by Eugène Sue
The sound of the struggle had already attracted the attention of the French envoy, and, hearing the cry of Croustillac, he rushed into the room, sword in hand. It would be impossible to depict the stupefaction, the fright of the three when De Chemerant appeared. The duke put his hand upon his sword. Angela fell back into a chair and hid her face in her hands. Croustillac looked about him with an agonized air, regretting his imprudence, but too late.
Nevertheless, the adventurer’s presence of mind returned to him little by little; as it needs but a ray of the sun to dispel the thick mist, so the moment that the good chevalier had the key to the three disguises of the prince, everything became clear to him. His mind, until then so sadly agitated, became calm; his unworthy doubt of Blue Beard ceased; there only remained his regret at having accused her, and the desire to devote himself to her and the prince.
With wonderful quickness of invention (we are familiar enough with the Gascon now to say with a marvelous facility for lying) Croustillac formed his plan of campaign against De Chemerant, who still, sword in hand, stood on the threshold and said for the second time, “What is it, your highness? what has happened? I thought I heard a cry and struggle, and an appeal for aid.”
“You were not deceived, sir,” said Croustillac gloomily.
Monmouth and his wife experienced a terrible anxiety. They were ignorant of the Gascon’s intentions; knowing Monmouth’s secret, he was now completely master of their fate.
If Angela and her husband had had enough presence of mind to scrutinize Croustillac’s face, they would have seen a kind of triumphant and malignant joy, which betrayed itself in spite of him in the menacing frown of his forehead.
Monsieur De Chemerant asked him a third time why he had called.
“I called you, sir,” said the chevalier in a dismal voice, and with the air of coming out of a deep study, “I called you to my aid — —”
“Was it this wretch? your highness,” said the envoy, pointing to Monmouth, who, standing with arms crossed, remained by the chair where Angela had seated herself, ready to defend her and to sell his life dearly, for, as we have said, he was ignorant of the adventurer’s intention. “Speak the word, your highness,” continued De Chemerant, “and I will hand him over to my guards.”
The Gascon shook his head, and answered, “I charge myself with this man; this is my affair. It is not against such a creature as this that I called you to my assistance, sir, it is against myself.”
“What do you say, your highness?”
“I mean that I was afraid that I would allow myself to be softened by the tears of his woman, as dangerously hypocritical as she is audaciously culpable.”
“Your highness, it often takes courage — much courage — to be just.”
“You are right, sir; that is why I feared my weakness. I called you in order that the sight of you might keep alive my indignation and rekindle my wrath, for you have been a witness of my dishonor, sir. So, tell me that if I pardon I would be a coward, that I should merit my fate. Is it not so, sir?”
“Your highness — —”
“I understand you — you are right — yes, by St. George!” Croustillac remembered having heard the prince use this oath; “by St. George, I will be revenged.”
Angela and the duke breathed again. They understood that the chevalier wished to save them.
“Your highness,” said De Chemerant severely, “I do not hesitate to repeat to your highness, before madame, what I had the honor to say to you some short time ago, that an insurmountable barrier now separates you from a guilty spouse,” continued the envoy, with an effort, while Angela hid her confusion by covering her face with her handkerchief.
Croustillac raised his head, and cried in a heartbroken tone, “Deceived by a mulatto; think of it, sir, a miserable mulatto, a mongrel, a copper-colored animal!”
“Your highness — —”
“In a word, sir,” said Croustillac, turning toward the envoy with an indignant and sorrowful manner, “you know why I returned, what my plans were; what I would have placed upon the brow of madame. Ah, well, is it not a frightful irony of fate that at this very moment a wife — a criminal — —”
“Your highness,” cried De Chemerant, interrupting the Gascon, “at present these projects must be a secret from madame.”
“I know it; I know it! but then what a horrible surprise! I enter with a heart beating with joy, into the home circle, into my peaceful home, and what is it that I hear?”
“Your highness — —”
“You have heard it as well as I. That is not all — what is it that I see?”
“Your highness, calm yourself.”
