my pocket, at least.”</p> - -<p>“I am not surprised,” said the doctor. “The events of the evening have -been too much for her sensitive nature, but we will soon have her cured, -Monsieur Batistelli. What she needs, and must have, is retirement—rest. -Our private asylum at Salvanetra offers the first, and I will see that -she gets the other.”</p> - -<p>“Stop, sir!” cried Vivienne, addressing the doctor. Turning to her -brother, she said:</p> - -<p>“You cannot mean it! You cannot be so cruel, so utterly heartless, as to -carry out such a farce as this! I must be dreaming!”</p> - -<p>The doctor nodded his head. Pascal saw the movement and understood.</p> - -<p>“I know, I know, my dear,” said the doctor. “Yes, it is a dream, but you -will be much better when you awake to-morrow. You will get up looking as -fresh as a rose, and you shall have a nice drive with my wife. Would you -not like to go with me to Salvanetra and see the pretty house in which I -live?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_275" id="page_275">{275}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Vivienne turned her face away. She could not answer, for she already -loathed the man.</p> - -<p>“Doctor,” said Pascal, “I wish her to have the best of care.”</p> - -<p>“All my patients get that,” the doctor replied, blandly.</p> - -<p>“She is in good bodily health,” Pascal continued. “Give her no nostrums. -I do not believe in them.”</p> - -<p>“Neither do I,” said the doctor. Until his patients were under his -charge, he always agreed with the ideas of their relatives and friends. -There is a saying that some persons are “All things to all men,” and -there are none who so fully exemplify it as those who have charge of the -insane.</p> - -<p>“Pascal,” cried Vivienne, “you mistake me much if you think I will -tamely submit to this terrible outrage. I will die first!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, monsieur, do not answer her,” said the doctor. “She is becoming -excited, a condition to be avoided if possible, at least until she is in -more suitable quarters.”</p> - -<p>“I will order the closed carriage, Doctor,” said Pascal, “and my -servants, who will accompany you, can drive it back to-morrow morning. -Come along!” he said to Vivienne, and he attempted to grasp her hand.</p> - -<p>Vivienne recoiled: “Now? To-night? You cannot mean to-night, Pascal?”</p> - -<p>“I mean now, at once,” he cried. “Come!”</p> - -<p>“Better try gentleness before using force,” Dr. Procida suggested.</p> - -<p>“Force? You would not force me from this room? Oh, Pascal, shut me in -here, give me bread and water, and naught but the cold stones to lie -upon, and I will bless you!”</p> - -<p>Pascal turned to Dr. Procida: “Better take her at once.”</p> - -<p>Then Vivienne appealed to the doctor. “No, no! For the love of Heaven, -tell him to leave me here!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_276" id="page_276">{276}</a></span> I shall go mad, indeed, if you take me from -the castle.”</p> - -<p>She threw herself at her brother’s feet: “Here upon my knees, I beg that -you will not send me away from the dear home I love, to live, and eat, -and sleep with lunatics. Oh, God! Suffer not a thing so horrible! -Torture me, Pascal. I will endure anything at your hands if you will but -let me remain here!”</p> - -<p>Dr. Procida placed his hand on Pascal’s arm: “Gently, monsieur.”</p> - -<p>Pascal raised Vivienne, and adopted the doctor’s suggestion:</p> - -<p>“It is for your good, sister. I will come to Salvanetra in two weeks. If -your health is restored, you shall come back with me.”</p> - -<p>“Two weeks! Two weeks!! Oh Heaven! Doctor, tell me, tell me, can one -live two weeks without food or drink, without the light of the sun, or -moon, or stars?”</p> - -<p>“You shall have all you want,” the doctor replied, irrelevantly.</p> - -<p>“Stop!” she cried; “your voice is like the doom of hell in my ears!”</p> - -<p>Pascal and the Doctor each grasped a hand, Vivienne struggling violently -to free herself, and they were obliged to let go their hold.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Pascal, one word—one word more—one last appeal! Let me see -Clarine for one minute, just one! Let me breathe but one word into her -ear, and I will go with you quietly. Oh, you will not refuse this, my -last request? Say I may, dear brother, oh, say I may!”</p> - -<p>The thought had come to her that if she could see her old nurse, tell -her where Vandemar was and give her the paper, he might yet escape. -Clarine knew all the secret passages in the old castle. Hope still -remained. Was the paper safe? Yes, it was there. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_277" id="page_277">{277}</a></span> poor girl was -nervous, excited, almost distracted. When she withdrew her hand from her -bosom, she unknowingly brought the paper with it. It fluttered a moment -on the air, and then fell to the floor.</p> - -<p>Pascal had been watching her closely. Her action had disclosed the -hiding-place of her secret. By this paper, she knew how to open the -dungeon door—and now it was in his possession. A look of almost -fiendish exultation came into his face. He tore the paper in pieces, -threw the fragments upon the floor, and stepped upon them.</p> - -<p>Vivienne had seen the paper in Pascal’s hands.</p> - -<p>“Oh my God!” she had thought, “he will open the dungeon door and kill -him!”</p> - -<p>With a wild, despairing cry, she threw up her hands, and was falling, -senseless, to the stone floor, when the doctor sprang forward and caught -her in his arms.</p> - -<p>Pascal signed to one of the men to assist the doctor. “Order the -carriage,” he said to another; then he added: “Go, all of you! I will -meet you soon in the reception room. I have something for you to do -to-morrow. Manassa, put out the lights.”</p> - -<p>As he descended the long, steep stairway, he soliloquised:</p> - -<p>“It is just as well; it will be a slow and lingering death, while my -sword or stiletto would have ended his pain at once. ’Tis better thus, -for we shall not have to bury him.”</p> - -<p>Manassa had heard the last words uttered by Vivienne. Before snuffing -the candles, he picked up the pieces of paper and put them in his -pocket. When he reached his room, he locked the door.</p> - -<p>An hour later, he looked up with a satisfied smile.</p> - -<p>“It is all here!” he exclaimed. “I have the secret of the dungeon door. -Vandemar shall die by my hand. I will avenge the wrongs of the -Batistellis!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_278" id="page_278">{278}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.<br /><br /> -<small>THE DUNGEON CHAMBER.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">No</span> sooner did Vandemar hear the door of the dungeon chamber close behind -him than there came a revulsion of feeling. The conviction forced itself -strongly upon him that he was the victim of a plot which had been -successful.</p> - -<p>He looked about him, but could see nothing. Then he remembered that he -had come quickly from a brightly lighted room into a dark one, and it -was only natural that his vision should be affected. He must wait until -his eyes accommodated themselves to the darkness. No, he would not wait. -He would leave the place at once. He turned and retraced his steps, as -he supposed, towards the door, but when he reached the wall he could not -find it. He followed the seams between the stones with his fingers. The -horizontal ones were much longer than those which ran perpendicularly, -but they were all too short to indicate the presence of a door. Almost -frenzied, he continued the search until his finger-nails were broken and -torn by conflict with the rough stones. Still he kept on until the skin -was torn from his finger-tips and they were covered with blood. Finally, -his search was rewarded, for he came upon a seam which, beginning at the -floor, extended higher than he could reach. To make sure, he sought for -the hinges, but there were none. Then he remembered that he had read -about dungeon doors which swung upon pivots. Perhaps, if he exerted all -his strength, he might move it; but he soon desisted, nearly exhausted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_279" id="page_279">{279}</a></span></p> - -<p>Perhaps she could hear his voice, so he called out:</p> - -<p>“Vivienne! Vivienne!”</p> - -<p>His voice echoed and re-echoed from the walls of the great room. -Startled by the unaccustomed noise, several bats, as he supposed they -were, flew back and forth, flapping their wings. The sound was not so -unpleasant after all. It gave him satisfaction to know that in this dark -and noisome dungeon even such unpleasant companions as bats could live. -If they could survive, perhaps he could, until his friends rescued him. -This thought went through his mind with the rapidity of lightning. He -called the name Vivienne a dozen times, but there was no response. Then -he beat upon the door with his clenched fists. The blows made no -appreciable sound, but he experienced sharp thrills of pain from the -concussion.</p> - -<p>“Vivienne!” he cried, “give me my sword. If they come to kill me I am -unarmed. Give me back my sword so that I may defend myself.”</p> - -<p>He listened, but there was no sound excepting that produced by the -flapping of the bats’ wings as they circled about the room. Then all his -doubts came back.</p> - -<p>“She is faithless! She would not kill me with my own sword when I -offered it to her. No, that would have been too easy a death. Both she -and her brother decided that my death by starvation would be more to -their liking. It would be such a sweet revenge to know that I was dying -by inches. Oh, Vivienne, why does God put such fiendish hearts into such -angelic forms?”</p> - -<p>Man, in his direst distress, always accommodates himself to -circumstances and his environment. Thoroughly convinced that his -duration of life depended wholly upon himself, and that he could hope -for no outside assistance, Vandemar determined to make the best of his -condition. Beginning at the door, he followed the wall until he came -back to it. He learned that it was rec<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_280" id="page_280">{280}</a></span>tangular in shape, fully twice as -long as it was wide. He proved this by pacing the two distances. Then he -walked back and forth, covering the length of the room, groping with his -hands in the hope of finding a chair or cot upon which he could rest, -but there was no article of furniture in the room.</p> - -<p>During his monotonous trips, he made an important discovery. In one -corner of the dungeon, far above his reach, was a small window. He -imagined that the moon must have been obscured when he entered the -dungeon, for when its rays fell upon the window, he had discovered -it—but, alas, there was no hope of escape, for it was closely barred. -Even if he could wrench those bars from their fastenings, it would avail -him nothing, for the dungeon was in the uppermost part of the tower, and -he had no rope or other means of descending to the ground.</p> - -<p>At last, faint with the loss of blood from his wounds, and overcome by -exhaustion and despair, he threw himself upon the cold, damp stones, and -was soon lost to consciousness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_281" id="page_281">{281}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.<br /><br /> -<small>AT SALVANETRA.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Terence Devlin</span>, who had charge of the Batistelli grounds, was an early -riser, as all conscientious gardeners should be. Smoking his pipe, with -his spade resting upon his shoulder, he stood regarding an old withered -tree.</p> - -<p>“Not wan drap av rain finds its way to the roots av this ould giant -tree. I do believe it’s full nine hundred years ould.”</p> - -<p>“Terence!”</p> - -<p>The gardener turned when he heard his name called, and saw his wife, -Snodine, running towards him; if the movement of a woman weighing nearly -three hundred pounds could be called running.</p> - -<p>“What the divil’s the matter?” was the husband-like salutation which -greeted her when she met him.</p> - -<p>As soon as she could speak, Snodine said: “I’ve been up to the castle, -an’ sure it’s bad off they be up there. Young Master Julien is as dead -as was Father Francis when they took him out of the river where he’d -been slapin’ for a wake, and the Blessed Virgin prasarve us, it’s now -goin’ on two days since the poor mad craythur was taken away. Pray -Heaven the docthors may cure her, for a swater lady niver walked the -earth.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, Snodine, it’s a broken heart she has—and whin they tell her the -Count is dead——”</p> - -<p>“An’ do ye think they’ll tell her that same? Sure, they’d not be such a -pack o’ fools.”</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Twas hard enough to lose the brother, poor lad! But the swateheart, -Snodine; and they to be marrit so<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_282" id="page_282">{282}</a></span> soon, too. Oh, Lord help the poor mad -lady! She loved the Count dearly, they tell me. An’ whin is the wake to -be for the poor lad, Snodine?”</p> - -<p>“To-morrow night. He’ll have been dead two days thin.”</p> - -<p>“It’s hard for the livin’ brother. An’ how does he bear it, Snodine?”</p> - -<p>“As he does everything else. Divil a tear, Clarine tould me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s hard to understand the loikes of him.”</p> - -<p>“It’s right ye are,” said Snodine. “Niver a tear for the poor mad -sister, nor even a wan for the dead brother have he shed yet.”</p> - -<p>“Just you wait, me darlint, ’til the kayner strikes up the mournin’. -It’s many a dry eye I’ve seen over the dead ’til the kayners opened the -heart, and thin, faith, the tears came fast enough.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a hard world, indade—a botherin’ world,” said Snodine, wiping her -eyes, sympathetically, with the back of her hand, although there were no -tears in them.</p> - -<p>“I’m thinkin’ that now,” said Terence. “Now yer go back, and mind the -childer and don’t be afther botherin’ me whin it’s workin’ I am.”</p> - -<p>With these lover-like words Terence again shouldered his spade and -walked off towards the maple grove, while Snodine made her way homeward -to extend her motherly care to her family of nine, which, when stood in -a row according to age, made one think of a flight of stairs.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>And what of the mad lady?</p> - -<p>Vivienne was borne from the castle in a deep swoon. The events of the -evening had been too much for her frail, nervous organisation, and she -had succumbed. She was placed in a close carriage, and Dr. Procida took -a seat beside her. They were driven rapidly to Sal<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_283" id="page_283">{283}</a></span>vanetra. The doctor -wet Vivienne’s lips with brandy, which, together with the cool evening -air, that blew in through the open carriage window, soon revived her; -but she did not speak. When they reached the doctor’s house she was too -much exhausted to walk. He called two of his attendants, and she was -borne into the house and placed upon a bed in one of the rooms. A nurse -was sent to attend her, but she refused her ministrations and was -finally left alone. A single candle upon the table gave a flickering -light, and filled the room with strange shadows. She heard the bolt slip -into place and knew that she was not only a patient but a prisoner.</p> - -<p>She passed the most terrible night in her young life. Picture after -picture came before her eyes, though she shut them tightly, hoping to -escape the phantoms. One by one they followed each other—her friends, -with a wreath of roses emblematic of her age—then the music, and -singing, and dancing—next, the arrival of Victor and the pleasant -conversation they had had at the supper table. So far all was joy and -gladness. Then came visions of gloom and misery; the attack upon -Victor—his valiant defence—the death of the Count and her brother -Julien—the discovery that Victor was Vandemar, the son of the man who -had murdered her father—Vandemar in the dungeon chamber, where he must -die from starvation unless she could escape and rescue him—her own -terrible position, shut off from communication with her friends, on the -supposition that she was mad. Could she live through it and not grow mad -in reality?