THE PIN
"You sent for me, godmother?" said Iris.
"Yes; shut the door, see that no one can overhear us."
Iris went out for a moment, and then returned.
"No one, godmother."
Paula's heart beat in a strange manner, and she lowered her eyes before
the searching glance of the gipsy girl; at length she said, making an
effort over herself,--
"Listen to me attentively. The conversation I am about to have with you
will be the last we shall ever have on the subject of--you know what.
You said to me some days since,--'a word--a sign from you--this pin'--I
suppose--and----"
Paula could not finish the sentence. Iris replied,--
"And you are free!"
"You told me so."
"I repeat it."
"You say you are devoted to me."
"In the past--at the present--for the future!"
"Give me a proof."
"Speak, godmother."
"Tell me by what means you propose _to make me free?_"
Madame de Hansfeld's voice faltered, then she added, instantly and
quickly,--
"Without either you or me being inculpated in the--the--What is to be
done?"
These words seemed to burn Paula's lips as she uttered them.
"Why that question?"
"I have no faith in the possibility of what you have promised me and do
not look to profit by it, but I wish to know by what means you
propose--in fact, you understand me----"
"What purpose will it answer to tell you?"
"If they appear to me less horrid than I conjecture, perhaps--I do not
know----"
Then the princess, frightened at what she had said, put her hand over
her eyes and exclaimed,--
"No, no, leave me--go--and never more return. I will never see you
again! Begone!"
"Forgive me, godmother!"
"No, begone, I tell you!"
"Well, then, I will tell you by what means."
And Iris lowered her voice, awaiting with anxiety another order to go.
Paula remained silent.
Iris continued,--
"Yes, I will, as you desire it, inform you of the means by which you may
be free. But mind, beware!"
Madame de Hansfeld looked steadfastly at Iris.
"I am to mind?--beware?"
"Yes! for you may bitterly repent having interrogated me on this
subject. You have scruples now, and they will become greater when you
are informed of my intentions. But for the promise you extracted from me
not to do anything without your knowledge I might have saved you a world
of anguish; sometimes even I ask myself if I am not mad to obey you in
this particular. I have no wish or aim but your welfare. The odium of
the perjury will only fall back on me; no matter--you will be happy!"
"Have you dared to disobey me in what you have promised?"
"Unfortunately, I have not dared; your word is law to me--at least allow
this submission to your will to give you a profound, blind faith in my
word."
"Your word?" said Paula, scornfully.
"Yes, and I swear to you that events have so marched without your mixing
with them in any way, as you know better than any one else; that in less
than a week you may, perhaps, be free, and not only will no suspicion
light on you, but the interest, the sympathies of the world will be with
you."
Madame de Hansfeld looked at Iris with surprise, almost with
consternation.
"But this being the case, why do you not inform me fully as to these
events since you say I am so entirely strange to them?"
"Because of your scruples, godmother."
"My scruples? Why should I have any? Am I not innocent of what is
passing?"
"Your scruples will arise, although very absurd: they will arise, I tell
you, and you will listen to them."
"In what way?"
"Suppose you were informed of every particular, by some unheard--of
prodigy, of the future destiny of a person utterly indifferent to you,
whom you do not even know. This prescience might acquaint you that this
person would die in eight days,--die by some fatal occurrence, although
you would not, in the slightest way, be mixed up in the causes of this
death, or in any way profit by it, or without your being able to change
the course of events which lead to it; yet would you not feel a kind of
agony at this disclosure; would you not consider yourself as in some way
mixed up with this result when you saw the person ignorant of the
terrible fate in store whilst you were cognisant of it?"
"I should not think myself an accomplice in this death, but I should
feel much horror at seeing that person advance, confident and tranquil,
towards an abyss of which he knew nothing."
"Well! would not your horror become remorse if this person were your own
husband, and if his destiny fulfilled your every wish, realised your
every hope?"
"What do you mean?"
"How innocent soever you might be of such a catastrophe, should you not
consider yourself as almost criminal,--only because you were informed
beforehand? Again, do not ask me any more; do not compel me to speak!
You will repent it when too late. Rely on me!"
"Rely on you? No, no, I know what you are capable of. I was entirely
innocent of your horrible attempts on M. de Hansfeld, yet appearances
condemned me, yet I tell you I wish to know all."
"Have you resolved on renouncing M. de Morville?"
"What has that to do with it?"
"I must know this--for in this case only ought I to speak to you. It
would be cruel to allow two creatures of God to perish for nothing."
