alone."
"Admit him."
In a few moments Bahuchet bowed to the floor before the count.
On recognizing the little clerk, his messenger to Valentine, Léodgard
was conscious of a thrill of emotion; memories of the past awoke in his
heart; and he put Blanche on the floor, saying:
"Go, my child, go to your mother; you may come back to me later."
"Yes, papa!--Oh! what an awfully ugly man!"
And the little girl left the room, taking care to avoid Bahuchet, whose
presence seemed almost to terrify her.
"So it is you, messenger of disaster!" said Léodgard, when he and the
little clerk were alone; "why have you come here? I did not send for
you, I no longer require your services. Tell me--what do you want?
Speak!"
"Deign to excuse me for coming, monseigneur; you will understand that it
is only because I was requested, even implored, to do so."
"By whom?"
"Does not monsieur le comte divine? By Madame la Marquise de Santoval."
"That woman again! What! after causing me to fight with her husband!
after turning me to ridicule so abominably! she dares again---- Well!
what does she want with me?"
"This letter will tell you, monseigneur, I do not doubt."
"A letter from her! Ah! this is too much!--Let us see; I am curious to
know what she can have to write to me."
Léodgard took the letter, and Bahuchet discreetly withdrew to the other
end of the room.
Having hastily broken the seal, Léodgard read these words, written by
Valentine:
"You have showered the most terrible epithets upon me, doubtless; I
deserve them; I made a mock of you, it is true; but do you, in your
turn, recall your conduct: I was to have been your wife, you
preferred a bath keeper's daughter to me! I determined to be
revenged, because I loved you in secret, because that love made
even deeper the wound you had inflicted on me. I married the
Marquis de Santoval, whom I did not love; but I knew his
temperament, and I desired an avenger. Since that duel, in which he
narrowly missed killing you, I have been unable to endure the
marquis's presence; I can live with that man no longer--he is
hateful to me.--Léodgard, you know every part of my conduct; if you
had died of your wound, I should have killed myself in order not to
survive you; for I love you still. Tell me that you forgive me,
tell me that you will take me away from the Marquis de Santoval. I
wish to see you, to speak with you. In pity's name, write me a few
words in reply, and appoint a rendezvous for to-morrow, though it
be but for a few minutes; do not refuse me!
"VALENTINE."
The perusal of this letter threw Léodgard's mind into confusion; dark
clouds gathered on his brow, where something like tranquillity had
reigned of late. He rose and paced the floor, in the most intense
agitation; it was evident that a battle was raging in the depths of his
heart. He read Valentine's letter once more, then seemed to be lost in
thought.
"I was led to hope," murmured Bahuchet at last, in a wheedling tone,
"that monsieur le comte would give me a word in reply. The lady even
went so far as to make me promise not to return without one.--Poor lady!
she was so pale, so agitated, so interesting!"
"So you saw her, did you?"
"Yes, monsieur le comte. Her maid, Miretta, had been searching Paris for
me for a long time; after asking for me in vain at that miserly
solicitor's, who turned me out of doors, with Plumard, for a mere
nothing! a trifle!"
"Where did you see the marchioness?"
"On Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, in a little nook I selected. Oh! the lady
didn't keep me waiting.--Will monsieur le comte refuse to give me a few
words, in his hand? Poor lady! she will do some insane thing, if I do
not take her an answer."
"Yes, I am going to write to her.--Ah! so this lady loves me!--Pardieu!
I must make sure of that. But woe to her if she deceives me again!"
"I venture to assure monsieur le comte----"
"Hold your peace and let me write."
Léodgard seated himself at his desk and hastily wrote these lines:
"You wish to see me, madame la marquise; you love me, so you say!
Although I have difficulty in placing faith in a love which nearly
cost me my life, I am too gallant and too brave to decline this new
rendezvous, even if I were destined again to find a sword awaiting
me instead of a smile.--Until to-morrow, then, at eight in the
evening, in the Grand Pré-aux-Clercs."
Léodgard signed this letter and handed it to Bahuchet, who, overjoyed to
have obtained a written reply, took a hasty leave, fearing that the
count might be tempted to recall the letter he had given him.
When Léodgard was alone, he fell once more into a moody reverie;
absorbed by his memories and his new projects, he seemed to have
forgotten the present, to have forgotten where he was. In fact, he did
not hear Blanche, who returned to the room and stood in front of him for
several minutes, amazed that he said nothing to her.