</p> - -<p>She arose from her bed, took up the sputtering candle, which had burned -low, and made a tour of the room—floor and walls of stone, impregnable -to any strength which she could exert—windows small, high from ground, -and guarded by heavy iron bars—the door of oaken timber, thickly -studded with bosses of iron. From such a prison there could be no -escape. Strong men<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_284" id="page_284">{284}</a></span> might attempt it, but there was no hope for one so -physically weak as she. Vandemar in his dungeon chamber was not more -completely isolated from the world. She threw herself upon the bed, and -the nurse found her there the next morning, sleeping the sleep which -kindly comes to save the worn-out mind and body when their limit of -resistance has been reached.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>The body of Count Mont d’Oro had been taken to his mother’s house and, -on the second day after the double tragedy, the remains of Julien -Batistelli were placed in the crypt beneath the castle, and those of -Count Mont d’Oro, followed by his mother, Miss Renville, and a few -friends, were deposited beside the body of his father in the little -burying-ground used by the gentry of Alfieri and vicinity.</p> - -<p>The night after the funeral, Bertha Renville wrote a long letter to -Jennie Glynne. She recounted, in detail, the terrible scenes through -which she had passed, and expressed the hope that something would occur -to take her away from the terrible place.</p> - -<p>“I know that my guardian and Jack,” she had written, “both came to -Corsica, but I have not seen them. Perhaps they have met and, in the -heat of passion, have fought. It may be that either Jack or Mr. Glynne -is dead, and sometimes the horrible thought comes to me that their last -meeting ended in the death of both. I am filled with a dread which I -cannot express. The Countess is kind to me, but we two weak women are -virtually defenceless. Oh, my dear, good friend, will this terrible -uncertainty ever end? Has the future any happiness in store for me?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_285" id="page_285">{285}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.<br /><br /> -<small>TO THE RESCUE!</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next morning Dr. Procida came to see Vivienne. On her bended knees -she implored him to let her go home. She told him that Vandemar was in -the dungeon chamber, and that he would die unless she opened the door. -She felt in her bosom for the paper and, finding it was gone, burst into -hysterical exclamations. The doctor, who was a friend of Pascal, said:</p> - -<p>“My poor young lady, you are labouring under an hallucination. You must -take a sedative, or you will break down entirely.” He placed a bottle -upon the table, saying: “I will send the nurse to administer it.”</p> - -<p>No sooner had he left the room than Vivienne threw the bottle upon the -stone floor. “It is a drug,” she cried, “and I will not take it.”</p> - -<p>Dr. Procida told Madeline Villefort, his head nurse, to give the -medicine to Vivienne. “I am going away for the day,” he continued, “as I -have to see a patient in Ajaccio. I shall not be back until late this -afternoon.”</p> - -<p>The nurse went to Vivienne’s room. The young girl was strangely calm.</p> - -<p>“The doctor has been called away for the day,” said Madeline, “and left -you in my charge. Where is the medicine?”</p> - -<p>Vivienne pointed to the floor.</p> - -<p>“You are a rash girl,” said the nurse. “When I tell the doctor what you -have done, he will put you in a strait-jacket or tie you to your bed.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne did not notice the woman’s words; in fact,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_286" id="page_286">{286}</a></span> she appeared -unconscious of her presence, and seemed lost in thought. Finally, she -said in an undertone:</p> - -<p>“What a terrible thing is the vendetta!”</p> - -<p>“Terrible,” cried Madeline, who had overheard her, “I think it is -glorious.” She drew a stiletto from the bosom of her dress. “Do you see -that? I mean it for the woman who stole my husband. Villefort was a -fool—I can forgive that—most men are. But she hated me and I hate her. -I will kill her if we ever meet.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne appeared interested. The woman held up the stiletto, looking at -the glistening blade and sharp point. Vivienne arose from her chair, -walked slowly to the barred window, and looked out. The nurse was too -busy with thoughts of prospective vengeance to notice her movements. -Vivienne retraced her steps, noiselessly, until she stood behind the -chair where Madeline sat. Reaching over suddenly, she grasped the hilt -of the stiletto and, with the strength of desperation, tore it from the -woman’s hand.</p> - -<p>“Do not move!” cried Vivienne. “I am going to leave this room and this -house.” Madeline attempted to rise from her chair. “If you move, I will -kill you,” cried Vivienne. “His life is everything to me—yours is as -nothing.”</p> - -<p>The nurse had left the door ajar. With a bound, Vivienne reached it, -threw it open, and closed it quickly behind her. Then she remembered -that the bolt was on the outside, and she pushed it into place. She -heard Madeline’s cries as she ran down the corridor, and sent back a -mocking laugh in response. She saw a side door opening into the -garden—perhaps the front door was guarded—she would run no risks. -Keeping her hand upon the hilt of the stiletto, she made her way through -the garden, for she saw the <i>maquis</i> beyond. If she could reach that, -she might rest until able to go on.</p> - -<p>In the heart of the forest she sank down, exhausted;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_287" id="page_287">{287}</a></span> but the young -recuperate quickly, and she was soon up and again on her way, towards -Ajaccio she hoped. She had never studied astronomy, but from the -position of the sun she reasoned that she must go in a certain -direction, and events proved that her intuition was correct. She soon -came to a narrow cross-road, which she followed, and in a short time -found herself on what she thought must be the main street of Salvanetra.</p> - -<p>Vivienne would have turned back from the travelled thoroughfare and -tried to make her way through the paths in the <i>maquis</i>, but for two -reasons: She was afraid she might be captured by a party of bandits who, -knowing that her brother was wealthy, would hold her for a large ransom; -again, she was faint and almost exhausted, for she had refused to eat -anything while in Dr. Procida’s asylum. She stood irresolute for a -while; then soliloquised:</p> - -<p>“I must gain strength so that I may get back in time to save Vandemar; -and to gain strength I must have food.”</p> - -<p>She walked on, scanning carefully each house that she passed, yet -undecided as to which she should apply for assistance. Espying in the -road a small branch of a tree, which had probably been used by some -carter as a whip, she picked it up, and using it as a staff, got on her -way much faster.</p> - -<p>She saw that she was nearing a line of houses and felt that she must put -pride away and make her appeal. She tapped lightly upon a door with her -staff. It was opened by a woman, whose face had a sharp, shrewish -expression. Vivienne’s first impulse was to turn away, but summoning all -her strength and courage, she said:</p> - -<p>“Will you be so kind, madame, as to give me a piece of bread? I am so -tired and faint, for I have eaten nothing since yesterday.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_288" id="page_288">{288}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Who are you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do not ask me my name. I am not a beggar. Believe me, I am not what -I seem. Only give me a crust and I will go.”</p> - -<p>“Honest people are not afraid to tell their names,” said the woman, and -her voice was harsh and repellent.</p> - -<p>“It is because I am honest that I do not tell you my name. I might give -you one easily, but it would not be my own.”</p> - -<p>“Then go away!” cried the woman. “No doubt you have been turned away -from some farmhouse for drunkenness, theft, or something of that sort. -Be off with you!” and she slammed the door.</p> - -<p>Vivienne had on the simplest and coarsest dress that belonged to her. -Her brother Pascal had thoughtfully sent some of her clothing in the -carriage, and although he had not made the selections his sister would -have wished, yet he could not have done better, for Vivienne had -determined, from the first, to escape from the asylum, and the -unpretending costume which she wore served her purpose much better than -the one in which she had looked so beautiful at her birthday party would -have done.</p> - -<p>Vivienne turned away from the door sick at heart. “Oh, Pascal, I could -wish you no greater punishment for your sin against your wretched sister -than for you to have heard those terrible words.”</p> - -<p>Her head was aching and she pressed both hands upon her forehead:</p> - -<p>“No, I must not sink down here in the street; they would shut me up in -the jail. I will—I must obtain food. Even a morsel would give me -strength to reach him. Why should I die with the cool fresh air about -me, and the sun giving me light, while he is shrouded in darkness and -dying from hunger and thirst in a living tomb? Oh, Vandemar, Vandemar, I -will not die!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_289" id="page_289">{289}</a></span> There is a kind soul in this house, for I hear the -laughter of children. A mother’s heart is always open to pity.”</p> - -<p>A man servant appeared at the door. “What is your business here, my good -woman?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, sir, I am very hungry. Give me some food and Heaven will bless -you!”</p> - -<p>“My mistress is sick,” said the man, “but I will send the housekeeper to -you.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you; you are very kind.” Vivienne leaned against the door-post. -“I—I cannot stand; my strength is deserting me.” As she sank on the -doorstep, a woman appeared.</p> - -<p>“Well, what is wanted?” was her query. “Begging, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“I wish only for a piece of bread, madame. You will surely not refuse -me. I have walked so far and I am faint and tired—oh, so very tired. I -pray that you will give me something, even the poorest crust from your -table.”</p> - -<p>“I understand it all—you have escaped from the asylum. Where are you -going?”</p> - -<p>“To my home at Ajaccio,” Vivienne answered. “Oh, madame, do not question -me, but give me food. I—I feel strangely—I am——”</p> - -<p>“She is fainting,” said the man; “I will bring her a glass of water.”</p> - -<p>The woman looked at Vivienne closely and said:</p> - -<p>“Your pretty face ought to win you bread, if not jewels. You are a fool -to go begging, with such beauty as yours. If I had your face and form I -would ride in my carriage. There would be no more house drudgery for -me.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne drank the water, which was cool and refreshing. A little girl, -who had been regarding her from the opposite side of the road, came -running across and said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_290" id="page_290">{290}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Come with me, poor woman. My mamma is away, but cook will give you -something to eat. She is good to everybody, and so is my mamma. Come!”</p> - -<p>“Bless you, sweet child!” said Vivienne, rising.</p> - -<p>The woman resented the child’s interference: “You are a forward little -minx! As though I would refuse her food! Come in, and I will give you -all you want.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne looked at the woman, her great black eyes full of the loathing -she felt.</p> - -<p>“After what you have said? No, madame, food from your hands would choke -me.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne turned away, took the little girl’s hand, and they walked -slowly towards the pretty little cottage to which the child pointed, -saying over and over again: “That’s where mamma lives.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne had no sooner reached the house where she had been promised -food and rest than her head swam, she lost consciousness, and fell -helpless upon the floor. When she revived she heard the sound of voices. -She opened her eyes and saw that she was in a darkened room. An old -gentleman sat beside her, while a lady, with a kind, motherly look upon -her face, stood at the foot of the bed regarding her.</p> - -<p>“You are better, my dear. The doctor, here, said that if you awoke in -your right mind all would be well. You are better, are you not?”</p> - -<p>Vivienne could not resist answering a question put so pleasantly.</p> - -<p>“I am feeling quite well, madame,” she replied. Then in an instant all -came back to her. She raised herself in bed and cried:</p> - -<p>“Where am I? Have I been sick? For God’s sake, dear lady, tell me how -long I have been here.”</p> - -<p>“My little daughter brought you here three days ago,” was the answer.</p> - -<p>“Three days! Three days!!” moaned Vivienne. “It is too late now. He is -dead—dead!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_291" id="page_291">{291}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“But you are living,” said the doctor. “Who is dead? I do not understand -you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” cried Vivienne, “I must tell you all, for I know that I can trust -you. If I do not, you will not know what I mean. I am Vivienne -Batistelli, of Alfieri.”</p> - -<p>“I thought so,” said the lady in an undertone.</p> - -<p>“You know of the vendetta between the Batistellis and the Della -Coscias?”</p> - -<p>The doctor nodded.</p> - -<p>“Vandemar Della Coscia came back to Corsica. His identity was discovered -by my brother Pascal. Vandemar has been in the dungeon chamber for five -days without food or drink. I am the only one who can open the dungeon -door and release him. I must go to him at once. Help me! Help me!! He -must not die!”</p> - -<p>“What can we do, Doctor?” asked the lady.</p> - -<p>“My horse and carriage are at the door. My dear young lady, get ready at -once, and I will take you to Alfieri.”</p> - -<p>When Vivienne reached the castle, she at once sought Clarine, who was -overjoyed at seeing her again.</p> - -<p>“Where have you been?” she asked, excitedly.</p> - -<p>“I cannot stop to tell you now,” said Vivienne. “Where is my brother -Pascal?”</p> - -<p>“That I do not know,” was the reply. “He has gone away.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Clarine,” said Vivienne, “I must open the door of the dungeon -chamber, but I have lost the paper that you gave me. Have you found it?”</p> - -<p>“Why, no,” said Clarine, “but I surmise, from what he has let drop, that -Manassa knows something about it.”</p> - -<p>“Where can I find him?” asked Vivienne.</p> - -<p>“I do not know,” said Clarine, “but if he has it he will not give it to -you. He says you are no longer a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_292" id="page_292">{292}</a></span> Batistelli—that you love a Della -Coscia and have disgraced your name.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Clarine, I shall pray to God to give me back my memory, so that I -may open that door and save his life——” and she ran from the room.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_293" id="page_293">{293}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br /><br /> -<small>“WE WILL DIE TOGETHER!”</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Vivienne</span> went from room to room, calling loudly for Manassa, but there -was no answer. Espying Terence at work in the garden, she asked him if -he had seen Manassa. He answered her politely in the negative, but said, -in an undertone:</p> - -<p>“No, the old omadhaun; an’ may the divil fly away wid him before I do.”