AN UNLUCKY BLOW.
The falling of a thunderbolt at his feet would have startled Norbert
less than these words did. The Duke took, or affected to take, no notice
of his son’s extreme agitation, and in a careless manner he continued,--
“I suppose, my son, that it is hardly necessary for me to tell you
the young lady’s name. Mademoiselle Marie de Puymandour cannot fail
to please you. She is excessively pretty, tall, dark, and with a fine
figure. You saw her at Mass one day. What do you think of her?”
“Think!” stammered Norbert. “Really I----”
“Pshaw,” replied the old gentleman; “I thought that you had begun to use
your eyes. And look here, Marquis, you must adopt a different style of
dress. You can go over with me to Poitiers to-morrow, and one of the
tailors there will make you some clothes suitable to your rank, for I
don’t suppose that you wish to alarm your future wife by the uncouthness
of your appearance.”
“But, father--”
“Wait a moment, if you please. I shall have a suite of apartments
reserved for you and your bride, and you can pass your honeymoon here.
Take care you do not prolong it for too lengthened a period; and when it
is all over, we can break the young woman into all our ways.”
“But,” interrupted Norbert hastily, “suppose I do not fancy this young
lady?”
“Well, what then?”
“Suppose I should beg you to save me from a marriage which will render
me most unhappy?”
The Duke shrugged his shoulders. “Why this is mere childishness,” said
he. “The marriage is a most suitable one, and it is my desire that it
should take place.”
“But, father,” again commenced Norbert.
“What! Are you opposing my will?” asked his father angrily. “Pray, do
you hesitate?”
“No,” answered his son coldly, “I do not hesitate.”
“Very good, then. A man of no position can consult the dictates of his
heart when he takes a wife, but with a nobleman of rank and station it
is certainly a different matter, for with the latter, marriage should
be looked upon as a mere business transaction. I have made excellent
arrangements. Let me repeat to you the conditions. The Count will give
two-thirds of his fortune, which is estimated at five millions--just
think of that!--and when we get that, we shall be able to screw and
save with better heart. Think of the restoration of our house, and the
colossal fortune that our descendants will one day inherit, and realize
all the beauties of a life of self-denial.”
While the Duke was uttering this string of incoherent sentences, he was
pacing up and down the room, and now he halted immediately in front of
his son. “You understand,” said he; “to-morrow you will go to Poitiers,
and on Sunday we will dine at the house of your future father-in-law.”
In this fearful crisis Norbert did not know what to say or how to act.
“Father,” he once more commenced, “I have no wish to go to Poitiers
to-morrow.”
“What are you saying? What in heaven’s name do you mean?”
“I mean that as I shall never love Mademoiselle de Puymandour, she will
never be my wife.”
The Duke had never foreseen the chance of rebellion on the part of his
son, and he could not bring his mind to receive such an unlooked-for
event.
“You are mad,” said he at last, “and do not know what you are saying.”
“I know very well.”
“Think of what you are doing.”
“I have reflected.”
The Duke was making a violent effort to compose his ordinarily violent
temper.
“Do you imagine,” answered he disdainfully, “that I shall be satisfied
with an answer of this kind? I hope that you will submit to my wishes,
for I think that, as the head of the family, I have conceived a splendid
plan for its future aggrandizement; and do you think that, for the mere
whim of a boy, I will be turned aside from my fixed determination?”
“No, father,” answered Norbert, “it is no boyish whim that makes me
oppose your wishes. Tell me, have I not ever been a dutiful son to you?
Have I ever refused to do what I was ordered? No; I have obeyed you
implicitly. I am the son of the wealthiest man in Poitiers, and I have
lived like a laborer’s child. Whatever your mandates were, I have never
complained or murmured at them.”
“Well, and now I order you to marry Mademoiselle de Puymandour.”
“Anything but that; I do not love her, and I shall never do so. Do
you wish my whole life to be blighted? I entreat you to spare me this
sacrifice!”