"Papa--I am here--don't you see me?" she murmured at last.
At the sound of Blanche's voice, Léodgard started, almost as if in
terror; he gazed at his daughter, but did not smile at her as usual; it
seemed that the sight of the child embarrassed him. And little Blanche,
accustomed as she was to be kissed and caressed by her father, looked at
him with a surprised expression, and said, after a pause:
"Why don't you kiss me to-night, papa? Have I been naughty?"
"No, no; you are not naughty, Blanche; but I was thinking; my mind was
on other things."
"Papa, mamma told me to ask you if you would like to have her come here
after me to-night; she would like to ever so much; do you want her to?"
"No, no; that cannot be, to-night; another time you may come with your
mother; but to-night I must be alone."
And the count rang for a servant and said to him:
"Take my daughter to her mother."
"You send me away so soon, papa!" said Blanche, with a little pout that
made her even more bewitching; "why, I haven't had time enough to kiss
you; I don't want to go yet!"
"You must obey me, Blanche; I wish it!"
Léodgard said these words in a stern tone, which brought tears to the
little angel's eyes, for she was not accustomed to be spoken to so. She
took the servant's hand and was about to leave the room, glancing
mournfully at her father. But that glance went to Léodgard's heart; he
ran to his daughter, took her in his arms, and kissed her again and
again, murmuring:
"I will come back, dear child; yes, you shall see me again."
When the servant had taken Blanche away, the count dressed to go out,
buckled on his sword, took his cloak and broad-brimmed hat, and left his
apartment, saying to himself:
"Now, I must leave this place and return to my little house in Rue de
Bretonvilliers. I should not be free here; and the sight of that child
would weaken my resolution.--Dear little darling! with her I had found
peace once more; my remorse was almost banished.--Ah! I do wrong to
leave her, perhaps; but that letter from Valentine has overwhelmed all
my senses; the memory of her beauty--this love that she swears that she
has for me--well! the die is cast; I must see that woman again!"
And the count, avoiding the apartments occupied by Bathilde, left the
Hôtel de Marvejols with a heavy heart, like a person who submits to
fatality.
LIII
DIVINE JUSTICE
The next evening, about eight o'clock, the Comte de Marvejols entered
the public promenade called the Pré-aux-Clercs; it was an extensive
meadow, divided into two parts by a canal called the Petite-Seine, which
started from the river to carry water to fill the moats of the abbey of
Saint-Germain-des-Prés. At that time some buildings had already been
erected on the small Pré-aux-Clercs, and preparations were being made
for building on the larger tract, where Rues des Petits-Augustins, de
Verneuil, de l'Université, des Saints-Pères, etc., were subsequently
laid out.
But the works in progress on the Pré-aux-Clercs still left ample space
for walking and for rendezvous; so that spot was a favorite one for
duellists and for lovers.
It was quite dark, and Léodgard had not taken a hundred steps on the
Grand Pré-aux-Clercs, when a woman stopped before him. Valentine was
dressed entirely in black, and her excitement, the pallor of her face,
the thrill that ran through her body at sight of the count, seemed to
enhance her majestic beauty.
Without a word, she offered her hand to Léodgard, who felt it tremble as
he took it in his.
"Come," said Valentine, in a broken voice, "let us sit on this bench.
Miretta is watching close by, and we may talk without fear.--Oh! I was
still afraid that you would not come, that you had changed your mind;
but you believed what I wrote in my letter, did you not? Yes, you must
have believed it, as you are here. And now, tell me if you have forgiven
me."
As she spoke, Valentine fixed upon Léodgard her lovely black eyes,
overflowing with love and fear. Thereupon the passion that that woman
had previously kindled in the count's heart broke forth into flame, more
ardent, more impetuous, more powerful than ever; and he could only fall
at her feet, crying:
"Forgive you! And you tell me that you love me--you confess that only
the passion that you felt for me inspired the wish to be revenged!--Ah!
am I not too happy to be so loved by you? If I had met the death that I
deserved, my fate would have been an enviable one. It is for me, who
refused the happiness that was offered me, to implore your forgiveness!"
"Let us not revert to the past.--Léodgard, as I have told you, I love
you; and now I can no longer endure the presence of the Marquis de
Santoval! If you share my love, I will be yours, but yours alone.