</p> - -<p>At last Vivienne reached the foot of the long flight of stone steps that -led to the Hall of Mirrors. She sank down exhausted; she was unused to -such great physical exertion, besides being almost mentally distracted -when she thought how powerless she was to save Vandemar without the help -of one who, she knew, hated him as intensely as did her own brother.</p> - -<p>At length, she arose and, going to an open window, again called loudly -for Manassa; but there was no response. Sick at heart, she turned away -from the window and went slowly up the steps.</p> - -<p>At sight of the closed door of the dungeon chamber, her forced composure -gave way. She ran to it and beat wildly against it until the blood oozed -through the tender skin; then she sank upon her knees. She raised her -clasped hands to Heaven and cried:</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>mon Dieu</i>! Give me back my memory but for one moment. Pardon me, -<i>mon Dieu</i>, not for what I say, but for the way I say it. I learned the -instructions in the paper by heart, but they called me mad, and I have -forgotten them. Then I fell sick, and all is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_294" id="page_294">{294}</a></span> blank. Oh, <i>mon Dieu</i>, -give me back my memory, that I may save a precious life. Oh, my dear -father in heaven, entreat the good God, who is God of Love and Mercy, to -help me!”</p> - -<p>Full of her simple faith, she arose and stood before the door, as though -expecting to see it open of its own accord; but there it stood, -immovable, relentless, merciless. She regarded it for a time with a -helpless, dazed look. Then there came a revulsion, and the weak woman, -with a feeble voice, was transformed into a new creature; for the time -being she was mad, and, with that madness came the fictitious physical -and mental strength, the showing of which deceives all but those who are -acquainted with such manifestations of mania.</p> - -<p>“I must open it,” she cried; “I will! I will!! Oh, father! father!! -Clarine! Clarine!! Where are you? Where is Manassa? He is lost—lost! -Come listen, Clarine—come! Five days, Clarine, five long days and -nights! Dear God, one long night—one hundred and twenty hours of -darkness; no food, no drink, and naught but the cold stones to lie upon.</p> - -<p>“I see him now, with his eyes turned towards that merciless door; -watching, praying for the ray of light that never comes; waiting for the -sound of the voice that promised to save him; listening for the step he -can never hear.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I shall go mad! Mad!! Vandemar! Vandemar!! It is I, Vivienne. I -have come to save you, but the cruel walls will not let me in. Speak to -me, Vandemar. Tell me that you live. I am coming—coming!”</p> - -<p>Again she struck the wall, frantically, with her bleeding hands:</p> - -<p>“He is dead! I see him—I see the black, crawling things—they are -fighting over him—they are feeding upon his forehead—back, back, back! -Back, I say!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_295" id="page_295">{295}</a></span> They are tearing his flesh—hark! They are feasting -royally. No, no, no! Spare him—spare him! He is mine, mine!”</p> - -<p>She stamped her feet upon the stone floor: “I will crush you, you -ravenous reptiles, despoilers of the dead; cold, venomous worms! Brush -them away, Vandemar! Keep them back, beloved, for I am coming—coming to -save you.”</p> - -<p>Again, as though under the influence of an ungovernable passion, she -struck the wall until the sense of intense pain obliged her to desist. -Then came another revulsion. From a state of exaltation, she fell into -one approaching stupor, and for some time seemed unconscious of her -surroundings, of time, and of the terrible errand which had brought her -there. Was this condition of quietude to be followed by another outburst -of passion, or was she so exhausted that further effort would be -impossible?</p> - -<p>Suddenly, she awoke from her lethargy and listened intently. No, yes it -was—she could not be mistaken—the sound of footsteps upon the stone -stairway. Hope revived. Clarine had found Manassa and had sent him to -open the door for her. But would he? He hated Vandemar. Perhaps he was -coming only for the purpose of finding out if his enemy were dead. -Madness always engenders suspicion. She would be cautious. If he opened -the door, she would force him to let her in. She would fly to -Vandemar—nothing should prevent her.</p> - -<p>Behind one of the mirrors which, when thrown back, exposed the door of -the dungeon chamber, Vivienne hid herself.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>Pascal Batistelli was a brave man. He preferred to carry out his -purposes by diplomacy rather than warfare, but it was only natural, -after the tragic events which had deprived him of both a friend and a -brother,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_296" id="page_296">{296}</a></span> that his heart should be filled with thoughts of -vengeance—and, to a Corsican, vengeance and death are closely related -terms. Vandemar was in the dungeon chamber and his death from starvation -was certain. Vivienne was securely locked up in a madhouse and could not -interfere with his plans. But there was one man, still living, who must -die before his vengeance would be complete, so he gathered a large body -of his adherents and started out in quest of Cromillian.</p> - -<p>Old Manassa was a curious individual. At times, he seemed to be in his -dotage, his memory gone, while his words were often childish and, more -often, foolish. At other times, he seemed to have recovered all his -youthful shrewdness and sagacity. He constantly bewailed the passing of -the “good old times,” and often declared himself more worthy to be the -head of the Batistelli family than Pascal, whom he looked upon as the -degenerate son of a noble sire.</p> - -<p>Now that Pascal was away, Manassa assumed all the airs, and, also, the -powers of the lord of the manor. He considered that the honour of the -Batistelli family was in his keeping and gloried in the fact that his -enemy was in the dungeon chamber, condemned to a slow and horrible death -from starvation.</p> - -<p>Manassa was not only revengeful, but vindictive. He was not satisfied to -allow his enemy to die in peace, even by slow torture. No, he would -tempt him, taunt him, and then revile him. These acts would make his -vengeance more satisfactory. So, he filled a basket with the most -enticing food that he could find, put in a bottle of choice wine, and -then made his way to the Hall of Mirrors.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>Vivienne could hardly refrain from uttering an exclamation of delight -when she saw him bearing the basket of food. Manassa was a good man, he -was merciful, he had relented, and Vandemar was saved! She<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_297" id="page_297">{297}</a></span> would have -sprung forward and embraced him, so great was her joy, but there was a -look on his face which chilled her blood, and she stood as if frozen to -the spot. His expression was demoniac—but for what purpose had he -brought the food? With every sense alert, Vivienne watched and listened.</p> - -<p>Manassa placed the basket upon the floor, then took a piece of paper -from his pocket—the instructions for opening the door of the dungeon -chamber! Should she rush from her hiding-place, tear it from him, and -open the door herself? No, she would let him do that. She would save -what strength she had for what might come afterward.</p> - -<p>With much difficulty, Manassa succeeded in opening the door:</p> - -<p>“Vandemar! Vandemar Della Coscia! I have brought you some food and a -nice bottle of wine. You must be hungry. Come and eat.” The words were -spoken in a taunting tone, which belied their meaning. There was no -response, and the old man laughed, mockingly.</p> - -<p>“If I were not so old,” said he, “I would bring it to you; but, if you -cannot come for it, you will have to go without it. I am so sorry, my -good Vandemar, for I am sure you must be very hungry.”</p> - -<p>After hearing these sarcastic words and, again, that horrible, mocking -laugh, Vivienne could restrain herself no longer. With a cry like that -of a tigress, she leaped upon old Manassa and hurled him to the floor. -He was stunned by the fall and lay motionless. Vivienne took up the -basket of food and tried to carry it, but her strength failed her and -she was obliged to put it down upon the floor again. Then she grasped -one side of it and was pulling it towards the dungeon door, when Manassa -revived and saw who his assailant had been. He quickly divined her -evident purpose to take the food to Vandemar. He did not try to regain -his feet, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_298" id="page_298">{298}</a></span> crawled upon his hands and knees until he was able to -grasp the other side of the basket.</p> - -<p>It was literally a contest for life or death—to Vandemar. Manassa was -the stronger, and Vivienne felt herself being drawn slowly away from the -dungeon door. In her fury, she drew from her bosom the stiletto which -she had taken from Madeline Villefort and, making a desperate lunge, -stabbed Manassa in the arm. With a cry of pain, he released his hold -upon the basket. Vivienne, full of exultation, dragged it along the -stone floor and pulled it into the dungeon chamber.</p> - -<p>Manassa scrambled to his feet and stood, for a moment, uncertain what -course to pursue. Then that look of demoniac wickedness, which had so -startled Vivienne, came into his face again. He chuckled—a savage, -unearthly sound:</p> - -<p>“She loves her enemy. She is no longer a Batistelli, but a Della -Coscia—and she shall die with him!”</p> - -<p>Summoning all his strength, he closed the great door, and then, with the -blood streaming from his wound, shambled from the room. Again that -mocking laugh and those revengeful words:</p> - -<p>“She is no longer a Batistelli—she is a Della Coscia. She shall die -with him!”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>When Vivienne entered the dungeon chamber, her thoughts were of -Vandemar, and of him alone. Was he alive or dead? The darkness was so -intense that she could discern nothing. Where was he? She listened for -some sound which might indicate in what part of the room he was. When -the great door was closed behind her by Manassa, she had not heard. She -stood irresolute, not knowing in which direction to proceed. Her eyes -becoming accustomed to the darkness, she perceived a faint ray of light -piercing the gloom.</p> - -<p>“Vandemar,” she cried, “are you there, near the light?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_299" id="page_299">{299}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Although there was no response to her question, she made her way towards -the beam of light, the only sign of hope in what she feared—and that -fear made her hold her breath—was the chamber of death.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, her foot struck against something. She reached down and placed -her hand upon it. It was the body of a man—it must be that of Vandemar. -She longed to give relief to her pent-up feelings—she could have -screamed with delight at finding him—but no, that would do no good. If -he were alive, he must have wine and food.</p> - -<p>She placed her hand upon his heart; it was beating, though but faintly. -She knelt—she could feel his breath upon her cheek—he was alive! With -a loud cry of joy which she could not repress, she leaped to her feet. -Wandering aimlessly for a while, she sought ineffectually for the basket -of food. Again guided by the ray of light, she made her way back to -where Vandemar lay. Following along by the wall, which she touched -lightly with her hands, she came to the corner opposite the small -window. Still keeping close to the wall, she reached the dungeon door. -There she stopped to collect her thoughts; but, even then, it did not -occur to her that the door was closed; and, if it had, her memory would -not have told her that there was no way of opening it from the inside.</p> - -<p>In her mind there was but one thought, one desire—to find the food and -wine. Although Manassa had brought it only to tantalise the helpless -prisoner, in her heart she almost forgave him, for it meant life—and -with life would come safety—for Vandemar, her beloved.</p> - -<p>Feeling that every moment was precious, she resumed her search and soon -stumbled over the basket, which she had left not ten feet from the door. -Keeping her eyes upon the ray of light, which was her guiding star, she -pulled the basket across the stone floor until she<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_300" id="page_300">{300}</a></span> once more came in -contact with the almost lifeless form.</p> - -<p>She remembered that she had read somewhere that but little food, at -first, should be given to starving persons, but the wine—there was life -in that! The bottle was tightly corked and she could not open it. She -struck it against the stone wall and the neck fell to the floor. She -dipped her fingers in the wine and wet Vandemar’s lips with it. There -was bread in the basket. She moistened it with the wine and, raising his -head from the floor, fed him as she would have a child.</p> - -<p>Vivienne could not see his face, for the ray of light did not reach the -dark corner beneath the window, but the bread and wine did their good -work, and Vandemar, reviving, heard the soft tones of a woman’s voice—a -voice which kept repeating:</p> - -<p>“Vandemar, come back to me. Vandemar, you are saved. It is I, Vivienne.”</p> - -<p>There was more inspiration, more strength, in that voice than bread or -wine could give.</p> - -<p>“Vivienne? Is it really you, Vivienne? Have the guests all left the -castle? May I go now? The Admiral and his daughter and I are going back -to the ship to-night. What time is it? I must have fallen asleep. I -tried to keep awake because you said you would come for me.”</p> - -<p>“I have come, as I promised I would,” she said. “I have brought you wine -and food. You must drink some of the wine and, when you feel stronger, -you may have something to eat; but not very much, for your fast has been -a long one and it would not be safe to eat too heartily.”</p> - -<p>The stimulant warmed him and sent the life-blood coursing through his -veins. He sat upright, without support, and when he spoke, his voice was -stronger and fuller. Then he seemed to remember what he had at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_301" id="page_301">{301}</a></span> first -forgotten—that many days, and not one night, had elapsed since he had -entered the dungeon.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” he said, “I have had both food and drink. I have not suffered for -want of either. My wound gave me a fever. That is what has made me so -weak, but I shall soon be well, and we will leave this place.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Vandemar, we will go. But tell me, for I cannot understand, how -did you get both food and drink?”</p> - -<p>“I have not been alone,” said Vandemar. “I have had some good friends. -They came at night—it has been all night here—and fetched me kernels -of corn—and once they brought an egg. That saved my life. They were so -tame, too. It was so dark they could not see me. Perhaps they thought I -was one of them—so old and feeble that I could not go with them to the -kitchen to get my own food.”</p> - -<p>“But the drink?” cried Vivienne. “How did you get anything to drink? The -rats could not bring water to you.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Vandemar, “I had to get that myself, and that was much -harder. It rained one night and some drops were blown in at the window -and fell upon me. I was feverish and knew that I must have water. I tore -my sword scarf into strips and knotted them together. Then I tied one -end to the sleeve of my coat and finally succeeded in throwing it so -that it lodged between the window-bars. When it was saturated, I pulled -it down, wrung it and drank my fill.”</p> - -<p>“Do you feel stronger?” asked Vivienne.