“My orders are given, and you must comply with them.”
“No,” answered Norbert quietly, “I will not comply with them.”
A purple flush passed across the Duke’s face, then it faded away,
leaving every feature of a livid whiteness.
“Great heavens!” said he in a voice before which Norbert, at one time,
would have quailed. “Whence comes the audacity that makes you venture to
dispute my orders?”
“From the feeling that I am acting rightly.”
“How long is it that it has been right for children to disobey their
parents’ commands?”
“Ever since parents began to issue unjust commands.”
This speech put the finishing stroke to the Duke’s rage. He made a step
across the room, towards his son, raising the stick that he usually
carried high in the air. For a moment he stood thus, and then, casting
it aside, he exclaimed,--
“No, I cannot strike a Champdoce.”
Perhaps it was Norbert’s intrepid attitude that restrained the Duke’s
frenzy, for he had not moved a muscle, but stood still, with his arms
folded, and his head thrown haughtily back.
“No, this is an act of disobedience that I will not put up with,”
exclaimed the old man in a voice of thunder, and, springing upon his
son, he grasped him by the collar and dragged him up to a room on the
second floor, and thrust him violently through the doorway.
“You have twenty-four hours in which to reflect whether you will be
willing to accept the wife that I have chosen for you,” said he.
“I have already decided on that point,” answered Norbert quietly.
The Duke made no reply, but slammed the door, which was of massive oak,
and secured by a lock of enormous proportions.
Norbert gazed round; the only other exit from the room was by means of a
window some forty feet from the ground. The young man, however, imagined
that some one would surely come to make up his bed for the night; that
would give him two sheets; these he could knot together and thus secure
a means of escape. He might not be able to see Diana at once, but he
could easily send her a message by Daumon, warning her of what had taken
place. Having arranged his plans, he threw himself into an armchair
with a more easy mind than he had experienced for many months past. The
decisive step had been taken, and the relations between his father and
himself clearly defined, and thus he naturally considered great progress
had been made, and the task before him seemed as nothing to what he had
already performed.
“My father,” thought he, “must be half mad with passion.”
And Norbert was not wrong in his opinion. When the Duke, as usual, took
his place at the table, at which the farm laborers ate their meals, not
one of them had the courage to make a single observation. Every one knew
what a serious altercation had taken place between father and son, and
each one was devoured by the pangs of ungratified curiosity.
As soon as the meal was concluded, the Duke called an old and
trustworthy servant, who had been in his employment for over thirty
years.
“Jean,” said he, “your young master is locked in the yellow room. Here
is the key. Take him something to eat.”
“Very good, your Grace.”
“Wait a little. You will spend the night in his room and keep a strict
watch upon him. He may design to make his escape. If he attempts it,
restrain him, if necessary, by physical force. Should he prove too
strong for you, call to me; I shall be near, and will come to your aid.”
This unexpected precaution upon the Duke’s part upset all Norbert’s
plans of escape. He endeavored to persuade Jean to allow him to go out
for a couple of hours, giving his word of honor that he would return
at the expiration of that time. Prayers and menaces, however, had no
effect. Had the young man gazed from the window, he would have seen
his father striding moodily up and down the courtyard, with the thought
gnawing at his heart that perhaps after all these many years of waiting
his plans might yet be frustrated.
“There is a woman at the bottom of all this,” said he to himself. “It
is only woman’s wiles that in this brief space of time would effect so
complete a change in a young man’s disposition. Besides, he would not
have so obstinately declined to listen to the proposal I made him had
not his affections been engaged elsewhere. Who can she be? and by what
means shall I find her out?”
It would be absurd to question Norbert, and the Duke was excessively
unwilling to institute any regular inquiry into the matter. He passed
the whole night in gloomy indecision, but towards morning an inspiration
came to him which he looked upon as a special interposition of
Providence.
