Part 15

It came at last, and about eight o'clock the Marquis de Santoval went to his wife's apartment; she had feigned indisposition since the day before, and had remained in her room.

The marquis glanced about him for some time with an expression that was far from benevolent. He had never said a word to Valentine on the subject of the young clerk whom he had had cudgelled. Monsieur de Santoval was one of those men who do not speak for a mere suspicion, but who collect facts, and are terrible when they allow the storm to burst which they have long repressed in the depths of their hearts.

"Well, madame, how are you this evening?" he asked, as he seated himself beside his wife.

"Still about the same, monsieur; my head aches, and I feel languid; I must have a touch of fever.--See, feel my pulse."

"I know nothing of such matters, madame," replied the marquis; and he did not touch the arm that his wife held out to him.

"Oh! that is a pity!"

"So you cannot come with me to the Duchesse de Brillac's?"

"You must realize that it is impossible, monsieur. In my opinion, one should not go into society looking as if one were bored and ill! You must make my excuses to the duchess."

"Yes, madame, yes. I am sorry to leave you not feeling well; and if I had not promised the duke----"

"I should be very sorry to have you deprive yourself of an agreeable evening because of a simple indisposition, entirely unattended by any danger.--I have Miretta, who will stay with me, who will not leave me."

"Your faithful maid. That girl is very much attached to you, is she not?"

"I think so; I have every reason to praise her zeal and her fidelity."

"And I think that she should congratulate herself on being in your service. She must be very happy here; and yet, I have noticed of late that she seems to be profoundly sad and depressed. A smile never appears on her lips. Have not you noticed it, madame?"

"Pardon me, monsieur; but as I know the cause of her melancholy, I overlook it."

"Ah! you know the cause of it?"

"Indeed, it is not difficult to guess: an unfortunate love affair; the man she loves has disappeared!"

"Very good; I see that you know your maid's secrets."

"The poor girl is alone in this country, without kindred or friends. Why should I not be interested in her?"

"You should, of course; and then, women are always compassionate for troubles of the heart.--Well, madame, I go, with regret; take care of your health."

"He has suspicions!" said Valentine to herself, when the marquis had gone; "but what does it matter? I know the way to dispel them."

As the clock struck nine, a man enveloped in an ample cloak, and wearing a hat whose broad brim concealed a large part of his face, knocked at the gate of the hôtel. He gave the Cerberus the name of Miretta, and was admitted; he crossed the courtyard and found on the right hand the narrow staircase, which he was about to venture upon although it was not lighted, when a small hand seized his and a voice said:

"Allow me to guide you, seigneur."

Léodgard abandoned his hand; the one that held it was cold and trembling.

They went up two flights; a lamp stood in a corner of the second landing, and the count recognized Miretta in the person who had served as his guide.

She instantly dropped the hand she held, as if she were glad to escape at last from a painful necessity. Taking the lamp, she walked ahead; and Léodgard was soon ushered into a dimly lighted room, where he saw the marchioness.

Valentine was seated on a sofa; her costume was entirely black, and imparted a certain solemnity to her noble and majestic figure.

At sight of Léodgard she carefully repressed a thrill of joy which sought expression in her eyes, and tried to replace by a pleasant smile the gleam of triumph which passed over her face.

The count bowed low before her, and seated himself on a chair very near the sofa. He seized her hand before she gave him permission, and covered it with kisses; while incoherent words, which, however, accurately depicted his love and the perturbation of his senses, poured rapidly from his lips. But, happening to glance toward the end of the room, he saw Miretta sitting there, with her head sunk upon her breast, motionless as a statue. Thereupon Léodgard's flow of words ceased, and, looking at Valentine, he asked her in an undertone:

"What is your maid doing here, pray?"

"Nothing; she is awaiting my orders."

"Do you not propose to order her to leave the room?"

"No, indeed! on the contrary, I told her to remain."

"Ah! I thought, madame, that you had taken pity on my torments and my love!"

"Is it not taking pity on you, pray, to accord you this rendezvous--to consent to listen to you?--Upon my word, men are never satisfied!"

