Collected Works of Eugène Sue

by Eugène Sue

  “Hear me, madame; I love you truly; that is to say, that I was capable of anything to prove to you my love, absurd and stupid as it appears to you. Yes, I loved you, because my heart told me I did well to love you; because I felt myself better for loving you. You may laugh at this love; I was sufficiently repaid by the happiness it gave me. When you have said, ‘Sir, I mock at you, I use you for a plaything, you are a poor devil, I have bestowed charity upon you, and you should be content therewith — —’”

  “Sir!”

  “When you have said all this, do not think that I was humiliated. No, that hurt me, hurt me much, but I quickly forgot this injury, when I saw that you understood that, poor as I am, I could be touched by something else than money. Then you said to me some kind words, you called me your friend — your friend! After this I would have thrown myself into the fire for you, and that for the sole pleasure of throwing myself into it, for I had nothing more to hope for from you; the time of my folly is past; I see too clearly into my heart not to recognize that I was a kind of mendicant buffoon; I can never have anything in common with a woman as beautiful and as young as you. My only ambition — and this can offend no one — would have been to devote myself to you. But how to have such happiness? I, a vagabond, with nothing but my old sword, my old hat, and my pink hose! Ah! well, by a chance which I at first blessed, Colonel Rutler to-night mistook me for him they call your husband; this mistake might be useful to you. Judge of my joy — I could save the man whom you so passionately loved. I should have preferred to save something else, but I had no time to choose. I risked all, including the everlasting dagger of the colonel. I augmented, by every means possible, his double mistake. You came to my assistance; that is, you buried me in the mud up to the neck, by means of the bagatelles with which you loaded me. It is all the same — I go with all my heart; I am satisfied to do so, and I leave this house without hope of ever seeing you again, with the gallows or prison in prospect, not to count the everlasting dagger of the Dutchman. Ah, well, in spite of all, I repeat, I was content: I said to myself, I know not what awaits me, rope or dungeon; but I am sure Blue Beard will say, ‘It is fortunate, very fortunate for us at least, that this eccentric Gascon came here. Poor devil! what has happened to him?’ There! that was my ambition. But I did not ask even a regret, a memory — a memory,” said the Gascon, moved in spite of himself.

  “Sir,” said Angela, “as long as I believed you really generous, my gratitude did not fail you.”

  These words increased the Gascon’s wrath; he exclaimed, “Your gratitude, madame! Zounds! it is beautiful. But to proceed. We started from this place with the Belgian. In descending the hill we met the French emissary. Rutler at once believed himself betrayed, and made a furious lunge at me with his everlasting dagger. These are the fruits of devotion. If the blade had not broken, I should have been killed. Nothing is simpler; when one sacrifices oneself for others, it is hardly with the expectation of being crowned with roses, or caressed by nymphs of the woods. Well, the dagger broke; one of the men throttled Rutler; I found myself face to face with the French emissary. I did not lose my head. It was a matter touching you and the unhappy exile whom you loved passionately. I would rather it had been your father or your uncle, but I had no choice. Beside, the idea of being useful to two young and interesting people threw my egotism into the background. The greater the complications the more my pride incited me to save you. I redoubled my audacity and coolness. The great but honest falsehoods I have uttered for you should absolve me from those which I have spoken for an unworthy cause. The good God took up the cause; I was inspired to the greatest falsehoods you can imagine; they were swallowed up as eagerly by the French envoy as if it had been manna from on high. I played my rôle with all my might. Monsieur De Chemerant told me in two words the object of his mission; an insurrection favored by the King of France was on foot in England; if the Duke of Monmouth were to put himself at the head of the affair its success was assured.”

  Monmouth made a movement and stealthily exchanged glances with Angela.

