"Yes, madame, it is true that he acted by my orders. You have absolute
confidence in this girl; but let me tell you, madame, that she abuses
it; for I assume that it is not with your consent that she receives her
lover in this house. Denial would be quite useless; I am certain of what
I say: about ten days ago,--the evening when you claimed to be
indisposed, madame,--a cavalier carefully enveloped in a cloak entered
this house after asking for mademoiselle. Now, was it she or you whom he
came to see? It is for you to answer this question, madame."
"It was not to see Miretta that that gentleman came, monsieur; it was to
see me."
The marquis stepped back, glaring at his wife, and murmured, while his
hand sought his sword hilt:
"To see you! that man came here to see you, madame!"
"Yes, monsieur, nor is that all; Miretta now has upon her a letter which
I gave her to take to this same gentleman."
"Infamous!--What, madame, you dare to confess----"
"One does not fear to confess, when no criminal purpose exists; there is
no infamy when a woman seeks to avenge her own honor; and really,
monsieur le marquis, for a man who, I had been told, was so jealous, so
sensitive in the matter of honor, you have been a long time finding out
that someone was making love to your wife.--Miretta, give monsieur le
marquis the note I handed you, and go."
Miretta made haste to obey the marchioness; she was secretly rejoiced to
deliver to the husband the note addressed to the lover; she understood
that her mistress was carrying out her scheme of vengeance at last; and
she left the room, with a glance at Valentine expressive of her
satisfaction.
The Marquis de Santoval took the note that the girl handed him; he was
still inclined to disbelieve what he heard; he found it difficult to
understand his wife's conduct. However, he opened the letter and read:
"This evening, about ten o'clock, be in the first arcade on Place
Royale, as you enter from Rue des Tournelles. I will join you
there."
"This is an assignation, madame," said the marquis, angrily crumpling
the letter in his hand.
"Yes, monsieur; but pray do not crumple the paper so, unless you wish me
to have the trouble of writing another."
"What, madame, you propose----"
"Really, monsieur, I thought that you had more penetration; but, since I
must explain everything to you, listen: this letter was----"
"For Comte Léodgard de Marvejols, madame."
"Even so, monsieur; ah! I am very glad that you have at least guessed
that.--Now, do you not know that, in accordance with plans formed by our
parents, Comte Léodgard was to have been my husband?"
"Your husband?--I did not know it."
"The alliance was earnestly desired by the count's father, and I should
have complied with my father's last wishes. But Comte Léodgard would
have none of me for his companion; he scorned the projected union--and
all to marry a girl of the common people.--Monsieur le marquis, between
men there are insults that are never forgiven, and for which they swear
to wreak vengeance; do you think that among women one does not meet now
and then one of those proud natures which cannot endure an insult? Well,
I am such a woman. After I married you, my heart throbbed with joy when
I saw that the count, when I first met him in society, seemed to admire
my features and my figure, seemed, in short, to be enamored of my
person. Then, monsieur, instead of turning my eyes in disdain, as others
would have done perhaps in my place, I gave all my attention to him,
fastening my eyes upon his and trying to impart to them an expression of
languor, almost of tenderness; for at that party I said to myself: 'The
time has come to avenge myself on that man who refused to marry me; I
propose that he shall love me; I am determined to see him at my feet,
swearing everlasting love, imploring me to reciprocate, and cursing the
day when he refused my hand.'--That triumph I enjoyed, monsieur, on the
evening that the count was admitted to this house.--But that was not
enough; after pretending to be touched by his passion, I determined to
appoint a meeting with him in some solitary, out-of-the-way place; but,
I thought, he will not find me there; the man whose name I bear will go
to that rendezvous and will take it upon himself to make my vengeance
complete.--Well, monsieur le marquis, do you understand my conduct now?"
The marquis bent his knee before his wife and kissed her hand again and
again, saying:
"I admire you, madame; I am proud to be your husband!--Pray forgive me
for having misunderstood you for a moment. But if my jealousy was slow
to burst forth, it was because, in the bottom of my heart, I could not
believe in your treachery; it was because I remembered that you chose to
become my wife of your own free will, without any constraint; and
because I thought that you could not have assumed, solely to dishonor
it, the name that is now yours.--Here, madame--take this note, send it
by your maid, who is entirely at liberty now to leave the house. As for
the rest, rely upon me to conclude this affair, and to punish the
reckless man who, after being insane enough to spurn an alliance with
you, dares now to address his solicitations to the wife of the Marquis
de Santoval! I am well aware that Monsieur le Cardinal de Richelieu has
forbidden duelling, that he punishes it very severely, in fact; but
have no fear--it will all be between ourselves."