"Then the life of two persons would be endangered?" cried Madame de
Hansfeld.
"Wretched me! wretched you!" said Iris, much distressed, or appearing to
be so, at her indiscretion. "You make me say what I did not wish to
utter. Well, yet at this moment, the lives of two persons are in
jeopardy."
"Thank God! you have been compelled to speak out: I will never buy the
happiness of my whole life at such a price. I renounce M. de Morville!
And may I be accursed if I ever----"
"Stay, godmother! I know the strength of your scruples, but I know, too,
the strength of your love; although the lives of two persons may be in
jeopardy, you may be accursed."
"Wretched girl!"
"Stay, godmother! let us leave events to follow their course--what will
be will be!"
"Now you have filled my soul with affright, for I know of what you are
capable: you seek to be silent. No--no--speak--I desire--I command you!"
"Well, then, since you force me to speak out, you shall know all. The
prince loves Bertha, and is beloved by her; you know the fierce jealousy
of M. de Brévannes. He already hates the prince because he is your
husband! Now he knows that he is loved by his wife, he hates him to very
death. Suppose Bertha were so imprudent as to grant M. de Hansfeld an
interview--innocent or guilty--voluntarily or by chance--no matter--M.
de Brévannes is informed of it; surprises them by a stratagem;
appearances are against them--what would he do, think you? What would he
do?"
"_Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!_"
"What would he do? Why, he believes himself beloved by you; believes by
making you free--you and himself by the double murder be might commit
with impunity, he would obtain your hand----"
"This is an infernal machination!"
"Would you be free? Yes or no! And how far would you have participated
in all this? Your husband deceives you for the wife of a man whom you
hate. You cannot help this. This man kills them both! Are you his
accomplice? Who or what prevents you from marrying M. de Morville? In
what way even could he ever suspect you of having been mixed up in this
machination? On the contrary, as I tell you, the interest and sympathies
of the world would be with you."
"You are mad; M. de Brévannes would hardly go to such an extremity if
he believed himself beloved by me; and he would not surely dare to offer
me his hand,--stained, imbrued with my husband's blood?"
"Such is the man's proud jealousy, so ungoverned, so wild, that under no
circumstances would he hesitate to kill his wife and her seducer; but as
he loves you with all the more ardour as he believes himself madly
adored by you, he does not doubt that you would brave all appearances,
even to bestowing your hand upon him, and at this moment he is spreading
the snare in which your husband and his wife must inevitably perish."
"You have lost your senses. This man, vain as he is, can never believe
himself beloved by me. I have scarcely said a few civil words to him in
order to avert the evil he might do me."
"But I have spoken for you!"
"You have spoken for me?"
Iris related to Madame de Hansfeld the history of the _Black Book_.
Paula was overwhelmed, stupefied at this revelation. She could hardly
credit such daring with such diabolical plotting.
"It is most horrible!" she exclaimed.
Iris looked at her mistress with a strange smile, and replied,--
"You had until now reproached me with acting without your consent. I was
wrong. I wished to conceal from you the thread of the events which were
in preparation, and you have forced me to disclose all to you. You will
now repent it that you know all. Whilst you were in ignorance of this
plot, its success was a stroke of chance for you by which you would have
profited without compunction. Now you know all, if you do not reveal it,
you become an accomplice."
"Then why did you obey me?" exclaimed Madame de Hansfeld, mechanically.
"Why did you tell me all these horrors?"
This was an odious remark, and betrayed the secret and homicidal thought
of Paula.
"I obeyed you," replied Iris, bitterly, "because I expected with
impatience your order to do so, and if you had not given me that order I
should have told you all without your commands."
"What says she?"
"I do not abuse myself; whilst I am working your happiness, I am
hastening my own misery. When you marry M. de Morville, I should become
to you merely an object of contempt and horror. It is true I might have
acted in silence without informing you, and leaving you innocently to
reap the fruit of this deadly plot. But I will confess--I had not the
courage. I am willing to die for you, but it must be on condition that
you say at least, 'Die for me!'"
"Strange and abominable creature!"
"Your happiness will be my misery, I know; but at least, in the bosom of
your happy love you may perchance have a recollection for me."
"If you sacrifice yourself thus for my interest, you should have waited
until what you call my happiness was assured, in order to have made this
disclosure to me.
