The Maid of Honour: A Tale of the Dark Days of France. Vol. 3 (of 3)

by Lewis Wingfield

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  THE DECKS ARE CLEARED FOR ACTION.

  Gabrielle maintained her attitude of uncompromising dignity, until theboudoir door clanged to, and, left alone, sank back upon the cushionsnumbed. The sword had fallen. She had herself severed the last frayedstrands. What form would the abbe's vengeance take now that he hadwakened to the fact that under no circumstances whatever would shesubmit herself to his desires? What mattered it, so that the end wasswift? The dear ones were safe in distant Paris. No cause to fear forthem. Their mother had been careful in signing the second will to addthe tell-tale cross. On the whole, she was to be congratulated on theapproaching change, for her worldly affairs were in order, there wasno motive left for lingering. To one placed as she was, death, as shetruly said, would be release. Victor and Camille would grow up underthe care of grandmamma, secure from the machinations of their fatherand the crew by which he was surrounded. Her death would be anadvantage to them, for the tale of the two wills and the precautionarydeclaration would become public property, and a barrier be raisedunder the scrutiny of public opinion, which would protect the dearones from her husband.

  And yet how whimsical the situation was! In the course of charitablewanderings among the poor, she had looked with amaze on creatureslying upon their rotten straw with scarce a rag to cover them, whoclung to their wretched existence with a pertinacity that was bothweird and ludicrous, considering that it was but a step, and such aneasy one, into the peaceful grave. Now she herself was within distanceof that step, and could look calmly into the chasm, contemplate theprecise spot beneath whose crust she was to sleep for ever. But was itfor ever? Ah! If she only knew. She had long ago learned to smile atthe mediaeval absurdities, invented by naive, ignorant churchmen, offlames and pitchforks, and demons with red-hot tongs; but now that shestood so near to Death, that she could feel the chill rustle of hisgarments, she felt herself drawn into the sea of idle and abortivespeculation.

  Why is it, amusing paradox, that the virtuous--those, that is, whohave somehow succeeded, to a creditable extent, in avoiding the ruggedbut fascinating path of temptation--should be tossed by doubts andshadowy tremors, while those who have wallowed in enormosities aresnugly complacent as to the end? It is nearly always so. The morehopelessly heinous the crime of the murderer, the more abominablyabandoned the criminal, the more glibly will the monster prate of hissalvation; the more sure will he be of sleeping on Abraham's bosom.Verily, in the long course of globe-rolling, so much vermin ofnauseous kind has tumbled off, vowing, as it fell, that its destinywas the bosom of Abraham, that that patriarch must by this timesomewhat regret the flattering prominence of his position. Thesublimely compassionate declaration, "To-day shalt thou be with Me inParadise," has been so largely and freely rendered into a convictionof immunity from the results of sin by the worst of scoundrels, that apremium is offered to crime. The scarce discoloured soul goestremulously off, conscious of tiny spots, wondering and fearing as toits reception in its next resting-place, while that one which is blackand ulcered, soars aloft singing a seraphic paean. Brethren, it is easyto cultivate contrition. There is nothing more easy than to repentwhen there are no more sins to commit. Let us all commit crimes ofabnormal horror, that the parson may assure us on the scaffold thatpurged with hyssop we are clean.

  Such reflections as these passed vaguely through the mind of Gabrielleas she strove to nerve herself to endure, with becoming composure, thecoming ordeal. She recalled and contemplated her peccadilloes. Thevarious naughtinesses of her brief life swept past in procession asdistinct and rapid as the last vision of the drowning man. Herconscience kept whispering that she could have little to fear if Godwere just, for the small sins of which she could accuse herself mustbe balanced against her earthly woes. And then she chided herselfbitterly for presumption. How dared she to conclude that she was not aterrible sinner, considering that as a chit, her father confessor hadimposed fearsome pains and penalties, as punishment for childishtransgressions? She was bad, very bad indeed. Had she not impiouslyendeavoured once to cut the thread and escape? And now that thread wasto be cut for her by an alien hand. Why did she not feel the sameeagerness to be away, as on that night, when she leapt out of thewherry?

