LI

She could think clearly and remember again. The confusion in her

overwrought brain gradually subsided. She went back to the fatal

days when the news of the defeats of Wörth and Spicheren rushed

shrieking through France and Belgium, and the 16th of August brought

word of Bazaine's intercepted retreat from Metz. That day a young

girl, sitting under the grisly wing of Madame Tessier at the _table

d'hôte_ of the Hôtel de Flandre, in Brussels, had risen up as pale as

death and hurried from the room.

The picture was clear-cut, definite as a photograph. She saw the

tables in confusion.... French guests uprising, the men exclaiming,

and the ladies in tears,--Belgians sympathizing--Teutons exchanging

congratulatory eye-glances, and smiles not at all concealed. As the

white girl passed the chair from which a German cavalry officer had

risen, he whipped the obstacle out of her way with an ogle and a bow.

And Juliette, covering her eyes as though the sight of him scorched

them, had fled past him.... As she quitted the _salle à manger_, the

voice of Madame Tessier had reached her, saying grimly to the dandy:

"A civility from one of your nation at such a moment is an insult,

Monsieur."

And Madame, with bristling mustaches, had also risen, and gone in

search of her daughter-in-law elect, to be arrested at the foot of

the grand staircase by a waiter with the intelligence that

Mademoiselle had gone to her room to lie down, and begged not to be

disturbed.... To which apartment, it being on the third floor,

Madame Tessier--having wound up the twelve-o'clock _déjeuner_ of hot

meats and vegetables and salad with coffee and pastry,--did not

follow her. Had she braved the ascent, this story would have ended

in quite a different way.

Upon this day, that saw the battle of Mars la Tour, Juliette would

not have met the elegant, self-possessed, ingratiating lady who had

spoken to her so amiably on the previous afternoon. When--Madame

Tessier being engaged in changing a French _billet de banque_ into

Belgian money--Juliette had inquired for letters at the bureau.

"'Mademoiselle de Bayard.' ... Unhappily there is not a single letter

for Mademoiselle de Bayard..." had said the curled and whiskered

functionary, taking an envelope from compartment "B" of the green

baize-covered letter-rack, and handing it to this lady, who stood

immediately behind.

Juliette had found it impossible not to see the address upon this

letter:

"To MADAME DE BATE,

"HÔTEL DE FLANDRE,

"BRUSSELS,"

written in rather a vulgar scrawl. It carried extra stamps, and

looked bulky. And the elegantly-gloved hand that was extended to

take it, recoiled from the contact as though the envelope had

concealed a scorpion.

The owner of the hand had regarded Mademoiselle de Bayard with a

piercing and exhaustive scrutiny, even as she slipped the letter into

a gold-mounted reticule, and snapped the spring tight. She had

observed in soft and well-bred accents:

"Letters from one we love are enhanced in value, when the writer must

lay down the sword to use the pen...."

Through a black lace veil so thickly flowered as to suggest a mask, a

pair of brilliant eyes glittered at Juliette. What dazzling teeth

were revealed by the crimson lips that smiled.... The well-bred

voice added, with an entrancing touch of melancholy:

"Under other circumstances, to address Mademoiselle would be held a

liberty--the speaker being a stranger. Yet as the wife of a French

officer of the Imperial Guard,--I may be pardoned for presuming in my

young country-woman an anxiety similar to my own?..."

"Ah, Madame," Juliette had said impulsively, "who is there would not

pardon you?"

And she had looked with a young girl's honest admiration at the

sumptuous form in the perfectly-appointed dress. When the lady had

said, with brilliant eyes fixed on her:

"Were this letter not from my husband, I could wish it had been for

you," she continued: "Does Mademoiselle know M. de Baye's regiment?

The 777th Mounted Chasseurs...?"

"My father commands it, Madame," Juliette had proudly answered. And

an animated conversation would have sprung from this answer, but

Madame Tessier turned round rather sharply, and the lady, with a

slight, graceful inclination, had glided rather rapidly away.

Later, Juliette had encountered Madame de Baye upon the staircase,

and had received another of her brilliant glances, and another of her

entrancing smiles. And, being lonely in this strange land, and

athirst for interest and companionship, the young girl had woven a

little romance out of this passing acquaintanceship.

Now as she reached her room, trembling and ready to sink with

excitement and agitation, a woman stopped her in the corridor, who

looked like a lady's maid of the better class. Well mannered, smart

and discreet, she dropped Mademoiselle de Bayard an ingratiating

curtsey, handing her at the same time a little three-cornered note.