"But one dares not speak of love before a third person."

"Why not, when that third person is in our confidence and privy to all our secrets?"

"A tête-à-tête with you would have been so sweet to me!"

"Before granting a tête-à-tête, it is necessary to know one's mind; and one must be very sure of being loved!"

"Can you doubt it?"

"More than any other woman, I am justified in doubting it, when it is you who tell me so.--Really, monsieur le comte, your conduct is so extraordinary--it is now so directly opposed to what it has been, that at times I can place no faith in your words, and I ask myself if it is really you, Comte Léodgard de Marvejols, who sit here beside me, talking to me of love!--So it was necessary that I should become another man's wife, to arouse in you this longing to love me and to tell me that you love me!--You must agree that that is quite unique, to say the least!"

There was a suggestion of irony in Valentine's tone as she said this, which would have offended Léodgard if he had been less in love; but he thought of nothing but compelling the marchioness to revise the judgment she had pronounced, and to forget the doubts she still felt.

Skilful in the art of seducing, eloquent when he really loved, tender and ardent by turns in his language, Léodgard knew the road to a woman's heart. Valentine was already listening to him with secret emotion; her eyes expressed that dreamy languor which denotes disturbance in the heart; when Miretta, who had been watching her mistress closely for some time, suddenly sprang to her feet, crying:

"People in the courtyard--I heard the gate close! It must be monsieur le marquis!"

"Ah! I must return to my apartment!" cried Valentine; "so that it may not be known that I have left it!--Miretta will show you the way out.--Adieu!"

"You leave me, madame; and I have no idea when I shall see you again!"

"I will let you know. Adieu!"

Valentine disappeared before Léodgard could say another word. He put on his cloak, wrapped it about him, and followed Miretta in obedience to a sign from her. The girl walked swiftly across the courtyard and knocked on the concierge's window, calling:

"Open the gate; I am going out."

The gate opened, and Léodgard alone went out; Miretta hastened back to her mistress, who said as soon as she saw her:

"You were mistaken, Miretta; the marquis has not returned. I have just asked Joseph. No one came in."

"I know it, madame; pray forgive me, but I listened to that gentleman's words, and I saw how moved you were. I was afraid for you--and for your revenge."

"Perhaps you did well, Miretta; yes, this Léodgard is very dangerous. However, he shall not cause me to forget the past. You may leave me now; I need rest."

Miretta left her mistress and returned to her own room, engrossed by the events of the day, unable to account for the feeling of repulsion which the handsome Comte de Marvejols inspired in her, and regretting perhaps that the gallant had succeeded in making his exit without any unpleasant encounter.

But, although no one had appeared in the courtyard when Léodgard went out, there was watching on the street, within twenty-five yards of the hôtel, in a corner formed by two houses, a man with orders to take notice of everybody who went into or out of the Hôtel de Santoval.

XLVI

A DUEL

Several days passed. Léodgard impatiently awaited the second rendezvous which Valentine had promised him; he assumed that he would receive another message from the marchioness by the hands of the little clerk.

The marquis returned from the reception with a darker cloud than usual on his brow; the next day, he hardly inquired concerning his wife's health, and the tone of the question was so ironical as to indicate his utter disbelief in the indisposition of which she complained.

Valentine, although she seemed not to notice it, observed carefully the progress of the jealousy that gnawed at her husband's heart.

Miretta too remarked that the marquis's servants were constantly at her heels in the house, and seemed to watch her slightest movements.

"I do not know what is going on, madame," said the girl, when she was alone with her mistress, "but I see that monsieur's people always have their eyes on me now; perhaps before long I shall not be at liberty to go out whenever I please.--What have I done? why do they spy upon me so?"

"What, Miretta! do you not divine that monsieur le marquis is jealous? and as he knows that I have great confidence in you, he thinks that you may assist me in my intrigues."

"But in that case, madame, he will discharge me."

"Have no fear; he will soon do justice to us both."

