“They seem to forget the poor lover; w hat is to become of him?” asked Keen.
“I do not forget him;” and the hand that wore the ring closed with an ominous gesture, which I well understood. “Monsieur merely claims his own, and the other, being a man of sense and honor, w ill doubtless witipdraw at once; and though ‘desolated,’ as the French say, will soon console himself with a new’ inamorata. If he is so unw ise as to oppose Monsieur, w ho by the by is a dead shot, there is but one wav in which both can receive satisfaction."
A significant emphasis on the last word pointed his meaning, and the smile that accompanied it almost goaded me to draw the sword I wore, and offer him that satisfaction on the spot. I felt the color rise to my forehead, and dared not look up, but leaning on the back of Clotilde’s chair, I bent as. if to speak to her.
“Bear it a little longer for my sake, Paul,” she murmured, with a look of love and despair, that wrung my heart. Here some one spoke of a long rehearsal in the morning, and the lateness of the hour.
“A farewell toast before we part,” said Keen. “Come, Lamar, give us a sentiment, after that whisper you ought to be inspired.”
“I am. Let me give you — The love of liberty and the liberty of love.”
“Good! That would suit the hero and heroine of St. John’s story, for Monsieur wished much for his liberty, and, no doubt, Madame will for her love,” said Denon, while the glasses were filled.
Then the toast was drunk with much merriment and the party broke up. While detained by one of the strangers, I saw St. John approach Clotilde, who stood alone by the window, and speak rapidly for several minutes. She listened with half-averted head, answered briefly, and w rapping the mantilla closely about her, swept away from him with her haughtiest mien. He watched for a moment, then followed, and before I could reach her, offered his arm to lead her to the carriage. She seemed about to refuse it, but something in the expression of his face restrained her; and accepting it, they w ent down together. The hall and little ante-room w ere dimly lighted, but as I slowly followed, I saw her snatch her hand away, w hen she thought they were alone; saw him draw her to him with an embrace as fond as it was irresistible; and turning her indignant face to his, kiss it ardently, as he said in a tone, both tender and imperious —
“Good night, my darling. I give you one more day, and then I claim you.”
“Never!” she answered, almost fiercely, as he released her. And w ishing me pleasant dreams, as he passed, went out into the night, gaily humming the burden of a song Clotilde had often sung to me.
The moment we were in the carriage all her self-control deserted her, and a tempest of despairing grief came over her. Lor a time, both w'ords and caresses were unavailing, and I let her w eep herself calm before I asked the hard question —
“Is all this true, Clotilde?”
“Yes, Paul, all true, except that he said nothing of the neglect, the cruelty, the insult that I bore before he left me. I was so young, so lonely, I was glad to be loved and cared for, and I believed that lie would never change. I cannot tell you all I suffered, but I rejoiced when I thought death had freed me; I would keep nothing that reminded me of the bitter past, and went away to begin again, as if it had never been.”
“Why delay telling me this? Why let me learn it in such a strange and sudden way?”
“Ah, forgive me! 1 am so proud I could not bear to tell vou that any man had wearied of me and deserted me. I meant to tell vou before our marriage, but the fear that St. John was alive haunted me, and till it was set at rest I would not speak. To-night there was no time, and I w as forced to leave all to chance. He found pleasure in tormenting me through you, but would not speak out, because he is as proud as I, and does not wish to hear our storv bandied from tongue to tongue.”
“What did he say to you, Clotilde?”
“He begged me to submit and return to him, in spite of all that has passed; he w arned me that if we attempted to escape it would be at the peril of your life, for he would most assuredlv follow’ and find us, to whatever corner of the earth we might fly; and he will, for he is as relentless as death.”
“What did he mean bv giving vou one day more?” I asked, grinding my teeth with impatient rage as I listened.
“He gave me one day to recover from mv surprise, to prepare tor my departure w ith him, and to bid you farewell.”
“And will you, Clotilde?”