“You have seen, as I have, a mulatto outlaw. But this shall not stop here, no, by St. George! Yes, I did well to call you. Now my anger boils; the most cruel plans crowd in upon my imagination. Yes, yes, that is it;” said Croustillac, with a meditative air. “I have it at last! I have found a revenge fitting the offence!”
“Your highness, the contempt — —”
“The contempt — that is very easy for you to say, sir, contempt. No, sir, there remains another thing; I have found something better, and you shall assist me.”
“Your highness, anything that depends upon my zeal, without prejudice to the orders which I have received, and the success of my mission.”
“I renounce and cast off this unworthy woman. From this day, from this moment, all is forever at an end between her and me.”
“Thank God!” cried De Chemerant, delighted with this resolve; “you could not act more wisely.”
“To-morrow at daybreak,” said the Gascon, in a curt tone, “she and her odious accomplice will embark on board of one of my vessels.”
CHAPTER XXVI.
DEVOTION.
“YES, SIR!” REPEATED the Gascon, “to-morrow my wife and this miserable wretch shall go aboard one of my vessels. That is all my vengeance,” continued he, dwelling on these words with savage irony. “Oh, I know what I am doing. Yes, by heaven! She and her guilty accomplice, those two, as if they were really husband and wife, the miserable wretches! shall embark together. As to the destination of the vessel,” said the chevalier, with a glance of such horrible ferocity that De Chemerant was struck by it, “as to the fate that awaits these guilty ones, I cannot tell you, sir; that concerns no one but myself.”
Then, taking Angela roughly by the arm, Croustillac exclaimed, “Ah, you desire a mulatto for a lover, duchess? very well, you shall have him. And you, scoundrel, you must have a white woman, a duchess? very well you shall have her. You shall never separate, tender lovers that you are, never again; but you do not know at what a terrible price you will be reunited.”
“Your highness, what do you intend to do?”
“That is my affair; your responsibility will be at an end; the rest will take place on neutral ground,” returned the Gascon with a smile at once mysterious and ferocious; “yes, on a desert island; and since this tender couple love one another, love each other to death, there will be time for them to prove it — until death.”
“I understand you, your highness; I see perfectly; but that will be terrible,” said De Chemerant, who thought that Croustillac intended to starve his wife and the mulatto.
“Terrible! you have said it, sir. All that I ask of you, and as a witness of my injury you cannot refuse me, is to give me the necessary assistance in order to conduct this guilty pair on board one of my ships. I will, myself, place them with the captain and give him his orders; orders which, perhaps he would not dare to obey if I did not give them in person.”
Monsieur de Chemerant, in spite of his cunning, was duped by the seeming rage of Croustillac; he said to him respectfully, “Your highness, justice is severe, but should not be cruel.”
“What do you say, sir?” cried Croustillac proudly, “am I not the sole judge of the punishment due this guilty pair? Do you refuse me your assistance when it only requires you to take this man and his accomplice on board a vessel belongi
ng to me?”
“No, sir, but I would say to your highness that it would be, perhaps, more generous — —”
Angela, seeing that she must no longer remain inactive, threw herself at the feet of Croustillac, crying, “Have mercy!” while Monmouth seemed to be wrapped in a deep and sad silence; then, addressing De Chemerant, the young woman continued, “Oh, sir, you seem to be sensible and good; intercede for me with my dear lord, that he condemn me to less cruel pain. I have merited it all, I will suffer all, but that my dear lord — —”
“I forbid your calling me your ‘dear lord,’ madame,” said Croustillac. “I am no longer your dear lord.”
“Ah well, your highness, do not send me on board the vessel of which you speak.”
“And why not, madame?”
“My God! because that the brigantine is the Chameleon, commanded by Captain Ralph; your highness, this man is cruel; he succeeded the filibuster Whirlwind in this command.”
“And that is just why I have chosen the Chameleon, madame; it is just because Captain Ralph is the most cruel enemy of your unworthy lover,” said Croustillac, who understood perfectly Angela’s meaning.
