Nearly five years had passed away since that eventful night, and,
during that long period, nothing had occurred to revive the fears of
the conscience-stricken grave-digger, or to give rise to his misgivings
that the theft of Madame du Bourg's corpse might by some means be
discovered. In fact, after carefully weighing all the circumstances,
he had finally come to the conclusion that he had been the victim of a
conspiracy hatched by medical students, one having played the principal
part in the abominable transaction, and the other or others waiting
outside the cemetery to assist in making off with the "subject," should
the nefarious plot succeed. The students (if this hypothesis were
correct) would never betray the secret, for obvious reasons; and so
long a time having now elapsed since the burial of the unhappy lady,
the contingency of an authorised exhumation for any cause whatever
became daily more and more remote.
On All Souls' Day the bereaved husband came regularly each year to pray
at his dead wife's tomb, and each year the grave-digger observed him
with feelings of remorse, as if it were adding to his weight of guilt
in standing near while the worthy President du Bourg knelt reverently
beside the mound beneath which was buried only an empty coffin. The
sight of this futile annual pilgrimage possessed for the repentant
grave-digger a fascination impossible to resist, and amongst all the
mourners who visited the cemetery on that solemn day, he took note of
none save M. du Bourg, before whom he more than once felt tempted to
throw himself and confess all.
When the anniversary came round again, the grave-digger stationed
himself at his usual post of observation, and saw the President draw
near to his wife's tomb, over which he immediately bent in prayer.
Both he and the contrite grave-digger were so deeply absorbed in
thought that they did not notice the approach of a woman, who uttered
a suppressed cry as she caught sight of the recumbent figure. Turning
involuntarily and looking quickly up, M. du Bourg instantly recognised,
in the person who had interrupted his meditations, no other than
the wife whose death he had mourned so long. The grave-digger also
remembered well the pale, beautiful face, from which he had removed
the shroud five years before, and he instantly fell to the ground,
insensible. But before the startled husband could recover from his
amazement, Gabrielle, for it was she, swept past him like the wind and
was gone. Following her retreating form in the distance, the President
reached the cemetery gates in time to see her leap into a carriage with
emblazoned panels, which, before he could reach the spot, was driven
rapidly away towards the centre of Paris. M. du Bourg then returned
to the place where he had seen the grave-digger fall in a swoon,
hoping to derive some information from the stranger who had been thus
terror-struck at sight of the unexpected apparition, but the man had
been already carried to his lodge, and died an hour afterwards without
recovering consciousness.
Losing no time, the President addressed himself to the
Lieutenant-General of Police, by whom inquiries were set on foot
without delay, and it was speedily established that the carriage, which
many persons had observed in waiting at the cemetery gates, bore the
arms of the noble house of de Serres. As M. du Bourg was aware of his
late wife's early attachment to the young officer whose death abroad
had been officially reported a few months previous to her marriage,
the motive of her disappearance, if she were still alive, was clearly
explained. But the mystery of her existence five years after her
supposed death and burial must now be immediately unravelled.
By order of the authorities, the grave in which Madame du Bourg had
been interred was opened, and the empty, broken coffin was found. This
discovery fully confirmed the suspicions of the President du Bourg, and
prompted him in the course he now resolved to pursue.