“No!” she replied, clenching her hands with a gesture ot dogged resolution, while her eves glittered in the darkness. “I never will submit; there must be some way of escape; I shall find it, and it I do not — I can die.”
“Not vet, dearest; we will appeal to the law first; I have a friend w hom I will consult to-morrow’, and he may help us.”
“I have no faith in law,” she said, despairingly, “money and influence so often outweigh justice and mercy. I have no witnesses, no friends, no wealth to help me; he has all, and we shall only be defeated. I must devise some surer way. Let me think a little; a womans wit is quick when her heart prompts it."
I let the poor soul flatter herself with vague hopes; but 1 saw' no help for us except in flight, and that she would not consent to, lest it should endanger me. More than once I said savagely within myself, “I will kill him,” and then shuddered at the counsels of the devil, so suddenly roused in my own breast. As if she divined my thought by instinct, Clotilde broke the heavy silence that followed her last words, by clinging to me with the imploring cry,
“Oh, Paul, shun him, else your fiery spirit will destroy you. He promised me he would not harm you unless we drove him to it. Be careful, for my sake, and if any one must suffer let it be miserable me.”
I soothed her as I best could, and when our long, sad drive ended, bade her rest while I worked, for she would need all her strength on the morrow. Then I left her, to haunt the street all night long, guarding her door, and while I paced to and fro without, I watched her shadow come and go before the lighted window as she paced within, each racking our brains for some means of help till day broke.
CHAPTER III
Early on the following morning I consulted my friend, but when I laid the case before him he gave me little hope of a happy issue should the attempt be made. A divorce was hardly possible, when an unscrupulous man like St. John was bent on opposing it; and though no decision could force her to remain with him, we should not be safe from his vengeance, even if we chose to dare everything and fly together. Long and earnestly we talked, but to little purpose, and I went to rehearsal with a heavy heart.
Clotilde was to have a benefit that night, and what a happy day I had fancied this would be; how carefully I had prepared for it; what delight I had anticipated in playing Romeo to her Juliet; and how eagerly I had longed for the time which now seemed to approach with such terrible rapidity, for each hour brought our parting nearer! On the stage I found Keen and his new friend amusing themselves with fencing, while waiting the arrival of some of the company. I was too miserable to be dangerous just then, and when St. John bowed to me with his most courteous air, I returned the greeting, though I could not speak to him. I think he saw mv suffering, and enjoyed it with the satisfaction of a cruel nature, but he treated me with the courtesy of an equal, which new demonstration surprised me, till, through Denon, I discovered that having inquired much about me he had learned that I was a gentleman by birth and education, which fact accounted for the change in his demeanor. I roamed restlessly about the gloomy green room and stage, till Keen, dropping his foil, confessed himself outfenced and called to me.
“Come here, Lamar, and try a bout with St. John. You are the best fencer among us, so, for the honor of the companv, come and do your best instead of playing Romeo before the time.”
A sudden impulse prompted me to comply, and a few passes proved that I was the better swordsman of the two. This annoved St. John, and though he complimented me with the rest, he would not own himself outdone, and we kept it up till both grew w arm and
excited. In the midst of an animated match between us, I observed that the button was off his foil, and a glance at his face assured me that he was aware of it, and almost at the instant he made a skilful thrust, and the point pierced my flesh. As I caught the foil from his hand and drew it out with an exclamation of pain, I saw a gleam of exultation pass across his face, and knew that his promise to Clotilde was but idle breath. My comrades surrounded me with anxious inquiries, and no one was more surprised and solicitous than St. John. The wound was trifling, for a picture of Clotilde had turned the thrust aside, else the force with which it was given might have rendered it fatal. I made light of it, but hated him with a redoubled hatred for the cold-blooded treachery that would have given to revenge the screen of accident.