The weather was cold and dismal. A fine but steady rain made the streets
of Paris very slippery where they were paved, and even more dangerous
were those very numerous ones that had no pavements. At ten o'clock at
night, in November, and in cold and rainy weather, one met very few
people abroad. However, the famous Giovanni had ceased some time before
to molest belated wayfarers, and people were beginning to hope that he
had left Paris.
At a few minutes before ten, a man entered Place Royale, sheltering
himself as well as he could in a cloak of greater breadth than length.
"What a curious predilection the marchioness has for this square!" he
said to himself. "What a strange idea always to select it for her place
of rendezvous! But I trust that this is the last one that she will give
me here. She must consent to come to my _petite maison_. There we shall
have no surprises to dread; there are secret exits which put one out of
reach of any possible danger."
Having arrived at one of the arcades which surrounded the square, and
being sheltered from the rain there, Léodgard let his cloak fall back,
and raised his hat brim so that it covered his face less. Then, casting
his eyes about the square, which was deserted, and at its dark arcades,
he continued:
"The place is decidedly ill chosen for an amorous rendezvous. But
Valentine will probably send her messenger, young Miretta--Miretta! yes,
that is surely the name; and judging from what she told me, she is the
person! What a strange meeting! If that girl suspected!--Ah! I must
banish that ghastly memory!--How dismal this square is to-night! Really,
this spot would be much better suited for a meeting between two gallant
men armed with swords or daggers!--But is not this the place?--Yes, it
was at the entrance to Rue des Tournelles, where one side of the park
then came to an end--I have often been told the story--this is the very
spot where Maugiron, Quélus, and Livarot fought at five o'clock in the
morning, in April, 1578. Their adversaries were D'Entragues, Schomberg,
and Ribérac. This square was not then laid out, and from the top of the
towers of the Bastille one could watch the whole combat.--Ah! that
triple duel was a glorious battle! Maugiron, Schomberg, and Ribérac lost
their lives.--But that is the fitting death for a gentleman to
die!--Those were the good times!--The king, far from forbidding duels,
was foremost in encouraging them; whereas to-day the cardinal is
terribly severe. The Bastille, aye, death sometimes, for those who
fight, who disobey his edicts. And when he has said the word, Richelieu
is inflexible! How he looked at me at that fête at the Prince de
Valdimer's!--Was he thinking of my father, whom he esteems highly, they
say? Or was it---- That look upset me completely. That man knows so many
things!"
Léodgard let his head sink upon his breast, and stood lost in thought.
In that condition, he saw nothing, heard nothing, and seemed entirely
oblivious to everything that was taking place about him. So it was that
he did not notice an individual, quite tall, wrapped in his cloak, and
followed by a servant bearing a lantern, who entered the arcade in which
he was waiting, and walked toward him. The new-comer passed close to
Léodgard, who did not emerge from his reverie or lift his head.
Thereupon, at a sign from his master, the servant who carried the
lantern held it so near to the count's face that the light fell upon it.
"What are you doing here, knave?" cried Léodgard, instantly raising his
head. "Why do you stop so near me with your lantern? Did I ask you for a
light?"
"Excuse him, monsieur; it was at my command that he acted as he did. As
I passed you, I thought that I recognized you; but it is so dark under
these arcades that I was not certain, and, as I desired to assure myself
that I was not mistaken, I motioned to my servant to throw the light on
your face for a moment. So you see, he is not the culprit."
Léodgard's features contracted into a scowl; he had recognized the
Marquis de Santoval in the person who addressed him. He divined
instantly that the encounter was not simply the result of chance;
however, he determined to pretend to assume at first that it was so, and
he replied nonchalantly:
"It is Monsieur le Marquis de Santoval, I think.--I am overjoyed at the
chance which affords me the pleasure of offering you my most sincere
respects."
