We were a gathering of diplomacy, science, and beauty. Monsieur Roche,
the Premier, the first, Monsieur Vicenne, the Minister of Marine, the
second, and it was I who completed the trio.
"I have offered five million francs!" Monsieur Vicenne exclaimed, with a
gesture as though he had mentioned the total of the Treasury of the
Republic.
"But that is not so very much, monsieur," I ventured to suggest, "if the
invention be all that is pretended for it."
"Five million francs!" he ejaculated again, with wide-opened eyes, until
I feared that his eyebrows would altogether disappear into his bushy
hair.
"It is the method of calculating that is at fault," I said. "Five
million francs. It sounds stupendous; but what is it? In Napoleons,
merely two hundred and fifty thousand; in English sovereigns, only two
hundred thousand. What do you really estimate the invention to be
worth?"
"It is priceless. _Mon Dieu!_ Imagine." The dear man always spoke in
this staccato manner. "A boat--a submarine boat. Sixty knots an hour.
_Mon Dieu!_ If we--if France could possess it. England! Bah!" He snapped
his fingers disdainfully.
"And all for five million francs?"
"I would pay ten. _Nom de Diable!_ Fifteen--twenty."
"Ah!" I smiled.
Monsieur Roche laid his long fingers upon my arm.
"A commission, eh, _ma chere_?"
"Mercy, no! What do I know of such affairs?"
"Twenty million francs. _Mon Dieu!_ If you could buy for ten, sell for
twenty--eh?" sharply interjected Monsieur Vicenne.
Monsieur Roche tapped him upon the shoulder, somewhat irritably.
"Madame is the loveliest woman in Paris," he observed.
The Minister of Marine interrupted.
"You talk commonplaces," he cried. "Tell me next that the sun is
shining."
And I was constrained to rise and bow my acknowledgments for the twin
compliment.
"But she is one of the richest," Monsieur Roche continued. "Money can be
no inducement."
"To serve France?" Monsieur Vicenne hazarded.
"And the love of adventure," I added. "Monsieur, I will do my best. If I
am successful, I will claim as my reward that the first boat built upon
this invention shall be named after me."
"_L'Incomparable_," suggested M. Vicenne.
"_Merci, monsieur, mais non, 'L'Aide._'"
I had started on my journey before I had seriously considered what a
mad-brained scheme I had taken in hand. I, who knew nothing of such
things, was about to attempt to persuade where the whole diplomatic tact
of French administrators had failed. I was to be a bidder for this
wonderful boat that had startled the world; appearing to-day at Ostend,
to-morrow a thousand miles away, and all the power in the hands of a man
who was deaf to entreaty, impervious to persuasion.
The experts of the navy had pleaded to be allowed to inspect the boat.
His answer had been, "Keep level with it, and watch."
"Keep level, and watch"--it was a pleasant satire. England's latest toy,
the _Turbina_, steamed only thirty-four knots an hour, and there were
those who swore that this submarine boat at times got near to sixty.
Still the die was cast. I was to obtain, somehow, an interview with the
inventor, who was so unlike others of his species that he invented for
his own satisfaction, and not to sell his discovery. I was to offer
whatever I liked. And if, as was probable, he refused, try and induce
him to take me for a cruise, and learn what I could as fortune favored
me.
It was as foolish a scheme for them to suggest as for me to undertake;
but everything about the vessel was so secret and mysterious, that even
if I could bring back the vaguest idea of how this craft was propelled
it would be of inestimable value.
It was to the wild coast of Normandy that I was speeding, clad in a
rusty black gown and a still rustier mantle that libelled nature in the
manner it distorted me; and the day was as wild and boisterous as I
could wish for the first act of the play, comedy, or tragedy, as Fate
decreed.
The gray eve was fading to a dirty twilight, and inky clouds scurried
across the gloomy sky, as I alighted some four kilometres from the
Chateau de Lorme, and, setting my face resolutely to the wind, started
to walk the distance.
