“Don’t trouble Zina,” begged Jean. “We are all right by ourselves and time is precious. I am not hungry, I assure you.”
“Zina!”
The old woman came up distracted, motioning Odette to be quiet.
“Run and get some bread — milk — preserves. Anything you can find.... What would you like to eat, my dear?”
“Nothing.... You are here.... I am not hungry.”
“I promise to fetch something for him after you’ve left,” said Zina, scared. “But I must first take you back to your apartment.... Come quickly, now. There’s no time to lose. Someone may have heard you calling.”
“But I don’t want to go at once. Besides, I won’t go without Jean.... Fetch the Patriarch and the Council.”
“Silence,” ordered Zina, straining her ears to catch any sound from the underground passage. “Someone is coming. I hear footsteps. They’re coming down the stairs. Take care!”
She made another movement of her head and once more dived into the darkness to keep watch.
Odette threw herself into Jean’s arms:
“To die of starvation!” She was crying now on his shoulder. “Oh, my dearest, I swear to eat nothing until they’ve given you something to eat. If you die, I shall die too. May my father forgive me!”
Jean gave a start.
“Your father, my Odette! Don’t you know?”
“What do you mean? My father? Tell me about him.”
And as Jean said nothing:
“Your silence makes me fear the worst. If it were not so, you would say something. Do speak, Jean,” she entreated in a smothered voice. “I didn’t think that any other misfortune could happen to me.”
Jean told her the story of the terrible tragedy at Lavardens.
“Nothing is left to us but our love,” she murmured.
.
Andréa had gone to see Callista. She was far from expecting him, for she knew that he had volunteered to keep guard over Jean and be responsible for him.
Stretched at full length on the carpet, she was drugging herself with perfumes burning in the ornamental vases. Her thoughts were of the condemned man and not of his warder, of whom she stood in greater fear every day and whose fierce love filled her with dread, or rather with a Strange misgiving, which sent a shudder through her whenever she saw him. She undoubtedly hated him still, but she no longer despised him. She pictured him as he was in Temesvar woods with a knife in his hand, ready to slay her if she continued to repel him. A casual incident had saved her, but’ at that moment on that day he was her master.
“It’s you,” she said in a sulky voice, when she recognized him in the shadow as he drew near. “What do you want with me now?”
“You don’t seem very pleased to see your future husband,” uttered Andréa coldly, sitting down beside her, crossing his legs, and picking up the narghile which she omitted to offer him.
“We are not married yet,” she said curtly.
“I bet that I should have been more welcome had I given you the message: ‘The stranger refuses to die until he has seen you.’”
Callista rose as though she had received an electric shock.
“Did he say that?”
“May I never see the face of Debla Temeata (the mother of God) if I am not telling the truth,” he replied. “The stranger asked me three times. Apparently his last hope is in you, Callista, or,” he added with a grin, “perhaps he genuinely loves you, and wants to ask your forgiveness for the despair which has taken possession of your heart. Anyway, the cursed fellow is longing to see you.”
“No more speeches, Andréa. What was your answer?”
“What do you suppose my answer was? He appealed to the kindness of my heart. I am a baby when anyone touches my feelings. I answered that I would pass his request on to you, and you were free to do as you liked. Of course, I knew that you would be pleased. You will reward me for it, perhaps, with a smile, and for a smile from you I would sacrifice my mother.”
“All right. All right. We’ll see about that later on. So you’re going to allow me to go to him?”
“Have I ever refused you anything?”
“Are you really going to take me to him?”
“Yes, now he is condemned to die,” returned Andréa with emphasis, rising to his feet and making a movement to set out.
She accompanied him in a state of great excitement. Suppose it were true that Jean still loved her! Sometimes the truth becomes manifest at the supreme moment, at the last communion with one’s conscience. Nothing stood between them, perhaps, but a terrible misunderstanding, in which pride on both sides was arrayed in mortal combat. Let him make the least sign and she would discover means of rescuing him from the grave.
Suddenly she stopped short. She was so constituted that her thoughts and actions flew to extremes with an inconsistency which was at once the despair and confusion of her life. Andréa turned and gazed at her as she remained motionless, breathing heavily.
“What is it now?” he asked roughly.
“Suppose he has sent for me only to insult me for the last time,” she said, the perspiration breaking out on her forehead.
“That is quite possible,” returned Andréa calmly. “He didn’t tell me what his object was. What do you intend to do?”
“If that was his object I will never forgive you for it,” she flung at him, with a black look.
“That’s woman’s justice,” exclaimed Andréa. “Well, stay where you are.”
But he knew that she would not stay where she was.... He made a movement to leave her, as if her decision was of no interest to him.
“Andréa, you have seen him, you have spoken to him, what do you think?”
“‘Pon my soul,” he returned, bending over her with a flaming look in his eyes, “I think that when once a man has been in love with you it must be difficult to forget you.”
Pie had said what she wanted him to say.
“Well, come on, Andréa,” she cried impatiently.
But Andréa bent still closer over her.
“Where do I come in?” —
“What do you want?”
