In the silence which followed, I could hear the violent leap of my
heart and feel the drops of chilling sweat as they gathered about my
temples. I was afraid, with that indescribable sensation of fear which
one has of the dark, or of the ghosts and phantoms that walk by night.
The falsetto of the marquis did little to allay my weird uneasiness
when his voice again came to my ears. He was speaking to me:
“Monsieur le capitaine, I have been weighing the pros and cons in my
mind carefully and thoroughly. But now my decision has been made. From
it all our further deliberations must proceed. You, of course, can
have no rational objection to it, since you could devise no means for
solving the problem before us when your turn came. You will be so kind,
accordingly, as to consider the present recourse settled beyond appeal.”
He raised his right hand as though about to take an oath:
“Monsieur le capitaine, up to this day, you have been Monsieur André
Narcy, captain of cavalry, staff officer at the fortress of Toulon. You
are no longer such: Monsieur André Narcy, captain of cavalry, staff
officer of the said fortress, is hereby suppressed, and nothing can
save him, since his life has become a mortal menace to the Ever-living
Man. You, Monsieur--henceforth I cannot call you Monsieur le
capitaine--will continue to live under such name as shall be pleasing
to you; but you shall continue to live here, a prisoner in this
house--at least for a certain length of time; for it is by no means a
life-long captivity that we are obliged to impose upon you. Our sojourn
in this place may be shortened. Out of consideration for you, we will
undertake to limit your restraint to a maximum of three years, dating
from today. We will change our residence as soon as we may safely do
so, without arousing unduly hazardous suspicions. We will take you with
us. Then, on any spot on earth which you may designate--we require only
that it be distant--we will set you at liberty, gladly, and without
demanding any pledge of silence whatsoever from you. Why such a pledge,
indeed? Your story, should you tell one, would be that of an unknown
adventurer--or that of an imposter, should you have the extravagant
audacity to attempt a resuscitation of Captain André Narcy. Thirty or
forty months before this time on this 22nd of December, 1908, Captain
André Narcy was found dead; and, unquestionably identified, was buried
with military honors. Such a story, I repeat, and as you know well,
would send you to an asylum for a much longer time than the three or
four years we ask of you. No, you will be silent without a pledge and
silently begin life over again--a new life, which, I trust, will be
happy, prosperous, and free from accidents, even from accidents less
tragic than the one which has brought your present life to an end this
very hour!”
I had listened, with a deathly chill in my heart. The marquis leaned
forward toward me.
“Do you accept this recourse--of your own free will?” he asked.
I threw my shoulders back and mustered the little strength that still
remained in me. With head high I answered:
“I am in your power. There is nothing for me to accept or to refuse. I
have no choice in the matter.”
To my surprise, my answer, easy as it must have been to foresee,
strangely disconcerted my prosecutor. I saw him bite his lips, and look
hesitatingly first to his right and then to his left. After a time, he
resumed, abruptly, and with a curious plaint in his voice:
“Monsieur, I am disappointed in you, and I confess to you quite frankly
that this resignation you are affecting does not serve my purposes at
all. Remember, if you will be so kind, exactly who we are. In my view,
you and I do not stand toward each other in the position respectively
of victim and executioner. And you have an absolutely free choice in
agreeing or in refusing to submit to what we ask of you.”
I was quite unable to fathom the meaning of this man who was addressing
me in this incomprehensible language. I made no answer.
“Once more I ask you, Monsieur,” he insisted: “Do you consent freely
and heartily to the death of Captain André Narcy; and do you consent
freely and heartily to survive him, at the simple cost of a few years
of pleasurable captivity?”
I made no effort to understand, this time. I shrugged my shoulders and
answered bluntly:
“No.”
Once and again the marquis tossed his head.