Everything announced that a violent explanation was likely to take place very soon. The marquis's glances foreboded a storm; but Valentine, always calm and impassive, awaited events with the most absolute tranquillity.

At last, Miretta one day rushed into the salon where the marquis and Valentine were together. The girl was very much excited, and could hardly control her voice to say:

"Madame--I was going out--I had someone to see to-day! But the concierge has just refused to open the gate, and he told me that he did it by monsieur le marquis's order."

"Is this true, monsieur?" Valentine asked her husband.

"Yes, madame, it is true that he acted by my orders. You have absolute confidence in this girl; but let me tell you, madame, that she abuses it; for I assume that it is not with your consent that she receives her lover in this house. Denial would be quite useless; I am certain of what I say: about ten days ago,--the evening when you claimed to be indisposed, madame,--a cavalier carefully enveloped in a cloak entered this house after asking for mademoiselle. Now, was it she or you whom he came to see? It is for you to answer this question, madame."

"It was not to see Miretta that that gentleman came, monsieur; it was to see me."

The marquis stepped back, glaring at his wife, and murmured, while his hand sought his sword hilt:

"To see you! that man came here to see you, madame!"

"Yes, monsieur, nor is that all; Miretta now has upon her a letter which I gave her to take to this same gentleman."

"Infamous!--What, madame, you dare to confess----"

"One does not fear to confess, when no criminal purpose exists; there is no infamy when a woman seeks to avenge her own honor; and really, monsieur le marquis, for a man who, I had been told, was so jealous, so sensitive in the matter of honor, you have been a long time finding out that someone was making love to your wife.--Miretta, give monsieur le marquis the note I handed you, and go."

Miretta made haste to obey the marchioness; she was secretly rejoiced to deliver to the husband the note addressed to the lover; she understood that her mistress was carrying out her scheme of vengeance at last; and she left the room, with a glance at Valentine expressive of her satisfaction.

The Marquis de Santoval took the note that the girl handed him; he was still inclined to disbelieve what he heard; he found it difficult to understand his wife's conduct. However, he opened the letter and read:

"This evening, about ten o'clock, be in the first arcade on Place Royale, as you enter from Rue des Tournelles. I will join you there."

"This is an assignation, madame," said the marquis, angrily crumpling the letter in his hand.

"Yes, monsieur; but pray do not crumple the paper so, unless you wish me to have the trouble of writing another."

"What, madame, you propose----"

"Really, monsieur, I thought that you had more penetration; but, since I must explain everything to you, listen: this letter was----"

"For Comte Léodgard de Marvejols, madame."

"Even so, monsieur; ah! I am very glad that you have at least guessed that.--Now, do you not know that, in accordance with plans formed by our parents, Comte Léodgard was to have been my husband?"

"Your husband?--I did not know it."

"The alliance was earnestly desired by the count's father, and I should have complied with my father's last wishes. But Comte Léodgard would have none of me for his companion; he scorned the projected union--and all to marry a girl of the common people.--Monsieur le marquis, between men there are insults that are never forgiven, and for which they swear to wreak vengeance; do you think that among women one does not meet now and then one of those proud natures which cannot endure an insult? Well, I am such a woman. After I married you, my heart throbbed with joy when I saw that the count, when I first met him in society, seemed to admire my features and my figure, seemed, in short, to be enamored of my person. Then, monsieur, instead of turning my eyes in disdain, as others would have done perhaps in my place, I gave all my attention to him, fastening my eyes upon his and trying to impart to them an expression of languor, almost of tenderness; for at that party I said to myself: 'The time has come to avenge myself on that man who refused to marry me; I propose that he shall love me; I am determined to see him at my feet, swearing everlasting love, imploring me to reciprocate, and cursing the day when he refused my hand.'--That triumph I enjoyed, monsieur, on the evening that the count was admitted to this house.--But that was not enough; after pretending to be touched by his passion, I determined to appoint a meeting with him in some solitary, out-of-the-way place; but, I thought, he will not find me there; the man whose name I bear will go to that rendezvous and will take it upon himself to make my vengeance complete.--Well, monsieur le marquis, do you understand my conduct now?"