“Bruno,” he exclaimed with a mighty oath. “The dog will show me the
place that his master frequents and perhaps lead me to the very woman
who had bewitched him.”
The brilliant idea soothed him a great deal, and at one o’clock he took
his seat as usual at the head of the table, and ordered food to be taken
up to Norbert, but that none of the measures for his safe custody were
to be relaxed.
When he thought the moment was a favorable one, he whistled to Bruno,
and, though the dog rarely followed him, yet in the absence of his
master, he condescended to accompany the Duke down the avenue to the
front gates. Three roads branched off from here, but the dog did not
hesitate for a moment, and took the one to the left, like an animal who
knew his destination perfectly well. Bruno went ahead for nearly half
an hour, until he reached the exact spot where Diana had met with her
accident. He made a cast round, but finding nothing, sat down, clearly
saying,--
“Let us wait.”
“This, then,” muttered the Duke, “is the place where the lovers have
been in the habit of meeting each other.”
The place was a very lonely one, and, standing on the rising ground,
commanded a view of the country for a long way round.
The Duke noticed this, and took up a position where the trunk of a
giant oak almost concealed him from observation. He was delighted at his
sagacity, and was almost in a good humor; for now that he had reflected,
the danger did not seem by any means so great, for to whom could Norbert
have lost his heart? To some little peasant girl, perhaps, who, thinking
that the lad was an easy dupe, had tried to induce him to marry her.
As these thoughts passed through the Duke’s brain, Bruno gave a joyous
bark.
“Here she is,’ muttered he, as he emerged from his hiding place, and at
that moment Diana de Laurebourg made her appearance; but as soon as she
saw the Duke she uttered a faint cry of alarm. She was inclined to turn
and fly, but her strength failed her, and, extending her hands, she
grasped the boughs of a slender birch tree that grew close by, to
prevent herself from falling. The Duke was quite as much astonished as
the young lady. He had expected to see a peasant girl, and here was
the daughter of the Marquis de Laurebourg. But anger soon succeeded to
surprise; for though he might have had nothing to fear from the peasant,
the daughter of the Marquis de Laurebourg was an utterly different
antagonist. He could not rely upon aid from her family, as, for all he
knew, they might be aiding and abetting her.
“Well, my child,” began he, “you do not seem very glad to see me.”
“Your Grace.”
“Yes, when you come out to meet the son, it is annoying to meet the
father; but do not blame poor Norbert, for I assure you he is not in
fault.”
Though Mademoiselle de Laurebourg had been startled at first, she
was possessed of too strong a will to give in, and soon recovered her
self-possession.
She never thought to screen herself by a denial of her reasons for being
on the spot, for such a course she would have looked on as an act of
treacherous cowardice.
“You are quite right,” answered she. “I came here to meet your son, and
therefore you will pardon me if I take my leave of you.”
With a deep courtesy she was about to move away, when the Duke laid a
restraining grip upon her arm.
“Permit me, my child,” said he, endeavoring to put on a kind and
paternal tone,--“let me say a few words to you. Do you know why Norbert
did not come to meet you?”
“He has doubtless some very good reason.”
“My son is locked up in a room, and my servants have my orders to
prevent his making his escape by force, if necessary.”
“Poor fellow! He deserves the deepest commiseration.”
The Duke was much surprised at this piece of impertinence, as he
considered it.
“I will tell you,” returned he in tones of rising anger, “how it comes
that I treat my son, the heir to my rank and fortune, in this manner.”
He looked savagely angry as he spoke, but Diana answered negligently,
“Pray go on; you quite interest me.”
“Well then, listen to me. I have chosen a wife for Norbert; she is as
young as you are--beautiful, clever, and wealthy.”
“And of noble birth, of course.”
The sarcasm conveyed in this reply roused the Duke to fury.
“Fifteen hundred thousand francs as a marriage portion will outweigh a
coat of arms, even though it should be a tower argent on a field azure.”