The marquis made a sign to his valet, who withdrew ten or twelve paces,
so that he could not overhear what was said. When the servant was out of
hearing, Monsieur de Santoval planted himself haughtily in front of
Léodgard, and said in a bantering tone:
"The weather is very bad for an open-air rendezvous, is it not, monsieur
le comte?"
"Why, it seems to me that you do not consider it too bad, monsieur le
marquis, as it does not prevent you from coming out."
"Ah! but I have not come here to meet a lady--quite the contrary!"
"Who told you that I was here with that purpose?"
"Who? You would be greatly surprised if I should tell you that it was
the very person who gave you the rendezvous!"
Léodgard with difficulty restrained an outburst of rage, and replied:
"I do not understand you, monsieur le marquis!"
"You do not understand me, count? That surprises me!--No matter, I will
explain myself more clearly.--There are gentlemen to whom nothing is
sacred, and who do not hesitate to pay their respects to other men's
wives. Their number is not small, I am aware! But it is less common to
see a gallant, after refusing to marry a nobly born and beautiful lady,
presume to make love to her as soon as she has become the wife of
another man.--You must agree that a man need be extremely self-conceited
to believe that he will succeed in obtaining a hearing then!"
"Monsieur le marquis----"
"But that is what you have done, count, failing to perceive that the
lady was laughing at you, and that she joyfully grasped the opportunity
to give you a lesson which you deserve."
"Enough, marquis, enough! I take lessons from no one!"
"You prefer a sword thrust, then?"
"I venture to believe that you came here to find me, monsieur le
marquis, with the intention of making use of your sword."
"You are not in error."
"Let us talk no longer, then!"
"Holà! Joseph! attend us with the light!"
The valet drew near with his lantern and leaned against a pillar. The
two gentlemen had already tossed aside their cloaks; they speedily
unsheathed their swords, and, taking their places within two yards of
the light, began to attack each other with great impetuosity. Léodgard
was stirred to frenzy by his anger at having been made a plaything by
Valentine; in the case of the marquis, the desire to be revenged upon a
man who had attempted to dishonor him was sufficient to strengthen his
arm and inflame his blood.
The marquis, however, was more self-controlled; he fought more prudently
than his adversary. Léodgard, enraged to find himself opposed by a man
whose skill equalled his own, hurried his blows as if he were in haste
to conclude; and as he lunged to deal a terrible thrust at the marquis,
the latter's sword entered his breast and passed through his body.
Léodgard fell to the ground without a cry. The valet held his lantern so
that he could see the wound, from which the blood poured forth in a
stream, and said to his master, who tranquilly wiped his sword and
resumed his cloak:
"Oh! monsieur, I do not think that the gentleman will recover. Such a
wound! and fair in the breast! That was a mighty thrust he
received!--What shall we do with the gentleman?"
"Blockhead! to suppose that I intend to pay any heed to the fellow!--We
have nothing more to do here. Go before and light me!"
XLVII
THE WOUNDED MAN
Let us return now to Bathilde, the sweet and charming countess, the
loving mother, whom events have compelled us to neglect for some time,
but whom it would be impossible to forget; for sweetness of disposition,
when combined with beauty, is a talisman which never loses its power.
When Ambroisine, on returning from Place Royale, where she had seen
Léodgard embrace his daughter, entered Bathilde's room with the child,
her friend divined from her radiant face that some fortunate event had
occurred; and rising from the reclining chair on which she was
stretched, she held out her arms to Blanche and cried:
"What has happened? What brings you back so soon?--Ambroisine, I see in
your eyes that you are happy. May I not share your happiness?"
"Oh! yes, indeed! Our reason for returning so soon was that you might
enjoy it the sooner. But first of all take your child on your knees, and
kiss her; the dear little angel--it is she who is the cause--it is she
who---- Mon Dieu! I am so glad--so glad, that I can't speak--it
suffocates me!"
Bathilde took the child on her knees; Blanche put her little arms about
her mother's neck and returned her kisses, lisping:
"The gentleman--he kiss Blanche again; he said--I am pretty!"
"What does she say?" asked Bathilde, looking from Ambroisine to the
nurse.