  It always came back to this. The same refrain was singing in her ears.So young, so rich, so beautiful--to be put away, crushed under theheel, like the rat that cumbers the earth. It was hard, very hard, andsomehow the joyous careless days of Versailles and Trianon, wouldglitter up out of the mirage to dazzle and disturb her vision.

  Some one knocked and entered with a tray.

  "Madame, supper," the servant said.

  Her supper! Not brought by faithful Toinon? Why? Was the episode ofthe cakes to be repeated?

  "Where is my maid?" she asked.

  "Very ill in bed--delirious," the servant answered with respect.

  "Ill! Delirious! What has happened? I will go to her at once."

  "As madame wishes," the lacquey replied. "I was to inform madame thatMademoiselle Brunelle has undertaken to cure the invalid, and is withher now."

  Words of enquiry rose and died on Gabrielle's lips. The servant bowedand retired. Mademoiselle Brunelle closeted with Toinon? The marquisehad endured overmuch, and just now could not cope with that woman.

  The baleful Algae had taken the faithful waiting-maid in hand, whounder her manipulation was ill and delirious? Her last friend wastaken away from her. She was alone now, quite, quite alone. Theywished her also to become ill and delirious? She glanced at thesupper-tray and smiled at the dainties thereon set out. No. She wouldnot perish that way. If only she could see Toinon! To what end? Thedevoted girl was paying the penalty of faithfulness. If she went nowto see her she could do no good; would probably not be allowed to seeher at all; would be rudely turned away by that woman, as in old timesshe had been from the nursery.

  But it was hard to bear--oh, hard, very hard to bear; thus to be leftwithout a friend--without a tender hand, the crisis past, lovingly toclose her eyes! And yet how pitifully foolish to be disturbed aboutsuch petty details! When the soul is freed, what matters if the glassyeyes whose glory has faded away are closed or not; and if they are, bywhom they are closed? What childish folly to care, and yet, asGabrielle sought her gloomy bedchamber, she felt more solitary thanever before in her existence. The dingy ancestors peering down fromout their dusty frames--they who had long passed the rubicon and knewthe secret, if secret there be to know--seemed in the fitful glare ofthe smouldering fire to laugh and mow at her folly. What a potherover a few years of suffering. The dead only are at peace--the deadonly enjoy rest. Oh, blessed dead and fortunate! And here was astorm-tossed mortal on the very threshold of freedom, clinging to andhugging her chains. Oh, pitiable and laughter-moving spectacle! Poor,silly, straining little shallop on the immeasurable ocean of destiny!Summon thy waning courage, oh, nerve racked atom of humanity, tossedon the waves of time. Courage, shrinking coward, and be thankful thatthy corroding gyves will so soon be broken.

  The marquise, though faint from lack of food and many emotions,refused to eat. How cruel of Toinon to fall ill at such a time! andyet not so; for it must be the band of wretches who had made her ill.Her mistress would go to bed and forget her misery in sleep. Sleep!With nerves stretched to tightest tension, how could she hope tosleep? Wearily she threw herself upon the bed, dressed as she was, andgnawed the pillow in her travail.

  It has been mercifully ordered that the human organism cannot enduremore than a given strain. Either we go mad and forget, or dropexhausted and unconscious. Ere the smouldering logs had whitened toashes, Gabrielle had forgotten her troubles, plunged in dreamlessslumber. Such sleep as this brings no refreshment, though it serves asanodyne--a filter of short-lived oblivion. She must have slept longand heavily, for, waking with leaden lids and throbbing brow, she wasaware of a shadowy woman drawing back the window curtains to let inthe day.

  Toinon had recovered then. That was fortunate.

>   "Toinon," she murmured; "thank Heaven, you are well again, my onlyfriend!"

  The woman stood at the foot of the bed with crossed arms, slowlywagging a head shrouded in a silken handkerchief. Her robust figureloomed preternaturally large, her laughter was low and muffled.

  "Your only friend," she remarked gaily, "is safe under lock and key."

  The marquise sat up and surveyed the intruder with a look of fear,vaguely dreading something that was imminent.

  "Mademoiselle Brunelle!" she exclaimed, with a shudder. "You havedared to force your way into my bed-chamber?"

