Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  “‘Our return was well celebrated. Angeluccia had prepared an excellent luncheon and had invited a few friends to share it with us. Everyone was anxious to hear of the new and sensational purchases and everyone wanted to see them.

  ““Does the guillotine still work?’ one of the guests asked.

  ““Would you like to try it?’ the master of the house answered with a laugh.

  “‘During the meal, Antonio, next to whom I was seated, accidentally dropped his napkin and bent over to pick it up. But I had already seen it slide to the floor and my head was under the table at the same time that his was. I straightened up and returned him his napkin. Then with a hurried excuse I left the room, bewildered.

  “‘I stumbled into the shop and sank into a chair. My discovery had momentarily stunned me, but as my wits returned to me my first question was: had Antonio seen? No, my sudden movement and the position of my head under the table must have made that impossible. Besides, the very calmness with which he had straightened up and received the napkin from me and the quiet way in which he had resumed conversation should have reassured me.

  “‘I returned to the dining-room, where the meal was finishing gaily. The Deputy Mayor, who is the Mayor today, was insisting on being shown the guillotine immediately. Antonio, however, answered that he must wait until the instrument of death had been put in working order. ‘I know my Americans,’ he added with a laugh; ‘they won’t buy it unless it works perfectly!’

  “‘Shortly afterwards, the guests took leave of their hosts, and during the rest of the day I could not keep my eyes off Angeluccia, who kissed her husband a hundred times if she kissed him once during the afternoon. It made me shiver to watch her. I did not imagine that such deceit was possible in so young and apparently frank a person.

  ‘“You see, Captain, when I bent under the table at luncheon I had seen Angeluccia’s little foot tightly and amorously pressed between Giuseppe’s! Her very movement in releasing her foot had proved the crime to me.

  “‘As the days passed, life at the shop went on as usual. A few foreign customers came for the famous guillotine, but the master answered that there were still some necessary repairs and that he would not sell it until it was in perfect working condition. In fact, we were working on it secretly in the basement and had taken it down and put it together several times. It was badly worm-eaten and out of joint and we were trying to balance it properly so that the knife would run smoothly in its grooves. This work revolted me, but it seemed on the contrary to please Antonio.

  ‘“Angeluccia’s birthday and the Pentecost fell on the same date, and as it was customary for the Mayor to give a party of some sort on the day of Pentecost, Antonio announced that he had decided to give a costume ball. This would be an excellent opportunity to show his guillotine. No one had seen it yet and it was to be the crowning event of the evening.

  ‘“Bonifacio is very fond of this sort of amusement, historical reconstructions and pageants, and when Angeluccia heard the plan she flung herself on her husband’s neck like a happy child. She herself suggested that she go as Marie Antoinette.

  ““We’ll make it very realistic and guillotine you at the end of the party,’ Antonio said with a laugh.

  ““Why not?’ Angeluccia answered. ‘It would be fun.’

  ‘“When the town knew what sort of a party the Mayor was planning, everyone wanted to go, and the next fifteen days before Pentecost were filled with preparations. The shop was full from morning to night with people running in and out, asking advice and studying old prints. Antonio was to represent Fouquier-Tinville, the terrible public accuser. Giuseppe was to be Samson, the executioner, and I was to fill the humble role of his aide.

  “‘The great day arrived. Early in the morning we emptied the shop of all the odds and ends with which it was filled and put up the guillotine. Giuseppe had made a knife of cardboard covered with silver paper, so that Angeluccia’s desire to play the guillotine scene to the end could be carried out, and we tried the machine several times to make sure it worked.

  ‘“We danced all afternoon and at night there was a big ball at the Town Hall. Everyone drank toast after toast enthusiastically to the Mayor and his beautiful wife. Angeluccia was dressed in the costume worn by Marie Antoinette during her imprisonment, and this simple dress, well in keeping with the feelings of a poor woman destined for so tragic an end, suited her marvellously. I shall never forget the sight of Angeluccia’s beautiful white neck rising proudly from the delicately crossed kerchief, and Giuseppe devoured her with his eyes. Catching the too apparent flame of desire in his look I could not help glancing from time to time at Antonio, who seemed almost wildly gay.

