look about her, then hid her face in her hands and wept bitterly,
crying:
"O Giovanni! Giovanni! you were very wicked, I know; but I forgave you;
and I am sure that by my entreaties I could have persuaded you to
abandon your career of crime! I would have brought you back to worthier
sentiments. And by prayer and repentance, perhaps you might have
obtained God's forgiveness!--But you have been murdered, before you had
time to appease the Divine wrath!--Oh! I will avenge you; yes, I will
avenge you!"
Somewhat tranquillized by the tears she had shed, Miretta returned to
the Hôtel de Santoval, which she reached just at daybreak. She did not
try to sleep, for she knew that it would be useless; but she waited
anxiously for the time when her mistress could receive her.
The marchioness rang at last, and Miretta answered the bell.
The instant that her eyes fell on the maid's face, Valentine, struck by
her pallor and the sinister expression of her eyes, cried:
"Mon Dieu! what has happened to you, Miretta? I read some terrible
disaster on your features! You have seen Giovanni--he is
arrested--wounded, perhaps?--Pray answer; one would say that you were
afraid to speak."
"In truth, madame, what I have to tell you is so horrible---- But you
must know it, none the less--you must know, as he really is, the monster
to whom you have given your love."
"What! what do you mean? My love!--I do not understand you, Miretta; I
am talking of your Giovanni.--what has Léodgard in common with your love
affairs?"
"You shall know, madame. Last night, I went out in the hope of at last
meeting him whom I have sought in vain for more than three
years!--Despite all that I had heard within a few days of new robberies
committed by Giovanni, my heart, still depressed, did not throb with
that soothing hope which one feels when one is destined to see one's
love again!--Ah! there are presentiments that do not mislead us!--Well!
as I was standing at the end of Rue Saint-Paul, I heard cries, followed
by shots; then a man passed me, flying for his life. I recognized
Giovanni's cap and cloak, and I ran after him, supposing him to be my
lover; I called to him, I implored him to answer me, to listen to me; I
could not obtain a single word. But the fugitive was wounded, he was
losing blood; and as he entered Place Royale he slackened his pace, so
that I was able at last to overtake him."
"Well! it was Giovanni----"
"For the first moment or two I still thought so, madame; but, surprised
by his persistence in trying to continue his flight without answering
me, I examined him closely; he was taller than Giovanni, his head was
set differently on his shoulders; in short, my heart had already told
me--no, it was not Giovanni! The man tried to escape; I clung to his
cloak, and he sought in vain to release himself, to shake me off.--Ah! I
was very strong then!--I succeeded in pulling off his false beard and
his cap--the moon lighted us perfectly--and in the man who had assumed
Giovanni's costume and headgear I recognized Comte Léodgard de
Marvejols!"
"Léodgard! Léodgard!" cried Valentine, fastening her eyes upon the
girl's, to satisfy herself that she had not gone mad. "Oh! Miretta! what
are you saying? Why, you were mistaken--you were misled by an error of
your eyesight, by some resemblance perhaps--but that Comte Léodgard
should have assumed the disguise of Giovanni--consider, pray, that it is
utterly impossible!--With what object would he do it?"
"Why--to do what Giovanni used to do, I presume."
"Oh! Miretta, what you say is shocking! Why, it is utterly devoid of
sense, and I blush to think that I have listened to you!"
"I suspected that madame would not choose to believe me; but before
long, I trust, the truth will be made known, and madame will be forced
to recognize that I am not the dupe of a mere illusion!"
"What! what do you mean? Can it be that you have already had the
audacity to spread this hateful falsehood?"
"I have told no falsehood, madame! But when that man, when Comte
Léodgard--who recognized me perfectly--had disappeared--and I did not
think to look after him, I was so overwhelmed--some soldiers arrived,
looking for the robber, whom they believed to be Giovanni; but I
undeceived them; I told them who the man was whom they were pursuing and
whom they had wounded."
"You accused Léodgard?"
"Once more, madame; I told the truth."
"You are mad, Miretta; for if you reflect an instant, you will
understand that you must be mistaken. To make such charges against a man
whom I love---- Oh! it is abominable! I ought to drive you from my
presence!"
