CHAPTER XII.
THE SPIRIT MATERIALIZED.
At five next afternoon, Viscount Charny and Sebastian reached theTuileries Palace gates. The name of his brother passed Isidore and hiscompanion into the middle courtyard.
Young Gilbert had wanted to go to the house in Honore Street where hisfather dwelt, but the other had pointed out that as he was honoraryphysician to the Royal Household, he might be at the palace, where thelatest news of him could be had.
While an usher made inquiries, Sebastian sat on a sofa and Isidorewalked up and down the sitting-room.
In ten minutes the man returned: Count Charny was with the Queen; Dr.Gilbert had had nothing happen to him; he was supposed to be with theKing, as a doctor was with his Majesty. If it were so, he would beinformed on coming out that a person was waiting to see him.
Isidore was much affected in parting with him as his joy at recoveringhis father made the loss of his brother more painful.
At this the door opened for a servant to call: "The Viscount of Charnyis asked for in the Queen's apartments."
"You will wait for me," said Isidore; "unless your father comes, promiseme, Gilbert, for I am answerable for you to the doctor."
"Yes, and receive my thanks in the meantime," rejoined Sebastian,resuming his place on the sofa as the Viscount left the room with thedomestic.
Easy about his father's fate, and himself, certain that the good intentwould earn his forgiveness for the journey, he went back in memory toFather Fortier, and on Pitou, and reflected on the trouble which hisflight and his note would cause them severally.
And naturally, by the mechanism of ideas, he thought of the woods aroundPitou's home, where he had so often pursued the ghost in his reverie.The White Lady seen so oft in visions, and once only in reality, hebelieved in Satory Wood, appearing and flitting away in a magnificentcarriage drawn by a galloping pair.
He recalled the profound emotion this sight had given him and halfplunged in dreams anew, he murmured:
"My mother?"
At this juncture, a door in the wall over against him opened. A womanappeared. This appearance was so much in harmony with what happened inhis fancy, that he started to see his ghost take substance. In thiswoman was the vision and the reality--the lady seen at Satory.
He sprang up as though a spring had acted under his feet.
His lips tightened on one another, his eyes expanded, and the pupilsdilated. His heaving breast in vain endeavored to form a sound.
Majestic, haughty and disdainful, the lady passed him without any heed.Calm as she was externally, yet her pale countenance, frowning brow andwhistling respiration, betrayed that she was in great nervousirritation.
She crossed the room diagonally, opened another door, and walked into acorridor.
Sebastian comprehended that she was escaping him, if he did not hasten.He still looked as if apprehensive that it was a ghost, but then dartedafter her, before the skirt of her silken robe had disappeared round theturning of the lobby.
Hearing steps behind her, she walked more briskly as if fearing pursuit.
He quickened his gait as much as he could, fearing as the corridor wasdark that he might miss her. This caused her to accelerate her pacealso, but she looked round.
He uttered a cry of joy for it was clearly the vision.
Seeing but a boy with extended arms and understanding nothing why sheshould be chased, the lady hurried down a flight of stairs. But she hadbarely descended to one landing than Sebastian arrived at the end of thepassage where he called out:
"Lady, oh, lady!"
This voice produced a strange sensation throughout the hearer; sheseemed struck in the heart by a pain which was half delight, and fromthe heart a shudder sent by the blood through all her veins.
Nevertheless, as all was a puzzle to her; she doubled her speed, and thecourse resembled a flight.
They reached the foot of the stairs at the same time.
It was the courtyard into which the lady sped. A carriage was waitingfor her, for a servant was holding the door open. She stepped in swiftlyand took her seat.
Before the door could be closed, Sebastian glided in between it and thefootman, and seizing the hem of her dress, kissed with frenzy and cried:
"Oh, lady!"
Looking at the pretty boy who had frightened her at first, she said in asweeter voice than she usually spoke, though it was yet shaken with fearand emotion:
"Well, my little friend, why are you running after me? why do you callme? what do you want?"
"I want to see you, and kiss you," replied the child. "I want to callyou 'Mother,'" he added in so low a voice that only she could hear him.