</p> - -<p>“Why, yes. I am almost as good as ever. I must have been asleep when you -came in. I had a bad dream. I thought your brother sent you away from -the Castle so that you could not come and let me out.”</p> - -<p>“He did,” cried Vivienne, “and for that I shall never forgive him. He -told Doctor Procida that I was mad, and they took me to the lunatic -asylum at Salva<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_302" id="page_302">{302}</a></span>netra, but I escaped the next day. Then I fell ill and, -for three days, I knew nothing. To-day is the fifth day and I thought -you must be dead, for I had not faith enough in God to believe that He -would send His dumb creatures to feed you and rain from Heaven for you -to drink. I have been so wicked—but now that God in His mercy has -brought us together again, we will be good—will we not, Vandemar?”</p> - -<p>“Give me more of that wine, Vivienne. It is very good, and you are the -best woman I ever knew. With good wine and a good woman, no man should -be bad.”</p> - -<p>“Hush, Vandemar,” said Vivienne; “do not speak so. We should be good -because we ought to be and not because we get what we wish for. Come, -come, let us be going. My brother is away and you must get to a place of -safety before he returns. Give me your hand. I will lead you, for I know -how to find the door.”</p> - -<p>When they reached it, the terrible truth dawned upon her. She stood -rooted to the spot—she could not speak.</p> - -<p>“Open the door quickly, Vivienne,” he said, and he had never spoken so -gently before. “This has been a long night, Vivienne, and my couch was -not a soft one. Open the door, for I yearn to see the blue sky, the -trees, and the flowers, and hear the songs of birds. Then, too, I would -look out upon the water and see my good ship riding at anchor. How glad -the Admiral will be to see me, and how interested Helen will be to hear -of my adventures—and how Heaven sent my good angel to rescue me and -make me happy for life. I will take you to England, Vivienne, where -there is no cruel vendetta—but why do you not open the door?”</p> - -<p>“My God!” she cried, and her voice was tense with pain, “I cannot.”</p> - -<p>“Let me try,” he said, “I am stronger than you are. Tell me how to open -it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_303" id="page_303">{303}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“We are lost!” she moaned. “I had forgotten—the door cannot be opened -from the inside.”</p> - -<p>“What? You forgot? We are lost?” There was passion, suspicion, despair, -in the words.</p> - -<p>“I left it open when I came in. Some one must have closed it.”</p> - -<p>“Some one must have closed it?” His voice was harsh, and there was -unbelief in the question. “Speak, Vivienne, who could have closed it? -Who was with you? You said your brother had gone away, and even he would -not close a dungeon door upon his only sister.”</p> - -<p>“I will tell you all,” she said, piteously.</p> - -<p>“I think the time has come,” was the stern reply.</p> - -<p>“Pascal took the paper from me, which told how to open the door, and -tore it in pieces. I had learned the instructions by heart before they -took me to the asylum, but when I came back my memory was gone. I should -have died outside the door, and you would have perished in here, had not -Old Manassa brought a basket of food. He did not mean to give it to you, -for he hates you because you are a Della Coscia. He came to taunt you, -but I sprang upon him and stabbed him with my stiletto. I wrenched the -basket from him. After I came in, he must have closed the door. Oh, -Vandemar! After all our pain and suffering, to have it end thus!”</p> - -<p>There was silence for a time, then Vandemar spoke, but there were no -love tones in his voice:</p> - -<p>“Does no one know that you are here? Did you not tell some one that you -were coming to release me?”</p> - -<p>“As I came through the garden, some one called my name, but I do not -know who it was. I did not look. I thought only of you, I wished only to -see you, for I would give my life to save you, Vandemar—but you do not -believe me, you do not trust me, you do not love me<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_304" id="page_304">{304}</a></span>——”</p> - -<p>Vandemar put his arms about the weeping girl and drew her close to him.</p> - -<p>“Forgive me, Vivienne; I am racked in mind and body, and am not myself. -What I said just now was unjust and unkind to you. Believe me, dear one, -the Vandemar that was, would never have harboured a thought or spoken a -word to bring tears to those sweet eyes. I cannot see them, but I know -they are filled with the love-light which neither time nor death can -dim. Do you not believe, Vivienne, that, if God wishes us to live and be -happy together in this world, He will send us help?”</p> - -<p>“I do,” said Vivienne. “We will hope on, will we not, Vandemar? We have -food and wine, your little friends will bring us corn and eggs, and the -good God will send us rain that we may drink. I am with you, and you -with me. We can love each other as well in this dark dungeon as we could -if we sat beneath the trees, with the birds singing above us. That love -will bless us, and if no one comes to save us, you will kiss me for the -last time, tell me that you love me, and, clasped in each other’s arms, -we will die together!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_305" id="page_305">{305}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.<br /><br /> -<small>A DOUBLE VENDETTA.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Pascal Batistelli</span> and his adherents were unsuccessful in their search -for Cromillian and his moral bandits. If they had not been looking for -each other, they might have met, for while Pascal sought for Cromillian -in the <i>maquis</i>, the bandit chief, with a picked body of men, Jack De -Vinne being one of the company, was on his way to Batistelli Castle with -the fixed determination of finding Vandemar, or of exacting stern -retribution if the young man had been foully dealt with.</p> - -<p>Pascal dismissed his followers, telling them that they must go home and -take needed rest, for he should soon call upon them again. He maintained -his usual composure before them, but, after their departure, in the -solitude of his library, he felt utterly disheartened. Then his thoughts -turned to Manassa, and he sent Adolphe to summon his old retainer.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter?” cried Pascal, as the old man entered. “What has -happened to you? Why is your arm bound up? There is blood upon your -clothing.” He paused. “Has Vandemar escaped? Sit down, Manassa, and tell -me who did this.”</p> - -<p>The old man seated himself.</p> - -<p>“Vandemar has not escaped,” he began. “He is safe in the dungeon—” he -gave a low chuckle—“but he is not alone.”</p> - -<p>“Not alone?” cried Pascal. “Who is with him? Come, quick, tell me all,” -and, unthinkingly, he grasped Manassa’s wounded arm, making him wince -with pain.</p> - -<p>“It is a long story,” said Manassa, “and I don’t know just how to put it -together. I thought that Van<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_306" id="page_306">{306}</a></span>demar might be hungry, having had nothing -to eat for five days, so I took him a basket of food and a bottle of -good wine.”</p> - -<p>“You fool!” cried Pascal. Then he remembered. “What was there in that? -You could not open the dungeon door.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I could.” The old man chuckled again. “I was in the Hall of -Mirrors when you tore up that paper. After all of you were gone, before -I put out the lights, I picked up the pieces and pasted them together. -Nobody knows I have it but Vivienne.”</p> - -<p>“Vivienne? How could she know anything about it, locked up at -Salvanetra?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, she was locked up,” mused the old man. “I don’t know how she got -away, but she did.”</p> - -<p>Pascal started to his feet. “Vivienne here? Where is she? Did you give -her the food to take to Vandemar? I thought you were a friend to the -Batistellis.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t mean to give it to her,” and Manassa wrung his hands, -apologetically; “I didn’t mean to give it to him. I had opened the door, -was telling him what nice things I had for him,—just to make him feel -hungrier than ever,—when Vivienne came from behind one of the mirrors -and caught at the basket. Just as I was getting it away from her, she -drew a stiletto and stabbed me here,” and he placed his hand upon his -wounded arm. “I fell, and before I could get up again, she had dragged -the basket of food into the dungeon chamber.”</p> - -<p>“What did you do then?” asked Pascal, excitedly.</p> - -<p>“I did as I thought you would have done—I shut the door and left them -there together. She is no longer a Batistelli—she is a Della Coscia. -Let them die together!”</p> - -<p>“You were right, Manassa. I should have done as you did. But where is -the paper?”</p> - -<p>“Here it is,” and Manassa passed it to him.</p> - -<p>“Come with me, Manassa,” said Pascal. “She is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_307" id="page_307">{307}</a></span> my sister—a poor, weak, -foolish woman. It is my duty to give her one more chance to repent of -her folly, and I must have a witness.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>“Vivienne, are you there?”</p> - -<p>There were tones in her brother’s voice which the young girl could not -mistake. The prisoners had gone back to the corner beneath the window, -for the friendly ray of light made the dungeon seem less like a tomb.</p> - -<p>Vivienne sprang to her feet. “Yes, Pascal, I am here,” she cried, -joyfully, “and Vandemar is so strong now that he can walk.”</p> - -<p>“Come here to the door,” said Pascal.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” she asked, when she reached it.</p> - -<p>“Come with me,” said her brother.</p> - -<p>“I will bring Vandemar.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Pascal, “if you come out you shall come alone. You must -renounce that man.”</p> - -<p>“Then I will not come,” said Vivienne, positively. “I love him. We will -either live together or die together.”</p> - -<p>“Is that your final answer?” questioned Pascal, angrily.</p> - -<p>“It is,” she said.</p> - -<p>He drew his stiletto.</p> - -<p>“I do not fear that,” she cried. “You may kill me, but I will give you -no other answer. I will not leave here without Vandemar.”</p> - -<p>While they had been talking Pascal had stepped within the dungeon door, -still holding the paper.</p> - -<p>“So be it!” he cried.</p> - -<p>An instant later the door was closed and Vivienne knew that she and -Vandemar were doomed to a lingering death.</p> - -<p>Manassa had been an interested observer: “I was right, was I not, -master? She is no longer a Batistelli—she is a Della Coscia. Let them -die together.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_308" id="page_308">{308}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Let them die together,” echoed Pascal, but although he spoke the words, -he knew that they did not come from his heart.</p> - -<p>“Master, where is the paper?”</p> - -<p>Pascal searched his garments; then they both looked in every direction, -but it could not be found. A feeling of remorse seized Pascal. He had -not meant to go so far. He knew that they had food and he would have -come again. He wished for Vandemar’s death, but if he did not love her, -he was proud of his sister. Now she must die, and by his hand.</p> - -<p>“Have you found the paper?” the old man asked again.</p> - -<p>“I must have dropped it as I came out of the dungeon, and the great door -closed over it.”</p> - -<p>“That is good,” said Manassa. “Then the vendetta is ended. A life for a -life. Two Della Coscias for one Batistelli—for she is no longer a -Batistelli.”</p> - -<p>“Come, Manassa, you will bear witness that I gave her a chance for -life.”</p> - -<p>As Pascal turned to leave the Hall of Mirrors, to his surprise he was -confronted by Cromillian. Pascal was filled with fury at the sight of -him.</p> - -<p>“What brings you here, robber, murderer?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>Cromillian replied coolly: “Well, I don’t mind telling you I have come -on a tour of investigation. You asked me a question and I have answered -it. Now I will match yours with another. Where is Vandemar?”</p> - -<p>Pascal dissembled: “I cannot be expected to know the whereabouts of all -those who have been my guests.”</p> - -<p>“Your guest!” said Cromillian, sneeringly. “I have my suspicions that he -has been foully dealt with. He has not been seen since you and your host -of ruffians that are called Death Brothers attacked him here in your own -house. The world has been able to give us credit but for one thing—that -is, the virtue of hospi<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_309" id="page_309">{309}</a></span>tality; that law has ever been held sacred by -Corsicans, as you well know. You have basely violated it, and thereby -brought dishonour and shame upon your countrymen. By all that is holy, -when Cromillian brutalises his manhood to that extent, may the very -heavens fall and crush him!”</p> - -<p>Pascal drew his stiletto. “You murdered my brother, villain, and you -dare preach to me!”</p> - -<p>“You lie! I but defended an innocent life. Your brother fell by his own -rashness. It is one thing to assassinate your enemy—that requires -little bravery; it is another to face your foe like a man and give him a -chance for his life. My sword is longer than your stiletto, and I could -murder you easily.”</p> - -<p>He unbuckled his sword belt and threw it with the sword and scabbard -upon the stone floor. Then he drew his stiletto, and the two men stood -facing each other, for each knew that but one of them could leave that -room alive.</p> - -<p>Cromillian was the stronger man, but much heavier and slower in his -movements than Pascal, who was muscular and agile. For a time it was a -drawn battle. Skill parried strength, and strength overcame skill. Then -happened that which has happened so often before—it was a question of -endurance, and the stronger man could endure the most. Pascal lost his -head and struck wildly, aimlessly.</p> - -<p>“I could kill you now,” said Cromillian, “but I will spare your life if -you will tell me where I can find Vandemar.”</p> - -<p>Pascal pointed to the dungeon door. “He is there with my sister -Vivienne. She loves him, and I have given her to him.”</p> - -<p>“She is no longer a Batistelli,” croaked Old Manassa; “she is a Della -Coscia. Let them die together.”</p> - -<p>“Open that door,” said Cromillian, with an air of command.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_310" id="page_310">{310}</a></span></p> - -<p>“You forget,” said Pascal, “that this is my castle. I am master here and -take orders from no one.”</p> - -<p>“I forget nothing,” replied Cromillian. “I know that you are a -heartless, inhuman wretch, and the would-be murderer of two innocent -hearts. I say to you again, open that door.”</p> - -<p>“I would not if I could,” was Pascal’s defiant response; “but the -instructions for opening the dungeon door have been lost—the door can -never be opened.”</p> - -<p>To Cromillian’s mighty strength was now added the fury of despair. “I do -not believe you!” he cried. “You shall die with that lie upon your -lips.”</p> - -<p>There were a few hurried passes, an intertwining and glistening of the -sharp blades, and that of Cromillian pierced Pascal’s heart. As -Cromillian started to leave the room, his eyes fell upon Manassa.</p> - -<p>“I ought to send you to join your master, for I believe you are as -wicked at heart as he was, but you are an old man and powerless to -defend yourself. It would be murder to kill you. But they shall be -saved.” He pointed to the dungeon door. “I shall come back with my men. -We will pull this castle down; I will not leave one stone standing upon -another.”</p> - -<p>After Cromillian bad gone, Manassa picked up the sword and buckled the -belt about his waist. What he did next would have surprised Cromillian -if he had seen it. The old man took up the dead body of his master, -clasped it firmly in his arms, and carried it slowly, step by step, down -the long stone stairway, then farther down until he reached the library. -Placing the body upon a low couch, he fell upon his knees beside it. -Raising his right hand, he cursed the Della Coscias, he cursed -Cromillian, and swore vengeance against him who had caused his master’s -death.