Valentine de Mongarcin will never stoop to deceive a man! She will leave
that man forever; for, once yours, she will die rather than return to
him!--You have heard me, Léodgard. Take me to some other country,
beneath a different sky; whither, it matters not to me, provided that I
am with you, that I may fly from a man whom I detest, that I may live
for you alone, with you alone!--But until then I will not be your
mistress; for, I say again, when I have been once in your arms, I will
never return to the Marquis de Santoval."
The thought of abducting Valentine, of taking her away from her husband,
made Léodgard's heart beat fast; he could no longer doubt the love of
that woman, who offered to sacrifice her reputation, her honor, her
exalted position in society, to be his; and she was so lovely, so young,
so fascinating, she promised such a wealth of tenderness and rapture,
that the count looked forward with ecstatic delight to the moment when
that prospect of love and bliss would become a reality.
But a certain reflection occurred to Léodgard's mind and allayed his
exaltation in some degree. In these blissful schemes which the
imagination conceives, one almost always forgets the most important
point, the foundation upon which all the joys of this world rest.
Valentine, who had seen the cloud pass across the count's brow,
instantly exclaimed:
"Ah! you hesitate, I see; what I propose appalls you. You would accept
me for your mistress, but you are not willing that your life should be
mine, that I should be always with you, that we should part no more; you
fear to burden yourself with a new chain! You have for me simply one of
those fleeting passions which possession soon allays.--Ah! that is not
the way that I love! But if it is so, we should never understand each
other. Let us part, monsieur le comte; for I must have as much love as I
give; if not, I want nothing!"
And Valentine had already started to go away, but Léodgard detained her,
kissing her lovely hands with passion, and said:
"How ill you judge me, madame! you should read my heart better. I have
but one thought, one purpose, one desire; and that is to realize at the
earliest possible moment this future of blissful delight which you offer
me. I regret that there are no obstacles to surmount, no rivals to
fight, in order to possess you! You would find that I should not
hesitate. The only thing that may delay us is this--that, before leaving
France for a considerable time, I must arrange certain matters of
business, dispose of certain property. But be assured that I shall do my
best to hasten the moment that is to unite us."
"Forgive me, Léodgard, for misjudging you; and since you love me as I
love you, since everything is soon to be common between us, allow me, my
friend, to ask you to give me your entire confidence. It may be that
what you have in mind at this moment is to procure a considerable amount
of money, in order to assure our future existence. But do not disturb
yourself about that; I have a fortune, and it does not belong to the
Marquis de Santoval. Thank heaven! I can take money with me, much money;
and when mine is all gone, then it will be your turn to draw upon what
belongs to you.--Does that arrangement please you?"
"Dear Valentine,--for you will allow me now to address you so,--I am
touched by such proofs of your affection; but, I say again, before
leaving Paris I must adjust some important matters. I do not need to
tell you that henceforth I can think of naught save hastening forward
the day that is to mark the beginning of a new life for us!"
"Let it be as you wish, then, my friend; I too will hasten with all my
prayers the arrival of that day. You will know now that I am waiting for
you, when the time that you fix for our flight has come. Simply send me
word on the preceding day. Beginning to-morrow, Miretta will walk here
every day at noon, and you will be certain to find her here. As for
myself, my departure will not be impeded in any way. Since your duel,
the Marquis de Santoval has not the slightest jealous suspicion, and,
although he knows that your wound was not fatal, I am at liberty to go
and come as I please, without remark from him. However, as we must not
defy chance, I will leave you now, Léodgard, and return to the Hôtel de
Santoval; and when I see you again, it will be to part no more."
"What!" said Léodgard, pressing Valentine's hand lovingly; "you are free
to do as you please, and, before our final union, you will not come once
to pay me a visit at my house in Rue de Bretonvilliers?"
"No, monsieur le comte," replied Valentine, in a gentle but firm tone.
"As I told you, I do not choose to be your mistress; I wish to be your
wife, and in a foreign land I hope that you will give me that title; for
no one will be there to dispute my right to it. Adieu, Léodgard, or,
rather, au revoir!"
Signalling to Miretta by coughing loudly, the marchioness joined her
maid, and they disappeared among the paths of the Pré-aux-Clercs.
