A LIFE FOR A LIFE.
“Where were you last night?” asked Helen of her father, the morning
after the duel. “I had one of my nervous attacks and went to your room
to get the remedy which I knew was in your portmanteau. It was raining
hard. I remained in your room until half-past twelve. I slept little,
but supposed you were on the vessel. I went to your room again at four
o’clock and found the door locked. Why did you come home from the vessel
at such an unseemly hour?”
The Admiral attempted to explain matters without disclosing the real
reason for his absence from home, but his daughter subjected him to a
line of cross-questioning which left his story, at the close, in a most
pitiable condition as regarded probability and continuity. Finally, in a
state of mental despair, the Admiral cried:
“Well, Helen, I’ll tell you the truth. The fact is, Victor had a quarrel
with a Corsican and they fought a duel. I didn’t wish it to become known
on the ship, so I acted as his second. Now you have the whole of it, so
far as I am concerned. If you wish to know more, get it from Victor.”
In a short time, Victor’s well-known double knock was heard at the door.
No sooner had he entered than Helen began questioning him in regard to
the duel. He did not feel disposed to disclose the real cause of his
first controversy with Count Mont d’Oro. He simply said that the Count
insulted him and he knocked him down.
“Of course, I expected a challenge,” he continued, “and we had it out
in good old-fashioned style. I remembered what you said, Miss Helen,
about the brave old Roman soldiers, but I could not obtain any swords
used in the Gallic war, so I chose axes as being the nearest approach to
them. It is a wonder he did not cut me into pieces, for he fought like a
madman.”
“Bless my soul!” ejaculated the Admiral. “As I told you at the time, you
had a most re-mark-a-ble escape from death.”
Helen could not refrain from expressing her admiration for the young
sailor who had dared to meet his enemy in single combat.
“You are a brave young man, Lieutenant Duquesne,” she exclaimed, “and
for that reason, and that only, will I forgive you for several very
sarcastic remarks which you made to me on the way from Malta to Genoa.”
“Miss Enright,” said Victor, in the gravest possible manner, “if I were
sure that you would forgive me for all my misdeeds during my
acquaintance with you, I should not hesitate to fight a duel every day
for a week.”
“I am not sure that such a course would balance the account,” said
Helen, “but I am very glad that I came to Corsica. It is my constant
desire to see or hear something new.”
“Thus reassured,” said Victor, “I will take you both into my confidence.
Since my arrival here, I have learned what was, to me, a most surprising
piece of intelligence. My father, whom I have seen but once since I was
six years of age, is now in Corsica and is coming soon to Ajaccio to
meet me. If the vessel sails before his arrival, I shall have to ask
you, my dear Admiral, for a furlough. If you cannot grant it, I shall be
obliged to resign my position.”
“Bless my soul!” cried the Admiral. “What a re-mark-a-ble idea that is
of yours. Two months still remain before I am due in England, and one
thing is certain, I shall not accept your resignation. But how did you
find out about this?”
“I had a letter from him,” replied Victor. “He tells me I was born in
Corsica. My ancestors were Corporals.”
“Ah, yes!” cried Helen. “I have read about them. If I remember
correctly, it was sometime in the tenth century that the people--worn
out with centuries of oppression--rose against the tyrannical feudal
barons, waged a successful war against them, set up an independent
government of their own on democratic principles, and called their
country _Terra del Commune_. The officials were all elected by the
people, and among them were _caporali_, ‘corporals’ or head men, chosen
by the ‘Fathers of the Commune’ to preside over their local assemblies,
and to represent them before the General Council; being especially
charged with the defence of the rights of the people--in fact, they were
the ‘Tribunes of the People.’ In course of time the office became
hereditary, and the Corporals became a most powerful class--I think I
have got it straight!”
“Your account is historically correct,” said Victor, “and no wonder that
Corsicans esteem it a great honour to be descended from these ‘Tribunes
of the People,’ as you have called them. No man in Corsica has greater
cause to revere and worship his ancestors than I have.”
“I admire the Chinese,” said Helen, “because of their devotion to the
aged and the reverence which they show for their ancestors. But I fear
it will not be many years before these twin virtues will become extinct
in European countries.”
“There is another subject,” said Victor, “about which I wish to speak to
you, Admiral”--Helen arose from her chair--“and your daughter, too.
Please remain, Miss Enright. It is a matter in which you are fully as
much concerned as your father.”
“Do you wish father to act as your second in another duel?” she asked.
“The course which I have decided to follow, with your kind permission,
may lead to one, and perhaps something worse. As I told you, Admiral,
when I took Lord Colton’s letter of introduction to Monsieur Pascal
Batistelli, he not only expressed his pleasure that you and your
daughter were to become his guests, but also extended an invitation to
me to be one of the party.”
“Oh, do come!” cried Helen, impulsively. A slight flush came to her
sallow cheeks. It was seldom that she said or did anything without due
reflection. Then, she added: “With whom can I quarrel on apparently
inconsequential points unless you accompany us?”
“Why, bless my soul!” cried the Admiral, “what a re-mark-a-ble idea to
leave us alone in a strange country, with no one to protect us and
avenge our honour in case we are insulted.”