"She says," replied Ambroisine,--"what she says is true; yesterday there
was a fine gentleman on the square; he saw Blanche playing; he thought
her so pretty that he kissed her, and then he asked Marie the dear
child's name, and then her mother's; and when she told him, he kissed
Blanche once more; and that same gentleman came to-day again and sat on
the same bench; and I am perfectly sure that it was to see Blanche
again!"
"When mademoiselle saw him this morning," said the nurse, "she
recognized him at once, and began to run toward him."
"But this gentleman--who was he, pray?" asked Bathilde, in a trembling
voice.
"Do you not guess, Bathilde, do you not guess?"
"O mon Dieu! tell me!"
"He was the Comte de Marvejols--your husband."
"He! Is it possible?"
Bathilde turned pale; for a moment she was overcome; but joy rarely does
any harm, and the young mother covered her daughter with kisses once
more, crying:
"He kissed you, little darling, he kissed you! Why, that gentleman was
your father--your father for whom I have taught you to pray to God every
night, to preserve his life and bring him back to us. Ah! God has heard
your prayers.--Now, Marie, Ambroisine, tell me all that happened, all,
both yesterday and to-day. Do not forget anything, do not omit the most
trivial detail; I shall be so happy listening to you."
The maid described minutely the meeting of the preceding day.
"And you told me nothing of this yesterday, Marie!"
"Bless me! I could not imagine that it would interest you so deeply! I
was so far from suspecting that that handsome gentleman was monsieur le
comte; and if I must mention everybody who admires mademoiselle when I
take her out to walk, and everybody who exclaims at her beauty and
caresses her, I should never stop!"
"Well--and to-day, Marie!"
The nurse told what had happened previous to the arrival of Ambroisine,
who completed the story from that point.
"And he went away like that--hurriedly?" said Bathilde.
"Mon Dieu! yes; I am very sorry that I showed myself; but when I saw him
holding his daughter in his arms, could I be expected to control my
surprise?"
"He held her in his arms?"
"To be sure."
"And he kissed her?"
"Oh! several times."
"And you are sure, Marie, that he knew that Blanche was the daughter of
the Comtesse de Marvejols?"
"Pardine! I told the gentleman so yesterday, madame; and it was he
himself who asked me the question."
"He knew that she was his daughter, Ambroisine, and he took her in his
arms, and put his lips to her forehead! Oh! I cannot believe yet in such
good fortune! Why, in that case, he must love darling Blanche!"
"Does that surprise you? Is it possible to see the child without loving
her? Moreover, as he came again to-day and sat in the same place as
yesterday, don't you see that it must have been a desire to see his
daughter that brought him there again?"
"Oh! if that were true, if it were possible! But if he wishes to see his
daughter, does he not know that the doors of this house will fly open
before him any day, at any hour? And if it is my presence that offends
him, if it is I whom he does not wish to meet, why, I will be careful to
avoid his glances, I will conceal myself in the most distant part of the
house, and I will stay hidden there so long as he remains. But let him
come to see his daughter! let him lavish his caresses on her without
fear. I shall be only too happy, and I will not complain."
"Of course, monsieur le comte did not know at first," said Ambroisine,
"when Blanche attracted his attention, that it was his own daughter whom
he was praising; when he learned that fact, he could not help being
proud of her; and then the same feeling brought him back to the spot
where he knew that she ordinarily came to run about and play. But it is
a long way from that to coming to this house."
"Oh! no matter; to-morrow Blanche will go out with her nurse at the same
time; my daughter will go for her walk in the same direction, to the
same benches as to-day; perhaps he will come again to see her; and I
will go there with you, Ambroisine. I am strong enough to go out; at all
events, you will lend me your arm, and we will keep out of sight, a long
way off; but not so far that we cannot see whether the darling girl's
father caresses her again."
Everything was done the next day as Bathilde had planned. Blanche went
out with her nurse as the clock struck twelve; some distance behind, two
women walked arm in arm, following with their eyes every step, every
movement of the child.
But the bench on which they had found Léodgard two days in succession
was unoccupied; and more than once the little girl, after running in
that direction, returned to her nurse and said in her childish lisp, and
in an almost mournful tone:
"The gentleman not there, nurse; where is the gentleman?"
For Blanche had already come to look upon it as a pleasant custom to be
kissed and caressed by Léodgard. Children learn to love very quickly! A
person attracts them instantly or never; as they have not become
reasoning persons, they follow their first impulse.