As the messenger plainly waited for an answer, Juliette unfolded the

delicately perfumed cocked-hat. This is what she read in a

finely-pointed feminine caligraphy, with lasso-loops to all the

"g's," "y's," and "h's," and "s's" of the prolonged, old-fashioned

kind.

The maid had penned it at the dictation of her mistress, who for an

unexplained reason preferred another hand to bait her hook. This is

what Juliette read between her heart-beats, striving to check her

flowing tears, and the sobs that rose in her throat:

"_To you, Mademoiselle, so spirituelle, gentille and amiable, I am

fated, alas! to cause the greatest grief. I have received the most

terrible news of my husband's regiment. The reports of the Emperor's

resignation are false from the beginning. The Army of Metz,

Mademoiselle, has encountered Prussian forces.... Where I know not,

but with terrible loss! My Victor has been dangerously wounded and

conveyed to hospital at Metz. I fly thither on the wings of anxiety

and tenderness to receive too possibly! his final kiss. Also I learn

that M. le Colonel de Bayard has been taken prisoner.... My pen

trembles as I write the words._

"_Since I may not tender them personally, receive, Mademoiselle, my

condolences and farewells. May Heaven protect you!_

"_Distractedly and devotedly,_

"A. DE BATE."

Madame was packing, said the maid upon whom Juliette turned with a

breathless inquiry. Without doubt Madame would receive

Mademoiselle.... And, having previously been primed with

instructions, Mariette, whom not so long ago we encountered in

Berlin, conducted Mademoiselle to a door upon the lower landing, and

having knocked discreetly ushered the young lady in.

It was a bedroom crowded with trunks and imperials, none of which

seemed to have been unpacked. The lovely lady of the veil was

standing near the toilette-table in a thoughtful pose which did

justice to her figure and the beauty of her profile. She had removed

her veil and held it in her hand, as she changed the position of a

jeweled comb in her hair.... She looked round as the door opened.

Her brilliant eyes, ruddy-brown as Persian sard or Brazilian

tourmaline, encountered the tearful eyes of Juliette. She advanced

to meet the girl with effusive tenderness, crying:

"Alas, poor little one! From my heart I pity you!..."

She was not so beautiful, unveiled, as she had appeared behind her

mask of black lace flowers. The handsome eyes were bloodshot and too

prominent. There were faint dusky-red streaks showing through the

purchased roses and lilies of her complexion; horizontal marks,

resembling the congenital disfigurement known as "port-wine stain."

And withal she was an attractive woman of fascinating manners. And

her sympathy seemed genuine, and yet--for some incomprehensible

reason, Juliette trembled at and shrank from her touch....

"You are too good to receive me--you who are also suffering!..." She

tried to collect herself, and not cause distress. "How I pity you I

cannot tell you! but at least you have the knowledge that you are

returning to your husband's bedside. You will have the sad

consolation of seeing him, while I..."

She broke down and sobbed, and the sympathetic Adelaide administered

red lavender on sugar, while her maid kept guard on the landing to

intercept Madame Tessier should she appear. The cock-and-bull story

told the girl would hardly have borne the test of recital before a

third person. But Juliette was young, and innocent and unsuspecting,

and Adelaide was experienced in the ways of the world, and very old

in guile....

"Courage, my child, and above all, have faith in Heaven!" It did not

at all suit her voluptuous type, the heroic-pious tone....

"Naturally you will, knowing M. le Colonel a prisoner, leave nothing

undone to assuage the miseries of his situation!... Have I guessed

right? I venture to think I have!" She patted Juliette's hand and

smiled in the drowned blue eyes, from which she gently drew the

little soaked handkerchief. "Accompanied by your venerable

protectress, you will instantly return to France. You will leave no

stone unturned to obtain an interview with the Emperor--you will

implore him on your knees to obtain M. le Colonel's exchange....

Presto! the Emperor will set the machinery in motion. He will give

back three Officers to the King of Prussia--and Mademoiselle will

have her father again! Is it not so, tell me, my little one?"

She held the girl's small hands in hers, and as she marked off each

item of her program, she gently clapped the hands together, as in

approval or consent. It was a characteristic trick with Adelaide

when she meant to be playfully coaxing, and there was imprudence in

employing it now. But with the first inchoate stirring of memory in

Juliette, caution reawakened in Madame de Bayard. She released the

hands, and said in a graver tone:

"Your _gouvernante_ will not object to return?"