“I had not intended,” said Victor, “to accept the invitation, so I asked
you not to mention it to your daughter. Upon second thoughts, which they
say are best, I have decided to go, if she be willing.” He turned to
Helen: “You have kindly settled my uncertainty on that point.”
“We had intended to go to-day,” said the Admiral, “but Helen lost so
much sleep last night that I told the landlord we should remain another
day.”
Why had Vandemar Della Coscia changed his mind? Since reading his
father’s letter, he had given serious thought to his present situation
and his future actions in what he had learned was his native land. If,
as his father said, the Batistellis were his sworn enemies and would
seek his life as soon as they discovered his identity, would it not be a
wise course, he argued, to visit them, now that he was unknown to them,
and learn the character of the men with whom he had to deal.
He did not know that the story was rife throughout Corsica that
Vandemar Della Coscia would soon return, despite the threats of his
enemies, and claim his heritage. If he had known this, he probably would
not have been so self-confident and would have been satisfied to remain
in seclusion at the hotel until his father appeared. The rumour about
Vandemar’s intended return had started, as most rumours do, from
nothing. One day, while Paoli was conversing with Cromillian, he
remarked that if Manuel Della Coscia or his son Vandemar did not return
soon to Corsica and reclaim their inheritance, it would escheat to the
government, according to the law.
“Don’t you worry yourself about that,” Cromillian replied. “Both father
and son will be in Corsica before they lose their rights.”
The next day, Paoli told several of his companions, in strict
confidence, that he had it on the best authority that Vandemar Della
Coscia was coming back to Corsica, and on no very distant day, either.
So interesting a rumour soon spread throughout the island, and there
were hundreds of sharp eyes which inspected all strangers carefully.
While the little party at the hotel was waiting for the time to arrive
which would mark its departure for Batistelli Castle, an interesting
event was taking place in the rather humdrum life of their prospective
host.
Count Mont d’Oro’s coachman, who had driven him to the duel, easily
divined what had taken place in the old shed that night. Villefort had
given him a louis d’or and told him to keep his mouth shut, but the
coachman spent the louis d’or for wine at Madame Valliet’s, and when he
opened his mouth to drink the wine, he did not shut it again until he
had told all that he knew, together with some fanciful additions. Julien
Batistelli, who was a constant visitor at Madame Valliet’s _cabaret_,
heard the story, and, naturally, told it to his brother. Pascal at once
visited the Count to express his sympathy and to ask whether he could
be of any service.
It chanced that Bertha was passing her prescribed hour with the Count,
and was reading to him when M. Batistelli was announced. She started to
leave the room, but, before she could do so, the Count introduced his
visitor and she was obliged to remain. M. Batistelli was thought to be
insensible to the charms of women, and it was for that reason, probably,
that the Count made him acquainted with Miss Renville. To the Count’s
surprise, however, Pascal entered into an animated conversation with
Bertha and made himself so agreeable and was, apparently, so regardless
of the Count’s suffering that the latter groaned loudly--not really from
pain, but actually from sheer jealousy. Before leaving, Pascal said that
he should take the opportunity to pay his respects to the Countess,
should ask her to visit them when some expected guests arrived, and he
hoped that Miss Renville would accompany her.
The fact was that Pascal Batistelli had seen so many beautiful women
with dark hair, dark eyes, and the complexions which belong to
brunettes, that he was unable to pick out one whom he thought would be
more desirable as a wife than a dozen others.
But Bertha Renville was a revelation to him. He had never before seen a
woman with such hair, which looked like gold when the sunlight fell upon
it, and with such white hands and cheeks, the latter tinted with a
roseate flush, and he looked forward with fond anticipation to the time
when this beautiful English girl should become his guest, and the
recipient of the palatial hospitality which he mentally resolved to
lavish upon her.
After dinner on the day when the conversation had taken place between
Victor and the Admiral and his daughter, it suddenly occurred to the
former that he Would pay a visit to the vessel and get his
double-barreled fowling-piece. He told the Admiral of his intention,
adding:
“You know I am very fond of shooting and, no doubt, there is plenty of
game in Corsica.”
“I understand,” said the Admiral, “that the game most sought after by
Corsicans is human beings.”
As he heard the remark, the thought came quickly to Victor’s mind, “I am
going into the lion’s den,” but his reply contained no indication of the
thought.
“I trust, my dear Admiral, that we shall not be called upon to take part
in a vendetta, or be the spectators of one, during our visit.”
The next morning, the aspect of nature and the feelings of the Admiral
and the others of his party were in accord, and, at an early hour, a
conveyance, bearing them and their luggage, was on its way to their
destination. It did not take long for the visitors to become acquainted
with the brothers, Pascal and Julien, and their sister, Vivienne. Helen
was greatly attracted by and interested in the beautiful young Corsican
girl.
Julien, the younger brother, was a decidedly handsome fellow, and, when
sober, was engaging and witty in conversation. Some delicate sparring
took place between Helen and Julien, and the young lady found him to be
no mean antagonist in the lingual battle; but she was decidedly his
superior in historical knowledge, and poor Julien was finally
discomfited, he showing an unpardonable lack of acquaintance with the
early customs of the ancient Persians. She was not surprised to find, at
the end of several days, that Vivienne had little love for her brother
Pascal, but bestowed all her affection upon Julien.