  The Gascon continued: “When I was on the way to an English prison with the Belgian and his everlasting dagger I did not breathe a word. I was well protected from any wish to return here. But when De Chemerant confided to me a thing of possible advantage to the prince, I had no right to refuse it for him. I therefore accepted in his name all manner of viceroyalties. But, if he really desired to take part in this uprising, how was I to let him know? Monsieur De Chemerant desired to set sail at once. By what means could I return here with the envoy of France without exposing the duke, who was ignorant of my last adventure and believed me still to be the Belgian’s prisoner, thinking, doubtless, that he was secure here? An idea seized me. I said to De Chemerant, ‘Things have changed their aspect; I desire to take my wife with me. Come, let us return to Devil’s Cliff.’ Faith, it was the only way in which I could manage an interview with you, madame — of warning the prince of this proposal. If he accepted it, I would throw off the prince; if he refused, I would refuse as before, and he would be saved.”

  “How, sir!” cried Angela. “Such was your generous intention? You would — —”

  “Oh, wait, madame, wait; do not think me either more stupid or more generous than I am,” said the Gascon bitterly. “I begged Father Griffen to come and prepare you, madame, that I desired to take you with me. Chemerant heard me; I could say no more to the priest, but this sufficed. One of two things would result: either you would understand the situation or you would believe me guilty of infamous intentions; in either case, you would be on your guard, and the prince saved; for it was my fixed idea — —”

  “So, sir,” cried Angela, looking at him with mingled surprise and gratitude, “you did not really intend to abuse — —”

  The Gascon interrupted her shortly. “No, madame, no. I had then no such wicked intentions, though certain particulars of your life appear to me inexplicable. I believed you sincerely attached to an unhappy prince, and at any cost I would have saved the duke.”

  “Ah! sir, how I have misjudged you? You are the most generous of men,” cried Angela.

  The adventurer burst into a sardonic laugh, which stupefied the young woman; then he continued with a somber air:

  “Thank God, my eyes have been opened. I see now that generosity would be stupid, devotion foolish. I shall profit by this lesson. Polyphème de Croustillac rarely revenges himself, but when he does, he revenges himself well; above all, when the vengeance is as charming as that which awaits him.”

  “You would be revenged, sir,” said Angela, “and on whom?”

  “On whom, madame? You have the audacity to ask me that?”

  “Why, certainly, what have I done; why this hatred?”

  The adventurer stamped his foot so violently that the mulatto made a step toward him; but Croustillac curbed himself and said to Angela shortly, and with ironical bitterness, “Listen to me, madame. It seems to me, that without being possessed of colossal pride, I deserved something, when for you I threw myself into the midst of the most dangerous situations. It seems to me, madame,” continued the Gascon, who could not contain his indignation, which increased in measure as he spoke, “It seems to me that it was not at the moment when, at the risk of my life, I was doing all I could to save the husband whom you love so passionately, as they say, that it was not at such a time that you should forget all modesty — —”

  “Sir!”

  “Yes, madame, forget all modesty, all shame, by throwing yourself into the arms of this miserable mulatto, and go to the depth of lighting his pipe. Truly, I was very stupid,” continued the Gascon with an increase of rage. “In my devotion to you I risked my skin for the husband of madame! while madame, outrageously mocking her husband and me, abandoned herself to orgies with a lot of scamps. I am beside myself! My mother’s son does not merit having been born in my country and having played all manner of pranks, as they say, in the capital of the world, if he cannot find something, in his turn, to
laugh at in this adventure. In a word, madame,” he said, sullenly, “you can believe me to entertain the wickedest intention in the world, and you will not overstep the reality, for I am now as much your enemy as I was your friend. As for the rest, I am well pleased; nothing is more wearying than fine sentiments. I should have resumed my shepherd songs and my morning sonnets. I shall take good care not to do so. I prefer the fashion in which I love you now, rather than heretofore,” said Croustillac, throwing a glittering look at Angela.

  CHAPTER XXV.

  REVELATIONS.

  THE POOR GASCON, carried away by anger and jealousy, appeared more furious than he was in reality. Unhappily, the Duchess of Monmouth did not know him well enough to understand the exaggeration of this ferocious appearance.

  Angela thought the adventurer seriously regretted having shown a generous spirit; in doubting him she naturally hesitated to calm the Gascon’s jealousy by imparting the disguise of the duke; this avowal would ruin everything if the chevalier was not faithful. It was, then, prudent to hold this in reserve.

