THE GUILTY ONE.
Driven by Fritz, the count’s excellent team covered the ground swiftly.
Philip was silent if not patient during the ride, for he felt that he
was not the superior power which could persuade or domineer over this
wonderful man.
When they had passed the palace gates and were near the chapel, he
stopped.
“A last word, my lord,” he said; “I do not know what question you were
to put to my sister; at least, spare her the incidents of the horrible
scene passing during her unconsciousness. Spare the purity of the soul
since the reverse befell the virginity of the body.”
“Captain,” replied Balsamo, “mark this well. I never came into these
gardens farther than the hedges you see yonder fronting the line of
buildings where your sister is lodged. As for the scene which you fear
the effect of on her mind, the effect will be for yourself alone, and on
a sleeping person; for I will at the present send your sister into the
mesmeric sleep.”
He made a halt folding his arms and turning towards the house where
Andrea dwelt, he stood quiet for a space, frowning, with an expression
of will strong on his face.
“It is done--she is asleep,” he said. “You doubt? To prove that I can
command her at a distance, I order her to come and meet you at the foot
of the stairs where took place our last interview.”
“When I see that, I shall believe,” said the officer.
They went and stood in the grove and Balsamo held out his hand towards
the chapel. A sound made them start in the next cluster of trees.
“Look out, there is a man!” said Balsamo.
“I see--it is Gilbert, one of the gardeners here, but he used to be a
retainer of ours,” said Philip.
“Have you anything to fear from him?”
“No, I should think not: but never mind, stay. If he is up already to
work, others may be about.”
During this time, Gilbert fled frightened, for seeing Philip with
Balsamo, he instinctively comprehended that he was lost.
“My lord,” said Philip, yielding to the charm the magnetiser exercised
on everybody, “if really your power is great enough to bring my sister
hither, manifest it by some sign, without having her out to a place so
public as this where any passer may see and hear.”
“You spoke in time,” was the other’s answer, grasping his arm and
pointing to Andrea’s white figure, appearing at the corridor window as
she was obeying the supernatural mandate.
He held his palm open towards her and she stopped short.
Then, like a statue revolved on the pedestal, she wheeled round, and
returned into her room.
Some instants afterwards the two gentlemen were in the same place.
But rapid as had been their movement, time was given for a third person
to glide into the house and hide in Nicole’s room, for he understood
that his life depended on this interview.
It was Gilbert.
Philip had taken his sister in his arms and placed her in a chair while
the count shut the door. Then he took up a candle and passed it to and
fro before her eyes, without the flame causing her lids to blink.
“Are you convinced that she sleeps?”
“That is plain but, good God! how strange is this sleep,” said Philip.
“I will question her; or since you fear I may put some inapt question to
her, do so yourself.”
“But though I have spoken to her and touched her just now, she did not
appear to hear me or heed me.”
“You were not in continuity with her: I will place you in contact.”
He joined the hands of brother and sister, and at once Andrea smiled and
murmured:
“It is you, brother.”
“She knows you and will answer: question.”
“But if she did not remember awake, how can she when sleeping?”
“A mystery of science.”
Sighing, he sat in an armchair in the corner.
Philip was motionless, thinking how to begin, when as if responding to
his reflections, Andrea, with her face clouding like his own, said:
“You are right, brother, it is a sad affliction to the family.”
Philip had not expected that she could translate his very mind and he
shuddered.
“Make her speak, sir,” suggested Balsamo.
“How?”
“By willing that she shall do so.”
Philip looked at his sister while mentally formulating an inquiry and
she blushed.
“Oh, Philip, how unkind of you to believe that Andrea would deceive
you.”
“Then you love nobody?”
“Not one.”
“But there was an accomplice, the guilty person who must be punished.”
“I do not understand you, brother.”
“You must press her,” said Balsamo: “question her bluntly, without heed
of her modesty, for when awakened she will recall nothing of this.”
“But can she answer such questions?”
“Mark,” said Balsamo: “Do you see?”
She started at the sound of his voice and turned towards him.
“Not so clearly as if you were speaking,” she replied: “but still I do
see.”
“Then tell me what you see on the night of your fainting.”
“Why do you not commence by the night of the 31st of May, sir? Your
suspicions start at that point, methinks? this is the time for all to be
made clear.”
“No, my lord,” rejoined Philip: “it is useless: I now believe in your
word of honor. He who disposes of so wondrous a power would not act in
an ignoble way. Sister,” repeated he, “relate to me what happened on the
night when you swooned.”
“I do not remember.”
“I suppose as she was asleep---- ”
“Her spirit was awake,” said Balsamo, and holding out his hand to the
obstinate medium with a frown indicating a doubling of will and action,
he said:
“Remember--I will it!”
“I see myself,” said Andrea. “I hold in hand the glass prepared by
Nicole. Oh, goodness! the wretch! she has put some drug in the water and
if I drink, I am lost. I am going to drink it at the moment the count
calls---- ”
“What count?”
“There,” and Andrea pointed to Balsamo. “I set down the glass and I
fall into the sleep. I go forth to meet him under my window in the
linden grove.”
“The count never was in the same room with you, sister?”
“Never.”