The wind, howling and biting from the sea, brought with it merciless
sheets of hail and sleety rain; and after the first ten minutes I
realized that I could get no wetter, and so I mechanically battled
onward, my wretched, ill-shapen garments streaming with water, and
flapping miserably around me.
Saints! what a walk! A dozen times I was for relinquishing the whole
thing and turning back in despair, but something kept me struggling on
until more than half the distance had been traversed, and then it was
better to press forward than to return.
On and on, the sharp hailstones stinging my cheeks, until I felt it must
be seclusion for a month before I dared appear in Paris again, and then
a turn of the road brought me before a house standing on the edge of the
cliff, an enormous mansion shrouded in blackness, and apparently
deserted.
Night had fallen, and everywhere was darkness and solitude. An avenue of
trees led to the door, and while I walked under their shelter I had an
opportunity of gaining my breath before I grasped the heavy iron
knocker, and, with determined hand, knocked until the house seemed to
shake with the echoes.
"Well?" at last came a gruff shout above my head. "Well, what is it?"
"I want shelter," I cried, irritably, and not with feigned annoyance,
for I was shivering with the damp and cold, and wished I had never left
Paris.
"This is not an inn."
"No, but it's a house," I cried, defiantly. "I must have shelter. I can
pay for it."
A man's voice chuckled--what a mirthless chuckle it was!--the window was
banged down with a thud, and I had seized the knocker to hammer again,
when the entrance-hall blazed into light, and the door was opened.
A gust of wind threw me forward, and as I recovered myself and stepped
across the threshold I caught my breath in amazement, for I, who have
viewed the mansions of the greatest, never before beheld such barbaric
splendor. It was an entrance-hall fit for the palace of a prince, and
lighted with enormous clusters of incandescent lamps.
My wretched rain-soaked dress was making pools upon the parquetry, and I
moved to a rug and surveyed my host, who was as striking as his
surroundings--a tall, thin individual, with long, gray, straggling hair
that hung round his shoulders, and a wild, unkempt beard. His eyes,
which flashed fiercely, and seemed to read one through and through, were
overhung by heavy, jet-black eyebrows.
He looked the very embodiment of Eugene Sue's Wanderer, and yet he was
politeness personified, for his eyes did not turn to the pools upon the
polished floor, nor to the wet trail I had made with my bedraggled
skirt.
"I am favored, madame," he said, bowing, with a thin, transparent hand
upon his breast.
"And I am cold and wet and hungry," I answered, prosaically, for I was
determined to be in no wise awed by these unexpected surroundings.
"Three evils so easily remedied that it is scarcely worth designating
them even as evils," he replied; and then, with another bow, escorted me
up the staircase into a spacious corridor, were he opened a door, and
stood aside for me to enter.
"I have so many guests to-night," he murmured, apologetically, "that I
fear I cannot treat you as I would wish; but you will find all your
needs supplied in the dressing-room beyond."
He paused in the doorway.
"There is only hunger left now," he exclaimed, with another chuckle,
"and dinner is at eight. May I expect you in the reception-room a few
minutes before that hour?"
"With pleasure," I answered. "And, monsieur, you have my gratitude."
He shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly, and then, with a momentary
glance at my costume, waved his hand towards the adjoining room.
"You will dress to meet my guests, madame, and look your best, for you
will meet the greatest men the world has ever seen."
With that he chuckled again, closed the door, and left me; while I shot
the bolt behind him, and stood--I confess it--and laughed--laughed a
long peal of merriment. The greatest men of the world visiting here. It
was too droll.
But I was in the house of the inventor of _Le Diable_, received as his
honored guest. Already I had been startled and surprised, and I wondered
what the next few hours might hold in store for me. A shiver brought me
back to realities. I passed into the adjoining room, a dressing-room
lined with wardrobes, containing gowns and feminine adornments, before
which even my own treasures from the Rue de la Paix were insignificant.
Through curtains beyond was the bath-room, with every dainty requisite
that a woman of fashion could desire.
