was beginning to break, but the country was still deserted. I advanced
slowly, avoiding making a sound with my footfall. Suddenly I saw a man
within twenty yards of me, seated close to a bush and busily engaged in
counting the contents of a purse; by his costume I recognized the bandit
who had once attacked me. He had not observed my approach, and I was
careful to get behind the bush; being behind him, I approached him,
unheard. The opportunity was favorable; just as I reached him, he
started to turn his head, and I ran my sword through his body; he
attempted then to rise to defend himself, but I had given him a mortal
blow, and I followed it with two others which stretched him dead at my
feet.
"When he fell, the brigand lost his beard and his cap. They lay on the
ground before me; as my eye fell on them, as I stooped to pick up two
purses full of gold, a hellish thought took possession of my mind. I
said to myself that no one had seen me kill Giovanni; that if I threw
his body into the Fossés-Jaunes, which were near by, it would never be
discovered; and, moreover, that if I should take away his weapons and
his disguise, there would be nothing by which to identify the body as
Giovanni's, even if it should be found. In short, the devil urged me on
to my destruction. I thought of my plight, of my debts; eager for
enjoyment, for dissipation, as I was, I had an insatiable thirst for
gold; and with the Italian bandit's disguise it would be so easy to
obtain it!--Ah! my brain was in a whirl--I was in a fever--a delirium,
no doubt; those thoughts were horrible; but instead of spurning them, I
dragged Giovanni's body to the Fossés-Jaunes and threw it in; then,
carefully concealing in some thick bushes the robber's weapons, cloak,
and cap, I returned to my friends, and told them that, after an
indecisive battle, Giovanni had escaped my vengeance once more. A few
days later the celebrated brigand began once more to attack and rob the
good people of Paris.--Ah! you shudder, Jarnonville, you turn your face
away!--I must be an object of horror to you.--Yes, I am a vile
wretch!--This is what the thirst for gold, unbridled passions, may lead
to--crime--forgetfulness of all that is most sacred, most worthy of
respect!--However, I have not, at all events, to reproach myself with
bloodshed. No! my presence caused such a panic, that those whom I
detained never thought of defending themselves, but instantly turned
over all that they possessed.--I am none the less an infamous
villain!--To-day, the Providence that I defied has put an end to my
crimes.--Ah, me! if I had listened to the cry of nature, if I had obeyed
that delicious sentiment to which the sight of my daughter, my Blanche,
gave birth in my heart!--Leaving the career of crime forever, perhaps
these ghastly passages of my life would never have become known, the
honor of my name would have been safe.--O father! this is what I held in
reserve for your old age! And my daughter! my daughter!"
Léodgard paused, his eyes closed; he could say no more.
Jarnonville hastened to his assistance; some cold water and a few
swallows of cordial soon revived him, and he was about to continue; but
Jarnonville urged him to rest a moment.
After a little while, there came a gentle tap at the door, and they
heard Bathilde's voice, asking if the count could receive her, and if he
wished her to bring his daughter to him.
"Not yet," said Léodgard; "I have not finished what I have to say to
you. Ask the countess to return to Blanche; I will send for her."
Jarnonville, having done what the wounded man requested, returned to his
bedside, saying:
"What reason have you to fear now that the truth may be known? Were you
recognized by anyone last night?"
"Yes. Listen. I had returned to my house in Rue de Bretonvilliers to
live, because there are secret exits there, leading to unoccupied land.
I could don Giovanni's costume and go out and in unseen by my people."
"And one night Ambroisine saw you in that guise; but she was very far
from suspecting that it was not Giovanni."
"True; but when she described that incident she made me shiver; I
thought that she knew my secret!--But last night--I still needed money;
Valentine--the Marquise de Santoval--I was to fly with her; and that is
why I had resumed the Italian's disguise.--Yes, Jarnonville, I was about
to abandon my wife and my daughter again--a wife so worthy of all my
love, and a child who had opened my heart to repentance.--Ah! I deserved
to be punished.--However, last night I had just attacked a financier;
soldiers came running to the spot, and I had hardly time to make my
escape. They fired at me, and I received a bullet, here, in the
shoulder."