The marquis bent his knee before his wife and kissed her hand again and again, saying:

"I admire you, madame; I am proud to be your husband!--Pray forgive me for having misunderstood you for a moment. But if my jealousy was slow to burst forth, it was because, in the bottom of my heart, I could not believe in your treachery; it was because I remembered that you chose to become my wife of your own free will, without any constraint; and because I thought that you could not have assumed, solely to dishonor it, the name that is now yours.--Here, madame--take this note, send it by your maid, who is entirely at liberty now to leave the house. As for the rest, rely upon me to conclude this affair, and to punish the reckless man who, after being insane enough to spurn an alliance with you, dares now to address his solicitations to the wife of the Marquis de Santoval! I am well aware that Monsieur le Cardinal de Richelieu has forbidden duelling, that he punishes it very severely, in fact; but have no fear--it will all be between ourselves."

The weather was cold and dismal. A fine but steady rain made the streets of Paris very slippery where they were paved, and even more dangerous were those very numerous ones that had no pavements. At ten o'clock at night, in November, and in cold and rainy weather, one met very few people abroad. However, the famous Giovanni had ceased some time before to molest belated wayfarers, and people were beginning to hope that he had left Paris.

At a few minutes before ten, a man entered Place Royale, sheltering himself as well as he could in a cloak of greater breadth than length.

"What a curious predilection the marchioness has for this square!" he said to himself. "What a strange idea always to select it for her place of rendezvous! But I trust that this is the last one that she will give me here. She must consent to come to my _petite maison_. There we shall have no surprises to dread; there are secret exits which put one out of reach of any possible danger."

Having arrived at one of the arcades which surrounded the square, and being sheltered from the rain there, Léodgard let his cloak fall back, and raised his hat brim so that it covered his face less. Then, casting his eyes about the square, which was deserted, and at its dark arcades, he continued:

"The place is decidedly ill chosen for an amorous rendezvous. But Valentine will probably send her messenger, young Miretta--Miretta! yes, that is surely the name; and judging from what she told me, she is the person! What a strange meeting! If that girl suspected!--Ah! I must banish that ghastly memory!--How dismal this square is to-night! Really, this spot would be much better suited for a meeting between two gallant men armed with swords or daggers!--But is not this the place?--Yes, it was at the entrance to Rue des Tournelles, where one side of the park then came to an end--I have often been told the story--this is the very spot where Maugiron, Quélus, and Livarot fought at five o'clock in the morning, in April, 1578. Their adversaries were D'Entragues, Schomberg, and Ribérac. This square was not then laid out, and from the top of the towers of the Bastille one could watch the whole combat.--Ah! that triple duel was a glorious battle! Maugiron, Schomberg, and Ribérac lost their lives.--But that is the fitting death for a gentleman to die!--Those were the good times!--The king, far from forbidding duels, was foremost in encouraging them; whereas to-day the cardinal is terribly severe. The Bastille, aye, death sometimes, for those who fight, who disobey his edicts. And when he has said the word, Richelieu is inflexible! How he looked at me at that fête at the Prince de Valdimer's!--Was he thinking of my father, whom he esteems highly, they say? Or was it---- That look upset me completely. That man knows so many things!"

Léodgard let his head sink upon his breast, and stood lost in thought. In that condition, he saw nothing, heard nothing, and seemed entirely oblivious to everything that was taking place about him. So it was that he did not notice an individual, quite tall, wrapped in his cloak, and followed by a servant bearing a lantern, who entered the arcade in which he was waiting, and walked toward him. The new-comer passed close to Léodgard, who did not emerge from his reverie or lift his head. Thereupon, at a sign from his master, the servant who carried the lantern held it so near to the count's face that the light fell upon it.

"What are you doing here, knave?" cried Léodgard, instantly raising his head. "Why do you stop so near me with your lantern? Did I ask you for a light?"