In an hour I was ready to do honor to my host and his famous guests. I
missed Therese. But who could look anything but bewitching in the
magnificent creations at my disposal? I passed from my apartment into
the lengthy corridor, noticing that on either side, with the doors flung
open, were suites of rooms similar to my own.
My gown was, perhaps, an inch shorter than I could have wished, but in
every other respect it was perfection, hanging loosely from the low-cut
shoulders to the hem, except for an elaborate silver filigree belt that
caught in its silken folds at the waist, and I felt confident that, no
matter whom I might meet, I had no reason to be ashamed of my
appearance.
I descended the stairs, and should have wandered about the building,
impelled by natural curiosity; but I caught sight of monsieur standing
alone in the middle of a spacious room upon my left, and so I entered
and walked towards him, feeling a keen satisfaction in my improved
appearance as my train rustled across the floor.
"You have kept us all waiting," he cried, with evident annoyance in his
tone.
I glanced round in astonishment, for there was no one save our two
selves in the great apartment.
"I will present you to my guests, Madame----?" and he paused
interrogatively.
"Lerestelle," I exclaimed, still bewildered.
And then he took me by the hand, and we made the tour of the room.
Truly, as he said, his guests were the greatest ones of the earth; truly
my host was hopelessly mad, for no reception-room that the world has
ever known has been filled with such a gathering. And truly, too, he and
I were alone.
Living and dead, these imaginary creatures of his disordered brain were
massed together in hopeless confusion. He flung a witticism at Madame de
Stael, a cynicism at Voltaire, a quotation from "Fedora" at Sardou, and
a line from a sonnet at Alfred de Musset. And I bowed to the empty
chairs, and humored this weird pleasantry.
We reached the climax when my host presented me to Napoleon Bonaparte,
and I could scarcely restrain the hysteric laughter which was
dangerously near escaping. But relief came as he introduced me to the
last imaginary guest of all, the present Minister of Marine, my friend
Monsieur Vicenne.
There seemed a certain irony in the fact that the man upon whose behalf
I had braved this dwelling should have been, in the crazed mind of my
host, included with his illustrious guests. He left me beside my friend,
and I sank into a chair, with a vague uneasiness that I could not
dispel, a feeling of restless horror that deepened, as monsieur, like an
ideal host, sauntered from one chair to another, chatting lightly to
these impalpable creatures of his imagination; laughing at some jest
with this one, and anon leaning towards another, as though interchanging
a whispered confidence.
I felt I was growing hysterical: a moment longer and I should have
shrieked. The strain was becoming too great, the horror at being alone
with such a man too much; but a gong boomed without, and he, with some
imaginary beauty leaning upon his arm, passed from the room, while I
sauntered behind, and far behind, too, for I was fearful of the order of
precedence.
It was a relief to find that we two were not absolutely alone in the
house. I was conducted to a seat near my host in the dining-room by a
liveried man-servant, while a dozen more stood around the table.
Noiselessly they moved about the spacious apartment, apparently
attending to the wants of the shadowy guests, at that long table set for
a score.
The soup was brought, and placed not only before my host and myself, but
in front of every empty chair. The wine was poured into every glass, and
as each course was finished, so were the untouched plates removed and
others brought.
It would have been nearly ludicrous, but for the deadly dreariness of
the scene, the ghostly grimness of the picture, the all-pervading
nervous atmosphere of the impending unknown. I gazed at the vacant
seats, until I could almost fancy an illustrious company filling them;
not the witty, animated throng that he could see, but a gathering of
chattering skeletons, that grinned and gibed at me over the
flower-decked and silver-laden damask.
And all the while he merrily smiled and jested--smiled at this beauty
whom only his eyes could see, laughed at that jest which only his ears
could hear.
Nerves, I have always proudly averred, I know not, but now I caught at
the table to rise and flee from the room, when he fixed his eyes upon my
face, and turned confidentially towards me.
Then he raised his glass and pledged his guests. "_A votre sante,
madame_," he murmured to me.