  "That have I," returned the ex-governess, affably; "for I havebusiness here. There is a little account to settle."

  "An account?"

  "Oh! not money. There will be plenty of money by and by, no thanks togenerosity of yours. I offered you the hand of friendship and youscorned it--I, who am the stronger, though for a time you obtained themastery. You chased me with ignominy from the house--insulted andhumiliated me by striving to drive me hence a second time. Do youthink I am one to forgive? You made my life wretched, treating me asif I were a leper, out of jealousy of your nincompoop husband, as if Iever cared a fig for him! Now my turn has come. Insult for insultshall you have again. Vainly--you craven--will you implore mercy.There shall be none for you. I have made up my mind to take yourplace. You cumber the earth, you useless bit of trumpery, and this dayshall rid us of your presence."

  "I never did you wrong. You know it!" Gabrielle said, slowly. Her ownvoice seemed strange, deadened by a singing in the ears. "On thatscore I stand acquitted." A curious fancy flitted through her brainand faded. In how brief a while might she be standing before anothertribunal, to answer for the manner of her life?

  Mademoiselle Brunelle was provoked in that the arrows of her spitefell short. The craven did not sue for mercy. By the waxen pallor ofher cheeks and lips, and the deep circles round her dark blue eyes, itwas evident that the marquise was in mortal terror. Her aspen fingerstwitched the bedclothes nervously; but she gave vent to no reproach oroutcry.

  There was an impatient tapping at the door. Algae moved swiftly acrossthe room and opened it.

  "You may come in, gentlemen," she said. "Madame la Marquise is fullydressed, prepared to receive company."

  The abbe and the chevalier entered, the latter unsteady in his gait,and cowed. His dress was dusty and disordered; his hair and linenrumpled. It was evident that he had spent the night in drinking; forhis bloated visage was flushed and inflamed with wine, while his mouthwas convulsively contracted. His glassy eyes were red and swollen.Their whites showed yellow and bloodshot, as he turned them withwistful apprehension on his brother.

  Gabrielle saw in the abbe a new and altered man. There was about hisaspect a steely look of uncompromising determination--a gleam oftriumph, as of one who has toiled long, but sees his goal at last--acurl of cruelty about his thin tight lips, that stirred the hair uponher head. If the devil ever peered out of human windows he was lookingdown upon her now--so close, so close--looking down on the victim tiedand bound, whose sacrifice he was here to consummate.

  "Dear Gabrielle!" Pharamond said with a diabolical grin. "How nice ofyou to be up and dressed, and so save our precious time. See here whatwe have brought you."

  The chevalier, who bore in one hand a silver chalice, had drawn hissword and ranged himself beside his brother in sullen silence, whileMademoiselle Brunelle remained by the door and turned the key in thelock.

  The abbe flourished a pistol, which he playfully pointed at thetrembling figure on the bed.

  "Did you ever read English history?" he inquired. "No! The educationof great ladies is sadly neglected. Know that there was once a faircreature as beautiful even as you, whose name was Rosamond, and aqueen called Eleanor. The queen visited the fair one in her bower, andsaid. 'Here is a cup and here is a dagger, choose, for your time iscome and you must die.' How sensible and to the purpose. See howgenerous am I, for I offer you three alternatives instead of two. Thepistol, the sword, the poison. Make your selection quickly."

  "Die!" gasped Gabrielle, pressing her fingers to her burning brow, asshe looked at each, turning restlessly from one to the other of thetrio, seeking for a gleam of compassion, and finding none. "Wherefore?of what crime have I been guilty? You decree my death, and you inflictit--why?"

  "Choose," repeated the abbe with impatience, dropping his tone ofbanter. "Sodden oaf and fool, give me the chalice," he added,fiercely. "Your palsied hand will drop it."

  Indeed the chevalier seemed to be losing the control of his muscles,for he swayed to and fro, as one far gone in liquor. In his agitationhis sword-hilt clattered against the metal buttons on his coat,perceiving which the marquise seeming to see a faint ray of hope,turned her pleading face to him in agonized remonstrance.