"No, godmother: it is possible that you have more virtue than love, and
thus your happiness would have been for ever poisoned. Now, on the
contrary, when you know the price of your union with M. de Morville, you
can choose, you have in your hands the future of your love for M. de
Morville, the fate of Bertha de Brévannes, and of your husband. One
word from you to M. de Brévannes as to the _Black Book_, and he will
know that you do not love him, that he is the dupe of a trick of which
I am the contriver, and which, instead of bringing his wife to the
Hôtel Lambert, in order to make her the more safely fall into the snare
that is spreading for her, as well as M. de Hansfeld, he ought to snatch
Bertha away from a love as yet innocent; as, in that case, the death of
his wife and the prince would be useless to him. This is your duty,
godmother. Do it! Unquestionably M. de Brévannes, enraged, will
circulate the most atrocious calumnies respecting you. What then? They
are but calumnies--it is true M. de Morville may be afflicted at them,
believe in them, and smile scornfully when he reflects on the ideal and
romantic love he had for you; what then? During the long life in store
for you with the prince whom you do not love, and who loves not you, you
may repeat boastingly every day,--I have done my duty."
"Accursed be thou--demon sent from hell!" exclaimed Madame de Hansfeld,
wildly, "leave me, leave me! Why do you come to enclose me in a
frightful circle whence I cannot escape without causing the death of two
unfortunates or by casting myself into an abyss of endless despair?"
"You deepen too much the shadows of the picture, godmother; you may step
out of the fearful circle of which you speak, and go, with proud and
elevated forehead, to the altar with M. de Morville, and pass with him
afterwards a joyous and honoured existence."
"Oh! silence! silence!"
"And that, too, without making him perjure his oath, without making him
culpable with his mother, for she would invoke blessings on the union
which you might form with joy, without shame, without crime, by resting
quiet and awaiting events, provoking nothing, doing no' thing, knowing
nothing!"
"Oh, silence! silence!"
"Not even encouraging by a hypocritical word the ferocious and
interested vengeance of M. de Brévannes, being always calmly polite to
him. All is provided, for the Black Book will speak for you; the Black
Book will say that in order to render your marriage possible hereafter,
M. de Brévannes must not be suspected of loving you, and having
calculated upon the vengeance which he will have drawn down on the
prince and Bertha. It will also spare you attentions which, if noticed
in the world, might arouse M. de Morville's jealousy--I tell you all has
been provided for, carefully provided for, godmother."
"_Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!_ deliver me from this infamous creature!"
"So that after the tragic event," continued Iris, imperturbably, "M. de
Brévannes could have no reproach to cast upon you, and you would close
your door upon him without a word of explanation. Brévannes will be
furious, but what can he say or do? The Black Book is in my
hand-writing; he has not even a note of yours; besides, if he dared to
complain, he must first confess the shameless calculations with which he
almost provoked his own dishonour, in order to be justified in killing
his wife and your husband. But he dares not, for he would inspire as
much contempt as horror. Don't you think so, godmother?"
"Leave me, I tell you; go--go--you horrify me!"
"Mon Dieu! What am I doing beyond exposing to you the good and the ill?
Now you are free--choose!"
"Monster! you know very well the drift of such language, and the
criminal hopes which you evoke before my thoughts!"
"Am I a monster to bid you choose between good and ill? Is virtue then
so terrible a thing to practise that it costs as many tears as crime?"
"Heaven have mercy upon me!"
"One last word, godmother. I may have played on certain passions in
order to prepare certain events, but it no longer depends on me to
regulate their progress, for they seem to hasten, and even to-morrow it
may be too late. If you are decided on the _good_, that is to say, on
preventing your husband from incurring the danger that impends over him
and M. de Brévannes from the mystification of which he is the dupe, act
without delay--this day--this hour--this instant. One hour's delay may
destroy all--that is to say, may gain every thing for the interests of
your love."
At this moment a valet-de-chambre entered after having knocked at the
door.
"What is it?" inquired Paula.
"Not knowing if your ladyship was at home, I have begged M. and Madame
de Brévannes to wait."
"They are here!" exclaimed Madame de Hansfeld, shuddering.
"Yes, princess."
"Madame has forgotten that she appointed this morning to receive the
visit of M. and Madame de Brévannes," remarked Iris.
"Yes, true," said Paula, with a faltering voice, "I--yes--yes--to be
sure."
"The princess will see them," said Iris, hastily; "request M. and Madame
Brévannes to be good enough to wait for a few minutes."
The valet-de-chambre quitted the apartment.