The Duke paused as he made this allusion to the Laurebourg arms, and
then continued, “In addition to this, she has great expectations; and
yet my son is mad enough to refuse the hand of this wealthy heiress.”
“If you think that this marriage will cause your son’s happiness, you
are quite right in acting as you have done.”
“Happiness! What has that to do with the matter, as long as it adds to
the aggrandizement of our house and name? I have made up my mind that
Norbert shall marry this girl; I have sworn it, and I never break my
oath. I told him this myself.”
Diana suffered acutely, but her pride supported her, whilst her
confidence in Norbert was so great that she had the boldness to inquire,
“And what did he say to that?”
“Norbert will become a dutiful son once more when he is removed from the
malignant influence which has been so injurious to him,” returned the
Duke fiercely.
“Indeed.”
“He will obey me, when I show him that though he may not value his name
and position, there are others who do so; and that many a woman would
fight a brave battle for the honor of being the Duchess of Champdoce.
Young lady, my son is a mere boy; but I have known the world, and when I
prove to the poor fool that it was only grasping ambition which assumed
the garb of love, he will renounce his folly and resume his
allegiance to me. I will tell him what I think of the poverty-stricken
adventuresses of high birth, whose only weapons are their youth and
beauty, and with which they think that they can win a wealthy husband in
the battle of life.”
“Continue, sir,” broke in Diana haughtily. “Insult a defenceless girl
with her poverty! It is a noble act, and one worthy of a high-born
gentleman like yourself!”
“I believed,” said the Duke, “that I was addressing the woman whose
advice had led my son to break into open rebellion against my authority.
Am I right or wrong? You can prove me to be mistaken by urging upon
Norbert the necessity for submission.”
She made no reply, but bent her head upon her bosom.
“You see,” continued the Duke, “that I am correct, and that if you
continue to act as you have done, I shall be justified in retaliating in
any manner that I may deem fit. You have now been warned. Carry on this
intrigue at your peril.”
He placed such an insulting emphasis upon the word “intrigue” that
Diana’s anger rose to boiling point. At that instant, for the sake of
vengeance, she would have risked her honor, her ambition, her very life
itself.
Forgetting all prudence, she cast aside her mask of affected
indifference, and, with her eyes flashing angry gleams of fire, and her
cheeks burning, she said,--
“Listen to me. I, too, have sworn an oath, and it is that Norbert
shall be my husband; and I tell you that he shall be so! Shut him up in
prison, subject him to every indignity at the hands of your menials, but
you will never break his spirit, or make him go back from his plighted
word. If I bid him, he will resist your will even unto the bitter end.
He and I will never yield. Believe me when I tell you, that before you
attack a young girl’s honor, you had better pause; for one day she will
be a member of your family. Farewell.”
Before the Duke could recover his senses, Diana was far down the path
on her way homewards; and then he burst into a wild storm of menaces,
oaths, and insults. He fancied that he was alone, but he was mistaken;
for the whole of that strange scene had a hidden witness, and that
witness was Daumon. He had heard of the treatment of the young Marquis
from one of his servants at the Chateau, and his first thought had been
to acquaint Diana with it. Unfortunately he saw no means of doing this.
He dared not go to Laurebourg, and he would have died sooner than put
pen to paper. He was in a position of the deepest embarrassment when the
idea struck him of going to the lovers’ trysting place. The little cry
that Diana had uttered upon perceiving the Duke had put him upon his
guard. Bruno had found him out; but, as he knew him, merely fawned upon
him. He was delighted at the fury of the Duke, whom he hated with
cold and steady malignity; but the courage of Diana filled him with
admiration. Her sublime audacity won his warmest praises, and he longed
for her as an ally to aid him in his scheme of revenge. He knew that the
girl would find herself in a terribly embarrassing position, and thus
she would be sure to call upon him for advice before returning home.
“Now,” thought he, “if I wish to profit by her anger, I ought to strike
while the iron is hot; and to do so, I should be at home to meet her.”
