TO THE RESCUE!
The next morning Dr. Procida came to see Vivienne. On her bended knees
she implored him to let her go home. She told him that Vandemar was in
the dungeon chamber, and that he would die unless she opened the door.
She felt in her bosom for the paper and, finding it was gone, burst into
hysterical exclamations. The doctor, who was a friend of Pascal, said:
“My poor young lady, you are labouring under an hallucination. You must
take a sedative, or you will break down entirely.” He placed a bottle
upon the table, saying: “I will send the nurse to administer it.”
No sooner had he left the room than Vivienne threw the bottle upon the
stone floor. “It is a drug,” she cried, “and I will not take it.”
Dr. Procida told Madeline Villefort, his head nurse, to give the
medicine to Vivienne. “I am going away for the day,” he continued, “as I
have to see a patient in Ajaccio. I shall not be back until late this
afternoon.”
The nurse went to Vivienne’s room. The young girl was strangely calm.
“The doctor has been called away for the day,” said Madeline, “and left
you in my charge. Where is the medicine?”
Vivienne pointed to the floor.
“You are a rash girl,” said the nurse. “When I tell the doctor what you
have done, he will put you in a strait-jacket or tie you to your bed.”
Vivienne did not notice the woman’s words; in fact, she appeared
unconscious of her presence, and seemed lost in thought. Finally, she
said in an undertone:
“What a terrible thing is the vendetta!”
“Terrible,” cried Madeline, who had overheard her, “I think it is
glorious.” She drew a stiletto from the bosom of her dress. “Do you see
that? I mean it for the woman who stole my husband. Villefort was a
fool--I can forgive that--most men are. But she hated me and I hate her.
I will kill her if we ever meet.”
Vivienne appeared interested. The woman held up the stiletto, looking at
the glistening blade and sharp point. Vivienne arose from her chair,
walked slowly to the barred window, and looked out. The nurse was too
busy with thoughts of prospective vengeance to notice her movements.
Vivienne retraced her steps, noiselessly, until she stood behind the
chair where Madeline sat. Reaching over suddenly, she grasped the hilt
of the stiletto and, with the strength of desperation, tore it from the
woman’s hand.
“Do not move!” cried Vivienne. “I am going to leave this room and this
house.” Madeline attempted to rise from her chair. “If you move, I will
kill you,” cried Vivienne. “His life is everything to me--yours is as
nothing.”
The nurse had left the door ajar. With a bound, Vivienne reached it,
threw it open, and closed it quickly behind her. Then she remembered
that the bolt was on the outside, and she pushed it into place. She
heard Madeline’s cries as she ran down the corridor, and sent back a
mocking laugh in response. She saw a side door opening into the
garden--perhaps the front door was guarded--she would run no risks.
Keeping her hand upon the hilt of the stiletto, she made her way through
the garden, for she saw the _maquis_ beyond. If she could reach that,
she might rest until able to go on.
In the heart of the forest she sank down, exhausted; but the young
recuperate quickly, and she was soon up and again on her way, towards
Ajaccio she hoped. She had never studied astronomy, but from the
position of the sun she reasoned that she must go in a certain
direction, and events proved that her intuition was correct. She soon
came to a narrow cross-road, which she followed, and in a short time
found herself on what she thought must be the main street of Salvanetra.
Vivienne would have turned back from the travelled thoroughfare and
tried to make her way through the paths in the _maquis_, but for two
reasons: She was afraid she might be captured by a party of bandits who,
knowing that her brother was wealthy, would hold her for a large ransom;
again, she was faint and almost exhausted, for she had refused to eat
anything while in Dr. Procida’s asylum. She stood irresolute for a
while; then soliloquised:
“I must gain strength so that I may get back in time to save Vandemar;
and to gain strength I must have food.”
She walked on, scanning carefully each house that she passed, yet
undecided as to which she should apply for assistance. Espying in the
road a small branch of a tree, which had probably been used by some
carter as a whip, she picked it up, and using it as a staff, got on her
way much faster.
She saw that she was nearing a line of houses and felt that she must put
pride away and make her appeal. She tapped lightly upon a door with her
staff. It was opened by a woman, whose face had a sharp, shrewish
expression. Vivienne’s first impulse was to turn away, but summoning all
her strength and courage, she said:
“Will you be so kind, madame, as to give me a piece of bread? I am so
tired and faint, for I have eaten nothing since yesterday.”
“Who are you?”
“Oh, do not ask me my name. I am not a beggar. Believe me, I am not what
I seem. Only give me a crust and I will go.”
“Honest people are not afraid to tell their names,” said the woman, and
her voice was harsh and repellent.
“It is because I am honest that I do not tell you my name. I might give
you one easily, but it would not be my own.”
“Then go away!” cried the woman. “No doubt you have been turned away
from some farmhouse for drunkenness, theft, or something of that sort.
Be off with you!” and she slammed the door.
Vivienne had on the simplest and coarsest dress that belonged to her.
Her brother Pascal had thoughtfully sent some of her clothing in the
carriage, and although he had not made the selections his sister would
have wished, yet he could not have done better, for Vivienne had
determined, from the first, to escape from the asylum, and the
unpretending costume which she wore served her purpose much better than
the one in which she had looked so beautiful at her birthday party would
have done.