She uttered a scream, embraced him, and approaching him as by a suddenrevelation, fastened her ardent lips on his brow. Then, as though shedreaded someone coming to snatch away this child whom she had found, shedrew him entirely into the vehicle, pushed him to its other side, shutthe door with her own hand, and lowering the glass to order: "Drive toNo. 9 Coq-Heron Street, the first carriage-doorway from PlastriereStreet," she shut the window instantly.
Turning to the boy she asked his name.
"Sebastian? come, Sebastian, come here, on my heart."
She threw herself back as if going to swoon, muttering: "What newsensation is this? can it be what is called happiness?"
The journey was one long kiss of mother and son.
She had found this son by a miracle, whom the father had torn from herin a terrible night of anguish and dishonor; he had disappeared with notrace but the abductor's tracks in the snow; this child had beendetested until she heard its first wail, whereupon she had loved him;this child had been prayed for, called for, begged for. Her brother haduselessly hunted for him over land and ocean. For fifteen years she hadyearned for him, and despaired to behold him again; she had begun tothink no more of him but as a cherished spirit. Here he was, running andcrying after her, seeking her, in his turn, calling her "Mother!"
He was pillowed on her heart, pressing on her bosom, loving her filiallyalthough he had never seen her, as she loved him with maternalaffection. Her pure lips recovered all the joys of a lost life in thisfirst kiss given her son.
Above the head of mankind is Something else than the void in which thespheres revolve: in life there is Another Thing than chance andfatality.
After fourteen years she was taken back to the house where he was born,this offspring of the union of the mesmerist Gilbert and the daughter ofthe House of Taverney, his victim. There he had drawn the first breathof life and thence his father had stolen him.
This little residence, bought by the late Baron Taverney, served aslodging for his son when he came to town, which was rarely, and forAndrea, when she slept in town.
After her conflict with the Queen, unable to bear meeting the woman wholoved her husband, Andrea had made up her mind to go away from therival, who visited on her retaliation for all her griefs, and whom thewoes of the Queen, great though they were, always remained beneath thesufferings of the loving woman.
All concurred then in making this evening a happy one for the ex-Queen'smaid of honor. Nothing should trouble her. Instead of a room in a palacewhere the walls are all ears and eyes, she was harboring her child inher own little, secluded house.
As soon as she was closeted with Sebastian in her boudoir, she drew himto a lounge, on which were concentrated the lights from both candles andfire.
"Oh, my boy, is it really you?" she exclaimed with a joy which stillquivered with lingering doubt.
"Mother!" ejaculated Sebastian with an outburst of the heart, flowinglike refreshing dews on Andrea's burning heart and enfevered veins.
"And the meeting to be here," said she, looking round with terrortowards the room whence he had been stolen.
"What do you mean by 'Here?'"
"Fifteen years ago, my boy, you were born in this room, and I bless themercy of the Almighty that you are miraculously restored to me."
"Yes, miraculously indeed,"
said the youth, "for if I had not feared formy father----"
Andrea closed her eyes and leaned back, so sharp was the pang shootingthrough her.
"If I had not set out alone in the night, I should not have beenperplexed about the road: and then I should not have been recognized byLord Isidore Charny, who offered his help and conducted me to theTuileries----"
Her eyes re-opened, her heart expanded and her glance thanked heaven:for it increased the miracle that Sebastian should be led to her by herhusband's brother.
"I should not have seen you passing through the palace and not followingyou might never have called you 'Mother!' the word so sweet and tenderto utter."
Recalled to her bliss, she hugged him again and said:
"Yes, you are right, my boy; it is most sweet: but there is perchanceanother one more sweet and tender; 'My son!' which I say to you as Ipress you to my heart. But in short," she suddenly said, "it isimpossible that all should remain mysterious around us. You haveexplained how you come here, but not how you recognized me and ran afterme, calling me your mother."
"How can I tell? I do not myself know," replied Sebastian, looking ather with love unspeakable. "You speak of mysteries? all is mysteriousabout you and me. List to me, and I will tell you what seems a prodigy."