"The soldiers said as you do, madame, that I was mad; but what does it
matter to me now what anyone thinks of my words? I know, myself, that I
spoke the truth! You bid me reflect, madame! Ah! if I could still doubt
what I saw last night, by recalling my memories of the past I should
find additional proofs of what I assert.--In heaven's name, madame,
allow me to speak; you will still have the right to dismiss me
afterward.--I do not know whether you remember a murder that was
committed about three years and a half ago--a handsome young man was
found in the Fossés-Jaunes, near the Pont-aux-Choux;--the story was told
us by that little solicitor's clerk, Bahuchet."
"Yes, I remember very well."
"From that time, madame, I ceased to see Giovanni; it was he, I cannot
doubt, who was murdered, and robbed of his weapons and of the costume he
wore at night.--Oh! I remember so well now--the description of that
young man corresponded exactly with that of Giovanni."
"Assume that it be true--what connection has Léodgard----"
"I beg pardon, madame, but in the servants' quarters the servants of
your visitors talk with your own people; and as madame deigned sometimes
to talk to me of Comte Léodgard, I paid more attention when others spoke
of him; and about that time I often heard it said: 'Oh! Comte Léodgard
is an excellent master now! it is not as it used to be when he had not
the means to pay his esquire; he must have discovered a gold mine
lately, for he has paid all his debts, he has hired a beautiful house in
Rue de Bretonvilliers, and he gives superb parties there; in short, it
seems that he flings money about with both hands, and he's an excellent
master!'--That is what I heard said more than once, madame, about the
time when I ceased to see my poor Giovanni!"
Valentine had turned pale, and her brow was covered with a dark cloud;
she rose, however, and paced the floor excitedly, muttering from time to
time:
"No! no! not if I should hear it a hundred times! Mere
conjectures--antechamber gossip, servants' tittle-tattle--what does it
all prove? To dare to say that he, Léodgard--so noble and so
handsome!--Oh! it is frightful! it is an outrage!"
Then, seized with a sudden idea, she asked abruptly:
"This man who was pursued last night, and whom you claim to have
recognized--he was wounded, you say?"
"Yes, madame, and severely wounded, for he lost much blood."
"Where was he wounded?"
"In the shoulder, so far as I could judge--for he put his hand there
several times. I think that I divine madame's thought; if it is her
wish, I will go to inquire----"
"No, I do not wish you to go out; I will go myself to inquire.--You hear
me, Miretta? I forbid you to leave the house before my return."
"I will obey you, madame."
Valentine hastily donned an ample cloak, and a great veil which almost
concealed her features; then she betook herself at headlong speed,
taking care to avoid the most frequented streets, to Rue de
Bretonvilliers, inquired for Léodgard's hotel, and knocked at the gate.
"Is Monsieur le Comte de Marvejols within?"
"No, madame," replied the concierge, who was so impressed by the beauty
and the noble air of the lady who questioned him, that he accompanied
his reply with a low reverence.
"What! has monsieur le comte gone out so early?" asked Valentine, with a
searching glance into the courtyard.
"I have not seen monsieur le comte since last evening, madame; when he
goes out, I do not always know it!"
"In that case, how can you be certain that he is not within?"
"Because, madame, there has already been someone here to speak with
monseigneur this morning."
"Already! Who, pray?"
"Officers--king's troops! I am not quite sure who they were. However,
they were evidently very anxious to see monsieur le comte, for they came
in and searched all the wings,--those gentry are very unceremonious,--and
when they went away they said: 'He doesn't seem to have slept at home.'"
The marchioness listened to these details with the most intense
agitation; then she thanked the concierge and returned swiftly to her
own house, unable as yet to believe what Miretta had told her, but none
the less a prey to the most acute suffering.
Miretta awaited her mistress in her apartment, and questioned her with
her eyes. Valentine threw herself into a chair without uttering a word;
but the pallor of her cheeks and the distortion of her features betrayed
her suffering; and Miretta, deeply moved by her grief, dared not ask her
a question. The two women had been in this position for some time when
the Marquis de Santoval entered the room.
Monsieur de Santoval's face wore a more amiable expression than usual;
he was almost laughing as he entered his wife's apartment.
"Palsambleu! madame la marquise," he cried, "I must tell you some
strange news--a report that is in circulation this morning concerning
our dear friend Comte Léodgard de Marvejols. I thought it would amuse
you, and that is why I have come to tell you about it."
"What is it, pray, monsieur le marquis?"