Vivienne turned away from the door sick at heart. “Oh, Pascal, I could
wish you no greater punishment for your sin against your wretched sister
than for you to have heard those terrible words.”
Her head was aching and she pressed both hands upon her forehead:
“No, I must not sink down here in the street; they would shut me up in
the jail. I will--I must obtain food. Even a morsel would give me
strength to reach him. Why should I die with the cool fresh air about
me, and the sun giving me light, while he is shrouded in darkness and
dying from hunger and thirst in a living tomb? Oh, Vandemar, Vandemar, I
will not die! There is a kind soul in this house, for I hear the
laughter of children. A mother’s heart is always open to pity.”
A man servant appeared at the door. “What is your business here, my good
woman?”
“Oh, sir, I am very hungry. Give me some food and Heaven will bless
you!”
“My mistress is sick,” said the man, “but I will send the housekeeper to
you.”
“Thank you; you are very kind.” Vivienne leaned against the door-post.
“I--I cannot stand; my strength is deserting me.” As she sank on the
doorstep, a woman appeared.
“Well, what is wanted?” was her query. “Begging, I suppose.”
“I wish only for a piece of bread, madame. You will surely not refuse
me. I have walked so far and I am faint and tired--oh, so very tired. I
pray that you will give me something, even the poorest crust from your
table.”
“I understand it all--you have escaped from the asylum. Where are you
going?”
“To my home at Ajaccio,” Vivienne answered. “Oh, madame, do not question
me, but give me food. I--I feel strangely--I am----”
“She is fainting,” said the man; “I will bring her a glass of water.”
The woman looked at Vivienne closely and said:
“Your pretty face ought to win you bread, if not jewels. You are a fool
to go begging, with such beauty as yours. If I had your face and form I
would ride in my carriage. There would be no more house drudgery for
me.”
Vivienne drank the water, which was cool and refreshing. A little girl,
who had been regarding her from the opposite side of the road, came
running across and said:
“Come with me, poor woman. My mamma is away, but cook will give you
something to eat. She is good to everybody, and so is my mamma. Come!”
“Bless you, sweet child!” said Vivienne, rising.
The woman resented the child’s interference: “You are a forward little
minx! As though I would refuse her food! Come in, and I will give you
all you want.”
Vivienne looked at the woman, her great black eyes full of the loathing
she felt.
“After what you have said? No, madame, food from your hands would choke
me.”
Vivienne turned away, took the little girl’s hand, and they walked
slowly towards the pretty little cottage to which the child pointed,
saying over and over again: “That’s where mamma lives.”
Vivienne had no sooner reached the house where she had been promised
food and rest than her head swam, she lost consciousness, and fell
helpless upon the floor. When she revived she heard the sound of voices.
She opened her eyes and saw that she was in a darkened room. An old
gentleman sat beside her, while a lady, with a kind, motherly look upon
her face, stood at the foot of the bed regarding her.
“You are better, my dear. The doctor, here, said that if you awoke in
your right mind all would be well. You are better, are you not?”
Vivienne could not resist answering a question put so pleasantly.
“I am feeling quite well, madame,” she replied. Then in an instant all
came back to her. She raised herself in bed and cried:
“Where am I? Have I been sick? For God’s sake, dear lady, tell me how
long I have been here.”
“My little daughter brought you here three days ago,” was the answer.
“Three days! Three days!!” moaned Vivienne. “It is too late now. He is
dead--dead!”
“But you are living,” said the doctor. “Who is dead? I do not understand
you.”
“Oh,” cried Vivienne, “I must tell you all, for I know that I can trust
you. If I do not, you will not know what I mean. I am Vivienne
Batistelli, of Alfieri.”
“I thought so,” said the lady in an undertone.
“You know of the vendetta between the Batistellis and the Della
Coscias?”
The doctor nodded.
“Vandemar Della Coscia came back to Corsica. His identity was discovered
by my brother Pascal. Vandemar has been in the dungeon chamber for five
days without food or drink. I am the only one who can open the dungeon
door and release him. I must go to him at once. Help me! Help me!! He
must not die!”
“What can we do, Doctor?” asked the lady.
“My horse and carriage are at the door. My dear young lady, get ready at
once, and I will take you to Alfieri.”
When Vivienne reached the castle, she at once sought Clarine, who was
overjoyed at seeing her again.
“Where have you been?” she asked, excitedly.
“I cannot stop to tell you now,” said Vivienne. “Where is my brother
Pascal?”
“That I do not know,” was the reply. “He has gone away.”
“Oh, Clarine,” said Vivienne, “I must open the door of the dungeon
chamber, but I have lost the paper that you gave me. Have you found it?”
“Why, no,” said Clarine, “but I surmise, from what he has let drop, that
Manassa knows something about it.”
“Where can I find him?” asked Vivienne.
“I do not know,” said Clarine, “but if he has it he will not give it to
you. He says you are no longer a Batistelli--that you love a Della
Coscia and have disgraced your name.”
“Oh, Clarine, I shall pray to God to give me back my memory, so that I
may open that door and save his life----” and she ran from the room.