  “Sir,” said Angela, “you deceive yourself; there is a certain mystery in my conduct which I cannot yet explain to you.”

  These words redoubled Croustillac’s irritation; for the past three days he had been surrounded by mysteries; therefore he exclaimed, “I have had enough mystery; I have had too many concerning yourself. I do not wish to be your dupe any longer, madame. I do not know what may await me; I do not know how all this will end, but I swear you shall follow me!”

  “Sir!”

  “Yes, madame, I have all the inconveniences of the rôle of your well-beloved husband; I will at least have its pleasures; as to this unworthy scoundrel of a mulatto, who says nothing, but thinks evil and would do it, I will deliver him over to De Chemerant, who will give me a good account of him. If it was not for soiling the sword of a gentleman by dipping it in his slave blood, I myself would take this vengeance.”

  Angela exchanged glances with Monmouth, whose imperturbability exasperated the Gascon. Both of them realized the necessity of calming the chevalier; his anger might prove dangerous; he must be quieted at once, without betraying the secret of the prince’s disguise.

  The young woman said to the adventurer, “All will be explained, sir; my greatest, my only wrong toward you has been in doubting the generosity of your character, and the loyalty of your devotion. Father Griffen, although he answered for you, has been, like myself, deceived as to the real motive of your intentions; we have believed, and we have been wrong in so believing, that you were capable of abusing the name which you have taken. In order to escape a fresh danger with which you seemed to threaten us, it became necessary to attempt a means, very uncertain, doubtless, but which might succeed. I could not escape — that would be only to meet you. I gave the necessary orders, then, that you should be introduced here with De Chemerant, hoping that you would surprise me, suddenly, and thus become a witness of the tender intimacy which linked me with the captain — —”

  “How! did you arrange this agreeable scene for me?” cried the Gascon furiously, “and you dare say it to my face? But this is the last degree of degradation and shame, madame. And for what purpose, if you please, did you wish to prove to me the abominable intimacy which binds you to this bandit?”

  “To the end that it should be impossible for you to take me with you. Monsieur De Chemerant being a witness to my culpable intimacy with Captain Whirlwind, you could not, you who are passing as the Duke of Monmouth, take with you a woman, who, in the eyes of the French envoy, is as culpable as I would appear to him — as culpable as I am.”

  “You acknowledge it, then, madame?”

  “Yes, and again yes, sir! Do not be generous by halves; what does it matter to you whom I love — a slave, as you say?”

  “How, madame? What does it matter to me? have you then sworn to drive me mad? And what does it serve that I play the part of your husband? Does he really exist? Is he here, and do you not avail yourself of the mistakes of which I am a victim to get rid of me? Is he not already safely at a distance, this husband of yours? This is enough to drive one mad!” cried the Gascon wildly. “I believe my head is turned; am I or am I not for the past two days the sport of an abominable nightmare? Who are you? Where am I? Who am I? Am I Croustillac? Am I my lord? Am I the prince, am I a viceroy, or even a king? Have I had my throat cut or not? How is this to be explained? This thing must stop! If there is a Duke of Monmouth, where is he? Show him to me,” cried the unhappy adventurer, in a state of excitement impossible to describe, but easy to imagine.

  Angela, frightened and less ready than ever to tell the Gascon everything, said hesitatingly, “Sir, certain mysterious circumstances — —”

  Croustillac did not give her time to go on, but cried, “Still more mysteries! I tell you I have had enough mystery. I do not believe my brain is weaker than any other, but one hour more of this and I shall be a lunatic!”

  “Sir, if you could understand — —”

  “Madame, I do not wish to understand,” cried the chevalier, stamping his foot in a rage. “It is just because I have wished to understand that my head is almost turned.”