"Oh! I must begin by telling you that it is utterly absurd, and that I
do not believe a word of it. However, Birague, who has just told me the
story, acted almost as if he believed it."
"I am waiting for you to explain yourself, monsieur; but perhaps
Miretta's presence embarrasses you?"
"No, she may remain. Indeed, I am confident that your maid will soon
hear this ghastly story below stairs; it will certainly make the circuit
of the city, and some action will be taken.--Fancy, madame, that Birague
was at the office of the lieutenant of police this morning, when he
received his reports of the night as usual. One of them was so
extraordinary that the lieutenant could not repress an exclamation of
surprise as he read it, and he said to Birague:
"'You can never guess what happened last night! My patrols gave chase to
Giovanni, who had just attacked someone, and as he ran away they fired
at him. Some of the watch pursued him, and at the entrance to Place
Royale, where they had lost track of him, they fell in with a young
woman, all alone, who seemed terribly frightened. They asked her if she
had seen the man they were pursuing; she answered in the affirmative.
And, in fact, they picked up at her feet the frightful hairy cap that
Giovanni usually wears, and a false beard with which he conceals a
large part of his face.'"
"But, monsieur, these details----"
"Pardon, madame; all these details, you will see, are of great
importance to the story. The lieutenant of police continued: 'This girl
then answered that she had seen the robber, but she added: "You are
mistaken; the man you are pursuing is not Giovanni; he is----"' Ah! this
is what will surprise you, madame.--'She cried: "The man who is running
away, the man who wore this cap and this false beard, is Comte Léodgard
de Marvejols!"'--Well! what do you say to that, madame?"
"Really, monsieur, it seems to me so absurd, that I am surprised that
anyone can have repeated it!"
"I agree with you. Although I am an enemy of the count, I am capable of
doing justice to his valor, his nobility of character--in a word, he
belongs to one of the most ancient families of France, whose honor is
stainless. When the lieutenant had finished, Birague could not help
laughing. Whereupon the official said to him: 'I have ordered the
sergeant who was in command of the watch to be sent here. I am going to
question him. Remain, if you are interested.' Birague asked nothing
better; he remained, and the sergeant of the watch soon appeared. He
told a story which corresponded exactly with the report, but added this:
'When we picked up the cap and false beard, we saw blood on the ground,
which proved that we had wounded our man.'--'And what did you do then?'
asked the lieutenant.--'Monseigneur, as the moon was shining, we
followed the blood along Place Royale to a point where it suddenly
stopped, as if the wounded man had gone no farther.'--'And you observed
that spot?'--'Yes, monseigneur; it was directly in front of the gate of
the Hôtel de Marvejols.'--As you may imagine, madame, that fact seemed
decidedly strange to the lieutenant as well as to Birague.--'And the
girl--what became of her?' monseigneur asked the sergeant, who admitted
that he had paid no further attention to her.--'You are a fool!' said
the lieutenant; 'you should have arrested the girl and taken her to the
guardhouse, and then have brought her before me. When a person presumes
to make so serious a charge against one of the first noblemen of the
court, she should not be allowed to disappear. From this girl we could
ascertain how much truth there is in this story; we could learn whether
you had an interview with a madwoman, or with a person who had some
reason to hate the count. You must find the girl, sergeant, do you hear?
You must find her.'--For my part, I consider that the lieutenant of
police was perfectly right, and that the arrest of this girl might lead
to some very curious revelations.--What do you think, marchioness?"
For several moments past, Valentine had turned all her attention to
Miretta; she kept her eyes fastened upon her with a glance of
supplication, as if the girl's action were a matter of life or death to
her. But Miretta, standing like a statue at the end of the room, kept
her eyes fixed on the floor; and there was nothing to betray what was
taking place in her mind.
"Well, madame, you do not answer," continued Monsieur de Santoval.
"Oh! I beg pardon, monsieur! The fact is that this story is so strange,
so absurd---- Really, I do not understand how so much importance can be
attached to it!"
"Pardon me, madame, but it is a curious affair.--While I place no faith
in the words of this girl, I believe that there is some mystery beneath
it all. But the riddle will be solved; this unknown maiden will be
found, let us hope!--By the way, I have not told you all: the lieutenant
of police, after dismissing the sergeant, ordered some of his
subordinates to go to Rue de Bretonvilliers, to the little house which
the count has occupied again since he has recovered from a--a certain
wound, and to inquire if any accident had happened to his lordship."