"And the bullet?"
"Is still there, in the wound; I can feel it.--Ah! it hurts me
terribly!"
"But you must have it extracted."
"No, no! for a surgeon would see that it is not a pistol bullet. He
would see also that I was shot from behind, while running away.
Besides, it is necessary that I should die; but if only the truth might
be concealed--the cause of my death!"
"Rest a moment, count; this long narrative is killing you."
"I must finish; for someone may come--to arrest me."
"To arrest you?"
"Wait.--I was flying, despite my wound, when a young woman ran after me,
calling to Giovanni, and giving him the sweetest names. That young
woman, the Italian's mistress, overtook me not far from here; she clung
to me, my strength failed me, my cap and false beard fell off, and she
recognized me."
"Recognized you! Who is this young woman?"
"Miretta--the marchioness's maid."
"Fatality!--But, still, perhaps you alarm yourself needlessly; this girl
will hold her peace."
"She will speak; for she loved Giovanni, and she divined the whole
truth.--She will speak, for she is determined to avenge her lover!"
"Well! no one will listen to her! no one will believe her! Do you
suppose that, on the strength of a girl's word, they will dare to
accuse, aye, even to suspect, the Comte de Marvejols?--What proofs could
she adduce? Your costume?"
"When I arrived here I had only the cloak left; my servants may have
seen that; I made Bathilde burn it."
"And your weapons?"
"I never carried any but Giovanni's short sword. It is here, hidden;
see, here it is. If they should make a search--if they should find this
weapon!"
"Why should they make a search in this house, where you have not been
living for several weeks?"
"Because last night, if those soldiers followed my tracks, guided by the
blood I lost, they must have seen where I stopped."
"But they had lost your track, when you were overtaken by this girl."
"I say again, Jarnonville, it is not my life that I wish to save; I must
die--I am a miserable wretch--I blush for myself! But let my infamy be
kept secret--for my father's sake, for my child's!--Oh! how I suffer!"
Léodgard's head fell back, and a livid pallor overspread his face. The
chevalier was on the point of going to call Bathilde, when he heard
footsteps and voices in the courtyard. The wounded man raised his head
and whispered:
"Do you hear, Jarnonville? they are coming; those are the soldiers; they
are coming to arrest the Comte de Marvejols as a highwayman. I am lost!"
"Be calm. Yes, there are footsteps approaching."
"And Giovanni's weapon that I have here?"
"Give it to me; I will attach it to my belt in place of my sword, and no
one will even notice it."
In an instant Jarnonville removed his sword and placed it in a corner of
the room, and replaced it with the weapon that once belonged to
Giovanni. He had hardly made this change, when a servant entered the
room, saying:
"Monsieur le comte, there is an officer here, accompanied by several men
at arms, whom he has stationed in the courtyard. He desires to have the
honor of speaking with you. He is sent, he says, by Monseigneur le
Cardinal de Richelieu."
"By the cardinal!--Very well! admit this officer."
The servant left the room; and Léodgard cast an imploring glance at
Jarnonville, murmuring:
"The cardinal--who has always manifested such a profound regard for my
father--it is he who sends----"
The entrance of the officer prevented the count from finishing his
sentence. The cardinal's agent bowed low before Léodgard and
Jarnonville, and began:
"Monsieur le comte, a ridiculous report, the falsity of which it will
surely be very easy for you to prove, has gained currency this morning
in Paris, and has reached the ears of his eminence. Last night, some
soldiers of the watch pursued the famous Giovanni; they fired upon him
and wounded him, for he left a trail of blood as he fled. However, they
lost sight of the robber; but a girl whom they met, and near whom they
picked up the robber's cap and false beard, said to them:--I beg pardon,
monsieur le comte, it is the girl who is speaking;--she declared to them
that the man whom they were pursuing was not Giovanni, but Comte
Léodgard de Marvejols. These words would not have deserved to be
reported, had it not been for the fact that, by an accident which it
will doubtless be easy for you to explain, the blood marks stopped
directly in front of your gateway.--Having failed to find you at your
house in Rue de Bretonvilliers, I have been sent here. Monsieur le
cardinal would be glad, monsieur le comte, if you would take the trouble
to call upon him, so that a few words from you may suffice to put an end
to an abominable calumny."