Victor was an interested observer of what was going on in the house and
about it. He learned that Countess Mont d’Oro lived on the adjoining
estate, and heard that Pascal Batistelli and young Count Napier were
great friends. He saw that Pascal made a daily visit to the next house,
presumably to see Count Mont d’Oro, who, he was told by one of the
Batistelli servants, had sprained his ankle in alighting from his
carriage and was confined to his room. Victor wondered whether Pascal
had made their visit a subject of conversation. If so, the Count
probably knew that his late antagonist was in close proximity. If the
Count and Pascal were friends, and either learned of his identity, they
would both be his sworn enemies. But what did that matter, after all? If
the contest was to come, it might as well take place soon as later. He,
however, remembered his father’s injunction and determined that the
disclosure should not be made by himself. When his enemies learned who
he was, the discovery must be due to their own acuteness.
On the first and second evenings following their arrival, Julien
remained at home after dinner, and Helen and he indulged in badinage and
repartee in a manner highly entertaining to their listeners. On the
third day, however, he did not appear at dinner, nor during the evening.
About ten o’clock, the Admiral and Helen having gone to their rooms, for
the evening had been a comparatively dull one, Victor lighted a cigar
and strolled through the grounds. As he passed the entrance to the
wooded path, he looked down, wishing, foolishly, as he acknowledged to
himself, that he might see Vivienne there, looking as beautiful as she
did on that eventful morning. He thought to himself how delightful her
company would be if they could walk through the garden which was bathed
in the soft rays of the moon.
He had no idea how late it was when he heard, as Bertha had done during
her first night in Corsica, the singing of a band of drunken revellers
on their way homeward. He stepped into the wooded path, being thus
effectually concealed from view. The party stopped at the Batistelli
gateway and effusive good-nights and good-byes were uttered by the
members of the company, who, judging from their manner of speech, were
in varying stages of intoxication.
The singers proceeded on their way, but one solitary figure, after
fumbling for some time at the gate, succeeded in opening it and
staggered along the pathway which led to the servants’ quarters. Then a
replica of the scene which had been viewed by Bertha was presented to
Victor’s astonished gaze.
Vivienne, who had evidently been waiting for the return home of her
wayward brother, came out to meet him, but, as on the previous occasion,
he repulsed her offer of assistance, and, in return for her sisterly
tenderness, cursed her, and pushed her from him.
Victor was so angry that he was on the point of rushing forward and
hurling the sot to the ground, when he reflected that the affair was no
concern of his and that he had no right to interfere. Julien’s blow,
although it staggered Vivienne, did not cause her to fall, and he reeled
forward, his sister following him at a respectful distance. A few
minutes later, the door closed after them. Victor went to his room
wondering how young men could so debase themselves with drink and, above
all, how they could act with such inhumanity towards their sisters,
whose interest in them sprang not from self-interest but from love.
The next day after this affair, Julien was present at dinner, but did
not seem like his former self. Miss Enright’s bright sallies were
unheeded by him, so she gave up such an unprofitable game and turned her
attention to Victor, but he made only lame replies. Julien’s condition
had a depressing effect, and all were glad when the meal was over.
Victor again lighted his cigar and found his way to the garden. There
was no moon; instead, the sky was overcast and there were evidences of
an approaching storm. Unconsciously, he entered the wooded path and
walked slowly down towards the brook where he had first seen Vivienne.
Would that beautiful picture ever fade from his memory? He thought not.
Every day that he remained in the same house with her, it came before
him and, each day, it seemed painted in stronger colors.
He retraced his steps and, when near the entrance of the path, saw the
gleam of a lantern, its rays disclosing the fate of Julien Batistelli,
who opened the gate, crossed the road, and then took a direction which
led to the thickly wooded _maquis_ beyond. Victor was on the point of
leaving his place of retreat, when another figure came in sight. It was
that of a woman and, although he could not see her features distinctly,
he knew at once that it was Vivienne. She, too, opened the gate, crossed
the road, and proceeded in the same direction as had her brother.
What could be her errand? There was but one explanation--she was
following her brother with the intention of trying to induce him to
return home. Remembering the occurrence of the previous evening, Victor
was filled with fears for her safety. What if her brother should give
her a violent blow, leave her senseless in the woods, and a heavy storm
should come up?
Victor made his way quickly to his room, caught up his gun, examined it
to see if it was loaded and primed, threw a long weather-proof cloak
over his shoulders, concealing the gun beneath it, and was soon treading
the same path over which Julien and his sister had passed.
Although Madame Valliet’s _cabaret_ could be reached by following the
road, it was much nearer if the intending visitor made a short cut
through the _marquis_. Even then, it was a rough, hard walk of at least
two miles. Julien had covered about one-half of the distance when he
came to an open space upon one side of which there were some rocky
cliffs. The place had been named the “half-way house” by the revellers,
who often stopped to rest on their way homeward at night.