Juliette responded:

"Dear Madame, that lady is not my instructress. She is the excellent

Madame Tessier, my grandmother's oldest friend."

Adelaide's lip wore the expression of one who sniffs at physic. Had

she not been deafened with the recounted virtues of this very Madame

Tessier! As she racked her memory for the date of a possible

meeting, Juliette continued:

"She is very kind to me. But I fear she will not consent to return

to France immediately. She is now upon her way to Mons-sur-Trouille

to attend the wedding of her only son. All has been arranged. It is

to take place upon the 22d."

A sigh heaved her breast, and her eyelids sank under the burning gaze

of Adelaide. But Adelaide was still engaged with Madame Tessier:

"_If she has seen me once--and it may well be once!--she certainly

has forgotten me!_" she commented mentally. Aloud she said:

"But you, Mademoiselle--you are free to return to our beloved

country. Under my own guardianship if you will. Do not refuse!...

Grant me the privilege!"

Juliette panted:

"Oh, if I might accept!... But this marriage is the obstacle!

Because M. Tessier could not return to France for it, my father

commanded that I should go. All the more urgently that War had been

declared with Prussia, and the regiment had been ordered to join the

Imperial Army at Metz."

Madame Adelaide repeated scoffingly:

"This marriage ... this marriage.... Is your presence necessary to

legalize the ceremony?"

Juliette cried, opening wide her eyes:

"Alas! yes, Madame!--for I am to be the bride!..."

A shock visibly passed through the nerves of the woman who heard her.

She started in her chair and grew livid underneath her powder and

rouge. And the dusky marks on her fair skin started into sinister

prominence. She was suddenly terrible, and haggard and old....

"So, that was de Bayard's plot.... To marry her!" Adelaide heard an

inward voice saying. "Why did you not foresee that, knowing her of

age? Nineteen--though she looks like a child, almost.... Her

grandmother possessed that physique of an infant, in combination with

an iron determination, and a regard of truth that robbed Life of

every alleviation, deprived conversation of grace and

versatility--reduced the very language of Love to the level of a

notary's _précis_...."

All this passed through her brain in an instant. She controlled

herself, rose, took the girl's hands again, and kissed her on the

brow, saying with sorrowful melodiousness:

"My child, I comprehend! But while I rejoice at the happiness that

awaits the daughter, I weep--forgive me that I weep!--for the father

in his prison-cell. He is handsome, thy betrothed--and brave--and

not a soldier? In a day like this when our France cries out for men?"

Juliette clenched her little hands as the languid irony stabbed her.

She cried out, almost beside herself:

"Oh, that is what I feel, and for that I cannot pardon him! Why is

he not a soldier? One could esteem him if he were! But oh!

Madame,--I despise him, and that makes it the more terrible.... This

marriage with a husband whom I have never even seen!"

"_Ah, ha!..._" she heard a strange voice scream through peals of

laughter. "Ah, _la, la!_--what a clumsy game to play!... _Fi donc,

M. le Colonel!_... So we were to be married in the style of the Old

Commander.... '_Pas files a droite!_... To the church, quick

march!' _Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!_ how droll!..."

She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, and said, controlling her

frantic merriment:

"Sweet child, forgive me, I am a little hysterical.... The shock of

Victor's wound ... my sympathy with your cruel situation.... How

could M. le Colonel subject you to a trial so severe?" Feeling

herself upon unsafe ground, she dried her eyes again and amended.

"That, I comprehend, is a question between yourselves.... When this

wedding was arranged M. le Colonel had no comprehension of what would

befall him. Yet, for his sake, would it not be wise to delay?

Engage the interest of the Emperor before it is too late to reach the

beloved captive. Should he be interned in some fortress of East

Prussia, how will even a daughter's tenderness reach him amidst those

desolate plains--in those caverns of freezing stone!..."

She used her fine voice like a consummate artist of the theater....

Juliette had a vision of her father dying, fettered, ghastly and

gaunt with famine, as an engraving of Count Ugolino in his dungeon

she remembered to have somewhere seen.... And her secret horror of

Charles Tessier, wedded with the feverish longing to return to France

and work for the release of her dear prisoner, prompted her to

decision now....

"I will go with you, since you are good enough to propose it. But

Madame Tessier will never give her consent. Therefore, we must leave

here without consulting her, and secretly.... I will write a letter

explaining all. Money I have for the railway charges, not much, but

I think sufficient!"