"Excuse him, monsieur; it was at my command that he acted as he did. As I passed you, I thought that I recognized you; but it is so dark under these arcades that I was not certain, and, as I desired to assure myself that I was not mistaken, I motioned to my servant to throw the light on your face for a moment. So you see, he is not the culprit."

Léodgard's features contracted into a scowl; he had recognized the Marquis de Santoval in the person who addressed him. He divined instantly that the encounter was not simply the result of chance; however, he determined to pretend to assume at first that it was so, and he replied nonchalantly:

"It is Monsieur le Marquis de Santoval, I think.--I am overjoyed at the chance which affords me the pleasure of offering you my most sincere respects."

The marquis made a sign to his valet, who withdrew ten or twelve paces, so that he could not overhear what was said. When the servant was out of hearing, Monsieur de Santoval planted himself haughtily in front of Léodgard, and said in a bantering tone:

"The weather is very bad for an open-air rendezvous, is it not, monsieur le comte?"

"Why, it seems to me that you do not consider it too bad, monsieur le marquis, as it does not prevent you from coming out."

"Ah! but I have not come here to meet a lady--quite the contrary!"

"Who told you that I was here with that purpose?"

"Who? You would be greatly surprised if I should tell you that it was the very person who gave you the rendezvous!"

Léodgard with difficulty restrained an outburst of rage, and replied:

"I do not understand you, monsieur le marquis!"

"You do not understand me, count? That surprises me!--No matter, I will explain myself more clearly.--There are gentlemen to whom nothing is sacred, and who do not hesitate to pay their respects to other men's wives. Their number is not small, I am aware! But it is less common to see a gallant, after refusing to marry a nobly born and beautiful lady, presume to make love to her as soon as she has become the wife of another man.--You must agree that a man need be extremely self-conceited to believe that he will succeed in obtaining a hearing then!"

"Monsieur le marquis----"

"But that is what you have done, count, failing to perceive that the lady was laughing at you, and that she joyfully grasped the opportunity to give you a lesson which you deserve."

"Enough, marquis, enough! I take lessons from no one!"

"You prefer a sword thrust, then?"

"I venture to believe that you came here to find me, monsieur le marquis, with the intention of making use of your sword."

"You are not in error."

"Let us talk no longer, then!"

"Holà! Joseph! attend us with the light!"

The valet drew near with his lantern and leaned against a pillar. The two gentlemen had already tossed aside their cloaks; they speedily unsheathed their swords, and, taking their places within two yards of the light, began to attack each other with great impetuosity. Léodgard was stirred to frenzy by his anger at having been made a plaything by Valentine; in the case of the marquis, the desire to be revenged upon a man who had attempted to dishonor him was sufficient to strengthen his arm and inflame his blood.

The marquis, however, was more self-controlled; he fought more prudently than his adversary. Léodgard, enraged to find himself opposed by a man whose skill equalled his own, hurried his blows as if he were in haste to conclude; and as he lunged to deal a terrible thrust at the marquis, the latter's sword entered his breast and passed through his body.

Léodgard fell to the ground without a cry. The valet held his lantern so that he could see the wound, from which the blood poured forth in a stream, and said to his master, who tranquilly wiped his sword and resumed his cloak:

"Oh! monsieur, I do not think that the gentleman will recover. Such a wound! and fair in the breast! That was a mighty thrust he received!--What shall we do with the gentleman?"

"Blockhead! to suppose that I intend to pay any heed to the fellow!--We have nothing more to do here. Go before and light me!"

XLVII

THE WOUNDED MAN

Let us return now to Bathilde, the sweet and charming countess, the loving mother, whom events have compelled us to neglect for some time, but whom it would be impossible to forget; for sweetness of disposition, when combined with beauty, is a talisman which never loses its power.

When Ambroisine, on returning from Place Royale, where she had seen Léodgard embrace his daughter, entered Bathilde's room with the child, her friend divined from her radiant face that some fortunate event had occurred; and rising from the reclining chair on which she was stretched, she held out her arms to Blanche and cried:

"What has happened? What brings you back so soon?--Ambroisine, I see in your eyes that you are happy. May I not share your happiness?"