Julien put down his lantern and, taking a bottle from his pocket,
indulged in a long drink. He was not satisfied with the quality of wine
which he drank at the _cabaret_, but brought a bottle of _eau de vie_
home with him so that he could satisfy his appetite during the day. Then
he sat down upon a projecting rock to rest for a while before proceeding
on his way.
Suddenly, he felt a light touch upon his shoulder, and he looked up into
the face of his sister. Starting to his feet, he exclaimed angrily:
“What! You follow me? You set yourself to spy out my actions? You dog my
footsteps?”
“Oh, Julien!” cried Vivienne; “do not be angry with me. I knew that you
were going to Madame Valliet’s, and so I followed you. You were not
yourself at dinner, and every one noticed it. Oh, Julien, do not shame
me in the presence of our guests. Come home with me and promise to keep
away from the _cabaret_ until they have gone.”
“Go home, Vivienne! It’s none of your business where I go.”
“I will not leave you in this lonely place. You must come home with me,
Julien. There is going to be a storm and you will not be able to find
your way home.”
“Oh, nonsense!” cried Julien. “I have my lantern, and some of the boys
will come home with me. They always do.”
“But remember our guests. When they have gone, although I shall have no
peace of mind when you are away from home on such errands, I will say no
more. Come home, Julien!”
“I say I will not!” Then, a little of the man showed itself in him.
“But you are a good girl, Vivienne, to brave the darkness and the
danger to follow a miserable fellow like me. I sat down here to think.”
“To think of what? Oh, tell me,” cried Vivienne.
“Of my disgrace, for one thing. I am in debt, as usual, and this very
day Pascal called me a profligate, gambler, and drunkard, and refused to
give me any more money. Damn him!”
“Oh, Julien! You know that Pascal has paid your debts again and again
until he is discouraged. You make promises and break them. Is it strange
that he has become incensed and has lost confidence in you? You persist
in going to that woman’s house, a vile place, a resort for gamblers.”
“Stop that nonsense! I will go where I like. Who made you and my brother
rulers over me? He is a hard, cold, cruel, selfish beast, and you know
it! I don’t blame you, sister. You have always been kind to me, but you
think I can live upon my income. Bah! I want money! I must have it! I
will have it! The only way I can get it is by gambling, for I am always
lucky. You are a fool--clear out, I want to be alone.”
“But your luck will turn some day,” said his sister.
“I hope it won’t to-night. I’ll drink to my own success.”
“No, no! Oh, Julien! you are not yourself. Give me that bottle, I beg of
you.”
As she said this, she tried to take the bottle from him. He kept her
back with one hand, while, with the other, he put the bottle to his
mouth. Vivienne sprang forward, snatched the bottle from his grasp, and
threw it against the cliff.
“Pascal was right!” she cried, vehemently. “You are a profligate and a
drunkard. You are here alone in this dangerous wood, and you brutalise
yourself to the point of imbecility, rendering yourself wholly incapable
of defending your sister and yourself in case we are attacked by
bandits.”
Julien stood as if stupefied. His condition was due largely to the
quantity of brandy which he had drunk, for there was but little in the
bottle when his sister took it from him; but, despite his besotted
condition, he was really astounded at his sister’s words, for she had
never spoken in that way to him before. As Julien did not reply,
Vivienne thought she had influenced him at last, and she followed up her
presumed advantage:
“Oh, Julien, my best beloved brother, come, come home with me!” As she
said this, she took his arm. “I cannot leave you here alone. Hear the
thunder! See, it lightens! I will sell some of my jewels, as I have many
times before. You shall have money. Oh, come! The rain will soon be upon
us.”
Julien did not answer this impassioned appeal, but withdrew his arm from
her loving clasp, took up his lantern, and started off in the direction
which led to the _cabaret_. Vivienne lost command of herself. Never
before had he so stubbornly resisted her loving entreaties. She would
sting him into speech!
“Stop, Julien!” she cried. “I have one word more to say to you.”
He looked back.
“Julien Batistelli,” cried Vivienne, “hear the last word that I have to
say to you. _Rimbecco! Rimbecco!_”
Julien put down his lantern and rushed angrily towards her.
“I hurl the base lie back in your teeth!” he cried. “Dear God, that I
should live to see this hour! The red stain of _Rimbecco_ stamped upon
the brow of a brave son of a noble father. You dare not repeat that
word!”
Vivienne looked at him with flashing eyes: “I am a daughter of the noble
father whose name you have dishonoured. _Rimbecco!_ Do you hear? I have
repeated it! Every man, woman, and child in Corsica repeats it, and
you, a strong man, the son of your father, are wasting your precious
time in drinking and gambling--time that should be spent in seeking out
the man in whose veins runs the vile blood of the ruthless Della Coscia.
_Rimbecco!_”
Hardly had that word of deepest reproach which can be uttered to a
Corsican fallen from her lips, when her brother, exerting all his brute
force, felled her to the ground.
“You are no longer a sister of mine!” he cried. “You have insulted me
past forgiveness.”