"_A la votre, monsieur._"
As he set down his glass he placed his long, bony finger upon my arm.
"Do you know why they're all here?" he chuckled. "Ah, to try and steal
my invention--my boat, _Le Diable_."
Here, at last, was a gleam of sense, a scrap of rational talk, and it
came to me like cold water to the fainting.
"What boat?" I asked, and my brain seemed to quicken to life again.
"Ah! ah! what boat?" he said, with a grim chuckle; "what boat?--_Le
Diable_. You're the only innocent one here, and I will madden them all
by allowing you to see it. I'll show it to her, Monsieur Vicenne," he
cried, glaring fiercely at the empty chair beside me, "but not to you,
no, not to any of you," he almost shouted, with a sharp look right down
the table.
"When?" I exclaimed, scarcely able to hide my anxiety.
"Never!" he screamed, with a flash of rage. "You want to rob me, like
the rest of them; you're all thieves!" he cried, banging his fist upon
the table, till the glasses rang again, "a crowd of hypocritical,
thieving knaves," and then as suddenly as he blazed forth he calmed
down, and resumed his meal in silence, while I, perceiving that he had
forgotten me, with the rest of his guests, stepped from my seat, and
stole quietly from the room.
I have no shame in confessing that my self-control lasted but to the
foot of the staircase, and then, like a frightened child, I caught my
skirt in my hands, and flew up the stairs, and along the corridor, never
halting until I was back in my room again, with the door securely
locked.
To pass the night in such a house was impossible, and I unfastened the
casement windows to see if the storm had spent itself. With a vicious
howl the wind tore them from my grasp and flung them back with a crash,
while the hail and rain streamed in, deadening the delicate tints of the
carpet. To leave was worse than to stay. I could not face such a night,
and, exerting all my strength, I fastened the windows again, and turned
with a nervous gasp as someone knocked upon the door.
It was only a servant with my coffee upon a silver tray, which he placed
upon a fancy Oriental stand, saying that monsieur would excuse me.
He seemed inclined to say more had I permitted, but one cannot question
the servants of one's host. I thanked him, and he bowed and left.
I had thought of sitting through the night, but the slight indulgence of
a spoonful of cognac in my coffee restored my brain to reason, while the
fatigue of my journey and the excitement of the evening had worn me to
death. I munched a few wafers, for I had scarcely eaten more than the
spectral guests, and then crept contentedly between the scented sheets,
and it seemed but an instant before the room was bathed in sunshine. The
night had passed.
What a blessing is the sunlight! Sleep had completely revived me, and in
more borrowed plumes I walked from my room, all intent upon my mission,
and with a fixed determination that I would succeed; and then another
surprise awaited me, for the dainty breakfast was only set for two, and
my host courteously greeted me, and talked as a sane man upon every-day
commonplaces.
Only once during the meal he relapsed, and then he leaned towards me and
chuckled.
"They've all gone!" he cried; "they come suddenly at times, and try and
steal my boat, but they never see it, and then, when they realize they
never will, they leave altogether. Sometimes they stay a whole week," he
continued, in a whisper, "and threaten me all the time, until I fear I
shall go mad, but last night, after you had left, I told them boldly
what I thought of them, and silently, one by one, they crept away."
"You promised me that I should see the boat?" I said, softly.
"It is a lie," he cried, with a blaze of fury.
"Very well, it's a lie," I answered, coldly, with simulated scorn.
For an instant he remained silent, and then, with a grave smile, he
craved forgiveness.
"If I promised, I will keep my word," he said, quietly. "I will trust
you; you shall see what no one in this world has seen, because I know
you are an honorable woman, and will not betray my secret."
"Thank you," I said, devoting more attention to my cutlet than I had
ever given to a Count, "but if you would rather not--"
"I never break my word," he responded. "Come to this room at five
o'clock to-morrow morning, and you shall breakfast off the Isle of Wight
at nine," and with that he rose from the table, and, courteously bowing
to me, strolled from the apartment.