"Monsieur," Léodgard replied, struggling to surmount his suffering, "I
should comply with monsieur le cardinal's wish with the greatest zeal,
but it is impossible at this moment; I cannot move--I am wounded!"
"Wounded!" exclaimed the officer; and his expression lost all its
amenity; "oho! you are wounded, are you, monsieur le comte? And since
when?"
"Since yesterday, monsieur."
"Since yesterday? May I inquire how you received this wound?"
"Under any other circumstances, I should refuse to reply, monsieur; but,
after the circulation of such rumors, I realize that it is my duty to
speak. I fought a duel yesterday, with pistols, in Vincennes Forest.--I
know the severity of the laws concerning duels, and I desired to keep
this secret, to conceal my wound. I waited until night before returning
here."
"Very good, monsieur le comte; pardon me if I ask you a few questions.
With whom did you fight?"
"Monsieur, I have delivered myself over to the cardinal's wrath, but I
will not denounce my opponent."
"The names of your seconds at least, monsieur le comte?"
Léodgard let his head fall back; his strength seemed to abandon him, and
he made no reply. Thereupon Jarnonville rose and placed himself in front
of the officer.
"Cease tormenting the Comte de Marvejols, monsieur; he is suffering
quite enough with his wound. You wish to know with whom he fought? Well,
it was with me. Yes, monsieur, we quarrelled yesterday for a trivial
cause; being both too hot-headed to wait until the next day, we went to
Vincennes, and there, with no other witness than the sky, we fired at
each other. I had the misfortune to wound the count severely in the
shoulder. We became friends once more as soon as blood flowed, and we
waited until it was very late before returning to Paris. This morning I
had just come to inquire for my adversary when you appeared.--Now you
know all, monsieur."
While Jarnonville was speaking, a gleam of joy illumined Léodgard's
features, and he gave the chevalier a glance expressive of all his
gratitude.
"Oh! that explains everything, monsieur le chevalier," said the officer;
"and I beg monsieur le comte to accept my apologies. But I still have a
painful duty to perform. You know the strict laws concerning duelling;
we are ordered to arrest all those who have infringed them. You are
both guilty. Because of his wound, I will leave monsieur le comte in his
own house, where he will remain until further orders. As for you, Sire
de Jarnonville, I cannot shirk the duty of escorting you at once before
the cardinal-minister, who will decide your fate."
"'Tis well, monsieur; take me to the cardinal--I am ready to follow
you."
The officer bowed and walked toward the door; while Jarnonville
approached the wounded man, who said to him in a failing voice:
"Chevalier, you have saved the honor of my family! thanks! thanks a
thousand times! May you not fall a victim to your noble sacrifice!--As
for myself, I know my duty--within an hour I shall have ceased to live.
Adieu! I do not ask you for your hand, for mine is sullied! But forgive
me--for my wife's sake and my child's!"
Jarnonville, deeply moved, offered Léodgard his hand; but the officer
said to him:
"I am waiting, Sire de Jarnonville;" and the chevalier hastened from the
room, with a last glance at the wounded man.
When Léodgard was left alone, he looked about the room for several
minutes with a vague, uncertain glance, until his eyes rested at last
upon a small article of furniture in a recess; a gleam of satisfaction
passed over his face, and he was about to ring, when a servant entered
and said timidly:
"Pardon me, monsieur le comte, for entering the room without being
summoned; but madame la comtesse is most desirous to see you; she is
bringing mademoiselle."
"Very well; in one instant. First, open that cupboard yonder; the key is
in the lock; that is right. In the left-hand drawer you will find a
phial; give it to me."
The servant obeyed his master's orders, and brought him a small phial
containing a yellowish liquid. Léodgard took it, examined it carefully,
and placed it under his pillow, saying:
"Now, you may inform madame la comtesse that I am ready to receive her."