“A kiss.”
He did not wait for permission. She resisted him weakly, and when he fiercely pressed his lips to hers she bit him. He gave as good as he received. Neither of them made a sound. Had she held a weapon in her hands she would have plunged it in his heart.... Andréa, on the other hand, wiped his bleeding lip and said simply:
“I have had my reward. Now you can take yours.
Come along!... The stranger will only have my leavings.”
And they descended to the dungeons.
It was the sound of their footsteps which Zina had caught on the steps, but she assumed that Andréa was returning alone. It was she who had suggested the diabolical idea of letting Odette go to Jean in his cell, as an act of revenge on Callista, who still loved Jean, and as a cruel trick with which Andréa could amuse himself afterwards by telling Callista the story, a story which would disgust her with aliens for the rest of her life. But Zina did not imagine for a moment that Andréa would have the audacity to bring Callista to witness the scene. She said to herself: “Meantime Andréa will be making love to Callista, and he will have a good laugh when he thinks of the trick he is playing her.”
Zina was terrified when she saw Callista with him. But before she had time to utter a word, Andréa sent her sprawling to the ground, after taking the bunch of keys from her, and they went on to the cell.
A mysterious glimmer of light which emanated from no one knew where broke on the mouldy walls, and thrust its beam between two bars.... Two forms behind the bars were locked in each other’s arms.... The scene was suggestive of a mezzotint, powerful and yet extremely delicate — etched by a Reynolds.... And it was a sight which filled Callista with rage.
CHAPTER XLVII
THE PATRIARCH’S FIRST AND SECOND PLAN
CALLISTA ALMOST SWOONED, for it is possible to swoon with rage as well as with hap
piness. But when the first feeling of surprise was over, she recovered her strength and impulsively threw herself against the bars which she shook in a sort of frenzy.
She saw before her the dismay of the surprised lovers; she heard behind her Andréa’s laughter and Zina’s cries. And then came the sound of warders running up hot foot to discover the cause of the tumult.
Andréa hastened to open the cell door. Doubtless he thought that Callista would wreak her fury on Jean. It was an error of his somewhat crude psychology, for a woman’s anger is always vented upon the woman in the case.... Callista made a rush at Odette, but she encountered Jean, who stepped between them.
Odette did not flinch — far from it. She flew at Callista, deprived for the time being of her power of doing mischief by Jean, whose hands she bit.... The struggle continued until the warders came up, and taking Odette out of the cell, carried her off in spite of her cries.... The cell door was closed once more on Jean.
Callista, eager for revenge, turned round on Andréa, who put the blame on Zina as alone responsible for the plot. And then it seemed from Zina’s shrieks as though she were being cut in pieces. Meantime Odette was shut up in her apartment, and the Patriarch informed of the occurrence.
He came to her an hour later, thinking, doubtless, that by this time she would have recovered her calmness. De Lauriac was with him.
They found her crouching on the divan in a passion and in the sulks.... Not far away a number of plates and dishes and glasses lay smashed on the floor; the dishes containing her food were scattered on every side.
The Patriarch gazed at the results of the royal anger with a twinkle in his eye, and it was with the utmost respect that he asked the queyra, de Lauriac acting as interpreter, if she were not hungry.
“I should think I was hungry!” returned Odette, “but I will not eat anything. I want to be left in peace. I intend to die of starvation like Jean.”
She lifted her adorable face slightly, which wore a look of obstinacy, and threw words at de Lauriac which expressed very clearly her state of mind towards him.
“And, you understand, I shall die happy because I’ve seen Jean and know that he still loves me. And now you can go! Go, I say. I order you to go. I have nothing more to say to you or your Patriarchs. This is the door! I insist on your doing as I say. I am the queyra.”
De Lauriac, utterly helpless, translated her words to the Patriarch. But the latter had already grasped their meaning, for her voice and gesture left nothing to the imagination. He shrugged his shoulders and, speaking very calmly, said:
“You will live, because what is written must be fulfilled.” After that he withdrew full of admiration for the young queen.
“She is a true gitana,” he said to de Lauriac when they were alone. “She is undoubtedly of gipsy birth. It is a delight to see and hear her.”
“I feel less pleasure than you in that respect,” returned de Lauriac bitterly, “and I cannot help being surprised at your delight, for after all, I don’t see how the prediction is to be...”
“I observe with satisfaction,” interrupted the Patriarch, that the sacred writings occupy your mind. Well, there are two ways of making them come true. The first way depends upon you.”
What is that?” asked de Lauriac with an eagerness which may easily be understood.
The Patriarch made no reply, but slipped into de Lauriac’s hand the key to Odette’s apartments.
De Lauriac bowed without speaking, and walked a few steps towards the apartments, and then stopping for a moment, turned to the Patriarch and said:
You did not tell me what the second way was.”
“I will tell you if the first does not succeed,” returned the Patriarch.