  "Phebus," she murmured, earnestly, "you once said you loved me, andtempted me to sin, and afterwards repented. You are not bad at heart.Your nature is not cruel and inexorable, and I am yet so young! Thinkof the memories you are raising now--a nightmare of unavailingremorse. Think before it is too late, of the clinging shirt of fire,which as the years progress will send you raving, and never may beshaken off!"

  "Enough, enough! It is settled," cried the abbe, "choose, or I willmake the choice. In this goblet is no copper draught, since it appearsyou object to copper--a soothing decoction of delicious herbs, thatgrow beside the river. You are no botanist, I fear, or would haveadmired the pretty spotted leaf of the _[oe]nanthe crocata_, a usefulplant without taste or smell, which possesses the additionaladvantage, when its work is done, of leaving no trace behind. You areso deplorably slow and undecided that I must choose for you. The[oe]nanthe, let it be, then, for it will neither stain your flesh normar your incomparable skin. You will lie with a peaceful smile, as ofa pure unsullied babe who sleeps well and pleasantly, and drift gentlyon the stream of Lethe. Socrates, of whom, maybe you've heard, oncequaffed a delicate tisane made of this self-same plant, and historyavers that he enjoyed it very much."

  The abbe approached a step nearer, and held forth the goblet. Themarquise recoiled, and half-numbed by a wind that seemed to blow fromout of her open grave, clasped her hands wildly, crying, "Phebus, saveme!"

  "You waste your breath," the abbe remarked, sternly. "His power ofvolition's gone, he is an automaton worked by me. Waste no more time,for we have much to do to-day. Drink, or he shall use his sword."

  Gabrielle, under the scrutiny of six pitiless eyes, took the chalicein her hands and drank.

  The abbe--determined this time to do his work effectually--perceivinga sediment left, gathered it carefully in a spoon, and bringing it tothe goblet's brim, offered it once more with a courteous smile to thequivering lips of his victim. Then, remembering, he withdrew thespoon, and said, "No! the stalks and fibres can be traced."

  The victim lay panting on her pillows. The executioner remarked with alow bow, "We will leave you to make your peace with Heaven," and waspreparing to withdraw when the marquise gasped out, "In Heaven's name,do not destroy my soul. Send for a confessor that I may die as aChristian should."

  "You forgot I am a priest," returned the abbe, smiling, "and now, asever, at your service."

  Perceiving that she did not appreciate his merry conceit, for shecovered her face with shuddering hands, he motioned to his brother tofollow, and bade Algae remain with the victim.

  "There will be much to see to," he observed, "for those whounfortunately perish of malignant fevers, must be speedily put away.Within an hour there will be delirium and giddiness, followed by comaand death. Keep the patient quiet, and make her comfortable. We willleave for Blois at midday, and meet the marquis on the road." Withthis he playfully executed another deep reverence, and dragging thechevalier after him, left the room.

  Mademoiselle Brunelle was enchanted that matters should at last havebeen brought to a satisfactory pass with becoming decorum. Noungenteel screaming, no bloodshed; only a palatable tisane whichtasted a little like celery. In a few hours they woul
d intercept themarquis on his ill-judged return, and when he knew that he was awidower, he would be as anxious as they to leave the neighbourhood.Events that seem untoward are often for the best. His sudden change ofplans had driven the conspirators to promptitude. The tortuous andshilly-shally abbe had been compelled to action, and he had reallyacted very well.

  She glanced now and then at the figure on the bed, who lay asmotionless as if all were already over, and walked up and downreflecting. What a provoking man the marquis was, who had to be serveddespite himself. Left alone, unpropped, he had tumbled down, theunstable creature; had repented, and was coming back to whine and toentreat and bite his nails in indecision. Well. No excuse for whiningnow. The die was cast. In a few days they would have crossed thefrontier never to revisit Lorge. The jewels. They must not be leftbehind, since they were of exceeding value--love gifts from the dotingmarechal, who deemed naught too good for his darling. There was adiamond parure somewhere, of purest water, which would become the newmarquise amazingly. With greedy hands Algae dived into drawers,ferreted in the cabinet of ebony, searched the silver knickknacks onthe toilet table. Where were the jewels kept? Doubtless, in thegarderobe on the opposite side of the corridor. Yes. Here was thebunch of keys labelled. Mademoiselle would be a veritable ninny wereshe to neglect her chance of reaping all that could be reaped. As theprospective wife of Clovis the jewels were her own or soon would be,and with this plaguy revolution going on, to leave France was to becondemned to exile. The property of _emigres_ was confiscated. When itbecame known that the Marquise de Gange was dead, and the marquiseflown, the state would pounce upon the chateau, and take possession ofeverything within it. It clearly behoved the second wife to rummage inthe cupboards of the first. There was no time to lose. Casting onehasty glance at the bed, and perceiving no change, Mademoisellehastily left the room in search of treasure.

