"THOSE WHOM THE GODS DESTROY THEY FIRST MAKE MAD."
Yvon Cloarek was only about thirty years of age, and the Breton costume
in which he had just arrayed himself set off his robust and symmetrical
figure to admirable advantage.
This severe but elegant costume consisted of a rather long black jacket
elaborately embroidered with yellow on the collar and sleeves, and still
further ornamented with rows of tiny silver buttons set very close
together. The waistcoat, too, was black, and trimmed with embroidery and
buttons to match the jacket. A broad sash of orange silk encircled the
waist. Large trousers of white linen, almost as wide as the floating
skirt of the Greek Palikares, extended to the knee. Below, his shapely
limbs were encased in tight-fitting buckskin leggings. He wore a round,
nearly flat hat, encircled with an orange ribbon embroidered with
silver, the ends of which hung down upon his shoulders. Thanks to this
costume and to his thick golden hair, his eyes blue as the sea itself,
his strong features, and his admirable carriage, Cloarek was an
admirable type of the valiant race of Breton Bretons, of the sturdy sons
of Armorica, as the historians style them.
When he entered his wife's room, Yvon's face was still a trifle clouded,
and though he made a powerful effort to conceal the feelings which the
exciting events of the day had aroused, his wife, whose apprehensions
had already been awakened by Dame Roberts's warning, was struck by the
expression of his face. He, entirely ignorant of these suspicions on her
part, having done everything possible to conceal the disquieting
occurrences of the day from her, approached very slowly and pausing a
few steps from his wife, asked, smilingly:
"Well, how do you like my costume, Jenny? I hope I am faithful to the
traditions of my native province, and that I shall represent Brittany
creditably at the fête?"
"There isn't the slightest doubt that the costume of your native
province is wonderfully becoming," replied the young mother, with some
embarrassment.
"Really? Well, I am delighted," said Yvon, kissing his wife fondly; "you
know I set great store by your approval even in the most trifling
matters, my dear."
"Yes," replied Madame Cloarek, with deep feeling, "yes, I know your
tender love for me, your deference to my slightest wish."
"Great credit I deserve for that! It is so easy and pleasant to defer to
you, my Jenny,--to bow this hard, stiff Breton neck before you, and say:
'I abdicate to you. Command; I will obey.'"
"Ah, my dear Yvon, if you only knew how happy it makes me to hear you
say that, to-day especially."
These last words failed to attract Yvon's attention, however, and he
continued:
"What are the little concessions I make, my dearest, in comparison with
the blissful happiness I owe to you? Think," he added, turning to the
crib, "this little angel that is the joy of my life, who gave her to
me?" And he was about to open the curtains, when his wife said to him,
warningly:
"Take care, Yvon, she is asleep."
"Let me just take one peep at her, only one. I have not seen her all
day."
"The light of the lamp might arouse her, my dear, and the poor little
thing has just had such a trying time."
"What! has she been ill?" inquired Cloarek, anxiously, leaving the
cradle. "Do you really feel uneasy about her?"
"Not now, my dear, but you know how extremely nervous and excitable she
is. She resembles me only too much in this respect," added Jenny, with a
melancholy smile.
"And I, far from regretting that the dear child is so impressionable,
rejoice at it, on the contrary, for I hope she will be endowed with the
same exquisite sensibility of feeling that you are."
The young woman gently shook her head.
"This is what happened. Our big Newfoundland dog came into the room, and
frightened the poor little thing so that I had great difficulty in
quieting her afterward."
"I am thankful it was nothing serious. But how have you passed the day?
You were asleep this morning, and I would not wake you. You know how
much solicitude I always feel about your health, but it is even more
precious to me than ever now," he added, smiling tenderly upon her.
Jenny slipped her little frail white hand into her husband's.
"What courage your love gives me," she murmured, softly. "Thanks to
that, I can even bear suffering bravely."
"Then you have not been feeling as well as usual to-day?" exclaimed
Yvon, anxiously. "Tell me, Jenny, why didn't you send for the doctor?"
"I did not need to, for have I not a great and learned physician in whom
I have perfect confidence, and who I am sure will not refuse me any
attention I ask?"
"Yes, I understand. I am that great and learned physician, I suppose."
"And could I select a more careful and devoted one?"