</p> - -<p>“The Della Coscias are dead—so are the Batistellis. I am master now!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_311" id="page_311">{311}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.<br /><br /> -<small>THE GARDEN OF EDEN.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Thomas Glynne</span> knew that Jack De Vinne had gone with Cromillian and his -party, though he did not know for what purpose. Doubt engenders -suspicion, and he came to the conclusion that Cromillian had decided to -espouse Jack’s cause, and had taken him to Ajaccio so that he could meet -with Bertha.</p> - -<p>Glynne was well provided with money, and it was in that shape which -passes current in all lands—honest gold coins; he did not have to look -far before he found one of the bandits who was willing to make an -exchange, and Glynne soon learned what he most wished to know—the -shortest and safest road to Ajaccio.</p> - -<p>One night, Glynne, at his purchased friend’s suggestion, was put on -guard. While his companions were sleeping soundly, in supposed safety, -Glynne stole away in the darkness.</p> - -<p>It was not quite daylight when he came suddenly upon Cromillian’s party, -encamped in the <i>maquis</i>. A sleepy guard called to him, but receiving no -reply, and still hearing the noise of his approach, fired in his -direction. There was the sound of a falling body, then all was still. -The sentry shortly reconnoitred and came upon the body of Thomas Glynne, -who had been shot through the heart. He resumed his post, and it was not -until morning that he informed his fellow bandits that he had called to -the person, and, receiving no answer, supposed he was a spy, and had -fired in his direction, as it proved, with unerring aim.</p> - -<p>Among those to whom he told his story was Jack<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_312" id="page_312">{312}</a></span> De Vinne, whose -curiosity led him to look upon the supposed spy. He was startled beyond -measure when he found that it was Bertha’s guardian, Thomas Glynne.</p> - -<p>Jack was brave and resolute, but he could not look upon that still form -with complacency. Bertha was deprived of her appointed protector. What -would she say when she learned the truth? Jack thought that the least he -could do was to give the body a decent burial and, with the assistance -of some of the band, Thomas Glynne was interred near where he had been -shot. Before this was done Jack took such papers as Glynne had upon him, -thinking possibly there might be something of value to Bertha. Nor was -he mistaken. To his surprise, he found the last will and testament of -Oscar Renville and what he opined were other valuable papers in -reference to her estates.</p> - -<p>He went at once to the leader of the band, one Giuseppe Pisano, who had -been appointed in place of the recreant Paoli, and explained the matter -to him.</p> - -<p>“I must go to Ajaccio,” said Jack, “and take this document to the dead -man’s ward. It is of great importance, and it is my duty to take it at -once. I know our good Captain would agree to it if he were here.”</p> - -<p>Lieutenant Pisano gave him permission to go to Ajaccio, first exacting a -promise that after having performed his mission, he would report to -Cromillian, who was encamped in the <i>maquis</i> near Alfieri.</p> - -<p>It would be hard to explain Jack’s feelings. They were an admixture of -remorse, fear, hope, and love. He was sorry that Bertha’s guardian had -been killed, even though he might be a villain and false to the trust -imposed on him by Bertha’s father, and he was sorry for Clarence.</p> - -<p>As a lover, his heart was full of happiness, for was he not to see -Bertha after a separation which had seemed almost an eternity? He -concealed the papers about his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_313" id="page_313">{313}</a></span> person, and set out with a light heart -to find Bertha, vowing that they never should be parted again.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>After Cromillian had killed Pascal, he declared his intention of -demolishing the Batistelli castle if there were no other means of -rescuing Vandemar and Vivienne. To do this, he must have the assistance -of his followers, who were encamped in the <i>maquis</i> about a mile from -the village.</p> - -<p>Before entering the castle, he had hidden his rifle in the shrubbery, -for, if possible, he wished to make his visit a peaceful one. For this -reason, he had come alone to see Pascal, hoping to induce him to release -Vandemar and, perhaps, bring about a truce, thus preventing more -bloodshed. In this he had failed. Vandemar and Vivienne were in the -dungeon chamber, and the demolition of the castle seemed to be the only -way in which their lives could be saved.</p> - -<p>Cromillian walked along, his rifle over his shoulder, unconscious of -imminent danger. He was thinking of the most expeditious manner in which -the walls of the castle could be so breached as to make the rescue of -the lovers possible, when he felt a stinging, smarting sensation between -his shoulders. Instantly his throat filled with blood, he choked, a -momentary weakness overcame him, and he fell to the ground; but he was a -man of large stature and great muscular strength. With the revulsion -that followed such a severe physical shock, came the desire to be -revenged upon his assailant, for he knew that an attempt had been made -to assassinate him.</p> - -<p>Grasping his rifle, which had fallen from his hand, he gave a quick, -energetic lurch to his body, which enabled him to face in the opposite -direction to that in which he had been walking. Not twenty feet from -him, Cromillian saw an old man, with long white hair, who was -brandishing a sword—his own sword, for there was not another like it in -Corsica—it was old Manassa!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_314" id="page_314">{314}</a></span></p> - -<p>“A life for a life!” he cried. “The Batistellis are avenged!”</p> - -<p>The old man turned and, with surprising agility, ran in the direction of -a thick grove of trees. A moment later he would have vanished from -sight. With an almost superhuman effort, Cromillian raised his rifle and -fired. A yell of pain was proof that the bullet had struck, but the -wound was not a mortal one. Old Manassa kept on and disappeared among -the trees.</p> - -<p>The exertion was too much for Cromillian; his throat again filled with -blood and, weakened by its loss, consciousness left him.</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>Shortly after the meeting between Cromillian and Pascal, during which -the latter was killed, the Countess and Bertha, with their guests, -Admiral Enright and his daughter Helen, were seated together in the -library of the Castle Mont d’Oro. Suddenly, the conversation was -interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who said:</p> - -<p>“Adolphe, Monsieur Pascal Batistelli’s valet, wishes to speak with you, -madame.”</p> - -<p>The Countess arose. “I will go and see him. No; let him come in. We are -all friends, and equally interested to hear what he may have to say.”</p> - -<p>Adolphe entered shortly and told his story, somewhat disjointedly, but -from it his hearers learned that a fight had taken place between -Cromillian and Pascal, in which the latter had been killed; that Manassa -had told him that Vandemar and Vivienne were in the dungeon chamber and -that there they must die, for the paper telling how to open the door had -been lost; that Manassa had gone, no one knew whither, and that his -master lay unburied. “There is no head to the house, and I know not what -to do,” he exclaimed. “I have come to you, Madame <i>la Comtesse</i>, for -advice.”</p> - -<p>The Countess turned to Bertha. “What can we say?” she asked, her voice -trembling with excitement.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_315" id="page_315">{315}</a></span></p> - -<p>“We must leave it all to the Admiral,” replied Bertha.</p> - -<p>Turning to the Admiral, the Countess said: “I am sorry, my dear Admiral, -to thus burden you, but there is no one but you to whom we may turn in -this dreadful dilemma.”</p> - -<p>Thus summoned to take the leading part in the affair, the Admiral at -once displayed that great faculty in grasping details and organising -action, which had made him famous.</p> - -<p>“Go home, young man,” he said to Adolphe, “and tell the nurse, Clarine I -believe you called her, to prepare your master’s body for burial. I will -come to the castle soon and tell you what to do next.”</p> - -<p>After Adolphe had gone, the Admiral turned to the Countess and said: “It -is our duty to go at once to the castle. That poor girl hasn’t a -relative in the world. Nor the boy either. Not a soul to take charge of -an effort for their liberation but ourselves. It is horrible. They shall -be freed, and it devolves upon us to do it.”</p> - -<p>“I agree with you, Admiral,” said the Countess, “but I do not think it -safe for us to do so unless we are accompanied by a proper guard.”</p> - -<p>“Have no fear,” said the Admiral; “fortunately, that is provided for. I -am momentarily expecting the arrival of a detachment of sailors and -marines from the ship, for whom I have sent to protect myself and -daughter until we are safe again on board our vessel. When they arrive, -we will see what strong hands and willing hearts can do in so worthy a -cause. Let us make preparations to go at once.”</p> - -<p>The Countess left the room to give an order to her male retainers to -accompany them.</p> - -<p>Both the Countess and Bertha were greatly interested in the terrible -condition and probable fate of Vandemar and Vivienne. The Countess had -known Manuel Della<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_316" id="page_316">{316}</a></span> Coscia and remembered the pretty little boy who had -now grown to man’s estate. Then, too, she had thought a great deal of -Vivienne, but had not allowed her interest to go beyond a certain point. -She knew that the girl was lovable, but she felt that if she betrayed -her own affection, it might lead her to encourage the Count in his -attentions to Mlle. Batistelli. In her heart she knew that her son would -never make Vivienne a good husband, and she was too honest and sincere a -woman to wish to secure her own happiness by making another unhappy.</p> - -<p>Bertha’s feelings were prompted by the natural sympathy of youth for -youth. This sympathy was intensified by the fact that her own love -affair was in a similar condition. To be sure, she did not feel that her -life was in danger, but she did not know but that Jack was already dead. -Were not Vandemar and Vivienne happier than she? They were together and, -if they could not be saved, they could die in each other’s arms. If Jack -were dead and she thus left alone, what possible hope of future -happiness could there be for her?</p> - -<p>“My dear,” said the Countess, as she re-entered the room, “there is a -messenger downstairs who wishes to see you on very important business.”</p> - -<p>“A messenger?” exclaimed Bertha, and her cheek paled. “Why, who can it -be? I know no one in Corsica——”</p> - -<p>“He would tell me nothing except that he came from your guardian.”</p> - -<p>“My guardian!” cried Bertha, and her pale face grew still whiter. “I -will not see him.”</p> - -<p>“I think it best that you should,” said the Countess, decidedly.</p> - -<p>Bertha thought for a moment: “I will go down, if you will come with me.”</p> - -<p>“I think it best that you should go alone,” the Countess rejoined.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_317" id="page_317">{317}</a></span></p> - -<p>When Bertha reached the room, a man who had been seated at the farther -end arose and came towards her. He was heavily bearded and Bertha -considered him to be a stranger to her. She lowered her eyes.</p> - -<p>“You have come from my guardian?” she asked, in a voice hardly audible.</p> - -<p>“Yes—he is dead.”</p> - -<p>“Dead?” cried Bertha. She knew her thoughts were wicked, but the words -gave her a sense of relief.</p> - -<p>“How—” she had wished to ask—“How did it happen?” but she could utter -only the monosyllable.</p> - -<p>“He was killed by one of Cromillian’s band, who mistook him for a spy.”</p> - -<p>Something in the man’s voice caused her to gaze at him intently, -searchingly.</p> - -<p>“Jack!”—and with a glad cry Bertha sprang forward and threw her arms -about the young man’s neck.</p> - -<p>“Forgive me—that beard—I did not know you—and your voice—I am so -glad that you are safe”—and she laid her head upon his shoulder.</p> - -<p>“I am sorry for him. He may be better off,” said Jack. “Here are some -valuable papers that he had on him wholly relating to yourself, and -which you should guard carefully.”</p> - -<p>“I hope this is the end, Jack,” she breathed, softly.</p> - -<p>“I hope so—of our troubles,” he answered, “but others are in trouble. I -must get help for a man whom I found in the road, shot through the -lungs. I was not strong enough to carry him. Where is Count Mont d’Oro?”</p> - -<p>“He, too, is dead,” said Bertha. “Perhaps Admiral Enright can help -you—but what is that?” she cried.</p> - -<p>They listened.</p> - -<p>“It sounds like the beating of a drum,” said Jack, and he ran to the -window. “Come here, Bertha. There is a body of sailors—English sailors, -I think—and marines in front of the house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_318" id="page_318">{318}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know,” said Bertha. “Admiral Enright sent to his ship for them, -and now let us seek him out and also the Countess Mont d’Oro, who will -be glad you are come, for everything here in Corsica seems to be at -sixes and sevens.”</p> - -<p>The Admiral greeted Jack with the utmost cordiality. “I knew that your -good friend, and my Lieutenant, Victor Duquesne, was very much worried -because of your absence, and I am glad you have returned to give a good -account of yourself.”</p> - -<p>Jack gave a brief recital of his wanderings since he left the hotel at -Ajaccio, and also explained the condition of the wounded man, upon -hearing which the Admiral immediately detailed four sailors to accompany -Jack on his humane errand.</p> - -<p>“My dear Countess,” said the Admiral, “our young friend has gone to save -one life; it is now our duty to see if we can save two.”</p> - -<p>It was a strange procession that left the house of the Countess Mont -d’Oro and, escorted by the sailors and marines, soon reached the -Batistelli castle. The Admiral and his daughter were in advance, while -close behind them were the Countess Mont d’Oro, and Bertha who insisted -upon accompanying them, declaring that nothing would induce her to -remain at home alone.</p> - -<p>Adolphe and Clarine stood in the open doorway waiting to receive them, -and led the party through rooms and corridors, and up the steep stone -stairway to the Hall of Mirrors. The picture they formed, transferred to -canvas, would have won fame and fortune for the artist. There was the -Admiral in the handsome uniform of his rank; the Countess dressed in the -latest Parisian style, and Helen and Bertha in plain and simple attire, -forming a marked contrast with the uniforms of the jack-tars and -marines. The company was not very large, but its numbers were, -apparently,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_319" id="page_319">{319}</a></span> multiplied by the mirrors on the walls, and it seemed as -though a vast concourse was present.</p> - -<p>The Admiral studied carefully the picture disclosed by the parting of -the hinged mirrors. All could see that the artist had depicted a -well-known incident in the garden of Eden.</p> - -<p>“Does any one here know aught about the dungeon?” inquired the Admiral.</p> - -<p>Adolphe led the old nurse, Clarine, forward. “I am the only one who -knows,” she said. Clarine then told what she knew of the history of the -dungeon chamber, the paper left by Vivienne’s father, how she had given -it to the young girl on her birthday, and how it had disappeared, no one -knew how or where.