De Lauriac went back to the queyra’s apartments. He found no pleasure in entering them again. He imagined that the key which the Patriarch had placed in his hands was not yet the longed-for key of happiness. Even if his last conversation with Odette had not enlightened her he knew her too well to hope, however he approached her, for any change in her attitude towards him.
Would he have to employ strong measures? It was his last resource, and despite the violence of his character he shrank from them. Was anything to be gained from a moment of weakness brought about by horror and fear? He knew that Odette was frail and weak only in appearance. So what then?...
Well, he had not come so far and suffered so much to draw back at the last moment. He entered the apartments, though he did not relish his task...
Odette was sobbing with rage on the divan at the far end of the room where she had taken refuge after the Patriarch had left her.
She was no longer thinking of de Lauriac. She had expressed herself to him once for all, and he must know that she could never be his wife, for she was promised to Jean, whose life she would save at all costs. When the door opened she hoped to see Zina, who in these last few days had proved to be her only ally, and she was startled to see de Lauriac again. —
He came in silently and obsequiously, carefully locking the door behind him; then leisurely turned to her. She started up, retreating to the corner of the wall.
He took a step forward with hanging head and harsh expression.
“Don’t come near me. Stay where you are,” she cried in a hoarse voice.
Then he looked up and saw her; saw a black shadow with a dark wrap which Zina had thrown over her shoulders before they started on their expedition in the underground passages. Under this ominous covering he beheld only a poor little waxen face with great eyes dilated by the dread of what was about to happen.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he said.
“I am not afraid of you,” she returned, her teeth chattering with horror. “I have never been afraid of you.”
“You have only to say the word, and you will never have a more devoted slave than myself.”
“I don’t want a slave.... Go!... Why have you come back. I turned you away. I don’t want to see you again.... Go, or I shall cry out.”
De Lauriac gave a wicked smile.
“You are smiling like a coward.... Don’t come near me. Don’t come beyond this carpet... or I swear...”
A long breast-pin with a jewelled head held her wrap in place. She had taken it out, and, pushing aside the wrap which covered her shoulders, pressed its steel point against her heart.... She was no longer trembling. She feared nothing. It was clear that she was not afraid to die. Her eyes were staring before her as though the hand of death was already upon her.
De Lauriac stopped, and sat down with a hollow groan.
“How you must hate me,” he said. “Why should you? What have I done? You loved me well enough in the old days.”
“You are a miserable wretch,” she rapped out, still clutching her weapon. “Think of all your attempts to deceive me.... A conversation with my father, after he was dead! And all your lies about Jean! It’s infamous. You are a perjurer.”
“That’s true,” he returned, shaking his head, “but it was you who made me so. I was not like that years ago when you were in love with me.”
“What nonsense you talk! I was never in love with you.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t say that, Odette. Think of the time when I went away. Remember how grieved you were. Just think how happy we were together when we galloped our horses through the vineyards until we were out of breath; when Camargue existed only for us two. You were delighted to be with me then. You have entirely changed since. How could you expect me to become other than wicked? Look here, Odette, I am sorry for telling you lies and plotting against you. I have paid dearly for them. But it never entered my mind that I might lose you. And I assure you even to-day that it never will enter my mind. You took advantage of my absence. Had I stayed at home all this business would never have happened. Well, I will do my best to make up for lost time.... I ask you to allow me to become again the good comrade of old, in whom you had confidence, who watched over you, and would have died for you.... My life belongs to you. By the misfo
rtune of your birth you are involved in a terrible experience for which you are trying to blame me, but in which I have taken part only to secure your safety.”
“You dare to say that!... You... You.. she cried indignantly.
He lowered his head dejectedly, and said in a strained voice.
“I would have fled to the other end of the world with you, had you been willing. But you spurned me. Then I brought you here, convinced that these people would discover you in any case, and you cannot fight against your fate.”
“All the same you didn’t forget that it was written that I should be given to the man who brought me back here.”
“That’s true, Odette.... It is written that we should be married, but I had no need to read the book to know that. The fact was written in my heart on the day when, for the first time, you applauded my triumph§ at the branding fêtes in Les Saintes Maries. Yes,” he repeated, without lifting his head, “we are bound to be married, and nothing you can do will prevent it.”
“Never... Never... I swear it.”
He fell on his knees and with clasped hands went on:
“And I, Odette, swear that when we are married I will respect you as though I were the humblest of your servants. I, Hubert de Lauriac, the king of Camargue herdsmen, swear to come near you only as your slave.... A sign from you and I will go away.”
“Then go away now,” she cried, incensed by a declaration which might have roused her pity, but in which, with the cruelty of youth, she could see nothing but hypocritical chatter intended to disarm her.
Than de Lauriac rose to his feet with a savage look.
“Is that your last word?”
“Yes, my last word before my last deed.”
She brandished the long breast-pin. He cast a fierce glance at her, a hoarse cry broke in his throat, he clenched his fists, and his hard face turned crimson as though he were about to have a fit.... She thought he would fly at her, but he turned quickly and went out of the room. He was like a drunken man; and it was in this pitiable condition that he once more faced the Patriarch, into whose presence he had been taken.
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 129