THE BARRIER
After the wedding, what a home-coming! Dangeau had led his pale bride
through the cheering, applauding crowd, which followed them to their
very door, and on the threshold horror met them--for the floor was
dabbled with blood. Therese's corpse lay yet in the house, and a
voluble neighbour told how Rosalie had murdered her cousin, and had been
taken, raving, to the cells of the Salpetriere. The crowd was all agog
for details, and, taking advantage of the diversion, Dangeau cleared a
path for himself and Aline. He took her to her old room and closed the
door. The silence fell strangely.
"My dearest, you are safe. Thank God you are safe," he said in broken
tones.
She looked straight before her with an expression deeper than that which
is usually called unconscious, her eyes wide and piteous, like those of
a child too badly frightened to cry out. He took her cold hands and
held them to his breast, chafing them gently, trying to revive their
warmth, and she let him do it, still with that far-away, unreal look.
"My dear, I must go," he said after a moment. "For both our sakes I
must see Danton at once, before any garbled tale reaches his ear. I
will see that there is some one in the house. Louison Michel would come
I think. There is my report to make, letters of the first importance to
be delivered; a good deal of work before me, in fact. But you will not
be afraid now? You are safer than any woman in Paris to-day. You will
not be nervous?"
She shook her head slightly, and drew one hand away in order to push the
hair from her forehead. The gesture was a very weary one, and Dangeau
would have given the world to catch her in his arms.
"So tired, my heart," he said in a low voice; and as a little quiver
took her, he continued quickly: "I will find Louison; she came here with
us, and is sure not to be far away. She will look after you, and bring
you food, and then you should sleep. I dare not stay."
He kissed the hand which still lay passively in his and went out
hurriedly, not trusting himself to turn and look at her again lest he
should lose his careful self-control and startle her by some wild
outpouring of love, triumph, and thankfulness.
Aline heard his footsteps die away, listening with strained attention
until the last sound melted into a tense silence. Then she looked
wildly round, her breast heaved distressfully, and tottering to the bed
she fell on it face downwards, and lay there in a stunned fatigue of
mind and body that left no place for thought or tears. Presently came
Louison, all voluble eagerness to talk of the wedding and the murder,
especially the latter.
"And to think that it was Jean's knife! Holy Virgin, if I had known
what she came for! There she sat, and stared, and stared, until I told
her she had best be going, since I, at least, had no time to waste.
Yesterday, that was; and this morning when Jean seeks his knife it is
gone,--and the noise, and the fuss. 'My friend,' I said, 'do I eat
knives?' and with that I turned him out, and all the while Rosalie had
it. Ugh! that makes one shudder. Not that that baggage Therese was any
loss, but it might as well have been you, or me. When one is mad they
do not distinguish. For me, I have said for a long time that Rosalie's
mind was going, and now it is seen who is right. Well, well, now
Charlotte will come round. Mark my words, Charlotte will be here bright
and early to-morrow, if not to-night. It will be the first time she has
set foot here in ten years. She hated Rosalie like poison,--a
stepmother, only a dozen years older than herself, and when the old man
died she cleared out, and has never spoken to Rosalie since the funeral.
But she 'll be round now, mark my words."
Aline lay quite still. She was just conscious that Louison was there,
talking a great deal, and that presently she brought her some hot soup,
which it was strangely comfortable to swallow. The little woman was not
ungentle with her, and did not leave her until the half-swoon of fatigue
had passed into deep sleep. She herself was to sleep in the house.
Dangeau had asked her to, saying he might be late, and she had promised,
pleased to be on the spot where such exciting events had taken place,
and convinced that it would be for the health of her husband's soul to
have the charge of the children for once.
It was very late before Dangeau came home. If the French language holds
no such word, his heart supplied it, for the first time in all the long
years during which there had been no one to miss him going, or look for
him returning. Now the little room under the roof held the long-loved,
the despaired-of, the unattainably-distant,--and she was his, his wife,
caught by his hands from insult and from death. Outside her door he
hesitated a moment, then lifted the latch with a gentle touch, and went
in reverently. The moon was shining into the room, and one long beam
trembled mistily just above the bed, throwing upon the motionless form
below a light like that of the land wherein we walk in dreams. Aline
was asleep. She lay on her side, with one hand under her cheek, and her
loosened hair in a great swathe across the bosom that scarcely seemed to
lift beneath it, so deep the tranced fatigue that held her.
The moon was still rising, and the beam slid lower, lower; now it
silvered her brow,--now showed the dark, curled lashes lying upon a
cheek white with that translucent pallor--sleep's gift to youth. Her
chin was a little lifted, the soft mouth relaxed, and its tender curve
had taken a look at once pitiful and pure, like that of a child drowsing
after pain. Her eyelids were only half-closed, and he was aware of the
sleeping blue within, of the deeper stain below; and all his heart went
out to her in a tremulous rapture of adoration which caught his breath,
and ran in fire through every vein. How tired she was, and how deeply
asleep,--how young, and pure.