</p> - -<p>“I understand,” said Admiral Enright. “There is no key to the door, nor -handle, so it must be opened from the outside, by some ingenious -concealed mechanism. To state the problem is easy, but I fear it will be -hard to solve it. My dear,” turning to his daughter Helen, “you are well -versed in regard to the castles of olden times and their dungeons. Have -you learned, in all your studies of them, anything which may aid us in -the present case?”</p> - -<p>Helen had been standing apart from the rest, eagerly scanning the -picture before her. At her father’s words she came forward and lightly -touched the picture at different points with her finger.</p> - -<p>“May one of your men assist me?” she asked, turning to the Admiral.</p> - -<p>The Admiral motioned for one of the sailors to come forward.</p> - -<p>“There must be some connection, father,” she said, “between the picture -and what we may call the lock, which, in cases I have read of, is formed -of bolts held in place by certain springs acted upon in a way which we -must ascertain. You see, here are Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, -standing beneath a tree, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_320" id="page_320">{320}</a></span> above them the wicked serpent with -glistening eyes. There is the apple in Eve’s hand. Now, if we follow the -story as it is written, the serpent tempted Eve and Eve tempted Adam, -who ate the apple. Now, supposing your man will place the forefinger of -his right hand on the eye of the serpent and keep it there. Now, place -the forefinger of your left hand on the stem of the apple. Now, press -hard.” Suddenly there was a sound—a grating sound—like the moving of -one metallic surface upon another; yet there was no movement of the -door.</p> - -<p>“Not quite,” exclaimed Helen, excitedly, “but thank God we must be -nearing the solution. Now place a finger upon Eve’s mouth; now on Adam’s -ear. Now, press hard.”</p> - -<p>Again the grating sound, but still the doors did not open.</p> - -<p>Helen now gazed long at the picture, while all present watched her in -tense silence.</p> - -<p>“Two of the bolts have been shot, father,” she said at last, “but there -must be a third, and possibly more. Ah!” she exclaimed, as a sudden -thought seemed to strike her, no doubt impelled by the idea of pushing -Adam out of the garden of Eden, “press with all your might upon Adam’s -chest!”</p> - -<p>The sailor sprang forward to obey her command. Again the grating sound; -this time much louder. There was a creaking noise, and the door opened -slowly, as though pushed from within by invisible hands.</p> - -<p>A wild shout of delight arose from the company, for there, standing side -by side, were Vandemar and Vivienne. They had heard the grating and -creaking and knew that the hour of their deliverance had come. All stood -awe-hushed as Vandemar, seemingly the shadow of his former self, and -Vivienne, with tear-stained face and pallid cheek, came forth.</p> - -<p>“Bless—my—soul! Re-mark-a-ble!” exclaimed the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_321" id="page_321">{321}</a></span> Admiral, and he ran -forward and grasped the young man’s hand.</p> - -<p>The strong-armed sailor started to lend his support to Victor, but he -was abruptly put aside by a young man, who now rushed through the crowd -and helped lead Victor forward. It was Jack, who had performed his -errand of humanity, and had arrived just in time to witness the release -of his friend.</p> - -<p>Pylades and Orestes were again reunited.</p> - -<p>Simultaneously Vivienne was clasped in the arms of Clarine, who had been -as a mother to her and had loved her all her life. With the assistance -of the Countess and Bertha, Vivienne was led to a chair. Her first words -were:</p> - -<p>“Where is my brother Pascal?”</p> - -<p>“He is dead,” cried Clarine. “Cromillian killed him. You are the last of -the Batistellis.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_322" id="page_322">{322}</a></span>”</p> - -<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.<br /><br /> -<small>FATHER AND SON.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">While</span> the company had been at the Batistelli castle, Jack had performed -the task intrusted to him. Cromillian had been brought in, a doctor -called, and the flow of blood stanched. He was in a high state of fever -and was delirious. He kept calling for his men to follow him and save -Vandemar and Vivienne by tearing down the castle walls. “It is the only -way,” he cried time after time, and after each exertion would fall into -a stupor.</p> - -<p>The next morning, when the doctor came, he was rational. He had been -told that Vandemar and Vivienne had been liberated, and the intelligence -had produced a most quieting effect.</p> - -<p>“What is my real condition, Doctor?” he asked. “Tell me the truth. I can -bear it. I have a duty to perform and wish to know whether there is -time.”</p> - -<p>“Well, sir,” said the doctor, “your wound is a mortal one. You are a -very strong man and have great vitality. You will live another day, -perhaps two, but I can offer you no hope beyond that.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said Cromillian. “I knew as much. I wish to see Vandemar. -Let him come to me at once and have him bring two witnesses. I have -something to tell him about his father.”</p> - -<p>It was not long before Vandemar appeared, accompanied by the Admiral and -Countess Mont d’Oro. Vandemar’s first words were:</p> - -<p>“They said you could tell me something of my father. Where can I find -him?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_323" id="page_323">{323}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“You will not have to go far. I am he—I am called Cromillian, but my -right name is Manuel Della Coscia.”</p> - -<p>His hearers were astonished, Vandemar most of all. Could this bandit be -the father whom he had so longed to see?</p> - -<p>“I do not expect you to love me, my son. It is unnatural that you -should, for we have never been close to each other. But, before I die, I -must remove a stigma from our family name. You are the last of the line, -Vandemar, and should know the truth. Let your friends draw near, for my -story is a long one and I am weaker than I thought.</p> - -<p>“Vandemar and friends, as sure as there is a God in Heaven, I did not -kill Conrad Batistelli. The old Count Mont d’Oro and Conrad Batistelli -had a dispute about some land, for you know their estates adjoin. Pardon -me, lady, for what I am forced to say, but it is the truth.</p> - -<p>“One day, I met the old Count, who asked me if I had my stiletto with -me. He had left home without his, and as he was going to examine his -estate and might meet Batistelli, he was afraid that an altercation -might ensue, when he, being unarmed, would be at a disadvantage. That -evening I went to the Count’s house to get back my stiletto, for it was -a valuable one and bore my initials. To my horror, I learned that he had -killed Conrad Batistelli with it and, unthinkingly, had left the weapon -beside the dead body of his victim.</p> - -<p>“I was a widower; you were a little boy of six. The Batistellis were -powerful, and I knew that our lives would be forfeited if we remained in -Corsica. The Count gave me all the money he had in his possession, and a -letter of credit for a large sum. I took you, mounted a fleet horse -supplied by the Count, and made my way to Ajaccio. I obtained a disguise -and, a few days later, secured a passage to France. I made my<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_324" id="page_324">{324}</a></span> way at -once to England, where I placed you at school. The Count sent me more -money, from time to time, and I lived the life of a man of leisure; but -when you were old enough to enter the Navy, my occupation was gone. I -had taken the name of Hector Duquesne, and had given you that of Victor.</p> - -<p>“I wearied of my quiet, do-nothing life, and decided to come back to -Corsica. But what could I do here? If I returned under my own name, -although I was an innocent man, the vendetta would claim me as a victim. -I assumed the name of Cromillian and organised my company of moral -bandits, pledged to do all they could to discountenance the practice of -the vendetta.</p> - -<p>“But I yearned to see you, and wrote to you, telling you who you were -and why you had been banished from your native land, though I did not -tell you when and where you could see me. I had hoped to meet you in -some way, look upon your face for the last time, and then warn you to -leave Corsica forever. You must do it now. My life will soon pay the -forfeit, and yours will if you remain here. The vendetta never dies -while food for the stiletto or the rifle remains alive.”</p> - -<p>The Countess was deeply affected by Cromillian’s story. She had never -dreamed that her husband was connected in any way with such a tragedy. -What a whirligig of fate it was which had brought the father and son -together under her roof. Cromillian must have divined what was passing -in the Countess’s mind.</p> - -<p>“My dear lady,” he said, “do not worry about what I have told you. The -Corsicans are born murderers. If your husband had not killed Conrad -Batistelli, he would have lost his own life. Is Pascal dead?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Vandemar, “he is to be buried to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“I shall soon follow him. Have they found old Manassa? I fired at him -after he shot me, and then he ran for the woods.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_325" id="page_325">{325}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“We shall have a search made for him,” said Vandemar.</p> - -<p>Father and son were left together. Each was at the portal of a new life. -One was to go—he knew not where; the other looked forward to a life of -happiness with the woman he loved.</p> - -<p>As the Admiral and the Countess left the room, the former asked:</p> - -<p>“Have you ever found anything among your husband’s papers bearing on -this affair of the vendetta? I believe this man’s story, but even the -truth should be verified.”</p> - -<p>“No,” the Countess replied; “since my husband died in Paris, I have -visited Corsica only when it was absolutely necessary to learn from my -steward the condition of my affairs. The Count’s private papers are -here, but they have never been disturbed since his death.”</p> - -<p>“Suppose we look at them now,” suggested the Admiral.</p> - -<p>A careful search disclosed a sealed packet, endorsed “Manuel Della -Coscia. Statement of Account.” Below was written in a trembling hand, -“Closed.” It was opened by the Admiral, and found to contain, among -other papers, a signed statement corroborating in every particular the -story told by Cromillian. The writer expressed his regret that he could -not make a more adequate return for the great service rendered him by -Manuel Della Coscia.</p> - -<p>Vandemar’s father was sinking rapidly. The Countess and her guests were -gathered at his bedside, and she had informed him of the finding of the -paper, among her late husband’s effects, which entirely exonerated the -Della Coscias from all complicity in the murder. A look of pleasure -overspread the face of the wounded man as he motioned for Vandemar and -Vivienne to approach. He joined their hands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_326" id="page_326">{326}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Thus ends a Corsican vendetta,” he said, solemnly; then, seeing Jack -and Bertha, he smiled faintly and added: “And an English family feud.”</p> - -<p>His passing was painless and peaceful. At his request, his gravestone -bore but one word—<span class="smcap">Cromillian</span>.</p> - -<p>The searching party that had been sent out to look for Old Manassa -returned and reported that they had scoured the <i>maquis</i>, but could see -no trace of him. His body was never found.</p> - -<p>Admiral Enright at last received the orders from London for which he had -been waiting so long. He told his hostess that he must join his ship and -proceed at once to Portsmouth.</p> - -<p>“Young man,” he said, turning to Vandemar, “you ought to go with me. On -Mademoiselle Batistelli’s account, however, I will allow you to reach -Portsmouth by way of Paris.”</p> - -<p>“You will find me there waiting for you,” said Vandemar Della Coscia.</p> - -<p>“And what am I to do?” asked Jack, turning to Bertha.</p> - -<p>“You have neglected your duties as heir of the Earl of Noxton,” broke in -the Admiral, with mock severity, “and you have added to your -responsibilities by that neglect.”</p> - -<p>Jack looked disturbed.</p> - -<p>“I know, my dear Admiral, I have been very remiss, but you must own -there have been extenuating circumstances.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Admiral Enright, “I see her,”—and he looked at Bertha, -who blushed prettily.</p> - -<p>“No doubt we all wish to leave these scenes,” said the Countess. “I -shall return eventually, but for the present I shall open my Paris -residence, where, with Bertha, we shall be pleased to welcome you as our -guests so long as you can find it convenient to stay.”</p> - -<p>On the afternoon preceding the day of departure,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_327" id="page_327">{327}</a></span> a solemn conclave was -held in the library of the Mont d’Oro castle.</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle Batistelli,” said the Admiral, turning to Vivienne, “is it -your intention to return to the Batistelli castle eventually, or——”</p> - -<p>“Never!” broke in Vivienne. “I shall never step within its doors again. -I couldn’t. Nothing but distressing memories are connected with its -walls, and I never wish to set foot in Corsica again.”</p> - -<p>“I had thought as much,” remarked the Countess, “and had so expressed -myself to Admiral Enright. As it adjoins my estate, I will make you a -proposition. With your consent—and also that of your future husband—I -will purchase the Batistelli castle and grounds at their proper -valuation. Should this offer prove acceptable, it is my intention to -raze the castle to the ground, and remove the hedge which has divided -the estates for so many years. Thus all unpleasant memories will be -banished. I shall be glad, for Paris is too noisy, and I shall have this -castle to be the shelter of my declining years.”</p> - -<p>This plan proved agreeable, and it was arranged that some of the -Batistelli servants, including Clarine, should be added to the Mont -d’Oro household; the others were dismissed with gratuities.</p> - -<p>The next day the <i>Osprey</i> set sail from Ajaccio, bearing the Admiral and -his daughter. It was arranged that Vandemar and Vivienne, and Jack and -Bertha, accompanied by the Countess Mont d’Oro, should go at once to -Paris.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_328" id="page_328">{328}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.<br /><br /> -<small>“MERRIE ENGLAND.”</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Vivienne</span> had wished Clarine to accompany her to England, for Vandemar -had expressed his intention of making that country his future home.</p> - -<p>“No, my darling,” said the old nurse, “I would like to go with you, but -those whom I have served, and all, whom I have loved, excepting -yourself, are dead and buried here in Corsica. Until within a short -time, you have loved me better than any one else in the world, but now -your love—all your love—belongs to another, and old Clarine will not -ask you to divide it. I have not long to stay—you will not blame me, I -know—but when I die, I wish to be buried in my native land. I could not -die happy if I were to be laid away in that far off country, so far from -those I——” Here the old nurse’s feelings overcame her, and her voice -was so choked with sobs that she could not speak. Vivienne comforted her -as best she could, and told her that she would write to her regularly, -and that some day she might come with her husband to pay her a visit.</p> - -<p>“Countess Mont d’Oro has agreed to take you into her household, Clarine. -If she had not done so, I should have insisted upon your going with me, -but with her I know that you will be well treated, and if you are sick -you will have the best of care. She has promised me as much.”