Part 22

"No, she may remain. Indeed, I am confident that your maid will soon hear this ghastly story below stairs; it will certainly make the circuit of the city, and some action will be taken.--Fancy, madame, that Birague was at the office of the lieutenant of police this morning, when he received his reports of the night as usual. One of them was so extraordinary that the lieutenant could not repress an exclamation of surprise as he read it, and he said to Birague:

"'You can never guess what happened last night! My patrols gave chase to Giovanni, who had just attacked someone, and as he ran away they fired at him. Some of the watch pursued him, and at the entrance to Place Royale, where they had lost track of him, they fell in with a young woman, all alone, who seemed terribly frightened. They asked her if she had seen the man they were pursuing; she answered in the affirmative. And, in fact, they picked up at her feet the frightful hairy cap that Giovanni usually wears, and a false beard with which he conceals a large part of his face.'"

"But, monsieur, these details----"

"Pardon, madame; all these details, you will see, are of great importance to the story. The lieutenant of police continued: 'This girl then answered that she had seen the robber, but she added: "You are mistaken; the man you are pursuing is not Giovanni; he is----"' Ah! this is what will surprise you, madame.--'She cried: "The man who is running away, the man who wore this cap and this false beard, is Comte Léodgard de Marvejols!"'--Well! what do you say to that, madame?"

"Really, monsieur, it seems to me so absurd, that I am surprised that anyone can have repeated it!"

"I agree with you. Although I am an enemy of the count, I am capable of doing justice to his valor, his nobility of character--in a word, he belongs to one of the most ancient families of France, whose honor is stainless. When the lieutenant had finished, Birague could not help laughing. Whereupon the official said to him: 'I have ordered the sergeant who was in command of the watch to be sent here. I am going to question him. Remain, if you are interested.' Birague asked nothing better; he remained, and the sergeant of the watch soon appeared. He told a story which corresponded exactly with the report, but added this: 'When we picked up the cap and false beard, we saw blood on the ground, which proved that we had wounded our man.'--'And what did you do then?' asked the lieutenant.--'Monseigneur, as the moon was shining, we followed the blood along Place Royale to a point where it suddenly stopped, as if the wounded man had gone no farther.'--'And you observed that spot?'--'Yes, monseigneur; it was directly in front of the gate of the Hôtel de Marvejols.'--As you may imagine, madame, that fact seemed decidedly strange to the lieutenant as well as to Birague.--'And the girl--what became of her?' monseigneur asked the sergeant, who admitted that he had paid no further attention to her.--'You are a fool!' said the lieutenant; 'you should have arrested the girl and taken her to the guardhouse, and then have brought her before me. When a person presumes to make so serious a charge against one of the first noblemen of the court, she should not be allowed to disappear. From this girl we could ascertain how much truth there is in this story; we could learn whether you had an interview with a madwoman, or with a person who had some reason to hate the count. You must find the girl, sergeant, do you hear? You must find her.'--For my part, I consider that the lieutenant of police was perfectly right, and that the arrest of this girl might lead to some very curious revelations.--What do you think, marchioness?"

For several moments past, Valentine had turned all her attention to Miretta; she kept her eyes fastened upon her with a glance of supplication, as if the girl's action were a matter of life or death to her. But Miretta, standing like a statue at the end of the room, kept her eyes fixed on the floor; and there was nothing to betray what was taking place in her mind.

"Well, madame, you do not answer," continued Monsieur de Santoval.

"Oh! I beg pardon, monsieur! The fact is that this story is so strange, so absurd---- Really, I do not understand how so much importance can be attached to it!"

"Pardon me, madame, but it is a curious affair.--While I place no faith in the words of this girl, I believe that there is some mystery beneath it all. But the riddle will be solved; this unknown maiden will be found, let us hope!--By the way, I have not told you all: the lieutenant of police, after dismissing the sergeant, ordered some of his subordinates to go to Rue de Bretonvilliers, to the little house which the count has occupied again since he has recovered from a--a certain wound, and to inquire if any accident had happened to his lordship."

"Well--what did they learn there?"