The day passed swiftly, for I was absorbed in pleasant thoughts at my
own good fortune. That I could win him to sell his invention I doubted
greatly, but that I should be able to gain some insight into the
mechanism of the boat during the promised cruise, I felt assured.
The momentary thought that he was going to trust his secret with me
because he believed me an honorable woman, did uncomfortably occur to
me, but I dispelled it with disdain. What right, I asked myself, had a
man to keep such an invention to himself, when it would be a crowning
laurel to the glory of France?
Throughout the day my heart was high with elation, but as darkness fell
my spirits drooped too, for I recollected the events of the previous
night, and speculated on the wisdom, or want of wisdom, of a cruise
beneath the sea with a man who, to say the least of it, was distinctly
eccentric.
Yet he was sane enough now, and I would not waver from my purpose with
success so near to my grasp. My fears were groundless. I dined alone,
retired at ten, and slept peacefully until a quarter to five, when I
rose, and, swiftly dressing, threw a long warm cloak over my arm, and
descended the staircase.
The early morning was fine, but cold; no sign was yet apparent of the
approaching dawn, and only an indigo sky, dotted with sparkling stars,
was visible, as I passed the windows in the corridor.
My host, enveloped in a thick ulster, stood awaiting me in the
morning-room, and with a cheery smile he apologized for the hour of our
start, and opening a bottle of champagne, poured out for me a glassful.
"To our cruise."
"To our cruise," I responded, touching his glass with mine.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Quite," I answered, with rather a white smile, for I was cold, and, I
own, a trifle nervous.
He took a lantern from the table and led the way, while I followed him
along the entrance hall and down a steep flight of steps.
"You see, I guard my secret well," he said, unlocking an iron door at
the end of what seemed to be a cellar, and then carefully fastening it
behind us; "you are the first living soul to see my boat."
With the utmost care he guided me along the narrow passage, warning me
of every inequality in the ground, and casting the light, so that I
might walk with ease, until we reached a roughhewn flight of steps,
seemingly cut from the native rock, that disappeared into the blackness
beneath our feet, and there I instinctively paused and drew back.
"It is not tempting to a woman," he murmured, apologetically; "but the
house stands on the cliff, and we are descending to the caves below."
Down, down, ever down we went, until I lost count of distance; but at
last the steps ceased, and we stood upon a narrow platform of slippery
stone, and I could hear the sweesh of the sea against the sides of the
cave.
He flashed the light around. We were standing upon a ledge, about four
feet above the water, and on every side were wet and greasy rocks; the
roof above us was hidden in densest gloom, and at our feet lay the boat!
"My secret is safe, eh?" he cried, and the echoes flung back, "eh? eh?
eh?" with a flood of chuckling scorn. "Even at low water," he continued,
"the entrance to this cavern is hidden; only you and I, who move beneath
the sea, can go to and fro."
He turned the rays of the lamp upon the boat, which lay quietly rocking
in the water, a boat which seemed but little different from others of
its style; the usual build of submarine vessels, cigar-shaped, with a
conning-tower of steel, studded with thick glass port-holes, and a
man-hole next to it.
Monsieur handed the lamp to me, and I kept its light fixed upon the
vessel, while he strode across the deck, and, unscrewing the circular
trap, passed into the interior. In an instant the conning-tower blazed
with light, throwing brilliant beams from each of the round windows that
looked like eyes staring into vacancy, and then, after what seemed an
eternity, he appeared again, and beckoned me to come aboard.
For an instant I hesitated, but he walked towards me, and helped me
across the sloping deck, down the man-hole, and into the cabin below.
In one glance I perceived the luxury of the interior, a small saloon,
tapering off slightly at one end, upholstered in amber satin, save at
the smaller end, where, upon a polished switchboard, was a group of
strange handles of brass and ebony. Just in front of them a high seat
was placed, which seemed arranged so that the whole of the handles were
within the reach of a single operator, whose eyes would be on a level
with the windows of the conning-tower. To the right was a
steering-wheel, and to the left a compass.