The appearance of the ladies caused us to immediately ignore the mishap, and address ourselves to business. Clotilde came last, looking so pale it was not necessary for her to plead illness; but she went through her part with her usual fidelity, while her husband watched her with the masterful expression that nearly drove me wild. He haunted her like a shadow, and she listened to him with the desperate look of a hunted creature driven to bay. I Ie might have softened her just resentment by a touch of generosity or compassion, and won a little gratitude, even though love was impossible; but he was blind, relentless, and goaded her beyond endurance, rousing in her fiery Spanish heart a dangerous spirit he could not control. The rehearsal was over at last, and l approached (do- tilde with a look that mutely asked if I should leave her. St. John said something in a low voice, but she answered sternly, as she took my arm with a decided gesture.
“My comrades surrounded me with anxious inquiries
“This day is mine; I will not be defrauded of an hour,” and we went away together for our accustomed stroll in the sunny park.
A sad and memorable walk was that, for neither had any hope with which to cheer the other, and Clotilde grew gloomier as we talked. I told her of mv fruitless consultation, also of the fencing match; at that her face darkened, and she said, below her breath, “I shall remember that.”
We walked long together, and I proposed plan after plan, all either unsafe or impracticable. She seemed to listen, but when I paused she answered with averted eyes —
“Leave it to me; I have a project; let me perfect it before I tell you. Now I must go and rest, for I have had no sleep, and I shall need all mv strength for the tragedy to-night.”
All that afternoon I roamed about the city, too restless for anything but constant motion, and evening found me ill prepared tor my now doubly arduous duties. It was late when I reached the theatre, and I dressed hastily. My costume was new for the occasion, and not till it w as on did I remember that I had neglected to try it since the finishing touches were given. A stitch or two would remedy the defects, and, hurrying up to the wardrobe room, a skilful pair of hands soon set me right. As I came down the winding- stairs that led from the lofty chamber to a dimly-lighted gallery below, St. John’s voice arrested me, and pausing I saw that keen w as doing the honors of the theatre in defiance of all rules. Just as they reached the stair-foot some one called to them, and throwing open a narrow door, he said to his companion —
“From here you get a fine view of the stage; steady yourself by the rope and look down. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
He ran into the dressing-room from whence the voice proceeded, and St. John stepped out upon a little platform, hastily built for the launching of an aeriel-car in some grand spectacle. Glad to escape meeting him, I was about to go on, when, from an obscure corner, a dark figure glided noiselessly to the door and leaned in. I caught a momentary glimpse of a white extended arm and the glitter of steel, then came a cry of mortal fear, a heavy fall; and flying swiftly down the gallery the figure disappeared. With one leap I reached the door, and looked in; the raft hung broken, the platform was empty. At that instant Keen rushed out, demanding what had happened, and scarcely knowing what I said, I answered hurriedly,
“The rope broke and he fell.”
Keen gave me a strange look, and dashed down stairs. I followed, to find myself in a horror-stricken crowd, gathered about the piteous object which a moment ago had been a living man. There was no need to call a surgeon, for that headlong fall had dashed out life in the drawing of a breath, and nothing remained to do but to take the poor body tenderly away to such friends as the newly-arrived stranger possessed. The contrast between the gay crowd rustling before the curtain and the dreadful scene transpiring behind it, was terrible; but the house was filling fast; there was no time for the indulgence of pity or curiosity, and soon no trace of the accident remained but the broken rope above, and an ominous damp spot on the newly-washed boards below. At a word of command from our energetic manager, actors and actresses were sent away to retouch their pale faces with carmine, to restoring their startled nerves with any stimulant at hand, and to forget, if possible, the awesome sight just witnessed.