As for Léodgard, he remained a long while on the bench which he had
occupied with the marchioness. Absorbed by his thoughts, and sighing
profoundly from time to time, he frequently passed his hand across his
brow, as if to brush away ghastly memories. At last he rose and walked
off in the direction of Rue de Bretonvilliers, saying to himself:
"I must do it! I hoped that I had abandoned that infamous rôle forever;
but I have hardly any money--and money I must have; I must have a great
deal! Can I think of living constantly at that woman's expense? Shall I
confess to her that I have squandered all of the fortune that was left
to me? No, no; it is impossible! Fate wills it; and destiny, which has
always been favorable to me, will protect me still!"
A few days later, people began to talk once more of the celebrated
robber Giovanni, who had reappeared in Paris, and was exhibiting his too
famous talent there, as of old. The streets, which had become dangerous
once more, were deserted at an early hour. But the lieutenant of police
had sworn a mighty oath that he would capture Giovanni this time and
would put an end to the reign of terror inaugurated by him. With that
end in view, the streets were patrolled by numerous parties of the
watch.
One evening, on returning home after passing two or three hours at a
large party, the Marquise de Santoval instantly rang for Miretta, and
said to her as soon as they were alone:
"Rejoice, little one; it is your turn to be happy; you will be united to
the man you love so dearly--unless, indeed, he allows himself to be
caught, for the man is playing a bold game."
"What, madame! can it be that----"
"Yes; Giovanni has reappeared in Paris."
"I had heard so; but I dared not believe it."
"You may be certain of it; for the old contractor Ducantal, who was at
Madame de Bérienne's this evening, was waylaid last night and stripped
clean by Giovanni. We could not help laughing as we heard the story, for
the old contractor was frantic with rage. He had just come from a
gambling den, where he had won a considerable sum, and it was all taken
from him, as well as his diamonds--and he had some very handsome
ones!--What intensified Monsieur Ducantal's wrath was that he had with
him two great footmen, who, instead of defending him, fled at the
robber's approach. But, no matter--you should advise your lover to
abandon the trade; it will end badly for him!"
"Oh! I will implore him once more to do so, madame. This very night I
will go out in search of him. What joy! I am going to see him again at
last, and I had lost all hope!"
"But be prudent--do not run any risk."
"Oh! I am not afraid; and what do I care for danger, so long as I see
Giovanni!--Have you any further need of my services, madame?"
"No, I will do without you; I will call Marie. Go; I give you your
liberty."
Miretta was no sooner relieved from duty, than she wrapped herself in
her cloak, left the hôtel, and wandered about Paris at random. But to no
purpose did she search several different quarters, looking into every
corner, stopping at the least noise; she met nobody but men, from whom
she fled, and whom, by virtue of her agility, she always succeeded in
eluding. At daybreak, completely exhausted, she returned to the Hôtel de
Santoval, saying to herself:
"I shall be more fortunate to-morrow, perhaps."
The concierge and the servants thought that their mistress's maid went
out of nights to meet her lover. But as they knew that Miretta stood
high in the marchioness's affections, they contented themselves with
making these reflections in an undertone.
The next night, Miretta went out again, but had no better fortune. She
did not lose courage, however, for, during the day, in the servants'
quarters, she had heard of a recent night attack of which Giovanni was
presumed to be the author, and she said to herself that she must surely
fall in with him at last.
The third night, Miretta, having turned her steps in the direction of
the Arsenal, had just made an examination of Rue Saint-Paul, and was
near Rue Saint-Antoine. Fatigued by the constant walking that she had
done for three nights, she was beginning to despair of finding her
lover; and glancing dejectedly about in all directions, she tried to
interrogate the walls and the darkness, as if to ask them if they had
seen Giovanni. Suddenly she thought that she heard outcries; she
stopped, listened intently, and distinctly heard a cry of "thief!" The
sound came from the direction of Rue des Nonaindières; the night was not
dark, and at intervals the moon appeared and made it possible to see a
considerable distance. Miretta, her heart throbbing violently, stopped
at the corner of Rue Saint-Paul and Rue Saint-Antoine; it seemed to her
that she heard someone running, and soon several shots rang out almost
simultaneously. She felt her strength giving way, for she did not doubt
that the shots were fired at Giovanni; she leaned against a house, in
order not to fall; but the footsteps of the person running drew near,
and in a moment a man flew past her.
"It is he, it is Giovanni!" said Miretta to herself, for she had
recognized her lover's peculiar costume; and she instantly started to
run after him, calling, in a voice which she was careful not to make too
loud:
"Giovanni! Giovanni! Have no fear--it is I, Miretta, who follows you.