“But, your highness, you know very well that this vessel will be anchored to-morrow morning very near here, almost at the foot of the cliff in the alligators’ cave.”
“Yes, madame, I know it.”
“Oh, your highness, would you compel me to embark there when nothing in the world would make me even approach its banks? My God! have you forgotten the frightful memories that this place is connected with in my mind?”
“Oh! the cunning creature,” thought Croustillac; “she wishes to say, what I did not know, that there is a vessel of hers called the Chameleon, whose captain is devoted to her, and who will anchor to-morrow near here. I have it! This is just her own vessel she had prepared hastily to furnish her and the duke a means of escape, when she saw me carried off by Colonel Rutler; one of the negro fishermen was doubtless sent ahead to deliver her directions.”
The Gascon, after some little reflection, said aloud, “Yes, those memories are terrible to you, I know it, madame.”
“Then, your highness, have you the heart — —”
“Yes, yes,” cried the chevalier, in an explosion of rage, “yes, no pity for the infamous creature who has so unworthily outraged me! All the better, my vengeance commences but the sooner. I will show you that you have no pity to look for from me; you shall see!” He struck a bell.
“What are you going to do, your highness.”
“Your faithful Mirette will come; you shall yourself give her the order to send to Captain Ralph to prepare everything on board the Chameleon to set sail at daybreak.”
“Ah, your highness, it is barbarous to make me give the order, myself.”
“Obey, madame, obey.”
Mirette appeared. Angela gave the order in a broken voice.
“I have obeyed you, and now your highness, in pity grant me a last favor in the name of our past love.”
“Oh, yes, by St. George!” cried Croustillac, “past? oh, past, decidedly.”
“Allow me one moment, your highness, the favor of an interview.”
“No, no, never!”
“Do not refuse me; do not be so pitiless?”
“Out of my sight, faithless woman!”
“My lord!” said Angela, clasping her hands.
“Your highness,” said De Chemerant, “at the moment of quitting madame forever, do not refuse her this last consolation.”
“You also, De Chemerant, you also? and though you have been a witness? — Ah, well, I consent, madame, but upon one condition.”
“You have but to order.”
“That your paramour remain during our conversation.”
“Really, this is not so bad, I think,” said Croustillac to himself; “I hope the duchess will understand me and at first refuse.”
“But, my dear lord,” said Angela; “the last interview that you grant me should be between us alone.”
“Marvelous! oh, she comprehends a half word,” said Croustillac to himself; then aloud, “And why, then, should our interview be private? Have you something you desire to hide from your best beloved — from the lover of your choice?”
“But if I desire to beg your forgiveness, sir?”
“You can do so before your accomplice. The more you accuse yourself, the more you depict your conduct as disloyal, infamous, unworthy, the more you affirm the lowness of your choice. This will be your punishment and this scoundrel’s also.”
“But, my lord?”
“That is my ultimatum,” replied Croustillac.
“Do you not fear the despair of this man?” said De Chemerant in a low tone.
“No; traitors are always cowards. Behold this one — what a gloomy, downcast air. He does not dare as much as lift his eyes to me. In any case, sir, send, I beg, some men of yours to the gallery outside, instructed to enter at my first signal.” Then, turning with an air of reconsidering, and desiring to make a master stroke, Croustillac said, “In fact, if you will be present at this interview, Monsieur De Chemerant, the punishment of this guilty couple will be complete.”
“Oh, sir, in pity do not condemn me to such a depth of shame and humiliation,” cried Angela, in despairing tones. “And you, sir, have the generosity not to consent to this,” she said to De Chemerant.
Monsieur De Chemerant had the delicacy to excuse himself to the Gascon; he left the room, and left Monmouth, Angela, and the adventurer together.
The envoy had hardly left the room before Monmouth, after assuring himself that he could not be overheard, held out his hand cordially to Croustillac, and said to him, feelingly, “Sir, you are a man of spirit, courage, and resolution; accept our thanks, and pardon us for having suspected you even for a moment.”