A thought of Hebert rose upon his shuddering mind, and involuntarily
words broke from him--"Ah, mon Dieu!" he said, with heaving chest.
Aline stirred a little; a slow, fluttering sigh interrupted her
breathing, as she withdrew the hand beneath her cheek and put it out
gropingly. Then she sighed again and turned from the light, nestling
into the pillow with a movement that hid her face. If Dangeau had gone
to her then, knelt by the bed, and put his arms about her, she might
have turned to his protecting love as instinctively as ever child to its
mother. But that very love withheld him. That, and the thought of
Hebert. If she should think him such another! Oh, God forbid!
He looked once more, blessed her in his soul, and turned away.
In the morning he was afoot betimes. Danton had set an early hour for
the conclusion of the business between them, and it was noon past before
he returned.
In the shop he found a pale, dark, thin-lipped woman, engaged in an
extremely thorough scrubbing and tidying of the premises. She stopped
him at once, with a grin--
"I 'll have no loafing or gossiping here, Citizen"; and received his
explanation with perfect indifference.
"I am Charlotte Leboeuf. I take everything over. Bah! the state the
house is in! Fitter for pigs than Christians. For the time you may
stay on. You have two rooms, you say?"
"Yes, two, Citoyenne."
"And you wish to keep them? Well, I have no objection. Later on I
shall dispose of the business, but these are bad times for selling; and
now, if the Citizen will kindly not hinder me at my work any more for
the present." She shrugged her shoulders expressively, adding, as she
seized the broom again, "Half the quarter has been here already, but
they got nothing out of me."
Aline had risen and dressed herself. Rosalie had left her room just as
it was on the day of her arrest, and the dust stood thick on table,
floor, and window-sill. Mechanically she began to set things straight;
to dust and arrange her few possessions, which lay just as they had been
left after the usual rummage for treasonable papers.
Presently she found the work she had been doing, a stitch half taken,
the needle rusty. She cleaned it carefully, running it backwards and
forwards through the stuff of her skirt, and taking the work, she began
to sew, quickly, and without thought of anything except the neat, fine
stitches.
At Dangeau's knock, followed almost immediately by his entrance, her
hands dropped into her lap, and she looked up in a scared panic of
realisation. All that she had kept at bay rushed in upon her; the
little tasks which she had set as barriers between her and thought fell
away into the past, leaving her face to face with her husband and the
future.
He crossed the floor to her quickly, and took her hands. He felt them
tremble, and put them to his lips.
"Aline, my dearest!" he said in a low, vibrating voice.
With a quick-caught breath she drew away from him, sore trouble in her
eyes.
"Wait!" she panted. Oh, where was her courage? Why had she not thought,
planned? What could she say? "Oh, please wait!"
There was a long pause, whilst he held her hands and looked into her
face.
"There is something--something I must tell you," she murmured at last,
her colour coming and going.
The pressure upon her hands became suddenly agonising.
"Ah, mon Dieu! he has not harmed you? Aline, Aline--for God's sake----"
She said, "No, no," hastily, relieved to have something to answer,
wondering that he should be so moved, frightened by the great sob that
shook him. Then--
"How do you know about--him?" and the words came hardly from her.
"Rosalie," he said, catching at his self-control,--"Rosalie told
me--curse him--curse him! Thank God you are safe. He cannot touch you
now. What is it, then, my dear?" and the voice that had cursed Hebert
seemed to caress her.
"If you know--that"--the word came on a shudder--"you know why I
did--what I did--yesterday. But no--I forget; no one knew it all, no
one knew the worst. I could n't say it, but now I must--I must."
"My dear, leave it--leave it. Why should you say anything?"
But she took a long breath and went on, speaking very low, and
hurriedly, with bent head, and cheeks that flamed with a shamed, crimson
patch.
"He is a devil, I think; and when I said I would die, he said--oh, mon
Dieu!--he said his turn came first, he had friends, he could get me into
his power after I was condemned."
Dangeau's arm went up--the arm with which he would have killed Hebert
had he stood before him--and then fell protectingly about her shoulders.
"Aline, let him go--don't think of him again. You are safe--Death has
given you back to me." But she shrank away.
"Oh, Monsieur," she said, with a quick gasp, "it was not death that I
feared--indeed it was not death. I could have died, I should have died,
before I betrayed--everything--as I did yesterday. I should have died,
but there are some things too hard to bear. Oh, I do not think God can
expect a woman to bear--that!" Again the deep shudder shook her. "Then
you came, and I took the one way out, or let you take it."
"Aline!"
"No, no," she cried,--"no, no, you must understand--surely you
understand that there is too much between us--we can never be--never
be--oh, don't you understand?"
Dangeau's face hardened. The tenderness went out of it, and his eyes
were cold as steel. How cruelly she was stabbing him she did not know.