I returned to my dressing-room hoping Clotilde had heard nothing of this sad, and yet for us most fortunate accident, though all the while a vague dread haunted me, and I feared to see her. Mechanically completing my costume, I looked about me for the dagger with which poor Juliet was to stab herself, and found that it was gone. Trying to recollect where I put it, I remembered having it in my hand just before I went up to have my sword-belt altered; and fancying that I must have inadvertently taken it with me, I reluctantly retraced my steps. At the top of the stairs leading to that upper gallery a little white object caught my eve, and, taking it up, I found it to be a flower. If it had been a burning coal I should not have dropped it more hastilv than 1 did when I recognized it was one of a cluster I had left in Clotilde’s room because she loved them. They were a rare and delicate kind, no one but herself was likely to possess them in that place, nor was she likelv to have given one away, for my gifts were kept with jealous care; vet how came it there? And as I asked myself the question, like an answer returned the remembrance of her face w hen she said, “I shall remember this.” The darkly-shrouded form was a female figure, the w hite arm a woman’s, and horrible as was the act, w ho but that sorely- tried and tempted creature would have committed it. For a moment my heart stood still, then I indignantly rejected the black thought, and thrusting the flower into my breast went on mv way, tr ing to convince myself that the foreboding fear which oppressed me was caused by the agitating events of the last half hour. Mv w eapon was not in the wardrobe-room; and as I returned, wondering w hat I had done w ith it, I saw’ Keen standing in the little doorw ay with a candle in his hand. He turned and asked w hat I was looking for. I told him, and explained why I was searching for it there.
“Here it is; I found it at the foot of these stairs. It is too sharp tor a stage-dagger, and w ill do mischief unless you dull it,” he said, adding, as he pointed to the broken rope, “Lamar, that was cut; I have examined it.”
The light shone full in my face, and I knew that it changed, as did my voice, for I thought of Clotilde, and till that fear was at rest resolved to be dumb concerning w hat I had seen, but I could not repress a shudder as I said, hastily,
“Don’t suspect me of anv deviltry, for heaven’s sake. I’ve got to go on in fifteen minutes, and how can I play unless you let me forget this horrible business.”
“Forget it then, if you can; I’ll remind you of it to-morrow.” And, with a significant nod, he walked a wav, leaving behind him a new trial to distract me. I ran to Clotilde’s room, bent on relieving myself, if possible, of the suspicion that w'ould return with redoubled pertinacity since the discovery of the dagger, which I was sure I had not dropped where it was found. When I tapped at her door, her voice, clear and sweet as ever, answered “Come!” and entering, I found her ready, but alone. Before I could open my lips she put up her hand as if to arrest the utterance of some dreadful intelligence.
“Don’t speak of it; I have heard, and cannot bear a repetition of the horror. I must forget it till to-morrow, then — .” There she
stopped abruptly, for I produced the flower, asking as naturally as I could —
“Did you give this to anv one?”
“No; why ask me that?” and she shrunk a little, as I bent to count the blossoms in the cluster on her breast. I gave her seven; now there were but six, and I fixed on her a look that betrayed my fear, and mutely demanded its confirmation or denial. Other eyes she might have evaded or defied, not mine; the traitorous blood dyed her face, then fading, left it colorless; her eyes wandered and fell, she clasped her hands imploringly, and threw herself at my feet, crying in a stifled voice,
“Paul, be merciful; that was our only hope, and the guilt is mine alone!”
But I started from her, exclaiming with mingled incredulity and horror —
“Was this the tragedv you meant? What devil devised and helped you execute a crime like this?”
“Hear me! I did not plan, it, yet I longed to kill him, and all day the thought would haunt me. I have borne so much, I could bear no more, and he drove me to it. To-night the thought still clung to me, till I was half mad. I went to find you, hoping to escape it; you were gone, but on your table lay the dagger. As I took it in my hand I heard his voice, and forgot every thing except my wrongs and the great happiness one blow could bring us. I followed then, meaning to stab him in the dark; but when I saw him leaning where a safer stroke would destroy him, I gave it, and we are safe.”
“Safe!” I echoed. “Do you know you left my dagger behind you? Keen found it; he suspects me, for I was near; and St. John has told him something of the cause I have to wish you free.”
She sprung up, and seemed about to rush away to proclaim her guilt, but I restrained her desperate purpose, saying sternly —
“Control yourself and be cautious. I may be mistaken; but if either must suffer, let it be me. I can bear it best, even if it comes to the worst, for my life is worthless now.”
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