</p> - -<p>Vandemar had a conversation with Admiral Enright before the sailing of -the <i>Osprey</i>.</p> - -<p>“My duty is to join my ship at once,” the young man had said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_329" id="page_329">{329}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Young people do not see their duty sometimes as clearly as do their -elders,” the Admiral had replied. “The time you spent in that dungeon -has broken you down physically—I will not say mentally—as much as a -three years’ cruise would have done. I am commander of the ship and I -know that my action will be sustained by the Admiralty. I grant you a -furlough of thirty days. If you cannot make Mademoiselle Batistelli your -wife and join me at Portsmouth by the end of that time, you deserve to -be court-martialled, and I will see that you are.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>Never had the mansion of the Countess Mont d’Oro been so ablaze with -light as on the evening when she, accompanied by her guests, arrived in -Paris. She had previously sent word as to what preparations she wished -made for their coming. She had no sooner stepped over the threshold than -she turned, and, with a blending of French fervour and Italian grace, -with both hands extended, welcomed her guests.</p> - -<p>“This is my city home,” she cried. “It shall be yours as long as you -wish to stay. I have been mistress here for so long that it will be a -pleasure for me to take orders from others. Command me, and I will -obey.”</p> - -<p>Vivienne had never been outside of Corsica and she viewed with wonder -the beauties of the great city. It was the time of the Second Empire, -and the Prince-President, on assuming the crown, had determined to make -the people of Paris happy. He knew that Paris was France, and that if -Parisians were happy the rest of the country would be tranquil.</p> - -<p>During Bertha’s previous stay in the city, she had seen but few of its -attractions, for she had declined to accompany Count Mont d’Oro, and had -gone out very seldom with the Countess.</p> - -<p>Vandemar and Vivienne, and Jack and Bertha, made<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_330" id="page_330">{330}</a></span> a happy party and -there were no restrictions upon their enjoyment. When asked to accompany -them the Countess had replied:</p> - -<p>“I have had my day as an active participant; I take the most pleasure -now in seeing others enjoy themselves.”</p> - -<p>Twenty days of Lieutenant Victor Duquesne’s furlough had expired. In his -intercourse with the outside world, he still retained the name by which -he was known in the Navy.</p> - -<p>“When my name is changed upon the Navy roster,” he told the Countess, “I -shall feel as though I had some legal right to it.”</p> - -<p>“You will have to claim a legal right to it before then,” said the -Countess. “You have no father nor mother, and I feel it is my duty to -act towards you in place of both. Your friend, Mr. De Vinne, has a -father and a mother living, and can take Miss Renville to his own home. -You, at present, have no home, and as your combined father and mother, -and as the combined father and mother of Mademoiselle Batistelli, you -must take your choice between becoming the husband of Vivienne within -the next ten days, or you will be obliged to leave her here in Paris. -You careless, thoughtless, headstrong young men are very apt to forget -the proprieties. You think that Vivienne belongs to you, and that nobody -else has any interest in her, but, young man, bear in mind that until -you legally and lawfully make her your wife, she is mine. You remember I -lived next door to her in Corsica.”</p> - -<p>Vandemar took Jack into his confidence.</p> - -<p>“What am I to do, old man? Here’s the Countess says that I must marry -Vivienne or she can’t let her go to England with me. She says you have a -home to take your lady-love to, while I have none. I intend to make one, -though.”</p> - -<p>“The Countess is right,” said Jack, “and do you<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_331" id="page_331">{331}</a></span> know I have been -thinking that the best way to overcome possible objection is to render -it futile.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I can’t say that I follow you,” remarked Vandemar.</p> - -<p>“Well, you will understand me,” said Jack, “when I express my -determination of following you.”</p> - -<p>Still Vandemar did not understand. “Why, of course,” said he, “we always -intended to go to England together.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Jack. “Our original intention was to go as four separate -individuals, but as the Fates seem to have decided that you and Vivienne -must go as a couple, I am more than willing to take time by the forelock -and, with Bertha’s kind co-operation, make another couple.”</p> - -<p>Vandemar grasped Jack’s hand. “From the time we first met until to-day, -Jack, I’ve never got into any kind of trouble, any sort of a dilemma, -that you did not contrive some way of getting me out of it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you know,” said Jack, “that somehow or other we neither of us -have forgotten the old story of Pylades and Orestes.”</p> - -<p>“And I hope we never shall,” said Vandemar, fervently.</p> - -<p>A sudden thought came to Jack. “Well, I may have kept faith with you and -done part, if not all that I should have done in your behalf, but there -is one poor fellow whom I have entirely forgotten, so fully have I been -carried away by my own happiness.”</p> - -<p>“Clarence?” queried Vandemar.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Jack. “No news comes from that out-of-the-way place from -which we have providentially escaped with our lives, and what is worth -more, our wives to-be. Poor Clarence does not yet know of the death of -his father. I will go and talk the whole matter over with Bertha, and we -will decide what is best to write him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_332" id="page_332">{332}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Clarence Glynne’s recovery had been rapid after the arrival of his wife. -He had not been affected so much by the exhibit of his father’s enmity -towards him as he was by the supposed loss of his wife, whom he dearly -loved. The departure of his father in quest of Bertha made him virtual -master of Buckholme, and he lost no time in installing his wife as its -mistress. He had explained matters to Mr. Lake, giving him a most -liberal <i>douceur</i>, and had received the detective’s promise that no -publicity would be given to the affair of Glynne <i>vs.</i> Glynne.</p> - -<p>Clarence resumed his position as head of the mercantile house of -Walmonth & Company, and everything moved along much more smoothly and -happily than it had before.</p> - -<p>“The day of reckoning will come some time,” he said to his wife, one -morning at breakfast.</p> - -<p>“Well, Clarence,” she replied, “there is an old adage about not -borrowing trouble. When the day of reckoning comes, we will figure up -both sides of the account and see to whom the balance is due. I know you -will pardon me when I say that I think your father has been playing a -deep game. So far as you are concerned, there is no reason why the truth -should not be known, but I don’t think he will be willing to have it -divulged. In such a case the balance will be on your side. You suspect -what the truth is, and if you should mention your suspicions to the -authorities, the truth would have to come out.”</p> - -<p>“That may be so,” said Clarence, “but a man doesn’t like to get his -father in a hole, and then shake a stick at him and tell him he can’t -come out unless he pays up.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t say, Clarence, but that you are indebted to your father for -your existence, but I really think you owe him very little love, and I -am sure I have never had any for him, nor he for me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_333" id="page_333">{333}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>Jennie might have said more, but conversation was cut short by the -entrance of Brinkley with the morning mail.</p> - -<p>Clarence was so busily engaged with his breakfast that Jennie took the -letters. She glanced over them quickly, throwing them, one by one, upon -the table. The postmark of the last one she regarded attentively.</p> - -<p>“Why, here’s one from Paris,” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“From father?” asked her husband, still intent upon his bacon and eggs.</p> - -<p>“No,” said she. “I will open it and read it to you.”</p> - -<p>Womanlike she looked at the end of the letter first.</p> - -<p>“Why, Clarence,” she exclaimed, “it’s from Jack De Vinne.”</p> - -<p>“Go on,” said her husband, as he buttered a muffin, “let’s hear what he -says,” and Jennie read:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind"> -“<span class="smcap">My Dear Clarence</span>:</p> - -<p>“I have been very remiss in my duty to you. I should have written -to you long before this and conveyed to you some intelligence which -you will find of the greatest importance. Let me give you my excuse -first. I cannot tell you the whole story now, for I am not an adept -at letter-writing, and usually confine my communications to a -statement of bald facts. Well, the facts are these. By a curious -coincidence I met my dear friend Victor Duquesne in Corsica. Bertha -had gone there with the Countess Mont d’Oro, and I, as you know, -followed her. Admiral Enright’s ship, upon which Victor was a -lieutenant, came to Ajaccio shortly after I arrived, so we met. -Your father followed Bertha to Corsica, intending to prevent my -meeting with her. She was not poor, as your father had told me, but -possesses a fortune in her own right. Your father was to be her -guardian until the day of her marriage, when, by her father’s will, -she was to be put<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_334" id="page_334">{334}</a></span> in possession of her fortune. You see now why -your father wished you to marry her and why he did not want her to -marry anybody else.”</p></div> - -<p>“We knew all that before, didn’t we, Clarence?” exclaimed Jennie.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said her husband, as he buttered a third muffin. “Go on, he’s got -something more to tell. I know Jack; he writes just as he talks.”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“I cannot tell you all now, Clarence, all the terrible things that -occurred in Corsica while we were there. The vendetta is the -national pastime. We all got mixed up in it, and fortunate are we -that we escaped with our lives; many did not. But Bertha and I, and -Victor and his lady-love, a beautiful young Corsican girl named -Vivienne Batistelli, and our mutual friend, Countess Mont d’Oro, -are all safe now in Paris. I have written all this, Clarence, in -the vain hope that I should find some way of breaking sad news to -you in such a manner as not to give you too sudden a shock.”</p></div> - -<p>Clarence dropped his knife and fork and looked intently at his wife. “I -told you so, Jennie. I knew he was holding something back. But read on; -it cannot be any worse than I think it is. I imagined while you were -reading that something had happened, for how could Jack know about -Bertha’s fortune?”</p> - -<p>“You are right,” said his wife, who had been reading ahead while he had -been talking; “you are right, Clarence, your father is gone. Jack says -he was made captive by one party of bandits while your father was a -captive with another band. Your father escaped with the evident -intention of following Jack, but when challenged by the guard he did not -answer quickly enough and was shot down. Jack saw that he was buried, -and took possession of the papers upon him. He says that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_335" id="page_335">{335}</a></span> one of those -papers was the will of Oscar Renville, and he took the liberty of giving -it to Bertha, who read it. Those are not his own words,” said Jennie. “I -will read it just as it is here, if you wish, Clarence.”</p> - -<p>“Is there any more?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, another page.”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“Bertha wishes me to say to you that if your father, in the -performance of his duty as guardian, has invested a part of her -fortune in the business of Walmonth & Company, she has no desire to -withdraw it at present. She is willing to make an arrangement by -which a suitable interest may be paid her upon the amount. If it -has all been invested in the business, a share in the profits, she -thinks, would be more equitable. But all can be arranged when we -arrive in England. Trusting that you and your wife are enjoying -good health, and with kind regards from Bertha and myself, I am,</p> - -<p class="r"><span style="margin-right: 20%"> -“Sincerely yours,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">John De Vinne</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>“I cannot give you a royal wedding,” said the Countess Mont d’Oro, “but -I am willing and able to make it a princely one.”</p> - -<p>Both the young ladies protested against such extravagance.</p> - -<p>“I have no one else to squander my money upon,” said the Countess. “Just -think of it, you, Bertha, are going to be a countess, and probably -Vivienne will one day hear her future husband addressed as Admiral.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” cried Bertha, “but both of those events are likely to be far in -the future. I do not wish my presumptive father-in-law to die, and I -know that it is long, in times of peace, before a lieutenant becomes an -Admiral.”</p> - -<p>“But these are not times of peace,” cried the Count<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_336" id="page_336">{336}</a></span>ess. “There is going -to be a war. A friend of mine who is intimate at Court says that it will -not be many months before France will declare war against Russia. It is -something about the Crimea, but what that is I really do not know.”</p> - -<p>“Why, that’s part of Russia,” cried Bertha. “Or perhaps the Russians -wish to add it to their Empire. I remember reading about Peter the Great -and how he founded the city of St. Petersburg. The book said that one -hundred thousand men lost their lives from fever and other forms of -disease while the city was being built.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said the Countess, sharply, “these rulers are always willing to -sacrifice the lives of their subjects if they can add thereby to their -own power. I am a lover of peace.”</p> - -<p>“So am I,” said Vivienne, “but are there not times when an honourable -war is better than a dishonourable peace?”</p> - -<p>The Countess did not answer the question, but said, gaily: “We are not -here to discuss war, but an honourable peace. You two young ladies have -capitulated, and the victors demand their booty—I should have said -beauty.”</p> - -<p>“Let it be a quiet wedding,” said Bertha, “with as few people present as -possible.”</p> - -<p>“That’s my idea, exactly,” said Vivienne.</p> - -<p>“Well, you may have your own way so far as the marriage itself is -concerned,” said the Countess. “About one part of the festivities -though, I shall insist upon having my own way. After the marriage we -will have a reception, and I shall claim the right to invite to that -whom I please, and as many as I please.”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>The wedding reception was over and the last guest had departed.</p> - -<p>“This is the happiest day I have ever passed in this<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_337" id="page_337">{337}</a></span> house,” said the -Countess. “I am glad that my last days in it have been connected with -such a series of happy events.”</p> - -<p>“Why,” cried Vivienne, “are you not going to live in Paris?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said the Countess, “I have already made arrangements to sell the -house. I am going back to Corsica to live. I may never see you again, -but you must write and tell me how happy you are, and your letters will -be a great solace to me.”