"Comte Léodgard was absent, and, according to all appearance, had not passed the night there."

"And they consider that very remarkable, too, I suppose; although I fancy that it is in accordance with the young gentleman's habit."

"I have told you the whole story, marchioness; I thought that it would amuse you, but I see that I was mistaken."

"Pardon me, monsieur, I find it very amusing--like everything that is utterly devoid of sense! And I shall be obliged to you if you will keep me informed if you learn anything more concerning this affair."

"If that is so, madame, I will not fail.--Ah! the most important thing is to find that girl!"

The Marquis de Santoval had no sooner left his wife's apartment, than she ran to Miretta, clasped her hands, and almost knelt to her, saying, in a trembling voice and with tears in her eyes:

"Miretta! I implore you! do not say that it was you! do not make yourself known! My life depends on your silence!--You will not say that it was you? promise me!"

"I will wait, madame," the girl replied, with a sombre expression; "to obey you, I will wait; but Giovanni must be avenged!"

LV

THE CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU

When Léodgard fell bleeding in the courtyard of the abode of his ancestors, the concierge, having come from his lodge to ascertain who had entered, uttered a cry of distress on recognizing his master lying on the pavement. But the latter, who, notwithstanding the gravity of his wound, was entirely conscious, ordered the concierge not to give the alarm in the house, but simply to call a servant to aid in taking him to his apartment.

Then, while the concierge left him to carry out this order, Léodgard, despite his pain and his great weakness, succeeded, by dint of rolling over and over on the ground, in extricating himself from the olive-green cloak in which he was enveloped; he then folded the garment and held it against his breast until his people arrived.

The count was carried to his apartment, as he desired; and while he was being transported thither, he did not relax his hold of the olive-green cloak and the short, broad sword with which he was armed.

When he was safely in bed, the wounded man bade the servant tell the countess and request her to come to him.

"And I, monseigneur, will run to fetch a doctor," said the concierge.

"I forbid you to do it!" replied Léodgard, angrily. "Let no one dare to leave the house! I have been wounded--in a duel; but it is a slight wound, and I wish no one to know that I fought. The man who forgets my orders will be dismissed instantly.--Go now and tell the countess."

The servant woke Marie, and she stole softly into her mistress's room to give her the message. When she learned that her husband had returned to the hôtel, but that he had returned wounded, Bathilde hurriedly slipped on a loose garment and went at once to the bedside of the man whom she had never ceased to love.

The sight of Bathilde seemed now to allay the count's pain; he tried to smile at her, and said in a faint voice:

"Close the doors; I wish to be alone with you."

"But you are wounded, monsieur le comte; should we not send for a surgeon first of all?"

"No, madame.--If you wish to gratify me, do only what I ask you to do. We are quite alone, are we not?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Give me some of that cordial--in that phial on the table yonder. It is what the doctor gave me when I was so ill--some time ago."

Bathilde at once gave Léodgard the cordial, and he drank several swallows of it.

"That is enough," he said.

Revived by that draught, he succeeded, with his wife's aid, in sitting up in bed, and with his own hand applied bandages to the wound, which stopped the flow of blood.

Then, handing Bathilde a bundle which he had thus far kept out of sight, he said:

"Put this in the fireplace, madame, and set fire to it at once."

"What, monsieur! this garment?"

"Be good enough to obey me, madame; everything that I ask you to do at this moment is of more importance than you suppose."

The young woman did what the count ordered. The olive-green cloak was soon in a blaze. As he watched it burn, Léodgard seemed to breathe more freely, and when it was entirely consumed he muttered:

"Good! now there is nothing else to betray me except his sword. That cannot be burned; but it may at least be hidden from all eyes."

And having carefully concealed the short sword under his coverlid, Léodgard held out his hand to Bathilde, who took it and pressed it to her heart, hardly able to credit that mark of affection on her husband's part.

"I have caused you much unhappiness, Bathilde," said Léodgard, pausing frequently between his words; "but heaven has punished me! I shall cause you no more after this!"

"Mon Dieu! monsieur le comte, what do you mean? Your wound is not dangerous, I hope?"