“Yes, yes, pardon our unjust suspicions,” said Angela, on her part taking the Gascon’s hand between her own. “We were so disturbed, and your manner was so furious, so wild!”
“We all had reason, madame;” said the adventurer, “you had reason to be disturbed, because my return was not very reassuring. I had reason to be furious, because I supposed the duke to be a bandit. As to my wild manner, by heavens! it may be said without offense, you will acknowledge that enough strange things have occurred during the last two days, and I may be excused for being a little astounded. Fortunately, I recovered my self-possession when I saw I had been a fool and had risked everything.”
“Brave and excellent man,” said Monmouth.
“Bravery is in the blood of the Croustillacs, sir; as to being excellent, I do not know about that; if such be the case, it is not my fault; it is your wife’s work, who has aroused in me the desire to be better that I really am. Ah, well, prince, time is precious; everything is in train to raise a county of England in your favor; Louis the XIV. will support this insurrection. There is offered you the viceroyship of Ireland and Scotland, and all kinds of other favors.”
“Never will I consent to profit by these offers. Civil wars have cost me too dear,” cried Monmouth; “and” — looking at Angela, “I no longer have ambitions.”
“Your highness! reflect well! If your heart counsels remove the bronze color from your face, and say to De Chemerant that reasons known only to yourself obliged you to guard your secret until now. You will prove to him who you are; I will return your duchy to you, and ask your permission to go and fight at your side in Cornwall, or elsewhere, in order to serve you, as they say, as a living armor. I am sure this will please the duchess.”
“And we have suspected him,” said Angela, looking at her husband.
“He must forgive us,” said the duke. “Men like him are so rare that it is not unnatural to doubt them when one encounters them.”
“Hold on, my lord, you embarrass me. Let us speak of other matters. Do you, or do you not, accept the viceroyship? After that, do not think I shall press you to speak in order to relieve me from your rôle; it pleases me, it amuses me. I
have become quite accustomed to it. Nevertheless, it will be somewhat unpleasant to no longer hear myself addressed as ‘my lord duke,’ to say nothing of my laughing in my sleeve when I think of all the absurdities which I have made that good De Chemerant, with his important air, swallow. If I persist, your highness, in praying that you resume your rank, as it seems they are terribly in need of you in England in order to secure the happiness of the people in general and that of Cornwall in particular; you must know that better than I do — —”
“Ah! I know only too well the vain pretexts that one offers to ambition.”
“But, your highness, all appears to be perfectly prepared. The frigate which has brought the good De Chemerant is filled with arms and ammunition; there is in it enough to arm and revolutionize all the Cornishmen in the world; moreover, you can count on a dozen of your partisans.”
“Of my partisans! and where, then?” cried Monmouth.
“On board Chemerant’s frigate. These brave men are waiting for me, that is to say, waiting for you, your highness, with great impatience. There is above all a madman named Mortimer, whom De Chemerant had the greatest difficulty in the world to keep on board, so much was he possessed with the desire to embrace me — I would say embrace you, for I confound us all the time.”
Angela, seeing the troubled manner of her husband, said to him, “My God! what ails you?”
“I can no longer hesitate,” replied Monmouth, “I must tell De Chemerant the whole truth.”
“Heavens, James! what are you saying?”
“You wish to be viceroy, your highness?” interposed Croustillac.
“No, sir, I desire to prevent your ruining yourself on my account. My gratitude will be no less lasting for the service that you wished to do me.”
“How, your highness? Is it not, then, to become viceroy that you would dispossess me of my principality?”
“My partisans are on board the frigate; if I should accept your generous offer, sir, to-morrow you would be known — lost.”
“But, your highness — —”
“Except for this circumstance which, I repeat, would cause your discovery in a moment, I would, perhaps, have excepted your generous devotion, the mistake of De Chemerant might have continued for a few days, and I could have put you beyond the reach of his resentment; but to accept your offer, sir, knowing the presence of my friends on board the frigate, would be to expose you to certain danger. I can never consent to do that.”