  With fingers still clasped over her eyes Gabrielle lay still, eachminute passage in her melancholy life flitting across her brain. Shehad distinctly heard the brutal fiat of the abbe. Giddiness, delirium,coma, death. Within an hour the symptoms would commence--to last howlong? No sign as yet of giddiness. On the contrary, that cold gustfrom out the grave appeared to have stimulated her mind, quickeningits action, magnifying each thought in crystal clearness. It wouldsoon be over. The release for which she had prayed so long andearnestly was close at hand. Her fretted spirit would find peace--shewould be freed from the corroding bonds of harsh humanity. Not fiveand twenty, and the world was beautiful. Now, that she stood on thethreshold, on the point of closing the door which may never bere-opened, Gabrielle found herself filled with a strange longing andregret. She knew not that it was the force of young and healthy lifethat was bubbling up in protest. Hope would not thus be slain. Anoverwhelming desire to live arose and possessed her being. An ideathat was new and draught with horror flooded her mind, and she sat uppanting. Her children! Why had she not thought of it before? A reasonfor welcoming death had been that they would be the better protectedby her flitting. But was it indeed so? Had not her mother deserted herin a grievous plight through selfish cowardice? Alarmed for herselfshe had fled with a pretence that all was well. A fitting guardian fortwo children, truly. How clear it was--how dreadfully clear! Theconspirators would work upon her fears--obtain possession of Victorand Camille. By securing their fortune she had imperilled their lives,for those who could do her to death with such cold barbarity, wouldstick at nothing when they found themselves foiled by her precautions.She must not die. No, she must live--for their sakes! To stand betweenthem and the fate they had prepared for her. She sprang from the bed,a prey to violent agitation. There was a singing in her ears--hertemples throbbed as though they would crack in sunder. She reeled andclung to the curtain. Her throat was parched with thirst. Were thesethe first symptoms of the fatal draught? No. It was excess of emotionand anxiety that made her giddy. She would live--live--live--in spiteof the executioners, and God would help, for her cause was holy!

  She was alone. Mademoiselle Brunelle for some reason had left herpost. The marquise stole to the door, turned the key, gently shot thebolt into its socket. Then, grasping her long hair she forced it downher throat, inducing by irritation a violent sickness, which relievedher. But how to effect escape? Some one was already rattling thehandle without--the deep voice of Algae was shouting in imperiousaccents, "Open! Let me in!" Despair gave strength and courage.Gabrielle tore open the casement and got out upon the ledge. Below wasa stone-paved courtyard; opposite, the outer wall, with the posternthat gave on the pleasaunce. Was it locked? No matter. She wore thekey of the new lock upon a bracelet. No time to think. With anagonized cry to Heaven for succour she leapt, but was held up for amoment by two strong hands, while close to hers was the face of Algae,black and convulsed with fury. Mademoiselle, hearing a noise within,had rushed round by the boudoir, whose door the marquise had forgottenin her haste to lock. And now began a fierce and desperate tusslebetween the women, which, though neither knew it, was of infiniteservice to the victim, for it kept off drowsiness. Strong as she was,Algae could not, cramped and strained, sustain the struggling weight,which escaped from her grasp and fell, while she loudly called forhelp. The patient was delirious--in madness had flung herself from thewindow and broken her bones upon the pavement. No. She rolled over andover, and was up again; and Algae, grinding her teeth, seized one ofthe sculptured flower-pots of bronze and dashed it down at her. Surethe intended victim must bear a charmed life! She sped across thecourtyard, succeeded in unlocking the postern, and emerged upon thegarden moat.