"No, Bathilde, no; be not alarmed. But now, when we are alone, I am anxious to let you know that I repent of my wrongdoing--that I implore your forgiveness."

"O Léodgard! dear Léodgard! If it is true that you have come back at last to stay with us always--if my presence is no longer offensive to you--am I not the happiest of women?--It is not for me to forgive you, but I offer you all my love as in the old days!"

"Thanks, Bathilde, thanks! Our daughter is an angel. I love her--ah! yes, I love her with all my heart! Dear child!--You will send her to me to-morrow, as soon as she wakes, will you not?"

"As soon as you wish, my dear."

"Oh! let her sleep; do not disturb her rest.--And now, listen to me, Bathilde; I must see the Sire de Jarnonville at the earliest possible moment. Write him a line--ask him to come here, without giving him any details. Send to him at daybreak. You understand? beg him to come at once."

"You shall be obeyed, my dear; and the Sire de Jarnonville is such a kind friend to us, that I doubt not that he will hasten to gratify your wish."

"That is well. As soon as Jarnonville arrives, let him be sent to me. And now, Bathilde, return to your rest."

"Do you expect me to leave you, my dear, when you are wounded? Oh! I entreat you, let me sit up with you, let me pass the night by your side.--And then, too, it seems to me that we should send for the doctor."

"I tell you again, madame, that you would aggravate my condition by doing so. And you do not wish to do that, I think?"

"What I would like, monsieur le comte, would be to have your wound examined. You seem to be in pain."

"You are mistaken.--Follow my instructions, and do not go beyond them.--Adieu, Bathilde!"

"You wish me to leave you?"

"I do. But first--come nearer--let me kiss your forehead."

"Dear Léodgard! I am so happy!"

The wounded man put his pallid lips to Bathilde's brow; then he motioned to her to go, whispering:

"Jarnonville--at daybreak--do not forget!"

Bathilde left the room most regretfully; but she dared not disobey him whose lightest wish was sacred to her.

Left to himself, Léodgard tried in vain to obtain a little rest. His wound, being unskilfully dressed, pained him terribly, and his blood was already boiling with fever. When he closed his eyes, terrifying images, horrible visions, added to his misery; and in that state, bordering on delirium, he awaited the end of that cruel night. The day appeared at last; and not half an hour had elapsed since the dawn had driven away the shadows, when the Sire de Jarnonville entered the wounded man's bedroom.

At sight of the chevalier, Léodgard seemed to revive.

"You wish to speak with me, count," said Jarnonville; "and you are wounded. Is it to the Marquis de Santoval again that you owe this new misfortune?"

"No, chevalier; but I have some terrible revelations to make to you. First of all, be good enough to give me that cordial, so that I may obtain sufficient strength to speak.--Good--thanks!"

"You seem to be in great pain.--Shall I not first----"

"No one but you and myself; for it is not now a question of preserving my life--it is my honor that must be saved--for my father's sake and my child's. Then I will die; indeed, I must; and if this wound is not sufficient, I will find some other way to put an end to my life!"

"You make me shudder!"

"When you have heard me through--then you will indeed shudder with horror.--Come here--close to my bed--so that I need not raise my voice."

The chevalier did what the wounded man desired; and then Léodgard, collecting what little strength remained to him, made his confession in a low voice.

"You will remember, Jarnonville, that time when I was at the end of my resources; I had foolishly wasted all the property that I inherited from my mother; my father, who had just paid my debts once more, had declared that I could not count upon him again. The cards continued to be unfavorable to me, and I was in debt to all my friends; I had staked and lost even my cloak! I could no longer find a Jew or a usurer to lend me money! I was in that plight, when, on returning to Paris one night from Montrevert's, where I had lost more than I could pay, we stopped near the Pont-aux-Choux. We waited there for Montrevert, who was to overtake us. He arrived at last, pale as death and disarmed; he had been attacked and robbed by Giovanni. That bold brigand had stripped me too, several months before; and, situated as I was, having nothing to lose and consequently nothing to fear, I determined to punish the villain and avenge myself. And so, refusing to let my companions go with me, I hurried away in the direction of the spot where Giovanni had attacked Montrevert.