</p> - -<p>“But you must come and see us,” said Bertha, “after we settle down in -England.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said the Countess, decidedly, “after I go back to Corsica I shall -never leave it again. But we must not talk any more about my travels, -which are of little consequence. The carriage will be here in half an -hour to take you to the station. Lieutenant Della Coscia’s furlough -expires day after to-morrow, and he must be in Portsmouth to meet the -Admiral. Is it not so, Monsieur Lieutenant?”</p> - -<p>“You have spoken the truth, Countess,” said Vandemar. “We have had our -days of pleasure, and now for me come days of duty.”</p> - -<p>The Countess did not break down when the moment for parting came. “You -have my blessing,” she said, almost gaily; “life is bright for you, and -I feel glad that I have in some small degree contributed to your -happiness. Don’t forget to write to me,” were her last words as they -descended the steps to enter the waiting carriage.</p> - -<p>When Lieutenant and Madame Della Coscia and Mr. and Mrs. John De -Vinne—or as we should have said Lord and Lady De Vinne—arrived at -Portsmouth they learned that Admiral Enright was away on leave. About a -fortnight previous to their arrival, the Admiral, accompanied by his -daughter, had gone to his estate in Devonshire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_338" id="page_338">{338}</a></span></p> - -<p>An officer of the <i>Osprey</i>, who was staying at the same hotel with the -married couples, informed Vandemar and Jack that the Admiral’s leave -would expire in three days, and that he would surely return by that -time.</p> - -<p>The young gentlemen and their wives were on their honeymoons, and the -delay made little difference to them.</p> - -<p>A week elapsed before Vandemar, who was in the smoking room, espied the -Admiral’s genial face as he alighted from a carriage. In a moment -Vandemar was with him and, arm in arm, they went back to the smoking -room, where cigars were lighted.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter?” asked Vandemar. “I hope your daughter is not sick. -She is not with you. What caused your delay?”</p> - -<p>The Admiral laughed immoderately; finally he ejaculated: “Bless my soul! -A most re-mark-a-ble affair.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me all about it,” cried Vandemar. “Madame Della Coscia is out -driving with Mr. and Mrs. De Vinne and I am lonesome.”</p> - -<p>“I hardly know where to begin,” said the Admiral, and again he laughed -heartily.</p> - -<p>“Why not at the beginning?” queried Vandemar.</p> - -<p>“That’s not a bad idea,” said the Admiral. “Well, you know Doctor John -Frobisher, who was surgeon on the <i>Osprey</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Remember Jack Frobisher?” broke in Vandemar. “Of course I do! A mighty -good fellow. Hard to get acquainted with, though. Bashful or diffident, -I don’t know which.”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t got the right word,” said the Admiral. “He was jealous.”</p> - -<p>“Jealous!” cried Vandemar. “Of whom?”</p> - -<p>“I think,” said the Admiral, “that it must have been a certain -lieutenant attached to the <i>Osprey</i>, who was, I judge from what you have -told me, lately married in Paris to a beautiful young Corsican lady.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_339" id="page_339">{339}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Whew!” exclaimed Vandemar. “What possible proof can you have for such a -ridiculous statement?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” remarked the Admiral, “if you will let me go on with my story, I -think I can make it as plain to you as it is to me.”</p> - -<p>“Proceed, my dear Admiral,” said Vandemar, “but when you are through you -will have to undergo a cross-examination.”</p> - -<p>“My estate,” the Admiral began, “is a good five miles from the nearest -village. When we left the mailcoach my own carriage was waiting for -us—I ordered it ahead—but it was nine o’clock at night, and dark at -that. I was for staying over night, but as we had a guest with us, Helen -was for pushing on—and on we pushed.”</p> - -<p>Vandemar forgot himself: “A guest?—Excuse me, Admiral.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s all right I ought to have told you that Doctor Frobisher was -with us. He’s an orphan or something of that sort and had no place to -go. Well, we had covered about two miles when we heard a pistol-shot -close behind us, and Chudleigh, our driver, pulled up the horses with a -jerk. Jack jumped out to see what the matter was. His feet had no sooner -touched the ground than he saw a pistol pointed at him. Bless my soul! -We were at the mercy of a highwayman, the worst of all land sharks. The -fellow made me get out next, but Helen refused to move. She argued with -the highwayman, telling him that his calling was nefarious and that he -would surely end his days on the scaffold. The fellow reached in, caught -hold of Helen, and tried to pull her out of the carriage. That was more -than Jack could stand. He jumped upon the rascal and down they went. -That fencing of yours was fine—the best I ever saw—but in a -rough-and-tumble fight I think Jack can hold his own with the best of -them. When<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_340" id="page_340">{340}</a></span> Jack got through with the highwayman, we left him to sleep -off his troubles.”</p> - -<p>“Good for Jack!” Vandemar exclaimed, involuntarily.</p> - -<p>“You are right,” said the Admiral. “You know how fond Helen is of -personal bravery? Well, she was delighted, and she told John so. Either -the scuffle or her praise unlimbered his tongue, and while I was asleep -in a corner of the carriage, he had the audacity to propose and was -accepted. A most re-mark-a-ble affair. They were married a week ago. I -couldn’t get away any sooner.”</p> - -<p>At that moment the driving party returned, and all joined in -congratulating the Admiral in saving his money from the highwayman and -securing so desirable a son-in-law.</p> - -<p>“Now, Admiral,” said Vandemar, “you can help us. The two husbands and -wives now before you have no place to call their own in which they can -lay their heads. We are willing to buy or lease. Where can we go?”</p> - -<p>“I know just the place,” cried the Admiral. “It was made for you. It is -called Crow Lodge, and is about a quarter of a mile from my own place.”</p> - -<p>“I should change the name at once,” said Vivienne.</p> - -<p>“And what would you call it?” asked Vandemar.</p> - -<p>“I should name it after our best friend,” she replied, “Countess Mont -d’Oro—Marie Lodge. Would not that be a pretty name? It is to her more -than to any one else that we owe our present happiness, and I am going -to name everything I can after her.”</p> - -<p>The Admiral looked up, and with a roguish twinkle in his eye, asked: -“Even——”</p> - -<p>Vivienne blushed rosy red; the others laughed, but she answered stoutly: -“Yes, even!”</p> - -<p>  </p> - -<p>Jack and Bertha had been guests at Marie Lodge but<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_341" id="page_341">{341}</a></span> a few days when an -urgent summons came from his mother, the Countess. Before leaving -Portsmouth, Jack had wired his father of his intended visit to -Devonshire, and had given his address. The summons was in the form of a -telegram. It read: “Come home at once. Your father is at the point of -death.”</p> - -<p>“You must come with me, Bertha,” said Jack. “Your place is by my side. I -know my mother will receive you as a daughter. If my father has any -objections to our marriage, it is too late to prevent it, but I wish his -forgiveness, if he thinks such an act necessary, before he dies.”</p> - -<p>The Earl of Noxton’s illness had not been of long duration, but he had -suffered intense pain. Nature, at last, had succumbed in so far as to -offer no further resistance to the inroads of disease; instead, there -had come that physical peace and that lucid interval which so often -precede dissolution.</p> - -<p>As Jack had presaged, the Countess welcomed Bertha warmly.</p> - -<p>“She is beautiful, is she not, mother?” asked Jack when they were alone.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said the Countess, “and she is poor. When I was married to your -father he said I was beautiful, and I was poor.”</p> - -<p>“You are beautiful now, mother,” said Jack, as he embraced her. “But -Bertha is not poor. I thought she was, for her guardian told me so, but -it turns out that she is rich.”</p> - -<p>The three sat by the bedside of the dying man. The Earl of Noxton fixed -his eyes intently upon Bertha.</p> - -<p>“Who is she, John?” he asked, in a faint voice.</p> - -<p>“She is my wife, father.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, I remember, you told me about her. You said she was beautiful. I -can see that for myself, but you also told me that she was poor. Well, -your mother was both beautiful and poor when I married her, and I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_342" id="page_342">{342}</a></span> -never regretted that I made her a Countess. I hope you will not.”</p> - -<p>Jack’s mother led Bertha away. “You must not mind his last words,” she -said. “We knew that John had gone in search of you and we imagined what -the end would be. The Earl’s father was opposed to our marriage, but -Carolus was determined that I should be his wife, and I knew that John -was like his father. My only wish is that the Earl could have lived to -have seen you both happy.”</p> - -<p>Jack stood by the bedside and took his father’s wasted hand in his. -“Have I your forgiveness, father?”</p> - -<p>The thin fingers closed upon his own; then he heard the words: “It runs -in the blood; like father, like son.”</p> - -<p>Both Vandemar and Clarence were soon in receipt of letters informing -them of the death and burial of the Earl of Noxton. They read, too, in -the papers, of the demise of Lord Carolus De Vinne, Earl of Noxton, and -the announcement of the accession of his son John De Vinne to the title. -The item contained the information that the young Earl had been married -while in Paris to Miss Bertha Renville, daughter of the late Oscar -Renville, who had left her a large fortune which would go to swell the -revenues of the young Earl. The item further stated that the young -Countess of Noxton was a beautiful English girl, and when the period of -retirement was over she would, no doubt, prove a great acquisition to -London society.</p> - -<p>As Countess Mont d’Oro foretold, the war cloud grew black, and England, -France, and Sardinia made a triple alliance against the aggressions of -Russia in the Crimea.</p> - -<p>“Admiral,” said Vandemar, “I am going to London to ask the Admiralty for -active service.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense,” cried the Admiral. “You stay at home and look after your -wife. This is not to be a naval war; this affair is to be fought out on -land, and a sailor on land is of no more use than a turtle on its back. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_343" id="page_343">{343}</a></span>Besides,” the Admiral added, “I have arranged matters with the -Admiralty. I am ordered to duty at Portsmouth, and I have requested that -you should be with me.”</p> - -<p>Vandemar saw that it was in vain to protest.</p> - -<p>“We shall be very comfortably situated,” said the Admiral. “My -son-in-law has resigned his position in the Navy and will at once take -up general practice. Our doctor here is too old to go out nights, and -John is to step into his shoes. Of course, after getting the best of the -highwayman, John will not be afraid to go out late at night, and then, -you see, Vandemar, we can run back and forth, and if we have to remain -away from home any length of time, Vivienne can stay with Helen. If you -are not satisfied with that arrangement, I must say I am.”</p> - -<p>As the Admiral had said, the issues of the Crimean war were settled by -the Army and not by the Navy. The battle of the Alma; the famous charge -of Lord Raglan at Balaklava; the battle of Inkermann, on the night -before which ten thousand British soldiers joined in singing “Annie -Laurie,” and the siege and fall of Sebastopol followed each other, but -not in as quick succession as have the battles in more modern warfare.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Queen Victoria’s very sick;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Napoleon’s got the measles;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Sebastopol’s not taken yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Pop go the weasels.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>The words were those of a popular song; they were sung in a childish -treble by a young blue-eyed and fair-haired boy who was playing on the -terrace of Noxton Hall. The singer was Victor, the son and heir of John, -Earl of Noxton.</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you sing, Marie?” asked the boy, addressing a little girl -with dark hair and dark eyes, who sat beside him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_344" id="page_344">{344}</a></span></p> - -<p>“I don’t like to,” said little Miss Della Coscia. “I don’t think the -words are pretty.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I do,” rejoined Victor. “Papa says the English fought the -Roosians and he says they beat them, too. Come, let’s fight. You be -Roosian and I’ll be English.” He started towards the little girl, who -turned and fled, screaming at the top of her voice.</p> - -<p>“Why, what’s the matter, children?”</p> - -<p>The speaker was Countess Mont d’Oro, who had been prevailed upon to -visit England. She had resisted all entreaties until a picture had been -sent her of her namesake, the little Marie. Then there had come to her -heart a desire to see Vivienne’s child, which she could not repress. The -Earl had heard of her visit to Marie Lodge, and had insisted that -Vandemar and his family, and the Countess, should pay them a visit at -Noxton Hall.</p> - -<p>Before the Countess could ascertain the reason for Marie’s alarm, her -loud cries had summoned Jack and Bertha, and Vandemar and Vivienne, to -the terrace.</p> - -<p>“What’s the trouble, Victor?” asked his father.</p> - -<p>“Nothing, only I wanted to play war, and Marie was Roosian and I was -English, but when I showed fight she ran away and made lots of noise.”</p> - -<p>That evening after dinner Jack and Vandemar sat in the smoking room. As -is often the custom with fond parents, who are good friends, they -praised each other’s children.</p> - -<p>“I am proud of my namesake,” said Vandemar; “he is a handsome, manly -little fellow.”</p> - -<p>“And I think,” said Jack, “that Marie, when she grows up, will be as -beautiful as her mother. Who knows but that if my boy and your girl grow -up together, she may, one day, be the Countess of Noxton?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Vandemar, with feeling, “if their hearts so decide, and not -our wills. Neither you nor I, Jack, will ever interfere with the -love-making of our children.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_345" id="page_345">{345}</a></span> Surely we have had enough of plots and -counter-plots.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Jack, “if an obdurate guardian had prevailed, Bertha would -not now be Countess of Noxton.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” spoke up Vandemar, “and if the Corsican vendetta had claimed its -last victim, Vivienne would not now be the wife of Vandemar Della -Coscia. By the way, Jack, what do you suppose the Countess told Vivienne -to-day?”</p> - -<p>“That she is going to sell her estates in Corsica and take up her -residence in Paris once more.”</p> - -<p>“The first part of your guess is correct,” said Vandemar, “but she is -not going to live in Paris. She told Vivienne—I think I can repeat her -very words, ‘My past troubles are buried in Corsica, and my joys are yet -to come with you and Merrie England.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p class="fint">THE END.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CORSICAN LOVERS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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