  "Well!" muttered Algae, with a philosophic headshake, "she is in atrap, for beyond the moat is a wall she cannot pass, and the gates areclosed and guarded. It was stupid of me not to wait, and the abbe willbe angry. Yet the fault is his, for he distinctly said 'an hour.'"

  Meanwhile, refreshed by the air and movement, the frenzied Gabrielleseemed to have wings upon her feet, as she clenched her hands and keptrepeating with laboured breath, "I will live--live--live." Her mindwas preternaturally clear--she could see with prophetic vision, andgrapple with contingencies. She saw the wall and knew she could notpass it; guessed that the gates were guarded; but remembering acertain night, which seemed a century ago, when she had wickedlyattempted suicide, she made with all speed for the end of the moat, atthe spot where it joined the river. The wherry was there, swingingloosely and idly on its chain. She leapt into the boat and loosed theknotted links, and, accustomed to use the oars, impelled it across theriver. By this happy thought she gained precious time, could take ashort cut to Montbazon, and might yet be saved; for her pursuers,deprived of the boat, would have to make a circuit of a mile or morein order to reach the bridge. She would be saved--she knew she wouldbe saved--and then there fell on her a cold and sickening fear.Her limbs were trembling. She was growing giddy; her sight waswavering--the sky looked brown and dark. Was she doomed to sink downand perish when escape was all but certain?

  She tottered along the path, and groping on for a few steps withoutstretched arms like one struck blind, reeled and fell, moaning. Thesinging in her ears was deafening--like the howling of a hurricanethrough some dense forest; but through it she all at once heardsomething--a voice that was once familiar. Raising with an effort herheavy eyelids, she was aware of a man with a horse's bridle on hisarm, who was supporting her and sprinkling water on her face. She wascertainly growing blind as well as giddy. The man loomed unnaturallylarge, and seemed at one instant crushingly close, at another a leagueaway.

  Grasping the strands of memory which, crystalline no more, wasslipping, slipping, she knitted her brows in a wild effort to rememberhim.

  "As I'm a living sinner, 'tis the marquise," the man said, when he hadrecovered from his amazement. "Poor soul! In so terrible a plight.Only just in time, it seems."

  Jean! Jean Boulot! Gabrielle suddenly remembered, and tightly clutchedhis hand. "Jean--dear Jean!" she gasped. "Save me! I am poisoned, butI will not die; I must not, cannot die. They are in pursuit--wil
l killus both. Quick--for love of the dear saints--take me at once toMontbazon!"

  Jean pursed his lips, and frowned. "How like the wickedness ofaristos!" he muttered. "It is time their evil brood was banished fromoff the world. Poisoned, you say, madame. What was it?"

  "Hemlock," she answered, faintly; "but I have got rid of most of it."

  "Hemlock," Jean echoed; "the children hereabouts often eat it, and aresaved by tea and charcoal. Courage, madame, all will yet be well. Oneword more. What of Toinon?"

  "She is under lock and key," returned Gabrielle, "but safe, for in thehue and cry for me, her existence will be forgotten."

  Sturdy Jean Boulot mounted his horse, and supporting the marquise infront of him, made with all speed by the bridle path for Montbazon.

  He was as surprised as shocked, and blamed himself unreasoningly. Heof all men should know the depth of enormity of which the noblessewere capable, for was he not always making speeches thereanent for thebehoof of less enlightened lieges? Knowing how bad they were, he hadabandoned the post of duty, for it was his duty to protect his loveand the heiress of the family whose bread he had eaten from childhood.Why, knowing what she must know, had Toinon so long delayed to writeto him? By an unlucky circumstance he had been sent on a mission toTours. Hence, he had not got her letter till after many days; but,having read it, had started off forthwith. And Toinon was locked up bythose miscreants! Perhaps they had murdered her as they had attemptedto murder her mistress. First he must obey madame, and carry her toMontbazon. That was his plain duty. Then he would raise the peasantry,who were ready and trained to arms, and, if need were, storm thechateau. And woe to all of them if Toinon indeed had perished!