THE ESCAPE.
“A letter had been received at the chateau to the effect that Anna was
to be ready to go to Paris the following week, with her baby and nurse,
and that her husband would come down to accompany her. It would be
impossible to describe Anna’s state of mind at the receipt of this
letter, while Madame Verwest, who had been taken fully into her
confidence, seemed for a time as bewildered and nervous as Anna herself.
Then she rallied, and astonished Anna and Fred by declaring her
intention to go with them.
“‘What, go to America?’ Anna asked; and madame replied:
“‘Yes, to America. I have long wished to see it, and cannot be separated
from the baby. I will go with you;’ and from this decision she never
wavered, but went calmly on with her few preparations, while Anna waited
anxiously for the telegram which Eugenie had promised to send her, and
which came the day after the receipt of Haverleigh’s letter, and was as
follows:
“‘You are to come at once, instead of waiting till next week, and
monsieur will meet you at Avignon.
EUGENIE.’”
“As this was directed to the care of Brunel, who knew of the proposed
visit, it was considered all right by that functionary, and by him
passed to Anna, who trembled so violently that she could scarcely read
the message, which was exactly what Eugenie had said it should be, and
early to-morrow she was going away from what had really been a prison so
long, notwithstanding that in some respects it had been a pleasant home.
But she had no regrets at leaving it, for every spot was so closely
connected with the man whose name she bore, and from whom she was
fleeing, that she loathed it utterly, just as she loathed the elegant
dresses with which her closets were filled, and not one of which she
took with her. She packed her jewels, however; her diamonds, and pearls,
and topazes, for she might need the money they would bring. To Celine,
who had expected to go as maid, she had said that she did not need her,
and had quieted her with a set of coral and a handsome evening dress.
“And now the morning had actually dawned, and nothing happened to
prevent our travelers from passing out from Chateau d’Or to the
carriage, which conveyed them to the station in time for the early train
from Marseilles; but Anna was so weak and nervous that she was lifted
bodily into the railway carriage, and continued in a half-unconscious
state for nearly an hour, while she was whirled rapidly away from the
scene of so much misery. Avignon was reached at last, and Eugenie’s face
was the first to greet them as they passed from the station, and then
Anna fainted quite away, for now it seemed sure that freedom and America
were just within her grasp.
“‘Is it sure, and where is he?’ Anna asked, when she could speak at all,
and Eugenie replied in her broken English, interspersed with French:
“‘_Ou est-il? a Paris, mais, mon Dieu_, such time I have had. I get him
to write for you to come next week, late some day in the week, and then
I telegraph myself for you to start to-day, and last night he dine with
me, and I tell him I must go to Normandy for one, two, or three days. I
don’t know sure, and so I cheat him and come here to meet you with
Madame Verwest. _Ciel_, why is she here?’
“‘I go with Madame Haverleigh to America,’ was Madame Verwest’s reply;
whereupon Eugenie exclaimed:
“‘_Vous allez en Amerique! c’est impossible! Ou est l’argent? Nous n’en
avons pas assez pour vous._’
“‘But I have more than enough to pay my passage, and I am going,’ madame
said, so firmly and decidedly that Eugenie merely shrugged her
shoulders, and replied:
“‘_Eh bien_, I fear bad.’
“‘You need not, you need not, for she is the truest friend; she would
never betray us,’ Anna cried.
“‘And if she did!’ Eugenie replied, with a threatening gleam in her
flashing eyes which meant much, but did not intimidate Madame Verwest,
who knew her own business and interests better than any one else.
“It was dark when they took the train again, and this time their
destination was Havre, and when at last that port was reached, their
party consisted of Anna, her baby, Madame Verwest, Eugenie, and the boy
Fred, who had on the road been metamorphosed into himself and his own
clothes again, and stepped from the car a very assured youth, equal to
any emergency which might present itself.
“Fortunately for the travelers, a ship was to sail for New York the
following morning, and there was one vacant state-room, which was
immediately secured for Anna and Madame Verwest, while Fred went as
second-class. Eugenie saw them on board and bade them adieu with tears
raining down her cheeks, and when Anna kissed her again and again, and
said:
“‘I never can thank you enough, or understand why you have been so kind
to me,’ she answered, sobbingly:
“‘Not for you, _petite madame_. Not for you, _seule_. Do not think me
good as that. I learn to like you much; _c’est vrai_, but not care
particularly to run much risk. It is for her, _ma petite, ma sœur_, for
Agatha, for revenge. He lose me my sister, I lose him his boy, and he
will feel it. Oh, he will suffer and I shall think of Agatha, and be
glad, much glad at first, and then who knows, I may comfort him, for
what matter now for me. I bad anyway.’
“‘Oh, madame,” Anna cried, “you will not go back to him again? You will
live a better life! promise me that!’
“‘No, I not promise. I not know. We French not think so bad as you. We
do not live without intrigue and little love affairs, but I hate
monsieur now, and I so long to see him suffer. _Mon Dieu_, but it will
be good! Write me, _ma chere, d’Amerique_, and tell me of _la mère_, and
now—it is good-by _vraiment_.’
“She wrung Anna’s hand, while great tears rolled down her cheeks as she
said her last good-by, and turning resolutely away walked from the ship
to the landing, where she stood until the vessel was loosened from its
moorings and moved slowly out to sea; then, wondering why she should
care so much for _les Americaines_, she was driven to the station, where
she took the train for Paris, eager for the _denouement_ when Haverleigh
would find how he had been deceived.