"Well--what did they learn there?"
"Comte Léodgard was absent, and, according to all appearance, had not
passed the night there."
"And they consider that very remarkable, too, I suppose; although I
fancy that it is in accordance with the young gentleman's habit."
"I have told you the whole story, marchioness; I thought that it would
amuse you, but I see that I was mistaken."
"Pardon me, monsieur, I find it very amusing--like everything that is
utterly devoid of sense! And I shall be obliged to you if you will keep
me informed if you learn anything more concerning this affair."
"If that is so, madame, I will not fail.--Ah! the most important thing
is to find that girl!"
The Marquis de Santoval had no sooner left his wife's apartment, than
she ran to Miretta, clasped her hands, and almost knelt to her, saying,
in a trembling voice and with tears in her eyes:
"Miretta! I implore you! do not say that it was you! do not make
yourself known! My life depends on your silence!--You will not say that
it was you? promise me!"
"I will wait, madame," the girl replied, with a sombre expression; "to
obey you, I will wait; but Giovanni must be avenged!"
LV
THE CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU
When Léodgard fell bleeding in the courtyard of the abode of his
ancestors, the concierge, having come from his lodge to ascertain who
had entered, uttered a cry of distress on recognizing his master lying
on the pavement. But the latter, who, notwithstanding the gravity of his
wound, was entirely conscious, ordered the concierge not to give the
alarm in the house, but simply to call a servant to aid in taking him to
his apartment.
Then, while the concierge left him to carry out this order, Léodgard,
despite his pain and his great weakness, succeeded, by dint of rolling
over and over on the ground, in extricating himself from the olive-green
cloak in which he was enveloped; he then folded the garment and held it
against his breast until his people arrived.
The count was carried to his apartment, as he desired; and while he was
being transported thither, he did not relax his hold of the olive-green
cloak and the short, broad sword with which he was armed.
When he was safely in bed, the wounded man bade the servant tell the
countess and request her to come to him.
"And I, monseigneur, will run to fetch a doctor," said the concierge.
"I forbid you to do it!" replied Léodgard, angrily. "Let no one dare to
leave the house! I have been wounded--in a duel; but it is a slight
wound, and I wish no one to know that I fought. The man who forgets my
orders will be dismissed instantly.--Go now and tell the countess."
The servant woke Marie, and she stole softly into her mistress's room to
give her the message. When she learned that her husband had returned to
the hôtel, but that he had returned wounded, Bathilde hurriedly slipped
on a loose garment and went at once to the bedside of the man whom she
had never ceased to love.
The sight of Bathilde seemed now to allay the count's pain; he tried to
smile at her, and said in a faint voice:
"Close the doors; I wish to be alone with you."
"But you are wounded, monsieur le comte; should we not send for a
surgeon first of all?"
"No, madame.--If you wish to gratify me, do only what I ask you to do.
We are quite alone, are we not?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Give me some of that cordial--in that phial on the table yonder. It is
what the doctor gave me when I was so ill--some time ago."
Bathilde at once gave Léodgard the cordial, and he drank several
swallows of it.
"That is enough," he said.
Revived by that draught, he succeeded, with his wife's aid, in sitting
up in bed, and with his own hand applied bandages to the wound, which
stopped the flow of blood.
Then, handing Bathilde a bundle which he had thus far kept out of sight,
he said:
"Put this in the fireplace, madame, and set fire to it at once."
"What, monsieur! this garment?"
"Be good enough to obey me, madame; everything that I ask you to do at
this moment is of more importance than you suppose."
The young woman did what the count ordered. The olive-green cloak was
soon in a blaze. As he watched it burn, Léodgard seemed to breathe more
freely, and when it was entirely consumed he muttered:
"Good! now there is nothing else to betray me except his sword. That
cannot be burned; but it may at least be hidden from all eyes."
And having carefully concealed the short sword under his coverlid,
Léodgard held out his hand to Bathilde, who took it and pressed it to
her heart, hardly able to credit that mark of affection on her husband's
part.
"I have caused you much unhappiness, Bathilde," said Léodgard, pausing
frequently between his words; "but heaven has punished me! I shall cause
you no more after this!"
"Mon Dieu! monsieur le comte, what do you mean? Your wound is not
dangerous, I hope?"