He turned and dashed into the dark woods beyond, forgetful of the
lantern, the rays of which shone upon the pallid face of the prostrate
girl. Vivienne was in an unconscious state. The blow had been a cruel
one, before which even a strong man would have gone down.
* * * * *
An old hag, bearing a bundle of fagots upon her back, was plodding
slowly homeward. She stopped when she caught sight of the lantern and,
looking about her, saw the inanimate form of a woman upon the ground,
not far distant.
“A lantern!” the old woman muttered. “She must have brought it, but I
did not see it when she passed my house. I did not see it when she went
by in the woods, but I can see now the flash of diamonds upon her
fingers, on her neck, and in her ears. A quarrel with her lover, most
likely! More fool she to care for one who could leave her like this!
Lucky for me, though!”
She knelt beside Vivienne, and the jewels were soon in her possession.
“These are nice French boots, just the right size for my little girl,
and this beautiful dress will bring me a fine sum. Why should she
possess all that riches can bestow and I go about clothed in rags? It is
my right to take all that I can get. I, a bandit’s mistress--she, some
rich man’s daughter; but her head must lie as low as mine some day. That
is one comfort.”
She proceeded deliberately to make as small a bundle as possible of the
clothing and other articles of which she had despoiled the unconscious
girl, and, having done so, put it under her arm and disappeared among
the trees.
Hardly had she done so, when Victor, walking rapidly, carrying his gun
upon his shoulder, reached the place. He espied the lantern and, running
forward, caught it up.
“Where can they be?” he cried. “What has happened to them?”
He held the lantern up and peered about him. It almost fell from his
grasp at the sight which met his gaze. In an instant, he was kneeling
beside Vivienne, holding the lantern so that the light would shine full
in her face. Her eyes were closed; her form motionless. He took one of
her hands, which felt cold and dropped lifeless from his grasp.
“My God, can she be dead?” He started to his feet and looked about him.
“Who has done this?” he cried.
His voice must have been heard by Vivienne, for she showed signs of
returning consciousness. Victor again knelt beside her. She opened her
eyes and looked up at him. He put his arm about her and raised her to a
sitting posture.
“What has happened?” he asked. “How came you to be in this plight?”
Vivienne for the first time recognised her condition. She would say
nothing against her brother, so she answered:
“I must have been attacked and robbed of my clothing.” Then the
contemplation of her situation overcame her, temporarily, and, abashed
and ashamed, she burst into tears, crying piteously:
“What shall I do? How shall I get home?”
Victor removed the long cloak which he wore and passed it to her. Then,
turning his face away, he said:
“Throw that about you--it will protect you. Fear nothing, for a true
friend awaits your commands.”
Vivienne did as he suggested, wrapping about her the great cloak, which
reached nearly to her feet.
“Monsieur!”
Victor turned quickly. Vivienne stood before him. Stepping back, he
regarded her.
“Why!” he cried, “the scoundrels have taken your boots, too.” Removing
his under coat, he threw it upon the ground before her, saying as he did
so:
“Mademoiselle, stand upon that. The ground is damp and you will get a
fever.”
“Monsieur,” Vivienne repeated, “some good angel has guided your
footsteps to this place. Merciful God, I thank Thee. Never have I felt
the need of human sympathy as I do to-night. But for you, I must have
died in this dreary place, alone and uncared for.”
The excitement attending her interview with her brother, the blow which
she had received, and the discovery of the loss of her jewels and
clothing, together formed the severest trial to which this delicate and
tenderly nurtured girl had ever been subjected. As she stood there, it
all came back to her, and the dreadful scene was acted over again in her
mind. The nervous tension was too great, and she fell in a dead swoon at
the feet of her rescuer.
“She has fainted and I am powerless to help her. She may die here before
I can get assistance.” He raised her in his arms and looked tenderly at
the cold, pallid face:
“Beloved of my soul, I may speak now that my voice cannot reach thee. I
may gaze into thy beauteous face and press thy form close to my
throbbing heart. Oh, Vivienne! Can hate dwell in a soul encased in a
form like thine--a form upon which heaven has stamped its signet seals
of beauty and love? No, no! It is impossible--and yet, I know that if my
true name were but breathed into thy ears, those lovely eyes which, but
a moment ago, were gazing into mine with such holy trust, such infinite
tenderness, would be filled with horror and dismay. I am forever
proscribed from creating any sentiment in thy heart save that of
intensest hatred and loathing. Cruel fate--ruthless destiny! Why am I to
suffer thus--to see her--to adore her--only to lose her?
“Vivienne, dearest object of my heart, would that I could pass thus,
with my arms about thee, into that better world, where strife and hate,
vendettas and revenge, murder and death, are things unknown. There, in
the blessed company of the angels, I might teach thy pure soul to love
mine and, with thee, enjoy an eternity of blissful rest.”
Vivienne’s lips parted and a faint touch of colour came to her cheeks.
Victor removed his cap and fanned her, vigorously. The cool, fresh air
soon revived her. As soon as she realised her position, she endeavoured
to free herself from his arms and rise to her feet, but she was too weak
and would have fallen again if he had not prevented it. Again, she tried
to free herself from him.