“You see, sir?” said Balsamo.
“You say you went to meet the count?”
“Oh, I obey him when he calls.”
“What did he want?”
Andrea turned towards the third person, questioningly.
“Tell it, for I am not listening,” said Balsamo, burying his face in his
hands to prevent the voice coming to him.
“He wanted news,” said Andrea in a diminishing voice, not to torture the
count’s heart, “of a person who fled from his house and who
is--now--dead.”
“Faintly as she breathed the last word, Balsamo heard it, or guessed it
was spoken, for he uttered a gloomy sob.
“Proceed,” said he as a long silence fell: “your brother wants to know
all and he must know it. After the man obtained the information he
sought, what did he do?”
“He went away, leaving me in the garden, where I fell as he departed as
though the sustaining force had vanished with him. I was still in the
sleep, a leaden one. A man came out of the bushes, took me in his arms
and carried me up into my rooms where he placed me on the sofa. Oh,” she
said with scorn and disgust, “it is that little Gilbert again.”
“Gilbert?”
“He stands to listen--he goes into the other room but returns
frightened. He enters Nicole’s closet--Horror!”
“What?”
“Another man comes in, and I cannot defend myself--not even scream, for
I am locked in sleep.”
“Who is this man?”
“Brother,” she answered in the deepest distress, “it is the King!”
Philip shuddered.
“Just as I thought,” muttered Balsamo.
“He approaches me,” continued the medium, “he speaks, he takes me in his
arms, he kisses me. Oh, brother!”
Tears rolled down the young captain’s cheeks while he grasped the sword
handle which Balsamo had given him.
“Go on,” said the count in a more imperative tone than before.
“What a blessing! he is perplexed, he stops, he looks at me in
terror--he flees--Andrea is saved!”
“Saved,” repeated Philip, who was breathlessly listening to her every
word.
“Stay! I had forgotten the other, who lurks in the closet, with the
bared knife in his hand--pale as death.”
“Gilbert?”
“Gilbert follows the King,” continued Andrea: “he shuts the door behind
him, he puts his foot on the candle dropped on the carpet; he advances
towards me--Oh!”
Rising on her brother’s arm, her muscles stiffened as though about to
snap.
“The villain!” she got out at last, and fell without strength. “It was
he!” Then rising so as to reach her brother’s ear, she hissed into it
while her eyes glittered: “You will kill him, Philip?”
“Oh, yes,” said the young man.
As he leaped up he overturned a stand of china and the porcelain was
shivered to pieces.
The crash was blended with the bang of a door, over which rang Andrea’s
shriek.
“We were overheard,” said Philip.
“It is he,” said Andrea.
“Gilbert everywhere? Yes, I will kill him,” and he darted into the
anteroom while Andrea fell on the sofa.
But Balsamo ran after him and caught him by the arm.
“Take care, sir,” he said: “the secret will become public; it will come
out and the echo in royal residences is noisy.”
“To think it is Gilbert and that he was close to us, listening,” said
Philip: “I might have killed the wretch--woe to him!”
“Yes: but silence: you will find him yet. But you must think of your
sister. You see how fatigued she is with all this emotion.”
“Yes: I understand what she must suffer by my own feelings; the
misfortune is so great and so difficult to repair. I shall die of the
shame.”
“No, you will live for her sake. She has need of you, love her, pity her
and preserve her! But you have no more want of me?” he asked after a
pause.
“No: overlook my suspicions and my insults: although the evil happened
through you.”
“I do not excuse myself: but remember what your sister said: that she
would have drunk the sleeping draft but for my calling her away. In that
case the guilt would have fallen on the King. Would you have considered
the fate worse?”
“No, the same crime: I see that we were doomed. Awaken my poor sister,
my lord.”
“Not for her to see me and perhaps guess what occurred. Better to do it
when at a distance, as I sent her to sleep.”
“One word still, count, as you are a man of honor---- ”
“You need not recommend secrecy to me, being what you say: and because
having no farther points of community with mankind, I shall forget it
and its secrets; but rely on me, knight, if I can in any way be useful.
But no, I can be of use to nobody for I am worth nothing on this earth.
Farewell, sir, farewell!”
Bowing, he glanced at Andrea, whose head dropped forward with all the
tokens of pain and lassitude.
“O Science,” he sighed, “how many victims for a valueless result!”
As he disappeared, Andrea reanimated: she raised her heavy head as
though it were made of lead and looking with astounded eyes at her
brother, she muttered:
“Oh, Philip, what has passed?”
“Nothing,” he answered, repressing a sob.
“Nothing? and yet I dreamed--I thought that Dr. Louis said---- ”
“Nothing: you are pure as the daylight: but all accuses you and looks
black against you. A terrible secret is imposed on us both. I am going
to see Dr. Louis who will tell the Dauphiness that you are home-sick,
and we must get you down to Taverney to save you. Father will not go
with us, and I will prepare him. Courage--heaven is the goal for all.
Make out that you ought never to have left home--that is what made you
ill. Be strong, for our honor--the honor of both of us--depends on
this.”
He embraced his sister, picked up the sword which had fallen, sheathed
it with a trembling hand and darted down the stairs.