Her mind held dazed to its one idea. She had betrayed the honour of her
race, to save her own. That red river of which she had spoken long
months before, it lay between them still, only now she had stained her
very soul with it. But not for profit of safety, not for pleasure of
love, not even for life, bare life, but to escape the last, worst insult
life holds--insult of which it is no disgrace to be afraid. She must
make that clear to him, but it was so hard, so hard to find words, and
she was so tired, so bruised, she hungered so for peace. How easy to
yield, to take life's sweetness with the bitterness, love's promise with
love's pain! But no, it were too base; the bitterness and the pain were
her portion. His part escaped her.
When he spoke his changed voice startled her ears.
"So it comes to this," he said, with a short, bitter laugh; "having to
choose between me and Hebert, you chose me. Had the choice lain between
me and death, you would have gone to the guillotine without soiling your
fingers by touching me."
She looked at him--a bewildered, frightened look.
Pain spurred him on.
"Oh, you make it very clear, my wife. Ah! that makes you wince? Yes,
you are my wife, and you have just told me that you would rather have
died than have married me. Yesterday I kissed your forehead. Is there a
stain there? Suppose I were to kiss you now? Suppose I were to claim
what is mine? What then, Aline, what then?"
A look she had never seen before was in his eyes, as he bent them upon
her. His breath came fast, and for a moment her mind was terrified by
the realisation that her power to hold, to check him, was gone. This
was a new Dangeau--one she had never seen. She had been so sure of him.
All her fears had been for herself, for that rebel in her own heart; but
she had thought her self-control could give the law to his, and had
never for a moment dreamed that his could break down thus, leaving her
face to face with--what? Was it the brute?
She shrank, waiting.
"I am your husband, Aline," he said in a strange voice. "I could compel
your kisses. If I bade you come to me now, what then? Does your Church
not order wives to obey their husbands?"
She looked at him piteously.
"Yes, Monsieur."
"Yes, Monsieur? Very well, then, since I order it, and the Church tells
you to obey me, come here and kiss me, my wife."
That drew a shiver from her, but she came slowly and stood before him
with such a look of appeal as smote him through all his bitter anger.
"You will obey?"
She spoke, agonised.
"You can compel me. Ah! you have been good to me--I have thought you
good--you will not----"
He laid his hands heavily upon her shoulders and felt her shrink. Oh
death--the pain of it! He thought of her lying in the moonlight, and
the confiding innocence of her face. How changed now!--all drawn and
terrified. Hebert had seen it so. He spoke his thought roughly.
"Is that how you looked at him?" he said, bending over her, and she felt
her whole body quiver as he spoke. She half closed her eyes, and looked
about to swoon.
"Yes, I can compel you," he said again, low and bitterly. "I can compel
you, but I 'm not Hebert, Aline, and I shan't ask you to choose between
me and death." He took his hands away and stepped back from her,
breathing hard.
"I kissed you once, but I shall never kiss you again. I shall never
touch you against your will, you need not be afraid. That I have loved
you will not harm you,--you can forget it. That you must call yourself
Dangeau, instead of Roche, need not matter to you so greatly. I shall
not trouble you again, so you need not wish you had chosen my rival,
Death. Child, child! don't look at me like that!"
As he spoke Aline sank into a chair, and laying her arms upon the table,
she put her head down on them with a sharp, broken cry:
"Oh God, what have I done--what have I done?"
Dangeau looked at her with a sort of strained pity. Then he laughed
again that short, hard laugh, which comes to some men instead of a sob.
"Mlle de Rochambeau has married out of her order, but since her plebeian
husband quite understands his place, quite understands that a touch from
him would be worse than death, and since he is fool enough to accept
this proud position, there is not so much harm done, and you may console
yourself, poor child."
Every word stabbed deep, and deeper. How she had hurt him--oh, how she
had hurt him! She pressed her burning forehead against her trembling
hands, and felt the tears run hot, as if they came from her very heart.
Dangeau had reached the door when he turned suddenly, came back and laid
his hand for a moment on her shoulder. Even at that moment, to touch
her was a poignant and wonderful thing, but he drew back instantly, and
spoke in a harsh tone.
"One thing I have a right to ask--that you remember that you bear my
name, that you bear in mind that I have pledged my honour for you. You
have been at the Abbaye; I hear the place is honeycombed with plots. My
wife must not plot. If I have saved your honour, remember you hold
mine. I pledged it to the people yesterday, I pledged it to Danton
to-day."
Aline raised her head proudly. Her eyes were steady behind the brimming
tears.
"Monsieur, your honour is safe," she said, with a thrill in her voice.
Dangeau gazed long at her--something of the look upon his face with
which a man takes his farewell of the beloved dead. Then his whole face
set cool and hard, and without another word he turned and strode out,
his dreamed-of home in ruins--love's ashes heaped and dusty on the cold
and broken hearth.