"No, certainly not; so go on and consult me, Jenny."
"My dear Yvon, though I have not undergone any very severe suffering
to-day, I have experienced and I still experience a sort of vague
uneasiness, as well as an unusual depression of spirits. Oh, don't be
alarmed, it is nothing serious; besides, you can cure me completely if
you will, my beloved doctor."
"How? Tell me at once."
"But will you do it?"
"Why, Jenny,--what a question!"
"I repeat that my cure depends absolutely and entirely upon you."
"So much the better, then, for, in that case, you are cured. Go on;
explain, my charming invalid."
"Remain with me, then."
"Have I any intention of leaving you?"
"But the entertainment this evening?" ventured the young wife,
hesitatingly.
"I dressed early, you see, so as to be able to remain with you until the
very last moment."
"Don't leave me this evening, Yvon."
"What?"
"Give up this fête for my sake."
"You cannot mean it, surely."
"Stay at home with me."
"But, Jenny, you yourself insisted that--"
"That you should accept the invitation. That is true. This very morning
I was rejoicing that you were going to have this diversion,--you who
lead such an extremely quiet life."
"Then why have you changed your mind so suddenly?"
"How can I tell?" responded the young wife, much embarrassed. "It is
only an absurd and senseless whim on my part, doubtless. All I know is
that you would make me happy, oh, very happy, if you would do what I
ask, absurd and ridiculous as it may appear to you."
"My poor darling," Yvon said, tenderly, after a moment's reflection,
"in your condition, and nervous as you are, I can easily understand why
you should, in spite of your good sense, be beset with all sorts of
contradictory notions, and that you should be averse in the evening to
what you most wished for in the morning. Do you suppose I should think
of such a thing as blaming you for that?"
"You are the best and most kind-hearted man in the world, Yvon!"
exclaimed the young wife, her eyes filling with tears of joy, for she
felt sure now that her husband was going to accede to her wishes. "There
are not many men who would be so patient with the whims of a poor woman
who knows neither what she wants nor why she wants it."
"But in my character of physician I do, you see," replied Yvon, kissing
his wife's brow tenderly. "Look," he added, glancing at the clock, "it
is now nine o'clock; ten minutes to go, ten to return, and a quarter of
an hour to remain at the ball,--it is a matter of three-quarters of an
hour at most. I will be back here by ten o'clock, I promise you."
"What, Yvon, you persist in your determination to attend this
entertainment?"
"Just to show myself there, that is all."
"I beg you will not, Yvon."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't go."
"What! not even for a few moments?"
"Do not leave me this evening, I entreat you."
"But, be reasonable, Jenny."
"Make this slight sacrifice for my sake, I implore you."
"But, Jenny, this is childish."
"Call it childishness, idiocy, what you will, but don't leave me this
evening."
"Jenny, love, it breaks my heart to see you so unreasonable, for I am
obliged to refuse you."
"Yvon--"
"It is absolutely necessary for me to show myself at this entertainment,
though I need remain only a few moments."
"But, my dear Yvon--"
A flush of impatience mounted to Cloarek's brow, nevertheless he
controlled himself, and said to his wife in the same affectionate though
slightly reproachful tone:
"Such persistency on your part surprises me, Jenny. You know I am not in
the habit of having to be begged. On the contrary, I have always
endeavoured to anticipate your wishes, so spare me the annoyance of
being obliged to say 'no' to you for the first time in my life."
"Great Heavens!" exclaimed the now thoroughly distressed woman, "to
think of your attaching so much importance to a mere pleasure--"
"Pleasure!" exclaimed Yvon, bitterly, his eyes kindling. Then
restraining himself, he added:
"If it were a question of pleasure, you would not have been obliged to
ask me but once, Jenny."
"But if you are not going for pleasure, why do you go at all?"
"I am going for appearance's sake," replied Yvon, promptly.
"In that case, can't you let appearances go, just this once, for my
sake?"
"I must attend this entertainment, Jenny," said Yvon, whose face had
become purple now; "I must and shall, so say no more about it."
"And I say that you shall not," exclaimed the young woman, unable to
conceal her alarm any longer; "for there must be some grave reason that
you are concealing from me to make you persist in refusing, when you are
always so kind and affectionate to me."