Without a moment’s delay, he dashed through the woods, striving to
get home without the young girl’s perceiving him. His movements in the
underwood caught the Duke’s eye.
“Who is there?” exclaimed he, moving towards the spot from whence the
rustling came. There was no reply. Surely he had not been mistaken.
Calling to Bruno, he strove to put him on the scent, but the dog showed
no signs of eagerness. He sniffed about for a time, and seemed to linger
near one special spot. The Duke moved towards it, and distinctly saw the
impression of two knees upon the grass.
“Some one has been eavesdropping,” muttered he, much enraged at his
discovery. “Who can it be? Has Norbert escaped from his prison?”
As he returned through the courtyard, he called one of the grooms to
him.
“Where is my son?” asked he.
“Upstairs, your Grace,” was the answer.
The Duke breathed more freely. Norbert was still in security, and
therefore could not have been the person who had been listening.
“But,” added the lad, “the young master is half frantic.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he declared that he would not remain in his room an instant
longer; so old Jean called for help. He is awfully strong, and it took
six of us to hold him. He said that if we would let him go, he would
return in two hours, and that his honor and life were involved.”
The Duke listened with a sarcastic smile. He cared nothing about the
frantic struggles of his son, for his heart had grown cold and hard from
the presence of the fixed idea which had actuated his conduct for so
many years, and it was with the solemn face of a man who was fulfilling
a sacred duty that he ascended to the room in which his son was
imprisoned. Jean threw open the door, and the Duke paused for a moment
on the threshold. The furniture had been overturned, some of it broken,
and there were evident signs of a furious struggle having taken place.
A powerful laborer stood near the window, and Norbert was lying on the
bed, with his face turned to the wall.
“Leave us,” said the Duke, and the man withdrew at once.
“Get up, Norbert,” he added; “I wish to speak to you.”
His son obeyed him. Any one but the Duke would have been alarmed by the
expression of the young man’s face.
“What is the meaning of all this?” asked the old nobleman in his most
severe voice. “Are not my orders sufficient to insure obedience? I hear
that absolute force has had to be used towards you during my absence.
Tell me, my son, what plans you have devised during these hours of
solitude, and what hopes you still venture to cherish.”
“I intend to be free, and I will be so.”
The Duke affected not to hear the reply, uttered as it was in a tone of
derision.
“It was very easy for me to discover, from your obstinacy, that some
woman had endeavored to entrap you, and by her insidious counsels
inducing you to disobey your best friend.”
He paused, but there was no reply.
“This woman--this dangerous woman--I have been in search of, and as you
can conceive, I easily found her. I went to the Forest of Bevron, and
there I need not tell you I found Mademoiselle de Laurebourg.”
“Did you speak to her?”
“I did so, certainly. I told her my opinion of those manoeuvring women
who fascinate the dupes they intend to take advantage of--”
“Father!”
“Can it be possible that you, simple boy even as you are, could have
been deceived by the pretended love of this wily young woman? It is not
you, Marquis, that she loves, but our name and fortune; but _I_ know if
_she_ does not that the law will imprison women who contrive to entrap
young men who are under age.”
Norbert turned deadly pale.
“Did you really say that to her?” asked he, in a low, hoarse voice,
utterly unlike his own. “You dare to insult the woman I love, when you
knew that I was far away and unable to protect her! Take care, or I
shall forget that you are my father.”
“He actually threatens me,” said the Duke, “my son threatens me;” and,
raising the heavy stick he held in his hand, he struck Norbert a violent
blow. By a fortunate movement the unhappy boy drew back, and so avoided
the full force of the stroke, but the end of the stick struck him across
the temple, inflicting a long though not a serious wound. In his blind
rage Norbert was about to throw himself upon his father, when his eyes
caught sight of the open door. Liberty and safety lay before him, and,
with a bound, he was on the stairs, and before the Duke could shout for
aid from the window, his son was tearing across the park with all the
appearance and gesture of a madman.