Bathilde was evidently waiting in an adjoining room, for she appeared
almost instantly with Blanche, who ran to her father's bed, crying:
"Friend! papa! Blanche is very glad you came back. You sick; we are
going to take care of you, like we did before. But then you won't go
away any more, will you? you will stay with us?"
"No! oh, no! I shall not go away any more, darling girl!" replied
Léodgard, motioning to Bathilde to place Blanche on the bed, so that he
might kiss her. And in a moment he held her lovely face against his
breast and covered her brow with kisses, while great tears escaped from
his eyes, which had never wept.
Bathilde, profoundly moved, knelt beside the bed, murmuring:
"Dear Léodgard! it makes me so happy to see the love that you bear your
child! Ah! do not doubt that we will both do our utmost to be worthy of
your affection. To live with you will be the sweetest reward of our
devotion of every instant, of our zeal to please you in everything."
"Thanks, Bathilde! Give me your hand, that I may press it.--Do you too
come near, so that I may kiss your brow."
"O my dear! your lips are burning--your eyes seem more sunken--you are
suffering more! Please let me send for the doctor?"
"Do nothing of the sort; I forbid it! In a little while I will rest, and
that will cure me; I shall not suffer any more.--Blanche, my child, look
at me again. Ah! how lovely you are! how proud we shall be of you! And
you will be good, too; I can read it in your face. You love your
mother--you will make her happy."
"You, too, papa--I love you, too, with all my heart."
Léodgard raised himself once more to embrace his daughter passionately;
but a terrifying pallor overspread his features, and Bathilde cried:
"In heaven's name, do at least take some of that cordial that revived
you last night!"
"Not now; I need nothing but rest. Adieu, Bathilde! adieu, my daughter!"
"No, not _adieu_, my dear, but _au revoir_! we will return soon."
"Wait until I ring.--Dear darling, go, and pray to the good Lord for
me."
"Yes, papa; I will pray to have you get well very quick."
"My dear, if you will allow us to, we might stay with you; we would make
no noise."
"Yes, papa, let me stay; I will be very good; I won't play."
"Not now--go; later, later, you may come again. Go, I beg you; leave
me!"
Bathilde felt a heavy weight at her heart; she left her husband with
profound regret; but she dared not disobey him. She took Blanche away,
throwing kisses to her father; while he, surmounting his pain, succeeded
in smiling at her once more.
Jarnonville and the officer arrived in due time at the palace occupied
by the cardinal. No guards followed them, for the chevalier had given
his word not to try to escape, and they knew that he would not break it.
Having escorted Jarnonville to a reception room adjoining Richelieu's
cabinet, the officer left him there while he went to notify his
eminence. He returned in a few moments and informed his prisoner that
the cardinal begged him to wait until he was at liberty.
The chevalier was left alone, and half an hour passed, during which he
saw no one. But the time sped very quickly for him; for, having been
deeply impressed by all the events which he had witnessed, and in which
he now found himself playing an important part, he gave no thought to
the risk he himself was running; he thought of the tears Bathilde would
shed, of poor little Blanche, who would soon have no father; and he said
to himself:
"But it must be so! Yes, he must cease to live; his death will not
lessen his crimes, but it will make it possible to conceal them."
At last, a servant appeared and informed Jarnonville that the cardinal
could receive him, and the chevalier was ushered into Richelieu's study.
The minister was alone; dressed in his red soutane, and pale, thin,
fatigued by overwork. That fragile, ailing man, who made all Europe
tremble, retained in his glance, instinct with fire and vivacity, all
the youthful vigor that his body had lost.
Seated at his desk, examining reports, Richelieu toyed with a cat that
lay on his knees, while two others played on a rug at his feet. When the
Sire de Jarnonville entered, the cardinal raised his head, looked at him
a few seconds, and said at last in a tone that bore no trace of anger:
"What is this that I hear, Sire de Jarnonville? That you have been
fighting a duel with the Comte de Marvejols? Is that the truth?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"But you must be familiar with the edicts concerning single combats. I
have been compelled to put a curb upon this barbarous custom, this
mania that men have for killing one another for an idle word! If I had
not regulated the matter, the whole of the king's court would have taken
the field!--You know, then, monsieur, that it is a capital offence?"