  ‘“At the end of the dinner, it was he who gave the signal for the start of the horrible play. In a well-prepared speech, he informed the guests that he and some friends of his had planned a little surprise, which consisted in presenting to them the most tragic hours of the revolution; Bonifacio having the great fortune of possessing a guillotine, they were going to make use of it to decapitate Marie Antoinette.

  ‘“At these words the people laughed and cheered, giving a merry ovation to Angeluccia, who rose from her seat and declared that she would know how to die courageously as befitted a queen of France.

  ‘“A roll of drums suddenly beat in the streets, and we ran to the windows. A miserable cart drawn by a dilapidated horse stood there surrounded by guards and officers of the guillotine all wearing the bonnet of the revolution. A group of horrible knitting-women danced and sang in the streets, calling loudly for the death of the Austrian, dethroned queen of France. One might very easily have imagined oneself back in the days of 1793!

  “‘We had all taken part in his game without seeing any harm in it, and it wasn’t until Angeluccia had stepped into the cart with her hands tied behind her back, and the procession had started to the sinister beat of her funeral drums, that more than one felt a shiver steal up his spine and realised that such a masquerade might well touch upon sacrilege.

  ‘“The whole scene was horribly effective. Night had fallen, and the flickering light of the torches gave a death-like beauty to Angeluccia’s face. And she played her part well. Holding herself proudly erect, she seemed to be braving the populace with her cold stare, and her face with its changeless severity of expression might well have been carved in stone.

  ‘“We reached Antonio’s house, and there the gay laughs broke out anew. Antonio was already in the shop, where he had seated a chosen group of people who were to watch the mock execution. The mob was thickly packed in, and everyone was in a state of extreme excitement at finally seeing the famous guillotine at such a close range. My master asked for silence and began by making a little speech on the good points of his instrument of death. He mentioned all the noble necks which, he claimed, had rested on the head-boards, and he ended by exhibiting the real knife which he had bought at the same time.

  ““I had the paper knife up there made so that you could see just how the thing worked,’ he explained; then, turning to Giuseppe, ‘Are you ready, Samson?’

  ‘“Samson replied that he was ready.

  ““Bring forth the Austrian,’ Antonio ordered in a deep voice.

  ‘“Giuseppe and I placed Marie Antoinette - Angeluccia - on the plank, and Antonio himself lowered the board that held her head in position.

  ‘“The laughter in the room suddenly ceased and an uneasy feeling swept over the crowd. The sight of the lovely body stretched out on the plank brought to the minds of even the hardened men present the memory of all the unfortunates who had really lain there to die. The joke had been carried too far. The merriment was revived for the moment, however, by the sight of Angeluccia’s amused face as she looked here and there at the guests while her husband finished his lecture on the machine, showing the basket which received the body and that into which the head fell.

  ‘“But suddenly, as we watched Angeluccia an awful change came over her face. Wild terror was written there.
Her eyes had widened horribly and her mouth opened as though to let out a cry which stuck in her throat.

  ‘“Guiseppe was at the back and had seen nothing of this; but I, who was at the side, was struck with a nameless fear as the others had been. We were looking at the sight of one who really knew she was going to be decapitated. The laughter had died out and some of the people even shrank back as though struck by an invincible terror.

  ‘“As for me, I came closer, for I had suddenly noticed that Angeluccia’s horror-stricken eyes were staring at something in the bottom of the basket which was to receive the head. I looked into this basket, which Antonio had opened only a moment before, and I too read what Angeluccia had read - I too read the little placard fastened to the bottom:

  Pray to the Virgin Mary, Angeluccia, wife of Antonio, mistress of Giuseppe, for you are about to die!”