Said Adelaide, barely able to hide her triumph:

"Leave the purchase of the tickets to me, _ma mignonne_! I have a

pretty little score to settle with M. le Colonel. We will settle our

accounts presently, I promise you! What is the matter now?"

Juliette gasped:

"Alas!--I have no passport! At least, Madame Tessier has both

ours...."

"Ah, bah!" said Adelaide. "We will borrow Mariette's.... She can

remain here at pasture, and amuse herself with the waiters!..." She

burst out laughing at Juliette's look of astonishment, and tapped her

under the chin, telling her to go to her room, pack a small hand-bag

with necessary articles, change into a dark, plain walking-dress, and

rejoin her as soon as might be. She showed a small watch, its back

thickly crusted with emeralds, saying:

"Hurry!... You have barely a quarter of an hour."

Then she opened the door, sped her capture with a beaming smile,

beckoned Mariette, and this strange colloquy took place between Circe

and her tirewoman:

"Did the old woman come nosing upstairs after the little Mademoiselle

joined me?"

Mariette replied:

"She did, Madame, but I had locked both Mademoiselle's doors--that

leading into the old lady's room, and the one that opens on the

corridor,--and put the keys in my pocket. Here they are!"

She held them up, her sallow features expressive with the expectation

of a reward earned by intelligence. Said Adelaide, impatiently

tapping her handsome foot:

"And then?... And then?..."

"Then I accidentally encountered Madame on the threshold of

Mademoiselle's apartment. Seeing her about to knock, I told her that

I had seen the young lady descend the stairs, carrying a letter,

which I supposed Mademoiselle intended to post at the pillar in the

vestibule.... Hearing this the old lady thanked me, and bundled

downstairs. She is asthmatic, judging by her wheezing.... She will

wait a bit before she climbs up all these flights again."

Adelaide thought a moment, and then gave orders.

"Run you down, hunt up the old woman--help her to search everywhere

for the little thing--you understand!... Half an hour will be

sufficient to detain her below stairs. In less time Mademoiselle

will be safe with me in my apartment.... Then you will give Madame

these keys and a little note written by Mademoiselle.... Or--do you

know of a waiter who would undertake to do this and hold his tongue?"

Mariette's expression became sentimental. She said, with her head

tilted on one side:

"There is one, a Swiss youth, handsome and with the form of an

athlete, upon whose fidelity and silence Madame can implicitly

rely...."

"For how much?" Adelaide demanded, having no illusions as to the

permanence of an unpurchased silence.

Mariette answered:

"I will guarantee Adolphe Madame's for the sum of twenty francs!"

Adelaide gave her a bank-note, and the faithful creature tripped away

to split it. Despite youth, beauty and muscles, her Adolphe only got

ten francs. But he carried out his instructions and handed Madame

Tessier the keys, with a little envelope, containing a hasty line in

the handwriting of Juliette:

"_Dearest Madame,_" it said. "_This moment I have received grave

news of my father, compelling me to leave your side. This marriage

must be deferred. Entreat M. Charles to excuse me! I embrace and

pray you to pardon._

"J. M. De B."

The little note was penned on the corner of Adelaide's

toilette-table. While Madame read it and fainted,--was revived by

Mariette and the athletic Adolphe,--scolded herself into hysterics,

came out of them and dispatched telegrams; tore the telegrams up and

wrote letters,--Juliette was safely hidden in Madame Adelaide's room.

Later on, when Madame Tessier had left the hotel, with her luggage

and the trunks and bandboxes of the vanished bride-elect--this time

containing the marriage robe, crown and so on,--Madame de Baye sent

for her bill and paid it--ordered a _fiacre_ and drove to the

station, accompanied by her maid, and her maid's sister, a demure

little person in black merino, cut convent-style, whose head was

draped, after the fashion of some lay novices, with a black silk veil.

The abduction was effected in the simplest fashion.... Not a soul

turned to look at the dowdy little figure carrying the hand-bag, its

slight proportions half hidden in the sweeping folds of Adelaide's

silken train.

The station was crowded with newly-arrived French officers, men of

MacMahon's defeated army, who wore their swords, having given their

_parole_ to their captors not to serve again in the War. Belgian

officers fraternized with them,--Belgian ladies of the Red Cross were

busily engaged in making much of those who were wounded....

Juliette's heart swelled at the sight of the bandages and crutches,

and when the laden stretchers were carried past, the hot tears

streamed down her white cheeks behind her screening veil.

The train carried a great many French passengers, as well as an

English Red Cross column and a Belgian one. When the engine

shrieked, Juliette started as guiltily as though it had been the

voice of Madame Tessier, shrilly lamenting an absconding

daughter-in-law.