Andrea bent nearer.
"It is ten years since I knew you. You do not understand. I have dreamswhich my father calls hallucinations."
At the reminder of Gilbert, passing like a steel point from the boyishlips, Andrea started.
"I have seen you twenty times, mother. In the village, while playingwith the other schoolboys, I have followed you as you flitted throughthe woods and pursued you with useless calls till you faded away.Crushed by fatigue I would drop on the spot, as if your presence alonehad sustained me."
This kind of second existence, this living dream, too much resembledwhat the medium herself experienced for her not to understand him.
"Poor darling," she said as she pressed him more closely, "it was vainlythat hate strove to part us. Heaven was bringing us together without mysuspecting it. Less happy than you, I saw my dear child neither in dreamnor reality. Still, when I passed through that Green Saloon I felt ashiver; when I heard your footsteps behind mine, giddiness thrilled myheart and brain; when you called me 'Lady' I all but stopped; when youcalled me 'Mother!' I nearly swooned; when I embraced you, I believed."
"My mother," repeated Sebastian, as if to console her for not havingheard the welcome title for so long.
"Yes, your mother," said the countess, with a transport of loveimpossible to describe.
"Now that we have found each other," said the youth, "and as you arecontented and happy at our union, we are not going to part any more,tell me?"
She shuddered: she was enjoying the present to the exclusion of the pastand totally closing her eyes on the future.
"How I should bless you, my poor boy, if you could accomplish thismiracle!" she sighingly murmured.
"Let me manage it; I will do it. I do not know the causes separating youfrom my father,"--Andrea turned pale--"but they will be effaced by mytears and entreaties, however serious they may be."
"Never," returned the countess, shaking her head.
"I tell you that my father adores you," said Sebastian, who believedthat the woman was in the wrong from the way his father had forbiddenhim ever to mention her name.
Her hands holding the speaker's relaxed but he did not notice this, ashe continued:
"I will prepare him to greet you; I will tell him all the happiness yougive me; one of these days, I will take you by the hand and lead you tohim, saying: 'Here she is, father--look, how handsome she is!'"
Repulsing Sebastian, she sprang up.
"Never," repeated she, while he stared with astounded eyes for she wasso white as to alarm him. This time her accent expressed a threat ratherthan fright.
She recoiled on the lounge; in that face he had seen the hard lineswhich Raphael gives to irritated angels.
"Why do you refuse to receive my father?" he demanded, in a sullenvoice.
At these words, the lightning burst as at the contact of two clouds.
"Why? do you ask me why? well, never shall you know."
"Still, I ask why," said Sebastian, with firmness.
"Because, then," said Andrea, incapable of self-restraint under thesting of the serpent gnawing at her heart, "because your father is aninfamous villain!"
He bounded up from the divan and stood before her.
"Do you say that of my father," he cried, "of Dr. Gilbert, who broughtme up and educated me, the only friend I ever knew? I am making amistake--you are no mother of mine!"
She stopped him darting towards the door.
"Stay," she said, "you cannot know, ought not understand, may notjudge."
"No; but I can feel, and I feel that I love you no more."
She screamed with pain.
Simultaneously, a diversion was given to the emotion overwhelming her bythe sound of a carriage coming up to the street doorway. Such a shudderran over her that he thrilled in sympathy.
"Wait, and be silent," she said so that he was subjugated.
"Who am I to announce?" she heard the old footman demand in theante-room.
"The Count of Charny; and inquire if my lady will do me the honor toreceive me?"
"Into this room, child," said Andrea, "he must not see you--he must notknow that you exist!"
She pushed the frightened youth into the adjoining apartment.
"Remain here till he shall have gone, when I will relate to--No, nothingof that can be said? I will so love you that you will not doubt that Iam your own loving mother."
His only reply was a moan.
At this moment the door opened and the servant, cap in hand, acquittedhimself of the errand entrusted to him.
"Show in the Count of Charny," she said in the firmest voice she couldfind.
As the old man retired, the nobleman appeared on the sill.
The Hero of the People: A Historical Romance of Love, Liberty and Loyalty Page 12