"I walked a long while across the fields, without meeting anyone. Day was beginning to break, but the country was still deserted. I advanced slowly, avoiding making a sound with my footfall. Suddenly I saw a man within twenty yards of me, seated close to a bush and busily engaged in counting the contents of a purse; by his costume I recognized the bandit who had once attacked me. He had not observed my approach, and I was careful to get behind the bush; being behind him, I approached him, unheard. The opportunity was favorable; just as I reached him, he started to turn his head, and I ran my sword through his body; he attempted then to rise to defend himself, but I had given him a mortal blow, and I followed it with two others which stretched him dead at my feet.

"When he fell, the brigand lost his beard and his cap. They lay on the ground before me; as my eye fell on them, as I stooped to pick up two purses full of gold, a hellish thought took possession of my mind. I said to myself that no one had seen me kill Giovanni; that if I threw his body into the Fossés-Jaunes, which were near by, it would never be discovered; and, moreover, that if I should take away his weapons and his disguise, there would be nothing by which to identify the body as Giovanni's, even if it should be found. In short, the devil urged me on to my destruction. I thought of my plight, of my debts; eager for enjoyment, for dissipation, as I was, I had an insatiable thirst for gold; and with the Italian bandit's disguise it would be so easy to obtain it!--Ah! my brain was in a whirl--I was in a fever--a delirium, no doubt; those thoughts were horrible; but instead of spurning them, I dragged Giovanni's body to the Fossés-Jaunes and threw it in; then, carefully concealing in some thick bushes the robber's weapons, cloak, and cap, I returned to my friends, and told them that, after an indecisive battle, Giovanni had escaped my vengeance once more. A few days later the celebrated brigand began once more to attack and rob the good people of Paris.--Ah! you shudder, Jarnonville, you turn your face away!--I must be an object of horror to you.--Yes, I am a vile wretch!--This is what the thirst for gold, unbridled passions, may lead to--crime--forgetfulness of all that is most sacred, most worthy of respect!--However, I have not, at all events, to reproach myself with bloodshed. No! my presence caused such a panic, that those whom I detained never thought of defending themselves, but instantly turned over all that they possessed.--I am none the less an infamous villain!--To-day, the Providence that I defied has put an end to my crimes.--Ah, me! if I had listened to the cry of nature, if I had obeyed that delicious sentiment to which the sight of my daughter, my Blanche, gave birth in my heart!--Leaving the career of crime forever, perhaps these ghastly passages of my life would never have become known, the honor of my name would have been safe.--O father! this is what I held in reserve for your old age! And my daughter! my daughter!"

Léodgard paused, his eyes closed; he could say no more.

Jarnonville hastened to his assistance; some cold water and a few swallows of cordial soon revived him, and he was about to continue; but Jarnonville urged him to rest a moment.

After a little while, there came a gentle tap at the door, and they heard Bathilde's voice, asking if the count could receive her, and if he wished her to bring his daughter to him.

"Not yet," said Léodgard; "I have not finished what I have to say to you. Ask the countess to return to Blanche; I will send for her."

Jarnonville, having done what the wounded man requested, returned to his bedside, saying:

"What reason have you to fear now that the truth may be known? Were you recognized by anyone last night?"

"Yes. Listen. I had returned to my house in Rue de Bretonvilliers to live, because there are secret exits there, leading to unoccupied land. I could don Giovanni's costume and go out and in unseen by my people."

"And one night Ambroisine saw you in that guise; but she was very far from suspecting that it was not Giovanni."

"True; but when she described that incident she made me shiver; I thought that she knew my secret!--But last night--I still needed money; Valentine--the Marquise de Santoval--I was to fly with her; and that is why I had resumed the Italian's disguise.--Yes, Jarnonville, I was about to abandon my wife and my daughter again--a wife so worthy of all my love, and a child who had opened my heart to repentance.--Ah! I deserved to be punished.--However, last night I had just attacked a financier; soldiers came running to the spot, and I had hardly time to make my escape. They fired at me, and I received a bullet, here, in the shoulder."

"And the bullet?"