“I am weak and helpless,” she cried. “How dare you!”.
Again she strove to sustain herself without his support, but it was a
futile effort.
“The Holy Mother of God,” cried Victor, “will bear testimony to my
sincerity when I swear to you that you have been as safe in my arms as
in those of a mother. Sacred to me is, and ever has been, the protection
of female purity and innocence. With a brother’s care you must allow me
to guard your precious life until I can restore you, unharmed, into the
keeping of those whose blessed right it is to love and protect you.”
“I was bewildered--I knew not what I said. Forgive me,” she pleaded.
“An angel like yourself, mademoiselle, needs not to be forgiven by a
sinful mortal like me. Only tell me how I can best serve you.”
The storm which had long been in gathering, now burst upon them. The
rocky cliffs protected them in some degree from the violence of the
wind, but from the rain there was no escape.
“It is your right,” said Vivienne, “to know by what strange chance I was
brought to this pass.”
“Do not try to tell me now,” cried Victor. “I desire to hear nothing--I
will hear nothing until I see you in a place of safety. Your feet are
exposed to the wet ground, and even that thick cloak will soon be
drenched with rain. Shall you be afraid to remain here alone until I can
go back to the house for dry clothing?”
“I shall not be afraid to remain alone,” said Vivienne, “but if others
should come, I might be afraid of them.” As she said this, she smiled
faintly. “But you do not think of yourself. The coat which you gave me
to stand upon must be wet through by this time.”
“Oh, that is nothing,” said Victor, as he picked up the garment and put
it on. “It can hold only so much water, and it will be in no worse
condition by the time I reach your home.”
“You are more than kind to me, monsieur. You are merciless to
yourself--you expose your life to save mine--you cover me with your
garments while you are suffering. You, who are not used to this climate,
can hardly expect to escape the effects of exposure to the damp and
chill of such a storm. Ah! Never while memory lasts will the events of
this night and your kindness be forgotten. Receive my soul’s deep
gratitude. If ever I become so ungrateful as to forget your merciful
deeds this night, may Heaven punish me!”
She grasped both his hands, and would have fallen upon her knees before
him if he had not prevented her.
“That vow is recorded in Heaven, and approved of saints. It was
prompted, not by the poor service which I have been so happy in
rendering, but by the transcendent impulse of a true, womanly heart. Say
it once more--you will never forget me.”
“I will never forget thee!”
“Now I may pour out my soul to thee, angel of goodness!” cried Victor.
“I may tell thee how dearly I--but, no--we have not yet passed Heaven’s
portals--but it seemed for a moment that earth was receding and Paradise
opening to my view. Pardon me, mademoiselle, but I begin to think that
my brain has been affected by the events of the hour. We have no time to
lose. The longer we remain here, the more uncomfortable will our
situation become.” He looked up at the rocky cliffs. “Ah! I see a wide
cleft in the rocks. Perhaps it is large enough to shield you until my
return. I will go and explore it.”
“I will go with you,” cried Vivienne.
He grasped his gun and led the way, she following. When Victor emerged
from the cave, he said:
“How true it is that we often find bright spots when the way seems
darkest.”
“And you find one there?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Victor, joyously. “This little cave is carpeted with the
softest of green moss. How obliging Mother Nature is to her offspring.
Now, give me your hand and I will place you in your eyrie.”
When she was seated in the cave, Victor stood at the entrance, bowed
low, and said:
“I present my homage to the Queen of the Mountains. I am going to leave
my gun with you. If you should be in danger, can you use it?”
“All Corsican women understand the use of firearms. You are a sailor
and, perhaps, a better marksman than I, but I doubt it. I always win the
prize in shooting with my brothers.”
“May Heaven preserve you until we meet again,” were Victor’s last words,
and, a moment later, he was running at full speed towards Batistelli
Castle.
As he plunged through the forest, occasionally catching his feet in the
underbrush and nearly falling headlong, he congratulated himself upon
having repressed an avowal of his love for Vivienne until a more
opportune moment arrived. He would not have ventured to breathe his love
for her, as she lay senseless in his arms, had it not been for an
incident which had occurred the day previous. In company with Vivienne,
he had walked down the wooded path until they came to the brook beside
which she had knelt when she gave him the flower. As they stood there,
the scene brought back to him the remembrance of his meeting with Count
Mont d’Oro and he, unthinkingly, asked:
“Have you heard from Count Mont d’Oro, to-day, Mademoiselle Batistelli?”
“No. Why should I?” and she fixed her piercing black eyes upon him.
“Oh--I,” he began--“I heard something soon after my arrival which made
me think that you would be greatly interested in his condition.”
“What did you hear? Please tell me.”
Victor hesitated. Finally, he said: “Mademoiselle Batistelli, I am a
British sailor. Perhaps you have heard that British sailors, as a class,
are noted for their frankness and honesty. I will try to be worthy of
their well-earned reputation.”
He then told her what had happened after she gave him the white rose,
and how Count Mont d’Oro had declared that she was to be the future
Countess Mont d’Oro, being already betrothed to him--but he did not
refer to the duel.