  “Sir,” said Angela, “I beg you to be calm and reflect — —”

  “I do not wish to reflect nor to comprehend,” cried Croustillac, exasperated afresh. “Right or wrong, I have determined that you accompany me, and you shall accompany me. I do not know where your husband is and I do not wish to know; what I do know is that you have not been obdurate either to Caribbeans, or buccaneers, or mulattoes; very well you shall not be obdurate to me. You see that clock — if in five minutes you do not consent to accompany me, I will tell De Chemerant everything, come of it what will. Decide, then; I shall speak no more; I shall be deaf, for my head will burst like a bombshell at the slightest word.”

  Croustillac threw himself into a chair, put his hands over his ears in order to hear nothing, and fixed his eyes on the clock.

  Monmouth had walked up and down the room incessantly; he, as well as Angela, was in terrible perplexity.

  “James, perhaps he is an honest man,” said Angela in a low tone, “but his excitement terrifies me; see how wild his manner is.”

  “We must risk confiding to his loyalty, otherwise he will speak.”

  “But if he deceives us — if he tells all?”

  “Angela! between two dangers we must choose the least.”

  “Yes, if he consents to pass for you, you are saved, at least this time.”

  “But in this case I cannot leave him in the power of De Chemerant.”

  “Oh! it is frightful!”

  “Never will I consent to again plunge England into a civil war. I would a thousand times prefer prison and death; but to leave you, my God!”

  “What shall we do, James? What danger does this man run?”

  “Immense! the possessor of such a state secret.”

  “But then, I must lose you or follow him. Ah, what shall I do? Time presses.”

  After a moment’s reflection, Monmouth said, “We must not hesitate. Tell him everything. If he then consents to play my rôle for some hours, I am safe, and will have the means to place him beyond the resentment of the French envoy.”

  “James! if this man should be a traitor? Heavens! take care.”

  At this moment the adventurer, seeing the hand of the clock reach the fifth minute, said to Angela, “Well, madame, what have you decided upon? Yes or no? For I am incapable of listening to or understanding anything beyond. Will you follow me or will you not? Speak.”

  Monmouth approached him with a grave and imposing air. “I am going, sir, to give you a proof of the highest esteem and of — —”

  “Your esteem, scoundrel,” cried Croustillac indignantly, interrupting the duke. “Is it, indeed, to me that you dare speak thus? Your esteem — —”

  “But, sir — —”

  “Not another word,” continued Croustillac, turning toward Angela. “Madame, will you follow m
e? Is it yes or no?”

  “But listen — —”

  “Is it yes or no?” exclaimed he, walking toward the door; “answer, or I will call De Chemerant.”

  “But by St. George!” cried Monmouth.

  The chevalier was about to open the door when the young woman seized him by the hands with such a beseeching air that he paused in spite of himself.

  “Yes, yes, I will go with you,” she said, in a frightened manner.

  “At last!” said the Gascon, “so be it. Take my arm and let us go; De Chemerant has waited a long time.”

  “But just a moment — you must know all,” said the poor woman hastily. “The Caribbean is in reality the filibuster, or rather the buccaneer and the Caribbean are — —”

  “Ah, there you go again; do you wish that I should retain my senses?” cried the Gascon, making a desperate effort and running toward the door in order to call De Chemerant.

  The prince flung himself upon Croustillac, and, seizing his two wrists in one hand, placed the other over his mouth at the moment Croustillac called “Help, De Chemerant!” then he said, “I am the Duke of Monmouth!”

  The prince thought the chevalier would understand everything the moment he spoke, but in the exasperation which Croustillac felt, he only saw in this statement a new artifice or a new provocation, and he redoubled his efforts to escape. Though much less strong than the duke, the chevalier was not without energy; he began to struggle violently, when Angela, terrified, ran and took up a flask, and, putting on her handkerchief a drop of the liquid, rubbed the hand of the prince, removing the stain upon it and showing the white skin.

  “Do you understand now, sir, that the three persons are one?” said the prince, releasing Croustillac and showing him his white hand.

  These words were a revelation to Croustillac, and he understood all.

  Unfortunately, at the moment when the prince took his hand from the mouth of the Gascon, the latter had uttered the words, “Help! De Chemerant!”