"Is still there, in the wound; I can feel it.--Ah! it hurts me terribly!"

"But you must have it extracted."

"No, no! for a surgeon would see that it is not a pistol bullet. He would see also that I was shot from behind, while running away. Besides, it is necessary that I should die; but if only the truth might be concealed--the cause of my death!"

"Rest a moment, count; this long narrative is killing you."

"I must finish; for someone may come--to arrest me."

"To arrest you?"

"Wait.--I was flying, despite my wound, when a young woman ran after me, calling to Giovanni, and giving him the sweetest names. That young woman, the Italian's mistress, overtook me not far from here; she clung to me, my strength failed me, my cap and false beard fell off, and she recognized me."

"Recognized you! Who is this young woman?"

"Miretta--the marchioness's maid."

"Fatality!--But, still, perhaps you alarm yourself needlessly; this girl will hold her peace."

"She will speak; for she loved Giovanni, and she divined the whole truth.--She will speak, for she is determined to avenge her lover!"

"Well! no one will listen to her! no one will believe her! Do you suppose that, on the strength of a girl's word, they will dare to accuse, aye, even to suspect, the Comte de Marvejols?--What proofs could she adduce? Your costume?"

"When I arrived here I had only the cloak left; my servants may have seen that; I made Bathilde burn it."

"And your weapons?"

"I never carried any but Giovanni's short sword. It is here, hidden; see, here it is. If they should make a search--if they should find this weapon!"

"Why should they make a search in this house, where you have not been living for several weeks?"

"Because last night, if those soldiers followed my tracks, guided by the blood I lost, they must have seen where I stopped."

"But they had lost your track, when you were overtaken by this girl."

"I say again, Jarnonville, it is not my life that I wish to save; I must die--I am a miserable wretch--I blush for myself! But let my infamy be kept secret--for my father's sake, for my child's!--Oh! how I suffer!"

Léodgard's head fell back, and a livid pallor overspread his face. The chevalier was on the point of going to call Bathilde, when he heard footsteps and voices in the courtyard. The wounded man raised his head and whispered:

"Do you hear, Jarnonville? they are coming; those are the soldiers; they are coming to arrest the Comte de Marvejols as a highwayman. I am lost!"

"Be calm. Yes, there are footsteps approaching."

"And Giovanni's weapon that I have here?"

"Give it to me; I will attach it to my belt in place of my sword, and no one will even notice it."

In an instant Jarnonville removed his sword and placed it in a corner of the room, and replaced it with the weapon that once belonged to Giovanni. He had hardly made this change, when a servant entered the room, saying:

"Monsieur le comte, there is an officer here, accompanied by several men at arms, whom he has stationed in the courtyard. He desires to have the honor of speaking with you. He is sent, he says, by Monseigneur le Cardinal de Richelieu."

"By the cardinal!--Very well! admit this officer."

The servant left the room; and Léodgard cast an imploring glance at Jarnonville, murmuring:

"The cardinal--who has always manifested such a profound regard for my father--it is he who sends----"

The entrance of the officer prevented the count from finishing his sentence. The cardinal's agent bowed low before Léodgard and Jarnonville, and began:

"Monsieur le comte, a ridiculous report, the falsity of which it will surely be very easy for you to prove, has gained currency this morning in Paris, and has reached the ears of his eminence. Last night, some soldiers of the watch pursued the famous Giovanni; they fired upon him and wounded him, for he left a trail of blood as he fled. However, they lost sight of the robber; but a girl whom they met, and near whom they picked up the robber's cap and false beard, said to them:--I beg pardon, monsieur le comte, it is the girl who is speaking;--she declared to them that the man whom they were pursuing was not Giovanni, but Comte Léodgard de Marvejols. These words would not have deserved to be reported, had it not been for the fact that, by an accident which it will doubtless be easy for you to explain, the blood marks stopped directly in front of your gateway.--Having failed to find you at your house in Rue de Bretonvilliers, I have been sent here. Monsieur le cardinal would be glad, monsieur le comte, if you would take the trouble to call upon him, so that a few words from you may suffice to put an end to an abominable calumny."