I turned to my companion; he was busy adjusting the screws of the
man-hole, and then, when all was finished to his satisfaction, he came
towards me, and led me to the group of handles.
"It is your cruise, madame," he said, with a smile, "therefore you shall
be the captain. Draw down the handle on the right."
I pulled it sharply downward, and felt the boat sink under my feet--we
were beneath the water.
"Up!" he cried, and I obeyed him, and instantly the vessel's descent was
arrested.
"The handle next to it," he said, "an inch down," and as I moved it the
boat sprang forward, while he stood by my side, his eyes fixed on the
compass, and his hand upon the wheel, now giving a turn to the left, and
now to the right.
"We are clear of the cave," he cried, after a moment, "and in the open
sea." Then, with a glance at the clock, he continued: "It has taken
longer than usual to get away. Let _Le Diable_ show his power, if you
would breakfast where I promised. Pull down that handle, madame, as far
as it will go."
Grasping it firmly, I obeyed him, and as I did so the boat bounded
forward with such speed and suddenness that I should have fallen had he
not caught me by the arm.
"Too sudden!" he cried, with his usual chuckle. "You must not drive even
the devil too furiously."
I seated myself on a lounge, while he remained at the wheel, his eyes
alternating between the compass and a chart.
Presently he became blurred to me, for I had risen unconscionably early,
and the motion of the boat, after the first plunge, was conducive to
slumber, so that I sank back and knew no more until I felt a touch upon
my arm and found him bending over me.
"In a quarter of an hour you will breakfast," he said.
"_Merci, monsieur_," I answered; "I am hungry."
"This boat is my coffin," he suddenly ejaculated, looking me straight in
the face. "That is why I will sell it to no one."
I nodded, and tried to smile in spite of my terror at this sudden change
in his manner and the fierceness with which he gripped my wrist.
"When I am tired of life I shall drive into the midst of the Atlantic,
sink _Le Diable_ to the lowest ocean depths, and die."
"Yes, when you are tired of life," I answered.
"And who knows when that may be!" he cried. "Perhaps to-day, perhaps
to-morrow," and he chuckled in a mirthless fashion.
I gazed at him and shivered, but in a few moments his frenzy passed,
and, taking my hand, he led me towards the mechanism that controlled the
boat, and pointed to the clock. "In ten minutes more we shall be there,"
he cried.
"How do these handles work the boat?" I asked, gently, with my mind upon
my mission. "Where is the actual machinery?"
"That is my secret!" he shouted. "Pull." And he placed my fingers on
another handle. Obedient to the touch the vessel slowed, and then
stopped.
Again he placed my fingers upon a lever. "Hold it," he cried; and then
suddenly he switched out the light, and we were in densest blackness.
"Raise it gently; give me your hand."
He drew me back with him, and I waited nervously in the darkness, until
a faint, ghostly light flickered through the glass before me. A deep
green grew lighter and lighter, until at last the sunlight streamed full
in my eyes and the foam-flecked sea danced before me, with the roofs of
a town, backed by English hills, beyond it.
It was Ventnor, and we had reached the spot that he had promised.
Then we breakfasted, and all through the meal, while the morning
sunshine streamed through the circular windows, I wondered how I was to
tempt the secret from him. Of what use was it for me to return to my
friends and say I had cruised in the boat, that it was controlled by a
series of handles, and that was all I knew? As well not have ventured at
all.
"Now show me what guides the boat," I exclaimed, in my most ingenuous
voice, as he rose from the meal and moved towards the tower.
"These handles," he answered. "See!" The sunlight vanished, the
opalescent green of the sea grew darker and darker, and then blackness
enshrouded all. There was not a sound save the click of the wheel as he
moved it, and then the boat sprang forward again.
Then, in the darkness, he seized my arm and drew me towards him.
"There are no works," he whispered, "no mechanism at all. All the power
is in my brain--_I_ drive it, _I_ control it."