Giovanni! in heaven's name, answer me! If you are pursued, tell me what
you wish me to do.--Mon Dieu! I see something on the ground--it is blood
that is dropping from you as you run! You are wounded! In the name of
heaven, answer me!"
The man whom Miretta was trying so hard to overtake was in fact wounded;
a bullet had struck his shoulder; he continued to fly, however; but, as
he was entering Place Royale, the pain compelled him to stop a moment.
This enabled Miretta to overtake him. At the girl's approach, he tried
to resume his flight, but she clung to his clothes, saying:
"Giovanni! Giovanni! pray speak to me! tell me---- Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!
this figure--this man is not he!--Oh! you will try in vain to escape me;
I will find out who you are; for, if you are not Giovanni, as you wear
his costume, it must be that you have killed him!--No, I will not let
you go; kill me, if you choose, but I will know who you are!"
As she spoke, Miretta succeeded in seizing the false beard of the man
before her; she tore it off, and by the same movement caused the
enormous cap that concealed his eyes to fall. At that instant the moon
appeared and shone full upon the two, and Miretta was able to examine at
her leisure the face of Léodgard.
On recognizing the count, the girl stood a moment as if turned to stone;
then a cry escaped from her lips, and she recoiled from him in horror,
muttering:
"Ah! that was the reason why I felt a secret terror in that man's
presence!"
Taking advantage of Miretta's surprise and stupefaction, Léodgard
hastily resumed his flight, running at random. But the blood that he
lost in large quantities, and the pain that he felt, caused his strength
to fail; he realized that it would soon be impossible for him to stand
erect, and he fancied that he heard in the distance the footsteps of
soldiers pursuing him. Thereupon, as he tried to recognize his
surroundings, to see where he was, he found that he had halted directly
in front of the gateway of the ancient mansion of his ancestors. Seizing
the knocker, he struck several violent blows. The heavy gate swung open
at last; Léodgard passed through and made haste to secure it behind him.
Then his strength failed him, and he fell at full length on the pavement
of the courtyard.
At that moment the soldiers of the watch entered the square, looking in
all directions for Giovanni.
LIV
AN ACCUSATION
The soldiers who were pursuing the robber had passed Miretta; but when
the officer in command saw the girl standing there alone, her whole
aspect indicating intense excitement and terror, he stopped and said to
her:
"Girl, did you see a man pass, running at full speed--a man enveloped in
a broad olive-green cloak, with a great hairy cap on his head?"
"Officer," said one of the soldiers, "here is a cap on the ground; isn't
it the brigand's?"
"Mordieu, yes! it is, indeed; exactly as it is detailed in the
description of him--in that case, girl, the robber must have stopped on
this spot.--Yes, there is blood here, too; that means that we have
wounded him.--Come, sacrebleu! answer, my beauty! You look frightened to
death; is it because the miserable Giovanni attacked you and robbed you
too?"
"Giovanni!" faltered Miretta, shaking her head sadly. "Oh! it is not he!
Alas! it is not Giovanni now! I was perfectly sure that he had been
murdered!"
"What does she say?--what is this fable you are telling us, girl? did
you see the robber pass--_yes_ or _no_?"
"Yes, I did see him pass; but he is not Giovanni! He wears his clothes,
he stole them, doubtless, but I tore off his false beard, and his cap
fell at the same time, and I recognized him."
"You recognized----"
After hesitating a moment, Miretta cried at last:
"Ah! why should I have any pity on the man who killed him whom I
loved?--No, it is my duty to unmask the infamous villain--to bring upon
him the punishment he deserves!"
"Well, girl, will you answer or not? Whom did you recognize?"
"I recognized, in the man you are pursuing, Comte Léodgard de
Marvejols!"
"The Comte de Marvejols!" exclaimed the officer, turning to his
soldiers; "one of the greatest nobles at court!--Nonsense! the girl is
mad!"
"Yes, yes! she doesn't know what she says."
"The fright has disturbed her reason!"
"Ha! ha! that's a likely story! The famous Giovanni is the Comte de
Marvejols!--Let us listen no longer to this girl, but continue our
search. Let us follow the marks of blood; attention, you fellows! they
may guide us to the place where we shall find our robber. And let us
take away this cap and false beard, too."