"No, Bathilde, no; be not alarmed. But now, when we are alone, I am
anxious to let you know that I repent of my wrongdoing--that I implore
your forgiveness."
"O Léodgard! dear Léodgard! If it is true that you have come back at
last to stay with us always--if my presence is no longer offensive to
you--am I not the happiest of women?--It is not for me to forgive you,
but I offer you all my love as in the old days!"
"Thanks, Bathilde, thanks! Our daughter is an angel. I love her--ah!
yes, I love her with all my heart! Dear child!--You will send her to me
to-morrow, as soon as she wakes, will you not?"
"As soon as you wish, my dear."
"Oh! let her sleep; do not disturb her rest.--And now, listen to me,
Bathilde; I must see the Sire de Jarnonville at the earliest possible
moment. Write him a line--ask him to come here, without giving him any
details. Send to him at daybreak. You understand? beg him to come at
once."
"You shall be obeyed, my dear; and the Sire de Jarnonville is such a
kind friend to us, that I doubt not that he will hasten to gratify your
wish."
"That is well. As soon as Jarnonville arrives, let him be sent to me.
And now, Bathilde, return to your rest."
"Do you expect me to leave you, my dear, when you are wounded? Oh! I
entreat you, let me sit up with you, let me pass the night by your
side.--And then, too, it seems to me that we should send for the
doctor."
"I tell you again, madame, that you would aggravate my condition by
doing so. And you do not wish to do that, I think?"
"What I would like, monsieur le comte, would be to have your wound
examined. You seem to be in pain."
"You are mistaken.--Follow my instructions, and do not go beyond
them.--Adieu, Bathilde!"
"You wish me to leave you?"
"I do. But first--come nearer--let me kiss your forehead."
"Dear Léodgard! I am so happy!"
The wounded man put his pallid lips to Bathilde's brow; then he motioned
to her to go, whispering:
"Jarnonville--at daybreak--do not forget!"
Bathilde left the room most regretfully; but she dared not disobey him
whose lightest wish was sacred to her.
Left to himself, Léodgard tried in vain to obtain a little rest. His
wound, being unskilfully dressed, pained him terribly, and his blood was
already boiling with fever. When he closed his eyes, terrifying images,
horrible visions, added to his misery; and in that state, bordering on
delirium, he awaited the end of that cruel night. The day appeared at
last; and not half an hour had elapsed since the dawn had driven away
the shadows, when the Sire de Jarnonville entered the wounded man's
bedroom.
At sight of the chevalier, Léodgard seemed to revive.
"You wish to speak with me, count," said Jarnonville; "and you are
wounded. Is it to the Marquis de Santoval again that you owe this new
misfortune?"
"No, chevalier; but I have some terrible revelations to make to you.
First of all, be good enough to give me that cordial, so that I may
obtain sufficient strength to speak.--Good--thanks!"
"You seem to be in great pain.--Shall I not first----"
"No one but you and myself; for it is not now a question of preserving
my life--it is my honor that must be saved--for my father's sake and my
child's. Then I will die; indeed, I must; and if this wound is not
sufficient, I will find some other way to put an end to my life!"
"You make me shudder!"
"When you have heard me through--then you will indeed shudder with
horror.--Come here--close to my bed--so that I need not raise my voice."
The chevalier did what the wounded man desired; and then Léodgard,
collecting what little strength remained to him, made his confession in
a low voice.
"You will remember, Jarnonville, that time when I was at the end of my
resources; I had foolishly wasted all the property that I inherited from
my mother; my father, who had just paid my debts once more, had declared
that I could not count upon him again. The cards continued to be
unfavorable to me, and I was in debt to all my friends; I had staked and
lost even my cloak! I could no longer find a Jew or a usurer to lend me
money! I was in that plight, when, on returning to Paris one night from
Montrevert's, where I had lost more than I could pay, we stopped near
the Pont-aux-Choux. We waited there for Montrevert, who was to overtake
us. He arrived at last, pale as death and disarmed; he had been attacked
and robbed by Giovanni. That bold brigand had stripped me too, several
months before; and, situated as I was, having nothing to lose and
consequently nothing to fear, I determined to punish the villain and
avenge myself. And so, refusing to let my companions go with me, I
hurried away in the direction of the spot where Giovanni had attacked
Montrevert.