“That betrothal,” cried Vivienne, “was the foolish fancy of an old man
who loved my father and who thought his son should love the daughter of
the man whom he loved. On the other hand, my ambitious brother, Pascal,
desires to join the two great landed estates and, at the same time, have
his sister become a countess. But none of the four ever consulted my
wish or will in the matter and, so far as I am concerned, I do not
regard anything that has been said or done as at all binding upon me.”
A strange thrill of delight had gone through Victor’s nerves when he had
heard this declaration, and he experienced it again as he threaded his
way along the forest path. What he was doing was for Vivienne’s
sake--and she was free! If he could win her, there was no reason why she
should not be his.
Pascal Batistelli was not at home when Victor arrived, and he was glad
that he was not obliged to explain matters to Vivienne’s brother. He
found Snodine, the housekeeper, who speedily collected the articles of
clothing that were needed, and he was soon on his way back to the cave
in the cliff.
“I should not envy Count Mont d’Oro his feelings if he ever learns what
has taken place on this eventful night,” was Victor’s mental reflection
as he retraced his steps.
* * * * *
The Count was not to be envied. The doctor had told him that he would be
confined to the house for at least three weeks, and it would be three
more before he would be able to walk with his accustomed ease. One day,
when Pascal Batistelli was speaking about his English guests, the Count
asked, carelessly, as if their presence were of no particular interest
to him:
“Who are they, Batistelli?”
“Admiral Enright, of the British navy, his daughter Helen, who is a very
finely educated woman--and there her attractions end--and a young
lieutenant named Victor Duquesne, who may or may not be in love with the
highly educated daughter.”
The Count said nothing, but there was an expression upon his face which
Pascal wrongly attributed to a sudden twinge of pain. It was a spasm of
jealousy. So, his rival was a guest of the Batistellis and able to see
Vivienne every day, while he was flat upon his back and could not
interfere. He could do nothing himself--but something must be done. He
sent for his friend Villefort, and gave him a large roll of gold coin
and told him what to do.
In Villefort he had a willing slave, for the latter derived his living
principally from Count Napier’s bounty, but got nothing for which he had
not rendered some service.
* * * * *
Shortly after Victor’s departure the storm abated. Vivienne was very
thankful for this, for she was really solicitous regarding his exposure
to the elements. She knew that he was drenched to the skin and feared
that this fact and the long walk to and from her home might throw him
into a fever, for the river valleys in Corsica were, in those days, full
of malarial poison. She was thinking of Victor, hoping that he would
return soon, when she heard voices. She drew back as far as possible
into the cave, but listened intently in order to hear every word that
might be said.
Two men who, in appearance, resembled those belonging to Cromillian’s
band, but who, in reality, were not connected with it, approached from
the same direction in which Victor had gone. As they came within
hearing, Vivienne heard one of them say:
“Who in the devil left that lantern here?”
“Are you sure you saw the fellow?” the other asked.
“Yes, I am quite sure. He had a gun over his shoulder, but I saw no
lantern. He wore a big cloak, however, and that may have concealed it
from view.”
“They are speaking of the Lieutenant,” thought Vivienne, and she clasped
her hands in mute terror.
“Shall we leave the lantern where it is?” asked the second man.
“Of course,” was the reply; “if we move it, he will suspect that
something is wrong.”
“Don’t you think we had better hide behind those trees?”
“No,” said the first speaker; “we have come here to meet him, and he
might as well meet us. He is somewhere about here. The lantern being
here proves that, and we shall be sure of our chance sooner or later.”
“What are we expected to do with this fellow, anyway?” asked the second
speaker.
“Why, when we get him,” said the other, “to carry out our agreement, we
must get into a quarrel with him and dispose of him--that’s all.”
The shaft went home to Vivienne’s heart. “They have come here to murder
my friend in need,” she said to herself. She sank upon her knees and
raised her clasped hands. “Great God in Heaven, save him!” was her
unspoken prayer. Could she do anything to avert the danger which
threatened him? It was her duty, surely, to watch and listen.
“What’s all the trouble about?” asked the second man.
“What usually causes trouble--a love affair.”
“And the woman?”
“That Batistelli girl--Vivienne, I believe her name is. This young
Englishman met her one day and she, fool-like, gave him a flower. The
Count saw her do it, and asked the fellow to give it up. He refused and
they had it out with their fists, the Count getting the worst of it.”
“Why didn’t he use his stiletto?”
“He tried to, but the Englishman took it from him with one hand and
knocked him down with the other.”
“How do you happen to know so much?”
“Villefort told me all about it. The Count sent him with a challenge to
the Englishman, who accepted it, and they fought it out with axes in the
dark. The duel took place in an old shed, at midnight. Queer dogs, those
Englishmen!”
“How did it end?”
“Neither one got cut. The Count fell through a hole in the floor and
sprained his ankle. The Count’s coachman got drunk and let out the whole
story at the _cabaret_.”
“Why doesn’t the Count drop it, if he has had satisfaction?”
“But he isn’t satisfied. He told Villefort that he accepted the
Englishman’s terms to please him; now, he is going to do something to
please himself. The Count, naturally, would have waited until he was
able to get out again, but it so happened that the Admiral and his
daughter brought the young Englishman along with them to pay a visit to
the Batistellis.”