  ‘“I uttered a hollow cry and turned like a madman to stop Giuseppe, who, at a motion from Antonio, had seized the rope. Alas! I was too late. The knife fell, and what followed was horrible, too horrible for words. The unfortunate woman let out a scream which ended in an abrupt gurgle - a scream which will echo in my ears to my dying day - and then her blood spouted out over the audience, who let out sickening cries and made a desperate fight for the door. I fainted.”

  ‘Here Pietro Santo stopped and grew so pale at the memory of the awful scene that I feared he was going to be ill. I restored some of his strength with a glass of old grappa.

  ‘“But in spite of all that,” I said to him, “Angeluccia was not killed. I saw her myself and she certainly was alive.”

  ‘He sighed and lifted his head.

  “‘Are you sure she really is alive?” he asked. “There isn’t a soul in Bonifacio who passes her in the street without crossing himself. Seeing her never look to the right nor to the left, always holding her head rigid, they firmly believe that her head is held to her neck by some supernatural miracle. That is how the legend of the velvet collar grew. Besides, she looks like a ghost, and when she shakes hands with me the touch of her icy skin makes me tremble.

  “‘Yes, I know it’s childish, but the whole affair was such a strange one you must excuse the fantastic tales which our peasant folk have created.

  The truth of the matter is, I suppose, that Antonio planned his blow badly, that the machine was too old and did not work properly, and that Angeluccia’s head was pushed too far through the opening, in such a way that the knife struck her at the rise of the shoulders. This is not the first time that such an accident has occurred with the guillotine. We have heard of cases where it took five tries to cut the head off. Giuseppe was the only one present when the doctor, whom he himself had fetched, saw her, and he says the wound was quite large. Everybody ran away at the time, and Antonio himself disappeared. You can see how all this helped form the legend that grew up overnight. Even those who were present at the time claim that they saw Angeluccia’s head actually drop into the basket!

  ‘“Naturally, when Angeluccia reappeared some weeks later with the velvet ribbon, imaginations ran riot. And even when I look at her, there are times when I am hypnotized by her neck and wouldn’t dare under any circumstances untie her velvet band!”

  ‘“And what happened to Antonio?”

  “‘He is dead, or at least so they say. At any rate, his decease has been legally published since Giuseppe and Angeluccia are married. They found his body half eaten by crabs on the beach near the grottoes. The corpse was completely disfigured, but they found papers on it and the clothes were his. He probably ran away, believing Angeluccia dead, and threw himself over the cliff. He had prepared his revenge well, silently and cunningly as they do here, but I am still amazed at the skill with which he hid his feelings from the day that he first got an inkling of the truth of the relations between Angeluccia and her cousin.

  ‘“The police have the duplicate knife that he made so that it would look like Giuseppe’s. It is in Ajaccio.’”

  ‘Your story isn’t bad,’ Captain Michel conceded generously to Gobert. ‘It has an element of horror in it.’

  ‘It’s not finished yet,’ Gobert explained, asking for another few minutes of silence. ‘Let me go on and you will see that it really is horrible. I didn’t know the end myself until some time later on a second voyage to Bonifacio, and it was good old Pietro Santo who related the concluding details to me.

  ‘Imagine my extreme amazement when on asking him news of the woman with the velvet collar, he answered me in perfect seriousness: “Captain, the legend was right after all. Angeluccia died on the day that the velvet collar was touched!”

  ‘“What!” I cried. “But who undid the collar?” did. And her head fell off!”

  ‘While I stared at Pietro Santo, wondering if he had lost his mind, he explained to me that after I had left Bonifacio a doubt had spread through the town as to the truth of Antonio’s supposed death. It seemed that Ascoli, the Mayor, was responsible for this and claimed to know what he was talking about. He was convinced that he had met Antonio one day when he was out hunting. The man had been almost naked, living like a wild beast, and when Ascoli tried to speak to him he ran away.