"Jenny!" exclaimed Cloarek, stamping his foot, angrily, for this
opposition was intensely exasperating to a person of his irascible
nature, "not another word! Do you hear me? Not another word!"
"Listen to me, Yvon," said his wife, with dignity. "I shall resort to
subterfuge no longer. It is unworthy of us both. I am afraid, yes,
afraid for you to go to this fête, for I have been told that your
presence there might cause trouble."
"Who told you that? who said that? Answer me!" cried Cloarek, in a more
and more angry tone, and so loudly that the child in the crib woke. "Why
should you feel afraid? You have heard something, then, I suppose."
"There is something, then, Yvon," cried the poor woman, more and more
alarmed. "There is some terrible thing that you are keeping from me!"
Yvon remained silent and motionless for a moment, for a violent struggle
was going on in his breast, but calmness and reason finally conquered,
and approaching his wife to kiss her before going out, he said:
"I shall return almost immediately, Jenny. You will not have to wait for
me long."
But the young woman hastily sprang up, and, before her husband could
make a movement to prevent it, she had run to the door, locked it, and
removed the key; then turning to Yvon, she said, with all the energy of
despair:
"You shall not leave this room. We will see if you dare to come and take
this key from me."
Utterly stupefied at first, then exasperated beyond expression by
Jenny's determined action, he gave way to his anger to such an extent
that his features became unrecognisable. The flush that had suffused his
face was succeeded by a livid pallor, his eyes became bloodshot, and,
advancing threateningly toward his wife, he exclaimed, in a terrible
voice:
"The key! give me the key!"
"No, I will save you in spite of yourself," replied Jenny, intrepidly.
"Wretch!" cried Cloarek, now completely beside himself.
The young woman had never been the object of her husband's anger before
in her life, so it is impossible to convey any idea of the horror she
experienced on seeing him ready to rush upon her. Terrified by his
ferocious, bloodthirsty look, in which there seemed to be not even the
slightest gleam of recognition, she remained for a moment trembling and
motionless, feeling as if she were about to swoon. Suddenly the little
girl, who had been awakened several minutes before by the loud talking,
parted the curtains of her crib and looked out. Not recognising her
father, and mistaking him for a stranger, as she had never before seen
him in such a costume, she uttered a shrill cry of terror, and
exclaimed:
"Oh, mamma, the black man! the black man!"
"The key! give me the key!" repeated Cloarek, in thunder tones, taking
another step toward his wife, who, slipping the key in her bosom, ran to
the crib and caught her child in her arms, while the little girl, more
and more terrified, hid her face on her mother's breast, sobbing:
"Oh, that black man, that black man, he means to kill mamma!"
"To take this key from me, you will have to tear my child from my arms,"
said the frail but courageous woman.
"You don't know that I am capable of anything when I am angry,"
exclaimed the unfortunate man, aroused to such a pitch of fury as to be
blind and deaf to the most sacred sentiments. As he spoke, he rushed
toward his wife in such a frenzied, menacing manner that the unfortunate
woman, believing herself lost, strained her little daughter to her
breast, and, bowing her head, cried:
"Spare, oh, spare my child!"
This cry of agony and of maternal despair penetrated to the innermost
depths of Yvon's soul. He stopped short, then quicker than thought he
turned, and, with a strength that his fury rendered irresistible, dashed
himself against the door with such impetuosity that it gave way.
On hearing the sound, Madame Cloarek raised her head in even greater
terror, for her child was in convulsions, caused by fright, and seemed
likely to die in her arms.
"Help!" faltered Jenny, faintly. "Help, Yvon, our child is dying!"
A despairing cry answered these panting words uttered by Jenny, who felt
that she, too, was dying, for in this delicate woman's critical
condition such a shock was almost certain to prove fatal.
"Yvon, our child is dying!"
Cloarek, who was still only a few yards off, heard these lamentable
words. The horror of the thought that his child was dying dispelled his
anger as if by magic, and, rushing wildly back into his wife's room, he
saw her still standing by the crib, but already as livid as a spectre.
With a supreme effort Jenny extended her arms to place her child in her
husband's hands, faltering:
"Take her, I am dying," and without another word fell heavily at the
feet of Cloarek, who, with his child strained to his breast, stood as if
dazed, hearing nothing, seeing nothing.