They were off--launched upon the iron road that led back to France

and freedom. The excellent Mariette remained behind. She would

sleep at some hotel, procure a passport, and join her mistress later.

Madame de Baye took the trouble to explain.

From the shrinking little figure in the corner of the carriage came a

muffled sound in answer.

"Let her mope," Adelaide said to herself. "Thought is necessary to

carry out my plan!"

You are to see her as Juliette saw her, leaning her fair round elbow

on the padded window-ledge, and thinking, as the rolling plains in

the vicinity of Brussels gradually gave place to valley and hill.

All of fierce and sensual and treacherous that mingled in her complex

nature with how many nobler qualities,--showed now in the beautiful

mask of Adelaide, even as she sat brooding there.

She had knotty problems to decide, it must be admitted.... How best

to play this marvelous trump, her daughter thrown in her way by

chance, was one of these. That plot of Straz, for bringing the girl

into contact with the Heir Imperial, might be combined with

Adelaide's own original notion of employing the girl's influence to

bring about a reconciliation with M. de Bayard.

The indifference of M. de Bismarck had quashed her tentative

approaches on the one subject. The silent contempt of de Bayard had

thrown the other affair out of gear. To score off both would be

magnificent.... As for Straz ... she lost grip of herself when she

thought of the Roumanian, murmuring:

"For revenge on him, who has robbed me of my beauty, how cheerfully I

would give my soul!"

Juliette, from her corner, saw the change and shuddered. Adelaide

turned sharply, to read terror in the girl's face.

"What is it, my chicken? Has anything frightened you?" ...

The terrifying Medusa turned to a maternally-smiling Cybele. She

leaned across the intervening space of cushion, to playfully pat the

knee of her charge. But the answering smile was as faint as the

scent of frozen violets.... The spell of her beauty had been broken

when her demon had looked out of her eyes.

"My nerves are not as strong as they were before--what happened in

July," she told herself. "And that is another debt I owe to Nicolas.

He would be wiser to let me forget him--if oblivion be possible."

Her looking-glass bore out each day what the Roumanian had said to

her. "_Never will you be able to look in your mirror without

remembering me!_"

And to keep her smart alive, the Slav had adopted a method of his own

invention. Peculiarly ingenious and characteristic of Straz.

At intervals Adelaide received anonymous letters, containing

inclosures, wherever she went and by whatever alias she passed.

Envelopes directed in varying hands would contain doll's mirrors

costing but a sou or two. Pinchbeck-framed ovals or circles of tin

or glass, always reflecting the same thing.

A livid face of hate, streaked with those faint brownish red marks

left by the tightened folds of the silk scarf that had so nearly

strangled her. She had tried to laugh at this childish form assumed

by the malice of the Roumanian. But the deadly cleverness of the

thing lay in the fact--that it did what it was meant to do. The

medieval torture of the falling drops of water was equaled by this

Ordeal of the Penny Looking-Glass.

"_Look, see, and think of me!_" sometimes ran the doggerel rhyme

scrawled on the paper wrapping of the doll's mirror. At other times:

"_Charms that are spoiled hold no men entoiled!_" would be the motto,

or something equally stupid, dull and banal. The stupidity was

becoming unbearable by its very repetition; by the certainty and

regularity with which the laden envelopes arrived. Sometimes

Adelaide felt entangled in a cunningly woven network ... surrounded

by spies, sleepless and unseen.... Yet in the maid Mariette the Slav

had found an accomplice clever enough to carry out his purposes

single-handed. The cream of the thing was--Adelaide never suspected

Mariette.

Treacherous herself, she believed in the devotion of this woman, who

watched her anguish grimly, planting fresh thorns in her mistress's

shuddering flesh. And every day or so brought another doll's

looking-glass. The jeer that accompanied the last had been a vilely

parodied verse of the child's dancing-song:

"_Ma commère était belle!

Helas! dans le temps!

Ma commère était belle!

Helas! dans le temps! Hélas!

Pousser un soupir!

A vue de ma commère:

L'Amour n'a qu'à mourir!

Hélas!_"

One may imagine the curl of Adelaide's lip on reading rubbish like

this. But she read it more than once, and when she finally burned

it, the accursed jingle, burr-like, stuck in her memory: for she it

was who had been beautiful in the time that had passed for

evermore--the gossip at the first sight of whose damaged, unveiled

charms Love sighed and gave up the ghost.