  ‘It was during this time that the elections for Mayor came up again and Giuseppe was Ascoli’s rival for the post. During the entire campaign, Ascoli declared that Giuseppe was the accomplice of a bigamous woman and therefore unworthy of the position. Giuseppe’s rage knew no bounds when he was defeated and he resolved to hunt Antonio out. It took him several months to do so, but he finally accomplished his purpose. Antonio, who for ten years had never spoken to a soul, learned that his wife was not dead as he had supposed but was living happily with Giuseppe in the very house in which he had been Mayor and had believed himself loved by her.

  ‘“What happened then,” Pietro Santo went on in a hollow voice, “is beyond conception, and would make even the demons in hell shrink in horror. Good Lord, if I live to be a thousand... But to cut it short, sir, the story can be told in a few words.

  ‘“One evening, a soft, clear evening like this, I was returning from an expedition to the grottoes, where I had escorted some friends, and was seated in the little boat taking us back to port when, in passing the cliffs, I heard a chant that made my blood run cold. It was the song which is always sung here by those who have some mortal affront to avenge. I lifted my head. A man stood like a statue on the edge of the rocks which served as a sort of pedestal to him. Although he was dressed in rags, he shouldered his gun proudly, and suddenly, as the last rays of the sun caught his face and brought it into full relief, I uttered one cry: ‘Antonio!’

  ‘“It was he! It was he! Oh, I was sure it was he! His fatal song and exalted air convinced me that he had not returned to these parts, after playing dead for ten years, without nursing some abominable purpose.

  ‘“Fortunately, I could reach town quicker by boat than he could on foot. There would be time to warn Giuseppe and Angeluccia. I threw myself on the oars and reached the dock in a few minutes. The first person I met was Giuseppe himself, who was on his way home from the Town Hall. I thanked heaven I had arrived in time and called out to him to hurry, that a terrible misfortune was about to fall, that I had seen Antonio - Antonio himself - alive, and that he was on his way to town.

  ‘“While questioning me he fell into step beside me and we both ran for his house at full speed and arrived there panting.

  ‘Angeluccia! Angeluccia!’ we called, flinging open the door.

  ‘“No answer.

  ““God help us if she’s gone for a walk,’ Giuseppe groaned desperately.

  ‘“We went upstairs, still calling her, and he went into one room while I entered another. And it was there that I found her. She was seated by the window in a large armchair, her head resting against the cushion, and she seemed to be sleeping. As she was always extremely pale, the pallor of her beautiful face did not surprise me although it might have struck another.

  ‘“‘Come,’ I cried to Giuseppe, ‘she is
here.’

  “‘In the meantime I had come closer, surprised that she did not awake. I touched her... I touched the velvet band, which came loose in my hands, and her head rolled off.

  “‘I fled with my heart pounding wildly from shock and fright, but on my way I slipped and fell in a horrible pool of blood, which I had not noticed on entering because of the shadows which darkened the room. I picked myself up with a yell and left the house madly. People ran from me in the streets as one runs from a wild beast.

  ‘“During the next few days I came near to going insane. Fortunately I completely recovered my senses, well enough, in fact, to be the present Mayor of Bonifacio. As you probably understand by now, sir, I had seen Antonio as he was returning from the deed! It was easy enough to figure the whole thing out then. He had entered the house, found Angeluccia alone, and killed her with a stab in the heart. Then, his mind haunted by what Ascoli had told him, he completed the work which he had commenced so clumsily ten years before. More certain of his Corsican dagger than of the mock-historical instrument which had failed him before, he had decapitated her and without shrinking from the atrocity of the deed had replaced her head on her shoulders and had tied it in position with the velvet ribbon!

  ‘“And now,” conduced Pietro Santo, “if you want news of Giuseppe you will have to go into the wilds for it. Two days after the murder, he disappeared into the mountains with a gun over his shoulder and Angeluccia’s head, which he had embalmed himself, in a sack around his waist. Giuseppe, Ascoli and Antonio have never been seen since, but they have probably met in the approved fashion and killed each other in some hidden corner of the woods.

  ‘“That sir, is the only way in which the custom of vendetta will be done away with in this country: when everybody is dead!”’