That day had not the result for which they hoped. Léodgard did not
appear at the bench, or in any other part of Place Royale, where
Bathilde's and Ambroisine's eyes would not have failed to discover him.
On the following day they repeated the same manoeuvre, with no better
success. And Blanche, as she returned to the house with her mother, who
sighed profoundly, seemed to share her sadness.
"Mamma, he did not come--the gentleman!" she said.
Several days passed thus, and they were forced to conclude that
Léodgard, angry at having been surprised by Ambroisine when he was
kissing his daughter, had preferred not to return to Place Royale, for
fear of other disagreeable encounters.
The Sire de Jarnonville, the loyal friend of the countess and of
Ambroisine, who loved Blanche with all the fervent paternal love that
heaven had left in the depths of his heart, was speedily informed of
what had happened on Place Royale. He was more touched than surprised;
it seemed to him so natural that one should be drawn to Blanche at first
sight.
"I knew that he needed only to see her to love her!" cried Jarnonville,
letting his eyes rest on Blanche. "He refused to listen to me or to
believe me, one day when I spoke to him of his daughter; but Providence,
more powerful than his will, has brought him and the child together.
Henceforth, madame, be of good cheer; it is impossible that your child
should not bring her father back to you."
With such words did Jarnonville comfort Bathilde when she sighed because
Léodgard had not appeared again on the bench where his daughter had
twice met him. Ambroisine united her efforts with the chevalier's to
encourage her friend. Bathilde, Ambroisine, and the chevalier passed
almost every evening at the Hôtel de Marvejols, beside Blanche's cradle,
spending in pleasant converse the long autumn evenings, talking almost
constantly of him who refused to accept the pure happiness offered him
by his own fireside, his wife, and his child.
It was after such a conversation, prolonged to a later hour than usual,
that Ambroisine left the hôtel with Jarnonville, who always escorted her
to Master Hugonnet's door. On this particular evening it was very dark,
and the fine rain that was falling was icy cold, so that even when the
chevalier and his companion were still protected by the arcades of the
square he said to her more than once:
"Wrap yourself tightly in your cloak, mademoiselle, for it is raining
and it is quite cold."
Then, with an almost involuntary movement, the chevalier pressed closer
to his side the arm that the lovely girl had slipped through his.
They had reached the end of the arcade, when a horrible spectacle
arrested their steps: a man lay flat on the ground; his cloak and his
sword were at some little distance, and it was so dark that they could
not see the pool of blood in which his body lay.
"Mon Dieu! what is that?" exclaimed Ambroisine, stopping abruptly; "I
believe that it is a man there--lying on the ground."
"Yes, you are right; perhaps he is asleep; perhaps he is drunk.--Wait,
while I ascertain."
Jarnonville released Ambroisine's arm, walked nearer to the body that
lay there absolutely inert, and stooped over it. In a moment he cried
out:
"Ah! the poor fellow is bathed in his own blood!"
"See that sword yonder--perhaps there has been a duel."
"If I could raise his head; but his hair has fallen over his face and
conceals it.--Mon Dieu! is this a delusion?"
"What is it, chevalier?"
"For heaven's sake, stand aside a little, so that the light may shine on
this unfortunate man--yes, it is he! it is surely he!"
"Who, in God's name?"
"Léodgard!"
"The count--is it possible!--Great God! is he dead?"
"Wait--wait!--No, it seems to me that I feel a faint movement of the
heart."
"I will run at once to the hôtel for help; don't leave him, chevalier."
Ambroisine was no longer afraid, she forgot the cold and the darkness
alike. Running along the dark arcade, she soon reached the Hôtel de
Marvejols; and having enjoined upon the concierge to conceal from the
countess all knowledge of what was going on, she took two servants with
her and hurried back at full speed to Jarnonville, who was on his knees
beside Léodgard, having raised his head, which he was supporting against
his breast. But the wounded man had not recovered consciousness; he was
still in the same condition.
With the aid of the two servants, the chevalier raised Léodgard, who was
forthwith transported to the Hôtel de Marvejols. The count had his own
suite there, which he had not occupied for many months, but which was
always ready for his occupancy, none the less.