"I know it, monseigneur."
"And that did not stop you!--What motive had you, grave enough to induce
you to defy the law?--Come, speak, chevalier. I thought that you were a
friend to Comte Léodgard; you were his child's godfather, I believe."
"I acted in place of the old Marquis de Marvejols--that is true."
"You take a deep interest in the young countess--and you fight with her
husband!--What was the cause of this duel?"
Jarnonville, who did not lie readily, especially when it was necessary
to invent a long story, was considerably embarrassed beneath Richelieu's
piercing gaze, and faltered:
"Sometimes, monseigneur, between two persons who meet often, a word too
lightly spoken is enough.--Comte Léodgard is quick to take
offence--and--and I myself lose my head sometimes."
While Jarnonville was seeking his phrases, the cardinal, who was
watching him closely, glanced at the short, broad sword that hung at his
belt. He frowned, and said, interrupting him:
"You have a peculiar sword there, chevalier?"
"This sword--ah, yes! I do not--er--wear it usually."
"I think not, for I have never seen it upon you. Whence have you it?"
"Why, I found it with other weapons--which belonged to my father."
"Ah! by the way, have you heard aught of the charges made by a young
woman with respect to Comte Léodgard?"
"Not until this morning, monseigneur."
"You do not give credit to them, do you?"
"How can I do so, monseigneur, when I know that it was I who wounded the
count, in a duel?"
"Very true. Let me look at this sword which came to you from your
father; I am curious to examine it."
Jarnonville detached the weapon from his belt and handed it, in the
scabbard, to Richelieu; but he unsheathed it, and read in gilt letters
on the steel the name _Giovanni_. Without making a sign, the cardinal
instantly replaced the sword in its scabbard, saying:
"Do you think that Comte Léodgard's wound is dangerous, Sire de
Jarnonville?"
At that moment a clock on the mantel shelf struck twelve; the chevalier
listened, then replied:
"The Comte de Marvejols no longer lives!"
"Do you think so?"
"I am certain, monseigneur."
The minister's expression became less stern. He returned the sword to
Jarnonville, and said:
"In that case, all is for the best; one culprit is punished, and that is
enough. As for you, chevalier, I pardon you, in spite of your duel--for,
of course, you fought with the count, did you not?--But put this sword
out of sight; break it, for it might compromise you. Go, chevalier;
comfort a widow and protect an orphan, as you have protected the honor
of the name they bear."
When Jarnonville returned to the Hôtel de Marvejols, he found everybody
in tears. The countess, anxious about her husband, had disregarded his
prohibition and returned to his side; she no longer found him living who
had embraced their child a few moments before.
Ambroisine ran to meet the chevalier to give him this intelligence;
Jarnonville pressed the girl's hand tenderly, as he replied:
"Let us think of nothing now but comforting your friend; time will do
the rest; her child's love, your friendship, my devotion, will avail, I
hope, to afford her many happy days."
Toward the close of this day, which had witnessed so many events, a girl
prowling about the neighborhood of the Hotel de Marvejols learned at
last that the Comte de Marvejols no longer existed. Thereupon her face
lighted up, and, raising her eyes heavenward, she said to herself:
"I may hold my peace now; for Giovanni is avenged; and soon, I hope, I
shall join him."
In the year following Bathilde's widowhood, Ambroisine became the wife
of the Sire de Jarnonville, who, finding in the _belle baigneuse_ all
the virtuous and estimable qualities of the mind, combined with physical
beauty, did not hesitate to form a _mésalliance_, in order to possess
them all.
It is said that the Chevalier de Passedix was seriously ill after his
bath, and was thereby cured of his love for Miretta. When he met
Bahuchet and Plumard again, he belabored them with the flat of Roland,
then took them into his service once more as page and esquire; for by
flattering the Gascon's amour propre, they were always able to obtain
pardon for their rascalities.
Let us say a word more of that little angel, pretty Blanche, whose sweet
words had taught that pure, sincere sentiment that led her father back
to virtue.
She at least was happy.
All roses do not die in the bud.