“That was too much for the Count,” cried the second man, and he broke
into a loud laugh.
“Shut up, you idiot!” said his companion. “Of course, the Count couldn’t
stand it, knowing that this young fellow was in the same house with the
girl and nothing to do but make love to her. So he sent for Villefort,
told him what he wanted done and gave him a big roll of louis d’or.
Villefort, who is a bright man, decided that we were the fellows to do
the job up in true Corsican fashion. We have got our money in advance,
and all we have to do is to settle the Englishman as soon as we meet
him.”
Vivienne felt as though every drop of blood in her veins was turned to
ice, while her head seemed ready to burst with the intense heat. She saw
it all now--Count Mont d’Oro had hired these two bandits to pick a
quarrel with Lieutenant Duquesne and kill him. How could she warn him?
He had saved her life, for she surely would have died if she had
remained all night exposed to the storm. The account should be balanced.
It must stand, a life for a life. But how?
Vivienne was on the point of leaving her retreat and flying to warn
Victor, but it was too late, for, as she stepped out upon the ledge, she
heard his voice calling:
“Mademoiselle, are you there?”
“He has come!” cried one of the men. “I think your idea of getting out
of sight for a while is a good one.”
Suiting the action to the word, they hid themselves behind two of the
largest trees.
Victor, with a bundle of clothing under his arm, made his way at once to
the lantern, it being his idea to take it to the cave so that Vivienne
could see what articles of clothing he had brought for her use, and it
would also light them on their way home.
Vivienne called: “Victor! Victor!” softly, for she was afraid if the
bandits knew they were discovered that she, too, would be killed, in
which case Count Mont d’Oro and his hired assassins would escape the
hand of justice. She would have given her own life to save Victor’s,
but, if that sacrifice was impossible, she determined to avenge his
death.
As Victor stooped to pick up the lantern, a gruff voice said:
“Put that down! What are you going to do with my lantern?”
Victor looked up and saw two rough-looking fellows standing before him.
“I think you have made a mistake,” he said. “I happen to know that this
lantern is the property of Monsieur Julien Batistelli. That is not your
name, I am sure.”
“Say, Jean,” said one of the men to his companion, “you heard him say
this isn’t my lantern?”
“Of course it is,” growled the other. “I have seen you with it a dozen
times. Make him give it up.”
“It will take more than two such fellows as you are to make me give it
up,” said Victor, defiantly.
The men drew their stilettos, the bright blades of the weapons flashing
in the lantern-light.
Victor stepped back, suddenly realising that he was unarmed. He dropped
the bundle of clothing and held up the lantern, which was his only means
of defence, so that the light fell full upon the faces of his
assailants, enabling him to see every motion made by them.
To Vivienne, the situation seemed tragical. She could stand the suspense
no longer. Summoning all her strength, she raised to her shoulder the
gun which Victor had given her, aimed it at the men, and discharged both
barrels simultaneously. By a fortunate chance, her aim had been good.
Standing so far above those at whom she fired, the effect of the shots
was peculiar. One man received a bullet in his cheek which removed half
a dozen of his teeth and a portion of his jawbone, passing out through
his other cheek. The second man was less fortunate, for the bullet
entered his throat, cutting a large artery and causing him to bleed
profusely.
Victor realised that it was no time to attempt to learn the extent of
his enemies’ injuries. He rushed to the foot of the cliff, crying:
“Come, Vivienne!”
She passed the gun down to him, and then stood irresolute.
“Jump!” he cried.
She instantly threw herself from the cliff, some ten feet above him,
and was caught in his powerful arms. He had braced himself for the shock
and, although he was forced backwards, he did not fall, nor did he
loosen his hold upon her until he had placed her safely upon the ground.
He looked backward and found that his assailants had taken to the woods,
probably fearing that the gun would be reloaded and used to their
further detriment. He passed the gun to Vivienne, considering it the
easiest article for her to carry, encumbered as she was by the great
cloak. He then returned to where he had left the bundle of clothing and
the lantern and regained possession of them.
When he rejoined Vivienne, he said: “I dare not stop to have you put on
your dry clothing here. I do not know how badly those fellows are
injured, and they may follow us. We will go a short distance and look
for some place where we can secrete ourselves. I will then reload the
gun and you can put on your boots, which you need more than anything
else. The storm has ceased and perhaps you can reach home without
stopping to change your clothing.”
There was little danger of their being overtaken. One of the assassins
was likely to die from loss of blood, while the other was suffering so
acutely on account of his broken jaw that he could be of little service
to his companion.
The travellers reached home without experiencing any other thrilling
adventures. Fortunately, Pascal had not yet returned. Vivienne made her
way at once to the housekeeper’s room, where she put on the dry clothing
which had been sent to her. Snodine was full of curiosity, which
Vivienne satisfied by telling her as little as possible. The next day,
she repeated to Victor enough of what his assailants had said to prove
to him that, in his list of enemies, he must include, not only the
Batistelli brothers and their adherents, but also Count Mont d’Oro and
his hired minions.