“Monsieur, you are making a great mistake,” said he; and his bright,
restless eyes swept me with a glance of severe disapprobation: “A great
mistake, Monsieur! I am a very very old man. May I plead indulgence for
my years and employ toward you the language a grandfather might use
toward one of his children’s children? You are a stubborn bad-tempered
boy--naughty, would be almost the word. You are rebelling petulantly
against an inexorable destiny which, nevertheless, is deaf to the
whimpering of men. Yes, it is childish of you; your conduct is not
seemly in a grown man. I hope you cannot be imagining that a simple
‘no’ from you is going to cause us so very much embarrassment, or that
we are going to commit suicide just because you refuse a real favor
at our hands! Agreed: we will not kill you, whatever happens. But do
not speculate too rashly on the horror of bloodshed which we so deeply
feel. You have little to gain from it. You have been able to see from
what I have told you how little, on the whole, we hesitate where women
are concerned. Nothing would be easier that to sacrifice the so-called
honor of the girl you love in exchange for the peace of mind of us
three old men. No, nothing would be easier--as the count here explained
to you, only a moment ago.”
And at this point he too shrugged his shoulders. After a moment’s
pause, he resumed:
“What do you say, Monsieur? Shall we stop all this nonsense, and
play the game with cards face up on the table? Look here: my idea,
as I intimated, is to deceive the civil and military authorities of
Toulon, and the newspapers and the public of Toulon, in regard to
what has actually happened to you. They will, in other words, believe
you dead. Your death certificate will be duly filed, your obituary
written, your grave dug, and filled. In such a case, no one will
ever dream of looking for you away off here in this lonely mansion,
where you will continue to live, temporarily, the life that we are
living--temporarily, I say; for as I promised a bare moment ago,
you will be set at liberty again, and as soon as possible, in some
distant country. What is there so terrible in all that for a man
in your situation--unmarried, without dependents, without serious
responsibilities of any kind? Now, for staging the first act of this
trifling comedy, your coöperation is absolutely indispensable. This
fictitious corpse they are to bury with military honors, honors
worthily your due, Monsieur, why--I cannot produce it with the wave
of a magic wand over a cucumber, as some fairy godmother might do
in a Christmas tale; but I can produce it in a manner quite as
satisfactory--only, to do so, I must have your help, a help which, I
repeat, must be freely, spontaneously, proffered!”
I had listened I know not whether with greater surprise or alarm. At
his concluding words I saw the Count François and the Vicomte Antoine
turn with one movement toward their respective parent and grandparent,
their eyes aflame with a sudden intelligence as though some revelation
which had not yet dawned on me had come to them. Once more I mustered
all the forces of my faltering will; and I said:
“Why all this beating about the bush? You have the upper hand. Why so
particular about the precise form of blackmail you will eventually
resort to? I have already offered my life in ransom for the life of
Madame de X....? Do you want me to repeat that offer? Very well! I am
still ready. Do your will upon me!”
Several times the Marquis Gaspard waved a broad wide-open hand from
right to left, each gesture timed to an exclamation of protest:
“Tic tac too! Did ever you see a worse case of balkiness? Monsieur,
for the dozenth time, and as you know perfectly well: nobody but you
has raised the question of throat-cutting! No, it’s a simple matter
of what you call, with some generosity I must say, the good name of
a woman; which presumptive good name is to be saved or sacrificed,
as you chance to decide, and at a price of which you are thoroughly
aware. However, I will concede a point: once this so-called good name
has been saved, I will, if you think it in the least important, add
the further stipulation that the object of your concern shall never
again be invited to this place, that she shall henceforth and forever
be excused from that special collaboration with us which, a few moments
ago, seemed to arouse in you a very understandable compassion. What
more can you ask, Monsieur? The question may now be stated thus: will
you pay for madame, or shall madame pay for you?”
He had not completed the antithesis before I nodded in assent. The
marquis rose: “I thank you,” said he with great solemnity. “I have your
word of honor. Between a man like you and a man like me that is quite
enough.”
Meanwhile the count and the vicomte had also risen to their feet.
“Gentlemen,” said the marquis to them in a tone of command, “I noticed
that you at last had understood me. Be so good, accordingly, as to
attend to all the preparations necessary for the work that is now
before us. No time must be lost, since the dawn is close at hand. For
my part I must rest a moment, to collect myself.”
He had stepped over, meanwhile, to one of the _dormeuses_ of the
complicated backs and arm rests, the curious design of which had
attracted my attention when I first came into the room. He sat down,
or rather, he buried himself, in one of these chairs. I saw him relax
against the cushions, which seemed calculated to fit every projection
and indentation of his form.
There he rested, with arms folded and eyes closed.